silversolitaire (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
silversolitaire) wrote2002-01-09 12:45 pm
silversolitaire) wrote2002-01-09 12:45 pm
Cara snippet...
This is the scene I'm so fond of from our original novel, Cara - Expensive Love.
Amadeo is a young prostitute who belongs to the caste of the castita which are untouchable and treated like precious jewels. He has just messed up the chance to be with the man he fell in love with but never wanted to admit, Dante. Jonas is a bishop sent to Carnal City to investigate the murders. He is... weird, at best. He was smitten by a sudden infatuation with Amadeo when he came to confess a couple of weeks ago.
Now, at a decadent party, Jonas finds Amadeo again...
*****
"It hurts, doesn't it?"
Amadeo could hardly distinguish the words being uttered. They seemed to come from someone quite close to him, indeed almost sitting next to him. He struggled to gather his wits, but his head hurt so much. He'd cried so much, his heart thundered so harshly in his chest. His entire torso hurt from the strain. He shut his eyes tighter. Dante.
Soft hands pushed his hair from his face maternally, so kindly that Amadeo rolled onto his back, allowing the hands to guide him. He could see the figure of his visitor, probably some lucky guest who'd found his room soon after Dante had stormed away. The hands drew the hair from all his face, cleaning away the tears from his cheeks and nose. They felt cool and sweet. Amadeo opened his eyes wider, longing to catch a glimpse of his comforter. He felt sure he'd met him before.
"… Jonas …"
The Reverend thinned his lips. Upon being recognized, the castita drew away slightly. "I wanted to find you, angel. You never danced with me and I'd held my hopes since the start of the evening."
"My head's a mess." Amadeo rubbed his temples. He drew his legs up and down the mattress, trying to send life into them. His entire body felt cold and dead.
"Most of the guests are either asleep, drunk, or have gone home." Jonas reached down to rub the boy's legs. He looked at him with a calculative expression, as if he were one of his scientific investigations. But with each one of his calefaction touches he dared to move on higher up the boy's legs. Inching his way upwards to the areas he'd desired to touch throughout the evening.
"Even Alexander? Is he gone too, or is he still with Lux?"
Jonas shrugged. "He comes and goes as he pleases. I think he already left Lux by himself. Lux might be loving someone else. Who knows?"
Amadeo rolled on to his back, spreading himself wearily on the bed. He felt so tired, felt his oesophagus throbbing from too many sobs. He sighed, exhausted, and gave Jonas a weak smile. He felt too tired to keep himself ethereal. "I thought you knew everything, Priest."
Jonas humored him a grin, and kept on rubbing his skin. It felt so languid under his palm. "Not everything," he said. "What I know is because I see it. Roaming the halls of this maze all night. So tiresome. How can one be so together and so alone at the same time? Still, no matter. The maze and the house are all quite now. So quiet."
"Quiet." Amadeo sighed, trying to expel the memory of Dante from his skin. He hoped Lux didn't feel as empty and lonely as he did. He hoped the young man had found tenderness and love in the hands of his lover. Even in those of Alexander, although Amadeo knew that to be quite impossible.
Amadeo drew in his breath as he felt Jonas' fingers brush inside his thighs. He turned to look at the man who cast him an expressionless gaze. Everything about Jonas seemed expressionless, as if nothing mattered to him at all. The castita kept looking at the man, his chest beginning to heave with each insistent caress the bishop gave him, each time closer to his organs. Yet, it didn't feel right.
The castita rolled his head away from Jonas' gaze. It didn't feel right. He wanted those hands to be rough, like those of Dante. He wanted to be loved, not merely adored. Amadeo bit his lip, fighting the tears he knew would start if he pictured Dante's eyes once more. How could he still find a way to cry? He was so sure he was dry. Where were these tears coming from?
He let out a moan as he felt Jonas' hands finally find their desired destination.
"… I'm sorry…" Amadeo said sadly. He stared up at Jonas' face, hoping the bishop would understand the dealings of the heart. He'd been so kind and wonderfully paternal before, had understood his sorrow and turmoil so well. "I would rather be alone."
But Jonas wasn't listening. Unable to struggle, Amadeo felt the bishop's heavy body upon him, strong arms holding him down. He gasped, his voice hoarse: "What are you doing?" He let out a wince as he felt his wrists being twisted.
Jonas gripped his shoulder, tensing the skin there. He felt the castita beat at his legs weakly. Poor bastard was too tired to fight from all his crying and exhaustion over The Raven. Even his screams sounded like wracked coughs.
Amadeo howled in pain as the bishop punctured his shoulder with a needle, one he'd carefully removed from someplace within his costume. He'd seen a gun in his belt. Fear crept up his body, but the sensation of burning started to pulsate on his shoulder. It felt like acid racing through his veins, so much burning. It was putting him asleep. He struggled to stay awake, to kick the man above him, but he felt, instead, himself being pushed further into the mattress, his legs being spread apart. A sharp tremor shook his body and with unnaturally wide eyes, he stared up at Jonas. "… you'll be making love to a corpse…"
Jonas did not answer, merely reached for the buttons that held his elaborate costume secure. A few tugs and the glorious fabrics left his body. Before he lay completely naked atop the boy, Amadeo lay in a semi-catatonic state. The castita had closed his eyes. He looked so beautiful. Jonas bent down, his eager tongue cursing through the boy's breasts, his hands reaching down to lift the boy's ass.
A tear ran down into Amadeo's mouth.
*****
Jonas abandoned his Death costume some time between five and six in the morning. He'd dressed in the robes of a bishop after taking a shower in the private rooms of a comfortable little hotel by the Pleasure Dome that overlooked one of the rivers in the City. He'd let Amadeo sleep on the bed the room provided, after placing him there carefully and with all the love of a devoted lover.
Amadeo did not move or make a sound, not even when Jonas placed him inside his fancy coach and they'd ridden a shaky trend, the horses shaking the coach gingerly. He'd lain on his chest, tears crystallized upon his cheeks. The drug he'd injected into his body rendered the boy nothing but flesh. A pallor nestled into his face, his lips blue and crispy. But Jonas knew the boy would live.
Staring at his reflection upon the mirror, Jonas let out a sigh. He'd need to flog himself and go to confession for what he'd done. He'd been a wicked person, so wicked, to fall into the sins of the flesh. But, how he could still feel his penis entering Amadeo, feel the boy's testicles inside his mouth. Amadeo tasted as wonderful as he looked. Just remembering made him tense up, long to lie by the sleeping boy and bite into those nipples again, suck at him.
"You'll burn in Hell like them," Jonas told his reflection in the mirror. "I think it's best that you finish your business in this City and leave, before there's nothing left of you."
He reached and pushed back his hair, tying it into the slick ponytail that trailed down to his lower back. The grease on his hair made it look shinier and smoother. The shadows under his eyes accentuated the harshness on his face. He ran a gloved, slim finger over his lips. "You will burn in Hell."
Jonas narrowed his eyes at his reflection. "Shut up."
He'd washed the castita. Had placed him inside a marvellous tub of foamy, flower scented soap water.
Amadeo's head rested back on the tub's edge, eyes slightly open. The pupils peeked from under heavy lids, half conscious of what was happening. Jonas had ordered the pamperings fit for a king from the hotel management, but he'd done it himself. He'd rubbed the boy, lathered him up and frothed him in perfume. Amadeo sank every now and then, his head rolling like a dead thing, and Jonas would drag him up once more and prop him gently against the tub. He cleaned away the night, the make-up, the tears and blood, cleaning with his hands like kisses. And, when the burning on his penis became unbearable, he'd taken the boy from the tub and laid him on the wet floor, and made love to his cold, wet body with its shrivelled fingers.
Amadeo smelled so wonderful once he'd been bathed. Jonas closed his eyes, taking in his scent, and lifted him from the bed. He'd dressed him in a silk robe of sheer fabric, a gossamer blue sheet that revealed the nymph's naked body. With a last look at the room, Jonas carried Amadeo down the stairs and into the waiting carriage.
The ride proved short, too short to be enjoyed fully, and soon the driver pulled up in Valentine's majestic manor. Jonas waited until his coachmen opened the door and then descended, the sleeping body of Amadeo still in his arms. The sheer fabric caught the early breeze and floated about both of them. The sun caressed the boy's face, his eyelashes, and at once every one of the boys and gardeners about the front of the house stopped what they were doing. They all stared at the regal bishop, his sacerdotal robes floating about him, and at the beautiful boy on his arms.
"He came to me last night," Jonas told the woman dressed in black, the housekeeper, who opened the door to greet him. He could feel the eyes and stares of the early workers. "I've brought him home to his master. Is Valentine here?"
The housekeeper stared at them in silence. It was not the woman's business what Valentine's life undertook. "He is in his chambers. He cannot meet you right now, My Lord."
"No matter. I've come to return Amadeo to him. May I carry him to his room?"
The housekeeper lead the bishop to Valentine's parlour. She walked slowly and regally, as if it were the Emperor who employed him. "Why is Mr. Amadeo in this condition?" The woman gazed lovingly, as one who's served for long, at the sleeping boy.
Jonas caught that look and despised it, but not a sign showed on his face. "He was exhausted from all the commotion of last night's celebration and a night of ethereal love making."
The housekeeper led the bishop to a fantastic room, up through the staircase. Amadeo did not much sleep in Valentine's home, but this room would serve. She opened the door, revealing a suite of angelical beauty. "You may leave him here. I will see to it he is not disturbed."
Jonas lay Amadeo carefully on top of the bed, arranging his hair about his face, almost as if the boy were on display. He could feel the housekeeper watching his moves. The woman found such gestures slightly perturbing, but Jonas did not catch this. He folded Amadeo's hands over his stomach and kissed them sweetly. "Goodbye," he whispered.
The housekeeper faced him stoically - indeed, they both almost bumped into each other - when Jonas rose to leave the chamber. Jonas could sense the distrust, the tension in the servant.
"Good day, my good woman," Jonas said.
"Good day, Your Eminence."
*****
Amadeo is a young prostitute who belongs to the caste of the castita which are untouchable and treated like precious jewels. He has just messed up the chance to be with the man he fell in love with but never wanted to admit, Dante. Jonas is a bishop sent to Carnal City to investigate the murders. He is... weird, at best. He was smitten by a sudden infatuation with Amadeo when he came to confess a couple of weeks ago.
Now, at a decadent party, Jonas finds Amadeo again...
*****
"It hurts, doesn't it?"
Amadeo could hardly distinguish the words being uttered. They seemed to come from someone quite close to him, indeed almost sitting next to him. He struggled to gather his wits, but his head hurt so much. He'd cried so much, his heart thundered so harshly in his chest. His entire torso hurt from the strain. He shut his eyes tighter. Dante.
Soft hands pushed his hair from his face maternally, so kindly that Amadeo rolled onto his back, allowing the hands to guide him. He could see the figure of his visitor, probably some lucky guest who'd found his room soon after Dante had stormed away. The hands drew the hair from all his face, cleaning away the tears from his cheeks and nose. They felt cool and sweet. Amadeo opened his eyes wider, longing to catch a glimpse of his comforter. He felt sure he'd met him before.
"… Jonas …"
The Reverend thinned his lips. Upon being recognized, the castita drew away slightly. "I wanted to find you, angel. You never danced with me and I'd held my hopes since the start of the evening."
"My head's a mess." Amadeo rubbed his temples. He drew his legs up and down the mattress, trying to send life into them. His entire body felt cold and dead.
"Most of the guests are either asleep, drunk, or have gone home." Jonas reached down to rub the boy's legs. He looked at him with a calculative expression, as if he were one of his scientific investigations. But with each one of his calefaction touches he dared to move on higher up the boy's legs. Inching his way upwards to the areas he'd desired to touch throughout the evening.
"Even Alexander? Is he gone too, or is he still with Lux?"
Jonas shrugged. "He comes and goes as he pleases. I think he already left Lux by himself. Lux might be loving someone else. Who knows?"
Amadeo rolled on to his back, spreading himself wearily on the bed. He felt so tired, felt his oesophagus throbbing from too many sobs. He sighed, exhausted, and gave Jonas a weak smile. He felt too tired to keep himself ethereal. "I thought you knew everything, Priest."
Jonas humored him a grin, and kept on rubbing his skin. It felt so languid under his palm. "Not everything," he said. "What I know is because I see it. Roaming the halls of this maze all night. So tiresome. How can one be so together and so alone at the same time? Still, no matter. The maze and the house are all quite now. So quiet."
"Quiet." Amadeo sighed, trying to expel the memory of Dante from his skin. He hoped Lux didn't feel as empty and lonely as he did. He hoped the young man had found tenderness and love in the hands of his lover. Even in those of Alexander, although Amadeo knew that to be quite impossible.
Amadeo drew in his breath as he felt Jonas' fingers brush inside his thighs. He turned to look at the man who cast him an expressionless gaze. Everything about Jonas seemed expressionless, as if nothing mattered to him at all. The castita kept looking at the man, his chest beginning to heave with each insistent caress the bishop gave him, each time closer to his organs. Yet, it didn't feel right.
The castita rolled his head away from Jonas' gaze. It didn't feel right. He wanted those hands to be rough, like those of Dante. He wanted to be loved, not merely adored. Amadeo bit his lip, fighting the tears he knew would start if he pictured Dante's eyes once more. How could he still find a way to cry? He was so sure he was dry. Where were these tears coming from?
He let out a moan as he felt Jonas' hands finally find their desired destination.
"… I'm sorry…" Amadeo said sadly. He stared up at Jonas' face, hoping the bishop would understand the dealings of the heart. He'd been so kind and wonderfully paternal before, had understood his sorrow and turmoil so well. "I would rather be alone."
But Jonas wasn't listening. Unable to struggle, Amadeo felt the bishop's heavy body upon him, strong arms holding him down. He gasped, his voice hoarse: "What are you doing?" He let out a wince as he felt his wrists being twisted.
Jonas gripped his shoulder, tensing the skin there. He felt the castita beat at his legs weakly. Poor bastard was too tired to fight from all his crying and exhaustion over The Raven. Even his screams sounded like wracked coughs.
Amadeo howled in pain as the bishop punctured his shoulder with a needle, one he'd carefully removed from someplace within his costume. He'd seen a gun in his belt. Fear crept up his body, but the sensation of burning started to pulsate on his shoulder. It felt like acid racing through his veins, so much burning. It was putting him asleep. He struggled to stay awake, to kick the man above him, but he felt, instead, himself being pushed further into the mattress, his legs being spread apart. A sharp tremor shook his body and with unnaturally wide eyes, he stared up at Jonas. "… you'll be making love to a corpse…"
Jonas did not answer, merely reached for the buttons that held his elaborate costume secure. A few tugs and the glorious fabrics left his body. Before he lay completely naked atop the boy, Amadeo lay in a semi-catatonic state. The castita had closed his eyes. He looked so beautiful. Jonas bent down, his eager tongue cursing through the boy's breasts, his hands reaching down to lift the boy's ass.
A tear ran down into Amadeo's mouth.
*****
Jonas abandoned his Death costume some time between five and six in the morning. He'd dressed in the robes of a bishop after taking a shower in the private rooms of a comfortable little hotel by the Pleasure Dome that overlooked one of the rivers in the City. He'd let Amadeo sleep on the bed the room provided, after placing him there carefully and with all the love of a devoted lover.
Amadeo did not move or make a sound, not even when Jonas placed him inside his fancy coach and they'd ridden a shaky trend, the horses shaking the coach gingerly. He'd lain on his chest, tears crystallized upon his cheeks. The drug he'd injected into his body rendered the boy nothing but flesh. A pallor nestled into his face, his lips blue and crispy. But Jonas knew the boy would live.
Staring at his reflection upon the mirror, Jonas let out a sigh. He'd need to flog himself and go to confession for what he'd done. He'd been a wicked person, so wicked, to fall into the sins of the flesh. But, how he could still feel his penis entering Amadeo, feel the boy's testicles inside his mouth. Amadeo tasted as wonderful as he looked. Just remembering made him tense up, long to lie by the sleeping boy and bite into those nipples again, suck at him.
"You'll burn in Hell like them," Jonas told his reflection in the mirror. "I think it's best that you finish your business in this City and leave, before there's nothing left of you."
He reached and pushed back his hair, tying it into the slick ponytail that trailed down to his lower back. The grease on his hair made it look shinier and smoother. The shadows under his eyes accentuated the harshness on his face. He ran a gloved, slim finger over his lips. "You will burn in Hell."
Jonas narrowed his eyes at his reflection. "Shut up."
He'd washed the castita. Had placed him inside a marvellous tub of foamy, flower scented soap water.
Amadeo's head rested back on the tub's edge, eyes slightly open. The pupils peeked from under heavy lids, half conscious of what was happening. Jonas had ordered the pamperings fit for a king from the hotel management, but he'd done it himself. He'd rubbed the boy, lathered him up and frothed him in perfume. Amadeo sank every now and then, his head rolling like a dead thing, and Jonas would drag him up once more and prop him gently against the tub. He cleaned away the night, the make-up, the tears and blood, cleaning with his hands like kisses. And, when the burning on his penis became unbearable, he'd taken the boy from the tub and laid him on the wet floor, and made love to his cold, wet body with its shrivelled fingers.
Amadeo smelled so wonderful once he'd been bathed. Jonas closed his eyes, taking in his scent, and lifted him from the bed. He'd dressed him in a silk robe of sheer fabric, a gossamer blue sheet that revealed the nymph's naked body. With a last look at the room, Jonas carried Amadeo down the stairs and into the waiting carriage.
The ride proved short, too short to be enjoyed fully, and soon the driver pulled up in Valentine's majestic manor. Jonas waited until his coachmen opened the door and then descended, the sleeping body of Amadeo still in his arms. The sheer fabric caught the early breeze and floated about both of them. The sun caressed the boy's face, his eyelashes, and at once every one of the boys and gardeners about the front of the house stopped what they were doing. They all stared at the regal bishop, his sacerdotal robes floating about him, and at the beautiful boy on his arms.
"He came to me last night," Jonas told the woman dressed in black, the housekeeper, who opened the door to greet him. He could feel the eyes and stares of the early workers. "I've brought him home to his master. Is Valentine here?"
The housekeeper stared at them in silence. It was not the woman's business what Valentine's life undertook. "He is in his chambers. He cannot meet you right now, My Lord."
"No matter. I've come to return Amadeo to him. May I carry him to his room?"
The housekeeper lead the bishop to Valentine's parlour. She walked slowly and regally, as if it were the Emperor who employed him. "Why is Mr. Amadeo in this condition?" The woman gazed lovingly, as one who's served for long, at the sleeping boy.
Jonas caught that look and despised it, but not a sign showed on his face. "He was exhausted from all the commotion of last night's celebration and a night of ethereal love making."
The housekeeper led the bishop to a fantastic room, up through the staircase. Amadeo did not much sleep in Valentine's home, but this room would serve. She opened the door, revealing a suite of angelical beauty. "You may leave him here. I will see to it he is not disturbed."
Jonas lay Amadeo carefully on top of the bed, arranging his hair about his face, almost as if the boy were on display. He could feel the housekeeper watching his moves. The woman found such gestures slightly perturbing, but Jonas did not catch this. He folded Amadeo's hands over his stomach and kissed them sweetly. "Goodbye," he whispered.
The housekeeper faced him stoically - indeed, they both almost bumped into each other - when Jonas rose to leave the chamber. Jonas could sense the distrust, the tension in the servant.
"Good day, my good woman," Jonas said.
"Good day, Your Eminence."
*****
no subject
i'm weird like that, i like to wait until things are finished before i start them. well except Chains, i manage ok with that, but then that's pretty regular....
so when you finish your novel...let me know.
is that going to be ages??
no subject
Well, don't know how long it'll take. We started in September and now we're at the middle, I guess (200 pages and counting... o.o). So, it might take a while. Then again, we are pretty regular in our work, so we shouldn't frustrate our readers too much. But we haven't published on the web yet. We're still contemplating, since we want to find a publisher once we're done.
Now off to illustrate said scene ^_^.
Re:
i remember looking at pics of Amadeo on your site and thinking he was a fox.... that's foxy, not the actual fox animal.... very cool hair.
damn i wish anime hair was real.....
no subject
Glad you liked Amadeo. Yeah... he's quite sexy! After all, there's got to be a reason everyone wants him, no? LOL
Anime hair... tell me about it. I want to have hair like that, too.
no subject
Silver...
*reaches out to strangle you but changes mind* Need you alive and well to write more. ^o^
A snippet... all I am reading is a snippet that makes me want more~! Gah~!!
Wonderful piece of writing btw. Nay, excellent, I would venture to say. *flashes peace sign* Let us know when the novel's finished. ^_~ If it's up for sale, I'd buy it. *grin*
And both Amadeo and Jonas, the priest who "will burn in hell," look gorgeous. *sigh*
Re: Silver...
And I was kinda surprised myself to find Jonas look so hot! Heh...