: 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.

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[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.