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Your head was swimming from three shots of vodka and a questionable substance you took off a someone else’s tongue in the men’s room. If it weren’t for that, you might have thought you were going crazy.
Sitting at the bar was the most intoxicating twink you’d ever seen in San Francisco. And you’d seen a lot of twinks.
His skin was so pale it seemed to glitter under the rainbow strobe lights, black ink shimmering and twisting over his exposed arms and throat. A white collared shirt and tie cinched his modesty, black vest adding another layer you already itched to peel off. Black slacks hugged his thighs as he perched on the barstool.
The man twirled a toothpick in his untouched margarita, resting his cheek on his hand.
You stumbled towards him through the tightly packed crowd of sculpted muscles and gyrating hips, not sparing a glance for anyone but him, hoping against hope he’d give you a chance.
Finally, you made it to the promised land. There was an empty stool next to the man and you sat down heavily, eyes swimming.
He glanced over with a quirked eyebrow. A delicate scar curved over his right temple and down to his subtle cheekbones, crossing over his milky white right eye. It was his left eye that captured you, however.
A bright gold stare you’d only seen in fairy tales.
“What’s your name?” you shouted over the music.
“Midas,” he said, deep voice barely audible. A smirk curled his lips.
You couldn’t think about anything but kissing him, mind stuttering over a hundred cheesy catch phrases.
“Do you want to talk outside?” he offered in an amused tone.
You nodded. Midas slid off the barstool and his toothpick clattered against the side of his full margarita glass. It caught your gaze for a second and you swore it was as gold as his eye.
Midas wrapped an arm around your waist and leaned against you, fitting perfectly under your arm. He was so small and warm against your side. You grinned wide enough that your cheeks hurt.
The club had an outside smoking area and you ended up standing next to a bush of roses with a cigarette between your fingers, breath misting in the nighttime air.
Golden patterns swirled over Midas’s arms. Damn, what did you take?
Midas held your gaze in his own with a soft warmth that blunted the edge of the nighttime chill. He clicked a golden lighter on for you and you leaned in, inhaling deeply.
There was an excitement building in your chest you weren’t used to getting from hookups, or any part of your life, really. San Francisco was a rough place under its gleaming exterior that only the rich, the mean, and the crazy survived. The city had ground you down to the kind of man that found salvation in cheap booze and shallow company on Friday nights.
You couldn’t remember the last time your heart beat this fast.
“Want to come back to my hotel?” he asked from inches away, trailing a hand over your arm.
“Yeah,” you said roughly, finding with surprise that you were about to cry.
Had it been that long since someone touched you with kindness?
“Follow me.”
Midas intertwined his hand with yours. It was cold to the touch, but you didn’t care. You sucked hot smoke into your lungs and shivered as Midas led you down the windy streets.
Other late night revelers stumbled around you, some of them stopping to stare at Midas while he pretended not to notice. Your pride swelled. They were so jealous that you got to go to bed with a guy like this.
The hotel was tastelessly opulent and you weren’t sure if this was Midas’s preference of if he’d just ended up here.
Midas nodded to the front desk associate before taking you into an elevator that was bright pink and playing porno jazz. He pressed the button to the thirteenth floor. It glittered.
You started to get nervous on the ride up. Were you too fucked up to perform for this classy man? What if he laughed at your clumsy moves?
Midas let out a deep exhale as soon as the two of you got into his room. The thought Midas might be just as nervous as you made you go soft with affection.
“Feel free to take a look around.” Midas sat on the king-sized bed in the middle of the room and loosened his tie with the ease of a middle-aged businessman. You suddenly suspected he might be much older than his pretty face suggested. Something about the way Midas’s gleaming fingers moved as he unbuttoned his vest reminded you of your dad.
You shook your head to dispel the thought and took in the room. It was as garishly pink as the elevator. A beaded curtain dripped from the ceiling, glittering in the light of garish lamps stuck the 60’s.
You wandered over to the window. This room had to be insanely expensive. From up here you could see the whole San Francisco skyline.
Skyscrapers defied the darkness and blotted out the stars. The Golden Gate Bridge sparkled over the bay as fog rolled onto the shore.
A tingle traveled up your spine. There was magic in the air. The kind of magic that made you move to this city in the first place.
“Hey,” came an entreaty from behind you. “Come here.”
You turned around and your breath left your lungs.
Midas sat on the plush bed surrounded by soft cushions. His tie hung undone around his neck and his dress shirt was unbuttoned to reveal more fair skin enchanted by black ink.
That wasn’t what caught you, though.
It was his expression.
There was a naked hunger in Midas’s eyes that hadn’t been there a minute ago. A crooked smile showing white teeth. Eyebrows tilted up in expectation.
With exaggerated casualness, Midas leaned back on one hand and gestured towards you with the other. Gold pulsed over his skin and the air sparkled around his hands like he held the keys to heaven.
You’d never hallucinated this much, but you didn’t care if you were going crazy. You wanted to mess Midas up. You wanted to fuck him out of his mind. You want him more than you’d ever wanted anything.
Midas inched his legs further apart — still in those tight slacks — and you went feral.
He yelped as you tackled him back into the bedsheets. You growled and kissed him on his perfect little mouth, holding his face and prying your thumb past his teeth, tongue driving inside after.
Midas moaned and melted under you, tongue rubbing against yours, fingers curling in your coat, legs squeezing around your waist. He wanted you just as bad.
Your other hand untucked his shirt so your fingers could skim over his belly. He whined into your mouth and squirmed.
Oh god, Midas was so sensitive. Dragging your nails over his sides made him flinch and shiver, legs tightening around you. Your thumb slipped from his mouth and he kissed back like he was trying to suck out your soul.
Soft lips, hot tongue, sharp teeth that nipped and teased.
You smeared saliva on his chin before fumbling to fully unbutton his dress shirt. He shrugged out of it, then tore at your coat.
You chuckled against his mouth and kissed him harder, pressing his head into the bed. He moaned and ground his hips against yours. No bulge. Was he…?
Overcome by curiosity, you pulled away and finally took off your coat, then the shirt under it.
Midas lay on his back, dazed and panting. Mouth wet. Lips parted. Hair disheveled. Golden hands curled by his head. So inviting. So pliant.
You smirked and his eyes darted away from your chest, lips twitching into a small smile in return.
Your nerves were gone, replaced by pure lust. Staring down at Midas, you drug your hands over his tattooed arms, to his nipples, down his hips, drawn by the hypnotizing black lines that disappeared under the waistband of his slacks.
Midas’s breathing picked up, eyes going far away and fingers twitching into tighter curls. His smile widened as you massaged your thumbs in the divots of his hips.
You pressed harder and the man groaned in pleasure. His head rolled to the other side, closing his eyes.
The cold shell of your body filled with a warmth so intense you could hardly stand it. Midas was so fucking cute and he liked you touching him so much. You could forget about the loneliness, the money troubles, the gnawing on your soul.
Midas’s hips pushed up as you kept gripping and rubbing. He whined, but you held him down firmly. This got him going more, whole body wiggling with the desperation of trying to get friction on his crotch.
You gave him no relief, mesmerized the way Midas’s tattoos danced over his skin as he writhed. It must have been so painful to get this much ink if Midas was this sensitive.
The gears in your head turned. Interesting.
Leaning down to kiss him again made your realize how painfully hard you were in your jeans. Midas grabbed your back and tried to pull you against him, but you were stronger and you just kissed him, slow and deep.
You kissed him until he went limp and mewling, cold metal hands running up and down your back.
Felt nice, felt really nice. You couldn’t wait to feel more of him.
One of your hands unbuttoned his slacks and the other curled around his slender throat.
Midas let out an excited gasp you cut off with a hard squeeze. He gurgled and you slipped your hand into his pants, finding a dripping wet pussy to greet you.
“Heh,” you chuckled. “This makes things easier.”
“Please,” he wheezed, voice high and reedy.
You slid your fingers against him, feeling around and teasing. As soon as you let up your hand, Midas coughed and moaned.
His pale face was so red, tongue peeking over the top of his lips. You only let him take a few breaths before you clamped down on his windpipe and pushed a finger inside of him.
“Augh-” Midas’s whole body shuddered and his hands turned to claws on your back. His eyes got hazy and his lips curled into a shaky, delirious smile.
Yeah, this man loved pain.
You finger-fucked him and rubbed your thumb against his clit, feeling deranged.
Midas choked and his limbs shook out of control as he struggled for air. You let out a shaky breath and swallowed. This guy just met you and was putting his life in your hands.
“You’re fucking crazy,” you said as you let go of his throat.
Midas’s chest heaved as he coughed, then giggled. “You’re- You’re th-the one in bed with me.”
You pulled your fingers out of him to get his pants completely off. The expensive fabric got stained with his wetness. As soon as Midas was stripped, you undressed yourself.
Midas’s eyes landed on your cock as soon as it sprung free from your boxers, heavy and thick with frustration, leaking precum and swollen with blood.
Midas licked his lips. Your ego briefly eclipsed the sun.
You grinned like a maniac and grabbed onto Midas’s thighs, dragging him flush against you. His breathing hitched, eyes wide as you rubbed your cock over the crease where thighs met hip.
You groaned. Your cock looked huge against the man’s slim waist and you couldn’t wait to displace some of his organs. Midas’s gaze flicked from your face to your cock and back, swallowing thickly.
He wordlessly proffered a wrapped condom. You had no idea where he got it, but you took it from him and unwrapped it, rolling it on with a hiss through your teeth.
“Come on,” he urged quietly. Midas’s lips pressed together and he turned his head to the side shyly.
“Oh, baby. You want it bad, don’t you?” You leered and leaned over him, hands on either side of his head. The tip of your cock rubbed against his soaking entrance.
Midas whimpered in anticipation and closed his eyes, spreading his legs further. You couldn’t take any more of your own teasing and you reached down to guide yourself inside.
He was so slick and so hot you blanked out for a moment.
Midas gargled, “Yes, yes, ohgod, y-yesss.”
It was already the best pussy you’ve ever had, clinging warm and tight. He held onto you, begging you not to leave him.
You got it, you really did. The world was cold and lonely for unattached men. So little place to find comfort that didn’t ring hollow, that didn’t cost money.
Even the things that cost money stopped making you feel, eventually. The drugs lost their potency, your taste buds got used to expensive steaks and fancy drinks, the movies just reminded you how alone you were.
You pulled partially out of Midas with a shuddering breath and licked his neck. His mouth opened and closed like a fish.
Biting down as you fucked back into him made Midas yell.
You kept thrusting, pumping him full of your darkness, your despair, your hopelessness, leaving you buzzing on pure ecstasy.
His moans hiccuped into hyperventilation. You grunted and groaned and sucked more marks onto his skin.
“So good,” you gasped, shaking from the pleasure. “Such a good little fucktoy for me.” A slap punctuated by twin moans. “Think I’m falling in love with you.”
Midas couldn’t speak. His hips ground down on your cock, driving you as deep as possible. He made broken little noises, back arching spasmodically and eyes rolling back.
“Fuck.” You grabbed onto Midas’s legs and spread them wider to drive in at a better angle.
Midas squealed and convulsed and you swore again, pace going erratic.
The bliss when you came blocked out everything for a single, ineffable moment. Nothing mattered. Nothing existed but toe-curling pleasure.
Everything Midas touched did turn to gold, even a dirtbag like you.
~*~
You woke up the next morning slumped in one of the hotel chairs, wrists tied to the armrests and ankles to the chair legs. Your head and cock were pounding. Head because you forgot to drink water, cock because Midas was giving you head.
“Whatthefuck,” you slurred, blinking awake to heady lust in your gut.
He popped off your cock and licked his lips. “What? You don’t like bondage?”
You jerked at the thick rope wrapped around your limbs, heart thumping. Midas didn’t wait for you to reply and he dipped back down.
His eyelashes fluttered as his mouth split around your length. He choked a little and swallowed deeper, drool oozing down his chin.
You couldn’t help but moan, head sagging to the side as your rebooting thought-processes were knocked offline.
This demon twink was good. Too good. In the harsh light of day what had been enchanting became terrifying. You whimpered and yanked at the ropes, only pulling them snugger.
Midas hollowed his cheeks and sucked. Your head thunked back against the chair.
“N-no,” you said weakly. “Let me go.”
He slid his mouth off of you and took deep breaths, stroking you with warmed metal hands. Oh god. They were really gold. You hadn’t been hallucinating.
“Let me go!” you groaned, panting. Brain swimming from his touch. Too good. Felt too good.
“Now, now,” Midas said, tilting his head with a condescending smirk. His golden eye sparkled. “Didn’t you say you were falling in love with me last night? There’s no getting cold feet now.”
He touched your feet and they cut off from your senses. Eyes wide, you looked down to see shimmering gold creeping up your legs.
“No! No!”
As your calves went numb, pain burned where flesh met gold. It felt like you were exploding from the inside out, then freezing, then exploding again as the gold inched over your bound form.
You screamed, shaking the chair to no avail. As your heart pumped faster, the pressure in your blocked veins grew. Your eyes bulged and your mouth contorted into unthinking agony.
The blood vessels in your eyes popped. Midas giggled, watching with his cheek resting on his hand.
No one heard you scream. The walls were very thick here.
Why had you trusted this man enough to fall asleep next to him? You’re not sure he ever asked your name. You were so fucking stupid. So stupidly high and drunk and lonely you let your goddamn guard down and now you were going to die.
You sobbed a mixture of blood and tears and watched the gold consume your cock. It would stand proud forever, now.
“Hush,” Midas said kindly. “I was thinking it’d be you that would make a good fucktoy. Just not with that mouth of yours.”
Despair curdled into defeat and you slumped forward in your bonds, drooling blood onto your lap. One last breath and your lungs turned to gold. Sickeningly heavy and wrong, wrong, wrong.
This was not a sensation humans were designed to experience. Seconds away from death, you wished it would take you already. But your brain clung on as your systems failed and agony snapped your head back into a contorted mask.
Unable to breathe, unable to scream, unable to do anything but feel the shriek of your heart stopping in your chest. He smiled up at you, delighted.
“Don’t worry,” Midas cooed. “I’ll take good care of you.”
The worst part was that, in the throes of death, his words were a comfort. You’d been so tired for so long. Was belonging to Midas really that bad? You’d never have to be lonely again. If you were his most precious possession, wouldn’t that be enough?
The gold rolled up your neck. Death cupped your soul in black fingers and the pain was finally over.
Midas took a handkerchief from his vest pocket and wiped up the blood you had drooled onto your cock, polishing it to an attractive shine. He got off his knees and tapped your shoulder with his fist. You clanged.
He hummed and cupped your cheek in his hand, rubbing a thumb over your golden tears.
“Yes,” Midas murmured. “You’re much cuter like this.”
He pressed a button on his watch. After a minute, a crackling purple rift opened in the middle of the hotel room. The energy split through reality like caged lightning, widening a window into a different room.
On the other side was a buff man with the head and coloring of a calico cat holding a furniture dolly. His impeccable chest and abs rippled with destructive power. He meowed happily and wheeled the dolly into the hotel room.
“Meowscles.” Midas nodded at him.
The other side of the rift showed a room filled with at least a dozen golden statues of naked men bound in different poses. Meowscles started strapping the statue of you onto the dolly.
Another man stepped through the rift with a holographic data-pad in his mechanical hands. He wore an immaculate white suit and pressed shorts. A robotic, screw-eyed helmet covered his head.
“A report for you, sir,” his voice crackled. “If you’re in the mood to hear it.”
“Oh?” prompted Midas. “Go on.”
“The island has been invaded by aliens,” the henchman said. “We don’t know where they came from or their full motives, but they seem to be after the Zero Point. My partner thinks this is the perfect cover for your return.”
“I see,” said Midas.
“IO’s resources are tied up fighting the invaders and Slone has the Loopers fighting for her. We’re still working on gathering data for your daughter, but we need you on the island. Agent Jones is still running around and IO hasn't been able to locate him.”
“Excellent.” Midas’s brows furrowed in thought. “Yes, I think I’m ready to return to the island. There’s nothing more for me to learn here.”
He slapped the henchman on the back and followed Meowscles as he wheeled your statue through the rift. After a glance to make sure they left nothing behind, the Henchman stepped through.
Reality sealed shut behind them, leaving an empty room and a disheveled bed.
No one in this world would know where you went. Not even you.