Free Static by Vivi Anna

oxygen rich
blood.
    Grinning, Thane reached for me. The tips of his
fingers skimmed along my jaw line. His touch was both hot and cold,
like freezer burn. Burning me. Searing my flesh. I lost air. I
couldn't catch my breath.
    I was spinning, turning, spiraling out of control.
Like Alice I tumbled down a long dark hole and ended up back in the
room with Thane after the gig, at the party as if we'd never
left.
    I couldn't hear anything but his voice. I saw nothing
but his striking face. I wanted nothing else but him. And he knew
it. I could see that now.
    "I think you're beautiful," he said.
    And I relived that moment all over again.
    I gaped at him. I couldn't possibly have heard the
words he uttered. It was impossible. Cute maybe, I'd been called
that a few times, but nobody thought I was beautiful. Except my mom
of course.
    "What?" I stammered.
    That was the last thing I said before my whole life
changed, altered beyond anything I could've ever imagined. And I
had a healthy imagination.
    Thane leaned down toward my mouth, slowly inching his
way. My lips were trembling in anticipation as he neared. I could
feel his breath on my skin. Keeping my gaze, strong, fierce,
confident, he brushed his lips against mine.
    Then I fainted.
    When I opened my eyes, I wasn't at the club. I was in
another room. A hotel room by the looks of the crappy colored
comforter on the two queen sized beds and the bad décor of the
place, trying to imitate a chic retro interior design.
    I was lying on my back on the bed, blinking up at the
dingy water-stained ceiling. I turned my head to see Thane sitting
on the other bed facing me, watching me, with a dark cold
intensity. I shuddered.
    "Where am I?" I heard myself ask in that detached way
that only happens in dreams. My voice was hollow and tinny, as if I
were speaking through an aluminum can.
    He just smiled and slid over to where I lay, his
fingers stroking the hair from my sweaty face. He settled in near
my hip, gazing down at me, his lips curved up sinisterly.
    "Trust me, Salem, this won't hurt a bit."
    He leaned down toward my mouth. My lips opened in
anticipation. I wanted him to kiss me. At first his kiss was soft,
hesitant, but then it grew into something hot and fierce,
demanding. Sweeping his tongue into my mouth, he pulled and tugged
at me with both his lips and teeth. He nipped at my mouth until
pain made my eyes water.
    I wanted to tell him to stop, but I could hardly take
a breath let alone utter a word. I braced my hands against his
shoulders to push him away, but he covered my wrists and forced my
hands up over my head, effectively pinning me to the bed.
    "Don't fight it. It will only hurt if you do."
    He nudged my knees apart and positioned himself
between them. To my horror, I noticed he was naked.His body was as
coldly beautiful as his face. Hard, slick, all angles and plains,
rippling with strained muscles. I gulped in air and tried to shove
him off me, but he was too strong, his form covering me completely.
Tears welled in my eyes. I didn't want this. Not like this. I felt
out of control and not a willing participant in this game.
    Pushing apart my lips with his tongue, he covered my
mouth again, like a suction cup. And that was when I could feel
something being drawn out of my mouth, and something else being
pushed in between my thighs.
    I cried out, screaming against the intrusion, and
bucked beneath him, the back of my heels pounding on his legs, but
it didn't move him at all, not physically, not emotionally. This
had been his intention from the beginning. From the very first eye
contact at the gig, to offering me a drink at the after party.
    Once the revelation settled into my mind, everything
else became a garbled kaleidoscope of thought and feeling. One
image blurred into another. One notion magically transformed into
its opposite.
    A tangled web of sensation stuck to me. Branching out
onto every part of my body with its gossamer threads. Pulling on
me. Wrapping up my flesh.