The door snicked open with the dry whisper of hydraulics, and he moved through it into a pulsing purple den filled to the brim with sweating halfway-clothed men and women, slick and shiny, weaving in and out of the crowd. They weren't the pale black-eyed bottom dwellers, but rather, people like him, out looking for a night that couldn't be found in the levels above. Right in front of him, a man removed another man's shirt and leaned over, sucking a nipple into his mouth. A half-dressed woman slithered between them, cupping both men's crotches with greedy, seeking hands. Lynx's eyes nearly bugged out of his skull. In his normal state, the spectacle before him wouldn't have been much beyond mildly interesting and vaguely distasteful.
That night, it made his blood boil.
The chaos, the sweat, the heat emanating from rubbing slick flesh... He felt himself harden and had to squeeze his eyes shut to regain control. He didn't want to stick out in a room full of intoxicated people in the middle of Bottom City, so he took a deep calming breath, making sure he didn't sway on his feet, then opened his eyes and looked up at the ceiling to avoid staring at the throbbing pile of skin on the dance floor. The first thing he noticed was an ornate hanging gold phoenix that dangled only feet from the ceiling--decoration or perhaps a claim of territory. The sight of it alone made his bowels drop.
Fuck, fuck, fuck! How could I have missed that? That bird, for him, might as well have been a death knell. Had he seen it right away, he'd have turned and run, taking his chances with the groping bottom dwellers outside.
He was a Dragon in a Phoenix triad bar. Fuck didn't even start to cover it.
Lynx turned to leave, hoping to get the hell out before he drew attention to himself, but his way was blocked by a rather large man.
"Haven't seen you in here before, boy. You look familiar," the mountain of flesh grumbled.
At least I don't look exactly like my father. It was probably one of the only times Lynx was glad that he wasn't his older brother. "I'm here to meet a friend," he said quickly and turned back to slip the other way, blending into the sea of flesh and drawing his hood over the signature sunset-colored shock of hair that each member of the Kovalenko clan had a variation of.
Lynx threaded his way through the crowd, hoping to escape the notice of anyone who might recognize his coloring and features, if not his actual face. He'd not been seen in the news, being the unremarkable second son, but to a practiced eye, he'd stand out like a beacon. Lynx's own eyes were frustratingly unfocused, and he squinted, trying to make sense of the darkness and the flashing lights. He wished more than anything for clarity, sobriety. He was in the one place in New Seattle where he needed to be most alert, and the drugs were still making his head spin. Lynx moved forward as far into the room as he could go and kept his head down, trying to remain as inconspicuous as a redheaded Kovalenko in a Phoenix bar could be.
He looked up again for a moment to get his bearings and to make sure he'd gone unnoticed. What he saw made his breath catch in his throat. The lights flashed still, red and purple and dizzying, but they illuminated a man who stood at the bar, surveying the room like he owned it. He was young, probably hovering close to Lynx's twenty, and was obviously highborn, with creamy white skin, delicate cheekbones, and almond-shaped eyes that were showcased on the left side by a delicate swirling tattoo that reached from his hairline all the way down to his cheekbone. The boy was beautiful and clearly very rich, not the sort who should be anywhere near Bottom City. Thankfully he lacked the sapphire hair that would mark him as a Leonias, the lords of the Phoenix clan. Lynx had to admit if it hadn't been for that one missing feature, high-ranking Phoenix lord would've been his first guess. The boy's hair, however, was inky black and reflected the lights that swirled overhead as his gaze connected with Lynx's. He raised his glass and tipped his generous lips in a small, beckoning smile.
Lynx felt his pulse race, and suddenly it was hard to breathe. Never in his life had he wanted something so instantly and completely--and stupidly. He had to get out.
Heading for a dark corner, a restroom, anyplace where he could hide and hopefully try to locate someone to rescue him, Lynx shoved through the crowd, no longer caring whether or not he was garnering stares. He ended up breaking out of the edge of the sweating crowd only to stumble into a heavy black curtain. Instead of the solid wall he expected behind the hangings, the curtain parted, and he fell into a chamber, darkened even further than the main room. Lynx struggled to his feet and glanced around in wonder.
The chamber had a sink and long colorful tubes of what Lynx assumed were scented soaps. There was also a velvety soft couch that felt incredible against his easily distracted fingers and a bed that was covered in pillows. A door slid into place behind him, locking. His stomach dropped. What the hell was happening to him?
And suddenly he was there, the boy from the bar outside. Up close, he was even more beautiful, more aristocratic than he'd seemed before. He barely looked like he belonged on earth, let alone a hellhole like a Bottom City bar.
"Who are you?" Lynx asked.
A soft manicured finger rested against his lips. "No names."
The mysterious stranger shook his hair from the braid it had been tied in and removed the hooded overtunic he'd been wearing. The shirt underneath was fine fabric, clingy and expensive. Lynx had been right. He was certainly from someplace far above.
"What are you going to do to me?"
The young man gave Lynx a small smile. "Shouldn't I ask you that? You're the one with the laser knife."
Lynx colored. "I'm not going to hurt you. I got lost. I just wanted to..." He broke off, realizing how foolish he'd sound if he admitted he was about to call his family. If nothing else, Lynx didn't want to look like a fool. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, reaching out to trace the tiny intricate lines of the stranger's tattoo. There goes any chance of not sounding foolish. He shook his head to clear it. The drugs had loosened his lips for certain.
"Touch me," the young man whispered and took Lynx's hand from his face, slipping it under the sheer fabric of his shirt. His skin was velvety and slightly damp from the heat. Lynx's breath caught in his throat.
"I..." Lynx didn't know what to say.
"Don't you want me?" He touched Lynx's face with those soft slender fingers, then drew his shirt over his head, revealing a lithely muscled chest. Lynx choked on a rapid inhalation.
"Yes," he breathed. It was the truth after all, whether from his own lust or the drugs that circulated through his veins. He'd wanted the gorgeous nymph from the second he saw him.
"Then take me."
The sentence was followed by a kiss; soft lips descending on his, seeking tongue darting out to taste what Lynx had to offer. Lynx groaned and returned the kiss, threading his fingers through the warm silk of black hair. He felt small teeth on his bottom lip. They bit gently, as if to say more.
Lynx cupped the young man's hips and pulled him closer, loving the feel of hard muscle and soft skin against his body. He wanted to feel it without his clothes in the way, skin to skin. They broke apart only long enough to breathe, then returned to the consuming kiss, learning each other's rhythms and tastes. After long minutes, the boy drew away. Lynx felt a moment of chill.
The boy opened a drawer and produced a tube of some kind of lubricant and then offered Lynx a small black box. For the second time that evening, Lynx blindly stuck his finger out to be sampled. When the box showed perfectly clean results, his lover smiled and stuck his own finger in until a green light and another set of negative results flashed. Lynx panicked for a moment when a small tube of lubricant was slipped into his grasp. He'd never had his hands on anything so exquisite as the creature in front of him. He'd also never been the type to pick up a stranger, no matter how enticing, no matter how intoxicating his kisses were. Was he really going to...
"You do know what to do, don't you?" The boy flashed him a saucy, mocking smirk before dropping his loose trousers to the ground, fabric sliding over creamy skin. His body was perfect, glowing white and flawless. Even his cock was graceful, slender and pretty, white like the rest of him and perfectly shaped.
Lynx gulped and nodded. He did. It was one of the first lessons that a Dragon was taught, how to love and love well, both women and men. It was a skill they were expected to have.
"So come here, because I want you too."
Lynx needed nothing more than to throw the stranger down and bury himself in the tight heat he knew he'd find within, but he wanted to make it good for his intoxicating unknown lover.
He lifted heavy dark stands from the pale white neck and licked experimentally. His taste was exactly what Lynx had dreamed of...even if he'd never known that he dreamed it. He felt seeking fingers unbuckling his scabbard and thought for a second that if the boy wanted him dead, after his knife was gone, it would be easy. Lynx gulped and let the knife go, as well as his cloak, tunic, and tight-fitting trousers. Before his lust-scrambled brain knew what was happening, he was naked and rubbing, flush against the pale perfection before him.
He leaned back with a wink and sank to his knees, licking at Lynx's startled erection. He trailed his tongue along the bottom, then pushed the flat of his tongue up against the sensitive spongy skin at the head. Lynx groaned.
"Is that okay?" he asked.
"Yes. Don't stop."
Lynx got another smile before that amazing mouth was back on him, licking, tasting, driving him out of his mind. When he was about to go insane from the teasing, the boy opened his mouth deep and took Lynx in as far as he'd go. Lynx trembled. The wet heat, that wicked little tongue massaging him in all the right places--he tipped his head back and let out a moan. The moan was taken as encouragement. His lover picked up the pace, wrapping a hand around the base of Lynx's shaft and tugging in time with his mouth. Lynx's knees started to shake, and the orgasm that he'd been trying to hold back for the past few minutes pulsed insistently at his spine. He tugged on surprisingly muscular shoulders.
"Please, I won't last." Lynx colored. He knew it was ridiculous to be on the edge after only a few minutes of oral pleasure. He was given an appraising look with those slanted, startlingly violet eyes.
"What did you take?"
"Just some bump. My cousin gave it to me."
"Ahh." A soft smile, and the boy stood. "Then this will be good for you."
Lynx was pushed gently backward until he felt something butt against his calves. He let himself fall until he hit the cushiony velvet covers of the low bed. His black-haired angel crawled over him, rubbing against him with that unbelievably soft skin.
The stranger kissed Lynx again, something that was not expected and with seemingly uncharacteristic shyness. He tasted a bit like Lynx but also like himself, sweet, like cherry, and a bit wild. Whatever the flavor was, Lynx wanted to spend hours exploring it. Lynx returned the kiss, tasting and loving the silken feel of tongues sliding together. He rubbed his palms down the young man's back until they were cupped around the perfect swell of his round little ass. Lynx sighed and squeezed, dragging his lover closer to his body, as close as he could get without being inside. He wanted to explore every soft nook and cranny, let his hands and tongue feel their fill.
He didn't get a chance.
The boy slithered down his body again, raining little kisses and bites, sucking on Lynx's nipples and blowing on them. Lynx tried not to cry out like an inexperienced greenling, but his limits were tested again and again. Biting, licking, blowing, tasting long trails until that deliciously wicked mouth was poised over his straining erection one more time.
"Don't come," his dream lover whispered with a naughty grin before diving back down and engulfing Lynx's shaft in his own brand of hot-wet perfection. Lynx drove his hips up, straining at the edge of release.