Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/10781349.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Tales_of_Graces
  Relationship:
      Malik_Caesar/Hubert_Oswell
  Character:
      Malik_Caesar, Hubert_Oswell
  Additional Tags:
      Crossdressing
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-05-01 Words: 1566
****** My Fair Queen ******
by VSSAKJ
Summary
     After performing in the glorious stage play "Cheri White", Hubert
     finds himself beset by complicated feelings. Malik helps him to
     address them.
Notes
     This fic makes a few direct references to the linked 'inspired by'
     work, so please read it first! Thanks to Nina for writing something
     so inspiring and letting me run with my idea. If you have not had the
     pleasure of experiencing "Cheri White" firsthand, here is a link:
     https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8mS6KUvns5g
  This work was inspired by
      Magnolia_Bloom by Windian
“Old burlap and the dreams of children seem to suit you, Hubert.”
Hubert jumped, clutching at the sateen purple fabric swathing his chest. Cheeks
warming, he looked away from Malik’s reflection in the glass and muttered, “I
see you’ve found time to divest yourself of yours. I was about to do the same.”
Malik chuckled, holding up his right hand and flexing it loosely. “It wasn’t
much of a costume.”
“Hm.” Hubert’s response was a noncommittal noise, as he refocused his attention
on the mirror’s image. He brushed his hand along the weight of the skirt,
turning slightly in the mirror and casting a critical gaze at his costume. “It
really isn’t very well made. I don’t know a woman alive who’d be caught dead
wearing this.”
Malik shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against a wooden
pillar. “No accounting for taste. I know a few women who might like it.”
“You,” Hubert rounded on him, straightening to his full height, “Seem to know
someone for just about everything.”
Malik chuckled. “That’s what happens when you get old.”
“Idiot.” Hubert scoffed under his breath, turning his back on Malik and
crossing his arms in kind. The movement of the fabric on his chest distracted
him—of course he didn’t have breasts, nor would he ever want to, but the way
the fabric motioned… He shook his head, fingers curling into the hem on the
sleeve of the dress.
After the silence had hung for several moments, Malik spoke again, softer this
time, “I came looking for you because I was worried. Everyone else has turned
in for the night.”
“Thank you for your concern.” Hubert felt the words roll out of his mouth like
lines on a script. “But it isn’t warranted. I’m an adult.”
“So talk to me, man to man.” Malik unfolded his arms and stepped closer,
frowning when Hubert flinched. “What’s going on?”
Hubert’s nose was filled with the scent of magnolias. He wrinkled it, frowning
to one side. The hem of the skirt trailed over his bare feet; he could see his
discarded military-issue boots out of the corner of his eye. He shut his eyes
against them and instead saw memories of Asbel and Raymond, feeling the sting
of Aston and Garrett’s disappointments. The words came out low and careful.
“Captain, you’ve known people all over the world, correct?”
Malik made a confirming sound, so Hubert went on, stumbling between the words,
“Have you… ever known a man to… behave womanly… with…” Hubert felt his face
growing redder and redder, as he sank his fingers into the fabric of the dress.
Malik’s expression flickered, then he smiled, placing his hands on Hubert’s
shoulders; Hubert jumped, but did not pull away. “Another man? Yeah, that
happens. Nothing wrong with it.”
Hubert shuddered at the words, digging his nails into his thighs through the
fabric. His knuckles burned with phantom pain, his stomach twisting around
itself. “When we were younger, Asbel and I played knights in the garden.” The
whisper was painful: it was a secret he’d only confided in one other person.
“After I was sent to Strahta… my cousin Raymond said we needed to practice for
when we had wives some day. So they wouldn’t be disgusted by our ‘lack of
romantic gentility’. I…”
Malik began to rub his thumbs in circles on Hubert’s shoulders, where the
muscles were knotted with tension. He didn’t interrupt; his expression in the
mirror’s reflection was relaxed, even serene.
Hubert finally looked up again, scrutinizing Malik’s reactions in the mirror.
Now he spoke faster, the words rough and harsh. “Aston and Garrett both
punished me for it. Asbel was spoken to, Raymond was spoken to. I was
reprimanded. I was held accountable. As though there’s—” Hubert suddenly cut
himself off, swallowing thickly around the sensation of sickness.
“Hubert.” Malik’s voice was a low and warm as Hubert had ever heard before.
“There’s nothing wrong with you.”
“Of course not.” Hubert retorted, voice growing louder and higher in pitch.
“That’s why Aston sent me away, and why Garrett—” Hubert trailed off into a
wordless sound as Malik pressed his lips to the skin behind Hubert ear. Glowing
red, Hubert whirled around to face Malik and demanded, “What was that!?”
“Just a kiss, Hubert.” Malik replied, resting his hands on top of Hubert’s
shoulders. “Anything wrong with that?”
Hubert opened his mouth, then shut it, then turned his back again and shrank
towards the mirror, digging his fingers into the fabric of the dress again.
“Captain, this is not helpful.”
“Why not?” It was a gentle challenge; Malik moved no nearer and no farther,
expression still neutral and reasonable.
“It’s… improper.”
“Hmm, it may be that.” Malik cocked his head to one side and ran a hand down
the sleeve of Hubert’s dress; Hubert shivered again. “But it may not be. It’s
for you to decide what’s right for you.”
“What is that supposed to mean… ?” Hubert meant for the words to come out
scornful, but instead they sounded hopeful, like a small seed planted in him
long ago was finally sensing the sun’s warmth upon the soil.
“You just tell me when something’s all right and when something isn’t.” Malik
murmured, running his lips along the ridge of Hubert’s ear. There was nothing
to hold onto but the frame of the mirror, so Hubert seized it tightly, as more
shivers thundered through him.
Malik’s fingers trailed down his arms and up his sides, catching on the silky
fabric. Hubert hadn’t imagined someone with such brawny hands would have such a
delicate touch—not that he’d imagined anything of this sort before, of course.
There had never been a part of him that observed Raymond flirting with girls
and wondered what it might feel like; there had never been a part of him that
imagined other men’s touches, in the dark of night, when no one else could
know.
It took him a moment to realise he’d pressed himself flush against Malik’s
body, and when he opened his eyes, he saw himself red-faced and breathless in
the mirror. Blushing harder, Hubert leaned into the mirror so his glasses went
askew; he thought that seeing nothing but the blurred shapes of discarded props
and old costumes would ease his embarrassment, but instead he found himself
more conscious than ever of his body’s responses to Malik’s attention.
Malik’s hands paused in place on Hubert’s hips and Hubert heard himself exhale
heavily before he reached down with one of his own hands to direct one of
Malik’s to his growing erection. Malik, breath hot on Hubert’s ear, took the
hint and began running his fingers down the length of Hubert’s cock. Hubert bit
his lower lip; his underwear was distancing the feel of Malik’s touch, and the
fabric of the dress had been so cool and slick between Malik’s hands and the
rest of his body.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Hubert heard the words without having
intended to speak, and clutched for the waist of his underpants through the
fabric of the dress. Malik chuckled against his back, the vibrations of the
sound making Hubert shudder all the more. Suddenly his tongue became unstuck
and words tumbled from him unintentionally, as he pressed himself into the
mirror like he would pass through it. “And this isn’t strange to you at all, a
man in a dress, a man being a woman to you, it’s something you’ve done before,
is it?”
“Hubert.” Malik rumbled, finishing the motion of sliding Hubert’s penis free of
his undergarments and making Hubert gasp as he held it firmly. “It isn’t about
being a man or a woman. It’s about being yourself.”
Hubert exhaled a series of short, high gasps before he managed to form words.
“That’s easy for you to say. If I wasn’t dressed this way, would you even be
interested?”
“You can take it off.” Malik suggested, circling the tip of Hubert’s cock with
his thumb as he spoke.
“No.” That response came without thought. Hubert reddened again but also pushed
back against Malik’s raised penis with his ass. There was something… “I like
it.”
“That’s a good boy.” Malik sighed deeply, tightening his fingers around
Hubert’s cock. Hubert heard himself moan loudly and felt his body respond to
the noise, heat pooling at the base of his cock. He’d never… Nothing had ever
felt as good as this before. He felt the fabric of the dress going wet at the
tip of his penis, where Malik’s hand was gripping and stroking without pause.
He felt his hips rocking back against Malik’s body, needy in a way he’d never
been able to define before now. He felt the wood grain of the mirror against
his palms, and the glass warming against his cheek. He smelled magnolias and,
for a moment, he didn’t feel ashamed.
Hubert cried out as cum spurted into the dress, flattening himself against the
mirror and feeling Malik flatten against him, too. The wetness spread quickly
and when he found his voice, all he could murmur was, “Captain…”
“Hmm.” Malik responded, moving his hands back to Hubert’s hips as he slowly
eased the rocking of his own. He gave a comfortable exhale, adding, “See?
That’s all right.”
Trying to stifle his delight, Hubert said only, “It’s improper, but yes… I
suppose it is. All right.”
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