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//Death makes angels of us all
And gives us wings
Where we had shoulders
Smooth as raven's claws//
Jim Morrison
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Orlando knew André was a tragedy waiting to happen when he met him. He also knew he'd seldom felt such a need to know another person as he felt with André. There was little he liked about the manic-depressive German comic. Hell, he only knew him because they sort of passed the same girl from one to another. They had become friends. Orlando had seldom thought about more than that, at least for a while.
André was dangerous, a man who walked the edge, bravely peering over into the abyss and sometimes almost falling in himself, as his suicide attempts attested. He was funny, but underneath was a sadness, a despair that went bone deep.
Maybe Atti had liked Orlando simply because he was the opposite. Orlando liked danger, but only because he enjoyed the adrenaline rush. It made him feel more alive to sky dive or bungee jump. He sometimes thought being around Atti was like that. You never knew what Atti would do. His company was heady and exciting, almost like risking your life.
Then things changed. Atti kissed him. Not a screen kiss but a real kiss. Orlando hadn't expected it. He had known Atti was bi, but never really paid it much mind, because in reality, the older man seemed to mostly chase women who always left him, because he could be so draining and emotionally exhausting.
Things changed when Atti's latest girl broke up with him, and Orli sat with him. He later told some silly outrageous Atti tale about a lullaby. It wasn't like that. Not at all. He responded to his friend's plea to come over, to keep him company.
"OB, why do they hurt me? Why?"
Orli had no answer. He patted his friend awkwardly on the back, a pat that turned into a gentle caress as Atti seemed to calm at his touch. Orli grew up in a house of women, so he was used to tears. Or so he thought. When Atti began to cry, Orli didn't know what to do. He just kept rubbing tight shoulder muscles, until somehow André turned and was in his arms, crying on his shoulder, then kissing him, his tongue plunging deep into Orlando's mouth, his hands sliding over body parts he shouldn't touch.
Orlando pulled away, shaken. He didn't want this. He wanted his friend back, not this grasping, grabbing man in his arms.
"Please hold me," Atti begged and Orlando did. He held him until his arms went to sleep and his tailbone hurt from Atti's weight in his lap. He almost fell asleep, despite the discomfort. More crying awakened him. His t-shirt was wet with tears. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to move so he didn't hurt anymore.
"Atti, my ass is numb. You've gotta get up. Maybe you need to try and rest a bit. Why don't we get you to bed?"
Atti was docile as Orlando led him to the bedroom. He put Atti in the bed and covered him and turned to leave the room.
"Come hold me."
Orlando went to the bed and lay down beside Atti. He put his arms around him, tried to soothe him.
"OB? Will you do something for me?"
"What do you need, Atti?"
"Make her go away."
"How?"
"You take her place. You love me."
"I do love you. You're my best friend."
"I mean I want you to fuck me, OB."
Orlando was taken aback. He couldn't do this. He wasn't bi like André. Sure, he'd played around a bit when he was younger and curious, and before the girls would let him into their knickers. But he knew André didn't want to play. He wanted to be fucked, and knowing him, he wanted it hard and nasty.
The thing that bothered Orlando the most was that under his dread of what André was asking, he really DID want it. He wanted Atti. He wanted to be naked with him and to touch him and to take him and to listen to him scream. He wanted to make the hurt go away, make that haunted look go away, wanted, oh fuck, he wanted to love Atti, for Atti to love him.
"Atti?" he whispered. "I've never done it with a man before. I'm not sure what to do."
"Just fuck me, OB."
"But…"
"No buts. Just take my trousers off and fuck my ass."
Orlando understood Atti wanted to hurt, but he wasn't sure he was the one to hurt him. He just lay there, not saying anything. He couldn't seem to will himself to get up and leave, and he couldn't seem to do anything to Atti either. That was not a problem for the German. He slid his clothes off and snuggled up to Orlando, kissing his neck and his face. Orlando felt his erection pressed against his side. Atti's hands slid down over Orlando's cock, stroking it through his clothes until it was rock hard and Orlando was breathless.
"Please take me, OB."
Orlando wished he were somewhere else, wished he didn't WANT to do this as badly as he did. He unzipped his jeans and slid out of them. His cock was dripping a bit already. Atti lay on his belly, pillow under him.
"I don't have any lube. Where is…?"
"No. I want you to take me like you are. I want to hurt, OB. I need it."
Orlando felt like an animal as he forced his cock into André. The other man screamed in pain, actual physical pain and the pain of being left. He was so tight, but Orlando managed. He knew he was hurting Atti but once he was inside, he couldn't stop. He fucked him hard and fast, tears pouring down his face as Atti screamed, "Make me feel it, OB. Dammit, I want to hurt. OH GOD! FUCK ME!!!" And he did. For what seemed like hours, he did. Until he came hard, grinding and grunting into the other man's body. Atti wasn't done. He screamed for more, and Orlando kept at it until he was hard again, and until he came again, Atti coming too this time, moaning and writhing beneath him.
Orlando pulled out, appalled at what he had done, ashamed of himself. He was angry with his friend too, for making him do this. He lay back with his hand over his eyes. He wanted to go home. Instead he rolled over and pulled the sobbing man into his arms and kissed away his tears.
~End~
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