Cold. I'm very cold. Shifting, I pull my coat
tighter around myself and try to hold in what little warmth that I
can. The subway train rumbles on and I just sit there on the
uncomfortable plastic of the bench seat and try not to think.
the bitter metallic taste of blood in my mouth boots hitting my
ribs
Or at least if I do think I try to remember the bad. I rest my head
on my folded arms, flinching as I accidentally bump my bruised
cheek.
Blinding hot light, has my eye exploded? no i can see please no
more please
The train grumbles to a halt. I look up briefly, panicking as I hear
someone get on. I'm being stupid and I know it but my first thought
is that it is him, that he has found me and my stomach clenches,
roiling with nausea and I wonder if I will just lean over right now
and vomit on my own boots.
A man in a long black coat gets on and I nearly slide to the floor
in my relief. Barely aware that I am staring, I drink in the look of
him with my eyes. Tall, with very short blond hair. Even with our
distance, I can see his eyes are icy blue. I let my eyes travel down
his body, his coat is open but I can't see much, he is dressed all
in black. When I look up again, he is staring at me, one eyebrow
raised in a slightly mocking manner. Abruptly I am aware of my
stained coat and jeans, my grungy shoes. I bury my face into my arms
again, nearly gasping in pain as I brush against forgotten wounds.
And try not to think.
Try not to remember how it felt, when he hit me again. Better to
think of that though. Better than accidentally remembering the good
times,
my eyesight seems so clear, i can see strands of blond hair
entwined in his fingers, his fingers are rust colored, how strange i
think blood thatsbloodmyblood,
Because I know if I remember the good times I'll end up on a porch
downtown with a stupid apology running out of me like diarrhea
and...and someone is touching my back, gently, soothing....
I look up, startled. It's him, the man in the coat. His face is only
inches from mine.
"Who did this to you?" And I close my eyes. His voice was a soft
rasp, like silk being dragged across velvet. His hands drift across
my bruised ribs and I jump, a sound of pain escaping my lips.
"Hmmmmm?" He looks at me, expectantly. I wet my lips nervously,
tasting copper as my tongue brushes a cut. His eyes follow the
movement of my tongue, was that gold I saw in his eyes?
"My boyfriend," I grimace slightly at the sound of my voice, weak
and scared. He nods and smiles slightly. He ran his fingers through
my hair, pulling slightly at tangles. The train rattles to a stop
again.
"Come with me." He stood, not looking back, not waiting. I follow. I
don't know why, maybe it was because he was so beautiful. He moves
silently off the train. And I follow him.
We walked through the city that night. Through dark parts of town,
where I had never been, where there were only the homeless and few
of those as well. We walked and I spoke. I told him about my life,
about my boyfriend, about the beating. He was quiet throughout, not
judging, not condemning, just listening. I told him how my parents
had thrown me out, calling me a sinner and telling me I was damned.
He smiled ever so faintly at that, but never spoke. He felt like
someone I could tell anything to, say anything and he would still
love me. Because he knew the real me. Like he was my oldest and
dearest friend.
We ended up in a park that I had never been to before. I had told
him everything, all my life, like a giant dam had broken inside me
and released a flood of words. And finally I had said it all and I
was silent. He looks at me, and touches my face, skimming over the
signs of abuse. And softly, so softly, he kisses me, careful of my
bruised mouth, his tongue invading, dancing with mine.
I respond, nervously at first and then ... and then it felt *right*,
it felt as if he had held me in his arms for a thousand years. His
hands drifted down my back, rubbing in slow circles, down to my
buttocks, kneading away the stiffness, the pain. His mouth fell from
mine, and moved down my neck. I don't remember falling to the
ground, but we were there, his hand moving to the front of my body,
rubbing my erection as I ran my hands over his body.
His skin is cool as marble, firm with muscle. I unbutton his shirt
and feel the hard paleness of his skin. He makes a harsh sound of
pleasure. I feel him undo the buttons on my jeans, his hands inside
them now, cupping the heat of my balls in the coolness of his hand.
I gasp as he grasps my erection, massaging it firmly. His mouth is
moving on my neck, I moan louder now, I can feel the heat of the
coming explosion and...Pain!
I come hard, feel the warmth of my semen on my stomach and dimly I
feel his mouth on my neck sucking hard. The flash of pain when he
bit me is gone, now there is only warm heat, strange images floating
before my eyes, heat and pleasure, surely I will die of this
pleasure, must die from it and I seek my death with open arms
and...and...then it is gone.
I lay on the ground gasping for breath, sticky with my own come and
blood. I can feel the cold seeping up from the soil penetrating my
coat. Awkwardly, I rearrange my clothes and sit up. He is standing a
few feet away, staring at the moon.
"Why..." I start and choke on the word, I can feel the warmth of my
blood trickling down my neck. He looks over his shoulder at me, then
back at the moon.
"Why what? Why did I listen to you, walk with you?" He turns and
faces me, then crouched down beside me. "Maybe, for the first time,
in longer than I can remember, I wanted to do something for
someone." He shrugged, "Maybe I wanted to pretend that I was human
again, if only for a very short while." He stood then and smiled,
touches my hair and tugs none-to-gently on the blond curls. "Maybe
you just remind me of someone I know." He starts to walk away, then
turns and faces me again. "Don't go
home until tomorrow night. I have some business to take care of." He
smiles again, flashing golden eyes and sharp fangs and then he was
just...gone.
I stumble to my feet and collapse on a bench. I just sit there, too
stunned, too weak to move. I sat and watch the sun rise. It was
beautiful, a painting that the gods remixed every morning. That
morning I watched it in awe, knowing that one way or another it
would be my last sunrise. I sat on that bench, and for the first
time in a very long time, I wasn't cold. I sat and waited for my
lover.
-finis-
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mailto:keelywolfe@gmail.com
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