Recent Posts

There was no hesitation with Hippolyte. While, being the most sober of the three, he should also be the most responsible, he saw little actual risk of engaging the both of them here. As long as Granville would prove to be obedient, of course..

Connor's body almost flush against his own required a truly herculean effort to not be indecent towards him right here in the hall, however. He settled for a soft chuckle, his fingers finding a stray lock of his hair to push back from his face, before cradling it, thumb brushing his lower lip.

"We shall see if his mouth is as accomodating as yours." He resisted the temptation to brush his thumb past Connor's lips. Not here. Not yet. He watched Granville walk ahead of them with a glance, taking in what he could see of his ass shaped by his breeches.

Patience.

After all, he was supposed to lead the example. Up the stairs they went, casually, not that anyone should mind what three friendly men were doing in any place, and as he closed the door firmly behind himself and asked Granville to secure it - they were proplerly in the sanctum.

The chaos of the bedroom immediately distracted him. This was no space as exquisitely decorated as the main part of the house he had seen, no, this was all utility and passion on paper and canvas. He followed the lines across the scattered works, stepping carefully around them, ending up by the decanter to fix himself a glass, watching the two other men over the rim of it while he undid his own cravat with his other hand slowly.

Usually with Connor it came out hurried, aggressive and violent. It was what he did to him, what he let him release. Granville was a different man, and this was a far different dynamic. It was measured, experimental, and as any good scientist, he did so like to test his hypotheses thoroughly.

bunny & Connor Morrison

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

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

As much as Hippolyte might had preferred to remain unbothered by the future, Paris loomed unquestionably ahead for them both. To Hippolyte it was an oncoming relief. Connor was brilliant, but his skills and talent were wasted here, where opportunity was slight and problems plentiful. Of course, there was also a more personal element to this relief, but it was a thing he could never name. He felt no desire to.

From their first meeting, it had felt like they had an understanding, and with each subsequent meeting, this understanding only solidified itself. There was no need to name what they were or how they felt. There was no need to examine a moment like this had just been, dissect it and study it under the microscope.

It had passed contentedly, and now they were refreshed once more. Returned to their stations, as it were. Certainly, Connor seemed eager to seize the moment.

He never did tire of him. He had no expectation that this should change once they had settled within reasonable reach of each other. In fact, having Connor in town, and in a town with such liberal attitudes, would generate quite a few exciting opportunities he was very keen, indeed, to introduce the man to. He felt his smirk turn into a crooked grin as his eyes followed the movement of Connor's hand.

"Hm... Perhaps I have tired of society and its restraints," he joked in a half-murmur, though his gaze was fixed still upon his chest as he considered his manifold opportunities. Their affairs were never languid, tender - even as he had been resting and stretching in the sun just before, this left no mark on his behaviour now as he rose more off of the bed so that he could easily put a hand upon his chest and push him down onto his back.

Connor Morrison

The two men before him were an interesting combination. Were it any other time, Hippolyte mnight not have taken much notice of the man that Connor had taken with him, but the thread of recognition caused more interest than merely a presence would. However, he could not keep his eyes firmly on this stranger, not as Connor spoke, certainly.

Connor's words made his smile grow crooked in amusement. Of course, Hippolyte would ensure he had ample ability to express his footwork on the floor at his best. He should never settle for less indeed. The man was a veritable wonder on the floor with those legs of his. Which were also more than servicable in... other contexts.

Ah! but here was that recognition. The moment Connor introduced Benedict Bridgerton, Hippolyte's face lit up with a laugh. Of course! He had only recently reconnected with his older brother, but even there the resemblance was immediate. The apple never did fall far from the tree, as the English said.

"Benedict Bridgerton!" he called out, laughing, "of course! You must accept my apologies, dear boy, last I saw you, you had not nearly grown as tall."

Connor Morrison & Benedict Bridgerton

A lifetime, indeed. The man that Anthony had known was, to some extent, no longer in existence. Perhaps he was today, on this afternoon, and in fleeting moments with the ones who had known him more personally before the battlefields had claimed him. He did not fail to feel the weight of his statement referring to this change in himself as well, but ah, that would all come in time, and Hippolyte was quite practised in not giving anything without receiving enough in return.

"Much to catch up upon, indeed." There was a levity to the statement, but he had quieted his exuberance somewhat. Hippolyte gladly accepted the offer of a drink.

Curiosity was at the forefront of his mind. Who was Anthony Bridgerton? Objectively, dryly, he knew the answer to the question, but as he took his place across from him in a reading chair, a number of hypotheses reared their head. Yes, he would be a very interesting study indeed. He called for a port, as was the custom. With his initial excitement calmed down, he leant back in the chair to take in Anthony properly.

Old man was not far off.

"Now dear vicomte," he received the glass of port directly into his hand as it was delivered and eyed Anthony over the rim of the glass, as he took a small sip, before he continued speaking, "I suspect we could both deliver each other a dissertation on the past decade, but I should think it more interesting to retain some focus."

Anthony Bridgerton

The grandeur of the ballroom was not insignificant, yet, aside from a few truly extravagantly modern elements, it mostly passed by his notice. Hippolyte always enjoyed being part of a crowd at events such as these. Not for idle gossip or manoeuvring any intimate affairs, but rather the incredibly unexciting sounding ideal of upholding his contacts and simply being quite one with the crowd. This evening had passed so far with mostly expected politenesses to old acquaintances from his return, few interesting discoveries alas, it seemed the world failed to change much upon the British Isles.

Ah but there, approaching his field of vision was a veritable vision, indeed, of a man he could recognize from his hurried, yet elegant, movement alone. Clad so perfectly in his finely tailored evening attire, with the silk stockings most certainly doing no disservice to the shapeliness of his calves and his silk breeches hugging his thighs as if they were painted on, Connor made a most welcome appearance. Hippolyte turned fully so that he might receive him properly, making his excuses to the young lady he had been conversing with briefly, and taking a sip of his glass as he met his eyes on approach. Very welcoming in return.

His gaze wandered to the other man who seemed to be approaching him as well, in hot pursuit. Now here was something curious. When he looked upon the man by Connor's side, a fine specimen no doubt, even if he looked a little wet behind the ears, he was struck by an undeniable sense of familiarity. Unplaced in the moment, but with some study his memory should cooperate. For now, he let the matter rest, it would do ill to make assumptions, and smiled politely at them both, bowing lightly as they approached to greet him.

His stiffness of manners fell slightly, however, as they were there close together, standing of course in his most proper posture but with an unmistakable glint in his eye as he looked upon Connor once more.

"Ah, dear Morrison," he greeted him warmly, "here I was afraid you should be tied to the dance floor all evening."

Connor Morrison & Benedict Bridgerton