Love Is Ǝvil

39 Hello Darkness, My Old Friend

There was a small buzzing in the room. An annoying buzz. He wanted to sleep for fuck's sake. Every bone in his body was heavy and sore and, just, so exhausted. Grumbling with a dry throat, he rolled onto his other side. Perhaps this would shut the buzzing out ... Naturally it didn't, only a throbbing, burning pain set in. Or it might have been there forever, who knew. Keeping his eyes shut in hope of sleep, he pulled himself to the edge of his bed and reached out for his nightstand. Marshall didn't know what he hoped to find there, but just something to shut this buzzing off and maybe the vibration from the bed, too. He needed to sleep. Wait, his bed could vibrate? His hand groped the air, but didn't find his night stand. More grumbling. Was it worth opening his eyes for? He could just give up and try to ignore the quiet buzz ... Marshall laid down into the satin sheets and took a deep breath as an invitation for sleep.

Nope. No sleep, only annoying buzzing. Was there a fly here somewhere? Defeated he dragged a hand over his face and slowly opened his eyes. Darkness. He blinked. Did he go blind? Had he finally found the critical mass of masturbation for this to happen? A quiet chuckle, too loud in the room. Marshall groaned. Again, he reached out for his nightstand and as his fingers found the wall, his first impulse was to sigh in relief he found anything. But he remembered, his bed didn't stand against a wall. Weird.

There! A wooden edge, a flat surface, the shape of a lamp. Marshall closed his eyes again and hid his face in the crook of his elbow, when he turned the light on. It still stung. Another groan.

He let himself fall onto his back and a sharp pain roared for a second. What did he do last night? But his thoughts were as heavy as his body. It would come eventually, no worries. Or maybe it wouldn't, but he probably wouldn't miss anything important. For a moment, he rubbed his hands over his face. If he wasn't going to sleep thanks to this annoying fly, at least he could wake up for good. Not sold on his own idea, he opened his eyes and stared against the ceiling. A singsong that it knew exactly what he had done and that he shouldn't be proud of it. Well, that wasn't much of a hint. What had he to be proud of?

He looked to his side, to the nightstand and frowned. The yellow light revealed a small, beige table on which it stood. That wasn't his. Now he registered the light blue of the sheets. Those weren't his either.

Had he fallen asleep in a motel again? An annoyed snort was all this was worth. Then, the buzzing probably was from some half-broken appliance, perhaps the air conditioning. Or the vibrating bed itself. There had to be a switch somewhere to turn this off. His eyes searched the table, but except for the lamp nothing was there.

The shadow of a plan formed in his mind: Take a piss, get dressed and then leave. In his own bed he might be able to sleep. At least nothing buzzed or vibrated there, least of which his bed. Who wanted that anyway? Fucking people.

Laborious and unnecessarily awkward he rolled himself out of the bed in pursuit of putting his thoughts into actions. But his legs trembled for a second and then collapsed under him. Marshall fell to his knees. A short cry left him as pain raced up his spine and something hard shoved itself deeper into him.

"Fuck!"

Feeling too stiff for contortions like this, he reached behind himself and grabbed the base of the goddamned vibrator stuck in his ass. With too much force and the resulting gasp of more pain, he yanked it out of himself and threw it to the ground. The toy happily buzzed on.

What. Did. He. Do? Wasn't he above this now? Waking up in some random bed, left-behind after fucking senseless, too fucked up to even stand. Hadn't he vowed to quit this shit? Apparently, he would never change.

Marshall leaned back and rested his head against the bed. Inhale deeply ... and exhale. The air was stale. It smelled like cold sweat, old sex and too much deodorant. Heaving himself up from the edge of the bed, he managed to stand on shaky legs and expected to fall down again any second. But hey, at least he stood for now. A moment he looked down on the bed and tried hard to remember how he had gotten here. He remembered a muscular body, dark skin, shitton of tattoos, the feeling of safety ... Ryan.