𝚂𝚃𝙾𝙺𝙴𝙻𝙴𝚈
Even in his drunken state he was still a mystery.
I took him home that night to fulfill one intention, and that wasn't to inflict harm on him. I wanted nothing but to show myself a good time as well. I deserved it, and I was sure he could help me with that as I had already helped him.
But I was wrong.
As I laid there between his legs gently brushing my hands over his skin littered with tattoos I began to wonder. Who was he? Where did he come from?
Usually when I entertain myself with prey many questions don't surface. It's just a statement; and that's to get what I want and get out. I wasn't sure why I was questioning myself about him to begin with, or why I wasn't already balls deep inside of him listening to his moans and gruesome cries echo throughout the ambiance of the room.
Before you yourself start to wonder; no. That's not what I stand for. I'm all about consent, believe me. The women I usually bring back with me are whores who enter bars searching for someone to help them forget their troubles. Looking for someone to make them feel something other than their own emotions even if it's just for one night. Even thought she never really wants it to be just one night. The next thing you know you're dealing with a psycho bitch all because you gave her good, temporary dick.
So why was I here with a male of all things you ask? I felt like it was time for a change. Pussy gets repulsive after a while. It all feels the same and all ends the same. It no longer gave me the motivation and drive I needed in order to do what I do. So that night I decided to switch it up.
I didn't make the decision until I saw him. Short yet slim build walking into the building with his head held low along with his spirits. I could sense it. I thought I could've been the one who relieved him of his troubles, and meanwhile he could relieve me of something else. When his colleagues split with him to mingle with the wasted crowd I started to assume his story. Cautious boy being extremely paranoid about his friend. I could tell. Ever since he took a seat in front of me he hadn't moved a muscle or even blinked. He was perfect.
I had to take a chance when I realized he was about to leave. Speaking up was a bold move, I know. I would usually start off by mingling with the crowd so my face wouldn't be as noticeable to everyone who walked into the building, but I was stuck. The bartender who charged me for one drink too many minutes before he walked in had me fucked up. I had to handle that first. And now that I finally had this opportunity to fulfill my newfound needs, something had to be done about it.
He was witty. Never straight to the point, always kept it short and sweet. I loved that about him.
And just him. My subjects would often times make smart remarks thinking I would find it cute, when really I was thinking of how I could make their death slow and agonizing for wasting my time.
We finally managed to bring up a conversation. There wasn't really much to notice about his physical features with the place being pitch dark, the only light coming from the neon flashing ones that would occasionally praise his skin as they flickered on. Still, his voice alone was enough to keep me interested.
When he asked me to help him get fucked up, who was I to oblige? I gave him what he wanted upon request. Afterwards, I knew he'd give me what I wanted upon mine.
But then something changed. I'm not sure what, why, or how- but something definitely did.
I suppose I realized it when we were laid out on the bed. I took my time when slowly peeling off each article of clothing that protected his body underneath being careful not to startle him.
It was when I had started undoing the belt to the jeans that hugged his ass so perfectly, he quickly reached down and grabbed my hand as a frightened look came over him. At first I thought it was him sobering up, but I think he surprised the both of us with his next few words.
"Be gentle. Please."
His eyes were wild and frantic, yet angelic and delicate. They looked as if they were practically begging me to be careful with his untouched body. He had never been touched in a way that I wanted to touch him. Fuck, he'd probably never been kissed the way he should be or fucked the way he could be.
And I was wrong. I didn't deserve that.
There was a fierce innocence that I couldn't strip him of. Even me being the heartless prick I was, I myself was surprised by the sudden change of heart.
I didn't touch him that night. I left him to redress himself only to find him sleeping when I returned. That's when I took my time out to study him. His body lay there against the soft sheets barely making any movements. His chest heaved up only to lower seconds later repeating the process at a steady rate as he exhaled through his nose. There was a big elephant tattoo that covered the majority of his neck. His face acquired very few interesting face tattoos; from a broke heart to the word "alone" above his eyebrow.
That's when I noticed how beautiful he was. His thick eyelashes occasionally twitched which indicated he must've been dreaming. His chiseled face was truly a sight to remember. For the first time in a long time I sat in awe admiring someone for more than just the kind of sex they could give me.
What is it about you, Jahseh?
Now here I was the morning after, tangled in the sheets alongside his peaceful body. I decided it would be best to detach myself from the equation just in case he were to wake up swinging wondering what he was doing in a hotel room halfway across the city.
His eyelids slowly fluttered open revealing his dark brown captivating orbs beneath them. He tried to sit up but failed miserably as his headache started to settle in the more he attempted to move. I had a glass of water in one hand and two pills in the other. His body tossed and turned for a solid 5 minutes before he froze mid twist and raised his head to stare at the bed sheets. His head slowly lifted up and his eyes carefully scanned his surroundings with a puzzling look until they finally landed themselves on me.
I knew how this would play out. He would either do one of two things; he would immediately start swinging or warm up to me only to stab me moments later in hopes of escaping.
I also knew what he was aiming for the moment I saw him reach for the pen on the bedside table. A pen wouldn't be enough to hurt me but by the looks of his build it might do some damage if force was applied.
"Relax," I spoke calmly as I walked over beside the bed. His eyes never left mine and his grip on the pen only tightened the closer I got. "I'm not here to hurt you. That was never my intention."
Lie.
"Then why the fuck am I here?" He gave me a long hard look and put emphasis on 'fuck.' I handed him the glass and one pill which he reluctantly took and downed in one drink.
"The club, last night," I began. "You were drunk and alone at the time. We danced for a bit before you asked me to take you back to my place. Your friend.. Gazzy, was it? He said it would be fine."
His stare was still hard and cold so it made it harder for me to tell if he believed it or not.
"Did we.."
"Didn't. Although it seems as if you really wanted me to," I smiled and laughed shortly after which caused him to chuckle a bit after me. His eyes still occasionally scanned the room taking note of every little thing that was out of place. It's either he's a private investigator, or a nigga with intense OCD.
For a fraction of a second, his eyes met mine. Now personally, eye contact is more intimate than sex. It's as if you're allowing the person to look through the windows of your soul in hopes they'll appreciate what they see. Or try eye contact during sex. Recipe for disaster, let me tell it.
"Get dressed," I cleared my throat and spoke up since we seemed to have been drowning in the complete silence. Without another word he climbed out of the bed and walked into the bathroom to put his jeans and his shirt back on. When he walked out and I stood in front of him and handed him the last pill left in the palm of my hand which he gladly took. While he was changing inside the bathroom I had asked where his address was so I would be able to drop him off, but without him having the knowledge of where he's coming from.
By the time I was dressed and ready to leave, Jahseh was passed out against the edge of the bed snoring loudly. I carefully threw his body over my shoulder and headed downstairs towards the car. It was nothing to me, it took strength from carrying lifeless bodies to and from locations to acquire this kind of strength I now possess.
Thirty minutes had passed after I arrived at his apartment building. I examined the complex and stored his address into the corner of my mind so I could remember to pull up on him another time I wanted to have consensual fun.
"Where am I?" His morning voice was still there.
"You're home. I think it's best we get you inside now."
He slowly helped himself out of the car and stood at my window.
"Thanks for this, I don't know how to repay you-"
I held my hand up to silence him.
"No need to. Have a good day, Jahseh. Take care of that hangover."
I knew he wouldn't remember my name off the top of his head. It would give him time to think about me and reflect on our short lived moment together.
Don't worry, Jahseh. I'll make sure our moments are permanent.