Through Heaven and Hell With You

Authors Note: This is the story of my characters Luka and Noah. The story was inspired by my psychology assignment and I hope I made no mistakes but if I did, I’m very sorry. I hope you’ll enjoy it and don’t forget to review and tell me what you think. This is my first shot at something original.

This story is written out of Luka’s POW. At first he’s talking to someone but it shifts to past tense and third person in the middle only to shift back to Luka talking to us. You’ll see what I mean. Just though I’d warn you about this, so you won’t get surprised.


Through heaven and hell with you

”I hate you!”

Your face is bright red. Your jaws are clenched and just a second ago I could hear your teeth glide against each other in a sickening manner. Hot, tears are running down your cheeks and they burn my skin as I press your face into the crook of my neck. You fight me with everything you’ve got but I’m stronger than you and I press you to the floor, keeping you trapped between the heat of my body and the coolness of the floorboards. I press your wrists into the floor and you writhe beneath me, trying to escape.

“Let me go! Right now! Do you hear me?! Just let me the fuck go! I hate you, I hate you! I fucking hate you, do you understand?!”

Your words hurt me more than you know and I press my face into the crook of your neck now, trying to block out the hate that radiates from your voice. You don’t mean that. I know you don’t mean it. You say that all the time and I know it’s not true. You told me it isn’t and I believe you. It still hurt me though. I don’t tell you that anymore but it does.

Your teeth sink into my shoulder, drawing blood instantly, not letting go immediately. Your jaws clench around the wound and a scream dies in my throat. I clench my jaws in response and bury my face deeper into you, inhaling your scent, trying to escape from the pain by focusing on the way your smell.

After a minute or two, you let go and I feel the heat of my blood, trickling down my shoulder until it reaches a point where our chests meet. When you feel my blood on you, soaking through your thin shirt, coming in contact with your own skin, you start writhing even more violently, throwing me off you, to the side.

You get up quickly and take a few steps back. You look at me, hate and disgust melting into a hurtful mask on your face as your eyes rake over my defeated body. You wipe my blood from your lips and it looks like you’re about to vomit from the mere taste of me. I can’t look at you anymore. I have to protect myself from your hate so I avert my eyes. I rest my chin on my knees and don’t look up, not even when you say those words that hurt me even more than the ones you uttered just a few moments ago.

“Well, I’m off to get my brains fucked out. Heaven knows I wouldn’t be able to get that from you.”

The sound of violent slaps against the floorboards as you walk toward the door without socks. The door opens and I’m hit with the rush of cool air and the nauseating smell of the corridor outside our apartment. The door slams violently after your departure.

At times like these, I feel so little. I just want to go back to when I was still a little boy who hid behind his mother whenever a stranger tried to look at him. Back to my mothers loving arms. Then back to loving arms. Your loving arms.

I’ve learned not to cry when you leave me like this. It happens far too often. It’s not that I’ve grown accustomed to it because I never could. It hurts more and more every time. I feel like dying every time you do this to me. I just know that crying won’t help me. Maybe I don’t have any more tears. At least not for this sort of thing.

I don’t know how much time passes before I get up off the floor and start cleaning the apartment. I’m on autopilot as I reach down and pick up the shards of broken glass from the floor and I don’t even wince when I cut my hands on them. There’s a sticky mess of fruit salad mingled with glimmering pieces of glass beside the kitchen table. This is where it all began today.

Noah walked into the kitchen, water dripping onto that tantalizingly smooth, white skin that covered his shoulders. In one hand he was holding a light green shirt, made of thin cotton. In his other hand, he was holding a towel, rubbing it against his beautiful, blonde locks. He smiled as he entered and saw Luka, bent over whatever he was making for dessert. He draped the towel over a chair and snuck up behind the other boy, his arms circling Luka’s waist. Slowly he undid the loose braid that ran down his boyfriends back and he ran his fingers through the masses of black, silky hair.

Luka turned around in his arms and gave him a soft smile while he caressed Noah’s wet locks out of his face. The boy always reminded him of an angel with his childishly round cheeks and smooth, baby skin. His hair was like a halo of unruly, golden locks around his head. He was slender and beautiful. In his baby pictures, he looked like a little girl. Just like a little cherub.
All that was missing were the blue eyes. Luka thought that the deep, brown eyes suited him much better though. He loved when they looked like this. Seeing only him and no one else. They were big and the shone with love for him.

Luka brought the other boy closer to him, feeling the heat radiating off his body, making him a little dizzy. Their lips collided in a brief kiss before Luka drew back and looked into Noah’s eyes as if asking for permission. Noah smiled and slid his arms around his neck, drawing them even closer together.

Luka pressed their lips together again and the kiss rapidly became more and more intense. He heard Noah sigh into the kiss with pleasure and his lips were so warm against his own. They tasted intoxicating. Not like anything he’d ever tasted before and he couldn’t grow tired of it if he tried. This was a taste that was Noah’s own. As he moved down to kiss his neck, he heard Noah moan softly. The blonde was giving himself over completely to him and that drove Luka mad with love and want for his blonde angel.

“Luka…”

His name rolled off Noah’s lips like a prayer and Luka shivered with repressed pleasure. He kept kissing and licking at the other boy’s neck, driving them both toward higher sensual pleasure. It was truly heaven on earth, holding onto Noah like this, hearing all those luscious sounds he was making. Knowing that this was all for him and no one else. Noah’s hands were playing with his hair, tugging playfully then caressing tenderly. His own fingers were exploring the soft skin on Noah’s back, slowly making their way up his neck and into those unruly locks of his.

“I love you, Luka. I love you.”

Noah was breathless with the kisses they shared and he was clinging to Luka desperately. Luka’s hands were rubbing indolent circles into his back as they slowly regained their composure. After a while they broke apart and Noah put his shirt on while Luka finished the dessert. They didn’t say anything to each other. Noah sat down on a chair and watched Luka intently.

“What are we having for dessert then?” he asked as Luka turned around, now finished with his work.

“Fruit salad. Here you go.” He said with a smile as he placed a bowl before his boyfriend. He sat down on the chair opposite of him and started eating his own salad.

Noah was quite. The air around him changed and Luka swallowed hard and suddenly his appetite was gone. Even before he lifted his gaze, he knew that the Noah he loved was gone now. Instead, he would find an empty look on the angelic face.

Right he was. As he lifted his eyes, he was met with the empty look. Noah’s face just an abandoned mask, cold and void of all the vitality, mirth and love that usually graced his features. His usually warm brown eyes looked dead and hollow. His hands were in clasped in his hands and he sat rigidly in his chair. He had yet to touch his fruit salad. Luka was afraid to ask but he did anyway:

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t like bananas.”

That was not true. Luka knew that. Just the day before, Noah had told him to go to the store and buy some bananas. He loved bananas. What he meant was perhaps, that he didn’t want them now. Luka didn’t comment on this. He turned his eyes down and looked at his own bananas, covered in honey and vanilla cream. They looked horribly distasteful now and he had to put some effort into not vomiting.

“Why did you put bananas in my dessert when you know I don’t like them?”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am. Please forgive me, okay? I’ll make you a new one. Without bananas.”

“You don’t have to. It’s not even about the bananas!”

Noah’s eyes were boring holes into Luka and he didn’t dare look up. He didn’t want to see those beautiful eyes stained with detest.

“You don’t know me, Luka. That’s what this is about. You don’t even try!”

Noah pushed his chair back violently and griped the edges of the table, his knuckles whitening with his effort.

“Noah, please. You know that’s not true. Just please, forgive me and let me make it up to you.”

Luka reached out his hand and caressed Noah’s white knuckles, trying to make the bad-one go away, trying to coax his loving, sweet Noah back. He knew his attempts were futile when Noah shook his hand off of his own.

“No, I don’t want any dessert anymore. I think I’ll just go out now.”

He made to leave but Luka got up and threw himself over the table, knocking the bowls of fruit salad to the floor. The bowls shattered into glittering pieces and the salad was ruined. He succeeded though. He had gotten hold of Noah’s wrist and he climbed quickly over the table to wrap his arms around the other boy.

“No! Noah, please don’t go! Please! You can’t!”

Luka felt so dirty and tainted as he pressed his mouth against Noah’s neck, trying to keep him from leaving. He couldn’t bear the thought of Noah going off, god knows where. It was probably to have sex with someone else. He couldn’t take that. He would die even more. He had to stop him.

“Let go of me! You are hurting me!”

Noah was trying to escape from his arms and he knew that he was probably using more force than necessary to keep the blond in his embrace. It was hurting him, having been reduced to this, to keep Noah with force by his side. He didn’t care. He couldn’t afford to care. He would lose Noah to those others if he did.

“I hate you!”

When I’m finally done with cleaning the kitchen, I walk to the bathroom and undress, stepping into the shower. I can still smell Noah’s soap in the air, the sweet, musky scent of his shampoo. My hands travel along the shower walls and I let the hot water wash away, wishing it’d take me away too. I wash my body with his soap and his shampoo. I know I’m not allowed to but can this night get any worse? I’m willing to take a chance. This is the only way I’ll get to experience this scent tonight anyway.

The first times I followed him when he left like this. It didn’t do me any good. I saw him going off to bars where hungry, detestable men touched him and he let them. I saw him follow them to their cars, I saw him let them kiss him. Then they drove off and I was left there, alone and shocked at seeing the one I loved more than anything, throw my love away for these scumbags. The first time, I confronted him the next morning when he came home, smelling of alcohol, blood, sweat and something I didn’t want to know. Since then he hadn’t even tried to hide his affairs from me.

I decided to leave him. This was not worth it. I packed my bags and put the in my car and I just left. I drove around for six hours. When the first lights of a new day started to show at the horizon, I found myself in front of our door again. When I entered our apartment, he was sitting in a corner, clutching a broken frame. He was sobbing violently. When he saw me in the door, he rushed forward and flung himself at me, burying his face in the crook of my neck. I let him, feeling his hot tears against the side of my neck.

“Why did you leave me? I can’t live without you, don’t you know that? I need you!”

I believed him. I unpacked my bags and we made love. He was more clingy and desperate than ever and it drove me mad with love, lust and need for him. Only later, when he was already asleep at my side, his fingers clutching at my hair, like a child, did it accrue to me that he never actually apologized.

He never does. He hadn’t apologized once since this whole thing started. By now, I don’t expect he will ever do that. I know better than to dream about things that will never be.

I dry myself off and make my way to our bedroom. It hurts to be in here, where we are so happy together, where he’s only mine. I creep into bed and hug his pillow, drowning myself in his scent as I slowly fall asleep.

I wake up to soft fingers caressing me. I don’t open my eyes immediately. The fingers push my hair away from my forehead and they caress my lips gently. I know who they belong to despite the foreign smell that comes from them. I twist my head, away from those fingers that cause me so much pleasure and pain at the same time. My eyes are still closed but he knows I’m awake now. I feel his lips against mine, pressing down gently, then with more force. I taste another mans semen from his sweet lips and I feel like throwing up. I twist my head to the side again, opening my eyes slowly.

He has a mixed look in his eyes. Two feelings chasing each other. In one moment there’s the coldness and detest then it is gone in the next and there’s desire and desperate need instead. His fingers are twined in my hair and he pulls at it so much that my vision clouds with tears. Then he caresses me with clumsy, urgent moves. I turn away whenever he tries to kiss me, that’s how much I can resist him. His touching I can bear but not him kissing me. He’s onto me though. He takes my face into both of his hands and he holds my face in place as he kisses me with force. His tongue forces its way into my mouth so I can taste more of whoever he just let fuck him. The tears are now running down my cheeks and I’m lax in his arms. His kisses are urgent, clumsy and desperate.

When he’s finished abusing me, he slumps down, his head resting on my chest as he sits of the floor next to the bed. His fingers are still holding onto my hair in a painful manner but it’s not as painful now as it was before. I can’t stop myself from lifting my hands and letting my fingers get lost in his curls.

He smells bad. He smells like dirty sex, another man’s sperm, alcohol and just all things nauseating. There’s not a trace of his own scent. Not the musky shampoo, he put so much time in washing his hair with, not his soap, not the scent of his skin, nothing. Just the repulsive smell of what he has just done.

He lifts his face to look at me. His eyes are boring into me and I’m sucked in. There’s a bruise on his left cheek and I find myself tracing it with my fingers. He doesn’t even flinch. His lips are parted slightly, swollen from having kissed me, swollen from having done what he’s done.

I sit up and he does the same on the floor. He looks miserable, sitting there, a forlorn look in his big, brown eyes. I get out of bed and pick him up. He weighs so little in my arms and he hides his face in the crook of my neck. I can feel his breath against the wound he’s inflicted on my shoulder just a few hours ago. I know he can see it but he doesn’t say a word. Not that I’d expected him to.

I take him to the bathroom and undress him there, gently as he watches me intently. I swallow the accusations and the bad words and thoughts that circle around in my head as I see the bruises on his soft skin. He’s still looking at me, daring me to say something. I keep my eyes carefully away from his. I remove his underwear and I struggle to keep my face straight as I see the blood and semen in there. The blood is still fresh so I make him bend over and I use the boxers to wipe his bleeding hole. I swallow as I see the blood and semen still leaking from it then I turn around and throw the boxers into the laundry basket.

Without looking at him once, I run some water in the bathtub and pour some of his favourite foam bath in it. I feel the water with my hands and make it foam even more. When there’s enough water in the tub, I lift him in my arms again and put him in it gently. Then I start washing his bruised body. I find it very unsettling that he’s still staring at me, as if waiting for me to say something or to leave him there. I do neither. I wash his hair, using his own shampoo, rubbing it in gently, cleansing him of his bad deeds. Finally, I make him stand up and turn around, now facing his naked butt. I make him bend over again as I inspect his hole. No bleeding. It’s red and doesn’t look like normal but there’s no bleeding. I wash it gently anyway and I hear him gasp softly. If it’s from pain or pleasure, I don’t know and I don’t want to know either.

Finally, I dry him off with a fresh towel. He clings to me like a child and I hug him close as I dry his back. I can feel his hot breath on my neck, his lips so close to my skin, I can almost feel them on me. I wrap him in the towel and pick him up once more then I take him to our bedroom. I put him on the bed and find him a pair of clean boxers and pyjamas then I dress him. I use the towel to dry his hair a little more then I take a brush and brush it gently, watching it get drier by the moment. When I’m finished I push him down on the bed and tuck him in, then I move to my side of the bed and turn my back to him. I don’t even close my eyes as we lay there in silence for what seems like a really long time.

“Please hold me.”

I’m surprised he’s talking to me. I knew he wasn’t asleep because I’ve been listening to his breathing enough to know when he is. I turn around and he moves closer, until our bodies collide. He puts his hands on my chest and I wrap my arm around him protectively, inhaling his scent. It’s him again. His own scent. His shampoo, his soap and him, just him. But beyond all that, I can still smell that bad smell and I hold my breath for a few moments.

“Promise me you won’t ever leave me, Luka. I need you. You know I need you.”

My hold on him tightens and I fight my own tears as I nod in a resigned sort of way. I know I’ll never leave him. He’s my everything. He’s mine. Even on nights like this he’s still mine and I can’t let him go and he knows this. I hate what he does to me and I want to get out but I can’t. When he says these things I get more and more convinced that I will never leave him. Slowly, all my defences get crushed and all the doors close around me and I know there’s no way out. I’m trapped and while it hurts me and takes something from me that I know I’ll never get back, I still can’t get enough and I can’t let go.

“I promise.”

The End

Authors Note: Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. Please review and let me know what you think.