Brigit's Flame Week 2 - The First Glance
Title: The First Glance
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Sexual situations (M/M)
Word Count: 1862
Prompt: “That despairing feeling when the bus pulls away from the stop when you’re a street away.”
A/N: Written for week two of
brigits_flame. I was actually inspired by this week's chatter post about character vs. plot. (Thanks toxic_apiaceae!) I decided to crack out my favorite character from my BF stories, VICTOR! Yes, this is a continuation of "The Marking" and it takes place 18 months before we first met him. It's also more of a metaphorical interpretation of the prompt, reflecting on the sinking feeling of missed opportunities or bad choices that come and bite you in the rear end. If you haven't read "The Marking" and wish to do so before reading this, it is here
Victor stretched out across the feather mattress, the white satin sheets slipping against his sweaty, naked flesh. The heavy velvet drapes had been pulled shut over the tall windows to keep out both the sunlight and prying eyes, but the room was still sweltering. Victor kicked the thin covering off of himself.
“I can’t believe how much I needed that release.” He reached over and stroked a finger across the broad chest of his lover. “It had been too long.”
“I was in your bed last night,” Horst reminded him. The older man sat up, propping his solid frame against a pile of pillows. “Are you so uneasily satisfied?”
“You know I can never get enough of you, my love,” Victor said before pulling Horst near and kissing him deep and hard. Their mouths mashed together violently. Horst pulled away.
“Is it me you can‘t get enough of, or what we do together?” He stood up from the bed and walked to the blue upholstered chair he had draped his clothes over. He stepped into his breeches. “I do hear things you know. Secrets are hard to keep inside the wall, and people have been whispering about the number of pretty young things who have graced your bed so far this season.” He began the intricate process of buttoning his trousers.
Victor had the good sense not to blush, but he could feel his ears growing warm. He hated when people gossiped about what he did behind closed drapes. And he hated his lovers hearing the tales even more.
“Just diversions,” Victor murmured, coming up behind Horst and kissing his sinewy neck. “You are not always available when I need you, my love. And a man has his needs.” He reached down and swatted Horst’s hands away from his breeches, then undid all of his hard work. Victor slowly slid them down until they pooled around Horst’s bare feet. “Let us go back to bed. We still have time before we must dress for dinner, and there is a lot I can do to you between now and then.”
Horst turned his head to look into Victor’s clear blue eyes. He sighed, then walked out of his trousers towards the bed, his still damp body glistening in the low candle light. How could he resist the face of an angel, even if belonged to the devil himself?
*
The carriage was in desperate need of a cleaning. The trip seemed to be taking much too long for Victor’s liking, and every minute spent sitting in the sour smelling box-on-wheels darkened his mood even further. Someone had been talking about him to Horst, and he needed to find out who it was before the situation became irreparable.
It was true the affair had started off as a way for Victor to gain access to the kind of circles the older man ran in, but that had been years ago. It was not only flattering words when Victor called him “my love” now. There was a genuine affection that had only grown stronger in recent months. It was unlike anything he had ever known before, and it both titillated and terrified him.
But even the deepest of feelings could not stop him from sharing his bed with a variety of “pretty young things,” as Horst had called them. It was who he was. Common whores, ladies of the court, farmers daughters (and sons); they all caught his eye in some way. And when it happened, he couldn’t help himself. They each held something special that needed to be sampled. And so he did.
“Where did your mind wander off to just now?” Armin asked, leaning against the door to the carriage, his long, thin legs crossed at the ankles.
“I was just thinking of how horrible this evening is poised to be. Mother is ensconced in some Parisian stronghold hundreds of miles away, and yet her reach is still vast enough to force this reception upon us.” Victor took out his pocket watch and checked the time. The minute hand had barely moved, but it seemed as if they’d been traveling for hours. He snapped the lid shut. “I would rather dine at the docks than with Baron von Firmian and his virginal daughter. At least the conversation would be more stimulating.”
Armin chuckled. “Ever the optimist, little brother. We can’t know how the evening will end up before it has even started. And it’s not like we have any choice in the matter. The Baron is an old friend of Mother’s. It would be impolite and improper not to attend in her absence. I’m sure there will be enough wine and low cut bodices to entice a better mood out of you.”
“Unless the petit fours are being served by topless chorus girls, I truly doubt anything will arouse a cheer in me this evening.”
The carriage pulled up in front of a large wrought iron gate surrounded by tall hedges. On either side stood men dressed in old-fashioned military regalia. The polished brass of their uniforms shone in the fading evening light. Victor sighed. The pomp had already begun, and they hadn’t even gotten past the gate.
The long drive was lined with strategically placed torches that flickered and flashed in the warm summer breeze. Their carriage slowed to a crawl to accommodate the dozens of other horse-drawn coaches that stood in a line, waiting to pull up to the magnificent house that stretched out in front of them. It seemed as if all of Viennese society had arrived to pay tribute to the Baron and his daughter.
The estate was larger than Victor could have imagined. It appeared to go on for miles. As the second son of a minor Lord, he’d seen wealth in his time, but nothing like this. Tales of the Baron’s vast shipping empire had made their way around Vienna for years, but considering the fact no one had laid eyes on him for over two decades, they were usually dismissed as rumors or mere conjecture. But not anymore.
“I can see why Mother was adamant we attend tonight.” Armin said, looking out the window at the spectacle before him. “The Baron seems to be the type of man who would make a much better friend than enemy.”
“Mother collects friends like she does hats; she only keeps the ones that make her look better. I should have expected something like this when we received her correspondence. Who knew those rumors would turn out to be true?” Victor pondered.
“I think you of all people would be aware of the validity of a rumor,” his brother replied.
Victor tried not to get caught up in Armin’s little games, but the comment cut too close to the bone. He dropped his walking stick onto the floor, causing the handle to bounce off his brother’s outstretched shins.
“Ow,” Armin shouted.
Victor shrugged. “It slipped.”
By the time their carriage finally stopped, the night sky had grown dark, and Victor had grown even more disagreeable than he was when they’d started off. The footman knocked on the door before opening it. Armin was the first to alight. Victor slowly followed. The gray, stone building was even grander up close. The intricate detailing and craftsmanship spoke to the level of wealth of its owner. Victor could hear the other guests whispering to each other as they climbed the tall steps.
The wooden doors were so heavy they needed two servants each just to stay open. It looked as it every member of the Baron’s retinue was clothed in the finest wools and silks money could buy. No expense had been spared, it seemed.
“Are you ready, little brother?” Armin asked before they stepped over the threshold.
“Do I have a choice?”
They were introduced, then led down a long hallway towards the ballroom. The walls on either side were decorated with gilded paintings that depicted everything from cherubs, to religious tableaus, to what Victor assumed were family portraits. There was no other reason to have the likenesses of such misshapen people on display.
Victor and his brother were deposited at the end of a receiving line that appeared to stretch along the entire wall of the ballroom. There must have been two hundred people already there to lie at the feet of the Baron. Victor tried to get a view of their honored host and his daughter, but the throng of people was too thick.
They eventually made their way to the front of the line. Victor had heard stories of Katia von Firmian, but he had never fully believed them. Unfortunately, these rumors also turned out to be true. Her blonde hair was piled up on top of her head in an attempt to be stylish, but the threads were so wispy around her face that she looked like an elderly lion who had been put out to pasture. She was dressed in a white damask gown embellished by thousands of tiny crystals and pearls. On any other woman it would have been spectacular, but it made Katia look like a sack of flour.
Her watery brown eyes seemed to blink without stopping, until she glanced at Victor’s face. For a second she seemed transfixed, before she blushed a deep scarlet, and glanced away. Victor could feel his heart dropping to his knees. He had seen that look on many women before, and knew exactly what it meant. If only he had stayed at home in bed with Horst like he had wanted.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Baron,” Armin said, before extending a hand to their host. “Mother has spoken of your love for Vienna often, yet I never expected we would have you back from the Netherlands so soon.”
“Twenty years away is not so short, young man,” the Baron replied. He was a stout man, with a gruff face and a head as bald and red as a tomato. “I am quite disappointed that your mother was unable to attend tonight, but I understand it is difficult for her to travel these days. But at least you two were able to come.” He took a step to the side and placed his hand on Katia’s waist. “May I introduce my daughter, Katia.”
Armin and Victor both bowed and took her hand. When Victor touched her, he felt as if something was crawling under his skin. He shivered. Not wanting to appear rude, he held on far longer than he could endure. If it had been any other woman, he would have thrown her hand down, then fled as fast as he could.
“It’s an honor to meet you, my Lady,” he said.
“The pleasure is all mine,” she wheezed, her slash of a mouth turning up into what almost passed for a smile. Her grasp squeezed around Victor’s hand until it became so tight he had to wrench it free. The brothers bowed once more before making their way into the waiting crowd. Looking back, Victor could see Katia staring at him, her beady eyes never wavering. He shivered again.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Sexual situations (M/M)
Word Count: 1862
Prompt: “That despairing feeling when the bus pulls away from the stop when you’re a street away.”
A/N: Written for week two of
brigits_flame. I was actually inspired by this week's chatter post about character vs. plot. (Thanks toxic_apiaceae!) I decided to crack out my favorite character from my BF stories, VICTOR! Yes, this is a continuation of "The Marking" and it takes place 18 months before we first met him. It's also more of a metaphorical interpretation of the prompt, reflecting on the sinking feeling of missed opportunities or bad choices that come and bite you in the rear end. If you haven't read "The Marking" and wish to do so before reading this, it is here
Victor stretched out across the feather mattress, the white satin sheets slipping against his sweaty, naked flesh. The heavy velvet drapes had been pulled shut over the tall windows to keep out both the sunlight and prying eyes, but the room was still sweltering. Victor kicked the thin covering off of himself.
“I can’t believe how much I needed that release.” He reached over and stroked a finger across the broad chest of his lover. “It had been too long.”
“I was in your bed last night,” Horst reminded him. The older man sat up, propping his solid frame against a pile of pillows. “Are you so uneasily satisfied?”
“You know I can never get enough of you, my love,” Victor said before pulling Horst near and kissing him deep and hard. Their mouths mashed together violently. Horst pulled away.
“Is it me you can‘t get enough of, or what we do together?” He stood up from the bed and walked to the blue upholstered chair he had draped his clothes over. He stepped into his breeches. “I do hear things you know. Secrets are hard to keep inside the wall, and people have been whispering about the number of pretty young things who have graced your bed so far this season.” He began the intricate process of buttoning his trousers.
Victor had the good sense not to blush, but he could feel his ears growing warm. He hated when people gossiped about what he did behind closed drapes. And he hated his lovers hearing the tales even more.
“Just diversions,” Victor murmured, coming up behind Horst and kissing his sinewy neck. “You are not always available when I need you, my love. And a man has his needs.” He reached down and swatted Horst’s hands away from his breeches, then undid all of his hard work. Victor slowly slid them down until they pooled around Horst’s bare feet. “Let us go back to bed. We still have time before we must dress for dinner, and there is a lot I can do to you between now and then.”
Horst turned his head to look into Victor’s clear blue eyes. He sighed, then walked out of his trousers towards the bed, his still damp body glistening in the low candle light. How could he resist the face of an angel, even if belonged to the devil himself?
*
The carriage was in desperate need of a cleaning. The trip seemed to be taking much too long for Victor’s liking, and every minute spent sitting in the sour smelling box-on-wheels darkened his mood even further. Someone had been talking about him to Horst, and he needed to find out who it was before the situation became irreparable.
It was true the affair had started off as a way for Victor to gain access to the kind of circles the older man ran in, but that had been years ago. It was not only flattering words when Victor called him “my love” now. There was a genuine affection that had only grown stronger in recent months. It was unlike anything he had ever known before, and it both titillated and terrified him.
But even the deepest of feelings could not stop him from sharing his bed with a variety of “pretty young things,” as Horst had called them. It was who he was. Common whores, ladies of the court, farmers daughters (and sons); they all caught his eye in some way. And when it happened, he couldn’t help himself. They each held something special that needed to be sampled. And so he did.
“Where did your mind wander off to just now?” Armin asked, leaning against the door to the carriage, his long, thin legs crossed at the ankles.
“I was just thinking of how horrible this evening is poised to be. Mother is ensconced in some Parisian stronghold hundreds of miles away, and yet her reach is still vast enough to force this reception upon us.” Victor took out his pocket watch and checked the time. The minute hand had barely moved, but it seemed as if they’d been traveling for hours. He snapped the lid shut. “I would rather dine at the docks than with Baron von Firmian and his virginal daughter. At least the conversation would be more stimulating.”
Armin chuckled. “Ever the optimist, little brother. We can’t know how the evening will end up before it has even started. And it’s not like we have any choice in the matter. The Baron is an old friend of Mother’s. It would be impolite and improper not to attend in her absence. I’m sure there will be enough wine and low cut bodices to entice a better mood out of you.”
“Unless the petit fours are being served by topless chorus girls, I truly doubt anything will arouse a cheer in me this evening.”
The carriage pulled up in front of a large wrought iron gate surrounded by tall hedges. On either side stood men dressed in old-fashioned military regalia. The polished brass of their uniforms shone in the fading evening light. Victor sighed. The pomp had already begun, and they hadn’t even gotten past the gate.
The long drive was lined with strategically placed torches that flickered and flashed in the warm summer breeze. Their carriage slowed to a crawl to accommodate the dozens of other horse-drawn coaches that stood in a line, waiting to pull up to the magnificent house that stretched out in front of them. It seemed as if all of Viennese society had arrived to pay tribute to the Baron and his daughter.
The estate was larger than Victor could have imagined. It appeared to go on for miles. As the second son of a minor Lord, he’d seen wealth in his time, but nothing like this. Tales of the Baron’s vast shipping empire had made their way around Vienna for years, but considering the fact no one had laid eyes on him for over two decades, they were usually dismissed as rumors or mere conjecture. But not anymore.
“I can see why Mother was adamant we attend tonight.” Armin said, looking out the window at the spectacle before him. “The Baron seems to be the type of man who would make a much better friend than enemy.”
“Mother collects friends like she does hats; she only keeps the ones that make her look better. I should have expected something like this when we received her correspondence. Who knew those rumors would turn out to be true?” Victor pondered.
“I think you of all people would be aware of the validity of a rumor,” his brother replied.
Victor tried not to get caught up in Armin’s little games, but the comment cut too close to the bone. He dropped his walking stick onto the floor, causing the handle to bounce off his brother’s outstretched shins.
“Ow,” Armin shouted.
Victor shrugged. “It slipped.”
By the time their carriage finally stopped, the night sky had grown dark, and Victor had grown even more disagreeable than he was when they’d started off. The footman knocked on the door before opening it. Armin was the first to alight. Victor slowly followed. The gray, stone building was even grander up close. The intricate detailing and craftsmanship spoke to the level of wealth of its owner. Victor could hear the other guests whispering to each other as they climbed the tall steps.
The wooden doors were so heavy they needed two servants each just to stay open. It looked as it every member of the Baron’s retinue was clothed in the finest wools and silks money could buy. No expense had been spared, it seemed.
“Are you ready, little brother?” Armin asked before they stepped over the threshold.
“Do I have a choice?”
They were introduced, then led down a long hallway towards the ballroom. The walls on either side were decorated with gilded paintings that depicted everything from cherubs, to religious tableaus, to what Victor assumed were family portraits. There was no other reason to have the likenesses of such misshapen people on display.
Victor and his brother were deposited at the end of a receiving line that appeared to stretch along the entire wall of the ballroom. There must have been two hundred people already there to lie at the feet of the Baron. Victor tried to get a view of their honored host and his daughter, but the throng of people was too thick.
They eventually made their way to the front of the line. Victor had heard stories of Katia von Firmian, but he had never fully believed them. Unfortunately, these rumors also turned out to be true. Her blonde hair was piled up on top of her head in an attempt to be stylish, but the threads were so wispy around her face that she looked like an elderly lion who had been put out to pasture. She was dressed in a white damask gown embellished by thousands of tiny crystals and pearls. On any other woman it would have been spectacular, but it made Katia look like a sack of flour.
Her watery brown eyes seemed to blink without stopping, until she glanced at Victor’s face. For a second she seemed transfixed, before she blushed a deep scarlet, and glanced away. Victor could feel his heart dropping to his knees. He had seen that look on many women before, and knew exactly what it meant. If only he had stayed at home in bed with Horst like he had wanted.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Baron,” Armin said, before extending a hand to their host. “Mother has spoken of your love for Vienna often, yet I never expected we would have you back from the Netherlands so soon.”
“Twenty years away is not so short, young man,” the Baron replied. He was a stout man, with a gruff face and a head as bald and red as a tomato. “I am quite disappointed that your mother was unable to attend tonight, but I understand it is difficult for her to travel these days. But at least you two were able to come.” He took a step to the side and placed his hand on Katia’s waist. “May I introduce my daughter, Katia.”
Armin and Victor both bowed and took her hand. When Victor touched her, he felt as if something was crawling under his skin. He shivered. Not wanting to appear rude, he held on far longer than he could endure. If it had been any other woman, he would have thrown her hand down, then fled as fast as he could.
“It’s an honor to meet you, my Lady,” he said.
“The pleasure is all mine,” she wheezed, her slash of a mouth turning up into what almost passed for a smile. Her grasp squeezed around Victor’s hand until it became so tight he had to wrench it free. The brothers bowed once more before making their way into the waiting crowd. Looking back, Victor could see Katia staring at him, her beady eyes never wavering. He shivered again.