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18 July 2008 @ 02:39 pm

How well do you know me? Leave an open door,
What you looking for, babe, when you come down?

I took him by surprise when I dragged him further down the bed, so his back wasn’t propped against the pillows. I had been lying subdued against his chest like a faithful dog whilst he read. I didn’t want to be that for the moment. I wanted to be in control of both myself and Frank, not thinking about death, not thinking about a possible afterlife, not thinking about a more likely possibility of eternal nothingness. Right at that moment, I was going to be something else, more like Frank and less like myself. I straddled Frank and pinned his wrists. Now with the advantage, I looked down at him, contemplating my next move. He looked up at me, wide-eyed, but I could see it was out of curiosity rather than fear. His mouth twitched, and it looked like he was going to say something, but he must have decided against it. I saw a smirk play across his lips and I frowned.

I leaned down to whisper in his ear. “You won’t be smirking for long, honey.”

Against my wishes, he continued to smile, he couldn’t help himself. I was acting differently which must have been quite a turn on for Frank. I hurriedly dragged his sweatpants off and undid my fly. With what I had planned to do to him, I knew he wouldn’t be ready. I had to prepare him for my attack. I huskily told him not to move as I leaned over the side to feel around under the bed. The lube had fallen there a few nights ago. I retrieved it and turned back to Frank, applying some of the gel to two of my fingers and hastily inserting them into him. Once they were all the way in, I drew them back, then pushing in again a few more times, until I slowly worked in a third. His body thrashed once when I managed to brush his prostate. I had never before managed to reach the gland using only my fingers. I hit it a few more times, and stopped when I knew he was ready, I didn’t want it to be too good, too soon.

I positioned myself at his entrance and thrust, a little quickly, judging by the hiss I received. He wasn’t as ready for this as I thought he would be. I drew back slowly, only to thrust harder into him, causing him to jolt a little underneath me. He looked into my eyes and I could barely work out if he was excited, thrown off, or maybe a little of both. That was fine by me; I wanted Frank to feel out of his comfort zone, just to drive the point that I was capable of controlling a situation. I didn’t care that the situation was sex; after all, it was probably what he would respond to the most.

Still, I couldn’t completely disregard any feeling he may have had right in that moment, maybe when we got further in I would, but as for now, he was still Frank. I tried to read his expression, and I figured by the way he was gazing at me, lustful and calm, he was enjoying this. I was surprised that this fact bothered me. Would nothing get through to him? I’m not myself right now and he’s enjoying that. Shouldn’t he be a little freaked out? I could make him freak out. I just wanted to make a scene with him. I wanted to corrupt the bed of our love making, make it messy, make it dirty. I didn’t want him looking at that damn bed the same way anymore. I wanted to see Frank walking funny in the morning. I wanted to ruin that missionary routine that was our passion, just so it would meet up to the dysfunction of my own mind. Is that sick? I hope it is.

As I was thinking all of these irrational thoughts, Frank must have noticed that my mind had gone elsewhere once again, and he grabbed my ass to remind me of the task at hand. This bothered me to no end. For once, when I’m the one setting the speed, he still has to try to get his own in, out of habit, I guessed. I quickly batted his hand away, letting him know that he wasn’t to take any initiative tonight. He was to lay there and let me handle everything.

I continued to thrust, short and fast. It wasn’t rough, and probably not painful, but I was showing him a different side of me. I didn’t speak, which was a change; usually I would voice my pleasure to him, let him know he was doing it so right, but tonight he wasn’t doing very much at all. I kept going, silent apart from my moaning and grunting. He was enjoying it, I could tell, but his expression was changing, as if he was in new water, which he was.

It was one new trick after another from me that night, and I didn’t even know where it was all coming from. He let me do all the work, position him, let me choose the pace in which we fucked. I was getting closer, and now we had somehow moved from missionary, to doggy, to sideways, and back to missionary. I was amazed that I had lasted so long. Slowly, I reached down to take his erection in my hand and pumped slowly. He was already in quite a state, thrashing around on the bed with each thrust, and now that I had taken him in my hand, he was giving in completely. Frank threw his head back the moment I touched him, his neck open for assault, inviting. I wasn’t going to kiss him though. With the hand I was using to hold myself up, I moved and wrapped it around his neck, squeezing gently. His eyes shot open, looking at me with pure shock, but he calmed when he came to his senses and realized that I would never really hurt him. I squeezed just a little tighter, still thrusting into him, faster, and pumping him with my other hand. Frank became helpless to his own feelings and with a heavy moan, he came, over my hand and his own stomach. I don’t remember when exactly, but I came soon after, my endorphins shooting like pin balls, madly throughout my brain.


I built a time machine to escape from
All the pain in the back of my car

Things really did change after that. He morning following, I awoke to find Frank gone. I panicked at first, thinking I had maybe freaked him out the night before. It wouldn’t surprise me, it must have been just too different for him to process. I tried to call him, but I could hear the ringing and found his cell phone on the kitchen bench. He didn’t want to talk to me right now; I knew this because he never forgot his phone. He knew how much I worried when I couldn’t contact him. Clearly he was hoping that when he returned, he would be able to use his failing memory as an excuse.

Now I wondered if maybe I had gone too far. I thought I could escape my own fear for that moment, but now, the following morning, I remembered all too well where that gun was. I wished I could go back in time. I wouldn’t only go back to the day before, and stop myself from losing control with Frank, I would go back to before my parents had ever opened their mouths to me about death. That could change everything. Maybe if I could do that, I would never worry about my exit from the world. I wouldn’t even have to worry about police officers pulling me over and searching my car, to find the little surprise I had hidden behind the driver’s seat.

It didn’t take too long for Frank to return, only a couple of hours. He was acting fine, like he did every day. He didn’t bring up the night before at all, at first, but that night, when we turned in, I wrapped my arm around his waist. He must’ve taken this as an advance, because he opened his mouth at last.

“What was that last night?” he asked me.

I sighed, I really didn’t want to have to explain myself. If I explained myself, I would only worry him more, but he pushed on, so I answered.

“I wish things were different, Frank. I wish I didn’t worry about death as much I do,” I told him, “I just want to live the way I want.”

I expected that comment to open up a floodgate of questions from him, but he just closed his eyes. I knew what he was feeling now. It wasn’t what he said, it was what he wasn’t saying. He was sick of this. He knew he couldn’t change me, he just had to live with what I was, he loved me enough to put up with it.

I got worse.

Living's a problem because everything dies babe
Save yourself you're not too far away

Tension was everywhere around us, but most importantly, between us. Frank went out more, forgot his phone more. He’d initiate chaotic sex to make me into a different person. Apparently, he’d liked that more than I thought. He was trying to help, to allow me to have fun, and when he went out without me, I guess that was him trying to wean me off of my clingy behavior. But, one day, I had had enough of his methods. He was too stressed and it added to my own. The more he was gone, the more I wanted to be gone for good. I didn’t understand how he could just leave me alone in my thoughts.

I tried to reason with him, explain that we were having problems, but he’d just brush me off, saying, “If you’re not worrying about death, you’re worrying about life.” I wish he wasn’t right.

He’d come home drunk, more often than not, and I wasn’t sure if I was imagining it or not, but I could have sworn I could smell women’s perfume on him every now and then. That smell reminded me of something I didn’t want to remember; that apart from his relationship with me, Frank was, more or less, straight.  

The night came, that I questioned him about it. He was drunk again, and I had had enough. I needed to talk to him about this. I had kept my mouth shut for too long. The end was coming, couldn’t he see that? I hadn’t yet told him that I lay in bed the night before, peacefully imagining that gun in my mouth.

I begged him to come for a drive with me. To talk about things, and finally he agreed to it. It was a dark, quiet, night, and it had just began to rain softly. Perfect. The car ride was silent, until he asked me where we were going, what we needed to talk about. I was honest; I told him it was about us, that we were dying. He found out where I was taking him when we arrived. It was the same place we had pulled over to fuck on our anniversary. The same place he pulled a gun on me and told me to fuck him properly.

When he saw where we were, he turned to me, squinting, silently asking me what I thought I was doing. I undid my seatbelt and reached back behind my seat, taking the case and resting it on my lap. Frank’s eyes went wide as soon as he saw what I was holding.

“Do you love me, Frank?” I asked, calmly.

He almost choked on his own breath as I opened the case, taking the handgun out of its resting place. He said nothing, so I asked again.

“Yes, Gerard, I- of course I fucking love you.” He answered.

Something else needed to be asked, something I wanted to know, and now was in the position to ask. “Are you cheating on me?”

He sighed, heavily, and closed his eyes. “This is because I go out, isn’t it? Because you’re not with me at all fucking times?”

“And because I smell perfume on you when you walk through the door,” I boldly admitted, but I was still calm.

There was a long silence, driving me out of my mind. Frank was looking down, nervously into his own lap. I didn’t know if he was nervous because of the weapon I was holding, or because he had something to admit. Maybe it was both. He shook his head and broke the silence at last. “I never cheated on you, Gerard. I just needed my space from all of your fucking death ranting. Get over it, okay? I tried to help you before, but now? Just get the fuck over it.”

And once again, the car was in silence, until he spoke again.

“I love you as much right now, with that fucking gun in your hand, as I did when we first moved in together.”

Tears rolled down my cheeks, but I wiped them away before he had a chance to see them. I had spent so much of my life in this snare, waiting to just not wake up. I looked at the gun, then back at Frank. His beautiful eyes showing me just what I didn’t want him to see in myself; vulnerability.

Enough was enough, I decided. This needed to be done with. I opened my door, walked around the car to Frank’s door, and opened it.

“Get out of the car.”

Frank looked up at me, questioningly, before he lifted himself out of the car on shaky legs. I took his hand, also shaking, and walked him over to a bushy area. We stopped and I looked at him. His eyes were so full of tears, so emotional. This needed to be over, then and there.

My breath was so choppy from my own fear. “I was going to get you to do this. But, I think I need to do i myself for it to really be over, the way I always wanted it to be.” I didn’t look at him. If he was scared of me at that moment, I really didn’t want to know about it. I had to do what I had to do, and I needed him to be there with me, right through to the end.

That gun, it was my escape and it was my trap. It would end everything one way or the other. I lifted it, ran my fingers along the barrel, the smooth metal cooling my fingers on an already cold night. I closed my eyes and sighed, taking Frank’s trembling hand in my own.

Then I did it. I did it with Frank right beside me, holding my hand the whole way through.

I threw that fucking trap of a gun as far away from us as I could. I heard it land somewhere, I didn’t care where exactly, but it was away from us. I only hoped no one else would find it.

Frank turned to me, put his arms around me, pushed his face into the crook of my neck. I knew I’d feel his soft, calming breath on that spot forever. I’d feel his comforting, loving arms wrapped around me for the rest of my life.

I’d feel him touching me, making everything better until the day I died. And I didn’t give a fuck when that would be.   
Samanthakiller_academy on July 18th, 2008 05:48 am (UTC)
Thanks so much!!! I'm insanely glad you liked it. I've changed the errors, thank you for pointing those out!

I'm gonna go post it now. :D

bhahaha, harry potter.

thank you again. xxxxx