No. 159
Not quite MC, not really traditional. Not even a relationship. Just two very different people who come into a kind of conflict. Hot flash that turned itself into just a little tease due to fickleness of my muse.
“You won’t get me.” The words were flat, hard and confidant as the woman stared angrily at the man in front of her, lips curled back as she turned what was normally a beautiful face into an ugly sneer.
“Get you?” He asked in turn, standing tall, amused as he watched her with eyes that showed no intimidation, no worry, no fear.
“I don’t know what you did to them,” her chin jutted towards the trio of women, cooing together dresses of silk and cotton that clung enticingly to their bodies and cut to bear a provocative sensuality, “but you won’t get me.”
They spared her a glance when she spoke, as if sensing she was talking about them, smoldering, liquid eyes glistened with a hunger, a want that spoke of a quivering emptiness that she couldn’t imagine, a hunger, begging to be filled, before they flicked away, apparently dismissing her and turning their attentions back among themselves.
“Did to them? Why is it you think I did anything to them?” He asked back, a note of amused challenge to his voice.
“That is not them.” She shot back without even an ounce of doubt. “I know them! They aren’t quivering little trophy sluts willing to hang all over again like some kind of simpering sex pot pet!”
“Mmm, sex pot pet, hm?” He seemed to find that choice of wording amusing for some reason. “Wouldn’t it have been easier to say something like sex pet?”
“You would say that.” She sneered back at him, even as a faint blush crossed her cheeks. “Women aren’t property!”
“Then why do they sell themselves?” He countered back, smiling at her with a look of utmost amusement on his face.
The look of angry outrage exploded on her face as she hissed back at him in a voice that boiled with emotion. “Women don’t sell themselves!”
“Oh, they do it all the time.” He countered back without skipping a beat. “They all have a different price, some of them are met, some of them aren’t, but it’s all in there, a price dangling off of them, hanging there for someone to find, someone to consider, and for someone to decide if she’s just worth it or not.”
And her fury boiled in her veins as she opened her mouth, ready for a sharp rebuke against his claims, only he calmly slashed his hand through the air with a flick of his wrist, cutting her off before she could speak.
“Some of them do it for pleasure. Some of them for money. Some of them for security. Some of them, because they just don’t want to be alone.” He continued, lips pulled back, flashing glistening white teeth. “All you have to do is find the right coin to make that purchase.”
“You’re sick.” She stated flatly, sneering at him. “And deluded. People aren’t just animals for you to…”
“People are very much animals.” He disagreed, cutting her off with chuckle. “They all have their base desires, their hungers, their wants and needs. Their… instincts.”
He stepped closer then, and reflexively she took a step back, her body going stiff, defensive as her hands lifted up as if to ward him off. “Like now, it suddenly dawns on that little mind of yours that you should be afraid if someone you don’t really know comes close to you, moves towards you aggressively.”
There was a pause, his voice lowering as it burned with heat past his lips. “It reminds you for all your brag and bluster, you aren’t a predator, you aren’t a hunter. You stand there, quailing in fear, and wanting to rant and accuse and rely on words you’re so reliant on to protect yourself.”
Then he pulled back, smirking at her again as she stared at him with eyes that danced between fear and fury.
“But in the end, those words only work so long as people decide to let them. Civilization is built upon the notion that the predators no longer need to hunt, that their hungers, their desires, their drives can be channeled into productive outlets that can advance their people past their current state into a better one.” He paused, there, grinning the smile of a savage on the prowl. “That we can build and create and lead instead.”
She didn’t dare step forward, her eyes staring at him, wide and caught up in the low, pulsing tones, tinged with a dark, sensual hunger that rolled past his lips.
“Then, the prey forgot that we were what we were for a reason. They decided that the predators had to be collared, muzzled, beaten down and broken. That they could use the things they had created against them, that the privilege of power and rule should be denied to the strong, because they demanded that their wants and desires be catered to, that they should have what others built because it wasn’t fair that the predators were driven to set themselves apart, to enrich themselves and when they succeeded, reaped the great rewards of their hunt.”
And he was advancing again then, and she skittishly backed away, until she could feel the wall pressed to her back as his body stood, so close to her own, his heat pouring down into the air between them. “They spoke of freedom and equality, and pricked a thousand pricks of little rules and regulations, making it harder and harder to even try, let alone succeed… They made the predators doubt themselves, thoughts, demands, allegations driven into their heads with all the zealous brutality of the righteous, because when you’re right, it becomes so very easy to let the end, justify the means.”
He reached up, almost touching against her chin, but never making contact. “You want to scream and whine and talk about how people can’t be possessions? That is what we have been made. Little commodities fed little nuggets of truth, hiding a core of lies to keep us content with ourselves or apathetic in our depression.”
Her mouth worked, jaw shifting, dry lips moving, but words would not come. His finger rose, hovering above them, letting her feel the warm pulse
“What are we, if we have nothing to hunt for? Do you know, hmm? What are we, if we have nothing to hunt for us?” His voice burned, hot, hungering as it teased against her throat, and helplessly her chin raised, wishing she could say it was in defiance even as she shivered beneath the wash of its touch.
“We hunger.” He stated simply, as he spoke that word almost like a growl as she fought down the urge to shiver against the feeling, pulsing back into her body. “And reach down into that dark, primal part of ourselves. We remember the beasts we are deep down, hidden beneath the layers of civilization and would be domestication. And we let them out.”
She swallowed, thick and wordless as she stared at him, heat, coursing through her veins, body, glistening, hot, burning with a swell of sensations that made her mouth hang open and inviting. It wasn’t that she couldn’t move, she could feel her chest rising, falling, her fingers curling, her back, arching. It was that she didn’t know how she wanted to move.
He smirked then, and suddenly pulled away, leaving a rush of cool air to replace his heat. “But, you should remember my dear. I just said that you were a possession. I never tried to claim you were mine.”
When he left her then, she stared at him, mouth hanging, eyes wide, body trembling.
And her traitorous little mind wondered, awash in half melted, glistening little thoughts, what if she was.
trans-boy-slut
