The match is struck.
Siffrin watches the flame burst to life half a second after, burning a dark trail of smoke through the air. They hold it to the end of the pitcher candle’s wick, pull it back, squint when the fire refuses to take, and then try again. It’s only when the flame finally catches that they draw back for a second time. He blows out the half-burned match and turns to Isabeau, only to find him already looking back.
Siffrin might not understand the sexual aspect of having hot wax dripped onto his body, but he can recognize the hunger in his boyfriend’s stare. They’ve seen it in their own gaze. Isabeau wears it better, though. Less unhinged desire, more vulnerability. His eyes flicker between the burning wick and Siffrin’s eye, as though doing so will make the wax melt faster.
“Excited?” They ask as they return to the bed.
“Yes????” Isabeau squeaks out. “I still can’t believe this is happening, honestly.”
Siffrin could say the same. He never thought he would find someone who wanted to stay with him in the first place. To be able to not only keep Isabeau, but to have the privilege of seeing him laid bare, exposed, willing to give Siffrin of all people power over him?
Not even their dreams could conjure such a scene.
They idly swirl the small pool of wax around in the pitcher as they wait. The darkless substance catches the candlelight well, but Siffrin would much rather look at Isabeau.
He’s stripped fully, laying on his belly atop a towel to catch any stray drops of wax. His back is on display while Siffrin keeps their clothes on, excluding their cloak. Not having it on feels vulnerable enough to them. He’d been worried that it would be strange for him to be so covered up in what was supposed to be an intimate scene. The moment Siffrin managed to ask if it’d be okay if they could keep their clothes on, Isabeau couldn’t nod fast enough. Apparently that was a kink too?
They’ve seen Isabeau naked before, but never in such a charged scene. Never with a candle in their hand, acting as the burning proof of exactly how much Isabeau trusts them.
He looks different now, Siffrin thinks. Like a canvas ready to be painted.
“Sif? I, uh, I think the wax is ready?”
Whoops! Siffrin straightens up and blows out the candle, which has made an evenly melted pool of wax around the wick. They should probably say something.
“Sorry. Watching wax melt doesn’t hold a candleto you.”
“Haha!” Isabeau laughs boisterously. “Also, aww?”
Siffrin blushes—they need to get started before Isabeau gets any cuter. He takes a steadying breath before getting himself comfortable at Isabeau’s side. Their free hand runs along Isabeau’s spine, intoxicated by the skin-on-skin contact. He would have worn his gloves, but this type of wax doubled as massage oil, and Siffrin would neverpass up an excuse to touch Isabeau.
Not that they need an excuse at this point.
First, like how Isabeau told them, Siffrin tests the wax on themself. He pours a drop onto the back of his hand and, despite expecting it, he still flinches from the sudden heat. The burning sensation quickly melts into a tolerable warmth, but the pain-pleasure lingers like a stamp on his skin.
…Siffrin thinks they understand this a little more. Isabeau’s turn, now.
“Ready?”
“Mhmm! Whenever you’re good, just, y’know, try not to let the wax ha-aah!”
Siffrin grins as he lets a single drop of the wax fall between Isabeau’s shoulder blades. His muscled back curves downward against the bed, and the drop curves down with him, leaving a shining trail behind until it is spread too thin to keep going.
“How was that?” Siffrin asks.
“G-Good!Really good!” Isabeau’s enthusiasm is infectious. Siffrin’s tongue darts out to wet their lips as they hover the candle over his back again.
Another tip, and this time, Siffrin aims for the middle of Isabeau’s back. A little more than a drop pours out and kisses his skin.
“Mnn…!” Isabeau moans as the wax pools in the dip of his spine, warming his body and setting his nerves alight.
Siffrin blushes darkly. Does it really feel that good to Isabeau? It hadn’t made them moan when they tested it… must be a sex thing.
Drawing the candle back, Siffrin reaches with their free hand to touch the oil. Their fingertips meet where Isabeau’s skin shines with it. Even his touch is enough to get Isabeau to bite down on a groan. They feel powerful as they begin to spread the wax, rubbing the meager amount they’ve poured in a gentle circle.
“That's good, that's good…” Isabeau’s breathing picks up under their touch, and they are stricken with the need to hear more of him.
Isabeau’s breath hitches when Siffrin takes his hand away, anticipating another pour.
“Are you trying to predict me?” They quirk up an eyebrow. One of the few parts of this they can understand completely is the anticipation. Warming up the audience, if a bit literal in the warming up sense.
“Kind of?” Isabeau admits. It’s a natural response, no matter how much he might try to suppress it.
Siffrin feels a sudden, vested interest in being unpredictable. Teasing him is so much easier than asking for him to be loud, after all.
“And here I thought--” they interrupt themselfwith a deeper pour, “--you liked the surprise of it all?”
“Mnnhhhh!” Isabeau buries his face into the pillow as he muffles himself.
Stars… Siffrin didn’t want that, but they can’t complain too much. They still get to watch Isabeau squirm as he takes the wax burning a path across his body. This pour was horizontal as opposed to vertical, and the way it makes Isabeau’s toes curl and hips rub against the towel has Siffrin craving more.
“Si-iiiif!” Isabeau whines as Siffrin pours another stripe of wax, his voice gorgeous and high.
If only he could sound like that all the time…
Isabeau gasps, but Siffrin didn't pour anything. He turns his head to look at Siffrin, his face dark with blush.
“Ahahah, I could, um, be loud? For you?”
Siffrin freezes in place. They said that out loud. That's such a weird thing to say! Fix it!
“Y-You don't need to do that! I don't want you to be uncomfortable or anything, this is supposed to be your thing!”
“It won't make me uncomfortable,” Isabeau sputters, “unless it makes you uncomfortable? But from what you said…”
Siffrin is tempted to interrupt and pour another line of wax onto Isabeau, but they manage to hold their hand steady.
“...I mean, it would be pretty nice if you were into this, too! But no pressure one way or the other! All I mean is that this doesn't have to be justmy thing!”
Siffrin thinks if he poured the rest of the wax onto his own face, it would cool him down from how hot his cheeks feel.
“I still don’t get the wax part of it, but… I like the sounds you make,” he manages to say. Why does communication have to be so blinding weird? Why can't Isabeau just know?
“Then I can make more!!!” Isabeau beams before facing forward, giving his neck a break from the harsh angle.
Siffrin nods, then remembers immediately after that Isabeau isn't able to see it. Stars. They touch Isabeau’s back and start rubbing the wax into his skin again before they can overthink it. He doesn't know anything about proper massage, but the pressure and temperature difference seem to be enough for Isabeau. Maybe they could learn how? It’d be good to know in case Isabeau lets them do this to him again.
Isabeau has been making the cutest little groans as Siffrin idly plays with the wax on his back, but they're nowhere near as satisfying as the moans they pulled from him earlier.
They keep their hand on him as they pour a generous line of wax across his lower back.
“Aahhh…!” Isabeau arches as he moans, grinding into the towelas he is briefly overwhelmed by the flowing heat.
Siffrin watches with a wide eye as the wax flows forward, dragging their gaze like an animal being tugged by its collar. The parts of Isabeau’s back he poured wax on earlier have gotten a slight shade to them, and the idea of markingIsabeau in this way makes desire curl hot in Siffrin’s stomach.
“More-- please, Sif,” Isabeau gasps. Part of Siffrin still wants to tease, but how can they deny him when he asks so nicely?
They think they can have their cakeand eat it too.
“Louder,” he breathes out as he lets loose a stripe of wax over Isabeau’s upper back, the pitcher positioned closer to his skin. The hotter wax makes Isabeau’s fingers dig into his pillow. His back arches again, lifting his chest off of the bed as he takes in a breath and—
“Haahhhhh!” Isabeau turns every last scrap of air in his lungs into a drawn out, heady moan.
Blinding, searing stars, Siffrin hopes they never forget that sound.
They do their best to dedicate the scene to memory: the way Isabeau's muscles flex and relax, the way the wax glistens in the low light, the way his breathing is made dramatic from pure need.
“Again,” Siffrin says, and they wait for Isabeau’s initial tension to slacken before they pour the wax.
“Sif, Sif, Sif!” Isabeau is scrambling, hands clenching and unclenching. He looks like he's falling apart. He looks irresistible.
Sparing the quickest of glances at the pitcher candle, Siffrin sees that he has enough wax for one last stripe before he would need to melt more. They have to make it count.
“Again.” They press down on Isabeau’s back with one hand as the other pours the rest of the wax onto his lower back.
“A-Aaaaahhhh!” Isabeau’s eyes squeeze shut as he squirms underneath Siffrin’s hand. His hips rock and stutter, and Siffrin watches with a hungry eye as Isabeau reaches down, only to dig his fingers into the sheet next to his side as he gasps for breath. His body goes taut as a string, then slackens, the only proof of his previous strain being his attempts to catch his breath.
Siffrin blinks a few times. What did they just do…?
“Are you okay?” They nearly trip on their own tongue to ask.
“Never been more okay in my life,” Isabeau rushes to say between breaths.
Oh, thank the stars above. Siffrin had been worried even after talking over everything andtesting the wax, but… what if he still hurt Isabeau somehow? What if their freakish pain tolerance had desensitized them? He’d gotten carried away in the moment, wanting little more than to see Isabeau’s skin marked with the sheen and shade of the wax, and what if he’d hurt him then?
“You?” Isabeau asks, craning his neck to look at Siffrin.
“I’m fine?” Isabeau is the one who just got hot wax poured all over him, after all.
“...Sif, your hands are shaking.” Worry clear on his face, Isabeau rises to a sitting position with a grunt, flipping the towel to cover himself as he does. He takes Siffrin’s hand—still holding the candle—in both of his.
“I don’t know why…?” They had been fine when they were in the scene, but now that they’re out, it feels like the world is closing in around them?
“It’s okay,” Isabeau says, guiding Siffrin’s hand to let go of the candle. He sets it aside before taking their hand again. “What we did was pretty intense, so coming down from it can be intense, too. Need a hug?”
Siffrin doesn’t think any of this makes sense. They nod regardless, because Isabeau could definitely use a hug.
Smiling, Isabeau wraps his arms around Siffrin, warm and snug and smelling of sandalwood. Siffrin hugs back, not minding how the oil rubsinto his sleeves. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is keeping Isabeau close.
“You’re good, Sif,” Isabeau says, low and comforting. “You didn’t hurt me at all. I could have asked for you to stop at any time, and I didn’t.”
That’s true, Siffrin guesses, but it doesn’t excuse the desire that had burrowed its way inside of them and coiled around their core.
They take their time hugging it out with Isabeau before speaking up again.
“...I was thinking something, when we were…” Siffrin trails off, a wave of shyness hitting him in spite of what he just did.
“Yeah?” Isabeau rubs up and down Siffrin’s back, patient as ever.
“That… the way the shade of your skin changed, it was…” Siffrin swallows. They don’t want to admit this, but how else will Isabeau know the gross way they had thought of him? He deserves to know.
“...Pretty. Because of me. B-But that’s weird, I shouldn’t have thought about it like that, it was your thing and I don’t need to be making it something it isn’t by acting like… like some kind of animal trying to mark you--”
“Sif, take a breath,” nervous laughter escapes Isabeau as he eases up in his hug, giving Siffrin space.
Space they don't want. Siffrin tightens their hold but does as asked. They take a deep breath in, and out.
Seemingly contented, Isabeau continues. “Again, it doesn’t have to just be my thing, and you’re definitelynot making it any weirder than it already is. I, ah… Would it help if I said I’d be into that? Being marked?”
He what.
“You what.”
“I would!!! I had actually been thinking about that when I saw you holding the candle! Like, oh crab, it’d be so fun if it was a lightless one instead! So we could, y’know, match! But that can be something for next time, i-if you’d be into that!”
Siffrin imagines themself hovering over Isabeau again, dripping streaks of wax onto him as lightless as their clothes. He moans louder than before, and his body is flushed, with the highest contrast being that of his skin and the wax, there to harden instead of rub.
They feel lightheaded.
“.........You wanna do this again?”
Siffrin hasn’t scared Isabeau off?
“Only if you want to,” Isabeau insists. “I don’t want you to put yourself in an uncomfortable position for my sake.”
Siffrin is still worried about getting carried away in a hypothetical second scene, but it’s been getting harder for them to lie to themself as of late. Now that he knows what Isabeau is like, he can’t help but want more.
“...Let me think about it,” they decide to say.
“Of course!” Isabeau presses a kiss to Siffrin’s temple. “Take all the time in the world.”
