dorian & godric

[brushoff]

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.

Comments

[loveisall]

Godric watches him with a smile. He didn't need to do that. But - he did it. That means something.

"Ah, most people think silver is for werewolves. But it harms us just as much." He looks over his shoulder. "We should go. Back to the car."

[brushoff]

"That we should," Dorian says, as he makes his way back to Godric. He's scanning the place, keeping an eye out, ready to put himself in between Godric and anybody who wants to try and do anything.

"Shall I get the door?" he asks, as he makes his way towards the entrance. Dorian goes to open the door before sassing, "I am a gentleman, after all."

[loveisall]

Godric doesn't deny him the opportunity, and stretches as he walks through it. "Thankfully, it seems that they did not actually own this place or sleep here," he mutters, realizing how easily he walked through it.

He slides into the backseat of the car and rubs at the burns on his arm.

[brushoff]

When they reach the car, behind closed doors, Dorian moves to undo the buttons of the shirtsleeve at his wrist.

"Here," he says, as he offers his bare wrist up to Godric. "Drink from me. And don't give me any of your martyr bullshit, you're hurt. The least I can do is get you back to form."

[loveisall]

Godric doesn't have the willpower to resist. Not after he's had the man's blood in his mouth already. He sinks teeth into his wrist and drinks deeply, eyes closed.

[brushoff]

Dorian lets out a tiny little noise of pleasure. He reaches over with his free hand to lightly stroke Godric's hair.

"There you go," he quietly murmurs. "Drink up. And rest."

[loveisall]

Godric indulges far longer than he might have otherwise, and he leans in closer to him with his eyes still closed. The wounds and the burns heal up nicely, as if they weren't even there in the first place. Replaced by perfect skin.

And when Godric pulls away, he presses a kiss to Dorian's jaw.

[brushoff]

That kiss is delightful. Dorian lets out a dazed little moan of approval as he feels Godric's kiss. He'll be back to normal quick enough—that healing factor is already pumping blood back into his veins, making him the man he should be. But there's a brief moment of bloodloss dizziness as Dorian leans into Godric, resting against the vampire and his cold skin for just a moment.

"Good to the last drop," Dorian teases. "Or whatever that advertising slogan was."

[loveisall]

He wraps an arm around him.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he says with a fond sigh. "But - you are the first and only human I have taken from in nearly a century. Of course it would have to be you."

[brushoff]

"Don't tell me things like that," Dorian laughs. "It'll make my ego worse than it already is."

But he's certainly entranced. The first human Godric's taken from in almost a century! He had no idea he was that special.

[loveisall]

Godric slides an arm around him, blood drunk and distracted by the fight. The killing. It takes a toll on him, even if he doesn't see it at first.

"Stay with me today," he says softly.

[brushoff]

"Always," Dorian muses, as he leans into Godric's embrace. Dorian looks up at the vampire who...to be honest, doesn't exactly look great. Idly, he wonders what unnerved Godric the most, the murdering or the racism.

(Is it racism if they hate other species? The prejudice, then. Lord knows there's probably a cute vampire term for people who hate vampires that Dorian doesn't know.)

"I think after all this nonsense, we deserve to go back to mine or yours, close the door, and have a lovely evening to ourselves."

[loveisall]

"How are you not a vampire?" he mutters. "You think about sex far too often. Is that all you want?"

He knows the answer is no, but he likes to make Dorian say it.

[brushoff]

"We both know the only reason I'm not a vampire is because Lucifer grabbed hold of me before anybody else got the chance," Dorian lightly teases.

"And of course sex isn't all I want. I can name plenty of other desirable things aside from sex."

[loveisall]

"Name them," he challenges, sliding an arm around him as the car stops at a light.

[brushoff]

"Drugs. Alcohol—and alcohol's different from drugs. Penthouse suite. My Vespa."

These are all semi-joking and yet semi-serious answers. But Dorian's fifth answer is surprisingly sincere for him.

"Beauty."

[loveisall]

He disregards the other answers, but he focuses in on the last.

"And what is beautiful, to you?"

[brushoff]

How to explain this... it takes Dorian a moment before he settles on.

"So many things. Physical attraction, for one. But I find naivety beautiful in it's own way. People who are beautiful and have no idea what to do with it are lovelier than anyone with an ego."

[loveisall]

Godric can see, he can hear, how genuine he is at the moment and it warms him a little to think about. He pulls him close and gives him another kiss, stroking his fingers through his hair as the car parks back at Godric's home.

"That's so very rare," he points out gently.

[brushoff]

Dorian indulges in the kiss, leaning in to Godric's touch. After a moment, he muses,

"It is rare. Maybe that's why I enjoy it so much. When I find someone like that, be it a naive little thing or a monster blinded by his own nature, I refuse to let them go."

[loveisall]

He reaches up and grips Dorian's chin. "You are an enigma to me, Dorian. How many monsters have you met?"

[brushoff]

"Enough."

Which is a delightfully enigmatic answer, the only reason that Dorian said so. He happily takes the opportunity to lean into Godric's grasp with a kiss.

[loveisall]

"And how many met your standards of beauty?" he asks, pulling back to open the door for him once they've stopped.

[brushoff]

"Not as many as I'd like," Dorian muses, as he slips out of the car. "I'd say only a handful. You, however, fit my standards perfectly."

[loveisall]

Godric brings him in the house, frowning at placement of the moon. It's late already.

"You always know how to add a little flattery to everything."