thri11s33k3r - Part I of II
I have this username because I always feel like I'm chasing a thrill. I feel like people like you are a thrill.
Hi. This is part I of II of a short horror rape revenge story. The following material contains adult content, including graphic sex. Other triggering content includes family trauma, stalking, strangulation, a large age gap relationship and more extreme body modification including split tongues and genital piercings.
This is a work of fiction written by a queer person about queer people in a horror setting. The narration does not reflect the author's own personal beliefs. It may be a difficult read for some. It is not intended to cause harm to anyone of any such persuasion.
If these are things you don’t want to read about please consider moving on.
Thanks.
I met him on a forum, sitting in my dark room hunched over my keyboard, eyes burning red I was so closely glued to my screen. The computer chugged and lagged often and the internet was slow but I always managed to keep up with the conversation. We’d been the only two online on a website dedicated to the more arcane art of body modification. We clicked immediately, interested in piercing and scarification. We talked about our own mods, we talked about our interest in the gay club crowd, and we talked about our mutual deep connection with our own local punk scenes. We started chatting at 12 at night on AIM, and he logged off at 4. He was thri11s33k3r. My user was cantcheatkarma60 and he’d recognized the reference immediately. And I recognized his, so I thought.
I couldn't get thri11s33k3r off my mind after that. We’d exchanged photos on the forum and I immediately printed his off once he’d gone offline. I pinned it to my wall, next to the sheaf of gig bills and posters and other ephemera I'd collected over the years. No face, I had to imagine that. His body was thin and lithe and youthful beneath a shredded Type O cutoff, his nipples pierced and standing on end against the paper thin black tee. The crystal gem that adorned his belly button glinted in whatever shitty flash his Nokia cellphone had and the thick bush of pubic hair was abruptly interrupted by the edge of the photo. I hadn't gotten to see his cock. He saw mine. Thick and hard and pierced to the hilt. I'd been piercing mine since 1980. I figured thri11s33k3r had been born not too long after that.
The next day I logged on to see if he’d go online again, but thri11s33k3r was gone. His profile page had dropped off the user list on the close knit online community and I thought he had removed me as a buddy on AIM. And I immediately felt a dark desperation I hadn't in a long, long time. The last time that had washed over me was in the pits of my addiction years before, and that had taken a very, very long time to recover from. I wanted more of thri11s33k3r. Bad.
In the mid-90s my bandmate had taught me how to track people first through IP addresses, and then a little hacking and digging, entirely as a joke. I hadn't a need for it at the time, but he had figured it out as a hobby; he’d decided hacking would be a fun little thing to get into as the internet took off. He was a bit of a techno freak, had been since we’d become bandmates. He was a synthesizer and bass player and had always been taken with the ever evolving technological landscape. I had never understood it and it often went over my head still, but what he’d shown me was pretty easy. And figuring it out again had been a breeze.
Thri11s33k3r was living in America, like me. Lucky for myself he lived a state away; I'd never been happier. I was from New York and he was from Jersey. His name was Faris. He had a MySpace page, and he was already my friend. I friended everyone pretty and had many of them. Often they were fans shocked that a man my age had figured out the internet, and they were almost always curious about what a 45-year-old punk star needed a MySpace profile for. I was mostly there out of curiosity as well, but it also allowed me to chat with fans I found particularly attractive. Even at my age I could still pull a 20-something, and I couldn't deny how beautiful some of these young men were. They didn’t know I felt that way, towards men at least. I would say Faris was no outlier, but I think I could easily say he was prettier than all the rest. He slotted right into the intersection of what I found physically attractive and what I found socially attractive. He had everything.
Faris was apparently interested in post hardcore and screamo; recent stuff. His interests listed he was into Orchid, Pageninetynine and Saetia, and despite my age I’d been keeping up with what the kids enjoyed and knew all about it. Some of his extensive list included some older things, industrial metal, Bile, Ministry, Godflesh. And then there was noise rock, The Jesus Lizard, The Birthday Party, Big Black; his autoplay was Unsane. That’s where he must've known about me. My band Thrillseeker had been together since 1982, when I was Faris’ age, and we came into our own in the 90s, when Faris was just a young child. He was a fan and my hunch had been right about the username.
Thri11s33k3r was 20. And beautiful. Knowing he was all modded beneath his long sleeved band shirts and skinny jeans was just too good. It got my mind racing. Tattooed and pierced and according to the picture with his tongue out he’d had it split, too. Faris had black hair, curly but cut short. He occasionally wore glasses that accentuated how big and doe-like and sad his dark eyes were, eyelashes long. He radiated a beauty that glowed through his pictures, even if they were low resolution. I could tell immediately I wanted him in my bed, and maybe even on my arm if I was daring enough.
At this point I was too scared to reach out to Faris. Showing I'd stalked him to the point of finding his MySpace would've been creepy; creepy being an understatement. And I was afraid of his rejection. If he shot me down, I'd be devastated. I never got shot down; I wasn’t a bad looking man, but the wriggling fear in my gut of it happening with this one special young man was enough to hold me back. Instead, I jerked it to the idea of him. My current band were practicing as we were about to embark on a new tour in the coming months, but every day I'd come home miserable and sit down at my computer to stare at his social media page. The music didn't feel right for that bit of time; I would've rather been touching myself to the thought of how tight and sweet his ass would be.
Faris updated his photos often. It seemed that occasionally a photographer friend would snap pictures of him pitting at shows, or posing smoking a cigarette. He smoked a lot. A lot a lot. And I had always been attracted to that. Something about the oral fixation was an instant turn on for me. I often pictured what his lush, pierced lips would look like around my cock. I couldn’t help it anymore, and one day I logged onto the forum again in a fit of desperation. I was welling up in sexually frustrated tears; I could barely contain the thoughts I had for him. They haunted me every day; the way he looked out at me from the computer screen had got me. And it had got me good.
That day I checked the site again in an extreme depression I was hoping to track any trace of him lingering in the forums; to see what he had been saying, to even see another partially nude picture. I combed the forums and realized he was back on again. Thri11s33k3r had come back and he was online at that very moment on AIM, back on my buddy list. What for, I didn’t know. So I messaged him. And he replied in an instant.
cantcheatkarma60: Hi thri11. It’s been a while.
thri11s33k3r: hi. im so sorry about that
if im gonna be honest u intimidated me a little
cantcheatkarma60: Why’s that?
thri11s33k3r: i think ur really hot but i don’t even know what ur face looks like
ii havent actually talked to anyone off the forum before
cantcheatkarma60: Oh. I didn’t mean to scare you.
thri11s33k3r: my fault im sorry again
hope i didnt hurt u
where are u from anyway i meant to ask
cantcheatkarma60: You didn’t hurt me. NYC.
thri11s33k3r: im from jersey
were pretty close hey
cantcheatkarma60: Yeah. We are.
Unrelated, but is your username about the band?
thri11s33k3r: yeah thats funny u should ask
its about the band
theyre one of my favourite bands
their frontman drew richman wrote this set of lyrics i connected with
drew was a really bad dopehead and he did this song in 1991 called white silk about how heroin is like degrading sex
“doubtful ill ever live again but ill die a death worth living for; coke rock is my lover dope is my whore”
and the few times ive done heroin it felt like that
drews favroite band is the velvet underground and he likes lou reed and i read the song was sort of about him and venus in furs
i think it was also sort of about johnny thunders cause he had just died and thrillseeker are from ny
i think hes gay like me but i dont know for sure
just a hunch
but also i have this username because i always feel like im chasing a thrill
i ffeel like people like u are a thrill
cantcheatkarma60: I feel like people like you are a thrill, too. I like that song as well.
Would you like to get together?
thri11s33k3r: im not sure im ready for that thrill yet karma
cantcheatkarma60: That’s alright.
thri11s33k3r: i have to go
i have to catch a flight tonight
my family lives in egypt and im going to visit them for a while and its been a couple years so i might not be online 4 a bit
sorry ill talk to u as soon as i can
i really like u
cantcheatkarma60: I like you too. I’ll be waiting.
Faris went offline and I felt like I’d been led on in the worst way possible. I sat there for another hour or so just reading our conversation over and over, touching myself to it as if he’d even said anything remotely sexy. I came back to it a few times over the next few days. He knew more about me than he’d let on, and that I knew more about him than I’d let on. And that was a painfully sweet tease.
Over the next couple of weeks Faris posted photos with his family back home. I checked his profile every day after practice. I’d look at night huddled up to my computer screen. His brothers were handsome, too, but not like him. His parents couldn’t’ve been much older than I was and from what his blog implied I don’t think they were too happy to discover that their son going to America meant him coming back covered in tattoos and piercings, a self-respecting good parent’s worst nightmare. My mum hadn’t been too pleased with my first piercing either, my right ear. Luckily she never figured out what it meant.
At some point, maybe towards the end of his trip, he made a blog post about his family struggling to accept him. He had come out to them. Big mistake. He was heartbroken and had decided to leave early. And that was the perfect time for me to chat with him. The more I could counsel him the closer I’d get, and the closer I got maybe I thought he’d… well… like me more.
It seemed he was thinking ahead of me, however. As soon as Faris indicated he’d come back from Egypt on MySpace, he’d hopped online to send me a message a day later. He’d beaten me to the chase.
thri11s33k3r: hi karma
im back
my trip didnt go very well
cantcheatkarma60: I’m sorry to hear that.
What happened?
thri11s33k3r: i came out to my parents
they werent very happy about it and kicked me out
so i got disowned
cantcheatkarma60: I’m really sorry to hear that.
My mum didn’t know I was gay but when my dad found out that was the end of our relationship.
thri11s33k3r: i dont really know how to feel
its a rite of passage to be disowned i guess
but i love my parents and i dont hate them 4 it
they think america turned their kid gay
they didnt like america much in the first place
cantcheatkarma60: I would imagine most people from the Middle East don’t with the war and all.
thri11s33k3r: it depends
are u american?
cantcheatkarma60: Yes.
thri11s33k3r: americans wont get it then
no offense
cantcheatkarma60: None taken.
Can I do anything to help?
Maybe we could go for coffee and talk.
thri11s33k3r: im still not sure i can do that karma
im scared of being into someone on the internet
maybe if i saw ur face or ur myspace id change my mind
cantcheatkarma60: I’m not sure you’d find me attractive so I’m not sure I want to share my MySpace.
I’m scared of you, too, thri11.
thri11s33k3r: how about this we can make a deal
ill tell u a bit about me
Ii guess uve seen my body but
my name is faris
whats urs
cantcheatkarma60: My name is Andrew.
thri11s33k3r: okay andrew
how old are u
im 20
cantcheatkarma60: I’m 45.
thri11s33k3r: ur a lot older than me
cantcheatkarma60: I see that.
thri11s33k3r: thats sort of sexy
i like older men
cantcheatkarma60: I like younger men.
Let me take you out for coffee.
thri11s33k3r: fine okay
andrew
i can come to u
what about we meet at washington square arch tonight
cantcheatkarma60: Tonight?
That’s soon.
thri11s33k3r: im in town staying with a friend
im on my laptop right now
im going to see gospel tomorrow
u should come with me
cantcheatkarma60: I’ve seen Gospel before.
They’re good live.
I’m usually the oldest one in the room.
thri11s33k3r: then u should go again
come with me
cantcheatkarma60: What time tonight?
thri11s33k3r: 12
meet me then
cantcheatkarma60: Don’t you think that’s kind of dangerous?
What if I’m a murderer?
thri11s33k3r: i think i trust u
would i recoginze u?
cantcheatkarma60: Most likely.
thri11s33k3r: okay
im tall and skinny
my hair is curly and im wearing a coil horse rotorvator shirt and some glasses
cantcheatkarma60: I like Coil.
thri11s33k3r: i thought u might
every freak does
ill see u soon andrew
cantcheatkarma60: Okay, Faris.
It’ll be nice to meet you.
thri11s33k3r: u 2 andrew
I chickened out on telling him who I was really. The rejection sensitivity set in right from the beginning and it didn’t seem to settle down at all. I had an inkling he’d go for me if he knew but I couldn't even bring myself to commit to the risk of it all. But I suppose I was committing the ultimate risk. Meeting him.
The arch seemed to loom higher than ever in the dark night of the park. It wasn’t exactly the safest place to meet up but I was a big guy and could take anything. I’d seen it all, anyway. After growing up in 1970s New York, you didn't tend to be phased by much. I stood there idly, tapping my foot, waiting for the young man to make an appearance.
As it turned out, Faris was on the opposite side facing away from me, waiting just as I was. I just had to look around a little for him. He didn’t notice me immediately.
“Thrillseeker?”
He whipped around. And he was more beautiful in person. The glow that showed through his photos was no illusion. He was elegant and soft, moving like his limbs were on clouds. His glasses were on and as he had said he was in a Coil shirt, ripped to the point it rode high enough for me to eye the tenderly cut abdominal V rising over his low cut skinny jeans. It was a typical heavy, muggy, oppressive New York summer and sweat stained his back.
My breath caught looking him up and down. And evidently, his breath also caught after realizing who I was.
“Karma?”
“Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you tell me who you were? When I talked about you?”
“I thought I’d scare you away.”
“Christ… Jesus Christ I can't…” Faris wheeled around for a moment, head in his hands. “I sexted with you.”
“Yeah. My name is Drew,” I said.
“I know who you are!” It was sudden and I was hurt. His adverse reaction was immediately debilitating. My chest sunk. “You're fucking Drew Richman, Jesus Christ. I'm friends with you on MySpace.”
I admitted to it. “I know we are.”
“You knew? Why didn't you tell me!” He raised his voice.
“Because I'm scared of you,” I said.
“You? Scared of me?”
“Yes. I think you're one of the sexiest men I've ever seen.”
“So you are gay? Like I said?” Faris asked, almost rhetorically.
“Why do you think I'm here?”
“I've seen your dick… fuck!”
“Yeah. Yeah, you have.” I felt my body sag into itself as I lost all hope for whatever burgeoning relationship we'd fostered.
“Look… I know! I've had a crush on you since I was 13! You were the first person I ever saw covered in tats and piercings and mods and I fell in love with them. You're probably the first person I jacked off to. But I can't date you… you're some kind of like… foreign thing to me. Like you're not real.”
“I'm very real, Faris. Please stay with me.”
“Drew… give me a moment,” Faris said. He turned away from me and stalked off into the darkness. He never came back.
After he ran away, standing there in the park alone, I had the sense I loved him. I was angrier and more hurt than ever, but I loved him. I would love him for a long time, too.
cantcheatkarma60: Faris?
Faris?
Please answer me.
Faris, I want to see you.
Please talk to me.
I think about you a lot.
I'm sorry I scared you. I thought that might happen.
Faris.
I'm begging you to talk to me.
Please.
I miss you.
Faris?
I was more depressed than I'd ever been. I spent days wallowing in my own filth, lying in bed, no showers, just sweating profusely under a pile of blankets and sobbing into a pillow. Then promptly humping the pillow and cumming trembling orgasms I'd only ever really felt thinking about Faris. I called off my own band practices to do this, pretending I was emotionally and physically withdrawn because my family member had died, which was a boldfaced lie. I couldn't bring myself to tell anyone that I was in a severe state of depression because I'd been rejected by a man half my age. Never had I felt more devastated over someone. I'd had a closeted boyfriend of 6 years who’d dumped me a year earlier and even then I wasn't this heartbroken.
After a while it wasn't enough anymore to just read back my chats with Faris, beg him to talk, and then promptly lie in bed, wasting away waiting for a notification bell from the computer that would never come. I reached out to my old bassist, the one who’d taught me to track down others online. We hadn’t talked in years; we’d had a falling out. Admittedly, my drive to reconnect with him for coffee had a bit of an ulterior motive. I dragged my new ThinkPad with me to our coffee shop meet-up and after a couple of hours of catching up, I straight up asked him how to find a full home address. He showed me hesitantly but didn't ask what for.
So I had Faris’ address, written on a piece of paper, and I stared at it for a while in bed. It took me a week to finally get out and do something about it. I freshened up and got into my car for the drive to his place in Newark.
I didn't do much about it when I did find his place, a small duplex he neighboured in with what seemed to be a young family, based on all the toddlers’ toys sitting on the front deck. I sat there staring at his place attempting to will him to come to me. The universe didn't want that to happen so I just shriveled up in my car for a couple of hours expecting to see him. But I didn't even have a plan for what I'd do about it if he did see me. He’d probably flip. So I pulled up my hood and left my sunglasses on even though it was the middle of the night and I would've come across as the most suspicious creep on the block. He didn't show.
It went like this for days. Instead of practicing for the rapidly approaching tour, the one I’d started to have the sense to call off, I sat in my car watching his home. Eventually I started seeing him coming and going, and every single time I wanted to call out to him about how much I loved him but it was likely a crapshoot. I swallowed.
I began to learn his schedule. During the week he left for what I figured were summer semester university classes; I followed him around to Rutgers and back about four times a week. On Friday nights he often drove to New York and stayed overnight, and would go out to shows those nights. He seemed to stay with a friend; a girl, which would've made me seethe with jealousy had I not known he was gay. I didn't bother to go to the shows because he’d see me if I did. Saturdays he'd come home and maybe do some errands and Sundays he seemed to stay in.
I went home around one in the morning one night and curled up in bed wondering what it would be like to intervene with his life. At that point it was just harmless. I wasn't touching him. I just knew of his whereabouts. And I fantasized about him most of the time. Touching him. Snaking my hands around his soft, supple, pliable body. Bending him over to fuck him and running my fingers across his fleshy ass. The way his cock would feel rigid in my mouth and the way my cock would feel inside of him. The idea of actually pushing my way into his life began to grow on me. What would happen if I did pick up the courage to walk up to his door and knock? He'd likely be terrified, pull away. But I thought maybe I'd take what was mine anyway.
cantcheatkarma60: Faris, I know it's been a month but I'm still thinking about you.
I wanted to extend the offer for a date.
We could go for dinner and a movie and you could stay with me so you don't have to make the trip home at night.
My favorite theater is playing Wings of Desire.
I thought you might like that.
Just give me the time of day, it's all I ask.
thri11s33k3r: drew i cant
ur my hero and ur not supposed to meet ur heroes let alone fuck one
cantcheatkarma60: Thank you for replying to me.
I think about you a lot.
thri11s33k3r: u scare me
cantcheatkarma60: Faris, let me see you.
Just once.
I want to prove to you that I’m not scary.
thri11s33k3r: i cant drew
ur u
ur the reason i am how i am and u having that power is freaking me out
cantcheatkarma60: If you let me see you I can prove that I don’t want to harm you.
thri11s33k3r: give me some time
ur scaring me
Faris started to consume me whole. The days I wouldn't follow him around I'd sit on my computer staring at his MySpace like I had been beforehand. I started to print off his pictures, cut anyone else out of them and pin them to my wall next to the one of his beautiful, lithe body. I baked his image into my brain and then some more.
He was posting less on MySpace and I sort of suspected it was because I could see him. He posted a blog post one day that seemed sort of vaguely directed at me but I couldn’t be too sure, talking about someone he met who he thought he was sort of into. Never specified whether it was a man or a woman. He was hiding in plain sight I supposed. I crossed my fingers that he didn’t have anyone else. If he did I’d consider killing them.
I sat waiting, very impatiently, for another month for Faris to get back to me. Summer began to shift to fall. The leaves turned bright reds and yellows, warm, the hot colors of the summer sun lingering in the trees. When I would walk down my street in Brooklyn they would crunch beneath my feet, and they would crunch beneath my car tires as I sat in wait for Faris almost every day. He still hadn’t come to notice me or my car. He was often oblivious with his earphones plugged into his iPod. His classes kept him busy; he was going out less. It seemed he’d started working too, maybe under the table, at a Persian restaurant. He was there late at night. I figured maybe he was in the kitchen because he’d step outside on smoke breaks on the regular and appeared to be pretty greasy and caked in dishwater. He seemed relatively vulnerable around then, except for when his coworkers came out to dispose of garbage.
I’d called off the tour by then, likely devastating many fans. But I had struggled to practice. My vocals were shaky and my focus shot, because I could only seem to focus on Faris. I would linger in coffee shops because I could hardly cook for myself and whenever I was home I was mostly sitting at my computer jerking it. My drummer called me one day asking if I was feeling any better and explained that he was concerned for me. I wasn’t concerned for myself so I blew him off. What I was doing was how I often had been, but I believe this was my first time getting this intense. People had told me I was incredibly intense over the years; my performances were often aggressive. It wasn’t unusual for me to dwell on lovers like this. I had with my previous boyfriend. So I kept on tracking Faris. I’d written out a schedule at this point and followed it to a t, his ignorance to my benefit.
thri11s33k3r: hi drew
cantcheatkarma60: Faris.
Thank you for talking to me again.
I can’t stop thinking about you.
thri11s33k3r: i think im ready to see u
same spot same time
cantcheatkarma60: Tonight?
thri11s33k3r: yeah
bring a pack of beer
do u drive
cantcheatkarma60: Yeah.
Thri11s33k3r: bring ur car 2
does ur car have a cd player
cantcheatkarma60: Also yeah.
thri11s33k3r: bring 2 or 3 albums
kiss me x3 by the cure
cantcheatkarma60: I don’t think I have that.
thri11s33k3r: ill bring my own then
transformer
kiss me cure
nico desertshore
u pick one
but condoms are on u
“Faris.”
“Drew.”
I felt my hands shake as I approached him. I had parked a few blocks away and the walk over was nerve wracking, terrified he’d leave me in the dust again. I worried he’d recognize my car so I borrowed a buddy’s for our outing. How long that farce would last I didn’t know.
My knuckles went white gripping the handle of the six pack of PBR. I handed it off to him in a stiff exchange. His elegant fingers briefly brushed mine and I held my breath. He’d been hanging out underneath the shade of the trees not too far off of the center of the square, eyes the only thing I could have noticed shining in the bleak city darkness. I could’ve noticed those eyes anywhere.
“Drive me to the waterfront and we can talk.”
We found ourselves underneath the Brooklyn Bridge, staring out at the water from a bench. Along the way we’d sat silently listening to Nico, and I was quaking in fear the entire time in understanding this could be the first and last time I got to be in his presence. It was cold on the water. It was black and endlessly deep and the yellowed lights of Brooklyn trembled on the river, shivering in the dead of night, like I was. The break of the gentle waves washed against the shore not too far down from us and for some reason felt less calming and more like a second, shaky heartbeat in my temples. We were alone in the all encompassing darkness.
“Drew?”
I turned to look at Faris. Up close he was shorter than me but tall. He’d freshly shaven, for this I figured, and his face looked baby soft. His hand clenched one of the beers I’d handed off to him. He was on two. I was on my third and certainly feeling it.
“Yeah?”
“I’m still scared of you,” he said.
“Why’s that?” I asked.
“Because I think you’re fucking hot and I’m scared of liking people. I’ve been turned down too many times and being turned down by you would hurt more than all of that.”
“Admittedly, I’m afraid of being turned down by you, too.”
“So we get each other? We both like each other and are scared of one another to the point we might not fuck.”
“I want to fuck you,” I said.
“I want to screw you, too. Bad. Can we go back to the car? It’s cold.”
The car was much warmer. A lot warmer with Faris in my arms. I’d parked it in a back alley, where shadows loomed and enveloped us in the blackness of night. We lay awkwardly in the back seat wrapped up in each other, both of us much too tall for the little 10-year-old beater; apparently this car had been through a lot. I had his head in my hand, stroking his hair with his face in my bare, tattooed, hairy chest. He took a moment to adjust himself, hands around my back, and I felt his lips on my nipple suddenly. I could feel his split tongue trace the piercing and he tugged with his teeth, eliciting a sharp moan from me.
“Christ, Faris…”
I’d never felt more turned on in my life, my cock straining so incredibly hard against my black jeans. He found his way to my stomach and hips, running his fingers across the surface piercings along my hipline, and then playing with the silver bead in my belly button. “How many piercings d’you have?” he asked.
“I’ve lost count,” I replied breathily. “Hips, stomach, cock, face, ears, collarbone, nipples. What about you? I can’t see much while you’re fully dressed.”
“Okay…” He groped for the sleeves of his hoodie and pulled it off, and then promptly yanked his band tee shirt off over his head with my help. This time his shirt featured Unwound; I figured he didn’t have much more than band merchandise as he always seemed to be wearing it. “What’s your favorite tattoo? On you?” I ran my hands down his beautiful ribs, peaking at the surface of his tatted skin and thin as I’d ever seen. It was wonderful; I could’ve crushed him like the monarch butterfly centered on his chest.
“Oh. Uh. I’ll show you.” I slipped off my jeans with difficulty on top of him and all. “It’s hard to see because of my hair but on my calf I have a whip wrapped up with a needle. Velvets.” I tried to pull up my leg but couldn’t and we had an uncomfortable laugh together as we shifted awkwardly. “My bandmate did it in 1989.”
“I know… I just thought I’d ask anyway,” Faris said.
“How much do you actually know about me?”
“Embarrassingly, a lot.”
I laughed a little. “I’m not afraid of it. I think it’s hot.”
“That’s good,” Faris said. He tucked his face into my neck and inhaled the cologne I was wearing. “You smell nice.”
“Thank you.” He nipped my skin, and hard at that. Another groan.
“How freaky d’you wanna get?” Faris asked.
“Very.”
“Okay.”
Within a couple of minutes Faris and I were nude together. His hot body on mine, warm skin on warm skin, was endlessly erotic. He felt soft on me, gentle and surprisingly calm. I could feel his heartbeat when I pressed my lips to his neck, and his eyes were half-lidded, pleased and content with the way I caressed his body. His cock was hard against mine, pierced like me and the perfect size, not too big and not too small. I got him to moan into my collarbone when I chafed my cock against his, even the delicate friction enough to make me leak. I gritted my teeth when his hands traced me, feeling me up like I'd wanted for months. He kissed me, gentle at first but then we moved to a deep, slow one, tongues ensnared, teeth gnashing and tugging in a desperate need for one another.
Faris wrapped his hands around my neck and gripped the graying hair at the nape. “I love our age gap,” he said under his breath.
“Why's that?” I replied into his ear.
“It's so sexy; you have power over me.”
“That's a good thing?”
“Yeah.”
“God, that's so nice to hear… I think I love you Faris.” I couldn't help it; it just came out when his lips brushed my ear.
“Drew… what the fuck.” Faris pulled away from me. He stumbled backward on the seat. “What the fuck is your problem?” My heart sank.
“What problem?”
“We barely know each other.”
“We know each other more than we think we do,” I said quietly.
“Whaddaya mean by that?”
“When's my birthday?”
“November 3rd, 1960.”
“There you go. I never told you that.”
“Jesus… I have to go, Drew. Please bring me home.”
“So we’re not fucking?” I started to feel an overwhelming anger rise in my throat. Not again. Not this fucking time.
“I can’t get into a serious relationship with someone twice my age who I literally revered as a god all my teenage years. As much as I would've liked that as a kid, I'm terrified of it now.”
“We're not fucking?” I asked again. My hands tensed. I got onto my knees. If someone had walked past the alley they could've seen my bare ass.
“No. I'm sorry.” The urge overwhelmed me. It was a flash, and so sudden. I dove at him. I wrapped my hands around his throat. He started kicking at me but my drunken weight held his skinny frame down with ease.
“KK–CHK– CCHHH-” Faris tried to scream but could only get gurgling chokes out. His spittle spattered my face as I throttled him. His hands battered my shoulders. There wasn't any moving me. The fists on my body and feet on my legs gave way, tensing and then finally losing their grip, after he couldn't fight back. His throat trembled violently. He wheezed. Faris went limp. He’d lost consciousness.
I noticed, after he'd weakened and his body gave in, that I'd blown my load. Full straight orgasm while I strangled him. Cum glistened all over Faris’ body. I hadn't given any thought to it before. This wasn't in the plans. But I suppose I had to do something about it now. I immediately went to work. It was automatic, as if I had experience doing it. I grabbed his Unwound shirt and ripped a strip off, stuffing it into his slack mouth. My drunken head spun. We’d left the CD to run. Robert Smith sang Just Like Heaven. I looked at the young man’s body. My cum leaked off his stomach now, staining the seat. Dripping. Face jammed up around the makeshift gag. In my stranglehold a deep purple bruise had set in around his neck. He was spread-eagled and prone and available to me. He couldn’t say no. He couldn’t say anything. And I thought, maybe, just maybe, this was some kind of heaven…
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