Terry had stolen the boy away piece by piece like the world's most patient thief. He had looked at Daniel, a boy who had a soul as of yet uncorrupted and had decided the boy's parts were best kept with himself for safekeeping. Terry would lock them away behind a glass case to which he had forged the key. The boy had been so clean; innocent in a way that was rare and mortifying to see. Astounding and beautiful.
(I thought if I could let you take me apart, cut these pieces out of me, then I could keep the rest. It had never been enough, it had never been enough. You cracked open my ribcage and dug around inside, hands slippery with viscera, rearranging me. You had done it so well I had offered myself up for you to carve like Sunday dinner. I have only ever been what you have made me.)
Sometimes as a child Terry would be happy, so happy that it would exhaust him. Always afterward, something tired crawled into his body and laid to rest like lead. Over time it crawled further and further inside of himself. He fought against the gravity of life every day to move his body, a body too big for him, yet not big enough to hold everything inside.
Too much, too loud. Always, Terry was too--
Daniel was beautifully loud. Uninhibited.
When Terry was younger and still soft, untouched--
There had always been dirty hands all over him, even if they were his own. However, at one point Terry had been genuine before he learned that earned him nothing. The world does not reward honesty. At some point in his early life, Terry had believed that there were others, people who were genuinely good, who looked at the world and let it wash over them rather than tear them down.
Daniel, rare and alluring, had yet to be drowned. He had an earnestness that hurt to look at directly. He trusted strangers with the very most important parts of himself. He had trusted Terry, and now Terry was inside of him in every way he could manage. There would be no going back to Before.
(One day this pain will make us strong, you had said. It has only ever made us brittle. We were strong superficially, I suppose. A pair of tungsten hearts, the strongest in the world, and yet we fractured so easily upon any impact, even with each other.)
Love is the easiest thing in the world to break you. One slight tap and you're shattered.
When Terry had met Daniel the plan had been to destroy him. And maybe Terry had in a way? Maybe he had turned Daniel sick like himself, but the boy was still soft in a way Terry hadn't been in years. Daniel was innocent. It was beautiful, and Terry, while cradling it gently in his hands, at the same time fought back just barely from crushing it every day just to see how the boy would break. If he would do it as beautifully as he did everything else.
Daniel was nearly angelic against his dark red sheets. Red. It was fitting. It was one of Terry's favorite colors on the boy. His very namesake. There was a beautiful judiciousness to Daniel being wrapped in red. He was full of love, anger, and courage; at times too harsh against his tender, untouched skin. It could've been funny -- if Terry were the kind of person to believe in such things as signs -- that Daniel had been so accurately labeled. Daniel, the young man who Terry had swallowed whole. Small and bright, Terry held him in his palms, watching as his flame danced. And the boy, not knowing any better, not knowing how easily they could both burn, had let him. He could scorch the earth he walked on if he tried, that boy.
Hearing his name on Daniel's lips... it was something that shook Terry to the bones no matter how many times he heard it; hardened his teeth and strengthened his grip. This was his.
Terry ate the whimpers out of Daniel’s mouth as rocked his hips in slowly, enjoying the slow drag into the boy's tight ass, the way his hole would clench when Terry drew back, hungry. His heat branded Terry -- marked him forever -- and so it was all that he could do to place his own brand on the boy. To stake some claim on what was too precious to own. These noises were for him. This smooth skin and toothy grin. The taste of him.
Terry tightened the grip he had around the boy's waist and worked on continuing the slow, deep grind of his dick, deeper than anyone ever had been before. Daniel opened up all around him, his petals unfurling in the sun. He whined beautifully in Terry's mouth.
“Is it supposed to feel like this?”
like what? Drowning? Only if you do it right.
“What do you mean?”
Daniel didn't answer, instead, he bit into Terry's lip on a hurt-sounding mewl, his hips working aimlessly towards something he didn't yet understand. He didn’t know how much he loved it yet. It was Terry who would show him. Teach him all the ways his body could sing. The boy’s, tiny, sharp nails dug painfully into the meat of Terry’s shoulders, but that only served to make it all taste better in Terry's mouth.
“Is it always like this?” Daniel asks again, as if unbelieving that simple carnal pleasure could feel like this. Like burning. Like rebirth. Like electricity in your veins.
It will only be a matter of time before Terry teaches him how to use his hips. His throat. Soon enough Terry will fit like a perfectly crafted key into a lock. In every part of him. Everything about him.
“It will be with me.”
Terry takes the boy’s hand and kisses the back of his knuckles, crusted over with blood from hours earlier. And Terry had meant to clean those wounds, to lick them clean, but the night had different plans.
For Daniel, the adrenaline had gotten the best of him. For Terry, well, there was no pretending that he was ever a good man.
It could’ve been interpreted as an innocent, friendly gesture, the way Terry held Daniel’s hand in his own. And it almost was. But the way the boy fell limp against him, the way his mouth opened so easily as Terry jostled him, moved him without ever meaning to...
Terry could smell the excitement in the air, and he could see the way Daniel's pupils blew wide to take it all in, the dim room, and Terry in front of him.
It happened quickly and it didn't, the way they fell together. The way Terry took Daniel’s face in his hands and moved him. The way that Daniel took to it so well. The way Terry had bodily pressed Daniel against the mirrored walls of the dojo. The way that Daniel had let him.
Daniel would have questions in the morning, Terry knew, once the adrenaline and oxytocin wore off after a night's rest. Questions about his newfound wealth, his beaten-up car, the convenience of Terry’s appearance whenever Mike was around. Kreese.
And Daniel, Daniel would be mad, hurt, betrayed-- but Terry would make him see, would make him understand that this was obviously set in the stars; that if it weren’t for this they would’ve never met, and they so clearly fit together better than they should. Better than any common decency should allow.
Terry brought himself back to the present: to his bed, and to this innocent and trusting boy who was allowing himself to be defiled with not even a hint of argument. He truly was desperate for this. Confused and overwhelmed. All the while, Terry carefully, one by one, unflipped every switch in the boy’s head that could ever try to argue sense over passion.
Terry grabs Daniel's legs, wrapped tight around his waist as Terry took up every bit of him, his hands spread across The boy's slim thighs as they were placed bodily over the man's large shoulders. The boy's thighs were straining to fit around the stretch of Terry’s shoulders but Terry held them steady as he started pulling his hips back further, diving back in smoother and deeper. Daniel made gorgeous, choked-out sounds on every inward thrust as he fought to keep the air in his lungs, It was a beautifully hurt sound from a beautifully hurt boy.
Daniel's eyebrows wrinkled as if in pain or confusion as Terry jacked his dick in one of his huge hands.
"Oh, my god, oh my god-- what's happening?" Daniel gasped out. Terry could tell, he could see from the way Daniel held his body, the way his muscles spasmed and clenched, that the boy was close, but he didn't seem familiar with this feeling.
“You’re about to come on my cock Daniel, has no one ever got you off like this?" Terry asked, knowing damn well the answer. If Daniel had never come from his prostate before there was no way he would have let anyone inside of him, at least not anyone worthwhile. Not anyone who knew what they were doing. Not anyone who didn't just want to get their dick wet. And if they ever had gotten inside it was a damn shame.
"No." Daniel gasps.
"Not even yourself?" Terry asks.
Terry could see that Daniel is fighting against himself trying to find some sort of right answer. Terry hushes him with a kiss, licking the tiniest hint of copper into Daniel's mouth. Terry took one hand and held it to Daniel's face, nudging him to look Terry in the eye. Terry didn't envy Daniel, feeling all of this for the first time, how devastating and excellent it could be. The poor boy had been unprepared. He felt honor though, that it would be Terry who would teach Daniel to enlighten him.
"It's okay Daniel, I'll be here to teach you."