Chapter 2
[NC-17] for sure this time. Oh, it does contain yaoi. Nothing too explicit, but I thought I'd say just in case this offends anyone.
R&R, anyone?
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Michael. How's it going?"
"Jake darling, you made it. How are you?"
Michael, stood in the doorway smiling sweetly, his long soft brown hair fluttering behind him still, so light it was. He was naked save for an amaranth sarong, and all too evidently unashamed of the fact. His soft brown hair reached down to his naked chest. He possessed a slim build, and pale hairless skin like Jake, but the face was rounder, his features smoother and lacking the same intensity as Jake's. It was the pale watery green eyes - they met one face on, but there was the feeling there was just nothing behind them.
But he was still beautiful - his body was a veritable work of art. Jake had known Michael for years, and disliked him intensely, but even he hesitated speaking to Michael. His previous self-confidence was in pieces. He knew all too well that those such as Michael could play freely with people's emotions, but after all these years he still knew no way of stopping it. Is this their strength being used against me, or merely my own weakness? I must speak.
"Oh, just the usual," he managed.
"But your hair. Oh I like it - blonde really suits you, you know that?"
"You don't think it looks a little off with my complexion."
"No way - you look an absolute honey. It's the blue eyes that offset it I think. Come on in."
Jake stood still a moment regarding Michael harbouring misgivings, but then stepped in regardless. The degenerate threw a good part, even if he was an effete libertine that made Quentin Crisp look like Burt Reynolds.
"Enter freely..."
Jake glared at Michael a moment, irritation overcoming weakness.
"Jake darling, I am just playing. The nightly game does not intrude into my parties you know that."
He stepped forward and rested his hand on Jake's arm. Jake tensed, but didn't remove the hand.
"Crawford's here though."
Jake eyebrows contracted. He pulled away the arm with a sharp jerk, his fist already starting to clench.
"Crawford," he intoned hollowly.
"Yes, Crawford. And I don't care what's..."
But Jake wasn't listening - he was already striding past Michael into the main room.
The scent of roses that clung to the air, and a record player by the door filed the room with the baroque tones of "Les Folies d'Espagne". The dark silk curtains had been closed, and the lights dimmed, but the light was sufficient for Jake to make out two young men lying together in a passionate embrace. They were beautiful, to a degree that almost bordered on effeminate, and young - perhaps still to see their twentieth year. Jake watched a moment then turned away, continuing his search for Crawford.
He slid quietly around the room, taking in more couples - Michael's guests were of a kind with the first two Jake had seen, but there were also a few older gentlemen, and a couple of girls. This pair looked young, perhaps in their late teens, but Jake doubted it. Both were engaged in a very un-childlike act with one of the young male guests. The sweet scent, the beautiful surroundings, the dignified tones of Lully's masterpiece all seemed degraded by this, and Jake looked away. "Old, young - they're all cattle" only went so far for him. Had circumstances been different he would have talked to Michael about this, but now all he cared about was... there he was, sitting in the middle of the room, quite at ease.
Crawford hadn't changed a bit - same dark blonde hair, same black suit, same dark green pitiless eyes, and that same cold contemptuous smile Jake had grown to love, and later to despise. Even now seeing him again made him feel weak.
One of Michael's pretty boys was clinging to his side, with lips pressed to Crawford's neck. Jake fixed his gaze on this one a moment taking in the short black hair and piercing dark eyes, and a slim firm body that he would have admired were circumstances different; but then he returned his attentions to Crawford, who had at last deigned to meet his stare. The smile grew broader in recognition, whilst the green eyes glinted with menace. He glanced sidelong at his beau again - a gesture seemingly more for Jake's benefit than his own.
"Staying Jake?"
Jake vision was blurring. Anger burned deep inside him, eating away at his self-control. How he wanted to tear apart the guy hanging on Crawford's side, and then... and then....
"Perhaps you'd like to join us?"
Tears. Dammit, he blinked angrily, trying to keep his composure.
"You shouldn't really cry whilst wearing contacts Jake. Or so I understand."
Jake turned away, only to meet the gaze of a number of the guests who had turned from whatever activities they had been previously engaged in to watch this play out. Michael had entered the room by now as well, and stood in the corner, sucking his finger pensively, unsure what to do. Crawford called over to him.
"Jake was telling me how much he enjoyed your parties Michael. He really enjoys getting to put himself about I think, but don't we all? It means we make a few mistakes of course, but c'est la vie."
His stomach seemed to lurch. He shouldn't feel sick - he knew this - but everything seemed so off balance and wrong he found himself wanting to throw up. He stumbled back a few steps, bumping into one of the watching couples. Angrily, he seized one of the pair and threw him across the room. He hit the wall hard, and slid down the wall and a low moan of pain passing his lips.
Regaining his self-control a little, Jake ran through the doorway, down the hall, and out the main door, ignoring Michael's shouts, and Crawford's laughter.
Inside, Crawford lay back contentedly, his eyes softening, and his lips smoothing into an almost beatific smile.
"You shouldn't let his sort in so often Michael. They're always upsetting things. Like the old ones in a way - can't let go of the past."
"You think so? He sees himself as a man of the future I gather."
Crawford laughed.
"Indeed he does. That's perhaps the most Neolithic conceit he clings to."
"Well, yes. You're enjoying the party then?"
Crawford considered this, or at least he considered the face of his partner.
"Oh yes, it is quite delightful. But my lovely partner here is more than just a pretty face."
"Oh?"
Michael regarded Crawford suspiciously wondering what trick he had pulled now. In answer, he slid his hand into a side pocket, and pulled out a computer disk, his fingers moving dexterously twisting it around his hand.
"We have the file," gasped Michael, forgetting himself for a moment.
Crawford grinned, passed Michael the disk, and then turned his attentions back to the man clinging to his side. His arms slid around the narrow waist of his partner, as he leaned forwards and they kissed tenderly. Their lips remained locked, while hands ran threw Crawford's hair, and pulled him closer.
Michael, standing on the sidelines, looked irritated. He forced a loud sigh, but this yielded no results. Throwing tact to the wind he gripped Crawford's shoulder.
"Crawford, we need to see what's on there right now," he yelled, unmindful of his guests.
But still there was no response. Desperate he tried to pull them apart, but was pushed away by Crawford, who turned to regard Michael with some irritation. At last a response, but not much of one alas.
"I got the file. I'll decide when I look at it, Michael!"
Crawford turned away again, and Michael, realising he was completely forgotten, along with the business of the night, left the room his right hand clenching the disk tightly to his chest. His eyes were narrowed, and his other hand was clenched in a fist, his fingernails pressed into his hand so tightly they drew blood.
[NC-17] for sure this time. Oh, it does contain yaoi. Nothing too explicit, but I thought I'd say just in case this offends anyone.
R&R, anyone?
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Michael. How's it going?"
"Jake darling, you made it. How are you?"
Michael, stood in the doorway smiling sweetly, his long soft brown hair fluttering behind him still, so light it was. He was naked save for an amaranth sarong, and all too evidently unashamed of the fact. His soft brown hair reached down to his naked chest. He possessed a slim build, and pale hairless skin like Jake, but the face was rounder, his features smoother and lacking the same intensity as Jake's. It was the pale watery green eyes - they met one face on, but there was the feeling there was just nothing behind them.
But he was still beautiful - his body was a veritable work of art. Jake had known Michael for years, and disliked him intensely, but even he hesitated speaking to Michael. His previous self-confidence was in pieces. He knew all too well that those such as Michael could play freely with people's emotions, but after all these years he still knew no way of stopping it. Is this their strength being used against me, or merely my own weakness? I must speak.
"Oh, just the usual," he managed.
"But your hair. Oh I like it - blonde really suits you, you know that?"
"You don't think it looks a little off with my complexion."
"No way - you look an absolute honey. It's the blue eyes that offset it I think. Come on in."
Jake stood still a moment regarding Michael harbouring misgivings, but then stepped in regardless. The degenerate threw a good part, even if he was an effete libertine that made Quentin Crisp look like Burt Reynolds.
"Enter freely..."
Jake glared at Michael a moment, irritation overcoming weakness.
"Jake darling, I am just playing. The nightly game does not intrude into my parties you know that."
He stepped forward and rested his hand on Jake's arm. Jake tensed, but didn't remove the hand.
"Crawford's here though."
Jake eyebrows contracted. He pulled away the arm with a sharp jerk, his fist already starting to clench.
"Crawford," he intoned hollowly.
"Yes, Crawford. And I don't care what's..."
But Jake wasn't listening - he was already striding past Michael into the main room.
The scent of roses that clung to the air, and a record player by the door filed the room with the baroque tones of "Les Folies d'Espagne". The dark silk curtains had been closed, and the lights dimmed, but the light was sufficient for Jake to make out two young men lying together in a passionate embrace. They were beautiful, to a degree that almost bordered on effeminate, and young - perhaps still to see their twentieth year. Jake watched a moment then turned away, continuing his search for Crawford.
He slid quietly around the room, taking in more couples - Michael's guests were of a kind with the first two Jake had seen, but there were also a few older gentlemen, and a couple of girls. This pair looked young, perhaps in their late teens, but Jake doubted it. Both were engaged in a very un-childlike act with one of the young male guests. The sweet scent, the beautiful surroundings, the dignified tones of Lully's masterpiece all seemed degraded by this, and Jake looked away. "Old, young - they're all cattle" only went so far for him. Had circumstances been different he would have talked to Michael about this, but now all he cared about was... there he was, sitting in the middle of the room, quite at ease.
Crawford hadn't changed a bit - same dark blonde hair, same black suit, same dark green pitiless eyes, and that same cold contemptuous smile Jake had grown to love, and later to despise. Even now seeing him again made him feel weak.
One of Michael's pretty boys was clinging to his side, with lips pressed to Crawford's neck. Jake fixed his gaze on this one a moment taking in the short black hair and piercing dark eyes, and a slim firm body that he would have admired were circumstances different; but then he returned his attentions to Crawford, who had at last deigned to meet his stare. The smile grew broader in recognition, whilst the green eyes glinted with menace. He glanced sidelong at his beau again - a gesture seemingly more for Jake's benefit than his own.
"Staying Jake?"
Jake vision was blurring. Anger burned deep inside him, eating away at his self-control. How he wanted to tear apart the guy hanging on Crawford's side, and then... and then....
"Perhaps you'd like to join us?"
Tears. Dammit, he blinked angrily, trying to keep his composure.
"You shouldn't really cry whilst wearing contacts Jake. Or so I understand."
Jake turned away, only to meet the gaze of a number of the guests who had turned from whatever activities they had been previously engaged in to watch this play out. Michael had entered the room by now as well, and stood in the corner, sucking his finger pensively, unsure what to do. Crawford called over to him.
"Jake was telling me how much he enjoyed your parties Michael. He really enjoys getting to put himself about I think, but don't we all? It means we make a few mistakes of course, but c'est la vie."
His stomach seemed to lurch. He shouldn't feel sick - he knew this - but everything seemed so off balance and wrong he found himself wanting to throw up. He stumbled back a few steps, bumping into one of the watching couples. Angrily, he seized one of the pair and threw him across the room. He hit the wall hard, and slid down the wall and a low moan of pain passing his lips.
Regaining his self-control a little, Jake ran through the doorway, down the hall, and out the main door, ignoring Michael's shouts, and Crawford's laughter.
Inside, Crawford lay back contentedly, his eyes softening, and his lips smoothing into an almost beatific smile.
"You shouldn't let his sort in so often Michael. They're always upsetting things. Like the old ones in a way - can't let go of the past."
"You think so? He sees himself as a man of the future I gather."
Crawford laughed.
"Indeed he does. That's perhaps the most Neolithic conceit he clings to."
"Well, yes. You're enjoying the party then?"
Crawford considered this, or at least he considered the face of his partner.
"Oh yes, it is quite delightful. But my lovely partner here is more than just a pretty face."
"Oh?"
Michael regarded Crawford suspiciously wondering what trick he had pulled now. In answer, he slid his hand into a side pocket, and pulled out a computer disk, his fingers moving dexterously twisting it around his hand.
"We have the file," gasped Michael, forgetting himself for a moment.
Crawford grinned, passed Michael the disk, and then turned his attentions back to the man clinging to his side. His arms slid around the narrow waist of his partner, as he leaned forwards and they kissed tenderly. Their lips remained locked, while hands ran threw Crawford's hair, and pulled him closer.
Michael, standing on the sidelines, looked irritated. He forced a loud sigh, but this yielded no results. Throwing tact to the wind he gripped Crawford's shoulder.
"Crawford, we need to see what's on there right now," he yelled, unmindful of his guests.
But still there was no response. Desperate he tried to pull them apart, but was pushed away by Crawford, who turned to regard Michael with some irritation. At last a response, but not much of one alas.
"I got the file. I'll decide when I look at it, Michael!"
Crawford turned away again, and Michael, realising he was completely forgotten, along with the business of the night, left the room his right hand clenching the disk tightly to his chest. His eyes were narrowed, and his other hand was clenched in a fist, his fingernails pressed into his hand so tightly they drew blood.