just need to put this somewhere so i'm telling you <3
i keep thinking about the idea of robert calling flambae his shooting star or something
and about the lyrics to the song temptation by arash
driving myself bonkers
https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/arash/temptation.html
it's such an 'everytime we touch' genre song but i love it
and i have gay brainworms
(It definitely has an Everytime We Touch feel! This little ficlet doesn’t really match the vibe—it kinda got super sentimental—but oh well! lyrics I loved but couldn’t work in:
Your dark hair is killing me
Your beautiful eyes are killing me
A whole life I have been sleeping without you
Until I finally found you)
One thing Chad’s learned about Robert over the course of their… whatever they’ve been doing… is that he’s just not a Pillow Talk kinda guy. The most romantic thing he ever says after sex is a soft, “Here, drink,” while holding a glass of water against Chad’s lips or a rumbled, “You were good,” pressed into Chad’s pec.
Honestly, it offended Chad a little at first. Like, most people would be raving about him after a single night, but this bitch is lucky enough to have him regularly—and exclusively, at that!!—and can’t even bother giving him his flowers for a job well done?
But at this point, he thinks he understands. Just because Robert doesn’t say all that romantic shit doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel it. It’s in the thorough aftercare and the callused fingers trailing soothingly over his skin and the silk pillowcase Chad knows damn well he didn’t buy for himself.
He has his own way of being romantic, even if it’s more subtle than Chad’s used to.
That’s why it shocks him so much when Robert settles down beside him after their second round of the night and sleepily murmurs, completely out of nowhere, “You’re like a star.”
Chad blinks down at him, trying to figure out what the fuck he’s talking about. Robert’s head is resting against his collarbone, so all he has to go off of is the top of his messy brown hair. “What?”
“A star.” Robert presses a kiss to Chad’s chest, directly over his heart, and Chad can’t tell if he did that on purpose or if Chad’s just being a stupid sap. “You know how sometimes when we’re having sex, you’ll just start heating up? And it gets to the point where I have to back off a little until you can cool down?”
Chad feels his face heat with embarrassment, feeling way too called out. “Okay, first of all—”
“I like it,” Robert says bluntly. “Sometimes I don’t want to back off. I want to stay as close as possible, and I don’t care if it hurts. I have to tell myself that you'd be upset if you burned me during sex—that’s the only way I can make myself let go of you when you get like that.”
“It reminds me of when I was a kid,” Robert continues, “Looking at night sky through my telescope.”
Chad’s staring holes into the top of Robert’s head now, practically holding his breath. He’s told Robert all about his childhood—about cooking with Maman and working on the car with Baba and making up dances with Farah—but Robert hardly ever talks about his own. What he does give away, in bits and pieces sprinkled in here and there, is frustratingly vague.
“I used to tell Chase I wanted to discover a new star and go visit it. I always thought that touching a star would be like touching the surface of a lake—I wanted to put my hand on it and watch the ripples,” Robert says, nostalgia thick in his voice. “He’d scoff and tell me that there was no way I was gonna discover a star with that cheap-ass kiddie telescope, and that even if I did, that star would burn me up long before I could get close enough to touch.
“I didn’t care. I still wanted to try. Chase called me stupid; I called myself brave. But now, I think maybe I just wanted to hold something in my hands—even if it hurt, even if it burned me up—and know that it was just mine. There wasn’t much that was just mine, back then.”
Chad runs a hand lightly up and down Robert’s back, trying to comfort him without spooking him out of talking. Skittish fucker. Distantly, he wonders if Robert got into the liquor before Chad got here—he only ever gets this introspective when he’s had something to drink.
Robert abruptly pushes himself up, and Chad’s suddenly pinned in place by intense dark eyes.
“And now I look at you,” Robert says lowly, “and I see the same thing I saw back then—this bright, shining light—and I want you, and I don’t care if it hurts, and I don’t care if you burn me up in the end.”
He leans in closer, until their lips are just a hair’s width apart, and speaks his next words directly into Chad’s mouth. “You're like my own personal star.”
Chad gasps and surges up to kiss him, needing to be closer, needing to show Robert that he won’t burn him, that Robert can hold him without it hurting. Needing round fucking three, oh my god.
Distantly, he hears a knock at Robert’s front door, but who the fuck cares about that right now?
Unfortunately, Robert cares. He pulls away and checks his phone as Chad pants under him, and then he climbs off of him completely.
“That’s the food,” he says nonchalantly, sliding out of bed like he hasn't just forever ruined Chad for anyone else.
Jesus, this fucker can’t do anything by halves, can he?
The next time they fuck, Robert calls him my star, and Chad comes almost embarrassingly quickly. Afterward, Robert performs careful aftercare like he always does, and then he settles down against Chad, just as quiet as usual.
But it’s different this time. Chad can feel Robert’s fingers trailing over his side, and Robert’s mouth pressing against his chest, and Robert’s silk pillowcase under his head, and all he can think is I’m burning I’m yours I love you.
pixelskylines
titsay
dailybridgerton
prguitarman
amandla
