The Passion Dance

Title: The Passion Dance
Chapter: 1/?
Warnings: There will be BDSM Themes throughout the story, as well as gory/intense sex scenes, but in this first chapter there is no adult content. This is also an M/M story and fantasy as well.

Summary: Nickolai has resisted the temptation of Famous Danseur Mikhail Oblivos'e for a long time, but it's getting harder and harder to say no to a man that is sex and desire rolled into one perfect package. He knows giving in would be a terrible idea, but the current event's in his life are making him weaker day by day. However when facts come to light, Nickolai realises he may be falling into something far more dangerous then he could imagine. What does Mikhail mean when he says they are destined to be a pair? Where did the strange Sun and Moon legend come from? And most importantly, what is happening to him?

****

He wasn't exactly sure why he was here, of all places tonight, when he knew the risks involved. But, starring up at the Theater, he couldn't pull himself away. The Ancu Ballet Theater was an almost intimidating building. It looked like a castle on the Upper East Side of New York City, all beautiful black marble that shone with a near blinding brilliance, edged by gold trimming and large two rectangular windows that overlooked the city. Nickolai could remember himself as a child, driving by the theater with his mother, his nose pressed against the windows to stare at the magnificent landmark.


‘It still has the same effect on me as it did back then. I can imagine royalty coming here, starring up at this place in just as much wonder.'


When he was fourteen, Nickolai had gone to the public library, had found the building plans for the theater, and that day he had decided he wanted to build something just as wonderful. That was the whole reason he had become an architect, had studied so hard to get into all the best schools and programs, why he felt so accomplished now. Not to mention the fact that his Father, a man who had spent his entire life working hard and earning his way through his life, couldn't have been prouder the day he had told him of his dream.


‘That’s my boy. A worker like his Father, no slacker or fool, but a man who isn't afraid to get his hands dirty.' It had probably been the first and only time in his life that his Father had ever been proud of him, had ever considered him an equal. He grimaced at the memories, all the while cursing himself for even looking back on those days. They were gone, dead. Nothing could change them. Not anymore.


But that wasn't why he was so nervous to be here, why his skin tingled just looking up at the sweeping entry way, nor why the heat, that he would choice to ignore, curled in his lower belly. No, it was the man he had come to see that evoked those feeling and sensations.


The Master of Dance. The Gem of Romania. The King of the Stage. Mikhail Oblivos'e, a man whose name had come to be symbolic in the Dance world. With his inhuman grace, his unrivaled elegance, and his awe inspiring beauty, the man had taken over New York City in the past thirty years. Even this Theater, named after the man's mother, was a testament to his unmatched power and capabilities. Still, those things Nickolai could handle. After all, since birth he had been among the privileged, had dined with royalty and presidents due to his Father's immense wealth and connections. No, the famous had never been an issue for him, a turn on in any way.


Nickolai was pulled from his thoughts, however, when the door to his limo was unlocked and opened, the valet suddenly standing in the space. He held a large umbrella, and it was only then that Nickolai even realized that it was raining outside. He slid out, gracefully sidestepping a puddle, and grasped the offered hand that quickly pulled him beneath the cover.


“Good Evening Mr. Mi'Carde," The valet said as he guided him up the grand steps to the entrance. Nickolai smiled and murmured back his own greeting as they made their way up to the entry way. He was thankful that the man was not one for small talk, unlike most of the Valets that worked here. Everyone was so quick to talk to the person getting out of the limo. Instead, they merely walked in silence only broken by the heavy rain drops that bounced off their umbrella, and the car horns that blared out on the street.


He had arrived early, as per usual, because he had heard that the theater had acquired two new works of art. The paper had proudly showed off the news, hailing Ancu Theater as not only a place of great talent and mastery, but also as the best new home for art in New York City. He had hungered to see the new additions ever since. What new beauties had been added to this place?


There was a piece by James Woodtrupp, a beautiful scenery portrait that was a mixture of dark greens and blues, along with an earthy brown shade that Nickolai had always admired in his works. He had to still the urge to reach out and touch the painting, something that had become tradition when he bought a work of art for his own collection. A small smile pulled at his lips as he thought of that, how he needed to feel the texture beneath his fingertips, not caring if it was a new print, or one of the finer ones that his Father had. Who cared if it was 200 years old? Art needed to be touched, to be given that connection with life, or else it just became a dull item on the wall.


The other new item was the statue of a Muse; it was Terpsichore, the Greek mistress of dance and music. He studied it with a critical eye; this type of art was more part of what he did. An architect and a sculptor were alike it allot of ways, their hands were the tools that brought great things to life, monuments to some glory of the past and future. There was only one flaw he could put a name to, a small crack by her left eye, but she was flawless otherwise. There was a soft smile on her cold, unfeeling lips, and her eyes wide and starring ahead at something in the distance. Her eyes reminded him of his mother, always wide and friendly, but starring of fat something else. Something she couldn't have. He turned away from the sculptor, his lips pressed tight in a line.


Perhaps coming here this early was a mistake in more ways than he had thought when the emotions of the last couple weeks still festered right below the surface. Maybe he wasn't ready for all the memories attached to this beautiful place, the happy ones and the more terrible thoughts. He could feel a headache forming, a pinch between his brows, and he raised his hand to press against the pain. It was then that the Theater Manager came from his office to spy him, calling his name till he turned around.


“Mr. Mi'Carde! I am surprised you are here tonight, after what happened. Did you receive my flowers?" Dominic Horace took his hands up in a tight, reassuring rip, squeezing them gently in greeting. Nickolai smiled and squeezed back before releasing them, and nodded his head.


“I did receive them Mr. Horace, they were beautiful. I'm sure my Father would have thought them perfectly acceptable for the occasion." It was a bit of humor, perhaps too soon, but Horace let out a soft chuckle at it. It was true, his Father always judged things by whether or not they were acceptable for an occasion. Red flowers on mother’s day? No, only white or yellow flowers were allowed. It had made Nickolai's life neat and organized, helped him detach from far too many things, but only to a certain point. Even now with his statement, a sarcastic barb that is Father would glare and snort at, it was showing just how detached he could be.


“Yes, I had hoped so. We certainly lost an interesting man when your Father died, that we did. But we still have his ever promising son, and his delightful wife, and that is a blessing. How is Mrs. Mi'Carde by the way? Last I heard she was in England visiting her family, trying to take the edge off her pain and suffering."


Nickolai laughed at that, a true and genuine grin coming to his lips. Yes, that did sound like his mother, the ever good and fair lady Mi'Carde, but she was not in England. No, it was Greece that had captured her attention, and off she had gone to drown her sorrows in all the things an old world husband had forbidden her from. Art, literature, history, music, all the things she had always desired and had been kept away from. Nickolai didn't envy women in the slightest, not when they came from his world. But there was no since in alerting anyone to her location, or to change the public's mind.


“Yes, her Mother was only too glad to see her home. She is regrouping her strength and will return when she is ready. But come Mr. Horace, I did not come all the way to the Theater to discuss such dark matters with you. I heard the Ballet tonight is wonderful, a testament to a dancers strength and mastery. I had to see it myself." He watched as Horace’s chest puffed up, his murky brown eyes brightening in pleasure. Nickolai knew his youngest niece, Jasmine, was in the performance tonight and that the man would be only all too willing to change subjects. Indeed it seemed he was right.


“The ballet tonight is excellent! The finest I've seen in years, and that's a feat I tell you, with Ancu Theater's Dancers. My Niece, Jasmine has actually been taking classes here, under the guidance of Mikhail Oblivos'e, the absolute genius, and tonight is her debut," He tried playing the collected man who always had such fortune strike him, examining his fingernails and dusting imaginary lint off his shoulder," not that I ever expected anything less of her. She is my sister's daughter after all."


“Of course Mr. Horace and I expect to see great reviews for her tomorrow in all the newspapers. But I do believe that is the early bell ringing, and I do hope to get to my seats before too many people arrive. Everybody I meet has a story about my Father that they share with me, and though I enjoy them all, I hope to take my mind of such misfortune tonight."


“Of course, of course, no doubt. Please be on your way, and have a good night." Nickolai smiled and nodded before heading towards the winding staircase on his left, the one with the champagne rugs and beautiful cherry wood banisters that he enjoyed so much. His personal box was situated high up, hovering just perfectly above the stage. His Father had acquired it as a gift after he had voiced his desire to become an architect, and it was the one gift of his Father's he continued to enjoy. The guard who stood beside the curtain gave him a respectful nod and pulled the golden coverings away so that he could slip inside.


Within the booth there was an ice bucket with a vintage red wine, and a single glass that Nickolai picked up. He pulled the cork from the bottle, using the cork screw beside it, and poured himself a more then liberal glass. On the stage below he could see stage hands running a quick check, and the people who were milling about to find their seats. He swore he spotted Elizabeth, his maternal cousin, but he shrugged his shoulders and took a sip from his glass. Oh well, it didn't faze him if it were her or not. All he cared about was spending a night out on the town, and partake in some of the finest dancing a man could see.


He settled back in his seat as the music struck up, and the lights dimmed to darkness. There was an immediate hush that overtook the place, a soothing silence he had come to enjoy. His eyes followed the curtain upwards, and then a single spotlight appeared. And then, through the darkness and silent theater, there was a single phrase.


“Let the Show Begin."


******************


The Ballet had been lovely, a true experience, especially so due to Mikhail's performance. He had moved with such grace, such conviction, even Nickolai felt the need to congratulate the man. He would place a call in the morning to the man's secretary, have a dozen roses shipped out for him. But there would be no approaching him, no personal greeting. Nickolai could not afford that.


He stared down at his wine glass, only a film of the red wine lay at the bottom, before setting it down next to the near empty wine bottle. He had indulged a little too much tonight, but he shrugged it off. Two years ago he had been swigging vodka from the bottle with a woman in Miami, and had handled himself well enough to give a speech ten minutes later. A little too much wine didn't mean a thing to him, not with the week he had experienced.


He cast a quick look down to the main floor, watching as all the people dispersed, whispering to each other. He heard a few female gigglers, knew that they were female gawkers, the ones who liked to stare at the male dancers prominent display. He knew many men and women like that, knew how they pointed, on hand covering their mouths, their eyes as wide as saucers. That was why he proffered his own box, far enough away from all that, too far to see the things that they admired. It was just nonsense.


Slipping out of the booth he gave a friendly smile to the guard, slipping him the same fifty dollar bill he always did, before deciding to take the back staircase to the main lobby. Everyone would be rushing into the front area, where all the photographers and reporters awaited the dancers and celebrities here tonight. It would be pure chaos in a mere matter of moments. The back staircase would lead him around all that trouble, and then he could slip out the side door and return to his vehicle.


' Dammit. It’s raining, I had forgotten about that.' He grimaced; realizing that if he went out the back then there would be no umbrella. He starred down at his crisp beige suit, the brand new one he had personally ordered. It wasn't as though he was terribly worried about his clothing, but still......

He cursed his fate but resigned himself to it. It was better than going through the hoards of people waiting below. Already he could feel the dread of claustrophobia, his headache returning. He wasn't prepared for that tonight. However, as he reached the main floor, it seemed his decision was made for him. Out of nowhere a lithe form sprung upon him, large breasts pushing into his shoulder as slender arms wrapped around him. He had been right in assuming Elizabeth was here.


" Nicki! My dear, dear cousin. I'm just so thrilled to see you out and about again!" Yes, it was Elizabeth, with her stunning red hair, and wide brown eyes. She grinned at him, before pressing a kiss to his cheek, her breasts nearly falling out of her tight corseted dress. The original wild child of his family, before himself that was, she stood there proudly with her hair rumpled and her makeup smeared slightly.


“I had tickets tonight. I didn't want to waste them," Nickolai replied, glancing around. He expected that her date would soon pop out of some corner to drag her off. Her taste in men fell upon those who were more comfortable in greasy tune up shops, not in a theater. In fact there had been many a scandal about her bringing brutes and thugs to this place, only to begin a ' show' of their own in an all too visible booth.


“Well that's perfect my baby cousin! In fact, it’s great that your here, because I need a ride home tonight. I was wondering if you could perhaps give me a lift." She imitated a child asking for a treat before dinner, her hands folded behind her back, her head down starring at her scuffed toe. Nickolai rolled his eye at the display and sighed.


“Fine, it's not too far out of my way anyways. But I'm leaving now, so------"


“Oh thank you Nickolai! But first I have to go find Jimmy, my date, and then I'll be set. I'll be back in like five minutes." And before Nickolai could voice a complaint she was dashing off, frolicking like a child, giggling all the way. He let out a groan, frustrated that he had let that happen. Wasn't he used to it by now? But now he knew he couldn't exactly go out the side door, Elizabeth's custom dress was decorated in feathers and fragile looking stones. There was no way that she'd think to step out into the rain when a Valet awaited at the door with an umbrella. That meant going through the Main lobby, with all those damned reporters and crowds.


‘Just my luck, isn't it? You try to be nice and it bites you in the ass in the end.' He let out a groan, and shook his head. Well, this was as good a time as any to go to the front, and hopefully avoid the crowds.


****


Nickolai counted himself as lucky when he made his way through the lobby. He had only been stopped three times, too bright flashbulbs going off in his face, and each time they had only sought a word or two from him about the ballet. Some of the lesser known Dancers had come out, so most of the reporters were surrounding them, and others waited at one of the doors that led to the Dancers changing rooms.


‘Their waiting to pounce on Mikhail. Everyone wants a piece of that man.'


It was true. The tabloids had a new story about him each week, whether it be a strange sex story, or that silly rumor that he hated women. Nickolai found it foolish, just because one was gay didn't mean they hated women, it just meant that they didn't appreciate them in the same way as straight men. He was gay, and he had loads of female friends who he absolutely adored, but felt no need to sleep with. But at least he wouldn't have to worry about having to talk to Mikhail himself. With that hungry crowd he'd be busy for several hours.


‘Now I just have to find Elizabeth and this Jimmy kid, and get myself out of here.'


He was already looking around, trying to spot his cousins bright red hair above the crowd. He thought he saw a flash of it, made off in that direction, only to find it was someone else. He frowned and attempted to separate himself from the crowd, but it was useless. Too many people were pushing and forming a monstrous sized group. After a few moments it was almost impossible to move. It was then that several feminine sheiks filled the air. Nickolai cringed, knowing what had happened.


Mikhail had made his grand entrance.

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Please remember that any type of feedback is welcome, and that I adore comments or questions, and will use this space and others to answer anything you might ask. Please tell me if you think I'm going too slow, if you think I'm going too fast, if you want more character development in a certain chapter, or if you see something odd that you want to bring to my attention:)