[ He stares at Sylvain for maybe too long, eyes searching, but nothing changes, and then the man holds his neck, presses their foreheads together.
Basch breathes out, nodding. ]
I -- I'll wear the collar but not the lead. [ A little more privacy, a little more freedom. ] Come what may, we can leave together. [ His stomach flips, some part of him whispering that a curse like him does not deserve to be taking what he wants. He finds that gaze again, though. It helps keep him stable. ] If you wish to claim me in front of others, it is welcome, but not required.
[ As both their breathing evens, they disentangle. The lead comes off, abandoned in the dressing room. It's difficult for him not to deflate entirely as they step out. One of the saleswomen winks at him, the other making a lewd gesture and a thumbs up, and a few customers either look away or nod at them.
But it stirs something in him too. Shame, yes, but something else he can't put his finger on. He does his best to square his shoulders, walk beside Sylvain rather than behind. The collar still rubs at his neck, but it is a pleasant weight. A reminder of the agreement they've made, but also one he's free to leave if he wishes.
They make their way to the masquerade, donning simple masks as they enter. It is overwhelming in its opulence, but the mask and the collar help Basch to wander, talking politely as he practices being more comfortable. He rediscovers Sylvain from time to time, enjoying the odd thrill of watching others flirt with the beautiful man, but his gaze return to Basch. He has no idea the situation is likely reciprocal, as he declines interested party all night. When their paths do cross, he is oddly eager for any sign Sylvain gives of having claimed him, heart pounding at the knowledge that people see them interacting that way.
By the time the evening comes to an end, he has settled considerably, but his anticipation has grown, and with it, nerves creep back. Whatever the lead had been doing to egg him on is gone, and so the doubt creeps in as well. But Sylvain still looks keen to have him, and gods help him, for once he does not want to give up what he's had. Nor does he want to disappoint. And so Sylvain murmurs the roof, and Basch follows him to the elevators. It will be a long ride; the building is enormously tall, like those in Archades.
The doors shut and he hesitates, then silently loops his arm through the other man's, his hand lighting on his forearm. A silent acknowledgement he's still eager for this. ]
no subject
Basch breathes out, nodding. ]
I -- I'll wear the collar but not the lead. [ A little more privacy, a little more freedom. ] Come what may, we can leave together. [ His stomach flips, some part of him whispering that a curse like him does not deserve to be taking what he wants. He finds that gaze again, though. It helps keep him stable. ] If you wish to claim me in front of others, it is welcome, but not required.
[ As both their breathing evens, they disentangle. The lead comes off, abandoned in the dressing room. It's difficult for him not to deflate entirely as they step out. One of the saleswomen winks at him, the other making a lewd gesture and a thumbs up, and a few customers either look away or nod at them.
But it stirs something in him too. Shame, yes, but something else he can't put his finger on. He does his best to square his shoulders, walk beside Sylvain rather than behind. The collar still rubs at his neck, but it is a pleasant weight. A reminder of the agreement they've made, but also one he's free to leave if he wishes.
They make their way to the masquerade, donning simple masks as they enter. It is overwhelming in its opulence, but the mask and the collar help Basch to wander, talking politely as he practices being more comfortable. He rediscovers Sylvain from time to time, enjoying the odd thrill of watching others flirt with the beautiful man, but his gaze return to Basch. He has no idea the situation is likely reciprocal, as he declines interested party all night. When their paths do cross, he is oddly eager for any sign Sylvain gives of having claimed him, heart pounding at the knowledge that people see them interacting that way.
By the time the evening comes to an end, he has settled considerably, but his anticipation has grown, and with it, nerves creep back. Whatever the lead had been doing to egg him on is gone, and so the doubt creeps in as well. But Sylvain still looks keen to have him, and gods help him, for once he does not want to give up what he's had. Nor does he want to disappoint. And so Sylvain murmurs the roof, and Basch follows him to the elevators. It will be a long ride; the building is enormously tall, like those in Archades.
The doors shut and he hesitates, then silently loops his arm through the other man's, his hand lighting on his forearm. A silent acknowledgement he's still eager for this. ]