Breakdown - 13. 12 Cage

Cam had felt the ringing of the phone more than he had heard it. Lying on his bed, staring at his dirty ceiling, he had been listening to the beat of his heart against his ribs. In this silence on his hard mattress, Cam had been waiting. Waiting expectantly. He knew it was only a matter of time before the little plastic demon screamed a shrill cry, summoning him to the ends of the earth to please a man with ice cold eyes.

Despite Cam’s resolve that anything Aziel did would be worth what he gained, his hand still trembled when he picked up the phone.

“Hello?” he whispered into the phone, as if someone would hear him. His empty apartment was completely immune to his attempt at secrecy, watching him with a dirty, stained frown.

“Cam,” Aziel replied, his voice sounding almost kind. “I’m dining at the Black Rose. I will be finished in approximately a half an hour. You will be waiting for me one block south on the corner.”

“Okay,” Cam said, trying to make it sound casual. Just another night turnin’ tricks. “Where’s the Black Rose?”

“Downtown,” Aziel replied. There was a soft click in his ear, and Cam bit his lip.

“Fuck,” Cam whispered. He shut the little plastic phone and jammed it in his pocket. He grabbed his jacket and went out in his faded, low-riding jeans and black top. He brought a lighter jacket tonight, as the passing of the sun had not entirely dispelled the heat of the day.

The streets were alive. Calling information, Cam managed to snag the address of the Black Rose. It was a pretty ritzy place, somewhere that Cam hadn’t known had existed and somewhere he would never be welcome. At first, he found it a little disheartening that he was so low on the social food chain. He shrugged this off, however, when he realized what it meant to be at the top of said food chain.

It meant you rubbed shoulders with enigmatic people like Aziel.

Cam stood with his hands in the pockets of his light jacket, looking at the Black Rose in the distance. The grass was always greener on the other side, Cam supposed. Of course, he lamented, you’d have to have a fucking lawn to start with. For not the first time, Cam felt like he was grasping at straws, clinging to the bottom of an empty and decaying barrel. Holding on to life and social conformity by the broken bits of his nails.

Aziel picked him off the street with the talons of his BMW. Enclosed in the car, an ominous blue bag in the back seat, Cam was silent. The stereo was turned off, and the fan hummed cool air along them. Aziel’s eyes were firm on the road.

“Was the food good?” Cam offered.

“Decent,” Aziel replied.

“Why would you pay thousands of dollars for a meal that is decent?” Cam asked.

“It is a quite different decent from what you are thinking,” Aziel replied, tilting his head.

Cam supposed that was true, and held his peace to avoid any other embarrassments. He recognized the route they were taking to Aziel’s apartment. It felt like a path through a dark wood, lined with tall, straight trees that glistened with many lights.

The apartment had not changed since the last time that Cam had been there. There was still minimal furniture. The dishes that had been left out the time before were gone. Everything was spotless, as if a maid had just been through and tucked away all the nasty edges.

“Do you want something to drink?” Aziel asked.

The question caught Cam off guard. He stood in the open kitchen and looked back at Aziel, curious if he had heard him correctly. Aziel removed his sport jacket and hung it in the closet. He slid off his expensive shoes and loosened his tie. He looked at Cam expectantly.

“Uh, sure,” Cam replied at length, clenching his hand around the plastic cell phone in his pocket. He wasn’t sure why he’d brought it; the only one who phoned him on this phone was Aziel, and why would Aziel phone him if he was with him?

“Rum?” Aziel asked, moving into the kitchen. He took down one short glass, and then opened up a cupboard that held a wealth of liquor.

“Vodka,” Cam said. He thought about adding ‘if you have it,’ but that seemed a little pointless. Aziel probably had everything Cam could name at his fingertips. A ludicrous thought hit him; order a fuzzy navel just see if Aziel knew what it was and how to mix it.

Aziel complied with his request for vodka, pulling out a large bottle and resting it on the counter. He turned to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of Pepsi. Cam watched him, his fingers wrapped tightly around his cell phone. Seeing Aziel like this, calm and performing mundane tasks was almost unbelievable. It was like God himself had come down and asked Cam if he wanted a sandwich.

Ice clinked in the glass. Vodka followed. Cam noted that Aziel poured a pretty stiff drink, but didn’t say anything.

The back of his mind was clawing at him. Was this so that Cam would relax and wouldn’t resist what was to come?

Aziel poured himself a drink as well, and Cam noted that the splash of vodka was minimal, if not existent. He topped his off with Pepsi and slid Cam’s glass over the marble countertop towards him. Cam looked at it warily, and then picked it up. It was cold and slippery in his hand.

Aziel capped the Pepsi and then took up his own glass. He looked at Cam, his blue eyes calm and expressionless.

“Congratulations,” Aziel said. His voice was soft, almost a whisper.

For a moment, Cam was so surprised that he just gawped at the taller man. Then, prodded by Aziel’s raising of his glass, Cam clumsily clinked their glasses together and took a sip. The vodka stung the back of his throat and left a wet, warm trail down to his stomach. He winced a little, but kept his eyes on Aziel.

“Thank you.” What else could he say?

“You have done better than I hoped,” Aziel said, his voice as even as his eyes. “You have finished one leg of the race, Cam.”

Cam paused. “Race?”

Aziel tilted his head, and then raised his glass to his lips. He took a long drink, and then put his glass on the table. He waited, and Cam took it to mean that was supposed to drink, and did so. Another warm trail along his insides, pooling in his stomach. He could feel it moving soft, blunt fingers outward from his stomach. It tingled his nerves.

“Take your drink to the bedroom,” Aziel said. “And finish it. I will meet you there in a moment.”

Cam looked at his drink, and then nodded. Slowly, he padded down to the bedroom with its brown walls and warm feeling. This room could have been homey anywhere else. Cam could almost see himself married, standing in this room, watching a loved one sleep in the bed. The image was dispelled and he forced himself to take another drink from his glass. His hand was trembling where it held the glass. The alcohol was sitting like a tight knot in his stomach.

Aziel entered a few minutes later, when Cam had thoroughly finished his drink right down to chewing up the ice cubes. He brought with him a blue bag and a blue roll of material. He set the roll on the night table and the bag against the wall. He looked at Cam.

Cam was standing in the middle of the room watching Aziel in what felt to him like terror. He tried to keep his gaze steady, but that was impossible.

“You’re married, aren’t you?” Cam asked. His words sounded stronger than he felt.

Aziel shook his head. “No,” he replied. He came forward and grasped Cam by the wrist. Cam took a half-step back, lifting his chin. Aziel reached forward and captured the back of Cam’s head in his hand. He pulled on his shaggy blonde hair, drawing him close to his chest. One of Cam’s hands thudded against Aziel’s chest.

He could feel his heartbeat, slow and steady.

Aziel’s lips descended and touched to Cam’s. Cam gulped when they made contact, but did not resist as Aziel’s tongue pushed hotly into his mouth. He tasted on him the sting of the Pepsi and the faraway taste of something more savoury. Cam moaned in Aziel’s tight grasp despite himself. He was losing himself already, and they had barely started.

Aziel’s fingers scraped against Cam’s scalp. There was hunger in Aziel; it had been a long time. Aziel’s body was nearly quivering with anticipation… Cam gulped again as his mouth was probed deeper. He knotted his fingers in the expensive silk shirt.

The demon with the ice blue eyes bore Cam to the bed. Lying flush against him, Aziel claimed his mouth. He let his hands rove over Cam’s body, taking in the curve of his muscles and savouring the flavour that was inherent in the motion of his body as it writhed. Cam felt a muscular thigh pressed against his groin and gasped.

Clothing fell away from them. Cam felt hot flesh against his, a firm chest to his own. He lost himself in the moment, the vodka dulling his sense of right and wrong. Aziel’s hot, wanting mouth and talented, eager hands pulled him into a daze. Cam wrapped one leg around his employer, pulling him hard against him. Their members jutted between them, and then pressed together. Cam felt his hardness slide along Aziel’s belly, and Aziel’s member slide along his. Cam’s fingers dug into Aziel’s shoulder as they twined tongues.

Aziel parted lips from him to breathe softly over his eyelids. Cam felt dizzy, his body spinning wildly out of control. Everything felt so good. He turned his cheek to the pillow, and Aziel’s hot breath filled his ear.

“I’m so proud of you,” Aziel whispered.

Aziel’s shaft, hard and thick, pressed against the whore’s opening. Cam gasped as he was entered, feeling the thick tip followed by his throbbing shaft. He hooked his legs around Aziel, wanting more, wanting it all. Aziel started to thrust into him, his breath quick against Cam’s cheek.

The rocking of Aziel’s body, the incredible feeling of his hard, muscular body against his and the persistent rub of his shaft against something very pleasurable inside of him made Cam’s body sing. His climax rushed over him, chasing any resolve to remain in control away. It spilled from him, splattered against Aziel’s stomach, and dripped down his shaft. Aziel’s climax arrived as a soft moan, almost silent, that spilled hotly into Cam with a series of hard, broken thrusts.

They parted, both covered in a sheen of sweat. Cam lay with his legs parted, gazing at Aziel through half-closed eyes that were dulled with afterglow. Aziel watched him carefully, pulling himself from between his legs to sit on the edge of the bed.

Cam closed his eyes, oblivious to everything except the pounding of his heart and the gentle wash of pleasure that was still tingling over his skin. Everything felt good in a tingly sort of way.

So content was he that he didn’t hear Aziel move. He didn’t hear him unroll the little cloth bundle.

Cam cried out in surprise and pain when Aziel put a knee into his bicep. He rolled towards him, slamming his hand against Aziel’s smooth back. Aziel hissed breath between his teeth, and slipped the needle he’d been holding into Cam’s arm.

Cam felt heat pool in the crook of his arm. When Aziel lifted his knee, it flooded into his body.

It wasn’t the same as the last time. This was bad. Cam felt his heart constrict and his brain felt like it was slowly being built into a cotton coffin.

“What..?” Cam asked, his breath barely sufficient to form words.

Aziel leaned down and kissed Cam’s pale, shaking lips. Cam’s dilated eyes saw Aziel with a sort of halo about his head, like he was the fucking son of God. He shook almost violently as the heat from the needle raced through him.

“I think it’s time we upped the stakes, Cam,” Aziel whispered into his mouth, letting the words die on his tongue with an imprint his flavour. “This is a derivative of heroin, a personal mix. Don’t worry, you can’t find this on the street. I will be the only one who can give you this, Cam. The only one who can give you this high. And you’ll want it. You’ll crave it.”

Crave me…