In Hell We Dance

Feisty

-Isaac-

You know what I love 'bout cardboard boxes? Smashing the shit out of 'em.

I let out a volley of abuse, obliterating all that stands in my way. Connor flinches, but I don't give a damn. I give one last kick for good measure, and the last crumpled box skids to a halt against the far wall.

Panting, I circle like a wolf, wiping at my nose. I take a drag of my cigarette and blow smoke above me, folding my arms above my head, restless. I feel in the mood to get wasted. Get high. Get anywhere but here.

"Fuck!" I roar, flexing out, a King Kong in this Hell I call home. "You sure?"

I pivot sharply, angling on Connor. He shrugs, leaning back against the bar top.

"Yes. It's not easy finding guys, especially ones not already in my dad's pocket. Don't need him catching wind of what we're doing here. Discretion is not always easy to buy." The beginning of a snarl forms, but he steps closer, fanning the flames with an easy smile. "Don't worry, I'm gonna give this new guy a ring later. He'll be able to sort out all the lighting. And he's relatively cheap too."

"Can we get colour ones, like—the ones that spin and hit you with reds and greens?"

Connor nods like it's no big deal.

I grunt my approval, dropping the pacing, my heart no longer a jackhammer. In this light, Connor looks drop-dead gorgeous.

I'd like to snort some coke along his chest. You think he's secretly into that shit? He's fallen for a beast like me, so he really isn't standing on any moral high ground no more. He's mine.

I take another drag and exhale, offering it to Connor. He frowns and I shrug, one more puff before flicking it to the ground. You can give me that look all you want, babe; I'm gonna crack you. Cigarettes are only the gateway to so much more good shit. I bridge the gap between us, snatching his arm, smashing my lips into his, forcing my tongue down his throat. He used to complain about the taste of tobacco and ash. Not anymore. He likes it, I know it. I want him. Now.

I thrust my pelvis against him, one hand gripping his hair, the other his ass cheek. He can't resist. No one does.

I force him back, to the counter, wrestling at his pants, all the while, keeping at our dance of lips. I don't bother stripping down. I slide in, and don't ease up. Connor screams, but he's learned long ago that it's not all that bad. So I don't slow, I don't hold back.

"Isaa... I... Come on. Not—"

"Shut your fucking mouth."

Faster. Always faster. His arms lay spread-eagled against the counter, holding on for dear life. I thrust harder then I've ever dared. And he slaps me.

It's not that hard, but the shock of it is what gets me. I stumble back, pants falling to my feet, member erect.

"What the fuck was that for?" I growl.

"That was t-too much, Isaac. I get you're... horny twenty-four-seven, but that doesn't mean I'm always willing."

"Don't give me that. You don't like it?"

"No. Of course. Of course, I do." He narrows his eyes, but I can see him fighting back a blush. "But I wasn't in the mood to take it that far. You have to respect that."

I snort. "You didn't raise a fuss—didn't try and stop me."

"I didn't know how far you'd go."

Bitch slapped me, but he bears the mark of the disgraced fool. I force my jeans back up, and step forward, bearing down on him. Taking his collar, I force my lips half an inch from his, but I don't kiss. No, I show him my fangs.