janebecomes: (reading)
[personal profile] janebecomes
Jane has found herself a nook in the library and is lost in the poetry of Catullus, a translation she found that she's not seen before.

The night is starting to draw in and so her shawl is pulled tightly around her as she wonders about the kind of passion and lust that inspired such words.

Date: 2009-12-11 06:43 am (UTC)
From: [personal profile] vojvode
He watches her for a long time from the shadows, watches the intent gaze on her face as her eyes play over the words.

She's dark, like his Mina. Beautiful.

For a moment, he is well and truly smitten.

Date: 2009-12-11 07:07 am (UTC)
vojvode: (tip of the hat)
From: [personal profile] vojvode
"Suns may set and rise again, for us, when the short light has once set, remains to be slept the sleep of one unbroken night."

The accent is rich and dark, and wraps around Jane like a warm shawl.

"The Roman poet, is it not?"

The gentleman at the end of the row of books wears a grey frock coat over matching waistcoat and trousers. Hat and gloves and dark glasses perhaps seem out of place here, but it doesn't seem to matter much at all.

"Forgive me for the intrusion, my lady. But you have such a lovely voice." He doffs his hat for a brief moment.

Date: 2009-12-11 09:10 pm (UTC)
vojvode: (smirk)
From: [personal profile] vojvode
"I must beg your forgiveness, Miss Austen. It was not my intention to startle you."

He sinks to one knee before her, taking her fingers in his and bending over them. His gaze meets and holds hers as he brushes a chaste kiss across her knuckles.

Her heart is pounding like a little bird's and he can smell the curiosity rising off her like the bloom off a rose.

Date: 2009-12-11 09:29 pm (UTC)
From: [personal profile] vojvode
He does not release his hold on her hand, instead rubbing his thumb in small circles across her knuckles. A mesmerising touch, designed to soothe. When he speaks, he keeps his voice low. They are, after all in a library, and if it makes her lean in closer, all the better to his ends.

"Surely you are safe enough here -- in this place. The keepers of books are also the keepers of readers, are they not?"

Date: 2009-12-11 09:38 pm (UTC)
From: [personal profile] vojvode
Such pale ivory flesh on the flower of her cheeks, with such sweet vermilion nectar rising to his call. His lips twitch into a smirk, and even behind his dark glasses, she can see the smile lines around his eyes deepening.

"As well they should be." That fingertip circles, soothes, the shadows around them both drawing close. "I myself keep an extensive library at my home in the Carpathians. But coming to London, I have discovered a whole new world of words to explore."

Date: 2009-12-11 09:47 pm (UTC)
From: [personal profile] vojvode
"Oh it is, very dangerous. A virtual wilderness. My home -- my castle is high in the mountains. And a world away from the bee hive that is London. London seems another world all together."

While he talks, he gently turns her hand in his, his hand stroking open her palm, like he might stroke the soft fur of a cat. A shroud of calm falls around her, a deep, sweet peacefulness. No harm will come to her here. No harm at all.

"Where is your home, Miss Austen? England, I assume?"

Date: 2009-12-11 10:03 pm (UTC)
From: [personal profile] vojvode
"Oh yes, there is a peacefulness to the mountains. It is a world much older than yours, my dear. I wish you could see the view. You can see the entire valley from the parapets." His voice grows even softer, lulling her into a trance.

"My lady, would you help me take my gloves off? This button here at the wrist, it gives me trouble." He places his wrist in her hand.

Date: 2009-12-11 10:10 pm (UTC)
From: [personal profile] vojvode
He leans in to smell her hair, eyes watching the side of her face as she works the small buttons. He changes hands and lets her do the other wrist as well, letting her tug them off his hands.

"Thank you, my lady. You are -- too kind."

Date: 2009-12-11 10:27 pm (UTC)
From: [personal profile] vojvode
And somehow, in the shifting manner of dreams, it comes to pass that he is holding both her hands between his palms. His nails are exceptionally long for a man of her time, and they are filed to points.

He caresses her skin, up to her delicate wrists, again turning her hand to expose her palm. His skin is soft, almost too thin, but the musculature beneath is solid as granite. He moves closer to her, bending to place a soft kiss on the mound of her thumb.

"You are so very beautiful," he murmurs quietly, his beard tickling the soft skin of her inner wrist. "If I were your husband, I would never leave you alone. Not for a moment. Even if it were just to watch you across the room. The mere sight of you fills a man's heart to overflowing."

Date: 2009-12-11 10:40 pm (UTC)
From: [personal profile] vojvode
"Oh you like to talk, do you? I would read to you, and you would tell me what you thought of my -- atrocious choices in poetry." There is a smile in his voice.

"I would read to you from the Song of Solomon, my dearest." His lips part and she feels the warm swipe of his tongue over her wrist, right over her pulse.

Date: 2009-12-11 10:44 pm (UTC)
From: [personal profile] vojvode
"Would you like me to read your words?"

He has insinuated himself close to her, one arm resting across her lap, the whole world closed down to just the two of them.

"It would be like holding you in my mouth, so close to my heart."

Date: 2009-12-11 10:52 pm (UTC)
From: [personal profile] vojvode
"It is no matter," he whispers. The shadows draw even closer around them, and it is as if the candle in the window is the only light in the whole world. The library has disappeared entirely.

He is on his knees before her, and yet their gaze is almost eye to eye. He lets her have the high ground, looking up to her with an almost worshipful gaze.

"There are other things you can place on my tongue, beautiful one."

Date: 2009-12-11 10:59 pm (UTC)
From: [personal profile] vojvode
His hand comes up to brush the back of his knuckles against her cheek. His touch is cool, but not unpleasant, and his breath smells of roses and the earth.

"Your words are the pulse of your heart, are they not?"

Date: 2009-12-11 11:05 pm (UTC)
From: [personal profile] vojvode
The velvet of his voice takes on an edge, and the weight of centuries. There is a dark hunger here, and he shares it with her.

"Give me the pulse of your heart, Jane. Give me -- life."

Date: 2009-12-11 11:11 pm (UTC)
From: [personal profile] vojvode
His touch trails down to her chin, lifts it to expose the column of her throat. He bends his head and breathes her in, his lips skimming over her skin.

"I will hold you in my mouth, Jane. And your words will be a part of me for all eternity."

Cradling her head, his grip at her waist tightens as he opens his mouth and sinks his teeth into that sweet flesh.

Date: 2009-12-11 11:26 pm (UTC)
From: [personal profile] vojvode
He moans softly, holding her tight, keeping her close as he strokes her hair. His mouth feels like a furnace against her skin, and there is nothing more intimate than this exchange. His jaw works, the serpent tearing at the wound to keep the blood flowing.

He pours pleasure into her mind, wraps her tight in the ecstasy he feels as her life flows down his throat. Balancing the savagery with sweetness, determined to see her undone if only for a moment.

Date: 2009-12-11 11:33 pm (UTC)
From: [personal profile] vojvode
He drinks as much as he can without threatening her life, listening carefully to the spaces between the beats of her heart. She is strong and young, and beautiful. And he knows, her words will not need him to attain immortality.

Just a few more moments, just a few more breaths.

He twists his hand tighter in her hair, wanting to hear the pleasure on her lips.

Date: 2009-12-11 11:38 pm (UTC)
From: [personal profile] vojvode
His lips part from her skin with a gasp, his dark eyes shot through with crimson. He watches her face as she sees his true visage.

It is the last thing she sees before his hand passes over her eyes. "Sleep. Sleep and forget." The shadows close in tight, dragging her down into darkness.

The candle gutters and is extinguished.


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Jane Austen

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