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Post by Erik Destler on Jun 27, 2008 12:51:16 GMT -5
"Of course not--of course, it was foolish of me. Forgive me? I didn't take certain things to mind, I was just so thrilled to have something to touch you with."
Ghostly fingers drifted across Carlos' cheek.
"This is maddening--we must find something now."
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Post by Carlos Castro on Jun 28, 2008 8:52:42 GMT -5
"I know," Carlos moaned, wishing he was stronger. Or weaker. Whatever would have allowed him to overlook the body. "But will he... is he... Will he come back?"
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Post by Erik Destler on Jun 29, 2008 16:56:32 GMT -5
"Holmes? He is quite alive and occupying his own shell. And if he's as wise as his reputation would lead one to believe, he'll stay far away from us, my dear. But here now...it's quite early, the sun is just barely up. You may go back to sleep if you wish."
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Post by Carlos Castro on Jul 1, 2008 9:42:21 GMT -5
"It's been a day," he said. "I think I will."
He had a feeling the days to come would not be less fraught with drama.
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Post by Erik Destler on Jul 1, 2008 9:48:19 GMT -5
"Very well."
His presence coiled around the youngish man for a few minutes, back into bed and remained with him this time.
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Post by Sherlock Holmes on Jul 1, 2008 11:37:34 GMT -5
**MEANWHILE, IN THE HALLWAY**
Holmes stumbled, regaining control of his body in a rush that left his limbs somewhat unresponsive, as if he'd been sitting on them wrong. The wound on his face throbbed and he felt sick to his stomach.
Dear God. What had he done? Irene... how had he been unable to stop Destler? How had his mind given up so easily? He had no doubt that every sight and sensation would be indelibly recorded in his eidetic memory for all time. Even if Irene would look at him again, he couldn't stand it. He had done exactly the opposite of his intent.
He would go away, regroup. He would discover the solution. He would fix things. It was just that now everything was clouded with his shame and revulsion and self-hatred, and he couldn't seem to get a handle on it. Weak! He was weak.
Holmes, outwardly collected, left the hotel.
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Post by Carlos Castro on Jul 1, 2008 12:31:10 GMT -5
**NEW DAY**
Carlos had triumphed again as Pinkerton. Critics noted a renewed devotion to Castro's art, and a few picked up on an odd intensity he was suddenly bringing to the role. One, even, had been witness (or heard tell of it from a spy) to the scene in the cafe and wondered what was behind the tenor's sudden effort to prove himself in a field he had already mastered.
There had been an flurry of invitations to balls, soirées, and gatherings, and Carlos had accepted them all graciously. He shook hands, curried favor, and more or less went back to his old life--with the knowledge that Destler was never very far away and the urgency of his mission always in mind. His eyes searched every face for the right one, always dismissing them for one reason or another. Too short, too thin, not thin enough, eyes the wrong shade. In truth, nothing caught his eye for long.
But there was one man, initially not so much dismissed as ignored, who kept infringing on Carlos' search. He'd turn up here and there, quiet, unassuming in his looks and manner. A Mr. Taylor, Carlos heard, the younger son of a duke who had cut ties with his family for unknown reasons and was now living in Paris. No one knew much else. He did not seem popular.
One evening, however, a small gathering in the parlor of Mme. de Villepin resulted in a bit of fun during which Carlos was charged with judging an amateur talent contest. There was some mediocre piano playing, a juggler, and last, Mr. Taylor stepped beside the piano.
"My apologies to all present, especially Senor Castro," he said with a nod of his head, and something about his smile suddenly caught Carlos' attention. "I should not presume in such august company, but this is a favorite song of mine, and, alas, my only contribution."
Despite the smile, Carlos steeled himself for something painful. But the voice that emerged, while imperfect, untrained and somewhat rough, was... pleasant. The country tune he sang set off the roughness well, and there was something honest and true about his tone. And there was something--he couldn't be certain, of course, but one never was--about him that indicated he would appreciate Carlos' attention.
A plan in mind, Carlos was forced to proclaim some other no-talent society dame the winner. But he approached Taylor as the man was leaving. This was the one: his attractiveness unassuming, requiring some familiarity. Older, as Carlos liked it. Known to some circles, but virtually without family.
"I'm sorry," he said. "You should have won."
Taylor flashed him that smile again. "Not at all. You're the expert, after all. And it was merely some harmless fun."
"No," Carlos said. "I had a reason to avoid appearing to favor you." In the darkness of the doorway, Carlos brushed the man's hand with his own and dropped his voice to a sultry rumble. "Perhaps you'll allow me to tell you in more suitable surroundings. My rooms, perhaps?"
The man's breath caught. "You've seen me watching you. I had wondered..."
"Is that a yes or a no?"
"...Yes."
They spoke of trivialities in the cab and up the stairs to Carlos' suite, where Carlos poured them both a drink and gestured to the sofa. Taylor ensconced, he seating himself, not too close but not far enough for polite company.
"You see, Mr. Taylor, a man in my position cannot be too careful," he said. "As I am sure you know from your own experience."
"I am not unfamiliar," Taylor agreed. Bolder in private, he placed a hand on Carlos' leg, just above the knee. This was almost too easy, and he noted the fineness of the man's hands. Carlos placed his hand over Taylor's and leaned over to kiss him. Their lips had barely touched before the ring was off Carlos' finger and replaced on Taylor's more slender counterpart.
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Post by Erik Destler on Jul 1, 2008 12:47:56 GMT -5
Destler had "gone out" as much as he could stand while waiting through the endless parties, gatherings, boring social engagements, but he was quickly drawn back by the alertness in his would-be lover, the possibility.
He coiled jealously but not without excitement around Carlos as he courted the man's attention, his energy quivering like a tensed jungle cat, ready to spring at the prey any moment.
His Christopher was a master of this particular art--that, Destler did not entirely like, but for this purpose it was useful--and as soon as the ring had adjusted itself around its new wearer's finger, Destler was emptied from Carlos and wrestling with the consciousness of the new shell, causing Taylor's body to stiffen and shiver for a few moments while he fought his way around and expelled the poor soul.
This was a bit different from sharing a space with Carlos, or a body with Holmes, it was tiring and difficult.
The body of M. Taylor slumped over on the sofa.
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Post by Carlos Castro on Jul 1, 2008 12:58:37 GMT -5
Carlos caught him, cradling the man--and perhaps his lover--to him. Nerves and anticipation balled up in his guts, even as he missed the feeling of Destler being with him.
"Erik?" he called softly.
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Post by Erik Destler on Jul 1, 2008 13:09:48 GMT -5
The man grunted and opened up his eyes, seeming quite worn.
"Christopher." he responded with a sigh and attempted to sit up, a bit clumsily.
"Quite tired, my love...a bit numb."
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Post by Carlos Castro on Jul 1, 2008 13:47:03 GMT -5
((I feel bad about Taylor. He seemed nice.))
A wide smile suffused Carlos' face.
"It worked, though," he said. He wanted to touch every part of the man, his fingers itching for contact.
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Post by Erik Destler on Jul 1, 2008 13:59:11 GMT -5
((That's your fault! XD))
"It did." He gave Christopher his new smile and pushed up to his feet, wobbling a bit before his limbs started to feel alive and he reached down to take the other man's hand and pull him up into an exhausted, shaky embrace.
"I will be pleased with this choice, my dear--as I hope you will be." He chuckled.
"And for all our eagerness, I'm afraid I must have a little rest. Come to bed so that I can hold you for the first time. When I have my energy, we'll retire to my house."
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Post by Carlos Castro on Jul 1, 2008 14:43:55 GMT -5
Carlos felt elation at the man's smile, at his hand, his embrace. It was not Taylor's smile anymore; the material was the same, but the particulars Destler's own.
"Yes, of course," Carlos said, and began to lead Erik to the bedroom. "But... you are please, truly? You do not object?"
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Post by Erik Destler on Jul 1, 2008 14:50:49 GMT -5
"But why would I object?"
He grunted a bit and leaned on his lover for support until they were into the bedroom where he, with some assistance, stripped to his shirtsleeves and slid into the bed.
"He seems to have been a decent specimen of a man--and you've found him pleasing, have you not?"
Destler sighed a bit and waited for Carlos to join him, pulling him perhaps a little too tightly against himself.
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Post by Carlos Castro on Jul 1, 2008 16:33:57 GMT -5
"I do. Find him--you--pleasing. But it is not every day one chooses another's body for him. I imagine the choice could be... fraught."
He let himself get tugged next to Destler, not protesting at the strength of his grip. He almost didn't want to let go, though eventually he'd have to get undressed.
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