I enjoy being in charge when I meet groupies after a concert. I enjoy fulfilling their fantasies of fucking a band member. Still, sometimes I just need a release without expectations, the chitchat, or an autograph after.
Dating apps can’t give me this.
Picking up someone after a show can’t give me this.
This… this is the numbness and dissociating euphoria I once saw at the bottom of the bottle, the edge of a blade, and the backs of my eyes. And maybe all I’m doing is more self-harm…
But fuck, this feels good.
I spin in her arms, and this close, my heart begins to race. My hands hit her chest as she draws me flush. These studs… I’m sure I’ll have marks on me from them tomorrow, and I might get the indentions tattooed.
Her half-mask nudges my cheek as her hand lands on my neck, the other arm securing us in place. I need this obstacle out of my way. I want to kiss her. I want to bury myself in this moment and forget my name, my past, and all my fears.
“What can I call you tonight?” I ask.
Her head moves in the mildest shake, and she twists the thong on my bodysuit around the hand she has on my hip, then tugs the fabric so that it creases between my cheeks. The slightest bit of pressure makes me groan, and I feel my shoulders droop.
“No names,” she rasps. She bends lower and nudges my cheek again. “Just this.”
“Let me taste you,” I breathe, begging her to take this suit off her face. “Please. Let me…”
My open mouth trembles against her mask, her hands tighten on my hip and my throat.
Touch me. Hurt me.
“She begs.” She chuckles. “Now I want you even more.”
Shit, this voice. I press my hands to her cheeks and kiss the mask, breath catching when her thumb rakes over my bottom lip.
I need her.
I needmore.
I curl my fingers at the top of the half-mask and peer at her shadowed, covered eyes.
“Please,” I beg, tugging on it gently.
Her body tenses slightly, fingers creasing on my hip, my jaw.
“Ask again,” she tells me.
The sound makes the hair on the back of my neck stand.
“Let me take this mask off,” I say, my request more clear this time. “Let me one step closer to actually kissing you.”
Something about her has me ready to fall to my knees were she to ask it of me.
“Is that what you want?” she asks. “You want to kiss me?”
I drag my tongue up the front of her half-mask. “Babygirl, I want to fuck you,” I say. “I want to taste this sweet little cunt,” I breathe, practically making out with the mask at this point. “I want to black out from coming on your tongue and scream loud enough someone sends security to check in on us.”
She snickers again and wraps both arms around my waist, bending me slightly as if it’s a reminder that she’s the one in control of this situation.
“You’re right about one thing,” she says.
“Which part?”
“You’ll certainly be coming on my tongue.”
