Warning: Leather ahead and a bit more—graphic, I think perhaps it's high time to bump this up to an 'R'.

The sign flickered in the chill night wind, as the dying half-moon drifted behind the swollen, angry clouds. The 'Evening Sun' glimmered and glowed as dancer flittered and hurried into the welcome warmth of the club – and fled from the heartless tempest that had threatened to brew.

However, weather was the last thing on one man's mind.

Soma leaned against the smudged counter as he stared into the chipped, greasy mirror as his slender fingers rolled the black lipstick. He paused and smiled almost wickedly to himself as he darkened his lower lip, leaving the upper one bare – if the albino was female, the term 'Jailbait' would have fitted his current appearance more then adequately. Then as a final touch, he snapped the leather collar closed around his neck – the silver dragon dangled and then rested against his collarbone. The pale one examined himself in the foggy mirror.

Slender arms sheathed in black lace from wrist to elbow, drawing eyes to agile hands and firm shoulders – even as a thin, midnight-hued silk strap draped down the arm, declaring itself to be too large for the androgynous body. The spaghetti-strap shirt shifted and glistened as only soft pitch-ed silk can do. His snow-white hands smoothed down the invisible creases in the low-hung black leather pants that were pulled close to him by silver-studded black belts, noting with a pleased purr how it shined glossily in the dimmed restroom light, and how it flattered his toned stomach and leaned hips.

The combat boots – laced with silver ponchos and pins moved over the linoleum floor without a sound as he brushed his shoulder-length, stark-white hair back, as the low throbbing of the dance floor music reverberated up his spine – sending strange, thrilling quivers through the slim body. Well, so what if his friends wouldn't recognize him in this? He chuckled as the strobe lights pulsated harshly in his eyes, and the thick artificial fog overcame his sense of direction, and effectively blinded him – for the moment.

He sauntered to the ed lights of the dance floor – the pounding and pulsing of techno and house was not heard—but felt in the body as the actual music shrilled and mellowed, a mind-boggling rhythm that only sharpen the sense of surrealism and confusion that any first-time clubbers – and even the few seasoned ones could not shake off once they had went past the bouncer.

Soma smiled as he found it shockingly easy to slip into the writhing mass of humanity – bustled and occasionally goosed as he made his way through to a good spot.

It feels... so free, He thought to himself as his hip rocked in time to 'fire thing', the azure eyes closed to allow the other senses to wash over him. No murder, no chaos forces, no Dracula.... The near-albino smiled, and briefly lost contact with the floor as he hopped, and landed on foot – the other rested against his knee.

Groping, gasping, writhing, twisting, crying, swaying, spinning, leaping, flailing, grasping, moaning, pressing, pulling, twining – the dancers pressed tighter together, suffocating him in flesh, sweat, cloth, and yet he couldn't say he was suffering under the pressure – even when some stranger somehow managed to press against him, and lifted up the shirt, the hard, calloused hands raced up the cut torso – man or woman? – His somewhat clouded mind wondered, and then asked if it really did matter.

He allowed the stranger to have his—her? – Fun for the moment, then pushed himself away from the mystery groper before the stranger decided to take it as an invitation to get more intimate. It wasn't one of 'those' clubs – but there's at least one of 'those' everywhere.

Soma hummed to himself as he slid from his current stance, and forced himself out of the tangle of limbs and bodies that made up the dance floor, as he giggled and panted from exhilaration that only came from completely loosing oneself. The azure eyes flicked over to the neon light-bedecked mirror and frosted glass bar as he slid his body onto the cracked seat – and ignored the soft squeak of leather against vinyl.

The bartender – a burly man of dark wiry hair and a fat-lipped smile – lifted Soma's slender hand into his gigantic, bear-like paws, and pressed the palm of it against the LCD screen that shimmered on the glass surface of the counter.

The pale man sighed in slight annoyance as lasers scanned the miniscule grooves and curve within the skin of his fingertips – reading up the age and name of this black-clad man.

"That's odd – it doesn't seem to be working." The gravelly, and shocking soft voice grumped as he gently let go. "All I'm getting is a bunch of gibberish here." He pulled up a small laptop and started to punch the keyboard, the fat-lips formed an almost comical frown.

"Perhaps it needed an upgrade." Soma whispered smoothly as he leaned his elbow onto the counter as the LCD screen faded out. He gently rubbed the jaw line of his own face with the slightly calloused, but still soft fingers. "Now... Mica," He glanced at the bartender's nametag briefly. "Surely you can see I'm old enough." He added in a half-lazy purr, a part of him quite shock at how easily this came to him.

Arikado certainly wouldn't approve of me electrocuting the lasers – he giggled to himself as he waited for Mica to stop that startled stare that made him look even more bear-like then before. Ah well, it isn't as if anyone is going to see me – anyone that mattered, any ways. He pulled out a package of cloves, and slide out the black cigarette-like object (he never did like the taste and smell of the real thing from the one time he tried it) – and somehow managed to light it without a match; his agile hands had pantomimed a lighter to fool anyone who might have watched.

"Though it's technically against the rule – but... I guess since this thing won't be working for the rest of the night, and well... the boss won't have to find out..." The burly barkeep shrugged as he put away the laptop. "What will you have?"

"What do you recommend?" Soma leaned back slightly, as he felt stray hands brushing against his back. Azure eyes darted around, only to see no one close to him – though he could not shake off the husky, indiscernible whispers that echoed in his ear. Who were they? What the heck are they saying?

Mica meticulously polished the tiny jigger clean, and carefully poured the shot of Whiskey. "You however seem to like spiced drinks, or sweet things – something smoother like Brandy or perhaps a specialty like Cosmopolitan. Or say, I got a spot of spiced rum that tastes quite best when warmed – hold on."

It was rather amusing how this man seemed to type cast personas with drinks. The albino smirked as he tapped the clove into the ashtray and stiffened as again, someone decided that he was fair play.

He nearly laughed at himself as he realized he kind of like the attention – or it could be that he's just a touch more relaxed since he was free of responsibilities as long as he stayed here.

"Here you go – Bottoms up!"

The pale hands clasped around the warm glass without thought – mouth wrapped on the lip of the shot glass. After the initial shock that goes through a non-drinker's system when the devilish alcohol caressed the unprepared taste bud, he had to admit it was rather nice and warm; the hint of nutmeg just tingled in a pleasant way.

He winced as he paused in mid-sip, as his jaw started to tighten and throbbed. Groaning softly, Soma set down the jigger as he rubbed his chin, the sapphire eyes snapped closed as the pain sharpened, then intensified in his mouth.... What the hell? He looked down at the half-empty glass. No, it couldn't have been the drink – it felt more like he had something trying to push his incisors and canines out from above them.

Soma tried (and failed miserably) to ignore the pain as he got up. Without a thought to it, he gulped down the remaining drink and sat it back down. The pain didn't flare up with the introduction of alcohol – which one would have expected in this situation... Soma felt his mouth had gone parched and unbelievably dry as the pain slowly subsided all on its own.

"Soma?" The familiar alto beckoned; her soft voice barely audible above the music.

The albino gasped as he had literally spun on his heels – to confirm what he had suspected.

"Mina?" He looked over the slim form that stood before him. The thin arms were folded across the chest, as the Shinto Priestess' robes fluttered lightly in the slight draft that permeated through out the place. Her hazel eyes expressed shock as she took stock of how her childhood friend had dressed.

"I'm surprise the bouncer let you in with that much clothes on." He joked as he eased himself back onto the stool.

"Why are you in... in this place?" She gestured broadly; her ribbon- tied copper hair fluttered about and framed that pretty doll-like face. It was almost as if she reverted back to how she appeared three years ago when...

Soma shook his head clear of that rather unpleasant memory as he unconsciously gestured for Mica to refill his drink.

"Look, I just to spend one night without worrying about anything. Is that a crime now?" The young man rolled his eyes as he turned his back to her.

"We're worried, you ran off without telling us where you were going!" She screeched, numbed by the cold, off-handed remark.

"Just leave me, Mina. I don't want to talk, and I don't want to go back, let me think here." He mumbled through clenched hands as he avoided her eyes.

"And get drunk? Get assaulted by these weirdoes? I don't think so!" She bristled, but carefully recomposed herself. "I understand that you're—"

"You don't understand! You could never understand what's happening to me!" He hissed – the sound was disturbingly dry and harsh to their ears. "Mina, just go! You don't need to worry, and don't you even dare think about sending Arikado here to drag me back!"

Her lips moved – but no words could form on her rose-soft lips, for she was far too startled (not to mention frightened) by her friend's uncharacteristic outburst. The albino watched her to step away while she still faced him, and then vanished into the dark crowd.

Soma peered up into the open rafter as he thought that the lights had started to dim. They weren't just dimming; in fact, several of the flashing strobe light were either being turned completely off or dimmed to a point where they might as well be off – with now only the chemical-glow jewelry of some dancers and the faint, short-range flickered of lights gave some luminance to the nearly pitch-black club.

The music started to change as well, the heavy bass and heartthrob- like drums started to overcome the higher-pitched scritches and synthesizers that had once dominated the atmosphere. It was moodier, harsher then what was playing before, and to the bacchae-like dancers – it was an invitation to get to know each other just a little bit better.

It was probably the rum that spoke those wicked little ideals into his head, but he felt that perhaps he belong on the floor over there. As he slide from his seat with the grace of a panther, his agile hands left a wad of uncounted yen upon the counter, the azure eyes raked over the room, and made contact with each nubile vixen, every doe-eye youth that smiled rakishly at him, and even noted some of the older gentlemen – who were no less inviting.

It must be the alcohol, Soma lightly chided himself as he pressed and pulled himself through the throng of impromptu couples that shamelessly grinded each other and singles that clung to anything that moved. Soma grinned, and pushed away one and all, each not meeting to his taste.

The pale hand rubbed his throat as he blanched – his tongue felt like sandpaper and his throat constricted almost painfully from the want of liquid. The alcohol could not be doing it – and the rum didn't help to quench it – and he rather not drink the water that would have come out of the tap in this dive.

It was just then the strange older man met and held his gaze from across the writhing mass of people, those piercing eyes that were framed by the black-half mask seemed to scream for him to sit down besides him.

The painful thirst flared up as the sapphire-eyed man glided closer to the masked one, some how unable to turn down the unspoken summons.

"Well, what do we have here; a new blood to this establishment?" The rich, regal, velvet bass purred into his ear and commanded attention as only a king could demand.

The large and powerful pale hand lifted up Soma's chin with the lightest of effort, the soul-rending orb dominated the teen's vision – and yet, he could not recall the of the eyes when he stopped to give thought upon it. Nor could he give the of the man's hair, and couldn't even give an estimate as to the age of this period-dressed stranger.

"Welcome to the Night." The voice was strangely cold, and distant, even though the man's hand still held his head up, and the stranger still leaned closer.

A kiss? The thought flickered through Soma's mind as his throat contracted and tightened painfully – his tongue flick over his lips, to try to moisten them – somehow unaware of how this would appear to others. I'm going to die of thirst! He nearly laughed to himself as he tried harder and harder to wet his lips.

A goblet was pressed up against his mouth and snapped him back to where he was. The pale-haired stranger smiled sardonically as he held the drink to Soma's lips.

"This will quench your thirst, young one." The deep-chest man chuckled, the liquidity dark voice coaxed. "You will never thirst with this."

Without thinking, and without really hearing the man, Soma haphazardly guzzled the content, the thick liquid slid so easily down his throat.

It was sharp, and pungent, with an almost-bitter metallic edge – and it was ambrosia, sweetly divine ambrosia that cooled the burning want that welled up in his mouth. Soma groaned softly as it slowly dawned on him that goblet should have been drained by this time and yet, the bittersweet concoction continued to flow into his waiting lips.

The masked one slid the clawed – yes, clawed – hands against the smooth, satin-like skin, the left hand glided down to the waist band of his pants, while the right one rested on his chest – rubbing silk against skin. The albino went to pull away, to set the glass down, this was too much – too fast – didn't even know his name.

The grip was unbreakable; he had might as well tried to pry open the jaws of a behemoth. The intruder just tugged on the dragon charm mockingly – sharp teeth and rough tongue ghosted against the creamy flesh.

"Relax, little one, I am just welcoming you." The kingly voice ghosted over the nape of his neck as sharp pinpricks elicited at pained yelp from the crystalline-eyed man, the maroon liquid seeped down his chin – and he consciously lapped it up even as he strained away from the pain that seared down the fragile skin of his neck.

And all things started to glow with a soft pink haze, then grew redder, and redder, and then darkened to maroon as he felt the cold lips on his throat turn unbearably warm. Finally, he saw nothing but black as the chalice tumbled from his cold hands.

"No!" He screamed as he jolted up in the bed, as he looked about the area. The walls were a soft robin egg's blue, and the sheer curtains fluttered ghost-like in the room from the cool morning breeze that blew into the bedroom.

A dream? Soma questioned as he gingerly reached for his throat – no sores, no marks... it... it was a dream! No, a nightmare... he corrected himself as he rolled away from the haze of pre-dawn light.

The lithe young man laid still, his harsh, frantic breath eventually mellowed, the heart had seemed to threaten to rip itself free from it's confines – but, he was alive, he was safe, no changes, still human, still himself, still not getting enough sleep... he groaned to himself as he felt his shorts chafed against his body.

I should not be responding like that, I should not... damn it! He hissed inaudibly to himself, and looked over to the LCD screen of the alarm clock. 3:45... better then last time, but still too early! The albino groaned as he eventually and literally rolled himself out of the soft down comforter; falling to all fours on the floor – and stared at the discarded collar that lay on the floor.

A cat leapt away from the window, and disappeared into inky blackness of the night, the frozen amber eyes glowed like pea-sized fireflies.