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

[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."

[alexkrycek.insanejournal.com]

"She fucks theology, I'm sure her grasp is quite tigt on you." He smirks back at Cesare, brandy spills with a hasty movement. Torn between alternatives for a moment Alex leans down and sucks it off Cesare's hand.

"Waiting for your introduction." Alex shifts a little lower on the sofa, not hiding his crotch overly much anymore. "No praise for you then? Nothing from your God?" He smiles and turns his face, playing a little hard to get.

[il_valentino.insanejournal.com]

Alex's tongue is rough and ready as it slurps Armagnac from between Cesare's thumb and index finger.

"My God," says Cesare, and it comes out as an almost-hiss when his hip gets a boneful of Alex's elbow, "my God tends to look the other way, both when you're good, and when you're being bad." His still-wet hand caresses Alex's cheek. Then it slips down and expertly twists open Alex's pants, shoves it down, two inch past the hips. Idly, Cesare notes that Alex's cock looks pleasantly... straining.

[alexkrycek.insanejournal.com]

Alex teases along the skin, following lines and wrinkles, tasting salt and alcohol. Playful ends with a nip and a suck, then the hint of teeth at the base of the thumb and a grin hidden by his bent head.

"Being bad orbeing good now, huh?" He laughs, but the sound turns throaty when knuckles brush against his cock. He keeps his hips pressed to the sofa, not arching up, not mobving into the touch, the picture of pure control. Exposed, his bulge visible through the open fly, it makes him throb though, blood pulsing under his skin. He looks down at himself, then up at Cesare.

[il_valentino.insanejournal.com]

Blinking slowly, Cesare reaches down to free Alex and take his cock in hand, not really looking at it, meeting Alex's terrifically smouldering glare instead. "The distinction is meaningless," he says pleasantly, firming his grip, "and you know it."

[alexkrycek.insanejournal.com]

"Fuck," he mouths, eyes closing for a blink, then focusing on the coffee on the table, smacking dry lips for something, and he focuses back on Cesare, hips firmly unmoving. "Is it, really, to you? Thought you were going for the bad rather than the good in life."

[il_valentino.insanejournal.com]

"Then you mistake me," Cesare says softly, pleased by Alex's short moment of- what, surprise, pleasure? Abandon? With his free hand, he smoothes through Alex's hair. He loosens the fingers of the other, just enough to gently move his hand up and down. Not much. Just this side of pleasurable.

"Then you mistake me gravely," he repeats, near Alex's lips. "Bad things... one should ban them from one's life. Why give the devil more dominion?"

[alexkrycek.insanejournal.com]

Chapped lips catch on Cesare's stubble with every inhalation. "You're saying you're not the devil," Alex murmurs. His fingers, glass set down somewhere, curl into the fabric of the long-sleeved shirt somewhere around Cesare's wrist, urging on or stopping, it isn't entirely clear at this point.

"Missing the horns, maybe, but not the intention. Defying your God by sleeping with the vampire slut and me, nice company you keep." He chuckles and bites at Cesare's jawline. "Does it get you off, being so wrong?"

[il_valentino.insanejournal.com]

He's of a mind to let go of Alex's dick, leave him bobbing. "You hurt me," he says. It sounds amused enough to be mistaken for a joke. "I'm a good Christian, for what it's worth. A good theologian, too."

Make me hit and choke you, why don't you. Eyes narrowed, he peers down his nose at Alex. Alex who's too close, all eyelashes and brows and bruised, mottled skin that could do with a good night's sleep and a dab of almond oil.

He doesn't miss the feeble, indecisive clutching and flicks against a fingernail against the tip of Alex's cock. "I'm not wrong," he hisses, evading the bite. "If there's a Satan round here, it's you."

[alexkrycek.insanejournal.com]

"Do I?" It's par for the course, less surprising than the quiet intimacy of early morning walks, and really, they are both stuck in their skins. "You look shocked," he mumbles, eyebrow raises in interest when the bags under Cesare's eyes twitch with narrowing muscles and the line of the mouth hardens.

Alex twists up for a kiss to steal, branding, burning - isn't that the whole holy water story on people's skins, forcing himself up on his elbow to take what Cesare twists out of reach.

The fingernail straddles pleasure and pain, Alex winces, a good humored smirk. "Maybe. But it's you who wants to fuck Satan, then."

[il_valentino.insanejournal.com]

"Shocked," Cesare echoes dully. "If the impression flatters you, by all means, go ahead. Be deluded." He grips Alex harder again, almost yanking him up and half onto his lap. "There are so many minor devils around, Sandro." His voice has dropped to an irritated, scratchy purr. "They don't bother me. And you? Are just a too-smug-for-his-own-good, gay little Russian-American jew boy. Those pants. Off," he orders.

[alexkrycek.insanejournal.com]

"Not gay for starters," Alex bites out, straddling Cesare lap somewhat uncomfortably, one foot still on the ground, the other leg bent and his knee half digging into Cesare's thigh, half sliding between the sofa cushions. He curls a hand into the lapel of Cesare's shirt for balance. The pants are firmly on, thank you very much, and he scratches his fingernails along Cesare's chest thanks to access, opportunity and the cloudy irritation already on Cesare's face.

[il_valentino.insanejournal.com]

Cesare's nostrils flare. If one of those nails draws blood, you're dead, boy. Catalan curses under his breath. He has to decide; grab that irritating hand and land himself with Alex's teeth on his shoulder, or try and wrestle him down and over.

Perhaps not even worth the effort, if Alex isn't going to put out. If he insists on playing hard to get. "Don't bore me with that gender merda," he quips, teeth close enough to Alex's ear to bite. "Gay, not gay. Again, very little difference. A hole's a hole."

[alexkrycek.insanejournal.com]

Hard to say if the irritation is crossing into anger and the anger into put-upon hissyfits that land him flat on his ass outside the door, cock hard or not. Fingers splayed on Cesare's chest, he shrugs, a half-smile but not quite as self-assured as it pretends to be.

"What's about this fascination of fucking the devil then?" Alex mouths back and nips at the cords standing out on Cesare's neck.

[il_valentino.insanejournal.com]

The nip-and-lick... well. Perhaps he'll put out after all. Cesare grabs the hand and twists the wrist, holding Alex upright by supporting him with his own arm. "I'm not fascinated with the devil. Neither am I the one sitting here with a throbbing dick," he says, a propos. "So, what now. You want to fuck, or talk?"

[alexkrycek.insanejournal.com]

"Hard to fuck if your dick isn't up for it, isn't it?" he scoffs, twists his wrist a little in Cesare's grip but doesn't exactly pull away, just presses his lips to Cesare's, biting at Cesare's lower lip. It's not quite gentle.

[il_valentino.insanejournal.com]

Sharp intake of breath at the bite. Nudging Alex off, away, about a handspan distance to better evade future nips and bites, he growls, "too much teeth. I bet your ass is dentata, too."

Nevertheless, the fact which Alex has pointed out... is a fact. At this point of their shuddering proceedings, at any rate.

"Look, this is quite simple. You, pants off. Or you, out the door. Have your pick."