Work Text:
Corbeau demanded in-person interactions. Meetings in the office. Handshakes with his clients. Walks in the district. Complicated business deals over fancy dinners.
It was unsurprising, then, that Corbeau was touch-starved in their romantic relationship.
Philippe first noticed it in small ways. Shoulders brushing while walking. Hands touching lightly as papers got passed. Shoes nudging underneath tables. But as he got more comfortable, the young boss grew bolder.
--
Philippe recalled when they first properly touched, skin to skin, Corbeau's weight fully bearing on him. Corbeau lay sprawled about on Philippe's frame, every inch of him clinging to Philippe's. "More," his younger lover begged. Philippe chuckled, running broad strokes up and down Corbeau's back.
Philippe could feel the heat in his groin as Corbeau moaned when caressed. Corbeau whimpered like a man who needed this warmth, this intimacy, this closeness. And Philippe knew this was all new to the younger man. Corbeau had no access to physical touch as a child, save for kicks or punches (that, regrettably, Philippe often sought out to give him).
As shivers began to run down his smaller lover's body, Philippe lifted his ratty comforter over them. Warmer, and more confident under the blankets, Corbeau ran his palms over every inch of Philippe, sighing as his hands found purchase of his neck, his chest, his thighs. Corbeau moaned happily in Philippe's naked arms.
--
Philippe's mind flipped to the fervor from when they first kissed. He recalled that it was mostly by accident. They were in Corbeau's office, staring each other down after another long night at work.
"I'm allowed to do whatever I want. Even if that means standing in harm's way for our team."
Philippe felt his frustration seep into his reply: "No, boss. You are the leader of the Syndicate now. You can't assume your life and actions produce no consequences."
Corbeau angrily stepped forward. "Yes I can, Philippe! You were the boss around here before, and you could do it again. Our team is too important to let them get in harm's way."
Philippe closed the distance, feeling Corbeau's irate breathing sear his skin. "Respectfully, boss. You are too important. You cannot keep this up this indifference to self preservation."
Philippe conceded that they both had reason to be angry, but the air seem charged with a tension stronger than rage. Philippe tried to maintain his focus on Corbeau's eyes, but his gaze kept slipping towards his lips, and how beautiful they were, and how they were getting closer, and...
And Corbeau kissed him like he was drowning. Effortlessly, Philippe lifted him up so he could kiss Corbeau properly. He set Corbeau on the desk; arms wrapped around each other immediately. His lips were immeasurably soft, delectably delicious. His tongue was enchanting, slipping between his lips to lick his own. Philippe had never kissed a man like this before.
When they broke apart for air, Corbeau looked beautifully wrecked, glasses askew and perfectly styled hair mussed. Corbeau clung onto Philippe's face like he needed it to stay afloat.
"Philippe..." A whimper. One Philippe had never heard before, but one that stirred something deep in his core. His arms held Corbeau's small waist impossibly tighter. "Philippe... again..." And Corbeau's lips closed the distance.
At some point, he lifted up Corbeau and carried him to the couch. At some point, Philippe pondered the last time - if ever - Corbeau kissed someone with this fervor. And at some point, the sun began to peek through the horizon, slowly illuminating the city skyline.
Only when Corbeau's lips were fully swollen, glasses and coat removed, did he relent and rest against Philippe's pounding heart. He refused to let Corbeau out of his embrace until Corbeau initiated, pushing himself off Philippe's lap to get back to work. Philippe didn't miss the way Corbeau's fingertips lingered against his before they parted.
--
Philippe could even recount the first time the grunts caught them in a display of affection. Winter hit Lumiose hard most years, and this year was no exception. Unfortunately, Rust Syndicate work often led Corbeau and Philippe outdoors.
Philippe naturally ran warm - and all the grunts knew it. As a loyal and soft-hearted boss, Philippe worked hard to provide his team the warmth they needed on a stakeout day like today. When hand warmers, spare gloves, and extra scarves weren't enough, he would offer one of his coveted bear hugs.
Corbeau did not usually join for these stakeouts, but the day's mission proved particularly critical. Business was suffering on this street, and the winter storm did not help matters. The Syndicate was committed to cleaning up the street, shoveling away the snow, and maintaining walking paths so residents could get home safely.
Unsurprisingly, Corbeau refused warmth throughout the day, despite standing next to Philippe, warily watching as grunts came for warmth straight from the source. Only when the day was done did Corbeau turn to Philippe with an uncharacteristic pout. He seemed...angry? Philippe could not fathom the source of his frustration; their team had a successful stakeout today.
Before Philippe could ask, Corbeau grabbed his hand and pulled him in for a hug. Shocked, Philippe complied, heating up with embarrassment as Corbeau blatantly slipped his hands underneath his sweater.
The grunts all stopped and stared in shock. What were ... What was the boss ...?
"Let's go back home. Everyone, hop to it!" Corbeau's voice rang with sharp authority, despite his compromised position. Immediately, the Syndicate scrambled off, each grunt gathering their belongings and heading home. Only when they were left alone in the street, still embraced, did Corbeau demand, "You. You're coming home with me."
--
Presently, Corbeau was under him. Blissed out and bare in their bed, he held tightly to Philippe's shoulders as they both came down from their high. Philippe ran his hands along Corbeau's spine, his cheeks, his forehead. He peppered kisses along Corbeau's tiny frame, much to Corbeau's pleasure. "You really need physical touch, huh?" He murmured against the younger man's skin.
The smaller body held him tighter. "No, Philippe. That's ridiculous." And he nuzzled firmly into Philippe's neck, sighing contently.