His eyes had seen mine before I saw his. Those green, green eyes, always tired, always watching. I could see the pain behind them before he even spoke.

"My place." He whispered as he lowered his lips to my ear, fingers wrapped around mine as he led me through the crowds with him. I had only just met this man, but he was perfect.

The club had lost two customers. It was cold on my bare legs outside, breath forming clouds as he lifted me into his arms like a child. Mouth to mouth, he drew out the passion I never knew existed; my hands tangled in his hair; he growled deep in his throat; I swear I could not have been more consumed by overwhelming lust than I was right then.

He hailed a cab and tossed me in the door. I was his.

I couldn't remember him paying the driver; who could refuse those tired eyes?

I heard a key turn in the lock, too loud for the moonlit darkness. The door was black, an ominous door for a terrifying house. It worked. My feet burned. A burn that came from dancing in shoes too high. Unnecessary. He removed my shoes before he removed his own.

He took me into the hallway, pressed me to the wall. My legs wrapped around his hips he smiled, the kind of smile that takes lives. Lifting my dress over my head I was left vulnerable, but I was not nervous; his eyes forbade it.

I unbuttoned his shirt. The material pooled around his feet, longing to be returned to the contact of his torso, cold, hard, alabaster. My fingers traced the lines of his pectorals, making their way down his stomach, he watched me with that intent look in his eyes, smiling, leaning down to kiss me.

I had no name here. I was a slate wiped clean, for him to build upon what he wanted, I would be anything for him. Do anything.

His hands took my thighs, holding me close to him, walking up the spiral staircase like mercury. He took my lower lip in his teeth, I could feel his smile. Tongue met tongue, tentative, searching, searching for an escape, searching for a familiar.

I would never know if he found it.

He walked into his door backwards, pushing it open; nothing refused this man.

Fuck. It was four-poster. The modern kind, the kind that was for the educated, the rich. The kind that was for his people.

He lowered me down with him onto the silk sheets. My bra was undone with five deft fingertips and my head tilted back of its own accord. His lips pressed onto my throat, baring his teeth, gentle pressure applied, an expert. I writhed beneath his touch. Ached for him.

He trailed kisses over my collarbone, between my breasts, startlingly pale in the moonlight that filtered through the windows, down my stomach, the sensitive skin above my underwear. I gasped. His eyes met mine. He smiled.

I should be scared of him, I had never met him. His lips forbade it.

The belt was gone, his trousers on the floor, boxers lying desperately next to them, yearning for him. My underwear was gone too, I couldn't remember that happening. He made me forget.

His fingers ran through my hair, his thumb resting on my jaw. I could feel the muscle beneath the skin. He could kill me right now if he wanted. Move my head the right way and my neck would break. I didn't care. His other hand caressed my breast like a broken bird, with gentleness he didn't know he had.

With his lips descending, he pressed into me. My mouth opened in pleasure and his tongue traced my lips before he kissed me, tender, wanting, insistent. My fingernails dragged along his shoulder blades and he trembled. He was so beautiful.

He withdrew and returned, slowly, giving me time to recover, harmonious. We were creating music for the Gods, a sweet melody, perfect.

Bodies so close they were one, I could feel his heart beat against my quivering chest, feel his breath on my neck, warm, like an ocean breeze in summer. Mine came in ragged gasps as he moved inside me, relentlessly strong but gentle, and I could feel myself climbing.

His arms were wrapped around my shoulder, fingers tangled in my hair, protecting me from lightning, saving me from an unknown danger.

His teeth bit the skin between my jaw and throat, tongue stroking the jugular, it sent me over the edge. I cried out in ecstasy, and he smiled into the kiss. I could feel his muscles tense as he came, and he exhaled into my neck, the sighs of a million generations of lovers released in that one pure moment.

His body collapsed onto mine and he kissed me with ferocity I wouldn't have thought him capable of.

"What is your name?" I asked, panting softly between words.

"Roman." He replied, smiling.