A Dream of Scandal (1/1)
Author: Bosie bosiedouglas@Yahoo.com
Date: April 5,2000.
Rating: Nc-17
Archive: Please, anyone who wants them, by all means
archive
Summary: A bit of AU cheated through by a dream
sequence (isn’t that overused) where Frank Churchill
from Emma and Curt Wild from Velvet Goldmine get it
on.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Frank Churchill. I suppose
Jane Austen has to take claim for that. I don’t own
his wig either (thank god!). I don’t own Curt Wild
(now this DOES piss me off). I don’t own Brian Slade
(Bosie pounds his fist in frustration). I don’t own
anything really but this cheesy dream sequence.
Warnings: Frank Churchill’s wig IS really bad.
Pairing: Frank Churchill/Curt Wild and Brian Slade
(but Brian doesn’t get any sex)
Author's Notes: I only wrote this for comic effect.
This is, in no way, meant to be taken seriously. I
just thought Mr. Churchill would be funny with Curt
Wild
Feedback: Oh yes. You know where to find me.
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A Dream of Scandal
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*The Inspiration*
Brian lay idly on the sofa lazily sipping a glass of
wine. “I thought it was a fantastic movie. Funny.
Witty. Romantic.”
Curt meanwhile propped up against the foot of the
couch wrinkled his nose, “I thought it sucked.”
Brian nudged Curt’s head wth his foot, “Ok. It was
terrible. But wasn’t Frank Churchill cute?”
Curt looked up at him incredulously, “The guy with the
fuzzy red hair and top hat? “
Brian sighed, “his hair was really bad, I admit. I
like him though. He reminds me of someone. I can’t
place it though. Hmmm…”
While Brian pondered this thought as Curt bounded away
to fetch a beer. When he came back Brian was still
loudly humming muttering, “I wonder” occasionally.
Curt watched him hoping he would stop soon, Hey Bri,
if you’re that curious, watch the credits. The name
could remind you of something.”
Brian grinned at Curt as if the idea had been so
intensely brilliant, and he leapt off the couch
playing the movie again at the credits rewinding it a
bit. “AHA! It’s called an Ewan McGregor!”
Curt’s eyes widened, “Is that that guy from Shallow
Grave? Alex?” Brian nodded blankly. Curt remembered
this distinctly as the man had made such an impression
on him resulting in a few nights pleasant dreaming.
The big blue eyes, the hair, and that really revealing
pair of white boxer shorts. “I do like that guy.”
Brian grinned triumphantly, “Told you so. I’d drop you
at the drop of a hat if he walked in through the
door.” He nudged Curt playfully.
Curt grumbled something about Brian being a brat as
they went to bed, to actually sleep. A rarity for them
since Brian had been in high spirits. Curt’s eyes were
heavy, and he fell deep into sleep.
*A Very Strange Dream*
Curt woke up in a strange bed by a window, which
allowed the scent of cherry blossoms to ride on the
rosy morning light into the bedroom reflecting on the
war, wedding ring quilt covering him. The room was
filled with antiquities of all varieties and sorts
from an age long passed. A silver tea service lay on a
nearby table with a small vase of daffodils nearby on
a snowflake doily.
He stood up finding himself wearing a long dressing
gown. Curt wandered through the room his hands passing
over the strange items. He heard the white door open
as a large maid bustled armed with an armload of clean
towels that maids seem always to have at hand. “Why
good morning sir. I see you are up and well. Master
Churchill wishes to see you immediately.”
She set down the towels near the tea service and bent
her rump in the air searching for a pair of slippers
under the desk. She emerged handing him a pair of
burgundy satin coverings, and grandiosely flinging a
matching robe into his face. “Ah ha! Put these on
please sir.”
She threw the slippers onto the floor taking Curt of
balance as she grabbed his ankles forcing them into
the slippers sweeping up tearing the robe from his
hands circling it around his shoulders, violently
pulling them over his arms, and tying it far too
tight. She took up a silver brush threateningly and
began to harshly brush his hair as she complimented
it. “Such nice, pretty long hair sir. We’ll tie it
back in a red ribbon, and it’ll be so nice.” He
remained strangely silent through the process trying
to confirm whether or not it was a dream, since he
knew quite well, that he was a very vivid dreamer.
This was confirmed later as she drug him quickly down
the hall by his hand when a servant made an impressive
exit through a wall without use of a secret passage.
*Meeting Frank*
If Curt had been wide-eyed in the splendor if the
house, he was more so at the garden of pomp and
magnificence. The flowers grew in, muted, but rich
cream colors in the misty morning light. The air was
sharp, clean, and biting. Ivy green scaled the red
bricks, and tumbled down the rose-filled trellises. A
small pond in the center made ripples and he could
just barely see a lake further in a field of verdant
grass.
A man bounded up to Curt stopping bowing slightly,
“Good morning to you dear fellow. You’re ever so
lucky we found you.”
The man’s voice was soft, and quite obviously was very
cultured. He most likely had gone to all the best
schools and academies, studied classics, dead
languages, and history. He was dressed in the absolute
height of fashion. So in fashion was he, that he
bordered on absurdity. He wore a blue checkered vest,
pocket watch, chain, and silver fob, His cream suit
matched his gloves and shoes, and atop a mane of
crayola red hair sat a silver, beaver skin top hat. A
tall white rubberneck came up to his ears and was
circled by a blue tie.
Curt restrained laughter, “Hi.”
Frank blinked and raised an eyebrow at him, “So tell
me my strange visitor, what is your name?”
“Curt Wild.”
“Really? That is rather unusual. Do you come from the
Americas? You do bear a slight resemblance to the
Farwell family over there. Are they relatives
perhaps?”
“No.”
Frank sounded on the verge of laughter, “Well really,
I’m quite relieved to hear. They have become a subject
of great disrepute since the youngest daughter married
a young cockney in the entertainment business. Really,
it was all the scandal. I’m so glad you’re not
associated with them. I hear, and I heard this from
Mrs. Galway, that he was a comedic singer who dressed
as a woman to perform. My goodness. Now isn’t that
dreadful for them?” Suddenly he spun about harshly as
if through some great centrifugal force, “Are you a
man of good fortune?”
Curt said, “Oh yeah man. I have lots of money.”
Frank wondered at Curt’s wording and manner, “Then you
are new money. I see. What is it that you do for a
fortune?”
“I’m a rockstar.”
Frank’s eyes widened, “A what?”
“A rockstar.”
“Oh. I see.” Frank kept his ignorance silent to save
face. He could only guess that a rockstar was perhaps
a name for the foreman of a mining operation in
America. “Do you remember at all Mr. Wild, or may I
call you Curt? How you cam to be stripped half-naked
in the woods where my wife and I found you?”
Curt looked, once again, blank and Curt-like. “No man.
I just woke up here. I was half-buff in the wood?”
Frank nodded, “You were dressed in nothing but some
very unusual leather pants in the rainstorm last night
when my wife and I cam upon you in the forest.”
*Forest Fantasies*
Frank remembered it well. His wife and him had been
discussing the behavior of Mrs. Gibson’s oldest
daughter with a soldier when she spotted the heap by
the bas of an oak-tree. She cried out for the carriage
to stop.
Frank had left the vehicle to investigate. A beautiful
young man with smooth, pale flesh pulled over graceful
muscles and long blonde hair was thrown over the roots
of the tree dressed in nothing but a pair of pants,
black, of leather which stretched like a second-skin
over the fine muscles of his body and his masculine
bulge. He remembered the hot shiver that raced through
his body as his eyes grazed ver the vision and how
shaky his hand was as he stroked his face to wake him
from his slumber. He could see the figure breathing as
he gazed at the smooth chest covered in raindrops from
the warm summer storm.
He asked the carriage man to help him put the
beautiful man inside the carriage. He suddenly wished
his wife were not there. He adored good gossip, but he
only wanted to contemplate the man in silence despite
how many walks Annie Gibson had taken with that
soldier.
He looked at Curt finding his fascination had grown
deeper when he heard his voice. He felt his throat go
dry as he looked over seeing those blue eyes bore into
his. “You are lost then Curt. Stay with me as long as
you need. I want to be friends.”
*The Friendship*
The friendship of the two grew more intense. When
Frank introduced Curt to people, he would tell them he
was an exotic foreigner, the errant son of a great
prince. Curt grew to forget that this was a dreamworld
despite the fact that all things turned out as he
wished.
Frank taught him customs, bought him clothes, taught
him archery, and all the other gentlemanly sports.
Late at night they would walk by the lake in the
field. Curt, now knowing al the people of the town
could match Frank’s ability for entertaining gossip.
He would hold Curt’s head in his lap playing with his
hair as they talked and the night sky suddenly blazed
in fury with a shower of meteors. They sang in twin
voices with their identical pairs of hands entwined
together under the moon.
Frank had never felt such love for another being in
his life. His companion was very close to him, but he
wanted him closer. He wanted Curt in his mouth,
against his flesh, and in his body. It was a crime
though, far too secret. No one could ever know. Not
even Curt who seemed on the verge of committing the
same crime himself.
*New Borders*
It was another night like the one before. He had found
Curt down in the kitchen sitting at the counter. He
was dressed as he had been in that forest with nothing
but the strange pants on. He went to him and asked him
to walk. Curt put his hand in Frank’s who was quite
pleasantly surprised and tightened his hand around it
walking closer to his side in the moonlight. When they
had walked a long way, frank broke the peaceful
silence with words. “Shall we rest now Curt?”
“Okay man.” Curt mumbled leaning his head on Frank’s
shoulder, “Dude, what’s wrong? You seem really tense.”
“I was just thinking about my marriage Curt.”
“What about it?”
‘That I perhaps could have been happier longer a
bachelor."
“I never met a girl who I’d marry.”
Frank turned quite suddenly, “Curt, I’d marry you were
I a girl. I’d be your lover if I were not a man.”
Curt grinned devilishly, “Why only if you were a girl?
Why not now?”
Frank felt his body go hot and his heart skip at those
words, “Curt, I don’t pretend to know where you’re
from. I may say you were crazy were it not so obvious
you are more foreign than anyone I have ever met.
Where you’re from, do men love eachother as they do
women? I mean, do they become lovers?”
Curt smiled again, “Men do it now. They wouldn’t tell
ya though. They do it where I’m from/ lots of people
don’t like it, but we do it anyway.”
Frank looked down pulling of his hat; “It’s a crime by
law in this place. But Curt?”
“Yeah?”
“I want to know what it is like to hold a man like a
lover, to kiss him, and to…to…”
“Fuck him?”
Frank gasped, “What!?”
Curt laughed, “Ok. I mean…make love to him.”
Frank sighed his last laughs, “well…yeah.” He stared
at Curt’s hands in his own feeling his breath on his
ear. “Show me Curt.”
Curt grumbled, “Show you what?” moving his body closer
to frank.
“Make love to me Curt, please?”
“Wouldn’t it be a terrible scandal?”
“I don’t care Curt. Want you.”
Curt moved his away from his shoulder and stood up in
the moonlight pulling away his clothing exposing his
body to Frank with his shoes, sock, then his pants. He
glowed with the darkness caressing the hollows of his
body and silver touching the raised muscles, which
rippled gently under his skin.
Frank began to get misty despite his tries to hide it,
‘You’re so beautiful I could cry.”
Curt walked to him kneeling to kiss him. Their lips
met reducing Frank to one warm shiver from his spine
to his thighs and cock. When he felt Curt’s tongue
poke against his, his mind disappeared into a hot,
dizzy fog and his lust and love were the only
functioning portions of his mind left.
He pulled and pushed Curt onto the grass beneath him
and devoured his chest with his mouth sucking hard at
his nipple hearing Curt moan. His hands ran over the
smooth flesh savagely as his mouth traveled to Curt’s
engorged maleness, which he took hungrily into his
mouth making Curt’s hips leap into the air. Frank,
realizing the need to more gentle covered his teeth
with his lips and begin to suck gently at it licking
and blowing feeling Curt’s hips begin to thrust hard
into his throat challenging him. He managed to handle
it when Curt pulled him away panting; “I’m going to
make love to you now.”
Curt began to pull at frank’s more complicated attire
finally undressing him, ‘Lie down” he whispered
flickering his tongue over his ear and caressing his
chest. Frank lay down felling the cool blade of grass
on his fevered skin. He felt the identical hands move
up and down his inner thigh and suddenly lifting them
both upward. Instinctively he wrapped his legs around
Curt’s back and leaned forward to kiss him. He
whispered, “It hurts at first, but it’s all worth it.
I promise.”
Frank nodded softly and he felt Curt’s cock push at
his ass and groaned. The pain was there at the first
entrance, but it was a sweet pain that echoed in his
own cock and shivered through his legs and chest. He
begged Curt to go deeper as his back arched and each
time Curt dove deeper until all was bliss as he
pounded harder inside of him. Frank felt Curt’s strong
hand wrap around hi cock and began to pump. He pushed
his pelvis high up into Curt’s hand and hard down onto
his cock. His mind blacked out but red and blue
lighting strikes cracked behind his eyes as he came
into Curt’s palm and felt the warmth of Curt’s
explosion deep inside. He collapsed onto frank’s
panting body as the legs slid off his bath.
“I love you” whispered Frank awakening in his room. He
decided then to run away, and go to France under a
different name. He could imagine the gossip then.
The End
