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Rook rubbed at his eyes as he perched in the tree, the setting sun casting long shadows across the grass. In the distance, his prey slumbered onwards, Leona snoring contentedly. What a sight, such a magnificent predator so at ease! Alas, he could not watch forever. It was with an air of reluctance that Rook raised his camera and took the photo- just as splendid as he hoped it to be. After having captured his quarry, he tragically had to depart.
Vil had recently inquired about Rook’s sleep schedule and had asked him to be in his dorm room at 9 o’clock sharp. Of course, Rook would never wish to disobey an order from his dear Vil, hence why he had settled for ending his hunt early. A shame, but it would be even more shameful to leave beautiful Vil waiting. Ah, but what face would Vil make when graced with disappointment? Rook ended up having to struggle with the urge to purposefully stay later, if only to see what face his beloved would make. And yet, it would be utterly gauche to do so.
Ultimately, his sense of loyalty won out, and like the faithful hunter he was, he began making his way to his master’s side. The hallways were full of students making their ways back to their dorms allowing him to easily disappear into the crowd. The route to Pomefiore was simple, the most effort he had to put in being dodging the clusters of people that blocked many various directions. Rook made swift work maneuvering around them, swiftly reaching the bathrooms. It would be in his interest to ensure he had taken a quick shower before meeting up with Cher Vil.
Within a scant 15 minutes, Rook had washed and dried himself before setting off on the trek to his room where Vil was waiting for him.
…but something was off. Before he had even opened the door, Rook could tell that something was different. For starters, he could hear Vil’s heels tapping against the ground in the way he often did when he was annoyed. For a moment, Rook feared he had unintentionally made himself late, but a quick check of his phone’s clock let him know that it was not so. Then what could have irritated his Roi so?
Cautiously, Rook opened the door but a crack and peered inside. There was Vil, dressed in his house robe, hair still up, face set in an intimidating scowl, brows only loosely furrowed (as to not give himself wrinkles, Rook assumed), clicking his tongue as he tapped his foot. Oh, Vil was most certainly not in a good mood this evening- it was just as delightful to see as Rook had thought he would. And yet Rook couldn’t help the way his stomach dropped at the sight. The idea of Vil, wonderful symbol of all things beautiful, being mad was all well and good, but the idea of Vil, his boyfriend, being mad at him?… still beautiful in its own way, but rather terrifying altogether.
“Mon Roi?” Rook called out as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “Is there something the matter?”
“Rook.” The way Vil spoke his name was wonderful, tone sharp and unquestionable. And the glare in his eyes- simply magnifique! The way he didn’t so much as turn around as simply snapped into place- nothing could be better!
“Yes?” Rook asked as he bounded up to his dear’s side on silent feet, observing the man for any clues as to why he was so upset.
“Why, exactly, was I informed by your roommate that you have been sleeping on the floor?”
Ah. That.
Vil looked so utterly disappointed and dignified, looking down at Rook like he was some misbehaving pet. The idea sent a warm shiver down Rook’s spine, even as he cursed out his roommate in the comfort of his own mind. Ce putain d'indic, narcing on him like that! To Vil, no less! Merde, it was impossible to get any privacy around here.
“Rook.” Vil said and even his name sounded like an insult. “I am expecting an answer.”
“Ah.. Tu vois… the bed… I’m not used to it…” Rook replied as he felt himself go red in the face. How embarrassing, to be caught red-handed by his king! And to be exposed as the uncouth fool he was to boot.
“Not used to it?” Vil was tapping his fingers against his crossed arms, unwilling to let the topic drop. Ah, his Vil was so forceful sometimes! Rook would enjoy it more if it didn’t mean having his privacy invaded like this.
“I… most of the time, when I am out hunting, I sleep on the ground. And back in Savanaclaw, our mattresses weren’t of this style- they were for utility, not beauté.” Rook supplied under Vil’s insightful gaze. Rook’s eyes darted about in nervousness, his hunter’s instinct telling him to flee, to leave. But he wouldn’t.
But by the seven, he prayed for Vil not to pry into his home-life; it was painful enough to discuss this at all. Please, please allow him the last vestiges of his precious privacy!
Thankfully, his Roi felt like being merciful for once and simply sighed deeply instead of diving further into matters.
“And just what have you been wearing to bed?”
“…my boxers?”
And oh, what an expression Vil made! Rook simply couldn’t help himself from snapping a photo, it was too perfect! The line of his mouth, the sheer fury combined with that lovely exasperation- merveilleux! He wanted to bask in it forever!
“I cannot believe you.” Vil said at last, face palming as though Rook was some sort of idiot. Honestly, the thought rankled his pride and yet the way Vil looked at him remained as enticing as ever. “We will be rectifying this, effective immediately. I had originally planned to begin you on a skincare routine, but clearly that is too much for you.”
“I am so very sorry… dear Vil…” Vil’s words hurt so, so very much. Seeing him so disappointed in him was gorgeous, yes, but it also made him feel as though he was falling to pieces. And yet even that pain remained beautiful.
“No, no, don’t be. I shouldn’t have made assumptions about you like that. Fear not, however, I have a solution.”
A solution? Oh, Rook was so very curious. And the self satisfied look on Vil’s face, it was immensely interesting.
“First of all,” Vil said as he raised a finger, before pointing it at Rook, “we will be getting you proper sleep clothes.”
Honestly, Rook still didn’t totally understand why he couldn’t just sleep in his boxers, but if Vil said that he should not, then he’d never do so again.
Rook never enjoyed having to leave Vil’s wonderful presence, but watching him go was always a treat- the way he strutted as though he was on the red carpet, even when it was just to walk to his room, the sheer confidence in his stride… it was all so very alluring.
While he waited, Rook pondered what Vil could have chosen as the “solution”. Was it a punishment for having slept on the floor? A trick to sleeping in such overly soft and fancy beds? Rook could scarcely contain his excitement.
“Mon Roi du Poison!” Vil had returned, this time with a bundle of white fabric slung over one arm. His hair had been let down from its normal shape, the braid normally in it now falling loose with the rest of the strands. The most interesting part, however, was the Vil was totally barefaced. Vil was gorgeous even without makeup, his skin almost totally even in tone and his face well moisturized.
“Here, put this on.” Instructed Vil as he handed the garment to him, which revealed itself to be a nightgown. No, simply the word nightgown failed to encapsulate it in its entirety- it was the frilliest, most flowy, most delicate and elegant nightgown Rook had laid eyes on. The sleeves had ruffles pouring out the ends, as did the collar, and the whole thing was made of a ridiculously fine fabric- a thread count so high, Rook was genuinely baffled as to why Vil would entrust it to him, even temporarily.
Hesitantly, Rook began to strip, well aware that Vil had no care for such concepts as “embarrassment” or “shame” for one’s body. Despite this, the act of exposing himself, of making himself vulnerable before Vil’s watchful eyes, was still anxiety inducing in him. Even still, he dared not disobey. While his disdainful expressions were wonderful indeed, Rook now longed to see satisfaction shining from those amethyst coloured eyes of his.
Within but a few scant seconds, Rook was down to his boxers, shivering mildly. From the chill? Rook wondered, Or from Vil’s attention? Was it anticipation or fear? Never before had Rook asked himself those questions as frequently as he did with Vil. Indeed, transferring to Pomefiore was the best decision he had ever made- every moment here he was pushed father and farther out of his comfort zone, and every day furthered his understanding of beauty.
Vil approached with long strides and a discerning eye. Lightly, barely touching, Vil directed him as he inspected him for imperfections. He ran his hands over Rook’s shoulders, making sure to check if the sunburn scars had gotten worse before instructing Rook to turn around with a flick of his fingers. Every spot Vil touched went red, Rook having long since had seemingly all of his blood rushing to his cheeks.
“You’ve been following my instructions well.” Vil commented with a smile that made Rook’s heart go aflutter like the strong but delicate beats of a bird’s wings.
“I live to please, Mon Cher.”
And there it was, the dulcet tones of Vil’s laugh, feminine and light with but a touch of mischief and pride. Rook could listen to that sound forever- and to know he was the cause? Oh, there was nothing better.
Well, Vil’s appraising look after Rook managed to successfully struggle into the nightgown came pretty close.
The garment itself was actually rather comfortable; soft and warm, but not too heavy. Light enough to move in while still maintaining a feeling of elegance, of fragility. Not to mention it lacked any sort of tag or strong fragrance- Vil knew him well. The fit was loose, but not to the point were to felt like it was being draped over him. The hem only came to his knees, but it was mostly an excellent fit, especially considering how much taller Vil was…
“Hmmm… it’s a bit too big on you, but I suppose I am quite a deal taller than you. Still, you’re practically swimming in it- I daresay it looks more like a dress than a nightshirt.” Vil teased with an endearing smirk only halfway covered by the hand he had clapped over his mouth.
…so it was not a nightgown, it seemed. Once again, the height difference between himself and dearest Vil slapped him in the face. While they had the same shoulder width, Rook remained larger in the waist while Vil’s was rather narrow- by all means, Rook was most certainly the broader of the two, but that all meant naught in the light of Vil’s height.
Still chuckling, Vil reached out and patted Rook on the head, and despite it not seeming possible, Rook somehow managed to flush even deeper.
“Now, our next step,” began Vil before gesturing broadly towards the bed, “getting you accustomed to the bed.”
“And what of your nighttime skin care routine?” Inquired Rook. Surely, he would not think of skipping it?!
“Already done- the faster I can complete it after showering, the better the quality of my skin will be the next day.” Vil explained, clearly five steps ahead as always. Well, that would explain the immaculate shine to his skin… truly, Rook was rather distracted tonight. Such poor form, failing to notice such vital change in Vil’s skin!
Wordlessly, Vil sat elegantly on Rook’s (so far unused bed) before patting the space next to him. Equally wordlessly, Rook went to his side and sat down, never once taking his eyes off of Vil’s lovely form.
The bed itself was perfectly serviceable- no, that would be an understatement. Rather, it was perfect. The mattress was fluffy, while still having good support, the comforters were stuffed with goose-down and made with high-quality cotton, the sheets were perfection incarnate and the pillows had a variety of thicknesses, levels of firmness and even heights, all to better suit the desires of the various students. Of course, many of them brought their own pillows and blankets, but even the default arrangement was of excellent quality. What else could be expected of the illustrious Night Raven College?
No, the problem here was Rook.
This beautiful bed, fit for a prince, was wasted on him. He, who preferred the open sky and the musty scent of the forest to any creature comforts. He, who spent his days in the wilderness, sleeping on the cold, hard ground. He, who was harsh and jaded like the nature he loved so. He, who was an outsider to this realm of délicatesse and care and luxury and indulgence. The bed’s softness was unfamiliar to him, the sheet’s softness strange and the blanket’s warmth odd. He was no princess unable to sleep, but rather the pea. The interloper. The odd man out.
For a moment, Rook remained lost in his rumination before Vil abruptly grasped at his chin-
Pulled him in close-
And kissed him.
Rook didn’t think that could ever get old- the feeling of Vil’s lips against his own was always a treasure, the soft, plump and expertly taken care of flesh of his more chaste kisses, and the wonderful, passionate sensation of their deeper ones. A blessing each and every time.
“Stop thinking so much or you’ll never get to bed.” Vil chastised lightly, purple eyes twinkling with mischief. “It’s important to get your beauty sleep.”
“Is that an order, Mon Roi du Poison?” Rook teased back, hyped aware of how Vil had placed his hands on Rook’s hip and waist.
Without warning, Vil playfully tugged Rook backwards (and Rook had to fight the urge to instinctively punch Vil in the face-) so that he was lying on the bed, the man lying beside him with a smile and a giggle.
While Room would’ve been content to simply lay there next to the man he loves for all of eternity, dearest Vil had a different plan.
“Very well then- I order you to get a good night’s rest.” Vil jovially instructed.
“Comme tu veux!” Rook answered, tongue-in-cheek. Naively, he had thought the teasing was the end of it, but how small he had thought!
Before Rook could even think about mustering a reaction that wasn’t blinking dumbly in surprise, Vil slipped under the covers (his, Rook’s, covers, for a value of “his”-) and once again patted the space next to him. Cher Vil acted as though it was his own bed, making no sign of any embarrassment of hesitancy.
“Well? Did I not order you to get some rest?” Vil flirtatiously commented, his skin aglow in the moonlight streaming in from the open sliver of the drapes. “Don’t tell me you’re feeling rebellious all of a sudden~”
Hands trembling, Rook peeled back the covers on the other side, shuffling under the blankets until he was parallel with Vil. Truly, he was the epitome of beauty. Even barefaced, he still outshone even the stars themselves! Whilst Rook had managed many a glimpse of such a rare sight while observing Vil when jogging or doing yoga, seeing it so up close was far, far better. Here, he could see every detail, every minuscule moment. He could see exactly how Vil’s normally mascara covered eyelashes fluttered, the exact shade of his immaculately taken care of lips- all of it. Oh, what a treat!
Rook was all too aware of how close they were, laying next to each other like this. The bed, while much larger than any he had slept in previously, was still ultimately not made for two people to use, and it showed. Oh, how it showed! Vil’s body and his own were pressed against each other, allowing Rook to feel every curve, every muscle underneath Vil’s night clothes. Their faces were close, so very close- close enough that Rook could feel Vil’s every breathe (minty fresh, Rook definitely recognizes that toothpaste brand, a bit too strong smelling for his own tastes-) upon his face.
“Hmmm… you don’t look very asleep, Rook.”
“Ah! Désolé, it’s just… your face is far too beautiful. How could I dare to fall asleep and miss a single moment of your radiance?”
Vil gave a sigh, half exasperated, half flattered as he often was with Rook’s more inconvenient or odd compliments. “The bed’s still too uncomfortable for you?”
“… it’s not uncomfortable for me… c’est juste que I’m not used to it.”
“I know you’re capable of going into more detail than that.”
Despite the surrounding darkness, Rook’s above average vision let him see even the slightest change in Vil’s expression- and his had taken on a note of concern. A genuine desire to see Rook’s sleep bettered. Well, how could he refuse such an earnest desire from such a beautiful man?
“I feel out of place- the bed… c’est… it keeps reminding me that I’m not supposed to be here.” Rook answered, voice only wavering slightly this time. “That I’m an outsider.”
“Nonsense!” Vil exclaimed, lightly slapping Rook on the face (really, it was more of a pat than a slap-). “You deserve to be here just as much as anyone, if not more so! You’ve put in so much work, so much time… of course you deserve to be here.”
“… vraiment? Even though the mirror placed moi in Savanaclaw?” Rook asked, brow furrowing in anxiety.
“Well, I say that you are as much a member of Pomefiore as I am. And whose orders will you listen to: the mirror’s? Or mine?” Vil demanded in a haughty tone that failed to disguise the worry he felt. How delicious to have such a man worried for him! How painful to have worried his dear Queen!
“Yours.”
“And I say you belong here. With me.” Vil stated, and with that, it was final. If Vil had said so, then Rook would trust it.
Gracefully, Vil reached out before grasping Rook’s hands, Rook fighting the urge to flinch away or yank his hands back. He trusted Vil. He chose to trust Vil. Like a flower blooming, Rook could feel his muscles gradually relaxing. He trusted Vil, and Vil had said that he belonged here.
“Now, who put such foolish ideas in your head?” Vil questioned, a sadistic glint in his eyes- a look that spelled trouble for whoever Rook dared to name.
“No one.” Rook replied, shaking his head as he relaxed into Vil’s hold. Struck with a sudden impulse, Rook leaned forwards and gave his king a peck on the cheek, prompting Vil to give his hands a little squeeze.
Seeing that wonderful face… oh, even looking at it everyday was a blessing beyond measure. Being able to fall asleep in his arms? Glory beyond words. A part of Rook feared he was unworthy, but non! Dearest Vil had made his choice, and Rook would obey it till the day he died!
“How happy am I… to be able to see you like this…” Rook murmured, eyelashes fluttering as the time caught up to him.
“…go to sleep. I’ll still be here in the morning.”
“Very well… mom amour…”
And Rook, still staring into Vil’s eyes, drifted…
Off…
To…
Sleep…
…
..
.