In Heat Of The Moment

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic
Here is what years of suppressing your desires can bring you to at the end.

Submitted: February 08, 2013

A A A | A A A

Submitted: February 08, 2013





A/N: Yet another small part taken out from novel Vicarious. Maybe I should just upload the thing up huh? Anyway. Just because I had no original intentions of taking it to the point of no return I removed it as a oneshot. Alternative ending as you will. Here is what years of suppressing your desires can bring you to at the end. I will also upload another alternate to this, where the other man wins. Completely different. Hopefully it will be shortly (if inspiration favors me) so I'll add a path to it if possible. Links just don't appear for a weird reason.


Like you could feel it on your skin. It was all over the air! On the colors, on the shade of the lighting, on the weather and the violent howling in the wind, even down to the selection of the wine, soft piano on the stereo and the silence.


One hour where the world would stop turning so you and I, my greed and you, my sin, could only have each other into this silence that we've shared with so much generosity. I expect of you to keep drifting away from me forever. But I don't fear like I used to. In my need James, that is so strong, I'll hunt you for eternity. I will not lose you. I will not let you go away. I will not leave you be alone. And to the God into I wish I believed, I pray: I ask of him to tap your back. All that's needed is you to look back for once so that our eyes can meet once and become as one since. It's only one thing. But I ask it over and over. Can you tell me if God is nobody, or if that's you that just don't care. I'm growing older, Maynard...


That was his only mistake. The correctors believed it was made on purpose. Maynard is a name of beauty and handsomeness. They believed Henric just wanted to point a little more his lovers unique beauty. It was after all just a novel, right? Due to that, six years later his book was made into self biography. Six years later Maynard was into Henric's the true closure of Henric's last book.


The placing of the dinnerware was done for the two individuals that would be present in the room this windy night. Under the presence of a dining table (even a small one), restaurant decoration and candle lightning it gave the wonderful impression that it was a warp to another part of earth, not Henric's studio sized apartment. For sure Henric's money had not been to waste on that waiter. He manage to pull a job well done. Just stepping into the room he felt overwhelmed by the artistic side of him. And out of a sudden he understood, after three books with that guy as the main character, his twisted luck had bring him in flesh into his life. He was practically living in his own novel with no idea what was to come!


There was two wide windows just to his right shoulder. Those would never be open at other times. As he looked through it out to the pitch dark, yet romantic deep of night outside he wondered why did he never exploit this at the past. The Autumn leaves were swirling up high in a papery dust every time the wind blew hard. Everything was so magical today. It was like the first kiss. The first hug on bare skin. The first stroke onto the stomach. Smooth, memorable. It was wonderful.


Henric lead the treasure child gently by the hand to center of the room where a hired waiter was pouring generously the last amount of Henric's oldest wine bottle down the swan glass. Tucking one of his hands like a gentleman behind his back -waist height- and letting his left about the same height but on the front side to display the towel, their waiter took a low dive towards his 'masters' and quietly made his depart without prolonged exaggerations.


As he passed by the two men the air was suddenly smelling of a costly (though not necessarily praiseworthy) men perfume. “Ah,” was all Henric noted waving out his index finger high like an old story teller. That exclamation vowel would be the first and the last about that perfume's brand. Probably he wouldn't even know what it was if Maynard asked him. He just adored to see others look upon him with admiration.


“Let's sit” Henric offered the sit on the distant side for his guest, then walked in step with him until there. Mannerly, civilized, chortles initiate the beginning of their meal. The other man, Maynard, copied his laugh, actions as well as movement trying to avoid anything that might be considered wrong by the librarian. A voice echoed in his head: If you want to be noble, then copy everything they do...


Guy gets money to give you rules to kid games. What a shitty ass advice...


Maynard assessed the position he was into with a toneless expression on his face while he was joining on the table. Today. This was going to be Henric's day to live his dream. Should god ask him exactly that second what wish would he like of him to incarnate, it would be no other than this. Maynard Keenan, his 'son', sitting on the opposite curve of the table, waiting to carry out anything that might be thrown at him. That dream of his was so strong as to fill three books about it. 2481 small letter pages about a writer who was sexually obsessed with a hot-dog bender. Bender...the perverted fucking bastard. Such a pussy. However it was a hungry pussy, and he would not let go his only chance of this be lost without putting up a serious fight. He, on the other side, had to sit there and take in everything or goodbye free life and hello cage. Unless if he could...


Henric lifted his wine on the air. He held it there patiently until his move mirrors in Maynard's brain. Then Maynard hurried and did the same.


“I thank you Maynard” he smiled. Maynard nodded the inhuman way they taught him to and the toast began. “Maynard. Although I perfectly know how much you detest the flavor of alcoholic drinks, I would like you today to please accompany the food with this glass of rare wine made by the very hands of my father's grandfather, Henry. I also want to add that it's the only chance you will ever have a sip from this as you's the last bottle”.


I want coke. He was throwing his eyebrows up to show him how impressed he was in what he heard.


Henric carried on his prepared speech. “But, of course, it's not only because of that. I'd like my moment of you to be remembered for the best. I want to have the buzz of the finest wine and the taste of the greatest juice in my tongue whenever I think back to this day. I want to taste you over and over and over again each time I close my eyes. I savor this moment since I first saved you from the street...Do you remember that day my Maynard? And I will make sure nothing bad is going to take me even for a single moment from your beautiful face”.


Face or ass?


“...It's our moment my love. It's here” he didn't raise his glass for a gling yet but his voice was climbing higher and higher on the importance scale. “I guarantee you that, after this night, you will never turn down another glass of wine, never crave a woman in your life, and I will never be the one who has to ask for sex. But trust me on that,” he took an intentional pause, “you will love each and every one of those changes.” Finally they joined their glasses. “As I'll make certain you do” Henric added harder.


“Okay,” Maynard agreed plainly scratching behind his ear.


Clearly the waiter had been tipped to not disturb the whole scene until it's over, who came in balancing the big bell in his hand like a magician. “Would you like anything, specific, from me, sir?” he asked politely Henric. He was speaking royally with noticeable puffs between some words.


“No, thank you Lorenz”.


Lorenz did not ask Maynard for anything specific. As he backed away with the serving lid in his hands, Maynard noticed his ponytail tucked under his clothes to not ruin this perfect day. Fuck. He was serious. He was not going to let go anything -a-ny-thing- taint the critical moment of gay humping him. Damn you God!


“Maynard, are you not going to have a taste of your wine?”


Maynard looked off the table in thoughts. Lorenz turned around and placed himself straight and proud by the door wall with soldier discipline. “Sure,” he put his lips on the edge of the glass and barely tasted it with the tip of his tongue. “Ghm!” he grunted. But one firm stare from the fat man commanded him to say otherwise. “Not bad, not bad” he muttered. Yuckh!!!


Perfect day was rolling as planned by Henric. Of course he expected the other to hate the wine. It was one of the adorable little things that make him one of a kind.


“No water?”


“No water. Drink more of your wine, don't be scared of it. I want to see you do this because you love me so much”.


Invigoratingly he did and nearly brought it back up half way to the trip down his neck. “Jesus fuck it tastes like vomit and fruit juice”.


Henric had a difficult time keeping his erection under activity at the weak voice of his young fuck. Mainly because he wholly recognize it was nothing but a sweat mislead- like a type of self deference of sort- and Henric was not buying. It was a distraction to keep innocent people from seeing how nasty he really is, or in this case how vulnerable. He was a biting dog of course. But when he couldn't bite, that voice could move far more people than would be expected.


How ironic, the roles were reversed once again for the third time: now the knife user trembling the blackmailer. He would do so much to make him really be scared of him. And Maynard could not do a single thing to him if he wanted his distance from his dear police friends down at the center to be respected. Nothing. Henric couldn't wait to be over with this dinner. Only the thought alone about turning a mad man to a whimpering idiot like this drive him insane.


“Have you ever eaten Mardi Gras Jambalaya Maynard?”


“No. What is Mardiz tz...Mardin Gus Jambalya?”


“Mardi Gras Jambalaya” he corrected it. “It's duck, rice, peppers, tomatoes, spices and, uh...others. I used to make this for my wife and we would drink it with honeyed white wine. Great food for Riesling Maynard, great food. Basically we enjoyed more wine than this,” he admitted with a laugh. He sank his fork on the steaming pile in front of him while Maynard stayed there looking at his with evident revolt.


“Mm, yes, that's good food.” Henric rated the first bite. Lorenz didn't move a muscle on his face to show his happiness.


Maynard's mouth twitched with contend on that sentence. Following it by shrinking the left side of his face and baring his top teeth . He sit there and watched Henric mash the rice, chicken, vegetables and juices for the swallow. The fork moving up and down on the plate, the mouth breaking apart everything with an ugly sound, and Henric rolling his eyes during the whole time back on his head with utter pleasure. He didn't make a simple move to his meal.


We're opposites. In math, merge two opposites and one of them disappears. Put two zeros together and suddenly both of you never existed. I know I am forty and I know you are half of that. So no matter what is the gender of my number I shall remain in half after we merge and separate. From there what do I do?


Christophie loved to read to Maynard Henric's books when it was raining. She said they reminded her of her dead father, even though  they were made about romance. She had no clue James the bender was sitting beside her while she turned at the pages. Not like anything was real. It was a book full of aimless love talk. And Christophie swear this must be the last man of his kind left in the world. But Maynard was listening to the cries of someone who was living only to someday be able to hold him in his arms...and was brainstorming about ways he could make easy bucks off! 


Watching the very face his 'sister' adored in letter, eating like the pig so he can have strength for raping him filled him with hate. When Christophie died she asked of him to bury her with that book (a picture of father, Maynard and Ken the Freddy Mercury look-alike). Although his sense for justice was, lets say, never there...this time he wanted to carve the fat bastard alive. Christophie was his own person. Maybe the only one who wanted him for family no matter if he ignored her until the end. That was a decent way to show your dedication. Not running behind gutless into the eternity.


Finally Henric stopped eating and hit his forks on the table tired with Maynard's rude manners. “You're irritating the hell out of me, you know that? Stop staring like a creep and eat.” He scooped a small mountain of rice on his fork with a frown and brought it to his mouth. Maynard leaned down to follow the movement closely with that objective observation. “Listen to me worm eater,” he hissed “I told you to stop this. There is nothing wrong with this food. You are going to eat this and you are going to enjoy it. Am I being clear?”


The two eyes only moved further back from him, and snapped down to his mouth to observe the movement of the lips as he talked, but other than this nothing changed on his expression. Maynard was looking at him with disgusted shock the same way a golden girl would look to a smelly geek. “I believe I am talking to you, you deaf.” Their eyes met. None response of any variety met the end of his though.


Oh, not this infuriating empty stare now. Shit! Any other day but not today. “Damn it Maynard you're not going to unmake my perfect moment with your stupid self again- I won't allow this. Speak now or dinner is over and I am not going to be gentle with you”.


I have learned acceptance -a terrible thing- in order to continue having you. Let me describe it to you. It's like being both the betrayed and the betrayer.


Quotes of the damn book were booming in Maynard's brain like Christophie was there playing a symphony for him and it echoed through the vast corridors of curiosity. Never before would he remember quotes from that thing. But today was so different. Was it the incoming rape- was he subconsciously afraid of a simple rape? It felt like a warning.


“Christ, you really do have no ounce of mercy, do you? I gave you my life. At least you can do it be loving for a night”.


That caused a movement on the other man. He moved his fork to the duck but his mind was swimming so deep into the abyss that he could not concentrate on this. From staring at Henric he went to staring to the full plate.


Silence was definitely not a comforting clue. Usually it would bring awful bursts. Somehow Henric had to break it off. “Do it retard! Stupid mental maggot! Talk! Talk or I'll break you!” he started yelling. Another wait for silence. He was ogling at him like trying to understand what was he saying. Or maybe he forgot it all and was trying to figure out who was that guy. Like a dumb foreigner. “Talk! Talk! Talk!” he started ordering out like a kid Henric. This was the only thing Henric knew could not prevent one hundred percent from happening- Maynard's crappy character- and he expected it to come at some point but why, why, did it have to happen before they even have the chance to enjoy the first plate?


“Pennicle” Maynard snickered. “Gonna stamp your snout flat into the plate mother fucking liar fagot. You better have fucking pray. Hm?” He stopped for a second laugh. “You don't want me to get you. I know. You don't want me to get you. But I will, I will get you because you are not getting up. You're running straight on to me. And I will torture you for all the day before you die. You know what else I can do to you? I can lock you in a room until you choke. I can cut you and heal you until you die from sadness. I can tell you that I will let you go but the last minute I will change my mind. Always. I can turn you upside down and wait all your blood to blow up your head. Then you will know. I will feed you rotten animals. I will stuff your ass in concrete like a turkey. I can do a lot of things”.


“And do you know what will happen to you if you try any of those little tricks on me?”


“Yeah. I save humanity from your cheese inspired fuck tales Chuck”.


“That's it. Last warning Maynard”.


“Go to hell liar”.


“OK. I warned you”.


“What- what are you going to do, beat me up?” he backed into his chair to avoid Henric's claw. “I will kill you. Has a lot of dick there in hell, you're gonna love it. One day I'll be untouchable. Fat pig! I'll hunt you and you will squeal. You are a liar”.


“Oh god...” Henric threw his hand up in surrender with all this.


Unable to stop the insanity from sprouting since it began he just rest his forehead on his palm and blew out a huge supply of air. Best he could do in this case was to let the freak spit out quickly whatever was in his head and then take it from where they left. Unfortunately there was nothing to do about that condition. It act like a bladder in his brain or whatever. Sooner or later it would burst and every remnant to whatever thoughts he had the day would come out of his mouth. He had learned about Maynard fairly lot these last days. He changed since his teens. He was insane, raw, psychotic, dangerous...he was, well, a nutjob. Henric's special and one of a kind nutjob. If only he could be someone else for just a day though. “Maynard?” It was awfully silent again.




“Today you do as I say. Do you still remember that sweetie?”


He didn't answer.


“You still remember that Maynard? Can you not pretend the deaf, please? It's hurting me”.


“Did you mean chicken?” he said perfectly relaxed- also perfectly off topic to Henric's question.


He sigh, which ended in a furious growl. “What!”


“Is this a duck?”


“Yes it's a duck. What the hell!” he outraged. “I was talking to you!”


Maynard just lower his eyes unmoved and started emptying his plate like a normal person. There he was treating him, a poor nobody, like his king and he didn't even care to change a little to show him his appreciation. It was no lie then: This guy was a worst guest that the Devil himself would be. The streets had made him even more of a prick than he already was. Strange. Shouldn't naturally make more sense to plant him the habit of gratefulness to such a gesture rather indifference? Say from the custom to beg for food.


How little did Henric know or could imagine about that chapter of his life.


“Why? Its like chickens”.


“What do you mean why?” he asked hardly restraining himself from punching him now.


“Why did he make a duck?”


“Why not?”


“Because I told to you. He could have made chicken.” He pushed the meat of his plate to the end of his plate. “It looks like chicken leg”.


“Okay, I can't understand what are you thinking. May we please get on with the dinner now? I wanted to eat duck so I bought a duck and that's what it is”.


“Chickens are--”


“Eh!” he pushed his finger between front of his lips.


“They are-”


“Hush! Keep it to yourself. Okay? From now on you speak only about the topics I chose. So, now...I'd like you to remind me with detail the first day you had sex with me”. Henric lost his interest to eat any more duck. He held the glass like a gentleman and drank from it like a wino as he waited.


“I only fucked with you one time” Maynard recalled out loud as the drive in the past began. He stopped to  watch Henric's validating nod and wolfish grin and he continued colorlessly laying open his memories to his thirsty fan. “You said I had to do this if I wanted to not remain like a dwarf. I believed so I strip down. Then you fucked me dry.” he clenched his fists high and stretched back in the chair to a yawn. When he collected his face back Henric was looking at him in a strict expectation. “That's how I remember, OK? Get of my back” he snapped.


“Yes, but what was that? I said detail. That wasn't detail, that was a tittle”.


“But I was a kid! How the fuck am I supposed to know?”


“Maynard, let's get this straight one last time- I'm growing fed up of reminding you. Today you can't be your usual because that will cost you dearly for many months, alright? I know about every murder of yours. The priest, the teenager, the musician, the policeman...Give me one word answers and you'll pay. Use any more bad language and I will -you will, pay”


“You said fuck too before”


“Interrupt me...” he raised his voice. Maynard stopped. “Interrupt me once again and I'll hit you with a burning log. I am not even joking. It would be twice more easy for me to just throw you on the bed and fuck you -No, don't give me that face!- fuck your brains out. I'm serious. I don't care about you if you are being ungrateful. You are the only reason why I made this table and took a waiter and all that. I want this to be a good experience to you as is to me. Can you please cooperate? For once?”


“Come on, let's go fuck now”.


Even Lorenz jumped up a little. He looked at the odd creatures sitting at the table. “What...? What did you say?” Henric stuttered.


“I don't care,” he shrugged “let's do it now”.


“You want to skip the second plate and proceed to rape?” Nothing but clean wonder  accompany the rapist's words.


“Fuck the plate. The question is: Are you gonna? Can you? Chicken? I think you'll back out when it's time. You fuck way better in your book because you can't fuck in real life. You know shit about sex, fucking cunt”


“Oh do I?” he folder his arms. This was really starting to irritate him. “And why, if I may? Have you read my book?” he snorted, “You can't even write down your name”.


“Because...because look at this- look all this shit here. Duck,” he picked up the leg upside down on the air and showed it to him. “Expensive booze,” he put it down starting to point his hand to all the items on the table. “slaves, candles, costumes, I mean what the fuck! Are we talking about a rape or business lunch here? You know I don't give a shit about all this. You wanna just rape me then get on with it chickenshit. Why are we even sitting here?”


Every full stop, cut from Henric another significant slice of confidence. Believe it or not, he'd rather never leave his moments if that meant dying in it, right now. Imbecile, he could hear himself think. Cretin! Idiot, what have you went and gotten yourself into? And the young man's small mouth was jumping unstoppably in a river of threats, but Henric could not hear him anymore, not over the voice in his head. If he wasn't stopped soon he would attack him. It wasn't like Henric believed all this time, now he could see this inside these bold eyes. There was a target at the end. Maynard was going there just because he locked eyes on. Just because nothing but that target matter for him. Some brains have a very simple mechanism. Everything was dependent from whether or not he would make it in time. A greater purpose through all the pain and agony. One final reward for s simple task: Get on the spot and do what you must. Almost military isn't it?


Words were circling Henric's brain and threatening like predictors. He want's you to believe you have the upper hand. You're not getting what you want without retaliation. Maynard was right in this. While it's still time. While they're still full with fight. The quickest drawer shall walk out of the scene.


And like that, no more was it the best day of his life but a conflict of higher purposes. For him to bring his tale in life -to the end, and for Maynard...he would never know. A conflict though was bound to happen. One of them would gain what he needed.


Henric forced silence back on the table with his fist. For the first time he felt ready to defend himself. What's more, he wanted it. Adrenaline was a word much felt by his in novel character, yet today he was feeling it by first hand. Pure, rich, thick adrenaline. Unlike any sensation he ever known in his body. “You cannot stop me from getting what I want” he  alert him ahead of the fight.


Maynard was not given even the chance to talk back. Those would be the last words Henric said to him.


Henric toss his arm on his way, chaining the man's wrist onto the table instantly and with his other grabbed him from the elbow and yank him on his side over the food, wine, flowers, candles, duck, rice- all merged, fell and broke creating a massive noise but, somehow, the rustle of their silent struggle could still be heard over this. So much for the money and effort that was put into it.


Maynard felt the half of his arm pulling out of it's socket with that pull. Then a rip sound, like a wound was being stretched open, distracted his mind of his hand. Immediately lined a warm sensation were his left rib cage was. First he thought it was the wine. It didn't hurt. The table must have broken and the wine soaked in his clothes. But the wine started to ache, scorch, burn him alive and spread into his lungs and slowly into his back and he bite down hard. Just as he bite down a savage scream was heard over his head. Honestly, Maynard believed the ceiling had fallen over them.


Until he opened his eyes.


He was on his back on the table, not his belly. Henric's forehead was over his nose, their eyes in the same line. Henric leaked a tear into Maynard's mouth when Maynard opened for a breath. The second landed into his pleading eye. What was that? Did my eye pop? Oh? My breath. He's stealing my air. What the fuck is he! He's draining my air. His head began growing into this huge bloated thing that could not breath. And had no voice to plead anymore. So, stupidly enough, Maynard started arguing between him and himself -quite intensely too- whether Henric was a vampire or a a scanner.


”I love you fool, I love you!” Henric ranted in jumbled up barks. He was out of control and could not see it, that the confession made him strain down harder on his lovers neck. His arms were pulling and throwing his head savagely against the surface of the table. Blood and wine were splashing out of the table as that went on. Tears were being taken right on the face under him, the empty face. He was dying. “Why! Tell me why! I hate you! I love you so much! I can't live like this anymore! Go! Go away! Go away! Go away, your fault, go AWAY  from me!”


Maynard rolled his eyes to meet with the sweet suffocation. “Don't come back again! Go away!...” Henric kept raving. Tears, mucus, saliva, and sweat wet the going man under him but they were not his own. Finally, Henric yelled one last time and his loved one, his 'son', the reason of his life slipped away from him. He finally bend to his will, falling into a limp carcass. He was empty as a paper, finally, so Henric can live his dream on him any way he fancy.


Immune...Immune...Immune...Immune. Pay careful attention to this word. Immunity. Sanity. It's one of the few silent cancer types you'll get. Oh, James, without you I'd be completely immune. I'd be a living dead. I would walk for no reason. And I know this is impossible. In those cases either you self destruct or you simply shut down. Your story is over.


Henric looked at his doing with twinkling teary eyes, loosening his grip to a soft neck support. “No...Maynard?” he asked with uncertainty. A nervous laughter pushed his lips open. Hands began shaking the shoulder with panic and causing the head to wobble in the verse of falling to the side. “God, no, Maynard. God don't do this to me now. Maynard, I love you. Fuck, what have I done to you?” he circled to his side and gently but shakily pet both his cheeks with his fingers. “This can't be true.” he told himself. His eyes had lost any kind of sanity. There was only a manic trembling and every so and then a rapid shake of his head to toss away the tears which dare stand in the way of him and sweat little Maynard. He had to see him clear, every detail!  “I love you. No, Maynard, don't leave me. I apologize. I am sorry.” Maynard was not moving. “Come back! Now!” he shout on his bloody lungs. “Baby, poor baby” he whimpered bowing his head over his broken rib in sobs in mourning moans.


The police found them a day later with their foreheads knocked together. Maynard had a mild smile frozen on his lips, the smile of struggle. Henric was sitting on a chair behind him. And on top of Maynard's chest, in cellophane, there was lying the closure to both their life in detail. Lorenz confirmed everything later. Publishers said the turn of the events would make his novel very possibly a self biography of his life, since Maynard was of unknown past and since they were dead now they had no shame in twisting the story a little to a marriage for the sake of readers (said would sell more). However the head of the publishing  team, as well as all those present, agreed that this was Henric's best chapter than all three books combined. Then folded and threw it in a drawer which never opened again. The end.




© Copyright 2017 Neekas. All rights reserved.

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