OVW Comment Fic Party Prompt Response: Frankenstein
Title: Frankenstein
Characters: Jared Phillips
Universe(s): A Safe Harbor
Timeline: This takes place when Jared is still in high school
Rating: MA (for content; TW: rape)
Notes: This is the response to this prompt in the Comment Fic Party over at openveinwriting. It got way too long for comments, so I decided to put it here!
Even the tips of his fingernails hurt. He wasn't sure how that was possible, but they did.
Everything ached and throbbed and hurt. He hadn't moved from his place on the floor since Paul left. He felt oddly disconnected from everything around him. It was like a dream. A really, terrible, horrible dream.
His body, so bruised and aching, felt heavy and cemented in place and he had absolutely no energy nor the desire to move. He stared, his gaze fixed straight ahead at the flickering black and white lines on the TV that he had never managed to flip over onto the right channel for the movie.
He didn't even realize he was crying.
"Dude, I'm telling you, fucking-- I mean, it's from fucking 1931, dude, fucking Frankenstein and it's Boris Karloff, right, the dude who kind of fucking looks like the monster, and it's-- dude, it's fucking sick."
"I don't know, man, I still think Dracula's fucking better. I mean Frankenstein is just so--"
"Frankenstein's monster, dude. Frankenstein's the doctor."
"Yeah, whatever. It's just so dumb, man. Dracula's fucking badass."
"Wait and til you see it, dude. It'll blow your mind."
Jared was purposely forcing himself to slow his steps down to keep pace with Paul, but he was just too excited. No one, even Travis, had ever shared his love of old monster movies, and here he was, with the second hottest motherfucker at Safe Harbor High, about to walk him to his place to sit and watch the original 1931 Boris Karloff Frankenstein. His mom and dad were both at work. That meant they had the entire place to themselves, and there was no one around to make him feel guilty about warming up the entire box of pizza rolls.
The air buzzed with possibility. Paul was someone Jared had never thought would even pay someone like him a second glance. He wasn't the school heartthrob, but he wasn't unpopular, either, and Jared just didn't run with those types. Jared was the outcast. The social misfit. The quiet one. The freak with the piercings and all the crazy issues. Only Travis paid him any mind-- Travis, his only friend, his only friend who would never turn into anything more than that because Travis didn't feel that way, but then again this was just Jared assuming that because why would Travis give a shit about him that way?
But Paul was... well, this was different.
He had approached Jared when he spotted him taping up flyers in the lunchroom earlier at school. Jared was the founder and one of the only members-- aside from Travis, who never showed up and only qualified as a "member" in the sense that his name was included on all the flyers, and the few random goth kids who thought it was fitting-- of the Horror Film Appreciation Society, or HFAS for short. Every year in October, they put up flyers for Monster Movie Madness, an all-night marathon of old horror films. No one ever showed up, so Jared ended up eating all the popcorn and drinking all the soda himself, but he kept putting up the flyers every year. Paul acted interested, said he had never seen the flyers but he loved old monster movies and Jared thought maybe, just maybe, things would be different.
They weren't, and he was a fucking moron.
Jared unlocked the front door to his place and propped the door open for Paul. "Alright, dude, my room's just up the stairs and down the hall to the right. I'll get the snacks and shit. You like pizza rolls?"
"Yeah, sure, pizza rolls are cool."
The plate sat a few feet away on the floor by Jared's feet, cold and forgotten.
"Alright, dude, dig in, and I'll pop this motherfucker in," Jared walked into the room and set the plate of hot pizza rolls down on the carpet next to Paul, who was sitting propped up against Jared's bed. Thank God Jared had cleaned his room over the weekend.
"Dude, if this movie fucking sucks I'm blaming you," Paul informed him, grabbing a pizza roll from the plate.
"Trust me, man, it's not going to fucking suck. I've seen Karloff's Frankenstein like a million fucking times. Trust me. It's a fucking classic." Jared walked to his closet and pulled down the big cardboard box containing dozens of VHS tapes of old horror films he watched on a regular basis. Some were crappy quality that he had recorded off TV and had shitty homemade labels scrawled in Sharpies, but he still watched them.
His gaze fell on the cardboard box, now turned over on its side, the VHS tapes spilling out the sides. It'd take him forever to re-alphabetize them. Maybe he could get Travis to do it. He always liked doing shit like that.
"Come on, you fucking piece of shit TV," Jared fiddled with the remote and frustratedly tapped the buttons in the hopes that if he just hit them hard enough, they'd make the TV go to the right input for the VCR. "Alright dude, hang on." He crawled on all fours, moved behind the TV, and started fiddling with the wires. More static.
"Jared, man, chill, you'll get it later," Paul replied. He patted the spot on the floor beside him. "Come sit down, dude. Have some pizza rolls."
"Yeah, okay," Jared was still irritated at his stupid TV-- why his parents would just fucking let him get a new one he'd never know-- but he crawled toward Paul and sat down beside him, reaching across him for the plate of pizza rolls.
"So your mom and dad are, what, out of town or something?" Paul asked.
"Nah, man, they both fucking work. See, my dad, he's a factory worker at some shitty pillow place and my mom, she works this really shitty late shift at Save Co."
"Oh yeah, the big chain supermarkets," Paul nodded. "Yeah, my mom and dad go there."
Jared nodded, and he smiled. Here he was, sitting in his room eating fucking pizza rolls with a dude he had never once entertained the idea of being able to hang out with, the movie wasn't even working, but he was still sitting here acting interested and actually asking how his fucking parents. Whoa. Awesome.
Paul grabbed another pizza roll, and when he bit into it some of the tomato sauce inside spilled out and shot onto Jared's jeans. "Fuck, I'm sorry, Jared."
"It's fucking fine, dude," Jared laughed, and used the tip of his finger to wipe it off, before licking it off. "I get all sorts of shit on my clothes all the time. Makes my mom fucking mad, but--"
"Do you need to get changed?" Paul asked.
"No way, dude, it's just a tiny little spot. It's fine."
His jeans had been thrown onto his bed, and he could never wear them again now. He'd burn them later using the matches his dad kept stashed with his cigars. Fucking shame. They had always been his favorite jeans.
"Look, Jared, I feel fucking bad, man," Paul replied. "At least let me get a wet rag or something to wipe it off."
"Paul, dude, it's no fucking big deal," Jared laughed. "Seriously, man, fucking relax. I'm going to try and get the movie going again."
Jared pushed himself to his feet, but Paul grabbed his arm and pulled him back down. Jared stared at him, confused, and time froze for a second when he watched what Paul did next. He was pretty sure he was hallucinating. He was pretty sure that was no fucking way Paul was leaning over, his head hovering over the stain on the crotch of his jeans, and was now running his tongue against it to try and clean it.
"Paul--" Jared's breath hitched in his throat. The proximity of his face, the heat from his tongue, oh, fuck, it was definitely sending blood running in that direction. "Dude, what are you--"
"I told you, Jared, I felt fucking bad," Paul licked his lips, and his hand began to trail up Jared's ankle, past his calf, up his thigh, where it settled between his legs, and he gripped his hardening length.
"Ohhh fuck," Jared's hips arched forward without his consent. How could he already be so fucking hard? "Paul, shit, man, the movie--"
"Forget the fucking movie, Jared. It was bullshit anyway."
"Paul, what the fuck, man, the movie-- I mean, I thought that was why--"
"Jared, are you fucking hard or not?"
He was. There was no denying that. But something felt... off. As much as his body was responding to Paul's hand on him, he had a sick feeling in his stomach. The look in Paul's eyes was unsettling. He suddenly realized just how much bigger Paul was than him. Jared had always been small, 4'9" was the extent of his growth spurt, and he was petite on top of that. Paul was built more like a quarterback, and he didn't even play football. He easily had 40, 50 pounds on him and at least a foot and a quarter.
He had just wanted to watch the movie.
"Paul, dude, I-- let's just watch the fucking movie, okay?" Jared tried to grin and keep things light, trying to play this off like it was a joke, Jared the goofy dork, but Paul's eyes darkened and before he knew what was happening he was on his stomach, his face pressed down against the dirty shag carpeting, and Paul was pressing his knee into his back, right below his kidneys, and oh fuck it hurt.
"Paul! What the fuck, man--"
"Shut the fuck up, Jared," Paul's voice hissed in his ear, and Jared felt his hot breath against the back of his neck and he shuddered. He felt Paul reaching around to unbuckle his studded black belt, and he moved his hands to stop him, but Paul instead grabbed his arm and twisted it, keeping it pressed tightly against his back, and Jared shouted and bit back the tears that were forming in his eyes when his shoulder dislocated.
"Paul! What the fucking fuck! Get off me, man! What are you doing!"
"I said shut the fuck UP, Jared! What the fuck did you think this was, a little movie date? Bring me back to your place and sit and watch a fucking piece of shit movie with fucking pizza rolls? I've seen you staring at me for the past two fucking years, you fucking fairy."
His shoulder throbbed, the pain resonating all the way down to his groin muscles, and every time Paul tugged on his arm it hurt even more and made him feel nauseous. He felt his belt buckle be undone and his jeans being tugged down his legs, and he tried to buck Paul off of him, but he was too big, too heavy, and all he succeeded in doing was allowing Paul's erection to rub against his ass.
"Paul-- man, what the fuck are you doing-- I don't know what you're--" Tears were running down his face now. His shoulder hurt so bad. It was hard to breathe with Paul on top of him.
"I'm just going to give you what you apparently want so fucking badly," Paul's voice was so low it was nearly a growl. He tugged Jared's jeans off the rest of the way and Jared heard the sound of of a zipper being undone and he suddenly realized what was about to happen and he pushed up with all his strength in the hope of knocking Paul off of him.
Paul was still bigger and stronger, though, and he had leverage Jared didn't have. Instead of sliding off of Jared, he used his momentum against him and brought his elbow down heavily against the side of his face. Jared's vision blurred and he just stayed there, still and silent, as he felt Paul tug his underwear down over his hips, and he felt himself be straddled from behind.
It seemed to go on forever. Paul had one hand gripping Jared's hair, and with each rough thrust, he tugged at it hard. Jared tried to cry out, tried to scream, but no sound came out. He couldn't even whimper. He just stayed there on the floor, pinned by Paul's massive weight, thinking about anything other than what was happening as he was ground into the carpet.
When Paul was done, he got up off of Jared and zipped his pants back up, as if nothing had happened. Jared remained there, still unable, not unwilling, to move, and his entire body started to shake. He watched Paul walk around him and kneel in front of him.
"Thanks for the fucking ride, you faggot," Paul grinned at him. He fucking grinned at him. He reached a hand toward Jared's face, and he tried to turn his head away, but Paul forced it to stay in place, and ran his fingers over the sterling silver lip ring in his bottom lip. The gesture was almost tender, and then he ripped it out of his lip, laughing when Jared cried out and it started to bleed. "And thanks for the fucking souvenir." He held the ring up, pocketed it, and got to his feet.
He slammed the front door behind himself.
He still tasted the copper in his mouth and could feel the dried blood around his bottom lip. His shoulder hurt every time he moved, every time he tried to breathe, and his head was pounding too, and he felt sick and disoriented.
Finally, after laying prone in that spot for a couple hours, Jared forced himself, painfully slow, onto his knees. He crawled toward his TV, fiddled with the wires, and put the tape in the VCR. Then he fell over onto his side on the carpet, he grabbed a handful of cold pizza rolls, and he tugged his comforter off his bed, wrapping it tightly around himself. The movie started.
Characters: Jared Phillips
Universe(s): A Safe Harbor
Timeline: This takes place when Jared is still in high school
Rating: MA (for content; TW: rape)
Notes: This is the response to this prompt in the Comment Fic Party over at openveinwriting. It got way too long for comments, so I decided to put it here!
Even the tips of his fingernails hurt. He wasn't sure how that was possible, but they did.
Everything ached and throbbed and hurt. He hadn't moved from his place on the floor since Paul left. He felt oddly disconnected from everything around him. It was like a dream. A really, terrible, horrible dream.
His body, so bruised and aching, felt heavy and cemented in place and he had absolutely no energy nor the desire to move. He stared, his gaze fixed straight ahead at the flickering black and white lines on the TV that he had never managed to flip over onto the right channel for the movie.
He didn't even realize he was crying.
"Dude, I'm telling you, fucking-- I mean, it's from fucking 1931, dude, fucking Frankenstein and it's Boris Karloff, right, the dude who kind of fucking looks like the monster, and it's-- dude, it's fucking sick."
"I don't know, man, I still think Dracula's fucking better. I mean Frankenstein is just so--"
"Frankenstein's monster, dude. Frankenstein's the doctor."
"Yeah, whatever. It's just so dumb, man. Dracula's fucking badass."
"Wait and til you see it, dude. It'll blow your mind."
Jared was purposely forcing himself to slow his steps down to keep pace with Paul, but he was just too excited. No one, even Travis, had ever shared his love of old monster movies, and here he was, with the second hottest motherfucker at Safe Harbor High, about to walk him to his place to sit and watch the original 1931 Boris Karloff Frankenstein. His mom and dad were both at work. That meant they had the entire place to themselves, and there was no one around to make him feel guilty about warming up the entire box of pizza rolls.
The air buzzed with possibility. Paul was someone Jared had never thought would even pay someone like him a second glance. He wasn't the school heartthrob, but he wasn't unpopular, either, and Jared just didn't run with those types. Jared was the outcast. The social misfit. The quiet one. The freak with the piercings and all the crazy issues. Only Travis paid him any mind-- Travis, his only friend, his only friend who would never turn into anything more than that because Travis didn't feel that way, but then again this was just Jared assuming that because why would Travis give a shit about him that way?
But Paul was... well, this was different.
He had approached Jared when he spotted him taping up flyers in the lunchroom earlier at school. Jared was the founder and one of the only members-- aside from Travis, who never showed up and only qualified as a "member" in the sense that his name was included on all the flyers, and the few random goth kids who thought it was fitting-- of the Horror Film Appreciation Society, or HFAS for short. Every year in October, they put up flyers for Monster Movie Madness, an all-night marathon of old horror films. No one ever showed up, so Jared ended up eating all the popcorn and drinking all the soda himself, but he kept putting up the flyers every year. Paul acted interested, said he had never seen the flyers but he loved old monster movies and Jared thought maybe, just maybe, things would be different.
They weren't, and he was a fucking moron.
Jared unlocked the front door to his place and propped the door open for Paul. "Alright, dude, my room's just up the stairs and down the hall to the right. I'll get the snacks and shit. You like pizza rolls?"
"Yeah, sure, pizza rolls are cool."
The plate sat a few feet away on the floor by Jared's feet, cold and forgotten.
"Alright, dude, dig in, and I'll pop this motherfucker in," Jared walked into the room and set the plate of hot pizza rolls down on the carpet next to Paul, who was sitting propped up against Jared's bed. Thank God Jared had cleaned his room over the weekend.
"Dude, if this movie fucking sucks I'm blaming you," Paul informed him, grabbing a pizza roll from the plate.
"Trust me, man, it's not going to fucking suck. I've seen Karloff's Frankenstein like a million fucking times. Trust me. It's a fucking classic." Jared walked to his closet and pulled down the big cardboard box containing dozens of VHS tapes of old horror films he watched on a regular basis. Some were crappy quality that he had recorded off TV and had shitty homemade labels scrawled in Sharpies, but he still watched them.
His gaze fell on the cardboard box, now turned over on its side, the VHS tapes spilling out the sides. It'd take him forever to re-alphabetize them. Maybe he could get Travis to do it. He always liked doing shit like that.
"Come on, you fucking piece of shit TV," Jared fiddled with the remote and frustratedly tapped the buttons in the hopes that if he just hit them hard enough, they'd make the TV go to the right input for the VCR. "Alright dude, hang on." He crawled on all fours, moved behind the TV, and started fiddling with the wires. More static.
"Jared, man, chill, you'll get it later," Paul replied. He patted the spot on the floor beside him. "Come sit down, dude. Have some pizza rolls."
"Yeah, okay," Jared was still irritated at his stupid TV-- why his parents would just fucking let him get a new one he'd never know-- but he crawled toward Paul and sat down beside him, reaching across him for the plate of pizza rolls.
"So your mom and dad are, what, out of town or something?" Paul asked.
"Nah, man, they both fucking work. See, my dad, he's a factory worker at some shitty pillow place and my mom, she works this really shitty late shift at Save Co."
"Oh yeah, the big chain supermarkets," Paul nodded. "Yeah, my mom and dad go there."
Jared nodded, and he smiled. Here he was, sitting in his room eating fucking pizza rolls with a dude he had never once entertained the idea of being able to hang out with, the movie wasn't even working, but he was still sitting here acting interested and actually asking how his fucking parents. Whoa. Awesome.
Paul grabbed another pizza roll, and when he bit into it some of the tomato sauce inside spilled out and shot onto Jared's jeans. "Fuck, I'm sorry, Jared."
"It's fucking fine, dude," Jared laughed, and used the tip of his finger to wipe it off, before licking it off. "I get all sorts of shit on my clothes all the time. Makes my mom fucking mad, but--"
"Do you need to get changed?" Paul asked.
"No way, dude, it's just a tiny little spot. It's fine."
His jeans had been thrown onto his bed, and he could never wear them again now. He'd burn them later using the matches his dad kept stashed with his cigars. Fucking shame. They had always been his favorite jeans.
"Look, Jared, I feel fucking bad, man," Paul replied. "At least let me get a wet rag or something to wipe it off."
"Paul, dude, it's no fucking big deal," Jared laughed. "Seriously, man, fucking relax. I'm going to try and get the movie going again."
Jared pushed himself to his feet, but Paul grabbed his arm and pulled him back down. Jared stared at him, confused, and time froze for a second when he watched what Paul did next. He was pretty sure he was hallucinating. He was pretty sure that was no fucking way Paul was leaning over, his head hovering over the stain on the crotch of his jeans, and was now running his tongue against it to try and clean it.
"Paul--" Jared's breath hitched in his throat. The proximity of his face, the heat from his tongue, oh, fuck, it was definitely sending blood running in that direction. "Dude, what are you--"
"I told you, Jared, I felt fucking bad," Paul licked his lips, and his hand began to trail up Jared's ankle, past his calf, up his thigh, where it settled between his legs, and he gripped his hardening length.
"Ohhh fuck," Jared's hips arched forward without his consent. How could he already be so fucking hard? "Paul, shit, man, the movie--"
"Forget the fucking movie, Jared. It was bullshit anyway."
"Paul, what the fuck, man, the movie-- I mean, I thought that was why--"
"Jared, are you fucking hard or not?"
He was. There was no denying that. But something felt... off. As much as his body was responding to Paul's hand on him, he had a sick feeling in his stomach. The look in Paul's eyes was unsettling. He suddenly realized just how much bigger Paul was than him. Jared had always been small, 4'9" was the extent of his growth spurt, and he was petite on top of that. Paul was built more like a quarterback, and he didn't even play football. He easily had 40, 50 pounds on him and at least a foot and a quarter.
He had just wanted to watch the movie.
"Paul, dude, I-- let's just watch the fucking movie, okay?" Jared tried to grin and keep things light, trying to play this off like it was a joke, Jared the goofy dork, but Paul's eyes darkened and before he knew what was happening he was on his stomach, his face pressed down against the dirty shag carpeting, and Paul was pressing his knee into his back, right below his kidneys, and oh fuck it hurt.
"Paul! What the fuck, man--"
"Shut the fuck up, Jared," Paul's voice hissed in his ear, and Jared felt his hot breath against the back of his neck and he shuddered. He felt Paul reaching around to unbuckle his studded black belt, and he moved his hands to stop him, but Paul instead grabbed his arm and twisted it, keeping it pressed tightly against his back, and Jared shouted and bit back the tears that were forming in his eyes when his shoulder dislocated.
"Paul! What the fucking fuck! Get off me, man! What are you doing!"
"I said shut the fuck UP, Jared! What the fuck did you think this was, a little movie date? Bring me back to your place and sit and watch a fucking piece of shit movie with fucking pizza rolls? I've seen you staring at me for the past two fucking years, you fucking fairy."
His shoulder throbbed, the pain resonating all the way down to his groin muscles, and every time Paul tugged on his arm it hurt even more and made him feel nauseous. He felt his belt buckle be undone and his jeans being tugged down his legs, and he tried to buck Paul off of him, but he was too big, too heavy, and all he succeeded in doing was allowing Paul's erection to rub against his ass.
"Paul-- man, what the fuck are you doing-- I don't know what you're--" Tears were running down his face now. His shoulder hurt so bad. It was hard to breathe with Paul on top of him.
"I'm just going to give you what you apparently want so fucking badly," Paul's voice was so low it was nearly a growl. He tugged Jared's jeans off the rest of the way and Jared heard the sound of of a zipper being undone and he suddenly realized what was about to happen and he pushed up with all his strength in the hope of knocking Paul off of him.
Paul was still bigger and stronger, though, and he had leverage Jared didn't have. Instead of sliding off of Jared, he used his momentum against him and brought his elbow down heavily against the side of his face. Jared's vision blurred and he just stayed there, still and silent, as he felt Paul tug his underwear down over his hips, and he felt himself be straddled from behind.
It seemed to go on forever. Paul had one hand gripping Jared's hair, and with each rough thrust, he tugged at it hard. Jared tried to cry out, tried to scream, but no sound came out. He couldn't even whimper. He just stayed there on the floor, pinned by Paul's massive weight, thinking about anything other than what was happening as he was ground into the carpet.
When Paul was done, he got up off of Jared and zipped his pants back up, as if nothing had happened. Jared remained there, still unable, not unwilling, to move, and his entire body started to shake. He watched Paul walk around him and kneel in front of him.
"Thanks for the fucking ride, you faggot," Paul grinned at him. He fucking grinned at him. He reached a hand toward Jared's face, and he tried to turn his head away, but Paul forced it to stay in place, and ran his fingers over the sterling silver lip ring in his bottom lip. The gesture was almost tender, and then he ripped it out of his lip, laughing when Jared cried out and it started to bleed. "And thanks for the fucking souvenir." He held the ring up, pocketed it, and got to his feet.
He slammed the front door behind himself.
He still tasted the copper in his mouth and could feel the dried blood around his bottom lip. His shoulder hurt every time he moved, every time he tried to breathe, and his head was pounding too, and he felt sick and disoriented.
Finally, after laying prone in that spot for a couple hours, Jared forced himself, painfully slow, onto his knees. He crawled toward his TV, fiddled with the wires, and put the tape in the VCR. Then he fell over onto his side on the carpet, he grabbed a handful of cold pizza rolls, and he tugged his comforter off his bed, wrapping it tightly around himself. The movie started.