Chapter 1
***
A gray overcast evening. Puddles underfoot. Compacted dirty snow...
Overhead, smog from the factory and swirling low clouds that drop heavy drops of cold rain onto the cracked asphalt.
Chilly.
The leaky sneakers were soaked through, and inside them, icy water sloshed unpleasantly, making his toes go completely numb, turning into senseless icicles. The thin jacket offered no protection from the March dampness, but to wear something else... no, that wouldn’t do. It was his favorite thing. Worn out, miserable, as if found in a dumpster, but the most precious thing in the world.
And at home awaited a meager supper, a damp bed, and loneliness.
For a long time now, he had seen nothing but monotony around him. Gloomy, empty... in the apartment, on the street, in his heart. As if everything had grown cold, worn thin, covered in mold that couldn’t be scrubbed away from a soul blackened with misery.
Jan stopped. Raised his head, peering into the heavy clouds, and pressed his fingers to his broken nose, from which a thin stream of blood was oozing. For a moment, he closed his eyes.
It was getting dark, but the streetlights still hadn’t come on. Only the headlights of occasional cars sometimes illuminated the alley, revealing its ugly appearance.
He had lived here for a very long time. He didn’t remember ever being taken outside the city or to the center. He remembered only this block, this road from school, and now from college to home and back, which he always walked, avoiding buses. He remembered this alleyway and these five-story buildings gray with the authorities’ indifference.
He had become just as gray with the indifference of others who couldn’t care less about him. He was just as gloomy, sullen, and twisted as the crooked line of the jagged curb that separated the sidewalk from the cracked road.
People were always dissatisfied with him. His peers were bothered by his detachment from the world. He got blows, kicks, often spit on his back. And today he had been beaten up. Not the first time... not the last... and yet, when everyone left, he stood up and continued home, as if nothing had happened.
After all, that’s just how life is: a person gets used to everything, merges with circumstances, grows into their grievances and pain, becomes one with their dark side.
The colors gradually disappear...
Feeling the blood had stopped, Jan took his hand from his face and raised it to the sky, admiring the dark moisture on his fingers and no longer surprised that even blood had lost its color.
He was monstrously tired. But he was indifferent even to this fatigue. He was simply floating down the current of a garbage-strewn river, thinking neither of the past nor the future. And now he moved again, merging back into the current of his unenviable life, if only to avoid getting soaked by the intensifying rain.
Just a few miles from the house he was hurrying toward, clutching a backpack with a torn strap, he almost fell after stepping on a loose shoelace, and immediately ducked under the awning of some bar to shelter from the downpour and tie his sneaker.
The rain grew heavier, roaring as it pounded noisily on the metal awning, splashing Jan with cold drops, bubbling in the puddles. Leaving now meant risking a cold, which wouldn’t do, considering no one would care. So the guy just sat on the doorstep a little off to the side from the door and, pulling his knees to his stomach, wrapped his arms around them.
Cold... and not just his body...
Jan took a deep breath and stared at the puddle in which the light of a flickering neon sign was reflected, watching the raindrops mercilessly shatter the reflection, grotesquely distorting its bright outlines.
***
Rain. Cold, heavy drops fall downward, thudding dully against the car roof in an unpleasant rhythm. Somewhere in the distance, a dog abandoned by its careless owner howls. The windshield wipers click monotonously, wiping away streams of spring rain from the windshield.
Evening.
Grimy walls of abandoned houses. The old district, farthest from the center. Black empty eye-sockets of long-deserted windows. Drainage grates clogged with trash. Dirty asphalt. Gray snow on the roadside.
The wretched streetlamp light doesn’t illuminate the dark street at all—on the contrary, it emphasizes the gloom of dirty walls and the long-unrepaired road. Gusts of wind disturb the light fixture from time to time, and it swings back and forth with a quiet, monotonous creak, pulling individual elements of house facades and timeworn sidewalks from the thickening darkness.
A cat gnawing a fish tail...
A bird fluttering out from a pile of rags...
A front door blown open by a draft...
A window shattering somewhere around the corner...
An overturned trash can with someone rustling inside...
Jürgen straightened up in the driver’s seat and, reaching for the ignition key, started the engine and slowly pulled away.
For several months now, he had been coming to this place and sitting in his car for hours, simply observing what surrounded him. And when he felt the clawed paw of melancholy beginning to squeeze his throat furiously, he would run away, far from the intrusive thoughts about the futility of existence.
Midlife crisis.
“You have lost your purpose, Herr Kolbe,” the psychologist’s voice echoed in his head, making it hard to concentrate on the road, “you need variety.”
Variety...
Hard to find variety among the iron and concrete of a huge metropolis.
The concrete jungle had long since consumed his being. Deprived him of air, wrapping him in a cocoon of suffocating smog. Sentenced him for life to a glass box of an office building without the possibility of early release. Made him a perfect slave to the system.
Variety was too great a luxury for him.
Dark on the streets. Dark before his eyes and in his heart. Empty...
After a few intersections of dirty, gloomy alleys, a few turns, and he would reach the highway, lit by thousands of headlights from passing cars. A little further and he...
A torn backpack strap...
For some reason, that’s what caught his eye first. Threads protruding from the thick fabric trembled in the wind, holding his gaze.
The engine fell silent.
Clicks and the soft rustle of wipers sliding across the windshield. The rapid drumming of intensifying rain on the car roof...
A thin streak of dried blood under a thin, finely chiseled nose looks purple in the gleam of the swaying neon sign. An empty, expressionless gaze penetrates deep into the soul. Straight, fearless, indifferent, it sends a nervous tremor that rolls like a wave down the spine.
Open the car door and still silently look into the gray emptiness of those enormous eyes.
There it is... You know what this means. You must know.
***
The merciless cold and rising wind torment his freezing body, yet Jan no longer shudders from the chill. His gaze studies the outline of the car that’s pulled over to the curb.
Expensive... but not luxurious. Just a regular car, the kind many in this city could afford. A man in a suit at the wheel. Banker, businessman, office worker?.. who cares. It must be warm inside, and definitely no rain. And that door is so temptingly open...
The guy didn’t wait for a verbal invitation. Why bother? It’s perfectly clear what this guy wants. There are plenty of perverts in this district. Although Jan didn’t judge these people. Everyone finds their place in life as best they can.
“Care to offer me some tea?” he asked hoarsely, dropping into the seat next to the driver, and sniffled, immediately wiping his nose with his palm. “It’s cold.”
Jürgen didn’t answer. He started the engine after the guy’s door closed and pulled away.
They rode in silence. And there wasn’t far to go, just a few blocks.
The silence wasn’t uncomfortable. The sound of rain, quiet sniffling, and the guy’s rather raspy breathing dissipated the growing awkwardness. The guy probably had either asthma or advanced pneumonia, and yet here he was wandering mindlessly in the rain in a thin jacket and completely soaked shoes.
Reaching into his jacket’s inner pocket, the man pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to the guy. He silently accepted the piece of white fabric, nodded in thanks, pressed it to his nose, and turned toward the window.
Parking in the lot, Jürgen turned off the engine and got out of the car. The guy followed his lead and trailed after the man toward the tall apartment building that loomed like a glass giant over the gloomy courtyard and the desolate, dismal park.
They entered the building in silence. Took the elevator to the fifth floor in silence. And within minutes found themselves in a spacious apartment that offered neither coziness, warmth, nor hospitality. Just as gray as everything else around. Only brighter, more sterile, colder...
Taking off his jacket, the man tossed it onto a chair and gestured for the guy to take a seat on the sofa. The guy was freezing and wanted to warm up. Well, that wish was completely manageable.
Jürgen left the guy in the living room and headed to the kitchen. Opened the perpetually empty refrigerator and stared indifferently at the half-empty shelves.
Meager.
Cheese, now moldy, like in the finest houses of France, only probably not nearly as edible. More or less decent sausage that still smelled like meat rather than something sour. Butter that had yellowed with age but was still fully edible.
The tap of a knife against a cutting board.
The hiss of water in a boiling kettle.
The ticking of a wall clock.
The clink of ceramic against metal as a teaspoon stirred sugar.
“The bread is stale,” Jürgen warned, setting a plate of sandwiches and a cup of tea on the low glass table. “And only two teaspoons of sugar. There’s no more.”
“Thanks.”
Jan hadn’t asked for food, he’d only wanted to warm up. But he didn’t refuse the offered meal. Reaching for a cold, very tough sandwich, he began to slowly chew the bread, looking around.
A large apartment, spacious, cold, lifeless... clearly the home of a bachelor who was always at work, hardly ever setting foot in his own home. The furnishings, while expensive, were sparse. Sofa, armchair, table, a long-cold fireplace.
No photos, no newspapers, no personal items on display...
Gloomy, gray and completely unattractive...
He didn’t want to look anymore.
His hands reached for the cup. His palms prickled from the hot porcelain, but Jan stubbornly squeezed the rounded walls, feeling the warmth slowly penetrate deeper into his chilled muscles.
The tea burned his tongue and steam billowed from his mouth. The apartment was cold, but at least not damp. The clock ticked steadily on the wall. The man sitting opposite breathed calmly and evenly, but Jan no longer looked at him.
No point.
A gray man in a gray world... a pitiful, wretched sight.
***
The guy took a few sips of tea and stared at the wall. His gray eyes still expressed complete indifference.
Gray eyes, hair the color of a mouse, sticky with wet icicles plastered to his forehead and neck. Wet clothes. Pale fingers convulsively gripping the hot cup.
Jürgen rose from the armchair and, grabbing the guy by the sleeve, pulled him along to the bathroom.
“Get undressed,” he said dully, turning away from the guy and busying himself with adjusting the water—hot enough but not scalding.
Jan just shrugged, though inside he tensed so much his stomach grew heavy and his heart began to race.
He knew why he’d been invited here. He’d consciously taken this step, but now the blood drained from his face and he began to feel nauseous with fear.
And yet the guy pulled himself together and, leaving the half-finished cup of tea on the sink, quickly peeled off his wet clothes, standing completely naked. Wrapping his arms around himself, he stood looking at the straight back of the man and thought about how soon he could get into the hot water and pull himself together. This man probably wouldn’t want to roll around in bed with a snotty, sniffly guy.
Jürgen turned to the guy and looked him over carefully. Nothing special. Around nineteen years old. Thin, scrawny, with protruding collarbones, a sunken stomach and sharp knees. Thin legs, thin arms. Bruises on his grayish skin. Against the white tiled wall, he looked like a victim of Auschwitz. Usually Jürgen didn’t pay attention to guys like these, tired and worn down by life. But today was a special day... especially lousy. And on this day, he needed especially lousy company.
“Are you eighteen?” the man asked.
The guy nodded, shivering and rubbing his shoulders with his palms.
“Good,” Jürgen replied, nodding toward the bathtub.
As the guy climbed in, he continued to survey the thin figure with his eyes. However, these observations didn’t rouse the slightest interest in him. He even doubted his desires for a moment. But after a few minutes, he still approached the edge of the tub and, unzipping his pants, pulled out his still-soft cock. Cocking his head to one shoulder, Jürgen reached out to the guy’s face and ran the pad of his thumb over his lower lip, pulling it down slightly and pushing his finger into the hot mouth.
Jan froze for a moment. He even stopped breathing, looking at the flaccid cock dangling above the waistband of the underwear. Then he raised frightened eyes to the man and swallowed hard, feeling the salty, rough finger sliding over his tongue as if hinting at something.
The kind hot water no longer warmed him. On the contrary, the guy’s body broke out in goosebumps and a shiver ran through him to the very bones. And yet he suppressed the awakening fear and began to slowly suck on the man’s finger, tracing circles around it with his tongue.
This man had fed him and let him use his bathroom. Rarely was anyone so generous, especially to a street urchin picked up from the gutter. And Jan knew how to be grateful. He intended to repay the stranger’s unheard-of generosity in full, even though he was shaking with fear of the unknown. After all, this would be his first sexual experience, so the nervousness was completely justified.
Jan mentally urged himself to stay calm. So what if he would lose his virginity to a man. His life was going to end in some dumpster anyway. So what was the point of preserving this body nobody cared about anyway? If this man wanted to use it, let him. For him, it was no loss.
***
Something flickered in the empty gray wells. Something very much like a silhouette. The shadow spread its wings. Appeared for a fraction of a second. And disappeared into the whirlpools of dilated pupils.
The guy lowered his eyelids.
A drop of water fell from the chrome spout of the faucet and struck the dense surface of the murky water with a hollow clang.
The tongue, gently tracing circles around the finger, trembled slightly. Goosebumps appeared on the pale skin. The soft, delicate hairs near his neat earlobe stood up and were now clearly visible in the artificial light of the electric lamps.
Jürgen’s fingers slid over the guy’s chin. Sharp, with soft, warm skin still barely familiar with a razor, and a small mole hiding along the curve of his neck. A tender earlobe he wanted to touch with his lips. To taste. To find out if it was really as soft as it looked. But his fingers kept moving, passing the guy’s ear and burrowing into the fairly long strands of very soft, though poorly combed hair. They squeezed, undoubtedly causing pain, and a soft hiss escaped the guy’s lips, sending shivers across his skin and making his cock harden for a moment.
Yank the guy’s head back. Run a fingertip over his forehead, nose, parted lips, chin, Adam’s apple, and stop in the small hollow between his collarbones. Then tighten the grip in his hair and pull the guy’s head toward his crotch, nearly pressing him against himself and demanding action.
***
The man’s smell, slightly sharp but not entirely unpleasant, hit his nose. The stiff, curly pubic hair felt springy against his skin, and Jan began to breathe heavily, fearfully, pressing his palms into the firm stomach of the stranger, who seemed to grow even more aroused by this sudden resistance. His cock hardened, and his fingers dug into the guy’s hair with such force that Jan involuntarily cried out, only to moan a moment later as the salty flesh entered his mouth, filling almost all available space.
Only now did he probably realize what he’d wrought. When the man’s cock roughly invaded his throat, triggering the gag reflex, the guy coughed, and tears blurred his vision from the unpleasant sensations.
But the man paid no attention to this, continuing to thrust into his mouth while making strange, hoarse groans, and Jan had no choice but to submit to his fate.
His hands dropped helplessly into the water, splashing the walls, the floor, and the man. Jan no longer resisted. On the contrary, despite his fear-crazed heart, he obediently closed his lips around the hard shaft and began to timidly run his tongue over the head each time the cock slipped from his throat.
***
Jürgen watched.
Closely observed as his cock entered the guy’s mouth and slowly withdrew from it.
A hot, trembling tongue sliding over the head, tracing small circles.
A thrust.
A deep, convulsive breath. The Adam’s apple on the guy’s throat jumped and immediately dropped down. A thin stream of saliva trickled from the corner of his mouth onto his sharp chin. On his cheek gleamed a wet trail left by a tear.
A thrust.
Deeper. Even deeper. Reaching for the tonsils. Enough to drive you insane. To forget everything. To forget...
The movements became faster and more unrestrained, and at some point through the thick wall of cottony numbness broke through moans and muffled grunts. The guy struggled to endure this rhythm.
Inexperienced still. So young. Stupid.
Jürgen abruptly released the guy’s hair and pushed him away.
A splash of water and a somewhat bewildered look from gray saucers.
“Get out.” A short command and a towel thrown at the guy. “I’m waiting in the bedroom.”
***
Jan gasped convulsively, gulping in the prickly air, and followed the man with frightened eyes. The towel he caught with trembling hands dipped one corner into the water and was now rapidly growing heavier with moisture.
The guy rose, only now fully realizing how truly frightened he was by everything happening. His knees buckled, his heart raced wildly somewhere in his stomach, and his throat still burned from the rough intrusion.
He brought the dry edge of the towel to his body and began slowly wiping away the drops of water, watching as the terry cloth easily absorbed them. His hands shook, and his whole body trembled with an unpleasant chill. However, Jan understood he had come here willingly, and playing chaste now would be stupid.
So he climbed out of the bathtub and, slapping his bare feet on the cold tile floor, walked over to the laundry basket. Opened it, glancing without interest at the discarded underwear inside, tossed the towel on top, then slammed the lid shut and turned off the light.
The entire apartment was plunged into darkness, and only in the bedroom did a dim fluorescent lamp burn, which seemed to make the room even darker.
Jan walked toward this greenish light and stopped, barely crossing the threshold of the bedroom, not daring to take another step. He didn’t see the man, but he met the gaze of his pale reflection in the mirror and couldn’t look away from his strange, deathly green face, which resembled a mask frozen in horror.
***
Sharp. So sharp. Like wings straining to break through. Or maybe shoulder blades really are wings, just hidden and featherless? Who knows...
Jürgen watched the back of the guy examining himself in the mirror. Skin that was gray-green in the dim fluorescent light. Bruises and abrasions. A network of visible veins. Thin. Very thin. Almost transparent. A ghost of the modern world. An incorporeal shadow.
The armchair creaked as it was freed from the weight of his body. The floorboard groaned under his foot. A step. Another. And another. The wind stirred the long curtain. The headlights of a car passing outside the window briefly illuminated a fly rubbing its legs together in the shadows...
A hand settled on the guy’s thin shoulder, squeezing and pushing him forward, forcing him to bend over. The guy’s palm pressed against the mirror surface. His short-clipped nails scratched the glass.
Jürgen positioned his cock against the guy’s anus and thrust forward sharply, roughly entering the hot flesh, and clamped his hand over the guy’s mouth to muffle any cries the neighbors might hear.
***
Pain! Sharp, searing, burning... It felt to Jan as if a knife had been shoved up his rear and twisted several times, tearing through tender flesh. Hot... but the thin trickles of blood running down his thighs tickled his skin.
Strange sensations... strange, horrible...
The man thrust again, and Jan cried out once more, his vision clouding with pain as he stared at his reflection and that of his tormentor behind him. His chest heaved. His heart fluttered like a terrified bird in a cage. Silent tears rolled down his cheeks.
A few more thrusts, and Jan stopped screaming. Gripping the shelf beneath the mirror with white-knuckled fingers, he lowered his head and bit his lip until it hurt.
So this was the life of scum... searching for human warmth, he’d found only pain. Well, he wasn’t unused to that. Strange that when he’d climbed into a stranger’s car, he’d expected anything different.
***
Gray.
Why did the guy’s blood look like liquid cement trickling down?
Or perhaps everything around had simply lost its color and vibrancy?
Jürgen’s world had long since turned to dust and grime. No wonder even sinful pleasures brought no joy.
His thrusts grew faster, more frantic. He’d expected tears and screams, but the guy soon fell silent. Only occasional whimpers escaped when the cock drove especially deep, causing truly sharp pain.
The clock’s hand clicked loudly to twelve.
Jürgen lifted his gaze to the reflection in the mirror.
The guy’s head hung low. His own slightly crazed eyes remained as indifferent and empty as always...
Then suddenly, a spark of genuine interest ignited in the dark pools of his own eyes...
Slowly, he removed his hand from the guy’s mouth and moved it to the hollow chest, pressing firmly to make him straighten up and lean back into his rough embrace.
Pale cheeks wet with tears. Eyes full of pain. A bottom lip bitten until it bled.
Something clicked inside. Loud, deafening. Click after click. Like automatic gunfire. The hollow thud of a heartbeat...
“Bear with it just a little longer.” A request. A plea...
A kiss on the thin neck. A light, almost gentle bite on the shoulder. Then a softer thrust. Deep, but no longer painful.
***
Jan’s frantic heart skipped a beat. A wave of tremors cascaded through his body. His face in the reflection contorted with agony, yet again he made no sound, absorbing the change in treatment with every fiber of his being.
The man’s hands, now gentle and warm, no longer inflicted pain as they caressed his stomach. Sharp teeth no longer wounded, instead teasing the skin softly, raising goosebumps. The cock filled his anus, but no longer battered him like an assault on an impenetrable fortress. It moved gently, slowly, deeply, brushing against something inside that sent electric jolts down his spine. His own member slowly hardened, betraying him with insistent pulses of desire.
Deeper. Deeper still. More...
He had to focus on the sensations. Not his own. The other man’s. Because right now, it was crucial to give this man what he so desperately needed. Let at least one of them find pleasure in this. Then he could tell himself his life hadn’t been entirely wasted.
***
The guy was hot and wet inside. Blood served as decent lube, better than nothing...
Deeper and sharper now.
A sharp cry...
Eyes impossibly wide...
Dark, bottomless pupils swallowing the irises whole...
Parted lips and chest heaving rapidly...
A hard, trembling cock...
“Here?” A quiet whisper in his ear, followed by another deep thrust that made the guy arch his back.
Just a slight adjustment, but enough to transform the sensation entirely.
***
“Yes...” was all Jan could exhale, letting his head fall weakly back against the man’s shoulder while pushing his hips forward to meet the next thrust. He needed that thick cock to go deeper, to press harder against that spot inside him that sent liquid fire of pleasure spreading through his body despite the lingering pain.
Strong hands gripped his shoulders. Fingers dug into his flesh, but Jan wasn’t thinking about pain anymore. His body was slick with sweat, radiating heat just like the man’s as he groaned hoarsely near his ear. Jan’s hands moved on their own, reaching down to wrap around his own length. His fingers traced the thin shaft with its prominent veins. A sob escaped his lips as he squeezed himself, no longer able to contain the deep moans of pleasure.
***
Jürgen’s hands tightened on the guy’s hips as he practically impaled him, driving into him as hard and deep as possible. The guy was breathing heavily, biting his lip, furrowing his brow while working his own cock in desperate search of release.
Time seemed to stop. For a moment, everything hung suspended. A quick glance in the mirror revealed a face distorted by an unfamiliar pleasure swimming in the gray haze. Not handsome, not ugly. Just the ordinary face of another faceless man in this world, yet wearing an extraordinary expression.
Heat bloomed in his spine, growing and spreading until it exploded, sending shards of sensation racing throughout his entire body.
His cock twitched as he came inside the guy, who was whimpering with frustration and dissatisfaction but said nothing—just huffed and sniffled strangely.
Jürgen placed a hand on his back and pushed him forward. He gave the guy’s skinny buttock a sharp smack and withdrew abruptly.
“Stay just like that, don’t move!” The command was sharp, allowing no arguments. A few seconds passed, followed by another order: “Spread your cheeks. I want to look.”
***
The man had come so quickly that Jan hadn’t had time to reach his own climax. The pain that occasionally broke through the waves of pleasure had interrupted his impending orgasm, and now he was left with nothing—just the humiliation of his position.
But there was nothing else to do. Despite his throbbing cock and the tears dripping from his eyes onto the varnished shelf, he reached back. Burning with shame, he spread his buttocks open, disgusted by the feeling of warm, sticky semen trickling from his anus.
***
The disturbed, reddened hole. Swollen, frantically clenching as it tries to return to its original size. The muscles contract, pushing out semen mixed with blood from the anus. Another wave of excitement courses through Jürgen’s body.
“It’s your first time.” The man wasn’t asking. He was stating. He had seen many whores, and none had such a tight hole. So constricted and hot, sweet, desired. “Do you want to come?”
Jan closed his eyes and nodded, biting his lip. He couldn’t speak without betraying his shame, which was burning him from the inside. But he wanted to extinguish that fire pulsing in his groin, causing him pain.
“Come here.”
The guy obeys, and it’s arousing. It makes want him. It makes feel...
Jürgen sat on the bed and leaned back a bit, resting on his elbows and looking at the flushed guy.
The guy didn’t look him in the eye. He bit his swollen lips, unwilling to admit his weakness...
“Sit.” Jürgen glanced meaningfully at his cock, which had stiffened again. “Do a good job, since you’ve taken this on.”
Jan winced. The prospect of new pain made his insides grow cold and his own cock go limp. He even took a step back, staring at the impressive shaft standing rigid between the man’s legs, its glistening head spotted with drying semen mixed with blood.
“Maybe I can go?” he asked uncertainly, lowering his gaze to the floor and studying the pattern on the carpet. “Can I...”
“No.”
The brief and entirely unaggressive word fell like a stone to the floor. It rang sharply against the guy’s nerves, reflecting his confusion in his eyes.
Jürgen was surprised.
Does he feel it? Hasn’t he unlearned that yet? Is he still trying to struggle in this swamp, dreaming of a better future? Or is he just tired of being alone and sad?
What difference does it make?!
“Come here!” Jürgen impatiently pulled the guy toward himself and sat him down on his lap. “Lift yourself up.”
Obedient movements. Resignation in his pursed thin lips. And a fleeting, almost imperceptible fear that darted like a shadow across his face when the cock pressed against the hot anus again.
With force, Jürgen gripped the guy’s thighs and slammed him down, sheathing his full length into the frantically clenching hole that was trying to expel the foreign body, creating incredibly intense sensations because of it.
The guy only let out a quiet whimper and unconsciously dug his nails into the man’s shoulders, scratching his skin into bloody streaks as he held his breath for a long time.
“Breathe,” Jürgen said just as quietly and gently embraced the scrawny, bony body, pressing it to himself and burying his face in the thin neck. “Breathe deeper.”
His hand slid to the guy’s cock and, gripping the limp shaft, began to slowly stroke it, teasing and trying to stir it, which wasn’t so easy to do.
***
Taking deeper breaths was impossible. Pain was tearing at him from the inside, scratching his anus with steel claws, and Jan clenched up, trying to shut out the instrument of torture, only causing himself more pain in the process.
The man paid no attention. Keeping him impaled, he stroked the limp cock sharply, though it showed no signs of responding.
The guy was shaking. He understood that tomorrow he wouldn’t be able to get out of bed, and for several days he would waddle around, wincing with every step. He felt revulsion toward himself for taking such a foolish step. He felt the man’s contempt for him. And it was that very feeling that made him dig his fingers into the strong shoulders, lift himself up, then drop back down with a pained groan, repeating the motion over and over—just to end this torture quicker and flee back to his godforsaken hole.
***
The guy’s behavior changed abruptly, and Jürgen suddenly thought:
“Why does he need all this? Why the pain? Why such zeal for self-destruction? Or?..”
He stopped the guy with an imperious movement. Simply wouldn’t let him move. Held him still, remaining inside the heated passage that now wasn’t clenching as tightly and received him more easily. Then he lifted the guy’s face by the chin and peered into the gray, granite-like eyes.
Empty.
Dark in the black pupils.
Dark in the soul.
Gloomy.
The man suddenly turned, throwing the guy onto the bed and pinning him down. He flung one thin leg over his shoulder and pushed into him experimentally a couple of times. He stilled for a minute, letting the guy rest, then pushed again until he found the prostate. And when the guy squeaked again—not in pain this time, but in surprise—he covered his crotch with his palm again and began slowly stroking his hardening cock while simultaneously thrusting deep and hard into his anus, trying to press harder on the prostate.
Jan threw his head back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling where colorful circles swam—tricks of his tear-inflamed vision. Now the man was doing everything to give him pleasure, and eventually he succeeded. At one point, his cock tensed hard and spilled into the rough palm, but Jan made no sound, except perhaps for a heavy sob before going limp on the sweat-dampened duvet, feeling crushed and destroyed by shame and his first, not particularly pleasant sexual experience.
The guy came, and now there was no reason to remain inside the tight passage. Jürgen rolled off the young, too-bony body and also stared at the ceiling.
Smooth white surface. Not a crack, not a bump. Nothing. Sterile cleanliness of an indifferent world.
Quiet. So quiet you could hear the booming beat of a young heart.
What? Does it hurt?
What did you expect?
Why did you get in the car?
Why?
Ah, right!..
The man got up from the bed and went to the jacket he’d left on the armchair. He pulled out his wallet from the inside pocket, counted out several bills, and tossed them onto the bed next to the guy.
“I’m taking a shower. Be gone before I get back,” he threw over his shoulder, heading for the bedroom door.
Jan turned his head and indifferently looked at the bills lying on the duvet, then reached out, gathered them up, and crumpled them in his fist. So much money... all it took was enduring a few minutes of pain. Just a few months of this work, and he could leave this city, leave everything behind and run, hide from the cruelty and injustice, go to Disneyland where maybe there were still colors that his tormented soul so desperately needed.
Water started running in the bathroom, and Jan sat up in bed, thinking he hadn’t even been given a chance to wash off the cum.
No matter. He’d book a sauna for the night and wash there, sleep properly, steam his thoroughly used body, and maybe tomorrow he wouldn’t limp so badly.
The guy stood and went out to the living room.
Still dark, just a pile of rags on the floor under the bathroom door. His wet clothes, which the man had thrown out before closing the door.
Jan pulled on his underwear and pants, his damp T-shirt and thoroughly wet jacket, an unpleasant shiver running through his body at its touch, his throat constricting with a painful spasm.
He picked up his favorite thing and, pressing it to his chest, let out a loud sob, saying goodbye to what he’d considered his childhood. Then his hand went slack, and he threw the money onto the floor where his clothes had been.
That wasn’t why he’d come here.
Maybe next time, when another client came, he’d take payment from him.
But from this man he’d only asked for tea in exchange for his services. And that man had given him much more.
Hearing the water suddenly stop running, the guy snatched up his backpack, stuffed his feet into his sneakers, and dashed out of the apartment without bothering to tie his laces.
***
As soon as the front door clicked softly shut behind the guy, Jürgen came out of the bathroom.
A wet spot from the soaked clothes on the floor and crumpled bills.
Drops hitting the metal of the tub. A draft flowed across the floor and stirred the crumpled corner of a hundred-unit note.
Quiet.
Dark.
Sickening.
Disgusted by his own actions.
The sole of a patent leather shoe pressed the money to the floor, and the man didn’t look at it anymore. He went to the window and, moving aside the edge of the curtain, observed how in the gray haze of the spring night, the fragile figure of a lonely guy melted away.
