Reunited
by Soledad
A "Pathways in the Dark" story
Part 15 of "The Toreador Chronicles". Follows "The Reckoning".
For disclaimer and background information see the Introduction.
Rating: 16+, mostly for language and disturbing topics. Better safe than sorry.
Author's note: What Brian and Alain have isn't a true BDSM relationship. It's basically vampire training. That's where the differences come.
Summary: Pre-shooting works starts in LA, and Michael is reunited with an old friend and introduced to his new acquaintances. Meanwhile, Alain finds it necessary to teach Brian a lesson.
They left The Pitts shortly before sunset, leaving Hunter behind, after all – firstly because Debbie had insisted, and secondly because the teen himself preferred to stay in his familiar surroundings, at least for the time being. It had been agreed, though, that he'd spend the holidays with Michael in LA – a solution that satisfied all involved parties, with the exception of Brian, that is, who found the very idea of living under the same roof as the Littlest Hustler a repulsing one. But he'd endure the boy for Michael's sake.
The physical and emotional drain of the recent weeks had finally caught up with Michael. He fell asleep right after the take-off and slept like a log till the minute they landed in LA: There Alonzo took his leave from them, as they were already awaited: Alain was standing outside the airport hall, leaning against his Corvette and smoking a cigarette.
Michael vaguely remembered the artist from his so far only trip to LA. Still, it surprised him – now that he wasn't preoccupied with other things and had the time to look his fill – how gorgeous Alain actually was, with his deep blue shirt bringing out his icy blue eyes to full effect and the jet-black hair providing a great contrast to his pale, elegant face.
Seeing them leave Arrivals, Alain threw away his cigarette and came to greet them, kissing Brian long and deep in front of everyone. Michael, not knowing that the two vampires needed to reacquaintant themselves with each other after a time apart that had been considered both unwise and dangerous for a fledgling still in the middle of his training, felt a pang of jealousy. It wasn't like the familiar pain he'd always feel when Brian dragged off his latest conquest. This was worse, because he could see that there was definite commitment on Brian's side as well – something he'd never seen, no matter what his mother and the lezzies might believe. He began to doubt whether following Brian here had been truly such a good idea.
But then Alain let go of Brian – who looked… well, flushed, another thing Michael couldn't remember to have seen, ever – and turned to Michael.
"Welcome to LA," he said. "I would offer you condolences but it would be pointless, as I didn't even know your husband. All the same, I'm sorry for your loss and hope the change of scenery will help you to get over it."
And he leaned in and kissed Michael, too, taking possession of the mortal's instinctively opening mouth with easy confidence. He tasted of fine tobacco, old brandy… and Brian. It was a heady mix, and Michael felt himself stir in response, to his utter mortification. Usually, he had better control over the reactions of his body, but it had been so long since anyone – not to mention an expert like Alain – had touched him. He was too overwhelmed to protest.
"Nice," Alain commented, finally letting go of him and licked his lips in appreciation. "You've got excellent taste, Brian."
Michael blushed furiously but accepted the compliment at face value, as it was given. Alain then ushered them into the Corvette, throwing Michael's carry-all onto the seat beside him, so that they could sit together behind, and drove them to his house.
Although of simple origins himself, Michael had seen his share of elegant homes. David's house, for example, or the villa of the late George Schickl, where Lindz and Mel's unofficial wedding had taken place, thanks to Emmett. Alain's house filled him with amazement nonetheless. It clearly had been built with the multiple purposes of being an artist's home, atelier and art school – and it was elegant, functional and beautiful, the beauty expressed through layout and proportion rather than through any unnecessary adornments.
His room within Brian's apartment had the same clean, practical lines as the rest of the house – and barely any furniture.
"You can buy whatever you need," Brian said, "and once your stuff arrives from The Pitts, we'll put up Captain Astro and the rest of the superhero gang, too. Or you can decorate your office with them."
"I don't have an office," Michael reminded him.
"Actually, you do," Alain corrected. "Not here, although you're welcome to use any of the rooms downstairs. But you'll have your own office at the Vignes Studios before the shooting starts."
"I will?" Michael was a bit baffled but clearly delighted by the possibility. Alain laughed.
"Of course you will," he said. "Hey, you're the screenwriter and the creative consultant of the movie and of any sequels that might follow. That's two jobs; the least they can give you is an office of your own."
"And all that superhero stuff will look great in it," Brian added. "People need to see that you know – and love – the genre. You, too, are playing in the upper league now, Mikey."
"Yeah, sure," Michael snorted. But Brian gave him an angry look."
"Don't sell yourself under your true value, Mikey. You are the creator of Rage; the movie stands of falls with you. Like it or not, you're a big player in the game now."
"Brian is right," Alain nodded. "But business can wait. You're jet-lagged, and you've got a hard time behind you. Rest today. Your first studio meeting is scheduled for nine p.m."
"For nine?" Michael repeated with a frown. "Are you all night owls or what?"
"More or less," Alain laughed. "It's not so hot and hectic as in daytime. Now, go and rest. We'll wake you in time to get ready."
When Michael was safely tucked in and out like a light, Alain took Brian to his own rooms. He demanded a detailed report of all activities during his trip to Pittsburgh, shook his head in bewilderment at some places and laughed his head off when Brian described how Alonzo had crashed Ben's funeral.
"He's a wild one, that Alonzo," he said. "Were he not so devoted to Salvador Garcia, he could stir up serious trouble in LA. Few people could ever resist him."
"Have you had him?" Brian asked. Alain gave him an amused look.
"Well, it would be hard to determine who's actually had whom," he said, "But yeah, I used to have a light romp with Alonzo... more than one, in fact. For a while, he used to work as a model – not that he'd need the money, just because he had fun. Remember the bronze fountain in front of the main building of the Vignes Studios?"
"The bronze statue of the harp-playing faun in the tree?" Brian asked. That was one of Alain's elder works, from his expressionist phase – a rather impressive one.
Alain nodded. "That was modelled after Alonzo."
"Taking advantage of the fact that you had intimate knowledge of how your model's body worked?" Brian grinned, remembering Alain's art lesson at their first encounter.
"Exactly," Alain laughed. "Now, get out of these clothes and have a shower. I'm planning to refresh my knowledge of how your body's working. And we've got some serious talking to do."
Brian hurriedly obeyed, his entire body humming with anticipation. He'd gone without sex for almost ten days in The Pitts and was now so horny it made him dizzy. To his disappointment, Alain was still fully clothed when he walked back into the bedroom, wrapped in the silk robe he kept in Alain's quarters. Even more ominously, a riding crop was laid out next to him.
"Alain… Sire… what's this about?" Brian asked nervously. Alain had never hit him before – erotic spanking, which both enjoyed very much, didn't count – and he couldn't understand the situation.
"This is about you mouthing back at me through the phone," Alain said simply. Brian frowned.
"I mouth back at you all the time," he said. Alain shook his head.
"This is not about your filthy mouth or snarky style," he explained. "Those I don't mind. This is about challenging my authority, and that's something I'm not willing to overlook. I told you that I found taking in Michael with you a bad idea, and you had the cheek to reply that you didn't care. Which shows your serious lack of understanding the nature of our relationship. I'm your Sire; you're my creation. As long as you're not freed, what I say goes. You have neither the right nor the strength to challenge me. If you choose to do so, prepare to suffer the consequences."
"So you're gonna beat me up?" Brian asked incredulously, suppressed memories of his drunk, abusive father resurfacing with a vengeance.
"No," Alain said. "One beats someone up in uncontrolled fury. I'd never raise my hand against you in anger. But I'll discipline you to teach you your place in Kindred society – otherwise you'll never survive on your own in the Dark."
"Which still means that you're gonna beat me up," Brian said sourly. The thought to flee didn't even occur to him. Not only because he'd never be able to match the speed of a vampire of Alain's age; he was of an unknown yet very old line of Camarilla Kindred, and respect towards his elders got hard-wired into him through Alain's Vitae during the Becoming.
"There will be a great deal of pain involved," Alain agreed. "But pain has a different meaning for us than it has for the Kine; you've already experienced how we walk the razor-sharp edge between pain and pleasure. That's how we grow into our true nature."
"Learning through pain, huh?" Brian said wryly. Alain nodded.
"I see you're getting it," he said. "Ready for your first lesson?"
"Nah," Brian replied honestly. "I've tried this at Lady Heather's and it didn't work for me."
"Lady Heather was not your master," Alain said coldly. "I am. Now, get rid of that robe and bend over the desk. Those who accept their proper punishment obediently shall receive their reward, too."
Around 8 p.m. Michael was waked by a beautiful, dark-skinned woman with chocolate eyes and surprisingly short-cropped hair. Her large, jade earrings cast trembling yellow lights upon her long, graceful neck, making her appearance somewhat… elusive.
"Hello," she said. "My name's Sarina Duplaix; I live here. Alain has asked me to wake you – your appointment is in less than an hour. Peppone will drive you to the Studios, until you can rent a car."
"I thought Brian's gonna drive me," Michael said, a little disappointed.
"Not today," Sarina replied. "He'll fetch you after the meeting, though. You'll be working with him and Alain, after all."
"I will?" Michael asked, bewildered. He knew Brian was supposed to organize the ad campaign for the movie, but Alain? What had Alain to do with it?
'You didn't know?" Sarina asked back in surprise. "Alain will be drawing the storyboard for your movie."
"I thought that would be Justin," Michael said. Sarina shook her head.
"Nah; Vera Vignes refused to take Justin under contract, and what she says that goes in the Vignes Studios. They've brought the rights to Rage, which means they don't have to work with any of the original creators."
"Then why would they work with me?" Michael wondered.
"Perhaps because you're the creative spirit behind the whole thing," Sarina said. "Well, I've left some dinner in the microwave; it's all set, all you have to do is push the button. Peppone will fetch you in twenty minutes. You'll have just enough time to have a shower."
Twenty-five minutes later Michael was sitting in Alain's Corvette again, driven by Peppone, the artist's friendly, talkative "cousin" and associate. They hit off at once, and Michael was thankful for Peppone's constant chatter; it kept him from thinking too much.
Reaching the Vignes Studios, Peppone handed him over to one of the web designers, a tall, handsome, bald-headed black guy by the name of Diego Martinez, whose flamboyant shirt would have made Emmett proud. Diego then took him to the conference room where the meeting was to take place.
Edward and Vera Vignes were already there, and so were executive producer Edward Blount, director Brett Keller and an oriental-looking woman named Dawn Cavanaugh whom they introduced as the director of photography and who gave Michael the creeps at once. A dozen other studio executives, casting directors, prop masters, CGI-experts and who knows what else joined them eventually, and when their number was almost full, Vera Vignes turned to Michael.
"And you know our assistant costume designer already, of course," she said.
"I do?" Michael asked, slightly dazzled by all those new faces and unknown names.
"Well, I certainly hope so!" a very familiar voice trilled in excitement, and in the next moment, Michael found himself in the long-missed embrace of Emmett Honeycutt. He clung to his second-best friends and ex-roommate as if Em were his lifeline. They hadn't seen each other since Emmett left Pittsburgh with Brian, months ago.
Alain's arrival completed the creative circle, and the serious work could finally begin. Half of the discussion was a complete mystery for Michael; as little as he could understand, the others might have spoken in a foreign language. At least he could answer the questions aimed directly at him, as these concerned character and plotline – things he was familiar with. Still, he became more and more miserable by the minute, and his doubts about the rightness of moving to LA in such haste were increasing.
After the meeting, Vera Vignes gestured him to sit next to her.
"This was very confusing for you, wasn't it?" she asked in a surprisingly motherly manner. Well, surprising for anyone else present, as Michael couldn't know her usual reputation.
"I feel like an idiot," he admitted glumly.
"Nonsense," she said. "Like every trade, the movie industry has its special language. It takes time to get used to it, but you're going to learn it before you realize."
"I hope so," Michael said doubtfully. "It seems everyone else knows how these things are done, while all I have is an idea."
"An idea upon which the entire movie will be built," Vera Vignes said promptly. "The machinery is what serves the original thought, not the other way round. And if my people wouldn't know their jobs to the root, I'd have fired them long ago. But if you really want to learn more about movie making, including the technical side of screenwriting, it's still not too late to learn it. Both UCLA and the University of South California offer courses."
"Am I supposed to go back to school at the age of thirty-four?" Michael laughed.
"Why not?" Vera Vignes asked, knowing that if Alain's plans turned out as intended, Michael would indeed have time enough to earn more than just one degree. "We pay you well enough to cover your study fees – and some. You're sharp enough to learn. And you look all about sixteen, so you won't stand out of the college crowd."
Michael laughed again, but the idea had already wormed itself into his mind and wouldn't leave him alone.
"She's right," Brian said later in the night. He'd come to fetch Michael, as Alain had other appointments for the evening, and now they were about to go clubbing. "You didn't go to college when you were nineteen because you had to work for a living. Now is your golden opportunity to catch up and work in the same department, at the same time. You'd be a fool not to take it."
"I dunno," Michael said uncertainly. "What if I'm too old to start learning new things?"
"You're not too old," Brian said, "and these things wouldn't be completely new to you, either. You'd just learn how to do the things you're already doing on a more… professional level, that's all. You're still only thirty-four, for Christssake! It's not too late to start a new career; and one that you'd actually enjoy."
"Sayeth the man who tried to off himself when he turned thirty," Michael said. Brian pulled a face.
"I didn't try to off myself. I was just in a kinky mood. Besides, I've re-evaluated a lot of my former ideas since I'm here," he opened the door of his sports car. "Hop in, Mikey, I'm gonna introduce you to some of the better places."
He slid behind the steering wheel, hissing involuntarily as his ass made contact with the seat. Not even advanced vampire healing could deal within a few hours with Alain's disciplinary measures… or with the following reward.
"Rough night?" Michael asked with false sympathy.
"More on the kinky side," Brian replied, trying to find a less uncomfortable position. Fuck, but his ass hurt… and he was sore in the more… intimate places, too. Unfortunately, the punishment also proved to be an incredible turn-on; he knew he'd now crave it in the future as much as he craved a good fuck.
Michael's eyes, already the size of twin saucers, darkened in alarm.
"You're fully into kink now?" he asked, clearly not pleased with the idea. "Like Ted with his Leather Daddy?"
"I'd thank you if you didn't compare me with Theodore," Brian growled. "Besides, his Leather Daddy was a fucking amateur. Alain is a master who's honed his technique for a long time."
"How long?" Michael asked sarcastically, as Alain really didn't look like someone who'd be much older than them – probably not even as old as they were.
"Well," Brian grinned, "he likes to say that he's been permanently twenty-nine for the last fie hundred years. I don't know how many centuries he has spent with kinky stuff, though."
Michael laughed so hard that his eyes teared up.
"You're hilarious," he said when he could speak again. "Still, getting your ass tanned just for the kick of it seems a bit… exaggerated to me."
"Why?" Brian asked. "You used to allow the Nutty Professor to tie you up."
"That was different!" Michael protested. "That was all about trust!"
"Who says what Alain and I have isn't?" Brian said quietly. "Do you really think I'D allow just anyone to treat my ass with a riding crop and then fuck me raw?"
Michael was so shocked by that blunt statement that he couldn't speak for a long time.
"Do you love him?" he finally asked.
"Not in the romantic sense of the word," Brian answered. "Not the way I've always loved – and will always love – you. But yeah, we do have a strong connection on a different level."
"Does that connection leave room for others in your life?" Michael asked. "Or have you actually stopped tricking?"
There was definite hurt in his voice. Hurt that Brian would change so much for someone else. He'd never demanded from his friend to change for his sake, but the same courtesy given to anyone else freely wounded him deeply.
"Of course it does!" Brian replied with a shrug. "We're not exclusive. I won't even call what we have together a relationship, not in the sense you had with David; or with Ben. This thing we have can satisfy a very specific, mutual need that we couldn't satisfy elsewhere… not in the same extent anyway. But otherwise, we pretty much go our own ways. Alain is primarily interested in women in any case, and that alone means that he needs his own freedom."
All of which was only part of the truth, of course, but at least Alain's bisexuality was a factor that helped Michael to accept the bond between him and Brian.
"I'm still surprised that you've embraced his kinky side so fully," he said, and Brian could barely hold back a guffaw at that unintentional pun.
"I only do kinky stuff with Alain," he said. "In all other things, I'm still pretty much the same old Brian Kinney."
"No, you're not," Michael said. "And I'm not entirely sure that I really like this new, advanced version of yours. What on earth has led to these changes?"
"It would be too long to start on the what or why right now," Brian answered. "But I can show you the place where it began."
Then he started the engine and headed to La Lune Rouge.
The End – for now