Disclaimer: Do I look like a 19th century gay man to you?
A/N: I'm back and more bored than ever! And yes, this was written on a pure whim.
After the little fiasco at his house, Basil Hallward decided he should spend some time away from London. He went into the country side to paint some of the beautiful flora there. Unfortunately, when he tried to paint a tree, he ended up painting Dorian's face instead of leaves. When he tried to paint a meadow, he painted tiny Dorians instead of grass(something that actually took quite a bit of skill). Sighing, he willed himself to focus on painting a narcissus.
As he painted, he began to think of the flowers namesake. Ah, the beautiful, proud Greek boy who fell in love with his own reflection due to a curse. So appealing he was, yet he rejected any actual love that was offered him. And Echo, the poor nymph who could only repeat his name over and over longingly. It reminded Basil a bit of his own life.
"Oh, dammit, I've painted Dorian again."
After a month, he decided to go home. He made quite a bit of money selling his Dorian pictures to his many fan girls/boys. Although he was loathe to return to dreary old London, he knew he had to go back. After all, the last time he'd been away for a long time, Harry threw a party for his strange horned friends in his house. Besides, he was longing to see his own Narcissus again. More specifically, his own Narcissus's ass.
After arriving back at his house and chasing Harry and his minions-er, friends out, he made his way to Dorian's house. Said house was in the process of being painted purple, had glitter on the lawn, and for some reason Basil's pet komodo dragon, Cormac, was on the roof with a sword in his mouth.
"Oh, I'm going to regret this," he sighed before he walked in. He observed that the inside of the house was in the same condition as the outside, except the walls were covered with pictures of Dorian. The same pictures that disappeared from Basil's home a month back.
"I wonder why Dorian has all these pictures I drew of him hanging up, but he keeps my actual portrait of him locked away. Perhaps back when he said that he would sell his soul to remain the same as he looked in that picture, it actually happened and now the picture is aging while he stays the same sex god he is forever... Nah, couldn't be."
After bravely fighting his way through a sea of whores and drunk/drugged people with the help of a talking mouse, he finally managed to locate his young sexy friend. He(i.e. his groin) was not prepared for what he saw. Dorian was dancing around the room under the lights of a strange ball that gave off many lights. The only thing he was wearing was a pair of tight pants that resembled leopard skin. He was singing a strange song with an even stranger melody.
"When I walk on by, girls be looking like 'damn, he fly'. I pimp to the beat, walking down the street in my new lafreak, ya!"
"Please don't tell me you've become a pimp, Dorian."
"This is how I roll, animal print pants out of control!"
"Well, I'm not going to protest..."
"It's Redfoo with the big afro-"
"Dorian, I don't care if Harry did have an afro back in his college days. It would not suit you!"
"They like Bruce Lee rock at the club!"
"I really have no idea what that means."
"Girl look at that body, girl look at that body, girl look at that body!
"Well, I'm not a girl, but if you insist..."
"Hehe, I work out!"
"I can see that."
"When I walk in the spot, this is what I see: everyone stops and they staring at me!"
"Alright Dorian, you're the hottest thing on the planet. We get it, already!"
"I got passion in my pants and I ain't afraid to show it!"
"And I'm not afraid to look!"
"I'm sexy and I know it!"
"Yes, you've made that quite obvious over the years."
Dorian was now putting on a suit of armor and continued to sing in a Spanish accent.
"When I'm at the mall, security just can't fight em' off! When I'm at the beach, I'm in a speedo trying to tan my cheeks!"
"And how often do you go on these beach trips?"
"This is how I roll, come on ladies, it's time to roll!"
"I'm afraid that all the ladies here are either drugged up or dead at the hands of a talking mouse."
"We headed to the bar, baby don't be nervous! No shoes, no shirt, and I still get service!"
"I've been wondering something, Dorian. How is it you don't have some sort of disease by this point?"
Dorian began wiggle around sensually.
"Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, yeah! Do the wiggle, yeah!"
"As much as I'd love to, I can't help but remember what happened the last time I danced in front of you."
"I'm sexy and I know it!"
"Yes, dear boy, we ALL know it by now!"
Suddenly, the lights went back to normal and Dorian stopped dancing. He suddenly seemed to notice that Basil was there. "Oh, Basil! I see you've walked in on me rehearsing my new dance. Harry asked me to make one up so I can show it off at the next big occasion I go to."
"What would that occasion be?," Basil asked absentmindedly, distracted by the way a sudden gust of wing ruffled Dorian's hair.
"Now that you mention it, I don't think there's going to be one for awhile. Oh, but I want to show people my song and dance now! Wait, I know, I can kill someone and perform it at their funeral! Hey, Basil, look here!" He then proceed to rip all his clothes off at the same time.
Basil could only gape for a long moment before blood started to gush out of his nose. So much blood, that he soon died of blood loss. And so Dorian used his funeral as an excuse to sing and dance, and he was much well received.
A/N: I'm so mean to poor Basil. Anyway, doesn't this song fit Dorian a hundred times over?
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