#dmitrixroland

[dmitri-shenker]

It was worse than a few crossed wires, it seemed like everything in Dmitri- every thought and impulse, desire and revulsion, had become tangled together, wound too tight to separate. The alcohol didn't steady him. Some part of Dmitri delighted in being lifted so easily, wanted to feel feminine and adored, overpowered. Another part was revolted, disgusted that he'd been cast in the wrong role. He growled into Roland's mouth, but remained where Roland had placed him. Mixed signals.

The bite though, that made Dmitri yelp. His reactions were slow, sluggish. Vampires hadn't wanted to feed on him so far - most of them seemed to be of the opinion that werewolf blood was dirty, somehow, or of some disgusting flavour. Roland didn't seem so perturbed. Within a few swallows, Dmitri was lightheaded, giggling nonsensically into Roland's mouth as his blood thinned from the letting. The combined effects of the alcohol and the feeding had a profound on his body. He swayed on the bar stool, had to grip the edge of the bar for balance. In spite of everything, there was pleasant rush to the feeling, that same kind that came with a new tattoo or piercing, a thrumming of adrenaline in Dmitri's body. He batted ineffectually at Roland. "Need that. Need that or I won't stand."

"No?" Dmitri didn't seem that insistent and Roland highly doubted that was the case anyway given that he was a slave at Krovs. The vampire's back arched a little at the way Dmitri's fingers raked down it, mildly concerned for his costume still but far more interested in Dmitri than that. Roland's aesthetic concerns were often sacrificed for pleasure, though he certainly cared the rest of the time. The slave was intent on kissing him hard and deep but that slight thrill of the slave's blood was hardly enough to get Roland caught up to where he was and in his own way he wanted to be fair about that.

He shifted slightly and easily lifted Dmitri onto his lap, arranged him so he was straddling him as best he could be on the bar stool, holding him steady with the hands on his waist. He pulled back briefly from the kiss, rocking his hips up against him. "That doesn't feel good?" He murmured, lips trailing down Dmitri's jaw and neck. He ground up against him, made sure both their clothed cocks were getting the benefit of the friction, then extended his fangs and sank them in gently, biting Dmitri for real. The blood was strongly tinged with vodka and it wasn't his drink of choice but he wanted to be more or less in the same headspace as the other man for whatever was about to happen next.

[dmitri-shenker]

Everything was rather blurry to Dmitri, everything he perceived melding together into one big mish-mash of sensation: the blare of the music and the noise of the patrons, the flashing of the lights, Roland's hands on him, Roland's teeth on him. If he was sober, he might have thought better of it, but Dmitri had been determined to get drunk and he'd achieved it far too quickly. Whatever pain there was at the tear in his lip, it was dulled and distant, not nearly so bright as the metallic taste on his own tongue as it slid across Roland's.

"Don't... Don't fucking bottom," he mumbled, even as his resolve was crumbling. Did it matter anymore? He'd been fucked plenty since he got here and only once or twice had he been allowed to top. He needed to get over himself for the good of his own sanity. If the train of thought was his own or another product of the meddling that had happened inside his mind, it was impossible to say. He raked his fingers down Roland's back, hardly caring if he damaged the ugly costume. Served Roland right for wearing something so poncy. He was losing his grip on his argument, far too enthused about getting his tongue as far down Roland's throat as possible.

There was almost no reaction at first and if that lasted Roland would pull back. Just when he was starting to consider it, however, Dmitri's tongue finally moved against his and he seemed, at least in some respect, to be interested in this. Good. Clearly he'd just needed a little rough handling but he wasn't entirely against Roland. The more Roland kept his mouth occupied, the less Dmitri would be able to say as well which seemed like the plan he would have to follow.

He didn't bite but Dmitri clearly felt his fangs given the reaction and feeling the hands against his shirt his own slid down to take hold of Dmitri's wrists, pulling them back slightly just to make sure he didn't, in fact, rip any part of the costume. It was old and would be quite difficult to replace and Roland didn't want to have to go through the hassle of having it fixed. Roland made a sound at the teeth in his lip, hardly minding the slight sting, even smiling a little though he scoffed at the words. "Certainly not. Rather the opposite." He nipped at Dmitri's lip in return, catching it with a fang to break the skin and sucked on the wound. There was no faster way to get caught up with how much the slave had drank than to sample his blood himself and get a direct hit of all that vodka into his own system. He turned the drinking into another rough, messy kiss, guiding Dmitri's hands up to his shoulders and around his neck to hopefully spare his costume before letting go of them to slide his hands down the werewitch's body and pull his hips closer to his own.

[dmitri-shenker]

Roland continued his trend of catching Dmitri off guard when he kissed him. Dmitri conceded enough ground that Roland's tongue had been in his mouth for some time before Dmitri's brain had caught up with events. The inside of his mouth tasted strongly of vodka, no surprises there. His uncertain hands found the shirt of Roland's ridiculous costume, undecided whether they were clutching Roland closer or pushing him away. On his feet, he was swaying drunk, his reactions terribly sluggish.

When he finally did move, his tongue slid against Roland's, his higher functions shut off, working entirely on the bidding of his hind brain, whatever Gideon had put in there. He hissed as Roland's fangs pressed against him, his hands raking over Roland's chest, nails threatening to rip the fabric of his shirt. He bit back, his teeth sinking into Roland's lip with a snarl. "You want to roll over for me, Blondie?"

Roland heard the crack and was satisfied by it as well as the slave's reaction and curse. Perhaps he would learn now, given that Roland had shown he was willing to hurt him. That hardly seemed to be the case a moment later, however, with that strange gleeful look in his eyes. Roland scoffed. "Oh yes, I can be quite cruel and I've never pretended otherwise. I don't tend to use it on the slaves but I may make an exception for you." So Roland said, but if Dmitri really turned out to be more trouble than he was worth Roland was hardly going to keep him just to beat him. He'd dump him off with a guard and forget about him for the evening if it came to that, though the way Dmitri had previously reacted to him made him think this might be salvaged. Given how he'd been goading him, perhaps the werewitch wanted this to be more than a little violent.

"It's beginning to sound like you'd like that." Roland mused. "Why else provoke me so? But I won't tolerate disrespect." There was a different way to shut Dmitri up and Roland figured he might as well try it. He yanked the slave forward and off his stool by the grip he had on his throat, pulling him against him and crushing his lips into his in a kiss that was harsh and rough, insistent, forcing his tongue into Dmitri's mouth. It was tongue and teeth more than lips but it was also a test, an experiment of sorts. How Dmitri reacted would determine how the rest of this night would go.

[dmitri-shenker]

Dmitri was down to last shot on the bar when Roland slapped him again, with far greater force than before. He reeled backwards, knocking the glass over with his elbow, the vodka dripping over the counter top. Dmitri had a Roman nose, with prominent, delicate bone structure and it made a crack as Roland's hand connected. It was nothing werewolf healing couldn't fix in a moment or two, but even so, Dmitri had to tip his head back, pinch the bridge with his unrestrained hand. He made a groaning sound, his teeth bared in a wince. "Motherf-"

He hadn't completed the curse when Roland's hand wrapped around his throat. He looked back at Roland, his tongue running over his teeth, a crazed, almost gleeful look in his eyes. "There he is. You just as cruel as rest of them under all that fake niceness." Men like Roland got on Dmitri's nerves specifically. At least the Raphaels and Raidens of the world were honest about themselves. Roland liked to think of himself as some kind of saint doing charitable works when he rented out slaves, or so Dmitri thought. "Going to punish me now? Because I challenge you?"

Perhaps Roland should stop the shots for the time being if he wanted Dmitri to be of any use to him, given how quickly he was pounding them back. He did still want him to be functional and coherent, after all. He held up a hand to the bartender who'd just poured a line of a few more and the man nodded and stopped, moving off to tend to other customers. Dmitri could finish what was in front of him and that would be enough for the time being.

"I beg to differ." Roland mused, before his ire got the better of him. Clearly the slap had surprised the slave and it had been meant to more than really hurt him. The vampire was thinking he should have hit him much harder given the next comment, however. Calmly, Roland put his glass down on the bar to free up both his hands. He grabbed Dmitri's wrist and pulled his hand away from his face then slapped him again, much harder this time. Never before had a slave so roused his temper but it practically seemed like Dmitri wanted to be struck given his actions. "Real enough for you?" The hand that had struck him grasped Dmitri's throat suddenly, squeezing but not quite hard enough to cut off his airway, his gaze hard as he forced Dmitri to look at him. "Have you finished playing your petty game? I intend for us both to enjoy ourselves but I'll become less interested if that goal if you continue the way you've begun." He supposed he could always use his persuasion to force him to shut up if it became necessary but Roland would wait on that for a while yet. Perhaps the slave would see sense if Roland was a little sterner with him.

[dmitri-shenker]

Dmitri was on maybe his fourth or his fifth shot within minutes. Even with his usual alcohol tolerance, he was starting to feel a pleasant buzz. Maybe it was not having drunk anything in months, maybe it was the manic energy that had been in his body ever since he'd blown up the Kremlin, or maybe it was just the speed with which he was putting it away. In any case, tipsiness was distracting him from the awful music and Roland's goading.

"You don't bottom then you definitely can't handle me," Dmitri reiterated, laughing straight into Roland's face as he slipped his wine. Whatever biting remark was coming next was quickly squashed by Roland's hand as it slapped across Dmitri's face unexpectedly. He flushed, his cheek burning, a surprised expression on his face. He hadn't thought that Roland was actually capable of it. He reached for the next shot and slung it back. "Now this is bottom bitch behaviour." Dmitri's voice was full of sleaze as he leant towards Roland, took his face in one hand. "I should slap you back. Show you what a real one feels like."

"Oh, I think I picked exactly the right boy." As much as Roland liked things to go smoothly he didn't mind a little bit of a power struggle so long as he came out on top (literally and metaphorically) and everyone ended up enjoying themselves. Dmitri seemed like he would perhaps play that game better than some. He was downing those shots very quickly and Roland sipped his bloodwine more slowly but indicated that the bartender should keep them coming as long as Dmitri seemed willing to pound them back like that. A little liquid lubrication would hardly go amiss here.

Roland shrugged at the mention of the collar, hardly offended at being called a leach. He'd certainly heard worse before. "You proved you can't be trusted with it on your own, didn't you?" Dmitri had wound up here because of his own actions, after all. They weren't about to take such an attack lightly. His eyebrows rose at the next statement, jaw tensing slightly. Such disrespect but he would hardly get the fun he wanted out of Dmitri if he couldn't take a little of this rough talk. "I most certainly don't on either count. That doesn't mean we can't play rough, though. That is what you want, isn't it? Or can you only dish it out but not take it?" His free hand came up and slapped Dmitri, not overly hard or hard enough to leave a mark but it would turn his head. It was as if he were testing the question he'd just asked and punishing him slightly for the unappreciated comment. "Mind your tongue or I'll have to bite it."

[dmitri-shenker]

"If you don't want cocky, you pick wrong boy." Dmitri reached for the second shot. His alcohol tolerance was rather high, typical for a Russian. He could have six or seven shots and barely change in demeanor. In any case, vodka wasn't whiskey - it wasn't for mulling over and enjoying. It was shoving straight down the hatch. He threw back the next shot, keeping eye contact with Roland, defiant.

"You leaches make it clear my body is not my own." He ran a finger around the edge of his collar. The damned thing was itchy, if nothing else. His eyes flicked up and down Roland, as if considering Roland's offer. "Didn't think you bottomed. Even if you do look like a bitchy-ass twink."

"I'm indulging you for the moment. Don't assume that entitles you to get too cocky." Giving people was they wanted was often a good way of getting what Roland wanted so he was happy to play the game for a while. Dmitri was still a slave, though, and the werewitch shouldn't forget that. He'd downed his shot very quickly so Roland ordered him another before he'd reached over to touch him, noting the tensing of his jaw under his touch. Normally, that might have made Roland withdraw but he also noted the shiver and the squirm so he lingered for a moment before finally pulling back, smirking to himself.

The protest was almost laughable given how Dmitri's body had just reacted. "Your body betrays you, petit chiot. I think it's very much working." Roland did laugh at the last comment. Cute that Dmitri thought Roland, who'd lived over a millenium, couldn't handle him and much worse. "What, you think I can't handle a little rough play?" Roland's eyes sparkled. "Try me." It may be all too easy to bait Dmitri into this. Roland did like it rough as well, at times, as much as he liked to take his time and tease. He was a man of varied tastes and Dmitri had sorely misjudged him if he thought otherwise.

[dmitri-shenker]

Inside the club, Dmitri felt much more calm, at peace. He always preferred these environments, swelling with bodies, where everyone was granted a degree of anonymity. He preferred not to feel too known by anyone. That being said, the music was fucking atrocious, at least in Dmitri's opinion. He frequented goth clubs and kink dungeons, where they tended to go for... Not chart music. Whoever was in charge of the selection had no taste. He accepted the vodka and had just as quickly downed the shop. He was far too Russian to hang about nursing a drink, especially when he was hopeful he'd be able to secure another.

"You give it to me. So I don't see problem." He shrugged his shoulders at Roland. Dmitri was used to getting what he wanted, sooner or later. A drink he could get from almost anyone, with the right kind of look. At least, that had been the case before he came here. He licked the last few drops of the vodka from his teeth. There masters of Krovs had a similar, domineering attitude but none of the respect for any kind of actual morals. Dmitri didn't force people. Well, not unless they'd pre-arranged.

At the touch of Roland's fingers, Dmitri's jaw snapped shut, the muscle stiffening beneath the skin. His nostrils flared, a snort of warm breath at Roland's comments. If this had been any old dingy bar, Dmitri would have gently told whoever was insinuating that at him that they were mistaken and ought to move along. Here... He shivered, involuntarily, squirming on the bar stool. Damn Gideon to Hell. "Please. You think that shit work on me? I'd eat you alive." Even if he'd been legitimately considering it, Dmitri was quite certain that Roland couldn't handle him. He liked soft little things that wanted gentle touches, not teeth and sharp edges like Dmitri.

For all his bark and reputation, Dmitri followed obediently enough as they went into Euphoria. That seemed a good sign unless he was just playing at obedience for the time being. Then again, the slave had said he wanted a drink and Roland was indulging him so why not cooperate if he was getting something he wanted?

Roland had been in and out of the club a few times already this evening though the music had never once improved. Regardless, he settled at the bar where Dmitri immediately demanded a drink and Roland raised an eyebrow at him but flagged the bartender down and ordered vodka for the slave and a faerie bloodwine for himself. "You're rather demanding for a man in your position." He mused, turning to face the werewitch as the drinks were made. Dmitri certainly liked looking at him no matter how he tried to seem disdainful and uninterested.

"Isn't that what you are?" Roland teased at the accusation. He reached over and traced his fingers lightly over Dmitri's jaw. "You're certainly pretty enough to qualify." The drinks arrived and he pulled his hand away to pick up his wine glass, taking a sip and watching Dmitri over the rim of the glass.

[dmitri-shenker]

Dmitri watched as the guard shuffled off to enjoy his evening. He’s been complaining that he was tired since his shift had started, so Dmitri imagined he was going to find somewhere to get some caffeine before he was summoned back. Dmitri turned his attention back to Roland, intent on keeping up his rather unamused facade, despite the fact that he would actually be getting what he wanted under Roland’s care. He followed, dutifully, behind Roland into Euphoria, the bouncer, not Cian in this instance, eyeing Dmitri warily. His reputation preceded him, it appeared.

“Vodka,” he said, rather brusquely, to Roland, taking a seat on one of the bar stools. The costume was rather unforgiving on his groin, left absolutely nothing to the imagination. He propped his face up on the knuckles of one hand as he waited.

Already Gideon’s meddling was itching at the back of his mind, encouraging his gaze to linger on Roland’s face, his trim physique. He certainly wasn’t Dmitri’s usual type, camp and effeminate without the smallness, the submissiveness of a twink. It seemed to strike every time Dmitri encountered a man that he was intent on loathing. He knew all about Roland’s Casanova reputation among the slaves, had an exceedingly low view of what he considered Roland’s attempts to sanitise his image. A slaver was still a slaver, however nice they were to the merchandise. The kindness, the charm, was insidious to Dmitri, who at least had a begrudging respect for men who simply did not care. “You not have one of your pretty boys to entertain you?”

Roland hadn't missed just how much of those long legs were on display and enjoyed the idea of them wrapped around his waist later on. All in good time. Dmitri didn't seem particularly interested in his attentions given how he was glowering but Roland was confident he could change that easily enough.

"How fun for you." If Dmitri had been trying to spark some jealousy in Roland it had failed completely. He had never been interested in monogamy and was happy for his partner to seek pleasure where they wanted just as he did. His tone remained entirely pleasant and amused more than anything. Glancing at the guard when Dmitri huffed at him, he soon returned his attention to the slave. "How unjust. We'll have to change that, starting with a drink." He looked to the guard again. "Go enjoy yourself for a while. I'll take him from here." Roland didn't intend to take responsibility for the slave for the remainder of the evening but he could for the next little while. He could always summon a guard to collect him again when he was done with him.

[dmitri-shenker]

Dmitri's costume was adorable, but it was also rather skimpy. Fortunately he wasn't shy about showing a bit of flesh, especially not his long legs and toned thighs. He was really quite fond of dancing, and had the body for it too. Still, he didn't like Roland's tone, his glower remaining fixed in place. He needed to put the uppity vampire in his place.

"So do I," he smirked, showing his canines. "Kissing cousins, Da?" Well, certainly not recently, but he wasn't for telling Roland precisely when it had occurred. He folded his arms, huffed at the guard. "This one ok. Others say keep it PG like am little kid. I want a drink. I want to dance."

"Oh?" Roland's eyebrows rose, both a little surprised and amused at the statement. "I hadn't expected that. It's so adorable." From what he'd heard of the slave, he did everything to represent himself as exactly the opposite of adorable. Roland drew closer, looking the slave up and down and ignoring the silly costume to really take him in. Dmitri was certainly attractive he just had a rather poor attitude.

The question made Roland chuckle. "I do plenty of things with your 'cousin'." He lifted his hands to make air quotes as he knew full well there was no blood relation between Dmitri and Rhys. "But he went home some time ago if that's what you meant so unfortunately won't be joining us. We can still have fun though." It seemed the two had been making their way to Euphoria and that seemed as good a place as any to start. "Have you had any yet tonight or have they kept you on a tight leash?"

[dmitri-shenker]

Dmitri's evening was finally beginning to get interesting, or, at least he hoped it might be. After the escape room with Manny and the very boring guard who'd wanted to do nothing but sit and watch the football and eat, there was finally a guard on duty with Dmitri who seemed to be willing to let Dmtiri go to the club. Maybe, maybe to have something to drink. Dmitri was still, depressingly, stone cold sober. They were almost there when a figure stepped out of the crowd who seemed intent on waylaying them.

Dmitri narrowed his eyes. Roland. Of course, one of the people he was least interested in bumping into. They hadn't met in person, but Dmitri was quite familiar with him from the research he'd done on the council and Rhys's pathetic, love-struck chit-chat. Not that they had chatted much since Dmitri had arrived at Krovs. Dmitri didn't have a single positive thought about the man who was pulling Rhys ever further away from him. "I dress myself." He rolled his eyes, his words short and sharp. "What you do with my cousin?"

closed starter for @dmitri-shenker

It was fairly late, or early depending on your definition, well past midnight in any case. The party was still in full swing and likely would be until the sun came up. Roland had enjoyed himself and was rather pleasantly buzzed on the various blood and blood alcohols he'd sampled. While he'd had various tumbles and trysts throughout the evening he was in the mood for another, moving through the crowded streets and looking for likely candidates. He happened to see spot a Dalmation costume and a guard walking beside the man wearing it and grinned. Of course he was aware that there was one slave in the Undercroft who was supposed to be constantly accompanied and had heard plenty about him from Rhys besides. Now was as good a time as any for them to meet, at least in Roland's mind, so he made his way over to see the defiant pup for himself.

"I see someone's chosen to dress you appropriately." Roland mused, old fashioned heeled shoes clicking on the cobblestones as he approached, smirking. It was purposely antagonistic but Roland liked a challenge, it kept things interesting. Besides, the idea of riling the werewitch a little amused him. "Perhaps I'll hold your leash for a while and give your escort a break. What do you think of that, petit chiot?" The wig and gloves that went with his costume were long gone but he still cut a fine figure and didn't look incomplete.