OOM - Russel Edginton's Mansion

[onceaviking]

They see Edginton off, all the way to the car. It takes a while, as all bad feelings now seem to be forgotten and a flirty, chirpy Talbot is quite a time sink.
In the end, Eric steps closer and reminds him that there are only five hours or so left of the night. And that they all have things to - accomplish.

And once again, he earns an almost grateful look from his King.

They head back inside where Sophie-Ann, who have demonstratively said her fond farewells from the staircase inside the hall, loudly announces that she is going to bed. And that she is taking Hadley.

No one cares.

Except, perhaps, for Hadley.

Eric runs the back of his fingers down Talbot's arm and as he steps closer, he looks around the hall and commits the placement of the guards to memory. Reminding himself of the exits. The viewpoints.
He suggests that they relocate to the drawing room (only one entrance, but fairly soundproof) and Talbot agrees.

So far, so good.

Comments

[onceaviking]

Of course,
Of course they are going to play cards.

Eric smiles widely as he sits down, stretching out his long legs, as he watches Talbot rummage through the drawer.

"That sounds - perfect," he says.
Absolutely, fucking perfect.

[dobadthings]

As Talbot deals the cards out onto the coffee table between them, he occasionally, and blatantly, casts his eyes up and down Eric's body. Those long legs, those broad shoulders. He wishes Eric was wearing something a little more form-fitting, but the unbuttoned collar of his shirt shows just enough skin to keep Talbot's imagination piqued.

But perhaps this distraction is what causes the game to go in a direction he didn't count on. And he loses this round.

He gathers up the cards and shuffles them, a little miffed. But he smiles at Eric, teasingly saying that he let him win, and he deals the cards again.

(Russell always lets him win.)

Taking on a more serious air of concentration, he fans his cards out in his hand and tries not to stare over them at Eric's thighs in those tailored trousers.

[onceaviking]

Eric has never been good at loosing on purpose. Feigning less skill, that he can do. Case in point: Jay. But only for limited amounts of time.

Very limited.

And besides, the game is just a stepping stone.

He can feel Talbot's eyes on him, intimate as touches, and he shifts in his seat. Perhaps it should bother him, being wanted when he himself knows what he is about to do. But nobody controls fate and that is all there is to this. He does not mind Talbot. He's a pretty, vapid little thing but then again, nobody likely ever expected him to be anything else. And now, he is just - unlucky,

Loosing at cards again.

And pretty soon, loosing forever.

It's nothing personal.

Had circumstances been different, he could probably have found a use for him.

He plays the final, killing, card, and looks at his opponent.

[dobadthings]

Eric moves his body with the self-assuredness of a king, yet he is not in that position of power. Why is that? Maybe that is among one of the things that draws Talbot to him. Eric is powerful; he is after all older than him, stronger than him. But in this house, under this roof, Talbot rules while the King is away.

And spoiled as he is, he's not getting what he wants right now. He is supposed to win this card game, and he isn't.

Eric betrays nothing in his expression when he plays the final card, and his impassiveness is somewhat infuriating. Scowling in annoyance at the pile of cards, he tosses his own down in a heap.

[onceaviking]

This isn't working.

Eric leans forward, mindful of the way his muscles move beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, as he does so.
"How about," he says, in a low and confidential tone, "that we try our hands at a more refined game?"

Because it is clearly the game's fault that Talbot is losing.

"Chess perhaps?"

His tongue swipes across his lower lip, as he looks up at Talbot.
"I rarely have the chance to play."
Infusing every word with meaning.

He leans back, one large hand resting on his own upper thigh.

[dobadthings]

Talbot pouts, even as he watches Eric's shirt pull smooth against his shoulders and upper arms when he leans forward.

But eventually, he gives in to his gentle (and sexy) persuasion. He forces a bright smile.

"Then yes, let's."

He gets up and gathers up the offending cards, leaving them on Russell's desk. From one of the shelves he fetches a flat box of aged wood and a marble chess board, and sets them on the coffee table.

"This chess set is from 17th century Malta," Talbot remarks as he positions the carved ivory and ebony pieces, shaped like mythical figures, on the board. "We picked it up on one of our rare vacations together."

He holds up a king in each hand.

"Black or white?"

[onceaviking]

"Black," Eric replies. Deferentially.

He holds out his hand for the game piece, keeping Talbot's gaze in a far less deferential manner.
And then his eyes break away as he gives him a small, crooked smile.

"My Progeny is not fond of the game," he says. "And I don't socialize with my employees."

[dobadthings]

Talbot places the piece in Eric's hand, fingers brushing against one another as he holds his gaze.

"Of course you don't," he says with unabashed snobbery. "One must preserve the lines of rank and hierarchy, especially in this day and age. In other words, remind them who's boss," he adds with a sly smirk.

"And besides, chess can be brutal if taken seriously. It is, after all, a war game."

With all their pieces set up, Talbot makes the first move. And then casually lounges back in his chair, watching Eric. Always watching him.

[onceaviking]

Eric gives him a slow smile in return.
"Oh, believe me. They have no doubts about who is boss," he says before reaching out to make his move. Calmly self-assured.

He holds the chess piece with two fingers - it rather accentuates how big his hand is - and puts it down gently.

"I used to play hnefatafl," he says. "A Viking game. But it's forgotten now."
He leans back and looks at Talbot, his lips slightly parted.

Powerful. Old.
Sexy.

"Your move."

[dobadthings]

And Talbot has no doubt about that, either.

There's something different about Eric tonight. He can feel him...asserting himself in subtle ways. Ways that he wouldn't if Russell were around.

It's hot.

"How is it played?"

He's not entirely interested in that. He just wants to hear Eric talk.

After a brief thought, he moves his next piece. It's a fairly aggressive move, and he leans back again with a languid expression, still watching him.

[onceaviking]

"Well, there's a King," Eric says slowly as he looks intently at the board.

Hmm. That was a bolder - and better - move than he had expected.

"And he has a hird, a trusted group of men protecting him. That's one player. The other player wishes to harm the King. Capture him. And so they move back and forth across the board."

He flicks his eyes up at Talbot. "And then the players - switch. And play again."

But bold moves tend to leave you open. And so he moves a pice and takes a rook. Leaning back.

[dobadthings]

Talbot purses his lips slightly as his piece is captured.

"Mm. So the sides have unequal power. Interesting."

Now it is.

He takes one of Eric's knights in a swift, but probably impulsive move.

[onceaviking]

Eric considers the board again.
"I prefer chess. You get to play both defensively and -" he moves a rook, making room for a swift attack on his next turn. " - aggressively in the same game. I like that."

Capturing Talbot's eyes.

"And I like to think I play very well."

[dobadthings]

"Yes..." he muses, his gaze flicking from the board to Eric's eyes. "I think you rather do."

Talbot can predict what Eric's next move might be, so he shifts a pawn to block at least one option. He may be setting himself up for a sacrifice in the process.

But it's only a game.

[onceaviking]

Eric lifts an eyebrow slightly.
Not bad.

But not good enough.

He lost a knight. Now one of the white knights pay the price.
"An eye for an eye," he murmurs, as he topples the game piece.

[dobadthings]

He sets his jaw, just a little bit.

"Like I said: a brutal game."

He uses his remaining knight to capture a pawn and break through Eric's line of defense. His next move will put Eric's king in check, so he sits back with a smug smile.

[onceaviking]

Eric looks at him.
And then he slowly reaches out and places a finger on top of his own Queen.

It seems Talbot had forgotten about the Queen..
It happens.

"Incredibly brutal," Eric agrees.

[dobadthings]

The smug smile fades.

Fucking Queens.

Talbot says nothing and waits for Eric to make his brutal move, staring intently (perhaps with growing annoyance as well) at the board.

[onceaviking]

Eric's Queen does her job. And then she is left there, out in the open. All alone.

Sometimes, you need to make a sacrifice. And who can resist a Queen?

Alluring. Defenseless.

That's enough to make anyone forget to be cautious.

Eric looks at Talbot.
Will he take the bait? And will he then take the bait?

[dobadthings]

Talbot knits his brows. And then, he smiles.

His King was in danger. But he rushes to his defense with a bishop, sweeping the Queen off the board. Captured.

The smugness in his smile returns as he looks up at Eric.

[onceaviking]

Eric watches him, one finger resting against his lips.
And then he smoothly leans forward and moves a game piece.

Sometimes, you loose sight of the true objective, when you rush ahead.

Looking up at Talbot.

"Checkmate."

[dobadthings]

Talbot's expression flattens.

If it wasn't obvious to Eric before, it's obvious now: Talbot hates not winning.

And suddenly he feels exactly how when Russell denies him something. When he doesn't get his way. Annoyed, irritated, impulsive.

Talbot knocks the chess pieces off the board with a sweep of his hand.

"I'm bored," he mutters, childishly, as he lounges back in his chair, crossing his legs at the knee and regarding Eric with a haughty air.

"Take off your clothes."

Talbot is the King's fucking Consort. He can have anything he damn well wants.

[onceaviking]

If there is one thing Eric does not tolerate it is being ordered around.
Especially not by those beneath him by every reasonable, natural reckoning.
In physical strength, in intellect, in age.

But sometimes, one must make sacrifices. To beat a King.

He raises his eyebrows a little, as he leans forward. Lowering his voice.
"A little privacy? "

It's a question, not a command.
Talbot gets to choose.

[dobadthings]

This is promising. This is what all those heated glances and smouldering looks have been leading up to. And frankly it's about time.

Talbot turns to the two guards standing on either side of the doorway.

"Everybody out," he orders them, getting up and shooing them out of the room with a catty hiss.

When they leave, he turns his full attention back to Eric. It's his move now.

[onceaviking]

Eric has gotten up as well.
He slowly begins to unbutton his shirt, looking at Talbot the whole time.

Emcee was right. Shirts are well-suited for this sort of thing.

He shrugs it off first one shoulder, then the other.
While his shoulders are broad, his neck is not, giving him a certain boyish look, as he stands there, half-naked. Still looking at Talbot.

His muscular chest and sharply chiseled six-pack, hard and cool like marble, makes him seem a little like some of the statues in Edgington's cabinets. Only right there. Looking almost larger than life.