FicWad

I'll never know what brought me here to this corner near the dark alleyway that drew me closer to death. I'll never have the answers to give those who mourned over my corpse. I'll never feel another loving touch again, nor will I want one. That toxic kiss sucked me into a world of sweet desperation, and my soul is still vexed to this day. Every cell in my body cried for a stop to the pain and an easy escape. I was naive and very trusting. I was under the influence of lust.


It's all very foggy; the details fizzled away with the passing years and I can only recall the touches and words that truly mattered in the end. He was deceivingly warm and artificially cheerful.


"Your name, stranger?" I asked shyly. Half of his face was covered by the shadow of the building he'd been propped against, while the other was put on display by the intrusive moonlight.


"Henry. And your's?" was all he spoke. His voice like velvet, and dripping of raw seduction. It had been so long since I last had a person to come home to. Since I felt a real connection with another. He was perfect, because he was available.


"Frank." I admitted. He nodded and absently placed his hands in his pants pockets. His convenient appearance served as a sign, and before too long I was inviting him to stay a night with me at the hotel down the street.


"You, my friend, seem to have a hidden agenda." he pointed out with an attractive smirk on his face. I arched an eyebrow and lost all modesty.


"Oh trust me, I won't hide a thing from you before too long. Are you in?" I asked with hope tattooed to my irises. He chuckled in an old-fashioned way, and I felt my anxiety lessen as his strong hand folded over mine.


"You could say that." he whispered.


So there you have it. The beginning. The introduction and makings of the first few moments of the end. But the fun hadn't stopped there, oh no. What entered that hotel room had been poor intentions and a broken conscience. And what had left was a dead heartful of satisfaction.


"So tell me..." Henry said through a struggled string of moans. "what makes you so eager for all of this? Is it the prospect of forming a relationship?" he questioned.


"Hell no." I said defiantly as I pushed him against the wall and started handling his belt.


"Is it the cheap thrill of being with a stranger?" he asked in a breathy voice as I slowly slid his zipper down his form-fitting jeans.


"Not exactly." I answered immediately.


"Well then what is it?" he asked with genuine curiosity. I looked deeply into his pleading, green eyes and slid my hands along his freed length.


"It's knowing that in about five seconds, your cock will be pushed down my throat." I answered simply. His pleased expression was all the invitation I needed as I took him into my mouth. His artistic fingers twisted and twirled through my hair, positioning themselves in such a way that a moan or two had been forced out of my mouth from the pressure.


Henry's erection was stiff and full of pulsing life. I could taste the first signs of his finish before too long, which only encouraged me to put my all into what could be done. With one hand, I handled his base and firmly squeezed as my lips slid down his spit-slick cock. A soft pop filled the room as I allowed my mouth to tightly suck on his head, and slowly pull away.


"Awhh fuck, Frankie. Don't stop there!" he nearly screamed as he opened his eyes and glared at me. I gave him an innocent smile from my place on the floor while slowly standing up and gaining my balance.


"Don't worry, angel. I'm not finished with you." I promised. The smile quickly returned to his face as I grabbed the collar on his shirt and led him to the bed centered in the middle of the room.


"Your clothes? They need to come off." he stated. I nodded with approval as I loosened the cuffs on my dress shirt and slid off my pants. Before too long, I was down to my boxers and sporting wood like a motherfucker. The same could be said for Henry, as well.


"Fucking get over here." Henry commanded darkly. I could tell he'd dropped his sweet act, and the thought scared me. He'd become demanding and forceful, but neither of us could deny ourselves release at this point. I crawled under the covers and felt the pressure of his toned body overtop of me in no time.


His rich brown hair fell over his face and cast odd shadows under his eyes. I could see the need inside of him manifest into aggression.


With that hard kiss -the first of many- I knew things had changed. And with this change came another. I was now enjoying the living fuck out of this situation.


"Fuck me." I barked at him through a sudden pang of pleasure. His hips ground into mind in a violent way, and I cringed at how catastrophic things would be if we didn't cut to the chase soon.


"With pleasure." Henry said in a throaty voice that could have been mistaken for a growl. I panted harshly as his fingers found their way around my cloth-covered cock, and further down until they rested between my legs. With a strong jerk, he'd pulled down my underwear and had instantly started to feel my bare skin against his. His firm hands said it all. This was going to be the best fuck of my existence.


"I don't have anything." Henry stated. I searched his tone and face for a hint of remorse, but found none and decided to bury the disappointment that came along with that discovery.


"It doesn't fucking matter; now move!" I said loudly. An evil grin spread over his mouth and twisted his face into one that loved the presence of control.


"I'll teach you to order me around." his suddenly angry voice whispered. I didn't have time to analyze his behavior anymore after that, because as soon as his threat was made, two large fingers were forcing themselves into me; creating pain and making way for Henry's need. I felt my eyes squeeze shut and wrapped my hands in the sheets around me.


"Keep them open." Henry's low voice ordered.


"W-what?" I asked, unsure that I'd heard him correctly the first time.


"I said, keep them open." he said with more force. His long fingers had been sliding in and out at will, and I could feel the tug and pull of skin. For the sake of keeping things pleasant, I forced my eyes wide open and settled them on something that could keep my attention until the rough patches were over. This satisfied Henry for a while, but my sudden gasp as he added a third finger seemed to have upset him all over again.


"Shut the fuck up, bitch. Take it like a man." Henry barked through gritted teeth. I had no choice but to stifle the urge to cower away, and trek on through the rough pain he was creating.


A few more minutes of that, and he was getting fed up with this necessary preparation. Suddenly, Henry had pulled out and shuffled over me until he was properly lined up with my entrance. A forced smile spread across my face in a feeble attempt at masking the dread.


"You ready, Frankie?" he asked as if we were old friends. I nodded without being fully sure, and winced as he forced his waiting erection deep inside of me.


I would be lying if I said I felt no pleasure that night. Because he made me cum like a fucking champ. In no time at all, I was writhing beneath him; unable to say a single thing but his name. Every thought, every doubt was gone. I was sure that this was the best sexual experience of my life.


"You like that? You like when I pound into your spot? I think you'd better cum, 'cause I sure as fuck won't wait for you." Henry warned. Taking what he said to heart, I slid my clutched hand down my torso and over my crotch. It hovered there for a while, as if it was waiting along with my mind for the friendly offer that was customary. None came, and I felt disappointed all over again when I realized how insignificant my pleasure was to this man. He was only thinking with his cock, and enjoying the hell out of it.


"Unhhh OH!" I screamed as he hit my prostate especially hard. I could feel the hot flood of energy build up and into my system. I couldn't wait for this relief; I needed it.


Henry's grunts were hot and spurred on my will to cum. I could practically taste how ready he was for this to be over with, and I was right with him.


"Fuck fuck fu-oh!" rang out into the room, from who's mouth I'll never know. Henry came first, with a gasp and several deep thrusts. I could feel him let go inside of me, and was overcome with an icy feeling. This would have been alarming had my arm not been working so damn hard to jerk myself into oblivion. Right before my climax came, I sunk the nails on my free-hand into Henry's tanned back, and heard the animalistic grunts he muttered as he tried to recover.


"Hey Frank?" he asked as I felt myself steer closer and closer to the edge.


"Yeah?" I muttered in a girlish gasp I couldn't control.


"I meant to tell you. I have this... this thing. I like to bite."


"Then bite away." I said freely.


Sharp, white teeth sank deeply into my neck. My orgasm had come and gone, and those fangs were still lodged in my veins. My desperate, gargled screams were muffled by his large hand. I could feel the blood flowing into his mouth; taste the fear and tears from my head. In that moment, where sanity is lost and your eyes are opened to the world in a brand new light, you see people for who they truly are.


His dark features were electrified. He was the most beautiful thing my dying eyes had ever seen. His mouth latched firmly to that pulsing feeding tube. His hand wrapped tightly around the side of my neck and throat, giving him a nearly perfect grip and hold on my livelihood.


"PLEASE!" was all I could yell. Over, and over again. Until that was the only word that existed. Until that was the only thing I knew how to say.


I could tell he had lost himself. That any traces of humanity had fled the scene. He was in a state, and not even the Devil himself could have attacked prey with more dedication.


The burning came next. Like the flesh and muscle beneath my limbs was being singed and zapped. Like the tips of the hair on my arms had caught fire and were slowly running a trail of flames up and down my body. But as I fought to look; fought to see, I saw nothing. There was nothing visibly wrong with my skin, and yet I could feel the fire of hell coursing through my bloodstream.


My toes were uncurling, and my heart was beating feverishly. It knew how close it was to its end. Why not go out with a bang?


And then it exploded. From what? Fear? Excitement? It didn't matter. Because before death could drag me down to the beautifully dark loft in which it rests, I felt the very last drops of crimson leave my body. I literally experienced running dry.


Drained, naked, and dead. What a lovely description. It was never how I thought I'd go, and yet I don't see another suitable way. Maybe I'm partial to the terror that was involved. Or perhaps the stinging and ripping of soft skin held some appeal to me. I'd love to explore these options; to delve deeper into why this ending doesn't bother me. But I can't. I'm nothing but a memory, now. A memory with its own collection of memories.


I don't remember him leaving, and I don't remember the gleaming smile on his red-stained face as he rolled off of me and took a long look at the bed I was on. I never sensed the triumph he felt, and not once did I see him visibly give a damn about what he had done.


All because I'm still wrapped, face down, in this comforter. Still lying in these sheets. My spirit is caught and trapped in these scratchy fibers, and I've never been set free. No matter how many times a maid will clean this room, and no matter how often a breeze ruffles through this cloth, I'll still be here and aching; lost.


He pulled a good one, and I respect him for it. His charm and domination left a great impression in that room. Because he's a trickster, and a clever one at that. And with me, he pulled his best trick, yet.