He hadn't really noticed just how keyed up and nervous he really was when all of that started. From the alley way through the corridor and during the presentation, he was stretched tight. It was only when he started to smoke and then to drink, to laugh it out that he realized it.
He was scared shitless...
But in Valan Montague typical fashion, he faced it with bravery, with applomb, with humor and with grace. Those things may well become his hallmarks in the years to come. Who knows what those years will now bring.
He enjoyed his time with Shelley and with Janet. They were joined by a few other Toreador, and several younger Brujah as well. Consorting on a variety of levels. He made the rounds of the room that night. He met Ventrue, even Tremere and a few of the very few Gangrel who were there.
A long night. It's one o'clock now, and he is as quiet and as thoughtful as you were when you started the evening with him. You were home... he wasn't sure if you would have gone out again or not, or if you'd be here this early or not. He was happy to see the car in the garage as he came in.
But the lights were out. Out as if you weren't here. Out as if you were both asleep when he walked in. He feels his way from the garage to the kitchen. Lights come on.
"Ami," he says in the house, his voice lifting. "Are you in bed already?" a smile to the tone, but the thoughtfulness, perhaps pensiveness returns.
"Up here," Edward's voice shouts, though modulated. Just enough to let you know where he is. Upstairs. Yet from there, there is no light either. Other than the switch you flipped, everything seems off.
"Make sure you reset the alarm..."
"Hmm!" he says, obviously mid-drink of something. The light goes off and he navigates the living room to the foyer, rearms the alarm and heads for the stairs. His hand comes out again, and there's at least light enough to keep him from killing himself on the stairway.
You hear his quiet and slow steps up, the clink of ice and liquid. The smell of cologne, cigarettes and, now, whiskey.
The light goes off again once Valan is on the landing. He is moving past the door and into the bedroom in the next moment. "It is so dark, ami, I thought for a moment you had gone out again or you were asleep..."
"No, I'm not asleep," Edward says, his voice projecting just enough so you might hear him.
The bedroom you know flickers, shadows tossing shapes here and there in dark and sometimes glowing hues. Everything seems in its place at first glance, save the pile of blankets and pillows on the open space between the bed area and the archway to the wardrobes and vanity. It was the biggest space available, and now it's covered in pillows and one Edward, currently stretched out and nude.
"You're here earlier than I expected," Edward says, twisting to pick up something and toss it into his mouth. "I thought your friends should keep you out until dawn."
His jacket is in his hand, his shirt untucked, partly. He holds a bourbon on ice, mostly gone. Valan Montague stands by the bed, pivoting. His jacket hits the bed, the glass lands on his nightstand with a thud. "Why would I be out there when I could... clearly... be in here...with you..." Valan steps out of his shoes, toe to heel, and in socked feet moves for you, the blankets and the pillows. "If I had known you were going to be naked and stretched out like a Raj, I would have been here hours ago," Valan smiles, lowering to his hands and knees, moving over to join you.
"This is a great surprise," he murmurs. On his knees, lifting, he begins to unbutton his shirt, get rid of his tie. "It's only one, one-thirty. And all of that is mine," he grins at you. He didn't gawk during the ceremony. He's gawking now.
Garnets flicker at his throat as the shirt is undone. As the shirt falls slack, all fastenings unfastened, the gemmed bellychain sparkles at his navel, visible with the low waist of the pinstriped trousers. He leaves the shirt on and unfastens the pants.
He bends, stretching to kiss you. "I wanted to kiss you after," he murmurs. "I didn't want everyone to know my business, but it was work to keep from this." Another. "It went well, I think. As much as you can tell such things." Valan sits back up, letting the pants fall slack along with everything else. But he'll give you the pleasure of removing the rest. His hand lands on your chest. "What do you think, hmm? How do you think it went?"
"It's not important what I think, ami," Edward's hands immediately seeking skin. "It was good, but more than that, I just want it to be a night for you. That you will remember." Even when I am gone. "That's all."
Already, his fingers move, pushing lower at the waistband of the trousers. "And I wanted the same thing," Edward admits. "Just to kiss you -- but not in front of all of them." Uck. Enough to drain anyone's libido.
Next to Edward, since you're closer, is a plate of fruit and cheese. A bottle of whiskey. He's been enjoying himself for a while now, that much evident from the hardness of his body. "The phone was ringing. Gossip, questions. Congratulations. Mostly...where did I find you," Edward smiles, pulling for another kiss.
A hand on you, his mouth at your mouth, his other hand reaches to take a little of the fruit. "We should warn L'Empereur," he notes there, smiling at your smile. The kiss is sweet with bourbon, with just a hint of cinnamon and clove. Open-mouthed, then suckling, then surrounding the fruit and sitting up on his knees again with a smile.
He is enjoying being your nymph, though you are the one who is naked. But there is something altogether playful, satyr-like, cupiditous about the smile behind his fingers as he eats the grape, about the flirtatious draping of the clothing that still lies upon him. About the kiss that smoldered and flickered away as he sat up.
"I was not going to share my kiss with Them. That is for you," he murmurs. "That is for Us. Not for them." Valan tilts his head, watching his fingers move down your chest and to that stomach. "And now you get to unwrap me," he breathes at your stomach as he stretches out, feet going past your head. "I am yours. That would make the night memorable for me. It was good," the event, "...this is glorious..."
He bends his head, his arms surround your waist, silk and skin move against you, cream and crimson...
"It's hard to undress you," Edward smiles, falling back against his pillows, "...when you're like that. Upside down." He smirks and lifts to try and assail the trousers again. "And forget the shirt," he laments, falling back to his pillows. But then, Edward is quickly reminded that someone's face is in his lap. Though frustrated with his undressing attempts, he smiles slightly again.
"I don't know how you do it. It's too much work, this," Edward chuckles.
"Non," Valan says, smiling in the tone, "... it is easy, ami. Grab hold of the pants, hold them steady, I will show you how it is done..." And don't ask him how he figured it out, or how many times he must have practiced it, or with whom.
"I will remember it," he breathes at your lap. He closes his eyes, he smiles. His mouth kisses the stomach that faces him. Maybe more for what the two of you are about to do than the court itself. But lessons were learned tonight. His mind was open -- and most importantly his eyes.
In the safety of your house, he can close them now...
You feel the brush of his mouth shiver against you, and the whisper of your full name across your lap. You see him begin to twist his hips. The gems at his stomach, against his honeyed-cream complexion, sparkle. Aha! If you hold onto his trousers, he will... free himself.
Edward leans and holds the trouser tops. That much he can do successfully. But to see the trousers depart by no will of his own? That brings a bite of his lip and a slow murmur of 'my...'
The trousers are only let go once they cross feet. Edward tosses them aside easily, his hand coming to rest on bare skin. "I do like," Edward whispers to himself, reaching to touch the chain and the stomach bearing it. "Very much."
Such dextrous legs, and in them such strength. It is the house of his power, from the navel to the thighs, and the birthplace of his celerity. His grace is in his back and shoulders. A fencer's form by fencing coming into itself more, though unchanged from his last mortal day three years ago. Three years, Edward.
Since your hand first passed over the garnets at his throat, he has been yours. Your fingers pass over the belly chain, another gift from you -- green amber to match the color of his eyes, to bring out the slight olive that lives beneath the honeyed tones of the skin. His skin is the same color of the Loire stone that fills the fields of his adopted Touraine. The olive a remainder yet of Italy and its House of Montague. Your hand passes over the stones and he ripples now even as he did Then.
There's no more talking. There's nothing more to say. There's just the warmth of his mouth, the coolness of his breath around you, and the hum of your name in his throat as it holds you.
Edward laughs softly, finding himself more and more pleased. "This wasn't what I had planned," he says, lifting his head to look, then quickly falling once again. Edward's hips move slightly, his fingers twining into golden hair. "But, I guess I should get use to that..." Plans evaporating. Things changing.
"Ami," Edward whispers, gently curling his waist up and down. "This is supposed to be your night," he reminds, though it doesn't stop him from his motions.
Laughter breezes against your stomach, and then that cupiditous face comes into view, as he comes to prop himself up on his forearm. "What did you have planned for me?" Plans aren't supposed to be Our Thing? But now he is intrigued, golden eyebrows opening upward, outward, and he smiles, blushed mouth pulling. "My night? Non... Our Night," he shakes that away.
He will not take a sense of entitlement. That you wish to make it special, this is nice, wonderful. But it is not His night. Not in his mind. "I see you, naked, on pillows and ... this is what I want to do," he chuckles. "You, waiting for me to come back so I can throw myself at you, as I should. Who wouldn't?"
"Well," Edward grins - blushing, in fact -- and sits up, "...I did mean for you to come back and throw yourself at me," he explains. "I...I..." Edward begins, but waves off with fingers, "...I don't know. I don't know what I expected to happen." He shrugs, propped up on his elbows, arms flat along the bedding. "Oh, well, yeah. Plans. What was I fuckin' thinking..." he says sarcastically.
"Just that it'd be a little different. I'm not sure how, but just...I don't know. Something intense. I don't know..." Edward says, not sure now.
He has learned so much...
From you, subtle lessons -- you thought it was just boxing or fencing or properly cracking an egg without obliterating your kitchen (again) -- but he learned much more than that. Like how to move in double time.
A golden slither and twist brings him to your lips. He tastes the fruit you have eaten. A brush of his mouth, and there is a shiver at your mouth. That ... power, that trick, but it's just a shiver. Controlled so much better these nights of late. A hand to your face, Valan Montague looks at you. Gold-green eyes half-mast as their attention drifts to your mouth.
I want to be the grape that is crushed there...
With a pressing roll, he twists out of his shirt and eases you to your back, the motion allowing him to reach past you to the fruit that you have brought. He plucks a piece of it, and with a smile Valan Montague feeds you.
"The plan is what we make it," he murmurs. "Maybe it will be like you fantasized before I got here." The smile grows. "When you were thinking of me and ... whatever it is you wanted to do," a conspiratorial sound to his voice. You were naked afterall. "Maybe it doesn't matter. Whatever we do is intense. Even, ami, if we do nothing at all..."
He rolls, and slides beneath and below the opposing motion. Edward bites his lip again, but then looks down to his waist. "Christ, look at that," he whispers, chewing the grape, "...all this talking. Fuckin' words," he murmurs, swallowing.
"And see?" Edward's mouth opens. "Oo, hangs..." he says without moving his lips. No fangs.
"You did this. Totally threw me," Edward smiles, sighing. "What am I going to do with you?"
Another grape appears at your lips, held by brushing fingers. "Love me," Valan says, grinning. "What else should you do, ami? Love me. Maybe later screw me into the bedding," he laughs, letting the grape go. His mouth following after.
Or maybe you will just lie here on the floor, being pampered and fed by him. Maybe you will feed him instead, rolling him over -- yes, just like that -- and letting him suck the juice from your fingertips. Tsk, playing with your food. You lie on your sides now, the two of you...
Maybe there will just be this, the meandering exploration of a kiss, as if the Discoverer were lost without his compass. And the accompanying fleet is the moving of his fingers down your chest and to the darkness of slight space between you. You feel his hands.
Maybe that is all...
"Mmph," Edward murbles, "...those are good at least." Wet and fleshy. Cool. Like grapes should be. "I thoo wuvoo," he explains while swallowing. "Screw you into the bedding," a glance between you again, "...a little difficult now. My knob's all..." well, all something. Much like the grape. "Maybe I fantasized too long," he smirks. "I should have called you..."
Then Edward sits up, acting as if he's on the phone. Fingers come up to his ears, making a mock celphone. "Valan. Get home now. Dinner's hot...."
Valan smiles, rolling back to lie on the surface of the blankets, making a phone with his hands, tilting it as if to speak to his friends. "Sorry to represent and run," he says in his English (which is still a bit different from Your English), "...but ... ciao!" He laughs. "Oh!" eyes glitter as they go wide, "You should have called me... phone sex... What are you wearing, ami? A smile? I will be right there..."
Valan turns his golden head against a pillow and smiles, taking a grape for himself finally. "I love you, too... "
"Phone sex?" Edward frowns, not really getting something. But, then he asks, "Why, when I can do the real thing? That's for fuckin' wankers..."
"Non, just for my trip home," he says. "And... wanking?" he tries that word on for size, and laughs, "... it is not a problem to start without me, just wait for me to catch up, ami..."
Edward winces, not really liking the idea of phone sex. There's a curse under his breath for the concept.
Then, for a moment, Edward falls into silence. Something on his mind.
"Ami, okay, can I ask you a...little thing? I won't ask again..."
He chuckles at the expression, then plucks another grape. Valan rolls over, propping himself up on an elbow so he can look at you. "Of course, ami... what is it?"
Oh, he is embarrassed. Edward stares at the ceiling, not willing to look into those eyes. "I...if I asked you to..." he makes another face, more than likely while hurling quiet insults at himself, "...you know...do...that thing you can do? Would that...be bad?"
Valan sits up now, resting part of his weight against your shoulders. He smiles a little. Not taunting you, but simply smiling at you. He will not tell you how endearing he finds it, how cute it is, for you are a proud man.
"I do not think it would be bad," Valan murmurs. How can something that feels that good be bad? Ha. "I would be happy to, ami... you know this. If it pleases you, always..."
"I don't think it's about pleasing," Edward says, words rumbling low in his throat and at his chest. "In fact," Edward observes, "...when it happens...I won't remember much..."
His hand comes to your face again, fingers lightly brushing the strong jaw. A beautiful face, do I tell you enough? Eyes I can -- and do often -- fall into. He brushes your skin with his skin, and it starts, just with that touch.
When his fingers move over your mouth, he pauses there, eyes looking upward to watch your face, to watch You behind those eyes. And with a slight press of his finger to your lower lip, it intensifies.
And he smiles at you. I love you.
And drags his finger down your chin to the hollow of your throat. And the feeling spirals. Pleasure with a capital P. It fills your entire form. Every cell copulates. Every molecule is hard. Every atom, every electron squirms, orgiastic chemistry.
Valan leans in, half closing his eyes, murmuring your name as if he can feel it, too.
Before fingers touched his chin, Edward had collapsed, sighing deeply and cavernously. Whatever had built within his chest and held in his body exhaled forth, and into the pillows he sinks. When his eyes open, his pupils are dilated, and each breath he takes rushes in and rushes out, like a great wave lifting with a growing tide.
Edward looks directly at hazel eyes and faintly smiles. Lazy and languid. A swallow, and he licks his bottom lip. A shudder follows with the close of hie eyes. The blood that rested in his muscles begins to flow more easy, relaxing Edward further.
The smile is at your lips, a press and the feeling begins to slowly receded. The echo of Ecstacy. Valan settles beside you, golden head resting on your shoulder. He closes his eyes. He breathes easily, relaxed.
Happy simply to be here.
What an amazing life already. And to think, it has really just begun. A third birthday this was. Unexpected.
Posted by rowan at October 22, 2003 08:55 PM
