Shape

A Shot in the Dark

The corridor was a dark length, ominous at this hour of the day. But that was good, what I had hoped for.  I clutched my hand around the caddy that held all my supplies, the bottles and cloths nestled snuggly adding a familiar weight to my left hand.

I had been avoiding this task all day, choosing to stay in the main parts of the house, out in the open space with its open curtains and easy escape. I had even managed to avoid Sophia, though whenever I look into her crystalline eyes I have a feeling she already sees everything I do not say.

Creeping up to the door like a thief, I see it sits ajar. A slight wave of relief passes over me, I have an out if he is here. I have a way to escape, to hide myself back in plain sight should I stumble upon the presence I have been so desperately hiding from.

I slide my body through the open doorway. Without the notorious click of a lock or the rattle of a handle my nerves sit only on edge rather than resting on the brink of madness.

The room is illuminated by only a thin slither of too dull light streaking from the open bathroom door. The main room appears even darker than usual in the unnatural glow, highlighting mundane objects with ominous shadows. I can make out the large bed and the large wardrobe that fill most of the space here but nothing that could be perceived as the man to whom the bed belongs. I move in an extra inch, my vision adjusting, my brain starting to place the other things I know are here. The desk to my right, the small bin beside it that has never held anything other than paper. The three bars of light surrounding the bathroom mirror hum. The full length surface reflects the back wall I can not see behind the partially opened door. The shower stall and toilet I need to clean are hidden too. It is all clear. I resign myself to the task, allowing a shuddered breath to escape my parted lips before leaning down to rest the deepening weight of my caddy towards the floor.

“I know you want it.”

I freeze mid bend. The voice is close, but I can not place where it drifts from. I know who it belongs to.

“You do, don’t you? You want my thick cock.”

My shoulders hitch like a frightened cat and every tiny hair on my arms lifts and vibrates at the words, at their rich timber and tone.

My eyes rove the room once more, looking for the body the declaration belongs to, but once again I find nothing. No massive body leant on the headboard or teetering on the edged of the desk. The door handle touches my backside, and I realise I have moved backwards, my body craving escape but the door keeping me in place. I grab at the wood with my free hand, holding it steady, hoping its rigid form can ground me.

“Look at how hard it is just for you. Look at how it drips and leaks, waiting for you to taste it.”

Movement from the bathroom catches my eyes. I see him then. He is big and imposing, his skin darker in the dusky light. His perfect profile is reflected in the huge mirror. His face is sullen and slightly depraved. It’s beautiful. He is bare from the waist up, the dips and curves of his torso accentuated in the barely there light. He wears jogging trousers on the bottom. The slate grey colour would do nothing to hide a burgeoning erection if it was not already jutting proudly from the waistband. His face is a picture of dominance; his eyes have a hooded glaze as if he is so turned on everything else had been tuned out.

Standing watch, with toilet cleaner in hand, I know he has not seen me. He does not know that I am only a few feet from him while he gazes at his himself, at his own arousal.

“I’ve been rubbing at the tip all day thinking about you. About dipping my rounded head between your folds. Covering my length with the sweet wetness between your legs.”

Enraptured I stare as his left hand rises, his thumb gliding over the swollen, reddened head of his penis. The moisture on the tip easing the movement, making it glisten even in the low, muted light.

“Because you would be wet. I know you would. You’d be dripping for me. Dripping for my cock to nestle between your swollen lips and nudge at your tight, little clit.”

I swear I can feel the ghost of a movement there, between my thighs, right where his words describe. My pussy is throbbing like a heartbeat he has sparked to life. As I revel in the quakes of my body, he reaches his hand around himself, gripping but not moving. His eyes, like mine, stare at it. His look almost disbelieving that it is himself he is seeing.

I wait with anticipation, watching his huge hand as it rests unmoving still, willing it to life and then, it does. His giant hand pulls all the way down until his fist meets the onyx coloured hair that juts from the top of his trousers before pushing all the way back to the tip, working the malleable tissue and making the head bob.

“Yeah. That feels tight. I bet your cunt is tighter. Warm and damp and welcoming. Do you want to feel me inside you? All of this deep inside?”

He moves his hand again, emphasising just how much there is, and I can not deny it is an impressive amount. It it thick and long. I watch where he grips it and imagine my hand in its place. My fingers wouldn’t fit if I fully encased it, not like his do. It wouldn’t stop me though. I’d hold the head of him first, nestling that dip at the base of the head in the curve of my thumb and index finger. Using the pre-come that’s leaking down from his slit to aid my progress. I’d glide down, wrapping the rest of my fingers around it as I go, waiting until the curly black hairs tickled my fingers before giving it a squeeze and returning back to my starting place.

“God, I’m seeping just for you. Just imagining my cock pushing into your heat. The head edging inside you. Squeezing me. Pulling me deeper.”

His hand moves faster. The bulbous head turning a light shade of purple as each stroke rides him harder, pushing him higher. I watch his stomach muscles bunch and release, contracting uncontrollably as his hand move erratically. I can feel my own hand clenching, aching. Wanting to be the one to make this happen. Wanting to be involved in pulling those delicious, drawn-out noises from deep inside his chest. My cunt is so wet I can feel the dampness soaking through my underwear, saturating the thin fabric so much it has probably dampened my trousers.

“I’m gonna come soon, like I’d come deep inside you. Filling you with my hot, spurting seed as my balls smack against you. Just imagine all of my dick inside you. Deep and throbbing and oh so good. Pulsing as I get ready to erupt.”

I can imagine it and my grasping pussy reacts, undulating with the need, but feeling sorely empty.

The sounds spilling from the bathroom are now beyond obscene. The frantic slapping and baritone grunts are the stuff that my nighttime fantasies will be made up of for the next millennia. I want to close my eyes and imagine they are being spoken into my ear. Being whispered as he pounds into me, his hot breath leaving clammy patches on my neck and shoulder. But I can not look away. I’m hypnotised by the sight before me. Entrapped by the sculptured forearms working without mercy before me. The pleasure of it is contagious.

A heavy slap bounces off the walls as his hand hits the top of the unit, his fingers splayed and gripping at the smooth surface as the show reaches its finale.

“Are you ready for me, hmm? I can feel my balls pulling, like they wanna climb out of me and get inside you. And I’ll be there soon. But first I’m gonna rub that tender clit. Push it down with my thumb so your tight cunt grabs me more. Grabs me ‘cos it’s hungry for what I got for it. What you need.”

His moves are jerky now, his hand almost a blur as it crests up and over his engorged head. I cover my mouth with my free hand just fast enough to catch the whimper that threatens.

“Come for me beautiful. Come on my cock while I fuck you so good. Pull every last drop from me. It’s all for you.” He hisses the last part through gritted teeth as I watch his back bow. His loud roar pounds into my ears as he jets streams of his semen from his cock. Thick ropes flying forwards, hitting the mirror, distorting the picture I can see there.

Then it becomes strangely quiet. I can just make out his jagged breathes over the liquid pulsing in my ears and the thumping of my heart in my chest. His head is dropped to his chest. His semi-hard phallus still cradled within his left hand. A drip of white beading down from the tip like a pearlescent thread.

He looks beautiful in that moment, used up and satiated. A conquered warrior lost in his pleasure, and I realise I could easily fall in love with this version of him. The open and unguarded version. The thought shakes me awake, back into the real world where I am me and he is him, and I know I have to go.

I notice that my hand still holds my carrier. It aches from the death grip I have had on it over the last few minutes but I ignore the pain, not knowing what will come of me it I linger and desperately not willing to find out.

“God damn you Grace.”

A squeak rushes through my too loose fingers as my name falls from his lips like an oath. I know before I look that it is too late to run. The once slayed and satiated beast is lurking and ready to hunt. In his warped reflection I can see his hardened eyes blaze, finding me, catching me. Getting ready to devour me.

I move, my burden forgotten and dropping to the floor with an irritating quiet thud as both my hand scramble behind me for the only thing that can put a barrier between his eyes and mine. I find the handle and pull. The door moves sharply and I stumble backwards. Before I can run he is upon me, trapping me between his thick arms. The wall at my back holds me still, offering me to him on a platter of floral wallpaper.

“Grace.” He repeats his last word and it sounds even deeper this close to me. “Did you enjoy the show?”

I suck in hungry breaths. His is so close that I taste him on every mouthful. He tastes like sex and sin. The same as he looks.

“Well? You will slink about in the shadows, but not answer a simple question? Did you enjoy my show?”

His deep brown eyes are as black as his hair this close, his demonic side perfectly personified. I stare into there depths trying to see the creatures that had managed to creep to the surface what seemed like hours ago now. That vulnerable side is already gone. Buried back down under the callous and truculent being that has made me cower away from him since we first met. At that moment I realise I want to see that side of him again. I want to crack his armour. I want to split him open and see all the mess that resides inside of him. All the dark, congealing parts make him this way.

“Yes.” I reach into my own swarm of emotions, pushing past the fearful trembling and the unsureness, embracing the part of me that his wanton words and sensual act found hiding in the background. “I enjoyed every pull and arch and groan I made you pull from your cock.” The words are a whisper on shaky lips but I see the impact they have. His fists clench beside my ears and his nostrils flare. The words rendering him into a mass of visual confusion.

“Grace?”

“Devon.”

The other man is nowhere to be seen but his voice has an effect.

“Where are you?”  His words come closer, more desperate as if the tension from the room has seeped out the door with them, engulfing the entire house with a tightness that is stifling.

“Seth? Grace? Is everything ok?” Seth’s arms are still clenched by my head as Devon comes into view.

His words are shoved out and gritty. “Looks like he saved you this time.” Seth steps away from me, his knuckles white from the strain of the grasp he still holds.

“I think perhaps it was not just me that he saved.” I reply, turning away from him and stepping into Devon, shocking him with my nearness.

The soft click of a door is the only sound that comes as I look into the face of my saviour. His peaked eyebrow asks the question that he doesn’t want to say and at that moment I do not want to answer. I know that as of now everything has changed. I just do not know exactly what that means.