The Symbol Of Darkness

①This Will Be Fun

 
Long, elegant fingers delicately coated with a musky, redolent of spring scented gel smoothed ebony soft hair to the side, parting them like the leaping water of a fountain cleaving in the air.

Those sleek fingers belonged to a slim but muscular body, tall, refined legs with juicy, mouthwatering buttocks, and a slender waist that supported a load-bearing chest with broad shapely shoulders. It lacked well-formed abs and a V line he so much desired — maybe because he relished seeing them on others and investing abundant time to feel the solid, oblong-shaped muscles and the hard lines, licking, biting, devouring them — but that was his charm.

His sooty chocolate eyes pursued his mild ministrations until his hair stood at the sides in two poofy, rakishly messy curves that embraced his temples from close range, unveiling an invitingly wide, unlined forehead.

Highly gratified by the result his dexterous hands brought him, his dark orbs descended the porcelain, glowing skin of his marvelously symmetrical face through the mirror and struck on his attire for a last inspection. A pair of black slacks enfolded his stalky legs in a loose set around his fleshy, sinewy thighs and a mite snugger one towards his ankles. It was combined with a black dress shirt patterned with oversubtle vertical stripes tucked into his slacks.

He went for an all black outfit, although he preferred having some color on him since his life didn’t have any. But the occasion didn’t allow him to be himself, anyway; he had to forget his real identity and immerse himself in an illusory one.

He was inured to transitioning between identities as if he had an imaginary switch he could flip on and off any time he wanted or had to. He was hardened to fear, pain, life itself. He was still alive because he had a purpose — he wrestled with unimaginable, sinister beasts disguised as people and harrowing situations to stay alive because of that purpose.

And his vast necessity to achieve it would keep him alive. It had to.

It was the sole reason he kept living in a world so rotten and vile, so wrongful and ruthless. But despite the veil of darkness clasping his heart, a glimmer — maybe two — of light always managed to slash through the veil and wrench the pathetic remains of his kindness out of him. That damn glimmer compelled him to always help those in need, even when he had nothing to give. He always thought it was a relic of the past, of his blissful childhood that ended at the tender age of eight when his parents were murdered in front of him.

But on the other hand, maybe he had just brought this veil himself to shroud his heart for the brute requirements to reach his purpose — to find the reason his parents had to die and who was trying to kill him even to this day — and that glimmer was his true self.

He didn’t know, and he didn’t care. Not anymore, at least.

His life was all about partying, good friends, and great sex. The comfort and bliss of mind-blowing sex was so massive that almost made him feel thankful for being alive.

But all that was within his work; he rarely had time for himself. Meeting different “targets” on the same day, getting to know them, warming them to him to extract as much information as possible, keeping contact with them. It was a lot, and the day only had twenty-four hours. He had to sleep a little, too.

Most of them were easy; they couldn’t resist his deep, alluring voice, his sultry, hole-drilling eyes, and his dazzling beauty. He didn’t have to sleep with them, but he did periodically with the ones that caught his eye, sparked something inside him, and especially if they had well-built muscles he could drool over, suck, bite, guzzle. He was addicted, and he didn’t mind one bit.

Things also grew violent sometimes. He despised his “targets” or anyone, really, forcing themselves on him in a way that made him uncomfortable or simply feel like an object. Using violence to stop them would divulge his cover, since the role of an ordinary guy he often played couldn’t have such skills. It would raise too many questions if he did.