Clare Devine clawed her scarlet fingernails through her long golden hair as she read the latest financial report. Her glossy red lips pursed together in annoyance and then parted as a frustrated scream saw the spiral bound document leave her hand and fly across the room, its sharp corner scoring a jagged cut in the forehead of her assistant as he cowered by the doorway, one hand flying up in reaction to being struck in the face by the report he had reluctantly been required to deliver to his new boss.
Tom was nineteen, fair haired, bright eyed and fresh out of college and, like all of his predecessors, he had believed that a career in the fashion industry would be glamorous.
Two weeks as Clare Devine's assistant had cured him of that illusion and, as he bent down to pick up the document at his feet, Tom regretted the day he ever walked through the doors at DevineFashions.
"It's not possible," Clare snarled, her words directed at nobody in particular, she had all but forgotten the young man who stood uncertainly in her office. Clare had no memory of her newest assistants name and likewise had no intention of learning it. She knew that he would last no longer than the others, just as she knew he would be all to easy to replace. There was always some keen bright young thing with a head full of dreams and a CV full of qualifications banging on her door with a desire to work for her. "I've done everything I can to turn this Company around."
Rising from her seat Clare strode across the polished solid oak flooring of her office and snatched the financial report from the trembling hand of the young man who was wondering if his uncles offer of a job in his building firm still stood.
"How is it possible?" Clare snapped, spittle hitting Tom's face as she spoke.
"I don't… I…" Tom stammered. Was he supposed to answer? More importantly was he supposed to know the answer? His forehead began to bead with nervous sweat and he searched in vain for the words that would placate his enraged employer. Clare's eyes seemed to burn into his soul, causing it to wither under her cold gaze, Tom raised his hand nervously to his forehead, wiping away a mixture of blood and sweat as he swallowed heavily.
"Oh get out," Clare hissed, turning her back on the young man who fled from the room in relief.
Clare flicked though the report once again, growling at each page as she tore it out and threw it onto the floor. Every graph showed a downward slope in the profits of DevineFashions as sales plummeted to an all time low. As she turned to the final page Clare closed her eyes and let the document fall to the floor, the company projections for the next few months were grim to say the least. If Clare couldn't find a way to turn things around, and soon, then DevineFashions would slip away into the past, another fashion house that didn't quite manage to make it.
Running her carefully manicured hands over her face Clare slumped back into her chair as she took in the large promotional poster on the wall opposite.
Craig Dean smiled down from the wall, his trim form snugly enrobed in the suit that was the pinnacle of DevineFashions latest collection. He looked exactly how he should, how every man in the city should want to look, so why didn't they? Why were the suits not flying off the racks? For six weeks the adverts had been splashed over every glossy magazine and billboard throughout the city, but still it made no difference. Sales were miles of their required targets and her brilliant idea of hiring the top man to front her campaign hadn't changed a thing.
Clare sighed to herself, the truth was she already knew why it wasn't working, no slick advertising campaign could make up for the lack of quality in the garments and, if Claire wanted to maintain the lifestyle she loved, she knew it wasn't going to be on the back of the failing fashion company.
But she also knew it wasn't her only option.
Picking up the telephone from her neatly ordered desk Clare dialled a number she had always suspected she would fall back on.
"Yes," the distinctly male voice on the other end of the line said curtly.
"I need your help."
Malaysia purred in contentment as she lay curled in the warmth of John Paul's lap, his right hand lazily tickling her head while he held a coffee cup with his left.
Sitting in Craig's lap Nikolai eyed John Paul with some suspicion. The blonde man seemed to have quickly become a permanent fixture in Craig's life and as such was now often in Nikolai's home, and the cat still wasn't sure if he liked that arrangement. So much of Craig's attention, which rightfully belonged to Nikolai, was now being diverted to the other human as the two men spent more and more time together.
"He still doesn't like me," John Paul said with a laugh as he nodded towards the cat on Craig's lap.
"He'll come round," Craig reassured him as he tickled Nikolai's ears affectionately, "You've already won over Malaysia!"
"Nah, I think it was all her choice." Finishing his coffee John Paul put down his cup and stroked the cat's back, her deepening purrs sending rumbles of vibration through the man's thighs.
Craig smiled as he watched John Paul lavish his attentions on Malaysia. Nikolai was always prone to jealousy when Craig had company but he didn't doubt that eventually the male cat would be as accepting as his sister. After all there was something about the blonde haired, blue-eyed man that made Craig want to keep him around so Nikolai would just have to get used to it.
John Paul's eyes caught the headline of the newspaper that lay open on Craig's coffee table.
"Did you read that?" John Paul asked nodding towards the paper.
"What?" Craig replied, his gaze following the path of John Paul's eyes. 'OCELOT STRIKES AGAIN' "Oh the robbery… err… yeah I had a quick glance."
John Paul shook his head and sighed.
"It's not like there was any real harm done," Craig said as he closed the paper over, torn between a desire to change the subject or to show John Paul the remarkable jewels that comprised his latest haul.
"Craig that Ocelot character stole a diamond necklace worth thousands… how can you say there was no harm done?"
"It's not like anyone ever gets hurt," Craig reasoned, "And it'll be insured… no one really loses out in the end…"
"What about the people who own the necklace? The insurance company? And who knows who else. Maybe no one's been hurt yet but what about when they are? It's only a matter of time…"
"No I don't think he'd…"
"Not that it matters…"
"No?"
"Well I expect The Knight will catch up with him before much longer." John Paul smiled to himself; he knew for certain that The Knight wouldn't relax until The Ocelot rested behind bars, where he belonged.
"You think?" Craig asked with a smile that he tried to hold in, "The Ocelot seems pretty crafty to me…"
"Yeah but The Knight isn't likely to let someone like that free reign in his city!"
"HIS city?" Craig asked with a laugh.
"Well you know! Damn, I should really be going," John Paul sighed reluctantly as he looked at his watch. "I'm probably already going to be late. You're a bad influence Mr Dean!"
"If you'd just stay over all night you wouldn't have to rush," Craig replied, lifting his hand from Nikolai's head to squeeze John Paul's shoulder. The cat looked up in disgust and kneaded his claws into Craig's thighs to remind the man where his priorities should lie. Craig laughed softly at the reaction as he gently caught hold of the cat's paws and unhooked Nikolai's nails from his leg.
Craig hated the way that John Paul would always dash off at some point during the night, sometimes it would be into the early hours of the morning, but always with some excuse of an early start or needing to set up some equipment or other. Excuses that didn't seem to hold water as the man often found time to stop off at Craig's apartment to share breakfast the next morning. If Craig didn't know better he would swear that John Paul was married or led a secret life. The thought made Craig laugh silently to himself, he knew all too well about living a secret life and, the truth was, John Paul returning home each night gave Craig the time to pursue his own late night activities.
"Not yet yeah?" John Paul replied as he scooped Malaysia into his arms, kissing the top of the cat's head softly, before placing her onto the floor. There were times he would love nothing more than to spend the night with Craig. To lie in the man's arms as the night moved into day, to enjoy something as normal as waking up beside the man he… He what? Loved? John Paul wasn't ready to admit it, and certainly not ready to say it, but in his heart he already knew that his feelings for Craig had grown into something far deeper than anything he had expected when they first met only a few weeks earlier. But no matter what he felt John Paul knew he couldn't allow himself the luxury of spending the night in Craig's bed, not now, probably not ever. John Paul McQueen might be his own man with his own needs and desires, but The Knight belonged to the City. "One day maybe, but not yet."
"Come on I'll see you out," Craig said with a reluctant sigh as he placed Nikolai onto the floor beside the other cat, both men getting to their feet to make the small, but seemingly inexplicably long, walk to the front door.
The second Nikolai's paws touched the ground he took the opportunity to leap on Malaysia's tail, nipping it sharply, causing the female cat to hiss and race across the room, pursued by her brother.
"You'll call me later?" Craig asked as he opened the door.
"You know I will," John Paul replied, pulling Craig into his arms for a moment and kissing his mouth firmly. "Soon as I can."
Taking a few steps into the hallway of the apartment building John Paul stopped and looked back to see Craig still standing in the doorway watching him leave.
"You gonna watch me all the way to the elevator?" John Paul asked with a laugh.
"Thought I would," Craig replied, folding his arms and leaning against the doorframe.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah… you've got a nice arse!"
"You're late."
Clare sighed as she took a seat opposite the dark haired man in a quiet café a few blocks from her office.
"I had stuff to do," Clare said, placing her bag by her feet and smiling nervously. In fact she had arrived at the café in plenty of time for her meeting, but she didn't want the man to think that he was completely in control of the situation.
The dark haired man smiled. He had a variety of smiles, ones that could charm, ones that could seduce, ones of genuine humour and ones, like the one directed at Clare Devine, that told the recipient they were walking on very thin ice and had better be careful. His eyes were cold and lacking any sign of humanity, the sight made Clare shiver.
"So are we on?" Clare asked in a desperate need to get down to business, the man facing her unnerved her. She had heard the stories of the things he had done and the things he was capable of doing. He was cold, calculated, and completely heartless. He lived only for what he could get out of life, or more precisely what he could take. Casualties were not so much acceptable to him but rather unnoticeable.
Taking what he wanted had become a way of life for the man most people only knew as "The Fox" ever since, at the impressionable age of 17, he had lost his younger sister to a senseless accident. A drunk driver who had, in recompense, only served a few years of a prison sentence had mown down the pretty young girl. Hardly an adequate punishment for ending a young life and final proof, if one were needed, that there was no justice in the world. At a time when the teenage boy still had the chance to choose between right and wrong he had been convinced that life was cruel and, as a result, he might as well take whatever he could from it and to hell with the consequences.
From that day forward the young man, who had once been a hero to his sister Katy, turned to a life of crime. Within a few years his name was already known in the right, or rather the wrong, circles as the man to go to if you had a job that needed doing. No matter how dirty, if you wanted something doing and you wanted it doing quickly then Warren Fox was the man to call. And many called.
Now, in his early thirties, Warren Fox was a professional criminal. A thief, a killer or a conman, whatever he needed to be, whatever he was paid to be. The Fox was always for hire.
Warren smiled, his dark green eyes looking the pretty blonde woman up and down with a hunger that was part lust and part greed. There was no denying that he found her physically attractive and had every intention of bedding her before their transaction was completed, but he also saw in her a potential to make money, and if there was one thing Warren Fox liked more than sex it was money.
Clare squirmed uncomfortably in her seat, the few moments that Warren had been staring at her felt like hours and she just wished he would speak. His silence unnerved her and his gaze, deep and penetrating, made her feel vulnerable and exposed, almost naked before him.
"Here," Warren said finally as he handed a newspaper to the blonde woman.
"What?" Clare asked as she took hold of the folded paper and read the headlines. Another politician exposed in yet another sex scandal, Clare couldn't see the potential in such a story.
"Not that one," Warren told her, taking a hold of the newspaper and turning it to reveal the smaller story at the bottom of the front page.
"Red Death comes to Hollyoaks City," Clare read aloud, her brow furrowing as she continued to read the news that the infamous 'Red Death' diamond was due to pass through the City as part of a nationwide exhibition. "And?" Clare asked with a shrug as she got to the end of the article.
"I want it," Warren told her with a lusty smile, "Or rather someone I know wants it…"
"And?" Clare repeated.
"You're gonna help me get it!"
"That wasn't very friendly," Craig chastised gently as he fell back into the softness of his sofa and shook his finger in mock anger at Nikolai.
The cat meowed as he brushed his silken body against Craig's legs, entwining himself around them and purring loudly.
"And that wont get round me," Craig lied as he bent forward and scooped the cat onto his lap. "John Paul's nice," Craig said, looking deeply into the bright green feline eyes, "And I really like him… be nice next time he's here yeah?"
Nikolai meowed again and rubbed his face against Craig's cheek making the man laugh softly and he ran his hand along the length of the cats back.
Feeling left out Malaysia leapt onto the sofa and was soon vying for Craig's attentions, the two cats meowing loudly as they attempted to push each other from Craig's lap. Laughing Craig shooed both cats back onto the floor where they instantly shifted their attentions to each other and resumed their previous game of chase.
Craig watched his cats for a few moments, smiling as they ran and jumped around the floor, squeezing past his legs and occasionally pouncing on his bare toes. Leaning forward he picked up the newspaper from the coffee table with the intention of settling back for a relaxing read but a certain article caught his eye.
"Well, well," Craig said aloud, "The Red Death… now there's something I've always fancied getting my hands on… looks like I'll be getting my chance!"
Craig pulled his charcoal grey overcoat tightly around him to ward off the frosty Christmas Eve air as he stood outside the gothic styled museum that was exhibiting the infamous Red Death diamond as part of its tour. His eyes rested on the poster hung in the glass-fronted display case by the museums door. The poster documented the diamond's history and the various, and often gruesome, deaths that seemed to following the ruby coloured gem, a history that gave the diamond its name.
No private owner had ever managed to keep possession of the Red Death for longer than a few weeks before one unexplained accident or another would claim their life.
The most recent owner had been beheaded while skiing, his head severed cleanly from his neck and his blood staining the crisp white snow a deep crimson as he lay undiscovered for several hours. Despite a thorough investigation of the surrounding area the police had been unable to establish the cause of the freak "accident" and it was to become yet another unanswerable death linked to the diamond's curse.
The jewel was donated to the museum only days following the man's mysterious demise and since leaving private ownership no more deaths had been attributed to it.
Craig didn't believe in curses. He did believe in owning beautiful things however and, with a smile to himself, Craig pushed open the museums heavy doors and made his way to the central display room to view the item that he would soon own.
Several people milled around the glass display case that housed the Red Death, whispering under their breaths and gasping in shock and horror as they read the accounts of the numerous deaths that followed the diamond's journey around the globe.
Taking a few steps forwards Craig stopped as he noticed a familiar face leaning towards the display and whispering to the man at her side.
Clare's long golden locks fell forward as she leaned over one of the information panels, appearing to read its contents to her companion as she shook her head.
Despite knowing that he had the kind of a face that would be recognised almost anywhere he went Craig had no desire to be spotted by Clare Devine, especially not when he had less than honourable plans for the jewel she was currently studying intently.
As silently as he entered the room Craig left, there were plenty of other rooms and displays he could visit to kill time until Miss Devine was gone leaving Craig free to check out the security measures around his target with more discretion.
"Have you read some of these?" Clare asked in a nervous hushed voice, pointing at the various panels that documented the Red Death's victims. "Who the hell would want to own that thing?"
Warren laughed, his green eyes sparkling with avarice as he watched the light that seemed to dance inside the glorious red diamond. As he turned his head the lights would sway this way or that, moving to a music of their own creation inside an object of unimaginable beauty.
Unlike Craig however Warren had no real love for the ownership of beautiful things, they simply were. They existed for what they could give him. The splendour of the diamond meant nothing to him; instead it was purely a means to an end. And that end was a vast quantity of money. He didn't care about curses; he didn't care if the next owner of the diamond should die the day after he took ownership. All Warren cared about was making sure he got paid. And no one made the mistake of not paying The Fox, at least no one still living ever had.
"That's not your concern," Warren whispered in response to Clare's question, "Someone does want it and that's all that matters. Someone who's prepared to pay me a lot of money to get it for him…"
"Us," Clare corrected.
"What?"
"Us… prepared to pay US a lot of money…"
Warren grinned, a smile that made Clare take a step backwards, a smile that had the air of a predatory animal sizing up its prey. "You'll get your cut," he said after a moment, his grin widening as he spoke giving Clare a momentary vision of his glistening white teeth tearing into her throat
Closing the distance between them Warren moved forward, his fingers at Clare's neck before she had a chance to react, squeezing just a little bit, enough so that Clare could feel the calluses of his skin scratching against the delicate ivory of her throat.
Warren's cold emerald gaze made Clare shiver, his look, as well as his hand at her throat, left the woman in no doubt that he could end her life as if she were nothing more to him but a bug to be extinguished. He could kill her just was easily and with as little remorse.
Warren tightened his grip a fraction, the look of fear in someone's eyes was the greatest aphrodisiac he had ever known and watching that delicate woman tremble at his touch made Warren's groin ache. He couldn't be certain if he would get more pleasure from killing her or fucking her. But there was always the chance he could do both.
A deep cough to Warren's left reminded him that they were not alone and he let his hand fall back to his side, smiling at the red imprint of his fingers glowing against Clare's milky white skin.
"I've seen all I need to in here," Warren said gruffly, "Let's go."
Taking a few deep breaths to steady her racing nerves Clare followed the dangerous man from the room. Alarm bells rang inside her head, she knew that getting involved with The Fox was playing with fire but she also knew that she was in too deep for him to let her out now.
Clare Devine has always believed she was cold and ruthless, more than one of her husband's deaths had been somewhat advanced by her hand. But compared to Warren Fox she was a mere amateur and she knew that she had to be careful.
Craig smiled as he observed the exquisite red diamond. His fingers itched to reach inside the glass case and take a hold of the gem, to feel its icy weight in his hand and to claim an object that he was already thinking of as his.
Despite owning some truly beautiful objects, many of which were diamonds, nothing compared to the elegant beauty of the Red Death and he couldn't wait to give it pride of place amongst his collection.
It never once crossed Craig's mind that taking the item was a crime or that depriving other people of its beauty could be considered an immoral act. Quite simply he wanted it and as such intended to take possession as soon as he could.
The security measures surrounding the Red Death, although thorough, were nothing that Craig Dean hadn't encountered, and defeated, many times before. The pressure pad that would register if the gem were moved was easy to defeat, and the small markings around the base of the room indicated a series of infrared lights that would be activated at night, tripping an alarm should their invisible beams be broken. Even in his early days Craig had learned how to detect and thus avoid such things.
Craig had never really considered himself a criminal. Initially his thefts had been born more of necessity and now, although some may have called it greed, to Craig owning the beautiful things that he stole were as vital to everyday life as food or water. In many ways Craig Dean was addicted to a lifestyle he created for himself and, just like any addict, he had no intention of giving up.
Taking a look at his watch Craig sighed and, glancing back over his shoulder to the beautiful object in the glass case, he left the museum. He had an appointment with another beautiful creation.
"Right on time," John Paul said with a smile as he opened the door to his studio.
"As always," Craig replied with a cheeky grin, brushing a kiss over his boyfriend's cheek as he stepped over the threshold.
"I've just got to put a few things away and then we can go out for lunch or something."
"What sort of something?" Craig asked with a suggestive wink.
Taking his camera down from its tripod and placing it on the nearby table John Paul laughed and shook his head. Sometimes it amazed him how his dark haired lover could turn the smallest comment into a sexual innuendo, but he wasn't complaining, especially when that innuendo often turned into action.
"Oh this is for you," Craig said, holding out a large brown paper carrier bag that he had collected from his apartment on the way to John Paul's studio.
"What is it?" John Paul asked, eyeing the bag suspiciously.
"Nothing," Craig replied with a shrug, his arm still extended.
"Craig?"
"It's… it's just… it's nothing… a gift…"
"Craig!" John Paul repeated in an exasperated tone. "We said no Christmas presents, YOU said no Christmas presents… we agreed."
"I don't DO Christmas," Craig said with a smile as he pressed the carrier bags string handle into John Paul's hand, "Jewish remember… you did Hanukkah with me… this is just, I liked it… I thought you'd like it… now open it and tell me how right I was!"
John Paul's annoyance was minimal, and short lived, as he opened the bag to enthusiastically pull out its contents. The item that came to hand was soft, fabric and wrapped in layers of tissue paper. Peeling away the pastel coloured paper John Paul tentatively stroked the white satin beneath before holding up the shirt in both hands to admire it fully.
"It's gorgeous," John Paul said breathlessly as he ran the rich fabric between his fingers. "Really gorgeous…"
"You like it?" Craig asked nervously.
"I love it…"
"Really?"
"Really… you shouldn't have… but thank you."
Craig's face beamed with unsurpassed joy. So much of his wealth was spent on himself, or on Malaysia and Nikolai, he had never had anyone he really wanted to spoil before and he had never known how good he would feel being able to do just that.
"There's something else," Craig said with a grin, nodding encouragingly at the bag.
Reaching his hand inside again John Paul pulled out a box, roughly the size of his palm, burnished red and wrapped in cellophane with the words "Red Diamonds" and "Emporio Armani" emblazoned at apposing angles across the front.
"Aftershave?" John Paul said curiously.
"Yeah," Craig replied with a bright smile, "As soon as I smelt it I knew it was perfect for you… try it on… see if you like it…"
Craig bit his lip nervously as John Paul ripped open the cellophane packaging and slipped the diamond shaped bottle in red glass from its box. There was no denying that the irony of the fragrances name had appealed to Craig, but not as much as the scent had and, as he leant forward to experience the aroma afresh from the warmth of John Paul's neck he knew he'd made the perfect choice. The aftershave suited his boyfriend perfectly, enhancing the photographers own natural intoxicating scent so much that Craig could not resist nuzzling deeply into the man's neck.
John Paul laughed softly as Craig's hot breath bathed his skin and he pushed the model playfully away, basking for a moment in the admiring gaze from his deep chocolate eyes before feeling a pang of sadness.
"Trust me to have a boyfriend who goes away at Christmas," John Paul said with a sigh.
"It's been booked for months… If I'd known about us…" Craig began regretfully.
"I know," John Paul interrupted, "I'll just…" John Paul's pale cheeks flushed pink and he looked away from Craig's stare. "I've just got used to having you around…"
"You'll miss me," Craig teased.
"I might," John Paul replied with a small giggle.
"You'll miss me like crazy," Craig continued, digging his lover in the ribs lightly as he spoke.
"Might," John Paul said again with a deeper laugh.
"You'd better," Craig said, his tone getting more serious as he turned the blonde man towards him and looked deeply into the bottomless aqua pools of the mans eyes. "Cause I'll miss you every minute."
John Paul flushed under Craig's unwavering gaze. Nobody had ever looked at him like that before, with such complete adoration, and the stare both excited and unnerved him, it was almost as if Craig could see beyond the façade that he had carefully built up over the years. The thing that scared John Paul the most was the fact that he wasn't even certain he wanted to hide his true self from the man any longer.
Craig smiled, the small mole on his upper lip dancing joyfully and his eyes sparkling with such richness that they took John Paul's breath away.
"I'd love to take your photograph," John Paul said slowly, stroking his fingers over Craig's soft cheek and tracing the structure of the man's cheekbone.
"You have," Craig laughed, "that's how we met, remember?"
"No, I mean you… the real you, not some rubbish ad campaign."
"Come on then," Craig replied, pulling away from John Paul's touch and dropping his overcoat to the floor as he stepped onto the small stage area that dominated the studio. "I could do with some new shots for my portfolio… and I hear you're pretty good!"
Moving into the centre of the platform Craig positioned himself before the pale blue fabric that swathed the backdrop and struck a comically dramatic pose, one hand on his hip and the other pointing off to some unseen location as he gazed longingly into the distance.
John Paul laughed as he grabbed his camera from the table and pointed it at the dark haired Adonis before him.
"Work it for the camera," John Paul said between his giggles, his camera snapping at Craig as the man turned this way and that, alternating his poses as he pouted, smiled or frowned, changing from comical to sexy and back with each click of the camera's shutter.
"More," John Paul urged, crouching down on one knee and directing the camera upwards to capture his model from a different angle, "Make love to the camera."
"I can think of better things than a camera to make love to," Craig replied, loosening the buttons at the top of his shirt and ruffling his hand through his dark locks as he shot a disarmingly lusty look at his photographer.
John Paul swallowed and got back to his feet slowly, his hands trembling slightly as he continued to capture each frame of Craig's movements, immortalising the man's image in perfect digital clarity.
"God you look gorgeous," John Paul breathed, envying the path of Craig's hand as it dipped inside his shirt.
"I hope you don't look at all your models like that," Craig teased. John Paul's brilliant blue eyes had grown dark with lust and there was no denying his mind was straying far from professionalism.
"Only the really hot ones," John Paul replied with a deep throaty laugh. His palms were growing damp with sweat and he had an increasing desire to throw the camera to one side. A desire that was amplified a thousand-fold when Craig gripped the edges of his shirt, pulling it open to expose his smooth olive chest and sending buttons scattering across the studio floor.
John Paul's fingers continued their automatic pressure against the camera, snapping shot after shot as Craig slowly slipped his shirt from his shoulders and let it fall slowly to the floor, but John Paul's mind had long since forgotten that the camera was in his grasp.
As Craig ran his hands slowly over his bare torso John Paul yelped in sudden discomfort.
"Shit," the photographer gasped as his camera slipped from his hands and landed heavily on his right foot. "Ow!"
Bending over John Paul winced as he rubbed the foot that throbbed with pain.
"I'm alright," John Paul said as Craig rushed to the front of the platform and bent forward to check on his lover's cries, "I'm fine."
Despite the blonde man's discomfort Craig couldn't help but laugh at the comical sight. "Are you sure?" Craig asked between giggles, "You don't want me to kiss it better?"
"No… I don't want you to kiss…" John Paul joined in his boyfriend's laughter, their eyes melding together as a whole new pain hit John Paul squarely in the chest. "Craig…" he said, his voice a mixture of sadness and longing, "I wish you weren't going…"
"I'll be back before you know it," Craig promised, his hand brushing over John Paul's ivory cheek and sliding to the back of his neck as he leant forward and crashed their mouths together with unrestrained passion.
John Paul's pain was instantly forgotten, as he stumbled forward, tripping onto the raised edge of the stage, his hands finding their way over Craig's taught body to wrap around his back and pull the man hard against him.
Craig eased his tongue into the heat of John Paul's mouth, swirling it against John Paul's as his hands fought to disrobe the man of his shirt, its buttons rapidly scattering across the studio floor to mingle with Craig's.
The men continued to stagger backwards, tripping and stumbling over their feet as their hands sought the warmth of each other's flesh and their mouths remained glued together in a frantically passionate kiss.
There was a rip of fabric as they collided with the stage's backdrop, pulling down the material and collapsing together in a heap of bodies and soft blue fabric.
The air was filled with moans and whimpers as clothing was pushed out of the way to allow hands access to desperately throbbing erections.
John Paul gripped Craig's cock firmly, running his hand up and down the rigid length, groaning as Craig's tight grip mirrored his actions perfectly.
Craig moaned deeply into John Paul's hot kiss, his tongue exploring the depths of his lover's mouth, revelling in the taste of the other man and the overwhelming pleasure of his flesh until John Paul's perfect touch proved too difficult to resist. Craig broke away from the kiss, his head thrown back as he panted and moaned John Paul's name, his cock throbbing and pulsing its hot sticky satisfaction as his body shook with the release of his climax.
With a smile John Paul raised his hand to his face and, while never breaking eye contact with Craig, he slowly licked the thick salty evidence of Craig's pleasure from his skin.
Craig's dark eyes widened as he watched John Paul's tongue lap up the white viscous liquid until his hand was completely clean. With a gentle shove Craig pushed his lover onto his back, swallowing the man's hard cock completely before John Paul even had chance to catch his breath.
John Paul cried out as the heat of Craig's mouth wrapped around his length, his body trembling more and more, the harder Craig sucked against his cock the more John Paul moaned and writhed in pleasure until he too had no further resistance against his lover's ministrations and he came to a shuddering orgasm, it's hot essence flowing freely down Craig's throat as the model continued to suck and swallow until John Paul was completely drained.
The men lay breathlessly together, the pale blue backdrop of the stage half pulled over their semi- naked bodies as Craig rested his head against John Paul's chest, listening to the steady beat of his lover's heart.
"I'm gonna have to get going soon," Craig said quietly. For the first time in more years than he could remember Craig Dean had a reason to stay home for Christmas and, if it had just been for the sake of the price of a holiday, he would have cancelled it in a heartbeat. But Craig's holiday wasn't just a pleasure trip, there was a certain item that The Ocelot had his heart set on in his holiday location and somebody who was paying him to get it.
"Why go?" John Paul asked, running his fingers lightly over Craig's bare arm.
"Well it's booked now and…" Craig replied.
"No I mean, at all… why go away at Christmas?"
Craig sighed and turned his face to bathe in the warmth of John Paul's azure gaze.
"I've been doing it for years. It's just not a time of year I like…"
"Because you're Jewish?"
"No, not especially… it's just… well it's a family thing isn't it… and I don't have one… holidays like this, it just kinda reminds you of the fact that they're not around anymore…"
"Sorry," John Paul said apologetically, "I didn't mean to pry."
"It's OK," Craig said reassuringly as he pulled himself upright, "It's not a secret or anything… my dad left when I was just a kid… and my mum died a few years after that…"
"No brothers or sisters?"
"No, just me." Craig sighed. There were times after his father had left that the young Craig Dean had longed for a sibling or two to share the day to day task of keeping his mother going, a task that the young boy struggled to do on his own.
Johnno Dean had been, in most people's opinions, the perfect family man. Despite running his own security business he had never shirked his responsibilities of being a good father and loyal husband and had seemed to revel in the lifestyle that he had created. The man would often take his young son to work with him during school holidays, a fun pastime for the boy who loved spending time with his father, but one which served him well in his later life, as he realised that those days had taught him far more about locks and security devices, and especially how to disable them, than he had thought possible.
When Craig was thirteen years old he discovered that his father was not the perfect man he had always believed. He had found out that, not only was his father as fallible as the next man, but he was also a liar and a cheat.
For months Johnno Dean had been running his company into the ground, spending money that he didn't have and running up debts that he couldn't pay. Facts that only came to light after the man had abandoned his family in favour of a younger woman and her unborn child, his unborn child.
Frankie Dean never recovered from her husband's betrayal and, left heartbroken and penniless, she began to lean on her teenage son far more than his young shoulders could handle.
It was then that Craig Dean learned how to steal, and how to survive. In a vain attempt to make his mother smile the young man had performed his first theft, a moment that had changed his life forever.
Frankie had never questioned where her son had found the money for such a beautiful gift when he came home that day, but the exquisitely designed ocelot figurine had taken pride of place on mantle piece until the day she died. A figurine that was now kept amongst the rest of Craig's jewels, it might have been the least valuable item but it was also the most precious.
"I've really gotta go," Craig repeated as he got to his feet with another sigh.
"I guess so," John Paul agreed reluctantly, watching as the man pulled up his trousers and wrapped his now buttonless shirt around his torso.
Hauling himself upright John Paul also began to dress. "Craig?" he said after a moment.
"Yeah…"
"What's happening with the cats?"
"How d'you mean?"
"Who's looking after them…"
"Oh it's OK… they're spending a few days in a cattery…"
"Oh," John Paul said with a half relieved smile, "Cause you know I would have offered to…"
Craig laughed softly and touched a kiss to John Paul's lips. "I don't think Nikolai is ready for that just yet… do you?"
"Yeah maybe not!"
"I'll call you," Craig said as he gathered the last of his things together and slipped his arms into his overcoat.
"Make sure you do."
Cupping his lover's face gently Craig kissed John Paul with the tenderness of a man who knew it would be far too long before he would get to experience such a kiss again.
"We'll spend New Year together yeah?"
"I'd like that…"
"Oh and John Paul I…" Craig hesitated. The words were in his mouth but he wasn't sure he was ready to say them.
"What?"
"Have a nice Christmas."
"You too." John Paul smiled as Craig pulled open the studio door and left, they both knew he had been replying to the words Craig hadn't said.