MEnAce (peterick)

8 - Brendon

Not being able to breathe sucks. Not being able to talk sucks. A lot of things suck. I wish I could say that Dallon is one of those things, but unfortunately for me, I don't think that's possible.

I don't know if my neck is actually broken, but it is restrained in a brace, and I'm temporarily paralysed from the neck down. I'll kill him.

Funny. He thinks he killed me. He didn't.

The first thing Dallon asks me when he arrives at my bedside is, "Can you talk? Nod for yes, shake for no." I can just about move my eyes. So I glare at him. Stupid boy. "Oh, right. Blink twice if you can talk."

I don't blink, just to spite him. "I can talk." But it hurts. God, it hurts. And I sound like some troll living under a bridge.

"You're not allowed to talk."

"You're really quite stupid."

If I weren't restricted to this bed, I would have Dallon laying here in my place, only it would be my body restraining his, and not an annoyingly broken neck. "You're lucky. I can't."

"Not really." His eyes are sad. He looks uncomfortable, legs crossed over one another tightly. "I want to."

I manage a playful grin. "Well, I'm afraid you're going to have to live without it for a little while."

Dallon whimpers. "I saw Pete and Patrick. Well, I didn't see them, but I heard them. I think they were..."

I raise an eyebrow, amused, because Dallon and I know he isn't allowed to swear. "Fucking?"

"Yes."

"And this matters how?"

"Well, I thought you wanted to know... what they're up to. So I thought maybe if I did a little bit of eavesdropping... If I told you, then you would reward me for telling you and-"

"Dallon, come here." Dallon shuts up and leans in toward me, swallowing hard. I have an ounce of strength in me to raise a hand, just high enough to reach out and touch his face. I smile into his ocean eyes. "It's okay, honey. You were a good boy for me. Since I can't do it for you, you can do it, if you really want to." His eyes light up as he returns to the seat next to my hospital bed, his hands already going to his pants.

I cancel out the immediate pleasurable moaning to marvel about the menace. What to do with him, I wonder.

I have decency enough to wait. For now, he's getting a good fuck out of Pete, but sooner or later, he'll fall into an abyss of broken hearts, and it will be the worst thing he ever does. It will be yet another name to add to his kill list. The name of whom breaks his heart.

"Brenny?"

"What is it, Dal?"

"Can I?" He pleads.

I frown. I'd forgotten he was there, touching himself, while I lie here and receive zero pleasure from it. Can't have that. "No. You can't."