The question they would ask, Arawn realized, wasn’t why he had gone so far, but why hadn’t he gone farther.
The hot water beat into his head and shoulders, pulling his black hair away from his face, coursing over muscles that were long and lean, skin that was fine and pale. He hadn’t bothered to turn on the light, leaving his smile to go unseen as he remembered all he had done that night.
The streets had been packed; the bodies that forced past him were made heady, hypnotic. The night and the neon turned the crowds into flashes of people, mixed into color, smeared with motion, transparent and gaudy. Every person moved unconsciously to the beat of the music that spilled from open doors, their laughter and screams a perfect counterpoint, their smiles merely another source of light. He walked then among them, his eyes wide, a smile forever on his lips, a point of stability in the chaos of the crowd, a coolness among the heat.
Arawn could smell them, the ones who noticed him, smell their fear and their excitement. His hair hung in long curls, collecting occasionally in front of his face until the wind blew them back again. His face was fine featured, his eyes too dark, his mouth too full, but it was the sense of what was behind it that he fed on, that called them. There was danger there, too close to the surface to be ignored, too hidden to be truly marked. He was every rape fantasy, every smooth talking rogue, every desire to be dominated that lurked in the hearts and minds of women and men, secret and semi-secret dreams that were hauled out only when the night was very, very old to be examined and caressed and carefully placed back before the sun rose again.
There were those foolish enough to mistake him for an incubus.
From time to time, he simply stood and watched them, choosing not to be seen, his eyes narrow and his smile too broad. He could afford to be selective each night, though, if he were lucky, he would get more than one choice.
It was in a moment of stillness that a whiff of laughter caught his ear and he moved back into the crowd, watching for it, following it. His hunt took him into a nearby club where the music was loud enough to throb through the body and upset the heart’s beat. Still, he caught the laugh again as the bouncers hurried him through, instinctively, unconsciously limiting his time near them.
The club was a riot of music and sweat, bodies and voices all thrumming together as he slowly became a part of this place. Eyes never met his, but he could feel them trace his body, gazes plucking at the silk of his shirt and the darkness of his pants. The laughter echoed through his mind again and a flash of white seemed to sparkle across the floor, luring him closer, until he could see what so many others were staring at.
She wore a mockery of a bridal veil over her blonde hair, it’s netting tousled by the night’s wind, the hair glowing under the lights. Her white skirt was too short for her comfort as she tried to tug it into place, its leather barely showing under the voluminous white t-shirt she wore over it. He drew nearer and he could see the shirt was studded with candies, marks showing where some had been removed, a man leaning in at that moment. The mock bride woman pulled the shirt away from her body, holding it taut, and the man pulled a candy free with his teeth, making lurid sucking noises and leaving a damp stain as he waggled his eyebrows at her lewdly. Arawn drew closer still, headed for the bride, but was assaulted by a woman with hair dyed too black for her skin, her voice a raspy screech in his ear.
“It’s a dollar to get a candy, it’s her vibrator fund, for when married life gets too dull!” A chorus of cackles arose around him.
Arawn flicked a bill into being, waving it at the black-headed girl without looking, not caring what denomination he chose. His eyes were locked with the bride-to-be’s and she reddened and glanced down. Her hands shaking, she pulled the shirt tight, blushing furiously all the while. Arawn smiled again and leaned in, pushing the material slightly, choosing his candy well, managing to barely graze her nipple with his teeth while never loosing eye contact. She jumped, her lips parting with a gasp, and blushed even farther.
He crunched down and the candy exploded, sickeningly sweet against his tongue, but still he smiled, a small, secret smile that reached into her. She smiled back as he gently took her hand and raised it to his lips. His kiss burned on her skin long after he turned and left, never quite disappearing into the crowd.
He could feel her eyes on him even from the bar, where he drank drinks he never paid for and didn’t taste. He caught her gaze from time to time, a slow grin forming each time she blushed and looked away. He could still catch a touch of the sweetness of the candy, the saltiness of her skin, and he used it to keep himself focused, to keep himself more aware of her than she was of herself.
Finally, he turned to leave, and pleasure grew as he felt her watching, her half-excuses, her pleas for some alone time echoing through the club to his ears. She was following, then, he mused, his joy becoming more evident, the gleam in his eye causing the people around him to back away. She was following.
He waited for her just outside the door, but refused to let her catch up. Instead, he headed around the building for the alley, where the music faded, the lights died, and the night was strongest. Her uncertain footsteps echoed behind him, her high heels slipping on loose stones and garbage. Still, he walked, taking his time, keeping her with him.
When Arawn judged himself far enough back, he stopped and watched her come, chuckling at her difficulties as her eyes struggled with the darkness. She was almost on top of him before she saw him and as her mouth opened in a gasp of surprise, he simply pulled her into his arms and crushed her with a kiss.
At first, she struggled, his lips hot against hers, his tongue insistent, until with a low moan, she accepted his embrace and fell into him, her arms sliding around his back, her eyes closing, her tongue sliding in to meet his. His lips left her mouth, fluttering over her face, sucking at her neck, his breath winding into her ear and teasing the small hairs that grew at the base of her skull. She moaned again and pushed against him, eyes fluttering at the feel of his hardness against her belly.
He leaned her back, his hand forced against the small of her spine, and assaulted her breasts, nibbling lightly at her nipples through the thin cotton of her t-shirt, sucking on the flesh, his other hand ripping open the front clasp of her bra before finally raising her shirt above her head. He pulled it back around her, trapping her arms and drew himself up to stare at her. Her eyes were still closed, her lips parted, her milky cheeks suffused with a reddish glow. Her breasts stood up proudly as the wind rushed past the smears of saliva he had left behind, her nipples tightening, aching as they pushed forward.
He laughed at that, a low chuckle, and her eyes fluttered open, lust overwhelming the tinge of fear she felt as she realized she couldn’t move her arms. He dove in again and she almost screamed as his teeth closed on the soft flesh near her cleavage, marking her as he sucked her blood to the surface to form a bruise. Then he was at her nipples again, so delicate and light she could barely feel him, making her writhe in his grasp, her eyes fluttering closed again.
He tormented her for what felt like an eternity, rough and bruising one moment, so soft the next she almost cried. Her orgasm crested then waned, her frustration growing with every moment; until she was soaked in sweat and her breasts were covered in garish bruises.
“What do you want?” it was the first time she had heard his voice and his words seemed to swim in her head, washing out the alarm bells that his tone set off in her.
