Leaving Parties, Not Lovers

Solomon was leaned against a wall, frustrated, and nursing a glass of some too-sweet wine when he first saw the train of a rosy dress sweep through one of the doorways. It wasn’t the most decadent garment in the room, far from it, and the men here would overlook any woman in it. They wanted a dowry worth a lifetime commitment, and the dress carried no jewels – nor did its wearer. The oracle, though, drowned a noise of enjoyment in his wine as he saw person’s shape. Even from behind and across the room, he’d recognize Roland’s figure and handiwork. It was a beautiful garment, and there was little doubt that the fabric of it would be softer than any of the more glamorous gowns around. It would be lighter too, without a family’s worth of wealth heaped atop it in garish gemstones.

Roland however, seemed to struggle to find him in the sea of guests in the cavernous ballroom. His father’s court was big enough to have been its own country, and no more navigable when shoved into the same room with fine and free liquor. The oracle grimaced at the prospect of navigating his way back into the    crowd where the women might think he was interested in “trying something new” as they infallibly seemed to put it, every one of them with the same line and pitch. They wanted power for their money but couldn’t have known he didn’t need their money. It wasn’t their fault they knew nothing else to offer. Roland though, Roland was handsome and brilliant in his passion, and was also being cornered by a man who’d be too drunk to remember approaching him in the morning. That was enough to resolve the oracle to work his way through the crowd, politely informing the man a lady had been asking his name over there before gesturing vaguely into the densest section of the crowd.

“You came,” Roland said, looking up at Solomon with a smile the oracle was sure could blind him. His hands fell into Solomon’s readily, the two of them perhaps too close in this setting. The oracle nodded, prepared to explain until he spotted Artem moving toward him in the crowd – something that had him passing Roland off toward a man bringing champagne to almost certainly someone else.

“Solomon, I wanted to see you off before you went off to the crown! Where have you been lurking?” the lord asked, and Solomon surprised himself with how easily he put on a falsely friendly demeanor.

“I couldn’t resist the generous offer of wine and… company,” the oracle hesitated, unwilling to lie and claim the women as part of it. He’d come for the wine, and for the offhand chance to see Roland again to reassure him that he wasn’t truly leaving at all.

“Oh, come on, you can admit you’ve got your eye on some of the damsels roaming about. I’m sure they’d be glad to hear it, and I won’t even tell those young men of yours. No need to pretend around here that women aren’t your fancy,” Artem laughed at his own remark.

“I don’t pretend, Lord Ironstone. I assure you. I will let you get back to this party of yours, though,” Solomon said, refusing to let his smile falter even as he felt the bile build up in the back of his throat. The burn of it grounded him, anyway.

“Sure, you don’t. Just like I’d never let my Strix loose on anyone I hadn’t invited to this little soiree. We’re both honest men without our secrets,” the lord said, amused. He waited a beat for Solomon to say something else, quickly shuffling himself back into the crowd as far as he could get from Solomon when he saw a lack of amusement on the oracle’s face. Solomon was glad the man hadn’t wanted to risk it, already turned to find Roland again – a task made easy by the oracle’s height. He located the pale pink of Roland’s dress and made his way over, sweeping the younger man off into one of the side hallways to make their escape from this dreadful party. Roland all but leapt into his arms once they were out of sight, and Solomon was glad to have him there. The oracle kissed him as they fled the castle, rendering them both invisible as they made their way through the streets and to Solomon’s home hidden in the slums. If they’d gotten too close along the way, who would know?

“You could have been killed if you were caught,” Solomon chided once they were alone, placing Roland gently upon the trunk in front of the bed. He clung to the front of Solomon’s coat, still fully clothed in that pale pink gown – a beautiful garment of sheer fabric that gave the oracle a view of the younger man’s silhouette.

“I might have never seen you again if I didn’t try,” Roland whispered, tugging at Solomon’s coat to bring him down into a kiss. It was gentler than the nobleman had intended, made so by the oracle’s hand coming to lay at his cheek. The touch tempered them both, slowing the rising heat in Roland’s chest.

“Let me lock the door. I don’t want you to be caught for this,” the oracle said softly. He waited until the nobleman had shakily released his coat before withdrawing his hand from Roland’s cheek. Solomon dutifully locked the door and cast a simple spell to soundproof the room after he thought of someone perhaps straying into the streets from the party going on and discovering them. He took his coat off, hanging it haphazardly on the door hook before turning back to the young man still sitting on the trunk, leaned against the baseboard of the bed. The pale pink was a beautiful contrast against the ebony of Roland’s skin; the sheer lace gloves seeming to be traced onto his arms and hands in ink for how thin and skintight they were. Solomon admired him, leaned against the door with nothing else on his mind but Roland and the heady exhaustion that began to set in. The nobleman would follow a request to bed, certainly.

“Solomon?” Roland quietly questioned, interrupting the oracle’s staring. Solomon closed the distance between them quickly, kneeling down to the nobleman’s shock. His hands began the slow process of unlacing the intricate high-heeled boots Roland wore, mouth pressing a gentle kiss to Roland’s palm when the young man placed his hand on Solomon’s cheek.

“Tell me what the best way to get you out of that dress is so I can help you out of it. I don’t want to ruin any of your work, but it couldn’t be comfortable to sleep in,” Solomon said as he set aside the boots. He rubbed circles over the faint marks left behind from the tightly laced boots with the pads of his thumbs, gentle and caring like he always was. The thought of how gentle Solomon was left Roland struggling for the words to respond for a few moments.

“The belt hides the laces underneath. The dress comes off before the corset on this one, and the jewelry all clasps underneath all of those. Everything else just slides off,” the nobleman answered, turning to show Solomon the fastenings to the belt in the back. It was undone with ease, as were the laces to the delicate dress. It was carefully slid from Roland’s shoulders, folded, and set aside on the dresser before the oracle began to meticulously unlace the corset beneath it, checking in all the way for Roland’s comfort.

“I love you,” Roland murmured when Solomon pressed a kiss between his shoulders as he worked. He shivered when Solomon finished undoing the corset, slipping it off of the nobleman who leaned back into the oracle’s arms for a moment after.

“I love you too,” the oracle said, kissing the top of Roland’s head. They lingered in the closeness, with Roland basking in Solomon’s warmth, the oracle’s chin resting on his head. The slip dress beneath it would certainly be more comfortable without all those tightly strung laces.

“Are you alright if I move you to the bed?” Solomon asked. Roland nodded, smiling up at the oracle when he was picked up and carried the few feet to the bed. Solomon’s affinity for kissing was more than welcome too, the nobleman pressing up into the soft kiss laid against his lips, arms wrapping around the back of Solomon’s neck.

“How am I going to get into the bed if you don’t let go of me?” the oracle teased, hands resting around the nobleman’s waist as he leaned over the bed, not wholly unwilling to remain bent over him, settled in closely together.

“Do you have to move?” Roland asked, a bit more sincerely than he intended. He shut his eyes when one of the oracle’s eyebrows raised in question, already knowing Solomon would tease him for it.

“You can tell me what you want. You will have to let me go long enough to get out of this shirt, though,” Solomon said, pressing a kiss to Roland’s cheek. The nobleman cracked an eye open, skeptical that there wouldn’t be any teasing for his slip up. He released Solomon a moment later, opening both eyes to watch as the older man removed his shirt and undershirt, setting both neatly aside on the nightstand. He felt the heat rise again in his cheeks when Solomon caught his eye, looking away.

“I don’t want to hear it, but I want you in bed with me so I can enjoy our time alone,” the nobleman said, tugging at Solomon’s hand. The oracle followed the request, getting onto the bed and moving Roland with him until the nobleman was centered atop the soft sheets. Roland smiled up at him, hands reaching up to pull the oracle down to him, though Solomon settled aside him to keep his weight off of the nobleman.

“You can stay the night tonight. Your father expects I’ve left for my work in the capitol though I’m going nowhere; no one will suspect you’re here; no one knows where I live to find you here,” Solomon whispered, hopeful the nobleman would stay.

“Good, don’t want to leave you,” Roland answered, snuggling in closer against Solomon’s chest. It was enough for Solomon to drag the blankets up around them, his magic cleaning them both of the makeup and cigar-laden scent of the party they’d come from.

“Goodnight Solomon, I love you,” the nobleman said, smile beaming up at the oracle when he noticed the oracle cleaning them both up. He brought a hand up to cup Solomon’s cheek, comfortable in the closeness of it.

“Goodnight, my little marigold. I love you too,” the oracle said, kissing Roland one last time before they slept, tangled up in one another.