Jeanne gave the offer some thought, opining that a year was scant punishment and that insisting the only way the ban could be avoided was to ensure Bryant was accompanied by the man he lusted after seemed like trouble in the making... but she'd specifically opened this little
tête-à-tête with the intention of sharing goodwill and of walking away with her (and the Sacramentum's) generosity touted. She could agree to such terms with conditions that would assuage her concerns and still be held in high regard. After a few moments of still contemplation, her marblesque stance was broken by her tongue politely whetting her lips before she spoke in her husky French accent.
"Because you request it personally, Director McCloud, I will agree to a year of restricted access for Bryant, whereby he may enter Venture
only when accompanied by - and thereby under control of - Director Iessan. Should Bryant prove himself of upstanding intent in this year, the ban will be lifted and he may once again enter the club at his own discretion. Should any further acts of hostility arise because of Bryant - whether with his blood family or with any staff or patrons of the club - we will revoke these terms and he will be banned absolutely."
There was no tone of query nor a question uttered because Jeanne believed this matter resolved; Jake had appealed for clemency and she had granted it, outlining her conditions. They weren't unreasonable and since they were non-negotiable from her standpoint, there seemed no point in opening the matter up for discussion; she merely looked at each man for a nod of agreement. If Conner felt that his name shouldn't be entered as a condition of Bryant's entry to the club, he would've spoken earlier but she supposed now was the time for him to say something more, if he wished, before she continued on to current events.
"Now that that is resolved, I'd like to point out that Bryant is, somehow, in an area of the club restricted to staff members, with the youngling Samantha. I am
not impressed that the two of them have taken such liberties, though I suspect their positioning is due to Samantha's relationships with my current staff. When I find out who directed them to the back area instead of to the first aid area, I'm going to fire them. Divided loyalties aren't worth my time," Jeanne declared austerely, her speech directed at both men until she looked specifically at Jake.
"Samantha is
your progeny," she began, with only a moment of acknowledgement allowed - if Jake wished - before she continued. "I'd like you to impress upon her - on my family's behalf - that she no longer has the title nor the bearing she held at Risk and that it would be in her best interests to remember that she is a representative of
your family when she comes here,
not a member of our bar staff. She has obviously not put a great deal of thought into how the political climate of the city has changed and how improper it would be for your blood kin to be performing menial tasks in districts beyond your control and for that, you have my sympathies," Jeanne told him kindly, "but I will not allow her to assume her VIP access grants her additional access to our staff or the building itself. It doesn't and this message is, perhaps, best delivered by you... rather than me," the ancient smiled, implying that she wouldn't display near the amount of patience Jake likely would. Nor would she be at all gentle.
~8~
Owen couldn't help but frown at the mention of Greece and he glanced at the top of the staircase in question, across the sea of heads between it and them, ambivalent about the object though it provoked a great deal of internal angst. He had a different perspective now on that night on the beach and the feelings he'd swallowed after being proposed to. It had been the beginning of the journey he was now fully committed to, though neither of them had known it then and a great deal more revelation and anxiety had rocked them in the time between.
If he'd known then what he realised now, would he have stood up for himself? Would he have delayed his siring? Would he have chosen to leave Vincent and stayed away because he knew there was nothing connecting them? In fact, was he here tonight, working things out and admitting to an abiding love because he felt
obligated... bound by an eternal blood bond that was forcing his hand inevitably? The thought sent a chill through his skin and caused him to stop abruptly, a familiar feeling of despair and doubt rippling trhough him as he questioned himself, his relationship, his sire yet again.
He didn't do anything, though, he just stood there, watching Vincent carrying on and chatting to Vivianne, wondering if he was doing the right thing all over again. His eyes were wide and despairing and he felt frozen with indecision quite suddenly, thinking about that beach in Greece and how he might have been ruining his life ever since.
~8~
Sam had arranged himself deliberately for convenience but once his head started spinning due to the whiskey-laced blood he was drinking, the
kind of convenience he'd been romancing changed from for-the-bite to body contact, it seemed. Gene was laying on him and he was warm and eager and dear
God his blood had to be the most exquisite thing Sam had tasted in... forever. At that moment, he couldn't think
why it was so different beneath the sting of the alcohol but subconsciously he yearned to drink it clean, to let the nectar flow into him like sunshine because Gene tasted light and sweet and... addictive. Sam wasn't sure how he'd
stop drinking his blood, he tasted so insanely good.
Thankfully, he felt even better and the tainted nature of the blood also didn't encourage his thoughts to stay too steady. No sooner had he started drawing hungrily on Gene's neck than the mortal was writhing against him, neatly distracting him from worrying about how he was ever going to stop drinking from him. Sam stopped sucking and switched to lapping, his lips kissing and his tongue curling Gene's blood into his mouth friskily as his hands moved from their polite grip around the mortal's torso. Without preamble, they grabbed Gene's ass and hauled him closer, higher, positioning the angel's hard crotch against his own and pressing him downward, groaning deep in his throat at the responding flare of pleasure/pain that worked through his pelvis; his old black jeans were far too tight suddenly, his cock fat with want and positioned awkwardly, needing to get out.
There was a moment, as his hands straightened and arrowed down between the back of Gene's thighs so that his fingers were rubbing and nudging the crack of his ass, his balls, the nub of his cock from the back and the inside of his thighs, when his thumbs were digging into Gene's cheeks and his legs hooked around the mortal's needily, that Sam despaired about what he was doing. A sensation of deepest grief arose in his chest and made him want to sob with the power of it, because this wasn't Vomas, he wasn't meant to be here doing these things with someone who was just a beautiful friend, this wasn't the man he was in love with... and he still wanted it to be. In that moment he yearned for Vomas so strongly that a pang of pure despair, muddled in feelings of regret and apology was sent to his lover without his even being aware of it.
The moment passed, however, and Sam did his best to squash it down. With the alcohol and Gene's angelic taste skewing his clarity, it was easy to do - especially with the purely physical responses they were both enjoying. Friction and the sound of denim sawing on its like came from where their groins were grinding and thrusting hard against each other and Sam's hands between Gene's legs weren't at all subtle. He didn't want to think (because he knew he'd stop if he did), he just wanted to feel
good and soon enough he bit his tongue and pressed it into the holes on Gene's neck until they closed and he couldn't taste any more blood. After a few more swallows to clear his mouth of the tang, he tilted his head back and upward, searching for Gene's mouth hovering somewhere slightly above him, wanting to lose himself in
this moment, in kissing him and playing with his body until they were both well beyond the point of anyone regaining control and stopping.
