Tecpatl

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Older story I posted on another forum which has disappeared.

Offering to a Dark Angel

Trent had been wandering the dark bathhouse maze for almost an hour. It was starting to seem pointless. One of the pretty boys tried to catch his eye again. But that wasn't what he came here for. At 21, with a smooth muscled body and tousled blond hair, Trent was a pretty boy himself. A pretty boy with a dark fantasy.

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He'd seen it online, in the privacy of his room. Boys tied up. Boys beaten. Boys threatened. And now, far away from home, in this dark place, he hoped it would come looking for him. Someone who would take him away. To a darker place.*
Their eyes locked as he brushed past Trent and down a side hall. Trent saw a whorl of tattoos along a scalp under close-cropped dark hair, a strong muscled back covered with more tattoos, and then darkness. Trent's heart skipped a beat as he turned to follow. But the hall branched and he lost the way. He walked faster through the maze. Looking now. Hoping. He saw the stranger cross in the distance. Trent thought their eyes met again. Again he followed. Again only more twinks and old men.
Trent kept looking. And then someone brushed past from behind. He saw the tattoos. The head turned as he reached a corner. The eyes met Trent's. He slowed. A slight smile. And Trent saw him. His chest and arms covered in the tattoos of demons. Or gods. He wondered how far down they went below the towel that wrapped his waist. He felt the ice of fear in his belly. And the heat of desire in his cock. He followed around the corner. Nothing. No one. Darkness.
Until he felt an arm from behind reach around his chest, another around his neck. Trent was pulled tight against a hard body. He felt the brush of an unshaven cheek against his ear. A voice spoke just above the thumping music, "How do you choose to die?"
Trent swallowed hard. His heart was pounding. "I don't . . . I didn't come to . . . "
"To grow old, to waste away, this is not for you." A hand played with Trent's left nipple. There was a slight accent. Eastern Europe maybe. "It is more beautiful to choose."
"Look, I . . . You're crazy, you know . . . I mean, what makes you think?"
The hand left Trent's chest and moved down to grasp the hard cock under his towel. A laugh sounded low.
"This."
"You're not serious."
"Maybe not."
"What do you really want to do to me?"
"Take you home. Tie you up. Lick every part of you."
He was kissing the back of Trent's neck. Trent started to moan.*
"Fuck you. Make you cum."
"Kill me?"
"That would be crazy, no?"
"So you're not really . . ."
"Going to kill you? There is only one time you will know. In the moment when I cut your chest open. Or the moment when I don't."
"Is that what you want to do?"
"It would be a beautiful way. Your heart ripped out like an ancient sacrifice. But we don't always get to do what we want to do."
He ran the backs of his fingers along the side of Trent's face.
"What do you want to do tonight?" he asked.
"I'm . . . I'm not sure."
"The only thing you can be sure of is this moment."
The fingers ran down Trent's neck, his chest, his belly.
"Come with me. And enjoy what happens."
Trent took a deep breath.
"Out the door, turn left. Two streets, then right. My car is dark green. I'll be there in fifteen minutes. You be there . . . Or you will never know."
And he was gone. Trent leaned back against the wall. Fuck! He thought. That couldn't be real. No actual killer would warn a victim. But what a fucking hot role play. Then Trent caught sight of his body in a mirror. He imagined his chest stretched tight like a sacrifice ready for the knife. Fuck.

Kurt was always mildly surprised that there were so many boys who looked for their own doom. He could see it in their eyes. He was surprised at the pretty ones who followed so easily when they were chosen. The last one Kurt had found at a skate park. He chose to be strangled. They talked about it on the long drive to Kurt's small, ordinary house in the outer suburbs. Kurt asked the boy about the most complicated tricks he could do. He asked about the risks, about paralysis, about death. It took time but the boy must always be able to convince himself that the threat wasn't real. He would never admit to himself that it was the threat that drew him. The boy said the thrill of riding was worth the risk, but he had heard a guy came when he was being strangled and that sounded better than years in a wheel chair or death lying on the concrete. He had a friend who tried hanging himself to get off and said it was amazing.*
So Kurt took the boy to bed. It was an ordinary fuck until Kurt put his hands around the boy's neck. The boy put his hands on Kurt's wrists but never tried to push Kurt away. Kurt squeezed and the boy's slim chest arched up against Kurt's own. He relaxed his grip enough to let the boy gasp for air. Then he tightened again. The boy's cock got harder, and his asshole tightened around Kurt's dick. Kurt repeated the process again and again. Waiting in the car, he could still feel the boy's chest struggling for air against his own as he came. That was the time Kurt didn't let go. And as the boy's body relaxed beneath him, Kurt came, his whole body shaking as he shot his load in the boy's ass.
He never knew the boy's name until he saw the picture of a boy gone missing. After a while they gave up looking. But Kurt knew there was nothing left to find. He ran his hand over his chest. All that was left of the boy was now part of Kurt's muscle and bone.

That had been over a year ago. It was time. Kurt hoped the new boy would choose blood. He had finished his tattoos in the last month. And they were thirsty. The door opened and the boy slid in beside him. He reached over and drew the boy's mouth to his. The tongue was willing and sweet. Kurt had to pull away at last. The boy leaned back with a little laugh.
"Whoa!"
"Been a long time?"
"Yeah. I mean I don't"
"Do this much? Are you scared?"
The boy turned to look at him, the eyes searching to learn something.
"Well, yeah, I guess."
"Good. You'd be crazy not to be."
He put his hand against the boy's cheek and looked into his eyes. They were green.
"But you'll be fine. You'll get what you want."
Kurt started the car.
 
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Part 2

"What you want."
Trent's mind raced, confused. Just what did he want? Why was he here? There was ice in his gut as he watched the houses pass along the freeway. How will I get back if he turns out crazy? Will I know soon enough to run? His cock was hard as rock under the stranger's hand.
The stranger asked why he was in the city. He talked about his small hometown and his summer wandering around the country. The stranger talked about coming to the US to study and staying when he found a job. Trent made a joke about him getting married to stay in the country. The stranger smiled and asked if that was a proposal. He said he wanted to steal Trent's heart. They talked bands and video games and movies. The stranger said he had just seen that movie about Mayans on late night cable. Trent said "Apocalypto." His heart skipped. The stranger talked about how watching the guys get painted blue and held down on the altar was hot. Trent said yeah, but the only cute one got away. The stranger turned with a twinkle in his eye and said he would be sure not to let that happen. Trent's mouth was dry. He asked if that was how the stranger planned to steal his heart. He chuckled and said then he wouldn't be able to keep it. DNA evidence and all. But he said he thought that was a beautiful way to die, quick and young. He said the only thing better would be to cum first. Trent said his first wet dreams were of being naked and held down to be sacrificed. He said he always woke up before the blade went in. Shit, he thought, I've never told anybody that. His mouth was dry. His cock burned. His belly was ice.

Kurt smiled. The boy had chosen.
 
Part 3

The stranger pulled Trent to him as soon as the door closed behind them. Their hands were all over each other. Their tongues deep in each others' mouths. Trent could feel the stranger's hard body beneath his t-shirt, his firm butt beneath his jeans. The bulge that ground into Trent's crotch was so big Trent wondered if he could take it. Then the stranger pulled a knife from a sheath strapped to his high-topped boot. Trent jumped back but the stranger reached out and pulled him back by his shirt.
"Hey," he smiled, "Just a tool to help get this off."
He put the blade into the v-neck of Trent's t and cut down. Then his tongue was all over Trent's chest, his nipples, his belly. Trent leaned back against a wall of the small living room, a moan low in his throat. Teeth bit hard on his left nipple. Trent let out a yelp.
"Shhhhh. You can take it." The teeth bit harder. The tongue went down the valley between his abs to his navel, then lower. Teeth opened a button on his jeans while hands held his wrists against the wall.
Soon Trent stood naked.
"Perfect," the stranger said gazing at his body, and began to slowly strip off his own clothes. Trent followed the lines and patterns. He saw a creature with wings spread across the stranger's chest almost hidden among symbols and runes. As the jeans came down he saw the lines extend down a large, rock-hard dick. At last the stranger pulled Trent to his beautiful naked body, their arms wrapped around each other. It's time, the voice said in his ear. Yes, Trent answered, his voice husky with longing.

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He was led to the back of the house and down stairs to a dim basement room. The stranger began to light candles and their warm glow reflected in the clear plastic sheets that covered the walls, the floor, the ceiling.
"Like Dexter," Trent said, almost under his breath, remembering the kill rooms of his favorite hot tv murderer.
"I am a very careful person. I do not want to get sent home. If you decide to bring charges, I want no evidence you were here."
Trent gave a nervous laugh. He glanced at the stairs. His pounding heart wanted him to run. But he let the beautiful stranger lead him to the plastic covered table. He sat on the table and laid back, watching the lines and patterns of the dark angel move above him as the stranger tied his wrists to the corners. Then the mouth was on his belly. The tongue traced his inner thighs as he spread his legs. The mouth took in his whole cock and then the teeth bit down on the head. Trent flinched and bit his lip but made no sound. He would take it.
Then the dark angel rose above him, kneeling on the table, taking Trent's legs and pulling them over his shoulders. He felt the tip of the stranger's cock against his tight asshole. Trent took a deep breath. He willed himself to do this as he felt the immense cock force it's way in. He grunted at the sharp pain. His breath came short and shallow as it thrust and withdrew. Pumping and pumping until his own cock started to grow again. Sweat glistened beautiful over the patterns in the candlelight as the stranger reached out a hand and started to stroke Trent's dick. This was what Trent wanted. He felt close to coming. The stranger smiled and stopped moving, his dick still inside Trent. He waited. Then started again. Trent was in a haze as again and again the stranger brought him closer and closer but wouldn't let him cum. He wanted to cry out for release, but he would take it.
Suddenly the stranger pulled out of Trent and got down off the table. He pulled Trent's legs out and tied his ankles to the corners. He walked around behind Trent's head and leaned down, kissing him deeply. And walked away. Then Trent saw a glint of metal. It was the knife. It's blade was cold as it was laid on his chest. The ice slammed back into his gut. He caught a sob in his throat.
"Shhhhhh," the stranger said, stroking his hair from behind. The voice was close to his ear. "Shhhhhh. It will be OK. It will be beautiful. You are the noble sacrifice. And only you and I will ever know. I am very careful. The other two have never been found. They have stopped looking. No one will know. If you enjoy this."
Trent gave a deep sob.
"Some of your body I will eat," he said, his fingers lightly tracing Trent's pectoral muscles, "because you are beautiful and strong. What is left will be totally destroyed. I promise.*
Now I must do this, because even if you do not want to, you will scream. And I am careful."
He took a simple piece of duct tape, and after kissing Trent deeply, whispered, "It is time."
"Yes," Trent sobbed. Tears ran down his cheeks as the beautiful stranger pulled the tape firmly across his mouth.
Trent saw the dark angel again as the stranger climbed onto the table and straddled his hips. He began to stroke Trent's cock with both hands. Fear had left it shriveled, but it came quickly back to life. Trent began to breathe deeply in time with the strokes. There was no escape. He was being given to the dark angel. There was no escape. There never was. Trent began to let go.
The stranger picked up the knife and began to trace on Trent's body with the flat of the blade while one hand slowly stroked Trent's cock. Trent became mesmerized by the movements as blade and cock switched hands side to side and Trent realized the stranger was tracing the lines and symbols of the dark angel on his body. First the right arm. Then the left. The right pectoral. The left. It was a dance he watched, the patterns forming, the stranger's face intent on his work. It was beautiful. And Trent realized just how it would end. There were only minutes left, only seconds. There was nothing left to worry about. Nothing he could change. He would take it. His cock ached for release. His heart ached for release. The stroking came faster as the blade danced more slowly over his abs. Closer now. Closer. The stroking stopped as the pattern finished, tracing the lines up his throbbing cock.
Trent's seed exploded further than it ever had. Spattering his chest, his chin. As the gleaming knife flashed above him, for one frozen instant he saw a bead of his own cum on the blade that would kill him. He arched his body as far as he could against the ropes. Stretching his chest just a little tighter, to let the blade in.
Then it tore him open. Side to side across the top of his abs, just under the v of his ribcage. The pain came slower than the pull of the knife. And then the blood flowed across his belly, mixing with his cum. He could no longer control his body as it spasmed against the ropes. One of the strangers hands was in the wound, the other worked the knife through some tissue into his chest cavity. Something came apart suddenly and his chest wouldn't work right. He couldn't get his breath and he coughed, tasting blood. The pressure in his chest exploded in pain. Tears streamed from his eyes. The tape muffled scream after choking scream. Hurry, he thought. Please.
Then something inside gripped his heart. In the pain his mind had grown hazy, but that brought him back. He remembered. He saw the stranger smile and there was a sharp tug. He looked down to see the knife slash at something in the gaping hole in his chest. His heart came out beating in the strangers hand. He followed it as it was held up to the heart of the dark angel. He knew what the stranger was doing. Tracing the patterns with his heart's blood. It was beautiful.

The beating of the boys heart slowed quickly. And the boy did not last long after he cut it free. But Kurt had seen the dim spark of recognition in his eyes as he held the boy's heart to his own chest. Slowly, crudely, he traced the patterns once again, left arm, right. Left pectoral, right. Switching the heart hand to hand. Dipping it in the blood pooling in the boy's ruined chest when he needed more. Until the patterns were hidden under drying blood. His cock throbbed against the boy's belly without his even touching it. At last he followed the pattern out along the top of his cock. It took barely a touch for his seed to shoot over the boy's still, beautiful body. His body curled inward, shuddering and shuddering with release. He placed the heart back in the bloody chest, and stretched his body on top of the boy's one last time. He kissed the nipples, he caressed the hair. He felt the boy's strength flow into the patterns of the dark angel. Later he would use another knife to cut some meat for dinner. It was beautiful.
 
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“Some of your body I will eat,”
I pray these are the last words I hear.
 
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