Work Text:
Afternoon, wind warmly caressed the bushes of the grand garden while women in vaporous gowns and gentlemen in elegant suits enjoyed each other's company under the spring sun. A party it was, a mere agreement wealthy families had made to cather the demands their social position asked for. But what was the reunion even for? Maybe the parents knew, but for the young Master Edgar it was less than a burden to abide. The boy would like to leave, to stay upstairs and locked inside of his chambers where he could focus on painting and nothing else than painting, but now he was trapped outside, forcing smiles and chats to people he would pay fortunes to be away from.
It took a while, but after most of the guests received their salute he was free to leave his mother's side and to lose himself away from the crowd. Knowing that it was forbidden for him to go inside the house, the outermost part of the garden would go along with the shadow of an ancient tree. A quiet place, even if the chatting and the music could still be heard, when holding up the pen and sketchbook above his lap, the boy quickly forgot about the turmoil. Afterall, the landscape was beautiful enough to captivate anyone away from distraction.
That was when a second soul showed up in the field, tired hazel eyes met with Edgar's and a fair smile was sketched over the man's face. Edgar didn't want to know who this stranger was, yet the couple of torn scores the man held tightly on his fist gave him a clue that this might be one of the musicians his parents hired to accompany the event.
"Oh, I'm sorry, have I disturbed you?" His whispery voice called as the man approached the child. Edgar shook his head by mere courtesy, he didn't want to be utterly antagonizing with the stranger by telling him "Yes" by the start.
The man spoke a few words, asked the boy a few questions. Everything while Edgar was already flipping a page of the sketchbook to a new blank one, ready for the usual outcome that came from a conversation like that: a drawing made by the prodigy of the Valden family and people left happily; the boy firstly tried to talk about his interest, the way he interpreted the world through his hand easel to these people, but after many not showing sings of caring, he stopped trying to have a word with them before handing them the piece of paper and it worked better than being left with words at the tip of his tongue. So now Edgar waited, tapping his pen at the side of his board, waiting even more to finally listen to the request but it was not coming. It never came.
Oddly enough for the boy, the man was now taking a seat by his side, flipping back his papers to look at the young artist's work. Edgar looked at him in disbelief, was this stranger truly interested? Was he free to talk about his passion with no interruption from the other? The doubt became reality as the man would carefully listen to the boy's words, those hazel eyes resting on him like a magnet to the iron. No word was left unheard and no concept was left unexplained, concepts so abstract and ideas so queer as
"Love"
Edgar repeated from the man's words and before he could start unraveling the topic, a hand was cupping his cheek, making his face drown in pink while the stranger kept a smile, more like a grin. Edgar didn't know how their conversation switched to that scene, but it didn't bother him enough to worry. Not after being able to express at least a piece of the ideas that kept him awake during the night, the feelings that got him to get up every morning and grab a brush to paint, to create. The conversation he had with this man was the most fulfilling exchange he had in a long while and the closeness to the other's body told him exactly how to repay such kindness.
A silence and their lips met, soft lips pressing against the trembling skin of the man. It was really Edgar's first kiss but he didn't mind it at all. He was told that such intimate acts should be done in privacy with someone of one's full trust and knowledge, but even if he met that man not a couple of hours ago, he felt that they earned more confidence in a couple of minutes than he would ever do in years with his counterparts at that same party.
The man left out a sighed laugh as his pale skin was spotted in red like the boy's. Shaky fingers swiftly wrapping around the boy's waist. Edgar got closer to the man's chest, feeling his heart as it was on the brim to burst. Something moved inside the younger one's gut as he saw the man quietly patting over his groin while trying to sneak a hand under his shirt. The kiss was now a wave of them, being carefully placed all over his lips, cheeks, neck and what was left uncover of his clavicle. Edgar started to feel dizzy at the touch, only being able to glare down at the astray flowers around them until a voice called his name.
"It's my mother, she is calling for me" he said, lifting up his sight to realize that there were no more guests in the garden, they were leaving just like the sun rays that bathed both him and his companion. He looked back at the gentleman, now an imitation of a man with his white-ish blonde hair made into a mess just like his clothes and those hazel eyes carrying a painful gaze inside of them.
"That means you have to go, right little hase?" The man asked solemnly, trying to fix Edgar's attire with care. Edgar felt the hurt in that question and that name… did he call him a bunny?
No time to wander around the man's words when he could hear his mother's voice getting closer, making him to get up in a hurry, ready to say goodbye by a simple gesture before the man trapped his wrist.
"Wait! Please tell me, is this the only time I will ever be with you? Please… you cannot leave me like this, my dear" Words just as a cry of despair and Edgar couldn't make an answer, not with the time priming.
Looking at the other's eyes, Edgar vowed down to his drawing board where the musician's scores rested along with his own papers. It didn't take him a lot more than a few strokes to ink the music sheets with his art. A little flower just like the ones they were sitting by, and with it, Edgar handed the piece to the stranger.
"I don't know when we are going to be together again, but in the meantime you can have it to remember me."
With that, the boy pulled the board close to his chest and flew away from the man, just a warm smile.
It was the last time they saw each other.
–
Infuriating! Nothing less than infuriating!
Edgar thought as he was dressing up in the back of the stage, how the hell did he let his sister convince him of such a humiliating act? It was her idea to begin with, she was the one who wanted to participate in that 'charity event' that was nothing more than a mere excuse to show how opulent the party goers were. This was her idea to participate in that bloody auction, can anyone believe it? An auction for people in the middle of the 19th century!! And the one about to get bidding wasn't his sister, oh of course not, it has to be him!
Stepping on the stage along with the other 'prizes' Edgar gave a dead look to his sister who was comfortably sitting among the crowd. How much watching her giggling and waving her hand at him made his blood boil, unexpected still, it didn't annoy him as greatly as the laughter from the audience, the auctioneer let his tongue run free about the Valden heir standing in the middle of fair maidens just like one of them. It was quite the observation, knowing that Edgar had to be adorned in a silk bow around the neck just like his stagemates. Jokes between jokes, the auction started and one by one each girl was claimed, most of them by a family member to keep them safe or a suitor ready enough to spend a fortune to have a couple of hours with the fortunate maiden.
In laughs and smiles soon Edgar was the only one left standing on the stage, arms crossed and a less than friendly face. The auctioneer started with a high price, after all, he was a Valden and even as a joke, putting the young man on sale for 5 coins wouldn't be less than insulting to the family.
The numbers shyly started to rise:
500…
600…
A lady offered 900 if the painter taught her younger kids to paint, Edgar refused.
700…
900 again…
Until the music filling the room ceased playing and a voice raised from the bottom of the theater.
"Ten thousand" a man shouted and all the looks were put on him. To everyone's surprise, it was the same composer who had been playing the piano the whole night, the one who spoke, rising from his seat and buttoning up his coat with no trace of doubt about his bidding. Edgar, blinded by the lights of the stage, tried to discern the looks from the man across the room in vain, only spotting out a white-ish mane and the sound of a familiar voice coming from that 'stranger'.
With no other person kind -or crazy- enough to surpass the last number, the auctioneer slammed the wood hammer against the lectern and the bidding concluded.
Now every prize should spend the agreed time with their claimers.
–
After a short trip Edgar stepped down from the stagecoach, supporting himself on this stranger's hand as he was guided inside a luxurious place, it seemed that the composer opted to bring his prize to his home as this was no house Edgar has ever stepped into.
The door slammed behind him. Before he could adjust to the darkness of the room, a hand fastly ran around his waist while the other trapped his wrist and a kiss was pressed against his lips. Edgar tried to move away, kicking and punching to finally break free from the horrid embrace after a slap crossed the man's face.
"Ich! Easy there, hase. Are we going to behave like a married couple when I haven't yet proposed to you?" The man laughed in a soft tone, still pressing a hand over his reddened cheek to ease the pain. Edgar stood there, confused and breathing harshly while his eyes couldn't move away from the man. He was terrorized and somehow, curious by the way this man spoke to him.
"What is it, bunny? Why are you looking at me that way? Don't tell me you don't remember who I am" Getting closer to the younger man and having no response from him was worth of hurt, but Frederick understood, it was years since they first knew each other and time sure change a person's looks, but the composer had a little something to loyal his words and memories with.
Stepping closer to the younger man, this one jumped back but Frederick kept walking, reaching an ornate drawer that was kept carefully locked. A couple of clicks and the only content from the gavinet was revealed: a torn and aged page of score with a delicate flower sketched over it in a hurry. The man slowly reached back to the younger one and handed him the piece of paper, resting a hand over his shoulder.
"I have kept this with me since the day you gifted it to me. Nine years ago… Oh! if I just remember, you were so small, your drawing board needed a few inches to be taller than you." The man laughed "Since that day I couldn't stop thinking about you, not a single night. I prayed for a day to reunite us again to come and… today, that day became a night. You have no idea how much I've missed you, Eddie, my hase"
While having the gentleman whisper that forgotten story in his ear, Edgar took the paper between his hands. His life came to a point where he barely remembered any piece he had created, much less he would remember the faces of the pieces' buyers or owners, but that single sketch brought open a vessel of memories. He turned back to see the man. Those hazel eyes, the white-ish hair and a kind smile… he remembered as it was carved into his brain, yet the image present in front of him was so different. The luminous eyes were now coated by dark, marked by notorious eye bags over a sickly pale skin, that hair, even longer and carefully combed, showed signs of neglect. The thin but well built frame of the man was now slender in an alarming measure and oh… that soft smile, it was just a crooked grin, far from the calming image he once saw.
"It's- It was… you?" Edgar couldn't fathom the idea, even with the man holding his hands together in such a lovely demeanor. He was so different, much older than the stranger from his memories and of course, much older than himself. "You didn’t need to spend that fortune if you just wanted to do this with me, you could've easily asked me any day to take a walk together" the painter said without understanding fully the intentions for such a brainless decision, he only understood that the situation was, at least, starting to feel uncomfortable.
"I could've done something like this, you are right. But there was no option for what I really wanted to do" as he spoke, Frederick gently led Edgar through the long corridors of the house, accompanying him upstairs before opening a door for him.
Why is he driving him to a bedroom? Edgar probably thought as he saw a queen size bed dimly illuminated by the lamp on the night table. He started to feel uneasy but knew that he could wait a little longer, at least not to make the man not feel that much of the money he had wasted on him.
He saw Frederick leaving his coat carelessly over a small vanity at the side of the room, the same vanity he started to open drawer by drawer until he gasped "I found it!" and asked the younger man to sit on the bed. Seconds after he joined him, the composer seemed a bit nervous for whatever he was planning and Edgar's curiosity matched perfectly the odd behavior of his companion.
"You are right, I would have invited you for an afternoon tea any day just by asking for your parents permission. But I don't think I would ever be able to ask for this to them" as he spoke, his shaky hands revealed a box, small enough to hide under his gloves just like the ring quickly taken out from it.
"Please, marry me"
Those words echoed inside Edgar's ears as his eyes were wide open. A pale blue now filled with the deepest surprise, even confusion.
"Please… please just say yes and I will take care of everything. I just want to be with you, to have you and be mine only. My heart has been aching for you since we first met. In my head I can only think about when we kiss and I cannot fathom the idea of living a life without you. Please, marry me!"
Edgar didn't say a word, he couldn't, his head was buzzing by such… confession? It was not even a confession, it skipped all the steps of one directly to a proposal and his head couldn't keep the trace of it. Meanwhile his now suitor was kissing his hand, caressing his tight and playing with the lace of the bow that fell over his legs, just waiting with the ring at the tip of Edgar's finger, ready to seal their treat with a simple word.
The gentle kisses on the back of the painter's hand slowly transformed into soft licks on his palm, with the older man pressing the idle hand against his face with devotion. "I promise also… I can fuck you better than any other man you have ever laid with" the grin was different, and Edgar felt the need to run.
Edgar wanted to leave, he needed to but his body wouldn't answer him. His legs, even if shaking were stiff as stone and his heart didn't show enough strength to pull him up, away from this terrifying man who used to be almost his childhood's spring love. He wanted to leave him there, but something was making him stay.
"I don't know your name" Edgar managed to whisper and Frederick smiled, somehow it was funny for him.
"Frederick, Frederick Kreiburg. You don't need to memorize it right away, you'll have plenty of time once we replace your last name with my own" after those last words full of delusion, Edgar's eyes remained empty. Was this man he barely -now- know the name of, truly so obsessed with him? Was it love? He had read plenty of times about love at first sight and souls fated to be together… but was it his case?
Edgar would be lying if he said that the attention didn't flatter him, but the concept of love was something so rarely explored by him. He had company on his bed, letters to his name, gifts to his honor; even with his old mentor dedicating some of them to him yet none of it managed to captivate his attention further than a couple of minutes.
Doubtfully, the younger one finally found the strength to stand up, claiming his wetted hand back from the man's grip "I'm sorry, Mr Kreiburg. I cannot accept what you are proposing to me. I-I'm sorry- I want to go home now… please"
Just like the flickering of the candle, the faithful smile over the white-haired man's face disappeared "Oh …I see" words cold as the marble floor they stepped on left the man's lips. Looking at how the painter reached the door, ready to leave made something break inside of him. Before Edgar could react, the composer laid a hand over the wood, just inches away from the brunette's hair to keep the door shut. The slam made Edgar quiver, cornering himself with his back against the door and eyes closed tightly. "Before you leave, if you are stubborn in not letting me convince you, at least let me finish what your dear mother interrupted nine years ago."
With that groan, the composer kissed the younger artist imitating the softness of their first kiss, holding his waist tightly as he drove his lover to the bed. Edgar tried to refuse the kiss, to push away those hands from his body in vain, even if Frederick wasn't a big man, he still towered Edgar and his weak body. It was easier than he thought to reduce the brunette to a crying, helpless mess as he started to strip him from the fine clothes he was wearing and a surprise didn't come unseen once the composer reached under his shirt and pants.
"Heh? What we got in here, baby? Oh I know now why you refused me. But you don't have to worry, I'll take care of your body just like any other boy" a chuckle, somehow sweet and Frederick pressed a kiss on Edgar's forehead. Ignoring the pleas of panic for him to stop, he started to unbind the corset tightly laced around the painter's chest, his breasts even if small were marked in red by the clothes' pressure over them. The man kissed the mistreated skin softly, looking at those pink nipples getting hard by that caress only.
"You don't play with yourself a lot, right my baby? You are so sensitive to me… I know you desire me too…" Edgar could swear those eyes changed the longer the man spoke, the hazel had gone to a dark, dark red as his lover went down his body, becoming brighter the more he peeled the underwear from him.
"P-Please..!! D-Don't do that. I'll do anything you want, but s– stop!! I will… I will marry you as you wanted… just please don't do t- this to me" clutching his legs together in an attempt to keep the man away from him, he continued crying, even having his arms free to fight Edgar knew it was in vain.
Even watching those tears run over red cheeks with the whole body of the person he 'adored' shaking in fear because of him. Frederick's heart didn't move an inch, only his dick did as he felt it pressing against his pants worse with each sob from his bunny.
"I'll be good with you my dear, just be good with me too. Okay?" he said looking right into those blue eyes wet in tears while lowering himself between the younger's thighs, kissing his skin as he finally pulled out his underwear. Leaving the boy to cry limp and defeated while hands quickly ran down to his innermost part.
An exposed cunt that was already leaking wet, pink and soft just as Frederick could wait from a lovely sight like Edgar was. "You really want me that much? God I made you wait so long for this, didn't I?" His words felt like daggers to Edgar's shame, he couldn't control how his body reacted to a touch so sick. He didn't want it to feel good, he didn't want it to last a second more, yet his body was craving the other's touch and body with despair.
Unbuckling his dress pants with eagerness, the composer already aligned himself to the painter's entry, whispering an apology as he didn't take a second more to invade his body, leaving the boy to scream. He was big, too big and too much for Edgar's body to handle. Again the cries for him to stop, the pleas, the insults and even some resistance started from the younger man who tried to pull away this bastard from himself while still embracing him in the search for an ounce of comfort.
"F-Fuck… my love… a-ah! You really wanted me so bad… h-haha.. your cunt is sucking me in so well, you f-feel so good… ah! So w-warm~" The man was immersed in his own delight, biting down on the painter's skin like a wild animal trying to mark his prey. "I love you… I love you!" He repeated again and again, huffing Edgar's cries with wet kisses.
Meanwhile the painter slowly stopped to struggle, the nails trying to tear the man's skin apart were now hands holding him tightly not to separate from them. He was disgusted by how good that cock felt inside of him, hitting the bottom of his intimacy with so much force and with no signs of stopping soon. He felt disgusted by the sweat from the man dripping on his skin, yet he couldn't stop looking for more of that sweet perfume mixed with it. Edgar hid his face on the composer's neck full of shame but also enjoying how safe he was between his arms. He was losing his last string of sanity before reaching the orgasm.
"Oh my love… I'm so close… I-I'm going to… hmmf..!" With those moans Edgar thought everything would end soon, driving a hand to Frederick's lower abdomen to 'help' him to pull out before he was stopped in spot "H-Heh… what are you trying to do, my little wife?" That same grin scared Edgar to his core, making him cry once he realized what the composer was trying.
His hips were lifted up and pressed down against the mattress, each thrust from the man became rougher and more unpaced than the last one "Ah.. g-god! If you could see how b-beautiful you look under me… H-Hell Edgar… you are going to be such a great mother for my children…" With that last claim, Frederick reached his peak, spilling his seed inside of Edgar's to the brim. Shaking and losing all strength to finally lay aside his sweetheart but the painter, still panting, looked at him. His body was weakened to the limit by the struggle and emotions, yet he still had enough strength to step up.
Frederick was falling asleep, a forearm to cover his eyes from the lamp's light to get some well deserved rest until he felt a hand wrapping around his still hard dick.
"I haven't finished yet… my darling"
With words cold as ice and eyes foggy as the night, the composer finally felt an ounce of what he put the young painter through the whole night. Now he was freezing in place, looking how the other quickly trapped him between his legs, rubbing the tip of his cock against his hole still leaking his cum. It was just as terrifying as he was, but in this case, Frederick adored every second of it.