Title: "Elegantly Wasted" 3/?
Author: Mala
E-mail: malisita@yahoo.com
Fandom: "General Hospital"
Rating/Classification: R, AU, SnC, LoCa
Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own them.
Summary: A tangled web is being woven around Caroline...
She was always aware of the air when she was making love to a man. How heavy it was with the heat and the scent of magnolias...how it brushed over her bare skin. Often times, it was the air that carried her through the act, filtering through her lungs like opium.
Now...now she was only aware of one thing. One. This man's hands on her...the heat of his palms as he caressed her shoulders, smoothed down her arms and linked his fingers with hers.
"Let me teach you, querida," he murmured, eyes hooded and dark like the sky before a storm... "Let me teach you the difference between a whore and a wife."
"There's not a whole lot I have left to learn."
She reared up on her toes, aligning their bodies, as she took his lips in a kiss...cupping the back of his head as she tilted his mouth to hers and teasingly nipped at his tongue. He tasted like wine and fire and animal. Something primal, from the forest. And, like everything primal... there was no safety, no limit. The teasing turned tide quickly as he grabbed her hips, pulling her firmly between his powerful thighs, and slanted his mouth against hers again and again...
She had been with many men in her life. Rich, not so rich. Handsome, not so handsome. Ones that took her breath away and ones that made her close eyes and pray that they didn't leave her face scarred...or her soul. Lorenzo was neither the best nor the worst...
He was remarkable. Unique.
He lifted her up in his arms before she had time to think... bearing her, effortlessly, to the bed where the chambermaid had already turned down the counterpane... and once there, he did not hastily remove his suit coat, his trousers...nor his shirt...no... instead he simply sank back on the mattress and gazed at her...as if she was something to be savored. The wolf's succulent dish of lamb. After a long moment or two, she almost wanted to fidget ...to busy herself slipping out of her chemise...but she couldn't... she was pinned by his eyes.
No one had looked at her that way in a long time. Like she was beautiful. Pure. Something to be cherished, not bought and sold.
"Lorenzo...?"
He laid two fingers across her lips, just barely shaking his head. "Shhh."
And, there, in the candlelight, he stripped for her...first his cravat, then his coat and belt. He tugged his crisp white shirt from his pants and when he unbuttoned it, revealing the sun-bronzed skin beneath, her mouth went dry. He was beautiful, too. Pure. Imminently cherishable.
The marriageable ladies of New Orleans were lucky indeed.
She was luckier still...because she got to have him first.
She gasped when he pressed his mouth to the arch of her foot. Then, her ankle. Up the lines of her calves...the backs of her knees. A wordless cry rode on the air as he moved higher still, to the place where half her unfulfilled desires lived. And as she was still reeling from that decadent sensation, he kissed the hollow place between her breasts...where the other half lived... and then buried himself deep inside her.
"*Lorenzo*."
She locked her legs around his waist, rising to meet his every demand. Hard, then gentle, then gentler still. Taking her mouth, stealing her breath, conquering her tongue the same way he was conquering her. No... not conquering... wooing, teasing...asking for her complete surrender with honeyed Spanish words and wicked fingers drumming a sharp rhythm against her hips.
When it was over, she sank, limply, into the tangle of sheets, her entire body boneless, spent, and yet still wanting, throbbing, for his attention. "So, that's how you treat a prostitute in Caracas?" she wondered, barely breathing.
"No...no, Caroline..." he whispered, tenderly, against her temple, "That is how I would make love to my bride."
***
"Is it done? Is she with him?"
He nursed the glass of rum, staring, darkly, into the fire as the sweet liquor drowned his tongue. "Yeah. Yeah, I think so."
"Good." Not even a satisfied smile. Just a clipped, "Good. Everything is going according to plan."
The other man's hair was nearly golden in the light. He'd always looked like an angel... but Michael had always known he was far from it. His best friend lacked passion, lacked emotion... had only ferocious focus, only terrible drive.
The selfsame focus and drive that had made him climb out of Hell.
And bring a piece of it back with him...
Author: Mala
E-mail: malisita@yahoo.com
Fandom: "General Hospital"
Rating/Classification: R, AU, SnC, LoCa
Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own them.
Summary: A tangled web is being woven around Caroline...
She was always aware of the air when she was making love to a man. How heavy it was with the heat and the scent of magnolias...how it brushed over her bare skin. Often times, it was the air that carried her through the act, filtering through her lungs like opium.
Now...now she was only aware of one thing. One. This man's hands on her...the heat of his palms as he caressed her shoulders, smoothed down her arms and linked his fingers with hers.
"Let me teach you, querida," he murmured, eyes hooded and dark like the sky before a storm... "Let me teach you the difference between a whore and a wife."
"There's not a whole lot I have left to learn."
She reared up on her toes, aligning their bodies, as she took his lips in a kiss...cupping the back of his head as she tilted his mouth to hers and teasingly nipped at his tongue. He tasted like wine and fire and animal. Something primal, from the forest. And, like everything primal... there was no safety, no limit. The teasing turned tide quickly as he grabbed her hips, pulling her firmly between his powerful thighs, and slanted his mouth against hers again and again...
She had been with many men in her life. Rich, not so rich. Handsome, not so handsome. Ones that took her breath away and ones that made her close eyes and pray that they didn't leave her face scarred...or her soul. Lorenzo was neither the best nor the worst...
He was remarkable. Unique.
He lifted her up in his arms before she had time to think... bearing her, effortlessly, to the bed where the chambermaid had already turned down the counterpane... and once there, he did not hastily remove his suit coat, his trousers...nor his shirt...no... instead he simply sank back on the mattress and gazed at her...as if she was something to be savored. The wolf's succulent dish of lamb. After a long moment or two, she almost wanted to fidget ...to busy herself slipping out of her chemise...but she couldn't... she was pinned by his eyes.
No one had looked at her that way in a long time. Like she was beautiful. Pure. Something to be cherished, not bought and sold.
"Lorenzo...?"
He laid two fingers across her lips, just barely shaking his head. "Shhh."
And, there, in the candlelight, he stripped for her...first his cravat, then his coat and belt. He tugged his crisp white shirt from his pants and when he unbuttoned it, revealing the sun-bronzed skin beneath, her mouth went dry. He was beautiful, too. Pure. Imminently cherishable.
The marriageable ladies of New Orleans were lucky indeed.
She was luckier still...because she got to have him first.
She gasped when he pressed his mouth to the arch of her foot. Then, her ankle. Up the lines of her calves...the backs of her knees. A wordless cry rode on the air as he moved higher still, to the place where half her unfulfilled desires lived. And as she was still reeling from that decadent sensation, he kissed the hollow place between her breasts...where the other half lived... and then buried himself deep inside her.
"*Lorenzo*."
She locked her legs around his waist, rising to meet his every demand. Hard, then gentle, then gentler still. Taking her mouth, stealing her breath, conquering her tongue the same way he was conquering her. No... not conquering... wooing, teasing...asking for her complete surrender with honeyed Spanish words and wicked fingers drumming a sharp rhythm against her hips.
When it was over, she sank, limply, into the tangle of sheets, her entire body boneless, spent, and yet still wanting, throbbing, for his attention. "So, that's how you treat a prostitute in Caracas?" she wondered, barely breathing.
"No...no, Caroline..." he whispered, tenderly, against her temple, "That is how I would make love to my bride."
***
"Is it done? Is she with him?"
He nursed the glass of rum, staring, darkly, into the fire as the sweet liquor drowned his tongue. "Yeah. Yeah, I think so."
"Good." Not even a satisfied smile. Just a clipped, "Good. Everything is going according to plan."
The other man's hair was nearly golden in the light. He'd always looked like an angel... but Michael had always known he was far from it. His best friend lacked passion, lacked emotion... had only ferocious focus, only terrible drive.
The selfsame focus and drive that had made him climb out of Hell.
And bring a piece of it back with him...