Ruby Collars



Thanks to Patricia for the beta

~ For Pira...


He is chuckling softly on the bed. His head is resting on the cream colored silk of the pillows, hand resting on a thigh, - not his own. Someone smaller, more lithe. A finely carved creature resting by him. His glittering emerald gaze is trailing a naked hip, smooth creamy skin partly covered in that deep red veil. Rich auburn - autumn's fire... The creature of cream and red rivers is turning a violet gaze to him, his full red lips are parted and moist, he can spot even teeth, a shivering breath escapes those lips, makes them tremble a little. The shrouded hazy lilac of his eyes are partly hooded by long lashes, deep brown, not black but close. His skin is so fair, the shadowed curves appears almost lavender, a soft bluish grey in the dim light. He lifts his fine boned hand now and takes Damian's. Turning it around, palm up, long, pale fingers are slightly curved when he presses his lips to it.

"It's almost time now," his soft voice fills the air.

" It is," Damian's richer, deeper one answers. Like brushed silk that voice. Draping itself around Nathaniel like a soothing veil. "You'll be back," he says, reassuringly.

" I know," Nathaniel touches the liquid rubies, the soft gleaming red of Damian's hair.

" All yours," Damian's voice is a low hum. Nathaniel's cheeks are blushing in pink and he drops his gaze, but he smiles.

"Really?" He whispers shyly.

" Really," Damian smiles as well. His lips are so red in the pale face. His alabaster skin looks hard, like polished stone. Nathaniel knows it's not. Damian's eyes looks almost obscenely alive in that marble face. Glittering like real faceted jewels in a deep, emerald green. He leans himself in to the vampire's chest, the preserved muscles and skin. It's almost weird though, that when he touches the dark red nipple with his finger, it contracts and becomes small and puckered. So sensitive that flesh. That immortal body, frozen in time. Faintly shining like mother of pearl in the darkness.

" I'll be back," Nathaniel says again.

" I know..."


I

The air was thick with the scent of blood and arousal. Human perspiration and body heat. The thundering beat from the speakers mingled with the lingering haze from the smoke machines. Reminded Damian slightly of the old theatres, the European scenes all those years ago. But the lights were brighter here. Currently flashing in white and blue as a rather naughty werewolf exposed his well muscled chest on the scene while rocking his leather-clad hips to the rhythm. Damian watched calmly while sipping at his wine, on the house of course, he was Jean-Claude's errand boy tonight, meeting up with some of his business associates. Nothing big, just show them a good, *safe* time and make them happy and positive to the vampire-run branch of the town's night-life and make them want to pour more money into it. Of course, Damian was not too thrilled about the task, but it sure beat being locked down like a dry mummy in a coffin or running around like a madman killing every human being that crossed his path... It felt good to be up and walking again. Good to finally be accepted by his true master.

Weird as it might be to belong to a human, living necromancer it still was a place to belong. He needed that. Sad but true. He was not a master, would never be a master, but he had ceased mourning that fact long ago...If there's one thing a long life teaches you, it's not to brood for long. He had his purpose now, his place to fill, and it was all good. He smiled at the grey-clad men by the table, lifted his wine glass with expected grace and a dramatic gesture that made the wide, flared arms of his black shirt dance and swirl in the air. A mesmerizing spectacle for the audience in front of him. He was a vampire...meant to act like one. Not to disappoint. He threw his head back and exposed his fangs slightly, his ruby colored hair spun in the air and settled over his shoulder, created a contrast to his pale, pale skin. Flawless. Perfect.

Jason stopped by, asked if they were enjoying themselves, no doubt at Jean-Claude's bidding. He flashed a bright smile to the business men and winked coyly at the youngest one before trotting off again. All leather and lace tonight. Damian watched his back as he walked, another one of Anita's people he thought. Although his bonds to her were more out of loyalty that anything else. Still, it made them...family in a twisted sort of way. Another creature of the night dealing with penguins and a seemingly endless row of trouble. Of course, vampires loved trouble...and politics...how else could they make their long existence worthwhile... endurable? How else escape the plain, old boredom?

Damian was satisfied, St. Louis was not a bad place to be. His old mistress' big, cold castle hovered at the back of his mind and he shrugged lightly, while briefly explaining that Jason was a werewolf, belonging to the local Ulfric and Jean-Claude and also that he was a stripper and soon to be on stage.

The business men turned their eyes to said stage and measured the swooning females in the front row with money in their eyes. Guilty Pleasures was always a wise move...business-wise.

The naked werewolf grabbed his discarded pants and walked off stage followed by female howls of appreciation. The light changed up there. became golden, warm and gathered around the shiny, copper colored pole at the center. The music changed as well. instead of techno beats a rough, heavy bass filled the room. The lights flared in red and gold when another one of Anita's people entered the stage. His ankle length hair held back in a loose pony-tail, his chest barely covered in a white mesh top exposing his flat, smooth belly. His legs were wrapped in a pair of white, skin-tight pants with small golden buckles that run all the way down the sides, exposing small areas of flawless skin in between. Nathaniel danced shoeless. A small, golden ring graced the middle toe of his left foot. A small chain encircled his ankle. A white leather collar with golden studs was set around his slender neck. Funny, Damian thought. he'd always supposed Nathaniel's act would be performed to some sweet, sassy music. Something easy and playful, not heavy, rough rock like this.

The females screamed in their pretty evening gowns and high heels. Some of them rose from their chairs. The Wereleopard was obviously a popular treat.

" That's Nathaniel," he told the business men. " He is a leopard."

" I can see that," the youngest of the grey-clad purred and tapped his lips lightly with his index finger when Nathaniel started moving. With his back against the pole he began swaying his hips, touching his chest through the thin fabric. Circled his own half-exposed nipples. He brushed his thighs as well. Moved his palms up and down the firm flesh. Fell down to his fours, smiled and winked at the screaming women and let one of them cuddle his neck, stretched like a cat while she scratched his skin lightly with long, pink nails. Then he rolled over. Moved like liquid on the stage. His limbs pure grace as he lifted his hips, spread his legs and arched his back off the floor. Brushed his hair with him as a long, sweep of shiny red. He rolled to his feet again seemingly effortlessly and ripped the fine mesh from his chest in one slow motion. Tore the fabric from his own body while closing his eyes, biting in his lower lip and rolling sensually with his hips in the cascades of rippling light. It was then Damian realized he was staring. Wine glass in hand he'd been staring as mesmerized at the dancing cat. Had forgotten all about his party, all about Jean-Claude, just watched the erotic scenario on the stage with something that resembled greed. Want. - But not for blood.

He watched as Nathaniel got rid of his ripped top with a lift shrug with his shoulder, it fluttered down behind him, through the heavy fall of hair and landed on the glittering stage floor. Exposed the pink nipples and the even, smooth lines of his torso. The soft rise and fall of muscles, like a cream colored landscape of pure grace. Nathaniel lifted his arms above his head and stretched. Seemingly lost in the music now. Ignoring the audience, just swaying, stretching, dancing in the red-golden light that caressed his body. He threw his head back and his chest shot forwards, his hair brushed the floor. Seemed utterly vulnerable, surrendered in that moment. He lowered his arms but kept the position. Like an angel in the moment before flight. Auburn wings draped around him, skin reflecting the light.

Damian didn't pretend to breathe anymore. Just sat still, frozen. knew his unnaturalness would make the others leave him alone put them off. And indeed, for some reason he didn't want to be disturbed. Didn’t want to miss a single beat of the raging song... a single movement from the dancing creature on the stage. Wanted to see, savor every tiny flex of muscles, every sensual sway, every...He swallowed hard. Felt slightly ill. Didn't know what had gotten into him...just that, he wanted to watch Nathaniel. And watch, and watch and watch. Like a child with a caramel desert. Every movement from the dancing boy was like a jolt of pleasure, ripped an answer from his core. Spoke to him. Hit him...

Nathaniel posed with his side to the audience while slowly, teasingly unbuckling his pants from the ankle and up. Smooth, creamy skin appeared in one long line up to his thigh, there he paused before continuing until there was only two buckles left at the top of his hip to keep the fabric in place, then he turned around and repeated the process on the other side. He turned again, facing them. With a quick movement he loosened his hair from the pony-tail let the heavy hair flow freely down his back, then, with his hands on his hips he opened the four last buckles and let the white material fall to the floor. Stood there in only a leopard printed golden tong. It was so tiny it was hard to tell if the material was shiny or not. The straps over his hips were black, in stark contrast to his skin. He moved again, spun around to the wild rhythms, made love to the flashing light. His hair seemed to live a life of his own, falling in heavy cascades, fluttering around his legs in long, wavy rivers. He hit the pole with one hand and spun around, lifted his legs up in the air, the spinning motions made his hair almost hide him completely in a flare of red. Suddenly, when he stopped, he held his little thong in his free hand. He smiled teasingly and threw it to the audience. His body clung to the pole, that, together with his hair hid his most vital parts from view, but just barely. A naked hip peeked out from the auburn mass, his face was slightly flushed. he breathed heavily. The white collar made his nakedness even more apparent. The golden studs reflected the light, as he looked boldly out on the audience with hazy amethyst eyes. Like lavender jade, Damian concluded half-conscious while trailing the creamy perfection with his gaze.

A fine dusting of tiny gold specks came fluttering down from the ceiling above the stage and showered the still figure in golden glitter. It landed in his hair and Nathaniel rolled his head backwards and smiled in the confetti rain. Let it hit his chest and stay there, tiny spots of gold...

Damian felt slightly thrown off. Didn't happen often. Not very often at all. He was positive he had fed on Nathaniel before but...how could he have missed that...intoxicating sensuality. The wild beating echo of his beast that made him move like a luscious prince, a velvety, feral force-turned-sex on stage?

A woman in the front cried loudly. Her body shock and her cheeks were stained with tears. In that moment, Damian couldn't blame her. As the music died and with it the lights, hid the heavy rise and fall of Nathaniel's chest in darkness he almost felt like crying too. He sat still, felt struck as by lightning. Hit unexpectedly by some kind of unknown force. His body, that he knew so well after countless years with it, felt warm and something red moved in there. Coiled lazily through his limbs. He quickly excused himself and rose from the table when Jason came on stage and the light changed. Crossed the distance to the exit and stepped outside. There, among the city lights, the tall buildings, the blinking signs, he lifted his gaze to the sky. Found a piece of night sky, set with glittering stars and savored it. The crisp air, the starlight...

He ignored the row of people waiting to get into the club, ignored the Australian tourists taking his picture, the strange look from the doorman. Just stood there, arms crossed. Didn't think, didn't try to make sense of it. Just waited for it to settle. For his body, his mind, to accept what had occurred. Let the feelings mellow and mingle with the flow of his emotions, his being... A vampire's way of calming down, he mused laconic and crossed his arms over his chest. Played lightly with the lacings of his tunic-like shirt. His pants were black as well, the bow that held his hair in place, black velvet. He supposed he couldn't blame the tourists for taking pictures. It was all to clear what he was, dressed like this by Jean-Claude's designer.
He didn't want to think, or reflect. not understand what had happened in there with Nathaniel. Just knew with a certain instinct he could never see that show again. Some fragile balance had been disturbed. he had lived long enough to know he didn't want to go there again. Not at all! He'd avoid it at any cost. Something unknown lurked in there, in Nathaniel's teasing, raw play. Something...he dared not touch...

His internal clock told him, however, the show was soon about to end. He went inside again, to the crowded, light scattered darkness and the hum of voices. The flooding music and scent of alcoholic drinks and found his party. Bowed lightly and excused himself. They said it was ok, they'd been watching the very talented werewolf while he was gone. They seemed almost proud that he'd spoken to them earlier, Damian noticed. It was a plus, and a wise move on Jean-Claude's part then, to send one of the 'stars' to talk to them before he went on stage. He watched the rest of the show calmly and refused stubbornly to think about Nathaniel.
Calm and composed...because that's what he was. Most couldn't take as much as Damian. His mind was strong. Stronger than most. His first mistress had thought him that...as being expert in the art of mental defense...although the unnamed threat was unfamiliar, though he wasn't even sure why he saw this 'it' as a threat at all.

It was just Nathaniel dancing for heaven's sake!

When the party had finished their drinks and rose from the table Damian was to take them to the office before he was let off duty. He motioned them in back stage and down the hall between dancers and technicians on their way from work. Watched them look at the strippers with undisguised curiosity, a hint of something slick and obviously erotic in their gazes.
Something nervous fluttered in Damian, a fearful expectation that he tried very hard to ignore but that bloomed into pure insecurity when Nathaniel showed up. He wore a grey cotton t-shirt and a pair of light blue jeans, his hair was back in the pony-tail and he had a blue bag flung over his shoulder when he appeared in the door from the wardrobes.

" Hi Damian," he beamed happily. " Did you see the show?"

Damian felt himself freeze, glued to the spot the moment Nathaniel spoke.

" Damian?" Nathaniel's' smile faltered a little when he didn't reply.

" Yes," Damian blinked and said at last. When you're not calm, pretend to be, he reminded himself. But it had been a very long time since he *wasn't* - calm. Not while fit and healthy.

" Good," Nathaniel smiled again. So sweet that smile, so completely without malice. " Did you like it, was I good?" He asked with a twinkle in his eyes.

Damian's nostrils flared.

" Yes, of course," he managed a thin smile. "And you were...good," he added and unintentionally arched his eye-brow at the youth. Staggered slightly inwardly when he realized what he'd done.

" Well, thanks," Nathaniel smiled and gave him a puzzled look. " See you at Anita's or the Circus," he beamed while passing by. Brushing his shoulder lightly. Left a trail of his scent; vanilla, fur and make-up remover in the hall. His braid danced happily as he walked down the corridor, soon to disappear down the stairs to the exit.

" Mr.. Damian?" The grey-clad men looked at him expectantly and he quickly gathered his wits. Led them down to the offices and sighed inwardly with relief when the introductions were over with and he closed the door behind them. Leaned against it heavily.

Damian wasn't stupid. He knew what this thing was. It was attraction. Strong enough he'd even flirted with Nathaniel when he saw him: Pure instinct... a part of him just had had a revelation: He thought the soft spoken leopard delicious. Desirable.

There was only one problem in all of this: Damian wasn't gay.



Next Chapter


Back