Hematoma Ch. 03

As I returned home from Inkjet, my angry and shameful thoughts began to fade from me. My cotton shirt brushed at my newly punctured nipples, and the waistband of my jeans rubbed at my studded waist. I flung my jacket onto a dining chair and dragged my feet to my tiny living room.

My apartment was nothing special. The living room and kitchen were the same room separated by two feet of protruding wall and a threshold between carpet and tile, both of which were dingy and stained. The carpet under my feet, which had once long ago been some shade of beige, was a coffee-stain brown and had been trampled to a threadbare floor. A small bathroom lay behind the door right beside my front entryway, and my bedroom door sat in the living room. My home was a square. But it was home.

I threw myself onto the futon couch in the living room that had once served as my bed. I still kept a blue bedsheet on it, as the fabric underneath was stained just like every upholstered thing I owned. The coffee table between me and my tube TV was ringed all over from a lack of coasters. Here and there I still saw ash specks on the wood from friends who smoked. Friends who hadn't visited in weeks. Every time I saw the state of my apartment I got the urge to clean it. But of course, I never would. I had a staring contest with a white ring on the table. The ring won and I closed my eyes, sinking further onto the futon. Back to the self-pity.

I was slowly beginning to realize I was not sad or angry because Yorick had seen me get hard over a piercing. No, there was more to it than that. It was because this was something I had to keep to myself. It was something I could never share with someone. It was a pleasure that no one would ever indulge me. Just me, stabbing and burning myself while I masturbated alone in my filthy, tiny apartment. Alone. It was depressing.

Pathetic.

But was I really the only person with these desires? I have to find a better outlet, I thought. I can't keep using the tattoo parlor like it's my porn shop. Poor Karen for putting up with a sad fuck like me. I rolled over on the futon and slid further until I was lying on my side with my feet splayed out under the coffee table. What did Karen think of me? She knew a little bit about me. She knew that I got turned on by her workers' skilled needles, cradling ink and metal through my skin. I had revealed this to her ages ago, when I finished my eyebrow piercing with my face red and my tongue lolling out.

"It's interesting," she had said simply. "You've got nothing to be ashamed of, Shay. Come by anytime. We'll take care of you. Just don't make a mess on the floor."

Her teasing had relaxed the tension that lingered, and she, Em, and I had had a good laugh over it. The two of them had become my support, the only two who knew my dark secret. With Em gone, Karen was the only one... Stupid bitch Em. Why did she leave without telling me?

And I began to think more about the horrid thought that had haunted me. What if Em and Karen had never really accepted this about me? What if, after my sessions under Em's needle, she simply went and shared stories with Karen and they just had a good laugh about the freak who got so aroused about getting ink done? I felt a sharp pain in my chest, and my eyes squeezed tight.

Then there was Yorick. I didn't know what to make of his reaction to me. Had he been laughing? He was amused, probably telling Karen what happened and talking about his 'prostitution fee'.

But why did I care what some pseudo-goth asshole thought about me? Deep down, wasn't I the one who was hardest on myself for my predilection?

I need to get out more.

The living room darkened as the sun drifted down behind the Philly skyline. I lazily stretched an arm up and groped for the switch on my lamp. Yellow light flickered into the room. My last thought lingered. I did need to get out more. Staying indoors and rotting wasn't good for me. With a groan I lifted myself off the futon and ruffled my hair with a lazy hand. It had been forever since I'd done the social thing away from my friends. Tonight, I thought, was as good a night as ever.

~

At nine PM, I was on the street. I had changed into a cropped black tank, fingerless gloves, and my only pair of black cyber boots for the night. There weren't many places I considered for my outings. Coffee shops, mostly, or the occasional bar with my friends. Tonight I was headed for my local club. A bit of overmixed dubstep and bad electronica was sure to do wonders for my mood.

I have two great pleasures in life. Pain is my first, but aside from my body modification, it's bedroom-restricted. My other passion is dance. Not to say I'm skilled. My "dancing" looks out of place anywhere but a club, but there is something about the rush I get going all-out on a dark and flashing dance floor. No matter how stupid I may look.

I'm greeted at the door by a man in a black shirt who checks my unused driver's license and waves me through. My usual club is not a popular rave spot, thank god, so there's a pleasant lack of glowsticks and ecstasy addicts. That being said, it's colorful. My fellow patrons sport dyed hair and neon clothing, or are otherwise dressed in metal and black outfits like I am. Even just barely in the door, the buzz of voices and the thudding of music is almost deafening. The front hall splits into two stairways and I immediately take the upper one that goes straight into the dance pit.

I'm met by an enormous crowd of people jumping up and down rhythmically in place of dancing to a pounding, electronic crash of noise. Strobe lights and a rainbow of flood lamps flash overhead, staining the patrons different colors as they move. It's the same scene every time I come.

In another minute I had squeezed myself into the throng and discovered a spot with enough room to do my thing. And I danced. No grace, no style, no technique. My feet followed the rhythm of the electric song as always, and I let go. The beat of the music penetrated my ribs and formed a second heartbeat, pounding in my lungs. My muscles grew hot and my skin beaded with sweat. My tall boots scuffed the floor beneath me. If ever I looked up I would have caught the eye of an onlooker cheering me, a girl tossing her hair beside me with her arms over her head, another dancer mimicking my movements. Lactic acid beat through the fiber of my body. It was another kind of pain altogether. Where piercing was sex, the thrill and ache of dancing brought out a soreness in me that felt wonderful and rough. I was drenched with perspiration. My exposed skin sparked under the strobe lights. My shame in front of Yorick dripped out of me with my sweat, the day's events gone. I at last had reached the wonderful feeling I craved, straining my muscles to move as they were never intended to.

~

Half an hour later I was panting and worn out. My adrenaline was spent for the time being, and my throat was dry and oddly cold. Water, I thought faintly. I managed to fight my way back to the stairs and down the set on the right where the lower part of the club lay. Upstairs was the thronging dance floor. Down here was a pleasant room with a hardwood floor, scattered with leather chairs and a soothingly dim light. Patrons here took to the cozier wood dance floor with much less craze and abandon, some grinding and others merely moving back and forth with friends surrounding. A pair of television screens played accompanying videos to match the music.

I swaggered to the bar still panting softly and ordered a bottle of water (three dollars), wiping sweat from my studded brow. My hand was shaking as I lifted the bottle to my lips and tipped water down my throat. It wasn't freezing cold, but refreshing enough to bring me back to life just a bit.

As I raised the bottle again, I felt something brush against the bare skin of my left arm.

"Hey," said a voice over the music. Were they talking to me?

I looked up to see I had been joined at the bar by a guy about my age with a shock of violet hair. He was surprisingly dark-skinned, with a heart-shaped face covered in makeup: black lipstick and bright purple eyeshadow around green eyes. He was decked out in a black band shirt and skinny jeans with cyber boots like mine, except his were white and neon green. Around his slim forearms were a number of silicone bracelets with numerous bands and creeds on them. He gave me a little wave, grinning and showing white teeth.

"I saw you upstairs," he said loudly. "Hard to miss that hair of yours. Like a ghost," he added, nodding at my bleached white fringe. "You dance like a madman. Pretty hot."

"Ah... thanks," I said with half a smile, taking another sip of my water.

"I'm Jade," he said with an outstretched hand. I took it in my own and shook, feeling lukewarm sweat under my palm. "What's your name, beautiful?"

He's gay. Not that it bothered me. I had kind of figured. "Shay," I replied.

I got another flash of teeth. "Sweet name," he commented.

How am I supposed to reply to that? I thought. Thanks, I guess? But I kept silent, only nodding a little.

When I looked up again, Jade was waving to get the bartender's attention. "Long island iced tea," he said loudly, a moment before slinging his arm over my shoulder. "And one for my friend!"

Friend, huh. That was fast. Free booze, though. Can't argue with it. I started draining my water as we waited for the drinks.

"Hope you don't mind," Jade added as I finished my water off.

I choked on the last drops of my drink and shook my head, eyes watering. "No, of course not."

"It's just, y'know..." He gave an awkward grin and pushed his fingers through the violet mess on his scalp. "It's not often I find someone like you. I just knew I had to talk to you, just got this feeling, like... Holy shit, I'm gonna miss out." He laughed.

Two drinks had appeared in front of us as he spoke, and money was exchanged. My now cooled fingers wrapped around the glass of ice and booze-tainted tea, complete with a sliver of lemon. I had never ordered a drink at this club before.

We both lifted our drinks, and Jade flashed me another crooked grin. "Cheers," he said, clinking his glass against mine and drinking deeply. I followed suit, taking a gulp of my own drink. It was sweet, refreshing, and stung lightly with the cocktail of hard liquor within it. After that first gulp I set it back down, but Jade had polished off half the glass already. Damn, this guy can drink. Or maybe he was downing liquid courage to do whatever it was he was planning to do in the first place when he came up to me.

"So," Jade said finally, having replaced his own drink on the bar and swiveled in his seat to face me. His eyes were alight with a youthful sparkle.

"You here alone?"

"Yeah," I replied with a short laugh. "Yeah, I just come here to dance... Take my mind off things, I guess,"

"That's cool," he said, and he sounded like he meant it. "You move really well. So... Is it just on your feet?"

I had just taken another gulp of alcohol and choked into my drink at these words, laughing. Did he really just imply what I thought he did? "I... I wouldn't know..."

"No?" he said in disbelief. "Wait, a guy like you? Seriously?" He shook his head and took another swig of tea. "I dunno, I thought you were... You look it."

"Look what?"

"Like you get approached by a lot more people than just me. You don't?"

I thought, taken aback. "No," I said truthfully. "No, not at all..."

Jade shook his head again. He brought the glass to his lips as he looked up at me to speak. "It's that crazy white hair," he said knowingly, taking a drink. "Ghost. Maybe you pass under the radar."

I laughed and drank deeply from my glass. This guy... He was trying too hard to compliment me. But somehow I didn't mind. It felt good... Felt normal. I was being flirted with.

Upon seeing that my glass was empty, Jade looked to the bar with a grin. "Hey, bartender... Another couple of these, please!"

"Another couple of these" later and Jade had dragged me back up to the dance floor. My head spun pleasurably from drink and my new companion's infectious demeanor. The thudding of the music in my chest matched my newly heightened heartbeat, and I soon followed Jade in an exhilarated dance. His violet hair tossed in the strobe light, his feet shuffling rhythmically beneath him and arms outstretched. I matched his movements, laughing at our drunken attempts at club dancing.

Within minutes he had moved to grinding on me, his hips pushing against my thigh, one arm wrapping about my waist. My body tingled with excitement. This felt different... It felt good. I returned his motions. Our hips soon pushed against each other's, Jade daring to bring his lips close enough to graze my cheek with a breathy laugh to my ear. His hand went over my chest, lingering on the new rings in my nipples that stuck through the shirt. God... That felt good.

And then in a blur his lips were on mine, awkwardly clashing in the heat of our movements. I tasted the bland tang of lipstick, felt something strange and pleasurable against my tongue – his own had a stud through it. This was what this kind of thing felt like, I thought dizzily, as his fingers delved into the ghost-white hair he liked. This was... Incredible.

~

A few hours of dancing and several more drinks later, and I was staggering home, with Jade's arm around my shoulder as I laughed nonsensically. He held his liquor better than I did, though I'd been guzzling to banish fear. Well, fear was gone now. I pushed my face awkwardly into Jade's neck, and he struggled to hold me up, laughing at my loss of motor function. It was all I could do to lead him to my home.

We did eventually make it, the two of us soused and aroused by each other. I felt Jade's lips on my neck even as I clumsily unlocked the door, and we both stumbled into the doorway in a fit of grins and drowsy groping.

"Jade, stop," I mumbled, smiling and biting back laughter. He ignored me, seizing my lips in his again, and again.

"Where's your bedroom?" he asked quietly, teasing the collar of my shirt.

We both staggered to what passes for a bedroom in my house – Jade seemed contentedly oblivious to the state of my home, and wasn't even bothered by the banging of the metal bedstand against the wall when we fell entangled onto my bed. He pinned me below him with his mouth, sucking at my bottom lip as he kicked off his boots with difficulty and bid me to work on mine. With some chagrin I managed to reach down and undo the straps on my boots, pushing them off my feet with my toes one by one off the bed, where they clunked onto the floor beside Jade's white ones.

And then came the shirts, and the jeans, each of us grinning unabashedly as we took it in turn to dig at each other's waistbands in desperation to strip ourselves. Despite the numerous Long Island iced teas, I had managed to avoid whiskey-dick and, with a satisfied gasp, I quickly saw that Jade did not suffer either. Even in my stupor, though, something came to mind – was he "safe"? I hadn't bought condoms... But my fears didn't last long; Jade had retrieved a foil square from his wallet and was ripping it open with fevered gusto.

Oh – right, lube, I thought. Liquor stimulated an inappropriate giggle from me as I rolled onto my stomach on the bed and reached for the box at my bedside; the same box that housed needles and knives held a bottle of lubricant that usually only knew my hand. Jade's spindly hands were caressing my back. I moaned out and lifted the bottle of lube from the box, my teeth grazing my bottom lip. Jade's fingers ran the length of my arm and took the lube bottle from me, leaving shivers in his wake.

"You ready?" Jade slurred, and I heard a note of amusement in his voice.

I laughed in return and nodded. "Oh god, yeah..."

I struggled to my knees on the bed in order to lift my ass into a better position, crossing my arms underneath my head. Cold lube hit my back end and I gave a gasp of surprise. Jade's fingers followed, clumsily slipping in and out of me one and two at a time, and without warning or hesitation I felt the tip of his cock pushing at me in fingers' absence.

I groaned, shuddering as the sting of unfamiliar penetration ripped through me. How long had it even been? Jade filled me slowly, his hands now gripping my sides for support. His bony hips met mine and slowly, slowly the stinging left me... The wonderful stinging of my muscles ripping to accommodate something inside me...

I missed it.

Jade started to move. Slowly, slowly dragging in and out, and then faster, his breath increasing with his pace. My stomach juddered with sensation, and I held my hips steady as he beat against them. "God, Shay," he gasped between breaths. "You're fucking tight, man..."

Tight... This felt pretty good... But as time passed and Jade continued to piston into me, I realized that this wasn't enough.

I wanted more.

More.

But what could I do? The pain of first penetration had left me long ago. In desperation I lifted my fist to my mouth and bit down hard.

My nerves sparked to life again, pain spiking through my knuckles as I forced my teeth into them. I dragged my canines across the skin, further sending sensation ripping through my arm. The feeling echoed in my core and resonated to my own pulsing sex, egged on by Jade fucking me. Oh god, this felt amazing... But I had gotten a taste for the pain, and it wasn't enough.

In drunken stupor, in ecstatic fervor, I tore my hand from my jaw and went for the box next to the bed, still within arm's reach. My groping fingers met a piece of metal and I seized it.

And I regretted – and was grateful for – doing so.

What I had grabbed was a steel box cutter – I knew it by its familiar grip. But I had to have left the blade out last time, elongated and deadly, and the sharpened steel had sunk itself into the soft flesh of my fingers. The pain of it shot through me like a bullet, and a shiver ran the length of my body and pooled in my belly. I gasped, eyelids fluttering. Fuck, that felt good! Unthinking, I pulled the box cutter out, feeling wet blood under my fingers, and with quaking hands I dragged the tip of the blade across my forearm.

I moaned out loud, feeling icy pain where the blade skated. I felt my warm blood sliding over my skin, and my arm shook as the pain pulsed back to my core, spreading through me as if a fuse had been lit. The sensation hit me hard. I was pushed over the edge, groaning in pleasure as my body tightened and I let loose. I was racked with orgasm, shuddering hard, splattering the sheets beneath me -

"What the FUCK are you doing!?"

Jade's voice threw me back to earth again. I rolled onto my side in a panic, looking up at the man with the violet hair who was looking back at me as if I had just vomited scorpions, long since withdrawn from me in a fevered rage. I saw his eyes flick to mine, then to my arm and hand splashed with blood.

"What do you think you're doing!?" he shouted. "What the fuck – why are you -" At a loss for words, he shook his head furiously and leapt from the bed, gathering up his clothes.

"No – No, wait, Jade, wait a second!" I sputtered, scrambling up after him. I staggered, my arm and my hand still throbbing with pain. "Wait, listen to me, please!"

"Do I even want to know?" he spat back at me. He stumbled into his jeans and shot an almost sickened look at me over his shoulder. "Fuck this, man, I'm not sticking my dick in crazy..."

"I'm not crazy – Listen to me, please, don't go..."

"Fuck you!"

Jade stomped his boots on and struggled into his shirt, a look of pure disgust drawn over his face like a mask... Like a different man than the one I had brought into my home. I followed him to the door, at a loss for what to say, only looking desperately through my thoughts for something, anything, to say.