Like Animals - a Vignette
#2 of Scraps
I've been writing out short little blurbs recently that serve both to help me vent and to create a few scenes that will help frame my NaNoWriMo this year. Thought I'd share this one 'cuz it turned into something I really enjoyed, and I think it gives enough to be intriguing, without making it seem like anything's missing. Tell me what you think! T3h p05t, 4 j00.
He jumped up away from me and shouted, "No! I hate you! I hate everyone, I hate everything! There's... there's nothing! There's nothing, anywhere, everywhere. We're on a floating blue dot spinning towards the only horizon there is, and that is the abyss, and there is nothing!" His eyes were a furnace for silversmiths.
"I understand," I murmured, daring him with chilled pools of mercury.
"YOU DO NOT!" he roared in my face. "You are not like me! You just want to think you are, because I'm beautiful and you can't have me! But you're wrong." He slapped me. He snatched my collar and kissed me, biting my lip while my cheek stung, and while he kissed me, he palmed my groin hard enough to hurt. I shoved him off me with a grunt and he jumped on me, awkward on the couch. He tried to throw me on my back, but I fought, so he tried to rip open my shirt, but I dug my nails into his wrists, so he jerked up the hem from my waist, and I helped him get it off. I grabbed him from where he crouched over me, spun him, and slammed him next to me. He shoved me on my back and crawled atop me, so I rolled harshly off the couch, body-slamming him onto the ground at an angle that bruised our elbows but I'm sure did nothing to his slab of back muscles. I slithered away to hop up, so launched a head-butt at my gut, so I grabbed under his arms, yanked upward, wrapped a leg around his waist, and forced him into a kiss. He growled like a wolf and returned it, fingers tearing fervidly at my shorts until he had to knock me onto the couch again to rip them off me. Before he could, I snatched my pocket knife so when he crawled atop me again, I could slice open his shirt. I cut his chest with it. I would have carved my name, but he nearly broke my wrist forcing me to drop it, then straddled me and tore his shirt the rest of the way off, tatters finding their way into a corner of the room. I watched that beautiful canvas of man being unveiled, the animal arsonist in him pouring passion gasoline on the scratched flame where his fingernails had found flesh, watched his burning eyes, and brought my claws to bear fiercely on his torso. He yowled and twitched away from me, so I stood, hissed at him, and took a slow step forward, and a voice rumbled, surged, slid, out of my gut and across my lips:
"MORE."
His grin was wicked as he leapt up, rammed his shoulder into my gut, and shattered my coffee table under my back.
We fucked until dawn broke the ever-new horizon.
We woke up. The earth was still spinning.
"I'm not gay."
"Obviously."
"Can you... not be? For today?"
"Why not."
"So get off me."
"But you're so warm."
"Yeah, and your feet are like goddamned ice. And I need to go."
"You mean you're putting on clothes?"
"Aren't you?"
"It's adorable how hard you work to sound like you want me to."
"You may the best-looking guy I know, but I'm headed to get myself tested before I even go home."
Ow. "Fuck you." I love you.
"Maybe tomorrow. See you later, lover boy."
It was something, I guess.