Title: The Pleasure Is All Mine
Rating: M
Pairing: Femio/Autor
Warning(s): slash, sexual content, Femio
Disclaimer: I do not own Princess Tutu.
A Christmas present for La Princesse Morte
As usual, Femio had gotten tossed out of the beginners' ballet class for his attempts to display what he called "art" but what the instructors could not fathom in the least or attempt to adapt to standard practice. At this point, he was now wandering dejectedly across campus, back in his standard uniform, sighing dramatically and hoping that somebody would pay attention to him. Alas, no one really cared about him, despite the fact that he was "qualified to be a true prince, one who loves everyone and is also loved by everyone." Sometimes it was difficult being Femio.
All of a sudden, he heard the most beautiful music streaming from one of the open windows in the music school. He paused, trying to figure out which one it was. The sound was glorious, and it sent a delighted shiver up his spine. Since, he had nothing better to do, he figured that this lovely music was worth investigating.
He entered the music building quietly – if there was one thing he had learned from his dance instructors, it was how to be fleet and quiet of foot – and started going up and down each floor trying to find the music. It had come from somewhere near the rear of the building, but he could have been wrong. He then traversed the staircases, until he finally reached the top floor and the large piano studio at the rear of the building, which conveniently had its door open.
Femio couldn't believe his eyes when he saw the pianist – whose name he thought was Autor, but he could have been wrong – at his work. His eyes were closed in ecstasy while his body swayed with the force of the music. His hands swept across the piano like lovers in a pas de deux. The pianist's hair was coming out of its tight side-sweep, but he didn't seem to care as the music moved him.
And the dancer could feel the music moving him as well. He swayed a little, and found that he wanted to move, but he wasn't sure if his particular style of dance would be appropriate for this music. He would have to resort to what he and his classmates had been learning to dance. So, with a great force of will, he did a grand plié and gave the best grand jeté he could, which landed him about halfway across the room. Feeling confident, he tried again, this time landing at the edge of the piano. He then placed a hand on the piano for balance and turned two pirouettes, after which he felt good enough to try a non-jumping traveling movement. This was what he had been struggling with lately in class, but the music in this room was beautiful enough and encouraging enough that he wanted to try it. He steadied himself, arms extended, and began spinning again. He then took one quick jump, and landed in a pirouette again. He repeated the movement, this time with a slightly larger jump, and got the same result. The third time, he took a large jump, almost a grand jeté, and…
Crashed. Right into the piano. And in that instant, Femio fell back on his rear, the music stopped, and Autor angrily shouted, "What the hell do you think you're doing here?"
Femio picked himself up from the floor, dusted himself off, and said, "I'm so sorry, dear Autor, but your music was impossibly entrancing and I couldn't ignore the urge I got to dance when I heard it. I apologize completely." He bowed deeply and offered Autor a rose, which was promptly thrown out the window.
"Don't do that," Autor hissed, "I hate that romantic stuff. Besides, don't you have class? What are you doing all the way over here in the music building?"
"Alas," Femio sighed, putting a hand to his head dramatically, "no one understands my art."
"You got thrown out of class for doing your own thing, didn't you?" Autor deadpanned, one eyebrow raised and arms crossed.
"You are correct, sir. I was banished for doing what I believe is art. But NO ONE UNDERSTANDS ME!" He knelt on the floor, faking tears and clenching his hands. "AM I TO BE CURSED WITH MISUNDERSTANDING AND PREJUDICE FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE? OH, HEAVEN! POUR JUDGEMENT UPON THIS SINNER! HERE!" Femio raised his arms in anguish, and felt a somewhat large rock come in the window and bonk him on the head. He would have to thank Montand for his excellent aim later.
Autor held his hands to his ears. "Could you not do that? It's too loud!"
"Sorry," Femio replied. "I have gotten into some trouble for that in the past. Also, 'heaven' can't hear me if I don't cry out loud enough." He smiled that dazzling trademark Femio smile, guaranteed to charm any girl.
Autor sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "It's fine. Now would you mind getting out of here? I've got some practicing to do."
"What I could hear through the window sounded quite good," Femio commented. "Why do you still need to practice?"
"It wasn't good enough," Autor replied. Softer, he added, "I'm never good enough."
Femio softened his smile. "I understand how you feel. I recall how I couldn't get a single maiden to allow me to shower her with praise because they were all in love with someone else. I can't remember the name of the other person, though…something with an M?"
"Mytho," Autor replied softly.
"Yes! That was it, Mytho! I don't remember what he looked like, only that he was my rival for the love of the female populace!" Femio held his fists to his chest angrily. "I could never forgive him for capturing the hearts of so many young ladies!"
Autor chuckled. "I never was overly fond of Mytho either. He stole the heart of the one that I loved as well…" He trailed off and began to play the piano again, something sad and beautiful. Femio found himself transfixed by Autor's music once again. He stood behind the pianist as he played, watching his fingers slide up and down the piano with practiced grace and ease. Again, it was like watching two lovers dance, much like Mytho and his lover…what was her name? Something with an R…
"Rue!" Femio announced. "That was her name!"
Autor stopped once again, albeit somewhat more gradually than the last time. "How did you know Miss Rue?"
"She charmed me away once," Femio replied wistfully. "She was going to introduce me to her father, but then she disappeared suddenly."
"She was quite charming," Autor agreed. "Very beautiful, the most lovely girl I ever saw." His face darkened. "But she mocked me for loving her. She didn't believe me, and she sent me away."
"Alas, spurned by a maiden's words," Femio sighed, putting his hands on Autor's shoulders. "What a tragedy!"
"Please take your hands off of me," Autor growled out. But the other boy didn't obey his wishes, and began rubbing his shoulders and the back of his neck soothingly. Autor relaxed, and let his head drop forward ever so slightly.
"Why are…you…doing this?" he asked softly.
"Because you've been hurt," Femio replied. "And comfort is required to ease that hurt. And since no one else is around, I suppose it is up to me to do the comforting."
"You don't have to," Autor said. "I can just…play piano for a while, that relieves tension for me." He let out a soft moan as Femio worked at the back of his neck with gentle thumbs.
"Emotionally, perhaps," Femio commented, "but it increases the tension in your shoulders." He dug into Autor's shoulder muscles. When he touched that part of Autor's back, the pianist hissed, proving Femio's point.
"I suppose you're right," Autor replied. "But really, it's not necessary."
"No, it is," Femio said. "Comfort between fellow humans is very much necessary." His hands wandered a bit lower. "And so is release, if you take my meaning."
"WHAT?" Autor spluttered, standing up and upsetting the piano bench. "You can't mean…that kind of release, can you?"
Femio nodded knowingly with a wide grin on his face. "Exactly that. I can imagine you've been lacking in time to…release your tension completely, haven't you?"
Autor flushed and shook his head meekly. "Not much."
"Well then, this is quite all right." Femio gently guided Autor into his arms and stroked his dark blue hair gently. "I won't do anything unpleasant, I promise." And he leaned forward to capture the other boy's lips.
Autor tensed up again at the first contact, but then he relaxed once Femio showed that he wasn't going to hurt him at all. He let the slightly taller boy hold him in his arms and run his fingers through his hair. He wrapped his arms loosely around Femio's neck as he kissed him into oblivion.
Femio removed Autor's outer shirt and snaked a hand up his chest, lightly playing with the pianist's sensitive nipples. Autor gasped and writhed under his touch, and the dancer could feel the pianist hardening down below. He gently removed Autor's glasses and set them on the piano. He didn't want to break them while they were having their fun.
He opened Autor's shirt, and kissed his way down the pianist's pale, lithe chest to the waistband of his pants. Autor was quite hard now, judging from the way his cock was straining against the fabric of his pants and the way he was sweating and writhing under Femio's careful ministrations. The purple-haired boy knelt before the pianist and looked up at him.
"Do you want me to take you in my mouth?" Femio asked. "I won't do it unless you want me to."
Autor nodded. "Do it quickly. I don't want one of the teachers to see. I'm supposed to be…practicing, after all." He and Femio both blushed at the double entendre that "practicing" now made.
"As you wish, mon amour," Femio replied. He gently slid down Autor's pants and then underpants to reveal his erection, which - as he suspected from their previous activity - was at full hardness now. He fingered the member first, getting a feel for it, and then took it into his mouth. Autor gasped and moaned at the contact, grasping Femio's hair for balance while the dancer held onto his hips.
It didn't really taste or feel any different than regular skin. A little saltier, perhaps, but nothing too different. And Femio was fine with that. He guessed that the sounds Autor was making and the way his hips bucked against him indicated that he was fine with this too, or perhaps more than fine.
"Fe-Fe-Femio, it's coming, I'm gonna-" but before Autor could finish, he came in Femio's mouth. Femio tried his best to catch it all in his mouth, but some of it got on his face as well. He lowered Autor to the ground as the pianist relaxed. He took him into his arms once again.
"Thank you," Autor said drowsily. "That was wonderful."
"The pleasure is all mine, mon amour, there's no need to thank me," Femio replied with a soft smile on his face. Somehow, he had a feeling that he wouldn't be looking for a new princess anytime soon, especially with this lovely prince to keep him busy.
Please review, give concrit, etc. Merry Christmas, La Princesse Morte!