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Pen Your Pride

Use & Abuse

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The pulsating throb of sweat-slickened bodies, rubbed, almost purred with pleasure, and chafed against lycra bandeau tops and golden zippers of bandage dresses that crossed at the back and drooped low in the front, exposing inches of bronzed skin. The tang of sweat and alcohol, mixed with the sickly sweet odour of cheap Target perfume and the salty smell of sex clung to every body in the dimly lit room. Women crossed delicate ankles and pulled their short skater skirts down demurely and smiled coyly at every glance they received while nursing a single glass of red wine; tiny granules still drifting on the surface from the packet of snowy cocaine and fentanyl the bearded barman with the crooked teeth had smoothly added. Christopher Kidd grimaced when a small, clammy hand shyly touched his.

"Hi" the petite elfin-like woman murmured in his ear, her red hair gleaming under the strobe lights and her sweet breath fanned his face.

He eyed her warily and coughed discreetly to signal for Otis, his burly Scottish bodyguard and regular bedmate , to remove her from his arm. Otis barked a laugh and pried the woman loose from Christopher and she sulkily left, glaring at them both.

"Thanks" Christopher muttered grimly

. His band, The Reckless Damned, had just performed and he felt shaky, his hands still tingling from the adrenaline and steroid-shots he had taken before the show. He inhaled and his breath was ragged as he exhaled. He patted the pockets of his melton coat and his numb fingers found nothing.  Fuck.

 "I need a hit" he told Otis who was watching him intently and he then smiled, his cold grey eyes darkening dangerously.

"Yeah, boss." and with that he grabbed Christopher roughly, his large, calloused hands gripping him tight. He breathed and he stank of gin, then violently mashed his lips against Christopher's and forced his tongue inside.

A dart of pain followed as he bit Christopher's tongue and sucked the blood with his eyes wide open, an action so erotic it sent a flare of desire through his body and Christopher felt himself respond. A sharp sting followed as Otis slapped him with enough force to leave an imprint and he felt his cheek heating.

"You wanted a hit,' Otis whispered raggedly. "You have it."

Christopher felt a dozen pairs of eyes on him and an undeniable chorus of whispers.

'Faggot" a tall man with a hawkish nose and small eyes muttered to his companion, a beautiful young woman with big, veined breasts. She nodded with a disgusted grimace, yet a fascinated glint in her glassy eyes.

 Christopher felt the anger well up in him and a tinge of red obscured his vision and when Otis placed a restraining hand on his arm, he felt his tightly reined anger releasing.

"Oh, just piss off! Don't ever touch me again, you fucking asshole! You're fucking sick! " and he turned and left for the solace of the tiny bathroom stalls.

"What is wrong with me?"Christopher groaned and fumbled for a cigarette in his jean pocket and lit it with shaking hands.

He slid to the floor and sat with his head between his knees. He took a long drag and exhaled with a deep sigh. Get a fucking grip, Kidd. Stop being a pussy.

"That was quite a show." a gravelly masculine voice said and Christopher looked up to find a handsome stranger with a scar stretching from the corner of his mouth to underneath his black eyes

."Thanks, man. But I'm not in the mood for autographs. Sorry" he added apologetically and took another drag of his Dunhill.

The man looked at him and cocked his head to the side.

"I was talking about that little exhibition outside with your broad friend." He put emphasis on the word 'friend'.

He had a slight British accent and when Christopher closed his eyes the man's voice was soothing and calmed him.

"Oh. That." He scowled.

The man moved closer, his actions jaguarlike and he soon stood in front of Christopher.

"Yeah. That" He said before going down on his hunches and kissed Christopher full on the mouth.

He tasted of spearmint. His tongue brushed over Christopher's lower lip and he then abruptly stood, his eyes never leaving Christopher's. He started slowly unbuckling his belt and Christopher moved to his knees, mesmerized. The man dropped his pants to the floor and Christopher's eyes widened. Then he licked his lips.

"You should call me sometime." The man, Hugo, remarked as he zipped his pants.

Christopher nodded distracted as he stared at his reflection in the dirty mirror of the, public bathroom. Hair too long and shaggy, a small mole above his too wide mouth violet eyes too big and rimmed with dark gold lashes,  his lips too full. He shook his head and bent to have a drink of water, and when he resurfaced Hugo was gone. Fine. Just fucking leave then. He glanced at himself once more and turned to leave the sad,broken man with the teary eyes and filthy mouth in the mirror.

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