A.N.~ The rating has gone down to PG-13 because I wrote my lemon scene (to appear at the end of this chapter) and if it stays pretty much the way it is there is nothing really R rated about it, just HIGH Pg-13 I guess. On with the show!
Big huggles to my reviewer:
Didly-De-Lioncourt~ Thanks a bunch! Aren't they the greatest? Another really good one is A Place in Thy Memory, go read it!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Chapter 3
Games of Courtship, pt. 2
With soft, measured footfalls and quiet breath he prowled the maze like a lion stalking its prey, eyes peeled like a hawk's. I'd let out little giggles every so often, just to tease him, and I could hear chuckles of his own, a deep sound like distant thunder springing up from his chest. With inhuman grace, I leapt atop one of the iron statues that were sprinkled throughout the gardens to watch him head in the exactly opposite direction of my current hiding place, and found myself impressed. Even with my tracking abilities he was hard to pinpoint because of his light, padding gait. But, then again, I wasn't using the instincts of the hunter, but those of the hunted.
Knowing that he would never find me if I continued to be so crafty, I let myself grow louder and changed hiding places less and less. At last he cornered me between a healthy green hedge and a brick wall. He leaned over me, a perfectly groomed eyebrow cocked. He wet his lips and slowly leaned closer, closing his eyes mostly, but covertly watching me through his thick eyelashes. Just as my heart caught in my throat and his lips nearly touched mine, he was gone. Simply gone.
I blinked in amazement and disappointment, having hoped for my kiss. I did not know how he had pulled such a trick until I saw that the hedge beside me was wavering slightly, although there was no breeze and its foundations were strong. A grin played across my lips and I settled down to wait, giving him a decent amount of time to get away as my hunter's instincts kicked in.
When I hunted him, it did not take me half as long as it took him to find me as I had the unfair advantage of preternatural vampiric instincts. I cut him some slack at first, but those previously mentioned instincts began to howl in my head to close in for the kill and at last I broke under them, darting silently and gracefully in and around hedges, not seeing them whirl by me in a flurry of green sprinkled with the red of roses and the white of startled moths. I locked in on my prey, who was standing, dubious as a newborn fawn, with his back to me.
A smile leapt across my face. He never stood a chance.
I leapt at him, throwing him to the ground with my weight. Sputtering in shock and the most ruffled I had seen him, he rolled over to stare at me incredulously, his eyebrows knit close together in confusion. I smiled and laughed softly, not moving from my position atop him, and traced the gentle arch of his nose's bridge upward to his frowning forehead. Once more those creases offended me and I gave into my instinct to smooth them away, caressing them lightly and enjoying his slight shudder of delight. Just when I leaned in, tantalizing him with a kiss of my own, I whirled away in a flurry of black, leaving him lying helplessly on the ground. He gave a wicked smile and a laugh, leaping to his feet and bounding after me.
So it went, our endless game, Dorian chasing me, I chasing him. The turns would end with a seductive caress, an almost-kiss, and a peal of laughter. There were no rules, and the object to mercilessly torture your opponent to the point of breaking and submitting. Dorian swiftly grew tired of our little game because of my advantageous instincts which allowed me to locate him, my womanly charms which disarmed him, and my fleetness of foot which allowed me to hide from him. He expressed this displeasure when he cornered me once last time, in the place where he had cornered me before.
He assumed his previous position, but this time, instead of leaning in for my lips, he leaned towards my cheek, nuzzling me softly with his nose and then the side of his face. I could not suppress my shudder.
"Touche." I whispered through it, fighting to keep the tremble out of my low voice.
"But do you not grow tired of our game?" He whispered, allowing a half whine.
"Perhaps." I smiled, watching him through my dark eyelashes. Dorian leaned back to look me in the eyes, seeming disheveled and pitiful as he pleaded with his eloquent eyes. I looked down and twisted nervously, taking care to bump strategically into him a couple times while watching him coquettishly through my eyelashes. At last I smiled and nodded. Arm and arm, lifting the heavy winter air with our light chatter and laughter, we walked to his carriage and stepped inside, telling the driver to head to Dorian's house.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
After an hour or so we reached the outskirts of the city by the murky London docks where dark water churned, lashing out against the rickety old docks and boats. I frowned, looking out the lightly frosted window. I had always thought Dorian lived in the heart of London, or perhaps in the upper class part of it, for every time he left me it was towards there he headed. Surely this was not where he lived. My suspicions were confirmed as the carriage pulled up along a dark and grungy alleyway and came to a halt in front of a darkened doorway. Dorian leapt out lithely and extended his hand for me to take it, which I did, landing softly in the snow beside him. The driver backed up his horses and drove the carriage into a small shed beside the door, which Dorian was unlocking by way of a small rusted key. He opened the door with a flourish, bowing as he held it open for me.
The inside of his house was as impressive as the exterior: it was dimly lit by a few small gas lights along the wall and a faded and stained red rug spanned the distance between the creaking staircase and the doorway in which I stood. To my left I saw a doorway with empty hinges, which led into a dark corridor, and to my right was another door, this one seeming to be locked. Dorian was advancing towards the stairs, beckoning for me to follow, which I did, leaving my heavy cloak on the rack beside the door.
"Excuse the mess down here, I keep the upstairs much better furnished." He said softly, watching the innumerable portraits on the wall uneasily, as if they might spring to life. They all bore an uncanny resemblance to Dorian, and I assumed the whole family tree going back to the Middle Ages was hung there in grimy glory. However, when my frost blue eyes searched for Dorian's likeness, they did not see him, although they were drawn to the white rectangular space on the wall near the bottom, where a portrait had obviously been hung and quite recently. I turned to Dorian to inquire of this, but his eyes penetrated mine like knives in the dark gloom, striking and killing the question before it rose from throat.
I was led past a warm and beautifully furnished library and a dark bedroom to an upstairs dining room, something I found quite interesting. Here Dorian left me, with a warning not to explore the house without me as it was large and I might grow lost. I opened my mouth to ask him if he did not have servants in so large a house to help him, but he was gone and I was left in the large, gothic-style room by myself (A.N.~ think the Gothic Tower in Moulin Rouge).
The room was not well lit as the library had been, but it was for effect and not lack of good lighting. What light there was either a dark blue in color because of the blue glass containers that held them or a soft white. Dark, rich curtains concealed what seemed to be a doorway on the side opposite of where I sat, and behind me was the tall, polished oak door that Dorian had exited by. The windows were of teal and white stained glass in the pattern of diamonds; through them I could see little more then distorted stars and the outline of the dark street below. A sweet scent filled the room, and when I traced the scent to its source, I found a tall, dark plant, probably from a dark jungle somewhere in the world.
As I was inspecting this plant with a scientist's natural curiosity, I could hear Dorian coming closer to the room, so I went back to my seat at the long, dark cherry wood table in my throne-like chair at one end of the table. Dorian Entered just as I was beginning to wonder if I was hearing things, and he was dressed much more casually: a dark purple smoking jacket of silk with black velvet designs, black slacks, and a white shirt with a ruffle peeking out from the neckline of the smoking jacket. On his feet were delicate gray slippers.
In his arms he carried two silver platters, obviously very old. With a faint smile he placed one in front of me and the other at his end of the table, which he casually flopped onto, perched with the grace of a leopard in a tree. I removed the top of my tray and felt a gush of warmth my skin as it escaped its confines; the source was a thick steak, a mashed potato decorated with butter, salt, and parsley, and a goblet of red wine. Dorian's had the same.
"I hope you don't mind, my cook didn't finish the steaks." He said, cutting into his own. I looked up. So he *did* have servants elsewhere.
"You know I like mine rare." I smiled sensuously, cutting mine and slowly eating one piece at a time, fully aware that Dorian was watching me, or, specifically, my cleavage, as I bent over my food and consumed it hungrily. A haughty smile was on his face. We ate mostly in silence as seemed to be our wont, flashing meaningful glances at each other from time to time. At last he finished and approached me, raising his goblet.
"To a beautiful night." I said in sultry tones.
"To a beautiful woman." Dorian corrected me, clinking his goblet against mine lightly before drinking deeply.
My mind swirled as I tasted the wine, which I had not drank throughout the course because the teak was heavily saturated. It was thick, rich and sweet, like the blood of a nobleman. Something about it was carnally inflaming, igniting senses I had never known I possessed. A low moan, almost like a growl, rose up from my throat as I swallowed it, feeling it slide down my throat and into my stomach, shuddering with delight and holding my eyes closed so as to savor it longer.
"Good isn't it?" Dorian's low and seductive voice sounded somewhere behind me. I leaned back in my chair, not opening my eyes, and could feel his balmy breath on my face. The closeness of him made my hand clench on the goblet slightly, and one of its ornate designs pricked me. I put it down, opening my eyes to examine my palm.
"How clumsy of me." I said hoarsely, tightening my hand so he would not see it heal.
"Let me see, Mina. We wouldn't want blood everywhere now," He looked up after trying to break my grip, his glance catching mine meaningfully. Again instincts were enflamed by his look, and my skin felt feverishly hot. "would we?"'
"No," I said, my voice still hoarse. "Not blood."
Perhaps if Dorian Gray had not pressed his lips to mine with passion enough to destroy the foundations of the earth, he would've seen that my eyes were red.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
There was fire in his touch, in his hot lips and his tongue, pillaging my mouth. I felt myself fall but did not feel the ground, it was swept from under me. All the while our lips feverishly coupled and parted like waves lapping against the shore. Dizziness, like looking into the sun, overwhelmed me and I felt a feather lightness beneath me and his hardness above me. Words were whispered in a man's voice, but I did not hear and only shuddered as coldness touched the fire in my skin.
A groan reverberated through the stillness as volcanoes erupted where his skin touched mine and sweat like lava bathed us. His lips were swells no more, but tidal waves pounding onto my body like the ecstasy coursing through my veins. There was a swelling within me and i almost broke but he quelled me with insistent lips. My hands were lost in the dark jungle of his hair, his hands were exploring jungles of their own. Hot nectar gushed out to meet him as his still pillaging tongue trespassed.
Spasms cracked through me like a slave driver's whip and he almost fell away, but soon he met me and something clicked and broke before we were locked as one. Flurries of color and sound swirled around me and my hands dug into his back, a scream passing my wet lips and his as it ended, a weathered storm. Alluring and repulsive scents settled around me and I did not know. Blood flowed and ceased and I did not know. Sheets, cool after our heat, fell around us like a blanket of snow. Our eyes and our lips met once more before I slipped away, down in a foreign field.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A.N.~ Eh, it didn't seem like R last night.. But now it's sorta on the hinge... Tell me what you think it should be rated and how you liked it, please? *begs* Still no flames!
Big huggles to my reviewer:
Didly-De-Lioncourt~ Thanks a bunch! Aren't they the greatest? Another really good one is A Place in Thy Memory, go read it!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Chapter 3
Games of Courtship, pt. 2
With soft, measured footfalls and quiet breath he prowled the maze like a lion stalking its prey, eyes peeled like a hawk's. I'd let out little giggles every so often, just to tease him, and I could hear chuckles of his own, a deep sound like distant thunder springing up from his chest. With inhuman grace, I leapt atop one of the iron statues that were sprinkled throughout the gardens to watch him head in the exactly opposite direction of my current hiding place, and found myself impressed. Even with my tracking abilities he was hard to pinpoint because of his light, padding gait. But, then again, I wasn't using the instincts of the hunter, but those of the hunted.
Knowing that he would never find me if I continued to be so crafty, I let myself grow louder and changed hiding places less and less. At last he cornered me between a healthy green hedge and a brick wall. He leaned over me, a perfectly groomed eyebrow cocked. He wet his lips and slowly leaned closer, closing his eyes mostly, but covertly watching me through his thick eyelashes. Just as my heart caught in my throat and his lips nearly touched mine, he was gone. Simply gone.
I blinked in amazement and disappointment, having hoped for my kiss. I did not know how he had pulled such a trick until I saw that the hedge beside me was wavering slightly, although there was no breeze and its foundations were strong. A grin played across my lips and I settled down to wait, giving him a decent amount of time to get away as my hunter's instincts kicked in.
When I hunted him, it did not take me half as long as it took him to find me as I had the unfair advantage of preternatural vampiric instincts. I cut him some slack at first, but those previously mentioned instincts began to howl in my head to close in for the kill and at last I broke under them, darting silently and gracefully in and around hedges, not seeing them whirl by me in a flurry of green sprinkled with the red of roses and the white of startled moths. I locked in on my prey, who was standing, dubious as a newborn fawn, with his back to me.
A smile leapt across my face. He never stood a chance.
I leapt at him, throwing him to the ground with my weight. Sputtering in shock and the most ruffled I had seen him, he rolled over to stare at me incredulously, his eyebrows knit close together in confusion. I smiled and laughed softly, not moving from my position atop him, and traced the gentle arch of his nose's bridge upward to his frowning forehead. Once more those creases offended me and I gave into my instinct to smooth them away, caressing them lightly and enjoying his slight shudder of delight. Just when I leaned in, tantalizing him with a kiss of my own, I whirled away in a flurry of black, leaving him lying helplessly on the ground. He gave a wicked smile and a laugh, leaping to his feet and bounding after me.
So it went, our endless game, Dorian chasing me, I chasing him. The turns would end with a seductive caress, an almost-kiss, and a peal of laughter. There were no rules, and the object to mercilessly torture your opponent to the point of breaking and submitting. Dorian swiftly grew tired of our little game because of my advantageous instincts which allowed me to locate him, my womanly charms which disarmed him, and my fleetness of foot which allowed me to hide from him. He expressed this displeasure when he cornered me once last time, in the place where he had cornered me before.
He assumed his previous position, but this time, instead of leaning in for my lips, he leaned towards my cheek, nuzzling me softly with his nose and then the side of his face. I could not suppress my shudder.
"Touche." I whispered through it, fighting to keep the tremble out of my low voice.
"But do you not grow tired of our game?" He whispered, allowing a half whine.
"Perhaps." I smiled, watching him through my dark eyelashes. Dorian leaned back to look me in the eyes, seeming disheveled and pitiful as he pleaded with his eloquent eyes. I looked down and twisted nervously, taking care to bump strategically into him a couple times while watching him coquettishly through my eyelashes. At last I smiled and nodded. Arm and arm, lifting the heavy winter air with our light chatter and laughter, we walked to his carriage and stepped inside, telling the driver to head to Dorian's house.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
After an hour or so we reached the outskirts of the city by the murky London docks where dark water churned, lashing out against the rickety old docks and boats. I frowned, looking out the lightly frosted window. I had always thought Dorian lived in the heart of London, or perhaps in the upper class part of it, for every time he left me it was towards there he headed. Surely this was not where he lived. My suspicions were confirmed as the carriage pulled up along a dark and grungy alleyway and came to a halt in front of a darkened doorway. Dorian leapt out lithely and extended his hand for me to take it, which I did, landing softly in the snow beside him. The driver backed up his horses and drove the carriage into a small shed beside the door, which Dorian was unlocking by way of a small rusted key. He opened the door with a flourish, bowing as he held it open for me.
The inside of his house was as impressive as the exterior: it was dimly lit by a few small gas lights along the wall and a faded and stained red rug spanned the distance between the creaking staircase and the doorway in which I stood. To my left I saw a doorway with empty hinges, which led into a dark corridor, and to my right was another door, this one seeming to be locked. Dorian was advancing towards the stairs, beckoning for me to follow, which I did, leaving my heavy cloak on the rack beside the door.
"Excuse the mess down here, I keep the upstairs much better furnished." He said softly, watching the innumerable portraits on the wall uneasily, as if they might spring to life. They all bore an uncanny resemblance to Dorian, and I assumed the whole family tree going back to the Middle Ages was hung there in grimy glory. However, when my frost blue eyes searched for Dorian's likeness, they did not see him, although they were drawn to the white rectangular space on the wall near the bottom, where a portrait had obviously been hung and quite recently. I turned to Dorian to inquire of this, but his eyes penetrated mine like knives in the dark gloom, striking and killing the question before it rose from throat.
I was led past a warm and beautifully furnished library and a dark bedroom to an upstairs dining room, something I found quite interesting. Here Dorian left me, with a warning not to explore the house without me as it was large and I might grow lost. I opened my mouth to ask him if he did not have servants in so large a house to help him, but he was gone and I was left in the large, gothic-style room by myself (A.N.~ think the Gothic Tower in Moulin Rouge).
The room was not well lit as the library had been, but it was for effect and not lack of good lighting. What light there was either a dark blue in color because of the blue glass containers that held them or a soft white. Dark, rich curtains concealed what seemed to be a doorway on the side opposite of where I sat, and behind me was the tall, polished oak door that Dorian had exited by. The windows were of teal and white stained glass in the pattern of diamonds; through them I could see little more then distorted stars and the outline of the dark street below. A sweet scent filled the room, and when I traced the scent to its source, I found a tall, dark plant, probably from a dark jungle somewhere in the world.
As I was inspecting this plant with a scientist's natural curiosity, I could hear Dorian coming closer to the room, so I went back to my seat at the long, dark cherry wood table in my throne-like chair at one end of the table. Dorian Entered just as I was beginning to wonder if I was hearing things, and he was dressed much more casually: a dark purple smoking jacket of silk with black velvet designs, black slacks, and a white shirt with a ruffle peeking out from the neckline of the smoking jacket. On his feet were delicate gray slippers.
In his arms he carried two silver platters, obviously very old. With a faint smile he placed one in front of me and the other at his end of the table, which he casually flopped onto, perched with the grace of a leopard in a tree. I removed the top of my tray and felt a gush of warmth my skin as it escaped its confines; the source was a thick steak, a mashed potato decorated with butter, salt, and parsley, and a goblet of red wine. Dorian's had the same.
"I hope you don't mind, my cook didn't finish the steaks." He said, cutting into his own. I looked up. So he *did* have servants elsewhere.
"You know I like mine rare." I smiled sensuously, cutting mine and slowly eating one piece at a time, fully aware that Dorian was watching me, or, specifically, my cleavage, as I bent over my food and consumed it hungrily. A haughty smile was on his face. We ate mostly in silence as seemed to be our wont, flashing meaningful glances at each other from time to time. At last he finished and approached me, raising his goblet.
"To a beautiful night." I said in sultry tones.
"To a beautiful woman." Dorian corrected me, clinking his goblet against mine lightly before drinking deeply.
My mind swirled as I tasted the wine, which I had not drank throughout the course because the teak was heavily saturated. It was thick, rich and sweet, like the blood of a nobleman. Something about it was carnally inflaming, igniting senses I had never known I possessed. A low moan, almost like a growl, rose up from my throat as I swallowed it, feeling it slide down my throat and into my stomach, shuddering with delight and holding my eyes closed so as to savor it longer.
"Good isn't it?" Dorian's low and seductive voice sounded somewhere behind me. I leaned back in my chair, not opening my eyes, and could feel his balmy breath on my face. The closeness of him made my hand clench on the goblet slightly, and one of its ornate designs pricked me. I put it down, opening my eyes to examine my palm.
"How clumsy of me." I said hoarsely, tightening my hand so he would not see it heal.
"Let me see, Mina. We wouldn't want blood everywhere now," He looked up after trying to break my grip, his glance catching mine meaningfully. Again instincts were enflamed by his look, and my skin felt feverishly hot. "would we?"'
"No," I said, my voice still hoarse. "Not blood."
Perhaps if Dorian Gray had not pressed his lips to mine with passion enough to destroy the foundations of the earth, he would've seen that my eyes were red.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
There was fire in his touch, in his hot lips and his tongue, pillaging my mouth. I felt myself fall but did not feel the ground, it was swept from under me. All the while our lips feverishly coupled and parted like waves lapping against the shore. Dizziness, like looking into the sun, overwhelmed me and I felt a feather lightness beneath me and his hardness above me. Words were whispered in a man's voice, but I did not hear and only shuddered as coldness touched the fire in my skin.
A groan reverberated through the stillness as volcanoes erupted where his skin touched mine and sweat like lava bathed us. His lips were swells no more, but tidal waves pounding onto my body like the ecstasy coursing through my veins. There was a swelling within me and i almost broke but he quelled me with insistent lips. My hands were lost in the dark jungle of his hair, his hands were exploring jungles of their own. Hot nectar gushed out to meet him as his still pillaging tongue trespassed.
Spasms cracked through me like a slave driver's whip and he almost fell away, but soon he met me and something clicked and broke before we were locked as one. Flurries of color and sound swirled around me and my hands dug into his back, a scream passing my wet lips and his as it ended, a weathered storm. Alluring and repulsive scents settled around me and I did not know. Blood flowed and ceased and I did not know. Sheets, cool after our heat, fell around us like a blanket of snow. Our eyes and our lips met once more before I slipped away, down in a foreign field.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A.N.~ Eh, it didn't seem like R last night.. But now it's sorta on the hinge... Tell me what you think it should be rated and how you liked it, please? *begs* Still no flames!