Digimon Fan Fiction ❯ Dionysus ❯ Prologue

Dionysus

By Chyna Rose

Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon. I also don't have any excuse for this fic. It got away from me and went in a completely different direction then I intended. It was supposed to be a kind of sequel to _Self Mutilation_, but wouldn't cooperate. Be warned: this fic is rated NC-17 for a very good reason. This fic is a sordid little PWP Kensuke lemon. This means that Ken and Daisuke have graphic gay sex and there is no rhyme or reason for this fic. It just is. It also might grow its own side series.

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It was one hell of a good rave. The music was some kind of Techno, turned up so loud that it resonated in your body. It was the kind of music that begged you to dance. You couldn't find me dancing though. Or at least what I was doing couldn't be considered dancing by any stretch of the imagination. I was hot and hard and in my boyfriend's arms. We had started out dancing (and I use the word loosely here), but that quickly dissolved into an intense make out session right there on the dance floor. Not that anyone else cared. Everyone was high or drunk, and no one was dancing so much as dry fucking. Hey, it was a rave. What did you expect?

Ken was hot! He was dressed in these tight pleather pants nearly the same shade as his hair with a matching silk shirt (the kind that had laces on the front; left untied). With his hair spiked up, and a 'you amuse me' smirk on his face, he was a walking wet dream (or nightmare if you're TK). Absolutely fuckable. And I was the lucky guy who was going to do so.

He wanted it. He wanted me. It was a good thing that he was pressed tight against me, cause his pants hid nothing and I had had to fend off enough people already. I don't need to fight off the size queens (male and female). Ken was mine!

I groaned into his mouth. He knows exactly what to do to get me going. I let my head fall back, and everything but him and music faded to black. Nothing else existed. Ken took advantage, and turned his attention to my neck. He kissed, and suckled, and nipped; marking me there with deep, dark bruises, so that everyone who saw me would know that I was Taken. I slipped my hands under his shirt and ran them over his chest. I toyed with his nipples when I found. He growled and bit me hard enough to draw a little blood. I shuddered as he lapped it up. I pushed myself against him; I could feel his smirk against my flesh.

With care, Ken removed his shirt, and tied it around his neck like cape (there really was no other place for it). The song changed to something with a fiercer beat. It did not beg; it compelled and commanded. I undid the front of Ken's pants, freeing him. Ken groaned as his hard cock met the roughness of my jeans, and he wrapped my arms around his neck. Then, with an unspoken command not to move them, he slowly worked my pants open and down to my knees.

We ground against each other; just two more decadent and depraved bodies in a writhing mass. I was too far gone to care about the fact that anyone could see me getting completely fucked (in a good way). Ken brought a hand to my mouth, and I sucked on his fingers; coating them with my saliva. Ken did have lube on him - he usually does - but it would've been too awkward to use it here. Plus it would've made what we were gonna do more obvious. He then took his wet fingers and smeared them over his cock. I shifted so that he had better access. As he captured my mouth in a soul-searing kiss, he pushed his way into me. I think I may have screamed.

Ken thrust into me in time with the music; hard and driving. And since I'm not the type to just lay there (ok, so technically it would be stand there) and take it, I was bucking down to meet his thrusts and wordlessly pleading. The feel of his brutal cock inside me, and the pressure of our sweat-soaked bodies against my own neglected erection, had me whimpering into his neck. I couldn't think. I was a mass of need and want, and what I wanted and needed most, was to cum and feel Ken cum inside me. Somewhere, I thought I heard a woman scream.

Even Ken has his limits when it comes to self control, and soon he was pounding into in time to his own inner rhythm. It was fast and jarring; a primitive heartbeat and a rutting animal. He was close; I just knew it. And then our world exploded.

I don't know who set off whom, but suddenly I was cumming, and I could feel him shudder against me in his release. At this point, my world had condensed into one simple concept: Feeling. All I know is that one moment, I was riding Ken frantically towards… something, and the next I was leaning heavily on Ken; spent. I was amazed that we managed to stay standing the whole time; there was no wall or column to lean against.

Ken slipped out of me, and began to put both of us to rights. I wasn't really in any kind of shape to do much of anything, and couldn't find it in me to complain when he used my shirt to wipe my cum off his chest. Once we were presentable (more or less cause I still had cum on my shirt), Ken led me over to the makeshift bar, where I was lucky enough to snag a seat. He did always recover from the mind-blowing part of mind-blowing sex faster than me. As soon as I sat down, Ken told me to wait right there for him and left. Seeing as I was already at the bar, I got myself a drink to keep me company while I waited. The stuff was actually pretty good all things considered. I watched various people come and go from the bar; half for some form of alcohol, half for water. A boyish girl with short, bright purple hair winked at me as she and her friend (a pert blonde with a green dye job that had started to grow out) bought Kamikazes.

"Nice tattoo" she commented as they left.

---End