faderift | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

WHO: Byerly & Vanadi
WHAT: The Morning After
WHEN: Backdated to Sonia's party
WHERE: Byerly's I think??
NOTES: it's post-sexy so whatever content warnings might be associated with that

[ It's been easy to fall into old habits, and it grows easier the longer he's in this world. Last night had been a dive straight back into them, all pleasant flirts, courtly dances, and good company. And then all the rest. Oh, it'd been good to lose himself for a while, to really appreciate another body in a way he hasn't in a while ...

... But he can't let go of all of his recent habits, and a keen discomfort sleeping next to a stranger is one of them. It's been a fitful and restless night, and just as the sun rises he decides he's willing to eschew manners and throw in the towel. He'll catch up with the man later, and make whatever apologies are necessary.

Vanadi sits himself up carefully, not quite willing to unduly disturb the form next to him. The man had been lovely company, there's no need to rouse him so early as this. He peels back the sheets, intending to collect his belongings, dress in the almost-dark, and see himself out. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Then we're quite fine, no?

I would assume that we are. After all, it seems unlikely that a few cross words, at a dreadful time, would be sufficient to lead anyone to hold a grudge against a person, hm?

[ That gives him a brief pause. Byerly is correct, technically, there's very little use in holding grudges in a world where Vanadi needs all the help and company he can get in his fresh start.

On the other hand, his high position does change things. Honesty is too expensive. ]

I should say any lingering grudge has been thoroughly smoothed over. It was a very nice evening.

Oh, I'm so very glad to hear it.

[ The lack of change in Vanadi's tone makes Byerly quite, quite skeptical of the truth of that claim. Somewhere, obliquely, there's a little ache in him, like abraded skin brushed against something rough.

But - What does it matter? Not a whit. ]

How agreeable you are.

I do my best.

[ He could've convinced himself to stay longer, to enjoy a slow and lazy morning, maybe even to try a bit more of sleep — if he hadn't gotten that name. But he has, and now Vanadi's only goal is to make a graceful exit. First, though, he leans in, beckoning Byerly nearer with a crooked smile. ]

I've got to be going — may I ask one more kiss to take with me?

Hm.

[ Byerly watches as he's beckoned, a little smile on his lips. A moment, and then he makes his choice: ]

No, I don't think so.

No?

[ He drops that beckoning hand, and a second later it's settled to his chest with a wounded look. ]

You wound me. Have I really managed to darken your mood in so little time?

[ Ah, a familiar move. Precisely the one he'd have given. ]

I take rather few privileges from my station, but one of the ones I do take is that I no longer need to ply those who detest me with kisses.

[ He blinks, and the gently ingratiating smile falls away, along with the hand from his chest. Byerly, he will admit, is sharper than he's given him credit for.

A sigh ends his brief silence, and he rises from the bed to pluck up last night's discarded shirt. When he speaks again, turned away, it's with none of the smooth charm. ]

You can't blame me for not wanting enemies in high places.

No.

[ That's fair. Even if the thought of Byerly Rutyer being in high places feels laughable, even after all these months. ]

But I can most certainly blame you for expecting me to be an enemy.

[ He turns back fully dressed in last night's finery, the jacket draped over his arm, and studies Byerly dispassionately in the sun's creeping light. ]

I'm very tired of being caught off guard by enemies; better to assume and expect.

[ By, of course, agrees with that wholeheartedly, even though he wants to argue against it. He swallows down that impulse, and instead says: ]

So, what, are you planning to suck my cock every once in a while to keep me docile and harmless?

[ A wry smile creeps into place, and he offers a shrug. ]

It's worked a time or two before.

[ He wants to feel angry. Instead, all he feels is a little sad. Yes, it often does. ]

It's not my preferred method of satisfaction.

Mm. [ He shouldn't care. He should be done here and headed out the door. Instead, after a brief once over: ] And what is?

[ That's - not precisely what Byerly was expecting. Because, yes, Vanadi should not care. So it takes him a moment to answer, and when he does, it's with a breath puffed out, something akin to a scoff. ]

A job well done?

Yours? Or someone else's?

Oh, either one will do.

[ A one-shouldered shrug. ]

Look. Coercion is not precisely an aphrodisiac for me, dear fellow.

No, nor I.

[ That's a little quieter; he hadn't loved the thought of pursuing anyone under false pretenses, perhaps being caught at it is a relief. He sighs, his gaze cutting away for a moment. ]

And in light of that, I suppose I'd rather not have another evening in precisely this flavor with you.

[ It feels risky to say. He darts a glance back, looking for displeasure. ]

Did you know, then?

[ There is no sign at all of displeasure. His expression is as bland as water itself. But while there's danger in the inscrutable, there's at least no anger to be found. ]

Who I was? Was all of this an attempt to curry favor?

No.

[ He says it thoughtfully, without conviction. The real admission is the one that feels like another risk to admit to, though he does in a second or two: ]

But if I had, and if I'd played my part well enough, the evening would have gone no differently. That was more or less a plan of mine.

[ How strange this feels. Had this been what Byerly's targets had felt like, when they discovered what he'd done? If they'd discovered what he'd done. To be altogether fair, he was always quite good at covering his tracks. But that had not been out of any desire to defend their feelings...Many of them, he'd have thrown his duplicity in their faces if he'd had a chance. ]

You'd have been wasting your time. I fear I am a man of no sentiment. [ Then, with a mocking sort of simper - ] No cock, however well-aimed, can penetrate my heart.

[ He huffs a quick laugh, wryly amused, then sighs at himself. He wasn't cut out for this sort of thing, no matter what he likes to think. He sweeps a hand through his hair, some of the stiffness leaving his posture. ]

Well noted. I don't think I'd have been very good at it, though. What was it you said of my reaction — like being given sea water, and told it was wine?

That was quite well-said, wasn't it?

[ Then, some sort of cruelty makes him say, offhandedly - ]

You can learn to be good at it.

Yes, you're a regular poet. [ With a wary curiosity, though: ] From who, you?