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2020-10-24
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It Started Out Badly

Chapter 35: Now they see what will be

Summary:

What was Sypha doing ? He wondered. She hadn’t responded and Adrian must still be sleeping. 

He stuck his head into the stable and immediately registered that it was empty. Looking around he saw no one and heard no one. Trevor decided to risk it. After all, Lady Tepes might have already told everyone he was here, and he was worried about nothing. 

If anyone showed up he could just… And he saw it.

He hadn’t seen a bullwhip in over five years. Loss climbed over his defenses and spread out within him like a suffocating oil spill. It happened so quickly that it took his breath away. It was peeling his composure like a carrot under a knife and he bled out without even realizing it. 

Notes:

CW: Reference of non-con at the very end, no explicit examples. You are good to read up to: "When the artist rose that evening..."

Badly Chapter 35

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The wolves weren’t leaving him. They kept pace as silent sentinels, and didn’t even fall back when the sculptor approached the horses again. It was both comforting and disconcerting. Trevor had never seen dogs like this; they were huge, gorgeous and slightly alarming. 

Fortunately the horses seemed to recognize them and didn’t startle when the wolves sleekly fell into step with the herd. There was something wild and stunning about watching the animals move together in timeless harmony.

Trevor didn’t try to ride again, even as he desperately yearned for it.

Having had that recklessly wonderful moment to himself, he wanted it again. But I don’t want to fuck up more than I have, he thought unhappily. 

Practically trampling Adrian’s mother hadn’t been on his to do list today and greeting her from his ass in a hedge was not an ideal start. On the other hand, she seemed amused, so maybe he'd gotten incredibly lucky. 

If she didn’t think he was a complete assclown after that he would consider himself fortunate. Now he just needed to swallow the blow to his pride. 

He’d hoped to at least be able to meet the Tepes’ on equal ground. All morning Trevor had told himself it didn’t matter; he was who he was and he had nothing to be ashamed of. It had sort of worked, simply because it was something that the brunette told himself every day since the scandal. 

Since the conversation in the limo with Adrian, however, the sculptor had been absorbing who his lover was to the public and how the world thought it owned a part of the blonde--a part that Trevor couldn’t have. 

There had been cracks shifting into the core of his pride and his internal landscape was reconfiguring. Lady Tepes was a landmark right in the middle of that conflict for him; a gatekeeper into a world that Trevor despised for its impact on his relationship with Adrian.

Worse, far worse though, was the understanding that there might very well be no compromise to be had on this matter. It was entirely conceivable that Trevor would have to continue to live this part of his life in secret. 

I don’t know if I can, he thought, the agony of his predicament blurring his gaze as he kept pace with the herd down the rolling hill. He watched the wolves dart into the treeline. It’s not in me to live leashed in such a huge way.

Coming here was a mistake, he thought. You don’t belong here and you don’t want to watch Adrian lie in every restrained movement and careful word. You don’t even know if you can lie convincingly enough to be believed, and you can’t make the choice for Adrian to tell his parents.

He remembered Lady Tepes’ piercing blue eyes and shook his head. Adrian was fooling himself if he thought she wouldn’t see it; there was no hiding anything from her, he thought ruefully. 

Anyone could see her intelligence and intuition were keen. Belmont knew he should probably be more concerned about that fact even as the image of Adrian's mother took form in his mind.

The sculptor had known it was her right away. He could instantly see where his lover’s beauty and poise came from. The regal shape of her face, fair colouring, elegant grace and cool gaze--even her grin--it all echoed the painter to him in the sweetest kiss on Trevor’s heart.

She grinned at you. A small smile formed on Belmont’s lips. I didn’t imagine that, he reflected as he absently broke into a jog to follow the horses. The herd was headed into an open pasture that had a tidy stable tucked into the corner. 

There had been warmth in Adrian’s mother’s demeanor and a genuine pleasure in her gaze. It surprised him, thinking about it now, to realize that he might have been wrong about her. 

He’d thought she was likely cold and withdrawn given how anxious Adrian was about acceptance and approval. Lady Tepes had been anything but and it made Trevor wonder. It was hard to reconcile those fucking status reports that Adrian had shown him with a woman so lovely. 

I can’t disappoint those I love, the sculptor heard again in Adrian’s pleading tones. 

Where did that come from? That deep-rooted belief of inadequacy? His shame and certainty he was a failure?  

Trevor shook his head, slowing as he approached the stable. You of all people know that understanding such things is complicated and almost impossible to accurately pinpoint beyond a doubt, he acknowledged. 

He paused outside the door of the stable, considering. 

Grabbing his phone, he texted Sypha and Adrian: “Do you think it’s cool if I go in the stables? Thinking I might saddle up a horse? ”  

He didn’t want anyone thinking he was breaking and entering. Waiting for a response, he looked at the herd again. He wanted to saddle up the golden boy so badly but that horse was worth more than Trevor could imagine. 

If anything happened…

Better to take one of Friesians, he thought. He would have taken the Arabian, but he thought she might want a break from the wolves--she’d stayed on the far side of the herd. Thinking about it, he put his hand on the stable door and pulled. It slid open with a rumble and he paused, checking his phone. 

What was Sypha doing ? He wondered. She hadn’t responded and Adrian must still be sleeping. 

He stuck his head into the stable and immediately registered that it was empty. Looking around he saw no one and heard no one. Trevor decided to risk it. After all, Lady Tepes might have already told everyone he was here, and he was worried about nothing. 

If anyone showed up he could just… and he saw it.

He hadn’t seen a bullwhip in over five years. Loss climbed over his defenses and spread out within him like a suffocating oil spill. It happened so quickly that it took his breath away. It was peeling his composure like a carrot under a knife and he bled out without even realizing it. 

Learning how to use a whip alongside his father. Braiding his first whips’ thong and Dominic attaching the handle. The sound of the cracker as it boomed out. 

The second time he competed in the Calgary Stampede, he’d won a silver medal and Penelope had put it on the mantle under the Brieling painting. His father had been so excited that he’d called up the whole family at 10 o’clock at night. 

It was painful to remember the joy and pride in his parents. It had meant so much to Trevor to have that approval. He remembered thinking then, that if only they could be like this for his sculptures…

It doesn’t matter now, he told himself ruthlessly. They are dead and there will be no more approval--for sculpture or whipcracking competitions. 

He approached the whip and closed his eyes. This close he could smell the leather and the oil. The backs of his eyelids only brought the face of his father and before he could stop himself, the brunette fell into the memory.

“Easy Trev,” Dominic’s smile was coaxing. “Remember, move the wrist naturally, let it flow.” 

His father was still taller than him at that point, a solid, warm presence of hope and love in his life. The neatly trimmed beard and side swept hair in the same dark tones as his son. Green eyes winked with good humor and encouragement.

The thirteen year old narrowed his blue eyes and tried again. The three foot length snapped out and the tiniest ‘crack!’ snapped out between them. Trevor’s grin was huge and his father’s even wider. 

The elder Belmont whooped loudly and charged. Arms open, Dominic’s strength surrounded Trevor, the scent of his father’s cologne caught in the hollow of throat and bone. 

Versace’s Dylan Blue, he remembered with a sharp, raw tug in his belly. 

The man hefted him up in a bear hug. “You got it! That’s the ticket Trev, you’re the man!” 

The boy laughed, the world topsy turvy from the security of his father’s embrace as he was swung around. How safe and loved I had felt. 

“Nothing can stop you now!” his father crowed.

They’d kept practicing until Penelope came out and reminded Dominic that it was a school night. She’d clapped her hands and kissed her son’s head when he showed her his new skill. 

When she’d murmured, “You can do anything, my dearest,” into his hair, Trevor carried that with him for days. It carried him through the usual arguments about his clothing and his artwork and the tense moment over his comment about his asshole uncle.

The tear fell before he even realized. 

“I miss you both, so very much,” he whispered in the stillness of the building. The memory of his parents, their warmth, their fragrance: it faded away.

Dusty hay and horse were the only scents that remained now. 

Not the only one, he thought and touched the whip. The leather was an old friend, flexible and warming to his touch. 

“Just do your best, Trevor,” Penelope said, with a glance at his father. Belmont was impatient and he only nodded at his mother, tucking his rodeo shirt into his jeans. 

“You’ve been practicing and you know the routines,” she said in an encouraging voice. “You’ve nothing to prove to anyone but yourself.”

I wish, the teenager thought to himself. 

As if echoing his thoughts, his father said, “We’ll be in the stands; just look for us. We know you can win this.” 

Trevor still loved rodeos, still loved horses, still loved whip cracking, but the more that they argued about the teenager’s plans for college and his disinterest in BiG, the more his father acted like this was the only thing Trevor was good at. The more it became the only aspect of his son that he bothered to engage with.

The roar of the crowd drowned out his mother and Trevor shouted to be heard over it. “Sorry Mom, what?”

“We love you; good luck!” she shouted back with a smile, as his father led her away. Trevor waved absently, his other hand already reaching for his whip.

All those chances to tell them what they meant to me; to stop and really say it so she could see, he thought now as he stepped out of the memory and back into the present. 

I wasted it being angry because they only wanted the best for me. I couldn’t be what they wanted but I didn’t even try.

Trevor unhooked the whip and grasped the handle. It unfurled like a butterfly from a cocoon and the tip trailed into the dust.

It was a nice specimen, similar to what he’d had. Six feet long and braided over the handle, the thong was a spiral eight pattern in alternating hide colors--tan, burgundy and roan. There was an intricate cracker on the end, a pretty thing of fluttering strips.

His whip had been a deep chestnut braid, ten feet long, with an ebony handle wrapped in red leather and reinforced with the thinnest treated iron strips. It had been a gift from his father when he’d entered his first competition. He’d come in fifth that time and you would have thought he’d gotten a gold medal.

If only Papa’s enthusiasm had stayed that undemanding, he thought. 

Grasping the handle, he flicked his wrist. The length of leather twirled on the floor before rising up like a bird of prey scouring the sky. 

Some things you don’t forget, he thought, a smirk playing on his lips. 

Experimentally, Trevor ran through a basic, uncomplicated pattern that stayed below shoulder level, and found himself quietly laughing at how easily it came back to him. He switched to his other hand and tried the same pattern. 

He’d trained to be ambidextrous in his cracking and took great pride that at the height of his abilities, he was equally skilled in either hand and could wield two whips at once. The last two rotations and the sculptor’s wrist suddenly protested. The brunette cursed. 

Breaking his hand in that bout had affected his mobility and function in certain things. Apparently this was one of them. Physiotherapy would have been ideal but was completely unaffordable. 

“Fucking figures,” Belmont muttered. 

It doesn’t matter anyway, he told himself. It’s not like you would ever compete again.  

Once more, he was enormously grateful for the Tepes scholarship that he didn’t have to fight this year. Who knows what else might have been damaged if I had kept it up? He wondered.

Trevor looked around again and decided there should be enough space. The sculptor had shut the door behind him so the sound shouldn’t upset the horses. Stepping into the center aisle he looked up, noting the ceiling height and where the lights were. He should have plenty of clearance. 

“This is probably a bad idea,” he said with a huge grin and started in.

--- 

The email from his assistant, Andrei, popped up on his screen and Vlad clicked it. The chancellor was chirping on the handsfree about the plans for the 160th anniversary of the formation of Romania. Frankly Vlad was grateful for the distraction.

Sir, there was a minor security issue with the horses and Lady Tepes… 

Vlad picked up the phone. “Gregory, my apologies. I need a moment, please hold.” 

He muted and gave his full attention to the email. It wasn’t urgent or Andrei would have come into the room. All of his staff knew he was to be interrupted for any pressing matter with his family.

He started to read the message.

Approximately 15:00 hours Trevor Belmont exited the limo alone and approached the horses, who were headed to the southern pasture for their evening ride. He selected Luna and rode her bareback into the gardens.

Vlad’s eyebrows rose. 

That would take considerable skill and… wait, didn’t Dominic mention something about rodeos for the boy? He’d have to ask Trevor. Mindful of the waiting chancellor, he continued to read.

Security was considering intervening at that point, and then Lady Tepes exited her office with the dogs. Due to the standing instructions not to disturb her unless there was a clear and present danger, Daniel observed only. Belmont lept the garden walls with Luna and unfortunately selected a path that led him to encounter Lady Tepes under the dogwood arch.

Vlad inhaled sharply. Had Lisa been…?

The dogs frightened Luna, who threw Belmont. Luna is unharmed, as is Lady Tepes, and the dogs. Belmont was seen standing and walking away so it is assumed he is unharmed as well.

The elder Tepes relaxed minutely. So no lasting damage, he thought.  Still, this was utterly reckless and foolish; it smacked of poor self control. He frowned. Neither Dominic or Penelope had been rash people.

Lady Tepes texted to instruct the team to leave Belmont to his devices, however, the security cameras have picked him up in the stables apparently practicing with a weapon. Daniel was concerned and asked that I confirm with you that this is acceptable to allow to continue.

Vlad grimaced. Lisa would not be pleased if he overrode her instructions. But why was Belmont wandering around with a weapon on their property? That in itself was suspect and Vlad’s concerns about associating with the man came to full bloom. 

There was a small video clip attached and he opened it. After a moment he started to laugh, impressed and amused. Daniel, his head of security, was very cautious and sometimes it meant things like this happened. 

Trevor was whip cracking--something that Vlad now recalled Dominic mentioning to him in passing. He remembered his friend remarking with great pride that the boy was incredibly talented. Apparently Trevor had kept up with it; something that had not come up in the occasional updates.

Vlad unmuted the chancellor, offered his apologies and typed a quick response back. Belmont is practicing whip cracking, not attack strategies; leave him be.  His finger hovered over the send key and he added another couple lines.  

Please inform the riders that he is in there when they arrive for the afternoon exercise. They need to knock so no one gets hurt.

As the chancellor continued to wax poetic on the anniversary plans, Vlad allowed his mind to wander. What else had Trevor been up to? There’d been the rodeo activities--he seemed to recollect some kind of horse jumping…

No, barrel racing, that’s what it was, he recalled. If he was remembering correctly, there had been rugby, martial arts and fencing at one point. 

Sculpture had been a big part of Trevor’s life and still was apparently. Lisa had mentioned that he was a sculptor a couple of weeks back and her husband assumed that was what he was doing at the art college. 

Vlad shook his head, remembering Dominic and Penelope lamenting it. He recalled that the boy didn’t paint and how unhappy his parents had been about that. Tepes had related to it whole-heartedly. Adrian was rarely so uncompromising about something that it had been a shock when painting was one of them. 

The Belmonts had congratulated him on Adrian’s achievements as a painter, professing an admiration of his son’s technique and style. When Vlad had explained that was what his son wanted instead of the family business, they’d understood immediately. Apparently young Belmont hadn’t been interested in his family’s empire either.

It wasn’t that Vlad didn’t think Adrian was talented or that he shouldn’t paint. He thought his son’s work was interesting, he was good at it, and it made him happy. Vlad didn’t always understand it but he was proud of it.

But it was something someone of Adrian’s status did as a hobby, not as their profession. His son wanted this as a career, instead of the affluence he was born into. It still boggled the elder Tepes’ mind, and he took it as a sign of childish rebellion. 

One of many, Vlad thought with annoyance.

What he and Lisa did was real work. They were constantly on call, answerable to the public and a network of people. They put in long hours and sacrificed many things in the name of their positions. Adrian participated in that when he had to and quietly ignored the rest.

It was infuriating to Vlad. The disrespect to tradition, to responsibility, and to his family name was a tremendous thing to swallow. Fortunately, Lord Tepes adored his boy and thought the world of him. 

Adrian’s father thought that he had done a lot of work on accepting his son’s wishes and that the painter had no idea how hard it had been for his father to hold his tongue.

It would have shocked Vlad to know how keenly aware of his disappointment Adrian was and how much the blonde actually sacrificed in the name of his father’s wishes. The elder Tepes should have known--they had argued on this matter several times and more had slipped out than he ever intended. 

But he had no idea.

---

Sypha stretched against Adrian and smiled. Planting a soft kiss against his scar, she felt his breath in her hair and his gentle quake. He was so sensitive along the healed tissues and she loved it. 

I love you, she thought again, a shiver of her own as she thought of the magnetic command of his voice and the fierce intensity when he’d finally touched her. I don’t know what that was but it was incredible.  

It was like Adrian had sprouted a twin built entirely of self-confidence. His devotion had been overwhelming, but the assurance of it--his easy authority and comfortable control--that had been a revelation. 

She was used to her lover’s generosity but it was usually coupled with subservience. He liked to be guided and instructed. Today he’d held control from the moment he’d stepped into the hallway.

I suppose it shouldn’t be a surprise, really, she thought as she felt his fingertips trail down her spine. It was the same giving flavor he’d always had, just with assertiveness bolstering it. But whew, that confidence was hot as hell.

It had transformed Adrian’s tenderness into a potent eroticism. He had whipped her desire into a savage lust that had coated her from the inside out. Who would have thought all of us would turn out to be verse? she thought with a grin. It was a pleasant discovery and one that made her wonder if Trevor knew this about Adrian as well. 

There was a loud buzz and Adrian shifted. “That was my phone, love,” he murmured. “Just over the side, can you reach it?” Sypha wiggled against his body and his breath caught. He shifted alongside her, his semi aroused state meeting her wet, slippery one. Even through the fabric of his underwear it was a potent thrill to feel his desire.

They groaned together. 

“I guess it’s not that important,” he muttered and brought her mouth to his in a careful, sweet press.

There it was, she thought, that almost shy bounty of tenderness.  The confident authority had seemed to settle back from wherever it had emerged but she could still taste it in the planes of his hips. 

Sypha sighed against his mouth and felt her heart flutter. There was no one else on the planet who kissed her like this. Every time their lips met it was like she was born anew under his mouth.

Gently she rolled her hips in time with the slip of his tongue, and his hands drifted to her ass. “God you feel amazing,” he ground out, voice tight, “but…”

“Give me a minute,” she said sassily, “I’m not done with you, Tepes.” His eyes were amused but she felt him angle his hips towards her.

“Atta boy,” she said and widened her legs. There was a loud chime from the other room and Sypha paused. 

“That was my phone,” she said, feeling slight curiosity. Adrian’s phone buzzed again.

“What the…?” Adrian said. She saw it in his eyes at the same moment that she understood. 

“Trevor!” they said together and dove for their phones. She came back to the door holding hers in time to see Adrian finish reading. 

He laughed. “Oh he’s discovered the stables! I didn’t know he rode; that is a wonderful idea!”

“He’s riding?” she asked and opened her phone. The idea had distinct appeal. Sypha had ridden in her younger years, only a couple of times, but had enjoyed the massive black mount Vlad had assigned to her the first time that she’d visited. Since she rode virtually every time she visited, Sypha felt fairly confident in the saddle these days.

“Yes, we should--” Adrian said, as he started to text back. There was a loud knock at the door to his suites and they both froze.

“Get in the shower!” she yelped and dove for his robe.

“You can’t answer the door in that, it’s monogrammed!” he hissed and shoved her toward the bathroom. “You get in the shower, you need it anyway!”

“Just a moment!” he called out and almost fell over as he yanked his pants on. He started toward the door.

“Adrian.” Sypha was laughing now, "If you thought the robe was a problem, try going out there semi-hard sweetheart.” She picked up his crumpled black shirt and tossed it to him. He wrenched it on, letting the tails fall to his thighs instead of tucking them in.

“There, now Adrian Tepes isn’t answering the door like Conan the Barbarian,” the redhead quipped as she started across the hall to the shower.

Adrian snorted, “Conan is actually built,” he muttered, working on his buttons.

“Oh baby, Conan wishes he had your ass,” Sypha stage-whispered back as she quietly shut the bathroom door. He heard the shower start and took a deep breath.

Think unsexy thoughts.

Composing his face, he opened the door. One of the security detail was waiting for him and smiled politely. “Apologies for the interruption, Master Tepes.”

“Not a worry. I was just discussing the evening plans with Ms. Belnades.” Adrian smiled gently.

“Excellent sir, that was actually why I am here. Lady Tepes informed us that the family may attend a showing this weekend, and both clothing and security would be needed.” The man’s face was polite inquiry. “I would like to inquire if a decision has been made in regard to that so that preparations can commence.”

Shit, of course, Adrian thought with dismay, realizing he’d backed himself into a corner on this one. I already said we discussed it.

“We had narrowed down the choices somewhat, but I have not had the chance to consult with my other guest, Trevor. I will do that before finalizing the decision.”

“Of course sir,” the man nodded. “May I ask, were any of the choices for this evening? That would be the most pressing issue.”

It was completely fair. They might need to bring on extra security, Saint would need time to gather stock and come over, fittings, drivers, overtime...

Adrian hedged. “To be honest, we were so excited by the prospect that I neglected to check the dates. One moment.”

He went back to the pile and saw the Anish Kapoor invite. The date was for this evening. Trevor, he thought immediately and turned back to place the invitation in the man’s hand. “This is highly likely, and it is for this evening, at the Wygol.”

He was silently grateful it was at the Wygol. His family were high profile patrons there and they would have no issue with granting access to security or otherwise assisting with the press. They’d done so several times in the past. Efficiently, they agreed to a fitting with Saint for Trevor and Sypha, moved dessert to coincide with the nightcap to allow time for the stylists and concurred that two separate vehicles would be taken to allow Trevor and Sypha to bypass the press if they so wished.

When the painter closed the door and took a breath, he offered a tiny wish to the universe that Trevor would be as excited by this as he was counting on, because it was now in the works.

---

When the artist rose that evening, she smiled. The conquest from the night before had meant she slept soundly and happily. His pleas had been so very sweet and she relished the memory as traced her fingers over the stiff, brown stains on her sheets. She could swear she could still smell the fear in his sweat and desperation in the dried blood under the pads of her fingers.

The handcuffs hung on the metal bedposts, matching brown stains dried in flaking crusts. She’d had the insides of the cuffs sharpened and the bed frame reinforced around the same time she’d soundproofed the room.

It was becoming harder, she reflected, to find conquests. She was banned from several BDSM clubs and escort services. But there is always some mindless dick who’ll follow a pair of tits home, she reflected.

None of them had ever turned the drink down, and she would give them a little something to stay compliant. They always thought she was playing Fifty Shades of Grey when she put the leg cuffs on. Some got a little worried when she’d put the gag in. But usually the panic didn’t start until they flexed against the handcuffs and cut themselves on the sharpened edges.

Masculinity was both her bane and her fortune. In this instance, it worked for her. Most of her conquests were too ashamed to do anything but avoid her when it was over. She would throw them some money, tell them to get out, and never hear from them again.

Every once in a while there would be a complaint, but she was very good at tears, she was delicate, and she was pretty. No one ever believed the men. Still, she found herself slowly but surely banned from the usual haunts and it was vexing.

Tonight though, tonight she would be in her element. She had her eye on bagging a private audience with the featured artist and she was very confident. Their work spoke to her on a primal level and their attitude begged to be cut down.

Their slick, bloody sculptures; the massive, sexually violent ram that had been forced through the archways, leaving bloody streaks and scrapes on each doorframe as it progressed--it was inspired and it spoke to the inherent violence of masculinity.

She never would have guessed the Wygol would have it in them to feature Anish Kapoor but she would use it to her benefit.

Tonight she hunted.

---

Shattered goal fills his soul with a ruthless cry

Stranger now are his eyes to this mystery

Hears the silence so loud

Crack of dawn, all is gone except the will to be

Now they see what will be, blinded eyes to see

For whom the bell tolls

Time marches on

-"For Whom The Bell Tolls," Metallica

 

 

 

 

 

Notes:

Prepare for an arrival and a show down. But will it be who you think?
---
There was a comment several chapters back asking if we would see Trevor with his whip. 🥰 I hope it was worth the wait! There will be a little bit more of it yet!
---
I remembered to update the playlist!
---
Pictures: Pexals- "David" from Keegan Everitt, "Vlad" from cottonbro.
Whip from Lazy Goat Workshop (leatherworkers).