So bad.

So dangerous.

Right then and there, time stopped. A bleeding heart pounded ; the only thing that could be heard in his mind.

     Every conversation ceased to end, every laughter died, every head turned to look.

Step,

Step,

Step,

Each click of their pristine shoes rang like a warning, telling everyone to run.

They were bad.

They were dangerous.

Adrenaline coursed through his veins, sulfur eyes lit aflame in desire. In his lifetime, no one had ever radiated such an aura. The way they came into the place he knew right then and there.

There was something . . different about them.

The way they moved.

their hair,

their face,

their lines,

divinity in motion.

Eyes seductive and sinful burned into his skin, the clicking of their shoes echoing in the dark room. He felt trapped in their web of passion and lust ; frozen , and aching for more.

Their presence . . . ; he needed to leave , to escape.

                 But they were bad.

                               they were dangerous.

He couldn't leave. He mustn't. He needed them. He needed them.

to drink from their fingertips

to breathe in their dark aura.

to devour their sin.

As their presence drew him in closer, fingertips prompted him to lift his face up, searing their brand onto his skin.

Face to face ; eye to eye,

a touch , a kiss , a whisper of love . .

he was at the point of no return.

Deep in the darkness of passion and insanity,

he could faint from their divinity.

Others directed their attention at the scene, a witnessing of a fallen angel and their prey.

Even he couldn't lie ;

he belonged to them.

They were bad.

They were dangerous.

. . . and he wanted it all.

- - dangerous ; Michael Jackson