Date: Tue, 12 Nov 2002 23:47:27 -0500
From: Stabbing Westward Junkie <youarenotyourf_ckingkhakis@hotmail.com>
Subject: Gothic Transfixion - Chapter Six Part Two

[Author's Note: I'm sorry about the delay between chapters. Hopefully I will
be able to catch up again. I'm also sorry about not responding to any of the
e-mails that were sent to me; I have not had the chance to due to familial
problems. Enjoy!]

A strange darkness, thoughts flowing into each other to become other ones,
existance itself being a syruppy softness, the spirit being caught and
tossed upon the waves of the mind, whirling around in the endless spirals of
Life. And then, a gradual thinning out, a sudden pull away from the depths
of the subconscious, and light is seen and felt through the physical body as
the spiritual one returns. 'I' comes back, a name, Silver, and the
rememberance of being alive and real. My eyes remain closed, my lungs
breathing in sweet but unfamiliar air. My brow furrows slightly as I try to
fathom why the air smells different, why the bed beneath me feels more
pliant, why there is an added warmth at my side. I am lost, suddenly
disoriented, and my eyes open in alarm.

A soft, gentle shadow sweeps into my vision, shadow swirling around a room
unfamiliar to me, a soft orange glow pulsating from the little lamp beside
me. I am on my side, facing the wall, stretched out comfortably. But again,
that strange, solid warmth beside me... hearing comes back. Music fills the
senses, softly melodic music; I strain to hear the words for a moment.
"Waking Up Beside You" by Stabbing. Right. Makes sense... but where am I?
Then I hear a soft, sleepy moan, and the bed shifts slightly, the warmth at
my side moving as well. The tones of the moan are quiet and content, and it
stirs a sudden arousal in my body as I hear it, leaving my mind to desire
more. And then, a slow inhalation of breath, the warmth beside me shifts
again, and I suddenly feel an arm slip around me, tucking up against my
chest, fingers gripping my shoulder lightly.

Before I can have time to react, the warmth beside me takes on a human
shaped form; the chest pressing against my back, the legs entwining with my
own, the soft tide of breath upon the nape of my neck. Again I hear the
moan, and the touch of lips to my neck, the arm around me holding tighter,
pulling me closer against the body beside me.

"Silver..." Whispered in a shiveringly sensual voice, and arousal again
snaps through me, causing my body to press against the one holding me.

And then I remember. Josh. His room, his bed, his body, his voice, his
touch, his kiss. And then I remember snipets of the party, sudden,
red-tinted images of Josh and I in the kitchen, of desperate kisses being
exchanged, of green eyes sinking into my soul. My eyes widen fully, and then
are dragged helplessly closed again when I feel another kiss, this time to
my cheek. Josh's touch changes from being gentle and slow to being electric,
the hand on my chest moving downwards, the fingers getting caught in the
collar of my shirt. He tugs on it softly, and I hear a gasp slip out from
between my lips. I turn slightly, lips burning, needing to find his. It
feels as if somehow, a wildcat has lodged itself in my chest suddenly,
waiting to spring. Our lips meet instantly, and Josh presses up against me
tightly as we kiss, the scent of him raising from between the sheets and
engulfing me in its intoxicating sensuality.

His fingers keep moving, trailing all around the neck of the shirt, tucking
under it and letting his fingernails graze my skin. My back arches slightly,
begging for that hand to move, to keep dancing its erotic way down my chest.
He deepens the kiss as I do so, and his hand slides down my fabric covered
chest until he reaches the hem of the shirt. My fingers lift to find his,
and they entwine for a moment before I take hold of his wrist, guiding his
hand under the shirt. I hear him moan again and I move my hand from his
wrist to encircle his waist, tugging him closer and closer. His fingers
slide up my chest, lightly tracing the muscles that dance under his touch,
and the urgent gasps that fall from my lips makes those fingers shake, makes
the lips upon mine to tremble.

I slip my hand under his shirt, the other hand coming up to slide along his
face, to caress his skin. The solid satin of his back becomes known to me as
my fingers move, and extending my index finger, I slowly drag it up his
spine, making his hands pause in their movements, and his lips to raise from
mine in a sweet whimper. His whole body shudders, and his chest presses
against mine, his hand resuming its movement upwards. As he moves, I tear my
lips away from his gently, kissing a tantalizing trail across his cheek
slowly, my tongue reaching out to flick his earlobe. He cries out quietly as
I do this, and then I feel his fingernails in their sharp danger gliding
across my nipples, igniting a fire in my chest that I had not thought
possible.

My tongue moves from his earlobe to his throat, pausing on the erratic
thumping of his blood in the vein. Gently, I begin to suck on his neck
directly above the jumping pulse, imaginging myself suddenly with fangs,
imagining them sinking into the warm satin of his throat, drinking the sweet
blood that would come pouring forth into my greedy mouth. 'I am drinking
you,' I silently tell him, my fingers gripping the skin of his back tightly.
'Your essence is mine. I will never let you go...' And with that, he
whimpers again, and I feel his fingers pulling off my shirt, tugging the
cumbersome material upwards. I let myself separate from him as he does this,
the cool air of the room and the burning heat of Josh's body sinking into my
skin. I hear the shirt fall to the floor, and Josh is in my arms again, his
own arms trembling as they move to encircle me, his fingers gliding up my
arms, pressing into my biceps.

His kisses slowly dwindle in their passion as we progress, every muscle in
his body seeming to be rock hard. I realize what he is doing, and I will
have none of it.

"No," I whisper forcefully, not letting him stop.

He is stopping, I know, because he is worried this may not be what I want,
but every nerve in my body is screaming to be touched, to be kissed. He
lifts a dark gaze to me, the irises swirling, almost crazed with a desire
that I know is mirrored in my own.

"Are... are you... sure? I just... don't want you to regret anything.. in
the morning..."

His voice is strained, his gaze urgent and barely restrained. I simply shake
my head, and, entwining my fingers in his hair, tug his lips back down to
mine. 'I've been dreaming of this for so long... I could not possibly regret
my dreams...' I reassure him silently, and slowly push him onto his back.
Straddling him carefully, I keep kissing him as I lift his shirt off, still
kissing him as it slithers off the bed to meet mine on the floor. The taste
of his mouth and the wet velvet of his tongue becomes my only reality now as
we 'dance', emotion almost becoming too much as his fingers hook into my
nipple rings and tug once, twice, three times. Our kisses have become
ruthless, a desperate attempt to get what we crave, and just barely coming
up short. So I pull away from him, and ignoring the despairing fire in his
suddenly alarmed gaze, I begin to administer moist kisses to his chest, my
fingers caressing each space my lips uncover.

His back arches to my touch, and his gasps become the tide on which I float.
I see, dimly, his fingers gripping the sheets on his bed, the strength
pounding through them making them taut and white. Needless to say, I am
aroused to the point of no denial, and only become more so as the salt of
his sweat sinks into my tongue. But as soon as I taste, I am left wanting
more... something different, heavier, sweeter. And so I continue to descend,
carefully, letting my tongue flicker over his nipples and my teeth to nip at
them, my fingers finding his and unentangling them from the sheets to hold
my own. He whimpers as I move over his abs, encircle his belly-button and
move still lower, finding the tiny trail of hair that starts just below his
belly-button and goes into places as yet unknown to me. His hands pull away
from mine and glide through my hair, and I look up slowly to find his gaze.

What I see there freezes me for a moment, leaves me struggling for breath.
Shock pounds through my body as I see tears glittering painfully in the
emerald darkness of his eyes, their crystalline sparkle making trails down
his smooth skin. The shock I feel in my body must have manifested in my
face, because he shakes his head and his eyes close desperately, squeezing
out more of those incredible droplets. The pressure of his fingers in my
hair speaks his words for him, and so I lower my head once more,
understanding now. Using my freed hands, my fingers tuck slowly under the
elastic of his boxer shorts, and the raising of his hips reassures me that
this is okay. So I get off him and position myself between his legs, my
fingers still tugging at his shorts. His hands lift from my hair to enfold
around my fingers, and after a moment of exchanged glances, he begins to
help me pull them off.

I watch with held breath as the forest-green material begins to slowly slide
down, I watch with a shivering need as the folds of the fabric slowly glide
over the presence of his erection, hitherto unnoticed by me. How exactly, I
am not sure, for it is quite damn obvious, but never mind that now. His hips
come into veiw, the slender, skin-covered beauty of them making me have to
stop him so I can run my tongue over the small ridges of his pelvis. He
groans suddenly at this, and his hips lift again to meet my tongue, and I
feel the molten lava of his hard-on brush against my exposed chest. We
continue pulling off the boxers, the light of the room seeming to take on a
more sultry tone as the small patch of his pubic hair comes into veiw, and
then the dark red head of his cock. It is here that I lose all my ability to
hold back, and I pull off the shorts quickly, and simply stare at him for a
moment.

Seven, maybe? Seven and a half? I can feel my lips part in wonder as I gape,
not feeling the trembles that shake my body. Uncircumscised, the foreskin
pulled back just a little to let me see the tip, the foreskin itself a
wonderful light caramel colour, the shaft straight and as erect as any I'd
ever hoped to see. I tilt my head a little to stare at his balls, perfectly
rounded orbs without a trace of hair. He lies quietly as I look him over,
his arms lying at his side, his gaze never leaving mine. I look up slowly,
increduously to find his face. What I find there is quiet serenity, not a
trace of self-consciousness. He gazes at me strangely, and offers me a
sudden, gentle smile. I can see now that his hands are still trembling, lost
in the sheets again.

"..." I stutter. "You.. are.. perfect," I manage to squeeze out, sitting
there limply, overcome. Well, not all of me is limp... some parts are in
fact quite the opposite... and demanding me to touch this god...

He grins again, and a small relief floods into his gaze. He shakes his head,
and looks about to contradict me, but I hold up a hand to keep him quiet.
Then my fingers glide slowly up his bare thighs, feeling the muscle beneath
the skin shiver and jump. Up over his hips they go, trailing lightly through
his pubic hair, and I am vaguely aware of his eyes closing and the urgent
breathing once again. And then, lightly, cautiously, I touch the lower part
of his shaft, and am welcomed with a sudden throb and a strangled moan. My
fingers close around it then, and I lower my head as if in a daze, and bring
my lips towards it. Instantly I am rewarded with his scent: slightly musty
and sweaty, and faintly like soap. Slowly I begin to drag my tongue across
the head, and the first contact of it extrixiates a muffled cry from Josh's
sweet lips. His legs entwine around my waist, and I continue to explore,
slowly winding my way down the entire shaft, tasting the hard silk of his
foreskin. Once I reach the bottom, I lightly begin to tease his balls,
feeling them shiver under the scrotum, as elusive and hard to hold as soap
under water.

His hands grip my shoulders, his fingernails digging demandingly into my
skin. I can hear his cries, and I whimper softly as I hear them, moving my
hand up to grip his foreskin and slowly pull it down as my tongue extends
again. The head is turgid and slightly sticky, smelling intoxicatingly like
sperm. Its taste is sweet, and Josh's moans even sweeter as I begin to suck.
Running my tongue all around its sensitive underside, I take it into my
mouth, slowly allowing more of the shaft to enter, spurned on my Josh's
urgent grip on my shoulders. I hear my name moaned, but don't look up,
unable to tear myself away from this, my dream of all dreams. Then we begin
a slow rhythym, his hips lifting to coinside with my mouth, the fingers on
one of my hands gripping his cock, the other slowly manipulating his balls
carefully, as gently as I can.

After a moment I become lost. Life used to be about breathing, thinking,
existing. Now all it seems to be about is Josh, his cock in my mouth, the
sweat pouring down his chest, the feeling of his fingernails drawing blood,
his steady stream of ecstatic cries. The only goal is to make him come, to
feel his fragrant sperm fill my mouth, be swallowed down my throat, to sear
my stomach. The hardness of his cock doesn't cease to amaze me as it thrusts
in and out of my mouth, my tongue glorifying in its feel as I make desperate
love to it. I don't know how long this has been happening, all I know is
that I feel like my pants are going to explode. I need release... but then
become distracted as I feel Josh's legs start to shake, his balls to
constrict in my hand. So I quicken my pace, feeling his hips pound the bed,
his moans now becoming a unified low keening sound that shakes me to my
core. I feel his hands lift, and see them glide through his own hair and
stay there as if in attempt to keep himself here, in this reality. Then the
low cry becomes a gasp, and my fingers tighten their grip as they rub up and
down his shaft, and I begin to suck harder, urging him on.

"I..." he gasps, almost yelping. "...don't..."

'Stop', I finish for him silently, not intending to for a second. 'I won't,'
I promise. And then, he is there. His hands fly outward onto the bed, his
back arches, his head falls back. I feel his body surge, and his cock to
explode and shake in my mouth, to stiffen even further in my hand. His cum
soaks my mouth, filling it with a suddeness that almost sends me over the
edge myself. Beyond being able to stop myself, I reach down and begin to
jerk myself off through my pants, moaning into his cock as spurt after spurt
of his cum saturates my tongue and throat. I swallow greedily, my fingers
squeezing out as much as I can, my other hand working my cock hard, my body
shaking with unrelenting desire. I can see, somehow, that his mouth is open
in a silent scream, that his spirit has retreated and left for somewhere
else in this brief moment, and that only gets me harder. It is like there is
an earthquake centered on the bed, because his body shivers perpetually.
After a moment, as the last vestiges of his cum is worked out by my fingers,
his cock begins to slowly, very slowly, soften. But he is still moaning, and
his shaft throbs with aftershocks. My tongue begins to cease its movements,
and my hand lessens its grip on him.

"...Silver..." I hear him half-moan, and with that I explode.

The insane pleasure screams through my body, my fingers gripping myself
tightly, my mouth lifting away from his cock to softly groan. Dimly I feel
him sitting up, his arms going around me and pulling me against him, holding
me tightly as the orgasm shudders through me. His lips find mine, and we
kiss as I return to myself slowly, alertness coming back but being weighed
down by sudden fatigue. There is silence, marred only by our coupled
breathing, heavy and erratic.

Then: "...thank you.. Silver.."

I open my eyes and find him staring at me with an expression that almost
makes me whimper. Complete gratitude, but also love. More love than I
thought I could ever see in someone's eyes, much less eyes that were looking
at me. I nod dumbly, dismissing his thanks as needless, and reach up to kiss
him again, pouring all of my answering emotion into that simple exchange. It
goes on for a while, and after a moment, I feel Josh's hands once more
gliding over my skin, and I break the kiss. I just wanted to fall asleep in
his arms, with the memories like a sweet balm of spice in my mind.

"No," I whisper softly. "Sleep, okay? That was just for you."

He pauses and looks at me, his gaze questioning. I offer him a sleepy smile
and nod my head, and it is with a tender smile that he gathers me close, his
arms as warm around me as I imagine the womb must have been. I curl into
him, my head on his chest, the taste of his essence in my mouth. As I drift
off into content sleep, I hear another gentle whisper.

"I love you."

I smile and nuzzle closer, my heart filling with a joy never before
experienced. Placing a kiss against his chest, I whisper my mirrored reply
and fall asleep before I can realize that sudden tears have spilled out of
my eyes and are falling onto his chest.


*	*	*	*

A loud knocking at the door wakes me, yanking me out of the most worry-free
sleep I've ever had. My eyes fly open and instant unhappiness floods my
psyche at the intrusion. I blink slowly, adjusting to the soft light
filtering into the room through the slats of the blinds, and wince against
the brightness. I stare up at the ceiling for a moment, and then feel Josh
move beside me, his arms slowly sliding away from around my chest, and his
head to move on the pillow. I can't help the smile that touches on my lips
as memories of last night come slipping back, and I turn to look at him as
another knock sounds at the door, impatient this time. Our gazes touch, and
the instant beam that touches his face makes me shiver with happiness. He
grins at me for a moment, green eyes sparkling like emeralds immersed in
liquified diamonds, and then reaches over with a finger to slowly drag it
down my cheek.

"Morning, beautiful," he whispers, a sexy softness touching his
not-quite-awake voice.

"Hey..." I reply, grinning stupidly and nuzzling his shoulder.

He stares at me for another moment, the smile on his lips the epitome of
joy. His hair spreads out behind him in a glittering, spice-scented fan of
dark and light brown, his bare chest gleaming softly in the light, his skin
looking like sugared caramel and just as soft. I watch the elegant, strong
swell of his bicep as it ripples under his skin as he runs his fingers
through his hair, see the small tuft of underarm hair that is the colour of
smoke, and the purely sexual slant of his side as it descends into the
erotic wave of his hip. The blanket drapes over his hip carelessly, leaving
a dark pocket of shadow into which I can just barely see his pubic hair and
skin. Above all this is his eyes, a constant presence of burning,
annihilistic green. The beauty of him makes my breath feel as though it has
become laced with tiny shards of glass, and my fingers ache for a pencil so
that I can try and burn this perfection onto paper and mind.

"JOSH!" I hear Madison yell, and then I remember the door.

Too late, however, for the door comes flying open. Madison steps in, a look
of consternation and impatience on her features.

"Josh!" she says sharply. "I've been knocking for fifteen minutes! Your
mother..." her voice trails off as she takes a complete look at her cousin.

"Oh..." she says quietly, and an instant blush floods her cheeks.

Josh has sat up, a reaction to the door flying open so quickly. He stares at
her and then drops his gaze, the embarassment crashing over him as well. I
squirm slightly and nod at Madison with a forced smile.

"Hey," I say, slipping out of the bed and reaching for my shirt, pulling it
on quickly. Reaching for Josh's, I toss it at him, and he half-smiles his
thanks. Madison blushes even further and starts to leave, murmuring.

"I... I didn't.. know. I'm.. sorry. I just wanted to tell Josh that his
mother was on the phone. I.. thought Silver would.. have left already."

Josh nods wordlessly, and with another muttered apology that is scarlet with
embarassment, Madison leaves the room, closing the door hurriedly behind
her. There is silence for a moment, and then Josh sighs, crashing back down
onto his pillow. I glance over at him, and watch as he reaches for his
boxers. I know I should probably turn away...

"I hate my mother sometimes.. you know that? It's uncanny how she manages to
wreck almost everything in my life..."

He says this softly, the tones drenched in regret and long-tempered
sufferance, flashing me an apologetic smile. I say nothing, sympathizing
with him silently, returning his smile with one of my own. He winks and then
slips out of the bed, giving me a perfect veiw of his back and ass that
leaves my mouth dry. Not too fleshless, not too boyish... skin that looks
even softer than the rest of him... I sit down. He pulls on his boxers
absently, as if the motions of him doing something so sexy was nothing
special, and then turns to face me, pulling on his shirt.

"I've got to get the phone... want to come?" He says this softly, with a
mischivious grin that makes me giggle softly.

I nod, and he extends his hand, pulling me up off the bed and into his arms.
I smile helplessly at the contact: the heat of his body and solid silk of
his skin. His arms wrap around me for a moment, and we hug each other
tightly before he kisses my cheek twice, lingering kisses that leave a trail
of fire that slowly drips down my body. My eyes drift closed and I hold his
head there, not wanting him to move, transfixed by the sound of his
breathing, by the feel of his hair in my fingers. But then another yell from
Madison makes him pull away. Sighing, with a shaky smile, he leads me out of
the room, and we run down the stairs, our fingers disentangling before we
hit the ground floor. He heads towards the living room and I trail after
him, hugging Madison and whispering a "Don't worry" in her ear. She smiles
slightly and we follow after Josh.

We find him leaning against the wall in the kitchen, the phone reciever in
his hand and a less than pleased expression on his face. We come to a stop
silently, and watch him. His gaze flickers to me a moment, and then drops
away again, listening.

"I was up late last night! Jesus! Forgive me for being a little tired, mom."

He sighs after a moment of silence, and leans his head against the wall, his
eyes closing.

"Yes. Fine. Whatever."

He is quiet a moment longer, and I can faintly hear his mother's voice,
berating him for using "that tone of voice" with her. Then something else is
said, and Josh's body goes taut. Pushing himself away from the wall, I watch
as a black expression crashes over his face and his fingers start to shake
with rage. Madison bites her lip and mumurs an "Uh-oh..." and I frown
worriedly, taking a step towards him. His eyes are blazing, and I hear the
voice on the end start to raise in crescendo. Josh cuts it off abruptly.

"You want to play this game again, mom? Is that what you want to do? Fine!
It's my turn now. Where the hell were YOU last night, then? You were
supposed to be with dad, weren't you? But I know you're not... the number on
the display is a different area code altogether! So don't talk to me about
staying out all night and fucking myself stupid!"

At this point, the rest of Madison's friends walk in. But Josh doesn't seem
to see that they are there.

"Oh please. Don't give me that shit, mom! You expect me to believe that you
and dad just up and went to another province all together in the middle of
the night? I don't believe that for a second. Hmm? Fine! Give dad the phone
then. Let me talk to him!"

Silence. I watch as Josh shakes his head slowly, a grim smile touching his
lips. I approach more slowly, and reach out a hand to touch his shoulder
hesitantly. He doesn't move.

"Ok. See, now this should tell you something, mom. You're cheating on dad,
and I know it. I've always known it. But now that you know I know, you've
got NO power over me anymore. So I don't want to hear any more shit about
school, my car, or my choice of sexual preference! Yeah, your son might be a
fag, but you're a two-timing slut!"

And with that, he slams the reciever back into the cradle. I jump back
slightly, my hand falling away from his shoulder to fall by my side where it
hangs limply, tingling with the furious energy running through Josh's body.
I can feel everyone elses shocked and troubled gazes flowing over my
shoulders to home in on Josh's face; their astoundment is like a wall that I
can lean on. Josh doesn't seem to register any of it, however. His hand
hovers above the receiver, trembling and pale. His hair slips out from
behind his ears and curtains his face from view, his body taut and still.
The silence that coats the room is suffocating, cutting my breathing short.

After what seems aeons of stillness, Madison finally stirs and looks around
slowly, jerkily avoiding Josh's face. Awkwardly clearing her throat, she
addresses her cousin in a fragile voice, one laced with worry but also
determination to act like the phone call had never taken place.

"So.. um.. Josh.. I was thinking about.. going out and.. getting everyone
some coffee and muffins or something for breakfast.. would it be okay if I
took your car...?"

Everyone's eyes suddenly fall away from Josh, looking everywhere but
directly at him, faces flushing in delayed reaction. I stay where I am,
rooted to the spot with fear and worry, watching him slowly gain control of
himself. His hand retreats from the phone, fingers folding into a fist and
then dropping away from veiw. After a moment, he looks up, and quickly
brushes his hair out of his eyes and glances to Madison. She flinches at his
gaze: one so burning and enraged that it seems it could smoulder anything it
landed upon. But his voice is calm and steady, and the smile upon his lips
sincere, if weary and small.

"Sure.. it's a good idea. Go ahead. But don't get anything for me. I'm not
hungry."

And with that, he strides out of the kitchen, with one quick glance at me,
and we stand silently as we hear his light footsteps ascending the stairs.
When we hear his door slam, people begin to stir, and look at each other in
bewilderment, soft whispers filling the kitchen like an elevated place on an
autumn day. I drop my gaze to the floor and look at my fidgiting hands,
trying desperately not to hear the words being voiced around me.

"I had no idea..."

"Who knew..."

"Josh's parents... they seemed so perfect..."

"Thought he and they got along fine.."

"Did anyone here know he was..."

"Was..."

"Well... you know..."

"Was.."

"...gay...?"

"That is what he said, right? 'Fag'?"

I can see tears falling out of my eyes and landing on the kitchen floor,
their reflections bounce up at me painfully through the fog in my head.
Because of his mother... everyone knows what he obviously wanted to be kept
a secret... who knows how this will change everything for him... and who
knows if he'll even want me around anymore, after this...

But my thoughts are interupted by Madison's firm, honest voice, and I look
up slowly, blinking away the debilitating tears.

"His mom's always been... less than pleasant. If you guys hung around here
more often, you'd see it. It's nothing she hides. And his dad's really no
better anymore. Been warped by her. And as for the other thing... does it
matter? Whether he is... gay ... or not? I don't really think so. This
doesn't change anything, does it? And I don't think this needs to get any
further than this kitchen unless he wants it that way."