This fair morn'...

[il_valentino]

continued from here. Since I'd hate to see a 4-month-thread go pop...

The first rays of sunlight proper. Striations of dappled green on the ground, and the world made over, as new, uncovered by Phoebus, laying Gaia bare to the eyes of the human dross and rabble. Shame, really. The morning hour is so shy.

Cesare dully looks on while Krycek takes his leave from the furry little runt, ostentatiously rubbing in that the whelp avoided Cesare's touch... and God's blood, does it ever set him off.

"I must assume you've been goading me on," he tells the purple-streaked sky. "You were drunk and hallucinating, and probably walked into a tree. So much for your fabled invisible wall then, eh? Fine. Let's head back."

Comments

[il_valentino.insanejournal.com]

"Depends. Undressing or not, I mean," he says distractedly. "Doesn't make a whole lot of difference." Of course it does. It's a world of a difference. Idly thwapping a hand against the seam of his pants, playing a mute chord, he is aware of Alex's shambling after him. He does not mind. In fact, what with all this talk about sex... he welcomes it.

"Would you?" Cesare looks at him obliquely, over the shoulder. "How entertaining would that be, I wonder, when you don't even like women?" A strange dilemma of sorts, and it intrigues him. As for other encounters, he keeps silent. It's the gentlemanly thing to do, after all.

[alexkrycek.insanejournal.com]

A half step closer takes him right up to Cesare's back. He leans forward. "Will you undress for me?" The whisper comes out a little hoarse, and is followed by a chuckle that denies any kind of serious intent. "Nevermind," he adds easily, "I think I like you dressed."

"I'd see you scream. Should be worth it? Her cunt on your cock as you lose it-" He doesn't exacttly want to think of her, her juices spilling over Cesare's cock, drenching him. It sends a faint twinge to his stomach.

[il_valentino.insanejournal.com]

"Oh?" Cesare half-turns. "As matters stand, you have seen me undressed. Or was it a slow, sensual dance you had in mind? Sorry to disappoint in that case." He pats the stubbly cheek that's digging into his sore shoulder. Motherofgod. Fuck. "Women are better suited for that."

He grimaces under Alex's pointy chin, then manages to twist away from him and hide the gasp in his voice. "Gesù, look at yourself, you're all green," he says eventually. "What an aphrodisiac that would be, you quietly vomiting into your hands while I'm nearing completion. No, I think I'll pass. You may always put the suggestion to madonna, provided she allows you to get close enough for her to incline her ear." He clears his throat.

And then Cesare's smile grows slow and dark and dirty. "What says I make you scream, this fair and mistful morn'?"

[alexkrycek.insanejournal.com]

"A bit of seducation, a few tender kisses," he simpers into Cesare's ear, sarcasm coiling around the words, the underlying chuckle. "You'd be good at it, I bet. Lovely." He smiles, turns his face into the touch of the fingers. "De-licio-us."

"Oh but I could ask her for sure." He smirks. "Any chance you can arrange a meeting?" He laughs, amused by the idea more than the actual fact, if only to play cat to the woman's mouse, or possibly vice versa if he ignored pride.

Alex raises an eyebrow. "You think you could?" he responds, his voice sliding into the same tone, arousal curling in his stomach.

[il_valentino.insanejournal.com]

He's the very last man to handle jokes about his own august person well, but this doesn't smart. "Quite," he chuckles. "Like playing an instrument. And it's delicious, indeed."

Ducking away from Alex, he briskly walks on; the sooner home and back in bed, the better. "No art in arranging a meeting; she's my landlady. Try and knock at her door anytime after nightfall. She might welcome you as breakfast, you know. And yes, I intend to make you scream. Now. - Coming?"

[alexkrycek.insanejournal.com]

He indicates a pout he doesn't mean. "Ah, but you won't ever show me, will you?" A put upon sigh, hand to the heart and dramatically rolling his eyes is followed by a smirk. "Too bad."

That he prefers the dark seduction that is none is no secret.

"I will." For the sake of the controversy and the conversation, her little outraged bouts and what she'd do to Cesare at retribution. "I mean it," he laughs, getting drunk on the adrenaline of a boyish thrill.

He snorts. "Good luck with that." But even then his feet catch up with Cesare's strides, matching his, hands in the pocket of his jeans. His body is still smarting from the beating, but it's coalescing into that aroused ache that is neither clearly pain nor pleasure, already.

[il_valentino.insanejournal.com]

Sensing that Alex does his best to keep up with him, Cesare smiles to himself, well pleased. "Why show you when it disgusts you?" he asks insouciantly, loftily, as if addressing larger Margate. "Performing for your benefit would only make sense if you were willing to learn from it. Not make the pugnosed 'ewww'-face you do so well."

Oh, wouldn't he love to watch, too, when Isabella rips into Alex. He'd chivalrously ask her to spare him, of course. It'd almost be worth it to make the introduction, later tonight.

If he makes it up the stairs to his appartamento, that is. No sleep, nightmares, and fucking morning chills, mille grazie. "After you," he smiles sweetly.

[alexkrycek.insanejournal.com]

"Learn from it?" He laughs. "What am I? Thirteen and just learning how to push my cock into some hole? I don't think so." There's a bit of a swagger to his step, only broken by his wincing as it pulls on bruises.

By nightfall he'll be at that door. He grins. Oh yes, he will. She's just another hole to fill if he felt like it.

The walk drags on longer than he quite remembered and the lack of any kind of rest or painkillers catches up with him. He sets his jaw and tries to take the stairs up with as much grace as possible - possibly none - and a winning smile back at Cesare. It pulls tight around the corners of his eyes but he doesn't let up.

That he's uncomfortable with Cesare behind him, now, that too, shouldn't be a surprise.

[il_valentino.insanejournal.com]

Cesare pats the lean bum in front of his nose, an arse that seems to drag itself or possibly even drag its owner, in his entirety, up the steps.

"Learn to appreciate the fair sex, my friend." There's no rancour in it.

[alexkrycek.insanejournal.com]

Alex bats for the hand fondling him. The landing looms two steps ahead and he leans against the railing, waiting for Cesare to unlock the door, let them back in. He wonders if the place still stinks of sex and booze.

"When hell freezes over, probably." But then- that thing's a vampire. That hardly counts for one or the other.

[il_valentino.insanejournal.com]

He lets them in - not a minute too soon, with weariness catching up with him again.

"Please excuse the mess?" he simpers, as if showing Alex in for the very first time. "It's so hard to find good staff these days." Grain of truth in that; for most of his life he was used to drop his things wherever, only to find them washed, folded, clean, neatly draped the next time he looked. In prison... well, not so much.

Walking over to throw open the panoramic living room windows, he stumbles over the empty grappa bottle. Shame about that one; nonna Pellegrini had chosen well. "Mhhh," he hums noncommittally, glances at Alex while kicking things under the table, "so not any time soon then. But, you know, there are times when even dead men swim upriver." Lowly chores done, at least as much as he can be bothered to care at this point, he flops down and closes his eyes, sinks into the sofa, all reason stilled for a moment in the rapidly cooling room.

[alexkrycek.insanejournal.com]

"I'm sure," he comments, wearily, leaning against the doorway to the kitchen stepping out of the way when Cesare cleans around him, strangely amused by the show of domesticity, a little put off maybe since he hadn't cleaned before.

"Fucking freezing," Alex grumbles, hand shoved into the pocket of his jeans. He's frowning at Cesare, at the grappa bottle, would have liked to see it full with something, would have liked another sip, would have liked a lot.

Staring at the back of Cesare's head, glaring at it really, he eventually moves to the sofa and drops down onto his, half landing on Cesare half off the Cesare and huddles close. "It's fucking freezing," he hisses into cesare's ear.

[il_valentino.insanejournal.com]

"Oof." Cesare wheezes as Alex lands on him. He looks down at the huddled bundle and raises one eyebrow. "Of course it's freezing. I opened the windows."

Reluctantly raising a hand to Alex's hair, he just sits there, watching their breath curl in the air. Now that he's Alex on his lap, what does he do with him? The question bears asking.

"Don't give me that Pass the Courvoisier look," he grumbles. "Or can't you bite the pillow without having a drink first? Liquid courage?"

[alexkrycek.insanejournal.com]

"Well, close them again," he snarls. Eyes rolling, he shifts on Cesare's lap, all knees and elbow, for maximum discomfort to the body underneath him. "No-one can get it up when their cock's turned into an icicle."

Alex turns his face to look up at Cesare, head cocked. Sly: "But what makes you think I will be biting in the pillow?" He smirks.

Then, an afterthought, "you do have some more of the good stuff around, right?"

[il_valentino.insanejournal.com]

"Ngk. Che fai-" Alex jabs an elbow into Cesare's solar plexus and pretends he's simply fumbling for a hold, "what the fuck? How can I move while you're gutting me?" He shuffles out of Alex's grip, at last, and hobbles over to the windows.

Leaning against the cold glass, he then eyes Alex shrewdly. "How about we strike a deal? Bottle of 48 year-old Armagnac for you, piece of your arse for me?"

[alexkrycek.insanejournal.com]

Alex curls into the warm spot Cesare has left on the couch, leaning over the back to watch him, the arse, the back, the hair that falls into his face as he turns.

"My ass?" It's never available for no-one. "I don't let-"

Then he looks away, shrugs. "Armagnac any good?"

[il_valentino.insanejournal.com]

"Very good. The King and Queen of brandies, my friend. " He placidly looks on while Alex does his best to look cute. As if cute and inviolable ever went together. As if cute didn't just beg to be fucked into the floor. "Bellissimo, in fact. You sure you're not up for it?"

He's not tense or needy, no; just risen too early, after too short a night and too bad a dream.

"Anyway. I'll make some caffè while you reconsider."

[alexkrycek.insanejournal.com]

"Really," Alex mumbles, shrugs a little, and continues to watch, but then Cesare has disappeared through the doorway and bangs things around in the kitchen so Alex turns back, to cuddle fully into the couch, waiting until clangs don't follow clangs anymore.

He peeks over the back of the couch. "Where's that brandy?" he mutters, chin resting on the leather.

[il_valentino.insanejournal.com]

He comes back with a little tray, two minuscule cups of sweetly foamy dark-roast, not the vile supermarket Lavazza, and plonks them down near the couch. Alex scowls at him, sullen like Juan when he didn't get what wanted, a new horse, new sword, new this and that, and Cesare, the boy-bishop of Pamplona, had to fold his hands and stand back, demurely, watching his brother's star rise. Not that Juan had ever done a single deed that merited such advancement.

Shaking himself away from that unpleasant train of thought, Cesare disappears again for a second. Truth be told, he's grateful for the brandy, too.

He grabs the biggest, most bellied snifters he can find. Not that Alex would ask for a glass; given half a choice, chances are he'd simply slug it back.

"So," he mutters apropos, burying his nose in deep wood-scents, apricot, smoke, and beautifully toe-curling sheer alcohol, "any explanation for the... lack of a wall?"

[alexkrycek.insanejournal.com]

"Never heard of Venti, have you?" Alex mutters as he eyes the small cups, holding a sip of coffee, barely. The smell simmers and torn between the coffee and the alcohol, in glasses no-one should own and people only break when they are too drunk to give a care, he goes for the alcohol first and leaves the coffee to waft steam on the table.

Buried into the couch, brandy cradled in his hand and lifted to his lips he sips steadily, not setting down the glass, eyeing Cesare through the glass with one eye and over the rim with the other, distorting facial features to abstract paintings, broken people.

Mouth full of brandy he swallows, leans his head to the couch. "Someone's idea of a joke?" He shrugs. "Miracle from that god of yours that dressed you up in pink panties? Fucked if I know."

[il_valentino.insanejournal.com]

"Venti? Means twenty, my part of the world. Or winds, plural. Why?" he asks, not all that curious. The line of Alex's neck is far more intriguing, the greedy sharp bobbing line of his Adam's apple as he's downing the alcohol.

Cesare sets down his glass and puts an arm over the back of the sofa, to better anchor himself while crawling forward, to better hover near Alex's lips. Brandy and bitterness. Mh. "God's sense of humour doesn't extend that far," he purrs, then plants the softest of kisses on Alex's mouth.

[alexkrycek.insanejournal.com]

"Means big everywhere else." There's a cock joke somewhere, what with the tiny cups of coffee but he can't quite pull together the words to make it.

Cesare is close now. He smells of brandy and long nights. Alex squints at him over the glass, then shifts the glass to his lap.

"Not your god's maybe. Mine's a regular fucktard of a joker." Cesare's lips are still cold from their morning walk. Lips thin, Alex raises an eyebrow at him, then puckers his lips to a kiss, laconic twist to his mouth like it's the tail end of a joke. He hooks a leg around Cesare's knee, trapping him close.

[il_valentino.insanejournal.com]

"Big, è vero?" Not impressed. "You know, there's a reason there's no Starbucks in Roma."

Once upon a time, he would have squirmed out of the superficial hold Alex has on him. Once upon a time, if the other wasn't Miquel (or Taddeo) (who both how knew to handle him and make him meek) but any of the sleek boys from Trastevere, it might have ended in blood.

Just now, the enforced proximity suits him though. "Then perhaps you should become a Catholic," he whispers against Alex's cheek, his hand going for Alex's fly.

[alexkrycek.insanejournal.com]

"Yeah, big, not- like that." He nods at the cups, the joke still there, but it remains unvoiced. "There isn't?" Polite curiousity, or maybe just to say something that isn't a mindless stare and spread for someone else.

Alex shifts the glass to his crotch, small smirk. "I hear they have all these rules though about who you're allowed to fuck." He laughs. "Don't imagine your god is too happy with your cock going into a vampire cunt." He nips at Cesare's cheek. "Do you scream for him when you come into her?"

[il_valentino.insanejournal.com]

Damn. "You'd be surprised," Cesare deadpans, trying to shove away the glass without spill, "how firm madonna's grasp on theology is." Hah. He's got the wrist now, stroking Alex's pulse with a thumb while manoeuvering the hand to somewhere a little safer.

"God doesn't seem too concerned with my bodily functions, you know?" Soft laugh, trying to lick Alex's mouth. "I can't possibly imagine He'd much care for the sounds of my completion. Then again, in the olden days, He favoured Abel's sacrifice, not Cain's, so who knows." He nudges his trapped knee a little higher. "You're really very obsessed with Donna Isabel. You should try and meet her."