MARIEL

17~ Wrong ~

When he departed in his fit of rage, Mariel hadn't brought his coat. He regretted it. By the time he stepped onto the bus, his bare arms had completely numbed. He could no longer feel his nose, lips, and ears. His breathing was still ragged from the emotion that he felt. Multiple emotions formed into nausea and swirled in his gut. Anger. Hurt. Regret. Shame.

He hadn't ever seen his dad act in such an aggressive manner, and it almost frightened him. Deep down, however, he understood a fragment of the reaction. What he had saved to that flash drive was something that he had never wanted his father to find. Obviously. However, he didn't think it would even be possible for the old man to find the downloads.

Mariel had prided himself in the fact that he hadn't watched pornography for quite some time. It was something that had always escalated to thoughts that he didn't want to think, but that he had under control. When he had returned from the dead, pornography had been the last thing on his mind. However, after experiencing sex with Esther for the first and second time, and enduring the sexually suggestive photos and messages from her, the desire returned. The need. He had attempted to ignore its beckoning. Unfortunately, the more he had kept himself unoccupied at home, the higher the temptation had grown.

Since Wednesday, he had eased himself into it. Soft porn. Just a small taste. One video. Two videos. Harder porn. Fuck, he hadn't meant to fall back into this, because it certainly wasn't God's will. However, God had been clear.

Commit the First Death. Kill Aleksey and receive the Kingdom of Heaven.

He'd repent later.

But, the fantasies had become more intense, and he began to envision taking Esther roughly, more rough than usual, invading her while she told him to slow down. To 'soften up'. In his fantasy, she'd want it, though, because wasn't that the point of the fantasy? He felt guilty. Sick. He didn't want to think of Esther in that way, because he knew she wouldn't like it. The pornography gave him the outlet, fulfilled the fantasy that he wanted but knew he would never have. It was like pain medication. Keep taking the pills. Make the thoughts go away.

He felt vile.

Nevertheless, as he shivered on the bus, he didn't care. He was too angry. He felt emotionally overwhelmed, and his body was desperate for a release. Mariel had been so close to his finish before Esther's brother had interrupted. Now, he felt uptight. Enraged. Desperate.

Earlier that night, the plan had been to eat dinner with Fr. Jerome, watch a movie, and then go to bed early. However, as his father had prepared their dinner (a new cashew chicken recipe that the priest had wanted to attempt), Mariel had received a message from Esther that he found impossible to ignore.

'The house is empty tonight. I'm alone. ;)'

Mariel's heart rate had increased, his mouth had become dry, and the thought of being with her had quickly began to affect his body. He had responded, saying, 'Is that a hint?'

Esther: 'Mhmm. I'm a little tipsy, and I really, really need you to come take care of me.' Then, Esther had texted a photo. Facing the mirror. Leaning over the bathroom counter. Hair spilling over one shoulder. Biting her lip. Clad in a bra that emphasized the cleavage he loved so much.

'I'll be there soon, beautiful.'

He had kissed his dad on the head and then, apologizing profusely, had bounded from the house.

Esther had met him at the door, pulling him in, closing the door and then pushing him against the wall. She had teased him with her hands, with her kisses, with her tongue, murmuring to him that she had missed him, that she needed him, and Mariel would have taken her at the doorway but she had pulled back. Told him that she wanted one more drink.