Breakdown - 31. 29 Cycle

To say that Cam was terrified was an understatement. After Gabriel had left (Cam had finally convinced him to go home sometime around noon) he had frantically paced his apartment. He found himself cleaning; picking up plates and cups, straightening out the furniture and making sure the dust was off the ledges. When he caught himself preparing, he stopped.

Why was he doing that?

Because he was terrified of what Aziel was going to do, that’s why.

There was a horrible hour where Cam was sure that Aziel was going to kill him when he arrived, but that had gradually become the least of his fears. After all, if he were dead, Aziel couldn’t play with him anymore, and it was a rather long way to come just to kill someone on principle.

But Cam had disobeyed. He’d run, abandoning everyone and everything he’d ever known on the off chance that he could outfox the fox. Now, Jared was dead (of this he was certain) because of his foolishness. Cam realized that he had gone about this completely wrong. His mistake was thinking that he could beat Aziel at his own game, when the rules were clearly in his favor.

Cam didn’t understand Aziel. He didn’t know anything about him, really, other than he had little regard for human life and liked to fuck up a whore every once and a while for no reason other than personal enjoyment. Cam thought about those cold, blue eyes and that calculating sliver of a smile.

It made him shiver.

It was 9:30PM. Cam was sitting in the kitchen, a cup of coffee in front of him untouched, staring at the speaker next to his door. Aziel was coming. Cam was unaware that he was squeezing the little red phone in his right hand. All he was aware of was the ticking of his wristwatch and the racing of his pulse. Time seemed to slow and his heart plunged into overdrive as the second hand made another sweep. Every minute was pulled into an hour, and every blink, swallow, and shudder seemed to take monumental effort.

The buzzer rang. Cam didn’t remember leaping from his chair. He didn’t remember speeding across the room. The next thing he did remember was his mouth pressed against the rough speaker and his fingers pressed against the button.

“Hello?” he asked, his voice sounding more together than he felt.

“Open the door,” Aziel’s smooth, cool voice demanded. Unable to disobey, Cam pushed the door lock. He could hear it buzz on the other end and was aware that he had just let the demon into his building.

The wait for Aziel to arrive was painful. Cam stood just inside the door, wiping his hand first over his face and then pulling down his chin. He watched the door with suspect, as if it were to blame for his predicament instead of himself. When the knock sounded, Cam jumped.

He opened the door with great reservation.

Aziel was standing in his doorway in a fine tailored suit. He had a blue bag in one hand, and a light jacket in the other. His expression was one Cam remembered well; that cold calculating sliver of a smile and the ice blue eyes that were incredibly deep and cold. His dark hair was brushed and smooth, his suit well pressed. He looked like a powerful business man, somebody important. Cam swallowed back his fear, taking a step back from the door and slipping his hands into his back pockets.

Aziel entered his apartment and closed the door quietly behind him. It was alien to see him here, this place that Cam had thought of as his sanctuary for so long. It was like letting the fox into the henhouse.

“You’ve done well for yourself,” Aziel said, setting his coat over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. “You’ve finished school.”

Cam swallowed, his Adam’s apple working up and down as he struggled to find words. “Yeah,” he said.

“You did a fairly good job covering your tracks, Cameron,” Aziel said, setting down his blue bag. He removed the sports jacket of his suit and hung it over the back of the next chair in line in Cam’s kitchen. Cam continued his retreat, ending up at the border of the living room. He kept his hands in his back pockets, attempting to adopt an air of nonchalance and knowing that he was failing.

“Thanks,” Cam said, not sure why he was thanking him or if that was meant to be a compliment.

Aziel loosened the cuffs of his silk shirt and looked at Cam evenly. The blue of Aziel’s shirt made his eyes seem all the more intense. Cam was unable to hold his gaze for more than a few seconds at a time. He wanted to run and lock himself in the bathroom, but he didn’t think that would do him a lot of good.

He had made his bed, and he now had to lie in it.

Aziel stepped forward and gripped Cam’s hip. He pulled him forward, and Cam went with only a soft noise. He felt the firm body of Aziel against his chest, smelled the expensive cologne that hung in his memory like a broken spider web. His muscles trembled as Aziel’s hand wrapped around his waist. Everything was so achingly familiar, so close…

Slowly, Cam brought his arms up to touch Aziel’s biceps. He was shaking like a leaf in his arms and was unable to stop. He knew that some of the tremble was fear, but some of it… most of it…

Was excitement.

His body remembered Aziel. His body remembered the pain and the high. It had been so difficult to resist the Cravings, and now he would finally have another taste. Another collar around his neck to bind him to Aziel. There would be no way to escape again, Cam thought; he couldn’t go through that again. He would never be able to escape.

“I’m sorry,” Cam found himself whispering into Aziel’s shoulder. His fingers tightened on his arms. Aziel’s breath was warm and soft over his ear.

“You’ll come to understand what that means soon enough,” Aziel promised, his voice veiling a sharp edge. Cam flinched.

“I won’t… I won’t run again,” Cam offered his voice small.

“No, you won’t,” Aziel replied firmly. He pushed Cam backwards, and Cam felt the armrest of the couch against the back of his knees. He slid back from Aziel, allowing himself to crumple against the soft leather cushion. He looked up at the blue-eyed demon with a partly open mouth.

“Take off your shirt,” Aziel commanded, and then left to retrieve his blue bag in the entryway.

Now that Aziel was here in his house, the trepidation was gone. Cam felt only the need to follow his instructions and avoid most of the pain that he knew Aziel was going to give him tonight. For some reason, as his shirt slipped over his head, he resigned himself to dying in the arms of this cold angel.

I’m sorry, Gabriel…

He looked up at Aziel, who was holding the familiar blue roll. He set it on the coffee table and looked at Cam with his head slightly tilted. There was a moment where Aziel searched him, seeming to look for answers in his eyes. Finally, he spoke.

“How long did it take for you to lose the craving?” he asked.

Cam averted his eyes, towards the blue roll that was sitting on the coffee table. He wasn’t sure that he’d ever really be free of them, because his body would always remember.

“I don’t know, months,” he finally answered. His voice was small. He didn’t want to be back on the drug, but he knew that if he resisted, Aziel would now do worse than hurt him. He might hurt Gabriel.

Aziel nodded to himself and unrolled the knot of fabric. Inside were the glistening stings of packaged syringes and small glass vials. Each vial was labeled with Aziel’s neat, confident printing. The letters and numbers on the front of the vials meant nothing to Cam, and he knew that Aziel wouldn’t tell him if he asked. The inside of his mouth felt dry and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Was he really getting back into this?

“I must admit,” Aziel said softly, running his fingers over the packages of syringes, “That I am very impressed with your progress. You came out of the gutter, Cameron.”

Cameron swallowed, looking up at Aziel’s intent features as he plucked a needle from the roll.

“You are an impressive individual,” he said. He pulled out first one vial and then replaced it, shaking his head slightly. He pulled out a second, which seemed to satisfy him, and flipped it so that the cork was pointing downwards and the glass bottom was clasped in his thumb and forefinger. With his regal disposition and his nice suit, Cam could almost imagine him as a family doctor.

The needle squeaked through the cork and drew forth its poison. Aziel, having filled the narrow syringe about half full, replaced the vial in its sleeve. He looked at Cam then, smiling his small sliver of a cold smile.

Cam closed his eyes and offered up his arm. He felt Aziel put the rubber tie around it, and he closed his fist. He felt his eyes water.

Was there any point to this game at all? Was the end of the game Cam’s death?

The bite of the needle was barely felt. With the pulling of the rubber tubing off his arm, Cam felt the fire flare up his arm. The effect was almost instantaneous. His brain burned, his vision blurred. His skin prickled as if set ablaze with electricity. His wide eyes drifted to Aziel, who was watching attentively.

“Roll over,” he whispered. “I want to fuck you.”

Cam, arms shaking, rolled over on the couch. With fumbling fingers, he struggled to open his pants. His erection had sprung to life with painful quickness, springing from his pants and slapping against his stomach. He gasped at the feeling of the sensitive tip against his flesh, and moaned softly as his pants slipped down his thighs.

Tonight would not be gentle.

In a way, Cam was thankful for the drugs in his system, for they made the pain bearable. Aziel had slowly undressed himself, watching as Cam found with himself through the high and the expectation. His cocktail was more potent this time, both because of chemistry and because Cam’s resistance had been whittled down by the months of abstinence.

There had been no preparation, save for Aziel lightly coating himself in lubricant. With a brutality that could only be expected of the assassin, he shoved forward into Cam’s flesh. Cam screamed, screamed until he was hoarse. His fingernails dug into the leather of his couch. Aziel was tearing him apart from the inside out, both mentally and physically. He kept him suspended on the very edge of pleasure until it suited him to release his pet. The night was a blur of thrusting and grunting, the heated flesh stripping him bare on the inside.

Cam felt the warm, slick tip of his member slap against his stomach with each thrust. As much as he hated it, as much as it hurt, he was disgusted to find that he remained hard. Aziel’s teasing hands stroked him, urging him to surging climax after surging climax, draining him of seed and sanity.

It was a breakdown.

When Aziel pulled out, Cam was left shuddering, warmth running down his thighs. Aziel’s seed leaked out of him, tinged pink from his violence. Unable to support himself and disoriented, Cam tumbled from the couch and landed on the floor, his head and shoulder striking the coffee table. He moaned in pain, but made no move to right himself. The world was a mass of halos and blending colours, shapes he could not understand. Only Aziel’s voice penetrated that hazy world of pain.

“Tomorrow, again,” he said, voice calm and cool.

Cam gasped; sightless eyes open to the blurred ceiling, watching the darkness close in from all edges.

The high, the pleasure, the pain; all of it was consumed by the darkness.