Love Is Ǝvil

56 Come Take My Hand

Marshall stared at the closed door. The wooden panel was white, a stark contrast to the dark grey tiles on the floor. He sighed loudly and leaned his head back again. "Yeah, sure, happy New Year's." The ceiling was paneled with white wood, fancy but conceited. It laughed about him lying in his own cum, a classy move on his part, and about him celebrating the new year with his old failures, also a classy move. This all a snobby way to hold before him what a lowlife he was, disrespecting a marriage he cheered for and in their home no less. Such a classy move.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, willing these thoughts away. Of course it was obvious where this line of thinking would lead to and Marshall had no desire to cry again tonight. Once was more than enough. If he just focused on getting clean and on collecting enough strength to go back to his friends, he would be just fine.

His head felt heavy as he lifted it off the towel and with another sigh he just let it fall back again. He needed another minute. Rather than arguing with the ceiling again, he closed his eyes. Darkness was better than judgment. Oh, I can judge you on my own just fine, slut. How about: You turn your fucking boyfriend off so bad, he refused to fuck your face? That's pretty damming, fag. Fuck. Marshall groaned annoyed by himself. That was pretty damming, wasn't it. But, hadn't Nicolas said another time? Sure, he could've said this purely to stop Marshall from crying, but he didn't really seem like that type of person. Although, he was regularly too nice to Marshall, that was close enough.

He pressed the heels of his palms into his eye sockets. It was totally fair for Nicolas to not want a threesome with Ryan, that didn't need to have much to do with Marshall and his appeal. The two clearly, obviously didn't like each other - which was Marshall's fault, admittedly, but this didn't need to mean he turned his boyfriend off. Maybe it just meant his boyfriend didn't want to deal with the jealousy, to that Marshall could relate.

Or worse, his cheating was turning his boyfriend off. There was a difference between tolerating his failures and actively engaging with them. In all their talks about an open relationship Nicolas hadn't once said anything about joining Marshall's escapades. On the contrary, hadn't he even specifically said he didn't want to be a part of this? Why did he think inviting Nicolas would be a good idea? Because your mouth needed a dick. If Nicolas could have his wish, he'd want Marshall for himself. But the choices were either no Marshall or to share Marshall and for now, Nicolas had made his choice.

Nicolas wanted to be with him.

"Ugh", he growled to himself and lifted his head up, still felt heavy but he needed to move. He picked up the towel and wiped his stomach clean, but his arm moved sluggishly. What he really needed was sleep. Now able to roll his t-shirt down and to pull his briefs up, he started to feel a little more like a human again. Lying on a bathroom floor next to the toilet all naked and covered in cum wasn't really great humaning. It's what sluts do best. It's been a while, glad you're finding your form again. It's so much more fun this way. Unfortunately, this was much more fun.

Marshall sighed again, kneading the towel between his fingers. How did it come this far again? Hadn't he sworn off this lifestyle? If one could call this a life or a style, Marshall doubted both. The only thing this was, was shameful. That Ryan fucked him like this made everything worse, they should be friends and he should respect their marriage, but with somebody else it was equally as disgraceful. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!", he cursed out loud, voice hoarse. His fist hit down on his thighs, not with much strength and this made him more angry.

If he just hadn't come here ...

But he knew better. This wasn't the fault of tonight, but his alone. Even without anything to celebrate this could and would happen, because it already had happened a couple weeks ago, a few months ago, years ago. Always.