he sewed his eyes shut because he is afraid
to see
he tries to tell me what I put inside of me
he’s got the answers to ease my curiosity
he dreamed up a God and called it Christianity
Shutting his ears to the music, Adam leans against the wall and glares out over a dance floor crammed with writhing beautiful bodies. Bass rhythm crawls up his spine, carried through concrete and steel to nest along with the ravenous hunger in his belly. Three weeks since he walked away from Whedon’s set, since he walked away from lying and cheating, from the best sex he’s ever had, and here he is, dredging through the underbelly of LA looking for something to scratch the itch.
He’s tried leaving it behind, but the longer he’s left it, the worse it’s gotten, settled deep inside where nothing can touch. It’s with him every second, and he’s known something has to give since it was James’ face he saw every time he fucked his wife, when he started hiding out in the shower and jerking off while she slept. And when he found his finger hovering over the dial and so damn close to calling James up that he was already hard by the time he hung up.
your God is dead and no one cares
if there is a hell I will see you there
He gets the usual come on’s from tweaked out pretty boys trawling for something tall, dark and muscle-bound, but that ain’t what he’s here for. He’s not looking for a substitute, he’s looking for revenge, absolution, something that’ll get all this crap out of his system and let him get back to normality. Or what passes for it in LA.
Drawing a blank on the dance floor, he heads for the back room. Red and blue light kills everything but scent and sound and touch. Disembodied torsos heave against each other, the slap of anonymous flesh and rank stench of sweat and sex turning the scene into something from Goya’s nightmares.
He pushes through, ignoring intimate gropings and whispered promises, not knowing exactly what he’s looking for, but knowing he’ll find it. In this world packed with willing strangers, the right man is here somewhere.
he flexed his muscles to keep his flock
of sheep in line
he made a virus that would kill off all the swine
his perfect kingdom of killing, suffering and pain
demands devotion, atrocities done in his name
Then he sees him. Or the back of him. Leaning, long lines on show, dark head lowered against the wall, legs spread, naked, waiting. Sweat makes his skin glow, back luminous under the slowly rotating lights. There’s a small crowd gathered ‘round him watching the show as pale buttocks flex and clench, fucking forwards and back between faceless mouth and hard insistent hand.
Adam pushes past the gawpers and moves in closer, not believing what he’s seeing. He gets shoved for his trouble and registers voices whispering behind him.
“Can’t be.”
“Fucking is. Always knew he was queer.”
“Yeah, but…”
“Fuck that. Look at the body on the guy.”
your God is dead and no one cares
drowning in his own hypocrisy
And looking’s all they’re doing. Adam knows better. Loosening his pants, he steps forward and plasters himself to that sleek slick back. Always thought there’d be blood, a fight to the death, but this’ll do. Seeing his nemesis whored out to all comers is better than any revenge he coulda cooked up himself.
He’s lubed and rubbered before he bothers to speak, lets his mouth do his talking for him before times. Biting kisses up and down a strong neck that curves and arches away from him, a supplicant in need of punishment and Adam’s just the guy to give it.
“Always knew you’d be tight,” he gasps as he pushes inside, and damn near laughs as muscles clamp around him in shock. “Oh, that’s good. Keep that up and I’ll be nominating you for asshole of the fucking decade.”
A hand sweeps round, fisted and angry. Adam catches it and shoves it further up a back arching to escape. “Don’t reckon so,” he says, lips moving and tasting sweat salt and fear. “See, there you were, and here I was and I thought, nah, Dave wouldn’t stoop to this? Wants his happies he’d just ask James to fuck him. But you wouldn’t do that, would you. Not the great fucking Boreanaz.”
He snaps his hips forward and grins when Dave bucks back against him, a groan forced out between lips bitten bloody by lust. “Get it now, don’t I. Can’t let him have you, make you something less. But it’s what you’re wanting, fucking long and hard. Taken here with everyone watching, knowing what you really are.”
Dave’s whimpering with every slam of Adam’s hips and it’s gotta be hurting cos Adam sure as hell ain’t taking him easy. “Just a cheap fucking whore,” Adam whispers, tugging away that faceless man crouched between Dave’s legs. He don’t want no help, wants to take Dave the way he wants to. Wants to fuck out his anger and frustration and yeah, fucking incandescent rage at being played for an idiot. Wants to purge images of James grinning at him round Dave’s cock, the last time he’s seen them, just before he walked away and didn’t dare look back.
Gripping hard flesh in his fist, Adam does the gentlemanly thing, jerking Dave off with strong fast strokes. Don’t take long before Dave’s surfing the edge, head back, mouth open, breath sawing in and out of lungs straining for air. Adam lets him, doesn’t wanna hold him on the edge. It’s not why he’s here.
Then Dave comes, hot jets shooting out over Adam’s hand, his ass spasming enough to make Adam fight back a moan, before he slumps forward, limp and wrung out. And yeah, this is what Adam’s been waiting for.
Stripping off the rubber, he finishes himself off, covering Dave’s back in hatred and revenge, feeling it drain from his body with every painful liberating spurt. And when he’s done, he leans in and delivers the final blow. “Nice,” he says, “But honestly, I’ve had better,” and then turns and walks away on his own terms.
and if there is a hell I will see you there
burning with your God in humility
will you die for this?
DONE