I knew he was out there, amongst the trees. I had caught glimpses of him while Tommy fucked me on the swing. As I leaned back to enjoy the feeling of the hard cock sliding in and out of my warmth, the air chilling my hands on the chains, and faintly stinging the flesh of my ass, legs, and lower back.. I saw him. He was standing there, watching us, watching me.
Worse yet, I had felt him. Felt his intent gaze upon my skin almost like fingers, as Tommy had me and yet did not have me at all. His eyes had missed nothing as I shuddered with a wild abandon I had not known I was capable of.
I remember that the fog was low and clinging to the trees and ground, making things into
indistinct shadows of themselves that night, but he seemed almost spot lit under the bathroom shelter lights. Even without the benefit of proximity or daylight, I knew that his green eyes were glowing. As I looked out at him, a word kept echoing in my head like a seductive growl. "Mine". I had the urge to pull free of my lover, who was not my lover, and run to him...strip out of the rest of my clothes and tear off his - to have him like some gloriously wild animal on the wet grass by moonlight. To rut and pound our bodies against the earth ground until the hunger burned down to a slow craving.
I wanted to sink into that echo in my mind and know how the word felt whispered into my ear, into my sex, to have him feed the essence of me with all of the intensity of those four letters. Images of brutal love rushed through my head, almost synchronized with the motions of the lover who is not my lover, as he pounds into me. I know he thought my involuntary cries of pleasure were for him... but they belonged to someone else.
Once the lover who was not my lover had sated himself, I quickly begged off to use the toilet. The combination of the beer I'd drank earlier in the evening and the frigid air made the fullness of my bladder uncomfortable. The fog blanketed me, and as I walked blindly into it, I heard the boy dressing by the swing call out, "Be careful." It was growing darker with each passing minute, but I knew with complete confidence that no one would harm me. Despite the anticipation tightening my belly, I forced myself to slow my steps. My intuition told me I would find the feral one close by and the phantom touch of the thick fog on my skin made me impatient to feel his hands on me. I was far, far from sated and the love who was not my lover had been no more than foreplay. I felt on fire and unfulfilled, my hunger fed upon the earlier encounter and the watchful glowing eyes, like ripe, dark fruit.
My body became liquid in ways that put my earlier arousal to shame. It betrayed a darker, truer need, something that curled deep within my core that brooked no refusal.
In his eyes I had found a new definition of desire and I knew that I couldn't walk away until I felt it beat a tattoo on my skin, in my blood, in all of my pulses. I was right by the shelter when he grasped my arm too tightly and asked me if I knew him. And I did. In that moment, I knew him better than I knew my own mirror image. He looked like a tarnished god wrapped in his battered black leather, a golden vampire from one of my night terrors.