As Lance lunged, Chris turned to retreat -- his long coat sweeping behind him. Travel destination well thought out as he maneuvered like a pro. Lance scurried, dropping his glass in haste. His boots scuffed against the hard floor as he tried to coordinate his body -- the body that seemed to be reeling from one drink. One concoction that had made him drunk with every immoral feeling possible. He tripped over his own feet as he kept his eyes on the leather coat. Following like some bitch in heat. Lance rubbed absently at his cock, hard as steel and hurting. Wandering down the same path, Lance caught whiffs of Chris’ cologne in the air. It taunted him, imploring his feet move faster -- down a narrow hallway adorned with doors. Lance stumbled against the wall with his mouth curled into a frown. Anger bubbled inside of him, and he began to throw the doors open. Like a movie set. Like some totally fucked up movie that made no sense. Hands wrapped around him suddenly, dragging him backward into a room illuminated by a single white candle. The light flickered ominously over Chris as he stood with his hands tangled under Lance’s coat. “You like?” Chris whispered, jerking his hand free and sliding it around Lance’s neck. “You like this? Make you feel bad?” “Umm hmm,” Lance replied shakily. “Where are we?” “VIP room,” Chris replied, nipping the base of Lance’s neck. The tremble started somewhere in Lance’s feet, rumbling ferociously up his legs, tingling heatedly at his groin before washing through his belly. Rising through his throat where it coiled with his voice to emit a deep groan -- a cry of want. Of need. Chris’ hand was tightening, pressing against his throat, cutting him off. Leaving his head spinning even harder. Making his body lighter than air. Able to do anything. So he spun around and blinked as the orange glow licked over Chris’ face. Green eyes met brown eyes in a moment of pure understanding. And then Lance snapped -- his hand whipping up to grab the back of Chris’ neck, forcing him in. His heart throbbed in time with the erection that was ready to burst, and he leaned in, unwilling to let Chris escape. Before he could kiss, he needed to pause. To savor the second. To let his tongue brush against the dark lips. The moan that fell from Chris incited Lance -- made him thrust in. Made his mouth devour Chris’ in a mad frenzy. It was not gentle or searching. It was scorching and drenched. Lance yanked Chris’ hand away from his throat, forcing it down to his crotch. Making it touch where he needed to be touched. Demanding things as his lips crushed against Chris’.  As their tongues met inside wet heat -- to twirl and dance. As groans caught together and swirled. Chris rubbed his hand against Lance’s cock, against the slick leather that held him in so well. Slowly at first, then harder as he felt Lance tremble. The hand on the back of Chris’ neck fell away, drifting down to the small of Chris’ back. Pressing his body closer. And Lance ached to strip it all away. Get down to business. So he backed up, stopping Chris’ hand from further stimulation. He wobbled from the earlier drink, and stared at Chris with dark eyes -- the jade no longer pale and innocent. The jade now a reckless shade of thunder. Laced with lust and want. Lance snatched Chris by the waistband, swiftly undoing the buttons. Pushing the pants down quick as lightning. Licking his lips as he maintained eye contact. Fueling the euphoric moment with ragged breaths and wicked looks. Chris smirked, however, a satisfied smile that threw Lance off. Provoked liquid desire to simmer just below his skin. “What?” he asked, shoving Chris back. “What??” “You!” Chris replied, kicking off his boots and stepping out of his leather pants casually. “Look at you, Lance!” Lance felt a flush spread against his skin as his gaze wandered over Chris. Standing there naked from the waist down.  His long coat still oozing sexuality along naked flesh. And Lance knew he was unable to handle much more. He glanced around, ripping at his blonde hair, wondering what he was supposed to do. If Chris was taunting him, or challenging him. Curious what Chris tasted like. He wanted more. He was driven to explore more. “Shut up,” Lance hissed, unzipping his pants. “Chris, just shut. UP!” “No, no,” Chris grinned, stroking his own erection as Lance watched. “You’re like a rabid dog. You’re not capable of thinking. All you know is what you feel.” Lance was crazed as he tugged his erection free. He didn’t want to talk, to hear nonsense that Chris spewed at him. He couldn’t take it. Of that he was sure. Lance tore his coat off, and began to shed the shirt. But Chris caught him, and with one motion, ripped the shirt from his body. The buttons scattered and soon Chris was attacking Lance’s nipples with venomous intent. Biting and licking until Lance fell back, crashing just shy of a couch against the wall. His head pounded against a cushion and his wrist jammed to the floor. Chris didn’t relent, and continued his assault on Lance’s skin. Sucking and gnawing until it stung. Lance grabbed a fistful of brown hair and tugged upward. “That hurts!” he growled, shoving Chris away. “It doesn’t hurt,” Chris countered, leaning back on his heels. “It feels good, Lance. Dark. Evil. Free.” Lance didn’t understand as Chris reached over and removed his pants, being very careful not to touch his cock -- deliberately avoiding the sensitive area that radiated hotly. Nevertheless, Lance was whimpering lightly and he squirmed as he sat naked on the floor. Waiting once more. Chris hovered over him, the edges of his coat brushing against Lance’s cheek. “It’s about letting go of what’s right. Of what’s the proper way of behaving.” Drunkenness rolled around inside Lance as he curled toward the leather, his breath shallow, his body achy. “Touch me then,” he rumbled, his voice so low it was almost unreadable. “Goddamnit, Chris. Fuck me or something!” He was begging, pleading with Chris for relief. Chris stood unhurriedly and moved to the candle, and Lance followed with his eyes. Wanting to cry out -- to wail in aggravation.  But Chris had the candle in his hands, and Lance witnessed the mischief embedded in those blackened eyes. Fear raged as the intent revealed itself. As Chris inched forward -- positioning himself in a place of power over Lance. “Close your eyes,” Chris commanded. And Lance did, even as he despised being the toy. Even as his body screamed at him to get up and just slam Chris down, fuck him, then leave this insanity behind. But he was intrigued, he supposed, and inquisitive. So his lids fluttered shut, and he laid back. Open and vulnerable. The first pelt of hot wax seared, sending his back arching up in resentment. It was blistering against his lower belly, dribbling unmercifully toward his belly button. He hissed in discomfort and struggled to keep his eyes closed. “Relax,” Chris whispered into his ear. “Just relax.” The second drip hit his nipple, and it didn’t hurt as bad -- it tingled. Sent shards of muted pain that translated between his legs. Lance bit his lip, wriggling and grabbing for some control -- control where there was none. His hand flailed out and found Chris’ leg, so he clenched it for comfort. And then Chris’ tongue was in his mouth again, invading and controlling. Lance was helpless, pinned beneath invisible weight of erotica that he had never experienced. “Okay?” Chris breathed into his mouth. “Okay,” Lance licked back. “Your turn,” Chris murmured, yanking Lance up by the hands. Prepared to show Lance what he‘d come for. Ready to set Lance as free as he could. Lance was lightheaded as he sat up, as his eyes glanced down at his chest and stomach, branded with hardened wax. He shifted as Chris laid down on the couch, his leather coat parting lewdly,  his hand drawing up the edge of his black tee shirt to expose himself. The candle was delicate in his hand as he knelt over Chris, battling with the irreverence that seemed to claw at him. Cruel intentions he let flutter from him. Naughty visions he ached to release. So he tipped the candle, watching with wide eyes as the translucent wax oozed down, pooling on Chris’ inner thigh. Lance was entranced at the low hiss it extracted from Chris. A half moan, half whimper that weaved its way into Lance’s stomach, flooding him with new waves of want. So he slanted the candle once more, this time drawing it up over Chris’ stomach in a thin trail -- letting the wax wind a river of liquid straight to his nipples. Over the silver ring that slid through hardened  flesh. It was instinct to touch it -- to bend his head and wrap his tongue around the ring. To tug at it and feel the metal press against him. To listen to the tiny sounds that fell from Chris as he toyed with it. He found it a turn on to watch Chris twitch and lick his lips -- to see Chris reaching out blindly. Compelling his hips in uncontrollable upward thrusts. Lance was gone -- so far past sane he couldn’t breathe. He stood up and put the candle down, then hauled Chris to his feet. “I. Can’t.” he growled, using his thumbs to smear Chris’ lipstick across his cheek. “I fucking can’t wait anymore.” He studied the streaks his touch created, and made some more. Washing his hands over the make up, fashioning his own brand of eroticism over the face before him. His lips crashed down on Chris’ and he pushed forward, backing Chris up. Lance nipped and licked, driving Chris remorselessly harder into the wall. Untamed and lost, searching for his reprieve. Chris dropped his hands in surrender, letting Lance take what he wanted. And Lance decided he wanted it all. He pushed the coat from Chris’ body, and yanked at the tee shirt frantically -- finally tearing it down the middle to get it off. He took one last look at Chris’ face -- the sweat that seemed to form at his temples, the glistening of his face now tarnished with makeup that spread from Lance's thumbs. “I’m going to fuck you now,” Lance warned, filled with a high he couldn't control. Chris smiled and lowered his gaze, daring him. Urging him on. So Lance hauled Chris to the couch, tugging with superhuman strength. Pushing him down on the cushions and kneeling between his legs. Gazing down through slanted eyes. Bending to kiss once more, to taste the unique flavor that seemed to be Chris. To guide Chris’ hands up -- to keep them over his head and out of the way. And Chris obliged, tucking his fingers beneath the cushions, showing Lance he promised to keep them there. Lance rocked back on his heels and threw Chris’ ankles over his shoulder. Quickly before reality could hit him. Before the deliciousness of the moment decided to waver away. He pressed his fingers to Chris’ mouth, urging them in. “Suck,” he whispered. Chris nodded, letting Lance’s fingers in. Lance gasped as Chris’ tongue curved around them,  pressing against sensitive tips. “Fuck,” Lance growled, sliding them in and out. Watching as Chris closed his eyes and sucked at them. Played with what was to come. His eyes drifted to the nipple ring, and Lance stared at it. Excited by its glint in the candlelight. Entranced by what it stood for in Chris’ mind. Freedom. Individuality. Lance shook his head and extracted his fingers, slipping them inside Chris slowly. Observing the way Chris’ face morphed -- how it bent from controlled naughtiness to a blanket of lust. And Lance smiled -- because now he was the master. He liked the way Chris’ mouth dropped open, and the way Chris rose to meet him. He liked the way Chris’ eyes squeezed tighter and how his chest took dramatic pauses in breath. “God,” Lance whispered as he positioned himself. “God help me!” It was a prayer of something, for control maybe. For hope that it wasn’t all a mistake. But as he slipped his cock into Chris, nothing mattered. His world swam, and his eyes snapped shut. His head twisted to the side and he nuzzled against Chris’ feet. Using his hips to move slowly at first. As his eyes blinked open, he noticed Chris did indeed have black toenails, and it pushed him. Soon he was thrusting with feral grunts, sweating and shaking as he forced into Chris over and over again. Bending Chris in half to get closer. Leaning in to touch his tongue to Chris’.  Just the tips. Just barely. Simple touches heightened as Lance moved faster. As Chris threw his head to the side. As Lance gave him the okay to stroke himself to orgasm. To watch him do so. Lance mashed his teeth together as he saw Chris’ hand drift lazily down to his chest, where he paused at his nipples. Where he tangled with the silver hoop and yanked in two beats time. Then moved down lower to grip himself -- to wrap his palm around his cock and pull. Roughly. Just so. Lance grunted as his body washed with orgasmic delight. As the unstoppable tow raced around and demanded expulsion. As his eyes strained to keep open and watch Chris. “Oh fucking CHRIST!” he roared, bowing his back to gain deeper entry. Thrusting a final time to get all the pleasure he could. Allowing his eyes to roll back in a fit of pure ecstasy. Somewhere in a haze, he felt Chris tremble under him -- and heard warnings. Somewhere he found strength to open his eyes and focus on the sweaty face beneath him, and the hand that seemed to move like a hummingbird -- so fast it was almost slow. And feel Chris tense as he blinked his eyes open to stare at Lance. It was a series of unintelligible moans as Chris came, and Lance watched in fascination as it washed over them. Lulled by the peaceful afterworld. Collapsing on top of Chris in a tranquil moment. Drifting off slowly from the alcohol and the exhilaration. Chris moved to the side and held Lance -- watching as once innocent eyes rested. Drawing tiny circles over the skin on his shoulder. Smiling contentedly. ********************************** When Lance woke, he was back in his hotel room. Naked under the covers. It was startling -- and he sat up abruptly, confused. “Chris?” His voice was hoarse, strained. No answer. Slowly, Lance got up, throwing the covers off him. Gooseflesh prickled along his skin as he padded to the bathroom. He flipped the light on and stared at the cryptic message waiting for him. * Into freedom you have come. Don’t let it get away from you* Lance blinked repeatedly as he stared at the familiar plum lipstick it was written in. He looked  intently past the letters to his own face, still smeared with black around his eye -- the lines in his lips still caked with lipstick. Bite marks across his chest. Satisfaction in his heart. He smiled, and sighed, turning off the light and heading back to bed where he fell into a sated slumber. *************** It was the next morning he was awakened by a knock at his door. A bright eyed Justin pushing his way in with a loud laugh and a game boy in his hands. Lance rolled his eyes and journeyed back to bed, still naked. Slipping back under the covers. Still tired. Silence echoed through the room, and Lance suddenly felt breath hot against his cheek. He opened one eye and saw Justin kneeling next to the bed, his blue eyes widened. “What?” Lance queried sleepily. “You have make-up on,” Justin whispered. Lance sighed and closed his eyes. “Yeah,” he replied, tucking his hands under his face. A thumb brushed against his lips, and Lance felt his heartbeat quicken, his eyes flying open. “Justin, what the hell?” he gasped. “I’m sorry,” Justin jumped, moving away. “I couldn’t help staring at it.” “Oh,” Lance said with a deep chuckle. He licked his lips on purpose and stretched -- on purpose. He used a coy look mingled with a sexy stare and stroked the stubble across his jaw-line. Watching as Justin gaped. As Justin squirmed. Knowing exactly what that feeling was. Understanding exactly the flutter that was flapping in Justin’s body. Ready to play the game as Chris had played with him. Closing his eyes slowly, and pushing the sheet down a little -- to taunt and tease. As he’d been taught. To draw in slowly. To reel and hook. To grab Justin into the night world where Chris played -- and now he played. To spread Gothic Chris’ love around a little. THE END??? Enigma Menu