torch, torch@doubleagent.org
March 19, 2004
Disclaimer: Original story by Halo; rearranged for We Invented the Remix: Son of Remix. Many thanks to Merry, who patted my virtual head and said there there. Do not archive this story without permission.
Best (empty places beer & sneakers remix)
"Oh God," Justin moaned, "oh God yes, harder, deeper, yesyesyes—"
He wouldn't do this with just anyone, something this freaky nasty oh fuck so good. Wouldn't let just anyone touch him deep inside, but this was JC, closer to him than his own skin sometimes and of course it was good, he'd known it would be good,
"You wanna?" played at stretching and yawning, looping his arm around JC's shoulders, laughing
because there was something between them, a bond a connexion and anyway JC was a sexy fucker and he knew how to work it, deep and deep and deep.
"Harder. Please, I want."
empty spaces in him, empty
pieces
Justin loved this and he wanted to put his hands in JC, through him, lick him on the inside. Leave hickeys on his soul. and it would fill him up and JC was filling him and he was there, he was right there and it was great and oh God deeper deeper, twisting up to meet
"God, now, now!"
He had lists. Six hundred and seventeen pairs of sneakers, you needed lists. He had notebooks, and little numbered boxes. and really all he wanted was
something.
JC smiled into Justin's shoulder and fell asleep, hand loosely curved about Justin's hip. Justin lay awake and watched through a glass wall like in prison, watching through that glass wall and people always tried to touch through it and yeah, that didn't work, did it. He could see JC and okay, touch him, that had been good but it wasn't enough, wasn't
there
that place inside him where nothing was at all, and he knew, he knew no matter how much he was loved, JC didn't love him best, and he left JC asleep and went to take a shower.
he had lists. He had numbers on speed dial. He had nothing like a plan.
walked out of the shower and dressed and just kept walking. He'd come back. And of course it was okay, because JC loved him. Just not enough.
Justin had lists. He had things and people. he was sorry, only not really. The next time JC touched him it was emptier
"There, right there, now—"
and the time after that it was emptier still
"No, like — yeah — please, fuck, please—"
and that was really the end of it, had to be, he didn't want JC to disappear behind all the wrong empty stuff. So deep
"Go deeper, baby"
but not deep enough. Justin slipped out of JC's love, left an empty space in the bed and moved on.
"I need something," he said.
He had lists and memos and schedules and charts.
So Justin called Chris and said hey, I'm coming over. I have beer.
"Oh, oh, you feel so fucking good—"
—leaning together, close, drunk, so easy to lean just a little closer, to touch slow and on purpose—
"Yeah, do it, like that, yeah."
Chris had sharper hands and a tongue like rust and Justin thought maybe he could reach right inside. And it was Chris, so it was safe. He could be here and twist and turn under those clever hands taste of beer in his mouth, Chris in his mouth.
"Please," he said, "please, I want. I need."
It was good and all new, laughter and tickling and closer and closer and Justin thought maybe, he thought oh God, he thought please deeper more
and it was Chris and they were, they'd always been, there was something between them
Something between them, like glass.
And Justin knew right away, arching up and whimpering, that he couldn't even come back and try again, he couldn't lose Chris like that, he would have to lose Chris some other way, and he came, and cried.
"No, man, I just, that was great."
deeper and sharper and still not to the heart of him.
Chris slept with a hand on Justin's arm, and Justin stared at the ceiling and counted to six hundred and seventeen and then he slipped out of bed and he could see the empty place and he had to go far this time, away.
wanted, he wanted so much and he had so little. But he had lists, he had an empty planner where a life could happen. he had places to go, and he wrapped himself up in one of them, and when Chris came after him
"I'm sorry, okay? and about C, you know, he isn't. Not for me."
Justin turned him around and sent him back.
Because Chris loved Justin, but he didn't love him best of all.
Justin had lists and memos and charts, he had numbers, he had. stuff. He counted his breaths, one two six hundred and seventeen.
He got his phone out and called Lance and said hey, yeah, you too. I'm coming over.
"Please, I need, oh. closer. deeper. Please."