Breakdown - 9. 08 School Days

The place smelled of lacquered wood and dry erase markers. In the small hallway there were numerous colorful posters that were advertising 'friendly' goings on around the community. There was a large poster that was saying some bar somewhere was having some dance for some reason. Cam looked at all the posters without actually reading them. He held the small backpack over his shoulder so tightly that his fingers were white.

Several other people were milling around in the hallway. A man that looked about mid-forties, three women talking quietly that looked around early thirties, and four other miscellaneous kids that were similar in age to Cam. All of them looked at each other warily, as if daring them to ask why they hadn't finished high school and were here now.

Cam stayed out of the game of gazes across the hallway. It was difficult enough just to be here, let alone attempt to play the social game. Cam didn't feel like he belonged in a place like this, getting a second chance. Maybe the others felt the same way, but he couldn't be sure.

The teacher's name was Mr. Clark. He was an elderly gentleman. He introduced himself as a retired high school teacher. He had small half-rim glasses that perched low on his long, thin nose. Cam found the man fascinating. He moved with a sense of purpose, and his high, domed head seemed full of all the words in every crusty textbook in the room. His speech was soft and smooth. Cam found himself smiling as he listened to the man speak; it was like listening to your grandfather.

"Well, we've got a big class this time," he said gently. "That's what I like to see. I trust all of you brought notebooks?" Everyone nodded. "Good, then we can start. We're going to move through this like a regular school day, so every night you will do a little math, a little English, and some history."

Cam found that the class was over entirely too quickly. He was scared at first; having not remembered what a reciprocal was, or even how to turn on a TI-83 calculator. The graphs in his textbook seemed to be written in a strange language that he had once known, but now forgotten. English was better; he was given a novel to ready by the end of next week. Cam couldn't remember the last time he'd read a book...

School. Cam was going to school. He was going to get his diploma.

He stood at the bus stop with his backpack, wondering if he was lucky or stupid. Perhaps both. Getting so entrapped with someone like Aziel was probably a very, very bad idea. His bank account was full of money that he didn't understand.

When the bus came to take him back to Jared's, Cam couldn't help but feel like he was taking the express elevator back to Hell.

As if on cue, Cam's cell phone rang. His heart felt like it was being submerged into cold water; why did he get that feeling? Aziel had never done anything to really hurt him... and he was giving him this great opportunity to better himself.

His voice was dry when he picked up the phone. "Hey," he said.

"Usual spot, 10PM," Aziel's voice purred over the phone. Cam nodded, despite the fact that he knew the other wouldn't hear it. There was a click as Aziel disconnected his end of the line. Woodenly, Cam put the cell phone back in his pocket.

No rest for the wicked...

Aziel was sitting in his car, parked near one of the beautiful parks in the suburbs. He looked at his phone with a neutral expression. The sun had dipped behind the buildings, and the night was cooling off. He'd come to Chicago under the pretense of work again, and Mark hadn't asked any questions.

Mark. Never asked any questions, just trusted Aziel to come back to him. And Aziel would. Forever and ever, amen to the dead fat man that had died on the stairs of the church, Aziel would come home to Mark.

Aziel had set up a good operation here; he had a few jobs to do while he was here this time, so he had rented an apartment downtown. He'd also purchased a car expressly for the purpose of avoiding the car rental place. While it wasn't his first choice, the BMW was a nice vehicle and it certainly got him from point A to point B.

The assassin smiled as he pulled back onto the road. He had a long night ahead of him. Cam wouldn't have a lot of time to make it to their meeting place, and Aziel didn't want to have Cam waiting for him when he got there.

Cam said nothing when he got into the vehicle. He'd managed to drop off his backpack and get a change of clothes, but Aziel hadn't given him a lot of time to get to their meeting place. Cam was wearing tight jeans a dark, button up shirt. It wasn't his sexiest attire, but he was pretty sure that Aziel didn't care about what he was wearing. He offered the cold other a smile.

Aziel watched him get in without a word. Those icy blue eyes missed nothing.

"How was class?" Aziel asked after Cam had done up his seatbelt.

"Good," Cam said, unsure what Aziel wanted from that question. It sounded like Aziel was his father, picking him up after school. Cam laughed silently to himself at the image.

"Do you think you will like it?" Aziel asked.

"Um, yeah," Cam said, looking out the window. They were heading into the nice neighborhood again, where the dirt of the city seemed all the more apparent on his face. Cam liked the lights and the excitement and the people... but he didn't like the looks.

Aziel was quiet as they pulled into an underground park. Cam asked no questions as they got out and went into the expensive apartment complex. Aziel's apartment was a little sparse, but large and beautiful. There was a low couch, some necessary items in the kitchen, and a TV. Decorations were somewhere between minimal and non-existent.

"Are you moving to Chicago?" Cam asked. He didn't like the way that question sounded; he sounded worried. How often would Aziel call if he lived here? Every car had been a rental before, and despite the fact that Cam had originally thought he just didn't want anyone recognizing his vehicle, he'd had a properly owned and plated one today. So he lived outside the city before, which explained the sporadic phone calls.

"Thinking about it," Aziel replied.

Cam wanted to ask more questions, but he stopped himself. Aziel probably didn't want to just talk. "So, what do you want tonight?" He tried to make it sound sexy, but it came out flat.

Aziel removed his suit jacket and hung it up in the closet. "You, in the bedroom," he replied.

Despite the harshness of the words, Cam liked the direction. Immediately, he set down the hallway, looking for the master bedroom. When he found it, he lay down on the bed, legs slightly spread with his knees bent. He waited for Aziel to join him.

The master bedroom by far had the most furniture in it. There were two night tables, a large closet, a dresser and the beautiful, plush bed. The walls were painted a warm brown color, making the place seem inviting and soft.

Aziel followed by a moment or two. He carried with him a small blue bag. His tie was gone, his shirt slightly open at the collar. Cam put his hands behind his head, for the moment feeling no threat from either Aziel or the blue bag.

"Do you know why I use you?" Aziel asked.

Cam pursed his lips. "Not really," he answered honestly. "Seems like you go through a lot of trouble for something that you could probably get for free easily."

Aziel smiled a little at that, but Cam was sure it wasn't from the obtuse compliment. Instead, the sinfully attractive man set the blue bag on the night table. Cam watched with interest as he unrolled it. Inside was a collar, chain, and handcuffs.

Cam looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "You can't do that to someone you don't pay?" he asked.

Aziel's eyes were cold and his expression had receded back to neutral. He took out the collar and handed it to Cam, obviously expecting him to comply with his wishes without the orders that were to go along with it. Cam offered no resistance, putting the collar around his own neck.

"Take off your clothes," Aziel said softly. Cam complied with this as well. He sensed something in the other's voice; something that said, 'I don't want a show, I want your clothes off.'

Cam lay back down on the bed, nude now. Aziel's coldness had stirred something in Cam, and his member was half-hard against his stomach. He put his hands above his head, wrists together. It was only logical to assume he would want to handcuff him to the headboard.

Aziel took the handcuffs and did just that. The cool metal slipped against his wrists and between the bars of the headboard. Cam heard the biting snap of the jaws of the cuffs. He pulled on them twice, experimentally. These were real handcuffs; not the shitty ones you get out of the sex shops downtown. He felt his heart skip a little; he was now completely at the other man's mercy.

Aziel watched his tentative struggle with interest. "Are you afraid of needles?"

The question made Cam freeze. He couldn't hide the look of surprise and fear on his face when he looked at Aziel with his blue bag.

"What?" His voice was very quiet.

Aziel finished unrolling the blue bag. There were several plastic packages and a small vial that was labeled with dark marker. It said BV-Batch01A. Aziel examined it, and then took one of the syringes out of the package.

"Aziel, no," Cam said firmly. "I don't do that shit." He felt panic start to rise in his chest. "I don't want anything to do with that!"

Aziel tut-tutted. "Calm down, Cameron," Aziel said, watching the needle fill with the clear liquid. "If you think I'm going to give you something hard, you'd best think again. Having you as a useless drug addict is not my plan."

"Aziel, no," Cam tried again, wanting nothing to do with anything that came in an mysteriously labeled container.

"I don't recall giving you a choice," Aziel replied, flicking the needle and moving the plunger down to an even 2cc.

Cam thrashed, but in his heart, he knew it was already too late. He tried to twist himself to lash at Aziel with his feet, but Aziel was ready for him. He placed the needle back on the packaging. Using nothing more than brute strength, he shoved Cam back into position and straddled his chest. Cam felt the breath squeezed from his lungs as he attempted to struggle. He looked up at Aziel with terrible pleading in his eyes.

Aziel's expression was cold and merciless.

When Aziel leaned over to retrieve the needle, Cam thought about struggling again. However, Aziel's legs tightened on his chest, squeezing more breath from him.

"No, be still," Aziel said, holding the needle up in front of himself. "You don't want to damage yourself."

Cam swallowed, his voice stolen by fear. He didn't know what was in that needle; it could have been anything. Was it addictive? Would it make him black out?

Aziel leaned forward and set the sharp tip against the inside of Cam's arm. With a sure hand, he slipped the needle forward.

There was an incredible burn up Cam's arm. His eyes widened, dilated, and then half-closed. His fingers clenched. Whatever it was, it tore through his system and lit his organs on fire. He felt his member spring to attention immediately.

"Shit," Cam whispered, his chest heaving as Aziel moved away from him. Cam's skin felt like it was shaking over his frame, sweating and shivering as the world turned to flashes of heat and cold. The edges of his vision tinged with black, and he fought to calm his racing heart. The image of Aziel blurred and sharpened, the colors wrong somehow.

Aziel reached down and touched Cam's groin. Cam let out a long, strangled cry. It was better than anything he had every felt in his life. He felt no qualms about begging; it was necessary. Violently, he gave voice to his desires.

"Please! Yes! Please touch me!" he gasped.

"Eager now?" Aziel purred, enjoying the sight of Cam's body enduring the torments of his chemistry. Indeed, nothing in this mix would hurt him. He might have a hangover tomorrow... but... that was tomorrow.

"Yes!" Cam gasped, going mad under the light touch of the other. Aziel pulled away to disrobe himself. The twenty painful seconds that it took Aziel to undress, Cam twined on the bed as if possessed. His blonde hair became matted to his forehead with sweat, and his eyes were wide and desperate.

Aziel's touch was fire. His breath was ecstasy. Fingers ran up his sides and his thighs, making the flesh tremble with want of release. Everything felt so good; even the feeling of the metal digging into his wrists was a sinful agony that made his nerves sing.

Cam begged more that night than he had ever begged in his life. He begged for release, offered up everything he had for the chance of release. He cried until he was hoarse, and Aziel's icy eyes just bored into him from above.

When Aziel's thick shaft entered him, Cam asked him to go faster. He wanted to be fucked, spread out like the whore he was and taken until he could no longer move. There was nothing of shame in this burning world of pleasure.

It was bliss. It was agony. When he came, Cam felt the violence of his hot climax splatter over his stomach. He felt the shudder of his muscles, the quivering of his flesh around the other's. There was release, but he felt no afterglow. Instead, there was only lust, the lust for more more more...

Cam's memory of the night was hazy at best. All he remembered was being pleased in a way that he had never been pleased. He remembered pain that was so intense and sharp as to be mistaken for the precise pleasure of Aziel's touch. Cam was sure that this was what death was; a mix of everything you had ever felt in your life spreading into a glowing cacophony of white noise that tickled the backs of your eyes.

The violence of the hangover in the morning caught his stomach in a storm. He wretched at the side of the bed, and was sickly amused that Aziel had left him a bucket in which to wretch. Nothing came up, but he tasted bile in the back of his throat.

The world pounded in his ears. That symphony of sensations from the evening before was an iron maiden of pain this morning. Was it really worth it?

Hell yes.