Double Trouble (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
oohforeshadowing) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
wondrousplace2023-03-22 07:25 pm
oohforeshadowing) wrote in wondrousplace2023-03-22 07:25 pm
olden times for Tommy
The great country pile isn't their speed, really.
Double had their lovely house in London, bought and paid for by their adoptive father - a High Fae of some high regard, who'd been fretting about their lands and accounts falling into strangers' hands when he passed on. It was a heartrending story, of course, and Double was...well, positively delighted to be anything the old man wanted them to be. For the right price.
Shapeshifters have long since had a bad reputation for sliding into the upper echelons this way. They hadn't been in penury to begin with, by any means, but 'lovely house in London' money and 'vast estates with mining wealth and hundreds of rate-paying tenants' money is not the same by some order of magnitude.
The old man died peacefully in his bed, well over a century old, and left the manor house and everything that went with it to their sole heir. Who is going to sell it all, eventually, but it feels tasteless not to even let their 'father's' body grow cold.
They move in after the last of their furniture has been transported, and lets the housekeeper give them the tour. They cut quite the figure: long blond hair pinned up in curls, a jacket and blouse tailored tightly to a corseted waist, the snug high-waisted breeches favoured by most males. Their tail is the most exposed part of them and the woman they're following keeps eyeing it like she's not sure if it's obscene or not.
"...show you the stables, your grace," she says, as she walks ahead to the outbuildings.
"Ah. I suppose we ought."
Double had their lovely house in London, bought and paid for by their adoptive father - a High Fae of some high regard, who'd been fretting about their lands and accounts falling into strangers' hands when he passed on. It was a heartrending story, of course, and Double was...well, positively delighted to be anything the old man wanted them to be. For the right price.
Shapeshifters have long since had a bad reputation for sliding into the upper echelons this way. They hadn't been in penury to begin with, by any means, but 'lovely house in London' money and 'vast estates with mining wealth and hundreds of rate-paying tenants' money is not the same by some order of magnitude.
The old man died peacefully in his bed, well over a century old, and left the manor house and everything that went with it to their sole heir. Who is going to sell it all, eventually, but it feels tasteless not to even let their 'father's' body grow cold.
They move in after the last of their furniture has been transported, and lets the housekeeper give them the tour. They cut quite the figure: long blond hair pinned up in curls, a jacket and blouse tailored tightly to a corseted waist, the snug high-waisted breeches favoured by most males. Their tail is the most exposed part of them and the woman they're following keeps eyeing it like she's not sure if it's obscene or not.
"...show you the stables, your grace," she says, as she walks ahead to the outbuildings.
"Ah. I suppose we ought."
no subject
"Did you really? Trick him? Or was it just - you were there, at a moment when he needed an heir?"
Not that he cares either way, but he's curious.
no subject
"...I may have nodded and smiled and bitten my tongue a few times rather than start an argument, when I could see it would lose me a fortune to be disagreeable," they admit. "But I'd still say it was more the latter than the former."
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"I know the Fae look down on you for that. They pride themselves on just being..." He shrugs, looks for the word.
"Rich. It's unseemly to even talk about where any of your money or property comes from, as if it all came falling out of the sky one day. You found a way to get something, good. Did your parents leave you enough to live off, did you need the inheritance?"
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"I was comfortable," they say. "I would have managed for a while without concerns. But my father had gambled a great deal of the family wealth and...lost, rather dramatically. The inheritance was lifelong security."
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"And now you're spending it on whips and saddles," he says with a laugh, rewarding them for their honesty by reaching out with one hand and touching their knee.
"I saw that you got it after I looked at it. Thank you."
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Double laughs, too, and kisses the back of Tommy's neck.
"If I'm going to be giving you bruises, darling, I ought to make sure you're sitting comfortably. And I really would like you to teach me how to ride."
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"I shall - you must learn, or you'll be stuck in the house. You need to run wild every now and then, don't you?"
This shouldn't be so comfortable and easy, but it is. He finds that he's not fighting it at all.
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"I don't know that I do," they say, thoughtfully. "But I think I'd like the opportunity."
They trace a random little pattern across his shoulders with a fingertip.
"You had the opposite of my experience, I suppose. From the city to the rolling hills and dales?"
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"From the hills to the city and back to the hills," he corrects. He's not so eager to talk about his own background, but they've been so open with him. He ought to return the favor, at least a little.
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"Ah. Where did you grow up? Before Birmingham."
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"I was very young when we settled, but before then - all over. My mother was gypsy, and took us around in a caravan when we were little. We rode with her clan."
There's something a little magical about gypsies, but it's definitely not the kind of magic that the elite approves of.
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Double perks up at this new fact.
"Really. I was told stories when I was young. Bands of travelers, driven from place to place because they were the only humans who could call on the spirits for their magic."
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He smiles wistfully and closes his eyes again. It's easier to talk about this when he's not looking for their reaction.
"They weren't the only ones, but certainly part of that singular group. What other stories were you told, Your Grace?"
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"Oh, I'm sure it was all manner of nonsense," they murmur. "There's some debate about who first broke the barrier between the human world and the Old Realms - my people or yours. Not that we've any reason to believe a human ever set foot in the Old Realms."
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"I've never heard any credible stories about that. But the stories I hear may have been biased."
Him being human, and all.
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"Oh, likewise. Even the written histories can't be trusted, never mind all the gossip and hearsay that's sprung up in the centuries since."
They brush their fingertips across his backside, finding that the salve seems dry now, the tackiness gone.
"As much as I'm enjoying the view, shall we retire to bed?"
no subject
"Good idea. I've been eyeing it since we arrived."
It's big, the sheets look crisp and so clean, the pillows soft. He gets up, stretches, but before heading over to bed he pulls them in for a kiss.
no subject
They hum in satisfaction and lean into it, not just receptive but reciprocal. They've been playing a game, of course, and it was a great deal of fun, but in these moments their roles feel less defined. Right now it feels...almost romantic. Perhaps that's dangerous, albeit more for Thomas than themself.
They do a quick circuit of the room, extinguishing the lamps, before coming to join their companion under those warm quilted blankets.