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Free online fiction by Alex Draven

He should be afraid.

Screw that - he should be shitting himself and terrified, but adrenaline and alcohol have taken care of all that and Casey's fucking floating. The long wet crimson smear that appears on his hand as he drags it across his face doesn't seem to be connected to anything, except maybe the chapped red lips mouthing off in his face. Red red lips, right up close, and grabby hands that pull and tug and keep on reaching for him.

Laughter; dirty and wrong and irrepressible; dances in Casey's chest. He stops trying to push and punch and get away, and instead he ducks forward, low and hard and mean. His lips are hot, smarting, sliding over this stranger's mouth and the silence rings loud in his ears.

His fingers scuff buzz-cut hair, loop around the tendons of that bull neck, and for a long moment there's silence and a kiss. A kiss that's dirty with tongues and blood and reciprocation. All the fight goes out of the other man, that familiar tiny motion of surrender, until the guy forces his eyes open, grey-blue nothing glinting feral from the street light, and realises just what the fuck just happened.

He's a short fucker, this bully boy, but he's broad, and has enough revulsion fuelling him to send Casey spinning and stumbling ass over tit on the kerb, and then there are flashes - trashy gold rings catching sodium glare.

His own laughter is the last thing Casey hears for a while.

** end **

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Blood by Alex Draven is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Non-Commercial-No Derivative Works 2.0 UK: England & Wales License.
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