The Opera
by elfin
Outside the Covent Garden Opera House there is a candlelit gathering for
those exclusive few who have seen the preview of the new piece.
In the beautiful summer heat, slim girls covered in layers of thin silk
weave through the throng, carrying silver trays of champagne flutes.
Reaching out, lavishing one waitress with a devilish smile, Dr Frobisher
takes two glasses and hands one to his young companion. Their fingers
touch as the other accepts the drink and a look of deep affection passes
between them.
The moment is broken by a loud, female voice calling the doctor from across
the cobbled stones.
“Dr Frobisher!”
The large woman closes in and reaches out her hand. He transfers
his glass and takes the gloved fingers into his own, bending slightly to
kiss the white lace.
“Lady Benedict, how wonderful to see you here. Did you enjoy the
opera?”
“Indeed. Most satisfying! The performance was flawless.”
Actually that wasn’t the case, but he doesn’t correct her. Besides,
she’s losing interest in him already and her gaze is flitting to the blond
at the doctor’s side, standing barely a step behind him.
“Is this a friend of yours?” she asks as her husband, a quieter and so
much more pleasing individual, joins them.
Hannibal blinks. “I do apologise. Lady Benedict, this is William
Harker.”
Turning his head, he delights in catching the soft play of candlelight
in the other man’s hair. Nothing has ever been as distracting as having
Will with him to share his life.
And tonight he looks exquisite in a white, silk shirt over black trousers.
The top button of the shirt is open, exposing a pronounced collarbone,
giving a teasing glimpse of a hairless chest. To Hannibal, he looks
good enough to eat, although he would never dream of it.
“William, may I introduce Lord and Lady Benedict.”
Will takes a step forward and reaches out his hand. “A pleasure.”
His accent gives him away immediately.
“You’re American!” So is Hannibal, but they’ve never made the distinction.
“How wonderful! How do you know our Dr Frobisher?”
‘Our’ doctor. Will smiles to himself. Hannibal belongs to no
one but him. They long ago put their past behind them and laid the
pain to rest. Instead of hurting one another, they have discovered
much better and more pleasurable ways to spend their time.
Sensing Will’s hesitation, Hannibal slides one arm around the slim waist
and spreads his fingers possessively over one bony hip.
“William’s a very dear friend of mine,” he tells them, and enjoys watching
the mix of expressions on their faces.
Her husband isn’t bothered in the least. He smiles, reaches forward
and shakes Will’s outstretched hand.
Lady Benedict is obvious in her uncertainty. She too shakes his hand,
but her preconceived ideas of the doctor have been shaken to their core
and it will take time for her to build new impressions.
Hannibal puts her out of her misery, so to speak, by bidding them a good
night. With a long look and a memorable smile, Will walks with the
doctor away from them.
Later, as they lie together in their luxurious apartment, they’ll laugh
about it. Hannibal will suggest that the moment he touched his lover,
the image of them fucking, of his large cock buried in Will’s ass or pushed
down his throat, popped unbidden into her mind.
Will would suggest in turn that the same happened for her husband, and
that’s why he was so friendly.
There are others here tonight who know the pair better. They have
accepted both into London’s high society and are glad to have their unique
company.
Stepping around the candles that burn brightly in trays on the cobbled
street, Will is stopped by British film director Peter Buchanan and asked
if he and the good doctor are free the following Friday for a night out
at a restaurant, followed by a movie premiere.
Will accepts the invitation gladly. He enjoys this life, even if
he does sometimes pine for the balmy warmth of Florida. He seeks out
other Americans simply to hear the accent spoken back at him.
Hannibal may be American, but he’s perfected the European accent to such
a degree that his origins are barely noticeable now.
“Will?” His hand is taken, hot fingers rubbing into his palm.
He turns to look at his lover. “Ready to go?”
He simply nods.
As they stroll away from the crowd, they place their glasses on trays still
weaving through the opera-goers.
They’ve enjoyed their evening, but the night is still young, the air still
warm, and they have one another to bask in now.
fin
elfin
Instant Feedback! (No Flames Please)