Tor's door a few minutes later it swung open and he went in to find Tor, naked and lying on his belly on the bed. Tor’s back had more bruises, though none as big as the one on his side. Jake rubbed arnica cream into the dark patches and told Tor to roll over.
"Let me take care of this big one, then you can get some sleep," he said.
Tor nodded his head and rolled over.
"Holy fuck."
The bruise went down past Tor's hipbone, around to the front of his groin and down the inside of his thigh, in assorted shades of purple and black. Jake felt ill. Standing out, amid the riot of dark colours was a scar, a thin white line from the tip of his hipbone, down on a diagonal following his pelvis. It looked like someone had tried to cut his cock off.
Tor didn't say anything, just studied the bruise with disinterest.
Jake put arnica cream on his fingers and started to smooth it into the discoloured tissue.
"I'm surprised you can walk."
"So'm I, now that I see it. Felt bad, but I didn't think it would look like this. Fucking jerk had cowboy boots on. Tried his best to get my balls."
Jake traced the scar with a fingertip. "And this?"
"One of those things I could tell you about." Tor said, his voice quiet.
Jake nodded and gently rubbed more cream into the bruise. When he was sure that all of the dark patches had been treated he put the top back on the tube and stripped, climbing onto the bed with Tor. He lay behind Tor, pulling the man to his chest, the way Tor had held him in the field.
For a long time they didn't speak, then Tor said, "Remember what you said about trying to live outside your skin? Well, I had a fucking death wish. I was runnin', anyplace I could get to, for about a year and a half. Was twenty-one, and just couldn't…well, I couldn't stay. So I took off for Texas, hit New Mexico for awhile, Arizona. Wound up in Mexico.
"I was in this pissy little town, hanging out in the only bar, doing nothing but sitting and drinking for about a week. Days I would be out in the sun, walking, or sitting or whatever. Just not…thinking. Nights I'd sit in the bar, drink beer and watch people."
Jake nodded and rubbed his hand absently over Tor's stomach.
Bareback
67
"Was a kid there, nice looking boy, about eighteen or so. He caught my eye one night and gave me the once over, cruising through the language barrier, you know? And I've got this 'fuck, whatever' attitude, so I just nod my head and follow him out."
Tor stopped talking and swallowed hard. Jake just stroked his stomach again, and kissed his shoulder.
"Went out behind the bar, real fucking romantic alley. He's going down on me, sucking me off nice and slow and then there's like six guys on us, screaming and hitting and fucking losing it on us. Kid got hit in the head and one guy picks him up and takes off.
Turns out it was his brother, and they were out for my blood. Saw the kid checking me out the day before and decided that I was the devil. Had a knife and fucking near killed me, trying to cut off my balls."
"Jesus Christ."
"Yeah. I was screaming bloody murder, literally, and bunch of people came out to see what was going on. They ran off and I fucking got the hell out of there as soon as I could stop the bleeding. Not sticking around in some Mexican backwater hospital. Went to my sister's place in Texas. Lived on penicillin for awhile, hoping the cut wouldn't get infected. Figured that my death wish was gone when I realized I didn't want to die like that. My mom—she just about killed me, anyway. Her heart’s not so good and she says I scared about four years out of her."
Jake kissed his shoulder again. "What were you running from?"
Tor sighed and shifted a bit, moving his hand to hold Jake's. "A ghost."
He raised Jake's hand to his mouth and kissed his fingers. "So when those jerk–offs went after us this afternoon, I couldn't just back away. Fucking hate gay bashers. Won't let it happen again."
Jake nodded. "Yeah. Can see that. Won't let it
"Let me take care of this big one, then you can get some sleep," he said.
Tor nodded his head and rolled over.
"Holy fuck."
The bruise went down past Tor's hipbone, around to the front of his groin and down the inside of his thigh, in assorted shades of purple and black. Jake felt ill. Standing out, amid the riot of dark colours was a scar, a thin white line from the tip of his hipbone, down on a diagonal following his pelvis. It looked like someone had tried to cut his cock off.
Tor didn't say anything, just studied the bruise with disinterest.
Jake put arnica cream on his fingers and started to smooth it into the discoloured tissue.
"I'm surprised you can walk."
"So'm I, now that I see it. Felt bad, but I didn't think it would look like this. Fucking jerk had cowboy boots on. Tried his best to get my balls."
Jake traced the scar with a fingertip. "And this?"
"One of those things I could tell you about." Tor said, his voice quiet.
Jake nodded and gently rubbed more cream into the bruise. When he was sure that all of the dark patches had been treated he put the top back on the tube and stripped, climbing onto the bed with Tor. He lay behind Tor, pulling the man to his chest, the way Tor had held him in the field.
For a long time they didn't speak, then Tor said, "Remember what you said about trying to live outside your skin? Well, I had a fucking death wish. I was runnin', anyplace I could get to, for about a year and a half. Was twenty-one, and just couldn't…well, I couldn't stay. So I took off for Texas, hit New Mexico for awhile, Arizona. Wound up in Mexico.
"I was in this pissy little town, hanging out in the only bar, doing nothing but sitting and drinking for about a week. Days I would be out in the sun, walking, or sitting or whatever. Just not…thinking. Nights I'd sit in the bar, drink beer and watch people."
Jake nodded and rubbed his hand absently over Tor's stomach.
Bareback
67
"Was a kid there, nice looking boy, about eighteen or so. He caught my eye one night and gave me the once over, cruising through the language barrier, you know? And I've got this 'fuck, whatever' attitude, so I just nod my head and follow him out."
Tor stopped talking and swallowed hard. Jake just stroked his stomach again, and kissed his shoulder.
"Went out behind the bar, real fucking romantic alley. He's going down on me, sucking me off nice and slow and then there's like six guys on us, screaming and hitting and fucking losing it on us. Kid got hit in the head and one guy picks him up and takes off.
Turns out it was his brother, and they were out for my blood. Saw the kid checking me out the day before and decided that I was the devil. Had a knife and fucking near killed me, trying to cut off my balls."
"Jesus Christ."
"Yeah. I was screaming bloody murder, literally, and bunch of people came out to see what was going on. They ran off and I fucking got the hell out of there as soon as I could stop the bleeding. Not sticking around in some Mexican backwater hospital. Went to my sister's place in Texas. Lived on penicillin for awhile, hoping the cut wouldn't get infected. Figured that my death wish was gone when I realized I didn't want to die like that. My mom—she just about killed me, anyway. Her heart’s not so good and she says I scared about four years out of her."
Jake kissed his shoulder again. "What were you running from?"
Tor sighed and shifted a bit, moving his hand to hold Jake's. "A ghost."
He raised Jake's hand to his mouth and kissed his fingers. "So when those jerk–offs went after us this afternoon, I couldn't just back away. Fucking hate gay bashers. Won't let it happen again."
Jake nodded. "Yeah. Can see that. Won't let it
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