|
A secured delivery service has a box for Simon. Assuming he signs for it, there's a bit of heft to it. Inside are a trio of books and a handwritten letter with particularly nice script to it. The letter reads;
Mr. Dubois,
I thought perhaps you might be in need of some good reading material. Given your previous interest, the first of these books, The Majesty of Mughal Decoration: The Art and Architecture of Islamic India, is something of a representative collection of private art from the period we'd discussed prior. Given its preference on showing without as much scholarly work, I also included City of Djinns: A Year in Delhi. This account is something of a memoir style historical account of the research building into Delhi from a British historian's perspective. The progression through the different periods allows for a moderately well-educated view of the building blocks that created such a styling.
As for the third? Philadelphia Organized Crime in the 1920s and 1930s (Images of America) may be of a unique interest to those in the region. The rapid political shifts of the time accompanied with a view of those who disenfranchised turned to crime as a way to maintain some form of control. The rather pervasive way in which crime became a foundation for these individuals is quite telling of the modern times shifting to become one again, no?
I look forward to see if you have any insights next we meet. Perhaps the conversation will last a bit longer.
Signed,
J. Wright
It's been a week, maybe more, but it's your average Thursday. It's a nice Italian restaurant - the sort of place one pulls some strings to get into. Simon likely has his own reasons for being here, perhaps some meeting with someone he wants to screw over screw have some business with, or just because the lasagna is the best in the city.
If only he wasn't being sat two tables away from that motherfucker Jasper, sitting at his table with his red wine and an open book he's reading from.
Simon is still dressed flawlessly, but it's less black tie and more studious businessman. He has on some dark rimmed glasses that don't do much to hide his eerie gaze. His suit jacket is tweed, with a classy tie and dark slacks. He barely glances around as he's lead to his table, as if everyone else in the restaurant is beneath his notice. He doesn't even notice Jasper at all, at first--not until after he's already been sat down at his table and handed over a menu. He spends a couple minutes looking over it slowly, with apathetic half-interest.
The time passes. Jasper continues to sip at his wine and read from his book with avid interest. It seems that he's much more willing to appear in a background moment, perhaps once the other of the evening is there and Simon's already caught up in the conversation. Unable to leave politely in any regard.
After Simon has ordered their dinner, along with an expensive glass of wine, they pull out their phone to fiddle with. STILL not bothering to look around. He really does exist in his own little world.
It's only when his dinner partner arrives a bit later that he looks up--and finally catches sight of Jasper. But now it is, indeed, far too late. His uneasy gaze lingers on Jasper for just a second or two before focusing on the well dressed man that is coming to sit with him. He offers a polite smile to the man, Jasper completely ignored in favor of whatever appointment they have...
Seems like it's a business meeting! The man he's meeting with works with one of the local museums. They seem to be on pretty decent terms, though not quite friendly. There's some light chit-chatter at the beginning, the man asking how someone named Liliane is doing. Simon replays polite but vaguely. "She's well. Busy with school." They eventually start discussing the shipment and prices of a deal they're working on. Simon has some artifacts that the museum wants to purchase, seems like! Simon... does not go into any sort of detail about how those items were required. Seems like pretty legitimate business! The artifacts are a collection of Ming Cheng-Hua period pottery.
It's about then, given that the meeting seems getting to the end, that Jasper, perhaps infuriatingly, perhaps thankfully, rises, closing his book, and leaving a cash tip on the table. He's placed him self just so in order to have to brush past Simon's compatriot's back. And not a single glance was spared his way, but when you're as important as Simon is, he knows, doesn't he? He had to be here for him. But speaking out just can't work. Socially, it places one on the back burner, doesn't it?
Simon gives Jasper a brief glance as he goes, but again, doesn't linger. Now isn't the time for questions or demands, but they would certainly come later. He turns back to his dinnermate and flashes a polite smile, wrapping up the rest of the conversation smoothly.
And should Simon look for him after? It seems Jasper's vanished off into the night. Perhaps to meet more of those interesting conversationalists again.
It is perhaps another week before Simon's off to do something important - leaving one meeting and settling into his car. Jasper, of course, just happens to be walking down the street in the opposite direction just as the Sleepwalker takes a glance out the window in his annoyance.
Simon glances out the window, eyes narrowing. "Stop the car," he says curtly to the driver--who happens to be the same body guard that was with him at the party. The car pulls up to the curb, having only driven a block or so. As Jasper walks in front of it, the window rolls down and Simon glances out at him through his glasses. "Get in."
Jasper looked for all the world as if he was going to keep on walking, but the voice caught him. He stopped, reaching up to adjust his glasses. "... Ah. The reader." He looked down to Simon and the vehicle. "Can I help you?"
"You wanted a conversation, didn't you?" Simon says, not terribly warmly. "Get in the car."
There's a glance towards the front before he shrugs, opening the door before Simon and slipping in next to the other. He's a bit disheveled tonight - as if the professor got a D in Sex Ed.
"Tell me, did you have a chance to make it through any of the materials I'd sent you?"
Simon scoots over to make room as the car pulls back off of the curb and starts to drive. To where? Who knows. Simon gives him a cold look. Ignoring the question to instead say, "Why are you following me?"
Jasper laughs oh-so airily. "My goodness, you are paranoid, aren't you?"
"I'm practical. And you're not as subtle as you believe yourself to be."
"You are paranoid," says the Invictus. "You'll want to pull over."
"Why?"
"Because I'm getting out," says Jasper with a raised brow. "I've other things to do with my night."
"No," Simon replies with all the certainty of someone who is very used to getting their way. Or forcing people to do what they want if not. "You're going to answer the question, Mr. Wright. What do you want from me?"
"Simon, I've seen you now twice in a month. I'd hope for some conversation, but it seems you're perhaps a bit on edge." Jasper's expression turns thoughtful. "Are you alright? Is it about Liliane perhaps?"
Simon's eyes narrow at the name. "No. This is about you. And my patience is wearing thin. I know you're not completely human. I know you have been following me. You know where I live. So you are going to answer my question, or I will be forced to show you the full magnitude of my paranoia."
Something in there finally pressed the composure of the Kindred. Some nagging little detail that had the Beast's haunches raised. The vehicle was so, so small now, and as Jasper slid in, a hand on Simon's knee, it was so, so easy to feel the heat from the Kindred's gaze as well as that hand.
"That's quite a statement. I'm sure if you wanted me to be an animal, Simon, you could muster up at least a please." The words from the kindred growing smaller as he got even closer to the dangerous sleepwalker. "I know about you. The darkness hanging just behind you. But we don't speak of such things in mixed company, do we?"
"Now, would you prefer to go somewhere private and... talk?" asks the redhead as fingertips trail ever so slightly up the other's thigh.
Simon went still, staring at Jasper for a long moment before their lips purse. "...Fine." He shifts to lean back against the seat, not engaging--but he's also not pushing away the hand on his thigh. He gives the name for some rich swanky hotel in the city to the driver, who turns at a stoplight to change course in that direction.
The Kindred let his fingers trail upward, giving a bit more warmth, before pulling back and sitting back and looking out the window as if completely disinterested again. Leaving him with wanting more, and just that taste to say what could happen.
And off to the swanky hotel they go! The driver pulls up in front, and Simon slides out to head inside. He's only talking to the desk person for a minute or two, getting a room that--apparently--he commonly gets. Or is it reserved just for him permanently??? Possibly. He's rich enough for that shit.
He doesn't even look at Jasper as he's handed over keycards and turns to head for the elevator.
So long as the suit gets left behind, Jasper seems quite content to go off with Simon. In the elevator, he turns his eyes onto the man, waiting until they've risen a floor already before commenting, "You often find yourself some in need of a private getaway here enough to warrant keeping it on reserve?"
"I don't like having strangers in my home," Simon says simply. "This is far more convenient." Someone definitely is paranoid.
No suits, though! Well. Maybe nearby. But at least not immediately close. Once at the top of the elevator, Simon slips out and heads to a door that leads into a very spacious swanky suit.
Jasper lingers behind, giving Simon a full eyefuck once over. Every detail taken in and every turn of the body appreciated openly from behind his rather large spectacles. "Meaning you often take strangers here?"
"Hardly any of your business, is it?" Simon replies airly. Which... isn't a no.
He makes his way over to a well stocked bar, grabbing a bottle of expensive whiskey to pop open. "Would you like a drink?"
"Very much so." Jasper doesn't bother with the room. He's made to slink towards Simon, summoning up all his hot prof energy...
Simon grabs a second glass, filling both of them with a hefty amount of booze. He turns to offer one out, pausing a second to look him over slowly. Definitely a moment of appreciative distraction.
Then he takes a sip of whiskey, eyes lifting to Jasper's face with an expectant look, but he's not going to be the one that breaks the silence. Waiting for Jasper to spill.
The slinking man stopped before Simon, then reached a hand out to press lightly against his chest, pushing him back if he'd go. The other took up the glass. He lifted it, still eyeing the other from behind his glasses, and made to drink as if drinking him in. A long, slow sip.
"You remind me of someone that I used to know." The whispered confession gained just a touch of something warm, inviting, as if information itself was the highest form of seduction. And maybe for the Mekhet, it was.
It only takes a step and a half for Simon to be pressed against the bar. If he seems intimidated or bothered by being pinned there, it doesn't show. He takes a long sip of the firy booze as well, staring back into his eyes.
His brows twitch together at the confession. "...Who?"
"A lover of mine. His name was Geoff," whispered Jasper as he came in closer, then turned his head to brush his lips lightly on the bearded man's jawline. The glass he held set down on the bar he had Simon pinned against as his body came oh-so-close to pressing against the sleepwalker.
"Ah," comes the simple, soft answer. Not... at all gentle or sympathetic. But understanding. He's not the most comforting of men. "You are projecting your loss onto me, then."
"Of course. Not any worse or better than the ones you bring back here wishing to just make you say one good thing about them because their daddy never loved them." The Kindred pressed both of his hands to Simon's abdomen, searching up his chest slowly and firmly.
"You should have said that from the beginning," Simon grumbles with a trace of annoyance. "Could have saved us both a lot of trouble." He downs another swallow of whiskey, then also sets his glass aside. Apparently he has no trouble taking advantage of someone's emotional vulnerability, as he reaches out to grab him by the back of the neck to pull in closer, his other hand gripping his hip.
"Because I wanted to see if you were worth more with your mouth unoccupied," quips back the spectacled one. Then he picked up his glass and pressed it to Simon's lips. "Drink. I want you looser."
Given their bodies now flush, there was little natural arousal felt, but there was a high heart rate, pumping in. The Kindred's nostrils flared as he breathed in Simon, his free hand mirroring the grip on the other's hip.
"Does it matter?" Simon arches a brow. "You're using me. I'm using you. We don't need to talk." Still, he accepts the booze, swallowing down the remainders of the glass. Then he was pulling Jasper in, pressing his lips to the other man's.
The flicker of life ignited through the Shadow as they kissed. The long hair came free in the grasp as he pushed his face harder into Simon's kiss, desperate and hungry. There was a sharp inhale from the Kindred as he grabbed Simon's hair to wrench his head to the side. A hand palmed the man's ass as Jasper trailed his tongue along the other's jawline. No words needed.
When Jasper grips a handful of hair, his fingertip brushes at Simon's scalp and feels something... that feels hella weird. Something hard, maybe?
But he doesn't get much opportunity to feel more, as Simon reaches up to grab his wrist and yank it away from his hair, pinning it down at Jasper's side instead. But he didn't mind his ass being palmed, nor the kiss to his jawline, his head tipping to the side to bare his neck as he lets out a soft groan.
Jasper noticed, but... it wasn't quite the right moment. He needed more leverage. So he pulled out the big, big fucking guns. Something he'd done on the doppleganger so many years ago.
Releasing Simon's ass, he brought that hand up to rub his thumb over the Sleepwalker's ear in slow, intimate circles. His breath was warm against the kine as he brought his lips to that place where jaw met throat in the tenderest of kisses to see if this drove Simon as wild as it did Geoff. It was close. It was only slightly sexual. But it was highly intimate in the moment.
It does send a shiver through Simon, and brings about a soft, sharp inhale. A subtle reaction, but... he's a subtle man, it seems. It certainly is accepted, and based on how Simon is clenching at the back of Jasper's neck, he's urging more of the kisses.
"Relax," urges Jasper before trying to gently pull his other hand free. If allowed, he used that one to cup the side of Simon's face, brushing a thumb along his cheekbone as he cradled him so tenderly. More of those kisses, those gentle brushes of just soft lip against softer neck, a warmth built in the ear and massaged through such a tender place.
Simon let Jasper's hand slip away, his eyes drifting closed slowly. He reaches up to run his hands underneath Jasper's shirt, feeling out his stomach and chest. "Are you always this gentle?" he murmurs. "Or is it because I remind you of him?"
Jasper's body was incredibly smooth, lightly defined but not overly muscular. A small amount of fuzz that trailed upwards and spread near invisibly over his chest.
The Kindred didn't speak at first, continuing his gentle worship before pressing a kiss to Simon's ear as that hand slid down, thumb pressing against his adam's apple. "No. I could fuck you like an animal if you wanted - toss you around, grind you down and make you take it so deep you'd only be able to grunt. Is that what you're saying you want?"
Such a light touch. Not to choke but just to be tender with the tenderest portions of this hard, dark stranger. "You don't... like this?" challenges Jasper lightly before brushing his lips against the other's, the sharp sting of the mustache even softened before lip took lip only a moment before going back to suckling Simon's ear lobe.
Simon's eyes close for a moment, his adams apple bobbing. There's a long moment of quiet, as his hands grip and squeeze over Jasper's chest, then down to shove his hand into his pants to feel there, too. Even if Jasper is gentle... Simon isn't.
"...You may continue," Simon decides after a moment.
|