Page 54 of Steel & Thunder
Both of the other doors are open which hopefully means they’re also empty. A look down the hall reveals nothing, though I do hear some noises coming from the kitchen. Perfect. I tiptoe my way into the bathroom so I can clean up and relieve myself, then it’s back into the bedroom to put on some pants. I almost grab the thong from yesterday to wear before I remember that no one is making me do that anymore. I’ll have to get the rest of my clothes out of the bedroom today. Freeballing for now it is!
I pad my way out to the living room, the familiar scent of bacon wafting in my direction. I spot Khazak in the kitchen over the stove dressed in pants and a shirt. That’s a lot more modest than I’m used to, but he probably has to worry about fewer grease burns this way. His butt doesn’t look bad in those pants eith—
“Good morning, David.” My eyes shoot from his ass to his head, turned slightly to greet me. I don’t think he noticed.
“Morning. Smells good.” I’m great at small talk.
“It is almost ready. Go ahead and take a seat.” He gestures to the table, and I remember he means in a chair. I get to sit at the table, just like a real boy! I move to sit down, maybe a little too quickly, but if Khazak notices, he doesn’t say anything. Oh fuck, I’m gonna get to feed myself again too. I am way more excited about this than I should be.
A few minutes later, a mug of coffee and a plate of bacon is pushed in front of me, complete with fork. Khazak takes the seat next to me, and I eagerly dig in, skipping the fork entirely and stuffing a piece in my mouth. I moan a little. So good. A chuckle to my left has me reigning in my antics, but I still work through it pretty fast.
“How did you sleep?” He’s eating his own plate a lot more slowly.
“Okay,” I lie. “Took a while to fall asleep, but I didn’t wake up tired.” Just horny.
“Good. I hope the room will suit you for the next two months.” He smiles. “If you need anything at all, please let me know.”
I nod and grab another piece of bacon. He made a lot. That isn’t a complaint, but it occurs to me that this meal, his concessions to my behavior, his offer for “anything at all”—it’s a peace offering. He’s working overtime; I can feel the guilt coming off him in waves. I really got to him yesterday.
Again, not complaining, but it’s not making me feel any better about my own guilt. For everything he’s done to me, I know I’m not blameless here. If anything, I’ve only tried to make things worse for him. That plus all the residual feelings I’m having for the nicer parts of my stay is making for a very confusing morning. By the time we’re finishing off the last of the bacon, I find myself remembering just a couple of days ago when we sat on the couch and he was feeding it to me. I actually miss sitting in his lap. Just a little!
I know, I know: get your shit together, David.
“I wanted to apologize again.” His demeanor changes as he grabs my plate, refusing my help as he starts to clean up. “I feel terrible for letting things go so far.”
“I can tell.” I try to joke and lighten the mood. “Thank you.”
“When I originally told you I was going to take care of you, I meant it.” He’s washing the dishes and not looking at me. “And then failed to do that, quite spectacularly.”
“You didn’t—”
“I did,” he cuts me off. “This whole time there was a part of me that knew something was not quite right. That you were telling the truth about the ritual and I ignored it. Ignored my instincts. Worse than that, there was a part of me that actually felt you deserved it. That this was your punishment.” His tone gets even more somber. “I do not like that you were tricked, but I like even less that I hurt you. That I forced myself on you.”
“I didn’t hate everything.” I don’t like hearing him talk like that because of me. “I don’t think I can even say I hated most of it.”
“That doesn’t matt—”
“No, listen.” I move to stand next to him. If I’m gonna try to deal with some of this repressed shit I really need him to hear me out. “Where I come from, two men being together is just...not allowed. Or at least not talked about in a positive way. And when you grow up like that and you start to notice that maybe you might be...different, it’s easier—safer—to ignore those feelings, or hide them, or bury them deep down. You know what you’re supposed to do, so you just do it.”
“But then I get here,” I continue, no longer speaking in hypotheticals and working through some of this on the fly, “and not only can I not ignore them, I’m confronted with them over and over, on a daily basis. And it’s not just ‘Hey David, you like men.’ It’s ‘Hey David, you like men, and also when those men are rough, and tie you down, and strip you in public, and spank you, and force you to—‘“ I bite my lip because that little trip down memory lane isn’t doing me any favors. He gets the point. “It’s just a lot, and I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t really handle high pressure situations with a ton of grace. Because I didn’t have the option of ignoring it anymore, it just got easier to focus on things like getting out of here. I couldn’t run away from it which just made me want to run even more. I just wanted to get back to the way my life used to be, before I met you.”
“...I am sorry you have had to go through life like that, David.” I can tell he’s sincere.
“I don’t think I can go back to the way things were. Not anymore,” I offer, feeling raw after saying all of those things. “It’s hard to go back to lying to yourself once you’ve finally said it all out loud, but I’m sort of glad I don’t have to.”
“This still is not how you should have been forced to confront it.” I see him lift a hand, but he aborts whatever touch he was going to give me. “Nor does it excuse what I did to you.”
“Khazak... I was harsher than I meant to be yesterday on purpose.” It got my point across, but I didn’t want to make him feel like this. “I said those things to hurt you.”
“True as that may be, I still forced all of this on you.” He looks so disappointed with himself.
“Look, I’m not saying it wasn’t messed up—especially at the beginning—but we both know I’m not a damsel in distress. I wanted you that day in the arena before we ever started fighting. Even if I wasn’t ready to admit it yet.” I remember the sight of his chocolate-brown eyes as he stood across from me. “If I had really tried to fight you, I don’t think you could go through with it. You told me yourself: you’re not a cruel man.”
“That may be up for debate.” He doesn’t sound very convinced.
“I know I can’t make you, but I wish you’d stop beating yourself up over it.” So that I can stop beating myself up over it too.
“I will try,” he says with a sad smile.
