dmitri-shenker

[dmitri-shenker]

So far, Dmitri had had few dealings with the Council directly. Gideon had seemed far more interested in a psychological solution to Dmitri's acting out, although so far it had only riled Dmitri further. Likewise Roland and Stigr had been irritated with him, though he knew that they both found those sorts of punishments rather distasteful - and Roland had Rhys to appease as well. Still, they were only a small group among the total, and Dmitri had heard unsettling things about Raphael's appetite for mutilation. As Magnai released his hold on Dmitri's balls, Dmitri renewed his attempts to get away and managed to rotate partially onto his stomach, though Magnai's hand on his cock remained.

"You're the one that's touching it," he hissed. For someone threatening to get rid of them entirely, so far Magnai had more of an interest in Dmitri's cock and balls than anyone else at the castle. Despite his bravado, Dmitri could smell Magnai's arousal now, found himself caught in some kind of feedback loop with it as a gush of slick rushed between his legs. Magnai could probably see that he was wet from this angle. The smell must have been overwhelming - it certainly was for Dmitri. "You want me to behave for you? Am not going to. I'll behave in my fucking grave."

Magnai latched onto that fear, satisfied. A base, instinctive kind of terror for the slave with all his ideological protests to fall prey to, but that was typically the case. It was easy to come to peace with death, less so to do the same with mutilation. It only told him it was the appropriate threat to make for this particular case. "For now, it might be," He said flatly, finally releasing his hold, "I'll take it to the council myself. Let them vote on whether or not they'd like you better gelded. Not like you need this for anything anymore, do you?" Magnai's fist closed around Dmitri's straining prick, only holding it, the length of him burning hot against the varcolac's cool palm as he watched the omega's chest shudder with his breaths. There was no denying the alpha's own arousal now, but he ignored it steadfastly with a clinical sort of focus. "You keep making a nuisance of yourself and what do you think their decision will be?"

[dmitri-shenker]

Dmitri's eyes stayed locked on Soren as he returned to the living room. He found himself giggling just a little at the glass of water. He could smell exactly what it was without turning his head and was pleased to have found some flicker of playfulness in Soren, just as stoic as Kierkegaard himself. He rolled his eyes at Soren's question, one arm gesticulating around the undecorated apartment. "You too busy pretending not to be somebody. Ravi has no hobbies. Ravi has no friends. Ravi hasn't even decorated his apartment. There's nothing here that says you're real at all, except..." He sniffed the air. "A cat? Shit. Don't tell me you're pretending to be into pussy at the gay sex castle. No heterosexual going to come here. You not have enough of pretending to be straight boy at home?"

The way Dmitri laughed at Soren was a strangle, cackling bark, rather like a hyena. Once it stopped rattling his chest like gunfire, he fixed Soren with another intense stare. Dmitri trailed a hand over his tattooed chest, the thumb toying with his pantyline as it reached his pelvis. He sunk low in the chair, splaying his legs wide, a palm grasping his cock over the fabric. "Tell me what you like, Ravi, what you want."

Soren waited a beat longer for Dmitri's answer and grimaced at the realization that he wasn't going to get one. He opened his mouth to ask a different question and then the werewitch was simply undressing in the middle of his living room, the human stuck midstep as his eyes fixed on that shockingly sudden reveal of skin. It shouldn't have been that arresting, considering Dmitri's outfit had showed plenty of it off, but the drop of fabric made all the difference. The lace underneath just an exclamation point on the end of what Soren realized was an obvious provocation as Dmitri turned to settle into his chair and he went from staring at the other's arse to the gentle curve of those panties cupping Dmitri's soft cock beneath. Just a quick flash, soon replaced by the wolf's sharp gaze, but it was enough for Soren to feel his mind go hot speculating what it would be like to feel him getting hard against Soren's palm through the lace.

He needed a drink. "Right," Soren said, voice gruff, dipping swiftly into the kitchen to fetch a glass and splashing a generous measure of liquor inside. He felt like he was being tested but couldn't say for certain was result Dmitri wanted to get and it riled up the smallest, atypical flicker of contrariness in him. With a slightly flippant flourish, Soren placed a cup of plain water on the side table by Dmitri's chair as he returned, sat himself down in the opposite seat and took a healthy swig of his gin as he met Dmitri's eyes. He wouldn't look below his neck again if he could help it. "You said you'd taken a false identity for yourself before. What do you think I'm doing wrong?"

[dmitri-shenker]

"Oh, you a gentleman now? They teach you good manners at school." Dmitri giggled, teasing, as he slipped his arm through Soren's. It felt ludicrous, walking through Krovstown like they were any normal young couple, heading home after a night out to hook up. Still, it only added to Dmitri's feeling of femininity, of desirability. He didn't need the jacket exactly, given how werewolves ran hot, and Soren clearly could have better used it, but he made no attempt to offer it back. The inside of Soren's apartment only reinforced Dmitri's feelings about Soren's half-hearted, badly done cover story. It seemed to lack any real sense that someone actually lived here. Ravi had no personality whatsoever, no hobbies or interests, photographs of friends or family. Dmitri rolled his eyes and slung Soren's jacket up on the hook.

He might have gone a little further than simply taking off his shoes, though. He had no interest in Soren's gin at all and far too much in Soren himself. He stepped out into the living room, shrugging the straps of his jumpsuit off his shoulders as he did so, stepping out of the entire thing as he walked. There was nothing but a black pair of lace panties underneath, to keep Dmitri's non-existent modesty. He sat himself down in Soren's armchair and looekd back at Soren, an inquisitive eyebrow raised. "Go ahead. Just talk, then, Ravi."

Dmitri had a funny way of looking at him that made Soren feel like he was being x-rayed. He'd had a girlfriend like that once, a corporate lawyer. She'd given him that shrewd look the first time he'd approached her, like she could guess the things he'd put her through before Soren even asked her for that date. Both times, it was intimidating and invigorating all at once. "How generous," He muttered, watching Dmitri tuck his chin, turning his nose into the collar of Soren's coat. The sight was gratifying for a reason he couldn't quite pin down. Abstractly, he knew that his scent would mean much more to the werewitch than another human and he found himself riveted by thought of what Dmitri might read about him in it. Something primal, honest. Something Soren couldn't hide.

"Just talk," He affirmed, so wrapped up in meeting Dmitri's gaze he didn't even see the other man until his hand was being slapped away. There was a flare of guilt that he hadn't been looking, as if Dmitri needed Soren to protect him. Foolish thought. It was lost to the way the werewitch leaned into him then, his breath warm against Soren's ear. He didn't protest the grab of his phone, only prying it out of Dmitri's hand gently once the deed was done and slipping it away again. The last thing he wanted to see was the colors of the rental app reminding him what Dmitri was trapped by. "Here, take my arm," It didn't matter if Dmitri actually needed it towering in those heels, but it was a position Soren was used to, felt comforted by offering. The streets back to his apartment were cold and he bore it stoically in just his turtleneck, happy to be out of the crowded bar with all its eyes and to have Dmitri covered by his jacket instead. "There's some gin in the kitchen, if you still want a drink," He offered, key clinking as Soren ushered him through the front door, the first person since Taliesin to step into the small apartment, "You can leave your shoes by the door. I won't let you forget them."

[dmitri-shenker]

Dmitri glanced over his shoulder at the guard. On the one hand, Dmitri hadn't exactly been enjoying being forced to stick by him. On the other hand, Dmitri felt considerably more unsafe to see him nod his head and disappear elsewhere into the market. His gaze snapped back to Gareth. Without the collar on, Dmitri would have been summoning a fistful of fire, but there was nothing he could do with his powers suppressed like this. He glared, brows furrowed, nostrils flaring. Gareth was mistaken. Dmitri was as purchasable as anything else at the market. "Don't call me that. You have no right to call me that."

The growl from the slave only managed to pull an amused little smirk from Gareth before the aswang stepped closer. It was amusing that the castle seemed to be so fond of gathering some mouthier slaves lately, not that he minded. He was all for having an obedient slave, but he also enjoyed putting the brats in their places sometimes. The master waved the guard away for now, pretty much invading the slave's space. "Nah. I think you'll be more interesting than anything I could buy around here, puppy."

[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]

The squeeze was torturous. As much as Dmitri squirmed, trying to jostle Magnai's grip loose, he almost feared that a twist in the wrong direction would pop his testicles off entirely. Tears had formed at the corners of his eyes, watering with the pain. And then finally the grip loosened and Dmtiri could breathe again. He took several deep, ragged breaths, his whole torso flush, cock red and angry. If Magnai had spoken any sooner, Dmitri wouldn't have been able to hear him, entirely drowned out by the rushing sound of his own blood in his ears.

"You- You wouldn't. That's not allowed." There was true fear in Dmitri's eyes now, wide with horror as he looked up at Magnai. He'd heard of werewolf clans that did such things to their male omegas in the ancient, backward belief that castration made them more fertile, or obedient, or both. Dmitri's father had always told him it was barbaric, that a good alpha would never ever allow it. Krovs, too, frowned on the mutilation of it's property. "You're disgusting."

Magnai watched the slave writhe for a long, intent moment, inhaling slow with his lips parted to draw in the scent of Dmitri's desperation. He had never been cruel just for his own gratification, but the slave's body was begging in a primal language his own knew easily how to respond to and the urge was hot in his veins, curling low in his gut. Dmitri couldn't know his tormentor was feeling a similar surge of resentment towards his own flesh, wrestling the temptation down again in deference to the more important work he had intended to do here. He was in control.

Magnai's grip slackened around that hot, fragile flesh, but his hand remained, a clear threat. He waited long enough for Dmitri to catch his breath, only watching him, eyes glittering, until he saw a bit more clarity in that dark gaze. "Behave, whelp," He growled finally, "Or I cut these off. You understand?"

[dmitri-shenker]

Dmitri hadn't shared this particular kind of physical intimacy with anyone in a very, very long time. Rhys had been the last, he thought, though that was at least eighteen months ago. Perhaps more. Dmitri wasn't quick to trust and had been pulling away from everyone he did trust for a while. Now he couldn't think of a single person he truly called friend. Gwyn was right. Dmitri hadn't slept properly in months either. No wonder he'd gone a little mad.

"Yes," he mumbled, rubbing his face against Gwyn's lap, yawning. He couldn't work out precisely why he felt so comfortable around Gwyn in that moment, but the call of sleep was so heavy, like a down of snow sitting over him. His breathing slowed, evening out. Finally Dmitri couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. He let them slide shut and was swiftly snoring, quietly, in Gwyn's lap.

Gwyn let the wolf arrange himself how he liked, not a single care for Dmitri dragging his heels up onto the cushions. How remarkable it was to watch how some people only needed a little pressure applied to go all soft and gooey, all their anger terribly fragile. He combed his fingers affectionately through Dmitri's dark hair, brushing it back off his face, trailing down his neck to stroke his back. Likely the poor thing hadn't had a good night's sleep since he'd first set foot in the castle.

"Do you want to sleep, sweetness?" Gwyn murmured, a small, knowing smile on his lips, "You can, if you'd like. You'll be safe in here." Another gossamer thread of persuasion twined with his words, "It'll be a good sleep too. You won't have a single bad dream. Only rest." Sharing Dmitri's body heat was almost as good as his blood. And who was to say the second couldn't still come later? "Just say the word and you'll drift right off. I'll take care of you."

[dmitri-shenker]

Dmitri rubbed the back of his head, glaring across at the guard. When his assigned guard was someone like Manny, Dmitri had a much easier time of it, could almost forget that there was a constant threat hanging over his head. Not with this one, who seemed determined that making sure Dmitri didn't get into trouble meant preventing him from enjoying himself even for a moment. The guard shrugged his shoulders at Mateo, turned the other way, more interested in watching the light show.

"A conversation about what Mateo?" Dmitri couldn't understand Mateo. In his few months here, he'd been repeatedly assaulted, had it beaten into him so many times that his body wasn't his own - that even his mind could be invaded, altered. And Mateo, someone that Dmitri had thought of as good, kind, moral, was here playing librarian. It wasn't like running a reading program at a prison. None of them were ever getting out, without some extraordinary luck. "Do you have some reading recommendations on accepting your life in slavery?"

Mateo didn't have any set plans for New Year's other than to wander among the crowds and join in the festivities as he usually did. He'd dressed up a little for it, figuring the evening called for a nicer outfit that would still keep him warm enough as he was in and out of the various buildings. Rhys had gone back to London again for the coven, seemingly for a long while this time though frustratingly was doing some kind of long distance thing with Roland. Mateo knew Dmitri was still in the Undercroft and he continued to feel bad about it. His attempts to make it up to him hadn't gone very well, the few times he'd brought the werewitch up to the library had resulted in books being thrown which was not at all what he wanted. Still, at least it kept Dmitri from being rented by someone worse for a while.

The thunderbird noticed the other man as he moved through the park, a guard ever present, and maybe if he wasn't actively renting Dmitri the two of them could have a nicer interaction. He settled beside the other man, though his hopes of a nice conversation were dashed pretty quickly given the reaction. He sighed and was about to explain when the guard cuffed Dmitri and Mateo frowned. "Hey, there's no need for that. It's fine, really." The last thing he needed was Dmitri being struck on his account. He glanced at his friend (were they still friends?) and noted the outfit he was wearing but decided not to comment for the moment. "How about conversation? Can we do that for a while?" If Dmitri really didn't want him there then he'd leave but Mateo felt like he had to try.

[dmitri-shenker]

The boot lifted off Dmitri's chest, allowing him to get his breath back. Or so he thought - he'd barely taken half a breath when Magnai's hand grasped his balls suddenly, harsh and tight, and the air was squeezed out of his lungs again. It felt like Magnai was trying to pop them with the force of his grip. Dmitri's eyes buldged, his torso twisting, trying to escape. He could barely hear what Magnai was saying, let alone respond to it.

That sort of treatment ought to have made Dmitri soft in an instant, but it seemed like the more he hated it, the more it hurt, the more Dmitri despised Magnai, the more aroused he became. His scent was intense now, a thick smog of it swallowing the room. He shook his head, his body begging Magnai to stop, even as he swallowed the words back down, too stubborn for his own good. Right now, if Magnai turned him over, he'd see where Dmitri's body was leaking, his hole weeping for Magnai's knot.

Magnai had heard in broad strokes about Dmitri's encounter with the Israeli councilman, that the slave's mind had been tinkered with as a lesson. A powerful compulsion to linger this long. Whatever Rechter had done had clearly sunk deep into Dmitri's psyche, to have him stiffening in front of Magnai's eyes with such obvious panic polluting the thick arousal in his scent. It wasn't all that rare that slaves discovered an unknown craving in themselves for the treatment they received at the hands of Krovs' masters, but this was no such case. That didn't mean it wasn't potentially useful to pretend that it was.

"Didn't see this in your pictures," Magnai took his boot from Dmitri's chest and dropped down into a crouch, his hand diving between the omega's squirming legs to grip his balls painfully tight in one broad hand as he loomed over him, the hybrid's eyes dragging purposefully from the jut of Dmitri's cock up his chest to his furious face again. "Bold attitude for what you stink of." Magnai outwardly was still impassive but Dmitri's rage was calling to parts of him he normally ignored, tugging at instincts that too easily fell dormant when he went months away from other wolves. "What do you think I'd see if you rolled over for me right now?"

[dmitri-shenker]

Dmitri's head turned to examine where Soren's fingers sat on his shoulder and he watched them retreat before turning his eyes back to Soren, looking up at him, irises lifting away from the bottom eyelid to show the white beneath. He glanced down at his heels, lifted one as if he hadn't realised that they were louboutins at all. He doubted Soren knew much about fashion, but he clearly knew his brands. Even now he was giving away all the wealth he was trying to hide. "Donations for the unclaimed to choose from. People around here throw this shit away without thinking twice." He took a deep drink from his martini, licked coffee-foam from the corner of his mouth where it stained his lips, the slowly slipped his arms into Soren's jacket, claiming it as his own. He turned his face into the collar, inhaled deeply. Soren smelt warm, rich. He wasn't getting any better at hiding that rich boy smell.

"Just talk?" Now Dmitri's eyes were mock-bashful, batting his dark eyelashes up at Soren. "Aren't you a gentleman?" Without looking up, he smacked the hand of a stranger away from his backside behind him, as if he swatting a housefly. Dmitri was used to drawing attention at clubs, to having people think they could sneak in a quick grope on their way past. This guy was just the same as any basic slave. He ignored the man entirely, leaning against Soren's chest, an arm wrapped over his shoulder as he whispered in his ear, lips tantalisingly close. "Go on then, Ravi. Take me home." Then he slid fished Soren's phone out of his trouser pocket and promptly brought up the app to rent himself, pressing the button without a second thought.

Soren did startle, just a little bit, at the snarl Dmitri faced him with, staring wide-eyed back at him as that mutually silent moment stretched out until the werewitch's expression shifted to something far more relaxed than hostile. Soren didn't relax fully though, recognizing a different kind of trouble in that gold-rimmed gaze. One of his hands had been lingering on Dmitri's opposite shoulder and he dropped it slowly, trying to lean his elbow against in the bar in a way that looked less stiff than he felt. "You - are?" The words jostled out of him, not quite a question as a verbal attempt to process everything Dmitri had just said. He picked that for himself? Soren's eyes darted down to Dmitri's chest, saw the gauzey draping that made up the front of the skimpy piece, and darted up again. "They give you the Louboutins up at the castle?" The red bottoms weren't exactly the first thing he'd noticed seeing the slave from behind, but they weren't subtle either.

"I nicked it off of a bouncer, actually. All yours." Soren was trying to defuse his own tension in a lopsided way, drumming his fingers nervously on the bar top as he resisted to urge to glance over his shoulder and see if Dmitri's admirer was still looking for an in. The werewitch was all oozing flirtation again, but this was a very different setting for it than Ravi's office. It almost felt familiar: a boozy bar far from home, a fake name, someone glittery flashing that toothy smile at him. All his fake lives butting up against each other. "Well, yes, it is what I want. It's what you wanted, remember? For me rent you out again?" Soren made himself hold Dmitri's eyes like it was a standoff, even with an imploring edge to his voice. "It doesn't have to be tonight, I just thought... since you're here. There are plenty of people here who'd love to have you entertain them and I just want to talk. Honestly."

[dmitri-shenker]

If this particular room hadn't have had exceptional soundproofing, everyone in Cannabites would have been able to hear Dmitri's howling. Absolute humiliation. Blind rage. Pain. Fear. Dmitri was an animal caught in a trap. He'd have gnawed his own arm off if it let him get away, but there was nothing he could do against Hunter's grip. His hands couldn't make contact with Hunter to claw at him. Tears of frustration were rolling down Dmitri's face. He felt disgusting - could smell how disgusting he was in the overwhelming scent of arousal, hear it in the wet smack of Hunter's hips making contact with his ass.

"Don't- Don't-" Dmitri was like a stuck record, hiccoughing every word. He buried his face in the fabric of the sofa, tried to hide himself away from Hunter's gaze now he realised he couldn't escape him. In spite of Hunter's instruction, Dmitri was only clenching tighter, every bit of him resisting.

Caring very little about the wailing mess that was Dmitri beneath him, Hunter pressed his cock into the werewolf as deep as he could as he held him down. It was fucking tight, and Hunter didn't know how long he would actually last, but he wanted to prolong it for as long as he could given Dmitri's reaction. He smirked, applying a little more pressure to keep the slave pinned. "Keep protesting and it'll hurt even more. You should relax, pup," Hunter chuckled, experimentally drawing his hips back almost all the way before sinking into the tight, wet heat again. "It's hurting you more than it's hurting me, baby."

[dmitri-shenker]

Most people in Krovs would be worried about heading into the club dressed the way Dmitri was, everything on show under the sheer bodysuit, but Dmitri had no qualms about that. No, it was Cannabites that was setting his stomach churning. He didn't want to eat anything, but the guard had insisted that if he was going to drink anything, he absolutely had to line his stomach first. He'd set a plate of nachos down in front of Dmitri, but Dmitri couldn't concentrate them, his gaze flickering between the exit and the door to the private room. The room where Hunter had...

He felt his heart flutter remembering it. He had to shut his eyes, focus on his breathing. He tried to chew his way through a nacho but his mouth had gone completely dry. He couldn't help it. He looked again at the exist, wanting to bolt out of it even if the guard would chase after him and pin him down. Someone was coming through the doorway. For a moment, Dmitri's heart was in his throat, and then he visibly relaxed as he locked eyes on Manny. He tried to steady his voice, seem his calm, typically brusque self. "You miss babysitting me, Manny? Have to come find me?"

@mannythejaguar

[dmitri-shenker]

Dmitri growled, a deep rumble against Noah's ear. It was something Dmitri did frequently, when he was aroused, when he was topping someone like this. He licked, slow and purposeful, from the base of Noah's neck to the shell of his ear. Then he breached him without any further warning, a single deep, even thrust until he was buried all the way to the hilt, pressing Noah flush with the tiles of the shower cubicle.

Dmtiri's cock was slender, just like him, but it was long, had a satisfying, silky head on it. Pretty to look at, not that Noah had had the opportunity to look. He let Noah enjoy the feeling of fullness for a moment, nuzzled his nose through the fine hair at the nape of Noah's neck, before he began thrusting. Once Dmitri got going, he wasn't fucking around, set a punishing pace, his arms braced against the wall, bracketing Noah's head. "You like it? Whoring yourself out to anyone?"

Noah groaned a little a the bite, his cock stirring already though wishing Dmitri had fangs he could really sink in. It still made him hot, though, even as the other slave lifted his hands higher and Noah braced himself against the wall. "Guess we'll see, won't we? I'm no bitch but you're damn right I like it rough." He'd take more from the masters than he would another slave but he made no move to pull away even if he slightly objected to the words.

He shivered slightly at the teasing feel of Dmitri's cock between his cheeks, rocking back against him eagerly. "I'm good, just fuck me already." Noah could basically take or leave prep at this point given how unusual it was to get it but he'd also come from a rental not long ago so it wasn't like he really needed it. "See if you're good enough to make me forget about the last cock that was inside me." Noah was still goading a bit because he was in that kind of mood but he was clearly ready and willing.

[dmitri-shenker]

Somehow, Dmitri had managed to lose his assigned guard in the crowd. He imagined he'd be in trouble for that later, although perhaps not as much as the guard, but right now he was enjoying his brief few minutes of having the same freedoms as the other slaves that night. The guard had been determined not to let Dmitri drink, but now he was flirting away with the bar staff, with whoever was nearby, and had managed to blag his way into the espresso martini the bartender was currently making for him. He felt giddy with the party. New Year's Eve had always been Dmtiri's thing, much more keen to spend holidays with friends than family.

He felt the jacket come down, heavily, over his shoulders and whipped around with a snarl, ready to confront whoever had just touched him without permission. "WATCH IT B-" He cut himself off as he processed that it was Soren, staring into Soren's face for a long moment, before deciding that he was mollified. "Who I piss off? What you mean? I dress myself. I like this. Am fucking transvestite, Da?" He accepted his cocktail from the bartender with a wink, his tongue poking out of his mouth. When Dmitri was feeling mean-spirited, he drank vodka shots. When he was feeling fun, flirty, feminine, it was cocktails. Right now he felt desirable, expensive. It was hard not to when a handsome billionaire was ogling him.

Soren had to know what slinging a jacket over someone like that meant. It was very possessive energy, especially when he'd been so hostile to Dmitri's advances at their last encounter. "This your jacket? Is nice. Maybe I keep it." He grinned, all of his sharp, white teeth on display. "Men who look at me like this in the club usually want take me home. This what you want, Aarav?" He rolled his r patronisingly over Soren's fake name. "Maybe I let you if you treat me nice."

for @dmitri-shenker

The village was getting stranger now that he was beginning to recognize enough faces to watch its little dramas unfold, especially with the castle emptied out a third time. Was he ever going to get used to the parade of skimpy outfits and collars and extremely public displays? God, Soren hoped not, for no small reason because of how obviously one-sided some of the displays were when it came to interest. Euphoria was a hotbed of it and he'd learned to force himself to look away from the obvious heckling and wandering hands, knowing there was nothing he could do without getting himself knocked out cold or worse. One more beer and then time to move on.

Or so he'd told himself. Backtracking to the bar got him an eyeful of who else exactly was at the bar and what the fuck, he quickly realized, the werewitch slave was wearing. The last time Soren had seen Dmitri Shenker, the other man had been clad in the baggy, inoffensive Undercroft grays, his shape below the waist a vague suggestion underneath. Now he could see - everything. Almost everything. Soren stopped dead while his mind rebooted, mouth dry, watching the wolf leaning over the bar to nag the server for his attention.

He wasn't the only one looking. Soren manhandled his eyes away just in time to spot another leering stranger (and he too had absolutely been leering, he couldn't lie to himself) sidestepping Dmitri's way, hand already extended low and intent. Soren didn't even think about it. He shrugged his coat off as he closed the gap between them in a few quick steps, hooking the garment over Dmitri's shoulders as he forced himself between the slave and the groper-to-be. He spared the other man the briefest of hostile stares before he was turning his head back to Dmitri. "Who the hell did you piss off to get put in that?" Soren hissed, a worried gleam in his eye. His own face still felt damningly warm. The next time he'd expected to meet the other man, it certainly hadn't been dressed like that.

[dmitri-shenker]

A low, warning growl rumbled through Dmitri, even in the busy market place, even with a guard ready to beat him if he shuffled a toe out of line. He looked up at the stranger. A master, clearly, but one Dmitri did not know. He new each of the Councilmen, had spent hours memorising their names and faces as he planned his attack all those months ago, but the other residents of Krovs were small fry. "What's it to you?" He snarled, folding his arms across his chest. "Go back to looking at your pretty baubles."

Gareth didn't really give a shit about Christmas one way or another, but he never missed parties at the castle if he could help it. Particularly now that they'd moved some of it down to the village, which gave the aswang a larger pool of people to harass whenever he got too bored with the slaves. Gareth had wandered into the market and was standing near one of the stalls, eyeing some fancy ass Christmas bauble when he heard the undeniable whine of a slave not having a good time. The aswang glanced over, looking the kid up and down for a moment, and then smirked. "Sure you'll end up in bed by the end of this, but doubt it's gonna be your own in the Undercroft."

[dmitri-shenker]

Dmitri had been avoiding Mateo, as much as possible. He'd avoided Rhys as well, since he'd been flung into the Undercroft and was still unbearably angry with both of them. Dmitri perceived any decision to work at Krovs when you were a free man a resounding lack of morals, no matter how Rhys and Mateo had tried to argue with him. Mateo had taken him out on loan to the library several times, but each attempt had ended in Dmitri causing a ruckus and demanding to be taken back to the Undercroft - even going as far as to throw the books because he knew it would upset Mateo.

He was sitting on a picnic blanket in the park, waiting for the fireworks with his assigned guard, when he felt someone sit down beside him. He glanced up, his bored expression instantly turning stormier as he clocked Mateo. "What do you want now Mateo? I told you I don't want or need your help." Tonight's guard had little patience for Dmitri's attitude and promptly cuffed him round the ear and told him to mind his manners.

@mindful-mateo

[dmitri-shenker]

Dmitri’s New Year outfit.