Diablotin: Fanfic: The Seafoam-Green Muslin

[curtana.livejournal.com]

Title: The Seafoam-Green Muslin
Fandom: Diablotin
Rating: NC-17
Length: ~2500 words
Content notes: cross-dressing, and one character is underage (16)
Author notes: Thanks to elanya for beta reading!
Summary: An unexpected guest in a pretty dress catches Loick's eye.

The party was rather subdued, at least by Loick's standards, but it was really his sister Viriane's circle of friends, not his. He was there to provide the giggling teenage girls with a suitable but non-threatening dance partner, approved by the crowd of mothers seated along the wall, fanning themselves and chatting while keeping a watchful eye on their nubile daughters. Loick, they could feel confident, was in no danger of sweeping any of the young ladies off their feet - at worst, some poor innocent maiden might develop an infatuation with him before she could be discreetly informed that the handsome son of the Count of Padova was not on the marriage market.

Between bland and unexceptionable dances, he noticed an unfamiliar young woman caught up in conversation with Tyana Deverara. The unknown damsel was small and slight and her flaming red hair was caught up in a simple braid, rather than the more complex styles currently favoured by the ladies of the court. She must only just have come from the country, Loick imagined, or perhaps she simply had little concern for fashion. Her dress was quite pretty, though modest, a seafoam-green muslin trimmed with creamy silk ribbons. She might have been accounted a beauty, although some would consider her face sadly marred by the freckles that spotted it. Loick, for his part, thought they were charming. This was unexpected, since it was rare indeed that he found himself attracted to a woman. He decided he would at least learn the mysterious girl's name, and then perhaps arrange an introduction.

"Sister," he asked Viriane, "who is the young lady with the red hair?"

Viriane glanced in the direction he was looking, her brow furrowed. "I'm... not sure," she admitted. "Perhaps she came with friends?"

"Don't worry," Loick said, smiling at his little sister, "I'll soon find out." He casually crossed the room to where the pretty stranger sat nestled in the window seat alongside Mlle. Deverara, and bowed politely to the pair, who fluttered their fans modestly. "Tyana, my dear," he said, "I hope you are well?"

"Yes, very well!" the blonde girl replied. "I'm so very glad my mother allowed me to come to this party, it's lovely."

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself," said Loick, but he was looking at the red-haired girl, who stared back at him with wide blue eyes from over the edge of her fan.

"Oh, permit me to introduce you," Tyana said hastily. "Mlle. Raysa de Villiers, this is M. Loick Talavera."

The name was unfamiliar to Loick, adding to his suspicion that she must not have been long in the city. "Charmed," he said, and bowed over her hand as she offered it to him shyly. It was not the delicate little thing he expected, but slightly too large, with hard, callused fingertips. Perhaps she played a stringed instrument, although Loick was uncertain whether plucking a lute or harp would produce such tough skin.

"It's lovely to meet you," she murmured. Her voice was low and husky, but quite pleasant.

"Would you care to stand up with me for the next dance, Mlle. de Villiers?" Loick asked spontaneously, surprising himself somewhat. Normally this evening he had been inviting ladies to dance out of a sense of duty, but he found he actually wished to dance with this unusual young woman.

Raysa looked slightly startled, but agreed, accepting Loick's proffered arm to stand. As they took their places for the dance, she said, "I'm afraid I may not know the steps very well."

"Not to worry," Loick reassured her. "I'll take good care of you." He enjoyed watching her blush as the dance began. True to her word, she made several missteps, but each time Loick managed to cover for her errors and guide her smoothly back into the correct pattern. In the moments when the dance's form brought them together, he was able to feel the smooth movements of her muscles - she was not an unskilled dancer, then, but simply unfamiliar with these particular steps, he decided. In fact, she kept trying to move in the same direction as him, as if she was used to... oh, yes, that was it. Used to following the man's steps.

Loick was vastly amused, and a little surprised that it had taken him this long to figure out the truth about Mlle. de Villiers. Now that he looked at her with a more skeptical eye, he was able to perceive that her shoulders were a little too broad for her delicate frame, her feet, when they were visible beneath the hem of her frock, were larger than they ought to be, and the ribbon at her throat must have been to conceal the bump there. He was far too much of a gentleman to say anything just then, but he could barely stop looking at her, drawn in by the tantalizing mixture of male and female features, and her undeniable beauty, whatever her sex.

When the set concluded, he bowed to her, kissing her roughened hand. "Thank you, mademoiselle," he said, "for a most... intriguing dance."

She blushed, but looked up at him audaciously, as if daring him to reveal her secret. "I've longed to dance with you for some time, sir."

"Oh have you," Loick said, smiling. He walked with her over to the refreshments, trusting in the music to cover their conversation from casual eavesdroppers. "Is that why you came, then?"

"Not entirely," she murmured. "Some young ladies are distressingly well-chaperoned, don't you think?"

Loick stifled a laugh. This was a bold one, and no mistake. "I don't imagine you have that problem, though, Raysa." He laid a slight emphasis on the name, wondering what she was really called. "You could slip upstairs without any trouble, couldn't you," he said, lowering his voice so that no one else would hear.

"I could," she said at once, "if I knew there would be someone to meet me."

"Oh, I wouldn't leave a guest alone under such circumstances," Loick assured her. "Last door on the left."

"Just give me ten minutes," she said under her breath, and slipped away. Loick grinned and began the process of making his own polite farewells. Despite his sister's annoyance at his early departure, he was able to extricate himself from the party without too much difficulty, and proceed upstairs to his bedroom. It was only a short wait before there was a quiet little knock at the door, and a certain red-haired young person was invited inside.

"What's your real name, then?" Loick asked, eyeing his new guest.

"Rayce Elzior," he told him, looking up and smiling slyly.

"Mmhmm, and where'd you get the dress? It suits you, but I can't imagine you went into a shop and bought it yourself."

"It's my sister Oclea's," Rayce admitted. "She doesn't know I borrowed it." He was advancing on Loick already, all big blue eyes and adorable freckles and grabby hands. It was plain his interest in further conversation was limited, but Loick wasn't quite ready to move on just yet, so he caught him by the wrists, holding him tight.

"Seems an odd way of meeting girls," he said, ignoring Rayce's pout.

Rayce shrugged. "It works better than you'd think. On boys too, sometimes," he added with a touch of pride.

Loick chuckled. "How old are you, you little tart? Fourteen, fifteen?"

"Sixteen," Rayce said, sticking his chin out defiantly. "Old enough."

"Definitely old enough," Loick agreed, and loosed his hands to allow the boy to embrace him. Rayce was endearingly eager and aggressive, tugging Loick's coat open and off, tearing at the buttons of his shirt, pushing him in the direction of the bed, all the while on tiptoes to kiss him, tongue pressing fiercely between his lips. Loick, grinning, let himself be stripped to the waist and led where the boy wanted him to go, grabbing the thin fabric of his dress to pull him down to lie with him.

Impatient, Rayce already had one hand working at the front of Loick's breeches, finding him hard and waiting. "Ohh," he gasped, stroking down his considerable length, "hurry up, get these off!"

Loick obliged, struggling out of his pants and giving Rayce his first look at his cock, taking pleasure in the way the boy's eyes widened at the sight. "You like that?"

"Yes!" Rayce sat up and grabbed it with one rough, freckled hand, just holding it, feeling its heft, its pulse, its heat. Loick pushed gently with his hips, thrusting up into his fist, encouraging him to do more. "Should I ...suck it?" Rayce asked, a bit uncertain all of a sudden, and Loick wondered just how much experience he had with men.

"If you like," he offered, reaching up to stroke the fine copper strands escaping from Rayce's braid.

Rayce nodded and bowed down to lick him, sharp little tongue darting out for a taste, soon followed by less hesitant mouthings, until Loick was slick with his saliva and aching for more. There was no way Rayce could take him all the way - there weren't many who could - but he was clever enough to use his hands and mouth together, slippery-sweet and eager to please.

"Gods, so good," Loick murmured, encouraging him. Rayce looked up at him, blue eyes mischievous, and slid one spit-soaked finger down over his balls and then behind them to tease his ass, circling its snug ring, making Loick gasp.

"More of that?" he asked, lifting his head long enough to smile at the lovely sight laid out before him.

Loick nodded fervently, spreading his legs wider, and Rayce needed no further encouragement to begin pressing into him, returning to suckle at his cock as he did so. Loick gave a most undignified groan as Rayce fingered him open, the first quickly joined by a second, stretching him wider. When he tried to start adding a third, however, it was too much. "Wait," Loick panted, pushing himself up on his elbows. "Don't stop, just... slower."

"If you can't take that, you're never going to manage my cock," Rayce teased.

Loick had to laugh at that. "Get a little of the oil from the bottle on the dresser there and I'll take anything you can give me, darling."

Rayce blushed prettily as he leaned over to fetch the bottle in question, unstoppering it and pouring a small amount over his hand. Loick admired how the delicate fabric of his dress was tenting at the front, and longed to get a better look at what was beneath it. For the moment, however, he lay back and let Rayce carry on fingering him, easier now that he was well-lubricated. "That's, ahh, fuck," he gasped as Rayce jammed a third finger in, "don't stop!" He took his cock in hand, unable to resist its need to be touched. Reminded of that part of his task, Rayce bent forward to slurp greedily at its head, so that Loick had to rein himself in before he came in the boy's gaping mouth.

"I want to fuck you now," Rayce said, surfacing for breath a short while later. No shyness, no beating around the bush, just straight to his most urgent desire. Loick liked that.

"Of course," he told him, as graciously as he could manage with his ass packed tight with fingers. More often, Loick was the one doing the fucking, but for this cocky young man, he was willing to make an exception. "As long as you leave the dress on."

Rayce looked a little unsure. "I'm worried I'll wreck it," he admitted. "My sister will notice if it's missing.."

"Void it!" Loick exclaimed impatiently. "I'll buy her a new one if it's ruined, just get in me now!"

Withdrawing his fingers, Rayce hoisted the borrowed dress up around his slender hips, giving Loick an excellent view of his cock, a delicious-looking specimen, especially when surrounded by the contrast of lacy underskirts. He smiled slyly for Loick, stroking himself teasingly, getting himself slick. "Is this what you want?"

Loick tried and failed to hold back a needy moan. "I need it, fuck, yes please," he managed, squirming impatiently.

"Turn over, then," Rayce ordered him. Loick obligingly rolled onto his stomach, legs splayed across the bed, sticking his ass up like the willing slut he was. Rayce ground against him, cock pressing along his cleft, slick and ready, tormenting him just a little further before finally pushing into him. Loick buried his face in his arms, moaning desperately. He clutched at the bed sheets, feeling as though he was on fire, stuffed to bursting, and about to fall, all at once.

Rayce's hipbones were sharp against his ass with each quick thrust, and the delicate cloth of the gown brushed against his skin, confusing and sensual. He could hear Rayce's moan catch in his throat as he tightened around him, and gave a brief laugh before the renewed assault on his ass made it impossible to do anything but hold on and try to keep breathing. He tried to get a hand onto his cock, managed a few strokes, but found he needed both arms to keep himself braced. Mercifully, Rayce soon reached around and grabbed him roughly, letting Loick thrust through the circle of his fingers, sending him into a dizzying spiral of pleasure. With such treatment, it didn't take long before he couldn't hold back any longer, spilling his load over Rayce's knuckles and the sheets. He collapsed onto the bed, feeling Rayce's thrusts stutter, uneven and frantic, as he came deep inside him.

They lay together, Rayce stretched along his back, for a few minutes longer, regaining their breath. Finally, Rayce rolled off to lie beside Loick, stretching his arms and yawning contentedly. The stretching was what finally proved to be too much for the dress, which gave a pained tearing sound as a seam at the shoulder gave way. "Bugger," Rayce said, not seeming overly concerned. "Oh well, it's stained now anyway."

Loick laughed. "And I doubt you could ever look at your sister wearing it again with a straight face."

"True," agreed Rayce cheerfully. "Will I... can I see you again?" he asked, plainly trying not to sound too desperate.

"Anytime," Loick told him, rolling over to pull him close for a kiss. "Next time, feel free to wear your own clothes - I'll enjoy stripping them off you."

Rayce laughed and cuddled up in his arms until the sounds of the party from downstairs had faded and he could safely make his getaway.

The following day, Mlle. Oclea Elzior was surprised to receive a brief message and the sum of thirty imperials in the morning post. "Why in the world is Loick Talavera apologizing for ruining my dress? I've never even so much as spoken to him." Her brother simply shrugged and smiled to himself.