Carpe Diem
folder
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
11
Views:
3,097
Reviews:
12
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
11
Views:
3,097
Reviews:
12
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
A Walk of Reflection
A/N: Umm. . . this chapter gets a bit violent towards the end. As in rape. If that isn't your thing, then do not read it. Also, I am really very sorry for how the last half of this chapter turned out. I did not intend for that to happen, it just did. And I mean that. And while I'm at it I'll dedicate this chapter to Quentin Compson. (If you've ever read The Sound and the Fury you'll know why.) And also, any and all reviews are appreciated.
A Walk of Reflection
He sat slumped in the chair behind the counter. His face pointing at the floor. His hair obscuring his face from outside observers. He tried to think of nothing, to just allow his mind to rest and recuperate. Why had he succumbed to temptation? He had said he should wait. He had wanted to wait. For that special moment, for when he was sure, for love. Did that make what he felt. . . love? Was he in love with this man? Could what they had reasonably be called love?
His boss came over. Told him that maybe he should take the day off. But why? Because he was scaring the customers away with the way he was acting, and it would be much simpler, and more profitable, if he were to deal with the customers himself. That, and it looked to him like what Jim needed was some time off. A break, if he would. Jim could not deny the man his request.
He looked downward as he walked, eyes fixated on the concrete directly in front of him. If he bumped into anyone, he hardly noticed, if at all. His mind was elsewhere and everywhere and nowhere all at once. Just a glance; a look. That was all it had taken. Was he really that easy? A slut? Whore? He cringed at the thought.
The woman in the seat next to him held her child. The child was crying, wailing, quite loudly. Wait. . . when had he gotten on the bus? Oh, right. He stared out the window, his eyes refusing to focus on any one thing in particular. A slightly glazed look to them. Oh, had the woman said something? He wasn't sure. Should he say something? Never mind. She was just getting up. Walking away down the aisle to the door and getting smaller all the way she went. The man in the seat behind him began a fit of coughing. Spluttering violently into his clenched fist.
He had no idea where he was, but, when he felt the urge, he got off at the next stop. The buildings and the cars and the people all looked disfamiliar. But he didn't pay attention to that. Just kept on walking aimlessly and pointlessly. And trying to get his mind to stop working, if only for the one moment. But all those years of training his thoughts, that an idle mind was the devil's workshop, came back to haunt him. The cogs kept turning and turning and spitting out bile and hatred and self-loathing. He was truly a pessimist. Or a realist. Was there even a difference between the two?
The sun was setting and the landscape darkening and he still had no idea where he was. Every now and then a hint of where he was, a fleeting thought of recognition, floated through his mind. An apartment building. A store. A bench. Each carried the forethought of recognizance. But his thoughts continually interrupted each other such that it was impossible for him to make any sense of what was going on up there. He was hopelessly lost. He found himself, of a sudden, in an alleyway. The shadows creeped and crawled along the walls and the ground in criss-cross patterns. The moon, which had risen, unnoticed, during his reverie, was obscured from view by the high walls of the surrounding buildings.
He really did need to keep better track of himself.
A sound, a clatter, from behind startled him. He half-turned his head in the direction of the aural disturbance when he heard, coming from the other direction, the rapid pitter patter of running footsteps approaching. Something, a hard something—a fist maybe?—hit him in the stomach. He reeled and stumbled and doubled over in pain with his arms clinging to his sides he could feel the blood rushing throughout his body the adrenaline flowing freely but his body was unable to move or to act of his own will
look at the pretty little faggot why dont you
yes yes hell do nicely wont he
he couldnt speak couldnt think couldnt act he could only stay there and listen as the two went on
hmm i wonder which of us should go first eh
maybe we should try together sound like fun
ooh yes fun indeed
you hear that faggot were gonna make you ours
they approached him slowly menacingly their forms obfuscated by the shadows so they looked like demons straight from the pits of hell and becoming more and more sinister as they got closer and closer before he knew it they were groping feeling him most of their attention focused on the area around his pants he could feel a tightening deep within one of them worked at removing his pants
he wanted very much to scream to shout to make some sort of noise but his vocal cords had betrayed him and remained silent even as his attackers his demons unzipped themselves and moved him about so that he was positioned to their liking which meant he could no longer see one of them
he felt something pressing against himself a hard pulsing throbbing something that welled up a deep primal fear in the pit of his stomach he felt the thing enter and his voice finally returned with a scream an utterance from the depths of his fear and desperation that flung itself against the walls
ooh i like it when they scream like that dont you
you know i do
feels used if you ask me
is our little pet a whore
feels like it to me why dont you see for yourself
dont mind if i do
he felt another enter him and he redoubled his screaming his throat was beginning to hurt from the strain but there were two inside him and he could feel himself stretching and tearing and bleeding and every little thing all over seemed to hurt and cause even more pain his face contorted and grimaced as they began to move he could feel them feel his blood feel things he didnt want and the one thing he wished was for his mind to just stop for once
what the hell get away from him
he heard the cock of a gun and the panicked voices he felt them withdraw and stumble and fumble about as they ran away footsteps all around him were footsteps away from and to
are you okay jim are you okay
the new voice shook him and he looked into his eyes and he thought just for a moment he thought he saw the face of the man he loved a comforting sight that almost made him smile before his vision failed him and he passed out.
A Walk of Reflection
He sat slumped in the chair behind the counter. His face pointing at the floor. His hair obscuring his face from outside observers. He tried to think of nothing, to just allow his mind to rest and recuperate. Why had he succumbed to temptation? He had said he should wait. He had wanted to wait. For that special moment, for when he was sure, for love. Did that make what he felt. . . love? Was he in love with this man? Could what they had reasonably be called love?
His boss came over. Told him that maybe he should take the day off. But why? Because he was scaring the customers away with the way he was acting, and it would be much simpler, and more profitable, if he were to deal with the customers himself. That, and it looked to him like what Jim needed was some time off. A break, if he would. Jim could not deny the man his request.
He looked downward as he walked, eyes fixated on the concrete directly in front of him. If he bumped into anyone, he hardly noticed, if at all. His mind was elsewhere and everywhere and nowhere all at once. Just a glance; a look. That was all it had taken. Was he really that easy? A slut? Whore? He cringed at the thought.
The woman in the seat next to him held her child. The child was crying, wailing, quite loudly. Wait. . . when had he gotten on the bus? Oh, right. He stared out the window, his eyes refusing to focus on any one thing in particular. A slightly glazed look to them. Oh, had the woman said something? He wasn't sure. Should he say something? Never mind. She was just getting up. Walking away down the aisle to the door and getting smaller all the way she went. The man in the seat behind him began a fit of coughing. Spluttering violently into his clenched fist.
He had no idea where he was, but, when he felt the urge, he got off at the next stop. The buildings and the cars and the people all looked disfamiliar. But he didn't pay attention to that. Just kept on walking aimlessly and pointlessly. And trying to get his mind to stop working, if only for the one moment. But all those years of training his thoughts, that an idle mind was the devil's workshop, came back to haunt him. The cogs kept turning and turning and spitting out bile and hatred and self-loathing. He was truly a pessimist. Or a realist. Was there even a difference between the two?
The sun was setting and the landscape darkening and he still had no idea where he was. Every now and then a hint of where he was, a fleeting thought of recognition, floated through his mind. An apartment building. A store. A bench. Each carried the forethought of recognizance. But his thoughts continually interrupted each other such that it was impossible for him to make any sense of what was going on up there. He was hopelessly lost. He found himself, of a sudden, in an alleyway. The shadows creeped and crawled along the walls and the ground in criss-cross patterns. The moon, which had risen, unnoticed, during his reverie, was obscured from view by the high walls of the surrounding buildings.
He really did need to keep better track of himself.
A sound, a clatter, from behind startled him. He half-turned his head in the direction of the aural disturbance when he heard, coming from the other direction, the rapid pitter patter of running footsteps approaching. Something, a hard something—a fist maybe?—hit him in the stomach. He reeled and stumbled and doubled over in pain with his arms clinging to his sides he could feel the blood rushing throughout his body the adrenaline flowing freely but his body was unable to move or to act of his own will
look at the pretty little faggot why dont you
yes yes hell do nicely wont he
he couldnt speak couldnt think couldnt act he could only stay there and listen as the two went on
hmm i wonder which of us should go first eh
maybe we should try together sound like fun
ooh yes fun indeed
you hear that faggot were gonna make you ours
they approached him slowly menacingly their forms obfuscated by the shadows so they looked like demons straight from the pits of hell and becoming more and more sinister as they got closer and closer before he knew it they were groping feeling him most of their attention focused on the area around his pants he could feel a tightening deep within one of them worked at removing his pants
he wanted very much to scream to shout to make some sort of noise but his vocal cords had betrayed him and remained silent even as his attackers his demons unzipped themselves and moved him about so that he was positioned to their liking which meant he could no longer see one of them
he felt something pressing against himself a hard pulsing throbbing something that welled up a deep primal fear in the pit of his stomach he felt the thing enter and his voice finally returned with a scream an utterance from the depths of his fear and desperation that flung itself against the walls
ooh i like it when they scream like that dont you
you know i do
feels used if you ask me
is our little pet a whore
feels like it to me why dont you see for yourself
dont mind if i do
he felt another enter him and he redoubled his screaming his throat was beginning to hurt from the strain but there were two inside him and he could feel himself stretching and tearing and bleeding and every little thing all over seemed to hurt and cause even more pain his face contorted and grimaced as they began to move he could feel them feel his blood feel things he didnt want and the one thing he wished was for his mind to just stop for once
what the hell get away from him
he heard the cock of a gun and the panicked voices he felt them withdraw and stumble and fumble about as they ran away footsteps all around him were footsteps away from and to
are you okay jim are you okay
the new voice shook him and he looked into his eyes and he thought just for a moment he thought he saw the face of the man he loved a comforting sight that almost made him smile before his vision failed him and he passed out.