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With Phèdre’s telling, Anafiel had no choice but to look full in the eye Alcuin’s love for him and accept or deny it once and for all. He might otherwise have played at not noticing forever- or at least until Alcuin himself chose to press the matter- had she not.
Even still, Deluanay was some time in moving on the knowledge, and when he did, it was in response, and not by initiative. How damnably hard it was to act on his love for another when he had convinced himself years ago that to do so would be a dishonor to all he’d promised to Rolande. But the same time, he could no longer deny his heart- at least not in the privacy of his own thoughts.
But in the end, this was the hand he had dealt himself, intentional or no. And it had to be played. As it turned out, Alcuin did in fact press the matter though Anafiel did suspect he had encouragement.
Whether it was Phèdre’s doing that Alcuin learned of the custom by which the house Dowayne must acknowledge a marque completed, or by his own research, Anafiel never knew. Ultimately it mattered only that he did, in fact, know of the custom. And more importantly, that he knew how to use this knowledge. For all that he may he might lament that he trained Phèdre too well by halves, ’twas no different with Alcuin. Though with Alcuin, it was much more easily forgotten or overlooked as his ways were quieter, much more subtle than Phèdre’s.
It began that night with what was ultimately a business transaction; Alcuin caught him in the library when the rest of the household had already retired. He was alone, and then he looked up from his book, deep violet gaze intent under his pale, ethereal radiance, the room’s lamplight playing off oh his pale golden hair. When Alcuin saw that he had his attention, he made no preamble.
“My lord, you have not even asked to see my marque finished.”
Anafiel had given no thought to the need to inspect his marque, he had every confidence that it was completed beyond any satisfactory measure. “Master Robert Tielhard does excellent work. I’ve no doubt it’s well-limned.”
“It is.” There was faint amusement in his voice, and perhaps a note of indulgence. ”But my lord, the debt is not concluded between us until you acknowledge it. Will you see?”
Though he knew there would be no good in saying so just then, he had never considered Alcuin to owe him a debt.
Anafiel marked his book and stood. “If you wish.”
Back turning to him, Alcuin unbuttoned his shirt, shrugging with his innate grace, that it might slip from his shoulders, pulling his hair out of the way and bowing his head to afford a clear view.
Alcuin had always been an ephemeral beauty, but just then he was seeing him in a way he’d never seen him before- never allowed himself to see him, Anafiel was choked with unexpected emotion.
“Alcuin.” he wasn’t sure what to say, what may have been words caught, an unintelligible noise in Anafiel's throat to see a shudder pass through Alcuin's body as he trailed fingertips over the raw lines of his marque. “Does it hurt?” Could Alcuin feel that his hands were trembling?
“No,” he breathed, turning to face Anafiel. “No, my lord, it doesn’t hurt.”
Anafiel’s hands fell to rest at his waist and he wasn't certain what he would have done next but before he had a chance to even think, Alcuin’s hands were tangling in his hair, pulling him down until their lips met in a first kiss much more assertive than he might have expected, had he expected it.
All too soon, Alcuin pulled back, leveling his gaze on him. “Everything I have done, I have done for you, my lord. Will you not do this one thing for me?”
Elua help me. Alcuin had never asked for a thing but that moment and every moment after, Anafiel would do anything he asked, everything. That night, he took Alcuin to his bed.
That night, he cast off his age-old vow to never love another.
It was a revelation, a gift of the angels themselves, to undress- and to be undressed by- Alcuin. How stubbornly Anafiel had held to the notion that he was, in fact, still a boy. Though, now four years past, he’d made his dedication to Naamah’s service, lain with patrons in that service and now, having completed his marque, was leaving that service behind.
The sense of revelation from the act of undressing was not so much a matter of the principle of their nudity, but the sheer awe and reverence they shared for each other in the moment, the unrushed touches of warm fingers slipping under fabric hems, not quite ready to bare the skin that lay beneath.
It was the way time seemed to still, Elua’s grace settled a weightless mantle upon them as each was bared to the other, body and soul, inch by inch.
And then for a moment, he froze, eyes roaming Alcuin’s face, searching for some answer as to how he wanted me to continue. How had his patrons proceeded? Was there aught of them that he wanted from me?
Naamah, help me, Anafiel pleaded in silent prayer.
Then, as if in answer, Alcuin’s smile broke out, radiant. He took Anafiel by the hand and stepped backwards, bidding him to follow him to his own bed.
Forgive me, Rolande.
His hair spilled across the pillow, shimmering like the finest white gold in candlelight. Anafiel hovered over him, gazing down in adoration. And then after all this time, no words passing between them since they’d left the library, he felt he must speak.
“Alcuin, I…” words broke in his throat. “I am so sorry for…,”There was so much just than he failed to articulate. Where to even begin on his list of apologies owed?
In response, Alcuin smiled serenely and shook his head. “There is no apology owed, my lord. I pledged my service to Naamah, and lay down with patrons as Naamah lay with others for coin so that Elua might eat. Information was the coin I earned from my patrons to feed your searches. I gave freely of myself for you.”
It pained him, then, to think of Alcuin, taking patrons out of a necessity of his love for me, how they must have used his body for their own pleasures. Some of them had a genuine care for him- he thought, at least. But how many actually cared as much as Alciun deserved?
When he still could no more speak, nor move, it was Alcuin who once more wound his arms around Anafiel’s neck, and pulled him down, breaking one spell and casting another with his next kiss.
“Anafiel,” Alcuin's breath ghosted across his lips, carrying his name for the first time in Anafiel's memory. The sound was a benediction, a sacrament. All else ceased to exist in that moment, he gave himself over fully.
“May I…see…again?” Words, once more, were faltering but Alcuin obliged without pause, turning over to display his marque complete and once more, Anafiel trailed his fingers over and around the intricate lines, pushing Alcuin’s hair to one side to leave his view unhindered. Lower and lower his fingers glided over the abraded silken skin, his arousal growing at the shift and fix of lithe muscle under his touch. Finally reaching the base of the marque- where it all started- he continued lower, Alcuin shuddered faintly as one fingertip slid into the cleft of his cheeks.
Turning to peer over his shoulder, Alcuin asked, “Is this how you’ll have me?” Though it seemed a question of accommodation, Anafiel knew well enough that this was Alcuin’s subtle expression of impatience.
“Is this how you’d like me to?”
There was a thoughtful pause, and then his beatific smile once more, as the sun emerges from behind a cloud. “Yes…I thought at first I’d like you to have me face to face, so I can see everything you’re thinking. But like this…you can see how I am no longer yours. And how I am now yours.
A door had closed, a new one was opening.
Reaching quickly to his bedside table drawer, Anafiel found a small bottle of oil, he quickly uncapped and poured some into his hand, applying to himself and then drizzling a bit between Alcuin’s cheeks, fingers dipping once again into the cleft to ensure the oil was enough before bidding Alcuin to farther part his thighs. By now, he was aching with want, his own legs practically quivering as finally the head of his phallus prodded between Alcuin’s cheeks, and he gathered the self control to press slowly, slowly, until Alciun enveloped him fully.
“Anafiel,”Alcuin sighed, his name once more, a prayer.
“I give thanks to Elua that it was not you who found your way to Cereus house,” he told Alcuin hours later, entwined in each other’s arms as the dawn was cresting. “I’ve no question they would have known exactly what to do with you and you surely would have risen quickly to the treasure of their house.”
“Would you have been a patron of mine if that were the case?”
“That I cannot say,” Is all Anafiel could answer. “As it is, I have not patronized the Night Court within your lifetime. If that had happened, many things would be very different so I can say naught but that it is possible.”
They both knew that Alcuin would have never entered the service of Naamah were it not for him, but as a hypothetical, the question was safely enough entertained.
“I’ve thought, more than once, that maybe it would have been Heliotrope where I might have gone had I entered Naamah’s service within the nigh court,” there was an air of confession in his demeanor now. But I know that there is a difference between truly loving and being devoted to only one, and making a patron feel as though that is the case for the duration of an assignation.” He turned to look away, cheeks flushing before speaking again. “…and I know of which I am capable, and which I am not.”
Even if he would accept no apology, Anafiel had to ask. “Alcuin, why did you never tell me that you did not wish to enter Naamah’s service?”
There was a brief flicker of pain on is face, then his lips curved softly, an indulgent note in his smile. How could one so much younger than he seem suddenly so much older? “Anafiel,” he pronounced each letter carefully, as if still testing out the way my name felt in his mouth. His smile turned a bit misty before he spoke again. “Please understand. I wanted to…after a fashion.”
“After a fashion?”
“I hope you can believe, I truly gave my service of my own will, and any unforeseen complaint I may have looking back, I hold none of it your responsibility. But at one time, I thought I might want to become a priest of Shemhazai. When I first realized I was falling in love with you,” he laughed, shaking his head, “It sounds like such a folly of youth now to admit out loud, but I knew even then that you were chasing ghosts….ghosts that for as long as you chased them, meant that I had no hope you could ever love me…not in the way I was desperately longing for and I first believed Shemhazai’s path to be my answer to free you of them, but I finally realized that I would get there much faster in Naamah’s service. I know now that I was wrong, but I also believe now that serving Shemhazai would not have led me where I wanted to go.”
“I sent you into such danger…”
“Anafiel,” he began, an unfamiliar firmness in his voice. “What I did, I did so freely, and I did so out of love. And just as freely, I have ended my service to Naamah with every intention to continue to further your quests. But I want to stand beside you while I do. Need I ask you now to allow that I do?”
Elua, he would have been one of those Cereus adepts to find inner steel. Anafiel could only give thanks that he had found it here instead.