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© All characters and storylines involving said characters belong to me: Eben Black.

Alright. Eben Black is being put on hold for a while, while I take care of some things regarding that story. I really wanna make that one professional. In the meantime, I've come up with a small individual project which I am calling "Lavender Gaze". Here's the first installment. Hope you like what I've got cooking in my imagination right now~

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Nathaniel Rhodes. Renowned kick boxer and rightful owner of the championship belt. He stood at his corner of the ring, hands, forearms and lower legs bandaged for the upcoming bout. His tall broad-shouldered form bulked and tensed as he glared across the canvas at the opponent before him. Nathaniel stood at around six foot five, he was broad through his shoulders and slender through the waist. His fur was the darkest of blacks, his panther eyes their palest shade of yellow, edged with deepest bronze. His thick tail draped over the bottom rope as its sleak fur shimmered in the harsh lighting that all arenas like these ones possessed. He wore a pair of crimson silk shorts, a brown braided belt wrapped and fastened at one hip. A crimson armband around the bulk of his right arm with the emblem of the gymnasium he trained at. A tribal sun design done in black. The silver nipple ring and eyebrow piercing it seemed had been removed for the duration of the fight. The jewelleries on both fighters were never allowed in the arena.

His opponent was one Ethan Gaelik. He was from Southern Ireland. He was also a long way from home. San Francisco was not renowned for its Irish citizens, but then again I'd never met everyone who lived in San Francisco either. Ethan stood at six foot seven, he was all muscle, nothing slender about him. He glared across the arena back at the panther before him. His flesh was a pale blue, the Tiger Shark's fin pointed and lining his back. His thick tail hung behind him, the fins at the end as large as the one that ran along his spinal column. Black eyes watched the panther, while he grinned and flashed those white razor-sharp teeth. His hands, although webbed between the fingers, it seemed were also bandaged. His ankles and feet also bandaged and also webbed. He wore black shorts, his armband also black with a white dorsel fin and waves depicted upon the silken material. Ethan's attention was drawn to a slender leopard who stepped up into the middle of the arena and announced who each of the fighters were. At their names they stood and raised their arms to cheers and even pantomime boos from the crowd. The referee then called them to the middle of the canvas to explain what was disallowed.

Blows to the groin area and direct head shots weren't allowed, nor was purposefully breaking an opponents bones. All the usual rules applied. There was one other rule. This was a championship match, the champion being Rhodes and being the champion he had accepted the challenge, and therefore given up the right to abandon the fight. He had to continue until he was beaten, or the shark opponent remained on the canvas or abandoned the challenge. Sounded like suicice? A little. Was I nervous? No. I knew Nathaniel Rhodes better than everyone, including his own mother, and I'd also sparred with him a fair few times. I knew what he was capable of. He'd win.

The bell was rung and the referee stepped back to the edge of the arena as Nathaniel and Ethan launched at one another. Ethan turned and launched a closed fist, his shoulder tensed, his forearm twisted into the blow. Designed to break the opponent's jaw, it was blocked and pushed aside as Nathaniel pushed it to one side with an open palm. Ethan sidestepped and leaned down as Nathaniel swung his other arm outward. Ethan swung his fist upward and made to connect with Nathaniel's chin this time. He was all about headshots. If you focused on headshots too much, you'd eventually leave your body open. Nathaniel sidestepped and while Ethan was still in midswing, he turned his entire body into a clenched fist that smashed into Ethan's side. A distinct crack echoed as the crowd erupted. Nathaniel pushed himself back and regained his composure, while Ethan winced and tried to turn. He moved a little too quick and buckled under the sudden twinge of pain that splintered his broken ribs. He doubled over and landed on bended knee as the referee stepped forward and looked him over. Nathaniel tensed and then loosened up as he straightened his form and flexed his hands expectantly.

Most of Nathaniel's bouts ended like this. He was quick, checked out his opponents style of fighting and adjusted his own movements, his own methods to combat the opponent at hand. It made him one of San Fracisco's number one combatants, as well as one of its most well known celebrities. And that made me one of San Fracisco's most well known celebrity boyfriends. Sounded odd, but it was possible for a male of the fighting profession to be gay. I'd known Nathaniel for about seven years now. We'd been college friends who'd gotten close and became lovers and then partners. Friends turned boyfriends. Sounded like the premise for some romantic movie if you asked me.

The referee raised his hand and declared the match void and then he gestured to Nathaniel to show who was the winner. The crowd erupted and the champion reigned supreme.

I smirked as he raised his arms to the skies and grinned broad. He roared twice as he strutted and then he made his way down from the arena. A towel was draped around those muscular shoulders as I watched him frm the tunnel that linked the arena to the underground changing rooms and car park. Ethan was carried off in the opposite direction into another tunnel that lead to where the medical team worked on wounded combatants. I turned as Nathan's walk lightened and his on stage persona leaked away, revealing the gentle, harmless animal I'd fallen for these last few years. I walked toward the changing room, while the panther followed me. I held the door open and glanced across the changing room. One wall lined with lockers done in metallic grey. The wall opposite the door lined with mirrors.

I saw my reflection and smiled. I stood at a measly five foot eight, I was slender but toned thanks to my own brand of self-defense that I did three times a week. It used to be odd seeing a panther and a husky together, but now it appeared we'd become something of a hot couple on the San Fracisco strip. Something I still hadn't totally grown fond of. I preferred privacy when out at a movie, or having dinner with the feline I loved, not neck deep in cameras and demanding questions about our personal life. I had sleak, trimmed pale blue fur, my stomach, chest and forearms a pure white. My eyes a deep lavender and a silver loop through the base of my right ear. I was dressed in the fitted white tee and denim jeans combination, with dark blue high-tops, a silver chain hung thick, draped over one hip. I bore a silver ring around my left index finger and another on my left middle finger. Presents from Nathaniel.

Speaking of the panther, he'd been silent since I closed the door to the changing room behind him. I pressed my back to the solid door and looked up at him as he turned and faced me. He closed the distance between us as that hulking form leaned down. His hands found mine, our fingers laced together and we kissed, a deep press of warm flesh on flesh. It deepened a little, but we stopped before we lost control and molested one another. My breath in my throat was caught and trapped for a second. I coughed forcibly and stammered the comment, "You did good tonight. Another challenged defeated."

"The seventh one in two months. I think there's a record in there somewhere," he smirked back. He leaned in again and kissed me, this time being chaste like a gentlemen. He then stepped back, our hands falling apart.

"We're still going out tonight, right?" I asked as I watched the panther pad across the room and sit down on one of the wooden benches.

He nodded as he unravelled the bandages around his ankles and let them pool beneath him. "I was thinking we get some dinner before though. I'm starving over here," he grinned up at me.

I shrugged and said, "Sounds like a plan. Where did you wanna go?"

"Bel Ducci's. The steaks there are to die for," he replied with that broad grin in place.

"Steaks? What about your routine diet during fight terms?" I asked. Nathaniel was under contract, and that contract said he must retain a fixated diet during the term periods that he was challenged and fought.

"The contract stipulated six months. This was my last bout, so I'm free for three months now before the next term begins." He began unravelling the ones around his forearms as he explained.

"Freedom from four a.m. milkshakes of egg whites and stale milk then?"

"I promise not to get too fat. I just wanna enjoy some quality food during these three months breaks between term periods." He gathered the bandages and stood up. He walked to the bin and popped open the lid, dropping that bundle in and letting them collapse into darkness. He slipped the armband off and tossed it on the bench. Then he undid the braided belt around his waist and let the shorts fall at his feet. Nathaniel was like this at home too. The panther had never once took a look in the mirror and realised how attractive he was. He was also amazingly comfortable about being naked in the changing rooms and at home. Not to say it was a bad thing, it just made me gasp a little when he'd drop his boxers in mid-conversation and continue like nothing had happened. He padded naked and sleak across the tiled floors into the segmented showering area. I watched as he crossed the expanse of drains and tiles, and then slammed a palm into the nearest shower pump. Hot water rushed out like a geyser as he shuddered a little and then adjusted to the heat. He stood under the heated water and let it bathe him all over. He ran a hand over his lower back and down the delicate curve of his backside. He had one amazing backside, all curve and firm meat. Yum!

He glanced back and asked, "Pass me the shampoo from my bag?"

I did what he asked and stepped into the tiled area, throwing him the shampoo bottle as he grinned at the blush that flushed me whenever I saw him naked. Seven years and I still acted like a child whenever he was nude. Nathan caught the shampoo bottle one-handed and popped the cap open with his thumb. He poured a gob into his other palm and then doubled over, placing the bottle on the floor. He straightened and lathered the bright green ooze in between his hands. He then trailed them down over his abdomen, the flat stomach, the muscular abs, the impressive pectorals. He ran hands over his shoulders and arms and then ran his hands lower, down his stomach, passed his naval and over his most delicate of areas. He trailed hands over his inner thighs and caressed the heavy furred orbs that hung under his impressive sheath. He kneaded and stroked the furred flesh, lathering as he went. In time the bright red tip of his member peaked through the sheath and I wondered if he'd get a complete erection right here and now. A fresh blush crawled up my face as I looked away.

"Oh, I meant to tell you, your dad called earlier today," I said, directing the conversation towards something less perverse.

"Did he?"

"Yeah. He wanted to wish you a happy birthday. But since you won't see him in person..." I let the statement trail off as Nathaniel ducked under the rush of water again. The lather spilled from his naked form and down the drain.

He stepped out from the water and finally said, "So is there anywhere in particular you'd like to go for dinner? I never asked."

I sighed and replied, "Your redirecting the conversation again. He wished you a happy birthday, Nathan. Doesn't that warrant a phone call, even to say thanks?"

"Lian?"

"What?"

"Let it go. You know why I won't speak with him. Please don't push me on this. I don't want to see him, ever." Nathan padded from the shower and grabbed a towel from his bag. He rubbed himself down, while I collapsed upon one of the lonesome wooden benches. Nathaniel finished drying himself and wrapped the towel around his waist. He lifted his bag and let it drop onto the bench beside me. He pulled out a pair of white boxer-briefs and let that thick towel drop carelessly. He stepped into the underwear and lifted them. They fit snug around his backside and made his front look equally as impressive. Part of me wanted to jump him then and there and run my tongue over that bulge, but I composed myself as he pulled on a pair of black denim jeans and belted them with a black leather belt and silve buckle. He pulled on a short-sleeved button-up shirt that he left gaping open. A pair of trainers he had done in white, and a matching white wristband. He then donned the peircings. A silver loop, no bigger than a pound coin through the eyebrow. And a matching silver bolt through his left nipple. He packed away what he had and zipped up the bag. He swung it over his shoulder one-handed and held the other hand for me. I took it and stood. He pulled and we came standing in front of one another, barely an inch between me and that broad chest.

He pulled his hand from mine and touched his thumb and index finger to grip my chin, he forced me to look up into those pale yellow eyes and my heart skipped a beat. This was what love was and I never wanted it to end. He'd lowered his hand and laced our fingers together again as our lips touched and melted against one another. It was somehow chaste and still deep at the same time. The kiss was breath taking for me at least. Nathaniel pulled back a couple of inches and whispered, "I love you."

I looked into those pale yellow eyes and breathed back, "I love you too."

"Good answer," he replied, he then grinned and added, "Now lets go get something to eat. I'm thinking chinese food sounds better than Italian now."