Tongue stuck out in concentration, Alva drew a thin brush along his left eyelid, tracing a silver line, then repeated it with the right. He leaned back in the chair to study his handiwork in the mirror.
"Now I know why I played all these girl parts in the Academia!" he bragged. "Watch me paint myself into a woman anyone would bed! Me included!"
The Chevalier was already dolled out in a floor-length gown of azure silk, with satin insets, and made wide in the skirt to conceal certain bits of the anatomy. The dress color set off his red hair and green eyes beautifully, but the whole ensemble looked strange on a man, in Ithildin's view.
"Oh, stop ogling, you are making my hand shake," Alva pouted, doing his belle of the ball moue, and the elf looked away, embarrassed.
But Alva was not talking to him.
"Must you smirk?" Alva went on, to Kintaro sprawled on the bed. "You try putting on eyeliner when people keep staring at you."
"You've got your back to me, sweetling."
"Yes, and, in the mirror, I can see you strip me and shag me. With your eyes, I mean."
Kintaro howled in mirth, and nearly made Alva drop the brush.
"Who could possibly work under such pressure?" Alva pointed the accusatory brush at the barbarian. "Go take a walk, check out the surroundings. We'll call you when we are done."
"What, right now?" asked Kintaro casually. "I haven't had sex since morning, by the way. Why don't you blow me, before you've got lipstick on?"
"You ass!" Alva laughed and threw the first thing he got at Kintaro. The first thing he got happened to be a powder box, and Kintaro lazily took it out of the air an inch away from his head. Then he rose and stretched.
"White lady say, me do," he said sadly, mouth quivering with suppressed laughter. "Nobody wants my sweet lovin', so I go love de rack of lamb."
"Stop it, Kintaro, oh, too funny, you'll make me smear the eye paint," Lielle laughed and laughed behind a handkerchief. "Where did you learn to rape the Common Tongue?"
"That's how my warriors speak, they went to no monastery," Kintaro grinned. "I have to play my part too. You won't catch me holding forth like some Creedan troubadour."
He left, and Lielle returned to the task at hand.
Ithildin sat by his feet, and asked cautiously, "So why don't you wear something more ... neutral. Like what they'd wear in Trianess?"
"Oh, now you are in for a lecture on modern Creedan dress. You must have noticed that, sartorially speaking, there is not much difference between the sexes in Creede. If someone's got their back to you, and they have a longcoat on, you can't really guess if it's a man or a woman. Height or shoulder width might tip you off, I suppose. A little easier from the front, of course. I lost a bet like that once: the girl was flat and ungainly, rather, and I took her for a cute boy! Even hair length isn't anything to go by. You've seen Leitis and other women officers. I have a feeling crew cuts will be the all the rage in the capital quite soon. But there is one privilege reserved exclusively for women, and that's dresses. Exactly like this, old-fashioned, dating to the styles of King Tisannou's days, and he had been the founder of this dynasty. Bring out the femininity, you know. Ladies save them for balls, parties, major holidays ... Oh, it is too romantic – getting under all those skirts in a dark corner!" Here, Lielle closed his eyes, transported. "Our noblewomen think it their duty to dress this way when abroad. Especially in Arislan, where they are all bigots. One Trianess lady made a splash when she was received by the Khaleed – came with her bosoms quite bare. So it is incumbent upon me to present as a corrupt temptress of the North." Alva winked at Ithildin and started on plucking his eyebrows.
"So why so much make-up, then?" The elf nodded at the proliferation of pots and paints on the dressing-table. "I've seen Creedan courtiers with make-up on, but it did not make them effeminate."
"Diné, that's theatrical make-up, not decorative. Putting to good use the skills of my dissolute youth. To look like a woman, putting on a dress and smearing paint on your face is not enough. It is a fine art – touch up the eyes, change the eyebrows, lips, cheek-bones, jaw ... When I am done, you won't recognize me."
Ithildin pressed his face against Alva's knee and closed his eyes. It was lovely – to touch Lielle, to listen to his melodious voice that made Ithildin warm all over.
"See, me, I only wore women's dresses on stage, but never off it. But my friend Ozra, you know him, he just loves cross-dressing. Adorable as a woman, too. And if he just used it on men – when it comes to sex, few would say no to him ... not even the most uptight Arislani. Besides, precious little difference if you think about it. But Oz, the scoundrel, went after the ladies, can you imagine? So some lady-officer drags him into a hotel room, planning to have the pretty little piece every which way, and then finds out what the darling girl has got up her skirt!" Alva giggled. "But, anyway, women were quite forthcoming with him as well, if he is not lying about it. By the way, he and Weistle were very keen on you ..." he added.
Ithildin was surprised. He had somehow missed this bit.
"I told them that it took them three months with me, but you would take them no less than three years."
"I think you might be a tad off in your calculations, Lielle," said the elf with utmost seriousness. "Ozra and Weistle are so charming, it would not have taken them more than two and a half ..." he paused, but, finally could not suppress a snort, " ... centuries!"
Alva bit his lips and put on a mock frown.
"If you keep making me laugh, I'll send you off to love that rack of lamb, while Kintaro gives you some of his loving! Why don't you hand me that blue necklace over there. I think it came with some darling matching bracelets."
Ithildin, like the most able of chambermaids, fastened a wide sparkling necklace on Alva and helped him put on the bracelets and the earrings.
"Turn around a moment."
The fine elfin hearing caught the clink of bracelets, the rustle of brushed curls, the swish of silk, and the pop of opening perfume vials.
"Go ahead and look."
Ithildin turned around and froze.
Before him, erect of carriage, stood a splendid lady. Curls of burnished gold framed a narrow face set with bright green eyes. These eyes mesmerized, drew into their transparent depth. She breathed a delicate intoxicating fragrance. Ithildin looked at the long neck wrapped in ropes of gems, and burned to press his lips on it. And he proceeded to do exactly that, lifting the red-gold curls. The lady sighed deeply and threw back her head.
"Like it, I see," she purred.
Close up, very close, Ithildin saw her silvered lips and a pink earlobe hung with a long earring. Smooth fabric slithered underneath his hands, and then there was the hot body underneath ... the enveloping perfume rose from the cleavage and made his head swim ... The thick eyelashes weighed down by dark paint, the green and silver sparkles over the eyes, the delicate blush over the cheeks ... And those lips, moist and strawberry-sweet to a kiss ...
"What are you doing ... you'll smear it ... lipstick ... Diné..."
The little pots smashed to the floor. Something broke. Wispy silk slid beneath his fingers.
"Let me go ... not here ... Oh, Diné, not so hard, you'll bruise me ... Diné ... Ohhh, harder ..."
Within seconds, the freshly-minted Lady Aldis Alanys was perched on the frail dressing-table, back against the mirror, skirt raised up to her chest, legs in transparent stockings wrapped around her partner's hips and moaned, hand against her mouth, in time to his thrusts. But she had sufficiently kept her wits to think about wipes to save the dress from staining, pretty much as soon as they were done. Well, almost. Within ten minutes. Fifteen, tops.
"Dear God, Diné, I had no idea it would turn you on so much!" breathed Alva and let out a tiny delighted laugh, utterly content in his elf's embrace. Ithildin blushed and hid his face on Alva's shoulder. He could hardly understand what came over him, what brought on this wash of overpowering desire that enthralled him the moment he looked into Lielle's dancing made-up eyes.
"You look so much like a woman, I'd ask for your hand in marriage without hesitation. Well, looked like a woman," Ithildin corrected himself. It would have been hard to take Alva for a woman now, as he lolled disheveled in a dress pulled off his shoulder, make-up smeared, brazenly spreading his finely muscled long legs.
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Fanart for this very chapter by Talleran
I will say a couple or words about Ozra and Weistle (along with two cute pictures) later, after part 5.5., and now I just don't want to shift your attention away from this beautiful and sexy drawing.