All I wanna do is kill somebody

[Dakota Choi]

Loud, obnoxious music? Check. Strobing light effects? Check. Hot dudes dancing around scantily clad? Check. Also naked men? Check. This was the club to visit when one wanted to get off with another man. Dakota personally found himself rather... fluid sexually. Man, woman, trans in either direction, whatever. He'd have sex with any interested party because life sucked and he was going to die anyway. At least if he died that way, it would be fun. Interesting.

Texting that number on the bathroom wall was a gamble. Dakota didn't even know why he did it. There was no reason to protect anybody, especially some nobody he didn't even know. But whomever wrote it, definitely wrote it out of revenge. They were pissed at Alejandro. For a tease with a tiny dick, call: And then the number. But there was also a small insignia next to it, a hallmark of a trophy hunter.

That was the real reason Dakota got in touch with him. Why would he have a trophy hunter on his ass? The insignia was not the same as the nasty note. They were separate. But they were meant for the same person.

Strange.

Dakota liked things like this, though. It piqued his interest and at least when he was interested, he wasn't thinking about what it would be like to die.

Stepping past two bouncing, dancing idiots, Dakota headed up to the bar, where Alejandro said he'd meet him. Dakota was dressed to kill; his preference ran toward black and maroon. He liked heavy, dark colors. Some called him goth. He didn't give a fuck about labels. But yeah, he was wearing mostly black. Leather jacket, leather calf-length boots, form fitting black pants (not leather, thanks), and a form fitting black t-shirt with a low neckline to show off his silver chain.

Dakota recognized Alejandro right away. He caught his eye the night he showed up in a mesh top and pants so tight that they could have been painted on.

"Alejandro!" he called out, throwing his arms out. "It's me! Kota!"

[Alejandro Riviera]

Why was life so strange?

Alejo had been grappling with that question for the past week. Ever since he got smashed and went out of his mind on party drugs, his life took a turn for the bizarre. Jack wasn't who he thought he was. Well, he was—he was the man Alejo had been tracking all this time—but he had changed. He was different in real life than he was on paper and what changed? Moving to Hazleton? Alejo didn't get it and now a week later he still didn't get it.

After he woke up from that hellish night to a bright and sunny morning, he found a woman sleeping beside him. Jack was on the other side of her, also sleeping and crazily Alejo thought they had a threesome. But he didn't remember fucking a woman; his ass was way sore, so he knew he'd been fucked but he did not remember a woman in the mix. His throat hurt like a bitch too and it wasn't until he was in the bathroom staring at the finger marks that he remembered what happened.

God... the shit he said. The shit he unwittingly let slip because he was high and drunk but not so high and not so drunk that he could pass it off as nonsense. This fucking body and its magical fucking ability to process drugs and alcohol... Damnit.

Alejo spent a lot of time at the sink that morning, then beside it at the toilet throwing up. His retching woke the woman, apparently, who came over to check on him. Well she watched him throwing up for a while before calling Jack, and the rest of the day went by in a blur. Alejo remembered sitting on the couch with a blanket around him, watching the Golden Girls and eating chicken soup and bitching about his hangover.

Nothing was said about their 'conversation' so Alejo assumed Jack also wanted to ignore it. Good. Alejo didn't want to get into it, either. But something in him also fundamentally changed after that night. He wasn't listless and emo but he... felt differently about things. Before, his priority was to find someone to take away the emptiness and to live a good life with them, secure and happy.

Now his priority was still to find someone to take the nothingness away... but living was. Negotiable.

Sitting at the bar with Marge keeping an eye on him, he smiled wistfully into his cotton candy pink drink. He knew Jack and Marge were taking turns babying him, probably because he alarmed Jack with all of his strange behavior that night. It was stifling but Alejo didn't really begrudge them. They cared about him, so he went along with it, spending most of his days and nights with either of them. It was just too bad that he no longer cared about himself, just when he found people to care about him.

"Can I get another one, Marge?" He asked as he waited for his new friend, dressed in skin-tight black jeans and a loose, creamy-white sweater. He came with Marge and had been sitting there forever thinking about things, drinking, ignoring the men who tried to pick him up. Then Kota happened and for the first time in a week, Alejo smiled with genuine pleasure.

Hunters were after him. Oh, he had never been so happy to hear something like that. And Kota, he sounded promising. He sounded like the kind of person Jack and Marge would've wanted nowhere near him, though, which was why he didn't tell Marge who he was talking to when she demanded to know. Alejo simply accepted the drink from her—putting up with her death glare—and had it to his lips when someone called out to him.

He was off his stool in less than a second, arms around Kota, body against his, lips to his cheek. "Hi baby." His savior was here, at last. Alejo eased back to look at him and took him in, noting the dark colors and the heavy black makeup. Mm... different. Sexy, though. "Ready to take me to heaven, handsome?"

[Dakota Choi]

Despite all the black clothes and the heavy eye makeup, Dakota had a surprisingly light and buoyant personality. It was part of the sylph in him, no doubt. But there was still a darkness in him, an edge that had been there probably from birth. He just hadn't noticed it until he grew older and everything around him began to disappear, crumble, and die.

His friends said he had a death wish and he laughed it off but it was true. Dakota couldn't seem to get his head out of the idea of doing the next "frightening" thing that might lead to his death. He could puss out and do it the way everybody else did. Leave a sad note, hang himself. Cut himself. Whatever. But Dakota wanted his death to ring out. Although he wanted to die, he didn't want to be forgotten. If anything, that shit was more frightening than any prospect of dying.

If he died doing something insane, people would remember him. Loved ones would remember him and he would forever be a part of them, a piece of them, even if a painful one. And people who didn't even know him would read his story, hear about it. And it would be tragic. And they would think of him, and he would be a splinter of a memory in their minds, something that sunk in as they wondered why. Why.

"You wanna go straight there?" Dakota asked as he hugged Alejandro tight. He was very real in that moment, not just a pretty face across the club. Up close, Dakota saw that he had a little sprinkle of freckles across his nose. Adorable. And blue eyes.

"Or do you want to have a few drinks first?" he asked, already lifting up two fingers to Marge, the bartender. Dakota had been here forever. He knew her, he'd been to this bar before and she had to know his favored drinks by now.

[Alejandro Riviera]

Tight, tighter, tighter still, Alejo liked the way that Dakota—Kota—held on to him. Tight enough to cut off breath. As tight as if he would never, ever let go. Alejo couldn't remember feeling so pleased in recent weeks. Ever since he came to Hazleton, everything about him was off—his mindset, his thinking, his actions. It was like coming here to this small town stripped him of his usual facade and revealed the confused monster he really was inside. And by all accounts, this town was filled with monsters just like him, so... he was in good company here.

"I've been drinking all night," he laughed, swaying with Dakota to the music and still holding him tight. "So why not another one!" Alejo moved suggestively against him as the music crested with a particularly hedonistic beat. The lights dimmed to near-darkness, then popped in a kaleidoscope of colors that shot across the club, illuminating everyone in garish blues and greens and purples and reds. It strobed in time to the beat and Alejo swore he felt it as his heartbeat.

"Drinks up! Sit down where I can keep an eye on you," Marge shouted as she pushed two drinks over, eyeing the two of them suspiciously.

"She's suuuch a drag," Alejo sighed—maybe his hands did go to a pretty naughty place, groping without shame. He caught the eye of a man walking past, staring at where his hands were, and grinned. Okay, Alejo was a touch tipsy. Not drunk, though—he couldn't think when he was drunk. Tipsy was a good place to be because the alcohol took away some of his heavier thoughts. Thoughts like how nice it would be to fly allll the way up to the heavens, lay down on a cloud and just let it smother him. Tipsy.

[Dakota Choi]

"What?" Dakota shot his brows up as he was ordered by the bartender to sit. He slid a Look over at Alejandro. What was that about? Keep an eye on them? On him? Or Alejandro? By the way Alejandro spoke, it seemed like she meant him. Or both of them, like a mother making sure her kid didn't run off and get knocked up. Pfft. Like that was going to happen.

"Not normally, she's not," he said, looking at Marge just as suspiciously as she looked at them. What was wrong with her? Normally she was all about slipping as many drinks as they could pay for, regardless of how drunk they got. Dakota certainly never got that Evil Eye before tonight.

He moved his hips against Alejandro, enjoying having Alejandro handling him and groping him. Funny how they were just meeting in person but they were comfortable enough to not give any fucks about what other people thought about their wildly inappropriate levels of affection.

With a foxlike smile, Dakota discreetly popped a couple of tiny sky blue pills into his mouth and then leaned forward. He grasped Alejandro by the back of the neck and kissed him quite thoroughly, his tongue passing one of those little blue pills into Alejandro's mouth. Even after the kiss ended, he stayed close, nose to nose, forehead to forehead. His lips curved into a knowing smile.

"We're going to fly, baby..."

[Alejandro Riviera]

"She's a monster," Alejo whispered, hoping that Marge didn't have super-human hearing. "A... a momster even!" Seriously she was mom, chaperone and prison guard all at the same time and he didn't even know her! At the beginning he didn't know her, at any rate; he started getting to know her better after she started taking the day shift from Jack. The two of them seemed to have put him on suicide watch 24/7.

Maybe Dakota could spring him from this weird imprisonment. Alejo was almost positive it was against the law; he could probably arrest both of them and haul them in to the precinct downtown. But he didn't because he... actually really liked them both. Jack and Marge, they were good people... in some sense of the word. Jack was still a man on the run and Marge looked like she'd probably caved in a few heads in her checkered past, but they were good to him.

He sighed and swayed in time to the music, not wanting to be boring and sit there sipping drinks like a bored housewife. Ah! But Dakota brought something fun. Alejo's eyes lit up immediately and his lips were already parting to hungrily devour the little tiny pill being pushed into his mouth by a slick tongue. He grasped onto the back of Dakota's jacket, feeling the stiff cool leather fold under his fingers.

"Mmm... but you promised we'd really fly..." His deft fingers were already inside Dakota's pocket, sifting around for more. More pills. One or two didn't cut it for Alejo, whose body had such different requirements. "You didn't lie to me, did you babe?" He found another little packet and slid it out, turning to pop those into his mouth too. Alejo chased it down with some of the alcohol that Marge served up; it would likely have killed a normal human to mix so much of the two. If only he could be so lucky.

"I want to go up where there's no oxygen, just air," he sighed. A little high laugh slipped out. Ahhh... there it was. The high. The floating sensation, the feeling of weightlessness. Flying~ Alejo laughed again and clung to Dakota, kissing him languorously, lazily. His tongue slicked against Dakota's, slid across the hard edge of teeth. Teeth on teeth, on lips, tugging and nipping the plump swell of the lower.

"Do you know what it takes to be a part of somebody, Kota? Forever?" Why didn't anyone know? He wanted Jack to know; he thought Jack did, but then... he was let down by the answer he got. Jack had someone else he was a part of, just like Judah. That man, Brayden, across the courtyard. Alejo liked him too; he wasn't jealous or angry. Brayden was someone he could never be, either, so if that was what it took to be part of Jack then Alejo had lost even before he began.

[Dakota Choi]

Dakota could safely say he never expected anybody to call Marge a momster. Was she acting like a mom? Since when? As long as Dakota had been coming to the club, she seemed more than willing to let everybody get as shit-faced as they wanted--as long as they had the money. Never once did he feel inhibited about what he could do here. So he didn't understand their relationship whatsoever.

"We will," Dakota said, leaning into Alejandro with a laugh as he was frisked. He didn't even try to hide the fact that he had more on him, letting Alejandro steal a few more. Or... you know, all of them. Dakota raised his brows, then smirked.

"You must have insane tolerance."

Because Dakota had taken his and he was already feeling the effects. Goddddd it felt so fucking good. Everything was upped that much more in pleasure. Every sound, every touch felt like it was gifted from some hedonistic god of pleasure. He loved it. So much.

"We have to leave if we want to actually fly," he said, into one of Alejandro's kisses. He grinned as teeth met his lower lip. Alejandro knew just how he liked it. Just that bite alone sent a thrill down to his groin automatically. His hands slid low to grope Alejandro's shapely ass. That felt good, too. He couldn't wait to get him naked.

"I can think of a few ways," he said. "Most of them involve death. I hope you're not planning on backing out on me now."

[Alejandro Riviera]

Was this a new drug? Alejo heard there was something called Prystal here but hadn't yet gotten his hands on any. That was supposed to be rainbow, though—kind of fitting to be honest, given how incredibly gay he and Dakota were acting at the moment. Those little blue pills were pretty too. Blue like the sky, like the promise of flying and soaring and getting as far away from their problems as humanly possible.

The fingers flexing against his ass made him laugh and moan on the same breath. He felt it now, that hedonistic heat erupting up from the depths of his core. His groin was on fire and from what? A few kisses and someone touching his ass? Jesus... he needed to get naked. They needed to get naked and just fuck the heat away. Didn't that sound nice? Alejo was sure he whispered that to Dakota—that they needed to fuck the heat away—even while Dakota was speaking to him. Jumbled words, words on words, words criss-crossing, nothing made sense but—see—also everything made sense.

Death, Dakota said. Ahhhh that was the magic word! Not please, but death.

"I thought so too!" He said excitedly, leaning up, into Dakota, with his glazed eyes wide open. "Death... is the only way to be part of someone. If-if you die they can't erase you!"

OH FINALLY!

Someone who got it! Alejo could have wept. He hugged Dakota tightly and laughed right in his ear.

[Dakota Choi]

Oh yes, that sounded magical to him. Getting naked. Fucking the heat away. Dakota smiled in that high, sloppy way when a person was fully inebriated. Everything around them was like a neon speedway now. Lights blurred and blended together. The music was booming and thrumming through his veins like a heartbeat and god, he kneaded that ass. He needed it, too. But both. Definitely both, especially when Alejandro moaned so prettily.

"Oh... my god..." Dakota loud-whispered back. "Exactly. Fucking exactly. And that's why we have to die in a way that will have people thinking and talking about us for years and years to come. You know?"

Dakota had given it a lot of thought and he was sure that was how it worked. Nobody cared if somebody died of old age. Nobody cared if they dragged themselves into their fucking 90s. And who wanted to live that goddamn long, anyway? Not Dakota. He wanted to die young, beautiful, tragically. He wanted people to hurt when they thought about him, about how he died, about what must have been going through his head when he chose to make that final step.

With a beautiful laugh in his ear, Dakota leaned into it, into his warm breath, the way it made his whole side of neck shiver. Again, it shot straight down to his groin. God, he just wanted to... fuck. Turning his head against Alejandro's throat, he kissed him, nipping hard enough to draw blood, then licking the warm blood. He was no vampire but the metallic taste of blood reminded him of life--and of death.

"C'mon," Dakota said, pulling Alejandro forward with him by the belt loop of his pants, making sure to brush their bodies close as he did. "Let's go fuck. I bet you look good naked..."

[Alejandro Riviera]

"Years?" That was fucking word candy to his ears. Years. Ears. Haha! Alejo laughed for no reason now, he was so elated and ecstatic. Dakota here was his fucking soulmate. See he thought that was Judah but it wasn't Judah. Judah's soulmate was Guy McFace out here, his ex-boyfriend that he crossed the country to visit. And it wasn't Jack, because Jack's soulmate was a kind, soft-eyed soup god. Alejo and Marge both agreed that they would kill for that soup, and they were pretty sure that Brayden put something like crack or maybe these tiny blue pills all crushed up into them.

Dakota?

Ohh he was everything Alejo didn't knew he'd been looking for. And he was fucking hot! The sensation of skin breaking wasn't new to Alejo but under the effects of the drugs, he... he felt it and he became it. He was the cut. The air shivered all around him—or maybe he shivered violently, pleasurably, as something warm slicked over the broken skin. "Drain me dry baby," Alejo moaned like a slut into his ear while clinging to him helplessly, enthralled and entranced.

"Hey! Where the fuck are you two little assholes going?" Marge's sharp voice rose above the pounding drumbeats. She was over in a second, grasping onto Alejo's arm.

He tore it from her grasp with a giddy little laugh. "We-we're gonna fuck Margie~ Maaargie~ We're gonna fuck and fuck all night and it's going to be." Alejo took in such a big breath that his chest expanded. Held it. Lifted his head to the heavens as if he was seeing God for the first time. "Gloriousssss!"

And off he went with Dakota, slithering into the crowd where Marge couldn't reach him. She tried, though, quite valiantly but a huge crowd cut between them and she was lost. Alejo laughed again—he couldn't stop laughing. Tonight was the single greatest night of his life! "Where?" He asked absently while he shed his sweater and let it drop behind him on the dance floor. "Here baby?" Overly eager, he yanked Dakota back against him for another series of dizzying kisses as he ground their hips salaciously together. Couldn't they just fuck here, right here in the middle of the dance floor? It was as good a place as any!

[Dakota Choi]

Damn. If that slutty voice didn't turn him on. He'd drain Alejandro dead dry if he kept talking to him like that. His laugh was muffled against the warm skin of his throat and he lavished Alejandro with another lick. He was about to go ahead and suck--give him a nasty hickey, because why not? --Until somebody's voice cut through the moment. Dakota turned toward Marge, who was trying to drag Alejandro away...

"What the fuck is your damage?" Dakota asked, wrapping his arm around Alejandro's waist as he slipped away from her. He laughed as Alejandro told her how it was going to be and then Dakota flipped her off while he turned away and held onto Alejandro to avoid losing him in the crowd.

If the crazy woman came after them, he didn't see or hear her amongst the other revelers and party-goers and clubbers. Dakota didn't even know where in the club they were by the time Alejandro started stripping but he grinned. Why not right here?

"Mmgod, fuck yeah right here," he agreed, not even caring about his own clothes as he let his leather jacket fall away. Dakota was kind of a "queen" when it came to his clothes--normally--but they were deep in the throes of Cloud 9--a magic drug that could probably rival that other one. He couldn't even think of the name right now, he was so fucking high.

And seriously, god, everything felt 100x better than it ever did normally. His hands were immediately all over Alejandro, up his beautiful chest, around his back, down to his waist. The way their hips moved together was like a beautiful torture, shivers of pleasure rolling up his legs and down from his nipples. He was already hard as fuck, too, and he could feel Alejandro against him, the friction between their mutually tight pants driving him some kind of wild.

Hips in hand, Dakota found the nearest wall or slammed Alejandro against it. Their lips crushed together and Dakota unzipped Alejandro, tugging his pants down low enough that he could gain access to what lay beneath. His hand was on him and he let out a delighted sound right under the sweet hollow under Alejandro's ear.

"You're so hard," he said. "And so big. So beautiful," he said after peeking down at Alejandro's cock. Dakota had seen his fair share of cock. He knew a pretty cock when he saw one. He pinched a nipple. "I want to suck you dry somewhere else," he said, thumb sliding over the blood he'd left on Alejandro's throat. And without any other warning, he was on his knees with his lips popping that beautiful cock into his mouth.

[Alejandro Riviera]

"Umph!" Alejo's low grunt of impact as his back slammed against the wall merged with a giddy laugh. He liked that—violence. Yessss. If it didn't hurt, it didn't count. Leaving bruises and cuts, being made to bleed, was the best form of pleasure that anyone could impart. Alejo was a little twisted like that—sadomasochistic, some called it. Doctors. Psychologists. He was smart enough not to let that slip at his annual psych evaluations but in his private life, Alejo liked it spicy.

He used to think there was something wrong with him, back home where everyone was so oddly proper. Out here, something wild overcame him. Maybe it was being out in the woods, surrounded by nature. Away from the concrete jungle, he regained some part of his true monstrous self. In New York there were clubs dedicated to people who enjoyed S&M but that was... so tame. So safe. Safe words and sterile equipment and man-made dungeons, it wasn't anywhere near as satisfying as being held by the throat and fucked, and not knowing if he would go home with a sore ass, sore dick or even if he would make it home at all.

God, maybe he did have a death wish. Or maybe it was the drugs. Probably both, although Alejo didn't arrive in Hazleton with the intention of dying. He was still innocent back then, laughable as that word was in relation to him. But a small part of him had been naive, perhaps. Now, he wasn't anything and he had found someone who did truly understand. And on the haze and high of drugs, Alejo felt as much in love as he had ever been.

He grinned like a fool as Dakota freed him from the confines of his jeans—Alejo hadn't even worn any underwear. Was that slutty? Yeah. Who cared, when Dakota made such a beautiful sound right by his ear. Every nerve ending flashed; sounds and colors blended into one sensory overload. He heard colors and saw sounds, reached out with a bemused laugh to touch the strains of music floating past him. Ahh he loved this. He was so gloriously high, he was out of his mind and that was exactly where he wanted to be. Outside his mind and away from his own tortured thoughts.

"Ooh baby..." Alejo's head bumped against the wall behind him as Dakota slid down on him. His hands automatically slid into Dakota's hair and rather carelessly, Alejo fucked his mouth. It was warm and moist and soft, and—a little teeth. He arched the angle of his hips to get at that painful ecstasy, loving the way it felt, loving how heightened every sense was. Nonsense came out of his own mouth, hisses and moans, praise for Dakota in the most vulgar, explicit terms that would have made even a sailor blush.

"F-fuck baby..." His hips jerked forward erratically as the pace he set for himself built up. Alejo's hands curled in Dakota's hair, tighter and tighter as the tension mounted and the spring inside his gut wound as tight as his hands. "Fuck fuck fuck Kota!"

[Dakota Choi]

Oh yeah... he loved Alejandro's hands in his hair and the way he fucked his mouth greedily and with as much need as Dakota felt deep down inside. He'd let him fuck him 'til he fucking choked. That was how greedy he was for it, too. He wanted it. He grasped the back of Alejandro's legs, his ass, his bare fucking ass. God, what an ass. And the words Alejandro spewed. They would have made most men blush but Dakota only felt the words shooting through his body like heroin.

Alejandro's pace became punishing, frantic, frenetic. Dakota's teeth scraped over his tender cock. Most men hated that but Alejandro seemed to revel in it. Before he knew it, he could feel it--he could feel the moment coming and his hands groped Alejandro's ass, tight, holding onto him as he rose up higher on his knees, taking Alejandro to the back of the throat. One hand moved round to fondle his balls, just as Alejandro hit his orgasm. He shot him all the way in the back of the goddamn throat.

Dakota swallowed like the slut he was. They were both sluts, high as kites, sexual entities. And he didn't lie; he sucked Alejandro fucking dry, until he had every bit of his cum inside of him. He licked his lips as he sat back on his heels, looking up at Alejandro as he tried to catch his breath. Every part of him shook with need, but especially his own cock.

Slowly, he rose up, twisted Alejandro around, shoving him up against the wall, giving his nice, bare ass a swift smack and enjoying the way it bounced under his palm.

"Now... I'm gonna fuck you," he said, half mad with need. He leaned into him, kissing the back of his neck before leaving another harsh bite mark. He gripped Alejandro's waist tight, pulling it to him as he used one hand to coax his ass to part for him. It felt like he was more than ready to go. Dakota sure as hell was. No lube, no nothing. He penetrated Alejandro with minimal warning, embedding himself deep inside and letting out a long, shuddering sigh before letting out a moan. He bit down on Alejandro's shoulder as he began a new rhythm. They weren't done here.

[Alejandro Riviera]

Dakota really hadn't lied. Alejo almost felt his soul leaving through his cock as that greedy, hot little mouth suctioned around him. He almost felt like cumming again, and barely held off. Apparently the drugs made it that much easier to lose it, too, but Alejo's speedy liver processed the drugs so fast that they were almost starting to lose their edge.

He clung desperately to his high, almost petulantly, childishly. "Baby you are illegal," he moaned as he writhed against the wall, hands all over Dakota's face, stroking his cheeks and fondling his hair, mindlessly high. If he could somehow map the shape of Dakota's face and all of his features with his fingertips alone, he would have tried his damned hardest to commit everything to permanent memory. Handsome man. Glorious lover. Generous, too—oh-so-generous and fucking desirable down on his knees licking his lips clean. Beautiful. Dirty. Filthy.

"Ah—ooh take it easy baby," Alejo laughed when he was pushed chest-first into the wall. Being facetious, of course. He loved that violence, the way every part of him throbbed with need for Dakota. A little surprised sound left him at an unexpected smack; he laughed again and pushed a hand over his face, then up into his hair. Alejo gripped his own hair tight and groaned. Teeth again. Mmm... It would leave a mark for him to remember tomorrow—

Oh wait.

There wasn't going to be a tomorrow.

That thought filled him with indescribable joy. He splayed himself against the wall since there was nothing to hold on to and let himself be vulnerable for a brief moment, exposed and open for anything that Dakota chose to do to him. It was okay—he trusted his new partner, his lover for a night. Dakota didn't disappoint. "Fuuuuuck!" Alejo didn't care if everyone in the club heard him, but he couldn't stop himself from crying out. God even with the drugs in his system, it hurt like fuck. And he kept pushing back into Dakota, determined to bleed, to hurt.

"Hurt me baby, hurt me." It came out on a half-sob; the pain really was getting to be too much. Tears popped into his eyes from the sting as blood slid down the insides of his legs. Maybe he was crying, too, he couldn't tell. His heart was light but heavy. He was overjoyed but so, so pathetically sad. This was finally going to be the end of his struggles and he knew he should have been happy, but... he was going to miss this, too. He thought of Judah, of Jack, Marge, Brayden, that random man who had his hands down Alejo's skin-tight pants last time...

Alejo pressed his face into the wall. He was such a mess. His body was on fire and it was shaking; his heart was burning up too, consuming him and all of his conflicting emotions. Somewhere he was aware of people gasping and probably everyone was now watching them but he couldn't find it in him to care. They couldn't be the only people who had ever done it out in the open in a club. Alejo reached back; his grasping fingers slipped around Dakota and grabbed one ass cheek hard, digging in with his nails as he urged him on. Like last time, he wanted to be fucked to death and god if Dakota didn't do it this time, nobody ever could.

[Dakota Choi]

"So... tight... fuck..."

It fucking hurt them both. He felt like he was going to kill them both but he couldn't stop smiling because if this was the way death decided to lead them to her final arms, there could hardly be anything better. An entire fucking club would be their witnesses.

The rhythm, as punishing as it began, became fitful as his toes began to curl and he could feel the orgasm coming on. Everything--everything--was heightened and it felt so good. Ecstasy swirled in his blood, hot and speeding its course down to the very heart of him. Down to his hard cock in Alejandro's pert little ass. Another thrust and he came with a loud moan. His teeth were on Alejandro again, leaving terrible marks all over his poor shoulder and his throat. He looked like something had mauled him.

And now that he was spent, Dakota's heart was beating a million miles a minute. And he was leaning against Alejandro, holding onto him because his knees had gone weak with the orgasm. He couldn't stop shivering, quivering, and smiling. God, he could hardly fucking stand, he could only imagine how Alejandro felt with his ass totally destroyed.

"You were so good, baby," he said, kissing Alejandro with the taste of blood still on his lips. "So good. Fuck."

And then, just like that, he felt somebody grab him roughly by the hair from behind.

"Ahhhh," he said, but it sounded more like a sexual sound than one of pain. He liked his hair being pulled. The guy behind him... was fucking tall. Like taller than Dakota, and he was six feet tall. And he had a build like a fighter, not hidden whatsoever by the tank top he wore. His piercing green eyes seemed made of marble as he stared at Dakota like he was furious with him. He jerked him aside and Dakota stumbled into a dancing pair. Shit. What the fuck!

"Hey," the new guy said--to Alejandro. "Are you okay?"