De Mal en Pis

Wensleydale

Author's note: story takes place during the events in episode 16; portions of dialogue from fansub by group AnY. I wrote this before finishing the series, so there are going to be some things that don't match up (i.e., Durand being Lia's lover after Robespierre).

             Throbbing.

That's all he could feel now, in spite of his surroundings. Under normal circumstances, being holed up in a closet of a room under extreme duress elicited other feelings. However, having recently gotten over the shock of slicing off one's arm puts priorities on other matters. 

He guessed he had been out for the past twelve hours. At least, that is what his so-called 'interrogators' let slip. The hours before...

Gritting his teeth, Durand recalled his Majesty's orders, the strange Poet, and Robespierre. 

Durand was supposed to die. He couldn't carry out the King's orders, nor could he let his friends suffer at the hands of the British and the Poets. One otherworldly Poet cursed his arm, and geared up to finish him off until Robespierre arrived. 

When did he arrive? More importantly, why did he interfere? He no longer worked for His Majesty, and their meeting in Russia was less than amicable. After all, having a relationship with Robespierre's former lover didn't exactly make things easier. He also couldn't fathom why that enigmatic man put so much energy into healing his arm, or what was left of it. 

Durand's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps, a staccato that echoed in the cell. He braced himself for another round of interrogation coupled with more beatings. For the time being, they were keeping him alive, leaving him bruised. 

Yet the familiar figure silhouetted in the doorway ensured this time would be different. 

Maximilien Robespierre.

"Your expression tells me you are beginning to understand why you've been saved." He looked the same as he did in Saint Petersburg, coolly smug, a refined look that defined his entire person apart from his signature cravat. 

"You underestimate me. Interrogation is nothing if I am able to read your heart." Durand hoped that Robespierre's orders were from higher-ups, and that his capture merely served as bait for the rest of his company.
Dropping his gaze, his captor simply reached into his coat and drew out a letter bearing a royal seal--the letter containing the orders from the King that caused Durand to question his loyalty. 

"A blank imperative. I can guess what it is. There must have been a very painful verse on it." Seeing Durand's unease, he narrowed his eyes and continued with his velvet murmurings. "Do you not feel disappointed with a King who writes verses like these? Is he a King worth risking your life for? No."

Durand leaned back as Robespierre dropped to speak directly face to face, penetrating his former friend's eyes with a heavy-lidded stare. Motes of lavender woke Durand to the fact that this man, this treasonous Poet, had once been a comrade; they spent a lot of time together in the past, and Maximilien's meticulous grooming seemed to be one thing that didn't change. It must not have been obvious that Durand was shaken by the close proximity or his captor didn't notice, as his questions continued.

"Does that King truly need you?"

Still, though shaken, Durand would not let the enemy gain the upper hand. He responded with a transparent smirk that caused him to wince. "The man you serve under after betraying the King of France...are you getting along well with him?" It took a moment for Robespierre to process this, but his eventual change in expression betrayed an intent interest. 

With an almost lupine grin, the blonde man replied to his captive's verbal spar. "Still able to think strategically, after losing an arm and being interrogated..." He almost seemed to be laughing, silently, as he closed his eyes and paused. When he looked up however, Maximilien's smirk had been replaced by another piercing gaze, entirely serious. 

"I want you."

Throbbing.

It was a blessing this time that Durand had his grievous wound to worry about, since it took his mind off of what Robespierre was saying. What was he saying? They had been close friends, yes, but why was Maximilien doing this right now? The King had brought them together, but Robespierre left when it became apparent that Louis XV wouldn't live up to his predecessor. Lia followed Robespierre to the Novus Ordo Seclorum sect up to a point; Durand wasn't entirely sure how the falling out happened, but he was certain it had to do with Lia's differing loyalties

Durand had no time to mull this over as Maximilien attempted to elicit more of a response from him and slammed both his arms on either side of Durand's head.

"I notice you still have my pocketwatch, Durand. Sentimental much?"

This startled him so that coupled with the recent handicap, Durand ended up losing his seating and fell onto Robespierre, who immediately drew him into a lavender embrace. 

He recalled years before, on missions with Lia and Robespierre, being able to tell where Maximilien was on the missions by simply smelling the air and tracing the delicate perfume. Lia was a simple woman, and never gave herself a marked scent in order to blend in better. Yet Robespierre was so self-assured that his scent was basically his calling card. That eau de toilette was probably the first sign that Robespierre was too much of an individual to work under the King. 

Durand, again lost in his memories, didn't notice his captor's proximity until Robespierre's lips brushed his, a strange déjà vu that brought Durand to immediate attention.

Bringing up his remaining arm, Durand pushed himself out of Maximilien's grasp and fell back to the ground, scraping his nearly bare back on the stone floor. 

"What...what are you doing, Maximilien?!" 

Robespierre wiped his lips on his lace cuffs with an energy that had more in common with the man in Le Secret Du Roi than with his current self. "I haven't heard that name since my days of working for the King...Myself, you, and...Lia." Robespierre stood straight up, erect, and adjusted the flyaway strands of hair near his face. Durand knew this was all part of Robespierre's theatrics that helped him back in their days of espionage; he was obviously deep in thought. 
"You killed her," Durand flatly replied, darkening his tone.
"She loved so many...and I loved her. You, too, loved her."

Durand spat at Robespierre's boots and got to his feet. He lunged forward and grabbed onto his former friend's cravat, yanking him forward so they were face to face, throwing Robespierre off-balance. 

"You murdered her, you goddamn son of a bitch! You didn't just kill her, you...you desecrated her body!"

Robespierre looked momentarily lost, causing Durand to loosen his grip on the neckpiece. "I only preserved her body to make a point to the real murderer...You know she's still around, and you are the one who she is looking out for." Durand backed up to the wall again, needing to regain composure from this turn of events, and Robespierre continued. "I envied you...even when I was with Lia, I couldn't help but want to be simply content with the way France was. I had to break away from the bourgeois boundaries and find a better way. I respected Lia...but admired you, Durand." Robespierre's slender hands created a contrast as he laid them upon Durand's broad shoulders. One hand rose up to gingerly stroke his cheek. Durand immediately intercepted Robespierre's probing fingers and shook his head. 

"What about Lia, Maximilien? Are you just going to forget about her?" 

Robespierre pressed up to his body, the lavender intoxicating Durand. "Lia's still around, Durand...and we're here. Le Secret du Roi..." The refined man rested his head on Durand's shoulder and whispered into his ear. "We can keep the past alive, my friend."

Durand released Robespierre's fingers apprehensively, which immediately resumed stroking his cheek. Hesitating, halting, Durand let his single arm draw Maximilien closer. He brought his lips up to Robespierre's parted pair, and for a moment he lost himself in an adrenaline rush that flooded his mind with a desire he hadn't felt since Lia's death. 

Had it really been that long...

He made a low, surprised grunt when Maximilien's tongue pushed its way into his mouth, kindling a spark that traveled down his body. Robespierre pulled Durand's head closer, and added lip-biting to the mix. The intensity with which Maximilien brought on this attack shocked Durand, who had never witnessed the slight blonde outside of his composed veneer. The ferocity led Durand to the conclusion that it had been awhile for Maximilien as well. 

While continuing the mouth-play, Robespierre shook himself out of his overcoat, and groped at the unlaced shirt that lay between him and his quarry. Durand didn't put up any resistance and even helped with the struggle, exposing his fevered flesh to the cool air and cooler stone wall. Robespierre began exploring the taut skin of his former compatriot's upper chest, and suddenly froze. 

"Now you know why that missive affected me the way it did," Durand huskily remarked. Just above his left collarbone, the letters NQM were branded into his skin, the mark signifying complete loyalty to the King. 

"Just because you can't see them, doesn't mean I don't have any contracts on my body." As a poet, it only took a flare of power to draw out the Psalms that ran through Robespierre's blood. He brushed some of his hair back, and fussed with his cravat. As he pulled the fabric away, his neck began pulsing with unnatural hues, and Durand could make out letters forming the words "Novus Ordo Seclorum". 

As Durand focused on the ethereal tattoo, Maximilien unbuttoned his vest and threw it off. This caught the other man's attention, and with only a thin silken shirt between them, he shrugged it off. Durand used this momentary distraction to draw his hand behind Robespierre's head and pull him back to his lips. 

The way Maximilien resumed the kiss, it seemed that no time had passed. Their burning skin flowed together, Maximilien placing his leg between Durand's parted legs and moving his hands up and down his captive's sides, just stopping short of the hips. 

"This is wrong," Durand murmured between heavy breathing and kissing. "Lia was our binding tie, and now she's gone." 

Robespierre merely chuckled and stopped momentarily. "Our binding tie was our loyalty to the point of putting our own desires to the side. I am no longer bound down to that, and you seem to have your desires up front now," he said, pointedly nudging with his knee the swelling in Durand's pants. 

"I always hated when you were right, you bastard." Wanting the last words, Durand occupied Maximilien's mouth and drew his own hand over the other man's lithe upper body. He traced the contours of the muscles, and ventured over prominent hipbones. When he reached the top of Robespierre's trousers, Maximilien involuntarily stiffened, but retaliated by placing his hands lower into Durand's pants and rubbing his knee against Durand's crotch. A low moan escaped his mouth, and Durand cursed himself for it-at this point in time, Robespierre truly had him prisoner. 



Throbbing.

By now, Durand completely blocked out the residual pain on his left shoulder, and was enveloped by lust. He ran his hand along his forehead and watched as Robespierre, who had just undone the fastenings on his pants, gave Durand a smug look. Still heavily breathing, Durand was forced to let the wall support him as Maximilien slowly knelt in front of him, fingers on his swollen member. Robespierre's attention turned completely to stroking the erect cock, smirking at the control he had over Durand. 

Blond hair obscured most of the action after Robespierre drew close to his body, but Durand felt a skilled tongue working over his most sensitive areas and let himself surrender to his desires. Maxmilien had taken the entire shaft into his mouth by now, lubricating it with his saliva so that he could work it with his hand.

The adrenaline rush overwhelmed Durand, and he ran his fingers through Maximilien's hair. Robespierre took this as a cue to use his other hand to grab at the other man's ass, and continued with Durand's cock. By now, Durand was involuntarily thrusting into Maximilen's mouth, building up a momentum that wouldn't last for much longer. 

Robespierre sensed this and stroked faster until Durand cried out and came into his mouth.

"Oh God!...Lia..."

Now completely spent, Durand sagged against the wall, sliding down until he was on the ground. Robespierre coolly wiped his own mouth and stood up, picking up his clothes and starting to dress. 

With his back to Durand, Robespierre buttoned the vest up and picked up his coat. Pulling it on, he glanced back to the disheveled man and a smirk crossed Maximilien's face. 

"I know Lia had blonde hair too, but don't fool yourself that much, Durand. There will be a next time, and there won't be any excuses for your desires."

With that, Robespierre left Durand the challenge of dressing himself with one arm.



See artwork: kissing and watch-fondling.