Log in

No account? Create an account

Previous Entry | Next Entry

"The Amazing Callipygian Man"

FIC: "The Amazing Callipygian Man"
SERIES: "The Strange Case of Alfred Borden"
AUTHOR: mistressmarilyn
DATE: August 16, 2008
FANDOM: The Prestige
PAIRING: Alfred / Alfred (Christian Bale)
WARNINGS: Slash and incest
DISCLAIMER: I don't own 'em. They're characters belonging to Christopher Priest, Christopher Nolan and Warner Brothers, not to mention the respective actors of the movie, and to the ages. This is a work of a fan, done for no remuneration save the satisfaction of the work.
NOTES: 'Callipygian' was the A.Word.A.Day for July 10, meaning "having well-shaped buttocks."

"What does this writer mean by describing Olivia as a 'callipygian beauty'?" asked Alfred Borden, pronouncing the word with a hard 'g' and at least one missing syllable. He was enjoying a glass of Irish whiskey and reading a review of the stage performance of one of London's most famous prestidigitators, The Professor, which would hardly be complete without a description of the magician's lovely assistant. Since Borden himself was The Professor and Olivia was his mistress, he had more than a casual interest in this particular issue of the newspaper.

"'Callipygian' is a word taken from a Greek goddess, I believe," said the engineer, Fallon. "It refers to Aphrodite and her beautiful buttocks."

Borden nearly choked on a swallow of whiskey. "Her what? Did you say her buttocks?"

Fallon nodded, sitting down at the dressing table and pulling at his face, dislodging and removing the prosthetic overbite. "Yes," was his muffled reply.

"Her ass? Is that really what this means?"

"Yes, Alfred. It means she has a particularly well-shaped backside." He pulled the wadding out of his cheeks and smiled to himself in the mirror.

"Well, I'll be goddamned. How can they write something like that in a reputable paper? If her skirt was too short, they'd shut us down. But here this bloke can get away with drooling over her ass in print for the whole world to read!"

Fallon's face was fading away and a familiar one was taking shape. He cocked his head toward the wall of birdcages and winked. "They could use some lining, if you're finished reading that."

"Not quite," said Borden. "I didn't read the part about that 'elegant educator of legerdemain' yet."

Two bushy side-whiskers now lay on the dressing table beside the other missing pieces of Fallon's features. A second Alfred Borden stood up and started removing the padded clothing of the engineer, which he neatly set aside on a trunk. Finally, stripped to his underdrawers, he splashed water on his face and grinned over at his twin brother.

"You know, if there's anyone on stage today who deserves the title, 'Callipygian,' it's none other than The Great Danton. With the trousers that fellow wears, you can make out both shapely cheeks. You can practically see his crack!"

"That bloody bastard," Borden spat. "He's an ass, all right, with or without his fancy pants."

"Are you going to get dressed?" Alfred asked, gesturing to the makeup table. It was time for his brother to take his place as their alter ego, Fallon.

"No, not yet," Borden said, shaking his head. "I thought we could have just a little time together first."

The twins stood staring for a moment, enjoying the rare sight of one another's matching miens. "Come here," Borden said, pulling at his nearly-naked brother. "It's been too long since I had a chance to squeeze those cheeks."

Alfred acquiesced, moving into his brother's arms. "That feels nice," he said, as he was tightly hugged. "It has been a while."

"We shouldn't let our women stop us from being together," Borden lectured, breathing the warm smell of alcohol in his brother's face. "This will always be the most important relationship we have."

"Funny, I don't think of us as two people most of the time," Alfred said, his eyes suddenly far away. "Sometimes I think I hear your thoughts, even when Fallon's not around."

"Well, I don't hear yours," his brother said, "not if you're mooning over Angier's moons, that is. When did you ever notice that son-of-a-bitch's ass? Maybe you spent a little too much time doing that drag in jail as a boy. You've gone a bit over, have you?"

Alfred laughed, pulling away. "Me? Who started all this, anyway? I think you were the one who wanted to start sleeping together but never wanted to go to sleep ... And just because I wasn't as good a palmer and ended up getting caught, you can't blame me if did a few things to survive in jail without getting my face rearranged. That wouldn't have served our secret, would it?"

"Shhh." Borden quieted his brother with a kiss, then said, "I don't give a damn if you've frigged a few boys, Brother, as long as you don't go near Angier. I'd rather cut your cock off than have him touch it."

"He hates us because of that damnable knot, you know," Alfred said quietly, referring to the rope tied around the wrists of Robert Angier's wife, a knot she evidently couldn't slip during a disastrous magic trick. After she drowned, Angier had blamed Borden and begun a lifetime of malignant obsession.

"He hates Alfred Borden because he's a better magician," said Borden matter-of-factly. "Julia didn't mind experimenting, I can tell you that. If anyone was to blame, it was her."

"Let's drop the subject," Alfred said with a sigh. "It doesn't leave me in a mood for love-making."

"Then try a drink, instead," said the already-imbibing brother. "You could do with a glass or two." Borden grabbed the bottle and poured them both a healthy dose. "I'll tell you what, Alfred. If you're so intent on having a go at Angier's ass, I can get him for you. Fallon can tie him up, and you can bugger him."

Alfred could feel the heat from his brother's hand, which lay lightly on his arm. The uncanny connection between them warned him that there was more to his twin's offer than the casual suggestion of a sexual assault on Angier. The intense hatred of 'The Great Danton' came partly from guilt, Alfred believed, and partly from the fact that Angier's attacks on Alfred Borden had always victimized the less volatile twin. His brother wanted to protect him, and now, it seemed, to indulge him.

He swallowed, wishing the idea didn't appeal to him. But he could picture Angier's tall, lithe form, the voluptuous curve of his buttocks belying the rigid, dignified posture; and without warning his body began to respond to the image, a fact not lost on his twin.

Borden reached down and touched his brother's offending organ. "You love the thought of it, don't you?" he said, rubbing firmly through Alfred's underwear. "You'd like to fuck Angier silly, until he's forced to disguise himself in a skirt the next time he comes to spy on our show."

"No," Alfred whispered, his eyes closing. "I just want to lie with you, the way we used to."

"Then skinny out of those underdrawers and come to bed. I'll try to make you forget The Great Danton and his callipygian arse."

As his brother's lips pressed against his mouth and strong hand enclosed his alert member, Alfred didn't even try to correct his poor pronunciation or the unnecessary redundancy of his description. He would not let himself think of their comely enemy while he lay in the arms of the one person he knew he couldn't live without. And when he was propped up on his face so his brother could find better purchase for his own possession, would he imagine the plump pillow beneath him readied for his assault on its silken threads as the swollen buttocks of Robert Angier?

Absolutely ... not.

~The End~



Nov. 19th, 2008 09:39 am (UTC)
Thanks so much!

Latest Month

April 2009

Are you watching closely?


Powered by LiveJournal.com
Designed by Jamison Wieser