FicWad

It'll shock me if this makes sense to anyone else other than me...

So, I'm here, home alone while Slash is working. I suppose I should be grateful of the silence and the time alone. As much as I love him, he can be a little overbearing at times. I'm smiling though, smiling because someone loves for me for who I am and not what they can get from me. That's what it was like with Bill. He just wanted to suck my soul out and use me for his own ends. Slash. Well, Slash is different. He's caring and loving. He looks after me. I don't want to be looked after but I've needed it over the past couple of months. Bill's turned into even more of a psycho than he was in Indiana and sooner or later he's going to do something stupid.

Picking up my cigarettes, I light one as I look at the photograph of us. The summer of 78, the summer we first got together. But at what cost? I hate myself in this photo, really hate myself. It's not a true representation of me. Why? Because I did exactly what Bill's doing now. Well, I did but I wasn't as intense as him. Wasn't always turning up wherever he was. I wanted Bill the moment I set eyes on him. Wanted that lithe body, wanted the red hair running between my fingers. I may have been the quiet one but it didn't mean I wasn't scheming. I'd wait for Bill, outside of his classes. I laugh now at the memory of myself, leaning against the wall, sunglasses on and trying to look cool. I'd wait for him to come out before falling into step beside him. He was pretty much the only person I spoke to in school and it wasn't long before I found the raw lust turning into something else. Something softer and more delicate. Love. Yeah, I fuckin' fell for him but how couldn't I? Those green eyes would look at me, full of hurt and pain, his body covered in bruises from his father. He wanted someone to love him. Love him properly not in a "I'll beat you senseless because I love you" way like his father did. And so I did. I loved him. I took him to my house and sheltered him there. But it wasn't without underlying motives. I knew that the longer I did that and the longer I played at being his friend, the more he'd trust me. And, one stormy summer's night, it happened. On my bed, while my mom was out. I dressed his wounds, petting him as I did before kissing him. I remember those eyes snapping opening, terror flooding them. He'd never been allowed sexual feelings and here was his best friend, his best male friend, kissing him. So I did it again. And again and again. And within moments he was giving in, succumbing to me. To me! Geez, I feel so guilty at what I did and I suppose it's why I didn't want to rush it with Slash. Didn't want to find myself using the same, manipulative tactics. That's why I surrendered to him, let him take charge. Because, fuck, those thoughts ran through my head when I first met Slash. Are you going to pick away at him like you did with Bill? Are you going to manipulate him like you did with Bill? Be all nice and tender and loving, only to get into his pants.

In the end, it was Slash that did it to me I think. He sat there with those big, brown eyes, pleading for a chance. Pleading for a chance at proper love and a proper relationship. And that's what we've got. After that first night with Bill is when it all started to go downhill. There was a complete switch. He started to become dominant. Even though I was the top, he'd be the one making the demands. He'd tell me how to fuck him, he'd tell me when to kiss him. Hell, he even stooped so low as to tell me how to dress sometimes. He didn't want to admit that he's gay and, of course, it all came out one day. He'd left me the night before, spitting and hissing about something that I'd done. The next day - bam! - five foot high letters along the side of the gym, proclaiming my sexuality to the whole fuckin' world. And Bill wonders why I ran?

Sighing, I take another look at the photo. Bill with his arm around me and me, Izzy, peering out from under my hair, a little smile on my lips. Maybe it is a true portrait of me. I may have claimed him, but Bill bullied me back into shyness, back into hiding behind hair and sunglasses and beneath hats. I really should destroy this photo but I can't bring myself to do it. I don't know why. It's a part of my past that I'd like to forget. But can't.

Sliding the photo back under the pillow, I wrap my fingers around the collar. It's still here, around my neck. I've barely taken it off since Slash gave it to me. I don't know why I don't want to take it off. I just like it I think. It means nothing to me, just another piece of jewellery that I can wear. But it's a sweet thought; being owned by someone. But that really isn't my scene, the whole domination thing. I don't think Slash meant it in that way. I think he meant it more to show Bill that he no longer has a hold over me. At least I hope he did.

I'm pulled from my thoughts by a knock at the door. Odd, but not unusual. There's normally someone calling round at all hours. Musicians, the odd friend that we've made... an occasional drug dealer. Nothing hard, just a bit of pot, a few grains of coke. Just something to ease up the monotony of this life.

Opening the door, I sigh, leaning against the door-frame. "What the fuck do you want now?"

He doesn't answer, just barges past and into the room, a flurry of red-hair and jangling bracelets. Kicking the door closed, I turn to glare at him, not wanting to be near him, let alone have him in my room. I lean against the window, watching as he picks through mine and Slash's stuff, throwing clothes and cassettes into corners. He sneers when he comes across anything that could even remotely be Slash's.

"I asked you, what the fuck do you want?" I hate repeating myself, even to him.

Eventually he looks up, the jewelled leash in his hands, fingers picking at the embedded stones.

"Does he lead you around with this?" That vampiric grin quickly appears.

I snatch it from his hands, throwing it back into the corner as I step up to him.

"What Slash and I do in our spare time is none of your fuckin' business," I growl. I point to the door. "Now get out before I kick you out."

He sneers at me in that way he does, pressing himself against me. I feel something flash through me. Something raw and primitive, something like red hot knives that go straight through my heart and to my groin. He grins maliciously at me as his hand moves down to cup my hardening cock.

"I knew you'd get it up for me."

I feel my own face twist, snarling at him. Grabbing him, I throw him against a wall and force my tongue down his throat. Instantly his hands snatch at my hair, forcing our lips together in a passionate, heated kiss. Our hands seize at each other's clothes, tearing them to reveal our pale, untouched skin. I push myself up against him, loving the feeling of his unblemished chest against mine. His hands rake down my back and to my pants, pushing them down my legs, my pulsing erection bouncing free. Cool air wraps around it and I gasp, feeling it twitch as he touches it.

As we battle each other, I feel a little bad. Bad because I'm cheating on Slash, but I'll deal with that when I come to it. For now I'm pressed against him, my lips bruised and my body on fire. He pulls away, panting and leans against the wall, head back. I launch at him, my mouth and teeth attacking his neck, nipping and gnawing at his soft flesh. He hisses as I break the skin, my tongue lapping at the small trickle of blood, Bill's warm metallic taste flooding my mouth. My hands rip his tight jeans from his bony hips pushing them downwards as I force his legs apart. Pushing my hips forward, I rub our cocks together, listening to him groan in pleasure.

Wrapping a hand into that red hair, I begin to drag him towards the bed, my mouth still attached to his throat, suckling like a dying vampire. As I prepare to throw him down, it seems he has other ideas. His thin hands twist me round and push me over to the window, bending me into it. I know what he's planning and I scream and kick, begging him.

"No Bill! Please, not this!" I plead, squirming to get away.

But he's stronger than I remember and he holds me down, kicking my legs apart.

"Shut the fuck up Jeff!," he snaps, a hand thumping me across the head. "I know you take it up the ass now so I'm going to take what I shoulda fuckin' had back in Indiana."

I struggle, my voice becoming hoarse from the clouds of dust I'm kicking up. He snarls, a hand firmly in my back as he lines his cock up with my hole. I try to move but I can go no further. I'm trapped and at the mercy of Bill. He who was so sweet back home, he who gave everything to me. He who loved me as I coaxed him into my bed, planning to just fuck him and toss him aside. He who made me fall in love with him, made me fall into the endless sea of those eyes.

He pushes all the way in and I scream, the pain stabbing red-hot through my body. My fingers dig into the rotten wood of the window frame, bracing myself as he begins to thrust, not even giving me time to adjust. My teeth grind against each as I try to stop myself screaming, try to stop myself from giving him what he wants. Fingernails dig into my hips and I cry out, unable to help myself. Bill rocks us, driving us hard and fast. I can feel warm liquid dripping down my legs and from my hips. My blood. He's making me bleed for him like I made him bleed for me all those years ago. Izzy Stalkin', that's what I should have called myself. I deserve this, deserve it for leading him astray.

Bill changes his angle and hits something deep inside of me. Again I cry, but this time in pleasure. My cock springs back to life, forcing me to let go of the window and stroke myself. Bill's not going to do it. He's too engrossed in making me bleed. With my chest flush against the ledge, I furiously rub my cock, desperate to get off as Bill carries on hitting my prostate, sending flashes of agonising pleasure to my brain. I scream and yell, pushing myself back against him.

"Yeah," he growls, tightly holding on as I buck. "You know you want it."

Roughly he pushes in, shouting my name as he does. My voice joins his, hollering his name again and again. It seems odd, after so long, to be saying his name with such passion. But it seems to right.

"That's it," he hisses, fingers moving to softly caress my butt. "Scream my name like you scream that curly-haired bastard's."

And I do. Again and again. Bill! Bill! Fuck me Bill! Harder Bill! Faster Bill! Fuck me till I bleed Bill! My hands scrape my cock raw, the orgasm teasingly close. And then I'm coming, my hot, ropey semen spraying against the wall as Bill comes deep inside me. His nails rake over my buttocks and his teeth dig into the back of my neck. But I don't care. It's what I wanted. The pain and the blood.

Bill pulls out and drops me to the floor like a broken toy. Because that's all I am. Bill's broken toy. He stares down at me, spitting phlegm into my hair. I just look at him from my prone position, panting and bloody, splinters under my nails and red semen running from my ass.

"You're too beautiful to be a fag." He spits again but I don't recoil. I deserve it, deserve to take my punishment like the dog that I am.

"You're just leading him along, aren't you Izz? Like you did to me."

I drop my eyes, knowing exactly what he's talking about, not trying to deny it.

"Yeah," he continues. "I know all about you. I know I wasn't your first like you said. Danny Cane told me all about the others. Says he saw you under the bleachers with at least three other boys. And I know you were at it while we were together." He aims a kick at me. It connects with my ribs and I let out a moan, trying not to protest. "You fed me all that bullshit about loving me while you were off fucking other guys! You never loved me at all!"

Again he kicks me and I groan, curling myself into ball.

"I did love you," I whisper.

He grabs my hair and pulls my head up, forcing me to look at him.

"How could you fuckin' love me," he spits, "when you were fucking others?"

I look at him from under hooded eyes; tired, battered and bloody.

"I didn't want to love you," I whisper. "But I did. I loved you with all my heart. But you were so fuckin' demanding. You wanted everything and I couldn't give it you. Those other guys were just fucks. I still loved you."

He lets go and my head hits the bare wooden floor, my eyes rolling back into my head.

From beneath my hair, I ask, "Why have you been stalking me?"

The floor beside my head creaks as Bill sits beside my head, hands gently stroking my hair, petting me. Petting me in a way that only Slash had previously done.

"Because," he starts, "I still love you. You know I want you back Izz, even though I found out that you were just using me."

"I wasn't," I sigh. "And if I did, we used each other."

His hands still gently stroke me, running down my back.

"You did," he quietly replies, ignoring my last comment. "You got me into your bed and you fucked me. I loved you Izz. I still love you. And I want you to come back to me."

Wearily I shake my head. "No."

"Yes, before you hurt someone else."

He pulls away but I don't move. Deep inside of me there's a tiny spark reigniting. A spark that I felt for Bill when we met. That lusty loving combination that I remember. Am I falling in love with him again? Fuck, I hope not. I have Slash now. I have to think of him.

I listen as he scrambles around, looking for or preparing something. A warm smell fills the room and a moment later, Bill's back by my side, one of my arms in his hand.

Gently he rubs the crook of my elbow, whispering, "You like this don't you Izz?"

Slash. Slash. I'm sorry Slash. I'm sorry if I've hurt you. I didn't mean to. You'll understand, won't you Slash?

There's a sharp prick under my skin and a moment later a warm feeling rushes over me. Warm and euphoric, it hits my brain. I know what he's given me a moment before I pass out. Heroin.