Page 5 of Written in Scars

The young man who had just shot up, flopped forward onto Johan’s lap, pushing the other man off his dick so he could suck it himself. The older, hairy guy leaned back on his knees, turning to look at Sam, a leering grin on his face. He was as high as the other two. And ugly. Jesus, what a brute. He had thinning, greasy hair and pock-marked skin. It looked like there were a couple of teeth missing too.

The coffee table with strewn with their drug paraphernalia; discarded wrappers, small bottles, more syringes, a half empty bottle of cheap vodka and three glasses.

“Who’s this?” the ugly guy asked, looking Sam up and down.

“My husband,” Johan answered, his hand on the back of the skinny man’s head. “I told you about him.”

“Oh, right. Yeah. Forgot. He’s cute.” The man licked dry, cracked lips. “You boys are a really pretty couple, you know. What’s your name cutie?”

“Who are they?” Sam demanded, staring furiously at Johan.

“Couple of guys I met on Grindr,” Johan said, thrusting his hips upwards from the sofa, ignoring the anger in Sam’s voice. “They were in the neighbourhood and looking to party.”

“That’s right,” the older man said. He stared at Sam and jerked his tiny dick. “What do you like cutie? Do you fuck or get fuck? I’ll go anyway you want me to.”

Barely containing the resentment he felt, Sam focused on Johan. “Finish what you’re doing and get them the fuck out of here.”

He left the room, slamming the door behind him and mounted the stairs. He held it together until he reached the bedroom where he punched the pillows to vent his rage.

“You fuck, fuck, fucker,” he bellowed, the sound coming from deep in his chest.

I must the biggest fucking mug in the world. Stupid to believe Johan when he said he’d changed. When he claimed this kind of thing was behind him. That he’d never do it again. But here he was, in their home, shooting up and screwing a couple of random skanks.

Sam had suspected for a while that Johan had broken his promise. That he hadn’t kicked his addiction to chemsex and dating apps. The signs had been obvious. Coming home late several times a week, disappearing for whole afternoons at the weekend when he said he was going to the gym, the fierce protection he had for his phone and the instant way he reacted whenever a message alert sounded. Regardless, Sam had given him the benefit of the doubt.

Because he wanted to believe him. He needed to think their relationship was sound. Their marriage was worth something.

It wasn’t worth shit.

Johan had left him in no doubt about that; bringing this pair to the house, shooting up in their living room. Drugs and dick were the only things he cared about.

Sam sat on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. Blood roared through his ears like thunder. He took great, chest-filling breaths, trying to calm his trembling limbs. Was there any way back from this? Could their relationship be saved after such a betrayal? Unlikely.

There were footsteps on the stairs. Johan, coming to grovel and beg forgiveness no doubt. Sam had heard it all before.

The door opened, but it wasn’t his husband who stood in the frame. It was the hairy guy with the bad skin and tiny dick. Stark naked, his pot-belly protruded above a wild bush of unkempt pubes.

“There you are cutie,” the man leered. “Why’d you run away so fast? Don’t you want to join the party?”

“Get out of my house.”

“Don’t be like that. Unfriendly. It’s not nice.” The man raised a thin syringe and grinned. “Why not take a little slam? It’ll help you relax. Make you friendly and more in the mood to party. Like your husband, eh?”

“I don’t want that shit. Have you seen what it does to you? Do you have any idea what you look like?”

“Don’t care what I look like darling. I just want to feel good. And this stuff makes you feel soooooo good. C’mon, why don’t you try it? Loosen up a little.”

The man came towards him with the syringe raised. Sam swiped it from his hand.

“Hey,” the man cried.

As the syringe rolled across the floor, Sam stepped over and brought the full weight of his heel down, crushing the narrow tube. He didn’t care about the fluid that leaked onto the carpet.

“You stupid cunt,” the man said, wide-eyed and startled.

Sam shoved him aside and headed down the stairs.

In the living room, he found Johan bending the skinny kid over the sofa and doing him doggy-style. No sign of any condoms or discarded wrappers.

---