The Pink Pony Lounge

by Spalunky

Summary:

In which Basil loses his smutty fanart, Dorian goes on an undercover mission to get it back, discovers lesbianism, and everyones dreams come true! *wink*

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“As you wish, my dear” Lord Henry was all too willing to oblige Dorian’s whims. “What Basil is trying to tell you is that he’d like to disguise you and send you out to retrieve something that's been stolen from him.”

 

Dorian widened his eyes keenly. “What scandal!” he mused excitedly.

 

“I couldn’t agree more. Dear Basil’s, became much more interesting, hasn’t he?” Henry smiled.

 

“Immeasurably” Dorian agreed.

Notes:

Hope you bitches read the book!

You guys wouldnt believe it. Ive been writing so much Dorian Gray fanfiction i ended up with an ear infection because the ghost of Oscar Wilde is with me😩

I write the smut his world wasnt ready for. 🙌

Enjoy! Tell me what u think!

Chapter 1

“This is serious, Henry” Basil’s voice was a low hiss. “Please try for once to act accordingly. The sketches in that notebook they…they could get me killed” He whispered.

“Well I hope she took it intentionally” Lord Henry Wotton replied. “I’m not interested in honest mistakes”

“It was intentional, I assure you” Basil muttered, scowling at Henry’s blatant satisfaction.

“And what's stopping you from demanding it back, dear Basil?” Henry asked. “Do so publicly and she won’t be able to refuse no matter how charming she thinks herself. She makes a more entertaining thief than an artist but no one will abide by her being both” Henry assured him.

“I cannot reach her or my notebook. She took it into the Ladies’ Lounge at Barkly Square” Basil explained.

“Very well, we’ll send my faithful wife. She surely owes me a favour by now” Henry said.

“Can we trust her not to open the notebook?” Basil asked

“Absolutely not,” Henry answered immediately. “I can assure you, looking through that notebook would be her highest priority, even more so than returning it to you”

“Then she’s no use to me!” Basil lost his decorum to his sense of urgency for a moment. “My very life is on the line, Henry”

“Well there's surely not a single woman I would trust with the task” Henry said resolutely.

Then, as the same idea came upon them both, they turned in tandem to look upon Dorian Gray, who happened to be sitting quite daintily. He sat, legs crossed, taking small sips of tea from fine floral china, observing one of the pastries that had been prepared for them then moving his hand away at the last moment and leaving it on the silver tray. Dorian did not react to the feeling of eyes upon him, he was quite used to it. Instead, he took to studying his perfectly manicured fingernails. He didn’t look up until Henry spoke to him.

“Watching your figure, Dorian?” Henry said, smirking at Dorian’s indecision with the pastries.

“Not at all, Harry” Dorian met Henry’s eyes. By now he knew when Lord Wotton was teasing him. “I look forward to being the bigger man, someday” He said, making sure to let his gaze flick up and down over Henry’s form.

Usually this would’ve amused Basil greatly but for now he could think of nothing but his sketches and how to retrieve them. “Dorian” he spoke seriously and came to sit beside him. “You understand that being an artist can be quite a ..competitive profession these days”

“If you say so, Basil” Dorian made a point of sounding bored and he did it well. “Are we going to the opera or not?” he asked with both enthusiasm and impatience. “I would’ve made other plans if I knew you two intended to spend the evening whispering to one another”

“We’re speaking to you now, aren’t we Dorian?” Henry said, always entertained by Dorian’s petulance.

“Basil is alluding to something” Dorian's eyes flicked to the painter. “I hate when he does that. It will take him all night to say almost nothing”

“Dorian, you know I wouldn’t ask anything of you unless it was absolutely necessary” Basil began again but stopped short, sighing and turning to Henry. “This is impossible. We are mad to even consider it. He is too recognisable”

“It is perfectly possible and more importantly, it will be great fun” Henry argued. “For an artist you are dreadfully unimaginative.” He scolded. “If he is recognisable we will simply have to make him unrecognisable”

“And if he’s discovered?” Basil fretted. “We can’t put Dorian at risk. I won’t.” Basil said stubbornly.

Dorian sat forward with a curious frown. “What exactly am I at risk of?” he asked but both Henry and Basil ignored him for the time being.

“Do not fear for Dorian” Henry waved a hand as though he could swat away Basil’s worries. “He has a power neither of us possess. He is forgiven before he ever commits the crime.”

“Dorian, you’ve heard a woman named-”

Dorian put a hand up and silenced the painter. “Not you Basil. I want Harry to tell me”

“As you wish, my dear” Lord Henry was all too willing to oblige Dorian’s whims. “What Basil is trying to tell you is that he’d like to disguise you and send you out to retrieve something that's been stolen from him.”

Dorian widened his eyes keenly. “What scandal!” he mused.

“I couldn’t agree more. Dear Basil’s, became much more interesting, hasn’t he?” Henry smiled.

“Immeasurably” Dorian agreed.

“Would you two please try to focus? This is an urgent matter” Basil reprimanded.

“Well what does it have to do with me?” Dorian asked, leaning back on velvet cushions.

Basil looked at Henry and waited for him to explain so that Dorian might listen.

“The last he saw the thief she absconded into the ladies’ lounge with his most precious notebook.” Henry gossipped happily. “And poor Basil doesn’t have a woman he can trust to retrieve it.”

“I see” said Dorian “How villainous” he added without any real sympathy.

“Quite” Lord Henry affirmed.

“Dorian, it would be impossible for me to enter the lounge, nor can I trust Henry’s wife” Basil spoke seriously and tried desperately to keep Dorian focussed.

“Nor does he keep the company of any other women, I should point out” Henry added.

“Thank you, Henry,” Basil said tersely.

“Well if you wait outside a ladies’ lounge all day for her to appear you’ll seem like a right criminal” Dorian warned disapprovingly.

“Thats right, Dorian,” Basil nodded. “That's why I need you to retrieve it for me” He said it as calmly as he could, hoping to make it all sound at least slightly more reasonable.

Dorian’s gaze turned suspicious as he looked back and forth between the two of them, Basil sitting beside him, leaning towards him imploringly and Henry standing over the two of them, watching with a grin.

“Well, I have no means of getting that notebook for you, Basil. You know I would do anything to help if I could but it's simply impossible.” Dorian sighed.

“You would?” Basil asked quickly. “You would do anything to help me?”

Dorian’s eyes narrowed. “Of course, my friend,” he answered cautiously.

“So it’s decided then” Henry said promptly.

“Right” Basil stood, for once he was glad for how irrefusable Henry could be.

“Stand up, Dorian. There will be time for tea later. Haven’t you heard this is a matter of urgency.” Henry said and Dorian stood.

Though Dorian was still wearing a perplexed frown, Henry linked arms with him and led him out of the sitting room and towards the nearest staircase. “Lets have a look at what my dear Victoria’s closet has to offer” He said.

“Surely nothing of hers will fit him” Basil fretted as he followed along behind them.

“It's not a matter of whether the corset fits, Basil, it's a matter of how tightly you lace it” Henry replied confidently. “You would know that if you spent any time unlacing them”

“Not now, Henry” Basil spoke with a clenched jaw.

“Corsets?” Dorian scoffed. “What ungodly scheme do you two intend to subject me to?” he demanded to know.

“Every good thief needs a disguise” Henry reassured him.

“I can’t thank you enough Dorian, really” Basil put a hand on Dorian’s shoulder but only earned an obstinate scowl in return.

“I haven’t agreed to anything” Dorian protested.

Once they reached the top of the stairs Henry continued driving them straight to the master bedroom. “Oh yes you have. And a gentleman never goes back on his word” Henry told him.

“Yesterday you told me going back on your word is the most fun a gentleman can have!” Dorian argued.

“Did I?” Henry failed to recall.

“I keep telling you not to listen to him, Dorian” Basil sighed apologetically. “But you did say you would help me however you could”

“Yes but..I meant financially” Dorian pouted.

“This isn’t a matter of finances, it's a matter of trust. I can trust you, can’t I, Dorian” Basil asked softly.

Dorian wrinkled his nose “Must you?”

Meanwhile, Henry led Dorian to his wife’s vanity and sat him down.

Now that it came time to use it, the vanity took to the form of a surgeon’s operating table, laden with tools that baffled the three gentlemen. Dorian was the first to reach forward and investigate something. He picked up a small crystal vial of perfume and opened it. Before he could discover the notes of the perfume, Henry reached forward, took the bottle out of Dorian’s hand and swiftly returned it to the vanity.

“Perfume won’t disguise you, Dorian and I won’t have you smelling like my wife” Henry said firmly. 

“But you’ll have me dress like her?” Dorian asked unhappily.

“For the greater good” Henry allowed.

“Yes..lets start with clothing perhaps” Basil said since none of them knew where to begin with the cosmetics.

“Very well” Henry agreed and the two of them went to the closet to select something for him.

Dorian crossed his arms obstinately. “Don’t waste your time. There’s nothing you can say to convince me to go galavanting in a lady's frock.” he refused.

Basil turned back instantly. “Dorian, please” He walked back to him and pleaded softly. “I can’t trust anyone outside of this room to help me,” he explained. When he reached Dorian he took the younger man’s hands in his.

Dorian stared up at him defiantly. “What's so important about a bloody notebook? Why should I involve myself?” he questioned. “Whatever debauchery you’ve etched in there has nothing to do with me”

Henry paused his rifling through the closet to look back over his shoulder. “I’m sure those sketches have a great deal to do with you. You know you always play a starring role in Basil’s art.”

The reddening of Basil’s cheeks was all the confirmation Dorian needed. “Basil!” He exclaimed. His cheeks suddenly felt hot too.

“I..admit it wouldn’t be ideal for you either if those sketches became public” Basil said quietly. He couldn’t look at Dorian so he hurried back to the closet. Then he and Henry returned to Dorian, each offering a dress.

Dorian fixed Basil with his coldest glare and reluctantly snatched the dress out of Henry’s hand. He stood briskly, removing his jacket with haste “Honestly” he muttered angrily. “Are you incapable of drawing someone else’s face?”

“Terribly sorry Dorian..” Basil mumbled bashfully. “It's my most private notebook..”

“I’ll get that sinful notebook” Dorian muttered as he tossed his jacket aside and began unbuttoning his waistcoat next.

“Ah” Henry clapped his hands together. “It seems Dorian’s been struck with the sudden motivation to help a friend in need” he mused.

“Don’t provoke him, Henry” Basil said, wringing his hands nervously as Dorian undressed.

Dorian shot another glare over his shoulder. “I can thoroughly assure you it wasn’t Henry who provoked me, Basil” He said flatly.

Henry did so enjoy the moments when charm was set aside and Dorian let his boyish temper flare. Today was no different, if anything, the entertainment was amplified by Basil’s predicament and the ridiculousness of their solution.

“Come now, you mustn’t get so flustered before your big performance Dorian” Henry began handing him the soft garments that would protect his body from the rigid stays of the corset.

“This is absurd, entirely absurd” Dorian went on muttering as he dressed himself in unfamiliar garments.

“Come now, Dorian” Henry did not try to wipe the smile from his face as he approached with the corset.

“And you’ll need to use a different name” Basil interjected, beginning to pace as he considered the finer details of the plan.

“Don’t speak the obvious-” Dorian huffed, his sentence cut short. “Good heavens, Henry, are you trying to kill me? I can hardly breath” he protested.

“Ive just started, Dorian, hold onto the bedpost and breath out as deeply as you can” Henry instructed.

“Dolores?” Basil offered a potential name.

Dorian took hold of the mahogany bed post. “No” he answered Basil with immediate refusal.

“Thats it, good boy” Henry praised.

“Delihla?” Basil tried again.

“What does it ma-” Dorian’s next complaint turned into a strained gasp as Henry tightened the laces of the corset.

“My my, Dorian, what a darling waistline you have. I had high expectations and you impress me still” Henry congratulated the younger man as he caught his breath.

Dorian had a hand on his chest. “You must loosen it, Harry” he said breathlessly. “I’ll never make it to the lounge, I shall surely faint”

“There you go, Dorian, already playing the part” Lord Henry mused. “Come now, the rest is easy” he continued dressing Dorian in the outer layers of the walking dress.

Dorian surrendered to it now. He lifted his arms when necessary and letting Henry fasten the buttons on the twilled silk bodice.

“Well, Basil?” Dorian said, glaring over his shoulder at the painter.

For once, Dorian’s mood was not the most pressing matter to Basil. “He’ll need a hat. Hide his hair. And gloves” he still wasn’t entirely convinced this plan would work.

“Is that all you have to say?” Lord Henry asked. “Are you trying to make this entirely unenjoyable? Think, dear Basil, when will an opportunity such as this knock on our door again?”

“Never” Dorian interjected.

"Must I remind you that this is not an opportunity, but a last resort." Basil told him. The painter rested a finger on his chin as he watched Henry bring Dorian the finalising accessories. Yes, the disguise was beginning to take shape. With Dorians curls tucked under a fashionable hat, his waistline diminished by the corset and his hips hidden by layers of skirts, t was slowly becomng believable. Dorians lithe form and natural grace did wonders for it. Perhaps he already would've passed for a lady had Basil not known his face so well. But they weren't done.

"Come Dorian" Henry sat him down once more. "What is a lady without a painted face these days?" he mused "You're in good hands. I've seen my Victoria use her rouge plenty of times" he said confidently.

As Henry began to have his way with his wife's makeup and Dorian's face, Dorian simply squeezed his eyes shut and counted the seconds until the transformation was over. After all, he was focussed on familiarising himself with the feeling of simply sitting and breathing while laced tightly into a corset that was not made for body such as his. He soon realized he would need to rely on short, shallow, but steady breaths.

Basil chewed the side of his knuckle where a small callous had formed from his many hours holding a paintbrush. Henry was enjoying this far too much, Basil was vaguely aware, but it couldn't be helped. Henry would always find his entertainment in all this, of course he would. None of it mattered, not Henry's grin or Dorian's miserable pout, all that mattered was retrieving the notebook. If ammends had to be made with Dorian afterwards then so be it. Basil would owe him everything, he would drop to his knees, confess his sins, and profess his apologies before Dorian if he needed to. Certainly, never again would that sketchbook leave his room.

"Well.." Henry's voice trailed off as he stepped back to observe his handywork. 

"Well?" Dorian opened his eyes. He could feel a variety of powders on his face. 

"Well, now we know for sure, you make a much prettier boy than a lady, Dorian" Henry told him. "Or Shall I say Delilah"

"Don't tease me Harry" Dorian glared up at him "I only-" he froze when he turned to look at himself in the vanity mirror. "Oh good heavens! Harry, what have you done!?" he cried.

"My very best, I'm afraid" Henry sighed. 

Dorian got up and ran from the mirror. He nearly tripped on his skirts and petticoats before throwing himself onto the bed with a dramatic flourish of fabric.

"This is a cruel joke! And from my closest friends! I shall never trust again!" Dorian declared, hiding his face. 

Basil's brows climbed upwards and he looked at Henry accusingly. Henry only shrugged in response. For the life of him he couldn't understand why Dorian sought Henry's company so frequently when Henry never minded sending Dorian into histarics when it suited him. 

"Dorian" Basil tried to speak patiently but there really was no time for Dorian to have an outburst of this intentsity. Basil had mere minutes to talk him down from the precipice Henry had led him to. "I know you don't look like yourself but-"

"I look hideous, Basil" He interrupted.

"I find that quite impossible to believe" Basil replied.

"Look what hes done!" he sat up suddenly to reveal a face red with too much rouge and lips seared with poorly applied lipstick. Even Basil, who had always worshipped Dorian's beauty had to wince. "You're an artist, Basil. Surely you can fix it. You must fix it" He demanded.

"Alright, alright, ok" Basil agreed. 

Henry laughed jovially. "So you do mind being lady for the evening so long as you're still beautiful, is that so Dorian?"

Removing the hankerchief from his pocket and begining to wipe away the mess Henry had made, Basil muttered "don't upset him, Henry, you've done enough"

"I certainly have" Henry agreed. "You can thank me for the wonderful ensemble hes wearing"

"The attire is not the problem" Basil shook his head.

"The problem is what you've done to my face, you brute" Dorian accused angrily

"Oh I see. Ive tampered with your most prized possession, have I?" Henry mused as he stood back and watched Basil work. "Will I ever be forgiven?"

"No." Dorian said on a petulant whim though both Henry and Basil knew it wouldnt last any longer than Dorians next mood. In fact, Dorian's answer only made Henry chuckle.

Basil on the other hand had gone completely silent as he did when he was painting. The mode of art was unfamiliar to him but he knew the curves and angles of Dorian's face better than he knew his own. It almost pained him to hide the details of it behind powders and rouge.

Henry leaned closer to watch the process. "We're lucky you shaved this morning, Dorian"

Dorian responded with an oddly mechanical laugh. The truth was he hadnt shaved since Basil had painted that portrait, whether it was cursed or charmed, Dorian was still deciding. "I always do" he lied.

"Good" Henry approved. "Growing whiskers prematurely would surely be your downfall"

The final step was the lips. "Just open your mouth Dorian, just slightly, like that" Basil instructed softly. "There" he said when he was finished. "You look wonderful" he assured him.

"Stand up, let us see our work in its entirity" Henry instructed. "Ah, only you could make Basil look twice at a woman, Dorian" he praised

Dorian stood before the large mirror and studied his reflection. The image of a handsome young lady stared back at him. "I can hardly recognise myself.." he said

"Then we've succeeded" Henry nodded  "I'll call my driver"

"You'll need to bend your knees, Dorian" Basil said, begining to fret over the final details as they drew closer to putting their absurd plan into action.

Dorian did so and watched his reflection shrink a few inches.

"And lift your voice when you speak, and we havent decided on a name-" Basil went on.

"None of that matters, Basil. I dont intend to socialise" Dorian huffed. "Ill get that damned notebook and come back here immediately to tear this disguise from my body"

"Yes of course, we'll take it off you straight away, I mean- you can take it off. I won't- unless you require assistance then-"

"Enough, Basil, I can't bare stuttering" Dorian put him out of his misery and Basil was thankful for the interruption. 

Basil cleared his throat. "Apolgies, Dorian, I wont be myself until I get those sketches back safely Im afraid"

"Come along, my fair lady, the hansom is waiting to take you to the lounge!" Henry called from the hall.

Dorian felt sick to his stomach. He held tightly to the railing as he descended the stairs and walked to the front door. He kept his face down as he passed Henry's butler and the driver. He couldnt decide if it was the thought of scandalous drawings of him being spread throughout society, or perhaps the consequences that his disguise would yield if he was discovered, maybe it was Henry's wide grin, or the nervous ringing of Basils hands, maybe it was his inability to move freely or breath deeply, but he already felt dizzy as he was helped into the hansom.

Henry  on the other hand, felt no need to try and divert any attention from Dorian. "My cousin is quite stunning isnt she" he said to his butler.

"Yes sir" the man agreed.

Chapter 2: Into the Lounge

Summary:

Dorian goes undercover! What will he discover at the ladies lounge??

Notes:

You guyyyys I'm really winging this but having fun with it. I have the rest of the fic written its just a matter of finding time to post!

When the carriage stopped outside the ladies lounge the driver helped him down and caught him when he tripped over his skirts.

"Oh, thank you" Dorian said in his usual charming way, forgetting to lift his voice as Basil had instructed.

"Be careful, m'am..." the driver said, voice trailing off in confusion as Dorian walked off.

Dorian kept his eyes down. He didn't dare to meet anyone's gaze, but each pair of feet that he passed without detection filled with a strange thrill. This new secret, as bizarre and uncomfortable as it was, had entirely distracted him from the real secret of his life, the secret not even Basil or Henry could ever know of.

As he stopped through the door and into the ladies lounge, he didn't know what to expect, but what he found was nothing extraordinary. It was a club, no different from the ones he and other gentlemen frequented, the ones women were not to be seen at. Women were lounging on velvet fainting couches, drinking, chatting, playing cards, even smoking. For a moment he stood in the doorway, taking it in.

Dorian stumbled forward when another woman tried to enter through the doorway he was blocking.

"Oop- so sorry dear" the woman said. She started to walk past but paused with a hand on Dorian's arm. "Are you quite right?" She asked.

Dorian could only nod, not trusting his ability to disguise his voice. When he met her eyes he looked away quickly. The woman was no stranger. It was lady Drismond, a widow he'd come to know all too well a few summers ago.

Lady Drismond frowned worriedly. "Are you sure? You look like you've seen a ghost. Dear, come sit"

He was only acutely aware that Lady Drismond had taken his arm and that he was following her further inside the lounge. As he looked around more vigilantly he recognised more familiar faces, the faces of those who would have good reason to recognise him in return. His heart fluttered rapidly in his chest and once again he became aware of how tightly bound his ribs were. Why did they so foolishly believe that he could enter a place such as this and go unnoticed? What would happen to him when he was found to be a vile trespasser and perverted criminal? What would it matter if he were to stay young and beautiful forever if he were to do so from the confines of a prison cell.

Lady Drismond sat him down in a fantastically comfortable chair.

"Whats wrong?" Another woman was asking almost immediately.

"Just a bit faint, I think," Lady Drismond answered for him.

"Here take my fan" the other woman offered.

Dorian felt a pleasant breeze against his skin. He tried again to breathe deeply but couldn't. The woman with the fan was not the only one to show concern.

"Smell these" another kind soul was bringing a small bag of smelling salts to his face. The scent made his eyes widen. He became instantly more aware of what was happening around him, rather than the spiralling thoughts trapping him in his mind. Multiple women were cooling him with their fans, one came with water, one came bearing gin, another held out cigarettes. Without a single plea for help, they each worked to find a solution to his condition. What also became obvious was that they did not know and did not care who he was. He reached out and accepted a glass of water from a woman who smiled kindly at him. "Thank you," he whispered it.

"No need, dear, it does happen to the best of us, doesn't it" Lady Drismond was rubbing his back in soothing circular motions.

"Thank you I feel much better now" he continued to speak in a whisper. He saw the sign for the restroom and made his break. He had to escape the crowd he had garnered or he would never successfully locate the notebook, let alone steal it back.

Dorian locked the door behind him then came face to face with the mirror. Staring into his strange reflection, his eyes sought out the details of his face that he could still recognise. The shape of his eyes, the shape of his lips. He tried to see himself and break the feminine illusion but could not. He stared long enough not to see himself but to see his mother. He realized it now and it made him turn his cheek and study his angles in a new light. He never really met her, but knew her by her portrait and he could have passed for her, he was sure of it. This idea steadied his nerves and gave him an idea to grasp onto. For the next hour or however long it took to discover the notebook and return with it, he would not be himself, he would be her. The idea delighted him, much to his own surprise.

For a moment Dorian practised holding himself, walking, gesturing with his hands how he thought the beautiful young woman in his mother's portrait would. Then he set out with an invigorated sense of determination. Upon exiting the restroom he found that the scene had resumed just how he had discovered it when he first entered the lounge. Women spoke, drank, smoked and laughed with the freedom of men. Gone was the sense of reservation that any respectable woman shouldered dutifully day in and day out. It was..beautiful and curious. The irony was not lost on him, that these women were here, free to enjoy the vices of men, and he was here bound by the chains of womanhood. He would have so much to discuss with Henry.

To his left he heard someone mention his name. He could not stop himself from overhearing three young women sitting at the bar.

“Oh he’s gorgeous” one said

“But I heard he’s fast,” the other warned.

“Fast? But he seems so sweet.”

“You’ve never even spoken to him,” her friend scolded.

“And you shouldn't,” the other added.

“Well I know him personally” Dorian interjected, while hiding his face behind his fan. “He’s perfectly charming” he lifted his chin and continued on his way “and cultured” he added quickly

Dorian glanced back at the door and noticed two women enter the lounge. He charted their path directly across the lounge to a narrow hallway he was yet to explore. So he followed from a reasonable distance. He witnessed the women whisper to each other. They walked so closely they were nestled into each other's sides when they reached the end of the hall. Then one of them pounded the most peculiar knock on a dark red door. The pause before the door opened was brief and the pair disappeared quickly before there was a chance for Dorian to glimpse what was inside.

For all the freedoms that he enjoyed, Dorian Grey had always been, and remained a slave to his own curiosity. If there was something to be experienced, felt, or seen, it was to be his. Now was no exception. He walked quickly to the door and tried to replicate the knock. The door swung open just as it had before however, it did not open wide enough for him to enter. Instead it opened just enough to reveal a woman, the likes of which Dorian had never seen.
She was tall enough to tower over him, wore her hair scandalously cropped, and was muscular even in her face, neck, and hands. His eyes widened but no words came to him. She said nothing. Dorian said nothing but gaped at her. How was his charm to save him when all words eluded him?

The door shut again, mere inches from his face. "No, wait!" Dorian called. When there was no answer he reached forward to try knocking the same pattern that had worked before. It worked again. This time when the large woman opened the door her stern expression had been replaced with one of vague amusement.

"What?" She asked.

"What??" Dorian repeated as though he'd never been asked such a thing. "I know your secret code and I'd like to come inside" he told her.

Infuriatingly, all she did was raise her eyebrows at him.

"Move aside and let me in, madam" he requested again. This time when he spoke he remembered to try and lift his voice, making his tone sound closer to a faux whisper. It did not help his demand. Again she said nothing. The small grin she was wearing enraged him to no end but he fought to keep control of his nerves. "I have money," he said calmly.

The woman crossed her arms and tilted her head expectantly.

"Not with me but certainly enough to buy my entry into any secret club you're hiding" Dorian insisted.

"I don't want your money" she remained resolute.

The door began to close again but this time Dorian reached out and caught. "Wait" he tried once more. "Im looking for someone" he pleaded quietly.

"Me too" she finally started to smile but did not open the door any further.

Dorian narrowed his eyes at her. "Im looking for an artist" he persisted.

She paused and glanced back over her shoulder. Only then did Dorian hear the music coming from the hidden room.

"Whats your name?" She asked

"I- um. Delihla" he answered.

"You're very stubborn, Delihla" she said, sounding distinctly interested.

"I'm persistent," he corrected her. "But very charming"

"Is that so?"

"So I've been told," Dorian shrugged.

"I'm Margaret"

Dorian sighed impatiently. "Hello, Margaret" he said politely and flashed her quick smile.

“Hello Delihla” She replied with a laugh

“What must I do to convince you to open that door?” Dorian questioned. The longer he was refused, the more certain he became that he absolutely needed to know what was beyond it. A part of him tried to reconcile that perhaps the notebook was in there but the sketches had been pushed to the back of his mind now.

“Answering my questions would be a start” Margaret decided.

Dorian crossed his arms and waited expectantly.

“Have you a husband, Delilah?” She asked.

“Certainly not,” Dorian answered. Then he had to pause and think quickly for a reason he could give for being so opposed. What came to mind was one of the many things that Harry had told him about marriage. “They only get in the way of our favorite vices, unless of course your preferred vice is deception, then there is nothing better”

This time when Margaret raised her brows it was a display of surprise and interest. “Couldn’t have said it better myself” she agreed as she opened the door wider and stepped aside. “Come in”

“Too kind” Dorian gave a distracted but polite reply. As he stepped inside he was instantaneously preoccupied with what was new. The short hard woman was forgotten and the club before him was all that existed. The space was beautiful. The curtains and paintings were of the standard Dorian would let decorate his own house which he took the utmost pride in. The air was filled with beautiful music, a chopin nocturne played on a piano of pure ivory and gold. From the decor, to the music, Dorian then noticed the people. Women, lounging, some perfectly dressed and some perfectly undressed, and others wearing men’s attire. They wore what pleased them and, like the garden of Eden, they feared nothing.

Magaret gave him a moment to observe before placing a hand on his shoulder. “Whats your drink of choice, Delilah?" She asked.

“A good cigarette” Dorian replied, glancing over at her. Then he felt the hand she'd left on his shoulder slide down his back before she drew a silver cigarette box from her pocket.

“what do you think?” She asked. She held out a cigarette, Dorian accepted it between his lips and she lit it for him. Neither one looked away from each other's eyes during the exchange. Margaret's gaze had turned carnivorous. Dorian recognised that kind of hunger when he saw it. With eyes closed he took a long drag from the cigarette. He was beginning to feel like himself again, until he opened his eyes to see the lipstick stains he had left on the cigarette. It was a clear reminder. This strange mountain of a woman wasn't interested in /him/. She was interested in the woman he was pretending to be. How curious.

“It is unlike anything I've seen before,” Dorian answered honestly.

She stepped closer. Her hand remained on the small of his back. “I think there's many things you haven't seen”. It was clearly a promise, one Dorian was not particularly driven to refuse.

“You may be surprised, my dear Margaret,” Dorian replied. The way he looked up at her was keen and undaunted but again she laughed. Never before had a woman laughed at him so flippantly.

Then Magarat, keeping her hand on Dorian's back, walked them towards a chaise lounge. “You speak like a real, proper gentlewoman” Margaret said with a degree of curiosity most did not show Dorian once they felt comfortable enough to touch him.

“and you speak as though that's some great novelty” He replied, his own curiosity growing.

“Well I suppose that depends on if it's a genuine display. Plenty of ladies like to speak like a gentlewoman” she reasoned.

“I suppose I was one..” Dorian said thoughtfully. “But tonight I am someone else entirely. It seems there are much more interesting things to be tonight” he said, looking around the room. “All of these women they are ..."

“Just good friends,” Margaret answered with a smile.

Dorian shared her knowing grin. “And us? Shall we be good friends?”

“If you play your cards right” Margaret replied. The way she then sprawled on the chaise lounge was so masculine he would've thought it an intentional act had it not suited her so naturally.

“Well I should warn you, I almost always do” Dorian replied

“Maybe that's what makes you seem so posh” Margaret reached out and took Dorian's gloved hand.

“Posh?” Dorian scoffed at the term before he was pulled by the hand into the larger woman's lap. There was no time for him to react beyond the widening of his eyes.

Margaret seemed to delight in the reaction. “Yes, you seem like a woman who's very accustomed to getting what she wants.” She said,

“Well why shouldn't I be?” was Dorian's distracted answer as he freed himself. He scooched across her lap and found space to sit beside her instead. “Everyone has desires, some are just too afraid to realize them” he lifted his chin. “I have no such fear”

“Then why do you speak in a whisper?” she asked. “To tempt me closer then?”

Dorian watched her lean closer. She could not help trying to close the space between them. People were drawn to him, all manner of people, apparently. He so enjoys watching the fire in their eyes burn brighter as they give way to their temptations. It only ever took a few subtle invitations from Dorian to make their resolve crumble, a lingering glance, a touch on the arm. Watching people grapple with their human desires and their conscious restraint was often more enjoyable than whatever physical pleasure followed.

So he didn't stop her from slowly leaning towards him. Some people gave in like the crashing of a wave, suddenly and in a powerful rush. Others crawled the entire way, moving delicately as though Dorian could disappear from them at any moment if they broke their dream-like trance. Margaret was of the latter sensibilities. She moved slowly, when she came close enough for their lips to touch he could tell she was holding her breath. He took that fatal final step for her and met her with a passionate kiss. Her hesitance was gone in an instance she kissed back excitedly, until they were both out of breath.

–

Meanwhile, at Lord Henry Wotton's estate, Basil did not cease his pacing. “Its taken him much too long. He should have returned by now, I'm certain of it.”

“Do try to compose yourself Basil” Henry replied, lounging on a sofa that overlooked a large window and taking long drags of a cigarette. “you'll ruin my floor boards”

Basil paused his pacing only to fix an incredulous stare at Henry. “Dorian is very much in danger, don't you have the decency to at least pretend to care?” He questioned.

When Henry spoke again his demeanor was much more serious. “Dorian is not in danger simply because /you/ are afraid” he told him. “Besides. Dorian is much more cunning than one expects. You are blinded by only his beauty and his shining youth. You ought to give the boy more credit”

Basil wrung his hands for a moment. “Right,” he said eventually. “You're right. He is capable” he forced himself to see Harry's point as it was much more comforting than his own. “He understands the importance. Im sure hes focussed and he'll return with the sketches at any moment”

“I said he was cunning, not focussed, Basil” Henry said after a long, deep smoke. “His whims change with the wind, you've seen it. Perhaps he's enjoying himself” he mused.

“enjoying himself? You saw how miserable he was when we made him agree to this” Basil said guiltily. “He loathed the idea”

“As we so often do, when it's not our own” Henry waved a hand, leaving a serpentine trail of smoke in the air.

“Still…I am surprised he agreed to help me” Basil said thoughtfully.

“He agreed to help himself, dear Basil, and even that seemed like a tremendous effort for the lad” Henry reminded him.

“There is good in him Henry” Basil said stubbornly. “This..influence you have over him, I don't like it. You preach wild sermons you yourself do not listen to, and give advice you dare not follow” he accused.

Henry sat up. “It is advice I would certainly follow if I was Dorian Gray” he assured him. “But I am not. And he shall only be that lovely specimen that he is for a season or two. Why shouldn't the world be his?”

“The world is not made up of only pleasure, Henry,” Basil said firmly. “And you find too much of it in influencing him”

“I must say, You're much better company when you're painting, Basil” Henry replied casually. “You are always delightfully silent when you're painting”

“And you are deliberately spiteful when faced with the truth” he quipped in return. Basil rarely sunk to Henry's level so as to throw insults back and forth but his nerves had gotten the better of him. He was quickly reminded why he never tried to reason with Wotton, it only served to make him grin and chuckle.

“He will be back, with stories to tell, Basil” Henry sighed “and he will tell me everything”
–
“I really must be going-”

“Going? Wait, Delihla, wait”

“you have my deepest regrets my dear margaret, prior engagements I'm afraid” it was by sheer luck that Dorian had spotted the notebook between heated kisses. But he had seen it, it passed in front of his face, in the hands of a woman who could only be the thief he'd been sent to find.

He had to squirm his way out from under Margaret who pleaded confusedly but did not try to stop him. “I want to see you again” she insisted “at least tell me your full name”. It was the sudden end that made her crave more than just passion. The romance of their encounter had amplified just as soon as it fleeted. Margaret knew that Delihla would haunt her memories here forward if she were to remain an enigma.

“It would never do, I'm afraid” Dorian paused to adjust his hat.“I would only disappoint you”

Her final effort was to reach out and grab his hand but Dorian simply slipped free from his glove and hurried off after the artist, leaving Margaret to wonder if she would ever meet a woman like him again.

“Dont you dare take one more step” Dorian accosted the dark hair artist just outside the red door.

“Excuse me?” She said Florence White, turning back with a furrowed brow.

“Gladly,” he replied. “You happen to be in possession of stolen property it seems. Return it to me immediately and save yourself from public ruin” his eyes were locked on the notebook, bound in black leather and embossed with the initials BH.

She narrowed her eyes at him “and who are you to accuse me of such vile deeds?” She clutched the notebook tighter but leaned closer and studied him suspiciously.

Dorian leaned back. In his chest, his heart began to race. “Thats no matter. You've made your own identity quite clear. A second rate artist and an even less successful thief”

Then there was an essence of realisation in her eyes. “And you reveal yourself just the same,” she said.

“Do I?” Dorian felt a wave of instant horror.

“It's quite obvious Hallward sent you” She shook her head at him. “Did he tell you what was inside this godforsaken notebook?”

“So you’ve opened it” Dorian narrowed his eyes. His heart was still racing but as Henry said, he couldn’t allow his nerves to rule him So, he pressed on. “It is another crime on your ledger. You may think you have evidence against Basil in your hands but if you tried to expose it you’d only be announcing your own thievery.” He warned her. “You’d never be seen in society again, only spoken of, and not kindly”

“Ha!” she gave a shrill replication of a laugh. “Do you really think anyone will be calling for the guard over a simple case of a mistaken notebook?”

“You'll be ruined” Dorian insisted.

“You're delusional” she scoffed at him.

“No one will believe whatever lies you think you know about Basil Hallward” determination fueled him but Florence did not back down.

She stepped forward. “You're mad, you're-” she froze. “Who are you..” her eyes studied him as though she was on the verge of a discovery that was only narrowly escaping her.

A feeling of panic returned to him. He fumbled for the fan Henry had given him but it was lost in a pocket that lay between the folds of his skirts. The longer she stared, the more certain she became that her suspicion was perhaps not as impossible as it originally seemed. The face before her, though disguised behind rouge and the distinctive traces of lipstick that had been kissed away, was strikingly similar to the face that appeared in each one of the vulgar sketches she'd been studying that afternoon. The sketches depicted the same young man, his eyes were often closed, his mouth parted, his head tossed back in ecstasy, but regardless, it was undeniably the face of-

“Dorian Gray..” she said, eyes widening

The blood in his veins turned cold. “No one would believe you,” he whispered, desperate for it to be true.

Chapter 3: Mission Complete

Summary:

Dorian confronts the thief.

Notes:

This is a short one guys, the big BANG is coming next! wink wink

“Reveal yourself to me” she demanded, not in outrage, but with intonation of an academic or a detective desperate for evidence of their hypothesis. “Reveal who you are to me and I shall give you the notebook” she said.

His eyes darted to the book and she knew she had struck up a deal he would not refuse. From her pocket she drew a handkerchief that would be used to wipe away what was left of his disguise. “How badly do you wish to save your friend from the consequences of his sins?” Her voice was quiet but insistent as she waited for him to accept her offering and the deal.

His movements lacked their usual grace. He reached out to take the handkerchief and brought it to his face. Hope told him that accepting her terms may save him but he knew full well that it could be the act that ruined him. Still there was some comfort in finally wiping the makeup from his face and removing his hat.

“Dorian Gray” she said again. This time disbelief brought her tone to a whisper.

“Give me the notebook” he demanded and snatched it quickly from her hand the very moment it was presented. “You haven't taken anything from it?” He questioned and sought the answer himself. As he flipped through the notebook saw nothing had been torn out, page after page, drawing after drawing of Dorian in various states of passion were perfectly intact. He wondered how Basil could possess such a book let alone allow it to fall into the wrong hands.

“It's all there, I assure you” Florence was slowly overcoming her shock. She took one more glance at him, up and down. “Now the only matter to discuss is the price of my silence”

“You are a wicked woman, Florence White” he glared at her.

“Indeed” she agreed with a hum. “And that is quite a dangerous thing, or has no one ever warned you, dear boy”

“How much money do you need to never speak of this?” Dorian questioned

“Yes I suppose that is what's on offer, isn't it. Your money, and well /you/ yourself” she tapped a finger to her lip and began to circle him slowly like a cat prowling behind its helpless prey. “My compliments to whatever genius convinced you to wear such an adorable disguise” she mused. “Quite fashionable too, I must say”

“Need I remind you that I will have my own rumors to spread? If your thieving doesnt prove good conversation Im sure I know plenty of people who would love to hear about what a strange club you frequent” Dorian warned

The fine muscles in her neck tightened. It was true that Dorian would have a bigger audience. He was well liked, adored actually by the majority of London. If she wanted to start a battle of rumors and scandals he would have his own ammunition and his popularity was bound to make people believe him faster than they believed her. His popularity also gave him further to fall.

“Dont make threats you intend to keep, Mr.Gray” she said calmly. “You know you're a favorite topic of conversation in polite society. Consider what a good story this would make, finding you here, like this. For every fool who refuses to believe me there will be one who will. It will take years for you to outlive such a scandal”

“Then we've assured each other's destruction” Dorian stood firm. “Spread your rumors about me and I shall do the same. Your name will be trod upon thoroughly before it's simply forgotten”

“Lets not forget dear Basil Hallward” she reminded him. “I may have given you the notebook but I won't be quick to forget what's on those pages” she chuckled at him. “Oh my, do I make you blush, Dorian?” She asked.

“what do you think you'll achieve with all this villainy?” He questioned “Basil is no one's enemy. Yet you toy with his very life”

“What a studious question” she praised. “Originally I only sought to lay eyes on the inspiration for his next work so that I could be sure to paint something better and win out his spot in the gallery” she explained. “but those sketches have revealed nothing to me but a sick obsession. Still, it hasn't been entirely fruitless” she came to stand directly in front of him. “You will be an interesting man to have under my thumb, Dorian Gray”

—

The hour was late. Henry had tried everything to entertain himself: music, gin, cigarettes, whatever scraps of conversation he could widdle out of Basil. The painter was only growing quieter as the hours drew on. He held his breath when Henry's butler finally entered the room and bowed his head. “Your cousin Delihla has arrived back from the Ladies Lounge” he announced.

“Brilliant” Henry beamed. “Send her in”

“Yes sir” the Butler said before disappearing again.

“Hes back” Basil let himself exhale the air that had begun to burn his lungs.

“I did tell you he would be, didn't I?” Henry had long since grown tired of Basil's anxieties.

Dorian was brought to them just a moment later. His hat was quite crooked and had clearly been removed. He now wore it tilted forward to shadow his face. He concealed the rest of his face with his hand, leaving only his eyes revealed.

“There you are, cousin” Henry smiled at Dorian's state. The boy clearly had stories to tell and this was all that pleased Henry. “Leave us” he told his butler. “We are at home to no one”

The butler bowed before leaving.

“Dorian, what happened?” Basil asked worriedly. He started to approach but Dorian was clearly approaching lord Henry instead.

“You mustn’t ask me anything. I never wish to speak of it. Or even think of it” Dorian discarded his fan, tossing it aside. The hat came off next then he turned his back to Henry and waited to be unlaced. “Oh Henry, but I must try to describe it to you-” he started.

“Do you have them? The sketches? The notebook?” Basil was unable to keep himself from interrupting.

Dorian sighed as the tension compressing his body was released. “I can breathe,” he said happily. “How beautiful, I could kiss you Harry”

“Ah but you wont” Harry mused knowingly. “You have much more fun with those you don't kiss-”

“Please!” Basil interrupted again. “I cannot wait any longer to know my fate. You must tell me you have the notebook, Dorian. I entreat you”

The atmosphere grew suddenly cold. Then Dorian answered “I dont have it” he said.

“You-”

“There was no notebook to be found. But you mustn't be upset with me. And you mustn't act as though I haven't gone to great lengths to try to retrieve it for you” Dorian lifted his chin with an essence of obstinance. Panic began to paint itself in strokes across Basil’s form: the prominent rising and falling of his chest, the dilation of his eyes. Dorian watched, unmoved. Henry stood behind attentively stripping Dorian of the many layers of his disguise.

“I must excuse myself..” Basil fled the room.

“Dont pursue him, Dorian” Henry said before Dorian had even taken a step. “There is not enough time in the world to waste it trying to console the inconsolable. Come morning I will have my best men on the case”

“Your best men?” Dorian asked, his eyes fixed on the door where Basil had disappeared

“Investigators, detectives.” Henry elaborated. “The crafty sort”

Dorian stood in just his under-clothes but held himself as though he was still finely dressed “Harry, where have you kept my clothes?” He asked in a well mannered tone though what he was really wondering was why Harry hadn't offered the help of personal detectives before now.

“Just here, Dorian. Come, play the piano for me and don't spare a single detail” Harry beckoned.

Chapter 4: Fantasies*

Summary:

A late night visit.

Notes:

Well this is where things get saucy yall. Seriously I hope you enjoyed. I've written a lot of fan fics over the years but I've never written anything relating to classic novels so this feels very new and very naughty. Please tell me what you think and if I should post more

The world had since turned dark since Basil returned home from Lord Henry's manor. With the street lamps extinguished, it was only the moon and the light Basil Hallward’s bedroom window that illuminated the night. Basil's butler had since been dismissed, so when a knock came from the front door, it was the painter himself who opened it.

Before him stood Dorian Gray, bundled tightly in a luxurious fur coat, his hands tucked in the pockets, and the lower portion of his face hidden behind a cashmere scarf adorned with ornate silver designs.

“Its gotten so dreadfully drafty out here, Basil, do let me in” Dorian requested charmingly.

Basil's mind had been shattered with panic since he'd left Henry's. He stood motionless at the door until he registered Dorian’s unsubtle prompting but after a pause he stepped aside and invited his friend inside. “Of course,” he said quietly.

 

“I knew you'd still be awake” As Dorian stepped inside he began unwrapping himself from his scarf and his coat but looked around and found no butler to take it from him. Basil took the items himself and hung them on a nearby coat wrack. “You look an absolute mess, Basil,” Dorian added sympathetically. Dorian on the other hand, was the perfect vision of a gentleman. He had been grateful to be free from his disguise and took great care re-dressing himself in his usual fashion. Nearly a quarter of an hour had been dedicated to adjusting how his neck tie laid. It was as though he thought he might erase the memory of how preposterous he’d been looking earlier in the day by looking particularly perfect now. Every detail of his attire had been taken into account and yet there was an effortlessness to his demeanor. His curls fell just so, the cold wind had left a pinkness to his cheeks and brought a freshness to his face. Basil could not help but be struck by him, as he was every time he entered Dorian’s presence.

“Yes well…Ive been packing” Basil admitted. “I'm glad you've come. It would have made my leaving all the more tragic had I not had an opportunity to say goodbye”

“Leaving?” Dorian asked. “Oh Basil, don't threaten me with your absence” he scolded warmly. “You couldn't possible be run out of London so easily”

“You don't understand what was in the notebook, Dorian. I must leave tonight, while the choice is still mine to make.” He explained solemnly. “I hope you can forgive me Dorian, I cannot tell you where I'm going”

Dorian tilted his head in surprise. “Surely you can tell me, Basil”

“You will tell Henry, and he will tell whomever it pleases him to tell” Basil shook his head.

“Oh Basil, you are faithless. Henry is ready to engage a private investigation to get your notebook returned to you” Dorian told him. “He knows the very best men for the job, the crafty sort”

“A private investigation?” Basil repeated “why hadn't he said-”

“Because it won't be necessary” Dorian interrupted, making his way to the wrack where his coat was hanging. “You see, I know precisely what's inside that notebook of yours” he reached into the pocket of his coat and retrieved the leather bound book, marked with Basil’s initials.

Basil didn't know if his heart would beat its way out of his chest or stop entirely. He was afraid to believe his fate had changed so suddenly. "Dorian? You found it?" He gasped.

Dorian flipped through the notebook raptly. “Oh yes. I've spent the evening studying them" Dorian confirmed casually “these drawings truly are.../filthy/, Basil" he looked up. "I didn't think you were capable of even imagining such sin" he praised. "Tell me,” he opened the book to one of the drawings: a sketch of Dorian’s face, eyes closed and on his knees as though he’d accepted pleasing the man before him as his one sole purpose "Is this supposed to be yours?" Dorian asked, pointing to the other, indistinguishable figure in the drawing.

"Dorian, please, don't look at that. No one was ever supposed to see those sketches, most importantly you. Give it to me, I will destroy them" Basil pleaded immediately but when he reached for the notebook Dorian smiled and turned away.

Dorian continued to flip through the book and stroll happily further into Basil’s home which he hadn’t graced in weeks. "Dont be embarrassed Basil. I think it's some of your best work" Dorian assured him. He came close to Basil, so close he had to look up at him through dark lashes when he spoke. The notebook in his hand was left open to a different but equally vulgar sketch. “Besides, you don't know what I had to do to get this back from that woman” he said. “If anyone should get to enjoy this book it should be me, shouldn't it?”

Basil felt his cheeks begin to burn, then the fire spread to his ears and down his neck. The relief that had come from seeing the notebook was marred by shock, confusion, and now the sting of embarrassment only Dorian could strike him with. “How did you get it back?” He asked

“Is that really what you want to ask me?” Dorian replied.
Basil quickly realised Dorian was right, that wasn’t the question that weighed most heavily on him now. “Why did you lie to me? You told me the notebook was gone Dorian, don’t you see how you’ve left me to suffer?” there was an incredulity to his tone. He waited for Dorian to explain himself.

“Ah, but it was safe all along, Basil. You were safe. The only suffering you experienced was purely self inflicted.” Dorian replied.

Basil shook his head. He began to look at Dorian and really study him as though he was laying eyes on the young man for the first time. “I don’t wish to speak to Henry, Dorian. I wish to speak to you. Have you really become such a menace? Only weeks ago you joined me so shyly in my studio for the first time. How good-natured you were. I felt as though nothing in the world could stain you…” Basil said precisely what he was wondering, exactly as it crossed his mind.

Basil’s baffled and sullen musings only made Dorian laugh. His laugh was as sweet and musical as it had been the day they met. “A menace?” Dorian repeated. “I do think I enjoy this description more than your usual praises but I must say it's not entirely fair. You are the one who’s made these drawings, drawings of me doing awful, unfathomable things! You may not be a menace but you are certainly a scoundrel”

Basil hung his head and released a breath. Despite the playfulness of Dorian’s tone, Basil heard truth in every word. There was nothing that made Dorian more guilty than himself. "Please," he said quietly. "Let this be a nightmare that we will both forget"

“Scoundrel and cad” Dorian went on before his tone suddenly softened. "Oh Basil.." He dropped the notebook and lifted a hand to The mans cheek. "You've been so neglected, haven't you?" he murmured. "Depraved of the one thing you truly desire, I suppose a depraved man cannot be blamed for having depraved fantasises" Dorian's voice was earnest and sympathetic. Closing his eyes he leaned closer and let his lips brush Basil's. Dorian felt the painter breathe a trembling breath as he anticipated a long awaited kiss. It made Dorian chuckle. "Oh Basil" he said, suddenly sounding very casual again. "You're good fun" Dorian stepped away with a satisfied grin.

"Dorian.." Basil felt his heart thundering in his chest. "What pleasure do you gain from tormenting me? Where is the boy I painted? He is somewhere I know but he is lost behind your foolish devotion to Henry's misguidance"

Dorian was already returning to his coat and scarf but paused and slowly turned to look at Basil over his shoulder. "Dont speak like that," he said. His smile was gone as quickly as it had come. "I sat for that painting months ago, I was a child" he said stubbornly. “I did not see most of what the world had to offer me and what I did see I feared.” Dorian’s eyes roamed over Basil’s form curiously as though he was considering him for the first time. “I want to experience /everything/ does that truly make me a menace?” He asked. His face was the picture of innocence but his tone revealed him further.

Basil felt his throat constrict as Dorian prowled closer to him. “Well..it seems to have that effect” he tried feebly to answer honestly, to stand his ground. His swallowed dryly “At times”

“But not tonight” Dorian said, his voice carrying the sweetest hope that Basil would agree "Tonight I've been incredibly good, haven't I? I let you and Henry dress me in that ridiculous disguise, I braved the ladies lounge, faced strange, wonderful, and wicked women, and returned with the sketches. Just for you, my very dear friend”

“Yes Dorian” these words came slightly easier to Basil. “You've been an incredible friend to me tonight and I know I'm indebted to you now. But it is no different than before. You know I've been fascinated and dominated by you since the moment I met you”

“So you keep telling me” Dorian stepped closer and stared upwards at the other man. “You've been good to me, Basil.” His voice was low and warm with fondness. “Youve changed my life entirely. You've given me things you will never understand” Dorian found a thrill in letting his words brush so close to the truth behind had become his life's secret. “This..taste for life you think makes me so menacing and troublesome, you blame Henry, but really it's you who gave it to me”

“Me?” Was all Basil could whisper.

“Tonight I'm going to return the favour, my friend,” Dorian answered. “Tonight I want you to give in to pleasures you've been too afraid to allow yourself”

“Dorian-”

Dorian only stepped closer when Basil tried to interrupt. He closed the sketchbook and pressed it firmly against Basil’s chest. “I want you to take this book of elaborate fantasies and make one of them your reality” he told him.

“Dorian, you can't mean-”

“I mean precisely what I've said” Dorian whispered back before closing his eyes and letting his lips meet Basil's. Dorian's kiss was soft but deep and coaxing. Like a siren, it dared one to grab hold of him and kiss him back until they drowned in it.

Though he began as immobile as a statue, Basil Hallward gave in to temptation like the crumbling of a flood gate. Dorian too felt a great release of pressure as though he'd been unwittingly holding his breath since they'd met and only now could he breath. And each breath came with Basil's familiar scent and unfamiliar taste.

Basil came to life suddenly, fueled by a passion too long resisted. His arms wrapped around Dorian and kept him tightly pressed to his chest. He kissed back, meeting Dorian's gentleness with something much less careful.

Their hearts began to race in tandem, Dorian slipped a deft hand between them to feel and stroke Basil through his trousers but at his first touch everything came to a sudden halt. Basil had pulled away, placed his hands on Dorian's shoulders and braced his arms so that Dorian could come no closer.

“Not here,” Basil said breathlessly. To Dorian's surprise Basil took him by the hand and pulled him towards the staircase. If they were finally going to cross this line from which there would be no returning, Basil decided they would do so in the privacy of his bedroom. Dorian followed, knowing full well where he was being taken.

“Ive never seen your bed bedroom before, dear B-” as soon as he stepped inside Basil was against him again, pulling him close and reigniting their kiss.

“My my-” Dorian teased softly whenever Basil took to kissing his neck rather than his lips. “Basil, I've never seen you so-” he stopped without finishing his sentence. Basil was suddenly holding his face with both hands, pursing his cheeks together slightly.

“Dorian” Basil murmured. He looked much more handsome than Dorian ever recalled him looking before and he blamed it on the candle light.

“Yes Basil?” he answered, his face between Basil's palms.

“You're very pretty-”

“Pretty?” Dorian started to protest.

“The most beautiful man I've ever seen,” Basil corrected himself.

“Better”

“And you know I adore you,” Basil added.

“Its one of your most charming qualities, though not my fav-”

Basil took one more breath before saying it. “You talk far too much”

Dorian, who was only ever used to hearing the most earnest of praises from Basil was temporarily stunned. “..excuse me?”

Basil answered with a kiss. This kiss was sweeter but still held the same hunger as before.

“I see” Dorian murmured between kisses. “Youve always done your best work in silence”

“Precisley” Basil whispered back with devotion.

There was something tantalising about following unspoken orders for Dorian. Even more so, it was a great satiation of his curiosity to see what exactly Basil wanted to do with him after adoring him for so long. So when Basil guided Dorian back towards the bed he followed and sat down on the edge. He watched how Basil knelt before him and how carefully Basil began to undress him starting with his precisely laid neck tie. There was something in Basil's eyes that went beyond the standard awe he usually inspired in his lovers.

This wasn't lust. This was worship.

Dorian sat perfectly still as Basil took his time removing each article of clothing and setting them carefully aside. It reminded him of the time when he would come to Basil’s studio each day and try to sit like a poised statue for the sake of Basil's latest painting.

For Basil it was much the same. He couldn't help but silently marvel at how little Dorian had changed since the very first day they had met. It was as though one of his paintings had come to life, stepped free from the canvas and came to sit before him. Unlike his paintings, this Dorian was real. He could touch and be touched, the dressing of him did not reveal a blank canvas below but soft, warm, satin skin. Once he was entirely exposed Basil ran his hands adoringly down the sides of Dorian's bare torso. Dorian only leaned back, leaning on his hands and watched Basil feed his infatuation. Basil felt Dorian's arms, then his chest, letting his thumbs roll over two pale pink nipples and watching as Dorian began to breathe slightly faster.

“You are perfect,” Basil whispered. Dorian didn't answer, it was as though the painter was speaking to himself. It was as though Dorian was, to him, the only thing in the world that existed, and also though he wasn't here at all. He rested his hands on Dorian's hips for a moment and tasted the feeling of slowly tightening his grip until Dorian sat up slightly straighter. Then he proceeded to slide his trousers down until the young man was entirely naked before him. It was a sight he had imagined countless times but when it was heard before him it made his chest constrict until he had to remind himself to breathe.

“Your turn, my dear” Dorian spoke softly and leaned forward to start unbuttoning Basil’s shirt. Basil caught his hand before he unfastened even one.

“Stand up” Basil whispered as he pulled Dorian by the hand.

Dorian followed but as soon as he was standing he was turned around and guided down again by Basil’s gentle but firm hands. The painter had Dorian bent over the edge of the bed, he leaned over him, pressing his wrists into the mattress until he was sure Dorian wasn’t trying to move.
“Basil?” Dorian gasped in surprise.

“Stay like that. Just like that” Basil instructed him with the same tone he used when instructing him how to pose for a portrait. Then he released Dorian’s wrists and took half a step back to take in the sight before him.

Dorian looked back at him over his shoulder. “You can’t be serious” he was simply shocked by Basil’s choice of positioning. He had expected something gentle, slow, and terribly romantic but this had taken an unexpected turn.

Basil stroked Dorian’s hair. “You’ll stay just like this, won’t you? Like a good boy?”

“Basil, you surprise me.” Dorian breathed with earnest confusion.

“You’ve convinced me, Dorian.” Basil explained calmly. “You wanted me to give in to temptation, to do something I swore I wouldn’t, to make my fantasies reality”

“Yes well, I thought- I thought you’d want to see me, Basil” Dorian felt Basil lean over him again. The older man’s body pressed against him and Dorian could feel how hard Basil was through his rough wool trousers. Basil’s hands roamed down his sides and settled on Dorian's hips.

“I want to have you” Basil murmured hungrily, his lips brushing Dorian’s neck. “I must have you” he whispered roughly.

Dorian gave up trying to crane his neck to see behind him. He closed his eyes and took in the heat of the body pressing him into the mattress, the pressure of the fingertips pressing bruising his hips, the smell of Basil’s cologne. Behind him, he heard Basil rummaging through the drawer of a nearby nightstand, then the uncapping of something.

“Kiss me, Basil,” Dorian whispered. He knew there would be no slowing this train, Basil was on a mission to satisfy his desperation. He was a starving man and Dorian was a feast laid out before him. It made Dorian’s heart race from the thrill of expectation.

Basil obliged his request and began peppering Doriant neck and shoulder with adoring kisses. Dorian closed his eyes, delighted and pleased by the affection. Dorian’s breath caught as he felt Basil push that first finger into him. There was no amount of relaxing that dulled the sting of that first breach.

When he felt Dorian’s body tense, Basil’s kissing turned to biting and sucking until he left small red bruises on the side of Dorian’s pale neck. When he heard Dorian’s breathing resume, he allowed himself to gently slide that finger out of the younger man then back in in a consistent rhythm that gave his body no choice but to accept and acclimate to it. Just as soon as Dorian’s body began to relax again Basil added a second finger and continued with the same rhythm.
Now Dorian’s breathing began to match the pumping of Basil’s fingers, little huffs of breath that only encouraged the painter to press deeper and faster. Suddenly Dorian’s quiet panting broke into a surprised moan. Basil paused a moment, noting the particular angle of his fingers, he pushed his fingers in again and once again earned another beautiful moan, though this one Dorian managed to stifle slightly. Basil worked his fingers until Dorian was arching his back upwards and mewling with each stroke.

“You are the most beautiful thing in this damned world” Basil murmured but Dorian was too lost in his own pleasure to respond. Basil watched him unravel, and felt his body become more and more pliant. He was certain he could’ve brought Dorian to his climax with his fingers alone, he even considered it, if only to see such a divine sight. The idea was only fleeting. He knew that what was happening tonight may only happen once. He may never again have Dorian present himself so willingly. Basil knew that Dorian was usually perfectly happy knowing Basil adored him without ever acting on it. So he slowed the rhythm on his fingers and let Dorian catch his breath.

“Basil..” Dorian began to complain but was still too close to euphoria to finish his objection.

“You’re doing so well” Basil met Dorian’s objection with a stream of steady praises. “You’re perfect Dorian..” he went on murmuring as he slowly knelt down behind him. He trailed his free hand over Dorian’s hip and down the side of his leg. This time he watched closely as he pushed a third finger into Dorian. He watched how his body tensed and waited to see how pleasure could coax it into relaxing again. However this time his body did not relax. Every muscle that made up his perfect form was only tightening and tensing. Dorian's moaning was growing louder, despite being muffled by means of burying his face into the bed. Basil realised suddenly that he had brought Dorian far too close to the edge and so removed his fingers entirely.

“Dont you dare stop” Dorian protested immediately and breathlessly. He even picked his head up to send a glare over his shoulder.

But Basil was preoccupied; he took half a step back, eyes locked on Dorian. “Let me see you..” he murmured distractedly. “If only I could paint you like this”

“You are mad” Dorian whined, hiding his face in the bedding again.

“Yes..sometimes I fear I am” Basil admitted in a whisper. Leaning over Dorian's back he kissed his neck and spoke into his ear. “/you/ have driven me mad, Dorian, and you've had such fun doing it”

“I didn't mean to tease you. Not at first” Dorian argued half-heartedly. Then he felt something press against his opening. It was hot, blunt and significantly larger than anything he had anticipated. “Basil, wait” he took a breath. The kisses on his neck continued.

“Don't ask me to wait any longer, my love” Basil whispered.

Since they'd met, Basil had always lavished him with sweet praises and endearments but love was something he'd never allowed himself to say. It shocked Dorian as well as Basil himself, but what did it matter now? With Dorian naked and ready to be taken, any prudence had long since expired. He had already bitten into the forbidden fruit and there would be no turning back.

There was no more hesitation. Dorian let out a choked moan and curled his fists into the blankets as Basil began pushing his way into him, carefully, deliberately, inch by inch. The room was filled with the sounds of their debauchery, gentle panting, the sounds men made then pleasure was so deliciously imbued with pain.

Basil still had those last few inches to sink into Dorian's warm, tight body when the younger man called out. “Oh Basil, I can't!" He simpered in a voice that almost always got him whatever it was he wanted.

Basil had to draw a long breath and summon whatever control he had left in order to pause. It was so like Dorian pulled the meal away from a starving beast at the very last moment. He'd come here to seduce Basil and had succeeded.

“Now is not the time to play the blushing virgin, Dorian, I know too well what you're capable of” Basil spoke through gritted teeth “as does half of London, at this rate, I'm sure. I don't want to know the things you let Henry do to you” he muttered. Even now, with his mind fogged by lust and frustration, Basil could not help but feel empathy for Dorian. He slid a hand down one of Dorian's legs and guided him to lift it so that one leg was propped up on the edge of the bed. The angle brought Dorian's hips up higher and this time when Basil began to thrust forward again Dorian moaned happily. With his hips pressed tightly against Dorian's ass, Basil released a shuddering sigh. “You are perfect” he whispered, all animosity depleted from him.

“Dont just sit there, move” Dorian groaned into the blankets after a moment of heavy breathing. Basil obliged, holding tightly to Dorian's hips. Deliciously slow thrusts left Basil with his eyes closed, savoring the seconds, but drove Dorian mad with impatience. After mere seconds Dorian was pushing back against him, letting out a quiet string of curses and groans. He was in the pursuit of pleasure, no matter how quickly it came or how briefly it lasted.

Basil's jaw hung open and he simply watched Dorian writhe for a moment. He did not realize he had begun to move his hips in tandem until they were outright fucking at a relentless pace. Dorian's groans had transformed back into sweet moans. Pleasure was winning the battle over pain so long as Basil moved quickly enough to fuck him into the mattress with each thrust and he did. Dorian was a mess beneath him, pliant and moaning, his mind consumed by sensation. He did not, he could not bother to wipe the bead of saliva that fell from his lips between ragged moans.

Basil should have noticed that Dorian's cries were rising in pitch, that his body was tensing the way it had before but he was blinded by the sight before him. He was certain they'd achieved the impossible, somehow Dorian had become even more beautiful in his eyes. He wanted to trap him here in this state of mindless euphoria forever. He wanted to watch Dorian come undone entirely, and wipe away all the Henry and the world had imprinted on the boy's soul. In this moment Dorian belonged to him and no one else, in this moment he was perfect.

The tensing of Dorian's body became more pronounced until he was arching back towards Basil in a moment of sheer ecstasy. Then he collapsed limply and panted into the blankets. The sight replayed in Basil’s mind again and again. He closed his eyes, held Dorian's hips lifted and continued to pound into him until the sound of Dorian's muffled whimpers brought him over the edge. He pressed as tightly as he could against Dorian as he reached his climax. He released more so than he ever had even in his boyhood deep inside of Dorian then collapsed atop him.

Basil wasn't sure if he'd blinked his eyes for only a second or if he'd been sleeping for hours but when he opened his eyes again Dorian was complaining.

“Oh get off, you'll surely crush me” he said.

Basil rolled off of him in a slump and laid staring up at the ceiling, his heart still racing and his lung burning.

Dorian rolled onto his side and faced him. “Well don't you look satisfied” he said with a bright grin of his own. “You must tell me how many times you've dreamt of that”

Basil blinked slowly. He turned his head to look at Dorian and drink in the sight of him. Dorian was always meticulously styled in the finest wears, but now he was naked, filthy, his hair disheveled. It almost seemed like a different person, had his request not been so purely Dorian.

“I'm sorry” Basil whispered.

This made Dorian frown. “Dont be ridiculous. I had no idea you were so capable, Basil. I can't tell you how delightfully surprised I am”

“For what I said,” Basil clarified. “I don't know what came over me” he looked away, unable to meet those lovely eyes staring back at him.

“But Basil, I don't even recall what you said,” Dorian assured. “Was it terribly crude?” He asked eagerly. “If it was then I'm sure there's never been a time when I like you more”

Silence fell over the room before Dorian stretched his arms and legs with a contented sigh. “Shall I stay here tonight?” He asked

Tentatively Basil rolled towards him. He hesitated before putting an arm around Dorian. “Whatever you like, my love” he whispered.

Then something curious passed behind Dorian's eyes, something he kept to himself. Basil got up and fetched a wet cloth. Without a word he began cleaning the sweat and residue from Dorian's body and Dorian allowed him too. When he was done he left again and fetched clean blankets. He hated the idea of Dorian sleeping in anything but luxury, so he brought out his nicest things.

Then they laid side by side, under fresh linens, illuminated by the dying flickers of a few candles.

“Basil?” Dorian broke the perfect silence.

“Yes, Dorian?”

“We must go to Venice” he decided

“Venice?” Basil repeated confusedly

“And Harry too” Dorian looked up at the ceiling as he spoke. “Im so tired of London. The city, the people, the parties, I can feel no romance here anymore”

Basil blinked and reality came into focus as it so often does once one's purged themselves of whatever passion blinds them. This night had not shifted the axis of Dorian's world the way it had Basil's. If anything, it only served to contribute to the young man's persistent boredom and growing restlessness. Basil Hallward had been tasted, Dorian's favorite game of cat and mouse had come to its climax, and there was simply one less experience to be felt again.