Scum (Wrong Side of the Tracks 1)

Ros hit his door with the shoulder and fumbled with the handle, glad that he hadn’t locked it earlier. Now all he needed to do was slide inside.

There. Safe and sound.

He must have completely ignored the music earlier, but now that he stood in his dark room, facing the door while his heart still fluttered like the wings of a hummingbird, he could sense the beat drumming against his feet.

He breathed in the scent of the candle he’d burned earlier, increasingly confident the hot stranger had given up on the chase, but then someone knocked on the door. Three times.

Fuck .

The irony of the situation was that he lived in a single-occupation bedroom because his father feared a male roommate might become a temptation. Too bad for him, there were other men Ros could invite to his sanctuary, and now everything he desired was within reach. Just beyond the door that he could lock and open at will.

“Who is it?” he asked as if he didn’t know already.

“A lowly human,” came from the other side in the same raspy, seductive voice the man had spoken with earlier. “Begging for an audience.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

And yet Ros’s tongue had a mind of his own, and just like the mask he wore, his words had a way of hiding his inhibitions. “I warn you once more. Stepping into this realm is not for the feeble.”

“I’m not ‘feeble’, whatever that means,” came from the other side, and the confident way with which this man confessed to being ignorant about some of Ros’s vocabulary was like an injection of heat straight into his veins.

Ros swallowed and hovered his fingers over the latch. This was insane. His hair bristled and his skin rose in goosebumps when he glanced at the clock. It was eleven.

“You will have until midnight,” he warned, but already opened the lock, fighting the need to shudder when thick fingers slid in and held the door, as if the stranger worried Ros might change his mind.

He stepped back, breathlessly watching the red light slide in, along with the shadow of the handsome stranger who entered without asking for any further permission. He was taller than Ros, with thicker arms and a face that had been punched many a time. Maybe that was how he’d become so fearless?

The lock clicked.

Ros just stared at him, unable to breathe, like a rabbit trapped in a cage with a wolf. Only this rabbit had a death wish and wanted to end up in the predator’s jaws.

“H-hey,” he uttered like the biggest idiot when he was supposed to be the fairy prince. A fancy cloak couldn’t shield him from his own nerves.

The man smirked, and in the faint light coming through the window, his eyes glinted like a wolf’s. “So how does it work? Do I kneel first?”

Could someone faint from holding their breath, or would instincts kick in and force them to inhale? In any case, role-playing should lead Ros down an easier path through this unexpected flirt situation.

He cleared his throat. “Depends on what wish you want granted.” There. He could also be bold and flirty.

“I want your tight pants to open for me,” the man whispered and gravitated closer, pushing Ros at a nearby wall with his sheer presence. The beat of the music couldn’t compete with the furious pulsing in his veins when the tall figure sank low in front of him.

It felt as if he wasn’t wearing the mask anymore. He’d intended to put his hands on the stranger’s shoulders to create distance, but touching him only got Ros more excited, as if he were already licking the forbidden fruit. He could just imagine digging his metal claws into flesh and drawing sweet ambrosia. “I don’t— I mean, I never…”

“No?” the stranger whispered, resting his palms on Ros’s thighs. Their heat reached him through his jeans and made his muscles melt. “Such a handsome young man and no one approached you yet?”

“I can’t exactly—My dad, it’s complicated.” Wow. He really was bad at this. “And you… you’re gay?” No, you idiot, the man about to slide his hands to your ass is doing it because he believes you’re a fairy prince.

The stranger hummed, pressing close so suddenly Ros hit the back of his head against the wall behind him. Any words of protest died on his lips when he sensed his visitor’s fresh yet earthy cologne.

Time stood still.

“Let’s make it less complicated,” said the handsome man and pressed his mouth to Ros’s, triggering a jolt of pleasure that prompted him to squeeze his thighs together.

Could this be his Halloween treat? No one needed to know. At this point, saying no would have been like trying to stop a speeding train. His lips parted, and it was Ros who was being transported to another world, one in which this illicit moment was something to be enjoyed.