Tuesday, 10 July 2012

The party had canapés. Canapés. What the fuck was I doing here? You always dragged me along to these things, even though you knew they made me feel out of place.  In fact I think that’s why you did it - so you could feel out of place with me instead of getting sucked into the phoney airkissing and smiling backstabbing.

I poked at some food, it was probably some kind of vegan cheese.  I wished they just had some chicken drumsticks, but these kind of parties never did. I sighed and drank my organic sparkling wine.

Suddenly someone grabbed my arm, a flash of shaggy hair, a whirlwind of words, “Jesus Freaking Christ - you have to come talk to these guys, they’re ludicrous!”

I shuffled behind you hesitantly.  We were pretty similar on the surface, people could tell that we were mates, but there was just something that allowed you to slide into any group while I felt on the outskirts.  You were bright colours, sparkle, cascading music; I was faded sepiatone, murky shadows, doomy droning.

I made a few awkward introductions, not really grasping what all the excitement was about. They just seemed like a bunch of stoned hipsters, not even that cute. I raised my eyebrows, but you just gave me a ‘be patient’ look.

No one was really talking to me, I was starting to get bored and was ready to wander off, when someone shouted out some meaningless jumble of letters, and like a ripple it spread through the group.  Chanting their cult-like mantra, their eyes glazed over, as if the word gave them a comfort blanket high.

I caught your glance, you were grinning madly. I walked to the bar quickly, not able to trust myself not to blurt out something I’d regret.

“Another one, ta,” I heard you behind me.  I drank my glass down and got another immediately.

“What the fuck is up with those morons? And why are you hanging out with them?” I hissed at you.

You seemed hurt that I didn’t understand. “But... they’re so... mindless!”

I couldn’t help laughing. “Fuckssake, you can’t just poke at the retards, you’re better than that.”

Your face went dark. “Look, they started it, I just went over to say ‘hi’ to a girl I knew, then that annoying one in the Fugazi T-shirt started talking about wannabes who look freaky to cover up their middle-class guilt, staring at me the whole time.”

I knew what this meant. You were going to get revenge in your own inimitable way.  “Shall I go home and leave you to it?” I asked, trying not to show my emotions.

“Fuck no!” You wrapped your arm around my waist and pulled me back to the group. “I need your help.”

This sounded ominous.

I watched you work on Fugazi, your ability to charm was spectacular, I’ve seen you take someone from hating you to number one fan in half an hour.  Your target seemed to be resisting somehow, I suspected it was through idiocy rather than willpower: grinning smugly, expecting everyone to be desperate with desire anyway.

Somehow though, you got through the barriers enough to get a snog, probably an ironic one that was being drafted into a terrible poem immediately, but I could tell that wherever the mind was, the body was responding.  Your tongue was soft and persuasive in every way, and was sending subconscious messages to say that it would be just as skilfull on other parts of the body.

Soon it was over. The three of us got a cab.

When we got home, I tried to go to my bedroom and block it all out, but you ushered me into your room instead.  I sank into a chair, ruefully reflecting on how little free will I'd had all night.

Your conquest was playing it too cool to show any embarrassment at me being in the room while you got to work.  I was used to playing gooseberry to some extent, but this seemed like it might go somewhere new. I hoped you weren't planning a threesome, although I had to admit that the idea was a little intriguing, despite my revulsion for the third party.

Soon you were both oblivious to me, your mouth working between Fugazi's legs. I tried to push my jealousy down, watching the tableau like an artistic video: your fragile, pale skin contrasting with the darker tones of the body you were pleasuring; the rhythm of your  hair moving like wind on waves; luxurious arousal.

I still couldn't work out why you were doing this, I knew you liked to win people over, but this seemed a bit extreme. It was hard for me to enjoy the free porn when I felt as if you were being taken advantage of.

The urge to escape rose up again, but you chose that moment to move, hand replacing tongue to keep your guest docile, but now kneeling up to look at me.  I shivered.  There was something nihilistic in your eyes. I wouldn't have been surprised to see you reach for a knife.

Maintaining eye contact with me, you started to tease and pinch your victims nipples through the fabric. The moans that resulted were not displeased.  I heard myself joining in under my breath. You seemed to be transmitting your actions remotely, I felt every dig of your nails or torturous breath on the neck.

I was panting slightly, but the noise was easily drowned out by the sounds of desire coming from the bed. I was surprised at how passive you had made your partner, all bravado was washed away, no attempts to take charge of things, just a desperate need for whatever you gave.

I couldn't quite see what was going on, my gaze still locked onto yours, but I felt my own fantasies overtaking me, all the things I longed for you to do to me seemed to be exactly what you were doing now.

I lost track of time, the eternal moment of licking, biting, sliding, fists, restraint, edging, hard, slippery, delicate, brutal, endless, endless wanting.

We all seemed to be on the brink of something when you slowed things down to the bare minimum required to keep the tension up.  This resulted in some of the most pitiful whining I've ever heard.

You chuckled, cruelly but with a fair amount of disinterest thrown in. "Do you want me to let you come?"

"Fricking Hell, of course I do!" came the panicked response.

Your voice took on that tone that seems to buzz deep inside your head.  It was impossible to resist.  "Then I think you need to ask me nicely."

"Uhhh... please? Please can I come?"  I couldn't believe how pathetic the smug hipster sounded. I'd have laughed if I wasn't so turned on myself.

Your lips were the focus of everyone in the room.  "What will you do in return?" they asked sweetly.

"Anything! Anything you want!" I heard  true desperation.

"Good," you'd won. " Then remember this: you're just about to have the best orgasm of your life. Every time you come from now on, you'll know that it's a pale imitation.  That the only time you ever felt bliss was with me..."

The recipient of this barrage was too far gone to resist.  Your every word sank into a mind open and ready to receive instruction.

"...and this will be the thought that haunts you," you continued, "you'll know that you repulse me, and the only way I could keep up this charade was to pretend I was doing all this to my friend over there."

Something broke.  Both of you were watching me and I could feel a strange energy overtake us.  I should have been shocked at how evil you were being, but this all seemed perfect and necessary.

Your hand sped up to an irresistible rhythm but something else was needed. Words rose up in me. My mouth spoke with your voice.  "You can come, you worthless piece of shit."

We were immediately obeyed, the ecstasy helplessly spilling out like waves of lifeforce and I could see you feeding off it. You were radiant as you performed your dark magic, and I knew that your hooks were in place forever.

Once it was over we barely noticed as the visitor left shamefaced, you were still high on power and I couldn't muster any response other than silent awe.

You slumped back on your bed, and I ached to join you.  As if you knew, you patted the space beside you. "Come on, idiot, you need to be over here now."

I thought I'd hesitate, but I was laying next to you in a heartbeat.  For a long time we just looked at each other.  You reached out and stroked my hair, it was painfully sweet, but I couldn't get the thought out of my mind that you might just be playing with me as well.  I felt tears well in my eyes.

"Hey!" you chided softly, "What's up?"

I tried to breathe normally.  "It's just all a bit... confusing. I don't really know what's going on any more."

"Ah... don't worry about it, just do what feels right."

That was the trouble. What felt right was to worship you, surrender myself, give you my soul.  Yet, I knew I should challenge how you'd behaved.  "I didn't know you could be so cold," was the compromise that came out.

Your eyes flashed. "Yes you did."

I didn't know how to take it.  Sure, your blog was filled with plenty of dark stuff, and I'd heard you say some harsh things about people you'd got off with, but I still felt as if a curtain had been torn open. Perhaps what I really meant was that I was shocked by my own capacity for coldness.

Slowly, in case I freaked out, you put your hand between my legs, checking my level of arousal with a faux-scientific air.  Your look said it all.  Fuck it, we were both drawn to shadowy places, we may as well accept it.  Emotional pain was a heady aphrodisiac when done right, and you seemed to be a virtuoso.

There was something about you that made things fine, as if the normal rules didn't apply. You looked as beautiful and benign as a saint while you found all my weak spots like a demon.  I stopped fighting, gave in to the siren call of your soft lips, and sank into a warm lake of pleasure. I finally understood your supernatural effect on everyone you kissed.

Eventually you moved your head away, and chuckled as I tried to follow. "Shh... don't worry, just let me make you feel good."  You moved on top of me, gently holding my arms down, watching to see if I minded, although you must have been fully aware that it would just make my breathing get heavier, my eyes half close, and my groin start to grind.

"Just relax, stay like that," you murmured, and although you were no longer restraining me, I couldn't move even if I'd wanted to.  I'd thought your remote seduction earlier had pushed all my buttons, but now you were rewiring my erogenous zones: the insides of my elbows, the sides of my waist, my ankles, making every inch of my body sing. I felt woozy, trippy. My sensations were multiplied and I had a dreamlike feeling of floating, no thoughts, no cares, only your touch.

Soon it became apparent you were homing in, slowly, slowly nipping and caressing your way up the inside of my thighs. There was a breathless pause and then your hot mouth made everything else become irrelevant.

Whenever I try to describe the experience, my mind whites out again, but I do remember the feeling of your burning gaze calling me back into real time, I opened my eyes and had the image happily seared onto my retinas forever.

You slowed, took your mouth away and I groaned.  I couldn't say I hadn't been warned of your taste for control in this area, but it felt very different when I was the one being denied. Before I could regain the power to think straight, you started to stroke up and down, maddeningly slowly, leaving me strung out and barely able to register what you were saying.

"I was just wondering something..." you said casually, "just as a little game...  if only one of us could come tonight, who would you choose?" Your question sounded so innocent, but left me reeling.  I assumed this wasn't just hypothetical, and you'd waited until every cell in my body wanted me to make the selfish choice.

A lot seemed to be riding on this, for me at least.  I drew on the secret core that had sustained me through all the times when I had to disguise my yearning. It was time to show you how I felt.

I sat up, slid away from your grasp and knelt on the floor looking up.  "You. Always." I pulled you towards me and devoted myself to your pleasure. In serving you I found a kind of calm strength, my actions were smooth and certain, and you responded to them with a charming mixture of noble magnanimity and naive glee.

The sensation of my mouth on you was deeply erotic in itself, I seemed to share what you were feeling, and you me, as if we were so in tune that we were just one unbounded creature fucking itself eternally.  Barriers melting away in primal licking, sucking and worship.

I could have carried on forever, but your fingers tightened on my shoulders and I knew you were close. I glanced up at you mischievously, considering copying your cruel example, instantly realising it was not an option. I became a puppet, moving only as you willed it, completely guided by your needs, my subconscious somehow picking up what you wanted me to do without me needing to intervene.

When you came, I felt a gratification I hadn't experienced before, I was satisfied that I'd done my job well even though my own desire was pulsing and wishing it could join you. Once your breathing slowed and you loosened your grip, I stood awkwardly, not sure what to do next.

You smiled in a friendly but distant way.  "Wow! That was so great, thanks! You'd better go to your room though, or the others will think it's weird."

I was crushed, but a part of me had been expecting this.  I often though sex was just a bit of fun for you, no more meaningful than any other interaction.  I knew you cared for me as a friend, and I should just be grateful that you'd let me have the experiences we'd shared.

"OK, night then," I muttered as I turned to the door.

You bounded between me and the exit before I got there. "Oh my God! Are you kidding?"  You seemed genuinely upset I'd believed you. Your expression was oddly fragile, pupils enlarged, lips trembling in a slight pout.

I frowned, confused at the mixed signals I was getting.  "Look, I don't mind you using me for your games, I just... I need to know where I stand, I can't keep... hoping..." I blurted out, too fried to be diplomatic.

"Hoping?" You reached up and ran your thumb over my lips almost absent-mindedly, while you considered what I'd said. "Do you really like me that much?"

I nodded sadly, trying to resist the urge to take your thumb in my mouth and forget about everything else.

You smiled crookedly, and whispered. "Me too."

Our clothes came off with nervous fumbling, but neither of us cared, all that mattered was getting back into bed and fucking each other into oblivion.

I'd describe it, but every time I try my mind just whites out.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Whoa.... That is seriously hot, fucked, tender, and hot. Powerful stuff.