Categories > Games > Star Ocean 3: 'Till the End of Time
In the Night's Lusty Arms
At Jason's place, everyone is friendly. Sometimes, a little bit too friendly. When Fayt meets Albel, a luscious bassist and part-time murderer, he learns this lesson well.
?Blocked
~In the Night’s Lusty Arms~
On 234 Twenty-Eighth Street, there was a crumbling little shack. The walls were molding, the roof caving in, and the doorway was a gaping mouth stretching past its limit. Everyone knew, though, that underneath this cavernous black structure that reeked of death and demise, there was a place where those who were considered abnormal gathered. The concrete basement was three times as large as the hut itself, large enough for a mass of writhing bodies clad in black and fluorescent hues to dance, to sit and string out on shrooms and fat joints that sent fragrant smoke swirling to the rotten ply of the ceiling. Everyone who was anyone on the Goth scene knew that Jason’s was the place to be every night, from sundown to sunup.
That was exactly why one Fayt Leingod, the Night’s Innocent, (as dubbed oh so righteously by his friends at high school), found himself wandering through the collapsing basement doorway with a flock of others. They seemed to whisper to him, little obscene laughs and mocking gestures. He shook all of it off, kept to himself, and shoved his hands into cavernous pockets lined with lime green stitching. He was proud of his not so new black jeans, which he had found yesterday and ripped artistically. The numerous safety pins holding the garment together shined in the pale moonlight while it lasted, before they went completely dim as he stepped even further into deathly silent territory. His ghastly green shirt was laced with bits of black on the edges, splotches of ink finishing off the look he had wanted to invoke.
Stepping off the final stair and into a dark room lit with only candles and small strobes, Fayt could practically feel the tinge of craziness, of fear and hatred and utter glee. Every emotion possible was present here, suffocating him along with the crush of heady musk that floated off the bodies stringing through the dance floor to the large stage in the right-hand corner of the room.
No one even glanced at him when he entered the throng, and he felt a bit more at ease. These were his kind, people who were like him and who understood a bit of what it was like to live the life he did. His muscles relaxed, and his shock of blindingly blue hair fell into his green eyes. They were like crushed emeralds mixed into a pigment, had a shine that could only be achieved with the darkest and purest of the rare gems. They were his best feature, right next to his supple flesh, flesh that was a pale white, parched almost gray from the lack of sunlight. It hadn’t seen the shine of anything but artificial light and the moon ever since he’d found that the night was kinder than the day. It suited him, surprisingly, and it matched the strobes that flickered across his sweaty face as he pushed his way through he crowd to a small patch of open space where card tables had been set up for the junkies and social kids. He sat himself down at an empty one, glared at the dark brown top of the tattered thing. He was glad to be here, but he’d be even more glad if he were here with someone else to talk to or at least dance with.
The band playing was a smash metal-rave trip, hair done straight up with streaks of lime and lemon in the dark black and ash gray. Their guitars and synths were stickered, colored and every other thing possible. The actual colors barely showed through. They screamed out lyrics, sometimes whispering them in a silky purr to the electronic beat, husky guitar streaming through the amps at the raving crowd of kids. The lead singer slunk across the stage, his fist shaking at them in a gesture of defiance that they returned. Fayt grinned and leaned back in his chair, watching them.
The bassist was a hot little number- black hair streaming into closed eyes that never opened, not even to glance down at his fingers on the most difficult of plucking. His skin was much like Fayt’s own, if not a bit more healthy-looking. He leaned his weight back and kept his head down, the blond tips of this stringy hair plastering to his face, bass guitar resting heavily against his pelvis, fingers strumming a devilish beat as quick as humanly possible. Fayt straightened up, immediately drawn to the slim figure. Bloody lipstick was smeared haphazardly across rouge lips, dark gray lining the purple-smeared eyes of this lustrous creature. His hips, clad in only in a tight pair of black shorts and a purple half-skirt trailing down slim legs, moved in time with the beat he strummed. Lips opened and mouthed the words belting from the vocalists’ mouth, making Fayt wonder what kind of sinful taste lay inside. What if he could sneak his tongue between those lips, rip the dark purple tank top from those smoothly muscled shoulders? What would the man’s tongue taste like, sliding slick against his own?
He wanted to find out.
By some miracle, the bassist’s eyes opened the smallest bit, allowing frosty red to glare out at the crowd worshipping him. He grinned like a maniac, tilted his head and stopped for a moment along with the rest of the band. Then suddenly he was throwing himself across the stage, smashing his bass into the nearest amp, causing the crowd to go wild, rabid, foaming at the mouth. Fayt couldn’t help but be shocked when the entire band joined in, smashing their ragged instruments into the nearest surface hard enough to cause a crash. It looked like they were enjoying themselves, and the crowd certainly was. The red-eyed beauty Fayt’d been watching knocked his bass into the drums, watched it clatter to the stage, then kicked it into the crowd with feet covered by purple and green converse high-tops. They were on it in an instant, throwing it around and not noticing the band sneak off backstage or the next band sneaking on.
Fayt sighed unhappily, watching leather-bound braids disappear into the small niche that served as a safe haven for bands.
It had been fun while it lasted.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~
Albel washed the muck from his face hastily, groaning when Tim patted him roughly on the back with a sharp laugh.
“That was pretty nice finger-work, Nox. Feel up to another round in the next hour?” Tim’s voice was ragged, throaty. He had the bad habit of getting too close to your ear while he talked, which wasn’t very pleasant. Not in the least.
Growling, Albel jerked around and pushed the older man away.
“Y’know, you have the awful habit of pressing too tight to my ass for comfort when you talk to me, Warren. Maybe if you didn’t try to tongue me during all of our gigs I’d actually want to play more.” Albel responded, throwing the rag down into the greasy sink provided in the small dark area that served as backstage. Tim simply scowled and nodded before walking away.
They all knew about Albel.
They all knew he never stuck around more than five minutes after a live.
He had better things to be doing. More likely than that, better girls to be fucking.
Albel brought in the most fans. It was a know fact within the Sugar Panic that all girls came for Albel, and Albel only. Tim, Jake, Anthony and Ezekiel would be lucky if they even got a passing glance. Sure, they were hot.
But not as hot as Albel.
None of the fans or band members knew his first name- at least not his real one. To them, he was simply Knight Nox, the luscious bassist who could play like nobody’s business. But he never stuck around, as they all knew, and tonight was no different.
The purple frills that hung limp down to his left thigh were dappled with splotches of dust, which he quickly brushed off. The door that led out to the dance floor and the raving bunch of kids was right to the left, and he exited as fast as he could. He hated backstage, and it pained him to be there with the sorry asses who claimed to be a band but were nothing without the drugs they loaded on before a live.
And him. They were nothing without him.
He was a rock star at heart, not a pretty boy in it for the fame and girlies. The music was like his second life, and when he wasn’t onstage, he was out getting a fix or having sex so violent it could almost count as murder.
The strobes hurt his eyes when he broke into the main club, and he quickly pushed through the crowd of doe-eyed virgins and tripping innocents to the back, where he sat at a table occupied by someone else. It wasn’t his first choice, but he needed to sit and all the other chairs were taken.
He looked at the other patron and had to hold his breath- a perfect specimen.
He hated big eyed, big breasted women. It seemed like those were all he attracted, besides big hairy men and innocent little boys exploring their own sexuality. But this boy- or girl- was exactly the kind he’d want to rip open and taste.
Blue hair, green eyes full of a wisdom that spoke measures, a mouth that had probably wrapped around its share of cock. Albel was drawn, mostly, to the eyes. They had a sort of longing in them, and they turned a shade darker when they rested on Albel’s own scab-colored irises. His lips parted and he grinned, feeling drawn to this boy, a boy who was perfect in every way.
Albel could only imagine what he’d taste like.
“Hello.” He made his voice as silky as possible, slow and cold. It was his tactic- hit them hard with a purr, snare them with a glance, and hook them with a touch.
It always worked.
The boy simply grinned and turned back to his drink. “Hello,” was his response, so low that Albel had to lean in to hear it. He could feel the edges of his mouth stretching into even more of a grin - the light little voice was almost innocent. But there was a dark undertone to it that gave the boy away.
Albel snorted. “And I suppose your tonic is much more interesting than a conversation with me.” His voice was cold, but the mischievous glint in his eyes told the boy he was only playing. The boy stifled a laugh behind his hand, before reaching his free one out to Albel.
“My name’s Fayt Leingod. And you are…?”
Albel smiled, a warm glint passing through his eyes, a calculating look. He reached out to ensnare the hand in his own, his larger palm allowing him to slide two fingers over the soft skin of Fayt’s wrist due to lack of gripping space. The skin there was thin and he could feel those bright blue veins pulse almost in time with the music, and he wondered for a brief insane moment if he could press hard enough to break it, watch the dark blood spill out so red and bright, almost purple, wondered if it would flood over his own fingers. He decided not to even try and risk such a thing.
He kept his voice low and silky, the background of wheezing lyrics and grizzly guitar brushed from his mind when he felt the warmth of that fragile little hand in his own.
“Albel. Albel Nox.”
~End part one
~In the Night’s Lusty Arms, Part Two – Hit Them Softly~
It was still so dark, the strobes blinding in their momentary radiance, and the constant buzz of light whispering and the nagging guitar that practically drilled a hole in Fayt’s head was growing extremely irritating. The only thing that stopped him from getting up and saying Fuck it All was this gorgeous creature who’d actually decided to talk to him. It was like something out of a dream, only when the punk pinched his thigh, no matter how hard, he couldn’t manage to wake up.
Along with the blatant lust glazing the red eyes staring at him was a deep, sensual voice that constantly flung little bits of innuendo at him so hard it almost hurt. There was no way Fayt would leave until this man left, and if that wasn’t until sunrise, then so be it.
Although that scratchy guitar really was annoying.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~
“So… have you played in that band for long? I mean, you looked like you had a lot of experience.”
That sweet, shy little baritone was driving him insane. Albel Nox now felt that it should be a bad thing, a very bad thing that he was losing at his own little game. Even worse that he didn’t care.
Two hours. Had it really been that long since he’d sat down in this moldy chair and spoken to this voluptuous piece of ass, and he was already falling head over heels.
The boy was a high schooler, 19 years of age and in the twelfth. He hated cats but thought dogs were just lovely to have, if only to boss around. His eyes were actually blue but had somehow changed to green over the past two years, perhaps from the waste floating around in the night air from the plant just down the river near the main part of the city. He liked to read about serial killers, and was something of a fanatic. Albel couldn’t help but scoff at that bit, wondering if the boy would like him more or less if he knew his usual nighttime activities consisted of little hot numbers in leather and a scalpel or two.
By now, Albel felt as if he knew this young man like the palm of his hand, and if he had his way, so would his cock before the night was over. For some reason, he had no real desire to do anything but taste this boy’s seed and force his own down his throat, maybe cuddle a bit. No killing urge, no want to drag a knife over his supple flesh and watch the epidermis part to reveal layers of pink tissuey muscle and an abundance of white tendons stretched taut over bloody bone.
Well, maybe just a little bit of an urge.
He was deep in his thoughts by now, and Fayt was looking at him strangely. In response, he sighed and slipped a leg over the other, a small grin stretching his cheeks. The skin felt tight over the fat there in his cheeks, if there was any, and Albel swore he would never wear liquid base again. He finally remembered that the boy had indeed asked him a question, and he was determined to answer all of Fayt’s questions and inquiries to the fullest extent possible. He sighed yet again and uncrossed his legs, suddenly restless.
“I’ve been playing Bass for about seven years now- I’ve been in the band for five. It’s been quite a while, wouldn’t you say?” He gave a flattering smirk to the man sitting across from him, watching those adorable cheeks flush with a soft pink glow. Satisfied with that reaction, he continued to talk.
“So, you enjoyed it?” Albel saw the boy shudder and try to hide it, but nothing got past him. He reached out and ran a single gloved hand down the boy’s bare shoulder, soft fingertips passing over the silky skin there in a gesture meant to be comforting. Apparently it was anything but what it was meant to be, since Fayt immediately shuddered even harder, lips parting. He gave a firm nod in reply to the question, apparently still not able to speak.
Albel grinned, going in for the kill.
“Well, if you liked it… maybe you could come back to my place with me, and I’ll put on a little private show for you?” He lowered his voice so that Fayt had to strain to hear it, and for a moment, he worried that the boy hadn’t. He was assured that he had by the way the flesh under his fingers tensed, and the way Fayt immediately took up a submissive posture.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~
“Oh, gods yes.”
Fayt could barely nod, barely move. His head was tilted back, showing the expanse of his throat to the older man across from him, and his eyes were closed halfway. There was power radiating off of Albel, a sort of radiance that demanded immediate submission or else. And so Fayt responded with just that.
The way Albel had asked it, it had been borderline demand. The thought of saying no hadn’t even crossed Fayt’s mind, he wouldn’t dare deny this man anything. That voice… he could make Fayt do anything with just that look and a whisper in that voice. It was silky smooth like satin, with a coarse undertone like almonds in dark chocolate. A voice that not even God himself could deny, if there truly was a god.
And so with that, Albel stood, that look still in his eyes. He ran a single hand over Fayt’s throat, leaving Fayt with nothing to do but allow himself to be tugged roughly out of his seat by his collar. A lust was heating his body, and he was powerless to stop Albel when the man crushed their lips together in a harsh kiss. Fayt was left moaning breathlessly, the wind leaving him in one great gasping gush, Albel’s tongue demanding, demanding, demanding entry into his mouth.
He was helpless to stop his lips from parting. He couldn’t make his tongue stay still when that slick appendage ran over it, and he twirled it about in search of that taste he’d wanted so dearly only scant hours ago. He found it, and was left gasping, panting, shuddering.
It was so dark, so sinful. It was a sweet liquid burn that he swallowed and tried to get more of, his hands coming up to pull Albel closer, silently pleading. At that moment, he didn’t care that they were in a shady club, surrounded by people staring, some most likely even jacking off to the scene.
All Fayt knew was that Albel was giving him more of that sinful taste, their saliva mingling. He was drawn deeper into nothingness, eyes shut tight and a steady whine trying to make its way out of his throat, just barely succeeding. He loved the challenging way Albel’s tongue possessed his own, the way it spread the taste of blood and coffee all around his own mouth. He almost collapsed, would have surely fallen to the floor if Albel’s hands weren’t anchored to his ass. Their hips pushed together, grinded, causing Fayt to shriek through the kiss, causing Albel to grin and suck Fayt’s lower lip into his mouth.
There was no love shared between them, except perhaps a small bit, and the feeling of another man’s mouth raping his own was wonderful. Fayt had never kissed before- he’d given blowjobs like some people gave out free candy, had received a few from girls. But never in his life had he kissed someone, and this mind-blowing sensation made him glad he’d waited. With a loud wet smack, their lips parted from one another, Albel’s half-lidded gaze full of crazy lust. Fayt was sure the same desire was present in his own, and the way their bodies restlessly moved against one another made him want to stay and leave all at one moment. A thin bit of saliva still connected their lips and Fayt blushed, sticking his tongue out to catch it.
All of a sudden, Albel’s hands weren’t splayed across his ass anymore, one hand with a fingerless glove tugging lightly on Fayt’s wrist. The man had an insane grin on his face, and suddenly Fayt forgot all about that annoying guitar in the background. Instead, he focused on Albel’s lazy gaze, the slight yank on his wrist, those fingers and their fragile look and powerful grip.
The smirk on his captor’s face grew. And suddenly, out of nowhere, Albel was pulling him close, motioning towards the exit, grinning and talking. Asking him another uneducable question.
“Well… shall we?”
~End Part II
~In the Night’s Lusty Arms, Part Three – Make ‘em Beg~
His car was gloriously warm, deliciously clean and sleek in design. The blue tint was such a cool contrast to the acidic persona of the man himself- Fayt would have pegged Albel as the slim, sporty car type. Maybe one with red, black detailing. But no- a rounded off blue hybrid awaited them in the small courtyard that served as a parking lot for Jason’s little ‘club’, and when they clambered in – carefully on Fayt’s part- the scent of pine and a spotless interior met them with a warm glow. Albel settled in the driver’s seat with a smug little grin, as if he knew what Fayt was thinking. And as a matter of fact, he did.
The next thing Fayt had expected was to streak out of the parking lot and go madly dashing down the freeway- surprisingly, that never happened either. Even though he’d slipped his seatbelt on before his ass was even fully in the seat and he was gripping the handle so hard his fingers turned white, Albel just giggled, yes giggled, and backed up slowly, the car already in reverse. It slid out of the parking space smoothly and Fayt’s clenched eyes opened to peek out at the world, wondering why he wasn’t suffering from whiplash yet. A soft hand fluttered over to slap his thigh playfully, and he jumped in his seat. Albel was grinning at him- the kiss really seemed to have put him in a playful mood.
Fayt wasn’t sure if he liked a playful Albel quite that much or if he despised it entirely.
He was thankful, though, for the way the sexual tension thinned out briefly and Albel seemed relaxed in his seat. The leather interior clung to Fayt’s skin where holes allowed it, and he had to constantly shift so that none of it turned a pale pink. A dark blue bobble head of an unidentifiable form sat on the dash, and its head beat slowly in time to the fluid string music that pulsed from dark gray speakers. Soon enough, Fayt found himself cooling down and relaxing, and apparently, Albel noticed when that was. The soothing music was soon replaced by something strangely hypnotic, some random trance music that sounded as if it was ripped directly from a rave. Strangely, Fayt started nodding his head and tapping his fingers, regardless of how much he loathed electronic and DJ’d music.
Albel kept sneaking peaks at him every now and then and Fayt would smile, an innocent little smirk that spoke measures. It said that he knew he wouldn’t be playing meek in the bedroom, wouldn’t be pretending when he screamed and postured himself in a submissive pose. Fayt was made to be fucked, and it wasn’t doing Albel’s hard-on any good to be jumping around in his pants while he drived. He closed those thoughts off for now and concentrated on getting them back to his ‘humble home’ in a single piece, bloody eyes peering out at the pale night sky without a single emotion written on them and a slight grin curving the corner of his mouth.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~
There were two simultaneous sighs that accompanied the twin shuts of doors on either side of the hybrid when they arrived. Albel leaned up against the car, staring up at the apartment complex. Fayt followed suit, crossing his legs and shifting so his head was leaning back against the roof.
“So, who else do you live with?”
Albel snorted, his head shaking. “I don’t live with anyone,” he replied. “This entire thing is empty but for me. I don’t think I’d bring anyone home if I had neighbors. Too many snots would complain.” He sniffed bitterly, clearly speaking from experience. They always complained about the screaming- the smell apparently wasn’t bad, and neither was the blood that always soaked the hallways, trailed on his boots. But oh, they always complained about the screaming.
Fayt peered up at the four-story apartment building, all brick and imposing steel and molding wood. It looked old, and a wrought iron gate with extravagantly designed finials wrapped around it like a security blanket. After glancing warily at it, he turned to Albel.
“Well… at least you don’t have to worry about bitchy landlords, right?” He swallowed past the lump in his throat, grinning meekly. He was much more nervous now that he was actually here, and Albel wasn’t helping much. There was a blank look in the man’s eyes, and when he fished out the key for the front door, it seemed like forever before the large plank of molded wood creaked open, Albel’s pale gloved hand pushing it in slowly. Fayt waited on the front step for a moment, unsure of whether he should step in or run away. His fight or flight instinct was kicking in for some strange reason- almost like if he went in, he wouldn’t ever come out. That’s how it felt. Nevertheless, he took a wary step inside when Albel motioned for him to. The warm smile now plastered on the older youth’s face reassured Fayt’s dubious feelings slightly.
Fayt was surprised when he got inside- it looked much nicer from the outside, regardless of how old it appeared to be. The deep red carpeting was a crusty looking brown in many a place, the disconcerting stains looking like they’d maybe even seeped onto the floor underneath the carpet. Fayt suppressed a shudder and forced himself not to wonder what those splotches were- definitely not blood, no no. That just wouldn’t be possible. There was hair everywhere- reds, golds, dark hues, all the colors of the rainbow, all lodged in the small fibers of the carpeting. Some even stuck to the dark stains, poking up out of them like vibrant threads. Fayt was pretty damn sure it was human hair, too- he didn’t know of any animal that had green fur.
The smell was another thing entirely. It smelled like fruit peels left out to rot too long and the heaping bags of garbage that could always be found outside on the curb every Thursday. It was horrible to breathe in, and nearly gagged you, like a fist being shoved down through your lungs, ready to rip them out and throw them on the floor. It was horrible, and Fayt stopped breathing for just a moment lest he add yet another stain to the carpet. After a few minutes of even breaths, though, it wasn’t bad at all. It gave him a heady feeling, and it was so full of the rotting stench of death that it was almost sweet. In a sick, disturbing kind of way.
Then there were the walls. Peeling cheap flowery wallpaper, yellow in places, green or brown in others, fell off the walls in longs strips and lay on the carpet, limp and pitiful looking. Those same dark splotches of dark red and crusty brown that were everywhere on the carpet haunted them, though a tad bit brighter since they didn’t blend in quite as well. They led Fayt up to the ceiling, the sagging ceiling that was almost completely brown and coated in a layer of dust so thick you could smell it from the doorway. Albel flicked a switch and Fayt’s attention was drawn over to the bright brass light fixtures attached to the sides of the walls. Those too were covered in dust, and were an old type of oil lamp. The light they cast off was dim, barely enough to even be called light. Even a match would have done better, and the low light along with all the details he was taking in hurt Fayt’s eyes just a little bit. Small scratches next to his ear drew his attention to the trail of spiders clinging to the doorframe, about four or five tiny hairy bodies trying to climb up to a hole in the ceiling that would, Fayt guessed, lead them to another floor. Cobwebs, dusty and limp, were in all of the possible corners. His attention was then drawn to yet another detail he’d missed at first- scribbles all over the wall. Handprints bloody and colorful, blackened and charred scraps of paper taped up here and there for no reason (it seemed), rainbow colors faded to dank pastels, permanent marker graffiti scrawled all over the place. Fayt thought he even saw one that claimed ‘Ana is a bloody poof’, (how original).
All in all, it was disgusting.
Fayt loved it.
He turned to Albel with a grin, who stood in the doorway, tensed as if waiting for approval. When he saw the smile on Fayt’s features, he grinned in return.
“It’s not completely horrid?” Albel knew most people hated his lobby, no matter how much he loved it. He would never change it, no matter how horrible it seemed to some people, but Fayt’s opinion mattered to him in a strange way. The boy’s face was bright, but Albel knew how awful the smell was, even if he had grown to adore it.
Fayt twirled around, taking it all in and running pale fingers over starkly contrasting red splashed over the wall in a way that made him shudder.
“What…” His voice was soft, and Albel scurried over so that he could hear it, fingertips resting softly on the smooth wide curve of Fayt’s slim hips. “What is this…?”
The timid little voice demanded Albel that he answer, but he suddenly found a brick shoved down his throat, and he was left speechless for the first time that night. There was no possible way he could answer that honestly- so he decided not to answer at all. He remained cool and calm, glaring down at the small boy with an imposing look. Fayt looked to the floor meekly and tugged himself away, hunching over before Albel in a submissive posture.
“Sorry…”
Albel smiled- Fayt knew his place. He tugged those slim little hips to his, grinding skirted erection into jeaned ass.
“Every room has a different purpose. Want to see?” He knew there was a childish pride in his voice, but he wanted so badly for someone to revel in this wonderful place with him, just this once. This place was like his dirty little secret, and he wanted to let Fayt in on it. The body tight against his turned around quickly in his arms, a small glint in the green eyes that peered up at him from under that shock of blue hair. Albel grinned down at Fayt, knowing that the boy was deathly curious about what one could do with thirty plus empty rooms at your disposal.
Albel, being the imaginative man that he was, had come up with uses for all of them.
~End Part III
~In the Night’s Lusty Arms, Part Four – Hurt them and Hold them~
Nothing could have prepared Fayt for what he found next. The lobby had been ghastly, and even though he’d loved it, it got worse as they went along. But Albel held his hand with slender gloved fingers, a secure and dominant grip to assure him he wasn’t ‘dealing’ with what was to come alone.
They walked up creaky stairs that looked molded and rotten. Fayt was mildly surprised when they made it to the second floor of the building without the structure caving in, Albel still tugging his wrist in a way that reminded him of an eager child wanting approval of something he’d done. Really Fayt had only expected sex, but this was a welcome situation as well. For some strange reason, he found himself really liking Albel in a strange morbid way, and he wanted to know everything possibly about the older man.
Albel himself was nervous, still shaky in his decision to show Fayt his ‘work’. After all, the young bluenette could turn out to be scared, and he might want to tell someone. Albel couldn’t let that happen, no matter how much he liked Fayt. If Fayt didn’t like what he saw, Albel risked losing a possible friend, a possible lover.
A flash of white dress, her skirt pulled past legs so pale and thin Clasping her knees close to her tiny chest, heaving with loud sobs. Her face doesn’t exist, it’s been ripped away, the knife took away her face. She can’t see him enter the room, bloody eyes rolling uselessly across the floor, muscle showing through cavernous gaping black. She hates this place, and she always cries and it’s her own fault for being so loud, he’s going to sew her mouth shut. It tastes like acid when she pukes, and it’s trailing down her lips. A soothing voice. Stinging, it stings so bad, and she cries, cries, but then she can’t cry. She can only sit, and stare with her gaping holes, and she sits there for a year, maybe two. So pretty, like a doll, no face no face no face and she can’t cry.
Little Susan dies quietly, sitting pretty in a corner. She’ll never have her first kiss, she’ll never finish first grade, she’ll never leave her silent corner.
The first room smelled even worse than the lobby, Fayt caught the stench of rotting flesh even from the slight crack. He’d gag if there wasn’t a sweet aftertaste burning in his mouth, a taste that made the smell almost bearable. The large strong hand holding his own gripped tightly for just a moment, a sign of slight anticipation.
Albel turned to Fayt, his dark red eyes burning through to the very core of his being. Shuddering, Fayt made a small noise of wonder.
”What’s wrong?” Fayt narrowed his eyes, confused, and tilted his head. He just couldn’t understand why Albel wasn’t opening the door with the large ‘1’ engraved in it, but he was patient. He could wait.
Albel sighed, tensing in preparation.
“Just… don’t scream.”
She’ll never fuck, she’ll never have her first pet, she’ll never hear another bedtime story.
“Oh my god…” Words breathed in wonder. There’s no disgust laced in those words at all.
Her nose is running, she’s gagging.
“Albel… it’s…”
She screams, but he can’t hear her over his own laughing, she has to suffer.
“…What? What is it?” For once, he wasn’t confident. He was shy. He couldn’t believe Fayt hadn’t tried to run yet.
She can’t breathe, her nose is clogged, she has to pay.
“…I love it.” A breathy gasp that permeated the thick silence, almost lusty in its nature.
She hurt him.
Approval.
So he hurt her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~
There’s a rotting body shoved haphazardly into the corner, and Fayt’s eyes are instantly dragged to it. It appears to be a small child, a girl judging by the small wisps of small hair poking limp and blonde out of a wrinkled scalp. She looks like she’s made out of velvety leather, and the white dress hangs skimpy off of her tiny dehydrated frame. There’s a huge puddle of blood, dried to a crispy brown in the corner with her. The walls are black and there’s absolutely no light coming in through the boarded window. A bed frame, rusted and useless stands like a skeleton in the middle of the room, so strange to be just sitting there. There’s no use for it, and for some reason it sends more chills down Fayt’s spine than the body does. He recalls flashes of a newspaper article from a year ago, a small girl gone missing. Honey blonde hair and bright blue eyes, what was her name again? It might have been Sarah, or maybe Suzy. A string of guilt winds through the lust building in Fayt’s stomach- he’s always been turned on by gruesome things.
Albel rests a strong hand on Fayt’s hip where the younger man’s shirt has ridden up just a slight bit. His lips trace the back of a pale slender neck, and Fayt briefly wonders if this is the fate that awaits him. Somehow, he doesn’t think so.
Those lips linger behind a dainty ear, hand tracing higher, fingers slight on the curve of Fayt’s ribs before dragging the shirt up a bit more. Albel’s breath is coming in shaky waves and his hips are pressed snug against Fayt’s, the two locked in a sensual embrace.
Fayt slides a hand up behind him to rest on the bassist’s hip. Slowly, he smoothes his hand down, over a strong naked thigh. He’s rewarded with a luscious passing of heavy breath. The gloved hand resting lightly on his stomach drags the green shirt up even more, and Albel’s fingers drag over a pebbled pink nub. Fayt hisses in appreciation, his cock straining at the material of his jeans. His nails scrape over the thigh his hand is resting on, nearly breaking the thin skin there. With an animalistic growl, Albel shoves the younger man up against the wall close o them, his hand dropping down to rub himself through the thin skirt and shorts wrapped lovingly around his hips. When his aching arousal comes into contact with the peeling burgundy-black paint on the wall, he nearly screams at the feeling, all the while staring at that gruesome little doll situated so unpleasantly in the corner. Fayt has an insane thought before his mind is overcome with lust- the little girl is staring at them. Or at least she would be if she had any eyes.
His mind is swiped clean by the feeling of his jeans being tugged roughly down over his hips. A keening wail emanates from deep in his throat when Albel’s large erection slides up between his asscheeks, brushing against his puckered pink hole. Fayt’s more than ready for Albel to shove all of those eleven inches into him in one go, but apparently the man is in the mood to torture him for a bit because the heavy heat that was nearly driving him insane leaves his entrance. Behind him, he can hear Albel spitting in his own hand and slicking himself up, it’s obscenely loud in the quiet of this room. Fayt takes a deep breath and braces his forearms against the wall, knowing this is what he was really hoping for when he stepped out of that club with this man.
“Oooooooh, gooooooooood…” His face is pressed into the flesh of his arm and his legs parted, those fingers gripping at his cheeks and prying them apart. Silken flesh that’s almost as hard as a rock pries past his tightness, sliding deep inside of him easily. Albel’s groaning into his shoulder, and there’s a thick layer of sweat already coating his skin- he can feel it descending down his back.
The hardness inside of him pushes even deeper, a seemingly impossible feat, and Fayt cries out when it brushes against the velvety walls that are trying to accommodate the sudden girth inside of him. Albel’s cock is already twitching against that marvelous spot inside of Fayt, causing bright red to burst in front of his tightly closed eyes.
“Nnnnnn, Albel…. Moooove, pleeeaseeeee!” Fayt can barely gasp out his pleadings before the other man pulls himself out roughly, his hands plastered on Fayt’s ass, the tip of his throbbing cock just barely managing to stay in. Fayt feels his walls close in on each other, but doesn’t get a chance to protest before Albel is shoving back in again, hard and fast and satisfying for the both of them. The older man growls and bites down on Fayt’s shoulder when he pulls out again, starting up a slow yet steady rhythm that drives them both slowly insane with pleasure. Every time that heated hardness presses into his prostate, Fayt screams wordlessly, his mind numb with the almost painful tingles of bliss sent shooting up his back. He arches against Albel, their bodies fitting together perfectly.
It’s all enough to make him forget about his own arousal, pressing tight against his stomach and already leaking a heavy flow of precum. Not five minutes into the act and Fayt’s tightening impossibly around Albel’s cock, causing the man to hiss and thrust faster. Fayt comes hard without even having been touched, and it hurts but the feeling of relief and orgasm makes the pain bearable. He whines and thrashes just slightly against the wall, tensing and throwing his head back, mouth open in rapture. A thin stream of the white spunk lands against his stomach, and his cock limpens slightly. Mere moments later, Albel’s shooting his own seed against that nub inside of Fayt with a loud, throaty groan, which causes spasmic aftershocks to rip through the smaller boy’s body. Fayt screams and his dick twitches once more, another thin stream of cum splattering with a wet smack against the wall.
Since he can’t seem to hold himself up, Albel allows himself to slump bonelessly against Fayt, the younger man’s chest heaving against the wall as he tries to regain his breath.
“That…” Fayt can’t seem to find the right words to describe any of it. “That was fucking amazing,” he manages.
Albel chuckles darkly, worn out but pleased.
“You do know that this means my bed is the next part of the tour, do you not?”
Fayt nods in agreement, his breathing only starting to even out. The sex had exceeded his expectations, just like Albel himself had. The thought of a warm bed at that moment seemed like heaven.
A sharp pain runs up his spine when Albel pulls out of him, and he hisses at the horrible feeling. But the older man shushes Fayt, wrapping his slender arms around the tiny waist in front of him. There bodies are pressed tight against each other still, pants around their ankles.
“Alright. We can go to bed,” Fayt agrees again, “BUT!” He snuggles his head into the crook of Albel’s neck. “T’morrow you have to show me the rest of the house.” When he pulls his face out of the warm space in order to look Albel in the eye, there’s a devious smile creeping onto his face. Fayt just smirks in return, nodding at the silent approval twinkling in those garnet eyes. His own are sparkling with something mad, bright emerald laced with something sinister and lusty. A hand slides across his stomach, traces the small line of blue hair underneath Fayt’s navel sensually.
Chuckling smoothly, Albel tilts his head. “Why do you wish to see it so bad?”
The young bluenette turns around in his arms, looking up at him with serious eyes.
“I want to see who else you live with.”
Albel is surprised, to say the least.
For several years now, he’d been searching for someone to just accept his maniacal form of stress relief, maybe to even revel in it with him.
In a sweet, innocent, young blue-haired boy with a fiery and devious personality is where he found it, unexpectedly.
In the strangest of places, he’d found the perfect lover- and if he could sweet-talk the younger man into it, maybe even someone to help him with his work.
Somehow, Albel doubted that either of them would be going back to Jason’s any time soon.
~End Part IV
-Hello, this is your author here!
Just a little note for you guys~! I really enjoyed writing this, but if you review, please no asking for updates! Concrit is absolutely great, but shameless luff is good too! Oh, and NO FLAMES! Thanks, and hope you enjoyed reading!
On 234 Twenty-Eighth Street, there was a crumbling little shack. The walls were molding, the roof caving in, and the doorway was a gaping mouth stretching past its limit. Everyone knew, though, that underneath this cavernous black structure that reeked of death and demise, there was a place where those who were considered abnormal gathered. The concrete basement was three times as large as the hut itself, large enough for a mass of writhing bodies clad in black and fluorescent hues to dance, to sit and string out on shrooms and fat joints that sent fragrant smoke swirling to the rotten ply of the ceiling. Everyone who was anyone on the Goth scene knew that Jason’s was the place to be every night, from sundown to sunup.
That was exactly why one Fayt Leingod, the Night’s Innocent, (as dubbed oh so righteously by his friends at high school), found himself wandering through the collapsing basement doorway with a flock of others. They seemed to whisper to him, little obscene laughs and mocking gestures. He shook all of it off, kept to himself, and shoved his hands into cavernous pockets lined with lime green stitching. He was proud of his not so new black jeans, which he had found yesterday and ripped artistically. The numerous safety pins holding the garment together shined in the pale moonlight while it lasted, before they went completely dim as he stepped even further into deathly silent territory. His ghastly green shirt was laced with bits of black on the edges, splotches of ink finishing off the look he had wanted to invoke.
Stepping off the final stair and into a dark room lit with only candles and small strobes, Fayt could practically feel the tinge of craziness, of fear and hatred and utter glee. Every emotion possible was present here, suffocating him along with the crush of heady musk that floated off the bodies stringing through the dance floor to the large stage in the right-hand corner of the room.
No one even glanced at him when he entered the throng, and he felt a bit more at ease. These were his kind, people who were like him and who understood a bit of what it was like to live the life he did. His muscles relaxed, and his shock of blindingly blue hair fell into his green eyes. They were like crushed emeralds mixed into a pigment, had a shine that could only be achieved with the darkest and purest of the rare gems. They were his best feature, right next to his supple flesh, flesh that was a pale white, parched almost gray from the lack of sunlight. It hadn’t seen the shine of anything but artificial light and the moon ever since he’d found that the night was kinder than the day. It suited him, surprisingly, and it matched the strobes that flickered across his sweaty face as he pushed his way through he crowd to a small patch of open space where card tables had been set up for the junkies and social kids. He sat himself down at an empty one, glared at the dark brown top of the tattered thing. He was glad to be here, but he’d be even more glad if he were here with someone else to talk to or at least dance with.
The band playing was a smash metal-rave trip, hair done straight up with streaks of lime and lemon in the dark black and ash gray. Their guitars and synths were stickered, colored and every other thing possible. The actual colors barely showed through. They screamed out lyrics, sometimes whispering them in a silky purr to the electronic beat, husky guitar streaming through the amps at the raving crowd of kids. The lead singer slunk across the stage, his fist shaking at them in a gesture of defiance that they returned. Fayt grinned and leaned back in his chair, watching them.
The bassist was a hot little number- black hair streaming into closed eyes that never opened, not even to glance down at his fingers on the most difficult of plucking. His skin was much like Fayt’s own, if not a bit more healthy-looking. He leaned his weight back and kept his head down, the blond tips of this stringy hair plastering to his face, bass guitar resting heavily against his pelvis, fingers strumming a devilish beat as quick as humanly possible. Fayt straightened up, immediately drawn to the slim figure. Bloody lipstick was smeared haphazardly across rouge lips, dark gray lining the purple-smeared eyes of this lustrous creature. His hips, clad in only in a tight pair of black shorts and a purple half-skirt trailing down slim legs, moved in time with the beat he strummed. Lips opened and mouthed the words belting from the vocalists’ mouth, making Fayt wonder what kind of sinful taste lay inside. What if he could sneak his tongue between those lips, rip the dark purple tank top from those smoothly muscled shoulders? What would the man’s tongue taste like, sliding slick against his own?
He wanted to find out.
By some miracle, the bassist’s eyes opened the smallest bit, allowing frosty red to glare out at the crowd worshipping him. He grinned like a maniac, tilted his head and stopped for a moment along with the rest of the band. Then suddenly he was throwing himself across the stage, smashing his bass into the nearest amp, causing the crowd to go wild, rabid, foaming at the mouth. Fayt couldn’t help but be shocked when the entire band joined in, smashing their ragged instruments into the nearest surface hard enough to cause a crash. It looked like they were enjoying themselves, and the crowd certainly was. The red-eyed beauty Fayt’d been watching knocked his bass into the drums, watched it clatter to the stage, then kicked it into the crowd with feet covered by purple and green converse high-tops. They were on it in an instant, throwing it around and not noticing the band sneak off backstage or the next band sneaking on.
Fayt sighed unhappily, watching leather-bound braids disappear into the small niche that served as a safe haven for bands.
It had been fun while it lasted.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~
Albel washed the muck from his face hastily, groaning when Tim patted him roughly on the back with a sharp laugh.
“That was pretty nice finger-work, Nox. Feel up to another round in the next hour?” Tim’s voice was ragged, throaty. He had the bad habit of getting too close to your ear while he talked, which wasn’t very pleasant. Not in the least.
Growling, Albel jerked around and pushed the older man away.
“Y’know, you have the awful habit of pressing too tight to my ass for comfort when you talk to me, Warren. Maybe if you didn’t try to tongue me during all of our gigs I’d actually want to play more.” Albel responded, throwing the rag down into the greasy sink provided in the small dark area that served as backstage. Tim simply scowled and nodded before walking away.
They all knew about Albel.
They all knew he never stuck around more than five minutes after a live.
He had better things to be doing. More likely than that, better girls to be fucking.
Albel brought in the most fans. It was a know fact within the Sugar Panic that all girls came for Albel, and Albel only. Tim, Jake, Anthony and Ezekiel would be lucky if they even got a passing glance. Sure, they were hot.
But not as hot as Albel.
None of the fans or band members knew his first name- at least not his real one. To them, he was simply Knight Nox, the luscious bassist who could play like nobody’s business. But he never stuck around, as they all knew, and tonight was no different.
The purple frills that hung limp down to his left thigh were dappled with splotches of dust, which he quickly brushed off. The door that led out to the dance floor and the raving bunch of kids was right to the left, and he exited as fast as he could. He hated backstage, and it pained him to be there with the sorry asses who claimed to be a band but were nothing without the drugs they loaded on before a live.
And him. They were nothing without him.
He was a rock star at heart, not a pretty boy in it for the fame and girlies. The music was like his second life, and when he wasn’t onstage, he was out getting a fix or having sex so violent it could almost count as murder.
The strobes hurt his eyes when he broke into the main club, and he quickly pushed through the crowd of doe-eyed virgins and tripping innocents to the back, where he sat at a table occupied by someone else. It wasn’t his first choice, but he needed to sit and all the other chairs were taken.
He looked at the other patron and had to hold his breath- a perfect specimen.
He hated big eyed, big breasted women. It seemed like those were all he attracted, besides big hairy men and innocent little boys exploring their own sexuality. But this boy- or girl- was exactly the kind he’d want to rip open and taste.
Blue hair, green eyes full of a wisdom that spoke measures, a mouth that had probably wrapped around its share of cock. Albel was drawn, mostly, to the eyes. They had a sort of longing in them, and they turned a shade darker when they rested on Albel’s own scab-colored irises. His lips parted and he grinned, feeling drawn to this boy, a boy who was perfect in every way.
Albel could only imagine what he’d taste like.
“Hello.” He made his voice as silky as possible, slow and cold. It was his tactic- hit them hard with a purr, snare them with a glance, and hook them with a touch.
It always worked.
The boy simply grinned and turned back to his drink. “Hello,” was his response, so low that Albel had to lean in to hear it. He could feel the edges of his mouth stretching into even more of a grin - the light little voice was almost innocent. But there was a dark undertone to it that gave the boy away.
Albel snorted. “And I suppose your tonic is much more interesting than a conversation with me.” His voice was cold, but the mischievous glint in his eyes told the boy he was only playing. The boy stifled a laugh behind his hand, before reaching his free one out to Albel.
“My name’s Fayt Leingod. And you are…?”
Albel smiled, a warm glint passing through his eyes, a calculating look. He reached out to ensnare the hand in his own, his larger palm allowing him to slide two fingers over the soft skin of Fayt’s wrist due to lack of gripping space. The skin there was thin and he could feel those bright blue veins pulse almost in time with the music, and he wondered for a brief insane moment if he could press hard enough to break it, watch the dark blood spill out so red and bright, almost purple, wondered if it would flood over his own fingers. He decided not to even try and risk such a thing.
He kept his voice low and silky, the background of wheezing lyrics and grizzly guitar brushed from his mind when he felt the warmth of that fragile little hand in his own.
“Albel. Albel Nox.”
~End part one
~In the Night’s Lusty Arms, Part Two – Hit Them Softly~
It was still so dark, the strobes blinding in their momentary radiance, and the constant buzz of light whispering and the nagging guitar that practically drilled a hole in Fayt’s head was growing extremely irritating. The only thing that stopped him from getting up and saying Fuck it All was this gorgeous creature who’d actually decided to talk to him. It was like something out of a dream, only when the punk pinched his thigh, no matter how hard, he couldn’t manage to wake up.
Along with the blatant lust glazing the red eyes staring at him was a deep, sensual voice that constantly flung little bits of innuendo at him so hard it almost hurt. There was no way Fayt would leave until this man left, and if that wasn’t until sunrise, then so be it.
Although that scratchy guitar really was annoying.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~
“So… have you played in that band for long? I mean, you looked like you had a lot of experience.”
That sweet, shy little baritone was driving him insane. Albel Nox now felt that it should be a bad thing, a very bad thing that he was losing at his own little game. Even worse that he didn’t care.
Two hours. Had it really been that long since he’d sat down in this moldy chair and spoken to this voluptuous piece of ass, and he was already falling head over heels.
The boy was a high schooler, 19 years of age and in the twelfth. He hated cats but thought dogs were just lovely to have, if only to boss around. His eyes were actually blue but had somehow changed to green over the past two years, perhaps from the waste floating around in the night air from the plant just down the river near the main part of the city. He liked to read about serial killers, and was something of a fanatic. Albel couldn’t help but scoff at that bit, wondering if the boy would like him more or less if he knew his usual nighttime activities consisted of little hot numbers in leather and a scalpel or two.
By now, Albel felt as if he knew this young man like the palm of his hand, and if he had his way, so would his cock before the night was over. For some reason, he had no real desire to do anything but taste this boy’s seed and force his own down his throat, maybe cuddle a bit. No killing urge, no want to drag a knife over his supple flesh and watch the epidermis part to reveal layers of pink tissuey muscle and an abundance of white tendons stretched taut over bloody bone.
Well, maybe just a little bit of an urge.
He was deep in his thoughts by now, and Fayt was looking at him strangely. In response, he sighed and slipped a leg over the other, a small grin stretching his cheeks. The skin felt tight over the fat there in his cheeks, if there was any, and Albel swore he would never wear liquid base again. He finally remembered that the boy had indeed asked him a question, and he was determined to answer all of Fayt’s questions and inquiries to the fullest extent possible. He sighed yet again and uncrossed his legs, suddenly restless.
“I’ve been playing Bass for about seven years now- I’ve been in the band for five. It’s been quite a while, wouldn’t you say?” He gave a flattering smirk to the man sitting across from him, watching those adorable cheeks flush with a soft pink glow. Satisfied with that reaction, he continued to talk.
“So, you enjoyed it?” Albel saw the boy shudder and try to hide it, but nothing got past him. He reached out and ran a single gloved hand down the boy’s bare shoulder, soft fingertips passing over the silky skin there in a gesture meant to be comforting. Apparently it was anything but what it was meant to be, since Fayt immediately shuddered even harder, lips parting. He gave a firm nod in reply to the question, apparently still not able to speak.
Albel grinned, going in for the kill.
“Well, if you liked it… maybe you could come back to my place with me, and I’ll put on a little private show for you?” He lowered his voice so that Fayt had to strain to hear it, and for a moment, he worried that the boy hadn’t. He was assured that he had by the way the flesh under his fingers tensed, and the way Fayt immediately took up a submissive posture.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~
“Oh, gods yes.”
Fayt could barely nod, barely move. His head was tilted back, showing the expanse of his throat to the older man across from him, and his eyes were closed halfway. There was power radiating off of Albel, a sort of radiance that demanded immediate submission or else. And so Fayt responded with just that.
The way Albel had asked it, it had been borderline demand. The thought of saying no hadn’t even crossed Fayt’s mind, he wouldn’t dare deny this man anything. That voice… he could make Fayt do anything with just that look and a whisper in that voice. It was silky smooth like satin, with a coarse undertone like almonds in dark chocolate. A voice that not even God himself could deny, if there truly was a god.
And so with that, Albel stood, that look still in his eyes. He ran a single hand over Fayt’s throat, leaving Fayt with nothing to do but allow himself to be tugged roughly out of his seat by his collar. A lust was heating his body, and he was powerless to stop Albel when the man crushed their lips together in a harsh kiss. Fayt was left moaning breathlessly, the wind leaving him in one great gasping gush, Albel’s tongue demanding, demanding, demanding entry into his mouth.
He was helpless to stop his lips from parting. He couldn’t make his tongue stay still when that slick appendage ran over it, and he twirled it about in search of that taste he’d wanted so dearly only scant hours ago. He found it, and was left gasping, panting, shuddering.
It was so dark, so sinful. It was a sweet liquid burn that he swallowed and tried to get more of, his hands coming up to pull Albel closer, silently pleading. At that moment, he didn’t care that they were in a shady club, surrounded by people staring, some most likely even jacking off to the scene.
All Fayt knew was that Albel was giving him more of that sinful taste, their saliva mingling. He was drawn deeper into nothingness, eyes shut tight and a steady whine trying to make its way out of his throat, just barely succeeding. He loved the challenging way Albel’s tongue possessed his own, the way it spread the taste of blood and coffee all around his own mouth. He almost collapsed, would have surely fallen to the floor if Albel’s hands weren’t anchored to his ass. Their hips pushed together, grinded, causing Fayt to shriek through the kiss, causing Albel to grin and suck Fayt’s lower lip into his mouth.
There was no love shared between them, except perhaps a small bit, and the feeling of another man’s mouth raping his own was wonderful. Fayt had never kissed before- he’d given blowjobs like some people gave out free candy, had received a few from girls. But never in his life had he kissed someone, and this mind-blowing sensation made him glad he’d waited. With a loud wet smack, their lips parted from one another, Albel’s half-lidded gaze full of crazy lust. Fayt was sure the same desire was present in his own, and the way their bodies restlessly moved against one another made him want to stay and leave all at one moment. A thin bit of saliva still connected their lips and Fayt blushed, sticking his tongue out to catch it.
All of a sudden, Albel’s hands weren’t splayed across his ass anymore, one hand with a fingerless glove tugging lightly on Fayt’s wrist. The man had an insane grin on his face, and suddenly Fayt forgot all about that annoying guitar in the background. Instead, he focused on Albel’s lazy gaze, the slight yank on his wrist, those fingers and their fragile look and powerful grip.
The smirk on his captor’s face grew. And suddenly, out of nowhere, Albel was pulling him close, motioning towards the exit, grinning and talking. Asking him another uneducable question.
“Well… shall we?”
~End Part II
~In the Night’s Lusty Arms, Part Three – Make ‘em Beg~
His car was gloriously warm, deliciously clean and sleek in design. The blue tint was such a cool contrast to the acidic persona of the man himself- Fayt would have pegged Albel as the slim, sporty car type. Maybe one with red, black detailing. But no- a rounded off blue hybrid awaited them in the small courtyard that served as a parking lot for Jason’s little ‘club’, and when they clambered in – carefully on Fayt’s part- the scent of pine and a spotless interior met them with a warm glow. Albel settled in the driver’s seat with a smug little grin, as if he knew what Fayt was thinking. And as a matter of fact, he did.
The next thing Fayt had expected was to streak out of the parking lot and go madly dashing down the freeway- surprisingly, that never happened either. Even though he’d slipped his seatbelt on before his ass was even fully in the seat and he was gripping the handle so hard his fingers turned white, Albel just giggled, yes giggled, and backed up slowly, the car already in reverse. It slid out of the parking space smoothly and Fayt’s clenched eyes opened to peek out at the world, wondering why he wasn’t suffering from whiplash yet. A soft hand fluttered over to slap his thigh playfully, and he jumped in his seat. Albel was grinning at him- the kiss really seemed to have put him in a playful mood.
Fayt wasn’t sure if he liked a playful Albel quite that much or if he despised it entirely.
He was thankful, though, for the way the sexual tension thinned out briefly and Albel seemed relaxed in his seat. The leather interior clung to Fayt’s skin where holes allowed it, and he had to constantly shift so that none of it turned a pale pink. A dark blue bobble head of an unidentifiable form sat on the dash, and its head beat slowly in time to the fluid string music that pulsed from dark gray speakers. Soon enough, Fayt found himself cooling down and relaxing, and apparently, Albel noticed when that was. The soothing music was soon replaced by something strangely hypnotic, some random trance music that sounded as if it was ripped directly from a rave. Strangely, Fayt started nodding his head and tapping his fingers, regardless of how much he loathed electronic and DJ’d music.
Albel kept sneaking peaks at him every now and then and Fayt would smile, an innocent little smirk that spoke measures. It said that he knew he wouldn’t be playing meek in the bedroom, wouldn’t be pretending when he screamed and postured himself in a submissive pose. Fayt was made to be fucked, and it wasn’t doing Albel’s hard-on any good to be jumping around in his pants while he drived. He closed those thoughts off for now and concentrated on getting them back to his ‘humble home’ in a single piece, bloody eyes peering out at the pale night sky without a single emotion written on them and a slight grin curving the corner of his mouth.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~
There were two simultaneous sighs that accompanied the twin shuts of doors on either side of the hybrid when they arrived. Albel leaned up against the car, staring up at the apartment complex. Fayt followed suit, crossing his legs and shifting so his head was leaning back against the roof.
“So, who else do you live with?”
Albel snorted, his head shaking. “I don’t live with anyone,” he replied. “This entire thing is empty but for me. I don’t think I’d bring anyone home if I had neighbors. Too many snots would complain.” He sniffed bitterly, clearly speaking from experience. They always complained about the screaming- the smell apparently wasn’t bad, and neither was the blood that always soaked the hallways, trailed on his boots. But oh, they always complained about the screaming.
Fayt peered up at the four-story apartment building, all brick and imposing steel and molding wood. It looked old, and a wrought iron gate with extravagantly designed finials wrapped around it like a security blanket. After glancing warily at it, he turned to Albel.
“Well… at least you don’t have to worry about bitchy landlords, right?” He swallowed past the lump in his throat, grinning meekly. He was much more nervous now that he was actually here, and Albel wasn’t helping much. There was a blank look in the man’s eyes, and when he fished out the key for the front door, it seemed like forever before the large plank of molded wood creaked open, Albel’s pale gloved hand pushing it in slowly. Fayt waited on the front step for a moment, unsure of whether he should step in or run away. His fight or flight instinct was kicking in for some strange reason- almost like if he went in, he wouldn’t ever come out. That’s how it felt. Nevertheless, he took a wary step inside when Albel motioned for him to. The warm smile now plastered on the older youth’s face reassured Fayt’s dubious feelings slightly.
Fayt was surprised when he got inside- it looked much nicer from the outside, regardless of how old it appeared to be. The deep red carpeting was a crusty looking brown in many a place, the disconcerting stains looking like they’d maybe even seeped onto the floor underneath the carpet. Fayt suppressed a shudder and forced himself not to wonder what those splotches were- definitely not blood, no no. That just wouldn’t be possible. There was hair everywhere- reds, golds, dark hues, all the colors of the rainbow, all lodged in the small fibers of the carpeting. Some even stuck to the dark stains, poking up out of them like vibrant threads. Fayt was pretty damn sure it was human hair, too- he didn’t know of any animal that had green fur.
The smell was another thing entirely. It smelled like fruit peels left out to rot too long and the heaping bags of garbage that could always be found outside on the curb every Thursday. It was horrible to breathe in, and nearly gagged you, like a fist being shoved down through your lungs, ready to rip them out and throw them on the floor. It was horrible, and Fayt stopped breathing for just a moment lest he add yet another stain to the carpet. After a few minutes of even breaths, though, it wasn’t bad at all. It gave him a heady feeling, and it was so full of the rotting stench of death that it was almost sweet. In a sick, disturbing kind of way.
Then there were the walls. Peeling cheap flowery wallpaper, yellow in places, green or brown in others, fell off the walls in longs strips and lay on the carpet, limp and pitiful looking. Those same dark splotches of dark red and crusty brown that were everywhere on the carpet haunted them, though a tad bit brighter since they didn’t blend in quite as well. They led Fayt up to the ceiling, the sagging ceiling that was almost completely brown and coated in a layer of dust so thick you could smell it from the doorway. Albel flicked a switch and Fayt’s attention was drawn over to the bright brass light fixtures attached to the sides of the walls. Those too were covered in dust, and were an old type of oil lamp. The light they cast off was dim, barely enough to even be called light. Even a match would have done better, and the low light along with all the details he was taking in hurt Fayt’s eyes just a little bit. Small scratches next to his ear drew his attention to the trail of spiders clinging to the doorframe, about four or five tiny hairy bodies trying to climb up to a hole in the ceiling that would, Fayt guessed, lead them to another floor. Cobwebs, dusty and limp, were in all of the possible corners. His attention was then drawn to yet another detail he’d missed at first- scribbles all over the wall. Handprints bloody and colorful, blackened and charred scraps of paper taped up here and there for no reason (it seemed), rainbow colors faded to dank pastels, permanent marker graffiti scrawled all over the place. Fayt thought he even saw one that claimed ‘Ana is a bloody poof’, (how original).
All in all, it was disgusting.
Fayt loved it.
He turned to Albel with a grin, who stood in the doorway, tensed as if waiting for approval. When he saw the smile on Fayt’s features, he grinned in return.
“It’s not completely horrid?” Albel knew most people hated his lobby, no matter how much he loved it. He would never change it, no matter how horrible it seemed to some people, but Fayt’s opinion mattered to him in a strange way. The boy’s face was bright, but Albel knew how awful the smell was, even if he had grown to adore it.
Fayt twirled around, taking it all in and running pale fingers over starkly contrasting red splashed over the wall in a way that made him shudder.
“What…” His voice was soft, and Albel scurried over so that he could hear it, fingertips resting softly on the smooth wide curve of Fayt’s slim hips. “What is this…?”
The timid little voice demanded Albel that he answer, but he suddenly found a brick shoved down his throat, and he was left speechless for the first time that night. There was no possible way he could answer that honestly- so he decided not to answer at all. He remained cool and calm, glaring down at the small boy with an imposing look. Fayt looked to the floor meekly and tugged himself away, hunching over before Albel in a submissive posture.
“Sorry…”
Albel smiled- Fayt knew his place. He tugged those slim little hips to his, grinding skirted erection into jeaned ass.
“Every room has a different purpose. Want to see?” He knew there was a childish pride in his voice, but he wanted so badly for someone to revel in this wonderful place with him, just this once. This place was like his dirty little secret, and he wanted to let Fayt in on it. The body tight against his turned around quickly in his arms, a small glint in the green eyes that peered up at him from under that shock of blue hair. Albel grinned down at Fayt, knowing that the boy was deathly curious about what one could do with thirty plus empty rooms at your disposal.
Albel, being the imaginative man that he was, had come up with uses for all of them.
~End Part III
~In the Night’s Lusty Arms, Part Four – Hurt them and Hold them~
Nothing could have prepared Fayt for what he found next. The lobby had been ghastly, and even though he’d loved it, it got worse as they went along. But Albel held his hand with slender gloved fingers, a secure and dominant grip to assure him he wasn’t ‘dealing’ with what was to come alone.
They walked up creaky stairs that looked molded and rotten. Fayt was mildly surprised when they made it to the second floor of the building without the structure caving in, Albel still tugging his wrist in a way that reminded him of an eager child wanting approval of something he’d done. Really Fayt had only expected sex, but this was a welcome situation as well. For some strange reason, he found himself really liking Albel in a strange morbid way, and he wanted to know everything possibly about the older man.
Albel himself was nervous, still shaky in his decision to show Fayt his ‘work’. After all, the young bluenette could turn out to be scared, and he might want to tell someone. Albel couldn’t let that happen, no matter how much he liked Fayt. If Fayt didn’t like what he saw, Albel risked losing a possible friend, a possible lover.
A flash of white dress, her skirt pulled past legs so pale and thin Clasping her knees close to her tiny chest, heaving with loud sobs. Her face doesn’t exist, it’s been ripped away, the knife took away her face. She can’t see him enter the room, bloody eyes rolling uselessly across the floor, muscle showing through cavernous gaping black. She hates this place, and she always cries and it’s her own fault for being so loud, he’s going to sew her mouth shut. It tastes like acid when she pukes, and it’s trailing down her lips. A soothing voice. Stinging, it stings so bad, and she cries, cries, but then she can’t cry. She can only sit, and stare with her gaping holes, and she sits there for a year, maybe two. So pretty, like a doll, no face no face no face and she can’t cry.
Little Susan dies quietly, sitting pretty in a corner. She’ll never have her first kiss, she’ll never finish first grade, she’ll never leave her silent corner.
The first room smelled even worse than the lobby, Fayt caught the stench of rotting flesh even from the slight crack. He’d gag if there wasn’t a sweet aftertaste burning in his mouth, a taste that made the smell almost bearable. The large strong hand holding his own gripped tightly for just a moment, a sign of slight anticipation.
Albel turned to Fayt, his dark red eyes burning through to the very core of his being. Shuddering, Fayt made a small noise of wonder.
”What’s wrong?” Fayt narrowed his eyes, confused, and tilted his head. He just couldn’t understand why Albel wasn’t opening the door with the large ‘1’ engraved in it, but he was patient. He could wait.
Albel sighed, tensing in preparation.
“Just… don’t scream.”
She’ll never fuck, she’ll never have her first pet, she’ll never hear another bedtime story.
“Oh my god…” Words breathed in wonder. There’s no disgust laced in those words at all.
Her nose is running, she’s gagging.
“Albel… it’s…”
She screams, but he can’t hear her over his own laughing, she has to suffer.
“…What? What is it?” For once, he wasn’t confident. He was shy. He couldn’t believe Fayt hadn’t tried to run yet.
She can’t breathe, her nose is clogged, she has to pay.
“…I love it.” A breathy gasp that permeated the thick silence, almost lusty in its nature.
She hurt him.
Approval.
So he hurt her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~
There’s a rotting body shoved haphazardly into the corner, and Fayt’s eyes are instantly dragged to it. It appears to be a small child, a girl judging by the small wisps of small hair poking limp and blonde out of a wrinkled scalp. She looks like she’s made out of velvety leather, and the white dress hangs skimpy off of her tiny dehydrated frame. There’s a huge puddle of blood, dried to a crispy brown in the corner with her. The walls are black and there’s absolutely no light coming in through the boarded window. A bed frame, rusted and useless stands like a skeleton in the middle of the room, so strange to be just sitting there. There’s no use for it, and for some reason it sends more chills down Fayt’s spine than the body does. He recalls flashes of a newspaper article from a year ago, a small girl gone missing. Honey blonde hair and bright blue eyes, what was her name again? It might have been Sarah, or maybe Suzy. A string of guilt winds through the lust building in Fayt’s stomach- he’s always been turned on by gruesome things.
Albel rests a strong hand on Fayt’s hip where the younger man’s shirt has ridden up just a slight bit. His lips trace the back of a pale slender neck, and Fayt briefly wonders if this is the fate that awaits him. Somehow, he doesn’t think so.
Those lips linger behind a dainty ear, hand tracing higher, fingers slight on the curve of Fayt’s ribs before dragging the shirt up a bit more. Albel’s breath is coming in shaky waves and his hips are pressed snug against Fayt’s, the two locked in a sensual embrace.
Fayt slides a hand up behind him to rest on the bassist’s hip. Slowly, he smoothes his hand down, over a strong naked thigh. He’s rewarded with a luscious passing of heavy breath. The gloved hand resting lightly on his stomach drags the green shirt up even more, and Albel’s fingers drag over a pebbled pink nub. Fayt hisses in appreciation, his cock straining at the material of his jeans. His nails scrape over the thigh his hand is resting on, nearly breaking the thin skin there. With an animalistic growl, Albel shoves the younger man up against the wall close o them, his hand dropping down to rub himself through the thin skirt and shorts wrapped lovingly around his hips. When his aching arousal comes into contact with the peeling burgundy-black paint on the wall, he nearly screams at the feeling, all the while staring at that gruesome little doll situated so unpleasantly in the corner. Fayt has an insane thought before his mind is overcome with lust- the little girl is staring at them. Or at least she would be if she had any eyes.
His mind is swiped clean by the feeling of his jeans being tugged roughly down over his hips. A keening wail emanates from deep in his throat when Albel’s large erection slides up between his asscheeks, brushing against his puckered pink hole. Fayt’s more than ready for Albel to shove all of those eleven inches into him in one go, but apparently the man is in the mood to torture him for a bit because the heavy heat that was nearly driving him insane leaves his entrance. Behind him, he can hear Albel spitting in his own hand and slicking himself up, it’s obscenely loud in the quiet of this room. Fayt takes a deep breath and braces his forearms against the wall, knowing this is what he was really hoping for when he stepped out of that club with this man.
“Oooooooh, gooooooooood…” His face is pressed into the flesh of his arm and his legs parted, those fingers gripping at his cheeks and prying them apart. Silken flesh that’s almost as hard as a rock pries past his tightness, sliding deep inside of him easily. Albel’s groaning into his shoulder, and there’s a thick layer of sweat already coating his skin- he can feel it descending down his back.
The hardness inside of him pushes even deeper, a seemingly impossible feat, and Fayt cries out when it brushes against the velvety walls that are trying to accommodate the sudden girth inside of him. Albel’s cock is already twitching against that marvelous spot inside of Fayt, causing bright red to burst in front of his tightly closed eyes.
“Nnnnnn, Albel…. Moooove, pleeeaseeeee!” Fayt can barely gasp out his pleadings before the other man pulls himself out roughly, his hands plastered on Fayt’s ass, the tip of his throbbing cock just barely managing to stay in. Fayt feels his walls close in on each other, but doesn’t get a chance to protest before Albel is shoving back in again, hard and fast and satisfying for the both of them. The older man growls and bites down on Fayt’s shoulder when he pulls out again, starting up a slow yet steady rhythm that drives them both slowly insane with pleasure. Every time that heated hardness presses into his prostate, Fayt screams wordlessly, his mind numb with the almost painful tingles of bliss sent shooting up his back. He arches against Albel, their bodies fitting together perfectly.
It’s all enough to make him forget about his own arousal, pressing tight against his stomach and already leaking a heavy flow of precum. Not five minutes into the act and Fayt’s tightening impossibly around Albel’s cock, causing the man to hiss and thrust faster. Fayt comes hard without even having been touched, and it hurts but the feeling of relief and orgasm makes the pain bearable. He whines and thrashes just slightly against the wall, tensing and throwing his head back, mouth open in rapture. A thin stream of the white spunk lands against his stomach, and his cock limpens slightly. Mere moments later, Albel’s shooting his own seed against that nub inside of Fayt with a loud, throaty groan, which causes spasmic aftershocks to rip through the smaller boy’s body. Fayt screams and his dick twitches once more, another thin stream of cum splattering with a wet smack against the wall.
Since he can’t seem to hold himself up, Albel allows himself to slump bonelessly against Fayt, the younger man’s chest heaving against the wall as he tries to regain his breath.
“That…” Fayt can’t seem to find the right words to describe any of it. “That was fucking amazing,” he manages.
Albel chuckles darkly, worn out but pleased.
“You do know that this means my bed is the next part of the tour, do you not?”
Fayt nods in agreement, his breathing only starting to even out. The sex had exceeded his expectations, just like Albel himself had. The thought of a warm bed at that moment seemed like heaven.
A sharp pain runs up his spine when Albel pulls out of him, and he hisses at the horrible feeling. But the older man shushes Fayt, wrapping his slender arms around the tiny waist in front of him. There bodies are pressed tight against each other still, pants around their ankles.
“Alright. We can go to bed,” Fayt agrees again, “BUT!” He snuggles his head into the crook of Albel’s neck. “T’morrow you have to show me the rest of the house.” When he pulls his face out of the warm space in order to look Albel in the eye, there’s a devious smile creeping onto his face. Fayt just smirks in return, nodding at the silent approval twinkling in those garnet eyes. His own are sparkling with something mad, bright emerald laced with something sinister and lusty. A hand slides across his stomach, traces the small line of blue hair underneath Fayt’s navel sensually.
Chuckling smoothly, Albel tilts his head. “Why do you wish to see it so bad?”
The young bluenette turns around in his arms, looking up at him with serious eyes.
“I want to see who else you live with.”
Albel is surprised, to say the least.
For several years now, he’d been searching for someone to just accept his maniacal form of stress relief, maybe to even revel in it with him.
In a sweet, innocent, young blue-haired boy with a fiery and devious personality is where he found it, unexpectedly.
In the strangest of places, he’d found the perfect lover- and if he could sweet-talk the younger man into it, maybe even someone to help him with his work.
Somehow, Albel doubted that either of them would be going back to Jason’s any time soon.
~End Part IV
-Hello, this is your author here!
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