: December 1797, Prauge :

[aristopire]

The evening was bitter and cold outside, however inside the lights sparkled and the people danced in revelry to music as if to fend off the Prague winters which were at it's core the stuff which superstition was made of. Inside the rather large and sumptuous townhome of Count Melichar there was a celebration of sorts; the Russians were known to be quite lively during the winter when all was cold, and the ambassadorship to the Austrian city did not curtail that in the slightest.

The Celebration was the birthday of his son, Valegny. And per usual, Valegny did not know what precisely to do with a celebration and normally he was able to fob off his father. He'd managed to forstall a party for various trips across the continent which his father readily allowed.

For someone as jovial as Count Melichar, he was almost at lost with how to deal with his quiet and somewhat austere son who prefereed culture and learning to parties and revelry; though at the very least he did understand fashion and dressed accordingly though there were many points in which the Count did not understand his son.

But to be perfectly honest, it was also to introduce his son to some of the eligible young Austrian ladies of good blood and lineage.

Perhaps Valegny did pick up the inner nuance, he was not thick of brain like his father was (which he blamed on the copious amounts of drinking that his father did at any given moment, but could be forgiven for because his father was not a violent drunk, more such a theatric one. Therefore, he nursed his own glass of wine as he moved about the room and made the rounds like a dutiful son who was merely pretending to enjoy himself. There had been a pause in the dancing as the musical guest had arrived and was expected to take to the stage any moment-- in the interim, the people were milling about, refilling glasses and nibbling from the large long table filled with delicacies of both Austrian and the Mother Country-- alongside the fair of a hired French Patisserie (since his father had heard french cuisine was all the rage, and the Count was a trend setter.)

Valegny was surrounded by girls, all of them giggling and simpering, and likely all with an eye on his eligibility, and a taste in their mouths for being a Countess. He was polite however, and managed to engage with them on the latest fashions and not just hunting (which was not to his taste, unlike his father who was quite renowned), girls tended to like his biting and witty remarks that were the hallmark of a learned noble.

Little did Valegny Kojac Melichar know that very soon his life would forever change.

Comments

[irrecoverable]

There was a wish in Anton's eyes that those lips would grace his skin, but alas. He did understand the rules of the game. He was very good at playing it, really, of winding his way through the intricate maze of high society.

Still, he watched with pure undisguised interest as Valegny dropped that picture perfect bow, at the way those eyes fixed so sharply on him. He caught his lower lip between his teeth as he considered that question -- a rather deft parry of his own inquiry, but he would forgive Valegny for that for how well it was executed, like a well-placed flick of a épée in a fencing match.

He ducked his head with a quiet lilting laugh. Engel was it? Oh he did like the way that sounded in the other man's voice. "Oh very much. But not the sort that could be had in this setting."

[aristopire]

And how Valegny wanted to kiss those knuckles, especially when Anton bit his lower lip just so. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Anton Stiendl; although you have heard it from everyone else likely-- I am Valegny, of the birthday status." he said with the tug of a smile at the corner of his lips; oh did it feel like he was not a casual smiler-- that they were as precious a currency as diamonds.

"It is clear that you already known my last name, but there is no need to settle on formalities between us."

Even though he did.. with others. He did not mind being the first-born son and heir, it was something that he had understood and embraced; but just for Anton was this granted. The singular boon for the man to refer to him by his given name. "Then perhaps I may interest you in a private viewing of my mother's music room? Perhaps I could entice you to give me a private song.. or two?" He leaned closer to lodge that request. It was not a command, though he was rather used to issuing them, but a very gentle but insistant request.

[irrecoverable]

"Valegny, then." Anton was also no stranger to formalities, and he did like that the other man had set aside that barrier between them so succinctly. Yes, good. That would do nicely.

His eyebrows lifted in undisguised interest. Anton so no reason to hide just how intrigued he was by that offer. "Perhaps you can." Oh he was already quite interested in the idea. "I'd like that very much." To see this music room, to slip away from the shining lights and hum of conversation of the party, and see what sort of private viewing that this man intended to give him.

Another smile, the sort that made him look a bit like a cat who'd been offered its favorite treat and the sunniest spot in the house. He reached over to settle a hand lightly against Valegny's arm. "I seldom offer private performances, you understand, but it is your birthday. I could be persuaded."

[aristopire]

Quite simply put, Valegny did not need permission to disappear from the party and he doubted he would be noticed. A glance over and he saw that his father was with his cronies likely going on about hunting or whoring or something along those lines. Because he was interested in neither (he preferred strategically hunting for bed partners, and well-- he was rather picky when it came to who he shared his bed with, unlike Count Melichar.) "Then let us get away from the festivities." and then he started to lead him back away from the pillar and toward a little side door.

And with minutes they were in the quietude of the hallway. The music of the quartet hired would be more then a passing drift down the corridor. "Anything you choose to grace me with will be treated as the veriest treasure." he said with a quiet smile as he lead him down the path, and then up the stairs. "Do you have a favorite place where you play, by any chance?" most musicians were employed by a music hall, or a theatre, or an Opera House.

Perhaps that was a hint that this Lord would come see the other play?

[irrecoverable]

Valegny did not need permission, and Anton did not care whether or not he had it, so there was nothing stopping them at all, now was there? The musician followed along without a glance back over his shoulder, the party already quite forgotten for the time being.

His lips stretched into a smile as this pretty lord continued saying the exact right words. Treasure, was it? He thought he might like being treasured, for his musical ability or anything else. Up the stairs, and Anton hummed at the question. "I've recently been made first chair violinist at the opera house. Do you enjoy opera, Valegny? I've always been a little obsessed. As a child, I'd sneak out nights to try to listen to what I could hear from the alleyways behind the building. You could call it a lifelong calling."

Anton would be far too pleased if Valegny did turn up.

[aristopire]

Perhaps it was time to develop a taste for the Opera?

He'd never given Opera much thought but there was always time to develop such an interest; just an open door and it would come in the form of a very handsome man with the most laughing eyes and the most cunning and winsome smile with the hint of roguish mischief to it. Oh, Valegny was already lost and he understood this well enough-- there would be no bride-finding for him tonight, he'd already found what he wanted.

"My mother is exceedingly fond of Opera though I have not given it much thought." he'd accompanied his mother a few times but he did not understand the stories behind the music; but now that Anton had opened his mind? A new world would unfold right before his eyes. "Perhaps you may give me a proper appreciation? You've already unlocked something within me..."

This was dangerous, allowing Anton to know the reason that Valegny was now interested was because of him.

Very very dangerous.

[irrecoverable]

Anton would all too happily draw Valegny into loving the opera, would reward him for his interest in it quite handsomely. Would it help Val to appreciate the opera if Anton introduced him to some of the little hidden corners in the Opera House where no one would bother them while the violinist sucked him off? Something something endowment for the arts.

"I think I can sway you to becoming a devotee of the opera. I'm up to the challenge." And he was entirely too pleased to know that he was the reason the other man was considering this, that he had changed Valegny with a few strokes of his bow.

A pause and he added, softer, a lilt creeping into his voice. "And you certainly strike me as a challenge. But certainly one worth it." Anton was quite used to getting what he wanted, after all, and he was coming to realize very clearly just how much he wanted this man.

[aristopire]

"Do I?" There was a rather crooked smile that seemed to play across those lips, wry and drew out the sharpness of his features all the more. He did not delude himself into thinking he was handsome, but he rather hoped that he could occupy this pretty musician suitably well and provide adequate satisfaction to this brilliant star of a man.

His goal though was to ultimately leave him satisfied and purring. And that was what this was, wasn't it. It was a precursor to something sexual-- like two men recognizing the other and taboo within each other and flirting lightly with it until it came out to play-- two men who were predators sizing each other up.

"Already planning my introduction to Opera and we have not even seen the music room yet? My, you do move fast." He approached the double doors leading into the music room and then pushed open the doors to reveal a room that was grandiose-- there was a Pianoforte by the fireplace, a tall harp that curved gracefully and shaped like a swan, a cello propped up by an ornately carved ebony stand and a few other instruments scattered here and there in their proper place.

"This is the music room, perhaps it was rather presumptuous of myself to assume you would like this room."

It was a beautiful tableau of a music room with the instruments waiting for their time to shining quietly as the firelight danced off of them in a ploy to enchant them to play, but Valegny turned to the other man and offered his hand to the other man. "I was hoping for a private performance, one would be for my personal indulgence as the guest of honour, the second performance would be entirely up to you." one was music, for Valegny did want to hear him play again and this time with no crowds to edge into his immersion.

The other might have the two of them sprawled out on the bearskin rug in front of the fire, or perhaps even up against the pianoforte.

[irrecoverable]

Oh but he was extremely attractive, the sharp features, the quiet equally sharp confidence that he carried himself with. Anton thought that he could cut himself all too easily on Valegny's edges, a thought that probably should not have been nearly as arousing as it was. So yes, this was certainly a choreographed foreplay that they were dancing their way through, step by step.

Another laugh. "I'm the ambitious sort, yes. You have me figured out I think. I-- oh." The words cut off as they stepped into the music room. He took it all in at once, the immaculately kept instruments, the pianoforte, the harp, all caught in the soft warm glow of the fireplace. It occurred to him then that Valegny had spoken, and Anton looked over to him. "It was, but it was also entirely correct. And I like presumptuous."

He wandered from the other man's side then, over to let his fingers brush in a gentle, reverent touch over the ivory piano keys. "Then, shall I play for you? And we'll see what the encore looks like once the piece is finished."

Sitting himself primly on the bench, he glanced over towards Valegny. True that he was best known for his violin playing, but he was adept at several instruments and, as Valegny was about to find out, singing.

[aristopire]

This would be the precursor to every interaction between them, sultry magnetism that they could not quite escape no matter how hard they tried or perhaps how tempestuous that it became; because they were both made of darkness-- although right now Valegny was looking at him as if he was the only light in the room.

There was a wing chair by the piano, and he took a seat upon it and reclined. The evening attire did favors to him, fashionable and well tailored-- not too showy but with a hint of the current fashion, likely from Paris. Valegny did love his clothing, and he rather thought he'd like to dress Anton up too-- see what he would look like in velvet's and silks though the clothing that he wore was enticing.

But he was getting ahead of himself perhaps?

"Please do, I look forward to hearing the magic that comes from you." he said and then he very graciously motioned with his wrist for the other man to play when he felt comfortable enough to do so-- it was a very casual command, and not so much of a command but a request.. in a very russian way, they tended toward bluntness and speaking their mind more often then not.

And with such hypnotism he watched the other man, his grey eyes like a fine warm mist that would surround the other man, would cling to the form and frame of Anton as if he was taking in everything down to every part and parcel of his soul.

[irrecoverable]

Anton watched Valegny, waiting for the young lord to be seated comfortably. He did look good, every inch the proper nobleman in fine tailoring, waiting for his own private concert. Hmm. Well, Anton would not disappoint.

He inclined his head at that little gesture and his fingers began plying at the keys. If Valegny had been an opera fan, he might recognize the song, a piece from Mozart's Don Giovani that was perfectly suited for the clear, bright tenor of Anton's voice. As he sang, he slowly lost himself in the song, the emotion of it obvious in each note from his fingers and his lips.

Anton was the most at home when he was wrapped in his music, felt most complete in those moments. But he did glance over to Valerian to see how the other man was reacting to the music, to see if he was enjoying it.

[aristopire]

Somewhere along the way, Valegny had ceased to recline. It was the passion in the voice, the passion in Anton-- he was drawn like a moth to a flame, and Anton was the brightest most vibrant flame that had ever existed in the world. Leaning forward with his hands clasped together, his elbows on his knees and regarding the other many as if he was some sort of Angel come down from the heavens.

Oh indeed, he was moved. It was not just the music itself but how Anton seemed to drawn every single note to it and make it brighter, far more then what it started out being. Forever, he would look into the music and be reminded of that passion, he would try to hold it as cold comfort.

But that was neither here nor there.

He was enchanted, perhaps even enraptured, though the smile upon his lips was the barest hint of a smile-- his interest was in those eyes that watched the musician unbreaking. He had a feeling that music would be his biggest competition, and perhaps he did not mind so much, as long as he was able to watch this as the notes rippled in that gorgeous tenor voice, the firelight playing off his features as if it was the most loved within existence.

Within the interim, Valegny was rather certain that he had forgotten to breathe-- and from that, the want turned into something deeper and stronger; he had never thought he was capable of feeling something like this-- a strange upheaval of everything he'd ever known; he was enamored with this beautiful man who sang with every fiber of his soul. What he perceived and knew was only surface, but everything that he could glean, oh he wanted and perhaps Anton would feel it in the gaze focused solely on him.

[irrecoverable]

Eventually the aria ended, the final note of voice and keys fading into a silence filled with the sounds of breath and the soft crackling of the logs burning in the fire, the quiet crescendo of reality as it surged back in when it had been displaced by the spell woven by music. This was Anton's life, stolen pieces of something more when he was allowed to lose himself in rhythm and melody, only to return to this world like an angel whose wings are torn away midflight. The entire world felt and looked duller. He did not have the term for it -- for the synesthesia that flooded his senses with a rush of color, each note echoing in its own hue.

But now as he opened his eyes and looked over at Valegny, he thought perhaps for the first time that there was something worth seeing even after the colors of the music faded. There was something vibrant and alive about Val, something in the tone of his voice that summoned up a deep vibrant gold, like the steady glow of some uncountable fortune.

A smile tugged at his lips once more as he saw that Valegny was looking at him -- truly, utterly looking at him -- with eyes that caught Anton's breath and then his heart. "Was it a satisfactory performance, my lord?"

[aristopire]

"I think that it was more then satisfactory." he said this; he had never been moved by music before in his life-- had never felt it through his soul like that, bouyed like angel's wings. Perhaps Anton saw himself as wingless, but that was not what Val saw and it reverberated through those eyes-- those wings were far more beautiful and grand then any mortal had any right to be; and yet.. here Anton was like heaven made flesh.

"Perhaps that was the most beautiful day of birth present that I have ever received." he stated this quietly as he considered the other man; he could not think of anyone ever presenting him with something like that, a song would've felt trivial but it was not something that could be bought-- not when it flowed from the soul like that.

He got up from the wing chair then, very carefully striding toward the piano bench where Anton sat, and then in a matter of seconds he was beside him. Delicately he reached over to place to fingers just under the chin and said with an almost enigmatic smile; up close now-- so very close with the firelight playing off hair that could not quite decide which colour it was, he let out a hmmm. "I almost wonder if you are an Engel come down from heaven, with that voice."

[irrecoverable]

Anton's smile brightened at the response, clearly pleased by the fact that Valegny enjoyed the private performance. He'd left himself open and vulnerable in it, in a way that he seldom would have allowed, for this intriguing young nobleman. It had been a calculated risk, perhaps, though the calculation had been hasty and driven by the way he felt drawn to the other man beyond all reason or explanation.

He watched as Valerian stood and moved closer, as he stopped beside him. He could not hide the way his breath caught in the softest hitch as those fingertips caught his chin. He looked up to him, taking the way the firelight loved him, painting a dance of color over those curls, over those sharp features.

The next words had him exhaling a near-silent laugh. "If I am an Engel, then I am certain I have not come down from heaven so much as fallen. I am much too full of sin -- and far too fond of sinning -- to be a proper angel."

[aristopire]

"Fallen works as well.. perhaps far better for what comes next." he said this, an intriguing bit of a smile, those grey eyes sparkling even before he slips down off that piano bench and finally on his knees before it, he reaches for Anton's hand and tugs it and then his other hand slowly slips to Anton's knee to splay it to the side though lightly, then he looks to the angel of a man above him and his palm slides against the fabric covered thigh, ever upward.

"What sort of sinning do you prefer?" he skirts his fingers lightly against his rather insistant wish; distantly he realizes that he has not locked the music room door but that is neither here nor there and most would ignore the dalliances of a young count-in-training whose ways were a bit different than that of Prague society.

"Because I can think of a few that we can indulge in right now." that was when his palm lightly guides it's way to the juncture of those thighs, to ascertain what he would feel there, and his tongue guides it's way across his lower lip as he flicks a glance downward and then back up at Anton. Yeah, there was no hiding Valegny's marked preference, and in a society where most men of nobility did not consider themselves gay if they were the ones to act as the man in the relationship with the sticking of it in no matter, this was perhaps refreshing?

[irrecoverable]

Those eyes would plague him in the most exquisite ways for the rest of his life, Anton realized with a startlingly sharp prescience as he watched Valegny sink to his knees in front of him. He let his hand be taken, pliant beneath those touches. That hand at his knee was met with a full cooperation, legs spreading open for him as that touch began wandering. A thrill raced through him, over his skin, down his spine, pooling between his legs.

"I enjoy many sins that would send the priests running for their bibles," Anton mused as he reached his free hand out to slip into Valegny's hair. They were there when the other man's touch wandered over his rather obvious arousal; Val would feel it, the way his cock was stirring and the way it responded to the other man's touch. His fingers curled reflexively in those impossibly lovely curls.

"I can think of several too, and all of them involve your hands and your lips and..." he let his gaze drop deliberately, "...other more rigid parts of you."

[aristopire]

Ah yes, he could feel the way that this man responded to him and he took advantage of that. His fingertips gliding and tracing the line as it shifted against the trousers, begging to be let out. He could feel a flushed hot wave of utter want go through him even as he reached to undo the lacings of those fine pants, and then with a methodical grace, he was slowly undoing them.

He did not even have to look down to see what he was doing, rather he cast a glance up at the other man bathed in both light and darkness, and whose fingers were fingering through his own curls. He had a vision of how Anton's curls would look touching his, upon pillows, of their skins, his own pale skin against Anton's, the subtle differences in hue.

He was ice, but this man right here-- he was fire.

Very carefully Valegny drew out prick, all throbbing with need and then his thumb skirted against the underside of it, playing it as if it was the most carnal of instruments. "It is a very good thing then that I am not a Priest." and then he leaned in to mouth against the velvety slick head, tongue dragging precome that had bubbled from slit, the salt overturning on his tongue and spicing it with flavor.

A groan as if he was taking some sort of divine catechism, committing it to memory against his lips.

[irrecoverable]

This was far from the first clandestine assignation that Anton had been party to, but there was something about this that felt different, a weight to the moment that had settled about his shoulders like a comfortable mantle, a sense of rightness that he couldn't put to words yet.

Thinking was suddenly a challenge anyway, when Valegny's fingers drew him free and teased over his prick. He did not bother holding back the moan that bubbled past his lips. "Oh it is very good that you are not a priest. Very... very good. I... oh..."

That mouth was talented, and Anton was well aware the young count was just getting started. His fingers loosened their grip in Valegny's hair but only so he could run his fingers through curls, let soft strands slip against his skin again and again as Val undid him piece by piece.

[aristopire]

This was just the reaction that Valegny had been hoping for.

But even the words that slipped from Anton's lips was musical, a divinity to it that made him groan against flesh, playing with it lightly with tongue, following a vein downward to the shaft and then back up while he cupped the back of the cock with his palm. In the firelight Anton's cock glistened with his saliva, and then he took the head into his mouth to give it a lengthy suck.

Oh this man could melt in him over and over and he would lap it up.

It was a slow and nearly agonizing back and forth, first a suck and another series of kisses and mouthed platitudes against flesh, and then back to another suck while he took the talented musician in his mouth deeper and further, though he met Anton's eyes nevertheless.

Finally back upward and he whispered. "Oh I can assure you, I would do this to you even if I were a Priest." such blasphemy that fell from Valegny's lips, denoting that he was not a good russian catholic boy. "How could a face like yours not cause a holy man to fall?"

[irrecoverable]

It was the sweetest blasphemy that he had ever heard, truly. He shivered at those words, fingers sinking into Valegny's hair once more. His lips were parted around a breathless moan before he could find anything even resembling words. "Your tongue is wicked in many ways, isn't it? Silver and golden..." Anton's voice was soft, breathy and just short of trembling.

Anton could recognize the danger that this man posed, to allure of him, that magnetism that pulled at something in his chest behind his heart. He would not be the same if he let himself fall for this man, never again in his life. But Anton courted danger like a lover anyway, why not court it in a lover?

"You will be my undoing. I think I will enjoy every moment of it."

[aristopire]

Those words were the precise moment that Valegny deep-throated the musician, taking him all in his mouth right to the hilt and gave a deep suck before it was a movement back and forth up and down, his fingers clutching those thighs in just such a way as to keep them steady and his own sounds coming from mouth were hot and filthy as they sucked up precome and everything else.

Groans could me felt in the muscles surrounding Anton's cock while he allowed himself that free-fall.

Ever so often he would look at Anton as he came up for air, and each inch of skin revealed was slick with saliva, tongue flat against cock so that every time he came up, he would drag it rather impressively. The Count's Son was certain getting very preferential treatment from the musical guest this evening, perhaps was taking over the symphony with one of his own involving lips and tongue as he reveled in the way that Anton was being taken apart.

He would like to take him apart in other ways as well.

[irrecoverable]

Anton's voice rose in a startled, ecstatic cry as he found himself so fully engulfed by that mouth around his prick. He half doubled over, leaning close so that the next few sounds he made, whimpered soft and sweet and pleading, were voiced to Valerian's curls.

He would not last long with how determined the other man was, with how skilled that wicked mouth appeared to be. But it was more than just the physical pleasure of it, more than the lust that was crashing through him in waves. He couldn't put a name to it yet, or maybe he just wasn't quite brave enough to make that leap so soon.

"Valegny..." he name, low and pleading. "I am close. I will not last... please..." That would be about all the warning that Val would get to draw back if he wished before Anton would crash into his release, spilling himself in rope after rope of seed, evidence of his ecstasy.

[aristopire]

Valegny took that orgasm with his own mouth, he firmed his mouth around it and then the sticky savored seed crashed into his mouth, and he drank it all down-- this was not the first time he had done this and it would not be the last but he rather liked the way that Anton's voice formed those words as if he was going to shatter, before that breaking point crystalline and dangerous.

He was licking his lips like a cat who had gotten into the cream pot, and just because his partner came did not mean that he was going to just let it go. He was careful to release the prick, very lightly dragging his tongue against arousal to make sure he'd cleaned him up just right and then after he was done he sat back on his knees and said almost archly. "I take it that you enjoyed yourself?"

The nobleman was rather too pleased with himself, with the way that he had made this beautiful musician come. "The intent was never to make you last. I wanted to see what other pretty sounds you could make for me."

[irrecoverable]

Anton was left trembling in the wake of that onslaught, another soft whimper escaping before he could even dream of trying to stop it. He shivered, waiting for his sight to refocus on the present world rather than the near blinding beyond that he'd been sent to for more than a moment there. He wanted to say something smart, to sass back at the rather smug sounding young nobleman in front of him, but all that he managed at first was a shaky little breath that didn't quite fill his lungs enough to help with the breathless feeling he was still awash in.

"This is... mm.... not my usual encore performance, you know. But... I did rather enjoy it."

He slid from his seat on the bench now, slow and deliberate, an unmistakable element of grace in his movements, some hint that the violinist was as apt to be swept up in a dance as he was in supplying the songs. He landed himself very deliberately in Valegny's lap, arms winding their way about his neck.

"Now... it seems to me there is at least one measure still unresolved. How will we address this

And just in case there was any doubt about what he meant he gave a slow meaningful rock down against Val where he was perched, testing his own theory that the other man was, well, affected.