Precious Valentine

Fluttering hearts in red and silver showered the stage floor at the "Guilty Pleasures" where Damian the Vampire, once again, found himself standing with his wine glass by the bar, scanning the tables with suspicion in his gaze, to see if someone took more than usual interest in the wriggling werekitten up in the spotlight.

Swooning was normal, transfixed or burning gazes following his moves, the crossed legs, the forgotten drinks, all of that was normal. But after the run in with the master Tamlin a few months ago, Damian was very aware of anything out of the ordinary. Like people leaving their seats to get closer to the scene, hidden cameras in brief cases and bags, a sense of unknown power and obvious licking of lips...All of that made him alert and annoyed. For as proud as he was of his beautiful boyfriend, he'd rather not lose him to some stranger. Rather not lose him to anyone really...

He sipped his wine and finally lifted his gaze to seek out the lithe form dancing in the amorous confetti. It was a mistake, and he knew it. A mistake that he never seemed to be able to resist. Once there, his eyes were unable to let go again. Forgotten was his jealousy, the potential rapists and threats among the audience, for Nathaniel could dance...dance Damian's blood into a fury, his soul into a knot, and his cock into a raging, weeping, anxiously yearning whore of desire. Tonight...that hurt.

The kitten's thong was a pitiful excuse for a garment; a red velvet heart with sinful black lacings. Nathaniel was a small boy, but not *that* small. A wrong move and that carefully tucked in organ of his would spring free from the ridiculous confines. Damian thought he could spot the fine ridges of his scrotum when he lifted his leg impossibly high in the air and trailed the creamy length with his fingertips.

His long, auburn hair glittered with confetti. Silvery hearts, shiny reds. It fell off in a fine rain, tiny sparks of color, as the kitty spun around on the scene, teasing his audience with the sight of violet eyes and planes of pale skin, nipples pink and erect. His little tummy looked so soft and smooth; bathed in the soft blue and red lights of the stage.
He had candles up there with him tonight: Heavy chandeliers with pink candles; the flames moved with him, dancing back and forth. The scent of burning wax tickled in Damian's nostrils and he was suddenly attacked by unwanted images of himself, his cat and the candles...soft ropes and mewing sounds.

Damian had an advantage, and a curse, the audience didn't have: He knew how Nathaniel felt beneath him. Knew his scent. The taste of his fluids...Vanilla and honey. His insides so soft: a velvety heat that wrapped so tightly around him and pulled him under. The taste of sugar and salt on his skin. His little, clever tongue; so teasing and delicious...

The boy's soft voice: "Damian, please! Have me!"

A plea he never, ever would refuse. As he never could deny himself the pleasure. The sweetness that was his Nathaniel.

He spotted the discarded wings on stage; the silver feathers in a heap where his boy had left them, as the angel of love had stepped out of his disguise; thrown wings and halo to the ground along with the white satin robes to become flesh and blood: Passionate youth and beauty -- in the most ridiculous little thong he'd ever seen.

Was that heart supposed to be teasing? Well, it was beyond that; it was show off. His round buttocks were completely naked as far as Damian was concerned; that tiny red string between them meant nothing. And here came the pearls; long strings falling from the ceiling and into Nathaniel's waiting hands. He wrapped them around his body, between his legs; long, long strings of shiny, round pearls. Across his chest, into his mouth. He bound himself with them to the pole and let himself slide slowly down with his back against it; as if it was his lover. But it was not. Damian was...

The pearls were casually thrown to the audience after use. Plastic, no doubt, Jean-Claude wasn't *that* generous.

Damian watched the women fight to catch them, he had no illusion that it was the pearls they really wanted. It was the scent and taste and heat of his Nathaniel. A little, glowing ember in his own right. All passion and life up there.

Damien craved for him. Badly.

And it stung.

He sipped the rest of his wine. Today was...a difficult day. Valentine's Day. A day Damian was both uncomfortable and unfamiliar with, having never given the day much thought at all, why should he?
It was a modern invention, all about humanity celebrating their fleeting, never lasting love. A marketing trick if anything...Damian had been in this world for a while, personally he found shouting out prices on the street corners to be a better idea, at least more honest, if nothing else. This invention with its candles and heart shaped balloons, jewelry and boxes of chocolate, this feast of the merchants might appeal to Jean-Claude's refined taste for money, cleverly disguised as French passion, but it most certainly did nothing for Damian.

His eyes darted to the poor boy behind the bar, pouring pink "Be my Valentine" drinks into ice-rimmed glasses, dressed in a shiny red cat suit with heart shaped openings in many different places, including his chest; revealing his nipples and sweat slick skin. He scented of salt and blood -- of food.

Vampires dressed in red cloaks wandered around in the audience, under the heart shaped lanterns, offering "the kiss of passion" and "ever lasting love," for a minor fee. Damian thought it disgusting. He was very happy not to be among the chosen ones to be in this unholy parade.

He shrugged and focused on Nathaniel again. Nathaniel...who sort of, kind of, was the problem. The cat had reached the ending sequence of his act, throwing long-stemmed red roses to the audience from a heart shaped little basket.

It made Damian cringe.

He had never thought much of this day before *he* came into his life; lithe and soft and purring, yearning for love like a housecat for cream. Rubbed his silken fur against him and kept him warm, melting and mending his frozen heart. And *Nathaniel* cared about Valentine's Day. A lot...

Not that his kitten ever said anything. He knew his vampire well enough not to ask, and knew that suggesting a candle lit dinner for two was likely to lead nowhere with the stern and old-fashioned Viking whose loathing for the modern was deeply rooted and which mind was still very much European in his way of thinking.

So Nathaniel said nothing. And that had been Damian's undoing.

He'd stood by watching, as Nathaniel poured his soul into this new Valentine's act. Spoke lively of roses and halos and pearls.

His eyes would lit up when he saw the decorations in the shop windows; the red and pink candles, the giant heart shaped boxes of chocolate and the velvet underwear on display.
He spent hours picking out just the right thong for his act and spoke of how pretty "Guilty Pleasures" was on Valentine's Day; lanterns and roses and candles and all, and how he really wanted to make his performance perfect.
His purple eyes would glazer wer with excitement and his voice become breathless, and beneath it all the old and jaded vampire couldn't help but sense the sweet yearning for love from a bruised and battered kitten.

And so he'd had to, although beneath him, reconsider the concept of Valentine's Day.

Damian finished his wine. He shrugged and put it down on the bar. Nathaniel would be done soon and he wanted to catch him backstage before he'd had a chance to dress.
This particular part of the so-called "V-day", he hadn't minded at all. Watching Nathaniel on stage was always a pleasure. Said pearls and wings and thong, hadn't made it any less so either.

His kitten was always a teaser. Yanking this vampire's leash with just a look.

~*~

While walking the narrow corridor to the dancer's wardrobes, Damian thought of his surprise. He felt strangely nervous, wasn't at all sure it was what his kitten wanted, and then again, it might just be it.

He wouldn't give him flowers and chocolate, as he felt they meant little, if anything, empty symbols, on this day of all in the year. He'd wanted to make Nathaniel happy. Make an impression. Give him something that was only for him. Something no one had given him before.

He wanted him to remember their first Valentine's Day together as something special and out of the ordinary.
He also wanted to let him know that Damian saw him and knew him. Accepted who he was, without discussion. That he could see through the wereleopard's shields, and never flinched from anything he saw behind them.

Silly, he thought, what love could do...

Anything to make Nathaniel happy...

He turned the corner and caught sight of his kitten. He was cheerfully chatting to another stripper; a dark, leather-clad wererat, whenian ian approached. He wore his midnight blue silk robe, a Christmas gift from Damian. The vampire saw it as one of his missions in life to improve, if not change, his boyfriend's wardrobe a tiny bit, as most of it consisted of well worn jeans and sweaters. Not that he minded! The cotton and washed out fabrics were doubtlessly Nathaniel, and so precious and sensual, just by being a part of his appearance. Still it was fun to dress him up. Wrap him in expensive and gorgeous materials. See his colors become more vivid and clear against the slick surface of silk and the soft texture of velvet.

And besides, Damian liked spoiling him. He was meant to be spoiled. Created for it.
It was just that no one had bothered doing it before.

Now his lover pounced on him. His lips split into a wide grin and the purple eyes shiny with undisguised happiness.

"Damian!" he exclaimed and threw himself at him. Slender arms wrapped around the vampire's neck and vanilla scented hair tickled in his face. So soft that hair. Long and shiny.

"I have missed you," the wereleopard purred and rubbed hheekheek against Damian's chin, scent marking him as his own.

Damian noticed the petty excuse for a underwear in his lover's hand, a little piece of red fabric and black laces dangling from the young boy's fingers. It meant that his boyfriend was likely to be naked under the silk and Damian had to take a long, steadying breath and close his eyes briefly before being able to greet him back:

"You were wonderful, kitten," he said hoarsely, his voice having to force its way through a tight, rough passage before reaching his lips.

The blood in his body still swirled with the memory of Nathaniel's dance. A soft humming and an aching want had been lingering in his loins. Having his arms full of the much desired flesh didn't help much. Did nothing but enflame him further.

"Nathaniel!" he burst out and lifted the cat off the ground. Clawed at the blue silk covering his back while greedily seeking out his lips.

Nathaniel, swooning from the display of passion, purred happily in his arms and wrapped his legs around the vampire's waist. It made his robe fall to the sides, his lycanthrope body heat to seep through the thin black linen of Damian's frilled shirt, he could feel every curve in the werekitty's little body, hotly pressed against his own, naked and not surprisingly; aroused.

It didn't take much to awaken Nathaniel's body. At least for him it didn't. Now the hardening sex pressed against Damian's stomach where Nathaniel grind it softly against the hard muscles.

Damian could never stop marveling it this animalistic naturalness of Nathaniel's sexuality. If he felt safe, he would never hold himself back, the expressions of desire were like those of hunger or thirst. Just there, and undeniable. Just natural, like smiling or crying, of which Nathaniel did a lot of both.

Nathaniel felt most safe with Damian, and so he did probably not even notice himself what he was doing when he was rubbing up against his lover. Seeking pleasure from his body without hesitating.

Damian noticed. Damian wanted. The flesh growing hard and firm against his stomach didn't help much. And it hurt.

He groaned from faint pain and arousal and plunged his tongue into Nathaniel's mouth. Claimed his soft, pink lips tasting faintly of apple flavored lip gloss, kissed them both dizzy and breathless.

"Damian?!" Nathaniel's voice sounded both amazed and concerned."Have you fed?"

"Yes," the vampire grinned. "But I'm not sated," he exclaimed and kissed the cat again. In an unusual bit of carelessness he let one of his hands slide down the slick material to curve around one of Nathaniel's buttocks, squeezing it not too gently with a broad palm.
Nathaniel giggled, his cheeks became flushed and he wriggled a bit, wrapped round the vampire's body. It didn't help. Not at all.

"Oh Nathaniel," Damian sighed. "If I could I would take you right here!" He buried his face in the warm curve of Nathaniel's neck, licked at his soft, creamy skin. Inhaled the scent of fur and sweet and lapped gently at his artery. Felt the red, hot blood running under the surface.

Nathaniel wasn't food though. Nathaniel was lust. Feeding from him to indulge in that lust. Let the essence of the lithe, adorable creature flood his senses.

He noticed that the wererat was gone, the corridor deserted, and so he pushed the other roughly up against the white painted wall. Both his hands were massaging Nathaniel's buttocks now. Holding his weight as the kitten was straddling his hips with his feet still dangling several inches off the floor. Damian lowered him a bit, gently, until their hips connected and Nathaniel's naked penis met Damian's equally aroused one through the fabric of his pants.

Nathaniel gasped and let his head fall to the side, gave Damian's exploring mouth a better access to his neck and now half-naked shoulder as the slippery material of his robe seemed to slip off his body on its own accord, leaving him semi-naked and breathless in the vampire's arms.

"God, you're so big," Nathaniel sighed. And Damian knew he meant all of him, not just that particular area.

"...So I can protect you better," Damian murmured to Nathaniel's neck. So smooth that skin, supple, soft...

"No," Nathaniel breathed passionately. "So you can have me better...fill me up!"

"That too," Damian grinned and recaptured the wereleopard's lips. Pushed himself roughly up against him and let one of his long fingers travel his cleft through the silk.
"Do you want to ride with your master tonight?" He whispered and let his tongue lavish the other's full lips.

"No, I want my master to ride me," Nathaniel's voice had become an unusually deep murmur, laden with passion. His purple eyes were hooded by the thick fans of deep brown lashes, brushing Damian's skin briefly: Like silk those too. Fluttering butterfly kisses.

"Let's go home," Damian's nostrils flared and his whole body felt tight with pent up desire. He wanted to have his boy *now*. Sink his fangs into the pale flesh of his inner thighs, lap at the pink rosebud nipples and claim his body with slow thrusts, feel him quiver and break beneath him, the waves of pleasure overpower him and make him make those purring sounds. Those impossible sounds, from a human throat.

"Yes," Nathaniel's lips shivered slightly when he spoke. He steadied himself on Damian's chest when he was lowered to the ground. "I wished we were home now," he breathed heartfelt and beamed up at his taller boyfriend.

"So do I kitten," Damian said in a voice that wouldn't quite hold. "This is what happens when you dance like that," he excused himself and winked teasingly at the other, gave him a wicked grin.

"Only for you," Nathaniel smiled softly.

"Liar," Damian teased.

Nathaniel bit in his lower lip, with a mischievous smile he took the other's hand and placed it over his hot pounding erection, under the silk so his fingers touched the bare, heated skin.

"This," he said coyly. "Is for you."

"Yeah," it was Damian's turn to be breathless. He fondled the delicate parts of his lover slowly, cuddled his sac and stroke his length with firm, gentle motions, to be rewarded with suppressed moans and another flush of pink in the other's cheeks.

"Let's go home," he whispered to the top of Nathaniel's head. "I want to be inside of you now."

"Yes," Nathaniel withdrew with a sobbing sound and smiled at him, his gaze not entirely focused. His eyes were dilated and his moist lips parted. Just as Damian wanted him: Soft and luscious. Wanton.

The wereleopard gave a lazy smile and turned to the door of the dressingroom. "I'll be right back," his voice was slurred. "Just wait for me, will you?"

"Of course," Damian assured him, marveled briefly at the fact that his kitten still was insecure enough to ask. Of course he would wait, till the end of time if needed be.

He still hadn't mentioned Valentine's Day. Neither had his lover.