Inside the safest and most personal space he possessed aboard his ship, Pietas stood before a virtual mirror. The device knew every garment in his wardrobe and could dress his image in any combination before he bothered putting it on.

Only his valet and android staff had access here. But he didn’t need their help choosing what to wear tonight. Half the fun was preparing his body.

Not for a lover, though before the evening ended, he expected to find one. No, this was about Pietas taking pleasure in the ritual of being himself.

Not the king or the commander. Him.

Not calm. Not blatantly saying take me. Something much more dangerous.

Available.

With his long platinum hair, he could hardly blend into a crowd. But dressed for the occasion, he could wander into any number of establishments and survey the possibilities.

Once he settled on a location, his attire would attract a second look. His demeanor would communicate interest. And for the right person, his gaze would arrest attention.

Freshly bathed, his hair dry and hanging down his back, he chose a scent and brought it to his nose. Woody and earthy, with a sense of peace. Not tonight.

The next carried amber and spice over a trace of smoke. Warm. Dark. Assertive. Better. But that one entered the room before he did.

Bergamot opened bright, then faded into amber and sandalwood, with vanilla low beneath them. Not sweet. Warm. Intimate.

This one didn't announce anything. It waited to be discovered.

Pietas smiled.

He didn't want to scream sex tonight. He wanted to purr it.

After drawing the glass dauber from the bottle, he traced the scent over his skin. Down the center of his chest, across each collarbone, then from the base of his neck up to his chin. A tease on either side.

Nibble territory.

“All right. Trousers. How many pairs do I have in black?”

The number made him blink.

“That many? All right. Need to narrow this down. How many in black leather?”

When it displayed, he tapped the right side and brought up a view he could scroll through with a gesture. Too many choices. Maybe he should just go with ass-hugging denim and be done with it.

But on the next scroll, up came a pair that laced up the sides to expose plenty of skin.

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” He tapped those and they appeared on his image. A gesture turned his image sideways, then a slow pivot to see all the way around. In the back view, he said, “Walk.” The pants showed off his long legs and tight butt to good effect.

“Boots? Or shoes?” He tried several pairs, then settled on boots in black leather with ridiculously high spiked heels. At already seven feet tall, he’d be able to see the entire room in whatever club he attended. Besides, they made his legs look even longer and leaner.

He went through a row of shirts before deciding on a loose tank with horizontal slits. Over that, he chose a shiny red jacket with buckles everywhere. He had two.

The cut of the first said, Look at me.

The other demanded, Get over here now.

And a black version came with the cool command, Here. Now. On your knees.

Oh, yes. That might be delicious.

He pondered the choice. Went with the Look-at-me red. He didn’t want to hunt or prowl. He wanted to show up and be seen. Clothing and attitude would do the rest.

Of course he wore his usual ten rings, tonight in simple white gold without gems. Intricate, open designs that showed off his long fingers. No signet.

He couldn't resist matching silver bracelets studded with turquoise the same color as his eyes. Which cried out for his favorite silver-and-turquoise necklace with graduated stones that swept down to a broad crescent resting against his chest.

The red jacket paired with silver and turquoise jewelry invited second looks. Most likely thirds and fourths.

With the look complete, one question remained. What to wear under the outfit.

For that, he opened a few drawers organized by style and color before picking a little surprise for whichever lucky person got to see what lay beneath that leather.

Designed specifically for him, and a perfect fit.

Pink lace panties.

Once attired, Pietas left his dressing area. He gave a casual pat to the statue in the alcove outside the sleeping quarters. White marble Six stood eternal watch.

Uurah rose as he approached the door. “My lord, you look splendid.”

“Thank you.”

“Where are you going?”

“Out. For a…quiet evening.”

“Shall I accompany you, my lord?”

Pietas chuckled. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh.” Uurah bowed. “That kind of quiet.”

“Indeed. I’ll be home eventually.” He pulled on fingerless white lace gloves. “Don’t wait up.”

Visual Inspiration
This story was sparked by a visual from @loveg.ys. No artwork from the creator has been reproduced or incorporated into this story.
View the original on Instagram

Jewelry was involved. This surprises no one.

The hoverbike had more thrust than good sense. So did its owner.

The establishment asked Pietas to leave. Its owner had other ideas.

No further public documentation pending investigation.

How many incident reports exist? Consider this: Pietas is more than twelve thousand years old, and he has always been open to questionable ideas.