My Jealousy and Your Truth

I saw Matt's eyes widen even more. I felt my lips tilt into a evil smile; I was finally going to get what I wanted.

"Jor... Jordan...?" Matt stuttered, beautiful shock and fear on his face.

I rotated the knife gently under his chin, allowing more blood to flow, but not nearly enough for him to bleed out to death. "Yes, my darling?"

"Wha-what are y-you doing?" Matt shook with unbelievible fear. I could smell it on his skin, hear it in his shaking voice, feel it in his heartbeat.

"I'm going to get what I want. Isn't that splendid?" I asked him.

I could see him thinking. And he shook his head... no.

I frowned. "Wrong answer." Then I abruptly stabbed him in the right shoulder, making him squeal in pain. And my God, I have never heard something so sweet in my lifetime. So I stabbed him again, lower on his arm. Another squeal. Happiness wrecked through my body like a hurricane in a trailer park. "Any louder you'll get us busted."

I saw the tears form in his eyes, then fall to the mattress, like they had given up. "W-w-why?"

"Because I want to. Now hold still..." I pulled out the knife from his arm and pointed the sharp tip to his cheek. I pricked his skin there, like a needle. Then I made a curve, then led it straight down. I did the same to the other side. A heart. "Perfect." I took the tip again and colored in the heart with blood, watching it all flow down his cheek. Any deeper I could see his jaw bone. I looked back into Matt's eyes. Tears were trying to runaway from the reality of the situation. But they couldn't hide.

"Jordan..." Matt began to cry. He shut his eyes to me, and I grew angry.

"Why won't you look at me? Am I that ugly when I'm pissed?" I asked him.

He shook his head no again. But I knew he was lying. So I sat up and stabbed him in his right leg, another squeal, a lot louder than his first two. His sobs became louder, full-blown tears coming from his shut eyes.

"Jordan... it hurts... it really hurts... please stop!" Matt wailed.

I layed back down on my side and stared at his close-off face. "Does it? I'm sorry. But I won't stop." I stabbed him again, same leg, just a little lower. This time Matt screamed in agonizing pain. I remember him hurting his knee earlier in the month. I stabbed it again.

"Why are you doing this?!?!" Matt screamed. He lifted his arm, as if to smack me, as if to fight back, but it was pitiful. The knife went through his hand, blood streaming through the gap. Another scream. I pulled the knife, laughing inwardly at the sight.

"Don't be a bad boy, Matt. Or else this knife is gonna go were the sun don't shine." I then grabbed his shirt and took the small blade and ripped his shirt open, exposing his chest. His triple wolf tattoo showed beautifully in the light, dark and forbiding yet absolutely inticing. I never told him how incredible it was. And I never told him that I was jealous of its glory. "I never told you how beautiful your chest tattoo is. And I never told you how much I hated it."

His face was still closed-off as I dragged the tip across the wolf's faces, making blood stream through the lines. I kept thrashing the small blades' tip against soft skin, the wolves now looking contorted in pain. I even scratched up his "Choose Love Over Fear" tattoo. My brain suddenly clicked. Matt was supposed to love me, not fear me. I stopped and stared at his closed eyes.

I ran the flat edges of the blade against my lips, leaving all the blood in the crevaces. Then I leaned in and passionately kissed his awaiting lips. His eyes shot open and he tried to push me back, but I held on to his shoulders and squeazed my thumbs into his new scars. He squealed painfully in my mouth, and I bit his lip, a little blood flowing into my mouth. The taste was electric, like New Orleans cuisine, mixing with a very dirty wine. My tongue moved around and about Matt's, trying to memorize all the little buds of taste and where they were. I even tasted his tears, freely flowing from his eyes to our connected mouths. I made my decision, right then and there.

I'm gonna fuck the life outta him.

I pulled away from Matt's now-bloody face, watching the crimson liquid flow from the corner of his mouth, waiting for him to do something. It actually kinda shocked me that he only tried to resist once. Maybe I spooked him? That's probably it. Hopefully he'll remain a good little boy while do this.

I roughly grabbed his injured arm and yanked him to his stomach, then I strattled his backside, my dick rubbing his skin, and oh God, my heart reached a new speed. My mind raced with hot and dirty thoughts of Matt screaming my name, cuming for forgivness. Oh, the thoughts...

I ran the small above his tiny little asshole, making the blood stream into his awaiting anus. My version of petroleum jelly. I smiled at the site. Oh the things I'm about to do... I waited until a decent amout of blood flowed into his hole. Then I...

~Nobody~
Outside of Dylan and Jorel's room...

George contemplated knocking on Jorel/Dylan's door. He did once before, a while back, and, HOLY SHIT, he wanted to do that position. He actually never tried that particular one, so he wasn't sure if he and Jordan could pull it off. They both think they have nicely sized penises, but that position was just... yummy.

George thought about Jordan, and grew even more worried. He woke up from a very strange dream about his uncle having a gigantic water worm that he would played with when he was younger to find Jordan missing. George shivered, and decided to knock on the door anyway. KNOCK KNOCK.

George heard scuffling, bed sheets, slight curse words, and things bumping into each other, in no particular order. Then he heard the doorknob turn.

It was Jorel, topless and a little red at the cheeks. "Yo?" He questioned.

George had to hold on his laughter. He straightened up, got serious. "Have you seen Jordan? I woke up and he wasn't in the room."

Jorel turned his head toward Dylan, asking him a different version of the question. He turned back, looked at George. "No, neither of us have."

George sighed. "Alright. I'll go check-"

"AHHHHHH MY GOD! SOMEONE CALL THE POLICE! HE'S DEAD!"

George turned his sharply, his ears ringing with the news. "What the fuck?!"

Soon both Jorel and Dylan were outside in the cold night, only in their boxers. "The shit is going on?" Dylan questioned.

"Some girl just screamed, duh," George remarked.

"I know, but is she for real?" Dylan replied.

"There she is," Jorel pointed. A girl, from where they were standing, looked incrediblely stricken. A few people were going into a little patch of wood near the motel, and coming back with shocked expressions. George's heart leaped, connected pieces in his head making him want to scream.

"I'll go check it out, you guys stay here and check on Fagzz and Danny," Dylan said as he went toward the steps, shoes already on.

"Be careful, Dylan," Jorel called out.

George semi-ran toward their door, and was about to knock when he heard a tiny snippet of... something.

"... or this knife will go where the sun don't shine."

George's mind raced, he didn't know what to do. He had to believe what he heard was just a movie, not a real life event. His mind couldn't comprehend anything. Nothing but static of screams, words, and something else that sounded like someone getting stabbed. Close by, not by the patch of woods.

"What is it George?" Jorel asked, off to George's right. He must've not heard it. Footsteps sounded throughout the small complex, people yelling and not knowing what to do.

"Guys!" A voice called. Jorel turned to find it was Dylan, looking pale as a sheet of ghost paper. "Guys... fucking hell..." Dylan put his hands on the black rail and looked down.

"What is it Dylan?! Dylan, what the fuck is going on?!" Jorel tried shaking the sheer fear off of Dylan's face, but the ghost of his funny self was dying out.

"D-Danny... is... dead. Stabbed. Mutilated. Fuck, I think I'm gonna be sick. NO! Don't go, Jorel. You don't want to see. It's..." Dylan tried to choke out his other words, but his mouth was filled with the contents of his earlier lunch, and soon it landed on the black asphalt. He couldn't keep the image of Danny's body out of his head, bloody, cut up, head detached from its pedistal of a human body. Dylan couldn't handle the site. One of his best friends, dead, or more accurate, murdered. Someone wanted him dead, and forever, no chance at afterlife in heaven or hell. Someone wanted revenge, someone wanted payback, someone wanted retribution. But Dylan couldn't figure out who.

Lucky for him, George had a pretty fucking good idea.

He raised his fists, and started mercilessly banging on the door. "GODDAMNIT JORDAN! PLEASE TO FUCKING GOD TELL ME I'M WRONG!"

~Jordan~

"GODDAMNIT JORDAN! PLEASE TO FUCKING GOD TELL ME I'M WRONG!"

I slowed his pace slightly, but only slighty. "You're wrong!" I responded, sounding cheerful despite my position of domiance. Matt counted to cry, and a few times he tried to resist, but I cut his wrists pretty deep. He hasn't moved them since. So I just continued to thrust my hips hard into Matt's pretty little demise.

"JORDAN! FUCKING JORDAN! JOR-"

"No, I think I'm the one fucking here."

"JORDAN! TELL ME THE MOTHER FUCKING TRUTH OR I SWEAR I WILL BUST THIS FUCKING DOOR DOWN AND STRANGLE YOU! DID YOU KILL DANNY?!!!!"

Wow. I haven't heard him that angry since... ever. I am throughly impressed with my self. Should I answer him? BANG BANG BANG BANG. Fucking brute will break the door down. Geez, you'd think he'd have more respect for the sleeping people. But noooooo, he's concerned with Danny, of all people. God, get a life, homo. "Get over it. He's dead, and will never come back. And yes, I fucking killed him. Isn't it obvious? I hated the faggot." The banging ceased. Finally. Geez, use your fists for writing, not trying to hurt everything you touch, for fuck sake. "Having a daughter certainly didn't change you at all. You're still just all muscle and no brain. To tell the truth, I never loved you. You're just a fucking brute with a devil soul."

I thought I heard someone choke on something. Hoped the shithead choked on our history together. I never really loved him at all. And it took me killing Danny to see that. Wow, I'm a idiot. So I decided to focus-

"GEORGE! JOREL! DYLAN! HELP!" Matt screeched.

I was stunned. Did he really just do that? "Matt, bad boy!" And I stabbed him in his right shoulder blade, making him scream inunderstandable words. The wound matched the other shoulder.

"JORDAN! THE POLICE ARE GONNA COME HERE AND... DO WHATEVER THEY FUCKING DO TO FUCKING ASSHOLES LIKE YOU!"

"Ignore him Matt, he's just a stupid child." I leaned down and kissed the base of his neck. And angrily continued to force myself into Matt's body. I enjoyed every fucking second of his tightness. Danny must've been pretty small to not cause any bigger opening.

I batted my dick farther into his body, my entire length inside him. I couldn't help but moan loudly. The sensation of Matt's body was just... unbelieveable. I grabbed on to his curly locks of black hair, raising his head up and down along with my motions. This cloud of haze covered my body, the pit of my stomach fighting to last longer. I gripped Matt's hip, trying hold on to reality. I just couldn't hold on the the noises his body was making mine make.

I growled lowly, fearing my release is soon. "Oh fuck Matt. Mmmm... uh." I pushed forward, holding it in, just for as little longer. I leaned into his back, the bed rocking and beating the wall. I breathed out hot air as he screamed for help, but I couldn't make out his words. Everything just blurred together. I used the knife create a line in Matt's skin, blood slowly flowing. I put my lips to the forbidden wine and sloppily slurped the beautiful liquid. My libido just growing, growing, even when Matt screams for me to stop. But the feeling of thrusting my need into his fear, just created a dangerous feeling. So I sucked the blood from the line I created, that ball of fire trying to escape into Matt's body.

Matt's fear rocked the bed more than I was, his shivering constricting his anus around my cock. "Fuck Matt... oh God... scream my name..."

"Jordan, STOP!" Matt cried.

"No! Not until I left myself inside of you!" I thrusted at my fastest pace, finally feeling free, and just... fuck!

"Oh fuck, Matt! FUCK!" I screamed as I climaxed into him. "Oohhhhh yes... God yes..." I slowed, unable to continue. Then I pulled out unceremoniusly of his body, pushing his body all the way down to the bed. "Good boy Matt. Maybe we'll do this again. But I have to deal with-"

BAM!

"PUT YOUR HANDS UP!" A loud voice called. I turned, and it was multiple pigs standing near the door. Am I really that ugly when I'm mad? I must be when even pigs wont get close. No, they're just jealous I get want I want.

I slowly slid off the right side of the bed, and put my hands up, trying to conceal the knife. But a sadistic smile creapt on my face.

~Nobody~
Inside the threshold on Matt's hell.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR GODDAMN PROBLEM JORDAN?!"

"Quit shouting, self-absorbing prick."

"I'LL QUIT SHOUTING WHEN YOU DIE IN PRISON AND ROT IN HELL!"

"That'll be a long time from now, George."

Then Jordan did the unthinkable. He took the knife and slit his throat, the blood spewing out, then leaking down his exposed body. He then fell to the floor, blood still gushing, even though everyone knew he was dead.

Any passerby would see a very bloody scene. Police drawing their guns back into their holsters. Three distraught men standing in shock at the scene itself. One looking sicker than dog shit, one on the verge of crying, and the other looking pissed to hell and never to return. One dead naked man on the floor, who slit his own throat. One crying, hsyterical man, on the bed, covered in blood and ALL cut up. The only female on the police side went to that man, to ask him if he could feel his body.

Pretty soon a ambulance arrived, and took both the dead man and the crying victim to the hospital. The police questioned the three men, all of them giving them a innocent account of the night. Soon the police rolled out, one staying behind to escort the three men to the near police office.

Soon, it was all on the news, for all eyes to see. Minus the young eyes, and ears. Everyone was shocked, and downright scared. The men's friends all looked at confused and angry as the three men felt. But what of the three men, you ask?

They didn't, as well as a lot of people, go to the Jordan Terrell's funeral.