marlowemuses | Breaking through the pain / Washing off the stain

Entry tags:

Breaking through the pain / Washing off the stain

Huaisang loved everything about Venice. The beauty and artistry, the libertine sexuality, the melting pot of culture and the casual anonymity. It had never been so easy for him to stay in one place for so long. As long as he had money, people were happy to ignore his household as eccentric, and all he needed to do was scatter some new rumors every decade or two. All that popular society knew was that there had been the original patriarch from overseas, then there had been twins for a while, a boy and a girl, and eventually the girl died in childbirth and it was her son who was the only one ever seen in society anymore.

His servants asked few questions, and if their knowledge conflicted with the gossip, that only made the wild gossip all the more interesting. A wealthy family trading in art and artifacts. That was all anyone knew. It helped that his villa was on one of the smaller islands of the lagoon. He had an island of his own, utmost privacy, and as long as he made no efforts to involve himself in power or politics, no one took any interest. For most of the year, Huaisang remained elusive, alone in his beautiful house, and only emerged during festivals where he could be all the more anonymous.

Carnevale was the best and the longest of the festivals, and Huaisang spent nearly the entire thing celebrating on the main island. He rented a suite of rooms and then ventured out to enjoy the city at his leisure, enjoying the endless parties.

Dressed and masked elaborately for the night, he took along his favorite painted fan. It was no longer the original painting, but the metal spokes were the same, and he hadn’t had to replace the paper in over a hundred years.

Fanning himself idly as he flirted his way through a busy party, Huaisang paused to linger near the refreshments table, considering whether he wished to lift his mask and partake or if he would rather drift upstairs to where the party was audibly becoming… more physical. It was a party like any other in Venice that night, anonymous and libertine. Nothing pleasurable was forbidden.

Huaisang’s smile ached a little beneath his mask. Somehow it was always at these times, surrounded by people and brightness and joy, that he felt the most lonely.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Methos was a relatively new arrival by comparison to Venice at least in this century, not in the habit of staying anywhere long. Even this place for all its vast appeal wasn't safe from others of his kind. If anything, those appeals made it a haven for an uncomfortable number of Immortals, still, his curiosity for what it had to offer outweighed his fears.

And he'd settled in comfortably in the five years since arriving, a young man of good means and inherited wealth, looking to escape the war and pestilence that was battering his home city of Nice. What better place to escape and to spend his money? The Venetians surely had no complaints.

Methos arrived at the celebration dressed up in a fine suit and white marbelesque mask. It was shaping up to be another fine evening full of drink, dancing, and fornication which the old man had no complaints over. But when the fan catches his eye, he was momentarily stilled. Perhaps the night might have in store a bit more than that utter debauchery. He watched the figure in front of him at the refreshment table.

This was surely just his imagination or a bit of wishful thinking? The old man usually wasn't prone to flights of fancy. Still, he moved forward to greet the other masked man with a bow. When he spoke, it was in an entirely different language and accent than the one hundred years prior, but there was a certain playful wryness that remained with him no matter who he was pretending to be in a given moment.

"Can you not decide what you'd like to drink? Perhaps, I might choose for you?" He lifted a glass of wine up off the table to bring it toward him.

"How kind," Huaisang murmured, accepting the glass. His eyes lifted, dark and sparkling and distinctly Asian within his mask, the only part of his face visible.

The voice addressing Huaisang was familiar, but all voices were familiar to some degree after a thousand years of life. So, too, were those hazel eyes, but neither voice nor eyes alone were enough to confirm an identity. The world could be small, and yet. A hundred years had passed since a single warm flirtation, and the fleeting familiarity wasn't enough to be significant.

His gloved fingers curled around the stem of the glass, but he did not lift his mask to drink.

"And what are you yourself drinking tonight?" His accent had gone entirely native by now. Any accent would, after a hundred years, and Huaisang had been good at languages before he passed his first century. He sounded as Venetian as anyone born in the lagoon, and he'd lived here for longer than any of the natives.

The fan is enough to call his memories to the moment, fleeting though it might have been. Then there was the oddity that had occurred not long after it. When he'd been so certain that the end had finally come for him at the end of the blade.

Methos own accent sounded Niçardian in fitting with his chosen backstory. He is a very good chameleon. He'd had to learn, or else he'd have been dead long ago. Not all Immortals were so good at hiding, but not all Immortals we're over four thousand years old pushing nearer every day to five.

"Same as what I've just handed you. A wine from the Chianti mountains of Florence, I believe. Or at least that's what a lovely drunk fellow told me as he poured himself what looked to be his tenth glass." The poor man was probably passed out in a corner somewhere already.

The commentary draws a laugh from Huaisang, and his fan lifts to his mask's painted lips as if to coyly hide his indiscreet smile. It shines through in his eyes, however, which have always been expressive. "We're fortunate that there's any left."

Adequately tempted, Huaisang lifts the edge of his mask so that he can drink. He's long experienced, however, in his native tradition of lifting up his sleeve to obscure his mouth as he eats or drinks. It would be impolite to do otherwise, after all.

It's a flawless movement, and the glass is half empty when his sleeve lowers again, mask back in place and painted lips still curved in their perfect moue.

"Fenicetto," Huaisang offers by way of introduction. The sparkle in his eyes is wicked enough to acknowledge that they both know that isn't his name, but what masked reveler would make honest introductions at a party like this? "Pleased to meet you."

Little phoenix. He's never been particularly firey, but both birds and rebirth suit him.

Methos bows his head just slightly as he watches the man through his own mask. There is a thrill in these parties that he's grown quite fond of. The mystery and anonymity. It works well for him since he'd never particularly cared to tell the truth the begin with.

"Fulmini." He returns the introduction, calling himself 'lightning' in return. "And I certainly hope it will be a pleasure."

He is at this party for a reason, after all, even if this mystery man had sparked a memory that had pulled him out of that original goal for a moment.

"Fulmini," Huaisang repeats, practically purring as he tastes the appellation. "I do look forward to fulmination." Giggling a little breathily at his own pun, Huaisang furls his fan and tucks it into a pocket. Then he lays a gentle hand on Fulmini's arm and gazes up at him with inviting eyes. "Would it please you to dance in the ballroom or shall we find a ... shadowed alcove somewhere instead?"

Methos laughs at the pun at his chosen name, clearly enjoying the silly joke. He also seems quite keen on the hand now placed on his arm, stepping just a bit closer.

"Mmm... we could start with the dance, at least. The alcove might come soon enough."

Winking sweetly at him through the mask, Huaisang lifts his cup again, lifting his mask while he drains it. His sleeve lifts as well, but he's less careful this time, allowing a glimpse of a pretty face, beardless and soft. Then the mask is back down and the glass is empty. He sets it aside on the nearest horizontal surface, and then steps into Methos' arms. "I suppose you ought to lead, being taller."

Methos catches that glimpse and it further confirms his impossible suspicions. He'd somewhat hoped it might dash them as that would make more sense. This just leads to more questions. He obscures his own face a moment to finish his glass before setting it aside, revealing only his chin and mouth for a mere moments.

"As good a reason as any. I promise you're in good hands." He teases gently, taking the man in his arms gladly, heading toward the dancefloor.

Huaisang still had no suspicions of his own. After a thousand years, everyone started to seem familiar and everything came with a sense of deja vu.

"If you ever desire to switch, you need only let me know," Huaisang flirted, voice bright and joyous as they began to move in time with the music. He'd long been graceful and loved dancing. These dances were vastly different from the ones he'd known in his youth, but he followed a lead naturally as they moved across the floor. Laughing with pleasure as they danced, Huaisang kept his eyes on his partner's mask, trusting him to lead and to keep them both from collisions while Huaisang enjoyed the feeling of being swept away, moving within the cadence of the music until it felt like floating.

"Mm... I do like to be led, from time to time." Methos purred back. It's true in this case, although perhaps not in other areas in his life. He brings the man across the floor with grace and ease, sliding past others and through the crowd. But while he was keenly aware of his surroundings, he was still enraptured with his partner, hand on the small of his back and fingers spread wide. As the dance continued, Methos gradually pulled him closer and closer, almost possessive.

Cheeks heated beneath the mask, Huaisang flirted and chatted easily, keeping everything casual as he discussed fashion and the weather, remarking on many of the most noteworthy costumes around the ball with an artist's eye and a wry sense of humor.

The tightening grip made his breath catch, and he wound one arm closer around his partner's neck, dancing with their chests pressed so close that they were almost one being.

"Fulmini," Huaisang murmured, breathless with longing. "I want to taste your lips."

"If I let you do that, then you'd get to look upon my face." He points out, teasing, but he will notice that having him so close is leading to quite a growing bulge pressed against him as they continue to dance.

"Will I be dazzled by your beauty?" Huaisang flirts, unconcerned about the refusal. He understood the need for privacy. He had plenty of need for his own, in his own ways. "We can find a particularly dark alcove."

His own bulge is smaller, but he takes the opportunity to grind his hips against Fulmini as they move together, enjoying the promise of their bodies. Eyes heated with playfulness and desire, Huaisang gave him a light tug, leading him away from the dance floor. "Perhaps instead I can taste something other than your lips."

"Mmm... I do like the idea of that last offer, but we can find a dark alcove. And work our way to your lips being elsewhere too." Methos suggested, finding himself caring about discretion less and less-- directly proportional to how aroused he was.

Eager to enjoy more, Huaisang leads him up the stairs, then up again, down a quiet hallway and up a winding tower stair at the back until they're out onto a rooftop, quiet and dark with a view out across the lamplit city. Pleased with his knowledge of their host's residence and this private bit of wonder, Huaisang tucks against Fulmini's side.

One hand slips down, worming its way inside of Fulmini's clothing in order to caress him. "Is this dark enough to suit you?"

It's an extraordinary view. And whether the man could see his face or not, Methos hardly even cares at this point. All his focus is on that moment and the feel of his wandering hands. He groans, turning to face him both their masks relative obscured in the dark, "I think it will do just fine..."

He tugs off his own mask, moving to remove the other man's too provided he doesn't stop him so that he can kiss him.

Glad to have their mouths free, Huaisang reaches his free arm up around Fulmini's neck, glad to find his new lover already leaning down to steal a kiss. He gives a little whimper of yearning as their lips meet, immediately parting his lips to deepen the kiss while his hand grips firmly around Fulmini's shaft, mapping it with soft, uncallused fingers.

The playful flirtation has sparked his desire, and now he's greedy to try different areas of play with his new acquaintance.

Methos lets out a low mumbling growl when that hand finds his cock. He's usually far more patient than this, but at the moment he's very much lacking his usual calm. He wants this man badly, wants more than he's got now, wants what comes next. His hands slid down his back and force themselves under his trousers to grasp the warm flesh of his ass, "You're intoxicating..."

Gasping as that growl sends chills down his back, Huaisang grinds into the touch, whining and moaning with desire as his new partner suddenly becomes so deliciously demanding. He thinks nothing more of the encounter but a pleasure for the night, but he's enjoying this flirtation more than he's enjoyed any tryst in decades, and he's impatient for more. "Fuck me, then," he murmurs, giving the cock in his hand a warm squeeze and then pulling back enough to pull a little crystal vial from the pouch at his waist.

The cut crystal vial is exquisite and the oil within is delicately perfumed with lilies and ginger, but the purpose of it is clear.

He hopes that there will be more preparation and more flirtation, but he doesn't bother to ask for it. He's used to quick, heated trysts, and then never seeing his lovers after. Falling in love only leads to heartbreak, and it's been years since Huaisang has risked it.

Methos curses under his breath at those murmured words, his cock twitching in the man's grip, "Gladly..."

His nostrils flare when he smells the oil in the vial and he's quite aware of what he needs to do with it. As impatient as he might be, he wants this to be enjoyable for both of them. He holds out his hand to take the oil to slick up his own cock and coaxing him closer as now slicked fingers slide between the crack of his ass and then press inside, lightly probing at first and then working him wider with an additional digit.

His other hand coaxes him closer and lifts so he can position his cock, aiming to have it take the place of his fingers.

Wiggling free of his trousers to provide plenty of access, Huaisang gasps and whimpers against Fulmini's lips, kissing him again and again as he quivers.

Grinding his hips shamelessly into the fingers penetrating him, Huaisang begs for more with every little moan and whine that slips from his lips.

As Fulmini lifts him, Huaisang gasps and then laughs with delighted surprise. He loves having lovers strong enough to manhandle him. "Yes, please, please," he urges, hooking his legs around Fulmini's hips to pull him even closer as Fulmini starts to slide inside of him. "I want you."

Those words take Methos' breath away, his cock twitching right there at his entrance and slowly pressing himself inside.

"Good..." He groans, finger digging tight into Huaisang's thighs, and once he's halfway in, Methos forces the man down with a quick thrust so that his cock is fully sheathed in his ass, "Because I'm going to take you."

Huaisang gasps as Methos starts to press himself inside. He rolls his hips to urge him on, drawing him deeper, and then he's given what he wants with that sharp snap of Methos' hips. Crying out, Huaisang throws his head back, hair flaring around him for a moment. The cry is lost in the overall mirth of the city--no one's going to investigate a single cry of pleasure out of thousands--but it's loud enough for the two of them on the roof. "I'm all yours for tonight," Huaisang promises, breathless as his body adjusts to the sensation.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Breaking through the pain / Washing off the stain

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject