To New Guests and New Friends

[bunny]

LAUGHTER RINGS THROUGH THE HALLWAY, as the party ramps up further. It started a few hours ago, and there are bodies, and the smell of sex and tobacco in the air. Henry brushes his hand along the side of a younger man's torso as he walks along, spotting Alfred across the room laughing with some of their friends. He smiles to himself. It is a good night. A lovely night. Lucy is seated on a sofa in their library, lips locked with another woman, while a man brushes his hands along her back.


This is freedom. To explore themselves sexually, to talk about art, and music, and to not live those stuffy lives of the Ton. Here, there was no hiding, no secrets. Just life, and the admiration of life. Granville, someone calls his name, and he turns. Lips press against his cheek, his neck, and he relaxes into the man's touch. There is no stress here. No fathers, no brothers, no honor. Second sons really do have all the fun. 

There is a loud knock on the door, and Henry gently separates himself from his handsy gentleman friend. "Go on, dear." He murmurs, giving his arse a gentle pat before sneaking passed him to the small foyer. His house is not grand -- his brother got the manor, the money, but the Queen treats him well. He has a small estate out in Sheffield, should he desire to ever go there. He nearly knocks down a statuette -- oops! Perhaps he has been drinking! 

Henry laughs to himself as he goes to open the door, standing confidently there with only his open frilly white shirt and purple breeches. He smiles curiously at his new guest, admiring his sense of style, from the trim of velvet on his coat to the silk stockings. "Well, hello there, my good sir." He has never seen this gentleman before in his life, but it is clear to him that he will be a friend in this atmosphere. "You are most welcome here, but do tell me: who has told you about my little soiree?" Henry leans against the door. The more he admires this new face, the more attractive he becomes. Could be the brandy. Could be the other's dashing good looks.

Tag: Hippolyte Barthélemy

[Hippolyte Barthélemy]

To be entirely frank, even knowing the crowd and the going ons of the venue that he had arrived on the doorstep of, Hippolyte was still pleasantly surprised to find a man of some station, in some state of undress, greeting him at the door. With a bit of internal amusement, he noted that Connor's proclivity towards simply disengaging his servants whenever he wished to engage in slightly more scandalous acts was not uncommon in London at all. It seemed, in fact, the most convenient way. He supposed, as far as these things went, and with the barbaric laws of the english, it made sense to be safe rather than sorry.

Ah, but on some level, this seemed far from safe. He smiled as he took the man in, almost entirely undressed and obviously more than a bit affected by the spirits, while he remained in straight and proper posture, every part of himself primly done up. He couldn't deny that he did yearn more than a little to cut loose. More than only figureatively speaking.

He extended a gloved hand to feel the ruffle of his linen shirt, as finely gathered as it was. His finger traced the opening of his shirt, following the slash in the middle upwards, across his chest and to his neck. Finely formed. Certainly, with this boldness at the door and those words, this must have been the host.

"Ah, M. Granville." His smile was crooked to one side as he traced up the line of his jaw, settling his fingers on his chin to tilt it up to meet his gaze. "I seek Connor Morrison, I do believe you are acquainted? I am Dr. Hippolyte Barthélemy."

bunny

Made by Riley at THQ!

[bunny]

HENRY INHALES SHARPLY as the gloved hand touches him. Oh. Oh my. He's quiet, pupils dilated with delight. Is he supposed to be speaking? He's completely lost in the touch, at the way the finger dances up his chest. He sputters out nothing and decides to just enjoy the moment. Henry wonders if it's the alcohol that makes him lean into the touch on his jaw. No, no -- it is simply the energy radiating off the man before him. Goodness. 

He could also listen to him say Henry's name all day. . . especially when paired with the grip on his chin. Henry blinks a few times, cheeks flushing as he meets the doctor's eyes. He's not used to being so wooed like this. "Well hello, Doctor." Henry says when he finds his voice, and it absolutely takes a minute. His voice even cracks -- how old is he? He clears his throat, trying to get his bearings. "Yes, I am acquainted with Connor. He's just inside. Would -- " Is his mouth dry? He wets it, unconsciously biting his lower lip as he does. "Would you like to come inside, Dr. Barthélemy?" 

What was the accent? French? Yes, that seemed right. It's been some time since he's been in Paris, and he finds himself suddenly eager to go. He does not move an inch though, not wanting to lose the grip on his chin. He may need to ask Alfred to manhandle him later tonight -- to work off this energy. 

Tag: Hippolyte Barthélemy

[Hippolyte Barthélemy]

When Connor had first mentioned this party, Hippolyte had not been terribly interested. He knew that his man would not engage him here, while he could have him at home without any risk of being seen. When Hippolyte visited the country, they spent most evenings together, and if they did not, Hippolyte generally did not consider seeking satisfaction with another. It was not an official arrangement at all, by all means Hippolyte expected that Connor must have found at least one man tonight already while waiting on him, but there simply was not anyone here who could satisfy him thoroughly as Connor did.

However, he could not help being curious as to whether the host shared his opinion on the man. Acquainted, he had said, well acquainted perhaps. As his eyes roamed over the exposed parts of Granville's upper body, he did take note of the fresh marks from such intense affections. He did wonder if Connor's teeth were the progenitor of any of the little constellation. Very well acquainted, even.

It amused him to see the man flush. If he did not know better through what Connor had told him, and what he could plainly see, as well as hear drifting in from the hallway, Hippolyte would have taken this dear host for someone perhaps not very experienced. Though if a touch as light as this could render him a blushing schoolboy, he could not stop himself from wondering how the man acted under more... Intense stimulation.

It was enough of a thought that he was not inclined to be merciful towards the dear host. Instead of letting him go just yet, he smiled amicably as he leaned in a little closer, his hand upon his chin stroking back up his jawline as he spoke in a low voice,

"Excellent, M. Granville, excellent. Now, would you be so kind as to direct me to his location as well?" He patted his cheek with his hand, resting it there to brush a thumb over his cheekbone, before he languidly ceased the contact between them. His hand found its place comfortably behind his back once more, as he indicated towards the doorway behind the man with a slight nod of the head.

bunny

Made by Riley at THQ!

[bunny]

IS HE BEING INSPECTED? Henry watches the doctor's eyes as they look down his body. Why is he so giddy? He really is coming across as someone who is inexperienced, as if he hasn't spent the better part of two decades with men. Alfred could be like this sometimes, with his sleek command, but there was just something about Hippolyte that absolutely entranced Henry.

He realizes, then, that he never knew Connor had any friends by that name. Who is this mysterious, handsome stranger? He cannot catch his breath, it seems, as Hippolyte leans in closer to him. Is it the alcohol? Or does he want to close the distance between them and -- heavens, Henry! The door is open. Already this is scandalous enough that they could be caught, but. . . still. 

Henry swallows thickly, shivering at the touch beneath his chin. Is it the gloves? Is it -- he leans into the touch on his cheek instinctually, and let it be known that Henry Granville is a bottom. "Yes. Of course." Wow, this has been illuminating. Is he touch starved for this kind of... energy? Of this kind of dominance? Perhaps. He regains his senses a moment latter, turning on his heel to lead the doctor into party. The door is promptly closed behind Hippolyte, keeping out the world as they enter this new realm. 

Goodness, with the way Henry's acting, it's as if he didn't run this hedonistic parties! Henry rubs a hand over his mouth and chin, remembering the touch from just a moment ago and missing it. Connor, Connor. . . right, where is Morrison? Which room? As Henry leads him from the foyer, Hippolyte is greeted with the half-dressed bodies of men and women alike. Some are tangled together on the staircase or on a chaise (or, hell, even the floor), while others are drinking and laughing. There is plenty of art hung around the walls, mostly of the nude form, with busts and statues of other art pieces carefully curated throughout his home. Each room has it's own dedicated space -- whether it is for drugs, painting, or an orgy. "I'm afraid I haven't see him in some time," Henry says, glancing up the stairs. Usually upstairs is off limits, but you never know. "We may have to do a bit of a search." He finds himself more grounded now, and partygoers say hello to him as he passes.

Henry sticks his head into a room where a naked man is being sketched by two women and a man sharing a bottle of what looks to be absinthe. One of the women, a gorgeous ginger with plump features, looks over to him, and he gives a wave, "have you seen Doctor Morrison, dear?" 

"My apologies, Granville. I have not." 

He gives a nod and turns back to Hippolyte. "The good news is that this is not some extraordinary manor, so there aren't too many rooms to find him in." He smiles. "What is your practice, Dr. Barthélemy? I'm afraid Connor has never mentioned you before, so I don't know anything about you!" Henry speaks as he continues down the hall, urging him forward.

Tag: Hippolyte Barthélemy

[Hippolyte Barthélemy]

Poor man. Granville's willingness and apparently very eager nature, was speaking right to the part of Hippolyte which was interested in seeing just exactly how far the man could be willing to go. Ah, but another time, another time. He nodded with a smile as the man nodded in agreement and followed him smoothly inside the doorway, feeling the rush of warmth from the hall.

A world opened itself before him, and Hippolyte entered its depths with no hesitation. The debauchery on wide display did manage to draw his eyes, but he quickly found that the decor was far more interesting than any carnal act happening in plain view. Here was the home of a man, an artist, who seemed as keen to collect and display beauty as he was to create it by his own hand. This he could admire, catching the empty stare of a marble bust upon a column.

As they proceeded through the halls on their search, they surely made a curious scene to any onlooker, who was not fully preoccupied. The host of the party mostly was undressed, somewhat hurried in his quest going through the halls, while Hippolyte followed behind him as a stranger, his cloak billowing with movement as they had not taken the moment to let him put his outerwear aside. He let the host carry the word, listening and following along, taking in the lay of the land.

He trusted Granville's word that the place was nor enormous, and besides it was hardly like Connor to hide. Hippolyte was quite sure that the moment the man heard he was present, he would come to greet him more than readily. He smiled back at him, but his question afterwards struck him rather unexpectedly.

There was nothing to the statement that Connor had not mentioned him to Granville before, it was a simple thing of fact. After all, Hippolyte had not been in London for over a decade, and he had no idea how rarely Connor might see Granville as well. Still, it struck him as unavoidably odd that Connor should never have mentioned him to him before. Of course, why should he have mentioned him? It would be poor form to draw comparison if the men were engaged together, and Granville was no colleague of theirs.

Yet, it was all enough to make him pause, even as he was urged forward, slowing down and finding a focal point in a beautiful statue of a youth. The style was most familiar to him, as was the quality of work. He ground to a complete stop in front of it and raised a hand to his chin thoughtfully.

"I see Connor treasures his secrets even here, hm?" He shot a glance back towards Granville, not being able to resist supplying him with a little, almost coquettish, wink. He chuckled. "I am chef des traveaux anatomiques in Paris, but I do also still practice general surgery." Terribly boring. He left barely a moment of quiet, not enough for an interjection, before he continued speaking, indicating with a flourish of the hand the statue that had caught his attention,

"This is Thorvaldsen's work, is it not? the Dane in Rome who did that extraordinary Jason some years back?" Much more interesting.

bunny

Made by Riley at THQ!

[bunny]

LET US JUST SAY that Henry would be interested in being pushed. . . but that is perhaps for another time. Though the night is still young. Henry pauses at the tone of Hippolyte's voice when he questions Connor's secrets. Granville understood Morrison's hesitance, of course. Men like them had to be careful, and there was no shortage of external and internal hatred for what they were. As confident, as sure as Henry is of himself, of his wants, of his needs, there is still a small voice at the back of his head. . . one that sounded very much like his father, chastising him for his chosen path, for his life of indecency. Henry's brow raises curiously. "Yes. It seems so." He says softly in agreement, glancing away to descend further into the party. 

Though just from the appearance of the other doctor, Henry starts putting two and two together. Chef des traveaux anatomiques? Henry wracks his brain for his French, translating the position in his mind -- oh! He must be a professor of sorts. He smiles pleasantly at the opportunity. "I see! I sometimes lecture at the Royal Academy of Art. I do sometimes miss university. There is a certain freedom that you cannot... recreate. Especially when so young." He sighs wistfully, remember Ignacio. Was that man Henry's first love? Potentially. He is a far memory now. He continues to walk forward, not realizing that Hippolyte is not directly behind him. 

Henry goes to speak to him once more when he hears the call out of Thorvaldsen. With his interest immediately piqued, he turns back on his heel, going toward the marble statue. "You have an incredible eye," Henry comments, turning to him curiously. "Ganymede Offering the Cup. Bertel Thorvaldsen finished the sculpture in 1804. The original owner of the statue had it up for auction in Rome last I visited, and I could not resist. I have not had the pleasure of meeting the man himself -- not for lack of trying. But the way he sculpts form," Henry always gets excited when he talks about art. He reaches for the chiseled chest of Ganymede. "The subject manner perhaps speaks for itself. Has Ganymede not been a symbol of our people for so long for his attraction of Zeus?" He traces over the ruffles created in the stone. "The amount of skill Thorvaldsen has with a chisel -- it is an extension of his hand." He shakes his head, awed by the talent. "I had to have it as soon as I laid my eyes on it." Henry pauses, reaching to gesture to the face. "The delicate features of his face are perhaps my favorite part of the piece. . . This is a beautiful man. And it is almost as if he reaches to pour us a glass, no?" 

For a moment, the thought of searching for Connor leaves his mind. His interest is entirely on Hippolyte and his appreciation for art. "Are you a collector of art yourself, Doctor?"

Tag: Hippolyte Barthélemy

[Hippolyte Barthélemy]

Hippolyte was quite delighted by how knowledgable and obviously passionate Granville was about the subject, the man certainly deserved his position in the court and the means it afforded him if he chose to utilize them like this. With his own previous education in the classics, he always found it lovely to hear a like mind speak on the topic. He listened actively to his story of his acquisition, giving a small chuckle at his enthusiasm, his gaze followed the movement of the artist's fine hand, grazing and feeling the cold marble in its fine shape.

The presence of the statue was something that he was feeling readily, especially as Granville dared to touch it, even as lovingly as he did. A masterpiece of the modern, not mimicking but rather reviving the old world in all its finest forms. Hippolyte had never been ashamed of his passions, yet the occasion of their recognition was always a boon.

"Perhaps more-so than his status as Zeus' favourite, he is an icon for representing that part of antiquity that modernity should rather see fit to erase, hm? And yet, here the modern virtuoso revives him for the homes of high society and the finest galleries, to be appreciated by all. Though, I do agree, we know how to appreciate him most of all."

His smile was sly, shooting Granville a sidelong glance, before looking back at the statue, a knuckle stroking the smooth marble of the elegant drape hanging from Ganymede's arm.

"Ah, but of course, yes, I am a collector myself," - no use forgetting himself in the subject before them so much that he should so rudely not answer his question - "I have a few of his works, reliefs, but I should hope to see him to discuss a commission. The main subject of my collection remains antique, however. I have been quite fortunate in my connections to acquire some wondrous Roman marbles - replicas of the original Greeks, of course, but no less fine."

The first empire had been quite useful, while it lasted, for building his collection and the renewed interest in the ancient world was also a great boon for a man who did not have the time himself to travel south and sift through the ruins.

bunny & Connor Morrison

Made by Riley at THQ!

[Connor Morrison]

Tag: Hippolyte Barthélemy  & bunny  Thread: To New Guests and New Friends  Connor was, to put things mildly, just a little drunk. Normally, he had to keep enough of his wits about him to ensure that he could get himself home through the streets of London with his dignity more or less intact; tonight, however, he had the benefit of Hippolyte's company, and if he overindulged a bit... well, he had a shoulder to lean on. As long as he kept himself from getting embarrassingly drunk, he would be fine. He knew his limits well enough to ensure that.  Even through his haze of drunkenness and the low babble of conversation throughout the house, a familiar voice managed to penetrate Connor's ears. He would know it anywhere, of course: that deep, lightly-accented tone, always confident, always eloquent. It was about time Hippolyte showed up. With a lazy, decadent smile, he rose from his lounge and went seeking that voice.  He had not quite expected to find Hippolyte in the company of the party's host. Judging by their focus on a nearby statue, they were discussing art — and judging by Hippolyte's suggestive hand on that statue, art was not all they were discussing. That sight should have stirred some arousal in him, and to some extent, it did. With that arousal, however, came an entirely unwelcome companion: jealousy.  It was hardly as though he expected Hippolyte to remain celibate outside their evenings together. By God, even he didn't: he'd enjoyed the carnal company of the very man standing beside Hippolyte more than once. And yet, as illogical as the feeling was, he found himself absolutely despising the thought of Hippolyte bestowing such charming, lusty smiles on Granville. Certainly, the two of them found pleasures with other partners when distance parted them, but they were in the same city now. He was supposed to warm Hippolyte's bed, not the first handsome man or pretty woman the Frenchman came across.  But the jealousy was easy enough to rationalise without confronting what it really might imply. After all, were two fine men going to to enjoy each other's company without Connor enjoying it as well? With more boldness than he usually dared to show at these parties, the Scotsman approached the two at the statue and looped his arm around Granville's waist from behind. "Found our host, I see," he purred, locking eyes with Hippolyte over the artist's shoulder. "Pretty little plaything, isn't he?"

credit to Laura of Adox

[bunny]

PERHAPS I CAN JOIN YOUR COLLECTION, is the first statement that pops into his head. Henry! Goodness, control yourself. Has his relationship been lacking lately? Or is it his own inability to remain pure? "Indeed we do." He concurs, watching the way Hippolyte's hand moves across the statue. He must get his mind out of this filthy gutter. "I would love to see your collection one day. And if I have the opportunity to meet the man first, I will be sure to let him know about your interest. . ." It is hard to focus, he realizes. Why? Is he really that aroused? 

Yes. Yes, he is. Goodness. He hopes Alfred doesn't see him like this -- not that he would mind, most likely. Though he may feel a little inadequate with the way Henry blushes and nearly giggles like a woman during her first season. 

Any coherent thought left his body when he felt the arm wrap around his waist. Henry is very aware now of Connor behind him; this was not the way he expected to find Morrison -- especially when he hears: Pretty little plaything, isn't he? The air seems to leave his lungs with his gasp. Instinctively, he presses back against him -- and his face has flushed. That settles it, then. 

He would be a good plaything indeed. Henry shivers at the way Connor's breathing tickles his ear, and his mind wanders. He stands in horny silence as he imagines Connor and Hippolyte upstairs in his room. They hold him down and have their way with him, and he enjoys every moment of it. His daydream continues to get kinkier with each passing second as he pictures himself restrained for both of them, at their complete mercy, begging for more --

Is he supposed to say something? Henry hardly finds himself in this state, so flustered that he cannot talk. It is a welcome change. Sometimes, it is nice to get completely out of one's mind -- and why not do it for a night of debauchery? Again, Alfred wouldn't mind. Hell, Alfred might be jealous he didn't get to join in. He clears his throat, tilting his head to glance back at Connor. "Ah! Hello, D-Doctor," oh hell. He doesn't know if he wants Morrison's hand to travel up to grip him by the neck or travel lower into his trousers, but he is in need of something or else he might explode. 

Tag: Hippolyte Barthélemy & Connor Morrison

[Hippolyte Barthélemy]

Hippolyte would not be opposed to add Granville to his collection. Rather, he was incredibly interested in having his so obviously learned presence amongst his own marbles, certainly the man would know how to appreciate them. And he wouldn't look half bad around them either, to put it mildly.

The way his speech trails off leaves Hippolyte somewhat amused; his effect on the man is most apparent, even in such a sedate conversation as this, and he finds his mind wandering away from the subject at hand.

Only to be interrupted but a welcome new presence.

There was the man, his man. Hippolyte couldn't help but smirk as he watched Connor reduce poor Granville to a stutter. And Connor looked so very handsome, too, in his shirtsleeves. Hippolyte didn't spare a moment, his right hand leaving the cold marble and seeking the heat of Connor's skin, cradling his cheek.

"Connor, I've missed you so," he murmured. He had, truly, even if Granville had momentarily distracted him with his great artistic temperament, this was the man he had come to look for, and his appearance never disappointed. He smiled slyly at him as his hand traveled down to rest on his throat, feeling his pulse, thumb at the apex of his throat. When he spoke it was with more of a normal volume, a matter of fact tone, as if they were discussing a prize stallion.

"Hmm, yes, he seems to live up to the reputation you have granted him. Though you failed to tell me that he was so accomplished in neoclassicism."

His eyes roamed across Granville's body once more, noticing how much more apparent the man's desperation had become. Poor man. No release would come soon, not if it fell to Hippolyte to decide, certainly. He took a half step closer, being so impolitely close as to almost graze Granville's body with his own. He smiled pleasantly.

"Do you agree with Dr. Morrison's assessment, M. Granville?" He exhaled through his nostrils and whispered low, "I might."

bunny & Connor Morrison

Made by Riley at THQ!

[bunny]

HENRY CAN FEEL the way Connor's fingers stroke his side. His whole body is ignited in flames -- that is the best way to describe it, because he can feel every touch, every breath against his neck. Doctor Morrison is closer now, chest touching back, ass firmly planted against his... well... interest. Henry's mind is swimming as he watches the tender way Hippolyte reacts to their new arrival. It briefly takes his thoughts away from the other concerns at hand, because it is a lovely view to see. There is fondness there in Hippolyte's eyes, and Henry cannot help but desire to know more of their story. Why has Connor kept him away from such a man if they both meant so much to each other?

Alas, that train of thought is quickly cut short when Hyp turns his attention back to him. Oh god in heaven, Hippolyte is closer now, nearly touching him from the front. The heat radiating off the three of them is sending Henry into a desperate oblivion. His trousers are uncomfortable now with his arousal. He needs all his clothes off; he needs skin on skin contact; he needs to be kissed, treasured. He has been this submissive before, but this feels like a new experience for him. He is usually so confident, so sure, and there he is melting at their touch. 

Henry swallows, his mouth feeling dry, as he looks up at the man addressing him. Does he agree with -- oh, right. 

"Yes," he finds himself saying in a soft tone, as if he were the prey caught by two lions. "Yes, I -- " He bites his lower lip, suddenly bashful at admitting such a statement, "I am a pretty little plaything." He clears his throat again, struggling to keep control of himself. "Perhaps -- we could go somewhere more comfortable, gentlemen?" He didn't imagine this was how the night was going, but Henry is fairly happy with the surprise. It is what these parties are for, are they not? 

Tag: Connor Morrison & Hippolyte Barthélemy 

[Connor Morrison]

Tag: Hippolyte Barthélemy  & bunny   Thread: To New Guests and New Friends  Ah, there was his man. As pleasant and as inviting as Hippolyte's expression had been with Henry, there was something fresh that blossomed there at the sight of Connor, something that Connor was pleased to say that only he ever seemed to bring about. It was not quite tenderness, but it was something like it. That placated him a little, for now. Whatever fleeting bonds Hippolyte might make with men like Granville, there was some part of him reserved for Connor alone.  He made no attempt to hide the eagerness with which he leaned his head into Hippolyte's touch. They had not been parted for very long this evening, but in his drunken state, Connor had admittedly been missing Hippolyte's company. No doubt Hippolyte had been missing his, too, in those stuffy drawing rooms with those stuffy rich men and their stuffy conversation. If they had been alone, Connor might have made some teasing remark on that.  Ah, but they had something else — someone else — demanding both of their attention. It was incredibly amusing, to see how easy it was to rile Henry up. Connor was aware, of course, of the man's high sex drive; more than once, he had enjoyed toying with that on his own. With the double attention of himself and Hippolyte, however, the poor artist was positively reduced to a quivering mess.  It made Connor want to be a little bolder than he usually allowed himself to be at these parties. Under normal circumstances, he would have whisked Henry away somewhere more private without delay, but at present, he was not inclined to be so hasty. "Oh, I don't know." With his gaze still locked on Hippolyte, he trailed his hand deliberately down to toy with a button of Henry's fall front. "We have not yet decided what to do with you, have we? What do you think, Hippolyte — do you think he can stand the wait of a carriage ride? Think of the fun we could have with him at home."

credit to Laura of Adox

[Hippolyte Barthélemy]

It was such a thrill to see Connor in his element like this. In their usual ways, he would seek to tear all of this down, until the man was reduced to absolute and complete eager submission, but tonight something was very different. Well, there was, of course, someone, the poor man so perfectly placed between the two of them. Hippolyte let his eyes travel along with Connor's hand down Granville's body.

As much as he liked Connor when he reduced him to absolute meek obedience, this confidence, this shameless boldness was greatly attractive in its own right, and what had drawn him to the man to begin with. He met his eyes and felt the warmth gather deep in his stomach, traveling downwards. Oh yes, he was very good like this, too. His thumb stroked across his pulse, itching to creep lower, to let the man, his man, loose in all his glory.

"Now, now, dear Connor, I should loathe for us to be ungrateful guests to our dear host.."

Not that he was a particularly impatient man, Hippolyte should find it quite interesting to see how much Granville could take en-route, but there was something special here, too, the prospect of a true Bacchian ritual to grace these halls.

"I am certain an accomplished artist like M. Granville might have versatile tools in his possession, as well as shelter from prying eyes and ears."

Not as versatile as the tools they had between themselves, but Hippolyte was not a man to back down from a challenge. His gaze slid over to Granville, noting with amusement the flush that by this point covered the man's face. He leaned in and let his thigh graze the tent of the man's trousers, just enough to provide a vague pressure, an unmistakeable intent. When he spoke it was in a low voice, only shared between the three of them.

"Hmm, what do you say, M. Granville? Can you provide us what we might require or should we steal you away from your safe confines..?"

bunny & Connor Morrison

Made by Riley at THQ!

[bunny]

HENRY SPUTTERS -- at a loss of words again as he can feel Connor's fingers toying with the button. He bites his lower lip, trying to reconcile that he has no control of this situation. It is again a welcome distraction of his other woes, of struggling relationships and confusing feelings, but goodness... to be completely out of his element is terrifying and invigorating. It's hard to think clearly, especially as Connor goes on about whisking him away while those fingers play with his button. He's never been so hyperaware of a hand in his life. Damned tease. Connor had a knack for making his knees weak. "i -- "

He hardly can speak when Hippolyte chimes in. Henry watches him with those dilated pupils, completely aware of how absolutely wrecked he must look -- and they've barely touched him. Tools is the word that echoes in his mind, and he is incredibly curious to what their plans are for him. What tools do they require? He thinks about his drawer upstairs with things to bind, to spank, to leave marks if they so wished. Hell, to gag, even, if they should be into that sort of thing. . . and he anticipates they are. Henry cannot even fathom what kind of tools Hippolyte might have at his disposal. He does not know if he can handle that carriage ride tonight, but. . . he will get there. It's a promise he's making to himself now because he wants to see Hippolyte in his element. He's known the man for all of an hour, and Henry's already ready to get on his knees for him. For them both. He hasn't forgotten Connor or the toying on his button -- dastardly man. 

He does hope he encourages a repeat performance after tonight; he does not want to disappoint. Henry melts against Connor when he feels that knee press closer, and it takes a lot of control for Henry to not just start humping it right then and there. "I believe my tools will be adequate," he says, and he's certain his chest must be flushed now, too. "I have... quite a collection upstairs... dedicated to special encounters. Should you like to see it." He's too impatient to wait for the carriage, especially now. They'd have to restrain him in the carriage if they want him to be patient. (And they may yet still, which is delighting his fantasies.) 

Tag: Connor Morrison & Hippolyte Barthélemy