UNHOLY - A Bad Boy Romance

by Moore, Gabi

  “Interesting,” the Dark Star said, his teeth gleaming like meteors falling out of orbit. “I wonder just how far you’re prepared to carry that commitment. How about a test?”

  I stared at him, my eyes as wide as saucers. This man looked so dangerous, and so compelling at the same time. How could I look at him and think that he was someone worth joining with? A part of my body wanted him, and there was another part of my mind that flared up in a warning sign.

  “You look dangerous,” I said, not realizing the words were coming out of my mouth.

  I was speaking without thinking. All of my filters were being dismantled, and all that was left was the raw authenticity of my lived experience. He smiled at me, though the grin was not disarming. He had the disposition of a predator about to strike. The fear in me melded with my desire, and I found myself passively accepting another kiss from his lips. His teeth bit into my lower lip, and I felt his hand around my lower back. He slid his grip down to my ass, and pushed his finger down toward my anus.

  I moaned, silently, and parted my legs for him subconsciously. The truth of my body was coming out toward him, with or without my consent. The simple observation of my body’s own response to his advances informed me about my true intentions toward the inevitable. I would let this man take me, and I would be as willing and pliable as possible. Our connection had to be governed by whatever divine will oversaw this overwhelming and beautiful reality that now flooded my senses.

  “Your body knows what it wants,” he told me, leaning in and breathing sharply toward my left ear.

  He kept his fingertip on my asshole for a moment longer, and then drew his hand back to pinch my ass cheek firmly. My fingers found his shoulders, and I allowed myself to stroke his arms. A deep breath prepared me for what was coming. I wasn’t used to this kind of direct sexual energy coming from another man, but in that moment, I knew that there was no turning back. This was part of a movement of events that was larger than myself. I had entered the field of the Now, and this man was here to greet me.

  “Right here?” I asked him, a bit of a shudder in my voice.

  He leaned back and grinned once more, so I could see my reflection in his pupils.

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he responded.

  I could tell the subtext present in his voice. There was a dare in the way that he spoke; something that called me out on a deep level, and challenged me to do something miraculous and out of the ordinary. There was a deep pain in this man — I could feel it. I wanted to touch it, and be touched by him. Intuitively I knew that our interaction was all part of a larger plan. My own insecurities here were nothing more than a test which I would have to confront in order to find that which I was truly longing to discover.

  “Let’s take this to the dance floor,” he said, though the statement was more of a command than anything else.

  He leaned forward to bite my neck. I gasped while feeling his teeth sink into my skin. His breath was hot, and the moisture of his mouth was decadent. With a softness that could only be felt in juxtaposition to the grating feeling of his teeth, I felt his lips soothe over the marks that left by his teeth. With relish, he slapped me in the ass and then walked away from our position on the roof.

  For a moment, I watched him as he headed toward the stairs once more. He looked like he was in command of the entire situation. I wanted to follow him, but the pull was operating on a subconscious level. I had fallen into his orbit, even though the process had not been unnoticed to myself. I was completely aware of my own attraction as well as the potential dangers that went along with my following this man. Fate had given me my instructions.

  I followed down the stairs as though a psychic leash was wrapped around my neck.

  The crowd was in a roar when I entered the narrow corridor which lead down to the dance floor. I was shocked at how thoroughly insulated the roof top garden had been compared to the dance floor. Both places felt like they were alive. The plants on the roof gave the rooftop a peaceful kind of serenity. The roof garden was equivocal to the mind of a zen buddhist. Entering down the spinal channel of the stairwell, I descended down to the very bottom of the building’s energetic body. Walking down toward the dance floor was like entering miasma of eroticism, energy and passion. The drugs were taking hold. I took a deep breath, as my mind reeled in the richness of my felt experience.

  The Dark Star left undone the boundary between the rooftop garden and the dance floor, except that he didn’t bother to fasten it tight once more. Already, as I followed him down, the inhabitants of the dance floor started bleeding upward into the peaceful rooftop garden. The man I followed was a disruptor -- someone who cared little for the way that things were set up in and of themselves. I could tell that this man saw things as a painter does a canvas -- I was simply a three dimensional object to be manipulated as the artist deemed fit.

  My thoughts began to grow more abstract. I alternated between expressing the sacred and the obscene. Impulses began to be the only aspect of my reality that held any true meaning. My heartbeat was synced with the hearts of the hundreds of other dancers in the room. Their sweat was my sweat. Our bodies were shared and when I stripped off my jacket and began to move to the music, I felt no shame.

  For long moments, I lost the man who had lead me down into that thick ocean of lust and emotion. Thoughts began to no longer strictly belong to myself, and the soundtrack for my own emotions quickly melded into the lyrics of the rave.

  “Ooooooh sometimes… I get a good feeling….“ the lyrics reverberated through my chest cavity.

  I began to internalize the beat as well as the overlay phaser. My spine was moving back and forth, and I bounced up and down from my waist. The changes in the music were fluidly translated into the motion of my own body. I bit my lip and got into it. The drive of the speakers and the heat of the crowd were all that I needed. I realized that for so long, I had been like a mystic in the desert. The music and the love that surrounded me was like manna from heaven. The vibes in the room were food for my soul, and I was slowly coming to the realization that I was incredibly undernourished.

  My shirt was long gone, and I had kicked off both of my shoes. I didn’t care about where the clothes went -- only that when I released them from my body while I was moving in accordance to the beat of the music; that should give you an idea about where my priorities were at the time. Whether the decision was fortunate or not, I also had the presence of mind to wrap my fingers around the package of foil that was stashed in my pocket.

  On the tumultuous dance floor, a person choosing to consume unspecified recreational street drugs was not an uncommon occurrence. There were so many people here. So many bodies, and enough empathy flowing between them that everyone’s space was respected. I could feel the love in the air, and in the way that people interacted with one another. Strangers were dancing together everywhere. More of the research chemical dissolved under my tongue while my attention drifted from one person to another.

  “There are so many beautiful people here,” I said out loud, finally allowing my pants to fall down to the floor.

  I watched the people around me laugh and smile while I disrobed. There was a strange sort of detachment for me during the whole thing. It wasn’t that I was disconnected from my body; that wasn’t true at all. In fact, I was incredibly inside of my body. More in touch with my own sense of reality than I had felt in a long time. No, the detachment was in reference to the social phenomenon which I was participating within. I literally couldn’t connect the positions of my own behavior with my imagined expectations or fears regarding others. I could feel them, and I could exist and express myself. I could empathize. I could intuitively understand someone on an energetic level -- but I didn’t let them govern how I moved my body. Something higher than all of us was in charge, and I was simply an erotic expression of that creative force.

  “A feeling I never ever ever...” the music continued.

  I had glimpsed moments like this righ
t before a delayed period of orgasm. When I was focused on my own body’s sensations, I felt alive in a whole new way. The edge of excitement, and arousal is full of awareness. Every single nerve ending is at high alert, such that the slightest touch pushes me forward into another moment of my continuous experience.

  Most of the time, I live inside of my mind. I’m generally stressed about one thing or another. The reason that I enjoy living close to a state of ecstasy is because I love to feel alive. The realization that you are conscious and present is so beautiful. To feel that way in the presence of others is a rare thing for me, which might be one of the reasons I was enjoying myself so much.

  Dancing naked seemed like something that everyone should be doing. I felt like that was a painfully obvious conclusion. We were all here to share emotional excitement. I understood that people wore clothes as a type of game to communicate to one another information about their talents, and hobbies; whether they liked to fuck or be fucked; etc. In that moment, it just seemed to me that I could tell a lot more about a person when they weren’t afraid to show a little skin.

  I was starting to work up a sweat, and my attention would shift from one body to the next. The man I had followed down here was lost to me. In the crowd, I felt like a free agent. The movements of my body began to grow increasingly sexual. There was so much power inside of my nervous system. I needed to move, or kiss, maybe even fuck something. People started to give me more space, and cheer. When I looked down, I saw that I was hard. I smiled, feeling completely natural and at ease in my own body.

  “Never had before… sometimes, I get a good feeling, yeah.”

  Just then, someone approached me from behind. I felt their hands on either side me. Eight fingers pulled into my hip bones, and two thumbs pushed firmly on the top of each ass cheek. The hands pulled me closer, and I felt my body rub up against another. I didn’t want to turn around. A part of my consciousness closed up, and I shut my eyes. My spine moved back and forth in serpentine motions, while I rubbed the crack of my ass over the shaft pressing into me. The cock was still bound by fabric, but the material was thin, and the bulge was obvious.

  I didn’t need to look behind me to know who was there. I could feel him psychically. The same presence that I felt on the rooftop was pushing itself into my body. It might have been his hands more than anything that tipped me off. Not that I looked at them. I didn’t dare open my eyes. Not yet anyway. It was the feeling of his hands on my body. I had felt them before, and I knew how much desire they contained. The music was a reflection of our souls, and the beat was getting low and dirty.

  Heat was exchanged fluidly between our bodies in the form of sweat and kinetic energy. His hands traced along the sides of my body. I felt fingers pinching at my chest, and teeth pulling at my earlobes. Every kiss he gave me was edged with teeth, and in my heightened state of sensitivity, I felt every grating scratch on the surface of my skin.

  He put his fingers in my mouth, digging back into my cheek and stretching my lips out in front of me. With his other hand, he forced open my eyes so I could watch the response of the crowd.

  “You don’t want to miss this,” he yelled into my ear so I would hear over the thumping bass. “This is your moment of glory.”

  The sound hurt my ears. Everything was so overwhelming that I felt like the environment itself was rising up and threatening to fuck me. With my eyes pried open, I could see men touching themselves while staring at my cock. I looked down and watched as the hand that was wet with my saliva began to stroke me. The grip was firm, and clutched at the base of my dick, pushing down into my crotch and straining the skin on the head. Accepting the agony as a form of beauty, I let the pain roll through my nervous system.

  I leaned back into him, and hooked my thumbs into the front of his pants. Pulling them down around his thighs. When his cock popped out of his pants, I felt him press against the sweat on my ass cheeks. All of this movement and heat provided a slick surface for him. My hands left his pants, and were immediately drawn to his penis. The feeling of his cock on my body was nice, but the movement was even more enjoyable. I never stopped dancing, not even once. In consequence, I could feel my own muscular burn in concert with his desire.

  We shared a fierce and beautiful synergy, I felt.

  The energy of the crowd filled up the spaces around us, so that we were completely encircled on the dance floor.

  All of my perceptions of reality were threatening to overwhelm me. Each movement of my body was a component in a larger sexual motif. The longer I participated, the more transparent my feelings became. In that moment, I was losing track of which feelings were my own, and which feelings belonged to the crowd of onlookers -- all eager for a show. Knowing there was no other place to run, I turned to face my lover to be.

  Chapter 5: Stoker

  With an attitude like only I could manage to pull off, I kicked my pants off into the crowd. I was in my element; there was no other way to put it. I had this little fucker begging for my cock, and I didn’t even have to try.

  “Thank you Thomas,” I thought to myself while leaning in to bite his thin, pale neck.

  I sunk my teeth in with relish, and savored the pressure in my jaw. His blood was only protected by a thin layer of skin. The wilder part of me enjoyed the thought of sinking through and drawing some of that precious liquid out from within his veins. Fortunately, some things remain fantasy, yet others become manifest according to the will I allocate to them. While I thought it might be nice to watch him suffer, I knew it would be more enjoyable to watch him writhe and moan as I shoved my cock into his asshole.

  “You’ll suffer,” I whispered. “You’ll suffer, but it will be in the way that I demand. I’m in control.”

  Poor little wimp couldn’t manage much more than a moan in reply. I had him wrapped around my finger, and to drive the point home I stuck two fingers down his throat once more. I had two objectives:

  First: I wanted to own his body and soul.

  Second: I wanted to have him beg me for more.

  From the sound of things, I was already halfway there. What made the experience all the more decadent was that the crowd was all watching the process unfold. Fifty or more pairs of eyes were trained on my prowess. In that moment, I was a celebrity, and he was my fucktoy.

  At first, I had simply indulged in the sweat on our bodies. The mere sight of my prey working himself up into a lather over my touch was enough to drive me to heat. Sure, I did a bit of dancing, but dancing is for people who don’t have someone to fuck yet. With this desperate, sweaty ass rubbing against my cock I had no more need for pre-mating rituals. My cock slid on his skin with an element of grace that made me grin. The joy for me was in the dichotomy of the the experience. My thick cock was about to violently pillage my victim’s asshole; all the while, here he was rubbing himself into me with his eyes closed.

  “Fucking virgins,” I thought to myself, closing one hand around his neck and the other around his cock. “I know what you like.”

  Pulling at the base of his cock while slowly increasing pressure around his neck I felt him moan. I was impressed, to be honest with you. His passion must have been strong, because the music was drowning almost everything out in one persistent beat. A moan like that came from deep inside of a person. Anyone whose body vibrated with the sound of their own desire was ready to be fucked. I was happy to oblige.

  Releasing my hand on his cock, I slid my fingers around the side of his sweat soaked thighs. He had some hair, but the hair was thin, and the sweat was thick on my fingers. I could feel the slippery substance adhere to the tips of my fingers like it was offering itself to me. Wanting still more, I shoved my fingers briefly in the back of his throat.

  “Taste your own desire, you whore,” I whispered, pressing down on his tongue. “This is why I’m going to fuck you. I’m going to own your body because you’re too much of a slut to know better.”

  He gagged, and I smiled, feeling his struggle throat under the pressur
e of my fingers.

  Naturally, I wanted him on the floor so I could pound the life out of his tender asshole, but I did my best to restrain myself. After all, I found it was usually a better practice to drag these things out as long as possible. The agony of anticipation made the final arrival all the more worthwhile. I had been an exhibitionistic performer before, but never to such a large audience. This was a prime opportunity to show this crowd exactly how vicious I could be. If things went right, I might have a new, eager asshole lined up for me every night of the week.

  Drawing my finger out from his mouth, while still maintaining a firm grip on his neck, I spread his legs wider with the back of my hand. I had to shift my position so that my other hand wrapped around the back of his neck, but I was alright with a brief change. Besides, the new position helped provide me with enough leverage to bend him over at the waist. My hand shifted positions once more as we settled into our new posture. It was easier to grab at the roots of his hair and yank. I had more control this way, and could lead him around like a mare if I was so inclined. No.