I'm still contemplating the vision of beauty that crossed my path the next day; remembering the fiery red of his hair; cut short but with enough there to allow someone's fingers to run through. I'm also remembering the stormy grey of his eyes, the ampleness of his ruby lips and the slight curve of his back, sloping down into something altogether more satisfying. My cock begins to stir and I'm fantasising some altogether more obscene notions, when a voice breaks through my reverie. I jerk my head up scowling, then blush nearly forty shades of red as I realise who I'm scowling at.
"Hey, do you mind if I sit here?" He asks politely.
I nod my assent and try not to stare as he plonks himself down in the seat next to me. He's even more beautiful up close.
He holds out his hand. "I'm Tyler by the way."
Struck dumb for a few moments I simply gaze at his hand, not speaking. A bemused smile appears on his lips and he waves his other hand in my face.
"You with me?" He teases.
I snap out of my trance and take his hand in my own. It's soft and warm, sending tingles down my spine, into my stomach, to pool pleasurably in my groin.
"Ares." I answer.
"God of war, right?"
I smile, surprised. "Not many people know that."
He raises an eyebrow and taps the side of his nose. "Not many people are as smart as we are."
I smile again, liking that he's collated us as 'we.' The rest of the class is pretty much boring but I take pleasure in making furtive glances at Tyler, drinking in his profile and breathing hard to find his scent. He smells like ocean air; salty and clean, almost tempting me nuzzle his neck and run my fingers through his hair.
We go together for lunch where I find out that Tyler skipped a year at school (genius) and so despite being in his second year of university, has only just turned 19. I'm confused as to why I haven't seen him before and he explains that he's just transferred from another university because the History degree here offered a broader range of topics. He also informs me that he's a long distance runner which would account for his lithe body. He probably weighs no more than 170 pounds and I'm hard pressed to stop myself from imagining that very same litheness undulating beneath me. I berate myself mentally and try to concentrate on the words leaving the cupid bow of his lips.
Both of us are laughing hysterically at a particularly humorous anecdote he has about his last lecturer when a shadow descends upon our table. I look up expectantly only to groan inwardly as I'm confronted with a grim faced, Azrael.
"Who's your new friend, Snow?"
I grit my teeth angrily and steadfastly ignore him, hoping he'll take the hint and fuck off.
No such luck.
Tyler offers his hand, "Tyler. And you are...?"
Azrael takes his hand and holds it for longer than necessary, blatantly stroking his thumb back and forth across the back of it.
"Azrael." He practically purrs.
He's really taking the piss now
.
"What do you want, Azrael?" I question, venomously.
"But, you know that already, Snow White." He enthuses.
I flinch at both the name and meaning of his words. By now, Tyler is looking slightly bemused at our exchange and has his head cocked to the side, one eyebrow raised.
"We used to date." I explain to Tyler. His face changes and he nods in understanding.
"If I remember correctly, we were doing a lot more than just
dating
." Azrael imparts lasciviously.
With this, he takes it upon himself to sit down, plonking himself so close to me that he's practically in my lap.
"So what brings you here, Tyler?" He enquires.
I sit, dismayed that Azrael has come along and managed to monopolise my conversation with Tyler right under my nose. I'm on the brink of hyperventilation, blood boiling, temper rising, when Azrael decides to run his hand up my thigh, whilst still talking charmingly to Tyler. I don't want to make a scene inside a public building so I grin and bear it, all the while wishing I was in possession of a very sharp fork. Tyler notes the redness of my face, the wildness of my eyes and enquires sincerely if I'm alright. His concern softens my angered state slightly and I tell him I have a headache, conscious that Azrael's hand is reaching higher on my thigh, perilously close to discovering the effect that Tyler unconsciously has on my body. He offers to get me a glass of water and once he's left the table, I turn to Azrael, ready to spit poison.
I'm about to wrench his hand off my thigh and impart some extremely colourful language when his hand cups the crotch of my jeans, finding my hardness and squeezes gently. Involuntarily I let out a gasp, caught between pleasure and disbelief; shocked that he has the audacity to touch me in so intimate a way.
"Only I can make you feel like this." He intones, other hand slipping down the back of my jeans to press a finger at my tail bone. He caresses my sweet spot and I bite my lip. He smiles wickedly. The bastard still knows how to push my buttons.
"Are you ready to admit you still want me?"
The finger at my tail bone moves lower. Involuntarily, I bite my lip harder.
"All you have to do is beg."
All of a sudden, common sense prevails and the rational side of my brain kicks in. I extract Azrael's hands away from my body and smile invitingly into his face, lulling him before I go for the jugular.
"Azrael, Azrael, Azrael." I sigh dramatically, watching him smile encouragingly. "I find myself as emotionally attached to you as one would be to a prostitute with herpes, and quite frankly I'd sooner
beg-
as you so
nicely
put it- to lick a tramps balls than have you touch me
ever again
." I narrow my eyes, dangerously. "Make no mistake, Azrael. You lost the right to make me feel anything but hatred for you the day you hit me. This is not for you." I say contemptibly, indicating my crotch. "And it never will be again."
I observe in silent satisfaction as the self-satisfied smirk on his face disappears and is instead replaced with outrage.
I smile innocently. "Is everything ok? It's just that you've turned a nasty shade of puce."
He pushes himself up from next to me like he's been stung. I watch smugly as he tries to compose himself.
"I'll get you back, Ares Luca." He whispers, menacingly. "Whether it be through you or someone else." He glances over at Tyler standing at the counter, smiling that same mischievous smile he gave me when he turned up on my doorstep three years ago.
"Don't you