Gankutsuou Fan Fiction ❯ Arabian Dreams ❯ 1 ( Chapter 1 )

Title: Arabian Dreams

Pairing: Count/Franz

Rating: NC-17

Warning: Drug use, Graphic lemon scene - yaoi

Notes: This is a scene `stolen' from the book but twisted to fit the Gankutsuou world. Perhaps some of you will be able to recognize this particular scenario, if so huzzah! Timeline is set a few months before they meet the Count on Luna. The boys are in Florence on their way to Rome for the Carnival.

Thank you, Blackster for the inspiration to write this! *snugs *

 

One:

 

“So are you sure you'll be okay, Franz?” Viscount Albert de Morcerf asked with a furrow of his brows as he stared at his blond companion in concern. “You do know you can still come with me…?”

 

“How many times have I told you that I'll be fine, Albert,” Franz d'Epinay replied with a warm smile and a light pat on his best friend's shoulders. “Now hurry before you miss the carriage.”

 

As if on cue, the grand black horses neighed as if in protest at being kept waiting. Albert, a vivacious young man of fifteen with brown hair and piercing blue eyes, laughed softly and wrapped his arms around his best friend in a fierce hug.

 

“I shall come back as soon as I am done with my tour around Naples. I've always wanted to see that place and this is the perfect opportunity. I really wish you'd come with me though.” He pulled away with a pout, causing the slightly taller man to tap his nose gently as if reprimanding a child.

 

“Perhaps next time,” Franz replied, patting his pocket gently. “I have the letter written to Monsieur Pastrini regarding our lodgings at the Hotel de Londres. I'll make sure he gets it on time.

 

“Oh good!” Albert cried out in delight. “The best rooms and view for the carnival will be ours as soon as we get there! This is so terribly exciting, Franz. I can't wait…”

 

“And your carriage awaits, fair Albert,” Franz teased as he began to push his reluctant friend towards the opened door of his transportation. He closed it behind his friend, waving a hand as Albert stuck his head out of the window to wave back as hard as he could.

 

“Take care, dear Franz! I'll be back soon!”

 

The blond watched the carriage until it became nothing more than a speck in the distance before shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants with a soft sigh. There was no doubt he would miss his best friend but it had been Albert's idea for them to explore Italy and what it had to offer before attending the much anticipated festival of the year. This was an event they had wanted to attend since they had heard about it from Monsieur LaSalle, their private tutor, so many years ago.

 

So now, they were here - Albert having managed to persuade his parents to let him come on his own - on the magnificent streets of Florence. Franz had already decided that he would take a tour of the infamous Porto Ferrajo to learn more about the history of the Usurper Bonaparte. However, getting a shuttle to take him around the island was bound to be a problem as he had made no plans ahead of time to secure one for his personal use. Cursing himself for his foolishness, he hailed a taxi that would take him to the Marquis and Marchioness Saint Meran's Italian estate. He had been invited for dinner with them and did not have the heart to refuse such an offer. Franz could already imagine the conversation that was bound to take place at the dinner table and he braced himself for an evening of false smiles and flippant talk. He could only hope that they did not bring up talk about marriage again.

 

~*~*~*~

 

Conversation had ebbed and flowed around him like an incessant tidal wave throughout the Saint Meran's dinner party. Franz could not remember much of the topics that had been discussed but he was sure that some had centered on the growing popularity of Count de Morcerf and his possible run for parliament or even the presidency. Rich foods consisting of roast pigs, whole salmons and wild ducks were accentuated with fine wines and liqueurs. He was careful not to get too intoxicated for a few single female guests had their eyes on him and were quite quick to make known their intentions in courting him.

 

He did accept a few advances, amusement mingling with mild disgust as the two - quite beautiful women - sat on either side of him on the luxurious duvet which had been draped over a couch. They whispered sweet nothings into his ear, pressed their ample bosoms against his arms and chest, their scents - slightly overpowering and mildly intoxicating - permeated his senses causing him to close his eyes for a few moments. He had known then that he had to get away. Somehow…anyway…without sounding too ungracious to his hosts.

 

“…the Grotto…” Someone had whispered into his ear and he had felt a piece of paper slipped into his palm. “…come there…tonight…he waits for you…”

 

Who? Who could possibly want to see him at The Grotto for that was apparently the name of this so-called place he was supposed to meet this person. He stepped out of the taxi and stood in the middle of the sidewalk in bemusement. He could see no building which bore the name anywhere and after traversing the entire length of the street, Franz found himself getting extremely irritated. Glancing at the large electronic clock which hovered in the air above, he saw that it was only eleven in the evening. In other words, the night was still very much young. He eyed the note again in his palm, investigating the scrawled words as if they had been hastily written. He couldn't even remember who had given it to him. It might have been either one of the girls, but he couldn't be sure.

 

“Baron d' Epinay?” A voice said behind him causing Franz to turn around quickly. He braced himself for an attack, but relaxed a little as he noticed the tall black man who must have called him. He was bald and had sunglasses over his eyes, which was rather odd considering the hour of the day.

 

“Yes and you are?” Franz finally asked as he found his voice again. He tried to maintain a scowl of propriety and haughtiness that was customary for men of his stature, but it seemed as if this newcomer was not the least bit intimidated. Instead, the man gave a polite bow and held up a white piece of cloth.

 

“Please forgive me, your Excellency, but my master insists I do this,” the man replied, deliberately ignoring the question posed to him. “He is a very private man and would like for his dwellings to be kept a secret.”

 

Franz frowned in consternation while searching the passive features for any sign of foul play and while common sense cried for him to reconsider his choice, he found himself nodding in acceptance. He was after all a rather curious young man and was open to trying out new things as well as discovering them. He felt no real threat from the other man and so willingly stepped forward and allowed the piece of cloth to be tied over his eyes.

 

Immediately, he lost all sense of sight, for the cloth was rather thick, and he felt his arm being held gently. He tried to control his breathing as they began to walk, trying to still his pounding heart - to convince himself that this was really okay. He wasn't going to be hurt; he had sensed that from the gentle way the cloth had been tied. However, he found that he had to quicken his steps to catch up to the man leading him for he was quite fast. For how long they walked, Franz had no idea, but he was sure he would be unable to make his way back to the street without some help when this was all said and done. It seemed as if they were walking deeper and deeper into the heart of the city but yet away from the hustle and bustle of the main city of Florence itself.

 

His curiosity finally getting the better of him, Franz asked quickly albeit breathlessly. “At least tell me who seeks my company?” He took pride in being fit and healthy but this was a bit too much for him.

 

“I am not at liberty to say, your Excellency,” came the enigmatic reply and Franz gave a low sound of exasperation only to gasp softly as they came to a sudden stop. Franz could sense that they were no longer alone and for a minute, he felt the nagging voice of worry begin to rouse its ugly head again. It wasn't uncommon for aristocrats to be kidnapped and held for ransom but he was really beginning to doubt if he was really worth that much to begin with. And what would Albert say or do if he discovered his disappearance? For some reason that thought was even more painful to Franz than the idea of losing his life. Oh, if only he hadn't put so much blind faith in his captor.

 

But a curt reprimand from his `guardian' to the unseen visitors in flawless Italian had them grumbling and shifting away from them. Franz could hold his own in a fight if it were absolutely necessary and for a brief moment, he wished he had brought his gun along with him. Luckily, there would be no need to get into a scuffle as his guardian began to lead him down a flight of stairs which seemed to take him right into the depths of the earth itself!

 

“Please step this way, your Excellency and watch your head.”

 

Doing as he was told, Franz walked down the stairs obediently and stepped through a door which was to usher him into a world full of scents and sights like he had never seen before.

 

 

__

 

 

The first to assail his senses was that of heavy Turkish perfume and the thick but incredibly soft feel of the carpet he was now treading on. Franz's curiosity knew no bounds and impatiently, he tugged away the cloth from his eyes to stare at his surroundings in awe. He had been in many an aristocrat home throughout the years and had even considered Albert's home a work of art, but this…this place was unlike anything seen before in all his travels.

 

The room was large enough and dimly lit or rather swirling whirls of purples and gold hovered in the air above him. They created mesmerizing kaleidoscopes of color, pleasing to the senses and nearly hypnotic with their beauty. Every item, be it a divan or a duvet were richly crafted from the finest silks and cloths in the world. There were rare artifacts ranging from Arabic weapons to swords from Asia - intricate designs that boggled the mind and had his senses reeling at the surrealism of it all. What kind of person could live in such luxury and yet not be known to Italian high society? Where had such items been found and imported without the knowledge of the press? Simply put…it was all…incredible.

 

In his shock and state of constant amazement, Franz failed to notice the silent figure seated upon one such divan with a look of amusement on his strong but handsome features. Dark eyes flashed with wicked intent for a moment as they admired the youth without shame. Franz d' Epinay did look a bit older than his age and the white silk shirt he wore barely concealed the strength in the young man's shoulders. The simple but expensive black pants hugged slender hips and long legs and to complete the picture, the young man's flaxen locks, which looked like spun gold, seemed eager to be touched. The silent man noticed all of this in a few minutes and having had his fill of his visitor, he finally allowed his presence to be known.

 

“Ah, I see that my meager collection dazzles you, monsieur.”

 

Franz spun around so fast, he was almost sure he had given himself a whiplash in the process. He found himself staring at a pale-skinned man dressed in a simple but silk-printed caftan and a red tassel cap on his head. Even sitting down, he could tell that his host was quite tall and fit for his age. Franz could see that the man was smirking in amusement and he could feel his cheeks heat with embarrassment at being so obvious in his inquisitiveness. This was not the way to behave in the home of a guest for he was sure that this man was the one who had invited him. He lowered his head in a small bow of apology.

 

“Ah, forgive me, monsieur…?”

 

“Sinbad,” came the simple reply that had Franz blinking in surprise at the choice of name used. “You may call me Sinbad the Sailor as many of my good friends over the years have called me, good sir. And what may I call you?”

 

Franz wondered why his blush hadn't faded away or why Sinbad's deep voice, which seemed so confident and eloquent, made him feel slightly flustered. Of course trying to keep his heart from pounding too fast was another task in itself.

 

“If you are Sinbad,” he finally replied with a small smile. “Then you can call me Signor Aladdin for I believe I must have stepped into the very castles so often described in many Arabian tales.”

 

Sinbad threw back his head and laughed - a rich sound full of mirth but with an underlying tone of danger that had Franz shifting restlessly. There was something rather odd about this Sinbad. For starters, it was clear that he wasn't really Turkish; for although he had the air of one, there was also the sense that Sinbad might actually be a Frenchman like himself. His thick accent for one was a dead giveaway. Perhaps others might not have noticed the difference, but Franz was perceptive and after taking a course in linguistics, he was quite able to distinguish one accent from another by now.

 

“Please, sit down and do not stand like a stranger,” Sinbad invited as he pointed towards a divan beside him. “You will allow me to treat you as my guest tonight.”

 

“But why have you invited me?” Franz asked curiously as he made himself comfortable amongst the oversized pillows. “You do not know me and yet you invite me here.”

 

An unreadable expression filled the piercing black eyes for a moment and then Sinbad broke into another warm smile. “My girls took an interest in you,” he explained with a wave of his hand as if it were an everyday occurrence. “And so whenever they see someone worthy of joining me, they invite him over.”

 

“Ah…I see…” So many questions to ask, so little time, Franz thought as a light knock was heard on the door and in walked the very man that had led him to this place.

 

“Ah, I believe you met Bertuccio, my trusted servant,” Sinbad explained as they watched him place a tray upon the small coffee table. “I hope he was not too rough with you.”

 

“Oh no…no, he was quite gentle,” Franz replied quickly as he stared at the contents of the tray in bemusement and undeniable interest. Sinbad was quick to notice the look and a smirk of satisfaction came to his lips as he moved closer to the tray to open up the small ceramic cup filled with a greenish-colored paste. Once Bertuccio left the room, Franz leaned closer as well to inspect the contents.

 

“What is that?” Franz asked a bit shyly as if ashamed at not being able to identify whatever it was. It did not smell awful in the slightest and from Sinbad's soft chuckle; he could guess it wasn't poisonous either.

 

“What's this, he asks,” Sinbad repeated as he held up the cup before his eyes. “Why this is the sweetmeat of the heavens, my dear Aladdin. One taste of this and all your worries and hassles will become a thing of the past. Imagine if you will a world where you rule and conquer all within your reach - a world where anyone and everything is under your control and you can do as you please. You can reach the highest of plateaus and wish you could never come back down to earth. Yes, my dear Signor Aladdin, have a taste and you shall never want for more…”

 

So hypnotic. Tempting. Inviting. Franz could feel himself drawing closer to that soothing voice, a dull flame of excitement and need rising from somewhere in the pit of his stomach as he accepted the spoon offered to him. He met Sinbad's dark eyes and seemed to ask a silent question with his. The older man gave him a slow nod of encouragement and as Franz took a teaspoon of the wondrous green paste into his mouth. He made a face as it's slightly bitter taste danced upon his tongue. Swallowing it quickly, he shook his head and tried to glare at the smiling man before him.

 

“It tastes…awful! And I know what this is now,” he added quickly. “It must be hashish!”

 

An addictive drug that could send one down the depths of hell or to the wonders of heaven in one fell swoop. He had read about it before but had assumed that such a thing was no longer in circulation. How had this man gotten a hold of something this rare and potent?

 

Sinbad laughed softly. “How perceptive you are, my dear Aladdin. But come…tell me now…how do you feel? Does it feel like you have a million and one warm tender hands caressing your skin? Do you not feel the prickling heat rising within your stomach, urging you towards the gates of heaven?”

 

Sure enough, Franz could indeed feel the gradual change in his body. The bitter taste of the paste had given way to a lingering but not all too unpleasant aftertaste on his tongue. He felt as if he were ten pounds lighter and was almost afraid he would float right off his seat if he dared make a move. His eyes widened in pleasure as he met Sinbad's amused depths.

 

“Indeed I do feel so much lighter, Signor Sinbad,” he said happily, hardly embarrassed at how flushed his cheeks had become or why he suddenly found himself moving even closer to the older man. “I feel like I could float on air and never come down.”

 

“Then take flight my dear Aladdin,” Sinbad murmured as his eyes darkened with pleasure at the sight the young blond man made now. He shook his head rapidly to get rid of the sudden illicit thoughts that had come to mind and reached for the cup to take a spoonful himself. But no sooner had he slipped the paste on his tongue, did he feel another one within his mouth. His eyes widened in surprise as he felt Franz's hands wrapped tightly against his neck and the younger man's tongue still savoring the paste within his mouth.

 

Franz pulled away slowly, licking his lips and swallowing some of the drug he had managed to steal from Sinbad's mouth. “Would you not share with me, Signor?” Franz said breathlessly as he leaned in again to claim the surprised man's lips in another kiss.

 

If Sinbad was stunned at the rapid turn of events, he did his best to give no sign of it. He had assumed that the drug's potency would be rather strong for the young man, but he had no idea it would make him this uninhibited. He savored the youth's tongue with his, moaning softly as he felt the nudge of Franz's thighs between his. The cup and spoon fell from his hands and he tightened his arms around the younger man's waist, deepening the kiss while experiencing the most intoxicating and mind blowing visions of pure ecstasy. He couldn't tell if it was the drug working or the sensation of young Franz against him, but either way, Sinbad was an opportunist and was not one to deny himself of whatever pleasure came his way.

 

It had been so long since he had been with another this intimately. Dear gods, but he had missed the touch, taste and sound of someone like this in his life.

 

Franz was still reeling from the effects of the hashish in his system, his lashes felt heavier and he barely noticed or protested the way the sailor had taken over the situation. He allowed himself to be pushed onto the divan, his tongue sucking hungrily on the older man's as if eager to secure every drop of the sinful paste. He arched into Sinbad's strong hands, whimpering softly as his shirt was lifted up gently and cool fingertips caressed his burning flesh. He tore his lips away from Sinbad's, crying out in pleasure as his nipples were toyed with gently. They hardened and welcomed the rough abrasiveness of Sinbad's tongue as it began to explore the pale flesh with tender licks and kisses.

 

Their breathing had become heavy and shallow, their bodies trembling with the combined sensations of being high and partaking in something this sinful. Franz would never have imagined that anything this delightful could exist on earth, neither had he allowed himself to let go this way before, but then again he could care less about rationale at this point. The sailor was beginning to do things to his body he had never thought possible and as Franz felt his pants being pulled down his hips, he could only thrust upwards to aid his newfound lover and partner in getting it completely off.

 

His cock, now exposed to the cool air, kissed his stomach with tiny drops of pre-cum. He moaned and pleaded silently for the man before him to do as he pleased - to release him from this burning ache that threatened to consume him. However, for a brief moment, Franz couldn't be sure of what he was seeing but he could have sworn that something purple had flashed upon the sailor's forehead.

 

Must be the effects…just another effect of this…aaaaah…

 

Coherent thought flew out the window as Franz felt the warm lips and tongue engulfing his stiff organ. He grabbed a pillow and tried to cover his mouth with it to stop himself from screaming but it seemed as if Sinbad had other ideas. The older man withdrew the pillow, releasing the pulsing flesh to demand thickly.

 

“Let me hear you scream, Signor Aladdin. Set your soul free and let me hear you voice your pleasure to the world. I want you to scream for me.”

 

“I…I….aaaah!” And scream he did as Franz felt something long and slightly cool being thrust into his ass. He arched off the covers, sinking his fingers into the flowing dark hair below him. The tassel hat must have fallen off earlier, but that was the least of Franz's worries now. His cock was still being feasted upon and yet those talented fingers were still stretching him, prodding, thrusting, rudely fucking him in a place he had always considered sacred and off limits to anyone but himself. He could feel his chest expanding and contracting rapidly, the searing rush of heat that raced down to his groin as his orgasm was fast approaching.

 

“Signor…ah…signor….I can't…can't…hold it…urgh!” It was a loud grunt of release that led to his trapped organ exploding within his tormentor's mouth. Franz thrust his hips again and again, his eyes squeezed tightly shut as he allowed himself to let go. Tears of pleasure sprang to his eyes as Sinbad continue to swallow all he had to offer and with a low moan of exhaustion, he fell back to the covers, trying to catch his breath. His flesh felt damp, his blond locks now plastered to his flushed face as he tried to even his breathing. Sinbad released his cock with a slow lick of the swollen tip, a feral look in those eyes that now seemed to have two different hues to it.

 

Blaming it on the drug again, Franz moaned at the fingers still thrusting within him, watching through hazy depths as his cock began to twitch back to life again.

 

“And now, Signor Aladdin,” the man said slowly as he withdrew his thrusting digits - much to Franz's dismay. He watched as Sinbad leaned over him and threw his arms around the older man's neck, somehow aware of what the older man now wanted. “You will return the pleasure as I take my fill of you, yes?”

 

“Do…do as you will, Signor,” Franz replied breathlessly as he leaned up to seize Sinbad's lips in another kiss. He had a feeling it would hurt and he wasn't surprised to discover that he was right. It was a rude invasion and Franz had fully expected the sailor to be rougher than this, but to his surprise, Sinbad was almost gentle as if realizing that this was indeed Franz's first time in doing this.

 

“I will not hold back,” came the husky whisper which had Franz shivering in delight and yet eager anticipation.

 

“Then do not, Signor,” he replied against the swollen lips and thrusting his hips upwards again in silent acceptance, Franz buried his cry of pain within their kiss. The sailor waited for the young man to adjust to his length, almost crying out himself at how incredibly tight and hot Franz felt around him. He watched the twin trail of tears slide down the blond's cheeks and a part of him felt incredibly guilty for being slightly rough, but that little emotion of pity was quickly erased as he felt the other presence within him roar to life with pleasure.

 

Take him! Own him! Make him yours completely!

 

Franz did not bother trying to hold back his cries as he felt the sailor's cock bury itself within his ass over and over again. He threw back his head and closed his eyes again, his toes curling within the thick cloth as he felt the pain slowly give way to a pleasure unlike anything ever experienced before. His legs were raised by two strong hands and Franz almost blacked out as the thrusts became more acute and precise and fervent.

 

Faster and harder they moved in synchronized harmony. The sailor was punishing in his thrusts and Franz met and matched him each time. He was going to explode. His mind and body could no longer deal with the sensory overload and Franz had a feeling that he was going to surely faint when he did come.

 

“Scream my name,” the sailor suddenly whispered into the younger man's ears. “Say it, my dear Franz. I am the Count of Monte Cristo and you will never forget that name…ever.”

 

And with one final deep thrust, Franz d'Epinay's scream of completion came in the form of one word which seemed to resonate over and over in the depths of his consciousness.

 

Hakshaku!

 

 

__

 

 

He woke up feeling sore and with a headache the size of Italy. He moaned and moved gingerly within the cotton sheets…

 

Wait a minute…cotton sheets?

 

He sat up quickly - suddenly wishing he hadn't for his head protested the movement - and looked at his surroundings with confusion. He was back in his hotel room and from the light that filtered in through the curtains Franz knew it was sometime in the afternoon. He raised his knees to his chest, placing his aching head between his hands as he tried to make sense of what had happened last night.

 

Images and memories flashed through like jumbled puzzle pieces. He could remember joining the Saint Meran's for dinner and then the two girls that had courted him after dinner and then…

 

The Grotto!

He had met the Turkish sailor! Sinbad the Sailor and then…

 

His cheeks darkened with color as that particular part of the evening came back to mind. He groaned and buried himself beneath the blanket, trying to tell himself that it had all been a dream. So how then was he to explain the soreness in his rear? It still felt stretched and abused and his cheeks grew even hotter as he remembered how wanton he must have acted.

 

“It's the drug's fault,” he defended himself quickly. “I would never have done anything like that.”

 

So why couldn't he stop the small smile that came to his features or the wild thumping in his heart as he caressed his lips gently?

 

His lover had called himself Sinbad the Sailor, but Franz was sure that sometime during the night he had called himself something else. It was a pity he couldn't remember what it was now, but as the clock chimed the thirteenth hour, he reluctantly forced himself out of bed to get ready for the day.

 

He did have to meet his dear friend Albert at the station today and prepare for their trip to Rome. For the first time in a long time; Franz knew that he would have to keep his sinful night of decadence and lust to himself. There was no use telling Albert about losing his virginity in such a way, neither was he sure that Albert would even understand the depths of pleasure he had experienced. Yes, he would definitely keep this incident to himself.

 

It was just one secret he was rather unwilling to share with anyone.

 

 

 

~The End~