Well, here's my first attempt to write something non-con. I don't think it has any angst in it ... But it's kinda dark, I think. It's short. And pointless. However, I was horny and this came out of my phase of caged hormones:
Stroh wird Gold
und Gold wird Stein
du darfst mein Bestrafer sein.
Tugend will, man soll sie holen
Ungern ist sie gegenwärtig
Laster ist, ganz unbefolhen
Dienstbereit und fix und fertig.
I have always been intrested in religion. Like someone is intrested in insects or collecting stamps. When I watch people while they are praying, I feel like a voyeur, like someone who does something prohibited. Sometimes, seldom, I envy those people for their faith. It answers their questions, solves their problems, connects them all over the world with others. A world inside the world. Inside, you can move protected. Its full of prohibitions. Who keeps them goes to heaven. Who doesn’t, gets punished. And outside of this world, it’s cold. On the outside, I am.
Roy is on the outside, too. And the devil. The three of us. Togehter we are on our journey straight to hell.
A hand clings into my hair and a shiver joilts through my spine. The grip loosens and the back of his hand strokes over my forehead and my face. He is cool and firm and unhaired. The fingers are slim and firm, the digits bony, I feel his breath at my ear.
Then Roy speaks. And his voice casts an inexplicable ray of heat on me. I feel like I am faced with the light of a million suns. The rest of the world lies in darkness. I surrender.
„Edward, you are lovely.“ My nipples and my member are rock-hard, an almost painful errection. I want him to kiss me. But he doesn’t.
Although my hands are free, I don’t feel the slightest impulse to back away. I do so nevertheless. He holds my hands in a hard grip. He whispers into my ear: „You will see, that pain and shame are alike. You feel both only at your first time.“
My lips start trembling with anticipation.
I want to die. Not from shame - from lust!
„I will ride you now“, he says lazily - until now the only thing I felt were his hands and the warmth of his mouth. He loosenes my entry. He comments the small noise it makes, with a chuckle. Then he comes out of the blue, hits accurate and rams into me. He burns me. He nails me. He tears me. Marriage of heaven and hell. Holy Marriage.
He stays inside me and doesn’t move. He grips my hair, pulls me close and shoves me away, like a dead insect. I am his rythm. I slam against the wall with my head and it doesn’t even hurt. I could swear, god himself came down from his heaven to fuck me.
Or the devil.
Couldn’t care less.
+hides+ Please, don't throw any sharp and/or heavy objects at me ... (>._.)> +goes ready to duck and cover+