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When night falls on the manor, it obviously gets quiet. Nothing unusual there, as a matter of fact, it’s expected. But it’s this time at night that the embalmer and the postman cherished the most. It was the one part of the day where they could clear their heads and bask in the rare stillness of the manor; free from all the chaos that day brought. It was this sentiment that started their bond, after all.
At this hour, Victor used it to spend a few hours in Aesop’s room. Neither of them interacted with each other directly and opted to do their own thing parallel to each other. It wasn’t like they didn’t want the other there with them, this was just how they enjoyed each other’s company. Aesop sat cross legged on the edge of his bed, his nose buried deep into a book he found in the library that day. And meanwhile, Victor was journaling at the borrowed desk space about the day. Soon, there was a point where Victor had recorded everything he wanted to get on paper, and was left with nothing to do. Usually when this happens, Victor would simply bid Aesop a good night and head back to his own room to settle in. But this time, his curiosity ran high. So he decided to get up from where he was sitting and inspect Aesop’s room a little, just to explore it. Aesop was an interesting character to the postman. This was just another one of his ways to get to know him without having to hold an awkward conversation filled with unnecessary small-talk. A scenario neither welcomed.
Aesop’s room was neat—no that’s an understatement. It was spotless, tidy, and somewhat dark. A lot of the decor had gothic inspirations, so the room was dimly lit by default. Especially when paired up with the embalmer’s funerary equipment that acted as it’s own form of interior design. Aesop tried to combat this by lighting more candles while Victor was there, but it never really solved the problem. Victor decides to note that maybe Aesop finds comfort in the dark.
Victor’s seemingly aimless wandering finally caught the attention of Aesop, who only caught the striking red of his uniform in his peripheral vision and hummed in confusion.
“Is there something wrong?” He asked, his head didn’t move but his dull eyes do pry themselves away from the pages to look at Victor. The postman wondered if Aesop thought he was pacing nervously, another one of his silent observations of the man.
Victor’s sewn smile widens a little as he shakes his head in reassurance. Aesop nods in reply and returns to his book, seeming disregarding the strange behavior and leaving Victor to his own devices again. It would be strange to others, but to Aesop it was merely his personality.
The postman continues to make his way around the room. At some point he makes a stop at his dresser, made from smooth, dark ebony wood and wasn’t that tall unlike the wardrobe on the other side of the bedroom. He knew this furniture wasn’t picked out by Aesop, but he found it a little freaky how that whoever set this room up in this purgatory of a manor seemingly knew Aesop better than Victor did. Which made the postman slightly jealous of this anonymous stranger. But he cast the thought out quickly and returned to his investigation.
The dresser isn’t what caught Victor’s eyes though, it was Aesop’s makeup box that sat neatly on top of it. The embalmer carried it basically everywhere and was practically glued to his hand during matches no matter the situation. Victor never got to see what he carried around in it though, he assumes it was makeup, that much was obvious. But he’s never seen what kind he carries, or how it’s set up in there. It would be intriguing to see how he organized everything.
Victor’s hand carefully reaches out to the latches keeping it shut, but quickly retracts it upon realizing how rude it would be to look through it right in front of Aesop. He knew he wouldn’t be angry but he knew it would bother him quite a bit. And Victor didn’t want to betray his trust, not even slightly.
The postman turns around and hums for Aesop’s attention, who gives it to him in an instant. He closes the book, keeping his thumb inside the pages to keep his place, letting Victor know that he was listening—or watching.
Victor raises his hands to effectively sign to the other, ‘Can I see what’s inside your makeup box?’ He asks with the same polite smile he always had.
Aesop tilts his head slightly, his face wasn’t obscured by the surgical mask he usually wore, so Victor could see that his expression wasn’t that of confusion but more akin to inquisition. His eyes move to the box in question. He was reluctant to let Victor look through its contents, but he also knew that there was nothing to hide in there either. It’s just makeup, after all.
He eventually gives a shrug, “I suppose so, it wouldn’t hurt.” he replied, opening his book back up a little. He kept his gaze on Victor though, in case he would start signing again.“Just be sure not to disorganize it, I like keep it a certain way.”
Victor nodded in understanding, ‘I’ll put everything back where I found it!’ He promised.
When both of their attentions were turned away from each other once again, Victor reached for the latches again, carefully undoing them to open the case. It looked as if he were opening pandora’s box with how delicate he was being, but with the way Aesop was by nature, it felt more invasive than simply opening a box of makeup.
And just like he said, it was just make up. Organized rows of labeled bottles and containers filled the compartments. There were some brushes and blenders here and there as well, scissors, a scalpel, and even a syringe. Seemed like normal mortuary tools. But it looked like Aesop carried the bare minimum around with him. The surrogate that came with his summoned coffins made packing the necessities easier, no need for packing every shade of foundation imaginable when the surrogate would morph into the correct subject anyway. Who knew what his full collection looked like, Victor thought maybe he should ask about it later.
What he was drawn to at the moment was the lipsticks, Aesop carried mostly natural and nude colors. His way to keep the ‘natural but presentable’ look he always aimed for when preserving corpses. But there was one color that stood out amongst the rest, a deep red color that Aesop would probably use in matches with the priestess or perfumer. Victor picked it out of the box and unscrewed the lid to peer at the beautiful color. This shade of red was always one of Victor’s favorites.
In that moment Victor felt a small urge to apply the makeup on himself, but how would he get it off after he’s had his fun? Would it be embarrassing to do so in front of Aesop? Would Aesop be willing to do his makeup if he were to ask?
The postman looks behind himself to peer at Aesop, he was still invested in the novel, his bangs dropped down in front of his face that obscured one of his eyes from Victor’s view. The rest of it was still tied back though. Victor wondered if Aesop ever applied his own makeup, he seems pretty skilled with it. It would be a waste not to, wouldn’t it?
Such a shame, Victor thought this color of lipstick would be a huge contrast to the rest of his palette. But still wondered what it would look like. Aesop’s skin was rather fair, and his eyes and hair were just as light. The red probably wouldn’t look as good as the other shades would. But it didn’t stop Victor’s imagination.
Victor thought, would he apply it if he asked him to? Would it be too strange? Or maybe he could…
The postman looks back down at the lipstick in his hand, a rather risky and impulsive thought swirled into his head that caused his heart to start racing.
If he were to apply it to his own lips, and transfer the pigment through a kiss. Would it look better? It would be a much more paler red when applied that way. But the question was, how would Aesop react? Would he find it romantic? They’ve indirectly flirted with each other in their letters, but Victor had no idea if his feelings were truly reciprocated. They’ve never taken the time to sit down and acknowledged their feelings towards each other. But they’ve both gone out of their way to imply their romantic interest through small, yet awkward gestures. So maybe he’d be just as flustered as Victor would be.
Or, would he be taken aback and find it weird? Maybe taking him by surprise wasn’t the best approach. But Victor couldn’t hesitate either, as it could make him nervous and back out entirely. Embarrassing himself with bright red lipstick on his face.
He could always ask, even if being rejected would hurt the postman immensely. But warning him was definitely the right way to go. So, Victor turns around and searches for the nearest reflective surface. There was a small mirror sitting on the desk, so Victor returns to it and pretends to mess with his journal a little more to avoid suspicion before opening up the lipstick once more and starting to carefully apply it to his lips. He struggled with his stitches, which were now stained as well. But he eventually got it on. And it was about as flattering as you would expect. His only saving grace was his postman’s uniform slightly matching the shade.
He suddenly hears a light chuckle coming from behind him and freezes up.
“Find something you like?” Aesop asked, shrugging, “You know…I would have been more than happy to apply some of my makeup on you, h-had you asked.” He continued sheepishly, it would be a dream come true to be able to pretend he was preparing Victor for his funeral. The thought alone put a rather giddy, yet nauseating pit in his stomach.
Victor turns around awkwardly, laughing off the unflattering color on his lips. He notices how Aesop raises his eyebrows upon seeing him and covers it with his hand before he walked over to meet him by the bed.
“Oh, my…” says Aesop, a smile tugs at his lips but he’s obviously fighting it off so that he wouldn’t let Victor think he was laughing at him, “…Perhaps I should have offered.”
The hand covering Victor’s face slowly falls away as he averts his gaze, raising his hands to speak,
‘Can I…’ his hands freeze, somehow unable to finish his question now. Aesop cocks his head to the side a little but remains patient. Letting him collect enough courage to finish.
After what felt like forever, his hands started to move again, albeit shakily, ‘Kiss you…?’
The question takes the embalmer by surprise, leaving him speechless. Of course, he wanted to accept the offer. But words were failing him in the moment. And with each passing second where Aesop kept still, Victor’s heart sank even further.
Victor waves his hands frantically and backs away a bit, sweat dripping off his brow. He wanted nothing more than to run out of the room and forget the interaction ever happened. But he knew Aesop would never forget, he’s remembered so many details about Victor anyway. There’s no way this wouldn’t be branded into his memory forever.
Victor shifts his feet and prepares to make a run for it, but Aesop stops him by standing up and mumbling a barely audible, “Wait.”
Aesop bit his lip, watching Victor turn back to him nervously. Though he couldn’t really take the other seriously with the ridiculous lipstick on his mouth, so he glanced to the side. looking at nothing in particular. A harsh blush started to coat his face the more he kept his answer hidden. Victor’s eyes began to fill with hope, though this was unseen by the embalmer.
Finally, after a long wait, Aesop nods slowly. An invitation Victor anxiously waited for. But he he wanted more confirmation than that, consent is something that they both knew required spoken words.
“I’m—“ Aesop hesitated, “I’m not opposed.” He uttered before his eyes finally let themselves look at the postman. he flashes a crooked smile to really tie it together. Victor beamed a much brighter smile back, he was more than happy to oblige.
Victor wasted no time to close the distance, stepping closer to the embalmer and placing his hands on his shoulders to keep him in place while he softly pressed his lips against Aesop’s. At first, it was just him committing to the act, but was relieved to feel Aesop reciprocate after a few moments. He felt the embalmers frigid hands wrap around the other, he was unsure of where to put them so he simply used the opportunity to feel the soft material of his uniform.
Unfortunately, they needed to breathe at some point. So Victor broke of the kiss and inspected his work, staring at Aesop’s now stained lips. He was so close to his face that he had to step back to really look at them.
He squints, ‘Not your color.’ Signs Victor, earning himself a weak laugh from the usually expressionless embalmer.
What was really amusing to the postman was the lines of his stitches that transferred over onto Aesop’s skin. It made it very obvious that Victor was the one who kissed him, no one else in the manor had their mouth stitched up like he did. Victor’s smile grew at the thought, all the while another more daring thought popped into his mind.
And so, he hums playfully and reapplies the lipstick once again.
Aesop gives Victor a questioning look, “Ah, do you like the color on yourself?” His face seemed to communicate that he also didn’t think it was his color. But Victor shakes his head no and grabs Aesop’s chin to make him turn his face to the side. In which he smacks his lips against his cheek and places another mark on the side of his face.
“Oh, I see.” Says Aesop, face still in the grip of the postman, who was beginning to reapply the makeup another time to place yet another mark, this time on in his jaw. The lipstick was now smeared on the corner of Victor’s lips. This’ll probably be hard to wash off later, but that was a problem for future Aesop to handle. In this moment, Aesop just wanted to feel loved, melting into the grasp of his newfound lover and allowing himself to be manhandled for the sake of simple, chaste, staining pecks to his skin. All for Victor, and only for Victor.
Aesop remained silent and allowed Victor to place kisses anywhere he saw fit. Some were placed along his jaw and down his neck, some even overlapped each other. But now his face was practically covered in marks from Victor. At some point, the kisses got more passionate, pushing Aesop backwards until he was being guided onto his back against the mattress of his bed. This was probably done because Victor was tired of standing. But it startled the embalmer in the moment, causing him to jolt and cling onto Victor’s clothes.
Victor crawled on top of the other to continue coloring his face, humming a tune to fill the silent air and to ease both of their nerves.
When Victor went to color his lips again, Aesop swiftly grabbed his hand. The postman’s eyebrows were raised and looked at Aesop, concerned. Thinking Aesop had enough for tonight, he started to shift his weight so that he could get off him, but Aesop pulled his hand down toward himself to stop him. Aesop looked up at Victor, red faced but mostly from the kiss stains.
“May I?” He asked softly. Victor stayed in place but eventually nodded once he processed his question. He let go of the stick, Aesop takes it and nudges Victor so that he could lead him onto his own back to switch their positions. Gently, as it was a joined motion that almost seemed calculated.
Here, Victor could really get a good look at his artwork, Aesop’s grey bangs were now disheveled from how it had been ruffled to make room for Victor’s kisses, which he was practically covered in at this point. But Victor got so caught up in the gorgeous sight that he failed to notice Aesop working away the buttons on his shirt.
Victor tensed up, digging his nails into the sheets. He saw panic wash over Aesop’s face, who was quick to reassure him, “No no! I’m not—I don’t need to reveal all that much, I promise you.”
This seemed to ease Victor’s nerves a little, he loosened up and removed his vice grip from Aesop’s poor bedsheets. Although he wouldn’t be completely at ease until Aesop was done. But he was a man of his word, he only popped a few buttons from both his uniform and undershirt before he started applying the the lipstick to his face.
He pulled back the fabric and leaned down towards Victor’s slightly exposed chest. Victor was relieved that it truly wasn’t much exposed skin, though he truly didn’t have anything to worry about. Aesop hasn’t seen all of Victor quite yet, but he’s seen quite a few nude bodies in his line of work, hasn’t he? Would he truly care about Victor’s imperfections? Maybe that was a question for another day.
Aesop’s breath ghosted Victor’s skin before he placed a gentle kiss over where his heart beat against his ribs. Feeling the quickening pitter-patter of his heartbeat underneath his soft lips before he pulled away.
The embalmer stared at the patch of skin, making sure he did in fact mark it before straightening himself up, “Forgive me for frightening you, I just wanted to be more creative with it, is all.”
Victor’s smile tugged harder at the corners of his mouth, his face full of love for the man above him. He would definitely be writing a letter, addressed to no one, with all the reasons why he adored him so deeply later. But that’s for, well, later.
For now, he pulled Aesop into a tender kiss before letting Aesop’s head fall to rest on his chest. Letting Aesop listen to his heartbeat again. The embalmer indulged in the sound, wondering if he truly wanted it to stop. That was a dilemma for, well, later. This was now, and now all they wanted was to lay in each other’s embrace.
Victor began humming softly again, this along with the warmth of his body and the beating if heart. It all joined together to lull Aesop to sleep in almost an instant.
All of this would be lost if he were to tuck it away and close the casket. Aesop wanted to hang onto this for as long as possible. If he had to wait for the end of Victor’s days to complete his mission, then so be it. He just didn’t want to lose this, no matter how selfish the ideal seemed to him.