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The Beat Goes On.
"Well, it was not consensual and I didn't know about that rule with sitting at the bar. Thank you for telling me that. I'll not make that mistake again." Dander up, Ulap was about to turn and take his leave when he felt a smaller, softer body press against his rigid back.
"I'm looking for a very, very bad man to take home for the night," a dulcet alto whisper drifted up his shoulder to his ear as a blessedly feminine hand traced its way up one of Ulap's legs and cupped his crotch, massaging the hard heft it found with practiced ease. "Perhaps that man is you, sir?"
"Thank the Gods of War you're here," Ulap said as he turned to Bulan and buried his aquiline nose into her night jasmine-scented hair and shut his eyes. "I was getting impatient for you."
Just then, a streak of lightning arced over the dance floor, striking the rising Aswang between the eyes, knocking him unconscious. "That should take care of that," Bulan said casually. "Nobody puts the move on my guy and gets away with it. Only lightning reaps no vengeance."
Bulan wrapped a deceptively delicate-looking hand around the knot of her husband's tie and pulled gently as she walked to the door. "Let's go. I need to get you in me in the worst way. At least thrice."
"I hear, I obey, Babaylan of my life," Ulap said with a grin lacing his straitlaced tone of voice. "Lead on."
From the dance floor, Kidlat had a prime view of the perfect arc of lightning that hit the Aswang onstage, though he did not see who'd called it. Someone got a Babaylan angry. Tsk. Or maybe it was a Bayot, the male priests who cross-dressed to access the divine feminine aspect of the Babaylan and marry it to the raw, male energy given by SkyFather Bathala to males. The Babaylan is already a powerhouse. The Bayot even more so, transvestism and effete rituals notwithstanding. Most Bayot were totally male, though some preferred guys.
But, if the Babaylan is rare, then the Bayot is even rarer, Kidlat thought to himself. But what I wouldn't do for a Bayot of my own, he cast a silent wish. Someone who can take all of me, undiluted, and give back as good as he gets. Because, hell, I know I like mine male, big and burly, wild and delicious. Ah, SkyFather, let me have some of that someday.
Lost in his wishing, Kidlat was caught unawares when a warm male front came up smack against his back and butt and a pair of hands caught his hips in a determined but careful grip.
"That shirt looks good on you. I'm sure I'll look even better on you," a husky voice slid a sexy baritone whisper in his ear. "Wanna try me on?" Hot breath on Kidlat's neck drew pleasured shivers as the Tikbalang turned to face the man behind him and he beheld the prey he thought he'd been stalking.
"Dance with me." Kidlat decided to take charge. He was the taller one, after all. This human was what? Five foot-eleven, six foot flat? At six-four, he was confident he'd get the upper hand. But there was this thrumming energy about the man that made his inner horse prick up its ears.
"I'm so glad you dance my way, lover-boy," the man in the white linen shirt said with a smile, not in the least bit intimidated by Kidlat's intense stare. He even ground his groin against the Tikbalang's leg. "Let's. My name is Cocoy, by the way. Just so you know what you're going to yell out along with 'OhMyGod' later."
"Kidlat. And let's see who'll be yelling first."
With that, they battled for control as Kidlat began a slow, hard grind against Cocoy and Cocoy answered in kind, grabbing Kidlat's behind in a hard, unspoken challenge.
Just when she was about to swear off men forever (ex number sixteen having done a number on her, again), Jinx found herself watching not one man, but two.