Love Is Ǝvil

2 If I Ever End Up Escaping

He cursed under his breath as he put his clothes back on.

Now, he really was that gay ... Marshall sighed at this thought. He knew, that wasn't really how these things went down. It's not like having had sex like this made him gay. His therapist had explained to him, you just were. It was one of those things you were born with, just a part of you.

That didn't mean, he had to like it, though. And Marshall definitely didn't. Couldn't he have been normal in just one way? Was that too much to ask? Apparently. Nothing in his life ever went normal, why should this?

But still. He had a mental image of himself, of what he wanted to be like. He wasn't always great at making it real, but he tried. Of course the most important aspect of that image was being a father. Most of the time he thought he did a pretty good job at this. Not perfect and he had failed a lot over the years, but all in all it seemed fine. At least his daughters loved him, he was mostly sure about that. That was all that counted.

Also, the image included what kind of man he wanted to be. A tough question for everyone, of course. Some words always came up: strong, reliable, decisive - masculine. The last one was really tricky. What did that mean, masculine? Not you, that's for sure! Generally, so he was very sure, that did not include liking the touch of another man's penis. Much less getting fucked with that other man's penis. Somehow that didn't seem like a very manly thing to do, even though only men were involved. Wasn't that a funny thing?

Didn't exactly bring him into a laughing mood just now. He closed the motel room door and scurried quickly to his car. Not something his butt appreciated right now, that traitor.

While he put his seat belt on, he said to Big Eight: "Let's go."

His bodyguard started the motor and drove off the parking lot. Quietly the radio played some tunes. Nothing of interest and nothing Marshall cared to recognize. His mind was still very much in that motel room, in the arms of the man he didn't know the name of. In the app his nickname was Benriya, but that wasn't a real name. Maybe Benjamin? Somehow that guy didn't look like a Benjamin to him.

Why did he even care!

"Was long tonight", Big Eight said at a left turn.

Marshall shrugged. "So? Ain't like I need to care about school night or anything."

"True", Big Eight smiled slightly about the joke. He was not big on showing his emotions, something Marshall appreciated about him.

After some more silence and a couple more traffic lights, Big Eight spoke again: "Can I ask you a personal question?"

Marshall had spent the drive so far staring out the window. Trying hard not to think about the last couple hours. But he could taste the man's fingers on his tongue. Which obviously wasn't a thought he wanted to have in front of other people. If only it was his face that heated up ... You're such a horny little fag, it's disgusting, you know. Distraction welcome. "Hm? Sure? We're friends, that's personal already."

"Still, there are layers of personal."

"What's up? You're in some kind of trouble?"

Big Eight shook his head. "No, nothing like that." For a short moment, he looked over to Marshall. "Aren't you getting tired of nights like this?"

Marshall met the glance questioningly.

"I mean", Big Eight explained further, "I've been driving you to some motel room for a couple of years now. It's rare when I see a face twice. I know you have a lot on your plate and meeting new people ain't easy any way you slice it, but ... Most people want something stable, with real affection. Right?"

"Probably. How would I know what most people want?" He didn't look at himself as a special person, but his life wasn't exactly regular. There probably were a couple of things that most people and him wanted differently.

"The question is, do you?"

Of course he did! He was a human after all, of course he wanted company. Real company. That was part of the human condition and usually a good one. He liked coming home to a loving hug and an understanding smile, maybe a kiss or two. Just having somebody around that he really liked was a good feeling all on its own. Could you sound more domestic? You wanna be housewife or what? Plus, spending time with friends was fun and a healthy relationship offered a lot in this regard.

But as an answer to Big Eight's question he shrugged his shoulders. "Sure, why not? But that usually doesn't turn out well. I don't have much luck with relationships."

"Did you try recently? You seem to meet ... let's say different people now than you would've in the past. Maybe that'll make a difference."

Marshall shot a scrutinizing look at him. "I ain't meeting different people. It's all the same as it's always been." That was a lie, a big lie. Naturally he met different people than in the past, he was trying to be gay for crying out loud. Which you also suck at, just so you know. If he still was meeting women, then he wouldn't have much of a gay night out, would he? But he wasn't prepared to admit that yet or for anyone to know this. He should've seen it coming, that Big Eight figured it out. He drove him to these meet ups and his eyes worked fine, so it just had been a matter of time. Sometimes, Marshall felt really stupid.

"I see the people you meet and it's not exactly rocket science to figure out why you meet them."

"That's none of your business", Marshall snarled. Deliberately he turned to the window and watched the street lights pass by.

Big Eight looked him over, Marshall could feel his eyes moving across him. "You're right, it's not." A measured tone in his voice, calm and quiet, but firm. "Still, I think you should try. You're a caring person, as far as I know. It'll probably do you good to be in a relationship. Some people can be alone well, some people are better when they're with someone else."

Marshall grumbled. He knew that himself. And he also knew that he was one of the latter people. He liked having his friends around and he liked being in a relationship, at least as long as everything was fine. Having people around him made time more enjoyable and life seemed less hard. Being with people silenced some of the voices in his head, the thoughts he couldn't silence himself. Oh, you don't like me? Screw you! When he was all by himself for too long or worse shut himself off from everyone else, he just got depressed and miserable. He knew that!

"And", Big Eight continued, totally ignoring Marshall's grumbling, "If in the past you only had relationships with the wrong kind of people for you, well, how could've that worked out? Sometimes people don't match well and that has nothing to do with luck. But if you're trying some different people now, you probably should try this properly. Don't you think?"

"No, I don't", Marshall answered quickly. Too quick and wrong, too. His therapist would very much approve, if Marshall tried this properly. How else could you work on a problem seriously? And he had a problem, tons of them, but this was a big one. He knew that. He knew, he should try harder. Just having some quick fuck with someone's ass didn't do anything to solve his problems. He wasn't really trying to be gay here, because he really didn't want to be gay in the first place. Why would he try then?

Because you are.

Because denying himself made him unhappy, miserable, distraught, depressed ... There was a long list of words. Because he hated himself. That led to another long list of words: more depression of course, but also anger, anxiety, addiction and those were just the fun words with A. If he wanted to lead a better life, he needed to work through this. His therapist only saw one kind of success: accepting that he was gay.

Again, he didn't want to be fucking gay.

"No? So, you're not really trying to change then?"

"Of course I'm trying to change." He didn't like the person he had become over the years and he tried to change that. But still, that didn't mean he had to become gay. He could be a better person and still be straight. Other people could do that, so he could do it, too. Your delusions know no bounds. Except for the fact, he wasn't straight. This night cemented that deep into his brain. He could still hear his own voice, screaming lustful with every thrust into his body.

"Well?", Big Eight asked expectantly. "If you try to change, then why not do it properly?"

Marshall growled low. "Shut up."