Within you is forgiveness
displayed in soft pulses
at the base of your throat,
the desperate blazing heat
between callused palms
and the mouth smiling widely
forming words and kisses,
unborn.
Withhold the Light
The cuffs gleamed against his wrists and bit into his flesh. Hands, male hands, parted his thighs. He leaned into them. He knew whose hands they were, knew that he shouldn’t let them touch him.
But he did, knowing the promise of that touch, the gratification, and the pain. Later the hands would use the belt, just hard enough to hurt, for the humiliation to burn through his body making him cry out to stop, stop, never stop. And afterwards, with him in tears, the soft kisses along his back, the tongue soothing his burning skin. Soothing till…
He was filled with heat and—
He gasped and moaned as the body moved against him.
There was love (hate), desire (shame), pleasure (anger) in the connection between their two bodies.
Please, he wanted to say, he didn’t, shouldn’t… His mind called out rape but his body shuddered in pleasure, and his heart was caught in the middle.
“No.” His legs wrapped around the body above him, thrusting. He was almost there, almost.
Why? Rick—
AJ woke from the dream with a smothered groan. He was caught in confusion for a moment before he realized he was in his own bed. He shifted uncomfortably, his pants sticky with semen, his pillow soaked with tears. AJ swallowed down the lump in his throat and tried not to think.
He laid there in the darkness of his room till the alarm rang at six.
**********
He had been throwing back shots of tequila when the kid caught his eye. Blond and young, the kid had no business hanging around the sort of place. He was obviously a college student who had stumbled into the wrong bar.
So Rick had gotten up and walked over to the kid, to tell him to get lost before he got his head bashed in and his wallet taken.
There was hunger in his eyes, the kind Rick understood, the kind he had seen in his own eyes when he looked in the mirror. The kid’s hair was the wrong shade of blond, eyes more grey than blue, but in the dark those things could be reasoned away. Imagined away.
They—
fell into bed. Well more like wrestled. The kid was more than willing after a drink to mellow him out. That’s all the hunger needed really. Rick knew that too. And it was all right, if you could ignore the smell of cigarette smoke and tequila emanating from the sheets.
And the kid smelled nice, like sweat and cheap cologne. He pulled the kid’s pants down and rubbed his cheek against his blond hair.
Hair that was too dark.
Rick turned the boy over and closed his eyes.
After, the kid laid there staring up at the ceiling. First time. Rick reached down, and fumbling with his shirt pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He held it out to the boy.
The kid shook his head and said, quietly, “Can I stay here tonight?”
He opened his mouth to say no, to tell the kid he wasn’t a damn hostel. “Yeah.”
“Thanks. I’m Cory.” He turned eyes, bloodshot and fragile, to Rick.
“Ernie.” Then he kissed the boy on the mouth, and pretended.