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~If you could only read my mind
You would know that things between us
Ain't right
I know your arms are open wide
But you're a little on the straight side
I can't lie~

He looks like a fucking angel, all sweetness and sunshine and innocence, bouncing around the bar like a bunny on speed. In the three years that I've known him, I've watched this routine a million times. And every time he bounces past me, I can't help but wonder which would be better - watching him bounce on my cock, or feeling it. And then, every once in a while, that little voice in the back of my head betrays me, and I wonder what it would feel like to have him inside me.

We all have those unfulfilled fantasies that we tuck away on those lonely nights when our most interesting companions are a bottle of lube and our right hands. Most men would dream of their favorite actress - or actor, depending on which side of the plate they swing from - or musician, or even the guy that runs the all night porn video store on the wrong side of town. Me, I have a different dream. I don't replay some totally hot fuck I've had, or dream about Vin Diesel. Okay, so maybe once or twice I have, but that's not the point here.

What I want is totally out of reach, so unattainable that sometimes I have to laugh at myself for even considering it. Watching Shannon bounce around the bar, depositing himself in whatever chair or lap he finds, I can't stop my mind from drifting to the dark corners, seeking out and finding the thing I want most of all, the thing I can never have. Yeah, Shannon is every man's dream twink. He's fucking gorgeous, bubbly, fun, sweet - everything a man could want in a pretty boy. But, that's not what I want.

I've had my share of pretty boys - and some ugly ones, too. What I want is inconceivable even for the most optimistic of men. What I want is to take the sweet little angel and taint him, corrupt him, make him something nature never intended him to be. I stare down at my shot of whiskey, no longer bothering to count how many I've downed tonight, trying once again to drown out the voice in my head that tells me it COULD be possible. I'm so intent on the war waging between my head and my dick that I don't notice he has chosen to bounce onto the barstool next to me.

"SEANY!" he shouts in that voice that betrays his angelic façade. How such a throaty, smoke-tinged voice could come out of that lithe body is beyond me. I'm contemplating this phenomenon when he says my name again, softer this time and I look up into his deep green eyes.

"Whatcha want, kid?" I ask him and he smiles, happy to be acknowledged.

"Nuttin!" he replies. "I just thought I'd come over and keep ya company cuz ya look a lil lonely."

Lonely, yes, but that would not be the prevailing emotion of the evening. Having him so close, breathing in the scent of him which could only be described as a combination of citrus, ginseng and his ever-present cinnamon gum, is definitely not doing anything to help the tenuous grip I have on my sanity at the moment. So, to help myself and him feel better, I smile and tell him that I'm fine.

"You don't look fine," he says, raising my chin with his hand. God, how in the world can a man, even one like Shannon, have such soft skin? I throw back the shot in my glass and try to push him and those thoughts out of my head.

"Well, I am," I reply as I signal the bartender for another shot. Shannon frowns at me. "How many them you had, Seany?"

I shrug, not because I don't want to tell him, but because I honestly don't remember. He shakes his head at the bartender and I growl softly. I look over at him. "What business is it of yours how many drinks I have, kid?" I ask and he puts his head on my shoulder.

"I care bouts you, Seany," he says and I have to close my eyes and think about something else, anything at all that will take my mind of the closeness of him. I do a mental rundown of every yoga pose I can identify, go through my entire muay tai routine. Hell, I ever start naming off statistics from the last Super Bowl, but nothing can make one forget the presence of this golden angel.

~Your one vice
Is you're too nice
Come around now can't you see~

"Ya know if somethin's botherin' ya, you can tell me bouts it!"

Can I? Can I really tell you what's on my mind, little one? I think not. At least, I know that I can't tell you and still have you look at me the same way tomorrow or ever again. Can I tell you what I want every time I see you, hear you? Is it possible for me to expose myself like that, kick the door of that fucking closet wide open and barrel out like a bull charging the red cape?

"You wouldn't understand." I settle for this generic response, hoping that he will lose interest in my dilemma and bounce off to brighten someone else's evening. Damn my luck. He's on a mission and he ain't about to let go of the thought that I am in some state of torment - unknowingly brought on by him - and should not be alone. I signal the bartender again and before he can protest, the shot glass is in front of me again and I throw it back, relishing the feel of its burn as it slides down my throat. My groin betrays me again, as it reminds my brain that it should be Shannon's cock burning that trail.

I damn myself again and decide it's time to go. I stand, only slightly shaky, and thank him for his company. Then I damn him when he stands and starts to follow me out of the bar. Sighing, I turn to ask him where he's going.

"With you," he replies. "I tole ya, you don't look like ya need to be alone, so I's gonna keep ya company tonight." In a perfect world, those words would have been music to my ears. We'd go upstairs and I'd pour out my fantasy to him, then spend the rest of the night making it come true.

But this is an imperfect world, isn't it? And sweet little Shannon Moore would run screaming from me if I told him what I really wanted. I don't know how I knew that, but something deep within the core of my being convinced me it was true. Reluctantly, I let him follow me into the elevator, slouching against the back wall as he bounced in front of me, moving from side to side, humming a song that existed only in his head.

~I want you
All tattooed
I want you bad~

Watching his muscles flex and stretch, admiring the tautness of his jeans as his ass moved beneath them, I could barely control myself. I wanted to grab him, press him against the wall, grind myself into him and whisper all those dirty fantasies I have in his ear. I wanted to taste him, touch him, scream his name at the top of my lungs. What I did was watch him, torturing myself further.

I groan softly, causing him to turn and stare at me. "You okay, Seany?" he asked and his concern touched me in ways I never thought possible. When he put his hand on my arm, it burned through my clothes. I couldn't take it any more. I pulled away from him and stood there, staring at him as I panted heavily.

"You want to know what's wrong with me, Shannon?" I ask, my teeth clenched tightly. He nods, watching me with fascination. The elevator stops and the doors open. He steps out, beckoning me to follow him, which I do. I fumble around for my room key and he takes it from me, sliding it through and pushing the door open. I sigh heavily, knowing that he isn't going away. I walk in - well, stomp really and there he is, following behind me, flopping down on my bed, patting the space next to him for me to sit.

Being that close to him is more than I can bear. I pace the floor, wearing down the space between the beds, wondering how I could get him to leave. If he was anyone else, I would have already punched them out and thrown them into the hallway, not caring what happened to them. But it wasn't just anyone. It was Shannon, our angel, our little ray of sunshine in this dark, ugly world. He's sitting there on the edge of my bed, his hands folded neatly in his lap, not even bouncing.

"What's wrong, Seany?" he asks again. Turning, I look at him - truly look at him. He's put the black streaks back in his long blonde hair. His face is less full, his baby fat slowly turning into muscle. He still looks like he's a teenager, despite the fact that he just turned 24 this year. Jesus, I'm eight years older than him and I want…I shake my head, trying to remove the thoughts that continue to plague me.

~Complete me
Mistreat me
Want you to be bad~

Then it hits me. Maybe if I confuse him, he'll leave. He'll get so frustrated that he'll walk out and leave me alone with my thoughts. I turn to him and smile. "You're right, kid," I say to him. "Something is wrong. But it's not really anything you can help me with." Liar.

He cocks his head, studying me. He's waiting for me to continue, so I do.

"Have you ever wanted something so much, so badly, that you think about it all the time, even though you know you can never have it?"

He nods, his face suddenly more solemn than should be allowed. That expression should never cross his face. "Well, that's what's wrong with me," I say, crossing my arms.

"How ya know ya can't have it?"

I look at him, trying to decide how to explain it. "Because what I want and who I want it from don't exactly…mesh." I reply.

"Why not?"

Huh? Why not? Because the person I want is too good and sweet and pure for someone like me. Too nice to be subjected to the twisted nature of my mind. But I don't tell him that.

"Because I just don't think they would be into what I need," I say.

"Why?" he asks. Is this is his favorite word? "Is it somethin' kinky?" His eyes twinkle at that last comment, a wicked smile crossing his face, darkening him in a way I had never thought possible.

I must look shocked because he giggles at me. "C'mon, Seany," he says, tucking his legs underneath him, settling back on the bed. "I'm a big boy, I know all bout that kinda stuff. Ya don't spend as many years as I have around Jeffy and not pick up a thing or two."

I never thought about that. For some reason, my mind never made the connection between the sunny bunny and the king of kink. Maybe I could tell him. Not all of it, but…maybe.

~If you could only read my mind
You would know that I've been waiting
So long
For someone almost like you
But with attitude, I'm waiting
So come on~

He's looking at me so intensely that I start to get a little uncomfortable. I'm trying to figure out what he's thinking, what's going through his head. I bet he thinks that I want to find some big, bad dom and break them. If he only knew the truth, if he could only see what was in my head without me putting it into words.

"So who is it?"

I turn so fast I think I hurt my neck. "Huh?"

"Who is it ya want so bad, Seany?" he asks me.

"You."

My eyes fly open, realizing I had spoken out loud.

He's giggling again. It's not a nervous giggle, not he kind of laughter you would expect if you just told someone the devil was after them. It was a happy giggle, like a child on Christmas morning, discovering that Santa had left them everything on their list.

I turn away from him, blushing uncharacteristically. Some part of my brain registers the sound of him rising from the bed and I wait for the sound of the door opening and closing, leaving me alone in a world of torment I had created for myself.

I'm shocked when I feel his arms wrap around my waist from behind and his cheek pressed against my back. A voice that could never have come from this angel whispers softly, so softly I barely hear him.

"I want you too."

I turn in his arms and look down at his innocent face, shaking my head slightly. "You don't understand, Shannon," I whisper, wishing I had the words to tell him what I wanted.

Before my eyes, his face changes. Suddenly my sweet little angel turns dark, demonic. "I understand completely," he says, pulling away from me. "Now it's time to make you understand."

~Get out of clothes time
Grow out those highlights
Come around now can't you see~

He pushes me back and stands in front of me, hands on his slender hips. "You wait right here," he says. "Don't move an inch. I'll be right back."

He turns and grabs my key, leaving the room. I start to pace, wondering what he was going to do. I shake my head, knowing that I had lost my mind, because deep down inside, I was hoping…

The door opens and I hear a growl. Turning to look at him, I see he's changed clothes. The tight leather pants he's wearing look like a second skin and he drops the back in his hand and walks to me, roughly grabbing my arm.

"I thought I told you not to move," he growls. I open my mouth to explain and I'm met with a hard slap across the face. "I didn't say you could speak, bitch."

My eyes fly open. I must be dreaming. Quickly, I close my mouth and nod, hoping this satisfies him. He nods curtly then goes to retrieve his bag. I stand there, unsure of what to do next, awaiting my instructions like the good little sub I seem to have become.

Inside, I'm giddy. I'm bouncing as much as Shannon was earlier. Outside, I'm trying to maintain my steely calm. I close my eyes and recall the number of times I had someone, some faceless, nameless body in front of me in this same manner, and I try to remember the instructions I had given them. I keep my head bowed as I watch him from the corner of my eye. I want to know how far this is going to go, and yet, I don't.

His bag is on the table now and he's pulling things out, surveying them before placing them on the table or back in the bag. I see a set of leather restraints and almost chuckle out loud. I have the same set in my bag. I want to ask how long he's been doing this, how much experience he has, if he swings both ways. I want to know everything, feel everything, taste everything.

~I want you
In a vinyl suit
I want you bad~

He walks over to me now, a pile of leather and metal in his hands and he tosses them on the bed. In his hand is a long, leather strip. I know it well. I don't look at his face, but I can imagine the look there. With a strength belied by his small stature, he reaches up and rips my shirt from my body. His hands smooth over my chest, feeling it out for something.

He presses his lips against my chest, his tongue lathing my nipple. I jump when he bites into it, the pain radiating out, turning to pleasure as it reached my groin. His hand follows the path of fire, down to the waistband of my jeans. He looks up into my eyes as the snap is undone, and for a moment, I can see the sweet little angel I perceived him to be. And in an instant, that angel was gone.

"Take your pants off," he says, stepping back to watch me. My hands move faster than I ever have, lowering the zipper and stepping out of my jeans. I start to toss them on the floor, then decide to fold them instead, placing them on the other bed. My boxers follow and I look down at the tattered mess that once was my shirt. He nods slightly and I pick it up, folding it as best I could before adding it to the pile. Socks inside shoes, laid neatly at the side of the bed before returning to my former position.

He giggles, moving toward me again, softly stroking my hair.

"Get on the bed."

I practically run to it, kneeling in the middle, awaiting my next command. God, I love this.

He grabs my wrist and attaches a leather cuff, then threads the long strip through a hole in the headboard before restraining the other hand. He helps me lay on the bed, making sure there is enough slack for me to turn over.

His eyes roam my body, taking in everything with a smile. I grin back at him, and he stops. "I should smack you for that," he says. The grin spreads across my face and I look at him. "Then why don't you?"

His eyes narrow and he grabs a short whip off the bed, raising it above his head.

I flinch at the first strike, crying out in pain. Aaah, pain. Something I'm not accustomed to, but something I have craved for so long. But only from him, only from this angel of mercy. He watches my chest and stomach, giggling with each new welt that raises. After a while, he tosses the whip on the floor and climbs onto the bed, straddling my hips.

Slowly he slides up my chest, the leather of his pants irritating my tender flesh, then moves back down. My cock is straining, hoping for contact, but instead of his hands, he grinds his leather-clad ass into it roughly. My hips arch up and he slaps me across the face again. Sharp nails rake down my chest and belly, then onto my thighs. I give up trying to put these new emotions into words, content with allowing him to do what he wished.

~Complicated
X-rated
I want you bad~

He grabs the paddle and tells me to turn over, which I do obediently. One hand slides over the swell of my ass and the other…ahh, the other brings the leather paddle down over and over and over again. My skin is tingling, my body jumping, and all I can think about is the searing pain on my ass and how bad I want him in there.

~Don't get me wrong
I know you're only being good
But that's what's wrong
I guess I just misunderstood~

I hear him walking across the room, followed by more rummaging in the bag. He squeals when he finds what he's looking for, and soon I feel the bed dip as he climbs onto it again. I feel something cold and slimy on my skin and realize he's gotten the lube out his bag. His fingers play over the skin of my ass, moving down to gently caress my thighs. After his hands have covered every inch, he moves up again, pinching and digging his nails in, scratching me enough to hurt.

A wet tongue bathes the stinging scratches before his teeth follow. The assault on my body, the fluctuations between pleasure and pain - this is what I have always dreamed of.

He gives me no warning before his fingers sink inside me, pushing roughly past the tight ring of muscle, but his stretching and stroking are soft, gentle.

His hands are on my hips, pulling me up from the bed. I comply, raising up on my knees to give him better access. I'm on slightly prepared for the next intrusion as he slides the head of his cock into my ass. I hear him moan softly, no doubt relishing the tightness. When he's completely buried in me, I let out a ragged moan. Who would have thought that my angel was hung like a horse? Before he even begins to move, I feel his cock swell, pulsating inside me and I want to ask him to fuck me, beg him to pound himself so far into my ass that I can't see straight.

As if reading my mind, he begins to move, slowly at first, then picking up speed. One hand is supporting his weight on my hip and the other is grabbing anything it can - my skin, my hair, my wrists. His teeth sink into my shoulder and I know I'm going to have a mark there tomorrow. I don't give a fuck.

~I want you All tattooed I want you bad~

He's growling in my ear, moaning, swearing. In the midst of his tangled monolog, I pick up bits and pieces, telling me how good I feel, how tight I am, how glad he is that I let him be the one to do this to me. I want to respond, to ask for more, but I find that I have no voice, other than the one screaming his name over and over.

His nails dig into the leather surrounding my wrist, droplets of blood appearing, making the spider web on my arm look like a bloody battlefield.

God, I love him.

I want him. I need him. If I were to die right now, and my soul traveled out of my body, I would never have known another moment of pure, unadulterated bliss in my entire existence.

~Complicated
X- rated
I want you bad~

He pulls out and starts using short, hard strokes, pushing into the mound of tissue deep inside me. I'm crying now, begging him to fuck me harder, and he does.

A string of curses emit from low in his throat and I almost laugh. Who would have thought that someone as innocent looking as him would even know such words, much less use them?

My muscles clench as his fingers ghost over my stomach, moving down to place feathery strokes against the head of my cock. I could shoot right now, from the pounding in my ass and the simple touch of his fingers. But he has other ideas. His grip tightens around the base of my cock as he screams one last time, filling me with the sweet essence that is him.

My balls feel like they weigh a ton each, heavy with need to be emptied. I have no idea what he's going to do, but if he leaves me like this, there will be hell to pay. He collapses on my back, panting heavily as he slowly pulls out, careful not to hurt me.

Without a word, he grabs me and flips me over on my back, his fingers maintaining their death grip on my cock. He smiles at me as he straddles my hips, and in that moment, it all becomes crystal clear. Slowly, deliberately, he lowers himself on my cock, burying it deep within those ivory globes, and starts bouncing again.

For the record, it's still a tie. It looks as good as it feels. His hands move up and a loud rip fills the room as he undoes the restraints. I shake my hands briefly, allowing the blood to return, before grabbing his waist and flipping us both over. With reckless abandon and a need I have never known before, I pound away into his ass, his legs wrapping around my waist and holding on for dear life.

I growl. I scream. I cry. I tell him how long I've wanted him. I tell him I love him. I thank him for giving me this, for fulfilling my fantasy.

And then…I cum.

I swear I've died and gone to some part of heaven reserved only for fallen angels. I pull him down, my hands framing his beautiful face, and I kiss him for the first time. Then, I kiss him again. And again. He giggles. I grin like a Cheshire cat. I hold him, basking in the afterglow, not wanting the reality of the situation to invade my thoughts.

He raises up on one elbow and looks at me, his face a mixture of curiosity and the look of someone who has just been royally fucked.

"What is it, Shan?" I ask after several minutes of him doing nothing but staring at me.

"How long have ya wanted to do this?" I shift uncomfortably, not sure if I want to answer.

"Since…since the first time I saw you."

He giggles. "ME TOO!"

I shake my head, chuckling. He looks at me again, then kisses me briefly. Doing his best impersonation of the Rock, he raises one eyebrow then winks.

"Was it good for you?"

I shift on the bed, painfully aware of the welts covering almost every inch of my body and kiss the tip of his nose.

"Better than I ever imagined," I reply. His face contorts again and I know he's thinking.

"Did ya mean it, Seany?" he asks quietly, his voice childlike once again. "Did ya mean it when ya said ya loved me?"

I nod, without thinking, without hesitation. "Every word of it."

He thinks again, then nods, smiling as he put his head in the crook of my shoulder.

"I love you, too." I softly stroke his back as he throws one leg over my waist. "I'm stayin' right here."

I nod. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Slowly his breathing evens out and I look down, brushing a few strands of black hair off his sweat soaked face. He still looks like an angel. But now, he's my angel. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

~I mean it
I need it
I want you bad~