Transgressions

Gluttony

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️

Might contain some sexual content. All those who wish to skedaddle please know the sexual references are only a few sentences as this is my first time writing gay sexual content..so please humour me.

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Drake was a man of many talents. He excelled in everything he put his mind to, from culinary skills to flying choppers, there was not much he couldn't do. But Drake had a fatel flaw, his hunger. He hungered for food, for drugs and every other addiction. Why, Debauchery himself had complimented this quality in Drake.

"You and I are special, we have a desire deep within us that can not be quenched", said Debauchery as he stroked Drake's shoulder, his mouth mere inches away. Drake knew he was in trouble the first day he set his sights on that swaggering fool.

Drake adjusted his top hat as he entered the abandoned building. It was the year 1835 and Marie Tussaud had just moved her infamous wax museum known as Madame Tussaud's to a permanent location in Baker Street, London, yesterday. His tail coat hung behind him as he climbed the creaking flight of stairs. One could sense the eery feeling of being watched as the old wooden carvings looked to be inhabited by something dark.

It wasn't that Drake enjoyed exploring old haunted buildings, rather, he prefered long winter walks and sunny adventures in the countryside. It was the stories that had spoken to him, stories that seemed to hint of the birth of a new host. A host of a Sin. When the spirit of a Sin chose a new host, the host would begin to leave a trail of 'stories'.

For Drake, it was the whispers of entire villages eating their winter rations in a fortnight or the myths of glorious plants that made you feel ecstasy at a gulp. The stories Drake was hearing seemed.. debaucherous. Naked women and men who woke up not knowing where they were, wine bottles filled with the most expensive drugs and the remains of an orgy. Now, as Drake walked up these horrid steps, he wondered why he bothered.

Debauchery wouldn't choose a haunted house to have a revel, a soddy wine celler perhaps, or a prostitution house. Even below deck on a ship with expensive cocaine and tobacco. But an old rustic Victorian house? A dusty staircase with nothing but cobwebs and doll houses? Drake climbed the last flight of steps, to the fourth floor.

"There is a rumour that the floor calls to the lustful and the drunkards.. there was a person who was caught dressed in nothing but thier inner garments, they seemed to come from a revel. Quite scandalous, if I do say so. They kept blabbering about a man who showed them extreme sexual ecstasy.", said a woman fanning her face as her long nose drooped as she shared the morsel of gossip.

"Who was this woman? The one blabbering about the man? Where does she stay?", said Drake. The woman blushed, giggled and then laid a hand on Drake's shoulder and leaned close.

"It was not a woman.", she answered, eyebrows raised.

"A man? A pansy?"

"Yes. But you did not hear it from me."

And with that, she left Drake with his mouth hanging, her silks swishing away as she departed.

Drake carefully creeped into the open door down the foyer to the right. A faint sound of sobbing began to drift into the foyer. Someone was weeping. It was a soft, but heartbreaking sound, a boyish cry that ended with deep breaths. It spoke of both pain and anger. Drake knew exactly why.

He rounded at the corner to find the most handsome boy he ever laid eyes on. He had a very plain face, except for his mouth, which was puffy and pink. His lean body was curled up in itself and his sandy blonde hair fell over a tear streaked face. He did not have the perfectly angular features most people looked for, but he was handsome. He was handsome because of the way he carried himself, his tone, his voice, his eyes. Those beautiful lips. All spoke of a person so unique it shook Drake's inner being and called to him. All he wanted to do was wrap up this boy in his arms and kiss his worries away.