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Category: Erotica/Gay-Lesbian Erotica
Description: The last thing arms dealer Patrick Borgan wants is world peace. He'll do anything to capture and subvert the long awaited Prophet, preventing him from putting an end to war. However, he's not the only one seeking this enigmatic figure. March Wyndam is a revelation and a mystery given human form. Everyone wants a piece of him, for pleasure, for pain, for the greater good, for personal gain -- he brings out the best, and worst in all those caught up in his story.
eBook Publisher: loveyoudivine/loveyoudivine Alterotica, 2010
eBookwise Release Date: January 2011

Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [37 KB]
Words: 7388
Reading time: 21-29 min.

The apartment was filled clutter of artifacts and 'cutesy' things, newspapers and crystal figurines. Old books with frayed covers lined the dust-covered bookshelves from one end of the apartment to the other. Against one wall were shelves laden with faded photographs of handsome men and dowager women. Photographs of famous models, and long dead actors behind tarnished frames with coerced smiles that had no meaning. On the top shelf there were several dusty, gold filled Hollywood Oscars given to the owner of the apartment when he had a career so very long ago, before he changed religions, before the war, before the deadly pollution and the cure of the 'plague'.

There weren't any lights on because the few fixtures that had working bulbs had been turned off. Silhouetted against the window, March looked out over the city. Its darkness and pollution depressed him. As he surveyed the scurrying masses rushing to get home before curfew, he wondered why he ever bothered to even come here. As if he had a choice.

He could hear screams and shouts below on the city streets, and he never flinched at the sounds of random gunshot and the occasional police siren, or was it ambulance sirens that permeated the air? He barely heard the dripping faucet in the kitchen, or the tiny patter of mice as they scurried fearlessly across the wooden floors of his home. Familiar sounds, he learned to shut out. He hungered for the sounds of laughter and music and most recently the impassioned sounds of abandoned lovemaking.

Genet stood quietly in the doorway, toweling his mane of thick gray hair that had been jet black in his youth. He maintained a muscled frame beneath his leathery skin spotted in parts with thickened gray hair, his stomach remained flat and his buttocks were still firm.

He sensed the melancholy of the handsome young guest in his home, standing naked and innocent in front of the window. His hair was a faded brown mass of dreadlocks that hung lavishly about his muscular shoulders. His aquiline face carried the shadow of a beard and mustache, not fully grown out, a working man's stubble. March was perfect in every way, from his chiseled features to his flawless, even, milk chocolate colored body. He had a toned body although he had never seen the inside of a gym. His buttocks were raised slightly; they were hard and firm. His perfectly cut cock weighed in heavily and hung straight down over perfect ping-pong ball sized testicles. He trembled slightly from the cool air that blew in from the open window.

Genet rubbed the towel over his crotch, momentarily aroused by March's mere presence. He held the towel in both hands and walked toward the window and stood patiently behind the young man, waiting for some sort of acknowledgment. March patted his friend's hand on his shoulder but continued to stare ahead. Genet draped the towel across the man's shoulders and kissed the nape of his neck.

"You're trembling. Let me fix you something hot to drink." He crossed his arms around the man's chest, embracing him. He shuddered at how close to the surface March's heart seemed to beat. His cock hardened pressed against the warm firmness of March's buttocks.

"I'm fine Genet. Thank you. There is no other warmth in this world that affects me more than the touch of your flesh against mine or the passion of your embrace. I'm sorry, am I talking...strange again?" The young man tilted his face toward Genet and smiled, his breath was as sweet as any newborn.