blood of my blood Who: Antoine Savoy [NPC] & Adam Fenn. What: Adam's Embrace. Where: Bourbon St, then to the Bourbon Orleans. When: A little after 2 a.m. Warnings: None. Progress: Gdoc, complete.
Somewhere between Bourbon and Burgundy, the roving bachelor party had picked up a sixth member. The man was slightly older than they, attractive, and obviously well off: the perfect wingman for a group of impoverished thirty-somethings looking for good-natured trouble in the Crescent City. He bought drinks and dances for the celebrants, told them stories about the town and its melting pot of people, and generally brightened the spirits of all in attendance. He melted perfectly into the group dynamic, and by three in the morning, everyone felt they had known him all their lives.
The second night their companion was conspicuously absent. The memory of their single-serving friend lingered in Adam Fenn's mind, and in their increasing intoxication his friends admitted they felt it, too. And so on the third night, when the man they'd called Antoine joined them once more, they welcomed him back quite literally with open arms. The night passed as quickly as the first, a blur of alcohol and scantily clad coeds, every bar a welcoming stop along their road to blissful hedonism.
Around two in the morning, Adam left the washroom of the back alley speakeasy in which they'd found themselves. He scanned the faces in the crowd, but saw none he recognized. A deep frown tugged at his lips.
"James?" His voice was lost in the noisy crush of people and instruments. "Alex? Pete?" He shouldered his way through the throng, insistent but careful not to spill anyone's drink. "Jesus, you assholes…"
A hand grabbed his shoulder, not quite jerking him around but certainly directing him. Antoine's face came into view as Adam spun.
"I know where your friends went," he said, in a volume that should have been too low to hear but was perfectly audible to Adam's ears. "Follow me." The words left no room for argument, and were laced with something that wouldn't have let him decide against the idea anyway. Antoine started to melt into the crowd, turning away from Adam only at the last moment.
Adam felt only relief as he followed their newfound friend. The crowd moved to accommodate him, shifting subtly to allow him to pass. A wave of cooler air, still heavy with moisture, washed over him as he broke free of the cramped building. He moved out onto the sidewalk, then into the street, sidestepping a police officer on a massive bay gelding.
"I… oh." He spotted Antoine across the street and trotted over to his side. "I'm glad they said something to you, at least. Everyone swore no man left behind, but get a few drinks in them and this happens."
A toothy grin spread across Antoine's face. "It wouldn't be the first time here, nor the last. You're lucky you had me along to direct you. This way," he mentioned, jerking his head to imply down the street. They had moved off of Bourbon, though now ran parallel to it. "This is better than fighting the crowds, don't you think? Good way to lose you again, if we'd stayed there." He kept a slow but steady pace, his words urging Adam to stay close. Antoine briefly made eye-contact with another man across the street; the dark-skinned man nodded, and pressed on, disappearing around another corner.
"Yeah," Adam said, oblivious to that small interaction. "Definitely." He quickened his steps. As they passed a street sign Adam's gaze flicked up to it. During their short stay he and his group had not strayed far from the well-trod, tourist-friendly roads of the French Quarter, and he did not recognize the block on which they now walked. But his friends were adventurous, and it was no stretch to think that in their current state, they had wandered farther afield than before.
He patted the back pocket of his jeans. His wallet and cellphone were still in place, and he breathed an audible sigh of relief. "Worst case, I'll call them later," he said. "Where did they say they were going? I know James had his eye on that girl at The Penthouse Club..." He cast a look back over his shoulder, toward more familiar streets.
"It was difficult to talk in that bar, but I invited them to my hotel," Antoine replied smoothly. "A smaller, more intimate gathering. Take a bit of a rest, before heading back out. For those who wanted to go back out, considering the late hour." Antoine kept Adam moving, eventually gesturing toward a statuesque building that bordered the FQ. "Here we are. Not too far off, hmm?"
"Wow." Adam blinked, staring up at the facade as it drew near. "Your hotel? Man, I'm glad we met you. This is way out of our price range." He gave a self-deprecating laugh, shoving his hands down into his pockets. "I hope you told them to not go crazy. I'd bet you they're ordering a ton of room service and raiding the in-room bars as we speak."
Antoine chuckled, shaking his head reassuringly. "Trust me, everything will be taken care of."
He guided Adam into the lobby, the front door held open for them by an attentive bellhop who nodded at Antoine with a peppy 'sir' on his lips. Soft classical music provided a backdrop for the expensive furnishings. There were few others on the first floor, and those that were there spoke in hushed tones. All talk stopped as Antoine brought Adam through, but once they reached the elevator bay, the quiet sounds resumed. Antoine hit a button, lighting it up with a gold glow.
Adam's hands remained firmly in his pockets, just as his slightly awed expression remained on his face. A faint sense of embarrassment niggled at him, gnawing at the corners of his mind. The guests below had acted strangely, he thought, and though he chalked some of that up to their being in the same space as the owner of such a place as this, that did not seem to Adam to be the whole reason. He glanced down at his clothes -- faded grey tee, dark jeans, scuffed black boots -- and knew he looked wildly out of place. Color rose to his cheeks. He cleared his throat and focused on the floor numbers steadily ticking by, too slowly approaching their ground floor.
Antoine kept his hands folded neatly behind his back; rather than watching the elevator, his eyes never left Adam's form. Adam's blush deepened, his discomfort rising with every passing second.
The elevator car finally landed, ending the awkward stretch of time that existed in the lobby. Antoine ushered his guest into it, following and hitting a button on the strip just inside the door. None of the buttons had numbers.
"How are you enjoying the Big Easy?" Antoine's voice, flavored with just a hint of an accent, broke the quiet the car held; the music that filled the lobby was gone, shut out as soon as the door closed. They began to ascend.
"It's something else," Adam said. "I thought I'd seen party towns before, but I've never seen anything like this. It's really pretty here, too. And the food is amazing." He smiled, almost sheepish. "Basically everything my friends said about it is true."
Antoine made a sound, whether of agreement of judgement was unclear, but before Adam could inquire, the elevator doors were opening. Antoine swept his arm out, encouraging Adam to exit the car first. He gestured down the hallway.
"They're in my suite," he explained. "The rooms are soundproofed -- better experience for my guests -- so if you hear nothing, don't be alarmed." He began walking down the hallway. Adam followed, though anxiety stirred in his chest once again.
"What plans do you have for your life, Adam?"
Adam cleared his throat. He pressed a hand to his nape, rubbing as though to work out a knot of tension there. "Plans. Um." He chuckled. "Well, for a while I wanted to teach. That didn't really pan out. I like what I do, though. I think I'd like to run a restaurant eventually. Get married, have some kids. Just the usual boring stuff, I guess."
"The simple life," Antoine echoed. He sounded approving. "I was like that once, as well. Unfortunately, not all our choices are our own." There was no bitterness in his words, no sadness. They reached the end of the hall and turned, reaching a doorway set into a small alcove. A hand dipped into one of Antoine's pockets and removed a key card, which he slid against a reader on the door. The red light on it turned green.
"What would you say if I offered you a position?"
A slight crease marred Adam's brow. He thought back over their conversations, over the impressive state of the hotel and the man who owned it; there was no shortage of positions likely available through a man such as this. The possibilities were boundless.
"I'd be interested," Adam said, following Antoine inside. He looked around the sizable space, still searching for his friends, though he was significantly preoccupied with this new line of thought. "I have a pretty good thing going back home, but I'm always open to offers, especially if it'd be a step forward. What did you have in mind?"
"Something with a lot of responsibility," Antoine replied, closing the door behind them once they were both in the space. They were in a living room, which was clearly empty of any and all signs of life. Two doorways on either side showed a bathroom, starkly clean and bone white, and a bedroom, which was too dark to make out anything more than the outlines of furniture. The room they were in held a couch and two arm chairs covered in a blue and gold paisley print that matched the walls and carpet, centered around a table. Lamps lit the room with a dull glow, casting shadows. Antoine came to a stop in front of the door, studying Adam for a moment in the middle of the room. His face showed nothing. "Something that will take you places you never thought existed."
He took a few steps forward, stopping a touch closer to Adam than most people were comfortable with. "It's a one time deal, and I need to know you're serious."
Adam cleared his throat. He shifted his weight, one booted foot to the other, his hands returning to his pockets. He glanced at the door, now too far away, and Antoine's shape firmly in front of it. "Yeah. I'm listening," he said. He took a single step back. "I like a little adventure as much as the next guy. But details would definitely help me make up my mind, you know?"
"Honestly," Antoine replied, reaching out one hand to grasp Adam's shoulder, "it's something better shown than told." His grip turned to steel, planting Adam to the spot.
Fear and doubt chilled Adam's blood. Short hairs rose along his arms and at the nape of his neck. He raised his hands in front of him. "Uh, listen, I don't want to be rude…" He tried to lean back, away from that vise grip, but found it as unyielding as before. "And I really... appreciate your, uh, interest, but this isn't really my speed, so…"
Amusement tinged Antoine's mood, but he said nothing in reply. Pulling gently, he curled Adam into his embrace despite his objections and brought his lips to the young man's neck. His scent, mixed with that of smoke, alcohol, sweat and the general ghastly smells of Bourbon street, filled his nose as he opened his mouth wide and bit down into Adam's neck.
Adam clutched at Antoine's shirt, fingers twisting into cloth. His heart pounded in his chest, its echo thundering in his ears. But what began with fear soon turned to pleasure: Adam's hands softened against Antoine's chest, his body melting into and against the man who held him. A quiet gasp fell from his lips, a subtle amalgamation of the confusion, surprise, and wholly unexpected lust that coursed through him and set him shuddering. His face flushed as dimly, slowly, he became aware of his own burgeoning arousal, now pressed firmly against Antoine's thigh.
The older man drank deep, pulling blood from Adam's heart to swell in his mouth. His grip held fast, keeping the younger man from falling as he could feel the body in his arms sag a little from the sensations delivered by his kind. For the moment, he seemed wholly focused on dragging Adam down into a spiral, though of what and to what cause remained unclear.
Adam fell gladly into that waiting void. Whatever reservations had plagued him before seemed utterly pointless now. His legs buckled beneath him as Antoine drained him; held up only by grasping hands and deeply sunk teeth, Adam felt utterly, wonderfully adrift.
The pair remained in that void for what seemed like an endless amount of time; but in truth, between Antoine's powerful motions and Adam's own rabbit-quick heart, it took only minutes for the older man to drain the younger near to death. Antoine pulled back, small vestiges of blood tapering down from the bite mark left behind. Still holding Adam, Antoine bit into his wrist deep enough to draw his own blood, and pressed the wound to Adam's mouth.
"Drink," he commanded, once more the words leaving no room for choice.
Pale, unsteady hands circled Antoine's arm. He pressed his lips to the deep gash bitten into flesh, and sucked hesitantly at the coppery blood that flowed there. His mind was a fog, choked with lingering bliss and a sense of intimacy he had too long been without. His grip tightened. He drank more deeply, laving the wound with the flat of his tongue.
Gently, Antoine guided Adam back to one of the chairs in the room, letting the man fall from his arms to the seat still latched to his wrist. Pain flicked over his face, but he bore the intrusiveness of the act, and no small amount of satisfaction colored his expression. After a minute, which he had carefully counted out in his mind, he ripped his wrist away. One hand pressed Adam's shoulder and pinned him to the chair, keeping him from following the food source he'd been offered.
The younger man reached once more for what had been taken, but Antoine's touch, slight though it was, allowed him little range of motion. He sighed, sinking back into the cushions. Post-coital laziness colored everything, leaving his limbs feeling heavy and his body and mind pleasantly tired. He touched the wound on his throat, the traces of congealing blood that had trailed down his neck.
"What was that," he mumbled.
"My blood," Antoine offered, seeing no point in further dissembling. Seeing Adam seated comfortably, he reached to his damaged wrist with the opposing hand and dipped two fingers in the closing wound. He then applied the blood to Adam's neck, tracing over the bite mark he'd left there. "Sleep. There will be time for explanations after."
"I should go," Adam said. He yawned. The cushions were so warm and thick, and everything around him seemed inviting. His eyes drifted languidly shut. "Ten minutes."
Antoine chuckled softly as he watched Adam drift off. "Sure, my boy. Ten minutes."