Tongue to Heart by Hth You know, I've led a hell of a life. And I fucked myself pretty good once or twice, maybe more, without any help from anybody else, but I still think when it's all cut and shuffled that I've spent more time flat on my back, being jabbed by nurses and needles and fed through fucking tubes since I met Toby Beecher than all the rest of it combined. Maybe the stray bullet wasn't his fault, technically. But eventually you gotta do the math, and you gotta wonder: Is this gonna get me killed? Cause sometimes it seems like he's not gonna be happy until I'm six feet under for him - and I really wish I hadn't just thought that, because - well, not because I believe it. Just because that's some sick shit, and me and Toby, we're back on track now, less sick than either of us have been in years. Why try to twist it up in my head? Why not just lie here and think what I'm gonna do to him when I get outta here. Oh, man. Oh, fuckin yeah. He's probably worrying about me right now, probably making himself fucking woozy with it. I'll get a hero's fucking welcome when I get home - home, *Jesus,* only you, Keller, with a straight face - because everything's a movie-of-the-week on the 54" tv screen of Toby Beecher's phenomenal cosmic brain. Big violence, big anger, big tragedy, like how he's perfectly happy to spend a little time in Ad Seg if it means he gets to belt me one for calling him a bitch. What a little fucking thing, Toby. You know how I talk. I'll say anything. But no, you gotta go make a little song and dance number into the complete fucking works of Fred and Ginger. Damn, I love you like the big screen, too, man. Full-color, surround-sound, ten-time Academy Award winning. I'm smiling just thinking about you, how you always gotta hit me, how you always gotta bite up and down my thighs before you get on with sucking me off, how you get these moods still where everything's gotta rhyme. Shit, you're crazy. And I'm crazier, and I can feel my dry bottom lip cracking a little from the strain of this shit-eating grin, and I can taste a little blood on the tip of my tongue. Now there's a familiar taste, all flat salt and tang. Been choking on my own blood for two days now, filling my mouth with it like I was trying to spit out my insides. Which I might do, if I could. Just hack it all up and start over again, paint me a new Chris Keller on the inside. Use your cum and your spit, all white and clear and *light,* and I remember after me and Angel painted our old place yellow, how she sat back on her heels and looked up and around and said, "It opens everything up." Yeah, light and white, and you open me up, baby. I suck up the blood, though, and swallow it down. I'm not the dying type, Beecher, don't you worry your head about that. I'm not taking the long walk out of your life, like some people I could mention but never would, not to your face. I got fifty years or more left in me, cause I don't plan to leave Em City feet first. Tastes like blood, just the same way it always did, and they say you gotta eat a peck of dirt before you die, but in my case, I'm probably just gonna keep sucking down my own dirty blood. Salut, cheers. If this time is like the last time, I'll be tasting it in my food for months, long after I stop bleeding for real. Phantom taste, like they talk about phantom limbs after you lose one. Does blood taste like the rest of the stuff inside you? Like, if I bit into my own soggy beating heart, would it taste familiar, and would I go, What, blood *again*? And if I could stick my tongue into Toby's eye-socket, right on around behind that pretty eye, could I taste his crazy, nasty, dick-biting, nightmare-having, Chris-shanking thoughts? Would they taste smooth and sharp like blood? What kind of questions are those, anyway? Jesus, Keller, you've got too much time on your hands again. More post-Beecher life, all this time to think. Kiss him, you get the Hole. Throw yourself down for him, you get PC. Wake up and brush your fucking teeth in the morning, it's back to the hospital for you, you dumb son of a bitch. Nothing's easy with him, that's for damn sure. Even fucking him, that's all - we work for it, for every fucking inch. The way he holds me down until his arms start to shake, the way I get mine back by kissing him so hard that I'm eating out the back of his skull. The way we wrestle each other down, and how we play chicken with each other's voices, trying to make each other fuck us both over by screaming out loud. It's all fighting, all hard fucking work, and maybe that should depress me instead of making me horny and starving like a dog for him, but...fuck. Fuck, it feels so fine. Winning, feeling his unconditional surrender up close and personal, making Tobias Beecher my bitch one more time. Losing, being right there for him to pour all his needs and his headless, brainless, irrational love into me. Doesn't matter. I go both ways, I like it every time I get it, and it's different every time. And it's a wonder, I can't think how my lip could still be seeping blood when I got blood nowhere but in my dick. This is gonna be a long time, nice long time fucking around in my own head before they let me up, I can feel it. Fuckers. Kissing him. I'm gonna be thinking a lot about that, about how it feels to work him around mouth-to-mouth, eat his lips like pussy, open and shut, around and around, deeper every time he thinks we've gone down deep. I'm gonna have you riding against me from underneath, baby, thanking fuckin Allah you were too smart to let me go, and I'm gonna make you ask me for it, all sweet like I know you can, ask me if you can put your dick so deep in me that there's nothing to fight against anymore, just you, me, you, me, in the right place at the right time, doing it for each other. I'm gonna make you remember that I'm the one who's good for you, good to you backwards and forwards, the one you can give it up to. Your love. Your totally undeserved forgiveness. Just me. That's the only part of him II'm asking for all to myself,that *unconditional* thing. That should be mine, mine because it's him, me, him, me - *sure* as hell not him, Vern Schillinger. No fucking way I want him forgiving that asshole. That was my crazy leap. That was that place beyond smart, beyond sane, beyond every known and seen thing there is, that place he went to for me. Forgiving me, taking me in just because. That's all me, Beecher, you dumbshit. That's the you that's all fucking mine. Because if I could put my tongue halfway into you, right up into where the real you is - and is that your heart, Beech, or your amazing grey brain? I never can tell for sure - it would have to taste like my blood. You're soaking in it, like the old broad on tv used to say - how's the soap? You're soaking in it! You remember. You're drenched in my blood, I'm cooked in your screams, we're fucked together starting deep and all the way up. We were a long time coming, that's no joke, me and Toby, and we're beating together like one phantom heart that I keep tasting, long after the bleeding stopped. Hth hth1@c... http://members.tripod.com/HthW/albums.htm "We would like to ask you a question that is unrelated to either underwear or breasts." --Constable Fraser, *Due South* "What about the fact they thought we were gay?" "Adds mystery." --Wes & Angel *********************************** chickclick.com http://www.chickclick.com girl sites that don't fake it. http://www.chickmail.com sign up for your free email. http://www.chickshops.com boutique shopping from chickclick.com *********************************** Replies Author Date 6712 Re: Fic: Tongue to Heart D. Ademu-John Sun 7/30/2000 6740 Re: Fic: Tongue to Heart JennaStan@a... Mon 7/31/2000 Message 6704 of 13873 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] Message Index Msg # Reply | Forward | View Source | Unwrap Lines Copyright (c) 2001 Yahoo! Inc. All rights reserved. Privacy Policy - Terms of Service - Guidelines - Help