LUST: Uncontrolled or illicit sexual desire or appetite; lecherousness.
I'm a good person. At least, I try to be. I go to church, donate to the needy, help people out…sort of…maybe hidden thoughts do count for something…but the fact remains, I am a good person. I may not be the most perfect specimen of all that is good and wholesome in this world, but at least I'm not a sinner.
Until he stepped into my life. And turned it upside down.
He didn't really, brag, he just had a habit of getting into verbal spars. 'Disputes' that tended to end with his opponents kicking themselves for underestimating the brat's skills. Oh yes, he could back his words up, without a doubt. Thought that really didn't help his case.
Cocky attitude. Disrespectful personality. And sexy as hell.
Black hair with deep green highlights that shimmered in the Sun. Blazing golden eyes that fired up at the prospect of a challenge. Graceful, yet slightly feminine body. One had to wonder how he could counter some of those power shots with those lean arms of his. Tanned skin that accentuated long eyelashes. Slender legs and neat feet that could cross the court at an amazing pace.
I am a good person…
When did it change?
Dreams filled with golden eyes and soft pink lips. Water running over slick, lean muscles. Tanned limbs wrapped in silk sheets. Or more often than not, around another body. Pants. Moans. Erotic cries and screams of pleasure.
This is wrong. He is a boy, as am I. He is younger than me. He looks up to me. I shouldn't. I can't. If others found out... If only this were love I am feeling.
But this isn't love. This is a broken image of love. A twisted desire of the flesh.
This is lust.
The need, the want, the drive to have him. Have him under me, submit to me.
When will it stop?
Black hair splayed in disarray. Lips bruised red from abuse. Golden eyes clouded over with lust. Body writhing in pleasure. My name spoken in a husky voice dripping with desire. Pleading with me. Needing me.
I cannot think of him without those dreams invading my head. I cannot look at him without becoming hard. I cannot gaze into those golden eyes without becoming lost. I cannot talk to him without thinking of ways to put that mouth to better use.
I was a good person. And I know when it changed.
His back pressed against the wall. One hand holding his wrists above his head; the other holding his chin in a firm grip. Lips devouring his hungrily: a man dying of thirst, drinking from the spring of life. I don't care about his response. All I want, all I need, is to taste him. I tighten my grip, forcing his mouth open in a cry of pain. And my tongue is there before he can register it. I can taste him, but it doesn't appease me. I want more. I need more. I move to his neck, licking, sucking, biting. Never stopping.
He shudders, too afraid to cry out, too powerless to struggle free, too shocked to refuse.
I love it. I crave it.
I never close my eyes. I never block out the sounds. I never ignore the thrashing.
Golden eyes are even more alluring when drowning in tears; they were more captivating when radiating fear. Cries of pain are more addicting than cries of pleasure. Body writhing in fear is more fulfilling than one squirming in pleasure.
I am a sinner. And I rejoice in that knowledge.
A/N: I know I usually put this at the top, but I thought getting right into the fic would be better. This was a random idea I had. No idea where it came from, no clue what made me post it. It was written in one sitting. This was my reaction when I read it over:
Good god…did I seriously write that? What the hell was I thinking! I never go further than light shounen-ai! Hell, none of my fics contain more than a kiss! If even that! AND it was supposed to be a hell of a lot shorter!
Rest assured, I will never write something like this again. This is why I will never write lemons, I can't.
Oh, and nothing belongs to me and somebody tell me if the rating should be higher…I mean, nothing really happened…