Adult-FanFiction.org : Movies

Messages	By : pip Category: G through L > Lady Hawke Views: 1818 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own LadyHawke, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Messages
- 1
Pairing: Etienne Navarre/Phillipe Gaston
Warnings: Slash, M/M
Disclaimer: The characters and their world, plus selected pieces of dialogue belong to Edward Khmara, Michael Thomas, Tom Mankiewicz, David Peoples, and also to 20th Century Fox and Warner Bros. Entertainment. I make no money from this.

Messages

The wolf killer is dead. Navarre is safe, and after a while in the woods we run back to the barn lest our disappearance is noted and the connection made between death and us. It is raining again, and we are both soaked by the time we arrive back.
I go back out for some things, and despite the upset, everything this evening is as I promised. The fire is warm, the wine sweet, the music is cheerful; and later the dancing is fun and exhilarating. You laugh, but then become sad when the wolf calls out over the sound of the flute. We feel his loneliness together. Navarre.
You beg me for a favour, and I shrug and smile. There is nothing I wouldn't do for you, Lady – surely you know that, and yet you are hesitant – almost shy. I wonder what you would have to be shy about, as you are usually so relaxed and happy in my company. And then I know. The kiss is only a short one. Sweet and tentative. It would have been chaste if you hadn't let me feel the tip of your tongue on my lips like that. I strive to feel every movement of your lips on mine, the way you embrace me like a lover, so that I can always remember this as it was.
When it's over I wonder why you would have done such a thing. The wolf calls again, and the wrongness of what we have done assaults me. I draw in a breath to speak, but then falter, silenced by the look in your eyes as you smile at me.
"I wish for you to give that kiss to Navarre," you say, and then sigh, looking away from me. I nod at once, and then realise you cannot see it.
"Of course, my Lady," I say hastily. I wonder if you realise what you have asked me to do, but when you look back at me and smile I realise you do not. You are innocent. The kiss was innocent. But I am not, despite appearances, and for a moment I curse the day I got involved with the hawk and the wolf. You are both dangerous creatures.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Phillipe turned away from Navarre. The captain wanted to know everything Isabeau had said. She had said a lot. Phillipe wondered where to start, but then he turned to face Navarre. "She was sad at first. She talked about the day you met, and she cursed it." He saw the Captain close his eyes and lower his head, and he hurried on. "But then I saw her remember how happy you were together, before the Bishop's curse. And her eyes glowed. No, she glowed." They both almost smiled. "She loves you more than life, Captain. She's had to."
The sorrow was imprinted on Phillipe's heart as well as it was on theirs, but Navarre's next words made him feel it all over again. "Did you know that hawks and wolves mate for life? Yeah… The Bishop didn't even leave us that. Not even that."
Navarre went to see to Goliath, and Phillipe turned away again. He drew meaningless pictures in the dirt with a stick while he remembered what else Isabeau had said. Or rather, what she had done. He looked over at Navarre just in time to catch the Captain's eye, and looked away again quickly.
"There is something else," Navarre said suddenly. Phillipe wished himself a million miles away, but the earth beneath his feet remained obstinately stationary. He kicked at it in disgust as the Captain returned to him. "So, what else happened last night?" Phillipe looked up again, and found those disturbingly bright blue eyes focused steadily on him. He began to get nervous. "Tell me," Navarre urged, and Phillipe found himself wanting to tremble. He couldn't seem to look away from the Captain's lips.
"Yes, all right," he began, trying to find something else to say that wouldn't strike the man as a lie. For the first time in his entire life, nothing came to mind. "She had a message for you." Phillipe swallowed nervously, and looked around, anywhere but at Navarre.
"Another message?" He sounded amused and careless about the statement, but there was the slightest hint of desperation and hope in his voice if you knew how to listen. Phillipe had learned how to listen.
"Erm…" The lie still didn't come. "Well…" Still nothing. Phillipe cleared his throat, trying to make the sound deep and masculine. "This one is kind of difficult."
"How?" Navarre said quickly, with suspicion, and Phillipe found himself looking up again despite every instinct to the contrary. For a moment the sight of Navarre took his breath away, and he couldn't speak lies or truth. The Captain grabbed the front of his tunic. "Tell me what she said or I'll make sure you're silent for the rest of your life." Phillipe drew in a startled breath. "The truth!"
The Captain was trying to scare him – it was working – but he was scared enough already. There wasn't any extra help needed. Phillipe faced his fear with a kind of cornered desperation as always. "The thing is this." His voice was a little higher, reflecting the fear when he found his gaze drawn to Navarre's lips again. "It isn't so much something she said, as something she gave me." He looked meaningfully up at Navarre, but the man didn't understand. Phillipe sighed desperately, and before he could think any further, he moved forward to wind his arms around the Captain's neck, and kissed him.
It seemed to last forever. It was like last night, but now he was playing a different part. He remembered how it had felt, and he tried his very best to make it the same. When it was over he drew back, suddenly realising that he had done it, and feeling a little shocked at himself. Navarre didn't speak straight away, and Phillipe was glad.
"She kissed you?!" he managed eventually, and Phillipe winced, certain that Navarre would strike him. He was already sorry. But he couldn't be intimidated like this! None of this was his fault! He was bound to get into trouble when his mouth started to speak without his permission.
"Only temporarily, Sir." Temporarily? Phillipe shook his head in despair. "She gave it to me for you. I'm not a thief," he said emphatically. Phillipe thought about that for a second. "Well, I am," he corrected, "but not to you." He closed his eyes and waited, but nothing happened. After a minute or two, he risked opening one eye, and found himself facing something that shouldn't be. Navarre was holding his face in his hands. As if that wasn't disturbing enough, a single tear had managed to fall from under his fingers and made its way lazily towards his jaw.
"Isabeau!" All their pain and anguish was in the word. Phillipe swallowed past the lump in his throat. He reached out to place a comforting hand on the Captain's shoulder.
"I'm sorry, Sir, I truly am." There was no reaction. "But I did beg you not to involve me in these things." he reminded the man. Was it his fault if he had been caught in the middle of this – between them? Navarre had guaranteed it by keeping him around. Suddenly Navarre looked straight at him, all trace of misery gone, and Phillipe didn't trust that look.
He closed his eyes to avoid that intense gaze when the Captain moved closer to him, and then gave a startled cry when he felt the first touch of lips on his. Oh, no! He wasn't going to do this! He would not become a part of their strange torture! Phillipe struggled, but Navarre was much stronger. He began to panic, but then the Captain threw him down onto the snow. This was his chance! He could run away! But before he could move Navarre had pinned him to the ground. He lay on his back with his eyes tightly closed, and the kiss began again.
Phillipe wondered if he was cursed too, because as the kiss continued against his will, all he could think about was how good it felt. He gave in to it at last, realising he wasn't going to get away, and he moaned when the Captain's tongue entered his mouth and moved against his own. He was surrounded by Navarre; his strength, his smell, and his warmth a contrast to the cold sterile snow beneath him. Phillipe gasped when the Captain moved against him, feeling the muscles of Navarre's leg brush against something that was waking up.
This isn't me, he told himself desperately. He tried to tell himself as the desire grew that he was feeling this way because of Isabeau; that it was the thought of doing this with her that made him hard and weak, and willing. He only became aware of Navarre's intentions when a gloved hand slid under his tunic, pushing it up to his neck. The kiss broke when the Captain lowered his head, and Phillipe wanted to shout, but it was the strangled squeak of the mouse that burst from him when a hot tongue began to dance around his left nipple.
"Please, Sir! You mustn't!" He reached forward to place his hands on the Captain's shoulders and push him away, but it was like pushing away rock. Navarre laughed against his naked skin, his breath hot and electric.
"Be quiet, little mouse," he said in amusement. "You know how to be quiet, don't you?" Phillipe continued to struggle, trying to think of an answer that would put an end to this, but then he felt teeth biting lightly at the nipple Navarre had been teasing, and his breath came out of him in a loud rush as if he had been hit in the stomach.
"Ahh!" That laugh again. "I mean; yes, Sir!"
At first, Phillipe began to wish that Imperius would show up to put an end to the strange torture Navarre was inflicting on him. Then, as time went on, he hoped the old man would stay away a while longer. Maybe it would be prudent to tell the Captain they were being followed?
Navarre stole Phillipe's clothes in a way the thief envied. Certainly, he had never been able to take the clothes from someone who was awake. And yet Navarre did. Phillipe had to admire the man. He thought of running when the Captain left him for a moment to retrieve something from one of the saddlebags, but he was pinned in place by the fixed stare of Navarre. There was no escape.
Despite all the nonsense in his head, and all the words he longed to speak, he was quiet when Navarre came back to him. He had never been with a man, yet he knew what it meant, and the thought of it actually made him speechless. Surely Navarre was not going to do it. Surely the Captain was just teaching him a lesson.
He heard his own strangled gasp when an oiled finger moved between his buttocks, sliding against his entrance. He looked into Navarre's eyes, and for a moment they were the eyes of the wolf. Mouse squeaked.
"Shh," Navarre hushed him, and then the kiss began again. It was hard not to respond – impossible in fact. The Captain was a skilled lover, and before too long the finger had found it's way into his body almost without him realising it. He realised with a kind of frenzied excitement that Navarre hadn't removed his gloves. The thought made him moan softly into the Captain's mouth.
Another oil-slicked hand wrapped itself around his erection, and Phillipe began to lose all coherence from that moment on. He was aware of nothing but the way the Captain played with his body, and he was sure he must be moaning and crying out. It was the most intense sensation he had ever felt, and something nameless began to build in him. The slow rhythmic teasing continued until he was sure he must have been screaming. But when Navarre leaned over, pulling Phillipe's legs to rest on his shoulders and nudging at his sensitive flesh with his own hardness, Phillipe saw the hawk.
She wheeled and glided in the sky above them, and what he had mistaken for his own passionate screaming was her cry. Phillipe added his voice to hers when he felt the Captain lay claim to his body with a slow thrust inside. Tears sprang to his eyes at being treated like this, his young and tender flesh protesting despite the preparation. Soon he couldn't see the hawk, but he could hear her, echoing his own cries as Navarre began to move within him.
The hand returned to him, to undo him with the irresistible pulling that until now Phillipe had only known with his own hand. It was so much better this way. Blackness fell over his vision as he gave himself up to everything, forgetting the hawk and the wolf. Forgetting that Imperius could interrupt. Forgetting that he was returning to Aquilla, most likely to his death. What did such things matter?
When he came he kept his eyes closed, and still he saw the white of his seed staining the black leather of the Captain's gloves. The image drew more from him, and then suddenly he felt the intimate warmth as Navarre found release inside him with a possessive growl that surely belonged to the wolf.
He lay still on his back in the cold snow as Navarre withdrew. He was sweating and speechless, wondering if this changed things. Why would the Captain do such a thing? When he opened his eyes he found his clothes beside him, and he dressed without a word, not even looking around for Navarre. He didn't search the skies for the hawk either, but looked deliberately at the ground when he stood. He winced and closed his eyes again at the slippery feeling inside him. It hurt a little – almost as if Navarre was still there.
"Phillipe?" He froze in place, motionless.
"Yes, Sir?" he managed to croak out, his voice uncertain for the first time in his life. Arms embraced him from behind and Phillipe leaned back into Navarre's grip in surrender, letting his head fall back onto the Captain's shoulder.
"Don't let Isabeau send me any more 'messages,'" he suggested. The amusement couldn't hide the steel in his words, and Phillipe shook his head vigorously.
"No, Sir!" He felt the embrace tighten in answer and he sighed. "I will fight her off if I have to," he said seriously, and the Captain laughed behind him.
"I'm sure you will, little mouse." Lips touched his neck, and Phillipe melted all over again at the unspoken promise. He nearly wished he had told Imperius to give up, for they would not be together again once the old man joined them, but in all honesty he wasn't selfish enough. "Thank you," Navarre whispered into his ear, and Phillipe simply nodded his head in understanding, knowing what he had given to the Captain – intimacy and pleasure. But they were still friends. Just friends.
He went to gather their things while Navarre called the hawk to him for the day's journey. The morning had grown late. How far away was the old man? Phillipe had the idea to thank God they hadn't been discovered by the old priest, or things would surely have taken an unwelcome turn.
"Honestly, I'm surprised at you, Lord," he said as he went to gather water from the river. "I would never have expected that. I'm beginning to think you are not the God I think you are," he said mistrustfully. "Was that a lesson of some kind? Because if it was I'm afraid I wasn't really paying attention." He stopped and then became serious; looking out over the still water that reflected the endless sky above. "If there is something you want me to know, Lord, I think you will have to tell me yourself." He waited, and then waited some more. "Right," he said eventually. He waited again. Nothing happened. "Well," he began with a put upon sigh. "You are very quiet, Lord. I do hope that it's not shock because you really should be used to me by now," he said defensively.
When he returned to Navarre, the old man came into sight at last, catching them before they left.
"On your way to kill His Grace?" Navarre fixed the old man with a cold glare; the hawk perched on his arm. "Why won't you listen to me?" The old man reiterated his idea to break the curse, and Phillipe wished Navarre would listen. He and Isabeau deserved to be together. They deserved to be happy.

~ finis ~

Author's Note: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. Comments welcome and will make me happy.
- 1
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Messages