Until I Fade

by Kol Anderson

  Jesse used the key to enter his home and stopped at the threshold.

  No sounds.

  He closed the door, as noiselessly as possible. It was past midnight by the time he came back. Before heading to his own room he walked up to his mother's. The door was ajar, as usual but his mother looked like she was fast asleep. He was about to turn and walk away when she called out to him.

  "Jesse? Is that you?"

  "Mom, you're supposed to be asleep by now. It's really late."

  "I couldn't sleep," she said, propping herself up on her bed. Jesse walked up to her and leaned in to kiss her cheek.

  "How are you feeling, mom?"

  "I'm fine."

  Jesse looked at her pale cheeks. "You don't look fine."

  "I said I'm fine. Now quit your nagging and come sit," she patted the empty space next to her.

  Jesse grinned, and climbed the bed. "I have to nag, or you won't stop doing your mommy thing."

  "What mommy thing?" his mother said, sadness in her eyes. "I wish I could do at least some mommy things. This disease has taken everything else away from me, baby."

  She wasn't wrong, Jesse thought helplessly as he curled up right next to her, wanting to be close. The disease had taken away her youth, most of her friends and family. Even her beauty and just about everything she had grown accustomed to all her life. She had melanoma, some kind of skin cancer. The doctors were always suggesting some kind of treatment, but it wasn't the first time his mother was battling it. She had gone into remission the last time, and they had thought the worst was over, until during a regular checkup they caught the cancer in its early stages. His father had died when he was still young, and Jesse was used to taking care of her but the news still hit him hard. The only reason he wasn't allowing himself to break down was because he knew how much she needed to feel his strength. He didn't want to do a half-assed job of it.

  "Mom," Jesse said, getting hold of her hand. "You've beat this thing before. You can beat it now. I know you. You're not a quitter."

  "I'm tired."

  "Don't say that, mom! Please, don't say that."

  "I'm sorry, baby. I don't mean to make you sad."

  "I'm not sad," Jesse said. "I just don't want you talking that way."

  "Fine," she said. "We can talk about something else, then."

  "Sure."

  "How's Matt?"

  Jesse fell silent. His mother had always been inquisitive about his boyfriends. She always worried about him. Jesse had told her nothing about what had happened, but he didn't know what to tell her now. "He's fine, mom."

  "When were you going to tell me you guys were fighting again?"

  Jesse shot up in bed. "Who told you?"

  "Matt," she said, calmly. "He called here, yesterday. Wanted to know how you were."

  "What did you tell him?"

  "I told him what I knew. That you've been busy past few days with work. Told him you were taking extra shifts."

  "Yes," Jesse said, remembering that extra shifts were always his excuse for when he wanted to stay out with Matt for longer than usual at the club, and didn't want her to worry. "That's right."

  "It's one of those fights again, isn't it? Where you hang up on each other for a while and then you kiss and make up again?"

  "Mom," Jesse didn't want to lie to her. But he also didn't want her hating Matt for some reason. "It's not like those previous times."

  "Jesse?" his mother sounded worried. "Is everything okay?"

  Jesse could have cried then, but he stopped himself. His mother needed courage not an account of his silly emotional baggage. "I'm fine, mom. And when I find a new guy to show off in front of Matt, I'll be better," he said, and plastered a grin on his face for her benefit.

  His mother smiled, the first time in weeks. "I'm glad, baby."

  Jesse curled up next to her again, wanting to feel something other than the pain from Noah's session.

  * * * *

  "You need to relax," Noah said.

  "Please," Jesse could barely form the words. The pain was already more than he was expecting, and it had stopped becoming fun a long time back. The sweat was casting a burning haze over his eyes that he constantly kept trying to blink away. "Can we please stop?"

  "Are you going to disappoint me again?" Noah said, coming closer to him on the St. Andrew's cross, and the leather tails of the flogger in his hand trailed over the welts on Jesse's back. Jesse squirmed, anticipating another hit but Noah was only teasing. "You've been doing that a lot lately."

  Jesse swallowed, knowing he couldn't. Didn't want to. That the last thing he wanted was to disappoint anyone.

  "Tell me," Noah said. "Do you want me to stop?"

  "No," Jesse said, sobbing. "Keep going."

  "Good boy," Noah said, and for a minute it all seemed worth it, everything he had been through, it was for a reason. But when the flogger landed on his back again, and tears started stinging his eyes, he was no longer sure. He didn't even know what he was doing anymore. But he said nothing, did nothing to stop Noah because deep down he recognized his own need for this. Knew, that a part of him wanted it. The flogger landed on his bare skin again and brought him to a point where he could hardly breathe. "Please sir, could you…could you please give me a second?"

  Noah wasn't about to wait. The leather landed hard on his back again and Jesse cried out louder from the pain this time. A few more hits and Noah decided to give him some rest. Two seconds later, Jesse felt Noah's erection pressing into him. But it did nothing for him. The pain had gone so past the delicious stage that he didn't even think he could get it up. When Noah started pushing in it was all pain and sting from the toy-play from before, and Jesse could only hope he could keep himself awake long enough for this to be over.

  All he could feel was exhaustion and torture, and he should have hated Noah for that. Should have gone and found someone else. But a part of him wanted it this bad, wanted it to hurt because he felt this disturbing need to suffer. Perhaps, it was because he needed to distract his mind from the pain in his heart, the one that Matt left him with because Matt didn't need him anymore, didn't want him. That hurt so bad that the sting of Noah's no-safe-words torture hadn't even come close.

  Noah was moaning and making guttural sounds and Jesse could only wish he cared but he didn't. Not really. Not like he cared when Matt made those sounds.

  Stop it, stop thinking about him.

  Matt and Jesse, God that even sounds poetic.

  You know what that sounds like? Lame. Not poetic. Just lame, like those sappy chick-flicks with vampires who shit rainbows.

  Noah finally stopped with his thrusting, and Jesse thanked the damn universe because he was certain his hands were about to be severed from his body. When Noah untied him, Jesse was in pain from the electric pulses shooting through his arms.

  "That was fucking awesome," Noah said.

  He was pleased.

  It was a nice feeling, but not quite as nice as when Matt was pleased.

  But because Noah was all he had, Jesse managed a smile. "Thank you."

  Noah kissed him and Jesse returned it, but his heart wasn't in it. He only did it because he knew. Knew that while he may not even want Noah to touch him now, come tomorrow and he would be itching to have some contact.

  He needed Noah, and Noah needed him.

  And Matt doesn't give a shit.

  * * * *

  It was when Jesse went back home that he actually realized how bad Noah had hurt him. Thankfully, his mother had been asleep and he didn't get into an awkward encounter with her. Noah wasn't even squeamish about drawing blood apparently. Jesse’s body was already stiffening and there were cuts everywhere Noah had used the whip on him. Last time it was the damn cane and now this.

  So leave.

  You know I can't.

  He started crying from the simple effort of taking his clothes off. He went to bed, unable to do anything else and lay on his stomach, his back hurting and stinging away. But pain alwa
ys soothed him a little, and even this bad version of it felt just a little good now.

  Yeah go on, judge me.

  Tell me I'm a sick bastard because that's exactly what I am.

  3

  For days Jesse didn't even have the courage to give Noah a call. Noah kept calling him, but Jesse wasn't ready to talk. He was too hurt, too messed up to serve him. He just needed time to heal. He went to work, barely making it through the shift at the pet store where the shitty manager screamed at him for being lazy all day, and then went back home, alone and miserable and by the start of next week everything was beginning to look like a trap. And all of it was in sync with his body healing up enough for him to start walking upright.

  He was almost afraid to go to the club, afraid of anything even remotely connected to Noah. He didn't want any reminders of him, and wanted nothing to do with him or the club, because the memory of that pain was still fresh. He even decided to stop thinking about Matt, told himself he should be concentrating on work, like normal people. He told himself all he had to do was stay the fuck away from that mess and he would be fine, that not everyone in the world dealt with their pain or heartache this way.

  He tried to work harder at the store, tried to lose himself in the animals around him, the only good thing about his job, and he tried to do it so that his boss wouldn't be so cranky at him the whole time. He would go back home after work, watch TV with his mother and start spending more time with her. She had asked him plenty of times if everything was okay and no matter how much he tried to convince her that it was, she wouldn't take his word for it. When the second week passed without any incident, she stopped worrying.

  The third week, her results came back from her recent checkup.

  The treatment she had been on had failed.

  She was putting on a brave front, but her cold hands related a completely different story.

  "It's not the end of the world," Jesse tried to tell her. "It's just one treatment. We just have to look at other options now."

  "So, we can fail again?"

  "Mom, remember this is what you felt like the last time? But it did go into remission eventually."

  "Yes, and now it's back Jesse," she said. "I'm tired. I'm so tired. I don't know how long I can keep doing this. I don't know what God wants from me anymore."

  She was too overwhelmed for Jesse to say anything about her religious ideas at that point. If she needed hope and this was the way to get it, he didn't want to be the one standing in her way. Her god delusions were the least of their worries.

  "Mom," he said, holding her hands in his own and kissing them. "You're going to get through this. We're both going to get through this."

  Even as he was saying it, he wished he could be sure of it, knew that he could never be sure until he heard the actual news of the cancer being cured.

  He helped his mother take her medicine. Then, he went back to his room. He thought for sure he would cry, he felt bad enough inside but something held him back, something that wouldn't let him have that release.

  Matt.

  It was fucking Matt who had gotten him so accustomed to being at his beck and call, he couldn't even cry without his help. But he needed to process this, needed to deal with this in some way that didn't end up breaking him from inside. He needed the strength to go back in front of his mother and put on a straight face for her. And that emptiness inside him forced him to do the thing he was most afraid of, and before he knew it, he found himself at Noah's mercy again.

  Jesse stood in front of the table, naked, awaiting instructions.

  "Lie down," Noah said. "On your belly."

  Jesse did as he was asked, no questions. For a guy who had been calling him endlessly, Noah looked incredibly calm now. He ran his fingers over Jesse’s body, starting from the neck and going all the way down to his lower back, sliding it back up to his neck. Jesse felt Noah's leather-clad hand on his wrist as Noah started to cuff him to the table. When he was done cuffing both his hands, Noah moved toward his legs, spreading them wide enough to place them into the ankle-restraints attached to the table, and that was it. Two simple movements and Jesse was in someone else's hands, no longer in control. And that was better, so much better than having to control everything. He had always felt that anticipation when he was with Matt, the feeling of being exposed to him, of submitting so completely, yet now it was more out of fear than pleasure. But if he couldn't get pleasure from Matt, at least he could score some fear from Noah. When Noah's fingers moved over his ass he squirmed. Noah slapped him hard, and waited. Then slapped him again a few times, hard and fast.

  "You never called me back," he said, hitting him, the force of his hand getting harder with every strike.

  "I…I was…stuck…at work. And there was some…family stuff."

  Noah stopped and Jesse felt him moving away, and going over to the prop bench and then coming back to him. Every second was passing like a million years. Jesse felt the gloved hand on his upper back this time.

  "Have you ever seen a Cat O' Nine Tails?"

  "Yes, Sir."

  "Someone ever used it on you?"

  "No, Sir."

  "You know, this thing, it was supposed to be an instrument of torture when it was originally designed. Now though, they make all kinds of pansy versions for starter subs, but I got mine here designed special. Hurts like a mother. And that's what bad boys like you deserve Jesse," his hand ran over Jesse's back again. "This," Noah said. "Is so you'll remember to pick up my calls next time."

  * * * *

  Jesse didn't think he could make it all the way back to his place when he stepped out of Noah's room, but there was no way he was going to stay. The need to get away was worse than the pain. He was taking very slow steps to the club entrance, and still every part of his body hurt, right down to the soles of his feet, badly cut up like most of his back and thighs. Well at least he was crying now, had been for a while. He tried to wipe his tears off, not wanting to appear silly to people, but it hurt. Everything fucking hurt, and he had no one to take him back home. No one who could help and he couldn't ask Noah, didn't want him to see where he lived, didn't want to let him into his life because Noah was an asshole. He wondered how long he would stay away this time, before he felt the need for that asshole again. He was a fool, he kept telling himself.

  He exited the club and was still wondering how he was going to go all the way back to his place if he couldn't find a cab this late, when he heard that familiar voice.

  "Jesse?"

  He turned, trying to hide every emotion underneath the veil of a drunken expression, which was just as well because Matt was standing with a cute little twink who kept touching him. Jesse wanted to run away but knew his body wouldn't do it fast enough. "Matt?"

  Matt said something to the twink, and jogged over to him. "Hey," he said. "Why're you limping?"

  Jesse hadn't realized he had been limping. "Nothing for you to be concerned about."

  "Don't be that way. Are you still letting him hurt you?"

  "What do you care?"

  "Of course I care! We were together for more than three years, you think it just goes away like that?"

  "That guy," Jesse said, pointing to the twink. "Still has the Matt Townsend afterglow on his face."

  "I can get rid of him."

  "Like you got rid of me?"

  "Can we talk when we're home? I think a conversation is long overdue."

  "Home?"

  "Yes Jesse, I mean my place okay?"

  "I'm not gonna fuck you," Jesse said, and that was a big fat lie but he couldn't let his guard down.

  Matt fought back a grin. "Fine. Just, come with me. Please?"

  Pain stabbed at his body, as Jesse tried to hold himself upright and he badly needed to stop his legs from shaking.

  "I'll go get rid of him," Matt said. "Wait here. I'll be right back with the car."

  Yes, Sir.

  And Jesse knew he wasn't going to move so much as a single inch.


  * * * *

  When they stepped inside Matt's loft, everything just came rushing back to him. The paint on the walls, the furniture, everything was a memory, a good time, a story. Until the day Matt brought in some other guy in here, that is.

  "Jesse?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Come on in here," Matt said, from the bedroom.

  "I told you explicitly we're not going to fuck."

  "We're not fucking!" Matt told him. "I've been on my feet all day I need to lie down."

  Jesse took a deep breath and slowly walked up to the room, every inch of him hurting more than before. Matt was standing by the bed, still wearing the same jeans and shirt.

  "Take off your fucking jacket, Jesse. I'm not gonna rape you."

  As if Jesse was going to mind if he did. He tried his best to keep a straight face as he forced his body to make the movements required for the removal of the jacket.

  "You've lost weight," Matt commented. "Your manager must be making you work your ass off."

  "Yeah."

  "Are you going to sit or do I need to give you directions to the bed?"

  Jesse knew from the experience of having to sit inside Matt's car that sitting was going to be the worst.

  "Or wait," Matt said suddenly, walking up to him.