Chapter 48
48.
The Gladiator Man
“Be wary of the comedown—it is like a dark veil on our joy. Be wary of the high—it deludes us into loving the liar. Seek the Great Balance between.”
—Disco Witch Manifesto #52
“You found me,” Joe said, his voice barely a whisper, his skin shivering at the very presence of the gorgeous god towering over him. His gaze slid across the Gladiator Man’s huge, glistening pectoral muscles, then down to his tight athletic shorts that strained against his massive crotch pouch and mountainous ass, then back up to those terrifying eyes. Are they black? Are they blue? Why does he want me this much? Why does he hate me this much? Even if the Gladiator Man was just a byproduct of Scotty Black’s burning powder, Joe didn’t want to waste this moment. He threw his arms around the giant man’s hairy tree trunk of a thigh. “Please, let’s just do it!”
“What the hell?” the Gladiator Man barked in his sonorous, otherworldly voice. “Get off me!” He shook Joe from his leg as if Joe were an amorous Jack Russell terrier. “What are you on?”
“Almost everything,” Joe mumbled. “It’s my first time.”
“Right,” the Gladiator Man scoffed. “We all say that.” He lifted Joe to his feet and inspected him. “Not bad, except the snot coming out your nose. Haven’t I seen you before?”
“Yeah,” Joe said, wiping his face on his own forearm. He wanted to ask if the Gladiator Man did, in fact, hate him or desire him. But instead, the words in his drug-filled head scrambled, and he simply shrugged and muttered, “So, you wanna fuck me?”
“You’re a real charmer.” The Gladiator Man grunted and offered his hand. “I’m Glen.”
“Glen?” Joe smiled at how silly and wrong it sounded. “Gladiator Glen?”
“Huh?”
“Nothing. I’m Joe.”
“Is that so?” Gladiator Glen’s lips spread in a most chilling smile.
Joe felt another wave of weeping coming on, and at the same time his desire for the sexy but terrifying man intensified. No, no, he thought. It’s not desire you’re feeling. It had never been that. Gladiator Man was why he’d come to the island—not to fall in love, but as the vehicle for his escape. He is your penance.
“You can even fuck me raw,” Joe said, still snuffling. He undid his fanny pack and yanked off his shorts, leaving both on the ground. “This is what the Meat Rack is for, right? I don’t even care if you’re a ghost with AIDS. Just fuck me, okay? Please.”
Gladiator Glen’s snigger was like slow bullets. “It doesn’t matter if I’m a ghost with AIDS, hmm?” His eyes combed Joe’s naked body. “Nice cock.” He gestured for Joe to turn around. “Nice butt. You’ll do.” He lowered his mouth to Joe’s and kissed him. The roughness of Gladiator Glen’s beard; the turgidity of his lips; his hot, wet tongue exploring. His breath tasted old, sour. It didn’t matter since this wasn’t about pleasure anymore. His hand moved to Joe’s ass.
“Ow!” Joe’s teeth gritted as he felt Gladiator Glen’s finger roughly penetrate him. “Lube please. I’ll also need another bump of something. I need to stay brave.”
“Brave? What for?” Gladiator Glen scoffed. “To get raw-dogged by a stranger you met in the Meat Rack?”
“Sure, and other things. I’m in the process of escaping. I don’t know to where … but I need to be brave.”
“Whatever toots your whistle, stud. I left my backpack in a spot farther back. It’s a ten-minute walk from here, and a lot more private. I got lube there, and something else that might relax you—and make you brave at the same time.” He lifted Joe’s chin, forcing him to confront his now colorless eyes. “You really wanna do this, boy? You’re not going to waste my time, are you?”
Joe looked up at the moon, which was nearing its full eclipse. It was far more orange than blood red. Another of the island’s disappointments. “Lead the way.”