In Hell We Dance

Prologue: Corrupt

Maybe you and me... we can take it too far.

I remember the touch of his lips on mine, just a brush, just a spasm of ecstasy, and he was mine, and then all hell broke loose.

My necklace... her necklace falls against my chest, and I raise it to my lips, savouring it before I find his lips once more.

His hand searched, discovered, fingers walking my thigh, further still, demanding payment. The other hand held, no—forced my head into his. Our kisses become something more, something dangerous. If only he knew.

I'm a rough beast. I don't play nice. No, sir, not me. He is ravenous. I goddamn love it. Love playing rough, like some bruises, some scars. I didn't play too nice. No sir, not me. Mummy didn't raise me like that.

OK, maybe that last part was a lie, but as sins go, that's mild, baby.

Pressing him against the wall, I devour his lips, and I force his legs up. He's young, my age, maybe younger. Nineteen. Cute, like a twink. Kind of desperate for a fuck—doesn't know where his hands should go, and he's fast. He wants to be hurt, so I hurt him.

As his thighs wrap around my waist, I slam him harder against the wall, disturbing a lamp, sending it toppling to the ground. He grunts, but he's paying for this service and he will take what I give him. He's a virgin; I can tell. We play rough, and we don't apologise.

Yeah, it's about that time. I'm a tease, I play dirty, but I don't rush into things. Not when they're expecting it. No, better to take it slow, just the bare sensation against skin enough to make us both tremble. He shudders, biting his palm to suppress his moan.

"Relax, Trevor," I chuckle, pressing my forehead to his. "it's just you and me. You scream as loud as you want, baby."

Trevor looks far too giddy, and I like that. I like that a lot. You don't find a guy like Trevor every day. The others—far too stuck-up and lacking in the fun department. I took one look at this guy and knew he was a tease.

"Wait—wait!" he starts." Reaching over, he rips open his drawer and produces an adorable little cylinder of lube, squirting it across his fingers, too much, cold drops spilling across his chest, mine. His eyes dart down and I bite my lip. Do it!

He runs his glistening fingers up and down the length of my cock, looking at me expectantly, wanting me to moan for him. I don't give him that, just the beginning of a smile. Try harder, and you'll get more.

I aim young, but I often get guys in their forties—who else do you expect to find in shitty little pubs? They're pathetic horny men wanting to feel young again. So I give it to them. I give them what they want, they pay me, get me a little closer to what I want. Sometimes it's good. Through all the flabby, wrinkled skin and hair, they come inside me and I like the pain. Like it fast.

Trevor is young, smooth... Hell, maybe even a little beautiful. In the right light. Where he lacks in experience, he turns me on in ways those old bastards never could. I'm making him work for this, but I can't fucking wait to be inside him. I want to go all night. Not that he'd last.

A moan shudders from me and I silence it before it can drag on too long. Shit. I got distracted. I let him through my shield 'cause I was thinking of other men. You deserve all of me, baby. I see the flush of his cheeks, a kid who knows he's finally done something right on the big boy's table. I take the lube still clenched in his other hand and apply it to my index and middle finger. I don't even tease. I shove them into his anus, laughing wildly as he moans. His hair is slick with sweat, and as I work the lube in, getting in real deep, I watch his face painted in pure ecstasy and I fucking love it. Can I take you home and fuck you every night? It breaks nearly every rule of mine. I don't care.