more scandal
Mar. 17th, 2008 12:14 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maculategiraffeTitle: Most Excellent Cigars, part 2 of... let's not go there. Yes, I'm still working on Lee. I'm just in a slightly weird mood... and it's ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
alina_kotik's birthday, so...
Fandom: The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas
Pairing: Count of Monte Cristo/ Albert Morcerf
Word Count: 1058
Rating: Er-- slightly less tame than the last part.
Notes: Totally canon-compliant. Takes place two years after the end of the book. Forgive me, Monsieur Dumas.
"...I will make myself acquainted with his intentions, and shall submit to them."
-Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo
"From the provinces!" the Count repeated, staring at the creature with Mercédès' eyes and the body of a young Greek god-- and, it would appear, the mind of an incubus-- that lay half sprawled on the cushions beside him, waiting with an impudent grin playing about its lips for-- what? "No one supposed-- What are you playing at, Albert? I cannot believe you understand what you are-- suggesting."
"Cannot you?" Albert murmured. "Perhaps I could-- help you believe it?" He reached out again, but held his hand when Dantès stiffened.
"My dear sir," he said in more sober tones, "my dear host-- my dear friend-- nothing could be farther from my wish than to cause you any discomfort. If you wish the subject closed, believe me when I say I shall not raise it again in your presence. However--" and his eyes sparkled again, suddenly, with irrepressible mirth, "do not ask me to believe that you are so shocked as you pretend. You, who have lived both longer and more widely than I have-- you, who have traveled the world, consorted with its royalty, and made study of its literature and history-- you cannot be ignorant of the ways in which a man may know another man-- in which Achilles loved Patroclus, and Jonathan David, as the holy scriptures teach us, 'surpassing the love of woman.'"
"Indeed, there are few subjects on which my ignorance could be improved by your tutelage," the Count retorted, stung, "but neither do I pretend a surprise I do not feel. Surely it is cause enough for wonder that a youth from a civilized country should make such suggestions to a man twice his age-- and, moreover, one who brought about the downfall of his father and the ruin of his own fortunes."
"My father fell through his own fault, not yours," Albert responded steadily. "You have treated my mother and myself with the greatest gentility and friendship, considering the good cause my father gave you to hate him. But I have no wish to speak of that further. As to the matter of our relative ages, I believe I am somewhat older than the houri who but lately occupied this charming floating pleasure palace of yours, so let us consider age no obstacle. There only remains the question of civilization-- and surely the jungle you braved to find my regiment has convinced you that we are in no civilized country now, so what bars us from doing as we please?"
"We are gentlemen, Viscount, wherever we may find ourselves."
"That we are," said Albert, smiling like an indulgent parent at the foolish prattlings of a child attempting to delay its bedtime. "So surely our actions, whatever they may be, are likewise the actions of gentlemen."
"You cannot mean that," said the Count, more and more disconcerted as he perceived that Albert was perfectly sincere in his advances. "Albert, your mother has charged me with your safe passage home. Your virtue--"
Albert's laughter pealed out, so infectious that the Count nearly laughed himself despite-- or perhaps because of-- his increasing disorientation. The boy was so at ease, his long limbs loose and cublike with youth, that Dantès was conscious of a desire the more intense because its indulgence was-- surely-- unthinkable.
"My virtue," the young viscount managed finally, "is, I fear, past the point of protection by either my mother or yourself, Count. There is but little female company in the Spahis, unless one resort to forcing the natives, and a gentleman-- as I hope you still consider me; the loss of your esteem would be inexpressibly painful to me-- should value willing company of either sex over rape. And before my deployment-- well, I can assure you, sir, that Franz and I did not while away the weary Italian nights practising at the pianoforte, or teaching one another card tricks."
The boy's amusement, which seemed to verge on condescension, was inexpressibly irritating to the Count, but his irritation served only to increase a certain tension that had focused itself somewhere below his belt buckle. If he did not act quickly-- if the lad kept lolling about and laughing in that infuriating manner--
"Albert," he said coolly, "you are weary, and in no frame of mind to converse sensibly. I think you had better retire."
The young man sobered again and sat up, examining the Count with a sudden earnest concern that suited his finely formed features more completely-- if possible-- than his mirth.
"So I shall," he answered with unexpected meekness, and the Count, knotting his left hand unconsciously in the fringe of his cushion, found himself hard pressed not to groan. "Alone, if it is your wish."
"My wish--" The Count's voice was hoarse to his own ears.
"Your wish, sir," Albert replied quietly. "You already know mine. If you do not share it-- I am a gentleman. For any offence I may have given, Count, I most humbly apologise."
He made as if to rise. In a moment, both he and the Count were examining the Count's right hand with a certain mild curiosity as it curled around the younger man's forearm, arresting his movement.
"You would like me to accompany you?" the Count asked softly. "You would-- give yourself to me?"
It was Albert's turn to sound hoarse as he answered, "I would, sir."
"It would not be--" Dantès paused to steady his voice before he continued, "It would not be, with me, what it was with your fellow soldiers, or with your friend Franz. It would not be-- play."
Albert's eyes-- Mercédès' eyes-- met his, dark and curious and unfathomable.
"If it is only a boy's high-spirited game you offer me," the Count continued, gently, "go now to your own bed and sleep in peace. I shall not disturb you."
"So you think," Albert muttered. "Sir--" He dropped his gaze for a moment, then met Dantès' eyes again. "Sir, I do not pretend to understand what you offer. But I think-- I know-- I want to understand."
The Count heard the boy's gasp a moment before he realised how hard his hand was now gripping the slender wrist, but the gasp itself undid him.
"Go," he said harshly, releasing the boy's wrist with a gesture as violent as a blow. "Go to your quarters-- and wait for me."
alina_kotik's birthday, so...Fandom: The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas
Pairing: Count of Monte Cristo/ Albert Morcerf
Word Count: 1058
Rating: Er-- slightly less tame than the last part.
Notes: Totally canon-compliant. Takes place two years after the end of the book. Forgive me, Monsieur Dumas.
"...I will make myself acquainted with his intentions, and shall submit to them."
-Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo
"From the provinces!" the Count repeated, staring at the creature with Mercédès' eyes and the body of a young Greek god-- and, it would appear, the mind of an incubus-- that lay half sprawled on the cushions beside him, waiting with an impudent grin playing about its lips for-- what? "No one supposed-- What are you playing at, Albert? I cannot believe you understand what you are-- suggesting."
"Cannot you?" Albert murmured. "Perhaps I could-- help you believe it?" He reached out again, but held his hand when Dantès stiffened.
"My dear sir," he said in more sober tones, "my dear host-- my dear friend-- nothing could be farther from my wish than to cause you any discomfort. If you wish the subject closed, believe me when I say I shall not raise it again in your presence. However--" and his eyes sparkled again, suddenly, with irrepressible mirth, "do not ask me to believe that you are so shocked as you pretend. You, who have lived both longer and more widely than I have-- you, who have traveled the world, consorted with its royalty, and made study of its literature and history-- you cannot be ignorant of the ways in which a man may know another man-- in which Achilles loved Patroclus, and Jonathan David, as the holy scriptures teach us, 'surpassing the love of woman.'"
"Indeed, there are few subjects on which my ignorance could be improved by your tutelage," the Count retorted, stung, "but neither do I pretend a surprise I do not feel. Surely it is cause enough for wonder that a youth from a civilized country should make such suggestions to a man twice his age-- and, moreover, one who brought about the downfall of his father and the ruin of his own fortunes."
"My father fell through his own fault, not yours," Albert responded steadily. "You have treated my mother and myself with the greatest gentility and friendship, considering the good cause my father gave you to hate him. But I have no wish to speak of that further. As to the matter of our relative ages, I believe I am somewhat older than the houri who but lately occupied this charming floating pleasure palace of yours, so let us consider age no obstacle. There only remains the question of civilization-- and surely the jungle you braved to find my regiment has convinced you that we are in no civilized country now, so what bars us from doing as we please?"
"We are gentlemen, Viscount, wherever we may find ourselves."
"That we are," said Albert, smiling like an indulgent parent at the foolish prattlings of a child attempting to delay its bedtime. "So surely our actions, whatever they may be, are likewise the actions of gentlemen."
"You cannot mean that," said the Count, more and more disconcerted as he perceived that Albert was perfectly sincere in his advances. "Albert, your mother has charged me with your safe passage home. Your virtue--"
Albert's laughter pealed out, so infectious that the Count nearly laughed himself despite-- or perhaps because of-- his increasing disorientation. The boy was so at ease, his long limbs loose and cublike with youth, that Dantès was conscious of a desire the more intense because its indulgence was-- surely-- unthinkable.
"My virtue," the young viscount managed finally, "is, I fear, past the point of protection by either my mother or yourself, Count. There is but little female company in the Spahis, unless one resort to forcing the natives, and a gentleman-- as I hope you still consider me; the loss of your esteem would be inexpressibly painful to me-- should value willing company of either sex over rape. And before my deployment-- well, I can assure you, sir, that Franz and I did not while away the weary Italian nights practising at the pianoforte, or teaching one another card tricks."
The boy's amusement, which seemed to verge on condescension, was inexpressibly irritating to the Count, but his irritation served only to increase a certain tension that had focused itself somewhere below his belt buckle. If he did not act quickly-- if the lad kept lolling about and laughing in that infuriating manner--
"Albert," he said coolly, "you are weary, and in no frame of mind to converse sensibly. I think you had better retire."
The young man sobered again and sat up, examining the Count with a sudden earnest concern that suited his finely formed features more completely-- if possible-- than his mirth.
"So I shall," he answered with unexpected meekness, and the Count, knotting his left hand unconsciously in the fringe of his cushion, found himself hard pressed not to groan. "Alone, if it is your wish."
"My wish--" The Count's voice was hoarse to his own ears.
"Your wish, sir," Albert replied quietly. "You already know mine. If you do not share it-- I am a gentleman. For any offence I may have given, Count, I most humbly apologise."
He made as if to rise. In a moment, both he and the Count were examining the Count's right hand with a certain mild curiosity as it curled around the younger man's forearm, arresting his movement.
"You would like me to accompany you?" the Count asked softly. "You would-- give yourself to me?"
It was Albert's turn to sound hoarse as he answered, "I would, sir."
"It would not be--" Dantès paused to steady his voice before he continued, "It would not be, with me, what it was with your fellow soldiers, or with your friend Franz. It would not be-- play."
Albert's eyes-- Mercédès' eyes-- met his, dark and curious and unfathomable.
"If it is only a boy's high-spirited game you offer me," the Count continued, gently, "go now to your own bed and sleep in peace. I shall not disturb you."
"So you think," Albert muttered. "Sir--" He dropped his gaze for a moment, then met Dantès' eyes again. "Sir, I do not pretend to understand what you offer. But I think-- I know-- I want to understand."
The Count heard the boy's gasp a moment before he realised how hard his hand was now gripping the slender wrist, but the gasp itself undid him.
"Go," he said harshly, releasing the boy's wrist with a gesture as violent as a blow. "Go to your quarters-- and wait for me."
