Legend of a Face God 10
Chapter 10- Morocco
You look in the mirror. The person staring back isn't you. He eats away from your soul and he forces you to cut yourself. He forces you to bleed. How could my face hurt me so? How could my body betray me? How could this thing that looked so much like me want to cause me so much harm.
That piece of shit face that he has. Israel. That animal in the mirror that carries my face. That devil that I can't stand. I'll make him pay. I'll make him pay one day.
"Please say something."
They are all here at that moment. I feel stuffy as fuck in this hospital room.
Laurence is sitting closest to my bed. Justine is next to him. God knows who fucking invited Lucky Cavalli to be here but he's sitting in a chair on the corner of the room. Valentine is at the foot of my bed. Tears are in his eyes. God knows if they are real. Who cares though? It's a little too late for him to feel bad for me.
Then Israel is there. Yes. My face. My body. My twin brother. He stands in the shadows of the room...where he has always been.
"Maybe we should all give him some space," Laurence suggests.
Yes Laurence. Space. That's what I needed.
"I'm scared for him," Valentine responds to Laurence, "He hasn't talked since he's woken up. He almost killed himself. He almost slit his fucking wrist."
"No shit. Because of you!" Laurence responds.
Laurence looks like he wants to hit Valentine. I don't know how Laurence found out about Valentine and Israel's affair. I assume he must have heard me in my drunkenness a couple hours earlier when I rolled into the house. He said he would be right back. I assumed it was because I told him I needed something to eat. And Laurence...being Laurence would give me whatever I needed. He ran out of the house. But little did he know that I really didn't need food. I needed not to be alone.
"Laurence don't start shit with me," Valentine argues, "Not fucking now."
"Boys...let's all calm down," Justine replies.
"No fuck that," Laurence responds, "I warned Morocco. Valentine is a fuckin' dog. All that shit about being truthful is a lie. I knew something was up. I should have noticed how you guys looked at one another. You fucked didn't you?"
The question of the hour.
Israel of course doesn't answer. He's too coy. He's too cool. I want to peel his fuckin' skin off. I want to take it right off his fucking pretty little face at that moment. He puts on a little sad looking face. Bullshit. Not a goddam thing sad about that boy. He's enjoying every moment of this.
Valentine is quick to answer spitting angrily at Laurence, "It's none of your business."
"It's his business," Laurence responds pointing at me.
"Guys please!" Justine pleads.
"And you aren't his mouthpiece!" Valentine screams at me, "If he wants to ask me what happened in detail between Israel and I...he'll open his mouth. He'll fucking say it."
"You're going to tell me what happened...or I'll beat it the fuck out of you."
Laurence is not joking. I'm watching him go at Valentine It takes both Lucky Cavalli and Justine to hold Laurence back from him. Only a second more and he would have swung at Valentine. He probably would have connected. There are veins popping out of Laurence's head. Interesting. It is all so fucking interesting that all the anger is at Valentine. Israel, as usual, slips through the cracks. He's sitting off on the sideline.
He says something. Finally. No one hears it. Not even me while I'm looking dead at him. He takes a few steps forward though after Laurence is pulled back. He steps in the middle of them.
"We had sex," Israel states.
There it is. The confession. At that moment I could drown myself. I could jump off a bridge. I could try again at cutting myself. I wanted to end this now...if only not to hear his stupid ass fucking voice again.
"It was good wasn't it?"
They don't expect me to talk. Hell. I didn't expect me to talk. All eyes in the room turn to me. This dramatic rise of the dead moment. Since they crowded in the room they'd all been looking at me like I was some sort of fucking lunatic. I had been on suicide watch for hours. Even now they wouldn't allow me to be left alone. They strapped me to the goddam beds.
Assholes.
I lean forward looking at Israel. My eyes connect with his.
"Excuse me?" He asks, as though he doesn't know what I'm talking about.
"The sex?" I tell Israel, "It was good wasn't it. Valentine long dicked you for hours didn't he? Did he eat you out first? Did he make you moan? How many times did he bust with you? Probably way more than he busts with me. Let's compare notes. The record with me is three times? Did you beat that record brother? Did he bust four times with you? How about 5. Probably more than you can remember huh?"
Israel is embarrassed. He takes a few steps away from Valentine who is looking at him as though he feels sorry that I'm speaking to Israel this way. He's walking away as if it would make any fucking difference what so ever now.
Valentine crosses his arms at that moment, "Listen, Morocco. He doesn't remember. It was more complicated than that when we had sex."
"How complicated. Did you put him in a pretzel like you did me the one time?" I ask.
"It doesn't matter," Valentine responds.
"Sure it does."
"Morocco!"
"TELL ME!" I say, "I swear to god tell me or I'll end it now. I don't care how many straps hold me down. I'll get out and I'll fucking end it."
They look at me with this sadness. Even Justine doesn't recognize the face I'm making now and she's probably seen me at my worse. Laurence is playing with the straps that are holding me down to the bed. He's massaging my wrists. Maybe he thinks it will calm me down. I don't know what the fuck he's trying to do. It doesn't work---whatever it is.
Valentine continues to shake his head, "I fucked him. And then he fucked me."
The shit hurts. A rip through my fucking heart. This was the man that I loved.
"Give me every fucking detail. Valentine. EVERYTHING!"
Valentine is reluctant but I won't give in.
He circles his eyes around the room one good time, probably hoping to catch sight of Israel to see if he's ok. He won't get anything from Israel is that is his intent. Israel is staring at the wall completely removed from this situation.
"It started when we left a ball. I had walked behind him. I'd pressed my crotch up to the back of his jeans. I felt the crease where his asshole began. I played with it. I told him I wanted to take him home tonight. I thought it was a game. He was drunk or so I thought. Looking back it was a little more than that. I assumed he was you. You know? It was the first time I met him. He didn't know I was yours. But I didn't know because he was so fucked up. Israel kept calling me baby. He kept looking into my eyes and there was this immediate familiarity as if he knew me his whole life. When I got him home I undressed him...with my teeth. Everytime I touched him...he moaned as though my touch was the most amazing thing he ever felt. When he was naked I stared at his body. My eyes were attracted to this innocence that I didn't understand. So I did it...I moved in..."
He stops, hesitating.
"Go on," I instruct Valentine.
"This is dumb," Laurence replies.
"I said go the FUCK ON!" I scream at the top of my lungs.
Valentine takes a deep breath, "I lick him. All over. I lick his nipples. I lick his abdomen. I lick the sides of his body. I suck his toes. I remember him breathing so heavy. It may have been the drugs but then I thought it was something different. I thought he was feeling me all over. So I continued. I pull his legs above his head so that they hit the bedpost. I eat him out."
"How does it taste? Don't stop now Valentine. Tell me how does it taste when you lick him?
"Raw...clean, but raw is the only way I can describe it. And then I insert my dick in him. And yes. I put him in the pretzel when I fuck him."
"How long?"
"40 minutes."
"Holy shit. Then what happens. What happens after you fuck him?"
"He asks to fuck me..."
"And you didn't know it was me then?" I ask him, "I'm a bottom."
"No I didn't know," he responds, "I thought you were trying something new. Israel was hard the entire time. So I obliged. I sat on his dick. I rode him."
"How'd it feel?"
"Good. I hadn't been since I was a teenager. It was new, raw, but it felt good."
"Did he nut?"
"Yes."
"In you?"
"Yes. In me. Twice. Any other fucking details you would like to know Morocco?"
Honest Valentine. He wouldn't lie to me. It was painful for him to tell the story but he was telling it. He was looking in my eyes right now challenging me to ask for even more details. I was aware that Valentine was prepared to give them to me. A part of me as even tempted to ask.
Instead though I smile, "That's fine."
"Fine."
"One more thing."
"Go ahead."
"Would you do it again?"
"If I could turn back the times I wouldn't have done that," Valentine explains, "I would have always been honest with you. He was scared to tell you and so was I. We figured since it was an accident it didn't matter. I wouldn't have done it what I did."
"I didn't ask that."
"I don't get your question then."
"If you could do it again. If you could fuck him again. Not back then...but tomorrow or the day after tomorrow. Would you do it?"
"Not if we were together."
"Suppose we weren't together. Suppose I broke up with you."
"He probably wouldn't want to do it."
He's beating around the bush. Honest Valentine is avoiding the fucking question.
"I'm ASKING WOULD YOU FUCKING DO IT AGAIN VALENTINE! ANSWER THE FUCKING QUESTION!"
"Yes. Yes I would," Valentine responds.
"That is all," I say nodding, "You can all leave."
"I'm sorry," Valentine starts off.
"That is all," I reply, "You can all leave. All of you except Laurence."
There is silence and they leave. I'd probably get Laurence to leave too but then I knew I'd have to have some nurse strap me in a little tighter and my wrists would hurt more. If someone was there to watch me they gave me a little bit of slack.
Israel is the last one to leave. Our eyes connect. He looks like he wants to say something and every part of me dares him to with my eyes. He opens his mouth and then probably decides against it.
As soon as he leaves Laurence squeezes my hand.
"Please don't ever do that again," Laurence states.
"What?"
"Try to end it."
I roll my eyes, "No one gives a fuck. Did you see Valentine's face. The way he still tried to protect Israel. He's in love with him."
"So if Valentine doesn't give a fuck does that mean everyone doesn't?" Laurence asks.
He gives me a look as though hurt. A part of me wants to pay attention to this look but I can't. Because for a moment I look past Laurence and see the reflection of me in the glass window of the hospital room. And when I see the reflection of me...I see the reflection of him.
I sigh and shake my head, "I hate him."
"What? Who?" Laurence asks before shaking his head, "Morocco what are you talking about, g`dam it."
"Israel. Is that so awful to hate someone who has your face? I'd rip my face off just so I wouldn't look like him. I swear I would. You think that would work. Surgery? To look like someone else."
"You're beautiful. Just the way you are."
Laurence gives me that longing look.
"Come here..."
"What?"
"Come closer...unlatch me."
"You not going to---"
"I'm not going to kill myself Laurence. Unlatch me."
Laurence leans over and releases my latch. The doctors warn him against it but I know Laurence is going to listen to me before any fuckin' doctor.
"There you go," he whispers and attempts to return to his crouching position next to my bed.
"Where you going? I didn't tell you to leave."
"What?"
"Come closer."
He moves in a few inches, "What's wrong Morocco?"
"Closer," I tell him and when he gets close enough I whisper into his ear, "I want you to fuck me Laurence. Right here. Right on this bed."
Laurence's eyes get wide. He looks at me like I've completely lost it. Maybe he's right. Maybe I done turned the fucking corner. Hell maybe this was some sort of insanity level that I just reached before I was even aware of it.
"Morocco stop joking..."
I remove my robe. I'm already naked underneath. I turn on the bed...away from him. I am on my hands and knees. I'm sitting there...doggy style. My asshole is touted towards. I squeeze my ass muscles so that my asshole blows kisses towards Laurence. Tighten. Release. Tighten. Release.
I whisper a begging plea, "Fuck me."
"I'm not going to do that," Laurence responds at that moment turning away from me, "You've been through a lot. You're upset. You just tried to hurt yourself."
"You want to do it. You always have."
"What?"
"Tell me I'm lying," I dare him.
"Of course you're not lying," he explains, "That's all I want in life. That's what I want most in life. I don't want to just fuck you though, Morocco. I want to make love to you. I want to make you mine. All this time I've been against the Cavalli's. Why do you think so? Huh Morocco?"
"Because of the ballroom scene," I respond.
"Because of Valentine," he responds, "I figured if I could beat Valentine...just one time in sex siren you would see that I'm worth your time as well. You would see that Valentine isn't the only sexy dude in the world. I'm here too. I've been here. And I don't give a fuck about Israel. I'm not giving Israel loving eyes every fucking chance I get. I'm here for you. And I can make you happy, Morocco. I can protect your heart and you know why I know that? Because I'm your best friend. I'm your best friend and I can love you like no one else."
Laurence is beautiful at that moment. I have to admit. I get off my hands and knees and face him. I lay on my back. I stare in his face. His dark eyes. His copper tone. His strong muscles. He stares at me and I can tell he wants me something vicious. His body betrays him. His eyes are full of want and desire. I spread my legs. I put them over my head. Yes. This was the position that Valentine described.
I change my words and whisper softly, almost like Israel would, "Make love to me..."
There it is. It gets to him.
I watch Laurence take off his clothing. He stares at me. He doesn't stare at my asshole. He doesn't stare at my body. He stares into my eyes. He pulls his pants to his knees. He takes off his shirt and throws it on the ground beside my hospital bed.
Laurence climbs up on the bed. His nipples are full, succulent. His body strong and masculine. He gets to my asshole and begins to lick me. Soft...slow licking at that moment. I can feel his facial hair gently tickle my asshole.
"Oh shit..." I moan.
He grunts in reply. His goes deep with his tongue letting his mouth explore every part of me as he does it. He goes deeper and deeper. His tongue vibrates inside of me making me weak under his grasp.
I can barely take it as I lean my head back on the hospital bed.
"You like it?" he asks me slowly in the deepest tone he'd ever used before.
"Hell yeah. I had no idea...it was like---it was---it---FUCK!"
Each syllable is harder to pronounce as he squeezes my asscheeks around his face. My legs go up over my head even more. He slaps me hard on my ass causing my entire body to vibrate. He leans back and spits into my asshole and then bends down to lick it all up. He does it over and over. Slap. Spit. Lick. Slap. Spit. Lick.
My mind is tossed somewhere at that moment as I take him in.
"I don't have a condom," he tells me.
"Raw..."
He is confused, "Are you sure?"
"How do you feel about me?"
"I...love you. I guess I always have," he admits.
That's what I needed to hear.
"Raw," I instruct him, with more intention this time than before.
His dick is hard. Valentine has an uncut dick. I always assumed it was because of his Jamaican heritage. I'd seen it a few times especially in his see-through underwear he loved wearing around the house. He was never shy with his body. His uncut dick was never something to be shy about either. Even when he was completely hard his skin folds slightly over the head. It looks big, thick and the girth is amazing. When he aims for my dick...it slides into my ass...like smooth melted butter on warm toast.
I moan, not expecting him to go so deep on the very first attempt. He gets most of it in and the sensation makes him moan a heavy, "Fuck...damn I love you..."
I don't say it back but I can tell he means the words. I'd seen Valentine date before. He never said the words. All those boys he dated never got the dread "L bomb" as Valentine would call it. It means something to me that he's saying it but right now in this moment I don't care what it means. Right now in this moment I just want him to go deeper.
So look him in his eyes. I pull at the smalls of his back and I instruct him, "Deeper."
He listens.
The second, third and fourth strokes are long and deep. He fits it all into me. Slowly. He's not beating it up or being aggressive. No. He's being gentle but making sure that I feel every single inch...slowly. He wants these moments to last. It's clear by how he looks in my eyes. It's clearer when he puts my legs in pretzel against his abdomen and pulls me into him.
He kisses me as he strokes me. His wet dick slams into me purposely almost in rhythm with his tongue entering my mouth.
"You have no idea how long I've waited for this."
I smile, "Yes. Fuck me. Fuck me like Valentine fucked Israel."
Laurence stops. Mid-stroke.
"What?" he asks abruptly.
"What? What did I say?"
Laurence crawls off me angrily, pulling out so hard that I squirm in pain. He immediately starts to pull his pants on, disregarding that is dick is still dripping precum and harder than a rock. The only thing harder than Laurence's dick is his facial expression.
"This was a mistake," he tells me, "You want to think about Valentine while we making love? How about you go talk to Valentine. How about you go fix it with him? How about you go get him to fuck YOU with as much passion as he did your brother?"
I never saw Laurence this angry. I mean and that was saying a lot because Laurence was an emotional person. The way he storms out of the room like that makes me feel like I probably will never see him again.
And a part of me just breaks.
Fuck.
And I sit there. I'm sitting in the darkness thinking about what I should do. Should I go after him? Do I care enough to go after him?
I head out of the hospital room door. I see Laurence to my right. He's walking pretty slow. Maybe he expects me to go after him. Maybe he wants me to run him down, pull him into one of the room and tell him that it was never Valentine. He wants me to tell him that it was always him.
I decide to make the left instead.
I'm heading out the hospital. It's sort of a fucking maze. I just need to get out of here and truthfully I feel like someone is going to stop me in no time because I'm walking around with a goddam hospital gown on like crazy person. When I get to the end of the hallway I make another left and then another. I'm starting to panic and feeling like I will never get out of this fucking hell hole.
I walk up to a woman walking slow with a nurse. I think maybe I'm feeling lightheaded and seeing things when I see the woman's face. She's tall, darkskin and is using the nurse to guide her through the hallway. I think about stopping them for directions.
"Excuse me?"
The woman laughs.
Her face is something...distorted. Like something went horribly wrong with it. Her nose looks like it is damn near falling off. Her lips have become something swollen and disgusting looking. The texture of her skin is something like cement.
"Not my twin," she whispers.
Twin.
"You know me lady?"
"Look at me," she laughs, "You don't recognize me do you. Such a shame. Don't look at me like that. Like you feel sorry for me. I knew what I was doing. Botched they call it. I would have done anything for one more day in the spotlight. One more moment for them to chant my name. No me, Know me, know me well...I can hear it now."
Fuck.
Just then I realize it. The person who is looking at me is unrecognizable. It can't be her. What the FUCK did she try to do to her beautiful face What the fuck happened to her face.
I stare and realize this person with this face is the Legendary Naomi Balmain.
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