A/N: so here we go. There will be 6 different POVs in this story (I know, right?) and I will try to do only 1 per chapter, though I'm not really making any promises.
This is kind of the sister publication to La Maison #1 and I'm going to go all out and say you don't need to have read that one to read this, though it may ground you. However, if you've come here from #1 you need to be aware that this is tied to the final version of that story (available on Amazon), and there may be differences, which I will endeavor to remember to point out when they arise. However, if anything leaves you 😕 please comment (and please comment anyway - things you like, things you don't like, whatever - comments and votes are like life blood to a writer)
François
I sit in the center of the front row, as I always do for Conservatory performances. I adore orchestral music and find attending these soirees is an excellent way to catch up and coming stars before they arrive. I am equally as fond of the Philharmonic and the Opera House, but love the raw passion in these, often unpolished, geniuses. The beautiful old building is cold and draughty due to its sweeping painted ceilings and open layout, but it allows the sound to swirl and fill one's mind with passion and drama. The Conservatory specializes in music, dance and performance, and I attend these fundraising efforts several times per year. I often bring my friends, also lovers of the Arts, but frustratingly each one had been unavailable this evening so I'm on my own, although it does keep me safe from pointless chattering and the undoubted lusty comments over the performers.
They have just finished a resounding rendition of the first three movements of Beethoven's Fifth and I am floating on joy. My eyes are closed, feeling the echoes in my mind, when the quiet tones of Beethoven's Sonata No.14 begin. I keep my eyes closed. This is possibly my favorite piece and I can't believe my luck – I'm tempted to open my eyes to check the program, but I'm certain I'm not mistaken: it hadn't been advertised as a Beethoven soiree. Instead of breaking from the feeling I embrace the internal shudder of delight that runs through me and settle down to hear this.
Even more to my surprise and happiness, the second movement continues, offering a tempting clue that this virtuoso is likely performing all three movements. When the excitable notes of the third movement begin, then, my eyes snap open. The furious and technically demanding movement cannot be played by just anyone, and this pianist is expert – far more skilled than I've ever heard before at this training school. Frankly, better than most of the professional performances I've heard.
I can't help the audible gasp when I see who is behind the piano. A god of Greek proportions – golden hair and golden skin, high cheekbones and pouting pink lips, an ill-fitted suit unable to disguise the suggestion of strength and musculature. His eyes closed in passion as his long fingers travel the keys, coaxing the sounds of beauty from within.
It is that look of peaceful delight, the slight turn of the head as he feels the music, the tiny furrow of the brow that denotes complete concentration, that has me suddenly and encompassingly desirous of seeing those movements under me, being forced from the boy's exquisite body as he falls undone for me.
After the rest of the concert, which I barely hear – the Moonlight Sonata playing inside my mind on repeat – I travel with almost unseemly haste, thankful that, despite my body being huge and potentially cumbersome, years of contact sports and my time in uniform have left me capable of deftly evading elderly, tottering, slow-moving concert-goers as I make my way to the lobby, seeking out the soft blond hair and strong jawline of the piano player. I gratefully take a glass of red from a passing waiter, not because I want to drink the moisture-sucking liquid that dares to be called wine here, but because I need a distraction so my hands don't clench embarrassingly while I wait for the amazing young man to make an appearance.
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La Maison 2: Differences (Complete: BDSM mxm)
RomanceFrancois is the Master Dom in his own incredibly successful BDSM club, finally happy now he has everything he needs in his own perfect boy. So why is everything falling apart? Landon likes fun. And sex. And spanking appreciative subs. But he isn't p...
