Page 29 of Ashes to Ash’s

By setting Ash up, by perpetuating his torture at the filthy whim of that bitch, I was as much a rapist as she was. By making that happen, I was as evil as she. And by killing her? I hadn’t redeemed myself. I’d just proved that the rot in my soul went so deep that there wasn’t enough of me left to save.

“Kill me,” I whispered as Ash approached me, crouching down beside the body I’d stolen life from. The fact that she deserved it didn’t make it right, or me a good guy. It was just more evil, perpetuated by my hand.

“Why would I do that, babe? You did the right thing. She deserved death. She deserved pain, and suffering. She deserved to be forced into something she couldn’t prevent. No, this was perfect.” He turned his head to smile at me, and it seemed like such a strange reaction in the literal face of death.

“I’m proud of you, Cal. You ended her evil, and you saved who knows how many more boys like us from going through that hell.”

“Kill me,” I begged him again, laying prone on the cold tiles and wishing he’d give me what I wanted, what I needed. Freedom from myself. An end to my evil acts.

“I don’t want you dead, babe. I want you to be mine, that’s all I’ve ever wanted. We… we don’t have to stay in here with her. You could be upstairs with me. You could be with me, Cal.”

Ash moved suddenly, and leaned over me, his chest pressing against mine as his lips hovered over my own.

“Babe, get out of your head, and kick your parents out of there too. You choose your path in life. You choose who you love, and you choose your future. They had no right to fuck with you like that, and try to control you. You’re a person. You can be who you want to be.”

“Kill me,” I hissed, lifting a hand to his hair, gripping it in my fist and tugging sharply. Ash let out a low groan, and his eyelids fluttered as he pulled against my grip. Why was he fighting my hold, but staying right here? He was supposed to move, and back off.

“KILL me,” I demanded, lifting the other hand to grip his throat, squeezing the fragile column as I pulled more harshly at his hair. “Fucking KILL me, Ash.”

He drew a ragged breath, and more of his weight landed on me, the length of his body crushing against mine in a way that didn’t necessarily repel me.

“Babe,” he whispered, and a surge of anger forced me to brutally tighten my grip on his throat, even though it dragged another low pleasured groan from his lips.

“FUCKING KILL ME!” I roared in his face, lunging up and rolling us until I straddled his hips and held him down, both hands now at his throat. The weird thing was that he didn’t fight me. He didn’t try to shift my grip, and he didn’t beg me to release him. A ripple of something rode through his body, and it rocked up against mine, as he groaned again, the sound tortured as it came from his constricted throat.

“What’s the matter with you? Ash, kill me.” His eyes had fluttered closed, but it wasn’t because I was choking him hard enough for him to pass out. He was fighting for breath, but he wasn’t fighting me. He was writhing beneath me, and his chest was heaving as he struggled for air, for any air to fill them. His hands though, they weren’t on my wrists, or trying to peel my fingers away, they were flat on the tiles at his sides. He didn’t want me to stop. He wanted me to do this. He wanted more. Did he want to die, or was this pleasurable for him? Was he enjoying it? Was it getting him off?

“More, babe…” he choked out, “hurt… me… more.”

Chapter Nineteen

Ash

It was even hotter than I’d expected, because he was so on the edge, he was ignoring everything except what he wanted, and what he wanted was to punish me, or to force me to punish him. Either way, I had a feeling I’d get off.

Was I close to spunking myself right now? Hell yeah, Cal was on top of me, and his hands were locked around my throat, his junk pressed against mine, and guess what… I wasn’t the only one sporting a boner right now. He was hard too. He was getting off on this, or on me, or both, and I wanted it. All I fucking wanted was him, and I needed to keep pushing him until it happened.

Did I care who took whose dick first? Did I care if he took me first? It didn’t matter. That first fuck would define us, it’d define who we were, it would make us what we should have always been. US. It was always about getting him to accept me, to want me, to love me. If it started with hatefucking or abuse, I was already on board with that. I’d take it, I’d take anything, just for him to be the one giving it to me.

I didn’t care that there was a cooling corpse beside us, or that there was blood soaking into both of our clothes from that bitch. I didn’t even care that he was demanding that I kill him. I wouldn’t. I would never kill him, but I’d do whatever it took to have him, and if this pushed him over that edge, then so be it.

“What’s wrong with you?” Cal hissed at me, leaning closer as his fingers dug into the soft skin of my throat. Breathing was becoming nearly impossible, but it didn’t scare me. It wasn’t terrifying like it probably should be. See, here’s the thing. I want Cal, and I’ll do anything to have him, but if he kills me? I couldn’t give a fuck about what came next, because I’d be gone. He wouldn’t get out of the house though, and whoever came to check on us would punish him for it. If he killed me, my family would probably torture him for months. He’d suffer hell before he ended up there with me. We gay boys go to hell, after all, as far as his god was concerned.

“Kiss… me,” I gasped, trying to lift my arms, to grab him and drag him closer. Lack of air was making me weak, and every second that I was able to grab even the tiniest amount of oxygen, I was taking it, because this was the hottest experience of my life, and I wanted it to last.

Hate’s just like love, right? It’s about deep emotion. It’s about strong feelings for another person. If he hated me, I could make him love me too. If he loved me, the chances were that he’d hate me at times too. Hate and love, they’re just the same thing, from opposing viewpoints. He could hate me and still be mine. He just had to try.

“Cal…” My arms were starting to tingle, and my dick was about ready to explode, and all I wanted was for him to do something to push me over that edge.

“Why couldn’t you just leave me in peace, Ash?” Cal glared down at me, blissfully unaware of the streak of blood along his cheekbone, which made him look like a sexy deadly warrior.

“Be… cause… I’m your… peace…”

His hands suddenly loosened, and air burned its way back into my lungs, as I began to choke on it, coughing and gasping. Cal sat back on my hips and watched me, his eyes taking in every detail of my suffering, his lips twitching briefly.

“You’re my peace? You’re a piece of shit, is what you are, Ash. You’re also a ballsy fucker, because I just murdered a woman, and you were pushing me to hurt you too. What if I’d killed you too?”

I sucked in a deeper breath, and felt it burn its way down into my lungs. Jesus, he did a number on me, but I was still hard, and I still wanted more.