Where did my love go?
Strong fist met the cool steel of the beige locker,a small trickle of blood slipping past the tawny skin to sting a ruby path down swelled muscles. He couldn't be doing this again, not after everything that had happened tonight. Tears started to well in the aquamarine orbs drift warm, salty pools down the mans tired face. He had tried so hard to forgive him, to move on from the past and face a brighter future, yet every time he went away betrayal was waiting for him when he got back.
"I was drunk, I didn't know what I was doing." That's what he'd said last time, and the time before that and the time before that; he knew what he was doing, he just didn't give a damn. The rasp of the steel pounding against the flesh resounded a sickening wet smack, blood spitting against the tight body god. It wasn't fucking fair, he was loyal, honest, loving, hell he was even submissive as he had wanted him to be; and still he abused him. Treated him as though he was nothing more than a simple regular fuck when no one else had the time to satisfy the brute.
The sound of feet shuffling through the door snapped the man straight, wiping his face free of water he moved into the showers. He was aching and the touch of burning water was all he needed to relax, the shower head spurted icy water adjusting to the temperatures commanded before spilling the balmy water. Hot streams spilled down rippling muscle, cascading past broad shoulders, thick pecks, down firm abs and gluts washing over thick thighs and calves to pool around firm feet. Releasing a sigh of a heavy heart he blocked out the noise around him, the mindless chatter of men in obscure bonding washing away, drifting out of his crowded psyche. Balls of choking steam filled around him in a cloud of protection, concealing the suffering man from the harshness he'd known. This world had given him a vague hope that the future would be any better, had taunted him with golden opportunity, after golden opportunity only to reveal the gold painted copper in its place. He was tired, forever wearing the shackles of a man that showed no intentions of bettering himself, of dropping the excuse filled lies seeping out of the orifice on his chiseled, handsome face.
He knew better than to open his hearts chambers, to offer the four letter weakener that more often than not destroyed him inside. Tilting his shaved head forward he met the cool biting title of the wall, how could he have been so stupid? Stuck in a school girl crush, damn him, damn him and everything that he did to him. He was suppose to be strong, the one walking around with his head held high, broad smile against his perfect face. That was the life he wanted to be living, not this shadowed facade, mask wearing man he was now; if past him would have seen what he looked like in the present, he had no doubt he would have kicked the shit out of his own ass. Grabbing for the soap bar he placed it against his skin, lathering the beige colored flesh with white suds, taking extra care of his hanging manhood.
A soft grin touched his lips, how many memories the two of them had; memories that would have put his family to shame. He'd never liked to openly brag about his "gift" but he was never one to stop others from doing it for him, all it had taken was one heated blow job and now he was the envy of the locker room. He could recall for a month afterward having to change in a stall, having to many peeping toms scattered around him when changing; now though he didn't care. He had grown use to the stares and admirers, whipping himself out every chance he got to remind everyone who was top dog. Grimacing he set the bar back in its protective tray, if he hadn't been so shameless than maybe he never would have become the victim to...him.
He jolted forward, the rough callous touch of large paws scrapping against his slippery skin to wrap tightly around his waist, having scared him. His brows furrowed, his lips pulling together to make a tight line, he knew this touch hated this touch and longed for this touch all at the same time. Those very hands were followed by a firm, shorter body pressing against his back, obviously stripped to nothing more than his birthday suit. His muscles were tight, straining against the body holding him wanting nothing more than to break free and charge those arms, that body, that face. A square jaw rest against his shoulders, displaying a smirk that touched ear to ear. "How about when your done, you and I have some real fun?" The honey sweet tone reaching his ears causing him to shiver in disgust, how could he even think that he would say yes.
"No," his low vibrato whispered, almost lost in the patter of water hitting the hard surface below. He could feel those lips turn down, shaping into a sizable frown. "Your not still mad at me are you?" Those lips settling against his smooth neck were almost enough to melt his anger away. "Of course I'm still fucking mad," he growled a little tighter, his heart pulsating in his chest. "Come on......I said I was sorry...you know I didn't mean it," those hands were moving lower; dipping below his naval to trace along his v-cut. The sensation was damning, resting the firm fingers around the base of his cock, he let out a soft moan as they stroked him. Teasing him ever so slowly to give in to what his body wanted and think less about how pathetic their companionship was.
"I expect you at my room the moment you get to the hotel," all at once they were gone. Leaving as quickly as they come he listen to the soft clatter of departing feet. His head dropping to sag low in shame, morally hating every fiber of his being. "Oh....and Randy.........don't be late." Clenching his eyes shut he frown deeply forming gruesome creases in his flesh as the footsteps faded away. He'd loss again, even when his anger and hatred and been so strong he still lost. "I won't.......John."
"I was drunk, I didn't know what I was doing." That's what he'd said last time, and the time before that and the time before that; he knew what he was doing, he just didn't give a damn. The rasp of the steel pounding against the flesh resounded a sickening wet smack, blood spitting against the tight body god. It wasn't fucking fair, he was loyal, honest, loving, hell he was even submissive as he had wanted him to be; and still he abused him. Treated him as though he was nothing more than a simple regular fuck when no one else had the time to satisfy the brute.
The sound of feet shuffling through the door snapped the man straight, wiping his face free of water he moved into the showers. He was aching and the touch of burning water was all he needed to relax, the shower head spurted icy water adjusting to the temperatures commanded before spilling the balmy water. Hot streams spilled down rippling muscle, cascading past broad shoulders, thick pecks, down firm abs and gluts washing over thick thighs and calves to pool around firm feet. Releasing a sigh of a heavy heart he blocked out the noise around him, the mindless chatter of men in obscure bonding washing away, drifting out of his crowded psyche. Balls of choking steam filled around him in a cloud of protection, concealing the suffering man from the harshness he'd known. This world had given him a vague hope that the future would be any better, had taunted him with golden opportunity, after golden opportunity only to reveal the gold painted copper in its place. He was tired, forever wearing the shackles of a man that showed no intentions of bettering himself, of dropping the excuse filled lies seeping out of the orifice on his chiseled, handsome face.
He knew better than to open his hearts chambers, to offer the four letter weakener that more often than not destroyed him inside. Tilting his shaved head forward he met the cool biting title of the wall, how could he have been so stupid? Stuck in a school girl crush, damn him, damn him and everything that he did to him. He was suppose to be strong, the one walking around with his head held high, broad smile against his perfect face. That was the life he wanted to be living, not this shadowed facade, mask wearing man he was now; if past him would have seen what he looked like in the present, he had no doubt he would have kicked the shit out of his own ass. Grabbing for the soap bar he placed it against his skin, lathering the beige colored flesh with white suds, taking extra care of his hanging manhood.
A soft grin touched his lips, how many memories the two of them had; memories that would have put his family to shame. He'd never liked to openly brag about his "gift" but he was never one to stop others from doing it for him, all it had taken was one heated blow job and now he was the envy of the locker room. He could recall for a month afterward having to change in a stall, having to many peeping toms scattered around him when changing; now though he didn't care. He had grown use to the stares and admirers, whipping himself out every chance he got to remind everyone who was top dog. Grimacing he set the bar back in its protective tray, if he hadn't been so shameless than maybe he never would have become the victim to...him.
He jolted forward, the rough callous touch of large paws scrapping against his slippery skin to wrap tightly around his waist, having scared him. His brows furrowed, his lips pulling together to make a tight line, he knew this touch hated this touch and longed for this touch all at the same time. Those very hands were followed by a firm, shorter body pressing against his back, obviously stripped to nothing more than his birthday suit. His muscles were tight, straining against the body holding him wanting nothing more than to break free and charge those arms, that body, that face. A square jaw rest against his shoulders, displaying a smirk that touched ear to ear. "How about when your done, you and I have some real fun?" The honey sweet tone reaching his ears causing him to shiver in disgust, how could he even think that he would say yes.
"No," his low vibrato whispered, almost lost in the patter of water hitting the hard surface below. He could feel those lips turn down, shaping into a sizable frown. "Your not still mad at me are you?" Those lips settling against his smooth neck were almost enough to melt his anger away. "Of course I'm still fucking mad," he growled a little tighter, his heart pulsating in his chest. "Come on......I said I was sorry...you know I didn't mean it," those hands were moving lower; dipping below his naval to trace along his v-cut. The sensation was damning, resting the firm fingers around the base of his cock, he let out a soft moan as they stroked him. Teasing him ever so slowly to give in to what his body wanted and think less about how pathetic their companionship was.
"I expect you at my room the moment you get to the hotel," all at once they were gone. Leaving as quickly as they come he listen to the soft clatter of departing feet. His head dropping to sag low in shame, morally hating every fiber of his being. "Oh....and Randy.........don't be late." Clenching his eyes shut he frown deeply forming gruesome creases in his flesh as the footsteps faded away. He'd loss again, even when his anger and hatred and been so strong he still lost. "I won't.......John."