nathaniel_kitten | (no subject)

(no subject)

Nathaniel closes the door to Jean-Claude's room, leaning against it for a moment. Life had changed drastically for him since he'd first helped Jason months ago, and Jean-Claude's reaction to Jason's return made him think that maybe... no... life hadn't changed that much.

He walks down the hallway, his thoughts scattered, until he reaches the room he shares with Asher. Well, it was Asher's room, but he spends so much time in it, Nathaniel has begun to think of it as 'theirs'. His room, though, was up the hall a little ways, next to Jason's. Asher had made certain there had been a room he could call his own, even if it was only used when Asher spent time with Jean-Claude.

He pauses outside Asher's door, trying to decide if he should talk to his master or just go to his own room, and the need to speak with Asher outweighs any desire to be alone.

Pulling out his key, Nathaniel slips it into the lock and turns the handle, opening the door and stepping inside. He pauses there, eyes scanning the room for a moment. Asher wasn't there, but that didn't mean he wouldn't be. Nathaniel kicks off his shoes and pulls his shirt over his head, tossing the material to a chair before picking up a book and laying down on the bed.

And he waits, lost in the world of Narnia.

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Asher hums quietly to himself as he walks down the corridor, at a loose end for the evening. There is a chance Nathaniel is working, or that he has been unable to slip away from Anita yet. She may know about their relationship, yet she does not approve. Asher tires of her judgement.

Moving to unlock his door, he's surprised to find it open - but the soft heartbeat from within relaxes Asher, familiar and indeed much desired.

"Bon soir, mon chat," he murmurs, smiling as he opens the door.

Edited 2009-07-01 20:20 (UTC)

Nathaniel looks up from the book, a smile on his lips for the vampire.

"Bon soir, mon chevalier."

He was not fluent by any definition of the word, but he had been picking up little words here and there.

"It seems I'm yours for the night, as Jason has been claimed by Jean-Claude, and he was my ride home." A shadow of annoyance darkens his gaze. "A pity, no?"

Asher glides across the room, elegantly shrugging his coat off his shoulders, tight pants clinging interestingly as he slides onto the bed,. He crawls up it until he hovers over Nat, bending his head in a silent request for a kiss.

"And whatever shall I do with you, mine until dawn, hmm?" Asher teases, hoping that glimmer of annoyance has nothing to do with staying at the Circus - the Circus, after all, being one of the few places they can be alone together.

The kiss is given without hesitation, slow and lingering, before he pulls back.

"I'm sure you'll think of something."

Nathaniel sets his book aside, and then runs his fingers down Asher's throat.

"Jean-Claude made me quite angry tonight," he murmurs, eyes glancing up at Asher. "Jason went to him, because he's clean now, and Jean-Claude treated him like a damned whore, there to feed him and little else. I think he wants to have a word with you about how I'm no longer everyone's little leopard."

Asher 'hmm's softly, tilting his head as soft, warm fingers trace a line down his throat. He stills as Nathaniel speaks, watching him closely. He arches an eyebrow, wondering exactly what Nathaniel said.

"I am sure Jean-Claude meant no offense," he murmurs, turning to sit beside Nathaniel, back against the pillows. "And he may say what he wants - I would not change your behaviour a bit."

There is a tremor of uncertainty in Nathaniel as he sits up to watch Asher.

"I'm your pomme de sang, just as Jason is Jean-Claude's. Would you dismiss just as he did Jason? And when I came back -- practically begging to be loved again -- would you tell me that you'll see me at the usual time the following day?"

His anger is reignited, making him look away.

"Jason's forgiven him, because Jean-Claude apologized... well... apologized as well as he can... and it just got me thinking about master vampires and pommes and... everything."

Asher shifts closer, gently stroking his fingers down Nathaniel's cheek.

"I can guess some of those thoughts, cher," Asher murmurs softly. "You are my pomme de sang, yes." Asher pauses, trying to gather his words - so much more difficult, still, to explain how he feels in English. A few months ago, he would not even have bothered - would have dismissed Nathaniel rather than talk.

"But that is not who you are to me." He rests the tips of his fingers against Nathaniel's pulse, the tempting and at the same time reassuring thrum of blood under pale skin, pulse beating against his fingers.

"You are my servant, and you are my pomme, but above and before that you are my lover."

Nathaniel's eyes slip closed, and he unconsciously tilts his head exposing his throat to Asher.

"It's... different," he admits. Tension seems to seep from his body. "He just made me so angry." His eyes open, and he stares at Asher's leather-encased thigh. "He should have known better than to do that to Jason. Jason's... He was never someone's plaything. His body wasn't bought and sold by other people. What he gives to Jean-Claude he does because he loves his master."

They offered themselves out of love, and while some pommes never received affection in return, they were at least offered respect.

He meets Asher's gaze.

"You don't make me feel like a whore. Thank you."

Asher frowns. If Nathaniel is right, and he has no reason to doubt, Jean-Claude was right to apologise. Treating one's pomme like a common whore was most unlike his master. He was obviously hurt more than he had cared to admit by Jason's addiction.

Nathaniel sighs and flops back on the bed, rubbing at his face.

"But it's over. Thank God. Jason's clean, Jean-Claude has him back, and life can just... go on."

"It has been a long journey to this point," Asher gently traces Nat's hairline with the tip of one finger, his head tilted to the side. That one finger follows the outer shell of Nathaniel's ear, detouring down his neck, navigating the hollows and bumps of throat and collarbone.

Asher's eyes follow his hand, utterly and happily distracted by pale, soft skin, watching goosebumps ripple in the wake of his touches.

A shiver takes Nathaniel's body, and he opens his eyes to look up at Asher.

"I keep wondering if your touch will always make my heart speed up and my cock stand to attention," he says with a half-smile.

While he'd managed to pull away from some of his vulgarity, he hasn't been able to leave it all behind.

"Mmmm, I hope to always have such an effect," Asher murmurs, lazily circling one nipple with his finger, teasing still. He smiles faintly, leaning his head on his hand as he continues to gently touch Nathaniel, distracting him utterly.

Nathaniel moans softly, lashes fluttering.

"You're making it very hard for me to be angry and depressed," he points out as his nipple draws up tight under that finger.

Asher dips his head, gently drawing his fangs across Nathaniel's pebbled nipple, a soft scrape that nonetheless draws a few scarlet beads of blood to pearl on his skin.

Moaning softly, Asher flattens his tongue against Nat's chest, licking a stripe across, lapping up every tiny drop of blood.

A strangled cry, and Nathaniel's hands delve into Asher's hair.

"That... I... oh, fuck it," he purrs. It still amazes him how swiftly his mind can be completely engulfed by Asher. He arches up against Asher's mouth, allowing the touch and scent and sound of Asher to wash away the negativity that had clung to him like a stale odor.

Asher smirks, closing his eyes as he bites down, fangs slicing easily into Nathaniel's skin, Asher letting out a thready moan as his throat works, just a few greedy swallows before he pulls back, presses his fingers to the wound.

Nathaniel gasps, eyes wide as pain lances through him, thrills him, and he stares at Asher. He swallows convulsively, so very still there on the bed as he stares into Asher's eyes.

The marks had taken the magical pleasure from Asher's bite, but it was still deliciously enjoyable to Nathaniel without such things. The pain was its own pleasure, and Asher never apologized for causing it.

Asher raises bloody fingers to his lips, delicately licking them clean, taking his time as Nathaniel trembles delicately on the bed.

"What shall it be tonight, mon chat?" He asks, wondering if this is a night to coax answers from Nathaniel, or whether his self-confident approach to Jean-Claude will spill over. Of course, Nathaniel can answer without words - reaching for the toy chest that lies at the end of Asher's bed would be answer enough.

"Blood and welts and bonds," he whispers, his eye never leaving Asher's mouth. "I need..."

He needs to forget what had been and remember what was.

What beautifully was.

Asher merely nods, moving down the bed and opening the chest. He draws out leather cuffs, lined thinly with silver to bite and nip at lycanthrope skin. Dropping them onto the bed, he adds soft rope, a long coil that whispers through his fingers to fall onto the bedsheets.

Looking at Nathaniel a long moment, Asher asks softly, "And how would you have me bleed you, mon chat? With teeth, or blades, or beatings?"

Nathaniel's eyes remain on the items Asher had laid out, a shiver of anticipation rushing through him.

"With teeth and beatings," he breathes, being as forward as he's ever been. Whatever had happened in Jean-Claude's room lingers still, and his eyes lift to Asher's in expectation.

Asher hides a smile, though his fingers slide down Nathaniel's side in a swift caress, a subtle reward.

He removes a flogger out of the chest, silver-tipped as most of their toys are; the ones designed for pain, at least. It joins the pile on the bed, the last object to be added a slender cane, black leather wrapped around one end as a handle.

"Give me your wrists, mon chat," he instructs.

His heart begins to beat faster, his skin flushing already. Obediently, Nathaniel holds out his wrists for Asher, barely able to keep from moaning at in expectation. He's already hard in his jeans, so easily brought to arousal by the thought of playing with Asher, of Asher mastering him.

He carefully buckles the cuffs around Nathaniel's wrists, softly caressing the inside of his arm with the slightest brush of fingertips, leaning in to kiss Nathaniel. He wants to collar Nathaniel, wants to own him completely. But he doesn't want to be just another in long list of men who have controlled Nathaniel, who have kept him and toyed with him. He wants to earn that trust.

Standing on the bed, Asher loops the rope through the small rings embedded into the canopy of his bed, both ends hanging down. He attaches each end of the rope to Nathaniel's cuffs, moving behind him to tug gently on the slack rope in the middle, pulling Nathaniel's arms taut, forcing him to move up onto his knees.