Losers: Part I

The setting sun kissed the horizon, turning the sky pink and orange. The colors melted into the clouds, swirling like paint as the golden light touched my bare arms.

It made me feel nostalgic, although I wasn’t sure why. Was it possible to feel nostalgia for something you’d never experienced? Bedtime stories, running through sprinklers, playgrounds, and holding your parents’ hand — I longed for things I’d seen only on TV, or enviously watched others experience. I craved it as if it had ever been mine and not only a dream.

There was a pop and hiss as Manson opened a beer and handed it to me before opening his own. We were seated in the back of the Bronco, legs dangling over the tall weeds in the middle of the field we were parked in.

This gave me nostalgia too. Just the two of us in the back of his car, marveling at the approach of another long night. Shocked that we’d survived another day.

How many nights had we laid together in the back of this vehicle, telling each other every fucked-up thought in our heads because no one else would listen? How many nights had we fallen asleep in each other’s arms, because parting felt like one of us might not be there the next morning?

How many times had we told each other to keep going, to keep fucking fighting, because if one of us gave up, there was no hope for any of us at all?

“Feels like a lifetime since we watched the sunset,” I said.

Manson was seated close beside me, his arm pressed against mine as he lifted his can and took a sip. “Been too long. I feel like I’m losing track of time. The days keep disappearing.”

I nodded as I took out a cigarette and lit up. I took a long drag, savoring the slight burn in my throat and the hit of nicotine. I passed it to him, and he looked at it between his fingers for a long time before he took a drag.

“I should probably quit,” he said. The words made a pang shoot through my chest like a bolt. He was right, we both needed to quit. But sometimes, when I saw him getting better, when I saw how hard he was trying to be a better man, I felt like I was being left behind. He was able to do what I couldn’t, and although he kept trying to drag me along with him, I still lived with the fear that eventually, he’d fix himself and I’d still be broken.

Too broken for him, for any of them.

We’d met each other at our lowest and risen out of that together. We’d been desperate back then, searching for any reason at all to keep going, and we’d found that in each other.

How selfish was I to worry that he might not need me anymore?

It was weird how it seemed like he could read my mind. He passed the cigarette back and said, “Do you know why I wanted you with her? Why I sent you inside with Jess, instead of having you with me?”

It was like he knew that had hurt me. And I’d tried not to let it, I’d really tried. But it kindled my fear that he was pushing me away. I’d protect him, I would always protect him. But if he wouldn’t let me…

“I have the worst temper,” I said, inhaling slowly. “Your dad is volatile and I suck at keeping my cool. Figured you were trying to avoid the situation escalating.”

I could feel his eyes on the side of my face, although I was still staring toward the setting sun.

“I knew you’d keep her safe. I knew that no matter what happened, if my father wanted to hurt her, the last person he’d have to get through was you. And he wouldn’t get through you.”

He wasn’t the kind of person to say that out of pity or lie in an effort to make me feel better. Manson had always been careful with his words and he said what he meant.

He plucked the cigarette from my fingers, inhaling deeply. He cupped my face, his fingers tracing back over my jaw until he grasped the back of my head and pulled me close.

He kissed me, his taste so familiar, the sharp pinch of his teeth on my lip igniting a fire in my chest. I grasped his shirt, fingers knotted in the fabric as his tongue pushed into my mouth and the scent of him filled my head with need.

I’d thought I was losing my mind when I met him. When I met this boy who was so much like me, who shook with pain and rage like I did, who was looking for a reason to live like I was. The way he made me feel, like I’d finally found this glittering sliver of goodness in the world, was fucking terrifying. I’d never cared one way or the other about the gender of the people I slept with — although my dad had tried to beat it out of me when I told him I’d fuck whoever I damn well pleased, it hadn’t dissuaded me.

I’d found someone I trusted enough to be vulnerable with, something I thought was impossible.

“I’ve missed this…” He ran his fingers along my jaw, traced them down my throat and then laid his hand there. He didn’t squeeze, but I liked the weight of his hand. “I’ve missed you.”

“I know,” I said. I didn’t like change, and it seemed our lives had been in constant flux for so long now. It made me anxious, and when I got anxious, I withdrew. I pulled away from the very people I was closest to. Like I needed to punish myself for feeling anything at all.

“You told me not to walk out on you.” His breath brushed over my skin, and my lips parted with the desire to kiss him again. But I didn’t struggle; I let him keep me under control even though I wanted to sink my teeth into his skin and taste his blood on my tongue. “Now I’m telling you the same thing. Don’t walk out on me.” He tapped the side of my head with his finger, his tongue running slowly along his lower lip before he said, “When you’re physically in front of me but not with me mentally…I can’t stand it. I need you with me, Lucas. Do you get it?”

“I get it,” I said. He held the cigarette to my lips, carefully, allowing me to inhale.

“What do you need from me, pup?” he said. His hand squeezed my neck, and I let the smoke curl from my mouth. “You have that look in your eyes, you know. Like you need something, like you need…”

He let the question hang, his dark eyes searching mine.

“Hurt me,” I said. His pupils dilated, his lips parting as his breath quickened. “I need you to hurt me. Control me.”

Sometimes I needed to destroy myself, and I needed it done brutally, mercilessly. I needed pain to remind me I was human, to root me in a reality that oftentimes felt too chaotic to bear. There was no chaos in the way Manson could overcome me. It was the opposite; when I gave him control, I felt peace, clarity.

I reached up, tracing my fingers down his cheek. He really was a beautiful man. I loved the way he leaned into my hand, how his eyes never left mine. He said I often spoke silently, and that was why he watched my face so carefully. He was looking for the things I left unsaid.

“You’re what I need,” I said.

He gave me a crooked smile as he leaned down to kiss me. His kiss was deliciously slow, and I tangled my fingers in his hair as I held him close. He was intoxicating, a flawed god I couldn’t resist worshiping. His imperfection made him sacred, his strength made him holy. But the lust he inspired in me made him wicked, and the ease with which he bent me to his will was the closest thing to divinity I could imagine.

He parted from me, taking another drag as he released his hold on my throat.

“Take this off,” he said, tugging at the hem of my shirt before he got up.

I obeyed and followed him when he slid out of the back of Bronco. I tossed my shirt aside, and he pressed me against the side of the vehicle, the cold metal shocking on my skin. He stared at my chest as he pinned me by the throat, tracing the lines tattooed into my flesh with the cigarette, moving it slowly through the air. He brought the cherry close to my skin, hovering it above a small spot untouched by ink.

“Beg me for it,” he whispered. He didn’t want to have any doubt. He didn’t want to fear that he’d done anything I wasn’t already longing for. I was wound so tight I thought I would explode, waiting on the edge of desperation for him to give me what I craved.

“Please, fucking hurt me,” I got the words out, harsh and heavy. “Use me. Fuck me. Show me that I can’t ever get away from you.”

His lips crashed into mine, and the cigarette pressed against my chest. It was only for a moment, only long enough for the burn to set in. The pain didn’t scare me; in fact, I savored it.

It made me feel human. Flesh and blood, mind and soul finally connected into one complete being.

I groaned into his mouth, his hips grinding against mine as he flicked the cigarette down and crushed it under his boot. His tongue slid past my lips, his hand on my throat squeezing right below my jaw.

I used to make a game of putting cigarettes out on my skin. It was an ugly habit, destructive, full of hatred for my own flesh. Manson made me stop with the promise that he’d do it to me instead if I asked him. The control I was seeking in self-destruction was something I could find with him. Something I could trust him with.

Sometimes, I needed someone to tell me when enough was enough before I tore myself into pieces.

I fumbled for his belt buckle, wrenching it open and grabbing his cock through his briefs. He was hot in my hand, throbbing when I squeezed. He shoved me to my knees and I pressed my face into his groin, inhaling deeply. I was practically salivating, my head flooded with the musky scent of him.

He jerked his briefs down, and I dug my fingers into his hips, taking his cock into my mouth until my nose was buried in his dark hair. He thrust into my throat, one hand pressed against the back of my skull.

“Choke on it,” he said, and the pleasure in his voice made me ravenous. “Get it wet for me, pup.”

He held me down until I gagged, until my eyes watered and I couldn’t breathe, my lungs aching for air. But I didn’t care. I wanted to reach that edge of endurance and push past it.

He pulled out of my mouth, and my lips were still parted when he spat on my face.

“Thank you, sir.” I grinned up at him, my chest tight with feral laughter at the bliss of having him over me. He hauled me to my feet and turned me around, dragging his nails down my spine.

He pressed against me, pinning me in place before he said, “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

The seconds he was gone, rummaging in the front of the Bronco, felt like an eternity. I held my breath, counting each moment as it passed, resting my forehead against the window’s cold glass. When he returned, he had a little bottle of lube in his hands.

We kept that shit everywhere, just in case. Glove boxes, bedside drawers, jacket pockets. We weren’t going to be caught unprepared.

He made me stand in place as he undressed me. Starting with the boots, he knelt to pull the yellow laces loose. He pulled my jeans down, slapping my hands away when I tried to do it myself.

“Be patient,” he said, once I was naked and he was still dressed. My back was to him, my chest pressed against the vehicle. It was so hard to remain like that, to obey his orders not to move and just wait. I wasn’t patient. The anticipation was nearly impossible to bear.

“Make it fucking hurt,” I said, repeating the words like a prayer as he kissed my shoulder, dragging his nails down my arm. There was a sound, the click of a bottle cap, and then his fingers probed me, slick with lube. One pressed inside my ass as he gripped the back of my neck. He took his time before adding a second finger, and I groaned as it squeezed inside.

“Want more?” he said, his voice low in my ear as his fingers pumped into me. My cock was leaking against the Bronco, pre-cum beading on the metal.

“More…fuck, give me more,” I snarled. I needed it now, right now. I didn’t want to wait. I didn’t want to fuss and simper about pain. I wanted to lose myself in hurt and agony until there was nothing else in my brain.

He moved us to the side and forced my head down until I was bent into the back of the Bronco. The tremble in his arm gave away how eager he was for this. A third finger pressed inside me, and I slammed my fist against the thin carpet hard enough to hurt.

“Do it,” I murmured. “Do it, do it, do it, fucking please —”

He sunk his fingers in past the knuckle, pumping them until my cock jumped and I was gasping through clenched teeth. My hands were knotted into fists when he withdrew his fingers from inside me and the head of his cock pressed against me instead.

He hunched over my back, tongue gliding along my spine. “You’ll call red if it’s too much,” he said, and I growled in frustration. He squeezed my neck in warning. “Promise me.”

“Fine, fuck, yes, I promise —”

He pressed inside me, stretching me with a slow stinging ache that had me groaning harshly. His grip on my neck steadied me, keeping me in place as I adjusted to him.

“Fuck, goddamn it…” I panted, my legs shaking as he drew his hips back and thrust forward again, slamming against me. The sensation overtook me, melting into every corner of my brain like sticky goo that drowned everything else in its path. No fear, no frustration. No swirling, chaotic thoughts.

Only pleasure. Only agony. Only us.

“Is this what you needed, pup?” The words were guttural. He spoke them with his mouth against my back, teeth grazing my skin as if he meant to plant the words in my flesh. “Is this what you fucking deserve?”

I tried to answer. But he spat in his palm and reached around me, gripping my cock and stroking me. His fingers moved over me with a twisting and pulling motion that had my eyes rolling back. My usual efforts at stoicism were abandoned; the groans he forced out of my mouth carelessly loud. I thrust my cock in his hand, my breath hitching.

“I deserve it…” My voice was ragged and my muscles grew taut as I plummeted past the point of no return. I couldn’t move other than to shake. I couldn’t force another word out of my mouth.

A chill went through every nerve, from the tips of my toes all the way to my head. Cum spurted across his hand as I came, losing myself in ecstasy. I was unbearably sensitive almost instantly, gasping as he kept stroking me until I wanted to curl up into a ball to escape.

“Take it for me,” he grunted, his thrusts coming harder, with new urgency. He leaned heavily against my back, his panting breath hot as he buried himself deep inside me. His cock pulsed as he came, his body shuddering.

For nearly a minute, neither of us moved. It was all we could do to stay on our feet, legs shaking, leaning there as we caught our breath.

Finally, although the words still trembled, I said quietly, “I love you.”

He rested his head against my back, his breath warm on my skin. “I love you, too.”

He pulled out of me, keeping a grip on my arm as we crawled into the back of the Bronco again and collapsed.

“I don’t tell you enough,” I said. “I think about it all the damn time. I look at you…” I glanced over at him — at the sweat on his skin, the blissful afterglow on his face. “And I think of how much I love you, but I don’t fucking say it.”

His eyes were half-lidded in the fading light. “I know you try.”

“I need to try harder. I know I don’t always get it right. Not with you or…or with Jess, or Vincent, or Jason. But I’m trying. And I’ll keep trying. I want you to know that.”

It used to scare me the way I loved him, just like it scared me to love Jason and Vincent. It was so much to lose, too much. And now…

Now there was Jessica.

God, she terrified me.

We laid side by side, curled against each other as we lit up another cigarette and passed it between us. The sun was gone and crickets chirped in the long grass. The air was cooling, the heat finally beginning to fade.

“I think she loves you, too,” I said suddenly, and he shifted beside me.

“Jess? I doubt that.”

“You shouldn’t. You should have seen how worried she was about you when you left the house.” My head was resting on his arm, and he curled it closer around me. “I think if I’d fought your dad, she would have joined me.”

I hadn’t expected much of her at first. A guy like me wouldn’t be wise to expect anything at all from a woman like her. But she never failed to surprise me. She was ferocious, a force to be reckoned with — yet now, I could see the cracks in her armor, the insecurities, the worries, the fear.

She wasn’t as different from me as I’d thought. Maybe that was why she made me feel this way, as if I wanted to cling to her and push her away at the same time.

“I don’t think she could love me,” I said, and Manson scoffed.

“If that’s what you think, then I wish you could see how she looks at you,” he said. “You’re both too damn prideful.”

“It’s not worth dwelling on,” I said, taking the cigarette when he held it out. “We won’t have her around for much longer.”

I didn’t like the thought at all. In fact, I hated the idea of her disappearing from our lives again so much that it made my fingers shake with anger. She needed to stay and give us a chance to figure this shit out.

“Do you remember what I used to tell you?” Manson said. “When we were teenagers and we’d drive out here to talk about shit…you’d tell me you didn’t want to see another day…”

I remembered that, of course I did. I remembered the despair I felt, the pain we shared, how hopeless I’d been.

“If you can get through the night, you’ll see the sun again,” I said, repeating the words he’d told me back then. “Keep chasing the next sunrise.” I closed my eyes as I exhaled. “The night feels really fucking dark, Manson, but I’m still chasing sunrises.”

He squeezed my arm, leaning his head over to press against mine. “Yeah. Shit has gotten a little darker lately than I’d like.”

A few minutes passed in silence before he said, “We need to get out of town for a few days. Go somewhere else, give ourselves a break. Give my a dad a chance to fuck off.”

“Yeah? I could go for that. Vincent’s parents could watch the dogs.” I couldn’t remember the last time we’d taken a vacation, even a small one. It felt like we’d moved into that big house and had been working ourselves to the bone every day since. “What about Jess? It feels weird to leave her.”

“We won’t leave her,” he said, his tone thoughtful as his lips curved into a smile. “I’ve got plans for her.”

“I love it when you grin like that,” I said. That sadist’s smile on his face meant only trouble, and I was ready for it. “What’s the plan?”

“She told me about her ultimate fantasy,” he said, scratching his thumb over his chin. “She talked about how she wants to be stolen away, made to submit, to have all her worries and cares disappear. I say we make that fantasy come true.”

A shiver went over my back at the thought of it. “Oh, fuck yeah. Snatch up our pretty little toy and take her away all for ourselves? Sounds exactly like the vacation I need.”

It wasn’t just lust that had me excited. The need to pull Jess close and never let her go, no matter how completely mad she drove me, was growing more intense by the day. I had some fucked up abandonment issues, and I didn’t know what the hell Jess felt about us, but knowing that was her ultimate fantasy made a ridiculous burst of hope explode in my chest.

She wanted something we could give her. An escape, an outlet for her darkness, a safe place she could fulfill all her filthy desires. I wanted to give her that. I wanted to show her that regardless of her fears, she could have everything she wanted and more.

I needed it to be different this time. I’d break every damn rule necessary to win, to claim a prize that had been dangling in front of our faces for years.

This was our game, and I didn’t care what it took to make her ours in the end.

To Be Continued…