Bad Attraction | Chris Motionless x Michael Jackson

CHAPTER 6

He didn't forget the gym and then the cell on the next day, nor on all the days that followed. Putting every time, for every single task, as much enthusiasm as he could. Chris at least seemed satisfied, and hadn't mentioned anything like that again.

Soon, three weeks since that day had passed, and Michael was almost sure he was back in Chris' good graces, and on for his last two months to be spent peacefully. He had worked hard for it, had made a point to always show up a smile on his face and to never complain about anything, were it condoms -- on certain days -- many amount of times the guy insisted on cumming. But instead to be grateful, call him sir and even ask nicely, that one time, only to find himself nearly sobbing when he was denied, and denied, and denied. The humiliating words kept coming, but they bounced off him with amazing ease now.

Three weeks had passed, almost four since it all began, and Michael was exhausted.

His pretending mask was crumbling a little more every day, and he couldn't pick up the pieces quickly enough between two meetings, let alone put them back together.

His only relief was the actual sex, and how easy it was to focus on the physical part of it, the pleasurable part. Sure, the crashing down that inevitably followed was all the more painful, but for those sweet minutes, his body reactions took over and agreed with the pretending enthusiastic mask he was clinging on, and Michael could rest.

Even his boyfriend was more of a not a nuisance, because Alexi could never be a nuisance, but a bother, yes this he was.

Because, despite what he might pretend with all his gut and every fiber of his being, he didn't like being used like a personal cumdump, or any of the things Chris liked to call him. He didn't like it.

He loved his boyfriend, and missed him. His sweet, kind boyfriend who kissed his cheek. Who didn't throw him out as soon as he came, but instead wrapped his arms around him and stroked his hair. He missed him. That's what he wanted, what he yearned for and what he needed to hear, after so many insults, so many malicious words thrown at his face, every day, without any care.

Except the opportunity to speak with Alexi had turned rarer, as well, all because of Chris' inhuman sex drive. Or his inhuman wish to see Michael bend over, or on his knees, several times a day, with flushed cheeks and eyes brimming with an unsettling mix of humiliation and desire Michael preferred not to think about. Ever.

He'd then end his day on his own, muffling moans of pleasure in the crook of his palm, his mind going white after a series of images continuing what he had just left in the other's cell. And he wouldn't think about those either.

The phone booths were opened for him on Mondays, Thursdays and Fridays, and only for fifteen minutes -- the calls themselves not being allowed to exceed the five minutes mark -- in the very beginning of the afternoon. Around an hour after lunch ended. Straight at the time the other wanted his presence at the gym for his middle of the day blowjob.

And, on the few occasions that didn't take place, and Michael was free to call him, Alexi stayed mostly quiet, and getting a loving word was harder than pulling molar teeth out.

Michael knew his boyfriend must still feel guilty, but the decision was made. There was no need of Alexi feeling guilty anymore, or at least not in his presence, not when he wanted love, and not remorse. Now Michael was here, and he'd like to have his small, short moment with the man he loved be a moment where he felt all his worries, all his pains lift from his shoulders, not add to them.

But, more often than not, this was what happened, until Michael had found himself almost relieved when Chris would murmur for him to follow him to the gym, during lunch, on those days. At least sex allowed his mind to rest.