MK Ultra (Chapter Fourteen/?)
He was tired. So, so tired. Tired of his life and what it had become, tired of what he had become, and tired of his love for Matthew. He hated that the brunet had so much power over him. With a single word, he could - and had - crush Dominic’s world into dust. He knew his place now: on the floor at Matthew’s feet. He was the slave: the slave to Matthew and the slave to his own emotions. Dominic longed for freedom, but knew that it would never come. He would never truly be released from his master’s grasp; a shadow of the past would always haunt him. Assuming that his present became his past, of course, and Dominic couldn’t see that happening any time soon. He was tied to Matthew and the bonds were almost unbreakable; however much he wished them away, they would never allow him freedom. The scars from his new life would never fade, and there was nothing he could do to hide them.
Sighing, he stood up, turning the shower off and stepping out, grabbing a towel and drying himself off quickly. He walked through to Matthew’s room and pulled out a pair of boxers and pyjama bottoms, shivering in the cold room and dressing quickly, yanking on a hoodie and tugging the sleeves down over his hands. He took a deep breath and walked to the door, pulling it open and slipping out of the room and down the corridor. He paused in the door of the kitchen, looking at Matthew. When the brunet turned, he dropped his eyes to the floor, nodding shallowly when Matthew told him to come in. He padded in and stood in front of Matthew, his head still bowed and his toes curling on the cold tile floor.
“You wanted to look at the photo album.”
Dominic nodded again, his eyes flickering up shyly.
“For every picture I show you, I’m going to tell you something. In return, I want you to tell me something about your family.”
It was the only way he’d be able to tell Dominic about his past. Matt moved to the cupboards, sliding down them to sit on the floor and motioning for the blond to sit beside him. Matthew opened to cover of the book, trying to conceal the shaking of his hands. The first picture showed a happy family: a man with Matt’s eyes, his arm around a woman with Matt’s cheekbones; two children sitting on the floor at their feet, the older of the two making his smaller brother laugh. Matthew pointed at each person, pressing his finger to the paper so hard that the tip paled, preventing his finger from trembling. His father, a religious man, pious, hardworking, homophobic; his mother, also religious, housewife, homophobic; his brother, atheist, lazy, the complete opposite to his parents, but also homophobic. It ran in the family; Matt’s brother had been indoctrinated by his parents about the evils of homosexuality. Matthew explained that he was two when this picture had been taken, and his brother was six. They had been close.
Dominic, in return, told Matthew about his mother, his father, and his sister. He told them about their jobs, where they lived and about his relationship with his sister; it sounded like the relationship that had previously existed between Matthew and his brother. Hearing Dominic talk about Emma, his eyes shining and staring off into the distance, imagining himself into a scenario far away stung Matthew. He felt the familiar, hated burn of longing; he wanted his family, his brother in particular. He missed joking with his father, cuddling with his mother, play fighting with his brother. He had ignored the homophobia as best he could, telling himself that they would change when he came out as gay; stupidly, he had believed himself, a mistake that was so huge that he would never forgive himself. When he felt like this, it made him think: how could he deny someone that he loved- no, anyone, whoever they were and whatever their connection to him was, how could he deny them their family? The guilt clawed at him, tearing at his body and ripping him to pieces. Dominic didn’t deserve this; who did? No one deserved Matthew, or how he treated people. He snapped the book shut, trying to ignore the shaking of his hands.
“I can’t do anymore today. I’m sorry, I just can’t.”
He kept his gaze fixed on the book lying on his lap, seeing Dominic nod out of the corner of his eye. This was more words he had gone back on, another promise he had broken. The burn of shame ran through his veins and coloured his cheeks, Dominic’s fidgeting catching his gaze, the blond’s nervousness shining through.
“I’m sorry, Dominic. I will tell you everything.”
“Okay.”
It was spoken in a whisper, barely audible, but it was something. Matt’s heart leapt; he wanted to reach out and squeeze Dominic’s hand, but he kept his wandering fingers to himself, instead standing and placing the book on the side.
“Bed?” he asked, and Dominic stood up beside him. He motioned for the blond to go out of the door first, and they settled down into bed quickly, as far away from each other as they could possibly manage. Dominic fell asleep quickly, but Matthew tossed and turned, eventually getting up to avoid waking Dominic up. He took a glance at Dominic, his features blank, peace shining through; the only time he could get away from everything was in his sleep, and even that wasn’t guaranteed. Matthew winced; it was his fault that Dominic could only find respite in unconsciousness. He crept over to the door, opening it carefully, slipping through gracefully and pulling it too, listening for the gentle click. He flicked the light on and padded down the hallway barefoot, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the harsh light. When he got to the kitchen, he turned the kitchen light on and the hallway light off, sighing in relief in the dimmer lighting. He walked around the small room mechanically, pulling a glass from the cupboard, turning the tap on, filling the glass and turning it off. He walked out of the room, flicking the light off and walking to his living room in the dark and swearing when he realised that he had left his phone in the kitchen; he needed it. He flopped down onto the sofa, deciding to think and get it later. Wrapping his long fingers around the cool glass, he leant back into the sofa cushions and closed his eyes.
He didn’t know what to do. He needed help. He needed the advice of his friends, but how would he tell them what he had done? Could he tell them what he had done? There was such a huge risk of them doing what his parents had done if he told them. He couldn’t take that chance, but he needed their help. It was him all over. He had made this mess, yet he was dragging other people into it. They didn’t need the worry and the strain of yet more of Matthew’s problems; Chris and Kelly had their kids to worry about, Tom had his girlfriend and his business. They didn’t need Matthew adding any more to their pile of worries, let alone something like this. What he had done was illegal; if his friends knew, so much could happen. They could go to the police and turn him in: what would happen to Dominic then? Would he be happier, or would he be more miserable, with his life being thrown into turmoil again, the only stable thing in his life being ripped away from him? Even if his friends didn’t go to the police themselves, if someone else did, there was a risk that they would be arrested as well. Did anyone know what had gone on in that basement that night, except for the people who were there, and who were affiliated with the club that hosted these events? It was unlikely, Matthew knew, but the chance was there, and the risks were great. He wasn’t willing to drag his friends, who he loved so much that they were family, into this dark world that he was irrevocably a part of now.
As for Dominic… what were the risks of allowing him freedom, or at least allowing him to see his family? He might turn Matthew in, although Matthew knew that the chance of that happening was slim, given Dominic’s feelings for him. There was a bigger chance that his family would call the police, if Dominic told them… he could always ask Dom not to…
Sighing, he placed his glass down on the table and buried his head in his hands. Why was everything so complicated? Why had he gotten himself into this in the first place?
He had been craving company. He wanted more than what Chris, Kelly, the kids and Tom provided. He had wanted someone there for him romantically; he had admitted it to nobody, not even himself, and he hardly treated Dom as his boyfriend, but he could pretend. Pretend that they were just another ordinary couple, living together after meeting in the traditional way, going on dates and falling in love, not after being bought from a slave auction and forced to submit to the other’s will. It was sick.
He knew he had to tell someone what he had done, or the guilt would eat away at him until there was nothing left, and he had to tell someone for Dominic’s sake. Another person, outside of the situation, would be able to advise him best, and would be able to tell him what was best for Dominic. He was biased, they would hopefully not be. But first, he needed to tell Dominic everything. It was only fair that he knew the truth about Matthew, before Matthew threw his world into chaos again. He rubbed his eyes, screwed shut, before staring at his glass of water, condensation frosting the surface. The urge to throw the glass at the wall, down on the table was almost too strong to ignore, his frustration screaming and clawing to get out, to be released somehow. Instead, he bottled it up, ready to burst at some point, as he always did, and the casualty of his outburst would probably be Dominic. He tried to ignore the tight squeezing of his stomach at that thought, nausea rolling over him and a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. It was Dominic, always Dominic, the poor boy who had been trapped into this life; the boy who didn’t deserve this; the boy who Matthew loved.
The acknowledgment of the emotion brought up strange feelings: there was fear, fear of letting that emotion rule over him; confusion at when he had allowed a new love to develop; excitement that he was actually feeling love. He wanted to love Dominic, and to give him all that he desired and more; he was willing to learn from Dominic, to learn how to love as he knew in the depths of his soul that he could. He would need time, and he hoped that Dominic would be willing to give him the time and help that he needed, if not for Matthew then for himself. The first step, Matthew knew, was to tell Dominic that he loved him; he would then at least have redeemed himself slightly, and be able to ask for Dominic’s help. He swallowed around the lump of terror in his throat, grasping his glass and gulping down the remainder like it was courage-giving alcohol, depositing the empty glass down on the kitchen counter on his way back to the bedroom. Just as silently as he had left, he re-entered the room, pacing quietly to the bed, his memory guiding him in the dark. He slipped beneath the covers, lying down carefully next to Dom, who had turned in his sleep and was lying on his side, facing Matthew. In the dark of the bedroom, Matthew couldn’t see Dominic; he could only feel him as the blond slid carefully closer, his breaths puffing onto Matthew’s shoulder. Matt waited, trying to determine whether or not Dominic was asleep; when he was almost certain that Dom was, he whispered into the dark.
“I love you.”
Three barely-there words creeping timidly into the darkness of the night, caressing Dominic as he lay beside his master.
“I love you too.”
A flash of panic ran through Matthew’s body, and his breathing rate increased until all he could draw in was short pants, the amount barely sating his racing heart. Dominic reached out and gently took hold of his hand, biting his lip, before releasing it again and turning over, his back to Matthew.
Sighing, he stood up, turning the shower off and stepping out, grabbing a towel and drying himself off quickly. He walked through to Matthew’s room and pulled out a pair of boxers and pyjama bottoms, shivering in the cold room and dressing quickly, yanking on a hoodie and tugging the sleeves down over his hands. He took a deep breath and walked to the door, pulling it open and slipping out of the room and down the corridor. He paused in the door of the kitchen, looking at Matthew. When the brunet turned, he dropped his eyes to the floor, nodding shallowly when Matthew told him to come in. He padded in and stood in front of Matthew, his head still bowed and his toes curling on the cold tile floor.
“You wanted to look at the photo album.”
Dominic nodded again, his eyes flickering up shyly.
“For every picture I show you, I’m going to tell you something. In return, I want you to tell me something about your family.”
It was the only way he’d be able to tell Dominic about his past. Matt moved to the cupboards, sliding down them to sit on the floor and motioning for the blond to sit beside him. Matthew opened to cover of the book, trying to conceal the shaking of his hands. The first picture showed a happy family: a man with Matt’s eyes, his arm around a woman with Matt’s cheekbones; two children sitting on the floor at their feet, the older of the two making his smaller brother laugh. Matthew pointed at each person, pressing his finger to the paper so hard that the tip paled, preventing his finger from trembling. His father, a religious man, pious, hardworking, homophobic; his mother, also religious, housewife, homophobic; his brother, atheist, lazy, the complete opposite to his parents, but also homophobic. It ran in the family; Matt’s brother had been indoctrinated by his parents about the evils of homosexuality. Matthew explained that he was two when this picture had been taken, and his brother was six. They had been close.
Dominic, in return, told Matthew about his mother, his father, and his sister. He told them about their jobs, where they lived and about his relationship with his sister; it sounded like the relationship that had previously existed between Matthew and his brother. Hearing Dominic talk about Emma, his eyes shining and staring off into the distance, imagining himself into a scenario far away stung Matthew. He felt the familiar, hated burn of longing; he wanted his family, his brother in particular. He missed joking with his father, cuddling with his mother, play fighting with his brother. He had ignored the homophobia as best he could, telling himself that they would change when he came out as gay; stupidly, he had believed himself, a mistake that was so huge that he would never forgive himself. When he felt like this, it made him think: how could he deny someone that he loved- no, anyone, whoever they were and whatever their connection to him was, how could he deny them their family? The guilt clawed at him, tearing at his body and ripping him to pieces. Dominic didn’t deserve this; who did? No one deserved Matthew, or how he treated people. He snapped the book shut, trying to ignore the shaking of his hands.
“I can’t do anymore today. I’m sorry, I just can’t.”
He kept his gaze fixed on the book lying on his lap, seeing Dominic nod out of the corner of his eye. This was more words he had gone back on, another promise he had broken. The burn of shame ran through his veins and coloured his cheeks, Dominic’s fidgeting catching his gaze, the blond’s nervousness shining through.
“I’m sorry, Dominic. I will tell you everything.”
“Okay.”
It was spoken in a whisper, barely audible, but it was something. Matt’s heart leapt; he wanted to reach out and squeeze Dominic’s hand, but he kept his wandering fingers to himself, instead standing and placing the book on the side.
“Bed?” he asked, and Dominic stood up beside him. He motioned for the blond to go out of the door first, and they settled down into bed quickly, as far away from each other as they could possibly manage. Dominic fell asleep quickly, but Matthew tossed and turned, eventually getting up to avoid waking Dominic up. He took a glance at Dominic, his features blank, peace shining through; the only time he could get away from everything was in his sleep, and even that wasn’t guaranteed. Matthew winced; it was his fault that Dominic could only find respite in unconsciousness. He crept over to the door, opening it carefully, slipping through gracefully and pulling it too, listening for the gentle click. He flicked the light on and padded down the hallway barefoot, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the harsh light. When he got to the kitchen, he turned the kitchen light on and the hallway light off, sighing in relief in the dimmer lighting. He walked around the small room mechanically, pulling a glass from the cupboard, turning the tap on, filling the glass and turning it off. He walked out of the room, flicking the light off and walking to his living room in the dark and swearing when he realised that he had left his phone in the kitchen; he needed it. He flopped down onto the sofa, deciding to think and get it later. Wrapping his long fingers around the cool glass, he leant back into the sofa cushions and closed his eyes.
He didn’t know what to do. He needed help. He needed the advice of his friends, but how would he tell them what he had done? Could he tell them what he had done? There was such a huge risk of them doing what his parents had done if he told them. He couldn’t take that chance, but he needed their help. It was him all over. He had made this mess, yet he was dragging other people into it. They didn’t need the worry and the strain of yet more of Matthew’s problems; Chris and Kelly had their kids to worry about, Tom had his girlfriend and his business. They didn’t need Matthew adding any more to their pile of worries, let alone something like this. What he had done was illegal; if his friends knew, so much could happen. They could go to the police and turn him in: what would happen to Dominic then? Would he be happier, or would he be more miserable, with his life being thrown into turmoil again, the only stable thing in his life being ripped away from him? Even if his friends didn’t go to the police themselves, if someone else did, there was a risk that they would be arrested as well. Did anyone know what had gone on in that basement that night, except for the people who were there, and who were affiliated with the club that hosted these events? It was unlikely, Matthew knew, but the chance was there, and the risks were great. He wasn’t willing to drag his friends, who he loved so much that they were family, into this dark world that he was irrevocably a part of now.
As for Dominic… what were the risks of allowing him freedom, or at least allowing him to see his family? He might turn Matthew in, although Matthew knew that the chance of that happening was slim, given Dominic’s feelings for him. There was a bigger chance that his family would call the police, if Dominic told them… he could always ask Dom not to…
Sighing, he placed his glass down on the table and buried his head in his hands. Why was everything so complicated? Why had he gotten himself into this in the first place?
He had been craving company. He wanted more than what Chris, Kelly, the kids and Tom provided. He had wanted someone there for him romantically; he had admitted it to nobody, not even himself, and he hardly treated Dom as his boyfriend, but he could pretend. Pretend that they were just another ordinary couple, living together after meeting in the traditional way, going on dates and falling in love, not after being bought from a slave auction and forced to submit to the other’s will. It was sick.
He knew he had to tell someone what he had done, or the guilt would eat away at him until there was nothing left, and he had to tell someone for Dominic’s sake. Another person, outside of the situation, would be able to advise him best, and would be able to tell him what was best for Dominic. He was biased, they would hopefully not be. But first, he needed to tell Dominic everything. It was only fair that he knew the truth about Matthew, before Matthew threw his world into chaos again. He rubbed his eyes, screwed shut, before staring at his glass of water, condensation frosting the surface. The urge to throw the glass at the wall, down on the table was almost too strong to ignore, his frustration screaming and clawing to get out, to be released somehow. Instead, he bottled it up, ready to burst at some point, as he always did, and the casualty of his outburst would probably be Dominic. He tried to ignore the tight squeezing of his stomach at that thought, nausea rolling over him and a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. It was Dominic, always Dominic, the poor boy who had been trapped into this life; the boy who didn’t deserve this; the boy who Matthew loved.
The acknowledgment of the emotion brought up strange feelings: there was fear, fear of letting that emotion rule over him; confusion at when he had allowed a new love to develop; excitement that he was actually feeling love. He wanted to love Dominic, and to give him all that he desired and more; he was willing to learn from Dominic, to learn how to love as he knew in the depths of his soul that he could. He would need time, and he hoped that Dominic would be willing to give him the time and help that he needed, if not for Matthew then for himself. The first step, Matthew knew, was to tell Dominic that he loved him; he would then at least have redeemed himself slightly, and be able to ask for Dominic’s help. He swallowed around the lump of terror in his throat, grasping his glass and gulping down the remainder like it was courage-giving alcohol, depositing the empty glass down on the kitchen counter on his way back to the bedroom. Just as silently as he had left, he re-entered the room, pacing quietly to the bed, his memory guiding him in the dark. He slipped beneath the covers, lying down carefully next to Dom, who had turned in his sleep and was lying on his side, facing Matthew. In the dark of the bedroom, Matthew couldn’t see Dominic; he could only feel him as the blond slid carefully closer, his breaths puffing onto Matthew’s shoulder. Matt waited, trying to determine whether or not Dominic was asleep; when he was almost certain that Dom was, he whispered into the dark.
“I love you.”
Three barely-there words creeping timidly into the darkness of the night, caressing Dominic as he lay beside his master.
“I love you too.”
A flash of panic ran through Matthew’s body, and his breathing rate increased until all he could draw in was short pants, the amount barely sating his racing heart. Dominic reached out and gently took hold of his hand, biting his lip, before releasing it again and turning over, his back to Matthew.