Đông Anh ran the tip of his tongue lightly over his lower lip, mind replaying the taste of that very first kiss. It had the salty taste of the sea and a rhythm that was feverish, almost ravenous like... Could it be anything like the kiss being devoured by the couple a few seats away?
The woman—clearly a bar hostess—was shoving her tongue deep into the young man's mouth, while he groped greedily at her full, generous hips. Loud music thumped, and the hazy wash of colored lights from the bar made a perfect backdrop for lust to fester and bloom. No matter which way Đông Anh turned, his eyes landed on some variation of the same thing—flirtation, enticement, the slow pull of seduction from the girls who worked the place.
Đông Anh shook his head, smirking at himself for letting judgmental thoughts creep in. Lifting his glass, he took a swig of beer, then leaned against the bar. "Maybe everyone who walks in here has already lost their minds—just like me", he thought.
"Hey, handsome, why're you sitting here all alone?"
Đông Anh felt the press of a woman's chest against his arm. He turned to look at her, but his eyes were bleary with drink—or maybe it was the heavy smoke clouding up the place—either way, he couldn't make out her face.
"Look at you—no one else here's got cheeks that pink. Cute enough to eat," she cooed, giving his cheek a playful squeeze. "A face like this, I could take care of you all night, sugar." She leaned forward just enough for her rounded breasts to fall neatly into his half-dazed line of sight.
"Ow!" she squealed, jerking upright as a young man appeared out of nowhere and gave her a playful smack on the but. She cast him a glance—half pout, half seduction.
"You've got good taste," the newcomer said with a grin. "This one's not just a snack, he's prime cut—and loaded, too. Only thing is, sweetheart, he's not yours to have."
"Dung… where've you been?" Đông Anh asked, blinking up at him as Dung slipped a bill from his wallet and pressed it into the hostess's hand.
The girl took one look at Dung's possessive arm clamped around Đông Anh and got the picture. Smiling, she pocketed the cash and walked away.
"How many bottles have you had, Út, that you let someone try to pick you up?" Dung asked.
"I didn't—"
"Three bottles? Damn, what kind of man of God knocks back that many? No wonder…"
Đông Anh cut in, "Who says men of God can't drink? And you—'no wonder' what?"
Dung cupped Đông Anh's flushed cheeks in both hands, grinning.
"No wonder my little Út looks so… sinfully tempting." Then he kissed him—first on the chin, then right on the lips. "You're drunk, you know that?"
"I'm not drunk on beer," Đông Anh said, glancing around the room. "I'm drunk because everyone in here has gone insane."
Dung chuckled, letting his hand slide deliberately from Đông Anh's neck all the way down to his chest.
"You think you can hold back all that sweet temptation boiling inside you, Út?"
As soon as Dung finished his question, Đông Anh reached up, looped his arms around the man's neck, and pressed a kiss full of craving onto his lips. It was the kind of kiss that used tongue—bold, unrestrained—so much so that Dung had to stop him.
"Look at you, already turning bad, and learning how to flirt like a pro."
"That's your fault. You brought me here on purpose, didn't you?"
"Don't get the wrong idea. I just wanted to take you out. And if I wanted you to learn those tricks…" He leaned in, smiling like the seasoned player he was. "…I'd be the one teaching you."
Dung crooked a finger at the same hostess, whispered something in her ear, and a moment later she returned with a key.
"What are you doing?" Đông Anh asked.
"Thought I'd find us a place… to keep teaching my Út how to be bad. You in?
Đông Anh jabbed Dung in the ribs hard enough to wipe the smirk off his face. "Aren't we going back to the hotel?"
"Nope."
"What about my sis?"
"I already called the hotel, told her we're not coming back. Tonight, let her fend for herself."
Dung said nothing more and headed off, quick on his feet. Đông Anh followed behind, step for step. But the farther they went, the faster Dung seemed to move until Đông Anh found himself chasing instead of following.
Đông Anh slipped through staggering bodies, passed through layers of colored light, and climbed the stairs. Dung's back flashed in and out of sight around each bend. The music thudded farther and farther behind, but the haze in Đông Anh's eyes stayed just the same.
"Where even is this?" Đông Anh muttered, blinking at the dim hallway lined with shut doors. He leaned against one to steady himself. His breathing quickened. The alcohol didn't make him want to collapse—instead, it paved the way for a rush of madness to rise, fierce and unrelenting.
"Is he in this one? Or maybe over there?" Đông Anh staggered toward the door across the hall. "Damn it, Dung," he grumbled under his breath.
Though barely louder than a breath, his muttered curse seemed to act like a secret password, the door just three paces ahead clicked open. Without hesitating, Đông Anh shoved it open and walked in.
He glanced around—empty. No one in sight. Only the sound of the door shutting behind him.
He turned.
And there stood Dung, shirtless, blocking the doorway, square in his line of sight.
"One… two… thr—"
Before Dung could finish the third count, Đông Anh had already flung himself into his arms and kissed him with a kind of hunger he'd never imagined. Not even in his wildest dreams had Dung dared picture this: his little Út, turned into a lovesick madman, kissing him so ravenously that Dung could barely keep up, his tongue struggling to answer the boy's desperate demand.
"Jesus, you're out of your fucking mind…" Dung gasped, breaking the kiss.
He could feel Đông Anh's scorching breath crashing against his skin, plus a new scent, very new. Dung tilted his head, brushed his nose against Đông Anh's cheek, and inhaled. It was a thick, dizzying scent—the sting of alcohol, the heat of skin, and something raw and feral that had no name. All Dung could think to call it was wildness.
That scent of wildness rose from the body of someone who had fully surrendered to a state of uncontrol—beyond reason, beyond restraint.
And because of that, it infected the one who breathed it in, making him go wild too: with want, with delirium, with a hunger that felt too big for one body to hold.
Dung's fingers moved swiftly, undoing each button on Đông Anh's shirt, clearing the way for a practiced tongue to trail down his throat, then to the dip of his shoulder.
"Dung…"
Đông Anh moaned, but got no reply. Dung was lost in the haze of sensation blooming across his tongue. Then, suddenly, he paused, leaving Đông Anh blinking in confusion.
"What's wrong?"
"This necklace… Should I take it off?" Dung lifted the pendant resting on Đông Anh's chest. It was a round piece of gold: a cross engraved on one side, a pair of wings on the other.
"Why… would you take it off?" Đông Anh asked.
"Because all demons fear the face of God," Dung said with a wicked grin, brushing his fingers across Đông Anh's cheek. "But why the wings?"
"Angel's wings."
Dung nodded like it all made sense now. He let go of the pendant and looked Đông Anh in the eye.
"Are you sure this is what you want to do tonight? Because tomorrow, you might regret giving in to a moment of lust.
Đông Anh said nothing. He stepped toward the mirror and stared at the chain around his neck. It was a gift from the head priest of the seminary. He had told Đông Anh to guard it well, that it was a sacred token to keep his eyes on the Lord.
Dung leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.
"You look like someone who's gonna regret it…"
"I don't know if I'll regret it tomorrow," Đông Anh said, his voice steady. "All I know is if I don't do what I want to do right now… I'll go mad."
With that, he shrugged off his shirt and let it fall to the floor.
"You've lost your damn mind."
And Dung lunged, mouth crashing against the smooth skin of Đông Anh's back. Meanwhile, Đông Anh calmly reached up, unclasped the necklace, and tossed it onto the table, just before surrendering completely to the storm building inside him.