Dacey gasped, pulling away urgently, trying to breath before being dragged back under. A tidal wave of pleasure. Thin fingers caressing his face, cold like a corpse.

Confusion, he was on top but spiraling out of control. Satisfaction, he’d never felt so good before. Panic, what would happen if they were caught? Desire, he didn’t really care.

The opening of the movie had came and went. Dacey hadn’t even caught the title screen. The random noises and flashes of light only seemed to heighten his disorientation. Dacey wasn’t even sure what genre the film was.

“For someone who hasn’t done this before, you’re pretty good at it,” the boy purred, running his cold fingers down Dacey’s spine. “Would you like to come back to my place tonight?”

Dacey’s mouth filled with the boy’s tongue and an answer couldn’t follow. Flash photography. A girl two rows down. Dacey’s heart raced. Hopefully she was a fetishist and not a nark.

Everything seemed to be moving too fast. His fingers. Flash, another photo. His tongue. Booom! An explosion. His arms. A low moan, of unknown origin. His legs. Fingers touching him where he didn’t touch himself. A whisper, “I want you inside me.”

The movie ended.

Pushing him off, the boy sat up, grinned, and reapplied his lipstick. Doubtless, it was all over Dacey. Panting, Dacey stood to clear his head. He was dragged down in a tight embrace and a long romantic kiss.

They were out of the theater then, people giving them dirty looks as they passed in the hallway. This is getting dangerous, Dacey thought, realizing he very well could be registered just for the situation he was in.

“That was very nice,” the boy smiled, paler in the light than Dacey remembered, “I enjoyed it very much.”

Dacey squeezed his hand, “I did too.”

“So… coming to my place?” the boy asked.

It hit Dacey then, “What’s your name?” It hadn’t ever been provided.

“Well I hardly think that matters,” the boy waved the question away like smoke.

Dacey frowned, stepping a fraction of an inch away, “It matters if this is going to be any sort of relationship.”

“Who said anything about a relationship?” the boy spoke loudly, pulling away. “I thought I was pretty clear in what I was looking for.”

“And what would that be?”

“A toy,” the boy responded simply. “Or a fling. Whichever you prefer.”

“So this didn’t mean anything to you?” Dacey frowned.

“Relax,” he shrugged, making no effort to be actually calming. “It was a good moment that’s all. We could have a few more, but that doesn’t make it a relationship. I’m not really interested in that kind of thing.”

Dacey’s heart dropped, “You’re not interested in me?”

He shrugged, “It’s nothing personal. I just like being single.”

“Well in that case I’m going to have to decline your offer,” Dacey bowed and turned away, the first time in his life he’d ever had to try to conceal tears.

“Suit yourself,” the boy shrugged, turning and walking the other direction.