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Rafe’s on a new trip of his. I’ve seen many and many fail—crypto schemes, going pro at golf, the gambling phase, starting juice, even seen the porn addiction that followed, heard it in every word he spoke, smelled it off him, his desperation leaking out of every pore. Whatever shit he was on in some way contagious, rubbed myself raw like a boy every time he left my place.
Kook’s a drug dealer now. It’s fun watching him play and play along, see how long he can keep this one up. He loves the business talk, the illusion of anything important between me and him, gets his chest all out and chin up. I lean into it—too much at times—those blue eyes bring out the worst in me and I get stupid with the threats, know he loves it though, goes on bragging about it to his friends, about the real shit he’s in and how he’s handling it.
Might’ve been me who suggested the whole thing after the kid couldn’t pay up, too early to ask his lips, chase him away, thing with instinct is when they start running, I do too. Who knows who said what, liquor blurs the memories, might’ve been him who came up with earning a quick buck at those kook parties, I’m almost certain he did.
If it was me, I was just making fun.
On him for not catching it. On me, for flirting like a dumb third grader who’s lost all to say but insults in front of his crush, starts pulling hair cause least then the running's justified. Rafe’s worse, though. I notice the tweaks in his language, the words he copies and speaks like I don’t hear him parroting. He’s a bendable little thing, has my thoughts running wild with all I can shape him into.
Rafe was never more than a tourist though. My friends and buyers like animals and Rafe pressing his dirty little nose against the glass to stare. I knew I was the main attraction; pathetic to get riled up over it—his attention had me doing tricks to keep it.
He puts me on my knees same night he comes asking for credit, bends me over the toilet and I retch thinking about making him pay for it, know it’s him for I can hold my liquor and it wasn’t much to hold, it’s the kook on my mind and all fantasies fucked for they aren’t, are plans and the urge to act on them.
Think to beat him unrecognizable, give him a face I can despise. Anything to punish, anything to avenge what he took from me. I’m not a stupid man, I knew him untouchable, I liked him like it, wouldn’t have dared a misstep beyond the limits of my mind, he’s forced me now. Dreaming feels rotten when it’s plotting, it feels like strain, it’s Rafe who ruined it. Flower that’s picked and dries and dies. I wanna stomp on it in spite. I wanna be different, I wanna be the one man all books are wrong about.
Gone have to break his little heart now. Show him he’s not a drug dealer, he’s done sitting at the grown up table—he can sit beneath and help from there.
Found his home through a little bit of browsing, got quite invested in the Cameron’s Developments off a joint or two, nice little tab they got dedicated to the restorations, almost felt for Rafe living in the companies biggest bill board. If the house was a bitch, she’d be asking for it with those pics, step by step break in tutorial for the stupidest of fucks.
I still stumble through the hallways like an idiot. With time, ripping doors gets tiring and I lose hope surprising him. In my wildest dreams he’s touching himself and I catch him at it. That’s a lie. My wildest dreams make me retch, lucid nightmares in which I play the monster, in which I—
“There ya are”.
Rafe disappoints on his bed, lounging in the same uptight clothes I know him in, not just a costume it seems, the full kook uniform, light blue polo and navy pants, to these people sweatpants are a mindset I reckon, it's always more with them, always some shit you gotta read between the lines.
He’s up in a second, still jumps like he’s caught.
“Barry”.
He says my name.
“What are you doing here, bro”
Don’t use that porn intro talk on me, bro.
My eyes scan that little room of his. This ain’t a drug dealer, it’s a child. And what am I?
If there’s an animal in me, it’s telling me to leave, I’m man, I close the door and shut it up. Kooks think a wall and a lock mean shit in the real world, they feel protected by it, they think the line is where they draw it, they think the rest of us play by their rules.
Nervous shake to his voice, the jumpy eyes used to have me licking my lips but it’s making me sick now—something’s off in this room, has me hot and drowsy.
“Just getting my money, fuck’s it look like to you?”, I say for I gotta say something.
Rafe’s gotta see I’m barley man. I’m thumping lust. I’m a helpless mess already. I gotta calm down somehow, walk over to some dresser and rip open the first drawer just for show, my hands don’t even leave the knob, grip tight and sweaty onto it—give me something to do, to breathe.
Rafe’s on me in a moment, pulling me off, he touches me like he’s got any right to, he won’t give me the time, doesn’t leave me a fucking chance.
I fight back only because I have to.
I can’t hear myself talk, it’s senseless shit, does Rafe not notice the act? “You paying up, Babyboy, one way or the other”, I hold him against a wall, can barely feel his flesh.
I’m gonna embarrass myself. I want to walk out, come back another time, dream it out just once more, and take him right. Gone have spunk running down my legs before I get past that belt.
There is an animal in me, and it is telling me to leave. There’s no drug like it, none I know, not coke to get my heart beating, pills to get my head spinning, nothing to compare to the wild high rushing through my veins, it’s thrill and nausea, it’s ecstasy and paying penance for it, didn’t know it in the army, didn’t snort or smoke this yet—it’s Rafe, it’s knowing I’m wrong, I’m stupid, I’m gone mad.
Can’t remember now what made me think it was the time, what I was on for it, what made him seem ready, seem ruined, enough for me to act, to take, to break what’s left, what made him slip out of my mind. I dig crude fingers into his throat, hope for any abnormality in his heart beat, this still fantasy, hope for it to stop.
I need to get out, push myself off him and barely hurt Rafe with it, I’m running from myself: grab the door knob, need a reason, fleeing, need Rafe forgetting my attempts.
“Don’t you got a sister or two?”, I ask, force a filthy grin. I must look sick, I feel it.
There’s no way out of this, Rafe doesn’t give me a chance.
“Wait, wait, wait”.
He’s all force tempting to tame, throws himself against the door and presses an arm up to it to block, I’d punch him off if I knew he’d beat me to death for it.
“Wait, Barry, wait”.
He’s begging already, didn’t even ask him to. I can smell his stress with that arm over my head, should break his fucking legs. I should leave, but he’s trapped us. I tried.
“We can talk about this, yeah?”, Rafe hastily speaks.
“I don’t wanna talk, man”, I say. I can’t. “Talking don’t pay my bills, Cameron”. I shouldn’t.
Things I got in mind for this bitch don’t either. Part of me is afraid of his laugh, so what. Never cared for the kook bullies, calves train their horns like it, just when they laugh they’re right in it, they got all reason to, I’d laugh loudest was I part of it.
Those blue eyes look right through me—he’s gonna laugh, he’s seen it now.
“My dad’s gonna be home from work any minute now, alright”, he says. He nods. He lies. “Listen, he see you here he’s gonna shoot your brains out, bro, alright”
His hasty ramblings sound like seduction to my rotten brain, I’m touched by his concerns on it, though he shouldn’t be if he knew just part of it.
”Yeah?“, I ask. ”Daddy’s coming to safe ya?“
Can’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, that sounds about right”, I nod and push all up in his face. Remember I should break his legs.
“Listen, I can get you money, alright, man, okay?”
Rafe lets go of the door, he stumbles away from me, kind of shit triggers my palmar grasp reflex, I get the urge to reach out the second he pulls away. He should play dead, hope it keep me from sinking my teeth into squirming flesh, but he just keeps on moving.
He’s back at the drawer I opened—embarrassing I oversaw whatever valuable he’s about to pull out. Places an assortment of items on the dresser, I ignore the junk, stare at sweat crowned lips. “We can pawn this”
We? He makes me laugh, aren’t we the sweetest thing. I go push him against the dresser from behind, stupid bitch has his hand in the drawer and he screams for it.
Shit’s over now, I’ve pushed into him, it’s over. He sure feels me hard, he must feel it thumping, he must know it’s over.
“It’s broken—ouh, barry!“. He’s crying. I tried to leave, he caged me here.
“Can still jerk yourself with other one, bitch, you just fine”, I spit back. Like I fucking meant to.
I grab the injured hand and pull it behind his back, far enough to make him bend in pain. When I dreamt about this, he was sensitive like a horse to reins in my hand. Rafe’s acting like a cow. Kind you beat with a stick to get its fat ass moving.
“Thought you could play me, huh, Country Club?”
I’m tired of hearing myself talk. Rafe knows what I’m about to do to him, he can feel it, I keep on talking.
“Steal my shit n get away with it?”
I’m just humiliating myself. Handle him into the sheets insulted by his shameless height, push his stupid face down but I’m the one talking, still need him to shut up, need him deaf, I crawl over his back, stretch my neck over his shoulder to smell the sheets like a creep in my haze for all my fantasies been lacking, just the panic dripping down his back is overbearing, bet if I ran my hands down his spine it’d slip off.
I pull his stupid tight shorts just down his butt, dont care if he spreads, need it done before I lose myself. Should have more appreciation than the leaks down my pants for his round cheeks. I realize only now he’s been talking. For how long?
It’s please please please and I didn’t stop to listen. He wants me bad. Barry Barry please please just wait please Barry I please wait please. Must’ve just learned the word new, and grown to like it quick.
I rub my meat between his cheeks, could come right against his resistance, could waste every drop between his thighs. Been through it hundreds and thousands of times, done fisted myself to imagined cries, I’ve heard it all, all Rafe could say long dreamed through, long used up, I’ve come to less of him.
You wouldn’t know it til you had your dick in something that fights back—though Rafe’s fighting weak like he don’t know what he wants, fights like he just wants to say he tried, when I’m leaking out of him then, in his world you get praise for it, trying’s enough, but he knows damn well it’s not enough in mine.
It’s a goddamn act, all of him is, all teasing then, all whining now, and me not yet there to break and see beneath, he acts tough and he acts weak, he won’t fucking let me in, he mocks my fantasies and gives me none of him, for it’s plastic, it’s void, it’s all imagined. Makes me wanna tear at his flesh and see blood to make it real, this time.
What I want is to tear and him not bleed. What I want is for him to disappear between my hands and for them clean of his blood. Dream it out one more time, before he forced me out of it.
“Rafe?”
“Ra-ahfe”
”RAAAFE“
Down the hallways. A sister or two.
Rafe flinches under me, I jump to it.
Blame all his muscles feeling too intense under me—but he knows better than me. Little more than a twitch throws me off him, I regret weakness the second I stumble back, all heavy breaths and beating heart and throbbing fucking cock. Let a kook push me around.
Rafe’s shaking when he gets the door—just in time, it seems, to stop some girl from bursting in. She almost runs into his trembling body, when he closes the smallest open slit in the door with it. I stand in the corner like a useless monster.
“Fuck‘s your problem, Sneeze”, he blurts. He looks a mess. Maybe daddy should blow my brains out. He coming, soon?
“Are you alone?”
“Yeah”
“Oh cause-“
“I’m watching a movie”
Short pause at the door. I watch Rafe tremble, I watch him run a hand through his hair, I watch him act stupid. Look over and you’re dead, Rafe, you know it though.
“Okay well, I need a ride. Can you drive me to Giulia?”
If he leaves, I’m fine with that. Leave me in the corner, Rafe, leave me under the bed til the lights go out.
“Use your bike, not your slave”, he says. He adds cause it’s not a clear enough no, apparently: “Can probably use the exercise”.
“Wooow, Rafe, I’m telling Sarah!”, the girl makes. “Fuck you”.
“You too”
Yeah, fuck you lil sister.
Rafe slams the door. He turns the key, I fucking should’ve.
I stare. Like an idiot. Like a coward. Stare at Rafe’s chest, rising and falling. He’s waiting for me to say some. His eyes flash to the ruffled sheets. This a fucking question?
You wanna go again, country club?
All energy’s been drained, it slipped out that door, it left the room cold, has me freezing in my sweat. He’s prepared, if I jump at him again, he’s waiting.
I wait, too. For that bullet in my brain. For waking up just one last time.
“You gonna let me pay now or what, faggot?”, he speaks.
There he is. This the kook I wanted to make my bitch. This the cunt I need to cry on my cock. This what I came to break.
He know it? He teasing, still? Flash in his eye suggests he wants me to keep trying, not tripping, I see hunger in the blue. To fight back? To kill me? That it?
He’s seen me, now, I put him on it, he’s seen me lose it on him, he’s seen me jump to little of his force, he’s seen me helpless, he’s hungry now, and none of that facade. He’s got me crazed over the tiny piece I broke from it, has me lusting over the crack it left; he smells that, too, he sees my hunger just the same, he’s drawn to it, my weakness has him crumbling.
I reach for that key, turn and pull it out, let him see it slip into my pocket. “You know business, eh, country club”, I say, reaching for the door. “There’s interest”