PCs with Gerome

[swordhandled]

[ some threads are nsfw ]

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[maskarang]

[ around this point, he'd typically climb onto owain and keep going (much to minerva's chagrin) until they need to make a hurried exit to owain's room but, well. he's not quite up to the task just now. and some soft kissing while lying together sounds better than that anyway. ]

[swordhandled]

[ it's very soft. owain is still very needy, so he's going to gently cradle gerome's face as he kisses him back ]

[maskarang]

[ that makes two of them. it would be a lie to say he's all right, and he fears that if he doesn't find a way to curb his sorrow he'll wind up weeping for his mother a third time (and he knows it must be a third time, even without any memories of the act). holding owain, kissing him, it's ultimately all his own selfish need for comfort.

thankfully, it's a mutually fulfilling comfort, too. ]

[swordhandled]

[ mutually beneficial comfort, but owain knows gerome and can feel the neediness from his end at this point, so he's providing it to him. ]

[maskarang]

[ give him an inch and he takes—an inch. literally, as now he's flush against owain. somewhere nearby, minerva exhales and hops off the bed to go hang out with deirdre on the unicorn couch. because they probably brought it for her to nap on. ]

[swordhandled]

[ sorry not sorry minerva, but you knew that this was going to happen. carefully throwing his arm around gerome as he keeps the kissing going. ]

[maskarang]

[ she absolutely did, there's no way this is their first spontaneous morning make-out. it is, however, an immensely satisfying one. and if limbs are getting involved now? well, all the better. don't mind him as he slides one hand under owain's shoulder and into his hair, toying with the ends ]

[swordhandled]

[ the question is will they remember to stop before things get too heated? owain lets out a small sigh into the kiss as gerome toys with his hair. good... this is good. ]

[maskarang]

[ a good question. right now, gerome is more than content to run his hands through owain's hair, stroke the base of his neck, and kiss him until they're breathless. it's soothing, monotonous, and requires very little thought at all. owain's small sigh does wonders for his morale too. but it always does, there's something amazingly pleasant about hearing owain's satisfaction vocalized, enough so for him to answer in kind ]

[swordhandled]

[ he pulls away slightly, murmuring utterances of affection with every break. i love you. i care about you. i promise to protect you. ]

[maskarang]

[ as if they weren't sappy enough before and after kissing. now not even their mid-kiss conversations are safe. he joins right in without missing a beat. we'll protect each other. i never want to leave your side. i love you too. ]

[swordhandled]

[ in the corner minerva is quietly fake throwing up ]

[maskarang]

[ and deirdre is like "what's that sound, it's weird and i'm trying to sleep" ]

[swordhandled]

[ sorry not sorry animals ]

[maskarang]

[ sorry not sorry times two

after who knows how long has passed, gerome makes his way from owain's mouth to his neck, lazily trailing soft kisses along the way. once there, gerome nuzzles his jaw gently ]

[swordhandled]

[ hums pretty pleased and content with everything when gerome nuzzles him. things aren't as terrible when he has gerome in his arms ]

[maskarang]

[ strange to consider when not long ago one of them was in tears and the other was near it, isn't it? next time, he'll remember to start with sad make-outs. he's immensely content to lie here for a while though so unless owain wants to move or speak, he's eventually going to fall asleep ]

[swordhandled]

[ well, time to clearly ruin the mood ]

Did... Did you receive a memory, Gerome?

[maskarang]

[ has owain ever felt someone so relaxed immediately tense up in his arms to the point of their breath halting? if not, now he has. ] ... Yes.

[swordhandled]

Do you wish to talk about it?

[maskarang]

[ there's a long, unbearable silence before he sighs and slumps against owain ] Fate is cruel. It mocks us all, but this time it ripped itself apart only to flaunt its original design.

[swordhandled]

[ wraps his arms tighter around him, listening to gerome's words and trying to get meaning from them ] Was it... about your parents?

[maskarang]

[ muttered quietly ] ... Mother.

[swordhandled]

[ he hums quietly, pulling gerome closer ] So, she was apart of the Foundation as well.

[maskarang]

For what felt like an instant. [ any time spent with her at all would feel too short. this, especially, seemed like no time at all. he debates continuing, there's much he doesn't wish to say but much he feels he should.

he takes some time to wait for his throat to relax, then he swallows and mutters again ] I never asked when she hailed from. I could never bring myself to, but it was clear she wasn't as youthful as the Cherche of the past.