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 Posted: Thu Jan 31, 2013 6:23 am
Liesel’s private rooms in the fortress of Valhalla might not be as opulently furnished as his suite of rooms on Ganymede—with its golden fixtures, polished woods, and rich fabrics—but it was comfortable and afforded him the seclusion he often needed after a long day of trade meetings and negotiations. Much like home, he was provided with his own sitting room, a bed chamber, and a washroom. They might be smaller and more rustically decorated, but Liesel much preferred it to the second option he was occasionally offered.
He’d made numerous trips to Jupiter in the last six years, and quite of few of those had taken place at the fortress of Valhalla, but even now he quailed at the thought of sharing a room with dozens of people, especially strangers and especially at Valhalla, where most of the men were hardened soldiers instead of politically savvy dignitaries, and of a build much more hulking than his own.
It wasn’t that he was concerned for his safety. Certainly not. The most he had to worry about were the occasional rambunctious pats on the back, which—while they failed to catch him off guard now that he'd grown used to them—often unbalanced him, and every now and then left him with some faint bruising on the shoulder. One would think the people of such a large, turbulent planet would be appropriately intimidating, and while some of them were in their size, their behavior was (generally) entirely different—boisterous and friendly. Never once had Liesel felt unwelcome.
Presently, Liesel sat in a chair by the hearth in his bed chamber, where a warm fire blazed. He’d changed from his formal clothes into a simple long white night shirt and a dressing gown of deep red silk, his hair released from its former bindings to ripple down his back. He had a book in his lap, a tome about some famous Jovian warrior or another, who was likely buried in this very fortress, down in the crypts full of grave markers and stone effigies. Rarely did Liesel travel with his own reading material. He’d found that most places were more than happy to allow him to peruse their libraries if he were to ask.
A storm raged outside—not quite as violent as he knew they could be, but no mere light drizzle either. Every once in awhile, Liesel’s eyes would flick around the room, to the door between the bed chamber and the sitting room, or to a certain tapestry he knew hung as more than decoration, as behind it hid a secret passage. He looked somewhat wary, as if he expected his solitude would soon be interrupted. It could very well be. Liesel had grown used to receiving company at this time of night, and he’d learned to gauge his host’s intentions by the manner in which he chose to enter the room.
If he came by the door, it meant he would depart within an hour or two, and either return to his own private room or join the others in the barracks. If he came by secret passage, it meant he didn’t intend to leave until early morning.
Sure enough, as Liesel flipped another page in his book, he saw the tapestry shift out of the corner of his eye, and he lifted his head to watch Serge, the knight of Valhalla and lord of Valhalla fortress, enter.
He glanced at the objects his friend carried in his hands—one a small wooden box, and the other a bottle of wine—and greeted Serge with a frown. “I’ll not get drunk again,” he said. He tried to sound stern, but he wasn’t sure he managed it well enough given that he wasn’t a stern person by nature.
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Posted: Fri Feb 06, 2015 7:04 am
The fact that Liesel had learned to gauge his intentions by the manner in which he entered the room meant that the Senshi of Ganymede wasn't completely hopeless. No, that was too condescending to think of Liesel in such a manner. Serge was well aware that he wasn't hopeless, albeit rather innocent, but it wasn't like he couldn't figure things out on his own.
Serge had to duck under the entry way as he pushed the tapestry aside, having grown too tall to be confident that he wouldn't hit his head on the lintel. It didn't take him long to find out where his friend was, since he'd apparently been expecting him, although the frown he was greeted with wasn't all too unfamiliar, and one he'd grown to ignore.
Instead, an eyebrow raised in curiosity at the young man, before glancing down at the bottle in his hand. "I meant to toast your successful negotiations, but if you'd rather not," he said as he moved into the room. The summer storms kept the fortress at a decent temperature, so the fact that Serge was wearing nothing but loose pants and a dressing gown of dark green shouldn't be all that surprising. His chest and feet were bare, although by this point he was quite used to walking along the cold stone floors, no matter what the season.
The wooden box was casually placed on a small table near where Liesel was sitting in front of the fire, but the wine bottle Serge was working on opening, using his teeth to uncork it. Once open, he set the cork and bottle on the table as well, before looking around the room for goblets to use, but only finding one near the bed, still partially filled with water, but soon emptied into one corner of the fireplace, causing smoke to billow up for a few moments as the water evaporated and disappeared.
Serge's dark brown hair was loose and falling in light waves over his shoulders, reaching just past his shoulder blades. He sported a well groomed gotee as well, nowhere near as bushy as many of the other residents of Valhalla, but it showed that he was of a mature age, and maybe even made him look older than he was.
"I told them to bring a couch in here..." he mumbled to himself as he took and poured the wine into the goblet, before making himself comfortable on the carpet in front of the fire, at Liesel's feet. Here there was no reason for him to try and impress others with his etiquette and manners. In the fortress with which he shared a name, Serge felt comfortable doing whatever he wanted, although he kept it within reason, not wanting others to question his competency, but if he wanted to drink wine from the bottle, or sit on the floor, or walk around in nothing but his undergarments, he was sure that no one would try to stop him.
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Posted: Fri Feb 06, 2015 7:04 am
Liesel speared Serge with a look that clearly showed his disbelief.
“You only insist upon toasting such occasions when you have some sort of ulterior motive. I’m not so ignorant these days that I can’t hazard a guess as to what that is. You’ve made yourself quite plain,” he said, quickly shifting his eyes back to his book as he felt his cheeks grow warm. He told himself it was because of his proximity to the fire.
He almost managed to believe it.
Instead of saying anything further or watching his friend go about the room in search of a goblet, Liesel stared very intently at his book. If he concentrated hard enough, perhaps he’d actually be able to process some of the words. It seemed unlikely, given that he knew what Serge had come for, but he made a valiant effort of it nonetheless. The first distraction came when Serge set the wooden box on the table; Liesel’s eyes flicked over to it briefly, wondering what could possibly be contained within it. Serge didn’t usually bring anything with him when he waltzed so brazenly into his room—at least nothing more than the tools he made use of to make Liesel more receptive to his persuasions.
The wine, for example.
The second distraction came when Serge returned to him and settled himself on the floor. Liesel was unable to stop himself from quickly casting his gaze over to him as he tried to speculate which manner of approach Serge would use in his attempts to convince him this evening, and as he looked at him Liesel found himself thinking that Serge really was rather handsome. He’d known that before, of course; attempting to live a life of celibacy didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate the attractiveness of others. He’d thought that about Serge quite a few times, but with the fire throwing light and shadow over him and highlighting the contours of his body, it was a bit harder to ignore.
When he realized his eyes had fastened onto a portion of Serge’s chest revealed by his loosely tied robe, Liesel stubbornly forced his attention back to his book. He was silently thankful for the chair instead of the couch Serge had apparently requested. If he’d had to sit next to him, it would have been much more difficult to concentrate on being prudish and uptight.
“Whatever attempts you’re going to make to woo me this evening aren’t going to work,” Liesel warned him. He turned in his chair so that he could lift his feet up and dangle his legs over one of the arms, keeping them away from Serge. He knew better than to let him touch any part of him. His concentration would break the minute he did.
“I’ve told you before that this is very inappropriate,” he continued. He barely saw any of the words on the page he was staring at. “Shameful, even. I don’t know how you’ve managed to convince me otherwise during my last few visits, but it must stop. People will know, and then I will never be able to look anyone in the eye ever again. There are already whispers. People say you pay far too much attention to me.”
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Posted: Fri Feb 06, 2015 7:05 am
"Ulterior motive?" Serge repeated, stretching out on the carpet in front of the fire as he took a drink from the goblet in his hand. "Why would you think I had an ulterior motive? Do you not trust me? After we've known each other all these six years?"
He was just teasing, of course. It was clear by the way he smirked lightly that he really didn't care what Liesel thought. This was Valhalla, and while he might not always have his way on other worlds, such as Ganymede, he made sure he got his way here.
"You act as though I'm bothering you..." he pointed out, watching as Liesel retracted his feet from Serge's immediate reach, but it wasn't as if it would be very difficult to move closer to capture them in his hands if he so desired. Making Liesel fuss and squirm and protest was half the fun. "Am I bothering you?" he wondered, although it wasn't as though he was planning on going anywhere. If Liesel really didn't want him there, he would have requested him to leave, not just whine about how their seeing each other was inappropriate.
Or rather... Serge was the one going to see Liesel, but that was beside the point.
Sure enough, Serge slid just slightly closer to where Liesel was sitting in his chair and reached up to gently take hold of his foot. The goblet had been placed down on the hearth so it wouldn't be knocked over as easily, and his hands were quick to cover the bared skin to his ankle.
"Your feet are like ice," he said with a frown, attempting to warm the one he was holding with his hands.
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Posted: Fri Feb 06, 2015 7:06 am
“Of course I trust you,” Liesel replied. His eyes remained glued to his book, though he saw none of the words and had yet to turn another page. “I trust you to support me, and to comfort me, and to aid me when I require it. I also trust you to insist upon this illicit fantasy you’ve concocted,” he added, sparing a narrow-eyed glance at him. “Feigning innocence doesn’t suit you. You and I both know it to be a lie.”
He watched Serge inch closer and wasn’t quick enough to pull his foot away. The red in his face lingered. Liesel tried to return his attention back to his book but found it to be impossible. He couldn’t banish the thought of how handsome Serge looked in the firelight, or how warm his hand felt around his ankle.
Still, he couldn’t allow it. It didn’t matter how attractive, or how comfortable, or how persuasive Serge happened to be. Liesel had made a commitment to his people, one he had practically spat upon already with the amount of times he’d given in to Serge’s whispered promises and forbidden desires. He was already ashamed of his lack of control. Allowing it to happen again when he was determined to put a stop to it was out of the question.
Frowning through the red in his cheeks, Liesel moved his foot to gently plant it against Serge’s face, attempting to push him back.
“This fixation you have with me is unhealthy,” he said, and then added, “for both of us.”
He doubted the other man would care very much if Liesel were to show concern for how this affected Serge, but he thought Serge should care—at least a little—about what this meant for Liesel himself. Often, it seemed as if Serge merely chased him for the fun of it. He was sure if he were to ask his friend, that was the answer he would receive; but Liesel knew better than to think that was all. Serge wouldn’t keep pursuing him if it was, not once he’d gotten what he wanted the first time. It was that more than anything that convinced Liesel that if he put up enough of a fuss about it, he knew Serge would stop—grudgingly perhaps, but he would stop all the same.
Liesel simply had to keep reminding himself that that was what he wanted.
“Don’t you feel ashamed at all?”
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Posted: Fri Feb 06, 2015 7:06 am
Serge let out a small snort of amusement when Liesel tried pushing him away, and while he allowed the foot to remain against his face, he didn't back away. His hands reached out to run his palms up Liesel's shin, gently pressing his fingertips into the muscle in an attempt at an amateur massage.
"Why should I feel ashamed?" he asked, shrugging lightly and having completely ignored the comment about his 'fixation' or whatever Liesel decided it was. It was a popular topic that came up and he wasn't all that in the mood to talk about it.
Again.
And it wasn't as though he was doing anything completely unwanted. If Liesel really didn't want him to be around then he would leave... He didn't want to leave, but he wouldn't just completely ignore his requests. Liesel was different than the others, so of course he wanted to be with him when he could. It was bad enough that they only saw each other once every few months, at the least.
"I'm not doing anything wrong, am I?" he glanced up at his friend, before turning his head just enough to press a kiss against the arch of Liesel's foot, knowing full well that his beard would probably tickle him and was ready to let go in case the sensation caused Liesel to flail.
"I never get to see you. You're my oldest and dearest friend. Yet you'd rather read than spend time with me." Maybe it was mean to try and guilt him, but he’d use what weapons he could to coax.
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Posted: Fri Feb 06, 2015 7:07 am
Liesel’s leg jerked as Serge’s lips grazed the skin of his foot. He blushed furiously and tugged his limb out of Serge’s grip, curling his legs beneath him instead, where they rested protected between he and the chair. He tried to muster an angry response but found that he could only portray his embarrassment.
“Must you be so forward?” he asked.
Once again, he tried to force his attention back to his book, as if Serge would take the hint and stop if he ignored him enough, though Liesel knew that wouldn’t be the case. It never was. Serge was perhaps the most persistent man he’d ever met. Sometimes his behavior could be quite overbearing, especially in his own fortress on Jupiter, where he was most comfortable and where he was used to getting exactly what he wanted whenever he happened to want it. Serge’s needs were well taken care of here, and his desires were met with enthusiasm.
Liesel could talk him down on Ganymede—and on other worlds as well, when the circumstances were right and he put in the effort to try—but it was much harder to deny him on Jupiter, in the fortress of Valhalla, where Serge was in control.
He liked to blame Serge sometimes—accuse him of being too forceful, pretend as if he wasn’t given much of a choice in the matter—but he knew it was as much his fault as it was his friend’s. He was always hesitant, always unsure, yet he never said “no,” he was never quite as forceful and insistent in his denials as he thought he should be. He always felt so much shame when it was over, but there was a part of him that he struggled to contain that wanted it still, that told him this was how things could have been if he had been born a normal person, if he hadn’t been destined to awaken as Sailor Ganymede.
He always told himself it was his choice to attempt to abide by the celibacy laws, but in his moments of loneliness and solitude he would sometimes think of the unfairness of it. If Liesel were any other man, he could have been with Serge without regrets.
“I wish you wouldn’t say things like that,” he said sadly, looking to Serge with another frown. “You know how guilty it makes me feel. It hurts me to think you would say it for that purpose. I do want to spend time with you. I simply wish you’d be satisfied with our friendship the way it was before you… before you got it into your head that you desired me.”
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Posted: Fri Feb 06, 2015 7:07 am
Sure enough, Serge released Liesel's leg as he pulled it away, looking both amused and disappointed as his friend made sure to keep his limbs out of reach this time. Or at least make it infinitely more difficult to get to.
It was the sad look he was given that had him hesitating to do anything more, not wanting to upset Liesel more than he had already. He regretted stooping to using guilt tactics in order to get Liesel to back down as well. At least emotionally. He was no longer glaring, but still... it always backfired and Serge felt just as guilty as he tried making Liesel feel.
He glanced away from him, reaching out for the goblet of wine and taking another gulp or two of it and then set it down again. His attention turned to the box he'd left on the nearby table before, and he slowly rose to his feet to retrieve it, rolling it gently in his hands, but clearly being careful so as not to drop it.
"I don't like hurting you," he admitted in what was more of a grumble than anything, his eyes locked on the box in his hands, even though it could easily be held in one palm without much trouble. "But even spending time with you has its limitations." If they were in public, they'd be accused of 'inappropriate things', and in private Liesel was too set in the thought that he was betraying his world if he gave in to his own desires. While Liesel did his best to act proper and dignified, Serge knew there was more to him than that.
"I had something made for you, if you'll accept it," he said, somehow managing to break his voice out of the grumbling he'd just been doing, glancing curiously up at Liesel to see his reaction.
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Posted: Fri Feb 06, 2015 7:08 am
He didn’t think he should, given all the times Serge had tried to guilt him into accepting his advances, but Liesel felt guilty making Serge feel guilty, and his frown turned even sadder. He never had it in him to be cruel. Serge could have given in to frustration and anger and lost his temper with him, and Liesel didn’t think he would have been able to return the negative sentiments. He didn’t enjoy harming or disappointing people, Serge least of all.
Liesel tried to push all of the conflicting emotions down. The more he thought about it, the more confusing it all became. Instead, he turned his attention to the box Serge had retrieved, the one Serge had brought in with him and which Liesel had previously viewed with curiosity. His brows lifted and he sat up a bit more in his chair, keeping his legs curled beneath him all the while. He marked his place in his book and set it aside.
“You had something made for me?” he repeated, staring in wonder.
It wasn’t like Serge to give him gifts. The knight typically restricted himself to compliments and other supportive comments, but never bore any material items as a sign of his desires or affections. Liesel glanced from the wooden box up into Serge’s green eyes. He thought his friend might look a little unsure of himself, but the emotion was gone before he could properly examine it, replaced with the more dour expression he was used to seeing adorn Serge’s features.
That made him feel guilty, too, seeing Serge look so grim. It wasn’t anger or sadness that caused it so much as loneliness. Liesel could understand that. He knew what it felt like.
“What is it?” he asked. He didn’t disguise his curiosity or the little thrill of excitement that shot through him. If his eyes brightened, or his mouth quirked into a tiny smile, he wanted Serge to see it.
He certainly didn’t require gifts, but he liked the thought that Serge cared enough to have something made for him. It made the distress he felt over some of the things they’d done lessen a fraction, because he knew it had more to do with Serge’s feelings and less to do with him wanting something more the more it was denied to him.
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Posted: Fri Feb 06, 2015 7:08 am
He knew Liesel didn't like making him feel guilty, which was ridiculous since Liesel hadn't been the one to do anything wrong in the first place. But Liesel was kind-hearted like that, and it made Serge often regret taking such advantage of his feelings, even though he knew others did it so much more, and with worse intentions than his own.
"It isn’t much..." he said with a small shrug, glancing around for something to sit on, not wanting to tower over Liesel as he gave him the box, but in the end he gave up and slowly approached his friend near the fire. He turned the box over in his hands a few more times, as if he was debating on whether or not it was a good idea, before finally just handing it to him and taking a step back.
Inside the wooden encasement, protected with a cushion of red satin that lined the inside, was a golden bird. Its wings were spread wide and its eyes glistened with tiny rubies.
"It's an eagle..." Serge explained, not sure if Liesel knew what kind of bird it was or not. "Where I'm from... on Earth... it's a symbol of protection, wisdom... courage..."
He let Liesel have a look at it before continuing. "It's a brooch... I know you like to wear them, so..." he shrugged lightly again. "I only worked on the eagle part. The jeweler added the filigree and gems."
Explaining everything seemed to wear him out, because the more he spoke about it, the quieter and less confident he seemed. Serge was typically a very confident man, one who rarely backed down, and if he did it was for a very good reason. But he'd never been one for gift giving, and the more he told Liesel about it, the less he was certain that it would be wanted.
It wasn't the best quality, or at least the image of the eagle wasn't. He'd thought about having a professional do the entire thing, but he wanted to do more than just throw money at someone. It wasn't really the style known to either Ganymede or Jupiter, but one that Serge had remembered from his youth, growing up on Earth. It probably wouldn't even match anything Liesel wore...
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Posted: Fri Feb 06, 2015 7:09 am
He took the box carefully, not wanting to disturb the contents, though Serge hadn’t seemed too concerned about that with the way he’d been twisting and turning the box in his hands. Even still, Liesel thought he should treat it with reverence. It was a gift from Serge. Whether or not Serge thought it was anything special, Liesel certainly viewed it as such.
After staring up at his friend for a few more moments, Liesel finally lowered his gaze to the box and worked on opening it. Gently, he lifted the latch that kept it shut and slowly pushed back the lid. It flipped back smoothly on its hinge, revealing the golden bird, whose ruby eyes glittered in the firelight.
Liesel smiled very softly and didn’t say anything as he let Serge explain. He listened, of course, and the more he heard, the more Liesel got that odd fluttering feeling in his chest and stomach that he often experienced when the two of them were alone in each other’s company. He felt warm again, but it wasn’t from the fire or from the deep flush that frequently consumed his face. It came from somewhere deep within him, and made his heart thaw and his knees grow weak.
He wanted to ask what Serge had meant by crafting something that symbolized protection—whether it was supposed to embody his position as Senshi and thus his responsibility to protect Ganymede and the Jovian system beyond it, or whether Serge meant it as some sort of a protective charm for him. He thought he liked the second option better, as it was a sign of Serge’s affections, which he liked to see glimpses of every now and again. It made him seem so much less harsh. So many people thought of Serge as little more than a hardened warrior, but Liesel knew there was more to him than that.
Yet he didn’t ask, not wanting to make his friend uncomfortable by voicing the inquiry and asking him to explain. He knew how much trouble Serge had in expressing himself with words. The fact that he’d even presented him with a gift in the first place was for Liesel enough proof that Serge felt more for him than what he often voiced.
“It’s lovely,” he breathed. He set the box in his lap and took the brooch out of it with soft hands. After loosening his robe, he lifted the brooch and pinned it to his night shirt, on the left side of his chest.
Then, Liesel unfolded himself from his chair, stood to his feet, set the empty box back on the small side table, and approached Serge with a smile. He took both of his hands and held them loosely, looking into his eyes.
“Thank you,” he said. “I’ll cherish it always.”
Saying that didn’t quite express as much as he wanted it to—it seemed like such a generic expression of thanks—and so after a moment of hesitation he leaned closer to place a light kiss upon Serge’s mouth.
“I think you’re growing soft,” he teased when he pulled back, smiling brightly.
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Posted: Fri Feb 06, 2015 7:09 am
Serge shifted lightly from one foot to the other as Liesel took the pin from the box and placed it on his nightshirt. He knew there was no reason for him to feel anxious, yet he did. Did he really care whether or not Liesel liked the gift? He wouldn't have cared if it was anyone else, but... again... Liesel was different.
He liked how it looked, at least — the eagle resting over Liesel's heart, as if to protect him from... everything. Serge knew that wasn't possible, of course. Nothing could protect him indefinitely, but maybe now Liesel would be reminded that he did have someone who cared about him and what happened to him... And maybe that would give him the courage to stand up to those who may try to use him or hurt him.
Although, thinking about it like that was kind of ridiculous, too.
Lost in thought, Serge didn't realize that Liesel had left his chair until he took his hands into his own. He glanced at him more fully then, meeting the periwinkle purple of Liesel's eyes, which sparkled even without the help of the fire. The kiss surprised him, but it wasn't unwanted.
The comment, though... was definitely unneeded. He snorted lightly, shaking his head in mock exasperation. "Why? Because I come bearing gifts?" he wondered, pulling one of his hands away so he could reach up and place it around Liesel's back, pulling him against his chest and lifting his chin place it on the top of Liesel's head.
He might not be able to protect him as he'd like, but he would do whatever he could, while he could.
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Posted: Fri Feb 06, 2015 7:10 am
“Well... yes and no…”
He noticed Serge’s latent tenderness quite often, not just now that he was being given a present. Serge might not be as friendly with other people—indeed, he could be rather brusque and uncaring, rough in his actions as well as his words—but Liesel knew that he was treated to Serge’s softer side, probably more than even he realized, and that perhaps he was the only one in the universe that was given that honor. If he wasn’t, then he had at least never seen Serge act in such a way toward anyone else, not to the extent with which Serge treated him.
Serge had been distant and not very talkative at all when they’d first met. Liesel occasionally thought of their first meeting with fondness, and a trace of irony, for things had changed between them since then. At the time, Liesel had been the one to pursue Serge’s friendship, chatting away happily while Serge watched him warily. Their roles had flipped at some point during that first year, and Liesel found himself to be the wary one, while Serge persisted in his attraction.
“There’s also the hugging,” Liesel noted. He allowed himself to be drawn forward, slipping one arm around Serge while his other hand remained tangled with Serge’s fingers. “And the kissing, and all the touching. You never touch anyone else more than you have to, and you’re always so… so serious and cold.”
He lifted his head a bit to smile at him again. “But you’re not like that with me.”
Liesel may always be conflicted about his own feelings, or what had become of their friendship, but there were parts of it he did like and could admit to enjoying, so long as none of it ever took place in public. He enjoyed the comforting touches—a hand in his hair, tenderly sliding through it, or a hand cupping and caressing the side of his face—and the embraces they exchanged in private had a way of settling him when he was upset or feeling overwhelmed. He even enjoyed the kissing when it was chaste and unhurried. Kissing was harmless, he thought, when done for the right reasons.
Separating his other hand from Serge’s fingers, Liesel raised it to place along Serge’s handsome face, running his thumb lightly over the neatly trimmed hair. “Have I ever told you I find this quite charming?” he asked, leaning close to nuzzle and feel the scratchiness against his cheek.
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Posted: Fri Feb 06, 2015 7:11 am
A small 'tsk' escaped Serge's lips as Liesel spoke to him about his apparent softness. Had anyone other than Liesel pointed it out to him, he might have been rather moody and might have lost his temper, but Liesel was right in that he wasn't so serious and cold with him.
At least he tried not to be. He knew there were times in which he was rather distant, but a little time spent with his closest friend eased him of whatever tension he had.
He allowed Liesel to remain close, staring at him with a look of disbelief on his face. Just a few moments ago Liesel had been talking about how inappropriate their being together was, and then he decided that it was actually quite okay to hold hands and hug and share light kisses.
Had he been in the mood to tease, he would have asked him if he would rather him be cold and serious, but with how Liesel was smiling, and the way he ran his hand over his face... well... he couldn't do anything to ruin the moment. The rare moment of fondness that Liesel initiated, even.
Instead, Serge let out a small sigh, smiling softly back as Liesel leaned in closer, his arm still around his back and keeping him from losing his balance. "You might have..." he said, turning his head just enough to kiss the side of Liesel's face. It was only in private that they could get away with moments like this. If anyone else found out about Liesel's activities, well... Serge was sure that the Lord Chancellor would figure out a way to keep Liesel locked up.
"Have I ever told you I find you quite beautiful...?" Of course he had, but there was nothing wrong with saying it again.
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Posted: Fri Feb 06, 2015 7:11 am
Liesel laughed and nodded. “Only every time I see you,” he said. He knew he was blushing lightly. Comments like that from Serge always earned such a reaction.
It wasn’t as if he weren’t used to hearing it. People said it all the time, to varying degrees. His own people practically worshipped him—though he acknowledged the fact that they probably would have done the same even if he’d been less visually appealing, simply because of who he was—and others off-world frequently greeted him with compliments regarding his good looks, if not his mild manners and keen intellect. Liesel was humble but not so modest that he couldn’t see why he received comments like that—his people were known for their vanity, and Liesel wasn’t entirely immune to it. His androgyny had a certain appeal to others, as did his fair coloring.
Yet Serge’s remarks meant more to him than the comments of any other. With someone else, he would have smiled and thanked them and smoothly moved on to other business, but with Serge he liked to bask in it for a while. He liked to stand there and stare at Serge and think about how handsome he was, and tell himself over and over again that Serge—irritable, strong, good-looking Serge—thought he was beautiful.
He wondered how many other people Serge had said that to. Sometimes he felt a little jolt of something cold and stinging when he thought of Serge with someone else. When he took the time to mull it over, and when he found the courage to admit it to himself, he thought it might be jealousy.
It was improper, he reminded himself, to feel this way and to do these things. He had devoted himself to his people, and to the laws of his government. The closer he grew to Serge, the more he allowed these transgressions to take place, the more strain he was placing upon his devotions, and the more conflicted he would inevitably become. He didn’t want to become so enamored of Serge that he began to place less and less focus on his duties, but at the same time he couldn’t let it go. He needed their friendship. He needed to know that there was someone there for him—and that their loyalty to him wasn’t because of duty or obligation or the hero-worship his people viewed him with.
He’d always wanted someone to love Liesel over Sailor Ganymede.
He had that with Serge. Neither of them had ever so much as whispered the word, but he was sure it was there somewhere, hidden between them. Liesel knew that was why he couldn’t quite deny Serge the way he knew he should. If Serge pushed and cajoled enough, Liesel would invariably be convinced and give in to what he couldn’t deny a part of him wanted.
He’d be ashamed of it later, but for now he cared more for how he felt than what other people would think if they ever found out.
After a few more moments, Liesel pulled himself away—but not for long. He gripped one of Serge’s hands as he lowered himself to the floor before the fire, encouraging his friend to join him. As he did so, Liesel lay down and pulled Serge to hover over him. The color in his face deepened, but Liesel’s fond smile remained.
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