Cocaine Kisses
Prologue
Bill was smaller, skinnier than Tom remembered him to be.
The dark haired boys head twitched up anxiously when he heard the door close, his face relaxing into a sad smile when he recognised the tent-like clothes swamping his twins figure.
“Tomi,” his voice was smaller too. Hoarse, scratchy from lack of use… broken… that was the only word that could be used to describe the dark-haired boy sat on the bed in the corner.
Tom lingered anxiously by the door, still unsure as to what to do… even after so many times, so many months… he swallowed twice, licking his lips, tongue lingering for only a moment on the cool loop of metal adorning them.
“Billi… are you okay?”
His dark-haired twin’s laugh was gentle, quiet, as if his voice no longer existed beyond a whisper, beyond a whimper, a whine.
“I’ve been better.”
Tom crossed the hotel room in a matter of seconds, grasping Bill’s hands within his own, searching the dead eyes of his lover, finding nothing but pain within.
“It hurts, Tomi, it hurts.”
The dreadlocked twin didn’t reply, he had no answer… there was no answer to the pain and desperation reflected in the face of his lover.
Instead he did what he always did, every two weeks, the same place, the same time, it was always the same answer.
Lips adorned with a silver lip ring pressing against the lips of his twin, Bill’s lips gentle, nervous, scared. Toms lips harder, needier, more desperate.
It was always the same… the same room, the same bed, the same two lovers acting out the roles, both fading with each passing fortnight, hating the weeks spent apart.
It was the way clothes were shed so fast they might have well never existed in the first place, it’s Tom’s fingers, first one, then two, crooked slightly at just the right angle.
It’s the way Bill writhes beneath his lover, sweating, cursing, begging Tom to fuck him and it’s the way Tom complies, two becoming one within moments.
It’s Bill’s fingernails scratching, scraping, scarring, leaving thin lines of blood down Tom’s back, it’s the way Tom, oblivious to the pain, is only focused on the boy beneath him, the one he’s pounding the living daylights out of and yet neither care.
They need the pain… after all, that’s what it’s all about… pain, hurting, loving someone until you can’t breathe or walk straight, until it’s crushing you so badly you just want to die where you stand.
It’s the only answer Tom has, it’s the only answer there is.
And then it’s afterwards, when Bill is curled into Ton’s side, both of them panting, out of breath, identical eyes meeting, holding the sleepy gaze through sad smiles.
It’s when Bill’s eyes flicker open and even though Tom would appear to be asleep, Bill knows he isn’t.
It’s the words Bill always whispers to the darkness, wanting an answer, praying for an answer, but never finding one. Never.
“Are we ever going to get out of here?”
The words are directed at his twin who, in turn, feigns sleep so that the only answer Bill gets is the almost silent sigh of the wind outside.
The dark haired boy mimics the sigh, fingers tracing an invisible pattern on the soft skin of his lover, not wanting to sleep… ever… because Tom‘s never there when he wakes up.
Tom won’t be back for another two weeks.
Eyelids droop and breathing levels out.
Limbs sprawling, entwined, lips only centimetres from each other, skin against skin, the pair finally sleep.
The dark haired boys head twitched up anxiously when he heard the door close, his face relaxing into a sad smile when he recognised the tent-like clothes swamping his twins figure.
“Tomi,” his voice was smaller too. Hoarse, scratchy from lack of use… broken… that was the only word that could be used to describe the dark-haired boy sat on the bed in the corner.
Tom lingered anxiously by the door, still unsure as to what to do… even after so many times, so many months… he swallowed twice, licking his lips, tongue lingering for only a moment on the cool loop of metal adorning them.
“Billi… are you okay?”
His dark-haired twin’s laugh was gentle, quiet, as if his voice no longer existed beyond a whisper, beyond a whimper, a whine.
“I’ve been better.”
Tom crossed the hotel room in a matter of seconds, grasping Bill’s hands within his own, searching the dead eyes of his lover, finding nothing but pain within.
“It hurts, Tomi, it hurts.”
The dreadlocked twin didn’t reply, he had no answer… there was no answer to the pain and desperation reflected in the face of his lover.
Instead he did what he always did, every two weeks, the same place, the same time, it was always the same answer.
Lips adorned with a silver lip ring pressing against the lips of his twin, Bill’s lips gentle, nervous, scared. Toms lips harder, needier, more desperate.
It was always the same… the same room, the same bed, the same two lovers acting out the roles, both fading with each passing fortnight, hating the weeks spent apart.
It was the way clothes were shed so fast they might have well never existed in the first place, it’s Tom’s fingers, first one, then two, crooked slightly at just the right angle.
It’s the way Bill writhes beneath his lover, sweating, cursing, begging Tom to fuck him and it’s the way Tom complies, two becoming one within moments.
It’s Bill’s fingernails scratching, scraping, scarring, leaving thin lines of blood down Tom’s back, it’s the way Tom, oblivious to the pain, is only focused on the boy beneath him, the one he’s pounding the living daylights out of and yet neither care.
They need the pain… after all, that’s what it’s all about… pain, hurting, loving someone until you can’t breathe or walk straight, until it’s crushing you so badly you just want to die where you stand.
It’s the only answer Tom has, it’s the only answer there is.
And then it’s afterwards, when Bill is curled into Ton’s side, both of them panting, out of breath, identical eyes meeting, holding the sleepy gaze through sad smiles.
It’s when Bill’s eyes flicker open and even though Tom would appear to be asleep, Bill knows he isn’t.
It’s the words Bill always whispers to the darkness, wanting an answer, praying for an answer, but never finding one. Never.
“Are we ever going to get out of here?”
The words are directed at his twin who, in turn, feigns sleep so that the only answer Bill gets is the almost silent sigh of the wind outside.
The dark haired boy mimics the sigh, fingers tracing an invisible pattern on the soft skin of his lover, not wanting to sleep… ever… because Tom‘s never there when he wakes up.
Tom won’t be back for another two weeks.
Eyelids droop and breathing levels out.
Limbs sprawling, entwined, lips only centimetres from each other, skin against skin, the pair finally sleep.