:Saintsmourn - Valerian & Anton :

[aristopire]

Valerian Ostell's life was fairly busy all things considered.

It was filled with meetings upon meetings, midnight brunches and forays with his best friend Cassandra into the Boston social scene, the world passed by in a whirl for him; was it how he expected his life to have gone? In some situations yes, he had expected he would always go to Harvard Business School, he had always expected he would take over the family business-- that he would take a wife for appearances, and a lover to his own preferences.

What he had not expected was being turned into a vampire at the age of 26, poised forever on the edge.

So some of those things came true, others did not. They were never mutually exclusive, he supposed.

Upon the death of his mother and father, some horrific accident that had been spread throughout the papers (it did not affect him, he had not been to terribly attached to them in the first place. They were largely neglectful as he did not require constant supervision to do what he needed to do, and that was get top grades and make it so his reputation was beyond reproach. No scandal in high school and none whatsoever in college, he was without blemish-- if a bit ruthless.

Ruthlessness was not necessarily a fault when it came to being rich, it was just part of the landscape.

Being a vampire and being a rich boy seemed like a fairly good combination, he knew how to invest his money to watch it grow throughout the adges; he'd cut his teeth on the Dow Jones and had a Swiss Bank account for as long as he could remember. He approached all of his with a calm efficiency that was in keeping with his core personality. Boston was his home turf but there was a part of him that called to Saintsmourn, it was perhaps memories-- he was still human enough where there was that lingering shadow of sentimentality within him.

It did not help that he sat on the Board of Directors for the Prepratory School and University, as his father had before him-- an inherited piece of baggage; ironic due to his vampiric nature though he could walk in churches as he had never been completely catholic in nature-- only catholic insofar as much as it figured that he would turn out gay in a all boy's school.

That was an exceedingly catholic thing to do.

He did enjoy the arts, for all of his practicalities. He had season tickets to the Met, to Broadway, he usually took off for New York Fashion week to cavort with Cassandra, and he sank down money into patronizing the arts in whatever form or fashion it took. If his eyes lingered a bit to long on a certain violinist in the Broadway orchestra, he made no true indication of his preference.

But it was true that Saintsmourn had one of the best choirs in Massachusetts, and he found himself drawn to them. Even as he sat there on the balcony watching the performance, he remembered one who had sung the most enchanting of all of the choir members, who would sneak out to play his violin in the empty gardens at midnight-- perhaps that had truly instilled the love of music within him, of all things beautiful in a world dominated by numbers and analytics.

Underneath his Dior shades, his eyes were closed as if he was feeling the music. His fingers tapping against the armrest lightly-- it was a spot that was reserved specifically for him, a little pocket which was a kickback to the board of directors but which only he untilized for attending a simple choir recital. Most thought it beneath them, but he did not.

But he would never willingly admit that he took time out of his schedule; no-- he was merely in the area.

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[aristopire]

With a predators grace, Valerian got up from the couch and then sauntered down the hallway. There was soft voices coming from a place that Anton could not precisely see, and then within moments Valerian was back with the pizza pie which he settled down on the coffee table, he would let the other man do the honours as he resumed his lounge against the couch.

He would watch Anton right until he started to eat.

"Remember what I spoke, Kitten.. you will eat, and I will not feed from you again until I am satisfied."

A tsk of his voice, the way that his tongue hit the top of his palate to convey that sound, though his grey eyes certainly did watch him. How worldly Valerian was now, he'd always been a bit of a rich boy but there was a confidence that had blossomed and made him but the flower of the seed that he had once been.

[irrecoverable]

Anton sat up as Valerian returned with the pizza, wrinkling his nose at that you will eat comment, on the precipice of being contrary for the sake of being contrary, which was not one of his better traits, but he was hungry, and he did want to be a suitable breakfast for his Valerie. He leaned forward to open the box and remove himself a slice of the pizza.

"You know, you are sexy when you're being strict," Anton remarked with a soft smirk of a smile before he took a bite.

He was still watching Valerian. There was something in him that had emerged into full bright bloom since they'd been boys together, and it was entirely gorgeous on him. He wore it as well as he wore the finely tailored suit.

[aristopire]

"I will make it worth your while if you decide to be good for me." he said this rather calmly as he nodded in satisfaction when Anton started to eat the piece of pizza. And he meant it of course, but he also put the word in their 'decide' because ultimately it was his decision. It was a command, but one that could be ignored-- but then Anton would have to deal with the fallout of that disobedience.

That was probably not the hill on which one of their fights should be staged.

This felt altogether very domestic. And he was not used to it, he'd never come to Anton's rooms or vice versa-- perhaps it was because the illicitness of it had appealed to their schoolboy sensibilities when closets and empty music rooms held the most appeal. But now Anton was here, making himself at home and it felt right.

"So I know you are on a break from your career but do you have a idea of when you'll make your grand return?"

[irrecoverable]

"Will you?" Murmured in between delicates bites of his meal, ever the prissy creature, as if every movement was part of some choreographed performance, as if he might at any given time be on stage. It seemed, between his own hunger and the promised bribery, he was inclined to obey the veiled command. "And what would that look like, Valerie?"

In the meantime, he would continue eating. It truly was strangely domestic, more so than they'd had before, which probably ought to feel ironic given that Valerian was a vampire now, and they'd spent the evening vigorously fucking in mostly public places. But it felt strangely perfect, to be here so close and intimate in a nonsexual fashion.

The question was one he should have expected, but it seemed to catch him off guard. Or well, formulating the response did. "Mm... well. Nothing definite. It just seemed like a good time to step away. Certain attentions were getting a little too intense, and it seemed a better idea to put some distance between myself and the stage, for a while."

[aristopire]

Very carefully his hands fisted in those locks of dark curls and then he with a lover's tenderness he tilted Anton so that he could look into his eyes; even with the pizza between them it was particularly romantic and possessive, perhaps even a bit thrilling. "Whoever dares to rob you from the stage, they shall have to answer to me."

His pretty sea bird required to play music, to charm the masses and yet with the acknowledgement that he was his and he would brook no one else.

Oh yes, he could take care of it for Anton, easily and effortlessly. "You will tell me if you need anything, yes?"

[irrecoverable]

Anton let his head be tilted, meeting those eyes. It threatened to take his breath away, the way that Valerian looked at him in that moment, the possession and the passion and the intensity of those words. There was violence in those words, a promise of darkness, and Anton had never felt more treasured in his life than at that moment.

The stage was where he belonged in many ways, the stage and in Valerian's arms, the two places he'd ever felt properly alive. Funny how that was. He needed everyone's eyes on him, the attention of an entire theatre. Or his Valerie's gaze and that alone.

He considered for a moment, considered asking Valerian to take care of his problem, but Anton didn't want to give his unfortunate stalker that much of his attention. The boorish man didn't deserve the breath it would take to speak the words. Instead he leaned closer to catch Val's lips with his. "I have never been shy in making demands, mm? This is simply some pompous waste of space who is perhaps too used to getting his way. Nothing worth the trouble or the time. Besides, I am pleased to be back home."

[aristopire]

He would, he would kill anyone who dared raise a hand to whoever it was that threatened him. For a moment his eyes narrowed as he searched those dark chocolate covered eyes, but then he saw that confidence there, the smirk and the belief that it was just a temporary inconvenience to which point he would stand back; Anton would likely be able to handle himself as he had claws, and teeth that were no means a bypass of lethal charms.

"You have always been very pronounced in your feelings and your desires." he said, sliding his hand to cup a knee while he allowed his thumb to stroke over the fabric covering skin. "You are the opposite of myself, but in such a manner I think that we are perfect foils to each other." neither one upstaging the other.

[irrecoverable]

"We are very different, aren't we?" Anton mused before nibbling at his pizza again, considering. They were. He was all fits and passion and emotion, his heart not so much worn on his sleeve as waved on a banner above his head as he sang it out for everyone and anyone to hear. And his Valerie was an ice-wrapped mystery, a labyrinth to figure out, revealing only shadows and shades of what was on his mind. But still waters ran deep, and Anton wanted to plunge himself straight into those depths and drown there.

Of course they were alike as well, men who knew what they wanted and had little use for distractions from that. Each of them ready to destroy anyone who so much as looked askance at the other.

"But you're right. We are perfect for each other. I would blow away on a breeze without something to ground me, and you... you'd sink straight into the depths without some reminder to pull you back above ground." They were good for each other. Toxic and possessive and likely to also make each other worse, but oh so good for each other.

[aristopire]

Are you saying that I would sink into the pits of hell?

[ Oh, there was amusement there and it was quite unabashed. Perhaps Anton did have the right of it, and it was all thanks to all that musical analyst of plays, operas and songs; the sort of thing that someone who could understand the vibes, ebbs and flow of music to the very depths as well as upon the highest pinnacles. ]

Oh but you know that I do consider it a compliment.

[ He was intense, much like the fires of Hades; his own desires were not for the mundane; had never been. ] I suppose that you shall have to grow accustomed to your life as my arm candy, in which case I think that tomorrow evening we shall go shopping-- I'll have Newbury Street opened up just for us.

[irrecoverable]

Straight to the depths, darling. But you'd be sitting on the throne there in less than a week, I have no doubt.

[Valerian could rule in hell. Of course he could. And Anton would invite himself to sit beside him as his queen, clearly. But that was beside the point.

Done with his pizza now, he invited himself once more into Valerian's act, smiling a delighted smile at this plan.]

I'll happily let you dress me up pretty as you like. You always have had amazing taste.

[aristopire]

[ It was true that Valerian had ambitions but he also knew he was fairly stilted by his own Sire, his trajectory was only horizontal, not vertical. The confidence that he could rule hell though was extremely arousing, enough that when Anton sat astride him, his palm moved to the small of back and then he pulls Anton far closer than is necessary. ]

If I were Hades, would you be my Persephone?

[ Oh yes, that was perhaps the most romantic thing that he had ever spoken before, but with Saintsmourn fixation on classical literature, it was easy to see that he was delving into analysis. ]

I will dress you up as if you were my Consort.

[irrecoverable]

[Oh. Well, closer was better. Anton shifted his thighs wider open to accommodate molding himself quite properly up against the other man. Up against his Hades, and here in Valerian's lap was really the only throne that suited Anton anyway.

He wound his arms around the vampire's neck. That was one of the most romantic things ever spoken to Anton, and he was quite noticeably purring over it.]

Of course. And I'd carve the heart out of anyone who thought they could fill the role.

[Murmured sweetly, like a promise, even if it was a promise of murder if anyone tried to hone in on what was rightfully his.]