As always, here's the disclaimer. This is the first chapter in my new novel titled Firebug. As most of my stories are, this is a STORY not a quick stroke or porn piece. It has character development and story line and the sex, while present, isn't the point of the story. There can be non-consent scenes in this story as in most of my stories, and the characters are supernatural in a fantasy/sci-fi world. I hope you all love it as much as I loved writing it! Be well my friends
You're friendly neighborhood author :)
**GEM**
Thunderous music pounded through the room as I lounged back against the comfortable plush couches that dotted the room in numbers far to many to count. As an off duty cop, this was the last place I'd ever wanted to be caught, yet for some reason it never stopped me from donning his most flattering attire and climbing into my friends shinny hovermob. Bodies crowded the dance floor, all writhing against one another, mostly men but a few ladies found herself pressed against a pair of lovers near fucking on the dance floor. Most of them either didn't realize this was a gay bar, or they were the proverbial fag hag here to fix up her best friend with some one night stand action.
But yea, as an off duty cop, I should be far more concerned with my image and less concerned with the, how shall we say? Exotic? No, we're not talking about the fact I'm was gay, hell, it's almost popular to be gay on the force now, no one cares and if they did, it stood to reason you'd be getting a date out of it. No, the exotic that this particular club catered to were what was called 'supers', and those humans who were 'super-friendly'. The term stood for supernatural, and yea, if you were thinking fairies and elves and shit, you'd be right on the money.
Supers were outlawed in nearly ninety percent of the world, the safe havens for their kind drasticly and fast diminishing. Those who weren't enslaved and kept 'under control' were generally put down, as if they were mutts at the pound. The whole concept sickened me, it always had, but hell, I have my duty as a cop. Yea, duty, well, I have my duty to a sense of right and wrong, too, I figure, and if given the opportunity I let the super go without any harm nor foul. No sentient being should be forced to live in slavery, and hell, if you were considered 'too dangerous' they just outright murdered you. Christ, the topic made me want to wretch, even when I'm just thinking to myself.
"Gem, look over there, left side of the dance floor." I turned my head so I could hear Ahal speak over the din of the club's sound system, then catching what he'd said I glanced towards where he pointed in the corner.
"Holy Shit." I mumbled under my breath, eyes instantly drawn to and locking on what must have been one of the most incredibly beings that I'd ever personally seen up close. Stunning would have been all to accurate a word, I think, and as I watched him, my heart did little flip flops inside my chest.
Four different men vied for his attention, each drawing him away from the others, but the young man didn't seem to notice or care very much. He danced with whoever came close enough, and when he touched some one, sparks flew and I do mean that literally. His hair appeared to be made up of strands of living fire, billowing about him as he moved, writhed and spun. Hell, if he didn't have a death wish then he was far to vain for his own good. Even in a place like this it was bad news to be so openly supernatural. If I hit my guess, and I did get all A's in school when taking the lessons on supers, he was either a fire elemental, a sprite, or he was descended of one. Hell, even his skin seemed to glow, a rich orangey hue that made him look nothing less then beautiful.
If my mouth hadn't been watering before at the stunning pictures of masculine beauty on the dance floor, it sure as fuck was now. Something held me back though, and that something was the fact he was pulling fireworks in a place that was so public. That generally meant the super in general wanted to get caught, or no longer cared if he was. It made for bad bed partners, especially for some one like me who wouldn't want to be in bed with them when the 'rounders' came to claim em.
"What? You look like some one hit you in the head with a two by four, Gem. You getting a readin' on him or something?" Ahal asked me, and I shook my head to clear the cobwebs away. I needed to forget about this one, he was dangerous, not just to himself either.
"Naw, no reading. Too many people between the two of us, I'd need to touch him in a place like this." I replied, and Ahal nodded his head, a knowing look in his eyes. "Don't look at me like that, man. I'm not going near him, not with a god damn ten foot pole."
"Bullshit." Was all Ahal said, and even as the word left his mouth I felt myself lifting up off the couch and sliding through the throng of writhing bodies towards my querry. I wasn't as bright as I pretended, apparently. My common sense was alright, I guess, but the downright truth was that I didn't often LISTEN to my common sense, so it did me little good, and well Ahal knew it.
Men grabbed me from behind, trying to pull me into a dance here or their, but I had eyes only for the man who'd sparked my fire, so to speak, bad pun I know, but I couldn't help it. The fire-sprite's eyes were closed as he grind his leather-clad hips into someones groin then spun away out of reach yet into another waiting lovers embrace. He didn't even care who held onto him, he simply moved where the music lead him, dancing and writhing and out of his mind with the sensual eroticism of the moment. Fuck, he was beautiful, and I was drawn to him which meant it was bad news for me. I should stay away from any man I'm drawn to, honestly, I knew this by now but for some reason I just couldn't get my body to listen to the common sense meter going off in my brain.
It took some maneuvering, but I finally did manage to evade his cache of lovers and slide in behind him, my hands caressing along his slim hips as I drew him in against my body. He was smaller then I'd first realized, a full head and then some shorter then me, making it easy for me to rest my chin atop his head as he pressed back into my body, sparks zinging against every inch of my flesh where we touched, electrifying but not harming. It was erotic and sensual, and normally physical contact helped me get a read but at this point the sudden desire I felt drowned out all ability I might have possessed.
Fight back the lust, I held onto him, even when another would-be lover tried to muscle me out of the way to have his turn at the sexy thing in my arms. He didn't seem to mind the fact I held onto him, instead, he moved within the circle of my arms, spinning, using my body as a prop in a dance that must have been internally only for him. God, there's something about dancing with a man who enjoys the sensuality of the dance for the act of dancing, and doesn't necessarily give a shit for his partner. You feel both left out and voyeuristic at the same time as highly eroticized yourself, both are true, in their own way. He could have been dancing with a pole and I knew he'd have looked just as hot doing so, though the reality was I wasn't a bad looking man myself and I was sure we were drawing a few eyes as we moved together, rocked together and spun together. The longer I held him in my arms, felt the heat of his hair, the sparks against my skin, the less I wanted to let him go and the more I needed to get a read on him. I needed to know why he was doing this, acting this way. I needed to know him.
