The lights flashed dizzyingly in purple and red blurs around the room, reflected in sharp bursts from the shiny pieces of fabric dancers wore as they made sensual movements around long poles. They were on platforms or in hanging cages scattered randomly throughout the darkened room, all androgynous in their costumes and arrangements. Francis Dolarhyde stood in the center of the swarming mass pulled in from the streets on a whim. At least he had dressed in such a manner as not to seem out of place, with black cargo pants tucked into high black boots and a snug red shirt.
His eyes had been affixed on one of the dancers about five feet from him, watching each movement intently and wishing he had his camera to add new shots to his slide collection. It was dressed in a back-less black dress with a short skirt that puffed out like a French maid's and a thin black velvet collar with attached leash that hung as long it's hair. The hair was white, braided with lavender ribbons and reaching down to the dancer's thighs. It looked natural. It wore neon blue fishnet stockings, reaching to the upper thigh and held with a garter. They were very nice long and muscled legs. Finally, to display an amazing balancing act, the dancer was equipped with knee-high vinyl stilettos, the heal honed to such a point a man could easily be impaled upon the end. That's not what drew Dolarhyde's gaze though. Painting all of the open space across the dancer's back was a tattoo of black wings. They looped up as if folded and the points carried over the shoulders and around to the two points of the collarbone.
It was just like his. No, there were minute differences, like the colors. Dolarhyde's was red, first of all, and a bit bigger, including a tail that ran from his lower back down his left leg. He also had more muscles in his back than the dancer, creating a more textured and realistic appearance.
The moment was broken as it turned and made eye contact. Another moment, completely different in revelation, began immediately. It's eyes were red, marred by the oddly shaped black pupil, and when the light hit them, it blinked and the colors reversed. Dolarhyde was held still in that look, knowing nothing but the penetrating feeling of his Becoming transgressing. It was over soon, never lasting long enough to remember until it happened again.
He looked at the dancer again and turned away in disgust. It was a male. So perfect it had seemed, the complete yin to Him, a Red Dragon finding a Black Dragon. He left the place immediately and returned home, still pondering what had been there. That wasn't his style at all, he targeted families, perfect families, perfect females, and more specifically, perfect mothers.
===
Jack watched the stranger leave and felt a deep sinking within him. Like someone had taken his intestines and strung them around the room and pulling them through the door behind the stranger. He'd barely realized he was down from the pole and moving through the crowd until someone grabbed the end of his leash and pulled hard enough to floor him. He sat at the feet of a tall and burley man, looking up at a lecherous smile. The pull in his gut increased and he could tell he would lose the stranger if he didn't leave then. The clasp was small and tricky under his fingers as it came undone, and he was on his feet, though wobbling a little, and out the door.
The few people he passed on the street gave him strange looks and crossed to get away from him. Jack wiped off the small amount of make-up of the edge of his skirt, trying for the life of him not to look so much like a runaway trick. Which was exactly what he was.
About twenty feet ahead of him, the stranger walked briskly with a newspaper tucked under his arm. Jack hung back in the shadows so he wouldn't be noticed, tracking him and watching for which house he went into. He waited outside the old cinderblock house until the head of loosely cropped brown hair disappeared through the doorway and the light in the kitchen flickered on.
He went to the door and silently picked the lock with one of the bobbypins from his hair. The door opened without a sound and Jack wondered for the millionth time what he was doing.
===
Dolarhyde stepped out of the shower, toweling off his hair when he heard a sound downstairs. He slipped into his kimono and put in the teeth that allowed him to talk. On his way through his room he picked up a knife from his dresser and moved soundlessly down to the source.
===
Jack stood in the kitchen looking around nervously, fiddling with the edge of his skirt. He kept trying to leave before he was caught, but something inside wouldn't let him. The house looked for all the world as if an old woman resided here by herself. Why would someone so young live here with her? Jack had weeded out the possibility that the stranger was just visiting her when he'd heard the water running. Maybe he was visiting his grandmother? The poor old woman would have a heart attack if she came into her kitchen and found a drag queen just standing there. He was going to leave; definitely this time. Jack reached for the doorhandle and froze. A knife was pressed into his throat and a body up against his back. //Feisty old woman...// He thought.
"What are you doing in my house?" That was definitely not the voice of a grandmother. It was deep and harsh, strained but calculated, as if every word was being carefully dictated.
"I..." He started, but the knife pressed deeper into his skin, not enough to break it yet.
"Strip."
"What?" Jack asked incredulously. He'd unknowingly raised his hands in a surrendering gesture.
The knife was removed, and his wrists were grabbed in one hand and held to the door. The body behind him left for a second as whoever was behind him strained to reach for something. Jack held perfectly still. When the warmth returned to his back, twine was being wrapped and tied around his wrists.
There was a coat-hook on the door above him and he was lifted by the waist a little to have his tied hands looped over it. Jack's toes barely touched the ground to support him when the man's body left him again.
"Why did you follow me here?" Hands patted him down, searching him for weapons. The knife he always kept in his boot was taken out and thrown somewhere behind him. His shoes were taken, leaving him dangling and no longer able to touch the floor. Next, his stockings were unclipped and pealed off, soon followed by his dress. The sleeves were cut where they wouldn't rip from around his shoulders and arms. Jack was left feeling humiliated, hanging against the door in nothing but a black silk thong and his collar. He lost those last.
The movement behind him stopped completely and he took it as a good chance to answer. "I don't know. I couldn't help it. When you looked at me in the club I felt-"
"That's bullshit. What's your name?"
Jack was patted down for hidden weapons again. "March Hare." He managed to squeak.
"Try again. I asked once for your name, don't make me ask again." Dolarhyde cut the twine at his wrists and caught him by the arm, twisting it behind him and holding the knife to his throat again. He walked towards the bathroom downstairs.
"Jack Skal." He struggled lightly against the pain in his arm, and nearly tripped twice.
"There we go, that wasn't so hard, now was it? Get in."
An elbow gestured toward the bathtub in front of him, and Jack carefully stepped into the cold basin. He shivered as he was pushed down into a sitting position. Dolarhyde turned on the water and began filling the bath. He made it as hot as he could without discomfort. When it was full, he pulled off his kimono and climbed in behind Jack.
"I'm very sorry I followed you, I really don't know why. Nobody sent me or told me to, I swear. Please just let me go." Jack whimpered in a frightened babble before he was pushed completely under the water and held there for a minute. His knees stuck out and his first instinct was to thrash against the hands that held his head. When he was brought back up, he was crying and gasping for air.
"Shut up. If you had any recording devices on, they're useless now. Why did you follow me here?" Dolarhyde was getting irritated with this man, and impatient with his answers. He felt oddly aroused by seeing Jack struggle naked in the water, but quenched it before his mind went to far. He undid the braid with one hand, letting go of Jack's arm, but keeping the knife against his throat. It felt nice around his fingers and he almost dropped the blade when Jack leaned back into his touch, relaxing against his body. He pulled the ribbons out and threw them to the ground with a wet slap.
"I-I don't know." Dolarhyde dunked Jack under the water again. This time he held him for a minute and a half. He came up sputtering and coughing again, but not crying this time.
Dolarhyde combed through Jack's hair with his fingers again, and Jack reclined against his body again. His lower back brushed against Dolarhyde's penis in a pleasant way. "Okay, easier question. Why do you have dragon wings tattooed on your back?"
Forgetting his situation completely, Jack rubbed back a little into Dolarhyde's pelvis and let his head loll onto his shoulder. A small sound of appreciation slipped from between his lips. "My father did it himself when I was younger. He also operated on my eyes to make them more efficient in the dark. He was a scientist."
Dolarhyde was angered by his motion and was about to cut the flesh beneath his hand, but a feeling inside told him not to. "Are you the Black Dragon I've been told I will find?"
Jack ran a hand up his captor's thigh and traced the intricate design on it. He felt the skin shudder under his hand. "Perhaps. Are you the Red Dragon?"
"Yes." He bit his lip lightly to keep from making a sound. Moving slowly, he took away the knife and stood, bringing Jack with him. He grabbed a towel from a hook and used it to dry off his body, then Jack's. Clamping the knife between his fake teeth, Dolarhyde wrapped the towel around Jack's waist and pulled his kimono over his shoulders. Placing it back to Jack's neck, he led him out of the bathroom and upstairs to his bedroom.
===
Leather ties held Jack's wrists together as he knelt on the bed and looked up at the framed print on the wall above the headboard. Dolarhyde was sitting behind him, brushing out his long hair and telling him about it. "The Great Red Dragon and the Woman Clothed with the Sun" was its title. He was very proud of it, and was supposedly the half-beast itself. When he had finished with brushing Jack's hair, he braided it and tied it off with another leather thong.
"So why aren't you looking for 'the Woman Clothed with the Sun'?" He asked and shifted his legs so he could look back at him.
Dolarhyde smiled with his lips together and pulled Jack back into his lap. The boy nestled himself down across his thighs. "Because I have found the Black Dragon Clothed with the Moon." He kissed Jack's shoulder and rubbed his erection against his hip.
"I see." Jack smirked and let his head fall to the side, exposing the portion of his neck the Red Dragon was kissing.
"Do you like to have sex with men? Is that why you followed me home?" With a small viscous motion he pulled away the towel between them and buried his cock in Jack's body to the hilt.
The Black Dragon gave a hitched gasp and arched his spine like an angry cat. "Yes...!" He panted and held deathly still, trying to accustom himself to the violation. His face was pushed forward into the pillows and his hips raised high off the bed. A slow suction noise was pulled from his entrance as the other dragon took himself out to the head. He pushed back in violently, pounding his hips against the rounded globes of white flesh spread before him. They moaned together and Dolarhyde took a picture for his slide collection.
Jack pushed back against each thrust, breathing heavily and throwing his whole body into the motion. Dolarhyde's tongue ran up his spine and traced each line colored on his back, working to the rhythm their bodies set. They joined together harder each time, Jack crying out often, and coiling his internal muscles around the thick intrusion. He tried to hold it there within him, but received a sharp slap across his cheek, until it developed into a pattern. Then he was able to keep it still, completely filled with blood and cum, and spilled his own across the sheets below him.
Dolarhyde pulled him back up into his lap, remaining inside even as he felt wetness dripping back down onto his legs. He took out his teeth and dropped them into the glass beside the bed already containing another set. When Jack turned his head he kissed him with jagged points and a forked tongue.
This was part of his Becoming.