AN: Essentially there's nothing for this fandom on here, which I think is a shame but here we go anyway
The events of the night seemed to flash before Ethan's mind is his intoxicated state as he watched the young man at the end of the room swig down the last droplets of his drink. He was so delicate and fragile looking, as if he had been sculpted from the finest porcelain. Everything about him seemed lush and alive, the colours exploding from his face in a spectacle of androgynous beauty.
In reality he knew that he should have thought of Brona. Hell, he should have never left Brona, rejected Dorian's offer and ran after her, but it was too late, his damn curiosity had got the better of him and now he was under the young man's intoxicating spell, he couldn't back out, and he couldn't summon the image of Brona to the surface of his mind, or Vanessa, the girl from the show, or any woman at all. Their faces were too fuzzy in his memory that he couldn't quite muster ny resounding and resolute details of them.
A sudden surge of putrid anger at this inescapable man, who was barely old enough to be a man, swelled in the very pit of his stomach and he surged forward in his half-drunken state, only half aware of his hand clamping around the young man's neck, his rough nails scraping the soft surface of the skin maliciously. He had not seen Dorian afraid before, not at the theatre, or at the underground games – which had terrified Ethan half to death – but now he could see a raw vulnerability in the eyes of the man who he could easily strangle right now. The young man refused to break his gaze and it was that vulnerability that made his fingers grow slack around his neck, and an overwhelming desire forced him to draw himself into his body with great force to plant a rough kiss of his soft porcelain lips, his hands gripping the back of the young man's neck to prevent any form of escape, practically forcing him to remain stationary as he forced himself upon him.
Wrenching himself from Dorian as most as violently as he had pulled him to himself mere moments ago, still holding his neck rather roughly, he could still feel the kiss on his lips, still smell the warm scent of his youth on his nostrils. Dorian looked as if he wanted to speak but Ethan didn't want to hear his petty protest. He was torn between the clouding desire to push the boy down to the floor on his knees and have his way with him, or to leave as quickly as he could and never bring himself to think of him again, go back to find Brona and beg on his hands a knees for her forgiveness, and swear that she was the only one he wanted, never Vanessa or anybody. His hands seem to decide for him, only half aware of his actions he took hold of the silken collar of Dorian's shirt, tearing it from his chest and down his lean muscular shoulders, exposing the bare plains of his pale chest, letting the purple satin drop to the floor, with a soft thump.
If he had any dignity or common sense remaining, he would back away right that second, plead for Dorian's forgiveness for violating and humiliating his new friend in such a demeaning way. And for a split second he felt a pang of guilt throb in the back of his mind at the look of sweet dismay on the young man's face that seemed to make his arms frail and flop limply to his sides, blinking in earnest at Dorian.
But Dorian didn't appear to want his forgiveness, or in fact for him to leave at all, as he appeared to grow bolder, the vulnerability in those eyes of his quickly replaced with determined and fierce encouragement. His teeth momentarily scraping his own bottom lip, his eyes flicking up and down Ethan's body as he nimble fingers skittered upwards to the buttons of Ethan's shirt, popping them open and gently drawing the sides of the shirt down to expose Ethan's chest. Slowly leaning upwards to lightly press his lips back to those who had violated his own moments before. The thrill of kissing Dorian left Ethan's mind quite deliciously blank, his arms inadvertently coming up to twine around the young man, his fingers twisting themselves effortlessly into his soft hair, as he tilted his head to draw him closer, their teeth clashing lightly. His lips were soft a plump, better than most women's, tasting rather strongly of wine and honey. His tongue gently slid out between his lips to delicately caress Ethan's. Ethan pulled his head away briefly to look at him, there was a flush on his boyish face that made him look quite beautiful, running his thumb over the young man's cheek softly.
"What do you like?" Dorian questioned innocently, though there was a devilishly sly tell-tail glint in his eye that Ethan wasn't used to. Evidentially his new friend was not quite as innocent as he liked to appear. Ethan wondered privately how many people Dorian'd had. How many young and beautiful men and women had found their way into Dorian's bed, he wondered? How many whores had fucked him? How many aristocrats had made love to him in a fiendish daze like this one? Ethan found he didn't even want to know, after all he was hardly a saint himself, he'd had his own fair share of night companions over the years.
He chose not to answer him – not in words at least. The corner of his lips twitching in a smile, pulling him back against him, fiercer this time, backing them both up into wall, nothing like the soft kisses from before, this is messy and demanding a bordering on violent. Two men locked in a fight for dominance, Ethan's hands finding their way to Dorian's trousers and pulling the belt out, their teeth cashing fiercely, his fingers yanking at the soft strands of his hair as a string of harsh and shallow moans escape his lips. His fingers scuttle upwards to Dorian's neck again, forcing his chin upwards, and trailing his lips back down his jaw to scrape his teeth across the delicate skin of his neck. "Turn around." He hissed, and he can almost sense to smile playing on Dorian's lips, as he submits to his demand, putting no space between their bodies as he twists him nimble frame around to face the wall.
"Are you going to have your way with me now then?" Dorian questions playfully, catching his breath in between words. This boy certainly knows how to play, and play well for that matter.
Grinning, Ethan's fingers crept almost agonisingly slowly to the rim of Dorian's trousers, his lips finding the back of the boy's neck, as his tongue gently traced the rather prominent vertebra, inciting a sharp intake of breath from Dorian that sent shivers through Ethan's already taught body "You'd like that wouldn't you?" Ethan rasped, his hand creeping to the front of Dorian's trousers, flicking the buttons open, peeling the fabric down his hips "Wouldn't you?" he repeated, taking hold of Dorian's wrist and pinning it up above his head so he couldn't escape, letting the trousers drop to the floor with a dull thud.
"Oh I would." Dorian murmurs, too quiet for Ethan to full register his words, an almost cruel smile twisting at his lips.