Xavier Louis Carlisle (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bloodstainedheart) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
noirenewyork2014-01-23 11:45 pm
bloodstainedheart) wrote in noirenewyork2014-01-23 11:45 pm
@ muserevival ♠ Quote of the Day 035.
HERE @ muserevival
“Flowers are happy things.”
- P. G. Wodehouse
The past few days - or nights, rather - had been restless for Xavier. He had things on his mind and he had a tendency to brood through things. He wasn't audacious, by any means. He was more of the cool, calm and collected sort, much to the often stereotypical traits of his Clan. It was also another reason why Greg had proven to be the Yin to his Yang. They could truly be polar opposites more often than not, and it went with Xavier's true belief that soul mates were not intended to match, but compliment both each other's strengths and their weaknesses with a bold balance to build a sturdy foundation of literally forever together.
When he got into one of these 'moods', as Greg would simple put it, there was only one thing that could really placate and soothe him. As soon as dusk melted away and night fell, Xavier was out in his stable saddling up his beloved white Arabian, his hand caressing her sleek coat as he did. He had been born with a kindred spirit to horses. Even when he was alive and mortal, riding was something he had a passion for and it had stuck with him through the years of his walk of The Masquerade as Kindred. It was only those intimately close and connected to him, and indeed his City's Kindred Council that he was part of, who knew he actually had shape-shifting powers. If to full strength, he could shift at will, and the reason he had such an affinity with this particular fondly named Sanguine Rose in honour of the Toreador Clan symbol, was because he transformed into a form almost identical to her... a white stallion.
His twilight ride through the vast acreage of his estate hadn't really managed to content him like it usually would. He was troubled with the burden of whether he should reveal to his mate that their Vessel had intimate feelings towards Trystan, Greg's brother. He had a list of pros and cons of telling Greg or not, but Greg wasn't a Ventrue conforming to the stereotype at all. Yes, he was genius businessman in charge of a chapter of a very large corporation. He could schmooze and charm with the best of them when he had his own advantage to gain. But upon his Embrace, he had brought with him many of his adorable human traits with him. He was happy-go-lucky with a wicked sense of humour. He preferred not to take most things (beyond his business stragegy) too seriously if he could get away with it. If Xavier revealed this, Greg would likely just see it as a joke. In which, he may be blindsided when Xavier told him he was deadly serious.
And deadly it may be, considering the history Greg and Trystan had between them. They were much better these days, but that deeply buried past was still there somewhere and Xavier wasn't sure how he would take to the news that Trystan could be blocking sensual feelings towards Skye also. It was a dilemma that no amount of riding could clear up for him and he didn't want to tire his horse out simply because he was brimming with frustrations that needed an outlet. There were other outlets he could take much advantage of.
Which was a fact Greg hadn't forgotten and seemed intent to remind Xavier. Stalking through the back paths from the stables back to the manor, Xavier stepped inside through the large ornate rosewood doors into the Gothic decor that was dimly lit with rows of candles. At its pride and place on a mantle by the stairs was a large vase containing what had to be at least five dozen long-stemmed blood red roses. They were Xavier's favourite flower and a faint smirk danced at the corner of his lips when he saw them. Removing his leather riding gloves, he sauntered over to the roses and brushed the tips of his fingers over the velvety petals. Each bloom was sheer perfection. "Well played, Gregory..." he murmured, reaching to take one of the roses from the arrangement. "Well played."
That was when Greg's trump card became evident. Not a single thorn off a single rose had been removed, and when Xavier plucked one of the stems from the vase, a thorn pricked his finger and a thick droplet of blood sprung from the puncture. He held his finger up, watching as the blood trickled down its length to his palm. That was when Greg appeared, descending the grand stairs leading up to the upper wings of the manor. He was dressed immaculately in a black velvent suit and in this dim candlelight, Xavier wouldn't miss that his eyes were shining silver, no doubt from a healthy mix of hunger and lust.
Xavier scaled the last couple of stairs to meet his mate, holding his finger out to Greg's lips as an invite. Both of Greg's hands cupped around Xavier's and his tongue lapped up the line of blood. Xavier met his gaze with a knowing smile and moved up close to Greg, pushing him up against the bannister. That was all the opening Greg needed, and his sharp fangs sunk deeply into Xavier's wrist... Kindred foreplay at its best. Dipping his head, Xavier dropped a soft trail of tender kisses over Greg's jawline to his throat, nuzzling it just lightly and letting his Kindred senses drown in those of his mate's. The more eagerly Greg drank, the more hungry and aroused Xavier became. There was no waiting to get to their bedroom. Xavier bit down on Greg's throat and his free hand worked to unlace Greg's pants.
And people wondered why Toreadors were so mesmirized by beautiful things...
“Flowers are happy things.”
- P. G. Wodehouse
The past few days - or nights, rather - had been restless for Xavier. He had things on his mind and he had a tendency to brood through things. He wasn't audacious, by any means. He was more of the cool, calm and collected sort, much to the often stereotypical traits of his Clan. It was also another reason why Greg had proven to be the Yin to his Yang. They could truly be polar opposites more often than not, and it went with Xavier's true belief that soul mates were not intended to match, but compliment both each other's strengths and their weaknesses with a bold balance to build a sturdy foundation of literally forever together.
When he got into one of these 'moods', as Greg would simple put it, there was only one thing that could really placate and soothe him. As soon as dusk melted away and night fell, Xavier was out in his stable saddling up his beloved white Arabian, his hand caressing her sleek coat as he did. He had been born with a kindred spirit to horses. Even when he was alive and mortal, riding was something he had a passion for and it had stuck with him through the years of his walk of The Masquerade as Kindred. It was only those intimately close and connected to him, and indeed his City's Kindred Council that he was part of, who knew he actually had shape-shifting powers. If to full strength, he could shift at will, and the reason he had such an affinity with this particular fondly named Sanguine Rose in honour of the Toreador Clan symbol, was because he transformed into a form almost identical to her... a white stallion.
His twilight ride through the vast acreage of his estate hadn't really managed to content him like it usually would. He was troubled with the burden of whether he should reveal to his mate that their Vessel had intimate feelings towards Trystan, Greg's brother. He had a list of pros and cons of telling Greg or not, but Greg wasn't a Ventrue conforming to the stereotype at all. Yes, he was genius businessman in charge of a chapter of a very large corporation. He could schmooze and charm with the best of them when he had his own advantage to gain. But upon his Embrace, he had brought with him many of his adorable human traits with him. He was happy-go-lucky with a wicked sense of humour. He preferred not to take most things (beyond his business stragegy) too seriously if he could get away with it. If Xavier revealed this, Greg would likely just see it as a joke. In which, he may be blindsided when Xavier told him he was deadly serious.
And deadly it may be, considering the history Greg and Trystan had between them. They were much better these days, but that deeply buried past was still there somewhere and Xavier wasn't sure how he would take to the news that Trystan could be blocking sensual feelings towards Skye also. It was a dilemma that no amount of riding could clear up for him and he didn't want to tire his horse out simply because he was brimming with frustrations that needed an outlet. There were other outlets he could take much advantage of.
Which was a fact Greg hadn't forgotten and seemed intent to remind Xavier. Stalking through the back paths from the stables back to the manor, Xavier stepped inside through the large ornate rosewood doors into the Gothic decor that was dimly lit with rows of candles. At its pride and place on a mantle by the stairs was a large vase containing what had to be at least five dozen long-stemmed blood red roses. They were Xavier's favourite flower and a faint smirk danced at the corner of his lips when he saw them. Removing his leather riding gloves, he sauntered over to the roses and brushed the tips of his fingers over the velvety petals. Each bloom was sheer perfection. "Well played, Gregory..." he murmured, reaching to take one of the roses from the arrangement. "Well played."
That was when Greg's trump card became evident. Not a single thorn off a single rose had been removed, and when Xavier plucked one of the stems from the vase, a thorn pricked his finger and a thick droplet of blood sprung from the puncture. He held his finger up, watching as the blood trickled down its length to his palm. That was when Greg appeared, descending the grand stairs leading up to the upper wings of the manor. He was dressed immaculately in a black velvent suit and in this dim candlelight, Xavier wouldn't miss that his eyes were shining silver, no doubt from a healthy mix of hunger and lust.
Xavier scaled the last couple of stairs to meet his mate, holding his finger out to Greg's lips as an invite. Both of Greg's hands cupped around Xavier's and his tongue lapped up the line of blood. Xavier met his gaze with a knowing smile and moved up close to Greg, pushing him up against the bannister. That was all the opening Greg needed, and his sharp fangs sunk deeply into Xavier's wrist... Kindred foreplay at its best. Dipping his head, Xavier dropped a soft trail of tender kisses over Greg's jawline to his throat, nuzzling it just lightly and letting his Kindred senses drown in those of his mate's. The more eagerly Greg drank, the more hungry and aroused Xavier became. There was no waiting to get to their bedroom. Xavier bit down on Greg's throat and his free hand worked to unlace Greg's pants.
And people wondered why Toreadors were so mesmirized by beautiful things...