A gay story: The Devil Ch. 02 Hi guys!
This time, I took some time to put in a little more detail. I’m working on making the length more longer, but with the scenes set in my head, I just can’t stretch what’s in my mind. I don’t want to give you watered down erotica 🙂
Violet
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He was pissed.
And I was going to die. His hands seemed to grow closer and closer around my neck, and my lungs began to burn with the lack of oxygen.
And my heart. My poor heart was about to fail.
What was going to happen to my body? I have no family, not so many friends, and I was a donor organ.
But what was going to happen to my body? Would they burn me? Bury me in a plain wooden box? Would people attend my funeral?
Shit, I have no funeral plans.
“What the fuck are you think’n bout?” He moved his head now right in front of mine, so close we were touching each others nose.
“I-I-You, y-y-y ,you…”
“Speak Goddamnit!”
I quickly scratched at his hands around my neck, “I can’t fucking talk with your beefy-ass hands around my neck!”
His eyes hardened, and I was preparing for my death. Why the fuck did I insult him? I could have died with less pain, but now he was sure going to torture me.
But he eased up.
I slumped to the concrete and took several quick breaths.
He bent down, and with one hand pushed my head up on the brick wall behind me.
The other hand found my wallet, and he flipped it open.
He started speaking in another language, which I assumed was Italian, and quickly got up from his squat position. He moved to the door that housed Ms. Delconti and her children, but not before warning me to stay my ass right where it was.
I started formulating ways to escape, but quickly remembered he still had my wallet in his hands, which had my license which had my address printed on it.
Which meant I couldn’t run home.
Inside the home I heard several noises, curse words, Italian strung sentences, and then silence.
The flimsy door flopped open again, and my capture pulled me to a standing position by my arm.
Damnit, he was so beautiful. I’m sure men and women creamed themselves whenever he graced them with his presence.
I quickly wanted to run my hands through his blond tresses, but figured I would get punched right out.
And he started to laugh.
How dare he? Really?
How dare that laugh reach my penis, and heart all at the same time?
It was deep, and warm, and not so deadly.
Which was the problem.
“Sage, you face death with so much clarity it’s astounding.”
His voice without menace is so intoxicating, “Well not everyone is afraid to die, whoever the hell you are.”
He dropped his gripping hand from my upper arm, and took a couple of steps back.
I could have run then, but now I knew the bastard knew my name. Damn License!
“I’m sorry about what just happened, I try not to let myself get that way. But you can understand, right? When you see a strange man at the doorstep of family, you would automatically react, yes?”
I rolled my eyes, “Don’t bullshit me, I am so close to calling the police on your ass!”
He laughed.
Again.
In my face.
“If I wasn’t worried you were about to take the kids, I would fuck that anger out of you.”
What?
What the fuck did he just say?
Did he really just say that?
Did he?
And did my dick just get hard?
“Here’s what’s going to happen Mr. Sage Thomas of 457 Wellborne Drive, Atlanta, Georgia. You are going to go in this here apartment, do whatever the fuck you have to, write up whatever the fuck report you have to write, and then leave. Do you understand?
Clearly, I understood him clearly. But I wanted to argue some more. It made me so hot.
“What’s your name?”
A beautiful grin sparked up on his face. And he looked down towards the ground.
“My name is of no importance.”
“There you are again with your bullshit. Give me your name.”
“Charlie.”
“You don’t look like a Charlie.”
“You don’t look like a Sage.”
“My mother was a hippie, she didn’t care if I was a girl or boy, she was naming me Sage.”
Again, he laughs. “Your mother was clearly smoking a joint when she came up with that conclusion.”
“Fuck you, whoever the fuck you are.”
He rolled his beautiful green eyes, “Again, my name is of no importance.”
And here was where I made my move. Job and life be damned.
“It is, if you’re going to fuck me.”
His head snapped up, and his blazing glare met my own.
He moved quickly towards me, and my back met the brick wall again, while he pressed his hard body against mine.
This time I wasn’t scared, I was aroused.
His arms reached above me with his hands flat against the wall.
“You beggin’ for a fuckin’?”
That almost made me cum.
I had to look up to look into his eyes.
“Do I have to beg?”
He pulled his head down to whisper in my ear, “You should be scared of me Sage.”
I laughed, “I should be. But somehow, I can’t find it in me right now. It seems my desire to get laid has outweighed my fear of you.”
His lips found their way to my neck, and he suckled on sensitive skin.
I trembled, which seems to have given him pleasure.
“Sugar, I am going to have so much fun with you. You want that right? You want me to fuck that ass, make you tremble all over.”
A whimper escaped, “Please.”
He pulled up from the wall, and took a step back away from my needy body.
He adjusted his dick, and took a deep breath. He gave me back my wallet.
“Get in the there, and finish whatever you started. I’m parked right across the street.”
He pointed to a black mustang.
Very nice.
He should fuck me in there.
“Sage, baby you got to stop daydreaming like that.”
And somehow that made me feel better.
Yes, this man just a few moments ago filled me with fear, and now I was hoping he would fill me with his dick, but he just said something that showed he could see something in me.
I could get lost in my thoughts, and waste a day away, and he could see that about me.
I was so screwed.
I nodded, letting him know I heard him.
“When your done, I’ll be in my car. I’m letting you have the choice to follow me or not. You don’t have to you. Do you understand?
I nodded again.
“No, you need to speak.”
I found my voice, “Yes, I understand. But please, can I know your name?
He walked backwards towards his car, “Dante. Dante Delconti.”
Shit.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
The notes in Ms. Delconti’s folder warned of her brother. He was rumored to be part of the mob. He was the muscle. His street name was the Diavolo. Devil.
I just agreed to fuck the devil.