brushoff | dorian & godric

dorian & godric

Christ, how Dorian hated Texas.

It was the best and worst of America. There still was so much space, plenty of towns barely hanging on, hardscrabble little places that were trying to make their move, the drive and determination and chutzpah that Dorian adored of the America in the past. America in the 1920s was great. A feisty nation, determined to prove itself on the world's stage, bright and brilliant and ready to take on the challenge.

But the Texas cities? The cities were horrible. Large, ugly things almost crushed under the weight of their own self-importance and overpasses. Forgotten centers where all residents fled to cookie-cutter nigh identical houses set in towns created solely for the purpose of commuting. People didn't thrive in places like that, with their subdivisions and big box stores and fucking Targets. You lived there, but you didn't thrive. And Dorian Gray was always looking for something new, something bright and breathing and alive.

Granted, a shitty little dive bar wasn't exactly what most people thought of when they thought of 'alive.' But Dorian had been lingering around Dallas long enough that a few things had gained his interest. The coming out of the closet, so to speak, of vampires had been the big one. Idly, he wondered what Toby would have thought of it all—he felt so alone for so long. Would vampire advocacy groups or these cute little pamphlets have changed anything? Or would the Sunday morning cable news services about how all vampires are damned have made things worse? There's no way of knowing. But Dorian wanted to learn more about this himself.

Try as he may to fit in, it's obvious that Dorian is here for something. He flirts with the waitress and casually asks a few questions about vampire activity in the area. He loses a game of pool but presses his competition whenever they bring up 'fangs.' This is the third day in a row he's made some not-so-subtle inquiries about vampires, something's got to give eventually. He's British as hell, the accent is a dead giveaway, so might as well lean into the obviousness and see what happens.

And as he slips out of the back door of the dive bar, stepping outside to light up a cigarette, Dorian's certain that something will happen. What precisely? He doesn't know.

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How to explain this...Dorian pauses for a moment, mulling over whether to tell this young man the truth or not. A modified version would suffice. After all, Godric doesn't have to know everything.

"I want to see what it's like here. How America has adapted. Britain's adapted to the grand vampire revelation in it's own way, of course, but you lot are far more...open about it. Good old fashioned English repression still goes a long way."

He shrugs a little before taking another drag on the cigarette. "Idle curiosity, I suppose."

Godric glances back to the bar. "You're in the wrong place for it," he says. "Come with me."

He steps out into the street and crosses it, not waiting for Dorian.

Perfect.

Dorian's eyes sparkle with excitement as he follows Godric, dogging his feet, a pep in his step. "Will my mysterious tour guide at least grace me with a name?"

"My name is Godric," he says and Dorian, if he's paying attention, might notice the movement of shadows in the darkness. They don't attack, they don't come closer, but they linger as the two wander through the streets, seemingly at random.

Godric, however, has a very specific place in mind.

"First name basis already! I love it. Call me Dorian, then."

Just Dorian. Dorian, the average feckless twenty-something. Dorian, the boring human. Dorian who absolutely has noticed those shadows in the darkness but certainly isn't going to point them out. He's only got one card up his sleeve: his immortality. Best to keep seeming like a stupid foolish tourist until the time is right.

"I hope wherever you're taking me has air conditioner. Even at night it is too fucking hot in this state. Parts of me are sweating that I didn't even know could sweat."

"I don't have a surname," he says as he walks. Under the streetlamps, he nearly glows. His skin is pale, his clothes are threadbare and worn. There is the faint marking of ink on his skin, right by his collarbone and underneath his sleeves, but he doesn't stop long enough for them.

"And you picked a very bad place to explore if you don't like the heat. Even at night, the summers are brutal."

He stops in front of a nondescript building on the outskirts of the city. There's a farmer's market, closed at this time of night, just down the way, and apartment buildings across the street. There is nothing marking this building, but there is the very faint sound of music as Godric opens the door.

Dorian's eyes light up a bit as he hears the music. Well! He didn't think this kid had clubbing in him! Dorian, with his tight pants, designer shoes, and shirt with just enough buttons unbuttoned to be nice and slutty, is obviously the sort of man who's at home at the club and absolutely not at home in Texas.

"The place might be bad, but the company isn't. I'll put up with a lot for a good time - you look like you might give me that."

Godric turns to him and, lightning quick, snatches the cigarette from his fingers.

He takes a drag from it and flicks it into the street with a snort of a laugh.

"Enjoy yourself, Dorian. I'll be watching."

The inside of the building immediately leads downstairs to a proper club. No windows, vampires everywhere, people in various states of undress.

Dorian gives Godric a bright, devil may care sort of grin before,

"Then I'll give you something to watch."

Dorian enters the club with the confidence of someone who runs the place. He immediately starts dancing, bouncing from vampire to vampire, moving with the utmost confidence. He bares his neck shamelessly, letting people drink from him, but only a taste, only a little drop. Because after that first taste, he pulls away, devilish grin on his face, to try and find a new person to entice, to seduce.

This goes on for a few hours. His neck should be a bloody, hamburger sort of mess by now. And yet Dorian shows no signs of stopping. He keeps bouncing from vampire to vampire, drawing people in and trying to be the star of the show, to make each and every one of them love him.

Dorian is a popular choice and Godric watches from inside, but unseen. He is a strange creature, and that becomes more and more obvious as time goes on. Godric has to do something before the vampires get territorial.

When he comes inside, when he finally shows himself, the mood of the place shifts entirely. Godric makes his way to a chair in the corner of the room and sits. Almost immediately, the crowd waves and folds as people gravitate towards him. Some sit at his feet and others stand behind him.

The music continues, but there is a settling.

There's a vampire on Dorian's neck when Godric arrives. Dorian only notices the arrival when the vampire pulls away. Dorian looks over, taking the whole situation in. Well, well, well. Seems the kid has some authority. How interesting.

"If you want a turn, you have to ask," Dorian breathlessly laughs. He reaches over to grab a different vampire by the wrist, forcibly pulling him in and drawing him into a messy kiss. It's obvious this is an act of control, of dominance from Dorian's end, as that vampire really isn't sure about all this.

Godric narrows his eyes as he watches ans the vampire pulls away, using his superior strength to get away and blend into the crowd.

The others don't touch him.

Slowly, a bubble forms around Dorian where no one dares to even look at him.

Dorian can't help but laugh. It's a bright laugh, but there still is a bit of an edge to it. He knows what this is. And he can match Godric's show of power with one of his own.

"I mean what I said," Dorian lightly responds, as he pushes his sweaty hair out of his face in a way that he knows looks good. "You have to ask. I'm not one of yours. Wait your turn like everybody else."

Godric hasn't wanted another person in a very long time. Really, he hasn't wanted a human in...ever.

But he's intrigued by this. He just smiles, gesturing Dorian over.

There we go. Dorian walks towards Godric, giving him the cocky smile of a man who's hot shit and knows it.

He doesn't say anything though. Godric has to make the first move.

He just watches him, impassive and neutral. "You are very good at giving," he says and his voice is quiet, but cuts through the music. "Have you tried V?"

Godric has always been a vocal critic of the drug, of humans using it, but this necessitates a little flexibility. A little outside thinking.

It is purely rational to let him have Godric's blood. There aren't feelings involved.

Dorian shakes his head. "I haven't." A truth.

"Are you offering?"

Please say yes.

Godric gestures him closer and the room seems to buzz loudly. "Do you know the side effects?" he wonders and there's a smile in his words, albeit cautious.

"I've heard rumors," Dorian responds, wide grin on his face. He's throwing caution to the wind as he continues, "Sex is phenomenal. Increased libido, heightened senses. It makes everything more."

He never drunk from Toby. They didn't need to. They filled each other's needs just with sex, just with their connection. Maybe things would have been different if they took that next step. But on the other hand, would Toby have even offered it to begin with? Dorian isn't sure.

Dorian walks closer to Godric and then, very cheekily, leans against the side of his chair, putting himself very close to the man. "It sounds exciting. And anything exciting is worth trying."

"You will have dreams. You will be stronger and faster. And..."

He turns to Dorian, sensing danger on him, even though he seems so, so human. The most dangerous ones do.

Godric has to protect his nest, even if it means something deplorable. Even if it means going against everything that he is. The humans, the vampires...they deserve to have protection. He promised them that.

He pricks his finger on a fang and places it to Dorian's lips. "And I will know where you are. Always."

Possibly. Godric will possibly know where he is. Truth be told, Dorian has no idea how his immortality will react with the V. He can get high, of course. But he can't overdose. He doubts he could be turned—he certainly can't be turned into a werewolf, thanks for helping him figure that out, Axel. Really appreciated being mauled. Idly, Dorian wonders what Godric would do when he finds out, what will happen when (or if) the connection between them fades.

Is it a shit move to not tell Godric 'hey, I'm immortal, this lingering connection you're banking on might not work'? Absolutely. Is Dorian a shit person? Absolutely.

So Godric's answer is given by Dorian opening his mouth, sucking on Godric's finger in an absolutely lascivious way. He wants this. Go ahead and give it to him.

Godric also isn't sure what will happen, but he is nothing if not thorough. If Dorian is just a human, then things can be fixed. If Dorian isn't quite human, well, the severed connection tells Godric a lot about him.

He stands and takes hold of Dorian's shirt tightly. "Follow me or you will get very uncomfortable," he warns. "No one here will touch you, save me."

"Exclusive access!" Dorian lightly teases as he gets up to follow Godric. He's close, like an annoying puppy at it's owner's heels. "Don't threaten me with a good time."

The drug should hit soon, the psychedelic, trippy effects that are always so popular. Godric keeps a grip on him, willing to hold him up if necessary.

He leads them to a back room with a door that leads to an underground tunnel. They are seemingly alone there, but Godric shows no sign of worry.

It's obvious when the drugs hit because Dorian's pupils get huge. They're the size of dinner plates as he slows down his walk. Everything feels so much more. He can feel the air on his skin, smell practically every vampire in the room. The mixture of drugs, sweat, blood, sex, it's damn near overwhelming and he adores it. But the cold, sterile, dark nature of the underground tunnel is just as good. The coolness of the air feel fantastic compared to the sticky Texas heat, and Dorian takes a big breath of it.

Dorian also shows no sign of worry—thanks, V! Instead, he makes a little noise of interest as he finds himself staring at the faint traces of ink on Godric's skin, barely visible past the shirt. He feels like if he stares enough, maybe he could see past it, to see the entirety of those markings.

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