His Stallion
Apr. 14th, 2015 06:31 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
katleeptTitle: His Stallion
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Step By Step
Character/Pairing: Jean-Luc/Fabio
Rating: PG-13/T
Challenge: None
Warning(s): None
Word Count: 732
Summary:
Disclaimer: Fabio belongs to himself. All other characters belong to their rightful owners, none of whom are the author, and are used without permission.
Sometimes, he sits and thinks of what a failure he is. He never tells any one these thoughts; after all, he is Jean-Luc Rieupeyroux. He is the greatest hair stylist of his time. He can take any woman and make her into an object of perfected beauty. But he can not fix his own life.
He chased away his wife. She left him for a man considerably younger than he is, and that's another thing which he wields no power to fix. He may be the master of every hair product known to mankind, but there's little else, besides his own salon and home, of which he is the master. He is not even the master of his own life for he can not turn back time. He can not make himself younger. He can not bring his wife back to his side.
Yet, secretly, although he wants to have her back, he is also glad she is gone and that he must no longer maintain that pretense. Women are wonderful. They are one of the most beautiful and yet strongest beings on the face of the Earth. They are one of God's most amazing creations. There can be no life without the female of any species. But they are not what maintains Jean Luc's attention or his secret desires and fantasies.
Secretly, he longs for a man such as he, one who is quick of wit and of tongue, one who knows how to use that tongue expertly. He longs for a hunk whose beauty pales his own and who knows how hot he is despite having a soft soul. It's hard to find a man like himself, let alone one who doesn't let his beauty control everything he does.
Yet there is one man of whom he knows. There is one man of whom he dreams and who he does occasionally get to have. It is on nights like tonight, when he's had a little too much bubbly to drink and is feeling down in the dumps, that he brings out his little, black book and stares at his number. He never dials it, though. Fabio's told him before, reminding him gently of course, that he's a very busy man, and when he has time for him, he will come for him.
He knows his role is to wait until he's ready, but it's so hard sometimes. Eventually, he always shuts his book without dialing him, and instead he goes to the secret treasure chest of memories he keeps underneath his bed. He removes from it one velvet pouch and from the pouch strand more lustrous than pure silk. He touches the golden hair, sniffs it delicately until its scent envelopes him, runs the hair gently over his face, his nose, his kissing lips, and he remembers.
He remembers that he is not such a failure. He's not a failure, at all. His wife is to blame for their divorce, and she was a fool to leave him for a younger man. After all, he is the sexist and most sensual hunk who is second to only one in all the world. That one is Fabio, and whereas he can only touch Fabio when the Italian Stallion allows him, he is still utter perfection. After all, Fabio would trust his hair to no one else but he, Jean-Luc Rieupeyroux.
He is amazing. He is a hunk who his ex-wife was incredibly stupid to let slip through her rich, greedy, little fingers. He is the only person who can claim the Italian Stallion for a lover, and the only one who gets to cut his hair. He is the God of the hair salon. He is perfection in tight, black leather pants. He is wonderful, and Fabio is his.
Jean-Luc leans back, reveling in all the truths he knows. He taps his upturned, and now smiling, lips with the golden strand of hair from the Italian Stallion, sprinkling feather light kisses on his most treasured trophy. His depression quiets at last, and his pain eases into joy. His mind begins to drift, remembering his times with Fabio, and it's usually about then that his Stallion calls, setting up their next meeting, whispering gentle love words in French, Italian, and English, and planning their next memories together to last Jean-Luc through another month until his stallion can come again to be rode.
The End
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Step By Step
Character/Pairing: Jean-Luc/Fabio
Rating: PG-13/T
Challenge: None
Warning(s): None
Word Count: 732
Summary:
Disclaimer: Fabio belongs to himself. All other characters belong to their rightful owners, none of whom are the author, and are used without permission.
Sometimes, he sits and thinks of what a failure he is. He never tells any one these thoughts; after all, he is Jean-Luc Rieupeyroux. He is the greatest hair stylist of his time. He can take any woman and make her into an object of perfected beauty. But he can not fix his own life.
He chased away his wife. She left him for a man considerably younger than he is, and that's another thing which he wields no power to fix. He may be the master of every hair product known to mankind, but there's little else, besides his own salon and home, of which he is the master. He is not even the master of his own life for he can not turn back time. He can not make himself younger. He can not bring his wife back to his side.
Yet, secretly, although he wants to have her back, he is also glad she is gone and that he must no longer maintain that pretense. Women are wonderful. They are one of the most beautiful and yet strongest beings on the face of the Earth. They are one of God's most amazing creations. There can be no life without the female of any species. But they are not what maintains Jean Luc's attention or his secret desires and fantasies.
Secretly, he longs for a man such as he, one who is quick of wit and of tongue, one who knows how to use that tongue expertly. He longs for a hunk whose beauty pales his own and who knows how hot he is despite having a soft soul. It's hard to find a man like himself, let alone one who doesn't let his beauty control everything he does.
Yet there is one man of whom he knows. There is one man of whom he dreams and who he does occasionally get to have. It is on nights like tonight, when he's had a little too much bubbly to drink and is feeling down in the dumps, that he brings out his little, black book and stares at his number. He never dials it, though. Fabio's told him before, reminding him gently of course, that he's a very busy man, and when he has time for him, he will come for him.
He knows his role is to wait until he's ready, but it's so hard sometimes. Eventually, he always shuts his book without dialing him, and instead he goes to the secret treasure chest of memories he keeps underneath his bed. He removes from it one velvet pouch and from the pouch strand more lustrous than pure silk. He touches the golden hair, sniffs it delicately until its scent envelopes him, runs the hair gently over his face, his nose, his kissing lips, and he remembers.
He remembers that he is not such a failure. He's not a failure, at all. His wife is to blame for their divorce, and she was a fool to leave him for a younger man. After all, he is the sexist and most sensual hunk who is second to only one in all the world. That one is Fabio, and whereas he can only touch Fabio when the Italian Stallion allows him, he is still utter perfection. After all, Fabio would trust his hair to no one else but he, Jean-Luc Rieupeyroux.
He is amazing. He is a hunk who his ex-wife was incredibly stupid to let slip through her rich, greedy, little fingers. He is the only person who can claim the Italian Stallion for a lover, and the only one who gets to cut his hair. He is the God of the hair salon. He is perfection in tight, black leather pants. He is wonderful, and Fabio is his.
Jean-Luc leans back, reveling in all the truths he knows. He taps his upturned, and now smiling, lips with the golden strand of hair from the Italian Stallion, sprinkling feather light kisses on his most treasured trophy. His depression quiets at last, and his pain eases into joy. His mind begins to drift, remembering his times with Fabio, and it's usually about then that his Stallion calls, setting up their next meeting, whispering gentle love words in French, Italian, and English, and planning their next memories together to last Jean-Luc through another month until his stallion can come again to be rode.
The End
