ofcatsandfate | Oh, the Dawn light sweeps all the shadows clean. {Post-cruise; for Demetri}

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Oh, the Dawn light sweeps all the shadows clean. {Post-cruise; for Demetri}

Fabrice is adjusting, after the disaster of the free cruise and subsequent island...adventures. Coming off the heels of his own returning memories, the recent events of his life are a lot to take in and reconcile himself with. He feels better, having returned to Siren Cove. The salt water in the air refreshes his lungs as he walks along the beach, shoes in hand as he drags his feet through the sand. He's half-tempted to just run off into the waves, without a care in the world.

Like an idiot, he's forgotten sunblock, though, and he curses himself at the prospect. But then, he supposes he wouldn't be himself if he had his head entirely on his shoulders. Sea gulls gather at the scraps he passes by, and, of course, the sound of the waves lapping against the shore rings in his ears like a lullaby.

He's on a more secluded part of the beach, but that doesn't stop him from catching sight of an occasional fellow beach dweller. For once, in a long while, he feels at peace with the world.

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He hasn't seen Fabrice since the day they ran into his sister at the beach. There's a reason for that, and it's not because of the cruise. It's because he's been playing a dangerous game and one he wasn't ready for. Demetri didn't make connections, because connections meant a chance to get hurt. He especially didn't make connections with a Coombs, because that was even more dangerous.

Seeing Fabrice on the beach changes that. He knows when his breath catches that he still hasn't gotten the other man out of his head, no matter how much he tells himself that he has. Slowly, he makes his way across the sand, looking sheepish as he approaches. "Hey."

Fabrice has felt disappointed and a little hurt at not seeing Demetri for so long. He knows the other man is a public figure, a Thornton public figure at that, and he knows he has an image to maintain. Still, he would have at least liked to see him after they'd run into June at the beach. He still can't stop thinking about the other man on a constant basis, even though he realizes how risky a situation this is. Like a moth, however, he only finds himself compelled forward by the fire.

When he catches sight of that familiar, blonde hair, Fabrice's breath lodges in his throat and he has to struggle to keep his smile to a bare minimum, even as the brightness of his eyes suggests otherwise.

"Hello," he says, walking towards Demetri. It really is so good to see him again.

That brightness only serves to make Demetri feel worse. Fabrice deserves far better than him, but Demetri knows that he's done everything to make the other man fall for him. It's a jerk of a move, but he doesn't care most of the time, his own judgement skewed when it comes to the other man. He thought, maybe, if he'd walked away that this thing, whatever it is might go away, but he knows now that it most definitely hasn't.

"Hey," he says, stopping half a foot away from Fabrice, his toes buried deep in the sand. He wants to close that gap, but he knows that's a bad idea too, as bad as stopping was.

His heart thumps loudly in his chest, like the pounding of an offbeat drum, when the other man stops before him. It's dangerously close and yet not close enough. Fabrice feels his own toes curl beneath the sand, trying to resist the urge to just erase the brief distance between them. Demetri always makes him feel constantly on the edge of a cliff, about to fall over. Though they haven't seen each other in weeks, that same rush of giddiness, among the multitude of other, deeper feelings has yet to relent. Indeed, Fabrice only finds himself falling more.

"How was Washington?" He asks, trying to keep his gaze from constantly flickering towards the other man's lips. He fidgets with his hands, swaying a bit on his feet in the sand. "How have you been?"

“Stressful,” He says with a heavy sigh, scrubbing a hand through his hair in order to stop reaching out and touching the other man. It’s more than simply difficult, it’s nearly impossible for him to resist, his willpower tested. How had things come to this? How had they gotten here? “Okay. Not sleeping much. Trying to keep bureaucrats who have too much time on their hands from setting up camp in the city.”

"I'm sorry," he says, his own hands flexing by his side. The urge to reach out and grab Demetri's is overwhelming to the point where Fabrice doesn't know how much more he can resist; as if he's even resisting, imagining it as he talks with the other man. Impulsively, he takes a small step forward, further lessening the distance between them. "That sounds like hell."

And damn it all, but he can't not do something, not when Demetri admits to not sleeping and looks as stressed as Fabrice feels. Quickly glancing about to make sure no one's looking their way, he reaches out for Demetri's free hand with his own, offering a gentle, reassuring squeeze. He wants to offer so much more than that; he wants to pull the other man to him and kiss him, hold him close and at least offer a brief respite from the outside world.

It had been once he’d heard about the cruise and all that had happened. Demetri had wanted to find his brother, wanted to charge off to the rescue of everyone involved. Fabrice’sfingers touch his and he has a hard time keeping his composure, the walls he’s so carefully constructed weak around the other man.

“You had it worse,’ he says, or he thinks that he says. He’s not sure anymore, all he really knows is that he’s kissing Fabrice, that he’s curling his free hand around his neck and that he never wants to stop.

Fabrice is about to reply that as awful as the island had been, dealing with the politics back home must have been just hellish. But then Demetri closes the distance between them and they're kissing, the warmth of Demetri's hand on the back of his neck seeping through like quicksand; Fabrice shivers, bringing his own hands to cup the other man's face, gasping into the kiss as he returns it, unable to stop himself. Their lips part and come together as he feels himself come alive; he never wants this moment to end.

It has to end, as here on the beach isn't the place for this, no matter how secluded Demetri tells himself this is. "Dammit," he swears, resting his forehead against Fabrice's and not letting go. "This- We can't keep doing this."

Fabrice can't bring himself to move from the other man, made breathless from their intense kissing. "I'm sorry," he says, leaning into Demetri. "I can't help myself around you. I've missed you."

"You too," he says, letting out a choked laugh. It's not even that this is forbidden, as much as it is that he really cares about Fabrice. It's dangerous and enthralling and on his mind all the time. "You're in my head"

"So are you," he more sighs than actually says. He really cares for Demetri, a strong sense of need and want beyond desire. He's had crushes before, but never any sort of attachment of this depth. "I don't think you ever leave. And I don't want you to."

"Can we go? Somewhere? Not here," he says it almost desperately, his fingers digging into Fabrice's neck perhaps unkindly. It's just that he doesn't want to let go. "My place, it's not too far."

"Yes, anywhere," he agrees, his own tone matching the other man's in near desperation. The fingers around his neck almost hurt but he doesn't care; his own hands wind up tangled in the front of Demetri's shirt, clutching at him. "Yes, your place."

His place is dangerous, the garage he's converted not that far from the main house. But it's no less dangerous than here in public, he tells himself. Demetri breaks away, his hand curling around Fabrice's to tug him along, away from the beach and toward the path he took down here.

Fabrice knows that for Demetri to invite him back to his place is a big deal. Demetri who has an image to maintain, not just for the public, but for his father, is risking some of that image with his invitation. It makes Fabrice's thoughts swirl and his heart stutter a bit. He squeezes his hand, to let him know how much it means to him as he follows him.

It's probably good June has run off to New York, she bad a way of seeing everything that happened on the estate. Demetri squeezes back, pausing when they get to a fence, old and iron, nearly touching the treeline. He's quick with his key, holding the gate open and knowing that once they both step over everything will have changed.

Fabrice stares at the iron fence as Demetri holds open the gate, as old and grand as the family that lives behind it. It feels especially personal, crossing over this threshold; like there's no going back. "I think even your fence is fancier than what they have at the Coombs manor," he jokes, trying to ease the mood a bit as he follows Demetri.

"Anything you can do, we can do better?" He sings the words, albeit softly, smiling as he pulls Fabrice close before shutting and locking the gate behind them. "It feels like that, doesn't it? Like all our lives we've been told that."

He chuckles at that, letting his head rest on the other man's shoulder as he pulls him close. It's a marvel, just to get to be with Demetri like this. "It certainly does. Like some kind of ridiculous competition." He lets his arm drape across Demetri's shoulder, feeling more comfortable with every step they take. "I do like your place, though. Really."

“You haven’t even seen my place,” he says with a soft laugh, slipping his arm around Fabrice’s waist. He leads them along the edge of the property, far enough from the fence to not turn on security lights. The garage looms out of the darkness and he fishes out a key, opening the door to show a small stairway up. “The light is at the top. Sorry, bad planning.”

The place is clean and sparse. It’s filled with work and books and a tv that dominates one wall. The space is compact, but Demetri likes it, entirely his own. “Be glad June isn’t around. She installed a disco ball once when I was at work.”

"Well, I think I'll like it anyway, though I'm probably heavily biased," Fabrice laughs with him, unable to help himself. Demetri's laughter is contagious, warm like a summer breeze. He finds himself wishing he could hear more of it; there's almost an childlike innocence to it, free of the rest of the burdens Demetri otherwise bears.

He follows the other man to what looks to be the garage, following him inside and letting his gaze roam around the room. It might be smaller than what one would expect, but to Fabrice, it seems very much like Demetri. "I like it. It's very cozy and very you," he tells him, smiling into his shoulder. "Did she really? Your sister sounds like quite the determined type."

“It’s private, but close enough that my father thinks that I’m here when he needs it,” he admits, turning sheepish. He’s never had someone in his place he’s been involved with, usually because his involvements were casual and short. This was entirely different, which made it many things, including scary.

“She can pick locks. Do not even ask how she learned it,” he’s talking now, words coming out in a rush. He’s nervous now, nervous like he never is with a man. But this isn’t just anyone, it’s Fabrice and that, crazily, makes it more important.“Probably from James.”

"So you and June are the only ones left living on the estate?" He inquires, wondering how intimidating that must be, with the figure Demetri's father presents. He finds his heart aching for the other man all the more. "At least you can be close to her."

Fabrice stares at Demetri as he rambles, a nervous edge to his words that only endears him more. "Your sister seems quite perceptive," he says, trying not to smile at Demetri acting so flustered and failing. "I'm sure it's a valuable life skill, she's learnt."

He leans in to kiss Demetri then, because they're actually alone, and he's adorable, and he's missed him all those weeks away.

"June's gone. Off to New York," he says, happy that she's gone but mostly missing her. She is perceptive, and maybe that's why she went. He doesn't know, and he's afraid to ask her.

He'd say that, but then Fabrice is kissing him. There's nothing that he can think other than that he cares about this man more than he's cared about anyone outside of his family. Demetri wraps his arms around Fabrice's neck, pulling him close even as he moves them toward the steps to the loft.

Fabrice's mind is a whirl as they kiss, thoughts swirling in all directions as Demetri wraps his arms around his neck. All he knows is that he is head-over-heels for this man, caring for him in a way he's never felt for anyone in his life. It's exhilarating and terrifying all at once, a blast of bitter, morning air after so long spent hiding himself away.

He tangles his own hands in the other man's hair, savoring the softness of it in between his fingers as they move closer to the loft; he groans into the other man's mouth, never wanting to stop kissing him.

He moves backward toward the stairs, pulling Fabrice along with him. That they're here in his home is a rush, a rush that's unexpected but welcome.

"I've missed you," Demetri says softly, murmuring against his lips. "God, I've missed you. I was stupid. Forgive me?"

He follows as Demetri pulls them forward, his head spinning as they make their way towards the stairs leading to his bed. To be in the other man's home, his personal space, away from the rest of the world, is an honor that lends itself to a rush; Fabrice thrills at it. He can't remember the last time he felt so alive.

"I've missed you too," he murmurs back, voice raw from their kissing. "You weren't stupid; you had work, and you needed to get away. I get it." He kisses him again, long and lingering, before speaking. "There's nothing to forgive."

There's everything to forgive. He's avoided Fabrice, left town at the first chance. He deserves better than that. Fabrcie deserves better than Demetri, but he's not about to stop.

"I should have stayed," he says, pulling the other man up the stairs. When they're at the top, he tugs at his shirt. "I should have called."

Fabrice missed Demetri fiercely when he left town, but, being cousins with someone as flighty as Moira, he also understands the appeal and need for flight. He wishes Demetri would have called, but it's in the past now, and they can't change that. Fabrice is just happy to have him back again, and he hopes the other man knows that.

"You needed to get away," he repeats, following him eagerly, moving his hands to pull at Demetri's own shirt, before kissing him again. "And you're here now, and that's all that matters."

"I didn't need to get away so badly, or so soon," he admits, wanting the other man to apportion some sort of blame to him. Their shirts fall and they're up the stairs in that awkward kissing and moving way before he can even really say the next thing.

He can't stop kissing or touching Demetri as they stumble their way up the stairs, unable to keep his hands from roaming across the man's firm chest.

"So don't leave again?" He asks, leaning his forehead against the the other man's. He's breathless and his voice ragged; he finds himself clinging to Demetri, and, if he's honest with himself, scared that he's done something to drive the man away. "Please?"

He can't promise that, as much as he wants to. And yet, seeing that look in Fabrice's eyes stops him completely at the top of the steps, pulling the other man as tight against him as he can. "I'll try."

As much as he might wish that the other man could fully promise it, just hearing him promise to make the effort means the world to Fabrice; he clings to Demetri, leaning in to kiss him again, long, slow, and with as much passion as he can muster. "Thank you," he says, leaning his forehead against the other man's before moving to nuzzle his neck. "That means a lot, truly."

"You should stay," he says, a dangerous proposition in itself. Getting them both out safely tomorrow will be a challenge, but if it stops the hurt look in Fabrice's eyes, he'll risk it. His hands sure, he tugs Fabrice over to the bed, pulling him down with him.

"You want me to?" He asks, face brightening at the thought. He knows it's a risk, this close to Demetri's father, but Fabrice knows that he always wants to stay with the other man every chance he gets; he knows it as much as he knows he needs to breathe to live.

He falls with Demetri into his bed, and it's such a wondrous feeling, Fabrice has to lean in and kiss the other man again.

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Oh, the Dawn light sweeps all the shadows clean. {Post-cruise; for Demetri}

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