#sleepy raoul

[jessfandrawer]

I created a simple art prompt generator. For Raoul and Christine it gave me: Protective, Formalwear, and Sleepy.

I don't know about the colors, they were a struggle. I did the book version of Christine this time because I don't draw blonde hair very much. *shrugs*

[21deppstreet]

A collab !

Hatter & Wonka- @ugle-beffus

Sweeney-@insanitired

Barnabas-@skeletal-sam

Raoul- @lunaandstarrs

Gilbert- Me

Edward & Ichabod- @drumfinch on ig

[martyrbat]

[VD: a video from 1988 of The Phantom of The Opera. In it, Raoul has just rushed down the lair to find Christine. They reach at each other through the grate as Phantom sings and goes to his chair. He tries to throw the Bride Doll off the chair like usual but it gets stuck! He struggles with it briefly until he makes enough room to sit next to it, the doll's leg in his lap. As Raoul starts to sing, the camera stays on the Phantom as he untangles the doll off the arm of the chair and flings it to the ground. He then looks at the arm of the chair—as if checking it for damage. END VD]

[night-unfurls-its-splendour]

So it's coming up on two full months since I posted Chapter 7 (thank you for all the love that chapter has gotten <3)

I wanna update, vent a little bit.

Ch. 8 is taking such a long time. Like a discouragingly long time.

Part of this is because I lost my outline for the progress of the conversation somewhere between the back and forthing of my editing process (I had it at the bottom of Ch. 7 I think and must have accidentally select all>>paste-ed it away). Another reason is that it just takes a lot because there are both emotions and continuity/logistics at play here. It's December. I have the sleepies.

The third reason a little more positive and fun. I'm splitting my creative powers at the moment between this and another project!

Since about May I have been threatening to do a companion piece to What Do You Offer? By @sloanedestler, because I need to explore what exactly is happening on Raoul and the Persian's side of the wall, because Daraoulga is a deeply correct and underrated ship and I couldn't leave that twist go without digging into it.

It is titled In Sympathy and will be exploring Raoul and the Persian's as they're hearing what's happening outside the torture chamber and how it... affects them.

When I was about 1k into Chapter 8 I began to finally work on this in earnest. I'm pleased to say that I'm 7k in now, and a little over halfway done!!

But this is part of the reason Chapter 8 is taking so long.

So thank you all for waiting patiently, I swear Chapter 8 will get done as soon as possible. I just need to do some hard-core daydreaming for it. I'm focusing on the Daraoulga fic, so I can get it out, because I'm really excited to contribute to that ship, and also because I will then have to focus on WTLR.

So that's what is going on! Thanks again to all my readers for sticking with me <3. I love you all 🥰😘

[blake-thesilly]

mandatory daily rerik sketches (fight club meme themed)

and some sleepy raoul to end the day before i take a horrible god awful essay writing test tmr

[graywyvern]

( The Thief of Bagdad [Raoul Walsh, 1924] via In Search of Pagan Hollywood on fb / michael puttonen on fb )

The Amazing Mr X. ☆☆☆

"This was a dream, Finnegan. Subjects change in dreams, and grammar is unstable." --The Devil is Dead

UFO.

"I love thee, Poesy! Thou art a rock, I, a weak wave, would break on thee and die. There is a deadlier pang than that which beads With chilly death-drops the o'er-tortured brow, When one has a big heart and feeble hands,— A heart to hew his name out upon time As on a rock, then in immortalness To stand on time as on a pedestal; When hearts beat to this tune, and hands are weak, We find our aspirations quenched in tears, The tears of impotence, and self-contempt That loathsome weed, up-springing in the heart, Like nightshade 'mong the ruins of a shrine; I am so cursed, and wear within my soul A pang as fierce as Dives' drowsed with wine, Lipping his leman in luxurious dreams; Waked by a fiend in hell!—— 'T is not for me, ye Heavens! 't is not for me To fling a Poem, like a comet, out, Far-splendouring the sleepy realms of night. I cannot give men glimpses so divine, As when, upon a racking night, the wind Draws the pale curtains of the vapoury clouds, And shows those wonderful, mysterious voids, Throbbing with stars like pulses.—Naught for me But to creep quietly into my grave; Or calm and tame the swelling of my heart With this foul lie, painted as sweet as truth."

--Alexander Smith, from A Life-Drama

Rollin' and Tumblin'.

"bloodshot eyes the goose escapes autumn dusk is here"

--@poem_exe

Early in the Mornin'.

[braveparanoiac]

That'd be because of a mix of sleeping too much and sleeping during different hours. Raoul's going to feel sleepy for a few days.

[jwong2000]

Ride Report - Cogswell Dam

55.90 miles, 4:08 moving time, 3,284 ft elevation Sue, Jeff, Joe, Gregg, Philip, Lynda, Ari, Julie, Victoria. Mike W., Carrie, Larry, Rob, Rick, Raoul, San, Bob, Mile 0: Start at Sierra Madre. We rolled to Duarte Encanto Park. Mile 8: Picked up a bunch of sleepy heads in Encanto Park. They didn’t want the extra 8+8 miles. Bah! We crossed the bridge over a lot of water and took the San Gabriel…

[britishchick09]

this day in rewrite history - may 20th

christine, meg and erik are hard at work on their dress roses! :D

 Throughout the next day, Christine managed to get six flowers done. Meg and Erik both sewed three.

“I can’t believe we’re almost done!” Christine remarked after finishing her last flower.

“Finally!” Meg exclaimed. “My fingers are sore from all that cutting and sewing.”

“We still have to sew the flowers on the dress, remember?”

Meg groaned and slammed her head on the divan.

“But I can take care of that,” Christine reassured her. “Should I make the other three roses so we can spend tomorrow sewing?”

“As long as I don’t have to do anything!” Meg raised her head to ask, “How do your fingers not feel tired? You’ve sewn as many roses as Mr. E and I combined!”

Christine looked down at the sewing needle on her lap. “Sewing relaxes me. After Papa became sick, I’d spend much of my time singing with him and working on samplers,” She gave a sad sigh. “He always loved seeing the finished product. We hung them on the walls of our cabin in Giverny and they went with us to the Valerius mansion. But I didn’t sew much once we lived there, nor did I sing very much,” She looked at Erik with a smile as she added, “Thankfully, I’ve picked up on those again.”

Erik smiled back. “I know your father would be very proud of you for doing this. I know I am.”

“And he’d want you to sing!” Meg added. “Sing the sheet music song!” She gasped. “Or better yet, sing it with Mr. E’s piano!”

“I’m still learning that. But I have your song, Little Miss.”

“The one with the bird people?”

Erik nodded. “Un ménage en goguette. It’s about a young couple falling in love during a walk in the fields, getting tipsy on blackberry juice and having a little chickadee together.”

“Aww, how sweet! It could be you and Christine!”

Erik and Christine stared at Meg with wide eyes and rosy faces.

“What? I said it could be! Anything can happen,” Meg said with a wink. “I could become an empress for all I know. I had a dream about that three years ago. I was the ruler of France!”

“France hasn’t been ruled by a monarchy in nearly twenty years,” Erik pointed out. “It was just before your time, Little Miss.”

“And you’re not Napoleon the fourth.” Christine added.

Meg gasped. “So that’s who those guys were!” She giggled as she said, “How funny, three Napoleons in a dream I had three years ago.”

“And there are three roses left to sew.”

“Not to mention there’s three of us.” Erik chimed in.

“It’s true what they say,” Meg said. “Good things come in threes!”

The trio laughed. Erik went to his piano and adjusted the mirror. Meg’s eyes were glued to the piano keys as he played the first verse of Un ménage en goguette.

How lively! Christine thought. It’s a perfect song for Meg.

Erik was a few notes into the second verse when there was a knock at the door. He immediately stopped playing and faded from view.

“Aww!” Meg exclaimed. “I was really-”

“Shh!” Christine put a finger to her lips as she rose from the floor and went to the door. “Hello, Raoul!”

“Hello, Christine,” Raoul said with a smile before looking over her shoulder. “And hello to you, Meg.”

Meg put her arms around the roses on the divan and rested her head on her arms. “Hi! I’m not hiding anything… just sleepy.”

Christine looked back at Meg in alarm.

“Funny, I don’t see a piano in here.” Raoul muttered.

Christine’s head snapped to him. “A- A what?”

“I thought I heard piano music.”

“You thought you heard it,” Meg said. “That doesn’t mean you did!”

Raoul frowned. “But it was clear as day!”

He looked at Christine for confirmation and she gave a shrug, hoping he couldn’t read the slight panic on her face.

“Weird. Anyways… I’m nearly done arranging dance lessons with Madame Giry. How does tomorrow at one sound? She said it’ll take us a few days to learn some dances.”

“I’ll be busy tomorrow, but Tuesday will work.” Christine replied.

Raoul smiled. “Great! I’m not looking forward to it, though. Dancing is so boring.”

“No, it’s not!” Meg exclaimed as she hopped up.

She twirled in the fourth position before giving a deep curtsy. She suddenly realized that the roses were in view and covered them up again.

“Brava!” Raoul said with applause. “Ballet looks exciting, but ballroom dancing is a whole other story.”

“I’m sure it won’t be too agonizing.” Christine reassured him.

Raoul gave her a fond smile. “Especially since you’ll be there,” He blinked. “I- I, uh, better go tell Madame Giry. See you at lessons!”

“See you then!” Christine said with a wave before closing the door and muttering, “That was close.”

“At least he didn’t see the roses,” Meg frowned. “…I hope not.”

Erik faded into view as he added, “And he didn’t hear my voice.”

But he has, Christine thought, her face turning slightly pale as she recalled the bistro night. I hate to keep him in the dark for so long, but no one can know that I’m friends with The Opera Ghost! No one but-

“Are you okay, Christine?” Meg asked.

Christine blinked a couple times. “Wha- huh?” She looked to her left, seeing Meg beside her. “Oh, I’m fine. I’m just worried about Raoul and the piano. He knows it wasn’t in his head.”

Meg wrapped an arm around Christine. “For all he knows, it’s one of those phonograph things! I saw an advertisement for one of those. It said ‘The sweetest singer can learn from it’!”

Christine blushed as Meg nudged her arm.

“Even if he did hear, he probably thought it was a pretty good song,” Erik said with a wink before his countenance became serious. “Make sure he doesn't inquire further about this, Christine. He can't know about me. No one can," He glanced at Meg. "Except for her."

"I'm special." she said, putting her hand on her chin.

He's already suspicious of me. If only my door was soundproof! Christine thought before saying, "I won't say another word about it during our lessons," She smiled. "Our secret is still safe."

[cantuscorvi]

Raoul dozed happily in the blonde's bed, clad only in briefs, pillow pulled against his chest, face nuzzled into it with the other man in question getting ready for for the day. A lame replacement but better than nothing. With a large difference in how long it took them to get ready, Raoul running a hand through his tousled hair and pulling on some all black ensemble in two minutes, he much preferred to continue sleeping as his boss made himself into the epitome of perfection before they'd go to the office.

He sleeps like a peaceful puppy, body half under the covers, second alarm not going off to wake him around the time Raum usually was finishing up, so he continues his slumber, face smooth of any scowling, gentle and soft almost, lios slightly parted. If allowed he could definitely sleep for hours more.

Raum was halfway through tying his tie when he realised something was amiss. By now there were usually the telltale signs of wakefulness in the other room. The sound of shuffling of the sheets, or Raoul rummaging around for his clothes with the speed and simplicity that someone of his profession was trained with. And yet, today... not a peep to be heard or seen.

He glanced at himself in the mirror as he finished up, pushing a stray hair away from his forehead. While Raum was meticulous with his appearance, the brunette was almost the opposite, needing very little maintenance. And yet... as Raum stepped back through the doorway and glanced down at Raoul's sleeping form on the bed, he had to admit - somehow it absolutely worked for him.

Blue eyes swept over the exposed portions of Raoul's body before carefully settling on his face. Rare indeed to view him so unguarded, and seeing Raoul all warm and open against the backdrop of Raum's bedroom had him staring for longer than intended. A second or so passed before Raum shook himself out of it and checked his watch. They were going to be late if he didn't get up.

Carefully and quietly Raum approached the bed, leaning over the other man. He reached out, slowly trailed a palm up the bare expanse of Raoul's chest, fingertips cold, precise. The hand continued it's path lightly along his neck before it finally met his face, fingers ghosting over the features. Raum leaned the final distance to nudge his nose against Raoul's jaw, murmur into his ear.

"...If we're late I'm taking it out of your paycheck." An abolute snicker left his lips once he watched Raoul bolt up from the pillow, eyes barely open and hair wild.

[stanraouldechagny]

It's literally 2:38 am and all i can think about is Hadley and Raoul

[timebird84]

(raoul--daae here). My birthday's December 29th. Thanks for being so rad with everything you do for the phandom. :)

Aww, thank you! Did I make a mistake and forgot to add you before or is this really the first time of you joining the calendar? However, you’re now in!

[ealeczander]

Filmography ~

#1 Johnny Depp

[erikraouls]

Raoul de Chagny for the headcanons thing.

precious patron

1: He's a good poet and he likes to write about everyday things. His poetry doesn't really have a deep, profound meaning, but it's nice.

2: He's actually really clumsy, and never saw much action as a sailor due to being below-deck for nearly the entire duration of his career, thanks to being so clumsy. (and yeah he can swordfight but, like, not well)

3: After the first few years of his life, he was raised almost entirely by Philippe. Their father didn't see any potential in him, and thus stopped caring about him. He tried sailing to make him proud, and he still doesn't feel like he's living up to all he's meant to be.

4: The man is GAY and married Christine (a LESBIAN) to keep that a secret so they don't get shit for it. plus marrying your BFF? Very Good

[ginemrys]

a bedsharing fic!! <3

i had some fun with this one!!! thank you for sending in the prompt @sunshine-marauders <3

-------

“Lily, it’s okay, we’ll grab a room in a hotel, it’s not the end of the world.” James said as the two of them stood staring up at the boards in the centre of Euston station, tears in Lily’s eyes as she read the bright orange “CANCELLED” sign beside their train, the last train of the night that would get them home.

It had been a wonderful night of visiting the theatre with one of her best friends, getting lost in a musical for a few hours. The two of them had been singing songs from the show to each other on the tube on the way back to their station, not caring as they got weird stares from other passengers on the Northern line whilst they sang a beautiful rendition of All I Ask Of You. And sure, Lily had felt her heart beat a little faster when they reached the point of the song where Christine and Raoul kiss as she looked into James’ eyes, but that didn’t mean she liked him. It just meant that she understood the character, right?

But their sing-along had come at a price. They’d missed their stop. And the next after that. Then the next. It wasn’t until the last passenger left besides them on the train got off at Golders Green that they’d realised their mistake. And then they’d had to run and get the tube back to Euston, only to just miss one. A three minute wait later and they were finally heading back to Euston, getting off to discover that the last train to Northampton was cancelled. And they were stranded in London.

Lily was wiping furiously at her eyes. They’d stopped for a drink in a bar after the show, assuming that they’d have enough time. So the alcohol in her system heightened her emotions, resulting in the water works. James was scrolling through his phone, looking for the closest hotel.

“There’s a Travelodge or a Premier Inn, they’re fairly close. Everything else is ridiculously expensive.” James said, glancing up at her. “Which would you prefer?”

“Premier Inn, duh.” Lily said, pushing her hair out of her face. “Are you sure we can’t get a taxi?”

“From Euston to Leighton Buzzard?” James shook his head. “It’ll be cheaper to spend the night. Come on, it won’t be that bad. It’s just a short walk and then we can grab some breakfast in the morning before heading home.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “What do you say?”

“Fine,” Lily shoved his side playfully, but leaned into his hold after. “But you’re buying breakfast, you’re the one who suggested drinks.”

“Deal.” James chuckled before ducking to kiss the top of her head. “Come on, let’s go. It’s late and we’re both shattered.”

And so they made their way out of the station, following Google Maps to the closest Premier Inn. It was dead quiet inside, just one sleepy receptionist behind the desk barely able to hold her head up.

“Hi, how can I help?” She asked in a monotone voice, having just blinked at the two of them a few times as if she was trying to figure out if they were real or just her imagination.

“Hey, we missed the last train home. Do you have any rooms for tonight?” James asked, running his hand through his hair. Lily watched his movements, eyes following the motion of his fingers brushing through the messy black curls. She wanted to do that, run her hands through his hair. Chill out, Lily. She mentally berated herself, barely hearing the conversation beside her as she tried to sort out whatever the hell was going on with her hormones at that moment.

“Lily?”

“What?”

“Are you good with sharing a bed? There’s only doubles left.”

Holy shit. The thought of sharing a bed with James both thrilled and terrified her. Would she be able to control herself around him? The not crush but definitely a crush that she’d been harbouring for him for the last few months might rear its ugly head and make her do something stupid. But then again, she really didn’t want to have to walk all the way to the Travelodge and have the exact same option, or no room at all.

So she nodded, blushing when James grinned and turned back to the receptionist, passing over his card. Lily tried to protest but he insisted that she could just send him half the money later to save time. Then before she knew it she was joining him in the lift, heading up to the fifth floor. Of course James had had the foresight to ask for some toothbrushes and toothpaste, Lily was far too occupied to even consider such a thing.

Lily decided that she was going to hum to herself the overture to Phantom of the Opera as they travelled up to their floor, her eyes fixed on the ceiling of the lift. And then James’ hand was in hers, pulling her out of the lift and down the corridors of the fifth floor until they came to a stop in front of their room. He swiped the key card and there they were, alone, in a room with one bed.

Her throat felt thick as Lily looked at the double bed, why did it look so tiny? She stood in the small space beside the open wardrobe and the bathroom while James flicked on the lights and moved further into the room, peeling off his jacket and kicking off his shoes as he went.

“Come on, Evans. It’s just a place to sleep.” He smiled at her as he said it, noticing her hesitance. Damn him for being so perceptive to her emotions all of the time. With a deep breath, Lily walked further into the room, setting her shoes beside his while her own jacket draped over the top of his on the chair.

“Here, toothbrush.” He said, passing her one of the two clear toothbrushes he had picked up. “I’ll let you use the bathroom first, gentleman as I am.”

“Oh, so kind.” Lily rolled her eyes while grinning at him, accepting the toothbrush gratefully. She shut herself up in the bathroom, immediately rushing to the sink to splash some water on her face. Why was she so warm? “Get it together, Evans.” She muttered to herself, glancing at her reflection. She sighed as she looked at her makeup, minimal as it was, she had nothing to remove it with. Which would almost certainly result in panda eyes in the morning, but what other choice did she have?

So she left her face alone and focused on brushing her teeth, being a little more thorough than she usually would so James wouldn’t have to wake up to horrific morning breath. God, James was going to see her first thing in the morning. Christ on a bike. She filled one of the small glasses by the sink with water to rinse out her mouth, then gulped another glass down.

James was sitting perched on the edge of the bed when she returned, his eyes meeting hers straight away. Damn, did this man ever stop smiling?

“All… All yours.” Lily said quietly, stepping out of the way as he moved to head into the bathroom.

“Thanks, Lil.”

The door locked behind him and she released a deep breath again, her fingers moving shakily to undo her jeans. She knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep in them, so wanted to get them off and climb under the covers before he could come back. He wouldn’t want to see her in her underwear.

Jeans folded, with her bra tucked safely beneath them, Lily climbed into the left side of the bed, hoping he didn’t mind that she preferred the left. She plugged her phone into the socket next to her bed, thanking her past self for packing her charger in her bag. And then she waited, sitting cross-legged beneath the duvet as she listened to the sounds of the tap running.

The bathroom door opened and Lily had to do her best not to gasp. He’d taken his shirt off. It wasn’t even like it was the first time she’d seen him shirtless either, but seeing him in a dimly lit bedroom right before he was about to be laying right next to her was something else.

“You don’t mind if I sleep in my boxers, do you?” He was asking, his eyes having taken note of her folded jeans.

Lily shook her head, doing her best to look him in the eyes rather than drool all over his bare chest like some hormonal teenage girl watching Magic Mike for the first time. But then he turned his back on her and was pushing his jeans over his hips and Lily couldn’t help but stare. It was actually so unfair how fit her best friend was now, she could still remember the scrawny little kid she used to swim in the local lake with.

Any shred of sanity Lily had left vanished when he turned to face her again, she could feel a wave of heat rushing all over her body. And he’d seen it happen, had seen her eyes darken and her gaze shift into something hungry.

But he ignored it, electing to just climb into bed beside her and turn out the light, facing away from her.

With a slight huff, Lily threw herself down against her pillow, gazing up at the dark ceiling. Her arms were folded over her chest, her legs still crossed like they had been when she’d been sitting. While annoyed that he’d not responded to her sex eyes, she also just felt embarrassed. Because she’d totally just objectified him, looked at her best friend in the whole world like he was a tree for her to climb and use. And she hated herself for it.

“I can hear you thinking, Evans.” James whispered through the darkness, his back still facing hers. “Relax.”

And she did, her hands slid to rest on her stomach, her legs unfolded and moved to rest against the mattress. Her eyes closed and she let out a small sigh. And then he had to go and roll over, his breath on her neck.

While she knew she should just ignore it, squint her eyes and try to sleep, Lily couldn’t help but turn her head on her pillow, her eyes opening once more. And there he was, looking at her. No glasses, his hair already made even messier than usual from the pillow. He just looked so soft.

Usually James was all sharp edges and angular, charisma dripping from every inch of his body. He was sarcastic and energetic and never ever seemed to get tired. But there, laying in bed beside him, he seemed so calm, so at peace. His sharp edges had blurred, softened by the look in his eyes as he gazed at Lily. And that was what he was doing, gazing.

It didn’t take her much to lean in, just one look from him was enough. Her body turned on the mattress as she shifted to reach his lips, her own brushing his softly. And then she moved to pull away, to see his reaction when he moved, his hand sliding to the back of her neck to drag her closer. His lips covered hers and by god, did it feel right. Lily’s hand came to rest on his chest as she kissed him eagerly, their mouths pressing together in a perfect dance, nothing too eager or too slow.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for months.” Lily whispered when they broke apart, her eyes still closed.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for years.”

She looked at him then. There was no trace of a lie in his eyes. She believed him, because of course she did. James never lied to her.

And then she tackled him against the bed and thanked the London Northwestern Railway gods for cancelling the last train home.

[rawmeknockout]

Raoul/Reader/Tracks

Cars beep and rush by on the street in front of you, wheels kicking up rapidly-filling puddles. People all around oblivious to what a horrible, no-good situation you were in.

You curl into yourself, fuss and pull at your clean dress shirt, rain droplets making the cheap polyester blend cling to your skin. The forecast had been the same all day and you knew you were pushing your luck with not bringing an umbrella, but you rushed off to work without one, anyway. Just your luck, as you were setting off for home at the end of the day, the sky decided to open up on top of you. There was just enough coverage in front of a shitty little Subway to take shelter in, but you still idled from foot to foot. No point standing and waiting for it to stop raining. The weather hadn't let up once since it started.

That doesn't mean you are thrilled to rush out in the downpour, your shoes squeak around your wet socks as you try to muster up the wherewithal to finally head home.

You think Raoul must live in some shitty rom-com fantasy, because who else would pull up on the curb and offer you a ride. It's not that you don't like him; in fact, Raoul is quite charming in a rugged, straight-laced rebel sort of way. It's cute. You just don't know if cute is enough to want to date him. Not that he hasn't asked. You're just too busy and waiting for... Something. Someone to sweep you off your feet. You're just not sure who you're looking for.

You slide into the passenger seat of his car, stamping down the urge to ask him how the hell he got his hands on such a nice vehicle. Best not to ask Raoul what he does in his free time. You know well enough, through your apartment neighbors gossiping, that he's had a few rough run-ins with people. You don't need to bother him about something so private.

And it's not as if you haven't seen his flashy car before; beautiful, shining rims and fresh polish. He obviously cares a great deal about it. You could only compare it to the way you take care of your cat, but you know that even you do not have something you are that passionate about. You try very hard to remember being that passionate ever.

The interior smells nice, at least, and the car rumbles quietly under you. It's obviously a new car, one that doesn't squeak when it turns or make grinding noises when it goes too fast. You feel envy form tight in your chest. You haven't had your own car in years and you haven't ever had one as new or as nice as this.

Raoul tries to be suave, stumbles only slightly over his words, flashes you a grin that would make you weak if you were younger. As it is, you only just appreciate him silently as you tell him about your day and your no-good luck. You let your fingers caress the fine leather of the seats, admiring the shine of the door. Not a sign of wear on the car anywhere.

You would almost be boiling with jealousy if you weren't so... Oddly proud of Raoul. Which is not a feeling you were expecting. Clearly he has more going for him than you thought at first glance.

You cast your eyes over to your chauffeur for the evening, letting the energy of the day pass over you and leave you in the sleepy lull of his car's engine. He is handsome. Jawline sharp, face holding so much bright youth. Different from all the tired faces you're used to seeing. Raoul is so optimistic, he knows how to turn a bad day around. Something you wish you had learned.

Maybe romance doesn't have to be something passionate, flaring in your chest and lighting your loins. Maybe it's just this comfort. Being inside his car on a rainy night, knowing Raoul wouldn't hurt you. Doesn't mean anything else when he just wants to help you. Has no ulterior motives besides being close to you. Raoul is safe, waiting for love, when the rest of the world flashes by and would leave you behind in it's excitement.

He pulls into your apartment complex so soon, too soon. He's about to say something when you're on him, mouth pressing wet lips to his jaw, his cheeks, his mouth. Your hands skitter like crazed bugs up his chest, to his shoulders. Raoul is slow to respond, lost in the feeling of your skin on his, but he grabs your waist with a jittery touch. He's nervous, not used to kissing, touching. You'll hold him so tight.

Just as you're about to hop over into his lap, press your still wet body against him, you stop.

You hesitate, just for a moment, waiting for... Something. Raoul to get cold feet, maybe, or for someone, anyone, to tell you two to knock it off. But nobody says anything and the strange sensation passes before your mouth is on Raoul's again, pushing him back into his seat as you hop over the console to straddle his lap.

The still-running engine makes a strange hiccupy sound you almost don't catch before it returns to quiet idling. It slightly shakes and shivers the cab of the car while you feel at Raoul's chest under his shirt, run your hands over barely-there muscles, feel how his body tenses and surges up into your hands. He already looks like he's out of his own body, watching you with lovesick eyes, and it almost makes you consider backing out. Almost. You're lonely, too.

Raoul bucks his hips into you, almost knocking your head into the roof of the car, but you duck your head down to kiss and nip at his neck. He seems hesitant to let his hands roam up your shirt, so you help him by untucking it from your work trousers and unbuttoning it with shaky hands. His beautiful hands seem so rough, so large, when you grab them to lead his touch over your bare skin. Guiding him to touch anywhere, everywhere. Breathing out ragged breaths in your excitement. He's sweet, leans in to kiss you again as he feels you over him, grabs your hips to pull you tight to his chest.

Everything is just intoxicating sensation, moving so fast and so eagerly. Before you know it you are pulling him from his hastily pulled down jeans, feeling his cock twitch in your grip as he moans and nearly ruts into your grip right there. It's nice how sensitive he is, you decide, how he is happy for just a touch. Just a little feeling. Anything at all you would be willing to give him. You like how he sits at attention, waiting for you with adoring eyes and a content smile. You shuck off your own pants quickly, kicking off your stiff office-appropriate shoes along the way.

Before you let yourself have him, you lean in close again, trailing soft kisses along his neck. Whisper reverently about how sweet he is, how good he is for you, how kind. He is a good man and you tell him as much. Raoul is less tense, less jittery when you are done, face still holding that warm something you don't think you've ever had directed your way.

You don't notice how the car stutters again, nearly sighs as it relaxes on it's wheels, when you finally sink down on Raoul's warm cock. You're too busy focusing on the rush of blood in your veins and how your muscles tense with finally having what you want. The car is muffling noises that get drowned out in the rain. You're listening for Raoul's moans so intently you don't notice anything at all. Raoul still has his hands on your hips as he guides you to grind on him, roll your body into his lap in a way that has his eyes snapped shut and mouth hanging open. You press your smiling mouth to the corner of his lips, hands gripping his worn white shirt.

It's strange to you, how the sex is neither rough nor fast as you're used to, but you feel... More fulfilled. Raoul's skin on your own feels right. The way he twitches and grips onto your hips, lets you lead and bounce on his lap, feels like it was meant to be. You lean your head into his neck, wrap your arms around him, and move your body against him. Raoul smiles into your hair, holding you close, as you squeeze around him and gasp with an involuntary buck of his hips. The atmosphere in his car is heavy, full of a pleasant energy you can't explain. It fills you and leaves you with a wonderful warmth in your chest.

It isn't long before you are coming undone on top of him, feeling his cock press into places that are always too hidden for you to reach on your own. It's not the most thunderous orgasm you've ever had, but it's enough that you move just a bit quicker over him. Happy to chase that feeling for a moment longer, pull Raoul into his own release with a drawn out moan that gets lost against your skin.

You just sit on his lap, breathing heavy and face still pressed to his warm neck. It feels right. The car huffs. And that you finally do catch. You suppose it's best not to leave a flashy sports car running for to long. Who knows what problems could crop up from leaving it to just idle in the rain. But you are reluctant to pull away. Raoul is stroking your back, letting his nails graze over your skin in a way that is just too good to pass up.

"Come inside?" Your voice is soft and a little more desperate than you intended. How could Raoul possibly say no? He just hopes Tracks isn't too miffed about not being invited, too.