Author: Melissa (a.k.a. eosthilas)
E-mail: daelphnin@aol.com
Site: Spiritual Eclipse
Title: Contrast
Length: One Part
Status: Completed
Category: Slash
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Dorian Gray/Tom Sawyer
Summary: Tom, intrigued by Dorian, finds himself under the immortal's spell.
Disclaimer: I don't own the boys; I just play with them.

It was another clear day, and while the Nautilus gathered more solar energy, Tom Sawyer was on the deck, leaning on the rail in a somewhat wistful manner. The salt spray stung his face, but he didn't seem to mind. Quatermain was locked up in his room, and Tom didn't feel up to persuading him to come out. Mina...well, he was still confused about Mina, but then again, he was generally confused by all women. Better to leave her to her own devices. No one had seen Skinner for days (or at least, no one had caught him for days), and he had no interest in seeking out Jekyll, largely due to the fact that he didn't know what to make of him. And then there was Dorian....

The infamous Mr. Dorian Gray. There was no bigger mystery on the Nautilus than Dorian. Tom found himself contemplating Dorian more often than not lately, and it disturbed him. Dorian was one of those people who just drew everyone to them; he was magnetic, and Tom was just another piece of iron. He found it slightly disturbing how fascinated he was by Dorian. It had been hinted at that he had something of a past, but that seemed to be the case with everyone on this ship – himself included.

Tom heard the hatch open behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Dorian step onto the deck. Tom quickly turned his gaze back to the water and tried to clear all thoughts of Dorian from his mind: dealing with the man was hard enough without adding his confusing string of thoughts to the mix.

Dorian closed the hatch and crossed to Tom.

"Tired of your room so soon, Sawyer?" he asked.

"No, just needed some air," Tom replied, for lack of a better reply.

"Yes, but there is air inside, is there not?" Dorian asked, his dry sense of humor causing Tom to roll his eyes and shake his head.

"No? I stand corrected then," he continued. "Nemo says we'll be submerging momentarily. It might be in your best interests to get inside before the air out here...gets somewhat more aqueous."

Feeling his jumble of confusion concerning Dorian return, he pushed himself off of the rail and headed for the hatch.

"Yeah, maybe," he tossed back to the immortal.

Dorian found this highly amusing. Yes, the Nautilus was going to submerge, but it would still be a few hours until the solar collectors were fully prepared for it. With a smirk, he followed the young American inside.

"Care for a spot of brandy?" Dorian asked, as Tom rounded a corner.

"You packed brandy?"

"What is an adventure without a few luxuries?" He asked, arching one of his perfect eyebrows. "You looked somewhat bored up there, and as a good friend once told me, 'The only horrible thing in the world is ennui'."

Tom seriously doubted that a man like Dorian had ever had a good friend – even when he was a child. But, as it stood, Tom was bored, so before he knew how he got there, he was seated in Dorian's room. Dorian had apparently also brought his gramophone along for the trip, as he had just put on a Beethoven record.

They hadn't spoken while they walked to Dorian's room. The only sounds had been those of their shoes on the highly polished floors, and the occasional click of Dorian's walking stick. But now that the sonorous melodies of Fur Elise echoed off the stark, bare walls, Tom felt compelled to speak.

"So, um, you like...brandy?" It sounded stupid the moment the question left his lips. He ran a hand through his shaggy hair, tugging on the back as he mentally scolded himself.

"I didn't say I liked it," Dorian replied, a bemused smirk crossing his exquisite lips. "I asked if you wanted some," he finished as he poured a glass of deep red wine for himself.

Tom was deeply confused. Everything about Dorian confused him. He was rather like Mina in that respect.

Unable to come up with anything intelligent to say, Tom accepted the snifter of brandy Dorian held lightly in front of him and took a drink.

"You've never had brandy before, have you Tom?"

He couldn't explain it, but the way Dorian used his first name, almost like he was savoring the taste of it on his tongue, sent shivers up Tom's spine. The fine hairs on the back of his neck were standing up. Looking down into the brandy, he seemed to be examining it as he answered, "No." He paused. "Never had the chance to try it." He thought that sounded pretty decent. Dorian only shook his head and sat on the edge of his bed.

He never did anything without grace. Even on the deck, the slight breeze blowing through his hair didn't so much tousle it, as it seemed to play with it, adding to Dorian's allure. Tom caught himself mid-thought.

Allure? Since when did he find Dorian alluring? Interesting, yes, fascinating, perhaps, but alluring? Where had that come from?

Suddenly aware that Dorian was intently watching him, watching the play of thought over his features, he blushed. He set his glass of brandy down on the short table nearby and looked back at Dorian.

"Is there something on my face?" he asked, in his usual blunt fashion.

This was just the opening Dorian needed.

"Indeed," he started. "There are quite a few things on your face, though none that seem to be out of place." He took a sip of his wine before following Tom's lead and setting it down. "Is there something wrong with looking at them?"

Why couldn't he think around this man? It was intensely frustrating. Dorian was not the usual type of person that Tom spent time with. He was the complete opposite. Cultured, refined, apathetic, Dorian was nothing but opposites. His years lent him an unattainable quality, and made Tom feel young and foolish more often than not. He was unapproachable. And yet...he had come to Tom. Why? That was the newest mystery on the stack he associated with Dorian Gray.

"Apparently so," Dorian said, after receiving no reply from Tom.

He was shocked back to reality. "Oh, I uh...I guess not," Tom said, the blush coming back to his cheeks.

That horribly attractive smirk came back to Dorian's lips, and he stood, taking off his jacket. Tom's eyebrows knit together, his mind working furiously to make sense of what was going on. Dorian hung his jacket on the back of the only other chair in the room and then walked over to Tom. He leaned down and placed his hand on the armrests, bringing his eyes level with Tom's. Tom swallowed hard as he looked straight into the inky depths of his brown eyes.

"I must have lost my touch as a host, if my presence is so unnerving," Dorian said. Tom could almost taste the wine on the immortal's lips. He didn't know why he wanted to taste it.

"It's not," Tom said. He shifted slightly in his chair, uncertain of how to react to this situation. But before he could think any more or say another word, Dorian's lips were pressed lightly against his own. Tom pulled back quickly, shocked by the new development. There was a look in Dorian's eyes that was not there a moment ago. Tom could have sworn it was lust, but it was gone so quickly that he could not be sure. Emotions conflicted, Tom stared into Dorian's perfect brown eyes, searching for something that he could not name.

He never knew what spurred him into action, but before he could stop himself, he was rushing forward to kiss Dorian again. There was force behind it, Tom moved his tongue into Dorian's mouth, caressing, teasing, playing with Dorian's tongue. Without knowing how he had gotten there, Tom was on his feet, slowly making his way to the bed, still attached at the lips to Dorian. He started frantically tearing at Dorian's fine shirt, but the immortal caught his hands and eased them away.

He pulled away, and carefully unbuttoned his waistcoat, and then his shirt, revealing a chest that Tom ached to touch. That confused Tom even more, but he was past trying to puzzle it out. Dorian had tossed his shirt away and reached out to slip Tom's suspenders off of his shoulders. Once again searching Dorian's eyes, Tom found them impossible to read. He undid his own shirt, aware that his hands trembled as he did so. Dorian watched, that smirk back on his lips. Tom abandoned his shirt and kissed Dorian. That was the only way he could deal with the smirk. He felt Dorian's hands finish unbuttoning his shirt, ease it off his shoulders, and guide it off his arms. Tom wound his fingers in Dorian's ever-well-kempt hair, and gasped slightly when he felt Dorian undoing his pants. Tom pulled away, suddenly feeling ashamed. "Is something wrong, Tom?" Dorian asked, that damnable smirk still hovering on Dorian's mouth. He went to pick up his shirt, but was caught off guard by Tom's grip around his wrist.

"Drop it," he said. Dorian obliged instantly, glad that Tom was finally playing the game.

Dorian grabbed Tom and kissed him passionately, his hands once again working on the American's pants. Something savage in Tom seemed to break. He bit down on Dorian's lower lip, drawing blood. As always, the wound healed in seconds. Tom found himself now working toward the goal of unclothing Dorian.

Before he quite knew how it had happened, Tom realized that they were both completely naked; more than that, they both had rock hard erections. Dorian pushed Tom onto the bed, breaking the seemingly unstoppable kiss. He studied the younger man's body, noticing every scar, every minor imperfection, running his fingers along them on occasion. He seemed fascinated with them.

"Never seen a scar before?" Tom asked, his breathing heavy, almost labored.

This got a derisive snort from Dorian. "I have seen more than you can imagine. However, I have never seen yours, Tom." Again, his name sent shivers along Tom's spine. Seeing the effect that had on him, Dorian reached out and slowly stroked along Tom's rigid member. "Does it trouble you that I look, Tom?"

Tom's eyes fluttered shut, and he took a sharp intake of breath. "No," he whispered. Dorian wrapped a smooth hand around Tom's shaft and slowly began stroking up and down, intently watching his face. Dorian continued his ministrations for a while longer before moving down and licking up the length of Tom's penis. This pulled a shuddering breath from Tom, and taking that as a sign to continue, Dorian slowly slid his mouth around Tom. Moving slowly up and down his length, Dorian began spiraling his tongue around the head of Tom's member whenever he reached it. After only a few minutes, Tom's back was arching, he was softly muttering "Oh, God, Dorian, oh, God...." over and over again. Dorian felt that Tom had had enough time being on the receiving end of pleasure, so he sped up, amused as Tom grabbed a handful of his hair and bit the heel of his own hand to keep from screaming out loud while he came. There was just something satisfying about it.

As Tom tried to regain his composure, he was vaguely aware that Dorian had moved up the bed, the flicker of hungering lust back in his eyes. Dorian had once claimed that he was complicated, but here, like this, Tom reckoned that he looked quite one-dimensional. Dorian was staring at Tom, slowly licking his lips in anticipation. He reached into the bedside table and pulled out a small bottle. Tom wasn't sure what it was, but Dorian was moving toward him with it.

"Turn over," Dorian ordered. Tom was taken aback by this. His mind was slowly becoming more responsive, and he had a burgeoning idea of why Dorian wanted him to turn over.

"You don't mean to-"

"I fully intend to," Dorian interrupted. "Now turn over."

Tom was starting to panic. He was losing control of the situation. He suddenly wondered if he had ever been in control. As he turned over, he heard the unmistakable sound of a bottle opening. All the muscles in Tom's body seemed to clench when he felt Dorian dripping oil onto his ass. Before he could voice another protest, Dorian had slipped one of his fingers into Tom's hole.

"Relax, Tom," Dorian said, his voice practically dripping with desire. It was not easy for Tom to relax under such circumstances, and he told Dorian as much. Dorian slowly rubbed his free hand along Tom's back, keeping pace with the rhythmic thrusting of his finger. Just as Tom was beginning to relax, Dorian slid a second finger in. As he worked on loosening Tom's sphincter muscles, he continued to rub along his back, but Tom was not calming down. If anything, he was getting more tense and worked up.

"This will hurt considerably more if you don't calm down, Tom," Dorian warned. It didn't have quite the desired effect.

"Hurt more?!" Tom yelled. "I didn't do this to you!" he cried, the panic was really starting to settle in.

"No, indeed you did not. But at the same point, you didn't seem to complain while I was pleasuring you," came Dorian's reply, edged in ice.

Tom felt Dorian shifting behind him. Dorian had had enough. He viciously thrust himself into Tom. He grabbed the younger man's hips and pulled him down the length of his member. It was all that Tom could do to keep from screaming as Dorian forced his way in. He was breathing hard, and tears stung at his eyes. Dorian began to slowly pull out of Tom, and when he was almost all the way out, he would push back into him with one fast, fluid motion. Tom could barely remain on his hands and knees, but he refused to show any form of weakness to Dorian now. It would be sheer folly.

Slowly, Dorian's strokes began to increase in speed, as well as in force. It seemed to Tom like Dorian was taking an eternity to finish himself off. But Dorian just kept on going. As the immortal continued thrusting in and out, Tom felt himself re-hardening, enjoying the experience more and more. He even caught himself moving backward to meet each thrust. The longer it went, the more Tom found himself enjoying it.

Noticing that Tom was warming up to the situation, Dorian's hand slowly wound its way down to Tom's re-engorged shaft. He began stroking it in time with his own thrusts, evoking some tantalizing moans from Tom's mouth. The increased auditory stimulation seemed to be all that Dorian needed, as he savagely thrust himself into Tom one last time, feeling his cock spasm as he came. He quickened his strokes on Tom until the American lost control as well, spilling out considerably less than his first orgasm.

As Tom collapsed forward on the bed, Dorian, who apparently recovered quickly from orgasms as well as from injury, was already redressing.

Tom looked up, confusedly. "You're leaving already?"

"My dear boy," Dorian started. "I was only seeking pleasure, as is my nature. Surely you did not expect a marriage proposal," he said, pulling his pants on.

"Well, no, but-"

"But what, Tom? I have...responsibilities that want attention. I can't spend all day catering to your fancies." Dorian was seated, shirt open, as he started tying his shoes. "You fascinated me, and now I have explored you. No more, no less." He stood up, buttoning his shirt and tying his necktie in a perfect knot as Tom watched. Dorian grabbed his walking stick from where he had leaned it against the wall, and walked toward the door. "There is a great difference between liking and being fascinated by, Tom. One day, you will realize that," he said, walking out the door, leaving Tom naked on the bed, feeling used and cheapened.

There was no bigger mystery on the Nautilus than Dorian Gray. He had thought that himself many times. But now that a piece of the puzzle had fallen into place, Tom wasn't sure if he wanted to solve it any more.

-THE END-

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