Categories > Original > Horror1 Reviews
He hissed, and tried to pull away, but there was no escape. He couldn’t stop it because I couldn’t stop it. [m/m]
"No." My mouth grazed his ear as I leaned over him, fumbling with the zipper on my jeans. I placed a hand on his back; he shuddered and shivered. I smiled. For the first time, he was scared.
"No," He said back, but he stayed where he was. "Don't. You know I love you. You don't have to do this."
"Then get up. Get up and leave."
He looked over his shoulder, into my eyes. He was beginning to tear. "I don't want to leave."
"It's true. You know I'm only going for a while. I'll be back."
"You've said that before. And I believed you. Oh god, how I believed you." I jerked out of the denim, and the silk underneath, with anger so intense it even surprised me. It wasn't just anger, however, that made me bite into the back of his upper thigh, like a stallion claiming his mare. It wasn't just anger that made me rip into him, so furiously, so mechanically. It was a cruel thing to do. I knew it, as I owned him in the basest way, and I knew I was being cruel just because I could be. I wanted revenge, I wanted power. Power smelled like saltwater on bleeding backs; on the tongue, it was like sugar cane ripped from someone else's land. And when it was emotional, instead of purely physical, it was the sweetest sugar cane one could find.
"You know that's in the past." He breathed that, in between jerky groans that sounded beautiful to my dictator ears. "It's not..." He paused to scream; I paused to look down and see the rivulets of red making a mess of the small bathroom carpet. It made the process much easier, and ten times faster. Now he was crying, saying nothing. His hands were tight fists, his eyes squeezed shut; his hair was twisted up in my fingers. I whispered into the nape of his neck, "Now you know what I felt like."
He responded with a whimper and a sob.
It was a cruel thing to do. After all, up to now, he had been a virgin. Well, in that area. He had also been a whore, an insensitive whore, and I remembered every moment of every infidelity very well. In the gym locker with a buddy, at base camp with a sergeant. In our very own fucking bed with the next door neighbor. The kid was hardly eighteen; she didn't know any better. I thought again about finding those long, fair strands of hair on the pillow. I almost didn't see them in the folds of white, but then I did, and then I knew.
"I'm so sorry!" He sounded like he was choking on his own tears. He sounded like he was dying, pinned under the weight of his own guilt. He really did seem sorry.
"It's too late for that." I stroked his shoulders, my eyes drifting shut as I entered the haziness of that ultimate pleasure, that one moment they say when you're looking right into the eyes of God. I focused my pupils, and I saw a sun-burnt man with a forked tail and an angry glare. He took me by the hair, and said, simply, that I didn't belong there.
I let out a soft sigh and opened my eyes. There he lay, like a fallen angel, like a common criminal after a police beating. He had stopped crying and mumbling for me to stop; he was just waiting.
"Are you done?"
I nodded and pulled away, reaching for a towel. I looked at him again. He was really beautiful. "Jay..."
He was still on the ground. He was crying again, but I knew it wasn't for the pain, for the humiliation. He wasn't crying for himself. He was crying for me.
"Jay..." I wanted to crouch down next to him. I wanted to pat his hair, and hold his head in my arms, saying how everything was going to be alright. I did that when his mother died, when one of his closest friends was arrested for manslaughter. I did that to save him from the monsters of confusion and sorrow, but those monsters must seem like old wives' tales now.
"Don't." He was broken, shattered, but he was back on the throne. His voice did not waver. "Get out, I have to get dressed."
"No. Don't say anything." He grabbed the terrycloth beside him, gingerly wrapping it around him as he stood up, tall and at a 90 degree angle. "Get some napkins." He motioned to the pool of bodily fluids with his hands; his eyes were on the door.
I left the room. I waited outside as I heard him wipe the floor and clean himself, forcing himself to make hardly a sound. I listened to the rustle of fabric as he pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt. Then he opened the bathroom door.
We stood locking bloodshot eyes. His hands crawled onto my shoulders and collapsed on them.
"I love you," I said.
"I know," He said. He twitched his nose, then slowly touched my face with his. His lips were still wet, just a bit; they took hold of mine like I was made of fragile porcelain. His nails clung to the back of my scalp, making patterns in my blue-black hair. "I won't...I won't cheat again."
"I know." I did. He wouldn't. He wouldn't want to face this again.
I kissed him. I thought about how he could rip me into pieces if he wanted to. He could kill me, or hurt me badly enough I'd wish I were dead. He could, but he wouldn't; Jay would never do that.
"Am I a monster?"
He shrugged. "Am I?"
"You're only human."
"Well, so are you." He cupped my cheek with his hand and smiled weakly. I wasn't so sure.
"I should leave."
He looked confused. "What do you--"
"I'm going to pack my stuff."
"What, why? I thought..."
"I know. But I'm...I'm scared. I never thought I'd be like this."
Jay shot me a look of pity, and I found myself burying my head into his chest. He stroked my head like a mother would. "It's okay, it's okay." His hands caressed my back. "It's okay, it's okay, it's okay."