I maintain my composure, while I sense his unease and nervousness climbing. That makes my heart swell, for those sensations make me understand that he has some sort of feeling other than friendship toward me.
“Whatever. If you want to talk about it, I am here.”
Ahhh, another sign. I am a man, a very fucked up one. I talk to no one. I smile at that statement.
“Forget it, Kenji. Want to work on my stomach piece?” I ask, walking past him through the threshold and over to his workstation as I try to look engaged at the sketches he has framed next to the mirror.
I walk over next to the table as I hear his footsteps behind me, smiling to myself as I think of the delicious pain that will soon ensue. My hands make their way to the bottom of my plain white T-shirt and I discard it, turning around to face Kenji. I am a master at studying other people, knowing their wants and fears. He may desire me, but he also is terrified as fuck at the thought. Again, I grin at the discovery. I have him right where I want him. I could very well be corrupting the only friendship that I have in Portland, but I am a master at debasing things. Consider this part of what I do and who I am.
“Uh, now?” Kenji replies, looking around while sticking his hands in his pockets nervously.
His cheeks turn a faint shade of pink as he bites his bottom lip while he is deep in thought. His chest is moving harder than before, another indication that his aspiration is peaked.
I laugh, leaning back on my heels, “Yeah, now. We have nothing else to do and I want to get this piece done,” I return, pointing to the fallen angel surrounded by flames on my stomach.
His eyes grow wide.
“What the fuck, dude? What happened to you?” he questions, rushing closer to me as he stares at the cuts on my stomach below my navel.
I’m angry at his compulsion to want to get closer to me. It isn’t going to happen.
“Don’t try to understand me, Kenji. It isn’t going to happen. Do you want to work on this tattoo or not?” I ask, leaning back on the table.
I’m starting to second guess myself as I am coming to terms what an emotional man he is.
“Sure,” he states, walking over to his work area while preparing ink in small plastic containers and distributing a blob of A and D ointment on a paper towel.
“More shading today, then?” he asks, taking the bottle to my stomach and wetting it with the cold solution, then wiping it away, cleansing my skin.
Even though his hands are gloved, knowing he is about to hurt me while finishing the tattoo that reminds me of my monster sends me near the edge of insensibility. The coldness goes away as his hands move over my skin, cleaning it before taking the razor to it to shave away the small amount of hair that I have.
“Uh, yeah,” I muster.
Fuck, I need to get my shit together.
The blade touches my body and I have to withhold the impulse to groan out load, wishing that it would slice and dice me open. The strokes of the razor remove the hair from above my navel and Kenji cleans it one last time. He rolls his neck from side to side while he remains intent on his job. He is good at what he does, free handing most of his work.
I hear the buzzing of that tattoo gun start and I have to tell my cock to stand the fuck down. The needle touches my skin and I am safe. I’ve found my euphoria as my skin prickles with incredible pain. My heart swells along with my dick and at this point I don’t even try to hide it. His hand brushes over my skin, marking it with more shading over the flames that surround the fallen angel. Gwen is my angel. I am the fire.
She is gone and the situation that happened before angers me further as I think back to why I am even still alive. What for? Everyone apparently has a purpose, but what is mine? I am a monster. A sexual deviant. A gorger for pain. I am Worthless William Welch. I manipulate. I hurt. There is no goodness left in me. I am nothing more than a shell of a man who pretends to be someone he is not. Pretending is becoming too much. I let my monster go. Fate brought us back together and I screwed that up.
“You doing okay, Welch?” Kenji asks, his movements pause as he takes a second to look at me through those damn almond shaped eyes.
For once, I am grateful for his interruption, though he knows not what he does. My mind is the scariest place to exist. The only time in my life when I felt halfway normal was when I was with her, but I just proved to her and myself that I can’t fix that.
Maybe my story is coming to an end. Or perhaps my insanity is about to catch up with me. There is only so much a person can do to cover up the crazy, masking their true identity. With each passing day coupled with Gwendolyn gracing my life again, I am doomed for recklessness. I have been molded into this man that I have become.
“You okay?” Kenji asks once more.
I realize I didn’t offer him a return as I contemplate my rationality. I nod my head yes.
“Harder,” I demand, grinding my teeth together to calm the feral demeanor that is begging to burst forth.
“What?” Kenji asks, stopping his shading as he dazzles me with his innocent gaze.
“I said fucking harder, Kenji.”
“Welch, I will scar you. You know that, man,” he says perplexed, shaking his head.
“You think I don’t know that?” I bite back, flaring my nostrils while clenching my jaw.
The buzzing of the tattoo gun and the discomfort that I crave is absent, increasing my annoyance.
“I said fucking harder, Kenji. Now.”
His lips part while he nods his head yes. I don’t normally bleed while getting tattoos, but I want to. Bring the blood, the scars, and the aching.
He turns the tattoo gun on and my heart thuds wildly in my chest. I smile, exposing my white teeth to him, basking in the ferociousness that is the epitome of me. We will see how much he really wants to get to know me after this. Is this part of my fucked up character, pushing people to their brink then cutting them free? Just like I did with Isabel? Fuck the interpreting. The world spent years siphoning the goodness from me, why should I start to care?
“I, uh,” Kenji stutters, before the needle hits my skin.
And the monster breaks.
“Fucking do it!” I scream, loud enough to shatter the front lobby window.
I ignore Kenji’s reaction, focusing on the ceiling and the buzzing of the tattoo gun while awaiting the arrival of pain, the only constant friend I have had. Then the needle comes down on my stomach, piercing me with its glee, straight to my depraved soul.
“Fuck yeah,” I release, pulling on my hair as I close my eyes, thinking back to the only normal thing that life gave me.
My sweet, sweet girl. But she is gone and my mind is on the verge of being absent too.
I bite my lip as I embrace the agony, feeling the warmth of the blood escape my skin, pooling on my stomach. I urge my hips forward for more and the noise from the machine stops.
“I can’t,” Kenji whimpers.
I open my eyes and look down at my stomach, seeing the beautiful blood mix with the black ink.
“Oh, I think you can, Kenji.”
He sits the gun down on the table, removes his gloves and stands as his eyes stay on mine like he is waiting for a command from his master. I have warped him under my curse, I feel it and I can’t help but like it.
A lot.
“What do you want from me, Welch?” he stutters, taking a step back until he runs into the cabinet next to his work station.
I sit up on the table, scrunching my brows at him as I offer him a grin to ease his anxiety. The answer is simple.
“You.”
“What?” Kenji whispers.
The look on his face tells me a different story. I can tell he knows good and well what I want and exactly what I meant.
“You don’t fucking understand?” I question, standing from the table, taking a step towards him.
Again, his lips part like they did before, but this time his tongue darts out and he coats his lips with his tongue. My belly turns a million
times over as I think about all the bad things I want to do to his mouth, his ass, his hand, and every goddamn part of his body. I let out a throaty growl, Kenji purses his lips and gulps hard while his hands grip the edge of the counter of his work station.
I look behind him to the mirror and devilish thoughts overtake my mind. I have turned into the monster that I have tried so much to run from, but this is all that fulfills me. As time goes on, greater, darker things are all that I long for. I fear that I am finally at the point of no return.
“I asked you a question, Kenji. It’s quite rude to ignore someone when they ask you something,” I seethe, marching nearer to him.
He’s unsteady. Once again with reminiscences of Isabel, I am not sure if it is due to worry or desire, though at this point I can be honest and admit I do not care. I suppose that is selfish. He swallows again as my eyes fixate on the stubble covering his throat. I wonder how it would tickle the palms of my hands as I wrap them around it. How delightful it would feel against my lips as I press them against his throat, teasing him with what could be.
“I… I… I,” Kenji stutters.
I smile to myself while his nervousness seems cute for the moment. He continues to move his mouth, but no words come out.
“Your body,” I gesture with my hand to the bulge in his pants, “tells me a different story. It tells me just how much you want it, Kenji…” I trail, taking a step closer to him until my lips are inches away from his.
His hot breath is sending ripples of pleasure down to my toes and for a moment I am once again clinging onto the idea that I can forget who I am, but the beastly claws come out and sink their habits straight down into my dark, fucked up heart. The grin that I had fades away quickly and the need that I crave is ascending higher with each transitory instant.
If I don’t get my fix, I am sure to tear my own fucking self to pieces that no one can fix, not even Gwendolyn. Who the fuck am I kidding, she wouldn’t come back to me even if she had a second thought about it. I sat there before her after ten years void of emotion, when the fact of the matter is I hold it all inside because the very thing that I have wanted was right before me and I wouldn’t allow myself to feel it.
Finally, I have welcomed myself to the ultimate Hell and it isn’t anyone else’s fault except mine. Time to make it manageable and my friend is at the forefront of it all. Let me rephrase that, former friend. The choices that I am about to make will change all of that. Friends will be no more and I am not sure what he will think after whatever it is that is about to happen, I only know I can’t be any of those things.
“Knees,” I demand, popping the button of my jeans and allowing them to fall to the ground.
My cock is tensed, painfully so, and I want nothing more than to command him to do the very things that I was, to make him understand that I am the one that calls the shots and makes the decisions. He was a good boy listening to me to make me bleed. Now, let’s see how he does with lesson number two.
His lips purse into a tight line, the very opposite of what I want them to do. I feel my jaw clamp and patience is not my forte right now. At this instant, I need his wet mouth around my cock before I go bat shit crazy and end up where I was thrown into years ago, right after I had the only normal thing in my life taken from me.
“Don’t make me smack the shit out of you, Kenji.”
His breathing becomes labored, just like my heart. With each passing minute, it is getting harder and harder to beat because I have no reason to live. What for? For this? To go on acting like the very people I loathe?
He drops to his knees onto the cold, concrete floor while looking at me through his dark, almond shaped eyes. I sense incorruptibility behind his eyes, but now is not the time for twenty-one questions. I am not Mr. Nice Guy. His forehead is sweating and his dark strands are sticking to it. I want so badly to reach out and brush them away, but that would be showing affection. Why should I provide friendliness to anyone, when I was void from such sentiments most of my life?
I am truly one angry son-of-a-bitch and that will never change. At least I have accepted the fact that I am mean and fucked up in my head.
His shaky hands make their way to the band of my boxer briefs. The eagerness is overpowering and nearly too much to handle. My chest is sweltering while my hands want to do something, but they aren’t communicating with my brain properly. I feel like I am about to pass out.
And finally, his feather light fingers drape over my damaged skin, making me understand that it is okay to feel good again. I remind myself to respire, looking down at him through hazy eyes as I see him fighting for something I am not quite sure of. I’m at the precipice of unknowing once again, hardly remembering who I am or who I was, adhering onto the very hatred that I tried to escape from. The nightmares that disturbed me also send me into a stupor of amusement.
“Welch, fuck…” Kenji finally whispers as his fingers tug on the elastic of my boxer briefs.
It’s taking every bit of will power that remains for me not to fuck him just as I was, but how is piercing another’s soul and leaving them for dead righting the world? Clearly, I am not completely lost as a shred of care shines through my dark heart.
“I want you, Welch. Every fucking part of you.”
I want to slap him across the face before pinning him to the ground. I want to shout in his face until the vessels in my eyes burst from rage, screaming that I am a no one, a lost boy not worthy of a whore’s two cents from the street.
I will always be Worthless William Welch and the events that recently ensued solidified my fears, making me come to the ghastly realization that what I want cannot be because I am not good enough. I am too scared to let myself be happy while I am clouded by the constant turmoil of self-hate. That part of me will never change. I will forever be the little boy trying to cling onto the dirty teddy bear while good ole foster daddy takes me, tearing me and making me his while paving the fucked up path for the rest of my insignificant life.
My eyes are burning. I want to hurt. To hate. To run. But something is pulling me back to life. That fucking virtue that I always clung onto, the very one I didn’t believe in until my love came in and saved me from myself as I daydreamt of all the ways I could take my life.
Gwendolyn Beth Fitzpatrick.
You know what they say, when you love something, fucking fight for it.
But finding the strength to overcome the fiery demons will not be easy. The chaotic thoughts that I always welcome of my girl blast away as I feel a pair of soft lips touch my freshly inked and bleeding skin.
Without thinking, I open my eyes completely to stare at him more and it’s at this moment that I fully understand that I am his ruination. The sparkle in his eyes that was there before is slowly fading away like a falling star losing its life. Like the goodness that was siphoned away from me, I am the venomous brute sucking the vibrancy away while I woo him with my dysfunctional ways. And the worst part of it all is, I can’t stop.
A monster myself is creating another.
I’m broken.
I’m bloody.
And right now, he is my boy while I embrace the act of being the sinner.
“Fuck me up, Kenji.”
The only words I can muster. The usual wants that I crave cannot be congregated from my tied up tongue.
“I thought you’d never ask,” he returns.
The anxiety I had while seeing the innocence behind his eyes comes around full force after hearing his admission. I should stop this before it goes any further, but my body is putty in his hands as he exposes my hard dick. His lips curl into an approving smile while I note the small amount of saliva that covers the outside of his stark white teeth. I want to be inside of every part of him, but doing so will only destroy.
Hurt. Hate. Destroy. It’s what I do best.
Fuck it… bring the bad boy back.
I yank him to the standing position, colliding my hungry lips with his. He sighs into my mouth, sending me into a frenzy of lus
t as I push my naked hips forward. As I tease his tongue with mine, I feel his hand grasp my hard cock. I pull away from his mouth slightly, only to grasp onto his full bottom lip between my teeth. He moans into my mouth once again and I respond, sighing into him as my teeth clamp down harder while I fuck my cock into his tight hand. The metallic liquid that makes me realize how sexually fucked up I am sends me into a state of absentmindedness and pleasure. I immediately release my teeth, sucking the small wound on his bottom lip.
I reach my hand out to touch him outside of his jeans, always wondering how big he was. Hot damn, a good nine inches at least; the thought makes me cringe with goose bumps covering every edge of my almost naked flesh. Thinking of his huge cock filling me, ripping me, owning me, and making me his takes me to a new level of distorted.
“You are so hot, Welch. Fuck my mouth. Please.”
The tone of his voice makes me smile. The worried feelings I had previously lasted mere moments as my irrational sexual deviance has returned with potency. I am doomed to leave a path of irreparable matter in my wake.
“Beg for it, Kenji.”
He turns his head slightly to the side, confused by my statement. Soon, he will understand that the taste of sweetness he got only belongs to one and he will never get it again. I am tough, dirty, and even then that leaves me dissatisfied most times.
“I said fucking beg for it. Don’t make me hit it out of you, Kenji. I can tell you are such a good boy. Now, listen. Beg…”
I snap my fingers, pointing to the ground, an indication for him to resume the previous position of him on his knees on the cold, hard concrete floor. He listens without hesitation and falls to the ground, waiting for his next command. This makes my heart and cock swell to their limits.
“Now, let me fuck your mouth,” I state, stroking my hard cock.
Kenji licks his plump lips, while batting his eyes. He gives me a small nod, a gesture of his agreement of what he is about to do. His mouth opens in a perfect “O” and my patience has broken.
“Fuck this shit!” I yell, grasping the back of his head.
The Emancipation of Love Page 5