Author: Simply Kelp
Opera: Don Giovanni
Rating: pg13 (implied sex)
Summary: You tell yourself that you aren't affected by the way he whispers your name. Slash. [Don Giovanni]
Disclaimer: Seeing as I'm not dead, I'm probably not Mozart, or da Ponte... but, who knows?
A/N: I was looking for something else, and stumbled across this on my computer. I don't think it matters too terribly much, but I was picturing Samuel Ramey, and Ferruccio Furlanetto as Giovanni and Leporello, respectively. If you get the opportunity, watch the 1989 von Karajan version (with Ramey, and Furlanetto), it's the best I've seen, and their chemistry is absolutely amazing.
You tell yourself that you aren't affected by the way he whispers your name. That slow roll of the tongue that makes such a common thing sound so magnificent. The way he makes your name sound like a song-- how he makes everything sound like a song. You tell yourself that when he whispers insults into your ear in that round, rumbling voice, you don't think sinful thoughts.
You tell yourself that predatory glimmer in his cold, brown eyes means nothing when it's directed toward you. You don't feel the bottom of your stomach fall out, nor do you think about what it must feel like to have those long, white fingers caress your cheek. You're not naïve, and you're certainly not as stupid as he thinks you are.
You tell yourself that you don't feel jealous whenever he has a woman in his arms, and is whispering sweet nothings into her ear. You don't envy their complete abandon in the face of his seduction. You have certainly never thought of him trying to seduce you; certainly never thought of how willing you might be to the possibility.
You tell yourself that all of this means nothing, but you've been in his employ for so long that you've become an expert liar. If you were anyone else, you wouldn't believe a word of what you tell yourself.
Thanks for reading this; I hope you liked it. I would love to hear from you.