Count D's Dream

The Count settled into the warm bath water, his entire body relaxing at once, and his eyes fell closed as a satisfactory sigh escaped him. A smile played across his thin, sly lips. He had the mouth of a dealer-he
could appear to be a sneering snake, which was probably how Leon saw him; but to the grief-stricken and lonely, he had the face of an absolute angel.

He thought about the black panther he'd sold…almost eight months ago. For some reason it came back to him now-the ill-fated singer who was so compatible with that exquisite pet. The Count hadn't thought about her for so long, because she was doing so well with her pet. Why it come to him so suddenly?

The Count shrugged it off. It had been a long day and he felt it was time to rest. He'd had his tea and angel food cake-he had to watch his weight!-and his evening bath right before bed brought the night to a perfect close.

He stretched his arms out on the surface of the water and raised them above his head. It relieved a bit of the stress built up in his weary arms. He was anxious to get to bed, he was so tired. He managed the pet shop day in and day out; he couldn't believe he was so exhausted.

The soapy foam running down one of his pale, slender arms entranced him. He couldn't concentrate on his much-anticipated bath any more. His eyes began to droop and he leaned back, his neck cradled on the rim of the tub. Soon he found himself thinking about Leon. The good detective was a favorite pasttime of his, and he let the fantasy play out.

One day the detective would not see him as a murderer or a shady businessman with undermining intentions. One day Leon would see him as the honest man he was, who unites people with their dreams of love and hope for
happiness.

One day…

People like Leon were too narrow-minded to see such things. The Count knew this all too well. Everyone he'd ever sold a pet to were just like the detective. His salesmanship had proven his customers wrong, that's why he
was so good at what he did.

But Leon was someone he couldn't reach, and the Count couldn't figure out why. Instead of enticing him, he provoked him; instead of alluring him, he irritated him. Everything the Count did got under Leon's skin. It bothered him greatly, and D began to doubt himself. Perhaps he'd lost a talent, a gift. But at the same time, he knew it wasn't possible.

Well, it couldn't be helped right now, and the Count decided he should go to bed before he fell asleep in the bathtub. If that should happen, Leon would have to wonder about his death then. The Count smiled to himself. 'Wouldn't that be bizarre,' he thought.

The Count stood and let the water run off his body. He brushed the foam off with a sponge, then reached for a towel to dry himself with. He went to his bedroom at the end of the dark hall wrapped in his favorite brown towel. He was freezing as it was the beginning of December, but the fire he started grew and the warmth from the flames reached out for him. He was finally ready for bed.

D crawled between the beige sheets and fell upon his stomach, meeting sleep in his pillows. He began to drift off and welcomed it, but something nagged him awake again. He opened his eyes and stared at nothing in particular when the thought occurred to him.

As he had been checking the pets before his bath, tending to their last needs of the day, he had noticed that the door of one cage, a fairly large one resting on the floor, had been swinging on its hinges. As he watched it swing back and forth, a tiny screech emitting from it, he wondered what could have set it loose. There hadn't been a pet inside since-

The panther, the Count realized.

But it hadn't been back. As far as he knew, the panther was still in the woman's possession. She had taken such excellent care of it, why should it bother him now?

There was nothing he could do now anyway. He didn't have to worry. He needed to sleep on it. His eyes fell closed again and he tried to think about Leon. His dreams of Leon often calmed him.


D could feel Leon's arms around him, stroking the smooth flesh of his arms, his chest, his stomach. He could feel Leon's body pressed against him from behind, and he smiled, letting out a tiny giggle. He could even feel Leon's breath on his ear and his cheek, as the detective planted soft, wet kisses along his neck.

D opened his eyes and found he was in his own bed. The light from the fireplace danced on the walls around him. And two arms caressed him, pushing the sheets from him towards the foot of the bed, exposing him to his knees.

He couldn't be dreaming this!

Still groggy, on the edge of slumber, he cast his eyes over his shoulder and found a head full of blonde hair leaning over him. He couldn't fathom it, but he was unmistakeable-the man lying in bed with him was none other than Leon.

Leon raised his eyes to Count and this confirmed his identity. The Count only stared up at him, too shocked to speak.

And Leon kissed him.

The Count reached out to him-it was all he could think to do. He arched his arm back and found Leon's nape. As he held Leon's lips to his, he realized his hair was down loose, as opposed to the detective's usual ponytail. But that didn't matter right now.

The Count's mind began to wander, and he scolded himself for that. 'How did he get in? He couldn't possibly have broken in; he is a cop afterall. But he should have just told me.'

Immediately he retorted. 'Why should I care? It's a dream come true, isn't it? Or is it even a dream?'

The Count felt Leon's erection against his back and all thought left him. He didn't care for anything at all as long as Leon was with him. No sooner had he felt it than Leon pushed into him.

The Count lay back against him and rocked gently back and forth with him, feeling those same sweet kisses he had long dreamed of on his throat. He reached back and held Leon against him, feeling him come deeper into him with every loving thrust. He felt Leon's hands begin to roam-one found his hair and the other pet him from his throat to his stomach, and still they rocked slowly together.

The Count travelled towards ecstasy. There was no other man he wanted as much as the detective. Besides, he couldn't stop what had already begun.

Suddenly Leon reached lower and took the Count in his hand, perfectly enveloping him, coaxing him to orgasm. And the Count couldn't deny the demands of his body.

Leon's hand was tight on his member, sliding up and down the shaft swiftly and lovingly. Soon the Count began to moan as Leon's hand pleased him. He began to gasp as Leon thrust a little harder and a little faster into him. Suddenly he cried out, surprising himself, and he felt his own fluids splash on his body, all the way up to his cheek. He writhed against Leon, panting, fighting to catch his breath as the violent rush of adrenaline began to seep away, leaving him delightfully weak.

It wasn't fair that Leon hadn't come with him, the Count decided, and looking back at his lover, he began to thrust backwards against him, pulling Leon deeper inside him. He watched Leon's sweet face contort in pleasure and D smiled back at him. He was almost there.

D felt Leon's hand clasp his hip and quicken his pace, forcing him to roll onto his stomach. He felt Leon kneeling over him, saw his fists gripping the covers on either side of him, and he found he couldn't stifle his own moans, feeling the detective pump into him so fiercely.

He wanted to see Leon when he climaxed. He felt the rough, sparse hairs of his chest and abdomen scratching against his back. And Leon's pubic hair was moist against his babysoft skin. D could feel Leon encompassing him and filling him, but he wanted to see him, to adore him. He looked over his shoulder but only glimpsed shadowy movement. He couldn't see his face.

D lay flat on his stomach, resting his cheek on the bed, letting himself be completely dominated. He felt Leon's hand running through his hair and shivered. He didn't care when he yanked his head back. The pain was part of the pleasure.

Leon's breath was on his cheek again as he thrust as deeply as he could. He even bit down on his shoulder, only lightly, but enough to hurt, and enough to stir D once again. D reached between his legs and began to masturbate, feeling he would orgasm again.

He clenched his eyes to the pain in his shoulder, to the abuse his fragile being was enduring, and the cock filling him. He felt a thin line of hot blood, mixed with rivulets of sweat, trickle down his chest, and he could feel that his skin had gone raw and that it was swelling with irritation. He could imagine how red it must be, but he knew he wouldn't
trade any of it, not if it meant giving up his lover.

He lost himself in the pain and cried out with Leon. He felt his belly was wet again, his hand drenched with the sticky, milky cum. He felt Leon go rigid against him and heard him groaning in his ear.

Leon fell heavily on top of him, and D felt he could sleep in that positioin for the rest of the night.


He lay, Leon resting on him, his breathing evening out. He heard Leon sigh, settling, and D smiled to himself. It didn't matter that Leon couldn't see how pleased he was. He just didn't want the night to end-that was all that he wished for.

D became lusciously drowsy then, and wondered what time it was, how long they had made love, although he didn't care how much sleep he'd lost.

He saw Leon's hand rest on his arm and smiled again. Then he grimaced at the sharp pain that slid down his arm guided by Leon's fingertips. D looked down at his arm, but Leon had already withdrawn his hand and the bed shifted beneath him. He saw a stream of blood along his arm where Leon had touched and wondered how it could have happened-why Leon had cut him!

Exhaustion weighed him down as he tried to turn over, to face Leon. But Leon was gone. He had already left-or fled.

But the Count did see something in the dim firelight. Just inside the dark threshold, something moved, it swished, and it seemed like an afterthought-it was there only long enough to cause the Count to marvel at its passing. It was as if a part of something-'Leon," the Count thought-had been left behind, a lost shadow trailing behind its owner.

It was gone so fast D couldn't comprehend what it had been. His strength failed him and he fell into a blissful sleep.


D awoke the next morning a bit groggy, a headache greeting him with the sun. He blinked back the sleep and looked down at his nude body. He'd forgotten to cover himself.

He reached for the sheet when he saw the dried blood on his arm, and his memory returned. 'Leon!' It was the only word that came to mind.

The Count felt something new when he tried to sit up-pain, and it stung him all over. The blur finally left his vision and he found he had scratches, tiny ones, but hundreds of them. They covered his chest and abdomen and he felt them as low as his thigh. The skin of his neck felt just as sensitive and he figured he had been hurt there as well.


He went to the bathroom and had a time urinating. His genitals even had fine cuts on them and hurt terribly at his touch. In the mirror he found fine lines of blood up, down, and across his throat and neck and under his chin. He had a few on his cheeks as well.

He laid his hand on his crown, trying to grasp his headache and pull it from him, but his scalp stung just the same. When he parted his hair he saw a few red welts there as well.

D prepared a bath of warm water and eased into it. The water refreshed his entire body and he was able to scrub the dried blood off with his fingertips.

He lay back, his nape sore with the biting cuts, his knees pointing towards the ceiling. His legs had managed to escape harm, but the rest of him ached liked hell.

What had Leon done?


Count D dressed carefully and made his normal rounds of the pets, seeing to their morning needs. He came upon the room that held the large cage and found himself hesitating, debating with himself whether or not to enter.

He swallowed and stepped through the threshold. He took in the animals about the room, all in their cages, before his eyes fell on the cage on the floor, the one that had caused him much distress. Staring back at him were the bright yellow, cold eyes of the black panther. He lay serenely, his body stretching the length of his shelter, showing the truth to his master.

D strode over to the resting panther, the cage door wide open. He raised his hand to close it when he noticed the creature's muzzle was stained crimson. The panther groaned when he saw how the Count regarded him. First a glimpse of surprise, then sorrow when he realized fate had taken its course. And finally, understanding, and sympathy.

D closed the door to the cage. "I'm sorry it didn't work out. I was so sure she was the perfect owner for you."

The panther rest his muzzle on his red-stained paws, letting out a low 'Mrowl' that touched the Count's heart. D left him alone.


He picked up the morning paper outside the pet shop's door and found the grisly death of the singer Tabitha on the second page. Her and her husband had apparently been mauled, but the paper couldn't say by what.

There was also an interesting detail about whether or not the couple had even been married. The ceremony had been performed over the weekend, three days prior. But the husband's body showed signs of decomposition over at least a five day period.

The article also mentioned Tabitha owned an exotic pet no one had really known about, but it had never turned up. Indeed, it had already come home. 'And depressed at that,' the Count thought.

The moment he'd looked into the panther's eyes he knew what had happened, the tragedy imprinted in the cat's soul. The animal was mourning now.


A knock sounded at the door and the Count had a strong feeling about who it was.

"Good morning, Count. Know anything about this!" Leon announced, holding the newspaper up for D to see.

The Count sighed inwardly, thinking, 'The article did stress the fact that Tabitha's pet hadn't been discovered…' "Good morning, Detective. I was just about to have tea. Would you like to join me?"

Leon's eyes narrowed and he answered, "No, but if that's the only way I can get you to discuss this with me, fine. I'd be delighted."
"
The pleasure's all mine, Detective. Please, come in."

Leon stepped passed him. As the Count closed the door, a gust of wind blew his hair back, revealing the cuts that were already healing. Of course, Leon noticed the scratches on his cheeks. "Cut yourself shaving, Count?"

Count D turned at the genuine concern in Leon's voice. "An unfortunate mishap, yes. And anyway, it's just a scratch," he replied.

"Yeah, they hurt like a bitch, don't they."

D watched Leon head towards the living room and sighed. 'Of course, he was a man, he could relate.'

Leon turned back to the Count, back to his usual impatient self. "So, can you tell me what animal could've ripped two grown people to pieces?"

D winced. "Detective, we haven't even had our tea and breakfast cakes."

"It's too early for that! Why don't you tell me what you sold to Tabitha? I think that's more important right now, don't you?"

"I read the article and I wish such a tragedy hadn't befallen her. She was so talented. I adore her comeback album."

"That's nice, Count. But I found her copy of the contract-"

"Please, Detective," he said, placing one finger vertically upon Leon's lips, surprising himself. The panther had been an illusion, but this was the actual, flesh and blood, overdramatic Leon.

He quickly withdrew his hand and suddenly he didn't know where to cast his gaze. D quickly offered, "Please, have a seat."

He looked into Leon's eyes and found something that resembled the Leon from the night before staring back at him, and he was assured the real Leon wouldn't refuse him. In an instant he regained his confidence and urged Leon towards the sofa with one gentle hand on his back. "I'll tell you all about it, Detective, everything you want to know. You just make yourself comfortable. You are my guest, afterall."

And for once, Leon didn't argue.