Breakdown - 15. 14 The Craving

The answer to Cam’s earlier question was coming to him with a vengeance. His hands were shaking where he clutched the edge of his desk. His back was ramrod straight as he stared at the whiteboard, fascinated by the fact that he could only focus on the words for brief snatches of time. They fuzzed out, spiraled together with the whiteness of the board and the whiteness of his teacher’s blouse.

Yes, whatever Aziel had given him was very addictive.

Cam watched the whiteboard fuzz in and out of focus, and thought about the night before. Aziel had waited two days before coming to see Cam after giving him the apartment. It turned out that Cam’s worst fear, which was that Aziel would just show up in the apartment, was unjustified. He had still called on the little phone. The only difference was he had said something along the lines of, “I’ll be there in an hour,” as opposed to “Meet me at such and such a place in an hour.”

In a way, it was nice because Cam didn’t have to frantically hunt all over the city looking for the obscure, ritzy place that Aziel had decided to spend his evening. On the other hand, Cam now had an hour to sit and watch the door, waiting for it to open and the demon to enter.

Aziel had even knocked when he arrived.

Cam had opened the door and looked at him, standing in jeans and a T-shirt, rubbing his hand on his thigh. He bit his lip and let the other in. Cam had to choke back his first question, which was, “Did you bring it?” and instead asked, “How was your evening?”

“Fine,” Aziel had replied, hanging up his jacket with agonizing slowness. He took up his briefcase and walked with Cam to the warm, brown bedroom.

This was where Cam’s resolve broke down. The craving had set in about 24 hours after Cam woke up, so he guessed about 30 some hours since it was administered. He’d been suffering with it for a full day, unable to eat and feeling his stomach cramp at even the thought of food.

“Aziel?” Cam asked, his voice small as he stood in the middle of the bedroom.

“Yes, Cam?” Aziel asked, cool and calm.

“What… what is it?” He swallowed, his throat feeling dry. There was a waver in his voice that he didn’t like.

“The cocktail?” he asked.

Cam almost shuddered when he mentioned it. “Yeah, the cocktail.”

“A derivative of heroin,” he replied, just as smoothly as if he had been commenting on the weather. “A special blend, if you will.”

Cam felt sick.

“Do you want more?” Aziel asked, a thin smile on his lips.

Cam didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to answer, one way or another. Yes meant another night of Hell and digging himself deeper into the despair that was quickly becoming his life, and saying no meant that Aziel wouldn’t give him any, and he would have to deal with this craving until Aziel offered him another chance…

Aziel smiled at his silence.

The rest of the evening had been something of a blur. Cam remembered being nude, bent over with his face stuffed into a pillow and Aziel behind him, thrusting with brutal rhythm. Cam felt like his nerves were on fire, feeling every inch of Aziel’s cock inside him, stretching him, taking. Aziel’s fingers had been deadly, tweaking his flesh and making Cam scream without shame.

The sting of the needle had come later, and Cam didn’t fight it.

The relief that he had felt when the needle slipped home, made his heart skip. It was like thinking that you were falling off some unimaginable cliff onto sharp rocks, only to find that really you’d stumbled onto a Plexiglas floor.

With his craving gone, Cam felt that he could actually think. He nearly cried in pleasure as Aziel removed the needle, and opened his arms, and his legs, to his cruel master.

“I want you,” he remembered saying.

From there, the sex had gotten messy, brutal. It didn’t matter, because to Cam it was all pleasure. His fingers had grasped at Aziel’s flesh. He felt the other’s hot breath in his ear, in his mouth. The taste of him was thrilling; the feeling of that muscular body gliding between his legs was stupefying. Had someone told Cam a week ago that he would find sex so thrilling, he wouldn’t have believed them.

There had been bruises. Dark, long patches on Cam’s pale skin from Aziel’s fingers.

Now, however, free of the drugs climax, Cam struggled with himself. He couldn’t afford to give into that. Otherwise… he really would end up like Derek.

The thought had occurred to him, after the first night with the needle, that Aziel had something to do with Derek’s disappearance. However, that seemed highly unlikely; Aziel didn’t live in Chicago and he certainly didn’t linger around in the bad parts of town. Maybe that had just been coincidence?

Derek’s haggard face kept popping up and telling Cam otherwise.

“Cam, are you alright?” his teacher asked. It was a new teacher, not the old man but a younger lady. He blinked heavily, feeling sweat trickle down his back.

“I’m fine, Mrs. Turner,” he said back.

“Do you need to see a nurse?” she asked.

“No, Mrs. Turner. I’m just getting over the flu,” he said. He said it so instinctively that he was pretty sure that he would have believed his own lie.

“If you have to go see her, you can just excuse yourself, you don’t have to ask,” she said, concerned.

“Thank you, Mrs. Turner,” he replied. His knuckles were white where they were gripping the edge of the desk. Some of the people close to him were eyeing him suspiciously, as if they didn’t believe that shallow little lie that he had told.

Well what the fuck, Cam thought, why don’t I just tell them I’m fucked up on some derivative of heroin that my john squeezes into me when it’s playtime?

Cam almost laughed, but he turned it into a sickly sounding cough instead.

“What the hell is this?”

Aziel looked up from the book he was reading. Another one of Mark’s books, this was mindless drivel that Aziel sometimes enjoyed reading before bed. The sound of Mark’s voice from the study drew his attention; he thought of all the things that Mark could stumble across in the study. Coming up mostly empty on ideas (after all, Aziel kept anything too incriminating in the locked room with his lab), the assassin moved down the hallway, his bare feet scuffing on the plush carpet. He was curious, but on guard.

Mark was sitting at his desk, the glow of the monitor making his face look pale, his eyes hollow. His dark hair was flung about his head haphazardly, as if the wind was his new stylist. He looked up as Aziel’s frame darkened the doorway, the book clutched in one hand.

“Hm?” he asked, sounding casual.

“How can you have a score on expert Minesweeper of 110 seconds?” Mark asked. “That’s bullshit. You cheated. I thought I would have the high score with 118, which took me two hours to get, by the way, but no… apparently you’re better than me.”

At first, Aziel had no idea what Mark was talking about. He stared at him for a moment, his brain clicking the pieces into place.

“Minesweeper?” he asked.

Mark looked at him, a soft pout on his features. “118 is a really good score,” he whined.

Aziel’s expression softened, and he laughed. “I don’t even remember playing that,” he said, coming around the desk. He leaned against the edge of his desk, looking at what Mark was doing on his computer. The Minesweeper window was up, showing a high score of 110 with “Beat that Mark” as the name. He chuckled, wondering how long ago he’d put that there.

It appeared that Mark had also been listening to music, for his play list was up. Aziel scanned the bands, mostly ignorant of the names. He rarely listened to music, and when he did, it was only classical. Something to calm his heart, steady his hand. Mark had one earphone dangling by his chest, the other in his ear.

“You’re so mean to me,” Mark pouted, folding his arms on his stomach.

Aziel put the book on the desk and touched the top of Mark’s head affectionately. “If I was nice to you, gave you everything, I’d be entirely too easy and you’d go find someone else. Whittling away at your self-esteem makes sure that you stay with me forever, because you believe you can never do better.”

Mark laughed, his pout gone in seconds. “Aziel, you’re the kind of guy that they write romance novels about. You know, rich bachelors, handsome and deadly with a kiss.”

Aziel found that more humorous than Mark could imagine, but held his laughter at bay. He touched Mark’s chin.

“You know what, Mark?” he asked.

“What?” Mark asked, looking up at his love.

“I know a game that’s better than Minesweeper,” he said.

Mark’s mouth formed an ‘O’ of surprise. “Really? Better than Minesweeper? Pray tell,” he said.

Aziel leaned down and kissed Mark’s open mouth. Slowly, he slid his tongue into him, urging his tongue into motion. Mark responded, reaching up and running his hands along Aziel’s strong shoulders. It didn’t matter how many times they did this, how many times Aziel kissed him and held him tightly. It didn’t matter how many times they’d made love, or what room they did it in (for they had done it in every room by this point), Mark always felt his heart flip. Aziel’s fingertips sparked across Mark’s skin, making the small hairs on the back of his neck shiver.

This is where I belong, thought Mark.

Aziel pulled Mark out of the chair, sliding his butt back on the desk as he urged Mark into his lap. Mark knelt on the desk and kissed down into Aziel’s mouth. Slowly, Mark’s hands came up and cradled Aziel’s face. They parted, each looking into the other’s eyes.

“I love you, Aziel,” Mark whispered, “With everything I have.”

“I love you too, Mark,” Aziel replied, locking his hands behind Mark’s back. “With everything I am.”

Mark laughed a little, the words tickling him. “Aziel?”

“Hm?” Aziel asked, nuzzling into Mark’s neck and placing teasing, wet kisses against his throat.

“You’re starting to sound like a romance novel,” he whispered, running his hands through Aziel’s long black hair.

“And you’re the only one alive who knows that, let’s keep it that way,” Aziel replied, his voice muffled.

“Alright, only for me then,” Mark whispered back, shifting on Aziel’s lap.

Their sex started slow. Aziel peeled off Mark’s clothing, savouring him as he did so. He kissed the exposed flesh he could reach with his mouth, touched what he could not. Soon, both quite naked, Aziel had Mark’s erection pressing against his stomach. His own erection was under Mark, pinned along his belly. He moaned a little as Mark shifted, holding Aziel close.

“I want to be inside you,” Aziel whispered into Mark’s ear. Mark moaned softly, as if the words themselves were pleasure to his senses.

“I want you in me, Aziel,” he whispered back. “Please, fill me.”

Aziel’s movements, gentle and tender, shifted Mark so that he was sitting up on his knees. Lightly, he teased at his opening with his fingers.

“Do you have… any in your study?” Mark asked breathless.

“You’ve been stashing the stuff in every room,” Aziel whispered with a smile. “There’s probably some in the top drawer.”

Mark, shaking only slightly, leaned down and opened Aziel’s top desk drawer. Inside were paper clips, extra staples, and a neat and orderly pile of papers. Towards the back, Mark’s fingers closed on a familiar cool tube.

“I hope this isn’t crazy glue or something,” Mark whispered, looking at the label.

Aziel laughed, and Mark nodded to himself. He unscrewed the cap and squirted some of the gel onto his hand. He rubbed his hands together briefly and then took Aziel’s hard member between his palms. Firmly, he coated Aziel’s hard shaft in glistening lubricant. Aziel moaned softly at Mark’s caress.

“Fill me,” Mark said, leaning close. Mark lowered himself with Aziel’s guidance onto the hard, throbbing member. He felt it hesitate at his opening, and then gasped as it plunged into him.

They made love until they were both shaking and sweating, mouths numb and swollen with kisses. Mark clung to Aziel, feeling the strength that his own body lacked. When Aziel carried him to bed, snuggling close, Mark couldn’t help but think how lucky he was.