Pt. 4: To Resist Temptations

The enchantment the young man, Steffan Kabala, had had on him was gone.

When he'd met him, Anton had looked upon his face and seen innocence, so Anton had given him shelter from the bad weather and whatever else might have been waiting out there. But he'd been fooled by a mirage set up by a deceptive mind. He saw that now.

"Master Prosper."

He looked over his shoulder at the man who was crossing the terrace toward him.

"You ask me to let you know when Mr. Kabala returned," the Chief Attendant said.

"He's back?" Anton said, not revealing with his voice what was on his mind.


Casting one last thoughtful look over the grounds, he went back into the Townhouse.

As the door to the bedroom slid aside Anton got it confirmed that the Attendant had been true; Steffan had returned, and in this very moment he was changing clothes. No, he corrected himself, Steffan was getting dressed; there was no other clothes lying around. For a moment, and then another one, Anton remained in the doorway watching the slim, golden figure standing by the bed, appreciation written in his eyes.

Hearing the door open Steffan turned around and was showing off his still bare torso, the shirt in his hand.

"Hello," the blonde said, looking a bit startled yet managed to smile at him.

"You're back," Anton said, not allowing himself to be taken in by the sweet smile that was aimed at him. "Does that mean you're staying?"

"Actually, no," Steffan replied, returning his attention to the shirt again. While he turned it over to see the front form the back Anton went up to him, taking the shirt from him as to help. But instead he reached up to caressingly touch the smooth golden skin of the man standing before him. Steffan followed the hand with his eyes, after which he turned back to stare at Anton.

"I'm afraid I cannot stay to play," Steffan said in a half playful, to hide his insecurity, kind of way. "But if the situation had been different…"

"Are you sure?" Anton put a whole range of implied intentions in his voice.

"Yes." Steffan snatched the shirt from Anton's grasp and stepped away from him. Glancing at his hands Anton could see that Steffan was fidgeting with the shirt, while he was fighting to keep his breath steady.

"Why so anxious?" Anton said, pushing a stray hair out of the blonde's face and over his shoulder. He felt Steffan tense and saw his lips part slightly, and a smile crept onto his face. His voice smooth as silk he went on: "I thought you said that you like me, so why are you shying away from me?"

Steffan stared at him dumbfounded; Anton remembered something he'd said six years earlier?

He stared into the green eyes that were staring back at him, and could see Steffan's wavering mind in them. He moved in to stand close to Steffan their faces almost touching. Anton reached to cup the other's chin while his thumb traced the soft bottom lip.

Blinking Steffan backed away. In just a short time his intentions had changed, hours before he'd thought to snare him – not for his riches but for the attraction - but after meeting the Attendant earlier that afternoon he had a new interest.

Steffan's eyes were downcast gazing still at the shirt, and Anton observed how the lowered lids so perfectly blended with the smoothness of the rest of the face, the lashes casting long shadows. Something about him had changed since they'd last talked, he seemed distracted for some reason.

Although he'd decided that he would not let this young, and very deceptive, man lure him with his false intentions, Anton was feeling cheated now when Steffan didn't show the same enthusiasm as he earlier had.

Steffan was, like many other times when he'd been thinking of things that one way or another involved his mother, torn. He'd been attracted to Anton, something that his mother probably would encourage – though not because he liked him but because Anton was very, very rich. And if she got to know that he'd let a chance like this go by… she wouldn't forgive him any time soon.

But then there was Vihtori. Steffan liked him. He made him forget completely about anybody else he might have been in love with. If there ever had been love...

Steffan groaned inwardly.

It'd never been this troublesome before. In any other situation he would have taken the chance when he got it, but now he was afraid that Vihtori would walk in on them and that he would misunderstand.

Anton watched him suspiciously. Through his mind raced the conversation between Steffan and his mother which he'd overheard. Was this maybe part of how he hauled the victims closer? First he shows interest for them, and then he appears to withdraw, triggering whatever feeling making them seek to regain his attention.

But he wouldn't be fooled by that.

His eyes was drawn to the torso, looking like a delicate golden sculpture, and found it very hard to look away. When he was finally able to look away, his eyes went back up to the face, and with his eyes caressing the full lips imagining their softness would they touch his own.

His lips caught Steffan's and he smiled as he felt their sweet taste. But he also felt Steffan tensing against him, though that notion fled his mind as soon as it had come. Capturing the other body in a tight embrace he backed the other man toward the bed, all till he could feel Steffan hitting its side. Then he pulled away and pushed Steffan down on the soft bedspread, the green eyes staring up at him with an explicit uncertainty in them.

Anton straddled him, one knee on either side of his hips, efficiently keeping the other man in place and leant over Steffan so that their faces were merely an inch apart. He captured Steffan's lips again, either not seeing or not caring about the obvious doubt Steffan was displaying.

Steffan lay staring up into the ceiling as the other was marking his territory by showering him with kisses, starting off by the neck but steadily working his way down the upper body. He'd dreamt about this moment, but instead of giving himself over to it and relish in Anton's kisses he thought of Vihtori – feeling his touch rather than Anton's.

This was wrong, he thought, not that he was thinking about Vihtori when being with Anton – or maybe that was a little wrong – but that he was with Anton when he was so obviously attracted to Vihtori.

He looked down at Anton, having reached solar plexus and merrily continuing, and took a deep breath. Then he reached down and lifted Anton's head, separating the man's lips from his belly, and as an effect to that stopped Anton's hand which had begun moved downward. Anton gazed at him confused.

"I can't do this," Steffan said, pushing Anton away so that he could rise from the bed. "I'm sorry."


It was Steffan's turn to give Anton a confused look.

"No?" he said.

"No." Anton repeated. "Ever since you got here you'd been playing with me, luring me into your little trap. Enough playing." Still straddling the young man he placed his hand firmly on Steffan's chest and roughly pushed him back down.

Recalling a situation from a not too far away past when he'd been approached in a forceful way, Steffan felt panic rising in him. But he urged himself to calm down, and as Anton lowered himself onto him Steffan drew his knee up and with a trained grace and accuracy he hit the groin of the man on top him.

Steffan could see the pain in the hazel eyes above him. Anton's whole face seemed to, if possible, grow even paler. He stiffened and then doubled over, and Steffan took the opportunity to push the other off of him and he rose from the bed. His eyes roaming the floor he found his abandoned shirt and the bag he'd dumped there earlier, he picked them both up and dashed across the room and out the door.