RP: In Maschera

[snobappeal]

Date: 22 July 2001
Characters: Terrence, Theo
Status: Private
Summary: Is it still a date if you don't go together?
Completion: Complete

Comments

[snobappeal]

Terrence had started to become quite anxious, trying very hard not to fidget or anything -- some small amount of excited wriggling could be chalked up to his being the wide-eyed ingenue who was permitted to be there by the generosity of his mentor, but he didn't want to overdo it. Besides, if he was too obviously eager, then the game wouldn't be quite as fun, as it really wouldn't be a seduction at all, would it?

Of course, what he was saying and what he was doing were two different things, as he was perched on the edge of his seat, teeth sinking into his lip and fingers fiddling with his gloves as he peered out from under the brim of the unfamiliar hat atop his head, eyes flicking from side to side as a caged animal's would. Arthur, however, seemed quite amused by this, and he patted Terrence's arm with a there, there, old chap, it will start soon enough before settling back in his seat with an indulgent head-shake.

Terrence scooted his chair as close to the front of the box as possible, bringing his opera glasses to his face under the pretense of studying the orchestra when in fact he had his eyes trained mostly on the box next to theirs. He was focussing so intently, in fact, that he almost jumped when the curtains moved and the familiar elegant figure appeared silent as a shadow; he lowered the glasses hurriedly, hands fisting tight in his lap as he felt arousal pool in the pit of his stomach. Theo looked positively good enough to eat, perfectly at ease in the same sort of attire that made Terrence feel constricted, the hat a perfect jaunty tilt on his head and white-gloved fingers curved easily about the cane and long arched neck draped artfully with black silk and...

He cleared his throat, shifting a bit in his seat. It wouldn't do for just the sight of Theo to have him this turned on already, even though that was the case because really with Theo dressed like that you'd have to be dead not to get a hardon and he dared say even some dead beings might push that envelope. But this was supposed to be strangers and seduction and...whatever came after that -- he wasn't quite sure what that would be in this circumstance but he was fairly sure it wouldn't involve being fucked up against a wall in plain view of everyone even if the thought of that made him even harder.

Right. Not thinking about that. Um.

He took a deep breath and let it out again, trying to focus on the other aspects of his character. Young, yes, but not that young -- he's seen operas before though not from a position of such status. A lover of the arts, for certain, so he's actually interested in the show and is not just here to see and be seen, but of course it's perfectly understandable that he would be a bit overwhelmed. Determined to be on his best behaviour, trying to remember everything he's learned from his book of etiquette (that, Terrence remembered all too well), and while a few moments of forgetting himself would be excusable, any more would amount to failure in his eyes.

Thusly reined in, he leaned forward again, resting one arm on the railing and bringing the glasses to his eyes again, and this time to actually look at the orchestra.

[nottanaddict]

Theodore never had to try very hard to slip into the rôle of jaded and seductive toff. Tonight was proving to be more of the same. As the show began, Theo forced himself to pay proper attention, lorgnette held almost negligently before his eyes as he gazed at the stage. Admittedly the music was beautiful, and admittedly the production design was handsome, but it was hardly his first visit to the opera, and hardly so grand that it impressed.

A few minutes in, Theo realised that he was to have the box entirely to himself at least until first entr'acte. The ushers would no longer permit seating, he imagined, and that left him to his own devices. People watching would perhaps be interesting what with the paucity of other entertainments currently available, but if there were to be no companions in his box...

Lounging indolently in his velvet seat, Theo shifted until he could see the row of boxes stretching to his left around the side of the opera house. And then, quite without looking, he saw him. He sat in the next box over looking quite utterly squirmy and adorable and as though he might at any moment capitulate to gravity and plummet from his perch. Smiling softly, he watched him watch the show, drinking in every detail with admiring eyes. As little interest as the show itself held for him, the prospect of staring at such a gorgeous creature without interruption for the next hour most certainly appealed. Settling in comfortably, he waited for him to notice his fixed, hungry gaze.

[snobappeal]

The first pizzicato notes of the overture had managed to distract Terrence sufficiently to where he had mostly stopped fidgeting and embraced his character. He actually hadn't ever seen an opera from a box before, and his knowledge of the opera was mostly limited to the performances he'd managed to catch between jobs and days with his more athletically inclined friends who would rather die than be forced to attend a cultural event of any sort. Music wasn't something his family had ever really encouraged beyond the basics required to make one an acceptable gentleman, but he'd taken to it, and it was...if not a passion, then a definite interest.

He had read the synopsis, and in fact the libretto, beforehand, and knew the story; he was...slightly concerned that it might hit a little bit too close to home, but the music was meant to be beautiful, and the design spectacular. This particular performance had been torn apart because the director had opted to set it as a modified performance, in Boston instead of the original Sweden. While this was not incorrect, since the original performances of it had been set in Boston to appease the censors, Verdi's original vision had been Sweden, and the more traditionalist of the bunch apparently found this choice distasteful. Which Terrence supposed he could understand -- it was Boston, after all, and the Yanks were hardly the pinnacles of beauty such that opera would command. Plus, you know, colonials. And all that lovely tea.

Right.

Terrence turned his attention back to the goings on onstage. The starry-eyed expression on Gustave's face as he wandered around the stage daydreaming about his true love Amelia made Terrence grin in amusement and appreciation. The thing he had always enjoyed about opera was that it enhanced reality until it was closer to melodrama, everything exaggerated and overly dramatic, but the environment of it making it powerful rather than laughable. If someone overacted that much in theatre, they might get laughed off the stage, but with the chorus and the orchestra and the arias to balance it all out, it just created a grand spectacle. German opera was the pinnacle of that, though he'd never really been able to fall into German opera, finding it a bit too much to absorb. But Italian opera...

He was pulled from his thoughts as he felt the hairs on the back of his neck tingle. He'd always had a bit of a sixth sense for knowing when someone was looking at him; he'd learned to ignore it while playing Quidditch, but here, seated among the rich and powerful, dressed in clothing that suited him about as well as the environment (that is to say, not so well), he found it impossible to pretend away. He pulled his eyes away from the stage just as attention shifted to the bad guys, scanning the audience...and stopping for one breathless moment of surprise and self-consciousness as his gaze met one that was not watching the opera at all, but rather was watching Terrence watch.

A bright flush rose to his cheeks before he could stop it, and he dropped his eyes suddenly, looking away so as to not seem impertinent for staring, but also so the flash of embarrassed arousal in his eyes would not be visible. Nobody had ever looked at him that way before, as if he were a morsel of the finest stock to be...not devoured, but savoured thoroughly for a very long time, and the mere thought of it made him hard-pressed to sit still. Face burning, he turned his attention back to the stage, but he couldn't concentrate anymore no matter how hard he tried, the coil of heat through the pit of his belly making it very difficult to breathe. He chanced another furtive glance, and blushed hotter still as he realised those dark eyes hadn't moved a millimetre. Hyperaware of every little movement, the line of his body, the drape of his clothing, the set of his face, he made himself sit very still and very straight, eyes fixed on the stage even though he wasn't seeing it anymore and hands fisted in his lap so hard his fingers ached.

[nottanaddict]

Theo watched him steadily for the better part of an hour, his intense gaze never straying. At the end of the first act, the house lights came up and the intermission began, signalling the first polite opportunity to make conversation. Theo waited patiently as a snake for him to meet his eyes, then gave a drowsy half-smile and rose gracefully to his feet. Gathering his cane in one hand and lightly touching his hat with the other as he inclined his head, he turned and slipped out the back of the box without a word.

If the gorgeous creature desired to meet him, then he'd find him in the hallway. If he didn't... well, Theo'd have to come up with a plan B.

Then again, given how he'd blushed and squirmed for a solid hour -- obviously keenly aware of his gaze the entire while -- he didn't think he'd need a plan B.

In the hall, the well-heeled operagoers were a genteelly raucous mob that throbbed and crushed around Theodore as he made his way to stand with his back against the wall opposite the curtains obscuring the gorgeous creature's box. And, just as he'd watched him during the first act, he watched now the spot where he imagined him to be if he could see through the opulent hangings, willing him to appear. And he waited.

[snobappeal]

If you'd asked Terrence what the first act was about, he might have been able to rattle off something that resembled a decent summary, and might even have been able to quote exact lines, but he would have blushed and refused to meet your eyes. Because the truth of the matter was that although he'd kept his eyes trained so intently on the stage, he hadn't actually seen most of the production, nor had he heard the music. His attention had been entirely consumed by the dark, heated gaze that seemed to see right through him, or at the very least through his clothing, leaving him feeling naked and raw and breathless from it. The music had been replaced by the steady lub-dub of his heart in his ears, and the actors moving around on the stage had done little save make for a more interesting and ever-changing blur as his eyes focussed and unfocussed and saw nothing except those eyes boring into his. And his boundless imagination, of course, filled in the rest, thinking about that little flash of pink tongue or the curve of lips or the curl of long, elegant fingers or the slender lithe body beneath all those layers of fine fabric or the haughty tilt of head as those eyes stared straight at him and dared him to...

He shook himself as the lights came up, having not even noticed the applause concluding the first act, and took a moment to (attempt to) compose himself, and a deep breath, before looking over at the next box.

Oh, he thought at the burst of pleasure exploding outward as bright eyes met dark and that perfectly chiseled mouth curved into a small, tempting smile; he looked hurriedly back at his hands twisting in his lap, and when he looked up again, it was to the sight of an empty box.

Keep breathing, Ter, he reminded himself, and then exhaled slowly as he unclenched his fingers and smoothed his hands over his thighs, willing them not to tremble quite so much. Some part of his brain was shocked at himself, at how thoroughly he'd been affected (and another part, deeper still, at how thoroughly he'd slipped into character), but most of his thoughts were consumed with curiosity about the owner of that stare and demeanour and...yes. Well. He could sit and wonder, or he could do what any good student and ingenue would do, and throw himself into the investigation in order to find out.

He mumbled something when Arthur commented on how engrossed he'd been in the opera, giving him a weak smile as he followed him out of the box. He wasn't sure what to expect, but it certainly wasn't to find that darkly intense gaze upon him the moment he parted the curtains. His blush flared up in full force, and he clenched his hands by his sides before relaxing them with another slow exhale. This wasn't that different from meeting any other stranger at any other event, he told himself, though believing it was another story entirely.

It helped though, and he even managed a genuine but properly polite smile, the sparkling of his eyes set off even more by the dark colour of his cheeks as he approached the gentleman a touch bashfully, taking in the beautifully elegant lines of his clothing, the easy grace with which he carried himself, the finely chiseled features and perfectly set mouth, and, of course, those utterly captivating eyes.

"Good evening," he said quietly, somehow managing to keep his voice even, and lifted a hand that actually didn't tremble to touch his hat as he inclined his head politely, before extending the opposite hand as he said, "Terrence Higgs. I couldn't help but notice..." You staring at me. "...that you've the box next to ours. How do you find the performance? Is it as...engrossing from your vantage point?"

[nottanaddict]

"How do you do, Mr Higgs?" Theo replied formally, taking his hand in a firm, confident grip and shaking it politely. "Theodore Nott. I cannot profess to have paid much attention to the opera, but the performance is fascinating. I do admit a decided curiosity about the enchantments the second act might offer."

Theo held his hand a few moments longer than necessary, then finally released it. His gaze never left Terrence's, and he smiled slightly at the way it made him squirm. The crowd jostled him most unpleasantly and made him wish to commit murder every few seconds. It was now or never, really.

"I fear we are interfering with the smooth flow of traffic, Mr Higgs. Should you have interest in continuing this, I suggest we find a more appropriate location, wot?"

[snobappeal]

How does my bedroom sound? thought Terrence, and then flushed even darker as he curled his fingers in on themselves, trying to memorise the feel of Mr Nott's hand in his. One would think either that he was a blushing maiden, or a total slut, or both (somehow), but the fact of the matter was that this didn't ever happen to him -- he was always in total control of his reactions, except the damnable blush, of course. Then again, it was perhaps that he was inherently shy, and most people of his acquaintance were too polite to provoke anything other than a vague curiosity that he would normally not be overly inclined to pursue. But Mr Nott was...the word intense kept coming to mind, but that didn't even seem to do it justice. He was passionate, was what, and while his body spoke of excellent breeding and comfortable grace, his soul burned in his eyes, and Terrence found himself entirely unable to look away, or to think about anything else.

After a few moments, he realised Mr Nott was awaiting a response, and he blushed darker still, ducking his head a bit. "I should be delighted if you would join me in my box," he said, hoping he didn't sound like the eager schoolboy he thought he did.

[nottanaddict]

"Thank you, Mr Higgs. I should be delighted." Theo smiled properly then, a quick, white flash of sharp, even teeth before his lips settled into an impassive line once more. "If you would lead the way, sir?"

Theo waited for Higgs to move, then followed him closely into the box, brushing against that beautifully compact body a bit more than could be considered strictly polite. He couldn't help it; he wanted to touch him everywhere, to feel the play of his muscles under his palms as he bent him over and-- A soft moan escaped him, almost lost in the ambient noise, and he extended one gloved hand to rest on Higgs' waist as he stepped around him to stand in the space between the rows of seats.

"May I?" he inquired, his voice barely audible and his eyes burning so hotly they stung.

[snobappeal]

Yes, please, thought Terrence intently, and then bit his lip hard to keep from saying that out loud. He was already moving into Mr Nott's touches, rather more familiar than anything he'd been used to but most definitely in a pleasant sort of way, even if it did make it damn near impossible for him to think.

Aware that he was simply breathing hard and not actually responding, again, he smiled sheepishly, looking up from beneath his lashes, and gestured to the seat he himself had occupied before. "Please," he said quietly. Etiquette books didn't really go into detail about visiting a gentleman in his box and the proper procedure for it and so on and so forth, except to indicate that one should relinquish one's seat to a gentleman of greater import and thus deserving of more respect, and Terrence in this case was very clearly outclassed. He hoped Mr Nott didn't think him rude or uncouth, and then he shivered a bit as he realised that what he really wanted to be doing just then was most decidedly both of those things and then some.

[nottanaddict]

"Thank you," Theo murmured, gracing Higgs with another little smile as he took the seat. "Please do join me, yeah?"

Theo gestured at the seat beside him, then put his cane out of the way so both hands were free. After a moment, he took it up again, needing something to do with his fingers. Watching Mr Higgs intently, his curled fingers slowly moved over the cane, sliding up and down its length as his other hand flexed against the knob.

"What were we discussing? I'm afraid it's... slipped my mind."

[snobappeal]

"We were talking?" Terrence blurted, and then blushed to the roots of his hair. He was convinced his hair must have turned red as well. There were definitely other parts of him that were red, he was certain of it, especially since Mr Nott had taken up his...cane...and was...

Terrence thought something that was very, very improper for a gentleman of his stature to ever utter, and even moreso in the presence of a gentleman of Mr Nott's stature, and then hastened to try and repair the damage.

"That is -- do forgive me -- I meant to say that we hadn't yet...entered into any sort of discussion as the actual conversation was er...precluded by the need to move. Though I...believe I had..."

Keep breathing, idiot. And no, crossing your legs won't help.

"...asked how you were enjoying the performance, and you were speculating on...the events of the second act?"

[nottanaddict]

"Ah," Theo replied, tilting his head to one side as he stared at Mr Higgs. "I do believe you're right, old bean. Well, then, shall I continue with my speculations?"

At the look on his face, Theo continued with a soft chuckle. His hands still caressed his cane relentlessly, the need to touch something utterly overwhelming. Something about this aroused him almost beyond bearing, and he wanted very badly to win Mr Higgs' regard so that he might persuade him to--

To what, Theodore? You're at the bleeding Royal Opera House. You can't just go shagging blokes in the khazi.

Theo's tongue wet his lips and he forced himself to draw a slow breath. Still, the moment he let himself look at That Face again, he was lost.

"I do apologise," Theo muttered at last, after he'd been unable to form a thought for long moments. His eyes locked on Mr Higgs' as he reached out and brushed his fingers over the back of Terrence's hand. "I'm afraid it's only that you're quite the most gorgeous man I've ever seen in my life. I can't seem to think clearly when you're so near me. Ought I to move a bit further away so we might continue our conversation?"

[snobappeal]

A moan formed in Terrence's throat, tangling with the objection of What? Me? and coming out as a hitched, strangled sound that hopefully didn't sound as much like dying to Mr Nott as it did to him.

He cleared his throat, tendons of his hand flexing beneath Mr Nott's fingers, and blinked once, heavily, such that it was a struggle to open his eyes again. The moment he did, though, they snapped straight back to Mr Nott's face, to his eyes, even the flash of pink tongue he'd seen a few moments prior nothing in comparison to that Look.

He closed his mouth, gritting his teeth for a moment and trying to keep himself from doing something highly improper and reprehensible, especially in a venue such as this, and then inhaled sharply, shivering. "I er...I...thank you. I...you're...too kind, really. I um. If you feel that it will...facilitate our interactions to be...then by all means."

He could have stopped there. He should have stopped there. But his lips kept moving, much to his chagrin.

"Although distance shan't help me be any less bewitched by your eyes."

[nottanaddict]

Theo's eyes widened at that; he was surprised in spite of himself. His fingers moved to wrap around Mr Higgs' wrist as his tongue flickered over his lips again.

"Then there's no point in my moving, is there?" he whispered, voice pitched just loud enough for Terrence's ears. He swallowed hard and shifted in his chair as though somehow he could get closer. "I would like it if you... if you would address me familiarly?"

His heart pounded so hard in his chest that his lungs felt bruised, as though somehow he'd lost the ability to breathe when his pulse had begun racing. Mr Higgs' eyes were deep enough and blue enough to fall through and drown in, and he wanted that suddenly. He wanted to be inside him, part of him, well and truly lost within him, and he could feel those eyes drawing him in inexorably.

"If you would... call me Theodore, please. As though we are friends."

[snobappeal]

Terrence bit his lip hard, his skin burning where Mr N-- Theodore touched; even though it was through two layers of fabric, even though it was a touch that was permitted to friend and even to stranger, it was so unlike anything he'd ever felt before in his life that all he could think was that he wanted more, wanted to know what those long, elegant fingers would feel like against his face, his chest, his back, wrapped around his--

"Theodore," he breathed, the word almost a supplication, and how appropriate was that. Theodore, a lover of god, and a god in his own right with his very own god-lover. "If...I should...it should make me very happy if you were to call me Terrence in return."

His lips curved nervously, shyness and amusement mixing with a bit of hope in the shift of his mouth. "As though we are friends."

His wrist flexed as though arching into Theodore's touch, and his other hand twitched of its own accord before moving from Terrence's thigh of its own accord to rest atop Theodore's.

[nottanaddict]

"Terrence," Theo said, testing the word on his tongue as though he'd never said it before.

He heard the vague sounds then of people returning to their seats and realised the intermission was very nearly over. There wasn't much time left... Theo tightened his fingers on Terrence's wrist as though he could hold onto him forever and keep him from slipping away.

"I should like very much if you would permit me to invite you out for drinks after the performance," he murmured, lowering his voice still more as though what he was saying was incredibly secret and improper. "It would... I daresay it would break my heart were I to leave the opera house tonight and never see your face again. I could get a r--"

Behind Terrence's shoulder an older gentleman appeared, and Theo cut himself off midsentence to smile up at him. He forced himself to release Terrence and rise to his feet to shake the man's hand.

"How do you do, sir? Theodore Nott. I do hope I've not taken your seat? I ought to be going, perhaps..."