It is a narrow, but crowded street, littered with dark alleys and people scattered here and there, spilling out of and into the clubs that line the sidewalks. Music of every sort filters out of open and closed doors alike.

‘Let me whisper in your ear.’

I watch the internal battle with your choice rage in the small nuanced movements of your face. Your angel and devil have taken up the gauntlet and now fight for what you know and what you feel. Your ‘better’ judgment is set against me, your emotion tilts my way every time. You want to know what it is I will tell you. You want to feel my breath on the delicate shell of your ear. You want to listen to my voice as it echoes down your spine and eventually spills into your blood.

I hear the intake and exhale of your breath and I know that you’ve decided against your mind and taken up my dark offer. Even as you settle your palm into my own, I can almost taste your rapid heartbeat on my tongue, nearly feel the thickness of your blood, sticky and sweet, moistening my skin. I can smell the subtle changes in your body as the warm, dry heat of my hand closes around your cooler fingers. I am intoxicated by the jasmine I detect in your perfume. It surrounds us, a lingering note in the air, evanescent, evasive.

Finding those dark corners is never hard for us. This time is no different. Our faces and bodies fall into shadow. The only light that shines catches the edge of your shoes, a red so dark it borders on black. It is a punctuation to a greater sentence that remains unseen and as yet, unspoken. I catch your gaze and wonder at the trick of the light that allows me to detect gold in your eyes and the movement they make to adjust. Your pupils push wider until nearly all the color has disappeared, framed by a band of gold which catches my attention.

My palm find your cheek and you turn your face into it, nuzzling it the way that you do. I can feel your breath exhale against it and linger, moist and cool until my skin absorbs it. I know I’ll remember the feel of your lips after this is done. You make this soft noise of contentment which catches in your throat the moment I close my fingers around your face and hold it still. You don’t move, but the change in your breathing screams that I have the entirety of your attention.

I lower my face to yours, but my eyes look off of the side where a couple lingers too close to our space, our private arena. I wait until they leave and lean closer. My fingers hold you still, and you haven’t moved despite, I suspect, an increasing desire too do so. Your eyelashes beat against my palm. I inhale deeply by your ear and let out the breath in a low, rumbling noise that vibrates the air. My tongue slowly traces along the curve of your earlobe and I feel the shudder of your body. Such a simple gesture and yet I see the goosebumps erupt that over your skin.

Silence is broken only by the whisper of clothing, of skin upon skin and breath, exhaled in shuddered sighs.

‘Are you listening, pet?’ My fingers release your face and I kiss you without allowing you a moment to adjust to the absence of my control. It is an almost violent meeting and I feel the sudden sharp pain of your nails in my shoulder. I break the kiss just as quickly and stare at you a long moment before my eyes narrow. I feel my shirt sticking to the wound you’ve just inflicted and my lip curls into a snear, even as I push the offending hand away and press it against the brick wall.

The movement is harder than I intend, but even as I hear the whimper of pain, acknowledge it, it excites me. I force your hand even more against the brick. Your other hand follows with a sharp, vicious jerk of mine. Small movements of my hand rock back and forth over yours and draw those sounds I desire from you. When that broken cry of rage breaks, despite your unwillingness to share it, I hiss in response, ‘Yesss…’

It is a fever that plays out between us. My shoulder burns where you marked it, and as I drag the backs of your hands across the brick, I pay it back two-fold. Your eyes are glossy, but stubbornness tattoos your jaw. You are angry you allowed me that satisfaction of hearing your cry. You are angry that you were lured by seduction, by your own curiosity, your own inability to tell me no. You are angry that even as the backs of your hands bruise and bleed, you want more. I feel the jerk on my hold and tighten my grip in response. You aren’t getting away.

I watch your tongue dart out to assuage the lingering ache upon your lip and a smile slowly forms on my mouth. Even I recognize it as mocking, challenging. My hands move yours above your head and a split second after I realize that one is loose, the strike has landed against my face and your palms have shoved me away. You are running deeper into the alley. Your shadow, long and dark, is the only thing of you that touches me as I move to follow your fleeing figure.

I watch you round a corner, and follow with unhurried steps. This wasn’t a random choice to bring you here, no last minute decision. You are trapped. Caged. I know it. You do not.

I can hear your footsteps as I move closer to the square where you stand. I wonder at the animal you’ll become when you recognize that you are at what mercy I have to offer you.

The utility light does nothing but create shadows in the small square. We are utterly out of view of anyone, our noise, your noise, rather, quite incapable of penetrating the vibrating walls of the clubs around us. It only serves to enhance the sound of your heels on the pavement and my heavier steps behind you.

I watched the fear roll across her face as she backed into the corner of the room. I could taste her pulse on my tongue, a rapidly beating thing, and I wanted more of it. She was trapped, captured. I waited for her to run, but she simply held her palms out, as if to hold me off, before she sank down, her back against the wall, and huddled into a ball.

Her eyes were staring at me over the fold of her arms, as I pulled off the jacket and tossed it onto the bed. She missed nothing, I could feel her glossy stare burrowing into my skin. When I turned, she gasped and caught sight of the holster which kept my gun neatly tucked beneath my arm. She shook her head rapidly and I arched a brow.

‘Afraid?’

She stopped moving at my question. Her eyes followed me, but more accurately, followed the gun as I walked past her and sat on the edge of the bed. I leaned forward and pulled the 9-mm from its holster, moving it from one hand to the other. I removed the magazine and ran my fingers over the two bullets showing at the top before shoving the clip back in. I watched her jump at the noise, and smiled as I pulled the slide and heard the click as a bullet slid into the chamber. My eyes fell upon her, dead as winter.

‘Close your eyes.’

I could hear her swallow and see the wave of fear that choked her before she acquiesced. I wasn’t sure if she knew that tears had began to fall from the closed curtain of her lashes. I walked to her and crouched. When my hand touched the side of her face, she jerked, but when the cold metal of the gun kissed her cheek, she sobbed out violently, ‘Oh god.’

I moved the gun along her cheek and my other hand slipped under her chin, tilting it upward. Her body began to rack with sobs and when I spoke, they suspended for a briefest of moments. ‘Open your mouth.’

A low sound of alarm escaped her, a warring between fighting me and fighting herself. She seemed suspended, frozen and I lowered my voice until it came out in a warm, seductive tone. ‘Open your mouth, pet. Take it in. Be my good little girl.’

Her eyelids fluttered and she seemed to calm before parting her lips slightly. I pressed the barrel of the gun in just a fraction. My voice was still low, almost a whisper, buttery soft. ‘Good girl, that’s it.’

The barrel slid just a fraction more across her tongue, her body shaking violently as she countered her instinct. Her throat jerked and her lips closed over the tip and I wondered if she were going to be ill. Still, my voice continued in her ear, ‘Suck, pet. Suck on it like you would my cock.’

Her eyes opened and narrowed. I saw the spark of rebellion finally find her. I shoved the gun further in and it quieted as her fear took over again. Her cheeks hollowed as she began to draw on the metal. I could feel the moist escape of her breath, make out each measure of stolen air. I pulled the gun from her mouth and smiled as she opened her eyes. I pointed the gun towards the floor and there was a soft click as I slid the safety into place.

I read the confusion as it passed over her eyes and a soft laugh escaped me. Anger began to settle into her face as the fear waned. I stood and walked over to my dresser, placing the weapon there before removing the leather holster. I glanced over my shoulder and saw her slowly rising out of the corner. ‘You never…were going to do anything?’

I shrugged out of my oxford shirt and tossed it over the club chair to my left. ‘No. I’m quite partial to you.’

She seemed to process my answer for a moment and took a step towards me. Her eyes searched mine, her own were still puffy, glossy. ‘You…you were so angry.’

‘It was an illusion.’

Her hands settled on her hips. ‘So, you lied to me.’

I smirked and stared at her. ‘You think me capable of murder. Which is worse?’

[I’ll state the obvious and say to those out there…that no one should ever play with a loaded gun.]

I look up from my desk and I want nothing more than to see you standing there, smiling at me, offering me some reprieve from this work induced hell. I’ve signed my soul over, leased it out as rental property of this company for 18 months, and if I’m truthful with myself, most likely another two years after that. Some days it is more tolerable than others. Some days the pill I take isn’t as
jagged, or doesn’t poison my blood as quickly.

But there are also these days. These days when I can see nothing but a forecast of gray stretching onto eternity and I long to reach up and part the clouds. It is the monotony that makes it drag on. I do better with emergencies. I like the urgency, it makes my blood hot. Excites me.

And today I want nothing more than to see you, smell your perfume.

When I pick up the phone, I feel a tingle go down my back and a smile grace my mouth when you whisper my name. My hand tightens on the receiver and I walk to my office door and close it with my foot.

‘How was the flight?’ I ask, if for nothing else than to hear you complain about it in that sultry voice that never fails to stir me.

‘Does it matter?’ You reply and I recognize how much I’ve rubbed off on you. That is one of my answers. Your voice lowers an octave. ‘I miss you, D.’

Can you hear the smile I make when you say that?

‘Do you?’ Is my answer, tinged with the good humor that has suddenly found me. ‘You just saw me yesterday.’ I glance at the red, blinking light on the phone and realize a call is holding for me. I ignore it.

You make that mewling sound you do when you want something and think that being cute will get it for you. It works more often than I would like. ‘Too long.’

‘You’ll be back soon.’ My eyes dart to the blinking light and I try to keep from reaching for it. I know who it is, what it is. Work.

‘I want to fuck you, right now.’

I blink at the unexpected turn and my attention is focused totally on you. I’m silent for a long moment but it is more from stunned silence than anything else. I let out my breath and realize that I was holding it. I still say nothing.

‘I’m wet D. Fuck me.’

‘Are you?’

I hear the sound of movement and the soft crinkle of crisp linens as you stir.

‘Mmmmm, yes.’ The purring noise causes an almost inhuman reflex in my stomach. ‘Fuck me D, please.’

I let out a soft sound that was supposed to be a laugh, but never quite reached my vocal chords. ‘I have work to do.’

‘You have me to do.’ Your persistence is wearing away at me. I can feel each word echo in my cock, which begins to stir. ‘Please, Ma-ster.’ Your deliberate emphasis on each syllable makes me grit my teeth and I write a small x on the corner of my desk calendar under today’s date.

‘Mm.’ I make the noise, and turn my back on the door to my office. The windows are a floor to ceiling deal, but they are tinted to provide privacy. ‘I thought of you this morning.’

Even if you can’t hear my smile, I can hear yours and almost see the goose bumps that trail over your skin with pleasure. ‘Oh yea?’ I note the change in your voice and let out a low rumbling sound.

‘Indeed, I did.’ It’s almost a growl when I say it. ‘I reached for you this morning and missed the feeling of your skin. I wanted to bury myself inside you. Fuck you.’

That soft sound of breath suspends briefly and you let out this low mmmm. ‘I would have liked that. I like having you fuck me awake.’ You pause. ‘I wish you were here now. I want to taste you.’

‘I wouldn’t let you.’

‘Aw, why not?’

‘Because you want too, and I like to deny you.’ I note the caller has hung up and I lean back in my chair and close my eyes. ‘Close your eyes, pet.’

I hear you exhale. ‘Yes, Sir.’

‘Comfortable?’

‘No,’ you say, ‘I’m miserable here. I want to be home.’

‘You’re home right now, right here.’ I take a deep breath and dive in. ‘That bed you are on is ours. The morning hasn’t come yet and you are still buried beneath the covers. I’m next to you. Your face is resting on my stomach.’

‘Mmmm. You’re so warm. I’m stirring, but unwilling to wake up just yet. I know you’ll go when I open my eyes.’

‘You never want to wake up. I’m up though, staring at the ceiling, and I start to move the covers aside. I feel your grip tighten around my waist.’

‘I say, “Don’t go yet, baby.”‘

‘I lay back against the bed and pull you up a bit. Your head appears from under the covers and your hair is all fucked up, in a tangled mess, and I smooth it back. My arms slide around you.’

‘And I bury my face in your shoulder.’

‘My fingers slide into your hair and tighten, pulling your head back. I give you a kiss and I feel your arms slide around me. My cock, already quite awake, pushes against your thigh.’

‘Mmm. I want you inside me.’

‘Soon enough. My fingers trail along your side and around, tracing the crack of your ass before going lower, lightly grazing your cunt. My mouth has moved to your neck, and I’m leaving small bites and kisses along your skin. I move my hips against you slightly and growl.’

‘Yes, D. My hand reaches for your cock. Wraps around it. I want to part my thighs, but I can’t. I don’t want to lose your touch. Frustrated it isn’t more.’

“I push myself into your hand and my hand moves around your hip and slides between your thighs. You’re already wet. My fingers trace around your clit, avoiding it before sinking lower and finally pushing inside you. Opening you. My cock jerks against your fingers in response.’

‘C’mon, please. It’s been so long.’

‘I move my fingers from you and move you back against the bed. My other hand pulls your fingers from me and I push it back against the pillows. The covers are puddled around my waist, and I move above you, settling between your thighs.’

Your voice is a breathy whisper, ‘I lift my hips against you. “Fuck me,” I say, “fuck me, please.”‘

‘I move and reach between us, staring down at your beautiful face. My cock is hard, I’m aching to be inside you. I slide the head against your sex, and you’re so fucking wet, so hot. The arm that keeps me from falling on you shakes. I’m starting to sweat, but I still slide my cock head along your slit. I can feel you moving and your words just make me want to sink in.’

‘Please, D, Master, please. I’ve been good. I’m clawing at your shoulders, can’t help it.’

‘And suddenly I thrust in. It isn’t smooth, but soon I’m deep in your cunt. I close my eyes for a long moment and enjoy the feeling of stretching you. Opening you. I start to move. It begins slow, but builds quickly. I hear those sexy little noises from your mouth, feel how your hand clutch at my hips. And those fucking wet noises between your thighs.’

‘I’m squeezing you. My legs are wrapped around your hips. I love how you feel, I’m so exposed. Jesus, Dae. I just want you harder. Faster. I say it.’

‘My hips slap against yours. I can feel a bead of sweat roll down my back. Feel how sensitive the head of my cock is to every squeeze of your tight cunt. I move harder against you, the bed shakes as we push against one another. You hold onto me like you are trying to melt into my skin. I can hear you crying out, open mouthed, against my chest.’

‘I’m so close. Mmmm. Yes, yes. Fuck me.’

‘Every muscle in my body is screaming, my balls tighten, and the urgency increases… I watch your face, your eyes squeezed shut and shift ever so slightly so that my cockhead finds that spot. It’s then that I feel your nails, see you freeze, suspended like you do…I’m flooded then, surrounded, milked by the snug squeeze of your pussy.’

I hear you let out a soft cry on the other end of the phone, and squeeze my eyes tighter shut. My cock is rock hard, and I press my palm against it though my suit, stroking the length. I’m fighting the urge to give in with you.

‘I shove into you then and jerk as the first flood of come jets out of me into the warm, milking walls of your cunt. Heat, its to fucking hot I can’t think of anything but the sensation. The liquid rush of my seed spilling into your belly. I’m still moving, just a bit, back and forth. I can feel the juice leaking out of you onto the sheets. Tension eases slightly from my shoulders.’

‘I love how it feels, you feel. Oh God. Mmm. D, I love you. I love you.’

My voice is rough. ‘I love you, pet.’

‘I miss you so much sometimes.’

‘I know, baby.’

‘I want to be home.’

‘You’re home now, just a little distanced from me.’

‘I guess I am.’

There is a long pause of silence.

‘D?’

‘Yes?’

‘Take time for yourself.’

‘As soon as I can see you.’

It isn’t the sexiest of settings, I realize, sitting there on the deck, looking over the backyard which faces that beautiful lake. The sun is too bright. It hasn’t set behind any mountain as it would have in Colorado, or escaped behind clouds as it would have in Germany. We are in Texas, and Texas, my love, is the home of big sky - miles and miles of sky seen in any direction. Still the music from the stereo we had built into the stone countertop makes me want to dance with you. Some jazz cd, no doubt from my collection.

The grill still smells like a grill - smoke still smoldering there quietly before being lifted into the same breeze which blows the hair across your face and only allows me brief glimpses at the smile you offer me. The wind is cool, offering the slightest of contrasts to the warmth that beats at my back and keeps my skin golden. And that dress, something you would wear in summer, all covered in flowers and fitted in that graceful way that keeps me guessing and teases me at the same time. It flutters around your knees as you gather plates and leave me to the company of the other men.

I wonder at the division of the sexes as we sit, three of us, talking absently with one another as each of our gazes follow you three around the outdoor kitchen. You are laughing, huddled in that group that speaks of closeness, casting glances over your shoulder.

We remain thus for a while, split, each of us cloistered to our own world of masculine or feminine secrets. There is a break in the music, but it goes unnoticed until the lulling notes of our song spill across the deck. I pause, mid-sentence, and glance at you only to see you watching me. A quiet smile plays briefly at my lips and I rise, walking over to you. My palm is open and you slide your hand into mine, your other sliding over my shoulder with artful grace.

My arm slides around you and you stiffen. I am reminded of the marks which line your hips and thighs in vibrant shades of red, blue and purple. For some reason I laugh and you echo it - it is our secret from these people, close, but not in that world with us, not in that unique circle where pleasure and pain mingle.

I pull you closer, but gently, and I am rewarded with your breath on my neck as you relax against me. My lips brush against your temple as we sway, hardly able to do much more than that. Minutes stretch on into infinity.

The sun is lower now and when I open my eyes, I hear the quiet sound of wind rolling off of the lake. The others are curled against each other, watching the water, or something off into the distance. Their way of giving us privacy I suppose. You lift your head and your fingers brush over the crinkled skin around my eyes. It isn’t until then I realize that I’m smiling.

What grace has given me…

EDITORS NOTE: Ah, this would have fallen into the category of unfinished works were it not for the fact that N finished it for me. I mentioned this to N a little while back and sent her my portion of this brief tale and she, after declaring how I never showed my playful side in my writing, took on the task of completing it. I checked my email and my response to the portion of the piece was:

And somehow I expected it to end with fucking. Emotional slut that
you are made it girly and sweet.

You charm me.

Love you,
D

I never posted the piece, for which she put forth the effort to complete, and, even though she is currently angry with me (Over something whose fault is at both of our feet) I decided to post it. It is, after all, sweet.
_______________________________________________________________
He could smell her before she even came into his line of sight. He was standing on the same wall next to the entrance and so when he turned his head, she still hadn’t found him in the crowd. He could see her brow knit just before her eyes lit on him and a smile replaced the worried look.

‘That’s why I should have picked you up at work.’ He said just before leaning down to take the kiss she offered. He felt her hands curl around his neck and met her gaze.

‘That takes away all my chances to pick up other men.’ She jabbed, but wrinkled her nose to soften the tone. He slid his hands across the curve of her ass and pulled her up against him. The kiss he gave her was territoral and would have normally been reserved for a moment of privacy.

She pulled back first, her cheeks stained pink, and he felt her arms melt away from his shoulders. His, however, remained in place a moment longer before finally releasing. He felt the material of her skirt hang on his ring before quickly being pulled free by her hands.

‘D, stop it. I don’t have a whole lot of room to spare in this outfit.’ She stepped back and turned around for him. It was an understatement, she had nothing to spare. The denim skirt she wore was barely able to cover her ass and seemed to even sit low on her hips. His fingers splayed wide would be about the same length, thumb to tip. Her top, backless, was held on only by three, thin strands of material. He could see the points of her nipples pressing against the fabric.

‘Jesus. Let’s skip the concert.’ He responded, feeling a familiar weight settle into his crotch. The pleased smile she gave him then was worth the 30 minutes he had waited there for her.

She laughed at the remark, but he could see her silently assess his face to determine just how serious he was. People were swarming around them when he took her hand and headed into the arena. He pulled her into the haven of his shoulder as they pushed through the crowd to find the general area of their seats. It was crowded and the opening act was just finishing.

He pulled her in front of him so that he could shelter her from the increasing crush of people around them. A few minutes later a familiar beat started and conversation became useless. The roar of the crowd was deafening. The beat of the music vibrated the cement under their feet. A fight started a few rows in front of them and he kept an eye on the participants before they were removed by security. It was a typical concert.

He could feel the tshirt he wore sticking to his skin. It was almost hypnotic, the way the crowd rolled in waves to the beat. She was no different, her body pressing back against him in tune with the beat. He doubted she was aware the havoc she was creating in him. His hands went around her waist and pulled her back against him as his hips rolled forward. If she were unclear, the movement defined the extent of his lust. She looked back over her shoulder and offered him a kiss. As he bent his head forward, he felt her fingers milking him through his jeans. He stopped just before he kissed her in surprise and then kissed her that much harder.

His hands slipped down over her flat belly and the brief expanse of her skirt before finding her mound. Her sound of surprise was drowned in his mouth and under the roar of the crowd, which seemed to dim in contrast to the pulse which sounded in his head. He ground his palm against the silk covered sex and pushed himself against her hand. He broke the kiss and stared at her before releasing his touch on her. He moved to the left and grabbed her hand firmly, pulling her through the crowd that pushed towards the stage.

‘The concert.’ He heard her yell from behind him, but remained at a steady pace, pushing aside bodies in an effort to get to a door. ‘D, the concert!’ She said a little louder this time, tugging on his grip slightly.

He looked back and shook his head. ‘Fuck the concert.’

The air was suffocating around them, stale. It only increased his desire to be away. He pulled her close to his side as they cleared the long hallway leading from the arena and reached down to adjust himself with a little discression. She caught the movement.

‘There’s no hiding that.’ She said with a smirk.

———— N takes over here.

She lifted her gaze from his adjusting hand to his steely eyes, and unable
to tamp down the soft laughter, it erupted in singsong peals and filled the
corridor around them.. somehow shifting the mood a bit. Her eyes full of
mischief, she circled him once, twice and then she playfully hopped onto his back,
her forearm slashing across his throat that some would find it a quite
menacing movement and her long legs instinctively twined around his waist.

With a cant to his head to one side, a look she was familiar with, one that
spoke volumes and said something along the lines of ” Slut, What are you
doing?”

By this time she didn’t care about her skirt, and the draft that seemed to
be caressing and teasing her in a most delicious way. All she knew and could
think about was him. The man that held her .. held her physically and
emotionally on so many levels he couldn’t possibly know the full extent of it.

She buried her face against the hollow of his neck, her arms tightening
around him and she swallowed the lump that formed in her throat at her wayward
thoughts. Her lips brushed against the delicate shell of his ear and she
whispered to him, and to him alone as if no one other than they existed. ” I love
you, D. I love you with all that I am.”

Her lips curled into a huge, beaming smile as his reply resonated through
her - an answer so like him. ” I know.”

Cry, oh God, Cry. Damn it. Just do it, break, I’m tired of pushing you tonight, just allow those silvery drops to fall. I feel the frustration building at your resistance and I hate the urge I have to strike - you’ve done nothing other than what you do any other night.