Sentinel Thursday Challenge #41, GamesThis story was inspired by and is a companion piece for a story by another author, which is scheduled to be published in a zine. The other author and I have agreed to not identify each other's stories until her story times out and is posted to the net. (A link to the other story will be posted here when it becomes available.) Most, if not all, of the things that are obscure in this piece will become clear when you read the other story, but for now, I guess it can be read as a type of AU.
Flame
by Winds-of-Dawn
The park after dark was a different place -- changed, as he himself was changed. Gone was the bright cheer of daylight, the night air dank with the desperate edginess of men who walked the dark, seeking the elusive thrill of fleeting anonymous couplings.
Perched on the picnic table, he watched the men pair up, some obviously going for the first available body, others slowly circulating and sizing up each other, taking their time before making their pick. Advance, rebuttal, acceptance -- the rules of social dating clearly applied here, albeit in a twistedly truncated fashion. He grinned. This was a game he knew how to play, and play well.
Leisurely, he shifted his seat, stretching his legs a bit further along the bench, tilting his body just that subtle bit more. The bangs of his straight, shoulder-length hair swayed as he tilted his head up, tickling his neck, and he closed his eyes, enjoying the grip of the tight-fitting jeans on his legs and the rush of cool air across his exposed belly as the mesh half-tee rippled across his oh-so-smooth skin.
And bingo! The man closest to him drew near, instinctively responding to his beckoning as a moth to a flame.
He condescended to give his admirer the barest of a glance, flexing his shoulder so the streetlight caught his arm, throwing into relief the tattoo of the snarling panther surrounded by blood-dripping barbed wire. He aimed an icy stare straight into the eyes just as the other man drew a sharp breath, and smirked with knowing satisfaction as the man backed quickly away.
Tonight, he was dangerous, a reckless soul perched on the blink of the forbidden. Black hair, brown eyes, smooth skin. Sleek like the panther and as ferocious. Dressed for the prowl, to entice and ensnare. Tonight, he was in the mood for something special -- someone dangerous, more dangerous than himself. One who spent his life always on the edge of danger, always watchful, always vigilant. But tonight, he would come unresisting, dazed by the lure of lust and the heat of mindless rut...
With a start, he realized another man had dared approach and was leaning over him, practically slobbering. Twisting his lips in disgust, he set to convincing the creature to leave him alone. Look, but don't touch. Watch, but don't play. Dangle the bait, reel in the fish, scoop the live jerking prey in the net -- he could have them, any of them, as many as he wanted, however he wanted. But their game wasn't his game. He was just dropping by, passing through, whiling the time, waiting for the one, the one he'd know, the moment he stepped into sight...
Ah. Here came another moth. Another annoying insect, to be singed and sent on its way. He'd just have to sit here burning moth after moth, until the one arrived -- and here, among the sordid, hurried, rutting couplings, he'd allow himself to be captured, held down in strong arms, fucked against a tree or convenient table, jeans shoved down his legs just enough to allow him to be a nameless, faceless receptacle for a nameless, faceless cock, giving himself thoroughly to the most debased fantasy -- and so bind the one to him, never to let go.
Until then, he would sit here -- a dark flame, glittering in the dark, attracting all, waiting for the one.
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