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The Passion Dance
folder
Drama › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
1,721
Reviews:
5
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Drama › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
1,721
Reviews:
5
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
These charactors do not depict any real persons or people, and are souly created from my mind. I have not used any one elses charactors, and I ask that without due permission, no one use mine. This work is Fiction, and does not dep
Chapter 3/?
The Passion Dance
Chapter 3/?
Warnings: Masturbation, M/M, implied sexual dealings with a minor.
Authors Note: This is Mikhail's first chapter. I find it hard to write in the Dominate's perspective, I usually only do the Submissive, but here's an attempt. Please tell me what you think, and tell me how Mikhail comes across in your own words. I want to see if I was able to portray him as I wanted to:)
***************
It was a while after Nickolai had left, that Mikhail was finally free to go back to his dressing room. His jaw hurt from smiling so much, something he hated about the damned act he forced upon himself. But then again, it had served him well for the past twelve decades he had been in the public view, and who could argue with time honored tradition?
He slowly made his way through the lobby, all too used to the way that the crowd parted for him. While others suffered with the crush, he was offered a walkway in any direction he so chose. He noticed the way Jasmine stood by her Uncle, not bothering to hide her disdain for the man who was of her blood. When her gaze lifted she spotted him looking in her direction, a bright smile lit her little girl like features, her hand rising to wave him over. Mikhail almost snorted at that. The girl thought he was her great companion, that they were somehow capable of being together.
‘Ha, the girl is only good for one thing: looking somewhat pretty. She thinks that she could be my lover when I have not given her a single morsel of such desire. What a foolish little girl.’
He shook his head, let the strands of his hair tickle the sides of his face, and continued in the direction of his dressing room. He needed to get this damned dancer’s belt off, and do something about the ache that had settled in. A small smirk pulled the corner of his mouth, as he thought back to his conversation with Nickolai. How could the boy not realize exactly how much of a tease he was? Did he not realize his eyes lit up like stars when a challenge was issued, or when he was irate? Did he not feel how his flesh heated up into a dark flush?
Mikhail slipped down the back hall, his head lowered as he remembered just how the boy had looked tonight. That beautiful mess of black hair playing off his bronzed features, his blue eyes flashing, those lips of his pouting in displeasure. The boy still looked the same as he had when his Family had visited his homeland, but now his beauty was in full flourish, those delicate petals that he had ripped apart so violently that one night, had parted on their own this time to reveal their core. But, now winter had set in and they were furling up against the cold. Mikhail couldn’t have that, not after he had waited for so long.
“No, most defiantly not,” Mikhail said aloud to no one. He pushed open the door to his private dressing room, and flipped on the light. The low glow passed over a jade colored loveseat, beautiful mahogany floors, a tall gold dressing screen, and his own gold wood vanity. The large mirror glinted in pleasure at being revealed from the darkness.
He sat down on the love seat and slowly pulled off his Pointe shoes, flexing his toes and foot. He set them on the side, and unbuttoned his top, letting the silk fall over his shoulders, and pulled off the chord that wrapped around his waist. Exposed to the cold air his nipples hardened, causing a pleasured groan to fall from his lips. His head lolled backward as he savored the sensation, his hair a caress of silk against his lower back. But it was not enough to release the damned ache that he suffered from. The hunger that coursed through him. It was like comparing a common prostitute to the Gods of love, the pleasure that he received at the moment. No, his body would continue to ache until he had a certain boy’s tight flesh wrapped around it, the same ache it had suffered since that night when he had molested the child.....but not satisfied himself. He still cursed himself for that failure, but the boy had been so demanding his body had coaxed orgasm, after orgasm from himself. And then he had escaped his lax grasp, had taken off into the darkness as he lay there in the throes of orgasmic bliss, the likes of which he had never experienced before.
‘He won’t escape this time. I won’t fail in connecting us. I was weak with the pleasure that I had finally found HIM after all this time. I had been dizzy with lust and my own triumph over fate. But not this time. This time we will give thanks, and become one with the Sun and Moon.’
His hands raised then, to gently massage his scalp, to trail down the sides of his face, and to glide over his chest, a delicious torment until he reached his ultimate goal. When finally his hands rested on the sides of his tights, he hooked his thumbs into the waist band, and raised his lower body. Slowly he peeled them off; having to only wriggle a little bit to slip them past his buttocks, and then pushed them down his muscular thighs and lithe legs. The smooth flesh pleased him, completely devoid of the matting of hair that most men suffered with. He didn’t need the extra warmth; his body had been designed to seek out only one source of heat, so the added why would the creator waist such unneeded things on him? Let the mortal men have their fur, let them resemble the very things they devoured so greedily. He had no desire for it.
Mikhail’s mind turned towards more pleasurable things however, when he slipped the tights all the way off, and they fell into a heap on the floor. His dancers belt was next, the ugly but necessary item a, unneeded block to his ultimate goal. He reached behind his back, bending forwards a bit so that he could grasp the buckle, and disconnected it. It fell away from his buttocks, and he gently slipped the cup off his aching cock. He hissed in pleasure as the cool air hit his overheated flesh. It sprung up, arching gracefully against his stomach.
One hand reached out to grasp it lightly, gently teasing the oversensitive head. His thumb traced small circles right below the head, the nail digging in purposely to scratch gently at the flesh. He hadn’t had the foresight to bring his lube, hadn’t expected Nickolai to be here tonight or at least to stay long enough so that they could speak as civilized adults. No, the boy would rather act the child and play hide and seek to whine and pout until he got his way. That would happen no more, Mikhail thought as he began stroking his cock in earnest. He would find every hiding spot the boy had every safe-guard, every safe haven and destroy it until he had to come out into the open and reveal himself once and for all. A smile came to his lips at the thought.
‘He won’t know what hit him by the time I’m through. He’ll have to come to me once and for all, he’ll admit his need, he’ll admit his desire and submit himself to fate.......or I’ll torment him until he does.’ Mimicking his thoughts, he tormented his own flesh, tightening along the shaft, before letting up by the head. He did it over and over, moving downwards with the tightening grip every couple moments so that he could ease himself away from orgasm. His flesh had to learn, had to obey his command, and it did easily enough. Even his cock knew that something far sweeter, far better awaited it besides his slender hand. It cried out with white pearls that traced his head before drying up at the start of the shaft, only to be replaced with more.
Mikhail’s gaze wandered up to the mirror, pleased to see himself looking so controlled even as he masturbated himself. Besides the flushed cheeks and hooded eyes, he looked to be perfectly capable of holding himself off. He choked down a moan; it became a near gurgle of satisfaction as the pleasure mounted. He had done well in this test of control, could now let himself go to the carnal feelings he held back with a tight reign. He threw his head back as he allowed his hips to thrust into his hand, a smooth fuck between the palm and pads of his fingers. His toes curled into his foot as orgasm approached, its heady arrival sending every nerve of his body into a nirvana.
He let out an undistinguishable cry as orgasm hit fully, his cock jerking as ropes of come exploded across his bare belly, his fingers tightening into a near death grip on the sensitive organ. He fell back against the love seat; let his head dangle over the edge as he saw a consuming darkness for a moment. But as quickly as it was there it was gone, leaving him panting and a mess with his own spunk. He grimaced at the mess and quickly grabbed his top so that he could wipe of the sticky fluid. It would leave a tell tale mark but he didn’t care. It would be washed tonight by the cleaners, and hung neatly back upon its hanger, as though none of this had ever happened.
‘Soon....soon I will not have any necessary reason to do this thing. My little fool will soon be the one to give me pleasure, and I him, and everything will be perfect.’
He lounged there for a few moments, letting the tingle in his spent sex disappear, before he stood and walked over to his dressing screen. No sooner had he grasped his crimson silk shirt however, that a knock came upon his door. He frowned in distaste. Everybody knew he hated to be disturbed after a show, his duty with the press was over, and he merely wanted to leave and get to much more enjoyable things. However, the knock came again, and he angrily tugged on the shirt before replying,
“Come in.”
The door opened slowly and Mikhail raised a brow when he realized it was none other than Jasmine and her Uncle who were calling on him. The girls eyes widened in shock, her hands going to cover her mouth at the nude display before her, though she did not turn away. Horace even let out a gasp and turned a deep reddish color as his mustache twitched below his too large nose.
“May I help you?” Mikhail asked as he grasped the pair of beige cashmere pants that hung behind the screen. He tugged them on as Horace and Jasmine spluttered for words, and tied the soft grey ribbon at his waist. The pants glided comfortable around his sex, caressing it, and he almost winced as his sex slowly began to hum back to life.
“Well....W-we were j-just wondering if y-you would like to come to dinner with us...Mikhail.” Jasmine’s stutter would be taken as cute by any other man, but Mikhail yearned for the angry flash of fire in sapphire eyes for such a vulgar display. He also tried not to appear upset by the fact that she had called him by such a name, when he demanded his students only use his last name in any setting. She felt she had formality with him, was even inviting him to dinner. He would have scoffed aloud at that if he were a lesser man. Did the girl forget that he had turned down dinner with several important politicians?
“I’m afraid I cannot,” He finally said, after he was certain he would not snap at her, “I have been lax in other work at home that I must get to now. Perhaps some other day, Miss Leanburgh.” He deliberately put the air of formality into his words, a small barb that would tell her to never use his given name without due permission. She seemed to get the hint as her cheeks flushed and her eyes fell. Or it could have been the sadness that he would not be joining them. Either which, Mikhail really didn’t care, as long as it kept her at an appropriate distance.
“Oh,” She said, looking crestfallen, “Then perhaps next week? I would most certainly take you to my favorite restaurant; it’s a world cuisine dinning place. They have amazing food there.”
“Perhaps next week then, If I am able.” He was surprised he had said that, but he shrugged it off. He would make sure he was not able to go next week either. Let her be angry with him and turn her attentions elsewhere. Women confused him too much; he didn’t need the added distraction. Nickolai would be challenging enough.
He reached down and grabbed the brown soft leather jazz shoes he had worn here, and tugged them onto his feet. They were far more comfortable then the Pointe shoes. Annoyance crossed his features when he realized the two did not seem to be leaving. What more did they want? He raised his brow and starred at them, until they said a quick goodbye and made a hasty retreat. Mikhail shook his head and grabbed his wallet, cell phone and jacket from his dressing area, and then picked up the Pointe shoes from the love seat. He intended to go home and open a bottle of wine, relax in a warm bath, and enjoy the rest of the nights in thought.
“Tomorrow I’ll see what plans are to be made. Tonight belongs to me.’
*******
StormChild: Thank you for your review. I'm glad that the story is going well in those areas, as that is my biggest worry:)
L.S: Thank you again for such a lovely review, and yes you probally should feel worried for Nickolai...he's got a lot in store for him:) please feel free to ask any questions or make any comments as you read on too:)
Chapter 3/?
Warnings: Masturbation, M/M, implied sexual dealings with a minor.
Authors Note: This is Mikhail's first chapter. I find it hard to write in the Dominate's perspective, I usually only do the Submissive, but here's an attempt. Please tell me what you think, and tell me how Mikhail comes across in your own words. I want to see if I was able to portray him as I wanted to:)
***************
It was a while after Nickolai had left, that Mikhail was finally free to go back to his dressing room. His jaw hurt from smiling so much, something he hated about the damned act he forced upon himself. But then again, it had served him well for the past twelve decades he had been in the public view, and who could argue with time honored tradition?
He slowly made his way through the lobby, all too used to the way that the crowd parted for him. While others suffered with the crush, he was offered a walkway in any direction he so chose. He noticed the way Jasmine stood by her Uncle, not bothering to hide her disdain for the man who was of her blood. When her gaze lifted she spotted him looking in her direction, a bright smile lit her little girl like features, her hand rising to wave him over. Mikhail almost snorted at that. The girl thought he was her great companion, that they were somehow capable of being together.
‘Ha, the girl is only good for one thing: looking somewhat pretty. She thinks that she could be my lover when I have not given her a single morsel of such desire. What a foolish little girl.’
He shook his head, let the strands of his hair tickle the sides of his face, and continued in the direction of his dressing room. He needed to get this damned dancer’s belt off, and do something about the ache that had settled in. A small smirk pulled the corner of his mouth, as he thought back to his conversation with Nickolai. How could the boy not realize exactly how much of a tease he was? Did he not realize his eyes lit up like stars when a challenge was issued, or when he was irate? Did he not feel how his flesh heated up into a dark flush?
Mikhail slipped down the back hall, his head lowered as he remembered just how the boy had looked tonight. That beautiful mess of black hair playing off his bronzed features, his blue eyes flashing, those lips of his pouting in displeasure. The boy still looked the same as he had when his Family had visited his homeland, but now his beauty was in full flourish, those delicate petals that he had ripped apart so violently that one night, had parted on their own this time to reveal their core. But, now winter had set in and they were furling up against the cold. Mikhail couldn’t have that, not after he had waited for so long.
“No, most defiantly not,” Mikhail said aloud to no one. He pushed open the door to his private dressing room, and flipped on the light. The low glow passed over a jade colored loveseat, beautiful mahogany floors, a tall gold dressing screen, and his own gold wood vanity. The large mirror glinted in pleasure at being revealed from the darkness.
He sat down on the love seat and slowly pulled off his Pointe shoes, flexing his toes and foot. He set them on the side, and unbuttoned his top, letting the silk fall over his shoulders, and pulled off the chord that wrapped around his waist. Exposed to the cold air his nipples hardened, causing a pleasured groan to fall from his lips. His head lolled backward as he savored the sensation, his hair a caress of silk against his lower back. But it was not enough to release the damned ache that he suffered from. The hunger that coursed through him. It was like comparing a common prostitute to the Gods of love, the pleasure that he received at the moment. No, his body would continue to ache until he had a certain boy’s tight flesh wrapped around it, the same ache it had suffered since that night when he had molested the child.....but not satisfied himself. He still cursed himself for that failure, but the boy had been so demanding his body had coaxed orgasm, after orgasm from himself. And then he had escaped his lax grasp, had taken off into the darkness as he lay there in the throes of orgasmic bliss, the likes of which he had never experienced before.
‘He won’t escape this time. I won’t fail in connecting us. I was weak with the pleasure that I had finally found HIM after all this time. I had been dizzy with lust and my own triumph over fate. But not this time. This time we will give thanks, and become one with the Sun and Moon.’
His hands raised then, to gently massage his scalp, to trail down the sides of his face, and to glide over his chest, a delicious torment until he reached his ultimate goal. When finally his hands rested on the sides of his tights, he hooked his thumbs into the waist band, and raised his lower body. Slowly he peeled them off; having to only wriggle a little bit to slip them past his buttocks, and then pushed them down his muscular thighs and lithe legs. The smooth flesh pleased him, completely devoid of the matting of hair that most men suffered with. He didn’t need the extra warmth; his body had been designed to seek out only one source of heat, so the added why would the creator waist such unneeded things on him? Let the mortal men have their fur, let them resemble the very things they devoured so greedily. He had no desire for it.
Mikhail’s mind turned towards more pleasurable things however, when he slipped the tights all the way off, and they fell into a heap on the floor. His dancers belt was next, the ugly but necessary item a, unneeded block to his ultimate goal. He reached behind his back, bending forwards a bit so that he could grasp the buckle, and disconnected it. It fell away from his buttocks, and he gently slipped the cup off his aching cock. He hissed in pleasure as the cool air hit his overheated flesh. It sprung up, arching gracefully against his stomach.
One hand reached out to grasp it lightly, gently teasing the oversensitive head. His thumb traced small circles right below the head, the nail digging in purposely to scratch gently at the flesh. He hadn’t had the foresight to bring his lube, hadn’t expected Nickolai to be here tonight or at least to stay long enough so that they could speak as civilized adults. No, the boy would rather act the child and play hide and seek to whine and pout until he got his way. That would happen no more, Mikhail thought as he began stroking his cock in earnest. He would find every hiding spot the boy had every safe-guard, every safe haven and destroy it until he had to come out into the open and reveal himself once and for all. A smile came to his lips at the thought.
‘He won’t know what hit him by the time I’m through. He’ll have to come to me once and for all, he’ll admit his need, he’ll admit his desire and submit himself to fate.......or I’ll torment him until he does.’ Mimicking his thoughts, he tormented his own flesh, tightening along the shaft, before letting up by the head. He did it over and over, moving downwards with the tightening grip every couple moments so that he could ease himself away from orgasm. His flesh had to learn, had to obey his command, and it did easily enough. Even his cock knew that something far sweeter, far better awaited it besides his slender hand. It cried out with white pearls that traced his head before drying up at the start of the shaft, only to be replaced with more.
Mikhail’s gaze wandered up to the mirror, pleased to see himself looking so controlled even as he masturbated himself. Besides the flushed cheeks and hooded eyes, he looked to be perfectly capable of holding himself off. He choked down a moan; it became a near gurgle of satisfaction as the pleasure mounted. He had done well in this test of control, could now let himself go to the carnal feelings he held back with a tight reign. He threw his head back as he allowed his hips to thrust into his hand, a smooth fuck between the palm and pads of his fingers. His toes curled into his foot as orgasm approached, its heady arrival sending every nerve of his body into a nirvana.
He let out an undistinguishable cry as orgasm hit fully, his cock jerking as ropes of come exploded across his bare belly, his fingers tightening into a near death grip on the sensitive organ. He fell back against the love seat; let his head dangle over the edge as he saw a consuming darkness for a moment. But as quickly as it was there it was gone, leaving him panting and a mess with his own spunk. He grimaced at the mess and quickly grabbed his top so that he could wipe of the sticky fluid. It would leave a tell tale mark but he didn’t care. It would be washed tonight by the cleaners, and hung neatly back upon its hanger, as though none of this had ever happened.
‘Soon....soon I will not have any necessary reason to do this thing. My little fool will soon be the one to give me pleasure, and I him, and everything will be perfect.’
He lounged there for a few moments, letting the tingle in his spent sex disappear, before he stood and walked over to his dressing screen. No sooner had he grasped his crimson silk shirt however, that a knock came upon his door. He frowned in distaste. Everybody knew he hated to be disturbed after a show, his duty with the press was over, and he merely wanted to leave and get to much more enjoyable things. However, the knock came again, and he angrily tugged on the shirt before replying,
“Come in.”
The door opened slowly and Mikhail raised a brow when he realized it was none other than Jasmine and her Uncle who were calling on him. The girls eyes widened in shock, her hands going to cover her mouth at the nude display before her, though she did not turn away. Horace even let out a gasp and turned a deep reddish color as his mustache twitched below his too large nose.
“May I help you?” Mikhail asked as he grasped the pair of beige cashmere pants that hung behind the screen. He tugged them on as Horace and Jasmine spluttered for words, and tied the soft grey ribbon at his waist. The pants glided comfortable around his sex, caressing it, and he almost winced as his sex slowly began to hum back to life.
“Well....W-we were j-just wondering if y-you would like to come to dinner with us...Mikhail.” Jasmine’s stutter would be taken as cute by any other man, but Mikhail yearned for the angry flash of fire in sapphire eyes for such a vulgar display. He also tried not to appear upset by the fact that she had called him by such a name, when he demanded his students only use his last name in any setting. She felt she had formality with him, was even inviting him to dinner. He would have scoffed aloud at that if he were a lesser man. Did the girl forget that he had turned down dinner with several important politicians?
“I’m afraid I cannot,” He finally said, after he was certain he would not snap at her, “I have been lax in other work at home that I must get to now. Perhaps some other day, Miss Leanburgh.” He deliberately put the air of formality into his words, a small barb that would tell her to never use his given name without due permission. She seemed to get the hint as her cheeks flushed and her eyes fell. Or it could have been the sadness that he would not be joining them. Either which, Mikhail really didn’t care, as long as it kept her at an appropriate distance.
“Oh,” She said, looking crestfallen, “Then perhaps next week? I would most certainly take you to my favorite restaurant; it’s a world cuisine dinning place. They have amazing food there.”
“Perhaps next week then, If I am able.” He was surprised he had said that, but he shrugged it off. He would make sure he was not able to go next week either. Let her be angry with him and turn her attentions elsewhere. Women confused him too much; he didn’t need the added distraction. Nickolai would be challenging enough.
He reached down and grabbed the brown soft leather jazz shoes he had worn here, and tugged them onto his feet. They were far more comfortable then the Pointe shoes. Annoyance crossed his features when he realized the two did not seem to be leaving. What more did they want? He raised his brow and starred at them, until they said a quick goodbye and made a hasty retreat. Mikhail shook his head and grabbed his wallet, cell phone and jacket from his dressing area, and then picked up the Pointe shoes from the love seat. He intended to go home and open a bottle of wine, relax in a warm bath, and enjoy the rest of the nights in thought.
“Tomorrow I’ll see what plans are to be made. Tonight belongs to me.’
*******
StormChild: Thank you for your review. I'm glad that the story is going well in those areas, as that is my biggest worry:)
L.S: Thank you again for such a lovely review, and yes you probally should feel worried for Nickolai...he's got a lot in store for him:) please feel free to ask any questions or make any comments as you read on too:)