Title: Certain Things
Author: Marlene
Pairing: M/Dorian

There are certain things M wants.

M wants Dorian to betray the League. He wants Dorian to pin them up, as if they were lovely but dangerous insects. M wants Dorian to build a shadow-box display around the singular darkness of the League, M wants Dorian to find their venom and keep it locked in a wooden box.

M may also (although he would not say) want Dorian to collect more than the abilities of the League. M may also want Dorian to collect their essences- Mina's weeping at mist in Prague, Quatermain's howl of defeat on some African veldt, Jekyll's exquisite agony at the truth he sees in himself, Nemo's unfinished vendetta against the Grand Empire, and even Skinner's sublime tragedy at being Nothing while being Something. That sort of collection appeals to M (although he would not say), and he would that Dorian could bottle those tempestuous emotions like Jekyll's formula-Mina's blood-Skinner's skin-Nemo's science.

But there are more things M wants.

M wants Dorian to join him. M wants to look right from his thrown of absolute power and see the wreathe of black hair that would be Dorian. M wants to put out his hand and feel the soft white effete grasp of Dorian's hand back. M wants to bring Dorian Empires. M wants Dorian to ask him for mountains.

M may also (although he would not say) want Dorian to breathe sweet and hot against his neck in the small hours of the morning. M may also want Dorian's soft-white-effete hands against his own bare skin, in all the pretense of passion (for Dorian is naught but pretense, this M knows). M may also want Dorian to hand him paper blossoms blown out of cherry trees, walking through some small lovely Eastern garden. M (although he would not say) wakes up some mornings unable to even concentrate on himself, for wanting the taste-touch-sweat of Dorian.

And M knows he could force this from Dorian. A knife threatened at the hidden portrait, and Dorian would crawl on top of M, would give M all he wanted, but somehow, M cannot bring himself to this threat.

So he sits by the fire, thinking of all he wants, thinking of how, at Reichenbach there were things he wanted to, thinking of what James Moriarity/Fantom/M/(HIMSELF) wants most of all, and coming up only with soft-white silk, draped over and ageless hand.

These are the things M wants.