(fiction)
I am become death, the destroyer of... oh fuck the pretense, I'm just hungry.
I'm ghosting the Caligula, affecting that slightly bored, slightly vacant look all the poseurs seem to be wearing these days because "Like, it's SO cool to be pretentiously self-aware! It's all post-modern, and stuff!"
I often fantasize about drowning them in an inch of water. Does that make me a bad person? Deliberate shallowness brings out the beast in me.
I digress.
Shallow often equals pretty, though, and there are so many pretty, pretty people here, writhing sensuously to a rhythm so blatantly erotic that the backbeat alone gets a double-X rating, moving and dancing and squirming and sweating...
Sweat, the salty marinade of flesh. Salty, sticky sweat, running down their hot thighs like it'd been squirted there by a baster, pooling in secret places and getting hot, so very hot, like a pot roast straight from the oven...
I seem to have bitten my tongue. Does this count as masturbation?
There are so many ways to approach this situation, but my patience is thin and in no mood for games. Sometimes, the direct approach works best.
I find my pretty little morsel in the middle of the dance floor. All eyes were upon him... but the crowd parts for me, minnows scattering in the wake of the great white in their midst. The women know I'm a predator, pretty toy boy, why don't you?
His eyes answer: he knows. He knows, and he loves it.
I invade his space, getting so close that he can smell the conditioner in my hair. I strike "the pose": hip cocked, eyebrow arched, eyelids heavy and mouth turned into smiling snarl.
"I want to suck you," I murmur, eyes burning with desire. He returns the gaze.
He's my McDonald's Stupid Meal.
Fun fact: the penis contains not one, but two arteries.
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Now playing: E Nomine - Vater Unser (Video Edit)
via FoxyTunes
Fun fact: I wrote this pretty much stream-of-consciousness. Took me about an hour.
ReplyDeleteYou make my brain hurt.
ReplyDeleteAnd by that I mean that hat you gave me is too tight.
Wow! I can almost hear, taste and smell this scene... The music pounding so hard, your body vibrates. The taste of the sweat that's pouring off your body. The scent of dozens of people crammed into a smoke filled room...
ReplyDeleteThis should be the opening to a novel or *shudder* a movie. (Movies never come close to what your own imagination conjures up)
It's very good, as internal monologues go. And internal monologues are often hard to get right, especially if they're not your own.
ReplyDeleteI like the slightly pervy twist you took at the end, too. That was unexpected =D