#pierre fic

[parcfermekisses]

'Désolé,' whispers Charles in between kisses. 'Désolé … I'm sorry … please …'

'I know.' Pierre kisses him again – gently, kindly. 'You know the rules though.'

Charles nods. 'Please …' He's brought his arms up in front of himself anyway, hands almost together, waiting for the cuffs even as he pleads. 'Désolé …'

The wide leather straps buckle easily around his wrists, and there's only a brief hesitation before Charles complies with the tug on each one, reaching towards the corners of the bed where he's clipped in place.

Pierre caresses his face, thumb sweeping across the line of his cheekbone. 'Are you ready, chéri?'

'Oui.' It's quiet, a little apprehensive. He’s looking to Pierre to tell him it'll be okay, but he can't quite read his expression.

'Mmmm. Bon.'

Charles pulls his feet up and lets Pierre push his knees open, kisses alternating with the sting of teeth along his inner thighs. As the wet heat of Pierre's tongue works over him there's a while where Charles forgets it’s a punishment, muscles relaxing to allow slick fingers in. He lifts his head and Pierre smiles up at him, fingers curling and Charles gasps, cock twitching against his abs.

'Such a shame you weren't this good before.'

[alasarys]

Confession Pierre Gasly / George Russell | 1,206 words

He knows the exact moment he fell. It doesn’t lessen his guilt, but at least he knows. If he tries – if it could be called trying when all he has to do is close his eyes – he can still feel George's hand on his shoulder. The bar had been crowded, packed with revellers enjoying the music and last of the warm summer nights, and they’d been lucky to find a bench to perch on. He can't remember what they’d been talking about. One of those animated, giddy-on-sunshine-and-freedom conversations that disappear like candy floss. Yachts, perhaps, or where they'd had the best meal so far. Pierre remembers the touch, though. The lean in so George can be heard over the band, the casual drape of his arm around Pierre's shoulders to bring his ear to George's mouth, the brush of his thumb against the side of Pierre’s neck. It was quick. Ordinary. It meant nothing. It changed everything. He’d laughed on autopilot and carried on the conversation as if everything was normal while the room tilted away from him – like being too drunk, but his beer was still half-full – and spent the rest of the night trying not to lean too close, to keep his eyes up, to be good.

[parcfermekisses]

Kinktober – Days 29/30 Public Sex: Pierre / Charles 

"Chéri…" Pierre nudges him gently, checking to see if he's awake. "Charles, look at this." 

Charles sighs sleepily, content, as Pierre presses up behind him, holds him in a one-armed hug as he balances the phone on the pillow in front of him. His beard's softly scratchy against the side of Charles's neck as he murmurs, "Press play." 

Charles blinks, focusses and pulls a hand free to tap the screen. Instagram. There's no sound, but he doesn't need it to recognise that it's from last night – dark, unsteady phone footage of the two of them on the dance floor of whatever club they'd ended up at. Did he even know the name? Charles can't remember. They're all much the same at 3am.

They're surrounded by people, visible only from the shoulders up, and heads bob in and out of view at the bottom of the frame, occasionally obscuring them. In the video Pierre bends his head beside Charles's and it looks as if he's telling him something, trying to be heard over the music. In bed, Charles lifts his hand instinctively to where Pierre had bitten, sharply, briefly, the shell of his ear. 

"Does it …" he asks quietly, and feels Pierre nod in answer. 

Charles is grateful, as he keeps watching, that the video doesn't capture how tightly Pierre is holding him against his thigh, that the way he's grinding against him looks like swaying to the music. Pierre kisses his neck and squeezes him briefly as on the dance floor Charles closes his eyes – if he didn't know better it would look like he's briefly caught in another song, mouthing lyrics out of time. The reel loops back to the beginning and Charles breathes again. 

"Oh." 

"Mmmmm." Pierre's just about purring. "You're so beautiful when you come apart in my arms, chéri." 

[parcfermekisses]

Kinktober – Days 7/8 Costumes: George / Pierre

It’s George’s job – of course it is – to get the halloween costumes ready to be returned. He ticks off his mental checklist of what they hired to make sure nothing’s missing: blue shorts, blue shirt, white waistcoat, overlarge bowtie, hot pink and purple furry cat ears, one matching tail. All the accoutrements for Alister in Wonderland and the Cheshire Cat accounted for.

Pierre wraps his arms around him from behind. “It was a fun party, no?” 

George smiles, zips up the garment bags and leans into Pierre. “It was. Although I think my favourite part was the authentic Cheshire Cat experience once we got home.”

“Hmmm?”

“You know, you wearing nothing but a grin.”

Pierre chuckles, nips at George’s ear and lowers his voice. “I think next time … next time you should be le petit chaperon rouge—” He lets the French linger as George tilts his head, exposing the long line of his neck to him, “—and I will be le loup. Such big teeth.” He grazes them over George’s skin, loves the goosebumps that raise as George’s breath hitches. 

“Big …” Pierre presses his hips forward, holds George tight against him. He’s not talking about teeth anymore. “And bad …” 

George groans softly and finishes the sentence for him,  “… and all the better to fuck me with.”

[parcfermekisses]

Kinktober – Days 13/14 Love Bites/Marks: Charles / Pierre

"How did you get it so perfect?" Pierre peers in the mirror over the desk, tracing a finger around the mark on his right breast, just above his nipple. 

Charles shrugs. "I can tie a knot in a cherry stem using only my mouth," he says, as if that’s an answer. 

Pierre shifts his focus to the figure reclining on the bed, then to the complimentary fruit basket on the coffee table, then back to Charles. The white sheets are a stark contrast to his pale gold skin, and, despite everything they’ve just done, his smile’s still shy. Unmistakably proud at the way Pierre’s looking at him though.

He shrugs again. “It’s just a thing I can do.”

Pierre grins and turns to face him. “Chéri, it’s a perfect heart.”

“Mmmm.” Charles smiles just a little more proudly as he stretches. “Wait till you see what happens when it starts to fade.”

[parcfermekisses]

Kinktober – Days 1/2 Dirty Talk: Pierre / George

"It's easy." Pierre's breath is warm across George's chest as they lie there, his head on George's shoulder. "Just tell me something you liked." 

George tugs at the sheet that’s barely covering them, then smoothes it over Pierre's side. "All of it." 

"Me too." Pierre smiles, and starts with something simple. "I liked your kisses." 

“Mmmm. I like kissing you.” He fidgets with the sheet some more. “I like your mouth.”

Pierre kisses the closest bit of skin. “What about it?”

George shrugs as much as he can with Pierre on top of him. “It’s…” All the usual adjectives seem trite. Warm. Hot. Wet. Soft. “... yours.” It’s honest, even if it’s not sexy.

Pierre looks up and trails a finger behind George’s right ear. “I liked the sound you made when I kissed you here.” 

A blush rises on George’s cheeks. “I liked …” He wishes that words sounded as nice in his accent as they do in Pierre’s. Maybe they do to Pierre. He lifts his free hand and guides the fingers that are still resting on his neck to curve over his hip. “I liked when you held me here.”

“Ohhh … I’ll remember that.” Pierre rubs his thumb softly over the sharp line of bone, a part of George that’s still milk-white despite the summer sun. He tips his face up and noses at George’s jaw. “I like you telling me this.” 

George blushes deeper, but it's a heat that's starting to feel more like pride. He wants to say thank you and you're welcome and you make me feel safe. He doesn't. Instead he simply says, "I like you."

[alasarys]

your georgierre catholic guilt fic is so good i am brainworming thank u for making it - @ruszhou

You are so welcome! 💕

Really, I think we should all thank George and Pierre for their tête-à-tête in a bar over summer, and Pierre in particular for being such a whor– sorry, slut– sorry, good Christian boy. Confessions wouldn't exist without either of those things.