The cold night air whipped around the all but deserted streets of Hollyoaks City, spattering the pavements and cars with a fine drizzle that made them sparkle each time they caught the light of the bright moon, as it managed to peak out from between the ominous clouds.
An occasional taxi sped down the quiet roads, creating a spray of water as it raced through a puddle. A tidal wave of dirty water drenched an old homeless man, making him swear and shake an angry fist at the car that had long since driven from sight.
On a high rooftop, a solitary figure stood motionless and impassive. The chill of the wind and rain didn't seem to touch the figure, who surveyed the quiet streets below with a steady gaze. His static stance as he lingered in the half shadows, gave the strange man the look of a beautifully sculpted statue. His strongly muscled arms were folded across his chest, the close fit of his clothing emphasising every gentle curve of his body, as his intelligent eyes continued to stare unblinking at the world before him.
A break in the dark cloud cover directed a beam of bright moonlight towards the figure, giving only slight illumination to the man's dark outfit. It was dark, midnight blue. The same shade the night reaches when the moon's illusionary light fades, threatening the heavens with oncoming blackness. Silver armour clung to his legs, arms and chest, crowned with a full mask. It was this razor sharp armour that had earned him his name.
In his time he had been called everything from a menace to a superhero, and there were times when he wasn't sure which of those descriptions was nearer to the truth.
Taking a deep breath, the mysterious figure smiled to himself. He had a deep love for his adopted home, and had taken on the responsibility of protecting the city and its citizens to the best of his ability.
The residents of Hollyoaks City simply knew the man as: "The Knight".
On the other side of town a lone figure slipped between the shadows, blending into the dark as if he was born to be a part of it, like a silent creature of the night.
Casting a careful glance around the empty streets, the man dropped his rucksack from his back and removed the long practiced tools of his trade. Within minutes the door of the jewellers stood open, its alarms expertly silenced, as the figure tiptoed between the displays of gold and silver, diamonds and rubies.
One hand, clad in a jet-black glove, trailed over the glass counter tops as the man passed by. The jewels contained within held no interest for him, he had a larger goal in mind, and he walked determinedly to the back of the store where he knew his desire was housed.
The man's well-defined muscles rippled beneath his snug black top as he reached up and lifted a painting of an old weather-beaten couple down from one wall.
With a skill honed over many years of such break-ins, the man quickly accessed the heavy safe, its door swinging open silently to reveal its precious cargo.
The man's eyes sparkled as he withdrew a small velvet package and paused to glance inside.
The large diamond shimmered with the brilliance of a thousand stars, and the man watched the light dance inside it for a few moments before hiding it back inside its velvet wrapping and slipping it deep inside his pocket.
Sometimes he stole to order, sometimes on a whim, and sometimes just because he wanted to.
The walls of his apartment were adorned with glorious works of art, each one an original posing as a reproduction.
The man in black loved to be surrounded by beautiful things, and the diamond now secured in his pocket was to be added to his personal collection. Sometimes he just wished he could show off his art, but then when your art was theft, it wasn't easy.
Rubbing his eyes the man smiled to himself behind his dark mask. Reaching back inside his rucksack the man took out a small card and placed it inside the safe before closing the door. The card was pure white but for the small picture of a wild cat in one corner
The man was known simply by the name of the cat that was on each calling card he left wherever he went: "The Ocelot".
Craig Dean looked at himself in the mirror and smiled. Despite a very late night and an equally early morning he still looked fresh and, even if he did say so himself, damn good!
His dark eyes glistened with the reflection of the early morning sunlight that streamed through the window of his fifth floor apartment. Leaning forward he checked carefully for any signs of dark rings or bags beneath his stunning chocolate eyes. Of course there were none, there never were. No matter how little sleep he got, no matter how late it might be before he hit his bed, Craig still managed to look as bright as if he had gotten his full quota of rest.
Craig Dean had a look that many envied, that countless tried to emulate and that a select few could, for the right price, hire. His stunning good looks, and exquisite physique, made him a very desirable property indeed and as such, whenever that extra special model was required to front a campaign, it would be the phone of Craig's agent that would be ringing first.
Straightening his tie Craig stepped back from the mirror to observe the complete package of his image. Dressed in an immaculate Valentino dark grey suit with blush pink shirt and matching tie he looked every inch the top model that he was.
Craig sighed as he reached out a hand to turn on the radio and check the local news. As well paid as his career was, and as successful as Craig had become, he still needed more. And it was during his late nights that Craig Dean found true satisfaction. The world might think that they knew Craig Dean the model. But what they didn't know was that, in the dark of the night, he was a very different man all together.
John Paul McQueen ran one hand through his short, dark blonde hair, spreading a thin layer of gel and combing it through with his fingers until it looked just right.
His bright blue eyes shone as brilliantly as the early morning sun and no one who looked at him would have ever guessed the late hour at which he had finally made it to bed. Late nights had become the norm for John Paul, although to his colleagues and associates, for John Paul never really made friends, he was the type of man to always leave any social occasion first claiming the need of an early night. Nobody really knew John Paul McQueen, and that was the way he preferred it.
Catching a glimpse of a glossy magazine that had been casually thrown on the floor the previous evening John Paul smiled. It wasn't so much the beautiful model, with her long dark locks that shone like highly polished ebony, that caught John Paul's attention, but rather it was the framing of the shot that gave him a rush of pride. If there was one thing that John Paul knew it was photography, and it was his skill and expertise that had put him at the top of his field and made him so highly sought after that he could cherry pick the work he wanted, passing on those jobs that held no interest to him. It was just a shame that the work no longer thrilled him the way it did, and more recently it was his late night adventures that really got his blood pumping.
Fastening the belt of his jeans John Paul straightened the hem of his black long sleeved shirt and looked at himself in the mirror. As always he tried to combine a look of elegance with that of casual ease and, with his simple clothing, combined with his natural good looks, that some might even call beauty, John Paul McQueen never failed to cut a dashing figure, often rivalling those for whom he was paid to photograph.
Switching on the radio John Paul turned his attention to the local news.
On opposite sides of Hollyoaks City the two men stopped what they were doing and listened to the news report.
The robbery of a large diamond from the city's most famous jewellers was the headline and the news caused two very different reactions.
One of the men laughed, a soft melodious laugh, rich and full of good humour, as the newsreader once again told of the police's inability to catch the now infamous Ocelot.
The other man frowned and ground his teeth in annoyance, his previous good mood leaving him as he once again silently vowed to catch the criminal that seemed to be able to elude the police.
The Ocelot and The Knight were destined, however, to meet far sooner than either of them could have anticipated.
John Paul refocused his camera lens, changing the angle slightly until he had his shot framed perfectly. He sighed in frustration. The shot would have been perfect but for the lack of one thing. The model!
John Paul had discovered that, the more successful he became and the higher ranking models he got to work with the more he had to pander to them.
Where a newer or less well known model would be desperate to please the photographer and would usually be on time for a shoot if not early, the models that John Paul now worked with often acted like they were doing him a favour by even turning up.
"I know, I know, I'm late, I'm sorry… but I'm here now."
Craig Dean breezed into the studio with an air of confidence bordering on arrogance as his long dark coat billowed out behind him like a cape, sweeping around as he flashed his wide grin at everyone in sight.
"Traffic… you know how it is," Craig lied with practised ease. Not that he really cared if everyone knew he'd stopped off for a coffee on the way to the photo shoot. What were they going to do about it? Fire him. He knew that was never going to happen.
"Craig Dean," the dark haired man said, in an unnecessary introduction as he walked up to John Paul and held out his hand. "I'll be your model for the afternoon!"
John Paul smiled in spite of himself and shook Craig's hand warmly. He had seen the man countless times before, in glossy magazines and television adverts fronting one campaign or another, but up close Craig Dean was a whole new level of handsome.
John Paul found himself blushing as he tore his gaze away from Craig's penetrating dark eyes, regretting his choice of clothing. A look that, a few hours earlier, John Paul had considered to be casual elegance now felt decidedly scruffy next to Craig's perfectly tailored sophistication and he found himself wishing that he's made more of an effort. Raising one hand to his head John Paul touched his carefully gelled locks nervously. He had been working with top models for several years now and not once had he been concerned about his own appearance in comparison to them, but there was something about that dark haired man that made John Paul want to be sure he looked his best.
"Err… I'm… errr … John Paul McQueen," the blonde photographer stammered, raising his eyes to peer at his model again.
"Yeah I know who you are," Craig replied, a statement which both surprised and pleased John Paul, "I've seen your work… you're good… really good…"
"I… well… err…. thanks," John Paul said with a smile. "You're not bad yourself…"
"So I've been told," Craig replied with a cheeky wink before sauntering off to see what outfits he would be getting paid a fortune to wear, in the hope that the general population would believe if they owned such clothing they could look just as good as him.
Clare Devine licked her glossy red lips slowly as she watched the dark haired model making the new season of mens wear from DevineFashions look far better than she could have anticipated.
Running one hand through her golden blonde hair Clare grinned. There was a predatory look that glinted in her eyes, a look that would have given many men cause to worry. Clare Devine liked to marry the rich and bed the beautiful and, if two of her three husbands had happened to die leaving their wealth to her, well she could hardly be blamed for that could she? Unfortunately money had a habit of slipping through the woman's hands at an alarming rate, her taste for beautiful things not only limited to the men she slept with.
The fortunes of DevineFashions had been failing slowly over the past four years and Clare had taken the decision to hire the best model and photographer that money could buy in the hope that they could save her Company from total bankruptcy. Even the cash injection that she had received following the sudden, and tragic, death of her third husband, twelve month's earlier hadn't been enough to turn things around and Clare was getting desperate. But she knew that there were always other, less wholesome, ways to find money if she needed to. Clare Devine wasn't above doing whatever was necessary to secure the comfortable lifestyle she had come to love.
"Well I think that's it," John Paul said as he took the last shot of the day, stretching his aching shoulders with tired satisfaction.
Clare slid from the stool where she had been perched for most of the photo shoot and sashayed over to the model who, in her opinion, had more than earned his extortionate fee already. She had loved watching the man's athletic body and stunning good looks as he posed for the camera, her mind slowly stripping away the layers of clothing, and now she wanted to see if the reality of his naked body matched up to her imagination.
"You look gorgeous in that suit," Clare said as she stroked on hand over Craig's arm coyly. "It really goes well with your colouring… and the cut fits you perfectly."
Craig smiled at the compliment, his eyes glancing down at the well-tailored midnight blue suit that was the focal point of the Devine Collection.
"Yeah," Craig replied politely, "There's some decent stuff in this collection."
The truth was that the suit, which clung seductively to Craig's form, was the highlight of the set and, in Craig's opinion, the only decent piece in the whole collection. No matter how good the clothes might look when on the back of a model like Craig Dean, in reality they were little more than average and stood no chance of competing against some equally priced, but better designed, clothing from the many rival fashion houses that were the constant thorn in Clare's side.
"You should keep it," Clare offered, her hand still resting on Craig's arm and her eyes fluttering so much that Craig wondered if the woman might be on the verge of a stroke.
"I couldn't possibly…"
"Course you can… it's my company after all… and what better advert than to see Craig Dean out and about in one of my suits?"
"No really," Craig said with a pleasant smile as he moved to walk way.
Clare grabbed his hand firmly, the intent in her eye quite clear as she lowered her voice. "But you look so good in it," she purred, "although you'd probably look better out of it… how about you and me go for a few drinks."
"Sorry," Craig replied, shaking off her grip as forcefully as he could without appearing rude, "I've already got plans…"
Without waiting for a response Craig strode away, leaving Clare silently fuming at the rejection before turning on her heels and charging away as if on some important, but hitherto forgotten, business.
John Paul tried to stifle his laughs as he watched the exchange between the couple, his respect for Craig doubling in an instant as the man rejected Clare's advances. John Paul had witnessed many men being lured into the woman's bed before now, the more handsome the man the more Clare Devine wanted to take possession of him and so few ever seemed able to resist. John Paul continued to chuckle to himself as he packed away his camera, unaware that he was being watched until the moment he stood up and came face to face with two stunningly deep chocolate brown eyes.
"Fancy a drink?" Craig asked with a warm smile.
"I thought you had plans," John Paul replied, gesturing towards the location of Craig's exchange with the blonde woman.
"If you agree to come for a drink with me I will have… you don't want to make me into a liar do you?"
John Paul laughed at the perverted logic to Craig's argument, his laughter failing as he looked again at the model who was asking him out for drinks. He couldn't help but wonder why that man wanted his company, what was he after? What was the catch?
"I mean if you're not interested," Craig said stepping back a fraction. He suddenly felt very unsure of himself. Much like Clare Devine, Craig Dean wasn't used to rejection and the brilliant blue eyes that looked at him coolly suddenly unnerved him. "I mean you are… shit… It's just, you know… what I've heard… you are gay… right?"
John Paul's brow furrowed with confusion. Was Craig Dean actually asking him out on a date? That was so far from possible it was bordering on ludicrous.
"Aren't you dating that model… what's her name… Sarah something?"
"Sarah Barnes?" Craig laughed softly. "It doesn't hurt either of our careers to be seen together sometimes… but that's all there is to it… so what d'you say? Couple of drinks? I know a nice little place not far from here…"
"I…" John Paul hesitated uncertainly. There was no denying that he found the dark haired model attractive, more than just attractive, but there was no way the feeling could be mutual, was there? "Sure, why not," he finally agreed with a shy laugh.
"Great," Craig replied enthusiastically. "Now just give me a minute to get into a suit I WOULD be seen out in public in and I'll be right back."
Looking down at his own clothes as Craig disappeared to get changed John Paul sighed. He really should have made more of an effort today.
Several drinks later and John Paul felt relaxed and at ease in the company of the man he had only met a few hours earlier.
Not only was Craig Dean handsome and charming but John Paul had also discovered him to be witty and amusing and, as the day moved into evening, John Paul couldn't remember ever having enjoyed himself so much, not for a very long time. His life after dark normally meant he kept other people at arms length, but there was something about this man and his deep penetrating stare that John Paul was finding more and more irresistible.
Craig peered at John Paul over the rim of his whiskey glass. He had never seen eyes of such a mesmerising shade of blue before, or skin that looked as smooth as silk, making his fingertips itch to reach out and touch the man's cheek. Craig Dean had long since become a master of sexual conquests, his looks and confidence and, even if he did say so himself, his considerable skills in the bedroom, had tempted many into bed, where he had shared his pleasures before disappearing into the night. But there was something about John Paul McQueen, something more intriguing, he wanted more than to just sleep with the man, but he had to admit, he wanted to do that too.
"So, you and that Sarah," John Paul said, his words breaking into Craig's thoughts, "What is it then? Just a business thing?"
"And the occasional pleasure," Craig replied with a wicked laugh, "Well she is a very beautiful woman…"
"Oh," John Paul said with uncertainty, letting his eyes fall into his whiskey glass, "So you're not…"
"Gay? No… I'm…" Craig paused to think. The truth was he never bothered to label his sexuality, gay, straight, bi, they were just words that didn't really mean much to him. "I'm whatever I need to be."
With one finger under John Paul's chin Craig lifted the man's gaze up to meet his, once again marvelling at the brilliance of his hypnotically azure eyes, wondering for a moment how they would look in the throes of passion.
"Does that bother you?" Craig asked.
"I…" John Paul thought for a moment, consciously aware of the touch of Craig's finger that still rested lightly underneath his chin. The warmth of the man's touch sent shivers running down John Paul's spine. "No… no I don't think it does…"
"So," Craig said, returning his hand to his drink and watching the last mouthful amber liquid as he swirled it around the bottom of his glass.
"So?" John Paul echoed before draining the last of his own drink.
"Do we say goodnight here and head off home alone now? Or…" Craig's eyes sparkled at the implication of his words and he slowly sipped the remainder of his whiskey, relishing the burn as it trickled down his throat.
"Or?" John Paul said raising his eyebrows, unable to keep the smile from his eyes as he watched Craig slowly licking the last drops of alcohol from his lips.
As one the men rose to their feet, their gaze locked together for a moment, each of the marvelling at the depths of the others eyes and wondering what secrets lay behind them.
"My apartment is only a five minute walk from here," Craig said as he slipped his arms into his long dark coat.
"And yet you were late for the photo shoot," John Paul replied with a laugh.
Craig shrugged, his face illuminated by a wicked grin. "People expect it of me," he replied, "And I don't like to disappoint." Craig's grin widened considerably. "I never like to disappoint!"
The two men walked the short distance between the bar and Craig's apartment as quickly as they could without appearing to hurry. Craig's hands were buried deep in his coat pockets and he cast the occasional furtive glance at John Paul as they walked. It wasn't like he hadn't done this kind of thing before. Sleeping with someone he'd only known a short while wasn't exactly something new, not that he made it a habit but this certainly wasn't the first time, but with John Paul it felt different. Better, more exciting, like it was the start of something rather than simply one night of mutual enjoyment.
John Paul tuned his face in Craig's direction and, catching the man's eye, he felt himself blush and was grateful for the growing darkness of the evening that helped mask the flush, which turned his pale skin a gentle pink. He couldn't quite believe what he was doing. Not that John Paul McQueen lived the life of a monk, but it was somewhat out of character to find himself going back to someone's apartment after such a short time of knowing them. But there was something about Craig Dean that made it seem like the right thing to do, there was something about the dark haired man that made the word no slip from John Paul's vocabulary as if he would never need to use it again.
"Here we are," Craig said, coming to a stop outside his apartment building.
John Paul looked up, visibly impressed. Not that he would have expected a successful model like Craig to live anywhere that didn't reflect his status but he had no idea that the man would have made his home in one of the top apartment blocks in the city.
"Nice," John Paul said with a shy smile, glancing down at his clothes and once more feeling a little underdressed.
"I like it," Craig said with a casual shrug as he pushed open the front doors and stepped into the foyer.
John Paul looked around wide-eyed as he followed Craig into the building. Glistening chrome, polished brass and gleaming marble dazzled his eyes as he stepped in from the dark and he stumbled a couple of steps before regaining his balance.
Craig nodded to the security man who sat behind a highly polished wooden desk that wouldn't have looked out of place in any one of the cities top ranking hotels.
"Evening Mr Dean," the security guard said with a smile, his grin directed at the blonde man who was walking slowly in Craig's wake towards the elevator.
The security guard watched as the two men stepped inside the elevator, the doors closing quietly behind them. The thirty four year old man had worked in the apartment building for the past five years and seen many visitors pass through its doors. He prided himself on knowing which of the young models guests would be a one-night visitor and which he would see again. There was something about that blonde man with the dazzling blue eyes that made Tom know this one was a keeper.
As the elevator doors closed behind them Craig turned to his companion and, with one fluid movement, he pushed the man into the wall, pressing his mouth hard against John Paul's in a kiss that felt as if it had been a lifetime in the making.
A sound, somewhere between a growl and a purr, rumbled in Craig's throat as he pinned John Paul to the wall of the elevator with the full weight of his body, his tongue pushing into the blondes hot mouth to taste the sweet hint of whiskey that still lingered there.
John Paul's arms wrapped themselves around Craig's body, pulling it harder into him as the heat of their kiss intensified and the small confined space echoed with the sounds of their combined desire.
There was a soft ping as the elevator reached the fifth floor and the doors slid quietly open making the men pull apart, both of them equally flushed and breathless.
Craig smiled, for the first time a hint of shyness sparkling in his rich brown eyes. Despite his deep confidence and self-assurance the look of desire that was glistening in the bright blue eyes that were staring at him made him feel vulnerable and exposed. A sensation that both excited and frightened him.
"I suppose we should erm…" Craig gestured to the elevator doors.
"Yeah… right…" John Paul agreed and the two men slowly moved from the small metal room, their eyes never leaving each other and their steps moving in a perfectly mirrored motion.
Craig's tongue ran slowly over his lips, tasting the lingering flavour of John Paul's kiss as he rummaged in his trouser pocket for his keys.
John Paul watched the movement of Craig's tongue as if hypnotised, his skin tingled from where Craig's stubble had brushed against his face and he couldn't remember one kiss ever leaving him feeling quite so aroused before.
Craig's hands trembled slightly as he unlocked the unnumbered dark mahogany door that was the entrance to his home.
John Paul took in the view of the hallway as the two men stepped over the threshold. The carpet was a deep burgundy and felt thick beneath his feet; the walls were covered with a neutral shade and dotted with several large pictures.
"That always gives me the creeps," John Paul said as he nodded to a framed print of Edvard Munch's The Scream, the figures long drawn face and frightened eyes making him shiver as he passed it.
"Yeah I know what you mean," Craig replied with a smile, "I still kinda like it though… it's…" Craig looked at the painting for a moment, his smile deepening. "It's intense," he concluded.
John Paul simply nodded but still felt relieved to move away from the screamers chilling stare.
As Craig pushed open another door at the end of the hallway a soft mewing could be heard as two cats jumped up from their shared basket and raced to entwine themselves around the man's legs.
Craig laughed as the two cats weaved in and out of his legs, purring happily to have him home and making him struggle to take off his coat and hang it onto the hook on the wall, indicating that John Paul should do the same.
"Anyone would think I'd been gone for days," Craig chuckled affectionately as he reached his hands towards his loving pets, holding them just above the cats' heads so that they had to jump slightly to be stroked.
"They're gorgeous," John Paul said honestly as the felines continued to fuss their master, hardly even registering the visitor but for a small bright-green glance in his direction as he spoke.
The two cats were almost identical, their coats thick and soft and the purest white, save for their tails and ears which were a deep ginger, no John Paul corrected himself, it was more like a brilliant shade of gold. The only difference John Paul could discern between them was that one of them had a small dark, almost black, patch above its right eye.
"This is Malaysia," Craig said in form of introduction, tickling the first cats chin, "And this is Nikolai." Craig stroked the cat with the black marking as he said the second name. "They're Turkish Vans."
"They're what?"
"Turkish Vans," Craig repeated with a laugh, "It's the breed of cat."
"Oh I see… can't say I've ever heard of it!"
"Well they're not common," Craig said, continuing to pet the two felines, "But as soon as I saw them I just knew I had to have them…" Craig cast his eyes towards John Paul for a moment, "Sometimes you just know."
Malaysia curled her paws around Craig's hand and bit gently against his thumb, an action that had, at one time, startled Craig, but he had become to realise that the occasional love bite from his pets was only to be expected.
"Come on then you two," Craig said straightening himself and shooing the cats before him, "Let's get you some dinner and then maybe I can get some peace."
John Paul couldn't help but smile as the two felines continued to weave their supple frames around Craig's legs as he walked, threatening to topple the man at any moment.
"Just go through," Craig said to John Paul gesturing towards the living area as he led his cats into the kitchen, "I'll fix us some drinks once these two are taken care of."
John Paul watched for a moment as Craig and his two feline companions walked towards the kitchen before moving into the spacious living area.
The room was minimally furnished but with a subtle elegance that seemed to suit Craig perfectly, there was no doubting that the man had personally selected each colour and item of furniture that adorned his home. A large gilt-edged mirror dominated the wall above the marble fireplace and it reflected back an abstract painting that hung opposite it. John Paul turned to look at the picture and frowned. It looked familiar but he couldn't quite place where he had seen it before and, after a moment of staring at it, he shook his head, he was no great aficionado of art and decided that he was probably just recalling something similar that he'd seen before in a gallery.
"Now you two are going to be good aren't you?" Craig asked his cats as they sat patiently by his feet, waiting for the food that they knew would be shortly be bestowed upon them. Looking down on his two pets Craig couldn't hold back a smile. No matter what time of day or what mood he might come home in Craig could always be guaranteed a loving welcome from the two felines, a greeting that would lift his spirits and banish whatever dark thoughts had followed him home.
"He seems nice doesn't he?" Craig asked the cats earnestly as he unscrewed the lids of two small glass jars and spooned the contents into two silver bowls. The cats observed their master with such intelligence in their glistening green eyes that Craig believed they were listening to every word. "You two are so spoiled," Craig said with a laugh as he placed the dishes on the ground, tickling behind Malaysia's ears and between Nikolai's eyes as they quickly began to feast on the fair laid out before them. "Not every cat gets caviar for their dinner you know!"
John Paul stood before the large window of Craig Dean's fifth floor apartment and couldn't help but wonder how he had gotten there. The day had begun so simply with a photographic assignment just like so many others, and yet within a matter of hours it had begun to feel like his whole life had been turned on its head.
Craig made his senses spin. The man made him feel like a school boy with his first crush, like an old man beside his life long companion and, more terrifyingly Craig Dean made John Paul feel like he wanted to share with him all the secrets of his heart and he knew he couldn't do that. He could never do that. Not with anyone. Could he?
"Whiskey OK?" Craig asked as he entered the room, a glass of the golden liquid in his outstretched hand which John Paul took gladly as he turned away from the window and from his thoughts.
"Perfect," John Paul replied, sipping his drink, hoping that it would somehow calm his nerves but one look from Craig's molten chocolate eyes sent them racing again.
"Who are you John Paul McQueen?" Craig asked with his head tilted at an angle, observing the man before him closely. In his jeans and black shirt he could be almost anyone, yet there was something about the man's appearance that was more that in seemed. Craig's brain searched for a word that would describe his companion and the only one that came to mind was 'beautiful'. It was never a word he had ever associated with a man before but as soon as he thought it he knew it was right. With his dark blonde hair, dazzling azure eyes and skin as fair and delicate as any fine porcelain he really was a sight of beauty.
"I don't know what you mean," John Paul replied with an embarrassed laugh, turning away from the gaze that suddenly unnerved him. John Paul spent his life behind the camera lense, not only because he had a great talent in that field but also because he preferred to observe than to be observed and there was something about Craig's look that seemed to strip him bare.
"I don't know what it is," Craig continued, "but there's more to you than meets the eye I'm sure of it…"
John Paul turned his face back to the window and looked out over the rooftops of the city, its lights twinkling below as cars sped back and forth along the busy streets, it was a sight he had enjoyed countless time but it did nothing to quell his nerves.
"Who are you John Paul?" Craig asked again, his breath hot against John Paul's neck making the man shudder slightly. "What secrets are you hiding from the world?"
John Paul's fingers tightened around his glass as, for an instant, he let panic grip him. Craig knew! He'd worked it out, somehow he'd gotten behind the front that John Paul had worn for so many years and he was now exposed. John Paul let his eyes focus on the pane of glass before him, calming his breathing as he looked upon his own reflection and that of the dark haired man stood a few inches behind him. Of course Craig didn't know, no one knew, no one would ever know.
"I'm just a simple photographer," John Paul said with a self-effacing shrug, his eyes fixed on the dark brown ones reflected in the window.
"There's nothing simple about you," Craig breathed heavily, putting his glass down on a nearby shelf before taking John Paul's from him and placing it beside it. "There's something special about you… something that makes me want to… want to get inside you…"
Craig's hands moved to grip John Paul's hips and his teeth nipped at the man's neck as he spoke. "Really deep inside you…"
John Paul had no recollection of turning, no idea if he had moved of his own volition or if Craig had spun him around but before he knew it their mouths had crashed together with such force and passion that the kiss in the elevator paled into a mere peck.
Craig's tongue snaked into John Paul's welcoming mouth, tasting and searching, massaging the man's tongue as they both moaned into the heat between them.
John Paul could feel the cool glass of the window against his back and the heat of Craig's groin grinding into his crotch making him groan with unashamed desire.
"Let me show you the bedroom," Craig suggested, the heat of his breath bathing John Paul's ear as his teeth nipped playfully at the man's lobes.
The master bedroom was dominated by the large bed at its centre, an object that stole the focus of anyone who entered the room making them unaware of the less impressive bedroom furniture that rested against the walls.
The large wooden bedstead was topped by a deep, thick mattress which was in turn smothered in rich burgundy bedding in either satin or silk, John Paul wasn't sure which, but the sight was intoxicating, that bed obviously designed for pleasure.
Holding John Paul in place with his eyes Craig quickly stripped, his designer suit falling uncared for to the floor as if it was nothing more than a cheap chain-store copy that he stepped out of to reveal his naked glory to his guest.
John Paul swallowed heavily. Fully clothed Craig Dean was an enthralling and erotic sight but stripped bare his physical beauty took on a whole new level. John Paul drank in the sight of the dark haired man, his toned olive flesh, firm thighs, long supple legs and, although he tried not to stare, an impressively sized erection that stood proudly from its nest of neatly trimmed pubic hair.
Kicking off his shoes and socks John Paul began to fumble with his shirt buttons but suddenly his fingers had lost their ability to grip and the simple action of unfastening his own clothing had become an unconquerable challenge.
"Allow me," Craig said, reaching his hands to John Paul's shirt and seemingly melting away the buttons so that the garment slid easily from John Paul's shoulders and fell to the floor.
Craig smiled at the sight of John Paul's naked torso, running his palms over the smooth porcelain skin and following the fine trail of hair that led from his belly button to disappear inside the man's jeans.
Leaning forward Craig claimed another kiss as his hands quickly disposed of the last barrier between him and the pleasures that John Paul's body promised him.
John Paul moaned softly into Craig's hungry mouth as his jeans and boxers were pushed down over his hips and a warm firm hand stroked the length of his erection.
With a playful shove Craig toppled the fair haired man onto the bed, the thickness of the mattress making he man bounce a few times before all motion ceased.
A small sound, almost a growl, vibrated deep in Craig's throat as he observed the naked man laid out on his bed waiting for him and wanting him.
"Get comfy," Craig purred, "I'll just be a second."
John Paul shuffled into the centre of the bed as Craig raced from the room, returning seconds later with a small pot in his hand.
"What's that?" John Paul asked with curiosity as he raised his head to watch the figure of Craig Dean approach him.
"Just a bit of fun," Craig replied with a smile, "You like some fun don't you?"
Without waiting for a reply Craig peeled back the top of the small pot and, holding it high, he let the chilled fresh cream cascade down over John Paul's chest, a rich white waterfall that made the man shiver both with the temperature of the thick liquid and the heat of desire that burned in Craig's eyes.
Putting the pot aside Craig climbed onto the bed, his deep brown eyes momentarily appearing to flash with bright green flecks as he approached the cream covered man.
Lowering his face to John Paul's chest Craig lapped enthusiastically, licking and sucking against the man's flesh as he consumed every drop of cream, cleaning the man's chest and belly before pausing to raise his head and catch John Paul's eye.
The blonde man felt his cock throb at the look in Craig's eyes, he had never before witnessed such lust, such desire or such hunger and the fact that he was the focus of that stare made John Paul's groin ache.
Not breaking eye contact Craig ran his tongue slowly and hotly along the length of John Paul's cock from base to tip before feasting gently on it's head. His tongue circling the smooth glistening end and his teeth tugging gently at the man's foreskin.
John Paul groaned at the touch of Craig's lips against his sensitive flesh, his body shuddering and his fingers sinking deeply into the silken bedding.
Licking his way back up John Paul's body Craig ran the tip of his tongue over the man's lips and then nipped them gently with his teeth.
"Turn over," he breathed into John Paul's ear before moving out of the way slightly to allow the man room to follow his instructions.
Lying face down on the bed John Paul gasped as a spattering of cold cream hit his back, coating his buttocks and dribbling delightfully between them.
Once again Craig lapped up the creamy goodness, slurping noisily from the slight pool that had gathered in the small of John Paul's back.
John Paul closed his eyes and sighed with contentment as Craig's hot mouth massaged his tense flesh, teeth grazing at his shoulder blades one second and a tongue licking slowly down his spine the next.
"You taste amazing," Craig purred as he lapped the cream from the soft silken skin of John Paul's buttocks.
"Oh god Craig," John Paul groaned as a fresh trickle of cold cream ran between the two rounded hills of his ass cheeks to be quickly followed by the heat of Craig's mouth.
John Paul's groans grew louder as Craig licked and sucked the combined feast of fresh cream and John Paul's hot body, his firm tongue plundering the tight puckered opening that had been cleaned of its milky coating.
Craig's hands gripped tightly onto John Paul's ass cheeks, pulling them apart as he gorged himself between to feel the tightness of John Paul's anus begin to relax, tempting him further inside and making his cock ache with the need to take up that offer.
Reaching into a drawer of his bedside cabinet Craig grabbed a condom, which was quickly unfurled along the length of his cock and coated with the last of the cream.
Spinning John Paul onto his back again Craig took a firm hold of the man's ankles and raised them to his shoulders, lining the head of his cock with John Paul's delicious opening he pushed gently forward.
The men's eyes melted together as their breaths came in echoed gasps of pleasure. Craig's cock eased slowly into the heat of John Paul's body, stretching the man with his thickness before making him gasp as it connected with John Paul's prostate.
John Paul's legs slipped from Craig's shoulders to wrap around his waist as Craig began to drive deeper inside him, pulling out almost to the tip and then charging back inside, each forward thrust harder and faster than its predecessor making John Paul moan louder each time, desperate for more.
As he rode his lover hard Craig leant forward kissing John Paul's mouth firmly, growling with pleasure as John Paul's flesh wrapped itself perfectly around the length of his cock.
Pushing his arms underneath John Paul's body Craig showed surprising strength as he spun them both over until John Paul was above him, Craig's cock still embedded deep inside.
John Paul rose and fell against the hardness inside him, Craig's hips bucking up to meet John Paul's body as it descended, faster and harder, both men panting and gasping, their bodies slick with sweat.
Craig raised himself up to wrap his arms once again around John Paul's back, his nails clawing at the man's flesh as he teeth sank into the small of his neck.
John Paul groaned at the mixture of pleasure and pain that assaulted his body from every angle and with such intensity that it defied human experience.
John Paul's cock throbbed heavily between the men's hot sticky bodies and he wrapped his fingers around it in search of the release that felt so very close.
"Not yet," Craig said breathlessly, his fingers still clawing his lovers back, leaving deep red scratches in their wake. "Oh fuck… John Paul I…"
Craig's whole body shook as he came, slamming his cock as hard as he could deep inside John Paul's hot tight flesh, over and over again, each thrust releasing another wave of pleasure until there was nothing more his body could give.
Withdrawing his cock from John Paul's pleasured hole Craig pushed the man to his back and, with one fluid movement, took the length of John Paul's erection into his throat.
John Paul gasped and bucked his hips as Craig sucked hard against his length, the head of John Paul's cock hitting the back of Craig's throat making him gag slightly as he took it as deep as was physically possible.
"Oh fuck… oh god… yes… I … fuck…" A babble of words tumbled from John Paul's lips as his climax raced towards him, his cock pulsing its heat deep into Craig's hungry throat as the man sucked and feasted on its hot creamy excitement, drinking his lover dry and leaving him breathless and gasping for air.
"I was right," Craig said with a wicked smile as he licked his lips slowly, "You do taste amazing!"
John Paul stretched and sighed in the comfort of the large bed, smiling at the sight of the gorgeous man beside him. He couldn't remember ever having felt so physically satisfied before in his life and he felt as if he could lie there forever.
"Shit," John Paul said sitting up suddenly, "What time is it?"
Craig turned his head lazily to look at his bedside clock. "Just before midnight," he replied.
"I've gotta go," John Paul said, jumping from the bed and quickly pulling on his clothes.
"Stay," Craig suggested, touching a hand to John Paul's arm. He had never wanted to spend the whole night with someone before but he was reluctant for the night with John Paul to come to an end.
"I can't," John Paul replied as he continued to dress, "I've really gotta go…"
"Oh… I see…" Craig said deflated. "Well if you want to…"
"No I…" John Paul stopped and, crouching beside the bed, he took hold of Craig's hand. "I would stay if I could… I just… I…." John Paul bit his lip. How could he explain his prior engagement? As much as he didn't want to lie to Craig there was no way he could tell the man the truth. "I've got an early assignment and I need to get my gear organised… it's just easier if I wake up at home… you do understand that don't you?"
"Yeah… I guess…" Craig replied, sounding less than convinced.
"Look erm…" John Paul fished his wallet from his pocket and pulled out one of his business cards, turning it over he wrote a number on it. "That's my private number, call me yeah? I'd… I'd like to see you again…" John Paul felt his cheeks flush softly, a light pink hue that made Craig smile at the sight.
Snaking his hand around John Paul's neck Craig pulled his lover in for a deep kiss before getting out of the bed and slipping his fluffy white dressing gown on.
"Come on then," Craig said reluctantly, "I'll see you out."
The two men embraced again at the front door. John Paul's fingers itched to get inside the warmth of Craig's dressing gown but more pressing matters forced him to say goodnight and give his lover a farewell kiss.
After closing the door Craig wrapped his dressing gown closer around himself and padded barefoot into his living room. The joyful meows of Malaysia and Nikolai racing towards him as the two cats rushed to once again greet their owner. They weaved their silken bodies against Craig's bare legs as he fished a key from his pocket and slipped it into a lock that was almost imperceptible. The door to Craig's "study" had been designed to blend in with the rest of the wall so that any casual observer would be unaware that a room could be located beyond it.
Malaysia and Nikolai followed Craig into the room, alternating between rubbing against his legs and chasing each other, as Craig keyed in the twelve-digit code that disabled the rooms' alarm. The cats were unaware of the honour they received by being allowed access to such a room, after all they held no interest to the contents beyond the secret door, they were just happy to be wherever Craig was.
Sitting down at the large mahogany desk Craig scooped Malaysia into his lap, stroking the cat's body slowly as it purred loudly and nestled against his chest.
Nikolai amused himself by pouncing on Craig's bare toes, an action guaranteed to make the man laugh and squirm, his wriggling feet making an even more tempting target for Nikolai's attacks.
"What do we think then?" Craig asked his furry companions, "He IS nice isn't he? Should I call him again?"
Malaysia purred louder while Nikolai decided to bite Craig's big toe, both of which Craig took as signs of agreement.
Lifting Malaysia into the air Craig tiled his head back to stare into the cats discerning green gaze.
"But when do I call him? Is tomorrow too soon?"
Malaysia blinked slowly before wriggling in Craig's grasp until he finally placed her on the ground where she instantly leapt onto Nikolai's tail, biting it hard and making the other cat turn with a startled "meow" before chasing her across the room.
"There's so much I would like to show him," Craig mused as he looked around the room. There, within those four secure walls, were housed the greatest items of Craig's collection and it sometimes pained him that no eyes but his own, and those of his two feline companions, should ever see them. So many items of such great beauty that he longed to share with someone, but could John Paul be that someone?
As the cats chased each other around his feet Craig picked up the black velvet pouch that was resting on his desk and slipped its contents into his hand.
The diamond glistened, reflecting the light in a myriad of directions as he passed it from hand to hand, the cool weight heavy and satisfying as it rested in each palm.
Malaysia pounced on Craig's bare foot making him jump with a yelp, dropping the diamond onto the floor.
Nikolai pounced onto the sparkling jewel, batting it with his paw, intrigued by the way it reflected the lights as he pushed it this way and that. Seeing the other cats' new toy Malaysia gave up her interest in Craig's toes and quickly did her best to claim the precious stone from her bedfellow.
Craig watched at the cats played with the gem as if it were nothing more than a plastic ball, laughing as their backs arched and they leapt at the diamond in an attempt to beat it into submission.
"OK that's enough," Craig admonished after a while, "That really isn't for you!"
Bending down Craig retrieved his latest acquisition and placed it back inside the velvet pouch. Another item of unrivalled beauty that no one but him, and his cats, would ever see.
Closing his eyes Craig sat back in his chair. He longed to share his treasures with someone and he would love that someone to be a someone like John Paul McQueen, but how could he be sure the man would understand. How could he ever be sure?
The Knight stood on the rooftops above the city, a small smile playing over his lips as his bright blue eyes took in the scenery. It was a view so similar to one that he had witness from a window only a few hours earlier. He felt no small level of guilt that he had allowed his own pleasures keep him from patrolling the city street until late but the lure of Craig's bed had been one that was exceptionally difficult to resist.
The Knight's thoughts were interrupted by a piercing scream, a shrill sound that ended abruptly as if it had been cut off by the silencing of a large hand.
Within moments The Knight had located the source of the cry for help and was ready for action.
The young woman was pinned against a wall by two large, and frightening men, her top was torn exposing one breast and her face streaked with mascara coloured tears and she struggled in vain against her captors.
A third man was approaching her slowly, unbuckling his belt as he moved.
"I'm gonna enjoy this," the man growled in a deep rumble of a voice.
"Not tonight you're not," The Knight said as he stepped silently from the shadows. "I suggest you let the woman go and be on your way."
The thug turned to face the calm voice behind him. The entire population of the City were aware of The Knight and his reputation and the would-be rapist hesitated as he came face to face with an all too familiar costume.
Looking back towards his companions the thug tried to weigh up his options. There were three of them against this one man and, more importantly, he didn't want to be seen to lose face in front of his friends.
"I don't think so," the man replied, stepping forward and aiming a blow at The Knight's face. The Knight moved swiftly and before he knew what had happened the thug felt his arm being twisted up his back, threatening to break if it moved another inch.
"I said be on your way," The Knight repeated in a tone that was both calm and yet wholly menacing.
The other two men threw their captive to the floor and ran to their companions' aid.
Without any show of effort The Knight spun the first thug around, sending him crashing into his friends and causing them to tumble into a heap on the ground.
Each time one of them attempted to get to his feet The Knight's fist would drive them back down until they lay, beaten and breathless and unable to fight back any longer.
Pulling handcuffs from an unnoticeable compartment in his outfit The Knight fastened the three men to the drainpipe on the wall behind them; he would call the police later, when they had had time to cool down.
Kneeling down before the frightened woman The Knight adjusted her clothing to cover her chest and gently wiped the tears from her face.
"Are you alright?" He asked gently, his voice a warm and soothing melody that washed away the worst of her fears.
The woman nodded slowly, sniffling back the last of her tears, as The Knight helped her to her feet and, slipping a guiding arm around her waist he led her away from the scene of her attack, softly asking her address before taking her home, assuring that she was safe and wouldn't be alone.