Paragomania

[8]

The man's sweaty chest was moving with each ragged breath he took. There was something animalistic about his movements. Ainsley could imagine if the man growled. There was an interesting feeling growing in his stomach. He had felt this before but it was so much stronger now. His pants felt tight, as did his lungs. He was sweating in his coat and trying desperately to remain quiet through his growing discomfort. The couple several rows ahead made another squeaky moaning sound.

You glanced over at Ainsley. His face was a burning red, with his mouth slightly open, letting out barely audible whimpers. His breathing was rather ragged, and you looked down to see his tent pitched and his hand rubbing his thigh aggressively. He wasn't masturbating by any means, but this was certainly... something. He was probably a virgin, honestly. It wouldn't shock you. An asshole plan formed in your head. You smirked devilishly and leaned in close to him.

Ainsley was suddenly aware of your breath on his neck, sending shivers down his spine.

"Careful," you whispered softly. "You're whimpering like a dog."

Ainsley's whole body froze up. Not in fear, but in some other, extremely weird feeling. It was like his stomach was filling up with lava, and his own body was pressing into him. It was awful, but he didn't want it to stop.

You pulled away. He couldn't feel your breath. The sex scene was over, back to the plot.

Ainsley could imagine what it would be like to be on top of you like that. He would growl like a dog as his sweat dripped onto your body. He would worship you like a god. Then the thought dawned upon him. What would you look like naked?

The thought permeated through his mind like an infection. What would you look like with your face twisted like that character? What would it be like to smell your sweat, to taste your skin, to feel your movements? Pure ecstasy, he assumed, like the narrator over the movie described it. These thoughts were filled with shame. How could he think these things about the Paragon? But it didn't matter. The shame just made it so much more intriguing.

There was something about what you said about the couple, bouncing on each other.

'I can't believe they're doing that in public'. Ainsley wondered if other people would be ashamed of him to see him touching you in public. What shame was there in pleasing a god? Would your squeaks be even louder than hers? He wanted to know. He was desperate for that knowledge, and it seemed like the thoughts were firmly planting themselves.

The movie ended. It couldn't have been a long movie. It blipped by in a flash.

"God," you groaned as you stepped outside. You stretched out your arms way above your head. "What a dumb movie. That ending made no sense." Ainsley hadn't even realised there was much of an ending. You smirked at him. "You sure enjoyed it, though, didn't you?"

His face was warm again, creeping up his neck and making his ears glow.

"Hey," you said, grabbing his arm. "Do you want to stay for tonight's party, too? I'm sure it'll be fun." He nodded. He was barely hearing the words coming out of your mouth, just simply agreeing and following you like an obedient pet. The thought was put in his mind and he couldn't get it out.

You treated him to some street food for dinner. He could barely eat, he was focused on his shameful, perverted imagination. You made him play those dumb carnival games, winning a small blue leopard stuffie. It was ugly and poorly made, but it was his now. Another gift from you.

The moon was high, the lanterns were on, and the party was loud. People were dancing in the streets to the sound of a large band. This was one hell of a celebration, and Ainsley was experiencing it here with you. It was incredible! It was like he was living a whole life, just for the night.