{"id":870,"date":"2014-10-08T19:52:29","date_gmt":"2014-10-08T17:52:29","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/pr0nandchocolate.net\/shirasade\/?p=870"},"modified":"2014-10-08T19:52:29","modified_gmt":"2014-10-08T17:52:29","slug":"pour-la-beaute-du-geste","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/shirasade.net\/fiction\/pour-la-beaute-du-geste\/","title":{"rendered":"Pour la beaut\u00e9 du geste"},"content":{"rendered":"

Author's Note<\/strong>: I love this movie so very much - not just for the love story, but also for the beautiful depiction of grief. But I do<\/em> adore the love story and Erwann, so this is his POV of the movie. It probably doesn't make much sense if you haven't seen it.
\nThe title is from the song As-tu d\u00e9j\u00e0 aim\u00e9?<\/em> (i.e. the \"best conversation Erwann ever had\") and means \"for the beauty of it\": https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/watch?v=haV_TIkpF7c<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

Erwann never stood a chance. <\/p>\n

Two years after relocating from a sleepy town in Brittany to bustling Paris with his brother, four years after their parents death, and five years after he realised that he was gay, he was more than ready to fall in love. So fall he did, hard and fast, and more deeply than anyone, himself included, would have expected. <\/p>\n

When Alice asked Gwendal whether it was alright if her friend Isma\u00ebl slept over, Erwann\u2019s brother agreed, of course, even before she told them that Isma\u00ebl\u2019s girlfriend had just died. Gwendal was laid back, almost to a fault, and he didn\u2019t think twice about letting a complete stranger, who Alice might or might not have had sex with, stay at their place. Erwann himself didn\u2019t care one way or another - at least until he got up in the morning and laid eyes on the attractive dark-haired man that had taken up residence in their living room. <\/p>\n

One look at the beautiful face with its haunted eyes, and all Erwann wanted to do was wrap himself around this tall, sad stranger and kiss him until the pain disappeared. Then he came back home after school, already smitten enough to have spent too much time thinking about what kind of pastry might be appropriate, to find Isma\u00ebl asleep in his bed, and his fate was sealed. He was head over heels in love for the first time in his life.<\/p>\n

Neither their age difference nor the fact that, as far as he knew, Isma\u00ebl was straight, were any deterrent to the feeling that seemed to grow stronger with every beat of his young heart. Whenever he looked at, or even thought of, the journalist, an incredible tenderness flooded him, so deep and raw it hurt. He hadn\u2019t known love could be like this, this intense, almost physical sensation, lodging in the back of his throat, twisting his stomach, leaving him feeling vulnerable and open. It was the most frightening emotion he\u2019d experienced since his parents\u2019 death, and Erwann would have hated it, if it hadn\u2019t also been the most wonderful feeling. <\/p>\n

When Isma\u00ebl stripped off his shirt and unselfconsciously slipped into Erwann\u2019s clothes, smiling and teasing, it felt almost as if he was slipping into Erwann<\/em>. In an instant Erwann was so hard he had to shift his bag in front of his crotch. Seeing Isma\u00ebl wearing his striped sweater was heartachingly intimate, more than coming home to him curled up under Erwann\u2019s sheets or seeing him shirtless.<\/p>\n

Staying up until 3 in the morning in order to catch Isma\u00ebl leaving the office had been a no brainer after that. Erwann had never considered himself to be stalker material, had even scoffed when some of his friends became too obsessed with their crush of the week, but sleep was an impossibility, the images of Isma\u00ebl in his bed, Isma\u00ebl bare-chested, and Isma\u00ebl wearing his clothes on repeat in his head. Erwann imagined himself rewinding the process - peeling the sweater off Isma\u00ebl slim frame, kissing his pale, hairless chest, pushing him down onto the mattress\u2026 After this his imagination stopped short, porn-supplied images somehow not adequate to cover what he wanted to do to Isma\u00ebl, with<\/em> Isma\u00ebl, but it was enough to leave Erwann shaking and coming all over his fist. <\/p>\n

Maybe it was this imagined intimacy, maybe it was that Isma\u00ebl had seemed so unbearably alone when he waved off Alice and turned to walk home, but whatever it was, somehow Erwann felt entirely fearless as he followed and finally approached Isma\u00ebl in the dark streets of Paris. And when Isma\u00ebl rebuffed him, rejecting him gently but firmly, it hurt, but it didn\u2019t crush him. It was as if, alongside aching tenderness and fierce lust, this new-found love had woken an endless supply of courage in Erwann. Deep inside he simply knew that this beautiful, lonely man needed someone, and he was determined to show him that that someone could be Erwann, his for the taking.<\/p>\n

This didn\u2019t mean that he didn\u2019t feel relieved and elated when, barely half an hour later, Isma\u00ebl appeared under his window and asked to be let in. He\u2019d been writing his journal on his computer, naturally all about Isma\u00ebl, and five minutes later the object of his obsession was sitting on his bed, browsing his bookshelf and generally behaving as if his being here was the most natural thing in the world. It made the words flow from Erwann\u2019s lips almost without thinking. It made it easy to speak of love.<\/p>\n

Even with Alain, his closest friend, would-be poet and philosopher, Erwann had never shared such a comfortable exchange about something so deeply personal. It didn\u2019t even matter - much - that once again Isma\u00ebl didn\u2019t accept his overtures, all that counted was that he took him seriously, looked at him as if what he was saying was worth listening to and replied in kind, even when teasing him gently. <\/p>\n

It was the best conversation Erwann had ever had, and Isma\u00ebl seemed to feel it, too, this undercurrent between them, because he ended it rather abruptly by basically sending Erwann to bed like the high-school student he was. However, the next moment he stopped Erwann from sleeping in the living room, making hope burn brightly inside Erwann as he slid under the covers Isma\u00ebl was holding up invitingly. If he wanted to put Erwann off, he certainly was going about it the wrong way.<\/p>\n

Nothing happened that night, but just lying next to Isma\u00ebl in the dark, feeling the heat radiating from his body, made every inch of Erwann\u2019s skin tingle. Isma\u00ebl was fast asleep, so different from the restless insomniac Erwann had encountered the morning before, and Erwann wondered whether his presence had anything to do with it. For hours he lay awake, eyes wide open, and had never wanted anything more than roll over, wrap himself around Isma\u00ebl and never let him go again. <\/p>\n

In hindsight, maybe he should have done so, because when he returned from school the next day Isma\u00ebl was gone, and he didn\u2019t see or hear from him again for two days. And when he did manage to catch up with him in front of his office, Isma\u00ebl called him from around the corner, refusing to let himself be drawn towards Erwann, his face closed off, his whole body rigid even when they were finally face to face. This time Isma\u00ebl hit him right where it hurt, mainly because Erwann had allowed himself to become too optimistic, too hopeful after their night together. He knew that Isma\u00ebl was using the phone as a way to keep his distance, to keep whatever it was between them at bay, but something inside of him still flinched and shrank in on itself when Isma\u00ebl belittled what Erwann was offering. When he ran away, he fully intended not to come back.<\/p>\n

This resolution lasted exactly until he reached his room and realised that, even while he was pushing him away, Isma\u00ebl had been wearing not only his sweater but his sneakers, whose disappearance Erwann hadn\u2019t even noticed. Gwendal stuck his head into the room and mentioned something about having broken up with Alice, but all Erwann could think was that not only had Isma\u00ebl chosen not to return the striped sweater he\u2019d made such fun of, he\u2019d taken shoes he didn\u2019t need. On top of this, Isma\u00ebl had certainly been home since he left Erwann\u2019s place, he could have worn his own things - but he hadn\u2019t. Erwann\u2019s grin was so wide his cheeks hurt as he left to wait for Isma\u00ebl to get off work.<\/p>\n

Still, the hours he spent waiting and reading gave him a bit too much time to think and wonder, so when Isma\u00ebl handed him Alice\u2019s keys to their flat, Erwann\u2019s optimism wavered for just a second. Then, with a small, private smile Isma\u00ebl took back the keys, and hope turned into joy so sweet Erwann could taste it on his tongue. <\/p>\n

Even sweeter was the taste of Isma\u00ebl\u2019s lips, not tasting of cigarettes at all, probably because he didn\u2019t smoke at work. But those were only fleeting thoughts in Erwann\u2019s mind, most of it overwhelmed by the reality of Isma\u00ebl sitting on his bed, looking at him with dark, thoughtful eyes. They hadn\u2019t said anything on their way to Isma\u00ebl\u2019s flat, hadn\u2019t needed to, their goal and intent clear in every glance and half-smile, and now Erwann stripped off his jeans without losing words either. He would have continued undressing, but Isma\u00ebl started to unbutton his shirt, and this time Erwann gave into the impulse and actually wrapped himself around the other man.<\/p>\n

The sadness was still there, but there was something else, too, and Erwann used his whole body to coax out this tender, timid feeling. Slowly, Isma\u00ebl began to respond, as if he couldn\u2019t stop it, allowing himself to be held and explored from behind, until finally he turned in Erwann\u2019s arms and looked at him, really looked at him. Erwann held his breath, hoping that Isma\u00ebl would find what he was looking for in his eyes.<\/p>\n

The older man touched his face reverently, and when he cradled him in his arms, it was with so much gentleness, Erwann felt like crying, his heart was so full. Nothing he had seen or read or heard had ever suggested to him that sex could be like this. Not that there was much sexual in the way Isma\u00ebl held him, even when he rolled him over and covered him with his whole body. Instead there was this almost reluctant tenderness, as if Erwann was a precious thing that Isma\u00ebl could not help but touch and embrace.<\/p>\n

Erwann was still able to sense the sadness radiating from the other man, and once again it made him ache, made him press kiss after kiss against the pale throat and chin, twining his hands in the dark curls, until Isma\u00ebl rolled them over again so that Erwann was in his lap. When they kissed this time, hunger mixed into the grief, the joy, the tenderness, and clever fingers found their way under the sweater Erwann was still wearing, working it over his head. Then they were flesh to flesh, only their underwear between them, and Erwann explored Isma\u00ebl\u2019s back, reveling in the sensation of wet breath against his neck, of hands wrapped around his bare back, soft hair tickling his cheek. For a moment Isma\u00ebl held him so tightly it made it hard to breathe, as if Erwann\u2019s breath wasn\u2019t already laboured enough just from being so close to Isma\u00ebl.<\/p>\n

They toppled over, and this time it was Erwann who covered Isma\u00ebl\u2019s body with his own, kissing every bit of skin he could reach, hungry for the taste, the smell, the feel of this beautiful man stretched out beneath him. Isma\u00ebl\u2019s grip on him shifted, changed, and he began to react to Erwann\u2019s caresses in kind. There was no more room for grief as they rolled around the bed, kissing and touching, their bodies sliding against one another as if they were meant to fit together.<\/p>\n

Neither one of them had much experience with men, but even if Erwann hadn\u2019t grown up with the internet, he felt sure he\u2019d have known how to touch Isma\u00ebl, how to take him in his hand and twist his wrist just so in order to be rewarded with the sight of Isma\u00ebl falling apart with a shudder that seemed never-ending. In return Isma\u00ebl appeared to have no qualms about leaning down and wrapping his mouth around Erwann, sucking first experimentally, then with more and more certainty as the young man arched and bucked.<\/p>\n

They did no more that night, but Erwann fell asleep with Isma\u00ebl warm and relaxed against his back, his cock nestled between his cheeks in a way that held a promise of what might come. Unfortunately, the morning did not bring anything of the sort - instead it brought a strange woman bursting into the flat, and Isma\u00ebl almost flying out of bed and after her without a kiss and barely a word for Erwann.<\/p>\n

Needless to say Erwann was pretty much useless in school, and his state of mind wasn\u2019t helped by the fact that Isma\u00ebl didn\u2019t pick up his phone all day. He was worried - not so much about himself, but that Isma\u00ebl was back to brooding all by himself. When Erwann went by their office, Alice hadn\u2019t seen or heard from him either, although she didn\u2019t seem overly concerned. It also cheered Erwann that she had somehow picked up that there was something between Isma\u00ebl and him, but he still spent the evening oscillating between writing in his journal, looking out the window and trying Isma\u00ebl\u2019s mobile.<\/p>\n

What he didn\u2019t expect was to hear someone enter the flat with the sounds of shushing and loud whispers, and to come face to face with Alice, who all but pushed a very, very drunk Isma\u00ebl into his arms before disappearing as quickly as she\u2019d arrived. Gwendal\u2019s door opened, but Erwann was too busy holding Isma\u00ebl upright to worry about explaining anything to his brother. At some point he would probably have to, but for now he was rather preoccupied, trying to calm down a skittish and maudlin Isma\u00ebl, who seemed suddenly to think that Erwann was too young, too pretty, too innocent for him.<\/p>\n

He was drunkenly earnest, but no matter how he attempted to convince Erwann otherwise, he only succeeded in making him more and more certain that this was what he wanted - this slightly broken, rather drunk and completely endearing man. Erwann didn\u2019t care if Isma\u00ebl wasn\u2019t ready to say that he loved him, not when he was following Erwann onto the window ledge with complete trust, uncaring of the street below. <\/p>\n

The wall felt hard and cold against his back, but Isma\u00ebl was warm all around him and his eyes were hungry and hopeful. When Isma\u00ebl gave in and claimed his lips for a deep kiss, Erwann simply wrapped both arms around him and held on, the way he suspected he would want to for a long, long time. <\/p>\n

Really, he never stood a chance. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Erwann never stood a chance. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_s2mail":"yes","footnotes":"","_links_to":"","_links_to_target":""},"categories":[118,18],"tags":[295,299],"series":[],"class_list":["post-870","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-erwannismael","category-les-chansons-damour","tag-audience-teen","tag-genre-slash"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/shirasade.net\/fiction\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/870","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/shirasade.net\/fiction\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/shirasade.net\/fiction\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/shirasade.net\/fiction\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/shirasade.net\/fiction\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=870"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/shirasade.net\/fiction\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/870\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/shirasade.net\/fiction\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=870"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/shirasade.net\/fiction\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=870"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/shirasade.net\/fiction\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=870"},{"taxonomy":"series","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/shirasade.net\/fiction\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/series?post=870"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}