Will you see?

Alcuin had come out of his lovemaking with Aaron feeling quite good about it - not only did he feel as if he had truly helped him, but he also felt closer to Elua. This was what a Servant of Naamah was meant to do.

And then it had subsequently been a bit upsetting to see him a couple of nights later... clearly very drunk, and being manhandled by a strange man in the back of a bar. Alcuin had even thought of intervening, but it was clearly not his place. But it did worry him. And eventually, he decided to seek Aaron out.

He found himself in the chapel.

"Hello, Aaron," he said softly.

Alcuin still felt badly about what had happened with Aaron. He knew he had done nothing wrong, but he couldn’t help but think that he should have been more observant or could have been more careful. And he also felt sad for the man. How tragic, to not be able to act on desire. To not know love.

Still, he has also been thinking about the idea of a rededication to Elua and Naamah, on his own terms. Re-limning his marque seemed like the perfect symbol. And he knew who was the right person to help him.

He sent word to Hannibal, a request that he might come see him. So that Hannibal could come on this own time with the care he needed to not be noticed.

When he came, Alcuin smiled, and let him in. “Thank you for coming. I have a favor to ask. Well. A trade, perhaps.”

The last time Alcuin had visited Hannibal, he had been on the job, technically. This time, he was here on his own accord, as he had been with Jack. And he was eager to speak with the roboticist, and to keep experimenting.

He appeared at his home, rang the bell, and waited.

Holding flowers.

The next morning after Aaron left, Alcuin felt a bit strange about his actions the night before. It had all made perfect sense to him at the time, but he realized in retrospect that perhaps he'd behaved... strangely. Perhaps more so because of his decision to help Aaron in the first place than his decision to sleep with him. Seduce him, even. That part could be explained; it was in his nature to give someone what they wanted, even if they didn't know that it was what they wanted. And that had very clearly been the case here.

Totally normal. There was nothing wrong with him at all.

Still, he found himself rather anxious when he made his way to Hannibal's home the next evening. The contract had gone through with no problem, and given Hannibal's position and means, the house call hadn't even raised any red flags. And Alcuin truly did mean it when he said that Hannibal's payment meant he could do whatever he liked with him. But if that included... studying him, he wasn't sure what that might uncover.

He confirmed that the camera at the door had alerted to his presence, and stood there politely.

Alcuin had, in practicality if not in logistics, moved in with Hannibal. At least, though he had his own rooms and most of his things were still there, he shared Hannibal's bed every night. He had decided not to think too hard about it, and for right now it seemed fine.

So this is why he was in the washroom at Hannibal's, attempting to get red wine out of a shirt he'd decided he would rather not sacrifice if he didn't have to. He sighed and held it up to the light again. Alas.

It had been a strange week for Alcuin. After everything that had happened... Honestly he'd kept to himself for much of it. But eventually he left word that he was ready to work again, as long as it was with someone he'd seen before (he didn't want any risks right now), and within 24 hours one of his previous clients had scheduled a night with him. He wasn't sure why he was nervous, but he was. His first assignation as a free man. A percentage would go to Hannibal, since he was still working out of the brothel, but most of the money was his to do as he pleased. And he honestly he had no idea what that would be.

And he had managed to avoid Hannibal, too. Just thinking of him sent Alcuin's stomach twisting into knots of uncertainty.

Alcuin bathed and dressed and made himself as appealing as he knew how. And then waited in the room that had been assigned.

Until his client was so late that it was clear he wasn't coming.

Alcuin had planned for the night with Halicon carefully. And it went exactly as he'd planned. He had denied him for a very long time. And tonight, he had offered him everything he wanted. But he'd offered it in exchange for not one thing but two. First, the information that Hannibal wanted from him. And second, the remainder of the price of his marque.

Halicon had balked at first. But Alcuin had cajoled and coerced him. And by the time he was done Halicon would have given him anything. Which was just as he'd known.

When it was over, Alcuin immediately knew that Halicon was having regrets. Not because he hadn't gotten exactly what he wanted, but because with the haze of lust gone, he questioned his decisions. Which he well should have. Still, he hadn't put up a fuss, and as far as Alcuin could tell, paid his bill.

Alcuin showered and then decided to go outside for some air.

Ten minutes later, he was stumbling back into the brothel. His white shirt was soaked in blood. His skin was pale as death, and he was certain he was moments from death. Someone screamed.

Alcuin wasn't entirely sure what to think when Hannibal had invited him for dinner at his home. But he certainly wasn't going to refuse, for a number of reasons. And he was also pleased, excited, and a little nervous.

He didn't want to seem as if he was trying too hard, so he didn't dress up exactly, but he always knew how to make himself look nice.

He arrived, and knocked politely.

Alcuin knew that Phedre and Hannibal were together. It wasn't as if it was a secret, though Phedre had once gently informed him that she and Hannibal were just having fun, it wasn't as if it were true love or anything. And he knew exactly why she'd told him. She was just as observant as he was, and though Alcuin felt pretty confident that Hannibal did not know about his feelings, of course she did. Alcuin also trusted her not to say anything.

But he did also know exactly what kind of fun Phedre was. And he had wondered, if he ever had the opportunity, could he please Hannibal like she could? He suspected that Hannibal probably enjoyed control more than pain, though.... maybe he was wrong.

Alcuin did enjoy a bit of control during sex, but pain... no. Not at all. But he still had clients sometimes who enjoyed it, and he thought perhaps he should try to learn to.

Still, he hadn't expected this.

"Alcuin? Are you okay?" It was Jade, who had been watching, and had stepped in now. Alcuin had forgotten. The client had left perhaps five minutes before, and Alcuin hadn't left the room yet. He felt as if his back was on fire. The man had whipped him with some device he'd brought himself. He also hadn't specified that the session would be like this, or Alcuin probably wouldn't have been chosen for him. But Alcuin had not said no. He could have. The man might have even stopped. But he'd wanted to know if he could take it.

"I'm all right," Alcuin said, turning his head from where he was laying on his stomach, but not moving. "I may need some salve or something, but..."

"I'm going to get Hannibal," Jade said, and left before Alcuin could object.

It had been some time since a brothel in King's Realm had had a virgin night auction. It was not as common as it once was for those before the age of consent, or even older virgins, to bind themselves to one of the brothels first. And Alcuin's situation was especially unusual, because he'd been around for so long. Living there for several years already. And in all that time, no one touched him. They knew better.

Hannibal had asked him whether he was sure, of course. If he wanted this. And he'd told him of course he did. Even if a good portion of the reason he wanted it was to please Hannibal.

He found the clothes that Hannibal had laid out of him. A simple white shirt that he realized upon inspection was not canvas but cambric, the linen spun so fine one could barely see the weave. And breaches, a midnight blue, were made of moleskin. He put them on, and knee-high boots made of black leather, shined until they nearly had a reflection.

He was looking at himself in the mirror when he heard the door open. "My lord," he said, without turning to look at him. "I thought at first these clothes were too simple, but..." But as vain as it may seem, the simplicity of the clothes just emphasized his beauty.