Home
Что у трезвого на уме, то у пятого на языке [M]
IP: 184.167.4.118
Posted on March 29, 2020 at 10:27:03 AM by Zhenya

WARNING: THIS POST CONTAINS SEXUAL THEMES

zhenya header2

The sun set, the moon rose, and Zhenya was pleasantly drunk. One would never know it, looking at him. A practiced alcoholic, his speech patterns barely wavered, his steps remained graceful and unhurried, his expression slipped fluidly between coy and cunning. His eyes, clear as Sunday morning, tracked a young man as he wandered the crowds.

The man was a beautiful mess; Zhenya could not believe what he was wearing. At least the boy named Blue – the long-game conquest that Zhenya had every intention of following up with, later – had been wearing a suit, as uncomfortable as it had seemed for him. This one was wearing…Gods. Something off a rack somewhere. Probably discount.

It was a tragedy. And yet, taking one look at his face, Zhenya knew he had to have him. That face was something from a painting, like the ones Lorraine had hanging in her ballrooms. Fresh and alive, with eyes that bordered on feminine and lips that were just begging to be raked between his teeth. He was like a ripe fruit, full and sweet and ready to be devoured. The fact that he didn’t have a hive of lovers pawing at him was an affront to nature.

So when Zhenya found him at last, alone, in a quiet courtyard off the main gardens, the triumph he felt was nearly feral. Desire forked through his body like a current.

He strolled toward him, hands in his pockets, his tux jacket unbuttoned to expose the shirt beneath, so fine it was nearly translucent. His liquid bronze eyes glittered, dark and dangerous, beneath the fairy lights in the trees. It was a beautiful setting, like something from a storybook romance…but Zhenya’s thoughts strayed far from that particular script.

It was obvious the man sensed his presence. He detected a readiness about him, as if all he wanted was to be pushed into a hedge and choked. Zhenya took his time drawing near.

”Can you? Interesting.” It was interesting; his train of thought veered, considering all the possible ways the man’s magic could be used to heighten the experience. From the looks of it, he was already boarding the express line. ”Psychic? Telepath? You read my thoughts, right now?”

His accent was a purr, rolling r’s and crisp t’s, pitched low so only the man could hear. The distance between them evaporated into nothing. Zhenya stood in the haze of his smoke, letting it curl around him like a caress. He tilted his head and gave him a thorough visual examination: the denim was even worse up close.

”I was thinking I wanted to dress you,” he confided, stepping close to straighten the collar on that atrocious shirt, lip curling in distaste. His finger followed the hem of the button placard. His eyes lifted, amber pinning green. ”And then undress you, of course. You have look of one who is better off naked.”

He smiled, baring perfect teeth. His fingers skated over the top of his jeans. There was a beat of silence, as he waited for the stranger to display some hesitation, or discomfort, or fear. It didn’t come.

”I don’t ask,” he whispered, gripping him through his jeans and leaning forward to press a hard kiss on his mouth.



zhenya footer


Replies:

Post a reply:
Name:
Email:
Subject:
Message:
Link Name:
Link URL:
Image URL:
Password To Edit Post:
Check this box if you want to be notified via email when someone replies to your post.







Create Your Own Free Message Board or Free Forum!
Hosted By Boards2Go Copyright © 2020


<-- -->