PCs with Gerome

[swordhandled]

[ some threads are nsfw ]

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[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.

[swordhandled]

[ owain listens quietly, waiting for gerome to get to the crux of the issue. he nods along, giving him the space and time to tell him what happened. when gerome mentions how.... young, the cherche in his memory was, owain can't help but stiffen at the implication there. ]

You believe...? [ he trails off, not wanting to give voice to the thoughts they're certainly sharing here ]

[maskarang]

[ his only reply is silence. if it was, he's lost her again. if it wasn't, she was close enough that she could be called a mirror image anyway. both hurt impossibly, but he doesn't want to focus on the memory

focusing on owain seems better. it seems better, yet, it might be too late. he wedges a hand behind himself and owain, roughly wiping away the tears he wants to fight against. that quickly doesn't feel like enough so he just roughly kisses owain instead ]

[swordhandled]

[ he kisses back just as rough. though, almost in contrast to the kiss, owain's hands come up and gently cradle the sides of gerome's face, thumbs reaching up to brush away the tears that escaped his eyes. ]