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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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.

He turns to Dorian and appraises him again, taking his chin in his fingers. "What are you?" he murmurs, moving close but not enough to kiss. He won't stop him from touching.

If Godric won't stop Dorian from touching, then Dorian will happily touch. One hand goes to the man's chest, tracing the grain of the shirt's fabric. The other hand goes straight to Godric's ass. Dorian grabs it, squeezes, and attempts to pull the two of them closer together.

"I'm everything you wanted," he laughs. Mentally, he's on cloud nine at this point. Everything feels so lush, so intense, it's no surprise that his answers are a little dazed and scrambled. "The question now is, what do you want? A good time? A story to tell the others? Danger? I'm yours, right now. Mold me."

He shakes his head. "Are you a danger to my people?"

He lets him touch, but he's unmovable at this point. He doesn't react, doesn't move.

"Mate, we really need to work on your desires," he laughs. Dorian continues just feeling Godric up, continuing to squeeze his ass all the while, looking at him with rapture and delight in his eyes.

"What if I said I was a danger? What would you do then?"

"Pull every memory out of your head," he says lightly. "Since it seems you can't be harmed by me ripping out your throat."

That...might actually work. Dorian knows he's lost memories before. He magically can't remember most of the 1970s, after all. But there's no reason for Godric to know that.

He's practically draped against the man as he sighs dramatically, "That's far too much effort to recover from. So no, I suppose I'm not a danger to your people. A danger to you, on the other hand? Time will tell."

Godric finally smiles and pulls him closer, an arm around his waist. "Good," he says and fumbles with Dorian's pants, opening them so he can wrap his fingers around his cock.

"Then I don't need to stop you. Once you're finished, I will have you taken back to your hotel. And you can have all the fun you want."

Dorian groans with pleasure as he feels Godric's fingers on his cock. Absolutely exquisite. All of his nerve endings feel like they're on fire and just the simple touch is enough to make him shudder.

He leans close to Godric, drinking in the vampire's scent, as he continues to hold the man close. "Do your worst," Dorian purrs.

"No," Godric tells him. "Not this time."

He just moves his hand, giving him relief and absolutely nothing else.

As Dorian spills in Godric's hand, he can't help but laugh. "You bastard," he grins, still way too high to do much in the way of protesting. "I hope you're ready for round two when it comes."

He is absolutely not leaving this vampire alone.

Godric sighs, wiping his hand on Dorian's clothes, and shoves him back where another vampire wraps an arm around his neck to hold him back.

"Goodbye, Dorian," Godric says.

Dorian stumbles backwards, into the arms of the other vampire. A hand instantly goes to the vampire's thigh, caressing it as he leans back. Dorian's eyes, however, don't leave Godric's gaze. He's going to be looking at that man until he leaves.

Afterwards...look, he's still high, he will absolutely try to fuck whatever entourage Godric sends back to accompany him to his hotel. But as long as the other vampire's there? He's only got eyes for Godric.

He has the information he wants; Dorian is free to seduce whoever he wants. And they are happy to take him up on it. If he dreams, he might dream of Godric, though. Sucking him off and then fucking him roughly into the bed...and it will feel distressingly real in the morning.

But Godric isn't there, even if he doesn't dream. He won't see him again for days unless he goes looking.

Dorian absolutely goes looking. He can feel himself falling back into old habits—this was just like with Toby. Everybody wants him. Everybody is enticed by him. Someone who claims they aren't, who's just so disinterested, simply doesn't realize it yet. Being rejected drives Dorian wild. So, he starts to look, frequenting whatever vampire bars he can find.

He'll ask around, trying to get information on Godric, trying to shake out what the vampire social structure is here. He'll bring people back to his hotel (which really, the bill is getting high, he should probably find an apartment soon). But as far as Dorian is concerned, Godric wanted him to be a threat. He was paid attention to when he was a threat. Might as well give Godric what he wants.

So, every question, every quick fuck, every moment of pleasure is accompanied by a moment of temptation. You really don't need to listen to the Sheriff. Absolutely you should try dealing V, it's easy as hell—here, Dorian can give a few tips. Call him up the next time you have trouble—he can help out in ways that others can't.

He really should have tried to kill him before. Dorian has become an absolute pain in his ass, which means that he's forcing Godric to actually deal with things rather than wallow in his own depression.

He considers trying to kidnap him, but the fucking vampire he sent to do it ended up under the man's spell.

Dorian's good at this, Godric will give him that.

So one night, a note shows up at Dorian's hotel door. A note that simply has an address.

Considering how blatant the shit-stirring is, it's obvious that Dorian adores being a pain in the ass. Not sorry, Godric.

He doesn't immediately leave to go to the address. Partly because it's fun making Godric wait, partly because he's got a girl over and really, might as well finish what he's doing before heading out. It's about two and a half hours after he receives the note that Dorian saunters over to the address, cigarette in his mouth, jeans just a little too tight, devil-may-care attitude radiating from his being.

The address is a house. It's a house in a very nice neighborhood, with manicured lawns and housekeepers. The sort of WASPy community that breeds terrible people - though Godric's house is different.

There's a party going on, and everyone inside treats the place like a club. The rooms are mostly occupied with couples or groups of humans and vampires, and the music is loud. Godric is sat in his chair in a corner with a line of people walking up, kneeling, and asking him for favors.

Very much like royalty.

Dorian treats the party like he's the center of attention. He flirts and charms his way through multiple rooms, drink in hand, taking time to get someone a drink, ask them how they're doing, slip his number to someone of interest.

This center of attention attitude continues when he reaches the room that Godric is in. Without a care and knowing that it will probably piss a few people off, Dorian tries to bypass the line entirely, making his way directly to Godric.

The audacity of this one.

Godric waves off Stan, a burly vampire in a cowboy hat, and waits for him to join him.

"You have made yourself quite a thorn in my side, Dorian," he says as the people in line back away, grumbling about the human.

Dorian doesn't bow or kneel. Instead, he gives Godric a dark little chuckle before pointing out,

"How else was I supposed to get your attention? Really, this is all on you for making it so easy."

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