Glory and Leif: Club Morpheus

Glory and Leif: A Club Morpheus Story

Disclaimer: Club Morpheus is a place out of time and space where creatures and humans from all walks of life congregate for sensual, erotic, and sometimes supernatural experiences. No one can come to harm within its walls...unless they want to.

"You promised!" the text popped up on Glory's phone, the words followed by a smiling emoji. She had indeed promised to join Siobhan at Club Morpheus for Goth Night. However, work had been a bear this week, and now that she was home and sprawled out on her bed, she wasn't feeling quite as motivated.

"Work sucked! Too tired," she replied, using speech-to-text to write for her lazy thumbs.

"Great! You can take it out on some poor sap at CM. Pick you up at 8!" Siobhan sent, followed by several hearts and then two psycho-looking knife emojis. Glory snort-chuckled and rolled her eyes, but the laugh elevated her mood enough to drag her butt off the bed and start getting ready.

****************************

Siobhan and Glory walked into Club Morpheus with their arms linked at the elbow. Siobhan's eyes immediately went to the bar and Master H's usual seat. She tried to ignore the disappointment in her chest upon seeing it empty.

"Looking for me, kitten?" The soft growl next to her ear sent a shiver down her spine as she turned.

"Not at all," she said flippantly.

Glory choked on a laugh since she had been listening to stories about Master H's "magical cock" for weeks. She tuned out their banter and scanned the room. She had to admit she loved Goth Night and the rainbow array from pastel to cyber clothing, not to mention all the yummy vampire styles. The usual BDSM "rooms" had been cleared so that darkly lit seating areas could be arranged around the perimeter. A large dance area took center stage for the dark wave music pumping through the sound system. Somewhere, a dry ice machine was spilling fake fog across the floor, and the interior had been transformed to look like a New Orleans cemetery. It could have looked tacky but a minimalist approach kept it from being "too much." A tug at her solar plexus caused her eyes to skip back to a dark corner sheltered under fake hanging vines. A head of thick wavy hair so silvery-white it almost glowed crowded into her view. How had she missed that the first time? The hair swept back over a strong, lined brow and eyes the color of pale seafoam framed in black kohl liner. The tousled strands curled just below his ears. Her gaze snagged on the intense eyes, a flicker of longing and pain, a blaze of lust and mayhem.

Leif felt the tenuous thread of connection between them as he held her gaze across the large space. Beautiful. She was exquisite dichotomy with black hair piled in two messy pigtails like a cheerleader with bedhead, but full lips painted matte black promised an entirely adult seduction. A severe black Victorian-style top covered her from chin to wrists, stretching across full breasts, but her legs were bare from upper thigh to lower-calf between a short black skirt and combat boots. She looked soft, curvaceous, and he wanted to grip her flared hips while taking her. He idly wondered if she fucked like a recovering prude or a wanton slut, and he found both scenarios equally stimulating.

Glory was unable to look away and a blush crept up the side of her neck as his pupils enlarged, his hunger on full display. His nostrils flared as if he could smell her across the room, a sultry smile sliding across his lips. She felt out of her body, vaguely aware of the thrumming bass from a song but no longer hearing or seeing the crowd. He moved toward her, shadows of others parting before his effortless glide. As if in a dream, he stopped in front of her. A slim muscled physique strained with tension as one of his hands lifted near her cheek but then curled in a frustrated fist. His mouth lowered next to her ear, and electricity skittered down the side of her neck. Goosebumps rose along her shoulders and arms.

"I want to fucking tear you apart."

Siobhan waved her hand in front of her friend's face before following her gaze across the room to see what had her attention so spellbound. Siobhan's eyes narrowed dangerously as she spotted the man in the corner. "Earth to Glory!" Siobhan stepped in front of her friend, completely blocking Glory's view of Leif. Glory gasped aloud and sucked in a gulp of air.

What the hell just happened? Hadn't he been right in front of her? Dear gods, have I been standing here, staring at him, and daydreaming the whole time? Heat bloomed in her cheeks and she was glad for the dark lighting.

Henry, too, was observing from over the tops of the women's heads. He stepped forward and took Glory's elbow gently, steering her toward the bar. "Let's get you a drink, shall we?" He looked at Siobhan over Glory's head and nodded toward the corner where Leif sat. You owe me, Siobhan mouthed, and Henry grinned a lascivious promise before ushering Glory off.

Leif watched the red-headed woman approach warily. There was something that felt profane about her presence as she entered his space. "I don't know who you are but I know what you are. Absolutely not. Not in here. And not with her," she threatened. One sculpted eyebrow rose as Leif flashed a bit of fang in a sneer of disinterest. "And don't you point those things at me unless you want an unscheduled visit with a dentist," she added for good measure.

Leif couldn't help it and barked out a laugh. It was so rare that anyone dared to challenge him, especially when they could see his true nature. "Saucy wench," he said now with good humor as he held up his hands in surrender. "You know what I am but what are you?" he mused, relaxing back. There was no point in being defiant as he had no desire to be kicked out now that he had seen her. "I do solemnly swear not to enthrall your delicious-looking friend, but if she finds her own way over here, well, that's her choice then, isn't it?" he queried with a cunning look.

Siobhan wanted to argue but there's not a lot of footing to stand on when arguing against free will. Words had power in Club Morpheus and he had sworn to behave, even if he was being an ass about it. She would have to trust he would abide by the rules of the Club, and if he didn't, well, the Club would nip that in the bud.

"Fine," she capitulated, "but if you hurt her, I will hunt you down and make you wish you had never been born." She turned on her heel and threaded her way through the throng to the bar. She didn't hear his bitter reply, "I already do."

****************************

"Okay, I'm going to do it." Glory tossed back her third shot in two hours. "If he isn't interested, then I'll just never show my face in here again. No problem!" She laughed a little too loudly and covered her mouth with embarrassment. "Maybe, like, right after a trip to the bathroom though."

Siobhan slid off the barstool to accompany her, but Glory waved her back. The corridor leading to the women's loo was well lit behind the access door, and a stoic bouncer stood guard at the threshold. Glory had been debating the pros and cons of approaching the mysterious stranger since Siobhan had sat down next to her. Glory came to the Club for entertainment and conversation, more voyeur than anything else. Siobhan had frustratingly refrained from either encouraging or discouraging Glory, merely listening to her endless stream of consciousness. Glory pushed open the door to the restroom, splashed some water on face to cool off, and then spent a moment doing some deep breathing to both psych herself up and calm herself down. She didn't understand how it worked both ways; it just did. She gave herself a stern look in the mirror, practiced some sexy expressions, decided she looked ridiculous, and gave up as a group of women entered. She flashed them a quick, shy smile and slipped out behind them.

"There you are." Leif watched her jump nearly out of her skin when he detached himself from the wall.

"How the hell do you hide in plain sight like that? What are you doing in here?" she blurted out before turning red. "I didn't mean...ugh, jeez," she sputtered. "Oh hell, I did mean that, but I didn't mean to say that," she grumbled, clearly disgusted with herself.

Leif chuckled and moved until he was mere inches from her, the air between them crackling with energy. This was much different than earlier with no dreamlike quality under the harsh fluorescents. The bright lighting sharpened his hawklike features and leeched the color from his skin. Cheekbones in high relief and chiseled lips matched his taut physique. He wasn't much taller than her; her platforms brought her nose up to his chin. A whiff of sulfur assaulted her nose, vanished, and was replaced by something earthy and dark. Her body swayed toward him like a hound chasing a scent. Leif's body tightened as she drew near enough touch.

"May I touch you?" he asked gently, speaking to her as he would a skittish animal. Every cell in him wanted to grab her and push her up against the wall.

"What?" Glory belatedly remembered where she was. Egad, had she been sniffing him? Get a grip, she chastised herself. Consent at every step. She was so used to men just doing whatever they wanted when they wanted. "Yes, but PG only!" She shook a finger at him scoldingly. She was amusing him but she wasn't really sure if he was laughing at her or with her just yet. Humor was her go-to for diffusing awkward situations.

He rewarded her with a smile which crinkled the corners of his eyes. She tried to gauge his age. There was a sense of self-control and patience which spoke of maturity, but his smile was boyish and flirtatious. A single fingertip traced a line down her cheek to the corner of her full lips. Leif wondered what shade of pink they were under that dark stain. His disobedient thumb shot across the lower lip to smear the lipstick off the skin and onto her cheek. He fixated on the color beneath. Would her areolas be the same shade?

"I can show you," he finally said, answering her initial question.

"Show me?" Glory once again felt like she was starting to float away from her body. My lipstick is smeared and I haven't even been kissed, she thought.

Leif grinned wolfishly as if he had heard her thoughts. "I could show you that, too."

She realized she had completely lost control of this conversation. She wasn't even sure what they were talking about anymore. "I want you to show me," her traitorous lips spoke. She wasn't sure if she meant hiding in plain sight or a kiss or both.

Leif studied her face and then with great effort stepped back. The air that rushed to fill the void between them felt ice cold after the heat of their energy. "My name is Leif," he said with a flourish, bowing at the waist and picking up her left hand to brush his lips across her knuckles. She had said PG-only, after all. He was in full "gentleman goth" mode, but that was the whole point of coming to the club -- indulging in fantasy. "It's a pleasure to meet you...," he prompted, leaving her to fill in the blank.

"Glory," she whispered.

The magic coalescing between them broke as the gaggle of women exited the restroom behind her. They exchanged glances with each other and the women giggled. One waggled her eyebrows suggestively and gave Glory a thumb's up behind Leif's back after they passed.

"Glory," he repeated, savoring the name sliding across his tongue like ambrosia. Of course, she would have a heavenly name, he thought sardonically. The Universe's little sense of humor at work. "Would you like to join me?" he asked, offering his arm.

While many people wore elaborate goth makeup and costumes, she liked that he was dressed simply in black jeans and a Joy Division T-shirt that looked genuinely vintage. She idly wondered what kind of hair dye he used to get such a pure silver color as she took his arm. His brows and thick lashes were dark as obsidian. Leif met Siobhan's gaze as they walked out of the corridor together. The bouncer seemed oblivious to their existence. Glory gave her friend a nervous but excited smile, and Siobhan forced herself to smile back before spinning around with exasperation.

Leif led her to the velvet settee where he had first been reclining. Nobody else was congregating in this area, a private oasis in a sea of madness, and easy to miss tucked into the corner and camouflaged by vine. He settled her against the plush fabric before sitting next to her. He picked up her hand and laced his manicured fingers through hers. She looked down at their entwined fingers, hers with tiny lines from aging, but his oddly smooth and youthful in comparison. She turned to him but was unable to make out the details of his face any longer in the dark corner. Only those blazing pale eyes reached out to her in the dark. Perhaps he wasn't as old as she had initially thought.

"How old are you?" another question, unbidden, tumbled past Glory's lips. Immediately, she realized the social faux pas and cringed. Right, this was just one of many reasons why she didn't date. "I just meant, I'm kind of old, you know? For this crowd. I was goth back in the '80s, well, maybe more punk. Punk-goth?" She shook her head; aware she was babbling yet again in an attempt to smooth over her awkward inquiry. The Club was mostly filled with the younger crowd, and she tried to avoid being labeled as a "cougar." It was a ridiculous hill of sand that she kept trying to stand on.

Instead of being offended, he merely laughed, a deeply amused chuckle that rumbled up from his belly. "Old enough to know better, but still too young to care," he quipped. Her appearance was youthful and so was her energy despite her apparent age marker of "1980's goth." Fine lines crinkled around her eyes and mouth, indicating she engaged more in smiling than a "resting bitch face." It would be easy to mistake her for someone 10 years younger if one didn't look too closely.

A thick lock of hair fell in front of his eyes, and he pushed it behind one of his ears while folding one leg to rest his ankle on the opposite knee. He leaned back into the cushions and placed her hand on his knee, curling her fingers around the rough denim sheathing his leg. He gave it a pat as if to say, "There now, that's settled." His arms rose to bracket the sofa's frame, the tips of his long fingers just barely brushing the nape of her bare neck. Her skin was warm and soft, alive, vibrant. She stood out to him like a beacon from the moment she entered the club hours ago. "I have a confession to make," he said, leaning close conspiratorially. His breath brushed her ear and her stomach clenched.

"What's that?" she asked quietly, confident he would hear her despite the loud music and general revelry.

"I'm only in town for one night." His first of probably many lies he would tell to keep this delicate creature at arm's length. Her innocence nearly blinded him and caused his balls to tighten forcefully. He would destroy her if she gave him half a chance, and that would not do with her protective friend hovering on the other side of the Club. A shame really, he did so enjoy the chase.

Whatever she had been expecting to hear, it wasn't that. Disappointment crushed her chest. What was the big deal though? She had literally just met him, so who cared if she never saw him again. Just because he was hot didn't mean he was a decent person. Maybe he was a total ass. Still, one night, it could be perfect. Siobhan's words echoed back, "You can take it out on some poor sap at the club." Glory wasn't the type to take it out on anyone, but maybe someone taking it out on her was just what she needed to get over the past week. Siobhan kept telling her she needed to step out of her comfort zone.

"In that case, we should make the most of meeting each other," she forged ahead boldly despite the wobble in her voice. After all, she would never see him after this. She could be whoever she wanted tonight, even herself, maybe most especially herself.

A fire lit his pale eyes, infinitely black pupils eclipsing the irises. "I would very much like to kiss you, Glory, may I?" His voice was like gravel, abrading her skin and sloughing off the masks she wore in public. Her face tilted up toward his, and the tip of her tiny pink tongue flickered across her lower lip. She looked dreamy with her eyes half-closed, every line of her body angled toward him like a balloon on a string, ready to float away if he let go. His knuckles grazed her jaw and she sucked in a breath as heat slid from point of contact down her jugular. She watched his head lower until his lips were so close even a feather could not have slipped between them, but still, he did not kiss her. "I need to hear your answer, Glory mín."

While she didn't understand the strange word, she understood the possessive tone which couched it. The heat in her veins spread across the top of her head and down her limbs, and she ached for cooling relief. His words felt like a promise of that relief. "I want you to kiss me, Leif," she finally managed, cheeks flaming again. Why was admitting what she wanted so hard for her? He wanted her, she wanted him; it should be simple.

He tasted his name on her breath as he swooped in to claim her mouth with his. Mine! The force of his visceral reaction to her slammed into his chest like a hammer even though his lips continued to gently nuzzle hers apart. He pushed the feeling aside before a haze of possession could overtake him, concentrating on the shy way her tongue sought his. A recovering prude, then, he thought to himself. He coaxed her forward, teasing her tongue with luxurious swipes before retreating. He tasted like black licorice. Jager?, she wondered. She was forced to chase him if she wanted more, and she was preparing to glut herself on this man tonight.

The Club ceased to exist for them as the moment overtook their senses. Her breasts pressed up against his ribs with a craving to feel more of him than the simple connection of their mouths. He gripped the back of her head with steel fingers, self-control fraying as he mashed his mouth against hers. She tasted blood as their lips and teeth collided, but she didn't know it if was his or hers. Her mouth was a writhing mass of nerves connected straight to her core. Was it possible to orgasm from a kiss? She would love to find out. Leif snarled and snapped his head back, tongue running over the tips of gleaming pointed canines and the bead of blood clinging to them -- her blood. The taste was like the first spring buds blooming across his tongue.

In the dark lighting, his eyes appeared almost entirely black, no trace of white cornea. He wanted to devour her, consume her body and mind and soul, feel her running through his veins like caffeine, forever a part of him. Fear spiked in her heart as he picked her up and dropped her to straddle his lap. The adrenaline flushed her skin rosy. The response was instinctual, like the first moment parachuting out of a plane, and then the high hit her. Instead of bolting, she pressed down and dragged her cotton-clothed folds against him. More adrenaline hit her bloodstream in a rush as if she were facing a life-or-death situation. Fight? Flight? Freeze?

"More," he ground out between clenched teeth. Sweat beaded his brow from the effort of retaining his control. "I want it all, all of you. Would you let me have it, Glory?" Speaking the words whittled that control down to a single strand of fragile silk.

They were both balanced on the precipice of something she didn't quite understand but felt herself hurtling toward with gleeful manic abandon. Something within her, buried deep where the shadows lived, curled up like a dark tendril. Caution was a concept that no longer held meaning. She framed his face with her hands and stared down into an endless abyss. "Yes, but only if you give me the same," she countered.