Story - Embrace ch. 9

[maderr]

Musk Plant
(chapter nine)

There were precious places in which Stregoni felt comfortable. Of those few places, the apothecary was by far where he felt most at home.

It was as familiar to him as his reflection. From the time he was a boy he had been set simple chores within it, and once he was old enough to be trusted, he began to learn the ways of the various plants and powders, tinctures and potions. It was here he had learned the art of healing, and that sometimes healing meant hurting, and that there was a fine line between poison and cure.

Only once had he explored on his own, and he would never forget his mother's face, his father's quiet, as he was ill for days and weak for months.

It was also where his happiest memories were stored – cleaning the floor while his parents stocked the shelves and mixed medicines, laughing and joking and exchanging kisses when they thought he wasn't looking.

The smell of the flowers, the more pungent herbs, the bitter unguents and some of the just plain gross tinctures. People coming and going at all hours, some bright and cheerful, others hassled and angry, some red-faced with embarrassment…

He was not his father, or his grandfather, and people never really let him forget it – but enough saw him for himself, and said he would be great one day, and was nearly that now. He was young, yet, to be the primary doctor on hand – but he was better liked than the others in town, or so he was always told.

In the back, he could just hear his mother call that she was going next door for a bit. Calling back a reply, he resumed cleaning the counters until it gleamed in the afternoon sunlight pouring through the window. A rare reprieve, that sunlight, and the only reason he had been able to make it hope a couple of days ago.

Soon he would be going back to Sangre Manor, since the majority of his winter was always spent with Carmilla, studying the elusive disease which kept her weak and sickly. If he could just figure it out…

Shaking his head, he put away his rags and checked that his hair was still secured. That done, he washed his hands and then began to pull out the various ingredients and tools he would need to make a fresh batch of the various potions, tinctures, tonics, and ointments that were always in demand during the cold months.

He whistled as he worked, enjoying himself despite the chill that permeated the room. Grinding down leaves in a pedestal, lost in concentration, he did not really hear the bell which chimed as someone opened the door.

The amused throat clearing he did hear, and looked up with a start. "Oh, Terry. Good afternoon. How's your mother? Come for her tincture?"

"Aye," Terry said lightly, sliding onto one of the stools always kept at the counter for people waiting on this or that medication, or as someone else was treated. "Take your time, though. I'm in no hurry to get back. Can't walk a step without tripping over some niece or nephew or harpy aunt."

Stregoni laughed, absently shoving back an errant curl before he combined the past just created with a waiting solution, stirring all together vigorously before corking the bottle and setting it aside. "Your turn to put them all up, eh? They didn't all go having more babies, did they?"

"Oh, aye," Terry said with a long suffering sigh. "My mother and aunts want a hundred or more grandchildren, I think. They keep demanding why I'm not contributing to the count."

Laughing again, Stregoni began to pull down various selections from the mass of herb bundles hanging from the ceiling, combining them in seeming haphazard fashion, keeping track of everything even as he chatted aimlessly with Terry.

Terry with four aunts and five sisters, and more relatives than he could stand to count. They all took turns hosting the family during the winter months, a tradition common in most families.

It always made Stregoni feel a bit left out, that he had no family to share such a tradition. His mother had never been able to have more children, much to the dismay of his parents.

"So where do you put them all?" he asked as Terry continued to grouse about nieces and nephews.

"In my room," Terry said sourly, but with a faint smile that took any real ire from the words. "I'm about ready to sleep with the horses, if it'll get me a full night's rest. I envy you, my friend, this whole house just you and your mum. Must be nice."

Stregoni smiled. "Well, when it's quiet. As often as not, I'm woken at the oddest hours for one emergency or another. Sometimes, company would be nice."

"Well, if you ever want company, I'm more than happy to oblige," Terry said with a wink.

"I'll keep it in mind," Stregoni said, realizing with a start Terry was flirting.

He looked again, and sure enough – it wasn't just a dread of nieces and nephews keeping Terry sitting at the counter.

Stregoni resumed his work, abruptly realizing he'd stopped.

Not that he was interested, not really…but it was a nice change to be smiled and winked at. Flirting alone was a nice change. Gille—

He swallowed, cursing silently that his thoughts had gone precisely where he did not want them to go. Gille didn't flirt. Gille didn't wink – he didn't even smile. Yet between Terry's smiles, and Gille's stormy, unfathomable looks, there was simply no contest.

Stregoni wondered what that said about him.

"Here, now," Terry said, breaking into his thoughts. "Did I cause offense?"

"What?" Stregoni said, head jerking up. "Oh, no. Far from it. I'm sorry, my thoughts wandered down an unpleasant path." He forced a smile, willed thoughts of Gille to leave him the hell alone. "If you want t hide out more often, you must know you're welcome to linger here as long as you like." He shrugged. "I'm rarely here, of course, but that does not mean you cannot be. My mother would like the company, and she's always thought you a good sort."

Terry only smiled.

Stregoni smiled back, and finished off what he was working on, before pulling down more herbs to begin the next round. "So what else are you doing today?" he asked congenially, maybe flirting back a little bit, because there was no harm in flirting, and it was a pleasant surprise that someone might want to flirt with him.

Nothing would come of it, of course, but it wasn't a bad way to pass the afternoon for either of them.

An hour or two had passed when he finally finished the bulk of his work, and he finally pulled down what he needed to make up the tincture for which Terry had come in the first place. Stirring it all together, he carefully funneled it into a delicate-looking blue glass bottle. Placing the stopper, he slid it across the counter, bracing on his folded arms as they talked about the weather and a small soiree to which Terry had to escort a sister.

Stregoni startled when Terry abruptly reached out and caught up a stray curl of Stregoni's hair. "My sisters envy your hair, you know. 'All those copper curls' they say, going on and on. It really is—"

He paused as the door slammed open, turning around to see who had entered so noisily.

Of all the people Stregoni had thought to see today, it was not Gille.

His heart hammered in his chest as Gille stalked toward them, and there was no other word for the way he moved. Like a cat stalking a bird.

"Gille—"

Whatever he was about to say died as Gille reached out with a snarl and yanked Terry to his feet, then all but threw him toward the door. "Get out," he said, the words angry and sharp, brooking no argument.

Mouth agape, more than a little afraid, Terry turned and bolted.

Stregoni clenched his fists in fury. "What in the hell do you think you're doing, Gille?"

Gille only gave him a nasty, furious glare, then turned and stalked to the door which Terry had left hanging open. Slamming it shut, he flipped the sign to 'closed' and pulled down the shade, yanking the curtains over the picture window hastily shut before he stalked back across the room.

"The better question, Carrot, is what do you think you're doing?"

"Working," Stregoni hissed, slamming one hand down on the counter, leaning forward angrily. "You just threw out a good customer."

"Customer? For what services?" Gille demanded, his tone making it perfectly clear what he thought Terry had been seeking to purchase. "You were all but panting for him, Doctor. I didn't know you sold such things here."

Stregoni's face burned. "I do no such thing, you goddamn bastard! How dare you imply I am a whore. It's none of your business, anyway." He drew back, resisting an urge to throw something, but only barely. "Get the hell out of my shop."

"No," Gille said.

He stood in shock as Gille gripped the counter and neatly leapt over it. Stumbled back as Gille prowled toward him, swearing softly when he realized he'd only trapped himself between Gille and the wall.

"Go the hell away," he snarled, but could not miss the edge of desperation in his own voice.

"No," Gille repeated.

Stregoni flinched as Gille reached for him, and went still from shock when instead of whatever he'd expected, Gille only sank a hand into his curls, dislodging the ribbon holding them back, carding through them.

"What—"

"If you were desperate for attention, Carrot," Gille said in his mocking tone, "all you had to do was say."

Stregoni glared at him, even as he tried not to lean in to the touch of those hands, the way they sorted through his curls as though it were natural, when he knew for a fact Gille never bothered with his hair save to hold Stregoni where he wanted him. "I'll never be so desperate as that," he hissed, even though they both knew he was lying.

Gille smirked, then abruptly tightened his grip in Stregoni's hair and yanked him close, other arm like a band around Stregoni's waist. Then Gille was kissing him, hard and furious, and Stregoni felt his lip split with the fury of it.

He struggled futilely in Gille's hold, but the bastard was having none of that, merely shifted to shove him against the counter, hand digging into his hip, and Stregoni knew he'd have bruises there.

When the kiss broke, he attempted to gasp out an angry protest, but the hand in his hair moved down to stroke the back of his neck in a way that turned Stregoni's gasp into a needy moan, and he hated himself, he really did, for always giving in so goddamn easily.

Gille took his mouth again, shoving a thigh between his legs, pressing hard, making Stregoni groan and move, beg for more with sound and body.

He broke away from the kiss only with the greatest of effort. "Why—"

A hard nip to his ear made the question fly from his thoughts.

"Do you honestly think that stupid clerk could give you what you want, Carrot?" Gille demanded, voice rough as he bit down harder on the soft skin below Stregoni's ear, sucking up a lurid mark.

Stregoni fisted his hands in the fabric of Gille's jacket. "None. Of. Your. Business—damn it!" He held fast despite himself as his breeches were undone, and Gille shoved a hand inside to pull out his cock, stroking with a familiarity Stregoni loved and hated in equal measure.

Then just as suddenly the hand was gone, leaving Stregoni gasping in surprise and dismay.

He got another hard kiss, his split lip throbbing now. "You must have something of use in here, Doctor."

"What?" Stregoni said, blinking uncomprehendingly – then the smug amusement on Gille's face made him realize. "No," he hissed. "You are not—"

Gille grabbed his hair and yanked his head back, kissing him dizzy, leaving him reeling, breathless, slumped against the counter desperate to stay standing and not give in to the way his knees wanted to give out.

He was alone for only a moment, as Gille vanished to explore the apothecary – and Stregoni wondered that he found what he sought so quickly, but didn't have time to think about it as the scent of yellow roses filled the room.

"Stop it—" But his words were cut off by a kiss, and his struggled to get away were futile – and, if he felt like being honest, half-hearted at best. Gille had him, and they both knew it, as sour and bitter a pill it was to swallow.

The cold air washed over him as his clothes were shoved out of the way, two slick fingers wasting no time in pushing inside him, twisting and stretching, and Stregoni was helpless to do anything but cling as Gille had his way.

He always had his way.

Stregoni groaned, fingers digging deep into Gille's arms as two became three, making him writhe. "Bastard—"

The fingers withdrew, and damn it this was not happening in his apothecary – his sanctuary, goddamn it.

But it was happening, there was no denying it. Stregoni groaned loud and long, head falling back, as Gille lifted him just so and pushed inside, sinking in slowly until he was fully seated.

Gille kissed him, deep and thorough, ravaging his mouth as he began to move – slowly at first, but with increasing fervor, until it was impossible to think of anything but the mouth upon his, the scents of velvet and lace, sweat and musk, mixed dizzyingly with the herbal, medicinal odors of the apothecary.

At some point, he realized hazily, his own fingers had done away with the silk ribbon binding back Gille's hair. He held on to it for dear life as Gille took him, thrust hard again and again, until Stregoni could not longer bear it and his scream of release was only just barely muffled in time by Gille's mouth.

Reality returned slowly, and yet all too quickly. He winced as Gille pulled out of him, and he was slowly lowered again to the floor. He wasn't certain his legs would hold, but they did.

Gille bent to retrieve his lost ribbon, and when he stood again he was nearly perfect – only his lips, wet and kiss swollen, the flush exertion had given his cheeks, gave away that they had done anything at all.

He looked away, shame overtaking him with the return of his senses.

But there was anger too, and it was that which brought his head back up. "Goddamn it, Gille – not here! Anyone could have—"

Gille kissed him, an edge to it that left Stregoni feeling like a man lost at sea. "Do not let me catch you doing such things again, Carrot."

Stregoni glared and shoved him back hard. "Who are you to tell me what I may or may not do?" He demanded. "I'm allowed to flirt where I please – to do whatever I please, with whomever."

With a snarl, Gille yanked him close, crushing his mouth all over again, until Stregoni could not remember the rest of what he'd wanted to shout about.

"No, you are not," Gille said when they broke apart again.

Stregoni stared at him, love and hate and longing and shame roiling in his stomach, lodging in his throat. "So what?" he asked bitterly. "I'm only allowed to be your whore, is that it?"

"That's right," Gille said. "Remember it – or else."

With that, Gille gathered up his things and left as suddenly as he had appeared.

Stregoni waited until he knew Gille was well and truly gone, then sank to the and buried his face in his arms, and sobbed.

It was only the realization, some time later, that his mother could return at any moment that forced him to his feet. With an effort, he dragged himself to his bedroom, quickly stripping out of his ruined clothes, washing off in the basin near his bed, scrubbing until his skin was red and raw and no traces of Gille remained.

Refreshed, dressed, ignoring the twinges of pain that were beginning to flare up, he returned to the apothecary.

The smell of sex was strong, making his cheeks heat with mortification – and perhaps a little more, because as much as he hated himself for it, there was no denying that he would never be capable of refusing Gille.

He just wished…

Shaking his head, he fetched water and soap and rags, and scrubbed and cleaned until the scent of sex was gone, until he could not longer smell the yellow roses which infused the oil Gille had used to—

Swearing, he put the cleaning things away again and went to fetch his Pharmacopeia and the various notes he had yet to transcribe, pulling up a barstool to work at the counter – which reminded him suddenly that the curtains were still drawn, and the sign still said closed.

Wincing slightly, for Gille had not been terribly gentle, he went and set all to rights, then returned to the counter.

He was just sitting down when the glint of jewels caught his eyes, and he slid off the barstool again to kneel on the floor, retrieving the glittering object.

A cravat pin – it had to belong to Gille. A fleur-di-lis made of diamonds and sapphire, set in silver.

Stregoni wrapped his hand around it, gripping it so tightly he could feel the hard jewels digging into his palm.

Then he tucked it away in his jacket, and bent to his work, losing himself to the comfortable familiarity of solving other people's problems.

Comments

[(Anonymous)]

Wow, really didn't expect another update. feeling really lucky and spoiled. Glad that it seems to be writing smoothly for you.

hmm, Gille really is a bastard. hope to see more of his redeeming qualities soon. he needs to make up for causing stregoni to cry!! It's curious that Gille should appear just as Terry plays with Streg's hair and of course the ease with which he finds the oil. Is Gille actually a Streg stalker?
Also, what happened to the Blackfields and William?

Do you have a website where can I find out about all these flower meanings that you're using in the story?

^_^ Stregoni is such a girl, but it suits him. Don't expect he'll be returning that cravat pin any time soon, if ever. Though, it might be interesting if Gille happens to spot it and it turns out to actually belong to someone else. wonder what Gille would do if Streg actually decides he's had enough and is able to enforce that decision.

the anon one

[suspendisbelief.livejournal.com]

*points up*

Re: the anon one

[avalon13.livejournal.com]

Best one I have found so far is --> http://www.apocalypse.org/~hilda/flang.html

Re: the anon one

[madmax0r.livejournal.com]

Haha, that website seems to be my Bible for this story too :D

[i-hate-reenters.livejournal.com]

Ahh, Gille is going to have a LOT of making up to do, which as a fangirl I hope I will see in many many drabbles... buwahahaha (evil laugh).

I am a bit confused though, maybe because I have read some of the earlier chapters (written years ago?) and drabbles. Is Gille still going around boinking his many lovers? I had that impression before, but now I'm not so sure and am quite confused about what applies to this version of Embrace! If he is such a hypocrite I swear Im going to hate him a lot and focus all my attention of the milder RuthxBrey pair.

-anin

[mechante-fille.livejournal.com]

Ooh, new chapter! You do spoil us so. Poor Streg, how very confusing for him. I wonder what Gille's original purpose for coming had been, before his transformation into a hot-tempered possessive ass? Hmm...

[avalon13.livejournal.com]

You make me So Happy. I feel sort of sorry for Francois now. Gille and Carrot are totally my OTP, but I might be rooting for a threesome. Just a little bit. And Ruthven is so sly and sneaky. Watch him go, quick as a cat!

Also. You do of course realise that technically this is counted as Office Sex, and I have always had such a fondness for Office Sex. :D

Gille makes me sad with how mean it is. And happy because he is jealous and wibbly. He would make a perfect overbearing jealous housewife! I love this fic. I will always love it. I don't think I can stop.

[lady-ocean.livejournal.com]

I wish to smack Gille. Probably because I adore Stregoni and Gille is an ass to him. Either that, or he's just really jealous and doesn't know how else to express it.

Poor Stregoni.
Did I mention that it took me a while to figure out if Terry was male or female? There wasn't a pronoun to be found until Gille threw his hissy fit.

[dameange.livejournal.com]

again, amazingly hot!

[stoplightgodess.livejournal.com]

Mad squeeing here. I feel completely, decadently spoilt by teh rapid updating. Yay muses, betas and great big glomp for you,M. Such pretties. I liked Francois before, but I still think he is a sulky brat. Kawaii threesome, with Gille at teh reins. ^_^ so to speak.
Thanks muchly. I hope everything's working out for you.

[emthornhill.livejournal.com]

Poor Stregoni, Gille has better have a good explanation for his raunchy behavior towards him.

[aqua-eyes.livejournal.com]

omg. :flails: that was so totalhy worth the wait.

[remote45.livejournal.com]

That's about one of the hottest sex scenes I've read in quite a while. The thought of it, the images it left in my mind were there all day today. I could see it just as clearly as if I had actually seen it and not just read it. Very good job.

[skylark97.livejournal.com]

;_; Owie. Oh man, I so feel for Stregoni. I want to kick Gille and yet shake him at the same time and make him wake up and treat Stregoni right. It's encouraging that he's that possessive of Stregoni, but at the same time, to leave him like that and with those parting words...;_; (It all hurts in a good way. <3333 I totally love it!)

I feel for Stregoni. I hope for the best and hope that Gille pulls his head out of his ass or that his actions have an explanation at the end. *clings* Now off to the next part! ^______^