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It was a nice evening, to say the least, the birds had sung like they did every day and the sun had come up just like it had for countless days before. The day was nothing above average, if anything it was bland, yet a king sat in his chambers, anxiously awaiting a guest who had never visited the palace before. That was all the man could think about, he had been eager for their meeting for weeks prior and when the day had arrived he could hardly contain himself.
He wore his iconic blue coat—if only trying to look nice for the man who was on his way—with perhaps too much cologne applied and about half a million accessories that he didn’t need to be wearing whatsoever. So, anxiously he took a ringlet of his dark hair and gently pulled on his hair, trying to calm himself by fidgeting around. He was no better than a child really, when it came to waiting he was, well, horrible to say the least.
His leg was bouncing up and down and he could hardly take just imagining when the man would arrive. The king wondered if he and the man would commit scandal, or perhaps they would be formal and just chat, either way he didn’t care, he just was desperate for Bessières to get there.
Finally the marshal did arrive, knocking at the other man’s door and feeling rather small in the tall hallways of the palace. Within an instant the curly haired man had sprung to his feet and was already opening the door to see the man on the other side. There his lover stood, his white powdered hair perfectly combed and styled, pulled back in that lovely little braid. His epaulettes rested soundly on his square shoulders, uniform nothing short of perfect. Jean’s eyes softened upon seeing Joachim, features seemingly getting less sharp as his bushy eyebrows unfurrowed.
“Hello Jean, please, come in.” The king mustered, shocked his partner was actually there in the flesh even though the meeting had been prepared for weeks prior.
“Sire.” Bessières replied jokingly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, terribly happy to see Murat yet being unable to show it normally. Joachim chuckled at the playful comment, shaking his head slightly.
Exhaling softly, the king gestured for his lover to come in, shutting the door softly behind them. Bessières walked in lanky-looking steps, and was rather quiet about entering the room. Murat, on the other hand, stepped however it came to him—quite the opposite of light on his feet.
Jean looked briefly around, taking in the atmosphere of the room and smiling as he saw all the lavish things Joachim had come to own.
The chandeliers hung beautifully from the ceiling, golden decorations and embellishments dotting the room. The ceiling was carved with royal looking shapes and women, everything lovely and extravagant. Cushioned chairs were set in the room, their frames colored golden and above them a portrait of the king and his family.
Perhaps the painting hurt the marshal’s feelings a little bit, to see that curly haired man whom he loved with a younger woman and their children. He sincerely wished it was him instead of Caroline.
Putting those jealous feelings aside—although it was hard—Jean tried to admire everyone his lover had. It’s not like he was unwed, he had a wife too and a son. It was fantastic, really, for the marshal to see how far the other had come when they had both been born to modest, nothing-special families.
“I had always believed that you would outshine us all, Joachim.” Jean noted, finally looking at the man whom he had just spoken about. The comment made the king blush, really, he had been set to be a priest and was born into a working class family. How far he had come.
“My, thank you. But see, you’re quite humble and I’m pretty sure that’s better than I’ll ever be.” The king replied, smiling kindly at the other man, wondering why on earth the rolls weren’t reversed—for, Bessières was a better man than he ever would be! At least in Joachim’s opinion.
His lover hummed in response, a small smile playing on his lips at the comment. They were quiet for a moment, but soon Murat had both arms extended, stepping forth for a hug. Of course, Bessières obliged, wrapping his arms around the other man and closing his eyes as his head rested on the king’s shoulder. The marshal inhaled deeply, smelling that all too familiar scent that had lingered purposely on every letter sent, leaning further into the king as he relaxed.
“I’ve missed you, Jean.” Murat murmured, closing his eyes as well and holding his lover closer as he said such words. His dark inky hair fell around them, the ringlets resting softly on Bessières head as the king breathed in deeply. The smell of the other man’s hairpowder was a long missed luxury that he had forgotten how much he loved.
“I’ve missed you too.” Bessières replied quietly, sharing the quietness with Murat and wishing to lay down with the other man. Even if he had just gotten there, he wanted to feel closeness, to feel loved in a way he knew only Murat could give him. An eye flickered open to peek at the king’s bedding, immediately did the marshal see that lovely, silken canopy. He wished only to be in that bed with Murat, to lay with him and be held after far too long of not even seeing him. The marshal could hardly remember the last time they had shared a real bed. It had only ever been cots most of the time, and the damned things could barely hold one of them. So, desperate to show his affection as best he could, Bessières pulled away from the embrace, carefully running his hands down his lover’s arms and smiling at the golden embroidery. “I’d like to lay with you.” He whispered, peering all of a sudden into those turquoise eyes with only admiration and love.
Murat smiled back, grinning, really, since the feeling was mutual, and it was a proposal he hadn’t even imagined yet it was perfect anyways. The king then leaned forth and gently kissed his lover, pressing his shapely lips to Bessières’ thin ones so tenderly. The kiss had only lasted a few seconds but Jean was already feeling that ecstasy Murat tended to bring upon him. After pulling away they both smiled at each other, just excited to lay with the other, where perhaps when they were a tad younger they would’ve taken the opportunity—any opportunity really—to commit scandal. They would just have to save that for another time.
“Come then, lay with me.” The king replied, taking Bessieres’ hand and making his way to his bed with his partner in tow. The king crawled onto his bed after kicking off his boots, laying in a position that would only be completed with Bessières in his arms. Bessières kicked off his boots as well and crawled into the canopy-curtained bed, allowing Murat to hold him.
The canopy was of a cream color and flowed like wine from above them, silken looking just like the sheets and pillows. The cloth caught the evening lighting through the windows ever so slightly and made it glimmer in a dull purple. It was such a lavish thing that neither of them should’ve been able to indulge in, given what they were born into. Yet there they laid, breathing softly and snuggling like they hadn’t seen the horrors of war. Like they were spouses.
The two hadn’t even said much, they didn’t need to, nothing particular had happened in the couple of months they had been apart that they hadn’t written to each other about, and merely being with the other was more than enough. Both were utterly content, Murat’s arms wrapped securely around his partner’s upper body, his legs helping spoon Bessières. It was cute, really, to see men of their status and age curled up with one another as if they were young boys.
The two closed their eyes and merely listened to the sounds of the other being alive. His heartbeat and breathing, his quiet swallow of saliva and slight reposition.
“I love you, Jean.”
“I love you too, Joachim.”