Into Oblivion
folder
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
4
Views:
3,569
Reviews:
27
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
4
Views:
3,569
Reviews:
27
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Into Oblivion
It was a night like any other, rainier than most, and James found himself standing against a lamp post and hoping…no. He wasn’t hoping anything. Maybe he wasn’t even thinking anything, except how cold it was and how much the rain stung on his skin. No place else to go, not since Gabe kicked him out. If he stood here long enough someone would pick him up, and then he'd either get fucked or beaten, and he didn’t really care which. The heat of another body straining against him, the heat of bruised and torn muscles, whatever. Long as he got to be warm.
And then he came out of nowhere, out of shadow, out of the night and the rain and the cold. Came and pulled James into the warmth of his coat, pressed against the heat of his body, an arm snaked around his waist as he was inexorably led to a shining silver car. Little forward, usually James got asked 'How much?' before ending up on his back, especially by uptown types. This one wasn't asking, though. He shoved James inside and oh God there was heat in there. Warm air pouring from the vents, unmitigated luxury. He heard the doors lock, and he didn’t care. Fuck it all, he didn’t care what the man planned to do with him as long as he got to be warm and out of the rain. He might get fucked into oblivion, pimped out at some crib, killed, whatever. He was warm. The car smelled clean. Anything beyond that was indulgence. James knew better than to ask questions. Asking questions got you killed.
A hand snaked into his hair, grabbed a fistful and turned James's head and suddenly he was being kissed. That mouth tasted like pleasant fire. Ok, sex then, and shaping up not to be the violent kind. That kiss was… really nice. Like he meant it or something, like James was more than a cheap fuck. Warm hands slid down his body and back up under his shirt, and he moaned. Because the man would like it. Because James liked it. Because those hands were fire against his icy skin and he wanted to draw this out as long as this man would let him enjoy the feeling of the cold seeping out of his bones. Lose himself for a while in the little fantasy that this meant something because that kiss was gently powerful. The man moved, a flurry of wet kisses trailing down James's jaw, across his throat, one hand sweeping down to press against his crotch…he was already getting hard.
And then he got bit. That mouth was a searing heat on his neck, a razor-sharp pain that left him breathless…and then something else. Drifting softness, the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears, and he was falling. Should try to struggle, because this…this had to be death. It felt too fucking good to be anything less.
“Please…” he whispered, and his voice sounded miles away. He had no idea what he was asking for. It didn’t matter anyway…there was nothing past ‘please’.
And then he came out of nowhere, out of shadow, out of the night and the rain and the cold. Came and pulled James into the warmth of his coat, pressed against the heat of his body, an arm snaked around his waist as he was inexorably led to a shining silver car. Little forward, usually James got asked 'How much?' before ending up on his back, especially by uptown types. This one wasn't asking, though. He shoved James inside and oh God there was heat in there. Warm air pouring from the vents, unmitigated luxury. He heard the doors lock, and he didn’t care. Fuck it all, he didn’t care what the man planned to do with him as long as he got to be warm and out of the rain. He might get fucked into oblivion, pimped out at some crib, killed, whatever. He was warm. The car smelled clean. Anything beyond that was indulgence. James knew better than to ask questions. Asking questions got you killed.
A hand snaked into his hair, grabbed a fistful and turned James's head and suddenly he was being kissed. That mouth tasted like pleasant fire. Ok, sex then, and shaping up not to be the violent kind. That kiss was… really nice. Like he meant it or something, like James was more than a cheap fuck. Warm hands slid down his body and back up under his shirt, and he moaned. Because the man would like it. Because James liked it. Because those hands were fire against his icy skin and he wanted to draw this out as long as this man would let him enjoy the feeling of the cold seeping out of his bones. Lose himself for a while in the little fantasy that this meant something because that kiss was gently powerful. The man moved, a flurry of wet kisses trailing down James's jaw, across his throat, one hand sweeping down to press against his crotch…he was already getting hard.
And then he got bit. That mouth was a searing heat on his neck, a razor-sharp pain that left him breathless…and then something else. Drifting softness, the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears, and he was falling. Should try to struggle, because this…this had to be death. It felt too fucking good to be anything less.
“Please…” he whispered, and his voice sounded miles away. He had no idea what he was asking for. It didn’t matter anyway…there was nothing past ‘please’.