4 My Adonis

Naked and before me was a man.

He was standing erect, in better ways than one, and wrenched at the hip. He held his arms high above his head, palms clamped together, and spread upward toward the roof of the classroom. Those biceps could enclose you up and overpower you with the pressure of a constrictor snake. It'd gratify me. I'd beg him to strangle me. His muscles were tight, ready to erupt. Under the warmth of the spotlight, perspiration beaded on his torso and snaked its way through the chasms and gorges of his defined abdomen. If I had an egg, I'd crack it on that ass, and fry it on his pectorals, he was so fucking hot.

And hirsute, my Lord was he hairy.

I'm into that.

Hairy, but tended.

The duder could manscape.

A dense patch ran from his navel to his groin and the meat of his heavy cock. His nether region was full, but streamlined. It released a musk across the studio that drifted through my nasal passage and drove my senses wild.

He reeked of virility and power.

Who know art could be so provocative?

I needed to pin him to a table and wash his body with blood.

Lick clean his every part.

Grip that meat in my fist and thrust it —

Mrs. Ionadi, my figure drawing instructor, cleared her larynx with an exaggerated hack. She murmured, "Ms. Dellamorte, bring your reflections to the page, please."

I reviewed the page, and it was barren.

How long had I been staring? Goddamn, I'm horny. Fuck.

She leaned in closer and maintained an imperceptible breath, "Better than last weeks slug, huh?"

My mouth fell.

The woman was in her seventies!

She gleamed at me and uttered, "You're welcome." And tapped a finger on my sketch paper. "You have to engage with more than your eyes, honey."

Mrs. Ionadi circled the studio, studying the other students art. She'd check their page, contrast it with the model, but looked longer at the model than the page. Shameless old, skank. Mrs. Ionadi was rad.

I was salivating through my lips, and not the ones on my face, crossed my legs and squeezed my thighs, throbbing with unintentional kegels. I've consumed human flesh, but never before had flesh consumed me. I couldn't concentrate. My eyes were rapacious for his muscle and sinew. My tongue darted across my lips, dampening them, and I clamped my jaw, grinding my teeth. The need to masticate on cartilage and suck marrow from a bone was unrelenting. My stomach rumbled.

This wasn't good.

Fuck! If I don't temper myself, I will shift.

Art is the strongest shackle for my rampant thoughts, so I drew. It took a few quick gesture sketches until I managed the right form. My pencil hovered over the page as I traced a loose circle from my shoulder, not the wrist, that's a rookie mistake. My pencil dropped, a needle on a vinyl. The pencil tip touch paper and I traced the circle on the page. Not exact, but it'd suffice.

From there, I sketched out my facial guidelines. A vertical line through the heart of the circle, dissecting three horizontal parts, the eyebrow line at the upper third, the top of the nose at the bottom, and the eye-line the center. The chin line fell below the underside of the circle and was the distance of the eyeline and top of the circle, so I marked it. Dichotomizing two vertical lines equidistant from the vertical center line, I made two crossing intersections. Those were the center of the pupils. The added the key points delineating the mouth, lip, and ear lines. I was eager to draw because it was a goddamn gorgeous face. The face of an Adonis.

My Adonis.

The cranium was at a three-quarter angle. Examining my Adonis' face, I begin with the jaw. The jawbone cut in at an hard angle, producing a full, prominent chin. Sharp cheekbones jutting outward. He had a heart shaped mouth with plump lips. As my Adonis held the his mien, he smiled from time to time. When he did, it had a mysterious cock, raised to the right, exposing a hint of the upper teeth, a sneering grin. I elected to work with that and depicted it. His eyebrows were fierce and regimented, flat on top and then with an intense edge shooting toward the ear lobes. Drawing in the underlying eye shape, I resolved to save the pupils for last, sparing myself their piercing jab. The facial adiposity was lean, but weighed heavier in the cheeks, maintaining a youthful, yet plump baby face. I then delineated his Balbo beard with a bell shaped soul patch, thin on the cheeks and sideburns, fading into a full goatee and mustache. A diagonal scar slashed across both lips, and I drew my kneaded eraser across them, removed the graphite, and forming the scar. His complexion was robust, but he had prominent brow lines, a life laden with concern etched into the stonework of his face.

And, those tormenting eyes were all that was left.

I withdrew myself from the details and took in the entire picture. It was a photo realistic replication my Adonis. It disengaged me from myself. My eyesight made me a fine artist which was why I adopted fine arts as my major. But, what I had produced was astonishing. It was my finest work and formed in ten minutes. This, was… amazing.

What is going on with me? I'm losing time. My head.

I demanded more, to finish it, those eyes.

When I peered up from my sketch book, those eyes bore into me. They joined with mine. Adonis was not staring at me, but peering into me with his gaze. His eyes were a celestial azure glow encircled by a ring of brilliant chartreuse, colors on my spectrum and more vibrant than you can perceive (assuming you're not werefolk), and full of yearning lust. His smirk turned upward into a mischievous, dybukkian grin. I'm absorbed, but put in my place. I flounder into submission. There is no helping it. I am inferior. Eager to satisfy, and ready to do M'Lords every bidding, moored to his beck and call, and I'm restless and begging.

Yes M'lord, may I have more?

Melt.

"Randy H. Christ of a lubed pogo stick!?" Mrs. Ionadi exclaims from over my shoulder. "Did you draw this?"

I gloat at her.

"Um. Yes."

"Just now?"

I nodded.

"Honey, you've been holding out on us." Mrs. Ionadi tears the page from my sketch pad and presents it to my nude Adonis. "Ms. Dellamorte, come here please."

I was dazed and read the room. There was a swift throb of pulses. All breathing stopped. The class' attention was on me. I didn't want it.

"Um. Okay." I said and rose.

My Adonis was poring over the page. As I approached, I heard his heart. It was strong and persistent. He breathed through his nose and rendered me back to sensibility with his gaze. And I deliquesced.

"May I have this?" My Adonis asked.

My heart wrenched in my breast. It pained me.

The closeness of him fueling my every sense with high octane.

I'm somnambulant.

"Um. Yes." I articulated in a stupor.

My Adonis smiles at Mrs. Ionadi and said, "may I borrow that?"

And points to a pen clipped to Mrs. Ionadi's bodice.

She hands it to him, "Of course."

My Adonis offers me the pen. "Care to make your mark?"

As I grabbed the pen, he wrapped my hand with his other. "You're incredible."

Heart.

Pound.

Hurt.

Melt.

Melt.

Melt.

It's happening. No, fuckfuckfuck. Not here. Not now. I'm shifting.

"You are its master." The voice of my Adonis speaks to me in my mind. "Dominate it."

His influence on me relinquished and I accepted the pen, scrawled my initials, an L with an elongated base with una nestled on top. I made a circle, drew a thin C inside it, and filled half of the design in, and made a crescent moon. My mark.

I don't know why I did it, but I did.

I kissed the edge of the page, stamping it with my plum lipstick.

And passed it to him.

Mrs. Ionadi fanned herself with three slow waves, Hot.

My Adonis breaks his gaze from my eyes and beams at Mrs. Ionadi.

"Thank you for obliging me. Posing for your class has been enchanting."

And he clutched his robe and deserted me. My hand hovered in the air from when I handed over the sketch to my Adonis. I caught and dropped my arm to my side.

Mrs. Ionadi shrugs and said, "Well. Class dismissed. Leave your pieces on my desk. Don't neglect to print you names on them, you don't appreciate how many of you dip shits forget."

Papers ruffle.

Backpacks zip.

"And please be cautious! Heed the warnings, they're not a joke or to be taken lightly. There's been an enormous wolf spotted on campus and may be rabid! Don't stray longer than you must after sunset."

They scurried out, and I moved to collect my belongings.

"Luna?" A males voice beckons.

I craned my head and a classmate my age stood next to me.

"It's Luna, right?"

I nodded.

"I don't mean to lurk, but I was watching you draw. That was awesome. It was so authentic! I—"

"Do you have plans tonight?"

"Huh? Well, I'm expected to meet this girl—"

"You're accompanying me."

He lifted an eyebrow and his heart danced a jig.

"But she—"

"Isn't hotter than me."

"Um… excuse me?"

"There is no altruism in your approach. If you recognize it or not, it doesn't matter. You're being dishonest to her, but you deceive yourself. I'm what you prefer. Seize me."

"No. I—"

"Lie to yourself, but don't lie to me."

"Well, I—"

"Moose's Tooth. Eight o'clock."

"Okay."

"I presume you can draw?"

The boy shrugged. "Well enough."

"If you don't displease me, then later tonight, you can draw me wearing this…" And I took out the spiked dog collar and chain leash from my backpack. "Wearing only this." (That's right, I did it).

I had to fuck something tonight.

A lady's gotta eat.

Don't judge.

Go fuck yourself.