: 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]

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.

[irrecoverable]

Anton let his head fall back at the first roll of Valegny's hips, a soft and trembling cry that rang out like the held note of a rising song. Oh he would sign for Valegny indeed, seeing no reason to censor himself or try to disguise the pleasure that he was taking from -- and being so generously given by -- the other man. No it was not his first time, but he was not used to being so swiftly swept up by someone, so utterly infatuated.

He fell into a rhythm with a fluid, regular grace, like this was some choreographed routine in a ballet, the rise and fall of his body against Val's, up and nearly off his length entirely before he drove himself down to impale himself again and again.

A soft breathy laugh at that caution -- or was it a challenge? "And wouldn't they be jealous, to see who has the guest of honor's full attention. I'm willing to let them watch, darling. But I'm not good at sharing."

[aristopire]

That should have been a lowkey warning sign that they were going to be passionate and volatile with each other, but honestly he rather thought the warning signs were a bit attractive all told, the thought that Anton did not like to share? Well another thing that he enjoyed, ambition and drive and it appeared that the other man had it in abundance.

He decided to reach up, to card his fingers through hair and lightly grip as Anton rode him-- drinking in the sinew of muscles just underneath the surface, from a man who clearly enjoyed dancing-- lithe in the most pleasing ways too. He leaned upward to press a biting kiss to collarbone. "I will keep that in mind that you do not enjoy sharing."

"You are so tight.." he whispered in his accented voice, thrusting upward to meet the other man in perfect pitch. "I think that I would be the envied one, as you are clearly a very tempting prize that I've won this night." there Val went, feeding that ego.

[irrecoverable]

They were, the both of them, made almost entirely of red flags. But the crimsons and vermilions coordinated beautifully together, a tapestry of bad ideas that was breathtakingly beautiful, a work of art. And Anton Stiendl was entirely weak to art and beauty in all its forms.

He leaned his head into the pressure of those fingers in his hair, luxuriating in touch, in every way that Valegny was touching him. He rode him with a rising desperation. He'd come once at the urging of that wicked mouth, but his arousal was a persistent ache, oversensitive but still so emphatically needing. He set a hand against Val's chest to steady himself as he fucked himself harder on that cock.

"I am so full of you. God... I can feel all of you." And it was driving him more than a little mad. "I suppose you have won me tonight. Congratulations."

[aristopire]

If there was anything that Valegny wanted to make sure, it was that he fucked this man thoroughly as he deserved; though he was not oblivious to the fact that he had won Anton for tonight. It appeared that an unspoken challenge had been cast out midfuck in which case the other man was going to make sure that he earned every inch of favor that Valegny desired.

That was fine, Valerian could woo a man properly; he was not without his charms as well as a focus when he had his sights on set on something. He was an ambitious sort, and that would perhaps work in the beautiful musician's favor. "Good, I want you to remember this Engel." and perhaps if Anton saw Valegny in one of the boxes at the Opera House?

Well he wanted the other man to remember how much he'd made him ache deep inside his hole. "I am quite the fortunate one, indeed."

[irrecoverable]

Oh there were challenges flying, two men dancing around the same truth that both of them wanted this to be more than tonight, more than a one time tryst. And with each movement their bodies made together, it only became a deeper want for Anton. Too many men relied on a big cock being all they needed to bring to the table. And Anton was fully enjoying the fact that Valegny, while bringing a very impressive tool, knew what he was doing with it too.

He managed a breathless laugh at those words. "I do not think that you are the sort to be easily forgotten. I think you leave scars."

Anton let out another moan, wanton, shameless even in voicing his enjoyment as he rose and fell in his lover's lap.

[aristopire]

It was an fine art, the art of seduction and it was true that Valegny knew what to do with it-- he was just confident enough in his skills, he had to be after all. Perhaps he felt like he had an obligation to make himself interesting and fascinating enough-- and he absolutely wanted to fascinate this man. His palms dug into hips and then he was pressing himself upward slow and steady though Anton's own eagerness was fueling the fire and flames.

"Do you think so? Will you demand that I kiss those scars better?" he inquired mid-fuck, quite able to hold a conversation why he did so-- he was not a man of grunts and groans, there was an almost sharpened note to his voice, the elegance of his words managing to meld in with the pure and unfiltered carnality.

[irrecoverable]

"I will, yes... I'll demand your lips many places, I expect." At least he was self-aware enough about the avarice of his nature. Perhaps that was one small thing in his favor? But he was oh so fascinated by Valegny already, by the way that they traded words even as their bodies spoke in their own language, a deep and in depth conversation that stirred the burning need in him.

"But I'll leave scars of my own," he warned softly -- or was it a promise? Perhaps a bit of both in equal measure.

A soft murmur that turned wordless as he rolled his hips in a perfect way that brought Valegny's cock striking against that spot inside him again and again. "You'll fill me up, won't you, darling? I want to leave here knowing I'm overflowing with your seed, that I've taken all you have to give me." He was, after all, a greedy thing.

[aristopire]

Oh, Valegny knew that he had much more to give the other man but he kept that quiet and to himself, instead he arched up with renewed vigor, making himself the waves that Anton was tossed upon; his hands gripped into hips with nails biting in sharply. After all he was a biting sharp-edged thing and he did not know what the term 'gentle' was. He leaned up and his mouth opened against neck, and he bit but not in the way that eventually he would-- no, this was the scrape of teeth and skin against them.

And then he felt his entire body run rampant, that insistant plunge while he looked up into that smugly perfect face.

"I will, but only after I drag you down with me." he said as one hand moved from hips to curl into hair and then he tugged lightly, that too was not gentle-- but rather highly volatile movement that denoted that he was going to tear the other man asunder. "You are beautiful enough to be worshipped as an angel but I want to desecrate you nevertheless."

[irrecoverable]

Gentle was an overly romanticized thing. Anton was a creature of passion, of fire and edges just as sharp as this intriguing nobleman who was so expertly taking him apart. He wanted everything that Valegny could give him, wanted to ache in the wake of him. His voice left him in another moan like the first note of a song as those teeth scraped at his neck.

A breathless sound as he found his hair pulled, head falling back with the pressure. his eyes fluttered on that beautiful sacrilege.

"Good... ruin me, darling. Stain my wings and ruin my feathers so I can't fly away from you..." Angels were better left to the choirs of heavens, and he had a taste for more than hymns.

[aristopire]

Intensity burned within Valegny's eyes as he looked up at the way that Anton preened with each touch, with each thrust upward into him. But it was not enough was it, it was not enough to make this entrancing man burn for him. Especially with his whispered secret desire which hit the nobleman right in the plexus, and therefore his hands came down to hold those hips and then he was moving Anton off of him.

It all happened so quickly, but there was a decided shift between the both of them, but if Valegny had anything to do with it, it would end with Anton on his hands and knees, and Val right behind him; the clash of hips to back of thighs and then himself guiding right back to Anton's precome slicked hole.

One hand coming up underneath to find a rosy and near weeping cock while he leaned over Anton, whispering against that earlobe. "You are the most beautiful man I have ever met, and I have met so many." And then he bit at that ear as he started to pump into that tight slick shealth, his hand moving in decadent time while he made sure to hit that spot with every passthrough.

Already he was formulating a plan to make this man addicted to him, to be a drug he craved; not realizing that he would he caught just as surely.

[irrecoverable]

It was quick enough -- and Anton was so distracted and swept up in everything about this young noble he'd found himself so intrigued by -- that Anton was on his hands and knees before he realized what had happened. He only half started to whine about the sudden feeling of emptiness before he found himself filled once again. His voice rose in a sharp cry, fingers clawing at the ground beneath him.

His back arched sharply, up against the man behind him, above him. "Oh... oh god..." except he had no desire to pray to any deity except the man fucking him, clearly something divine and perhaps a bit infernal about Valegny.

"I can't... I'm... you are..." Addicted? Too mild a word. This first soaring ecstasy that he had brought Anton to and then let him fall straight into this pleasure. That heated, flushed cock spilled over Valegny's fingers, making quite the mess of himself and the floor beneath them. His hole clamped tightly around the prick inside him, refusing to let him go before the other man filled him, until he'd milked every last drop of come from him.

[aristopire]

Perhaps he had known that the other man was close but the feeling of come against his fingers, the way it dripped and dribbled over the rug in the music room floor. He would have a proper cleaning of it as soon as possible; but for right now the exultation of Anton's trembling body underneath him, the way that it felt and the grasping tightening of hole around his cock.

He was good for a few more thrusts, he knew this-- striking it again and again, knowing that the feeling after orgasm would be something akin to sharpened glass, but which would season the afterquakes of orgasm even more potently, another one and then another one, and then he came hard and fast as the entire world exploded around his body, his own body pressed against Anton's back, thumping threading heart that it was.

He had to catch his breath, even as he buried his face in the back of that neck to nibble and nip.

Valegny could taste sweat there, dragging his tongue against it to enjoy the taste of this man who had captured his attention just like so, and then he pulled himself to a position back on his knees, though he also pulled Anton's limp body against his own, his hand wandering that abdomen and those thighs as if enjoying the touch that he was given, the very clearly masculine angles and the feeling of heavy panting breath as they both had fucked each other into a clear state of exertion.

Idly he thought of covering Anton in rubies and diamonds.

[irrecoverable]

Anton was left a whimpering mess, trembling near violently as Valegny continued thrusting inside him, every nerve in his body rubbed raw with the intensity of his orgasm, that still had him rolling in the aftershocks of that pleasure. His vision had gone near pure white, a field of diamond-bright stars that made it impossible to see, only to feel.

Slowly he came back to himself, the firelit room filtering back into his vision. Another low sound as he was pulled back to rest against Valegny, leaning back into him head lolling back to rest against his shoulder. He could feel the other man's chest at his back, both their skin damp with sweat, both their hearts beating in that quickened tempo.

He turned his head just enough to press a kiss against that sharpened glass jawline. One hand drifted up along Val's arm, up to bury in those absurd chameleon curls. "Mm... you are a formidable thing, my Valerie."

[aristopire]

Those multi-hued curls that were now plastered quite inelegantly against his jaw and cheek? He chuckled softly and that too could be felt against the paleness of a neck, running his finger up and down the abdomen, at the barest hint of a line therein, then his palm pressed flat. "Thank you for the birthday gift, Mein Engel." he would continue to call the man that, it felt rather blasphemous to do so.

"Now, either we can get cleaned up and go back to the party or I can take you home in my carriage. Either way, I have the pleasure of your company, yes?"

Either way, he felt that he would have the winning hand there; a choice. Or Anton could play coy, it just depended on how Anton wanted to play this hand that Valegny had dealt him. There was a wash basin, and he could let the staff know that the music room required a staunch cleaning before his mother went into play the pianoforte tomorrow.

[irrecoverable]

Anton shivered, a pleasant little thrill running through him at the way Valegny's touch continued over his body. He could get used to being this man's angel, and perhaps only his, since Val clearly understood that the sort of angel he was had nothing terribly heavenly about him, beyond his looks and his voice.

He considered those options, and for a moment he considered being difficult. That was his nature, more cat than man sometimes. But oh there was something about this man, something about Valegny that made even the contrary musician want to curl up in his lap and purr and rub against him until he was lavished in all his attention.

"I've had my fill of parties, and I can't imagine I'd be very polite to anyone who thought they could steal your attention from me tonight. I'd hate to have to cause a scene." No he wouldn't. He loved scenes. He was so good at scenes. He was very talented at them.

"Take me home?"

[aristopire]

Oh yes, Anton would hate to cause a scene- for some reason? Valegny quite doubted that, though he managed only a brief smirk, he would have liked to have seen that, the altercation that would've occurred, but honestly there was always next time. And there would be a next time, Valegny would see to it.

And he would not bother notifying anyone at the party, it had run its course and he was done with it.

By now, it was his father's show and there would be drinking and gambling, all sorts of carousing; he would be barely missed because once his parents were drunk, they rather forgot they even had a son, but well it was convenient since he forgot about them a great deal of the time.

Very carefully, Valegny lifted the other man up off his lap and then he was moving to the wash basin to grab a cloth and then after wetting it, he came to kneel back next to Anton and started to run it up those inner thighs-- pressing a full-bodied kiss to the other man's mouth in the process. "Your wish is my command."

[irrecoverable]

Clearly Valegny saw the truth of him, the fiery little drama queen that he was. And eventually there would be scenes, without a doubt, would be possessive fits and withering glances at those who thought they could possibly be worthy of his Valerie's attention and time. Somewhere not so deep down Anton already realized this, that this was meant to be something more than one particularly delicious night. The addiction was already beginning to settle in as Valegny coursed through his veins stronger than any drug.

God he'd be craving him forever, wouldn't he?

Anton shifted back as Val moved, settling back on the carpet and watching. He half purred as the other man started tending to him, washing away some of the stickier signs of their tryst. He leaned close to meet that kiss, smiling against Valegny's lips. "I like the sound of that..." He liked giving commands. "Then take me home, my Lord. And join me in my bed until the morning. The night is cold, and you can help me ward off the chill."

[aristopire]

It was true, Prague was particular cold in the winters due to it's proximity to the more eastern provinces of Russia; it was of course why there as such an influx of russian nobility, it was also evident in architecture and certain customs, while still maintaining much influence of germany and austria. The cold though likely did not get any easier, so he could understand Anton's need for warmth.

Which he would gladly offer.

It would be impossible to quit each other, that is if they truly desired to and that really did not seem to be the case, though games would likely be played that would dance into ego, more often then not. That was fine though, for Anton was already coursing through his bloodstream like fire.

He offered a hand to help Anton up then, afterwards he was buttoning up his trousers and reaching for his shirt to haphazardly tuck it in. It did not need to be perfect, just acceptable. Then he stole out to wave down a servant, to have him bring out the coach, certainly quite the demand as the entire neighborhood was filled with them, but they were.. thankfully, parked so they would be on their way until the crush of leaving occurred. The mobcap redheaded house matron nodded her assent and then scurried off to do his bidding to which point he strode back in.

It was an easy thing to sweep Anton back into his arms, leaning in to kiss him once again.

There would be so many kisses against that sweet mouth, and at this moment he did not care to stop.