: 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

[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.

[aristopire]

And soon Valegny had a lapful of musician which was just fine of him; as he could see each movement that Anton made, it was easy enough to adjust and to anticipate and thus he did; he sat back further and with his legs spread so that he could make a fine seat for the other man, then he leaned up to brush against beguiling sharpness of cheekbone. Make no mistake, Anton could feel everything-- the manner of fashion was not at this moment in time anything short of tight fitting-- especially ball room attire.

"It rather seems that you are conveniently placed at this moment." he murmured as one hand moved up so that he could undo Anton's shirt, a wry smile upon his lips with each movement that it entailed. "I have a taste tonight for a very beautiful musician and nothing else will satisfy." that was a promise, Anton.

But also a challenge lodged in there as well, that Valegny would find himself ruined for anyone else. Did Anton have what it takes?

[irrecoverable]

"It does appear that way, doesn't it? We should make the most of it." Of the convenient placement. Of the privacy and this lovely firelit room, of the fact that he could feel every inch of the count-to-be as he rocked himself lazily in his lap. This would not be good for either of their clothing, but Valegny was already home, and Anton would likely make his exit after this tryst was over. He'd played his songs and mingled; his job was quite successfully done, after all. This and everything that followed was a pure and wonderful bonus.

His voice was a quiet purr as he leaned close to kiss that smile right off the other man's lips. He could taste the challenge in the words, and that was exciting too. Since Valegny was helping himself to undoing Anton's clothes, the musician decided it was only fair he get to do the same, working open that lovely little cravat and all the infuriating fastenings that followed. "Is that so? Don't worry, my lord. I'd never dream of leaving you unsatisfied." Heaven forbid. Hell forbid. It would not do, and Anton would not have it.

[aristopire]

Valegny was not even sure he could get harder than he was now, especially with the way that Anton teased him with the rolling of his hips, the tactile way that he could feel the curve of that ass as it nearly begged to be filled; and he knew that it wanted to be filled, that this man wanted to be fucked which was really self serving of him.

But honestly? It met both their needs-- and so his fingers moved i to that hair and he pulled him down for a kiss, the taste of Anton's seed on his mouth a bright vibrant and almost musical thing. His taste was Anton's taste and wasn't that something that appealed to self-indulgence.

Meanwhile his fingers were pulling down at the pants that had fit the other man like sin, an insistant tugging and his grey eyes merely a halo around the dark side of the moon. "I need you out of these now pet, I want to feel your pretty ass take your pleasure with me." It may have been a command, an insistant and glorious command.

[irrecoverable]

Oh. Now that was certainly a heady thing, tasting himself on the other man's lips. He made a pleased little sound to Valegny's lips, fingers sinking into that thick mane of curls again as he did his best to devour the other man whole then and there. He was clearly motivated and determined at the moment.

He was breathless by the time that the other man spoke again, and those words drew a slow smile over his face. Another little wiggle, and he lingered in Valegny's lap despite the command, taking his time even though all he wanted to do was obey immediately. He was, at his core, a bratty little thing. There was no help for it.

Eventually though he shifted, standing slowly so he could see about shimmying out of his trousers which were indeed fitted so closely that they may as well have been painted on.

[aristopire]

In this very moment, Valegny realized how very gay he was-- especially when he cast his eyes on the way that Anton seemed to peel out of those trousers slowly and carefully, the way that those thighs and the stiffened cock was revealed to him, causing his tongue to lap at his lower lip in a way that was still hungry.

A soft little chuckle, he spoke in russian, the word 'Brat' which had a tinge of affection to it, then he reached up so that he could take that hand to pull the musician back down once he had divested himself of those trousers; those legs which were quite nice indeed.. he could spend hours kissing up and down that leg if the other man would allow him to do so.

"Come here, you menace." a roughened husky growl as he would endeavor to pull the other man to sprawl atop him, better so that he could use his hands to prepare and finger that hole to better prepare him for his prick which was quite insistant as it nearly pounded against the fastenings of his own dress pants. "I see the sort of man you are now."

[irrecoverable]

Anton laughed as well at that word. He didn't speak a lick of Russian (yet) but he could tell what was meant by that. Besides, whatever this man wished to call him, Anton was far too eager to answer. Not that he would let on so easily -- though perhaps his body betrayed the secrets that he thought he could otherwise keep.

He let himself be pulled back to settle atop Valegny, another quiet laugh, lips finding their way to kiss slow and languidly up along that sharp-as-glass jawline, lips and tongue and teeth teasing over skin until he made it to the other man's ear, catching the lobe between his teeth. "And what sort of man is that, Valerie?"

Please tell him. He wanted desperately to hear it, to hear anything in Val's voice, when it sounded so rough and raw with desire for him.

[aristopire]

His hands could not stop their wandering, the way that he pulled those thighs apart, slipping one hand between and a little bit further down, until his palm was cupping balls while his head inclined in invitation for Anton's lips against his skin.

"You are full of mischief, an angel but like you told me originally.. fallen; but a voice like you are still blessed and hands that still have memories of playing against the heavens." He gives the sacs a gentle squeeze and them he his slipping upward the few inches, trailing against the taint before finally he touches a rosebudded hole.

"So in other words, thoroughly enchanting and charming." Val did not delight, but perhaps he intrigued and that was enough for him-- to bask in the whims of such an effervescent man.

[irrecoverable]

Anton could not keep still, rocking into that touch as that hand went wandering down into such sensitive, intimate areas. He liked the way that that touch felt, the way that Valerian touched him like he belonged to him. The musician could already feel the way he wanted to belong to this fascinating man.

He grazed his teeth against Valerian's neck, sharp, sucking there, planning on leaving the birthday boy with a physical reminder of their little tryst. Or just marking his territory. It might be both.

A soft hum at the silvered sweet words that Valerian spoke. "You, darling, have a very dangerous tongue in more ways than one."

[aristopire]

Physical marks were not off the table at all, he allowed himself a groan as his fingers slid to play and to lightly delve the hole, the sharp teeth and the combination of sucking and nibbling would absolutely leave a reminder of their assignation, it would make it so that the nobleman did not forget about Anton once he left.

How could he forget though? The playing as well as the charm, he would be wanting to make the other man his, stake his territory; a word that perhaps would not be so funny in the future but for right now certainly did fit. Slowly he worked his digit in, massaging and ultimately preparing the other man for him, he could already imagine how the other man would feel riding his prick while he watched; the parted lips in something akin to song, oh he would likely be greedy too-- he already could feel it with the way that the musician pushed backward against his fingers.

"I am glad that you enjoy my tongue, I've been told it is rather sharp and unrelenting."

[irrecoverable]

"Oh it is... so unrelenting. And deliciously sharp..." Clearly these were things that Anton was a fan of. He liked everything that he had discovered thus far about this intriguing nobleman. And he wanted to learn more about him, wanted to puzzle through the entirety of him -- which was new for Anton. Music and instruments, oh those caught his attention so easily. Here however was Valegny who had struck something in him as sure as any sonata.

His breath caught as those fingers went probing, pressing inside him. Valegny was right about him. He was a greedy thing, and he would not be shy about what he wanted, what he needed. He rocked against those fingers as they worked him open, his hole yielding with ease and just as much eagerness for the touch and for what would come next.

He mouthed and nibbled at the little bruising mark he'd left against Valegny's neck, quite pleased with himself.

[aristopire]

Through the years, that at least would not change. In fact, his tongue was only likely to grow sharper and far more dexterous in all the ways that perhaps mattered. He could feel the wet saliva spreading over his skin like silk, eager and questing, while he dipped a second finger deep within and massaged those walls, stretching him with a precision, but he had a feeling that Anton would melt like butter around him, he wanted to coax another orgasm out of him-- a hard-won but thoroughly satisfying battle.

"You feel so good.. you are going to feel like heaven, are you not.. Pet?" he whispered, the endearment rolling over his tongue with such natural grace, as if right now in this moment Anton was his pampered pet.

He angled his finger to touch that spot, one that he knew would be sensitive from the previous orgasm; part of him wanted this distracting specimen of a man to think about him and this moment. Perhaps he would remember him when he came to call at the Opera house that Anton had mentioned being First Chair at. Yes, he would arrive and shove every other enchanted swain out of the way.

[irrecoverable]

Anton whimpered as that second finger slipped inside along the first, closer and closer to what he wanted. When Valegny found that spot, there would be no question given that Anton cried out, another note in the latest verse of this song they were composing together.

He managed a nod, lifting his head to look at the other man properly. Oh he felt like a pampered pet, and would be all too happy to be Anton's lap cat without much coaxing at all. There was a growing heat in him, the fire coursing through his blood. His arousal stirred once more at the attention. He was still sensitive from his orgasm, almost oversensitive, which had him squirming all the more on Valegny's lap.

"Mm... I am. Heaven like you've never felt, darling. Maybe you'll be ruined for anyone else." And wouldn't that be utterly tragic? So sad the worst. All his.

[aristopire]

How self-fufilling those words would be. Ruined for anyone else, the bright tumultuous flame that was Anton-- equal parts muse and brat, smiling laughing god and vengeful wraith. All of Antons moods and seasons, Valegny would welcome even as at times fits of pique were directed at him.

"We will see." Was the infuriating answer even as he pulled those hips and then arched his cock upwards to rub just between those cheeks, so very close to where he was fingering the other man, listening to those musical sounds.

Satisfied that this was a concierto just for him, truly a gift this evening of his birthday. Perhaps even the best gift he'd been given if he were to compare the lavish things that had come just before the fete.

He finally removed his fingers and then took up Anton's hand and guided it to his prick. "Be a good boy and spread precome all up and down my cock? So that I may give you a very nice treat."

[irrecoverable]

Oh they would both be ruined without any doubt. Something in Anton could recognize it already, but that something was not a conscious thought just yet. No, his entire focus was on this moment, the sensation, the desire. The man with those infuriating words and that sinfully perfect touch.

A soft, protesting sound as those fingers slipped free, leaving him feeling empty and aching to be properly filled. He let his hand be guided, fingers wrapping all too eagerly around that cock, taking the chance to let his touch roam, to map the size and shape of him of what he'd gotten himself into.

A smile flickered over his lips. "Mm... I'll be a good boy for you. I hope you realize that this is a special consideration I extend to precious few." He as a brat at his best times, but right now he wanted that prick inside him, wanted to know what Valegny sounded like when he was losing himself to pleasure. So he did as he was bidden, fingers spreading that slick precome down along his length, slow and purposeful.

[aristopire]

Likely it had not been that long between sexual partners for either of them, but honestly those fingers that touched him so expertly was like a near revelation. Oh gods, his breath hitched as musical hands wrapped around him and memorized every inch, oh yes.. he could perhaps get used to that.

"I will consider this an extra birthday treat." He said, his grey eyes as dark aa shadowed steel as his palm moved to cup hip to keep the mischevious man steady.

Valegny was more than a mouthful,n certainly more than a handful... long and pale with a pink topped head, veins running up and down his shaft, the pulse thrumming as he looked up to Anton with heavy lidded desire. He would send Anton something pretty to the Opera House, something that would only barely match the sparkle of the other man.

But he would also send himself, because he already knew that he would have to see this man again, he would throw through his blood like an intoxication stronger than alcohol or drugs.

[irrecoverable]

Anton was already hoping that this would not be the only time he saw this handsome young nobleman, wanted to understand the intriguing edges and angles of him that seemed to fold in on themselves in a labyrinth that the musician wanted to explore every inch of. But he was determined to live in the present moment anyway, to not miss a single detail of this.

His fingers worked over Valegny's prick, a shiver racing through him as he felt how hard and heated that flesh was, how much Val clearly wanted him. It was a delicious thought, and god he wanted all of that long, hard cock buried inside him. "Mm... that's right, darling. Happy birthday, and many happy returns."

He looked at Valegny then, dark chestnut brown eyes fixed on that sharply angled face. His fingers were moving in slow and deliberate teasing now, that now precome-slick length sliding sweetly in his grip.

[aristopire]

As much as Val wanted to be in control of the situation, right now with Anton atop him and most assuredly astride, he could see that would not be the case; however he did not close his eyes even though his lips parted to expell air, and his tongue glided over his lower lip. Those grey eyes remained affixed to the very pretty musician, to those beautiful chestnut eyes that held him spellbound.

Perhaps an angel, but also a minx.

His hips arched upward to rub against Anton's hole and then his hands gripped those hips tightly while he started to guide him to mount, lifting just a little bit to angle him for the eventual taking. In his mind, there was never a doubt that this was the only foregone conclusion to this night, that they collide like two stars into each other. And star collisions were poetic, but they were also violent and spoke of passion and destruction all in one, romantic thoughts for an artistic soul (though Val was decidedly not an artistic soul, he had an eye for the fine.).

"I want to hear you sing, beautiful one."

[irrecoverable]

Anton took that guidance, rising up on his knees just enough to allow himself to position perfectly, poised with the flushed, leaking head of Val's cock at his entrance. His hand was still reaching back to guide that length. He held that gaze -- gray as the sunless sky, clear as pristine water -- and slowly pressed his ass back, voice catching in a soft startled hitch as the head of that prick breached his hole.

"Oh..." Soft but relishing in that stretch as his body yielded, the faint edge of pain that somehow only magnified the pleasure. Another rock of his hips and he slowly impaled himself inch by glorious inch until he was seated quite fully on him, ass flush to the other man's hips.

"Then give me a song, Valerie..." As if he weren't already ready to cry out for him, a fact that became obvious as he rolled his hips once, experimentally. "Oh... fuck."

[aristopire]

"You fit so perfectly, Engel." He murmured that endearment fluidly, just as fluidly as when his hips started to roll, that too was the most primal of music. It was a sweet slow rhythem that was as timeless as the world around them; he throbbed and each pound of blood could be felt as he did not hold back. Neither of them were virgins, and he rather trusted that such things as waiting times could be dispensed with.

Which meant that it was easier for him to start that cycle.

Upwards, deeper-- rolling waves as he looked into those eyes, their shared gaze conveyed an intensity that he had not felt with anyone else-- he had been used to those who were coquettish, who liked to be told their value. This man though, Valerian had a feeling that this man knew exactly what his worth was and capitalized on it regularly. It was a very sexy trait to have, at least where Val was concerned.

He admired confidence above all else. Also the fact that in this Anton knew what he wanted and was not afraid to take it-- layered underneath a little bit of a brat, also exceedingly sexy in a world where most dare not be a brat to a Count's son.

"Anyone could walk in on us..." he dropped that tidbit softly, a curve of a smirk.