Side Story 1 - Before Lethepolis: The Memory
I arrived at the old building with a faded facade, my heart pounding and a heat rising under my skin. I sent the message:
I took a deep breath and walked in. Climbed the stairs with steady steps, the sound of my sneakers echoing through the dimly lit stairwell.
On the third floor, I found the door slightly open, just like he’d promised. I pushed it slowly.
He was there. A tight black T-shirt clinging to his defined chest, hair messy like he’d just woken up—or had been waiting, restless. He didn’t say a word. Pulled me in by the collar of my shirt the moment I stepped inside, and our lips crashed.
The door slammed shut behind me.
His hands were everywhere at once—on my chest, my waist, my back. His beard scraped against my skin as he bit my lower lip, and a moan escaped my throat.
Before I could even get a look at the apartment, he spun me around and pressed me against the hallway wall. His hands ran down my shirt, tugging it up urgently, and once my muscles were exposed, his tongue traced my chest like he wanted to devour me whole.
My skin burned. My cock was already hard inside my jeans—and he noticed.
— “Someone came ready,” he whispered in that low, gravelly voice as he unbuttoned my pants with skill that spoke from experience.
Another moan slipped out as he pulled everything down—jeans, underwear, all at once. I felt exposed, but I didn’t care. I was under his control, and I liked it.
He dropped to his knees. His hot mouth wrapped around my cock hungrily, no warning.
He sucked with a firm rhythm, eyes locked on mine as he stole the air from my lungs. One hand braced against the wall, the other tangled in his hair, guiding him, encouraging.
— “Fuck…” I muttered through clenched teeth, my whole body trembling.
He took me deep, throat opening with each pull, messy and wet and perfect.
And just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, he slid a finger into my mouth, made me suck it, then brought it down between my legs.
— “Relax. I wanna fuck you now,” he said, standing up.
He grabbed my hand and led me to the bedroom—a small space with dark sheets and a single amber light glowing. He pushed me onto the bed, stripped off his clothes, and climbed over me. His body pressed against mine, hot and urgent.
He reached into the drawer for lube, prepping me fast but careful. I turned over, arching up for him, eager to feel everything. The tip went in slowly at first, then he sank in deep with a guttural moan.
— “Fuck… you’re tight.”
The rhythm started slow, then picked up. His thrusts were hard, deliberate. He held my waist, pulled me back into each stroke. I moaned without shame, muffled against the pillow, my body begging for more.
He leaned over me, chest against my back, one hand wrapping around my cock. He stroked me in time with his thrusts. It was too much. The heat rose, the pleasure overwhelming.
I came hard, spilling across the sheets, crying out. He followed moments later, grunting against my neck as he came inside me, his whole body shaking.
For a while, there was only silence. Just the sound of our heavy breaths and sweaty skin sticking together. Then he pulled out, laid beside me, and looked at me with a satisfied smile.
— “You fuck like you’re running from something,” he said, with a look I couldn’t quite read.
Maybe he was right.
But I didn’t answer. I just lay there, sweat cooling on my skin, wondering why, even after all that pleasure, I still felt a hollow space inside me.
I was the first to get up, legs still shaky, and headed to the bathroom. Washed my face, rinsed my body, stared at my reflection for a moment. Nothing new. Just me, trying to fill emptiness with skin and sweat.
When I got back to the room, he—Lucas, he’d said at the beginning of our app chat—was still lying there, one arm under his head, looking at me with that lazy, satisfied smile.
— “Already heading out?” he asked, voice soft.
— “Yeah… gotta wake up early tomorrow. New job, new city, all that,” I said, pulling my shirt from the floor.
He nodded, but his eyes said something else. He wanted me to stay. Maybe just for another night. Maybe for more. I pretended not to notice.
— “It was nice meeting you, Tass,” he said, smiling more softly now.
— “Yeah. You too, Lucas. Thanks for the night.”
I put on the rest of my clothes, gave him a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth, and left before he could say anything else.
In the hallway, I closed the door quietly behind me. My footsteps echoed through the silent building as I walked down the stairs, my body tired and my mind already elsewhere.
Just another night.
That’s what I always told myself.
Tass' story continues in Divine Memories Chapter 2: The Search.
This side stories are here to tell us a little about the background stories of our characters. A very NSFW version of this encounter, including some videos, are available at my patreon. Consider supporting me if you like my writing and my characters.
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