Whalebone Breath

It was something Arthur had come to both detest and adore every night, those times he spent with Francis, intimate and close and watching his gasp. He waited by the fire side with a cup of tea until Francis got home, still breathless with laughter from whatever party he'd been to, and he always managed to retain a stab of jealousy, because it was he who would take away Francis's breath in a moment. Still smirking and grinning. Still glowing with mirth and pride and lust.

And Francis would cast him a dark look, so impossibly blue and black and swirling that the tiger he was scorched right through the air and jumped down Arthur's throat, made him ache and want and need. "tyger, tyger, burning bright." he whispered. Francis didn't hear, he never did, and crooked his finger at him to follow.

And Arthur did. He always did. He wasn't able to stay away.

Francis stood near the bed, easily undoing buttons of his shirt, dragging it off slowly because he knew Arthur was watching. His fingers worked expertly, revealing creamy milk white skin for Arthur alone to see. Revealing the lace corset, stiff whalebone dragging in his waist, accentuating his already wide hips.

Arthur licked his lips in anticipation, moving forward to seal them in a kiss, stealing Francis's already short breath, slicking with tongue and nipping with teeth, fingers teasing along his chest, tracing the patterns in the lace of the corset. He put an arm around his tiny waist, and was never quite sure if he was delighted or disgusted.

"No more, petit lapin. Get it off."

Arthur complied, sitting behind Francis on the bed, touching his smooth shoulders. He listened to Francis's breath rattle through his lungs, laying a kiss on the back of his neck, nipping gently. Francis made a soft noise of annoyance. And Arthur obeyed.

Whenever this happened, he always obeyed.

He grasped the ribbons keeping the corset together, sliding them apart, one hole at a time, listening to his tiger's breathing get steadily deeper. Watch him become more human and less of a doll as the restrictions were cast away. And when it was finally loose enough to pull off, Arthur let it slip to the floor. He held Francis's waist where he swore his ribs had gone in, feeling the delicate bones beneath his skin.

Francis let out a sigh of relief, leaning back on Arthur's lap. His eyes sparked up at him, wanting almost as badly as Arthur wanted. A tiger and a tempest, sent to rip him up and cast him about. Arthur leaned down to kiss his mouth, groaned at his eager response.

"Why do you wear them, if it's so bad?" he asked, rubbing the bruises on his sides. Loving the bruises on his sides.

"Attractiveness, petit lapin." Francis answered easily, a faddist as always. He grinned up at him then, tiger burning bright and scorching thought. "And I know that you like it."

He did. And he would like the next morning when he had to lace Francis up, pulling with his foot at the small of his back until his was gasping and flushed. He nearly moaned at just the thought, dragging Francis in for another kiss. An enjoyment that he loathed and relished.

Owari