Symphony....
The chiming bells sound within the office, rhythmic, sound put to motion. Bells are located in the piercing of his tongue, in the piercing of his navel, around his ankles -- slave bells, they are called in Arabia -- and around the flat of his belly, a belly chain of bells. Who needs the Symphony when Pharzuph is making music...
His hands are flat against your desk, and his legs are lifted. You're standing, he's spread out, splaying where work should take place.
This is what We Are...
This is what We Do...
The energy of the evening moves through him, the energy sent spiraling from your club and through you and him alike. And he remembers. He remembers doing this.
But now he remembers what it was like....
How beautiful he is. How wonderful. Perfection of legs lifted, spread. Perfection of body arched and in motion. Dual perfection of two cocks. Is Lust so bad? Is it so evil? To feel Love so deeply that you Have To Have It Now? Is it such a crime?
Pharzuph, the Genius of Fornication, moves beneath you, joining you in the rhythm that sustains him, purring your name as you do what You Do Best. One of his hands lifts from the surface of the desk, flicking against the chiming bells pierced at his navel then around the base of one of his lengths, stroking, as his other hand comes up, his arm surrounding your shoulders.
And holding on....
It's like falling into a dream. A pool of swirling moments and feelings, drawn up from the bottom of the deepest ocean. From depths unplumbed in so many Ages. They dance around, snippets of another existence. Of other people who look as we do, but cannot be.
Julian moves so slowly. His back shows the temperament of it, but his breathing reveals the passion. The black trousers he was wearing lies behind him, at his heels, and the green shirt he'd put on so gently as to not muss the fabric, now hangs at his arms, barely covering one of his shoulders.
No one would dare come into the office now. Etiquette demands that when Julian is with One, he's never to be disturbed. It is his time, his choice. And you are not invited. For if you were, you would know...
I did not think that, did I? I love you. There it is again. I love you...again...
The desk complains only slightly. The papers scrape and crinkle gently. Julian's breaths are quiet, but the rush of air behind his exhales is feverish. His cheek rests against its blonder, rosier twin, and despite the club's bursting seams, Julian Kane expects no interruptions.
I love you...
There is something reserved just for you. Something that even the Genius of Fornication does not share with anyone else. That is himself. And now, in his remembereing, he is able to give you the fullness of his vulnerability, the fullness of his desire, his affection and, yes, his love.
We are now as we have not Been in Ages...
He is roseate, golden, pink, bronze, Dawn, Beauty beneath you. Pink vinyl pants lying in a heap upon the floor, pink gauzy shirt lying in a puddle of fabric nearby. Pharzuph breathes your name. He breathes your name against your cheek, then your mouth, then your chin. Blonde ringlets bounce in the motion you create. His other arm surrounds your shoulders and he nips at your lips. Your Icarus. Your Pharzuph.
He remembers It All. Blending in Heaven, lying on golden pillows in a citadel he hasn't seen in Years and Years, loving you and what it means. Fucking you, and what that means. He understands it. He knows it all.
Pharzuph spreads his legs, his breaths moving rhythmic against your mouth and then he kisses you, Julian Kane. I love you, Ramariel. He arches, his mouth pulling at yours as he leans back. He sings softly, sweetly, deeply, his stomach undulating beautifully as his hips curl, toes curl, legs spread, lifting and he meets you.
Lying back, Pharzuph opens his eyes, he smiles, gold-bronze-brass-cinnamon eyes gleaming, he smiles, loving you. Eyes half-closing, face purring, he enjoys you, hips lifted to receive you.
"Julian!"
A voice screams, as clear as day. Above the muffled noises of pulsing beats.
Whoever they are, they're at the office door!
"Oh, bloody hell," comes the female voice, "...Julian! Okay, I'm sorry, but...but..."
A knock comes again, followed by several more beatings of the wood.
Roseate, platinum Gorgeousness turns his head against the table. Heart-shaped face and Cupid's mouth twists in radiate splendor, lips parting for a loud groan, endearments and demands, some of that in a twisting convoluted (and polluted) language only you and your closest friends (as if) can understand. Such a twisting and convoluted string of ecstatic syllables, rather like the flicking and serpentine curl of Pharzuph's pierced-and-belled tongue when he's swallowing your...
Legs in the air, Pharzuph spreads them lewdly, hips wiggling, circling him where he is impaled. The knocking on the door, the desperation on the other side of the door, only feeds his Delight. "Let her in," Pharzuph purrs, lifting to your mouth, "...and let her watch... or ... join in..."
Before you can pull out and away, Pharzuph wraps his legs around your waist, twines your shoulders with his arms and flicks his tongue, making the bells chime, at your lips in his sudden frenzy.
The shirt hangs off Julian's left shoulder, causing it to remain fitted taut at his right. An unfinished process that may remain so -- there were more things important.
"Wh--?" Julian whispers, his mouth at an ear. He's talking to himself, perhaps his mind answered the door more loudly than his mouth.
Not so the second time around.
"What?" Julian stops instantly, the yelling in his club something he cannot ignore. Something wrong.
Violet eyes narrow and focus. The haze, once filled with colors blonde and pink, clears up miraculously. "Huh?" Julian queries, looking down, then shakes his head. No, she won't be invited to join. Something's wrong.
Something's wrong.
"Pharzuph," Julian laments, lifting to half-standing instead of his bend over the table, "...what?" he simply yells at the door, now finding himself more tightly held.
"Jules!" Miranda yells, "...there's someone here. Someone says he wants to see...Peaches. I mean, he said...Pharzuph..." the last word not said so comfortably. It's not a word she's familiar with.
Pharzuph hears his name. That always stops him, remembering or no. It's like a conjuration. Speak his name, get his attention. His legs still twine around your waist, his fingers lightly press you. His hips are miraculously (and it would have taken a miracle) still. Who would be looking for me...
Who...
Would be looking for me...?
Golden eyebrows lift in a slight, inquiring sweep. "Our prince?" he whispers to you. He smiles a little. "It has been so long since we have seen him and remembered seeing him," he speaks of himself really, but who knows... it may have beena while since you've seen him, too.
Thighs slacking, Pharzuph twists, an arm going behind him, hand pressed to the surface of the desk to balance him. "Who did he say he was?" Peaches, Icarus, Pharzuph lifts his own voice. It has to be important, or she wouldn't have burst in.
But maybe it isn't Our Master. Maybe it isn't Our Prince.
Turning his head to you, Pharzuph gazes at you through a veil of golden curls as he waits to hear a name.
Julian's already in motion. He twists to bring his shirt up over his shoulders. Shaking his head, he retreats, pushing at the knees that hold him.
Time to stop.
"Come in, Miranda," Julian shouts, pulling at his pants to bring them up.
"I don't think...it's Him, Captain," Julian whispers, the concern evident. "Come on," he says softer, offering a hand.
The door immediately swings open, and Miranda pauses a second before walking into the room. Brown eyes glance to Pharzuph, and she twists to close the door behind her.
"Someone's here. A man...he's going to all the bars and...asking..." eyes to Pharzuph again, "...for you. We didn't know who he was talking about at first, then he described you," she bobs, words spilling, "...and then Jacky and Adrian went to pick him up..." to toss him out.
"...they're alright." Miranda finishes. Apparently whomever it was was more than the two coolers could handle. That'd be enough to set Jason, the Head Cooler, into defensive mode, where the owner would get called.
"He said he wouldn't leave until he saw you," Miranda explains to Pharzuph. "He's in the west office."
Pharzuph takes the offered hand, but his eyes are already bright -- and distant -- in his concentration. Leg lowering as you pull away, there is no sudden emptiness. For though one part of you is pulled from him, he receives your hand, doesn't he? And it is all the same. In Love, it is all the same.
"Okay!" Pharzuph says, sunnily. O! You see him put it on, such a charade! He tousles his curls, beams to you blithely, winks and bends to get his pink vinyl pants. They are tugged on and danced on, rear end wiggling into pinkness, and front end double-wiggling and with a hand stuffed into the vinyl. Button, zip and there we are!
He lays his head on Miranda's shoulder for a moment, gives her a kiss on the cheek and he wiggles his fingers back to Julian. Come with me! He even takes a moment to make the bells in his tongue chime as he stares at Julian like the clothing isn't there. "Maybe it's that man from D-and-G," Pharzuph purrs, acting now you know, playing The Ditz.
"I doubt it," Julian grumbles, moving to find his shoes now that his trousers are handled. "Describe him," Julian says, walking over to the office's sofa, slipping feet into the dress loafers. Sans socks.
"I don't know," Miranda says, putting an arm around Pharzuph, "...um, brown hair, surly, yeah. Tall, but then. Has a mustache..." she recalls. "In jeans," how tawdry, "...shirt."
He showers Miranda in warm affection, smiling then wrinkling his nose at the mustache. "Ew!" he coos. "I don't hang out with washed out porn stars," giggling he gives her a squeeze and a pat and continues, barefoot and barely clothed to the door.
And smelling of Julian's cologne...
The pink vinyl pants are cut dangerously low, allowing fingers to idly play with the chiming bells in his navel. He leans against the closed door, waiting for Julian. Turning his head against the wood, Pharzuph peers at him between golden ringlet curls. "Isn't he beautiful," he purrs out. Even though he's pretending to be the Colossal Ditz, he does mean that.
He goes roseate all over. "I hope this doesn't take long," he whines. But as he looks to you, Julian, his eyes are sharp. I wonder who this is. And I wonder what he wants.
His hand turns the knob and he waits for Julian to join him at the door...
"Thanks, Miranda," is all Julian can manage to say. He's buttoning his shirt as he passes the young woman, heading with hastened strides towards the door.
Miranda nods, not following. She'll pick up in this office while her employer and his...friend...visit another.
His special friend, isn't that what they call them? Very special, some folks say. Special ed.
Pharzuph smiles to Julian and turns the knob, falling back as opens the door and then he turns...
Out of Miranda's sight, you see a glimpse of the Captain. The Being who before the Fall lifted the heads of Falling comrades before they faded from view and Existence altogether.
But it is only a glimpse. He pulls the cloack of Vapidness over his shoulders, it will keep him safe and warm. You see him free one of his two cocks, letting it slip through the opening snaps while the other lies sleeping and coiled, tightly held by the pink vinyl.
For the journey to the western office, howeversolong or short it may be, his fingers play with his little bells and he puts on the character of the Vapid Genius of Fornication. Every move is Fuck Me. Every motion is just... Fuck...
Fuck it all...
Every twitching, waiting, glorious hole in the earth...
There's a strange look from Jason Petrie as he stands near the west office's door. The famed Icarus has a place around the club certainly, but it doesn't lessen the lewd behavior, as he characterizes it, or the too-ready abundance of sex around the club. It only means that the authorities care and it's all at risk.
But it's not his club.
There's a nod as Jason comes upright, as if guarding the west office. "Sorry, Julian," and a nod to Pharzuph. Jason turns the knob on the door and opens it for the two gentlemen.
"S'alright, Jase," Julian says, walking slowly up the corridor. He exhales, then turns to extend a hand to Pharzuph. "If you need to go, you can," Julian observes. But, it's not likely, he knows. "I've got it from here, mate, thanks."
The more observant of entities would be able to connect the dots with Pharzuph's arrival and the notched up level of lewd behavior. And a dose of glitter and vinyl, of sparkles and gorgeousness that was simply missing in the Phantasmagoria's previous incarnation. Even with Julian here once the goth and punk elements were all but stripped away, there was significantly less glitter and oil before he showed up.
"Hi, Jason," Pharzuph beams. The light's on, it would appear, but nobody's home. Beautiful creature, but dumb. Dumb, dumb, dumb! (da-dumb-dumb) Pharzuph curls his fingers against Julian's and moves to the opening door, about to sashay his cute ass in there...
"Icarus," Jason nods, moving to close the door behind the entrants. "I'll be here," is all the man says, his bald head glinting in the hallway's flashing lighting.
Inside the club's first-line offices, stands a man much like Miranda described. Tall and thin, the man walks comfortably around the office, lifting papers and examining items left open. He doesn't stick too long with anything in particular -- not that he'd expect the good stuff to lie around -- and doesn't even pause when two enter the west office.
"Well, it's true," he says with obvious smugness, "...you are here." A shake of his head. "I had to see for myself, you know. To verify."
"Richard Avedon," is all he says, leaning back against a desk. Miranda forgot to mention that yes, jeans are the standout, the man does wear a long-sleeved shirt and a dark blue sportcoat.
"Come on now," Richard smirks, turning his profile to the side. Make a guess.
Julian comes to a halt inside the door, then glances over his shoulder to make sure the door's closed.
"What are you doing here?" Julian says, beginning a small smile. The stuff of an Impudite, that smile is, terribly perfect. "Tired of the PFD parties?" Julian grins, teasing the visitor, though the tone is slightly off.
"A visit from Fainite," Julian says, turning to his arriving companion. "We're lucky, eh?" Not really.
In order to guess, Pharzuph would have to have half a brain. And as you can see, while he may have two cocks, he doesn't have two minds to rub together. Or two thoughts. Guess? Pharzuph blinks his best blink about fifteen to twenty times and bites the flush lower lip as he's asked to guess.
Julian spares him the mind melting by putting it out there and Pharzuph smiles as beautifully and as broadly as one might expect he would or should. "Fancy meeting you here..."
Pharzuph slinks over to a chair and curls right up in it, one pink shiny leg crossing over his other. He pouts demurely (as if) and glances up to Fainite (Richard Avedon) with a curling, puckering smile. "Do they miss me in Shal-Mari?" Cupid's Own Face says.
The self-styled Richard Avedon grins at Julian, but lets his brown eyes settle on Pharzuph. "In fact, yes," Richard smirks, pushing off the desk. "We're asked all the time: where's Pharzuph? It is boring without him. We need him to come and show us the way..."
And a glance comes to Julian.
"Actually, I was in the neighborhood, and wanted to see it for myself. You two together here. And in this glorious, marvelous temple to our Prince. I should have expected no less from you," a smile at Julian, "...and in cohort with you," a grin to Pharzuph. "You do make the formidable pair."
Pharzuph tilts his head, stretching out his legs to look at his, yes, pink-painted toenails. And toe rings. There are jingle-bell sounds from the slave bells around his anklets as he moves. Giving a whole new meaning to rings on her fingers and bells on her toes. Mother Goose would be appalled.
He glances up to Fainite and then slides that look over to Julian. Content, for now, to look and Be Pretty. And idle hand plays at an idle member as the niceties are underway...
"We do," Julian responds, eyes upon Richard. "Seems like old times, in fact. I'm glad he's here, to help." Phantasmagoria's owner continues to stand, lest anyone get too comfortable.
"And it's good you could stop in. We don't get many visitors of our sort. We've got our hands more than full as it is, so we tend to focus on...what needs doing. That's a lot, so...the," Captain, "...assistance is more than just assistance. It takes two now." Success for Andrealphus all around.
But isn't there some quiet? Richard nods at Julian approvingly. "Seems you're greatly needed here," the Marquis says to Pharzuph. "I guess we should be able to take care of the Halls," of Shal-Mari, "...ourselves then."
The mind is quick, it has answers and quips in the myriad but must still itself like honey poured over ice in Antarctica. Pharzuph smiles prettily, that way of his with the perfect mouth upon the perfect face, spreading his toes before lowering his legs again, his hand still brushing over his own skin, keeping constant, pleasurable contact. "Julian needs me," he coos out, "... I like to be the chosen favorite," he says as if Fainite hasn't heard it a million times before. "Here, I may peel grapes and serve them with chilled champagne," his hand wavers in the air, "...and all of the dancers worship me on my golden pillows. I am doing the lord's work," he bites his bottom lip for the underhanded blasphemy. "They call me Icarus. I even have my own drink! You can try it before you leave if you want to... I will have Belinda make it for you..."
Pharzuph then curls up in the chair, turning to look at Julian. "Pharzuph likes nothing more than to hear of his own worthiness." He peers between bouncing, golden curls to Fainite. "Glorious copulations abound wherever Pharzuph goes. I hope Shal-Mari has not gotten too quiet..."
"Not that quiet," Richard smirks, being honest about the place. "But you are missed, so you know." Directly said. "And to think, everyone thought you'd run off to hide somewhere, for some reason. I said it didn't make sense," eyes turing to Julian, then back to the other Captain, "...and I was right. It's good to keep busy. With our Prince so occupied, it's good his officers are so proactive to keep His, and our own, Words filled, as we do."
There's just a nod from Julian, slow and deliberate. "We can't do otherwise," he explains, simply. "Maybe more could leave and lend a hand here," on this plane, "...I am sure plenty of others could use the same help that Pharzuph has given."
"Why would I run and hide? I love attention!" Pharzuph laughs, hands coming before his mouth, steepling. Then his face gets red, in that way it does when he thinks someone has insulted him. "Someone has been telling stories." He calms in the next moment, languidly sitting back in the chair, painted toes spreading before him again. "Sounds like there are too many idle mouths in Shal-Mari. Surely there are enough cocks and breasts to go around."
Winsomely he smiles again, "O, our prince," he even wiggles appropriately, which looks delectable when wrapped tightly by pink vinyl, "...tell him we said hello, Fainite, when you see him, as I know you do. He seems to favor you," but not as highly as he favors me, is the natural end of that sentence.
Pharzuph looks over to Julian. "He is cute when he's not dressed up like a scary old perverted man," the gold-and-pink-concoction purrs. "And he came all this way just to find me!" Pharzuph looks over to Fainite and a lightbulb finally goes off. Finally. "Oh, is it one of ...those visits, Fainite?" He smiles, his hands starting to undo the rest of the snaps on his vinyl pants...
The self-styled Richard Avedon just laughs, "Not one of those visits no, but when you return home, I will be loathe to turn you down, Captain." There's a smile and stare at Pharzuph, but the lusty tendrils are withdrawn for the present situation.
"I will see if things are as idle as you suggest. You're probably right. Another reason to press on the troops, as it were."
"And if I see our Prince before either of you," Richard says, "I'll, give Him your wishes. I know he favors you both," in contridiction to Pharzuph's assessment, his ego is not that large, "...so I am sure he'll contact you as He Pleases. Let Him know that his devoted Generals would like his counsel on a few things, at His Leisure." A bob of his head, Richard appears to be done.
"Ah, and Julian, we're looking forward to seeing you at The Crimson Cross. The rest of us," the PFD that is, "...so miss your company in particular. I know I do."
To Pharzuph, another smile. "Charite says hello. I almost forgot," Richard says to the pink-clad one.
Julian gives a thin, slight smile of acknowledgement. There's never been a role like that of the Marquis de Sade. A legend now, even among mortals. In their literature. A guarantee into the PFD, once Le Coste finally crumbled, passing into the mists of misremembrance and codified into a text.
But Julian took another path after he let the Marquis slide into the studies of French revolution and liberte. Bataille and others would try to resurrect the Marquis, but those were but shadows. The man -- and the demon whose vessel it was -- were long gone. Julian let him stay so, despite the rallying cries from Shal-Mari. And even His Prince congratulated him for not resurrecting the dead to suck the mystery out of the past into a lesser creature of the present.
"I miss the PFD," Julian says softly, "...maybe a little reacquaintance is in order. I'll let you know when I'll stop by..."
A bone tossed. My body for Time. My bankrupt soul to satiate curiosity. My submission for another's fleeting sense of control of me...
"Wow, it's brilliant to see you, Richard," Julian nods somberly. "Thanks for visiting."
Pharzuph pouts a little. Not one of those visits? But he stands and he moves over to Fainite, a hand to the shirt of the vessel. "Maybe I will have Julian bring me along...?" Platinum eyebrows sweep upward. "And then you won't have to worry about saying no to the Captain again. I don't like that little word," he purrs.
He pulls his hands away from Richard Avedon, giving him a coy little look. "Tell Charite I said hello. I will have to visit sometime soon. You know, once I found my way here... things were just so...so... So. And you know... how I can be..." flighty, lacking memory. He thumps his own forehead. "I forget sometimes! But... I won't forget to ... find you, Fainite. Maybe Charite can join in..."
Pharzuph crosses over to Julian, arms going around Julian's waist, reaching down to cup the vessel's genitals beneath the trousers. Laughing sweetly, he gives a tug upon Julian's earlobe. "I'm going to go dancing now. All this sitting down! Unless I am sitting down on a cock, what good is it...?" He blows a kiss to Fainite and lets the chiming bells pierced in his tongue give a bell-tolling ring.
Julian smiles at Pharzuph's departure, expecting Richard's not so far behind. "I'll see you in a few minutes, hmm? There's someone who needs to meet you." Work, work, work. See?
Richard's bushy brows arch as he's touched by Pharzuph. "Not sure it's for you, Captain," a glance to Julian. "But that doesn't mean we can't get together another time. Soon." Now is not a bad idea, but, well...Richard shows restraint. Instead, he exhales at the ringing bells.
"Maybe, well, I have a little time now..."
"Talk to you later, Jules," Richard says, eyes now fully on Pharzuph.
Not quite out of the room yet, not quite out of the PFD's sight. But then, who is, ultimately? Pharzuph stops at the closed door, hand on the knob. He leans back against it, smiling. "Who wants to meet me? I am so popular!" he exhales.
He notices Fainite's attention and winks, hand around one of two members, fondling and then slipping it back in the vinyl to join its twin. More bells ring. He must have them everywhere. "I will find you in Shal-Mari, Fainite," tease! "...I don't want anything with the word 'little' in it." Little and No aren't very big with him apparently. He fingers his doubled crotch, dual semi-hardness accentuated by the grasp of pink vinyl. "Are you coming, Jules?" he breathes.
With that, Pharzuph opens the door and slithers his pink self out...
Richard frowns as he was leaning forward to follow Pharzuph. Now is good. But at the mention of Julian, he halts, making a low noise with his bottom lip.
"The wife of a BBC announcer," Julian says, moving around the desk nearby. He seems to plan to stay and do something in the office. "But..." a glance to Richard, "...it can wait, if you have other things to do, Pharzuph."
O, you're not coming...
Pharzuph spins, fingers hooking at the lintel of the door. He stretches, feline in his pausing -- he meant to do that! -- and slips back in, laughing a little. He crooks his finger at the head of the PFD, his other hand unsnapping the front of his trousers with a tug, his mouth bested by a smile.
"I don't remember what you like, Fainite," he murrs, "... remind me..." Pharzuph gives his tongue a twirl, setting off the little bells again, as his hands slip against a member -- two hands, two cocks, symmetry in the universe is a wonderful thing. One upper, thicker, one lower, longer. Something for everyone.
Crystals sparkle in the half light, an intricate cockring with webbings of chimes and jewels that pass over him. So that's what all the jingle-jangling earlier was about. Pharzuph gives his weight to the door. "There's a room just down the hall..."
Much better.
There's a nod to Julian as his steps begin towards Pharzuph. "I'll remind you," the head of the Peine et Forte Dure murmurs, dimples showing as his smile grows. Richard Avedon stares at the Captain, then steps out into the hallway.
There's a creak of the desk chair. Julian's eyes are turned to a set of papers stacked there, nothing special or urgent. He'll not watch the departure, apparently, and when he settles in the seat, he sighs and swivels to stare at a wall.
Posted by rowan at December 07, 2003 02:31 PM
