decadent_david: (Skeptical)
[personal profile] decadent_david
Hugo adjusts the tie of his robe nervously, the fine cloth is far from his manner of dress, leaving him quite uncomfortable as though the dividing lines between the wealthy landowners and the farmers are born and announced by the delicate whisper of thread. Reminding himself of the confident demeanor Msr. Boyd demands, Hugo straightens, forgetting the unease, determined to never disappoint his employer and repeats Msr. Boyd’s instructions to himself quietly as he turns the knob on the door.



David perches on the edge of the bed, not sure what to expect. Billy seemed to think this might be a nice diversion, something a bit different. The blindfold he tied on David is tight enough to do the trick, but not painful. Billy had asked David to just sit quietly and not to speak during this evening's encounter, something that David also wished, the words he would want to say were meant for another, not this rentboy. Besides that, Billy seemed to be in earnest that David learn that there are more senses beyond sight and sound, the two he tended most to overuse. When deprived of a sense, others are heightened, they say.... and so he waits, intrigued. And now David hears the door opening, and he wonders what lies ahead.

Hugo takes a deep breath as he opens the door, stepping in and closing it softly behind him, remembering the patron will be blindfolded and every small noise will ring like gunfire to his ears. Recalling Msr. Boyd's orders for the special appointment, no speaking, no sound, Hugo glides quietly on bare feet towards the bed where a man sits patiently in the silent darkness. How long the man has been waiting is unknown to Hugo, but yet his client sits strong and relaxed, perhaps anticipating his rentboy’s approach. Dim shadows blanket the room in hazy patches of obscurity and Hugo can only distinguish the form of the man, never the face until the patron is so close Hugo is certain the stranger cloaked in darkness can hear the violent trip of Hugo’s heart when he recognizes the man. Hugo bites his tongue, however, he says nothing of his shock nor discovery as he kneels before David, smoothing forced-steady hands over his lover, no, former lover’s shoulders. Purposefully, knowing every unexpected touch will only serve to heighten the effect, Hugo allows his hip to just brush against David’s inner thigh as he begins to little by little undress his client, starting with the shirt, touches ever so light.

David thinks that this one is gentle but not timid. He has a skilled touch, a nice combination. He wonders if that gentleness will remain within his grasp as the evening progresses. David reaches to touch the rentboy’s arm, and surprisingly finds his fingers slipping down the length of it quickly, slicking over the softest of silks. He must be very special, to be dressed in this finery and sent to David for an evening of sensual indulgence. David almost speaks aloud, but stops himself short. This is not the evening for this, and he wishes to receive the full benefit of what he has agreed upon for this night. He runs his fingers back up the boy's arm, then down across his chest, before leaning back, resting on the flat of his palms as he feels hands begin to unbuckle his trousers. David marvels, and thinks that he has never been undressed this... reverently?

Hugo takes his time, as much for his own benefit as David’s. Here his lover sits before him, the man he has been searching for and yet, in respect of his employer’s wishes, Hugo cannot speak. He cannot reveal whom is responsible for the touches and caresses, but in opposition, does he want David to know it is he? He does not know how David would react to either the employment he has chosen, nor to the knowledge the hands slipping beneath the man’s trousers belong to the one from which he fled weeks ago. Leaning forward to lick lightly at his chest as he slips the cloth from his client’s hips, Hugo continues to ponder and question the situation, and his employer’s involvement. He has freely chosen this employment, but would David be understanding? Hugo fears the worst, and that in combination with his instructions is enough to keep him silent as he trail his hands over the inside of David’s thighs, down his calves, hot breath rolling over his hips.

David eases back further on the bed, now resting on his elbows, his head falling back, hair brushing the bed's coverlet. He tries to visualize what those fingers must look like on his skin, and then he stops himself from wondering any longer. He determines that he will not waste his time speculating about what he cannot see, what he cannot have. David has spent days lost in thoughts of what is no longer his, and his heart is worn by it, frayed at the edges, too tattered for anyone to touch without it tearing. This is not a night of the heart, but a night of the touch, the taste, the smell. It is fitting, and David wishes this. To indulge in some of his senses, but not all of them. David raises his hand to touch his silken blindfold, and accepts it. It is fitting that David is blind now, Hugo has made him this way. He will never see another the way he once saw him...

Hugo pauses briefly when he sees David raise his hand for the blindfold, continuing once it moves away. His lips and fingers explore and dartcaress over every expanse of skin he can find, wishing David nothing but pleasure this evening since Hugo cannot reveal himself to his lover. A unique evening, deprived of sight and a focus on what he feels, and Hugo means to let David experience it to the highest fulfillment as he slips up the patron’s body, crawling his way until his legs straddle hips now pinned to the bed, focusing on his ear, just his ear, nibbling and tracing the shell as he moves his hips over David’s, just the briefest motions, but enough to pass silk and heat over the other man’s arousal, teasing, tempting, awakening need with just the faintest touch.

David suppresses all sound, breathing in short shallow breaths, he tries to hold as still as possible, the better to focus on exactly what movements are performing over his body. The rentboy is slow, deliberate, very much in control. The touch of silk so soft, nearly maddingly so, and although David wishes to reach and pull him harder against himself, he does not. Biting his lip against growing need, David begins to actually enjoy the sense of frustrated anticipation. Obviously this one has been well trained, and David fleetingly wonders which of Billy's boys he might be.

Hugo braces himself with one hand above David, the other never stilling over him as his sleeve drags silk across skin, hungry lips lavishing attention on the sloping neck, inhaling deep the scent which recently had only caught upon blade near a small stream but now found beneath him. Hugo avoids David’s lips, knowing he can never pass over that which he desperately wishes, fearing he would reveal himself at once when lips locked by passion would refuse to part. He can feel David’s small breaths over his hair, and Hugo must fight to restrain himself from throwing control to the winds and concentrate on David’s pleasure, this is what David wishes, for which he has paid, David is a client, not his lover, and this is his job. He is merely the one to bring David pleasure.

David feels occasional wisps of the boy’s hair fall forward, brushing his cheek lightly. He does not even realize that he smiles at this, finding it reminiscent of Hugo's wayward locks. David reaches instinctively to push the strands back from the boy's forehead, and it feels like the most natural move in the world. A soft sleeve brushes against David’s stomach, sweeping downward, and his arousal twitches under the feel of cool silk caressing it as it passes by. He is torn between wishing for the boy to undress, or to ask him to leave the silk on during the entire session. But it is a moot point, as David cannot tell him either way, he will not speak. But, he can hint, can he not? David’s hands reach and find arms, stroking them repeatedly, fingers curling around strong lean muscle sheathed in cool, ridiculously soft silk. These are good arms, the build of them is... no, it is merely wishful thinking on David’s part. But, would there be any harm if David were to pretend these were his arms, that this rentboy is Hugo? This is David’s fantasy today, is it not?

Hugo nearly chuckles at David’s touch, lips curving against the broad chest, David is forever the impatient one. But Hugo knows he is David’s to command, to do as he bid, he must remind himself of this simple fact at times like these when perhaps he would have drawn it out just a bit longer to tease. Instead, Hugo stands slowly, pulling David up with him so the man is once again sitting at the edge of the bed, guiding David’s hands to his hips so he might follow the drop of silk. He keeps the robe over his shoulders, however, Hugo enjoys the feel as much as he is certain David must, and the cool flow would be a pleasant stimulation. Stepping between David’s legs, fingers and breath warm over his skin as Hugo kneels again before him, one hand massages the skin at the juncture of hip and thigh as his tongue joins the delight, curling just over the tip of David’s arousal.

David breaks the rules, but just barely, and he hopes that the soft 'ah' that breathes from his mouth at the touch of a tongue has gone unnoticed. Pressing his lips together tightly, David vows he will not break the agreement again. But the boy make that so very difficult, with soft lapping and eager suckling, pliant lips moving swiftly over David’s length - now here, now there, darting about in a maddeningly compelling dance of fleeting sensations, David’s orgasm waiting on a far horizon. The rentboy teases it forward, only to greet it with fleet fingers and agile hands, then changes his touch to somehow to command David’s release to halt, come no closer, not yet. David feels he might go mad. David's hand twists the coverlet into a spiral of cloth as the boy's hand seeks David’s head, fingers plowing through his hair to hold him just so, the back of David’s head cupped in his hand. David does not realize he has again broken the rules with a whispered "oh", at the familiar contours of Hugo’s head, the texture of Hugo’s hair, and now, the scent of sweat beginning to fill the air, both Hugo’s, and David’s. And it confirms what David dared not to hope. He knows. But he will not speak it...

Hugo smiles at the familiar touch of the hand, wishing to enjoy this without David’s blindfold, that he could know what Hugo has seen, that Hugo would know without his own eyes, so that they could share again what they once had. But that is past, this is the future, their future, a purchased moment for David and an appointment for himself. Hugo would curse the situation but it means he has found David, the man whom for days he has sought after, if only but for this small moment. He must remember his duties, his duties, not this moment of partial reunion, his role, David’s role, the blindfold and the silence, Hugo cannot reveal himself, he mustn't. And so to both chagrin and duties, Hugo brings the silken bottoms forward, slipping his lips from David’s length until just the head is within his lips, tongue darting and flicking, sucking with enough force to hollow his cheeks as he wraps the silken fabric around David’s length, stroking him firmly and quickly with the fine cloth.

David feels the shivers coursing along his spine and he is sure there are goosebumps left in their wake, as he is the victim of a strong grip and smooth silk, both conspiring to bring him his release, all teasing now left behind. David pleads with himself, begs not to cry out his name, to break the spell, to loose the secret... and then the silken strokes take hold of him, David’s hand slips from Hugo’s hair and he falls back against the bed, his neck arching, pressing his head into the mattress. Another lick, Hugo’s hand moves again, and David is lost, his orgasm finally finding it's release, and Hugo does not pull away, he remains with his client, holding him in his mouth until David quiets, and even then Hugo does not let him go, not until David’s breathing evens and his shoulders relax. Hugo then carefully slips the silk from David, and only then does he rise, leaving David to lie there, exhausted and spent, wearing a silk blindfold that is now soaked with his own tears.

Hugo ties the robe around his waist, his own arousal making itself painfully obvious to him, but he ignores it for the time, he fears his resolve will crumble, that he would throw himself to the bed next to David and hold his lover until the sun had risen and set twice over. He is more than relieved to see David’s face and to know that he is well, yet it pains Hugo to see him, reminding him of what he has lost and that which he cannot, for the time and circumstances, have. He wishes not to leave him, but it is what Hugo must do, he was told to bring pleasure and he has done what he was told. He must leave before David removes the blindfold, although from the way David is draped limply across the bed, he will not be moving for some time. Hugo cannot help but smile, hopefully he has brought David a small amount of pleasure in his life, a moment away from whatever troubles he faces, whatever reasons for which Hugo cannot find him but in this dark room. Hugo stands watch over David for a time, toying with the silk belt of the robe, the pants will be retrieved later, watching the rise and fall of David’s chest even. Overjoyed to find him well, Hugo cannot deny himself how much he has missed David, his presence, his touch. He would follow David upon his departure, but that would only reveal he knew from where David had began and he cannot break the codes of silence of both instruction and the club. Hugo must respect his duties as much as it tears his heart to leave David, yet hope remains that David will return. If Hugo cannot find his lover about in Paris, perhaps some day David will come to the club for a drink, and Hugo will serve him as his waiter when words are allowed and obligations lie unbroken.

Date: 2003-07-14 06:13 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] gapjo.livejournal.com
Must be tough being Hugo. Is he only a servant ? Anything else in his life ? No passion ?

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