Chapter 8
Will
“Oh, this scene is wild. The blood looks so damn real. Hey, watch!”
Will tries to focus on the screen. His vision is foggy, which might be for the best since it’s another bloody scene from an old and cheap horror flick.
He doesn’t understand how any of those things were ever greenlit, but based on Nate’s excitement, there’s clearly an audience for this sort of thing.
The woman screams as the knife slices through her. He’s seen so many of these horrifying scenes in the last two hours, he can’t even muster the energy to feel appalled. Nate has been switching between videotapes all evening, fast-forwarding to the most disturbing scenes.
Will tries to shift on the couch, but he can’t because his arms have been stretched and tied above his head for hours. His feet are on the floor, but he can barely feel them since there’s so much weed in his system.
“See? I told you the blood looks real.” Nate takes the remote and fast-forwards to another scene.
Will uses the opportunity to shut his eyes and try again to make blood flow into his stiff arms. He was never more thirsty than he is right now, but there’s duct tape blocking his mouth.
Nate only peels part of it off to slide a joint into Will’s mouth, making him take a long puff that sends his brain into the clouds.
He jolts when Nate hits him in the ribs. “Did I tell you to shut your eyes?”
Will grunts, breathing through the pain.
“I know what you need.” Nate reaches for what’s left of the joint. Will shakes his head, but it’s not like he can fight. Nate lights the joint, peels off the side of the duct tape, and then slides the joint into the crack between Will’s parched lips.
“There you go, baby. Take a deep breath. It’s the last one—I promise. There you go. Blow it through your nose. Excellent. I love making you high. Feels better already, right?”
Will manages a single nod. The weed is the only thing making the pain in his arms and upper back bearable.
Nate puts the joint on the table. The open window behind them helps keep the thick scent of smoke from lingering in the air, though everything still lingers inside Will’s body.
“You think we’ve seen enough for today?” Nate asks as he leans against Will. He’s wearing sweatpants and a simple shirt, while Will has been naked since the second he walked into Nate’s house. “I know I promised you culture, but we can’t have you watching TV for so many hours, right?”
Will nods in relief, eager to stop watching people being slaughtered in the most horrifying ways.
Nate switches off the television, and the only light in the living room comes from the single lamp at the side of the room. The silence is a blessing after all those screams.
“Are you thirsty?” Nate asks, his fingers traveling up and down Will’s stretched torso.
“Mmm.”
“Coming right up, baby. You know I like being a good host.” Nate returns with a bottle of water, and Will is relieved it’s not alcohol. He peels the duct tape completely off, finally allowing more air into Will’s aching lungs.
“Open your mouth.”
Will does, but instead of letting him drink from the bottle, Nate fills his own mouth with water, then lets it trickle into Will’s open mouth.
He doesn’t care; he just wants to drink.
Nate does the same thing a few more times before putting the bottle on the table.
He straddles Will and says, “Joel was also into these movies. He knew you wouldn’t like them, so we watched without you. ”
There is no other person in the world who dares speak with Will so freely about Joel.
Nate runs his hands over Will’s skin, squeezing his chest and digging his fingers into his muscles.
Will grunts, taking in the pain. It’s why he’s here, isn’t it?
He’s honestly not sure anymore. He finds that Nate’s cruelty can reach deep into his soul and remove some of the filth in it, making him feel less guilty about the events that unfolded years ago.
But that comes with its own toll, a different kind of filth that now taints him.
It’s a vicious circle that he’s caught in.
“This is how Joel liked to sit on you, right? He used to slide himself on your cock.”
Will hates how much Nate knows about his relationship with Joel, down to the little, dirty details.
“Did you feel in control when you hurt him?”
“No.” He didn’t feel in control over anything throughout their relationship. Even during the good times, before the madness, he allowed himself to be led by the force of nature that was Joel Buchanan.
“I know what you want,” Nate says teasingly. “You want to fuck me, don’t you, baby?”
He tastes bile, but trying to refuse will make this night even longer. He gives a single nod, and Nate smiles and says, “You’ll need to get hard for that. Can you do that?”
“Yes.” Nate has been stroking him throughout the evening, keeping him hard while people were being butchered on screen.
Nate gets up and goes to his bedroom, whistling a joyful tune.
Will tries again to roll his shoulders and crane his stiff neck, but it barely helps with the discomfort and numbness.
All that weed has made his brain feel massive, as if it shouldn’t fit inside his skull.
He doesn’t know what time it is, but he assumes it’s after midnight.
Stepping into Nate’s house feels like getting sucked into a black hole, where the common rules of time and space no longer apply.
Nate returns fully naked, holding a bottle of lube. His body is plain and skinny, his cock larger than his small frame implies.
“I’m not used to having things up there, so you’ll need to take it easy with me. I know you liked going rough with poor Joel, but you’ll need to tame yourself with me.”
Even with the fog around his senses, his anger rises to the surface. “That’s not how it happened.”
Nate comes closer, making Will tense. “Oh yeah? You didn’t hurt him during sex?”
Will looks away. “You know why I did that.”
“What, because he asked you to?” He snorts. “A sick man wanted you to hurt him, and you did. What a great way to make him better!”
Will allows the words to cut, like those people on screen who bled and bled.
“Evil,” Nate whispers in his ear. “I saw the marks you left on Joel, all those nasty bruises. You can pretend all you want and hope people will forget, but you and I know the truth. You’re evil to your core, aren’t you?
And now I need to cleanse you. For the memory of Joel, and how much he loved you, I’m giving you this gift. You better appreciate it.”
In a dark and cold place in Will’s soul, he does appreciate it. This type of evil is necessary.
“Get hard for me, baby.” Nate rubs lube on Will’s cock, stroking firmly. “Close your eyes and go to your happy place. Do whatever you need to get that cock hard.”
Knowing that Nate isn’t a patient man, Will closes his eyes and tries to picture someone else touching him right now.
His mind calls on a beautiful man with long, black hair and pale skin.
Beautiful big, blue eyes with long lashes.
He feels selfish bringing Owen into this fantasy, almost guilty, but he can’t control his thoughts at this state.
“That was quick.”
Will opens his eyes to see Nate positioning himself. Slowly, he lowers his hips, rubbing his asshole against Will’s cock.
“Easy now,” he says, even though he’s the one dictating the pace. “I know you love to hurt, but try to control yourself. Damn, that’s a big cock.” He hisses, biting his lip as more of Will breaches him.
“Don’t rush it,” Will says.
“Shut the fuck up; it’s not rocket science.” He begins to fuck himself, his hands resting on Will’s chest. He leans down for a kiss, his tongue shifting in Will’s mouth like a snake.
There’s no pleasure in any of this, but he’s not meant to feel pleasure—just like with the mayor’s guests. Being used is not like making love, though it’s been so many years since he experienced lovemaking that he no longer remembers how it feels.
At least it doesn’t take Nate long to climax. He shoots over Will’s stomach and chest, gasping and shivering. “Damn, that was intense. Sorry I didn’t last longer, baby.”
“My arms…”
“Huh? Oh, right.” Nate rises slowly, hissing as Will’s softening cock slips out of him.
With the rope no longer around his wrists, Will carefully moves his arms to the front, but the pain still hits like burning needles. “I need to go home.”
“It’s not that late. Go take a shower. I’ll wait for you in the bedroom.”
Will glances at the front door. He worries he can’t take any more, that he has reached his limit.
“Hey, don’t make me repeat myself. Get your ass into the shower, and make sure the water’s cold. Now.”
Will wishes to be stronger, to be the kind of man who would smash his fist into Nate’s face, then step over his unconscious body before leaving for good.
He can picture himself doing that, but something beyond his control stops him from turning the fantasy into a reality.
He doesn’t have a name for it, but he can’t deny its ability to make him stand up and go take a shower like Nate told him to.
*
Two days later, in the late afternoon, he drives to the library. Julie loved the latest batch of books he’d brought her so much, she finished them in record time. Since reading is one of the few things that makes her happy, he’s willing to visit the library every day if she needs him to.
It’s less than an hour until closing time, even though it’s still relatively early. Van Buren likes to call it a day at around seven o’clock, but since Will has never lived anywhere else, he’s used to it.
The music playing in the library is different from usual, modern rock and not the old tunes that Francie likes. The reason for the welcome change is sitting behind the circulation desk, reading a book. Owen mentioned his new job, but it slipped Will’s mind.