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The sun rose and set the same on the day Robyn died, as it had the days, weeks and months before. But god forbid you call it a death as he physically lives on, even if mentally, psychologically, drained.
Robyn is not the same anymore, he does not look nor play the part, but don't you dare mention it for it is something he must forget.
It was early morning when he found terror; not once has he been an angel but it sure feels right to weight him as such for the purpose of storytelling. So, our angel Robyn could do nothing but fight back against the strong hands pressing him face-down into the skin-melting hot concrete of the alleyway on a path to school no one took. Except him and a certain face that disdain often displayed when looked in the eyes by our blondie.
The man forced his hips against Robyn and reached for his hair when he cried out. He jerks his head back by a handful and pratically spits on his face.
"Shut the fuck up." he gripped the strands of hair tightly and pulled harder. "You know you fucking like it when it hurts."
Robyn shivered and held a whimper with a bite of his tongue while his partner started moving again.
Our angel turned his head back, of his own will this time, and silently, in his mind, begged he could grab the other's attention and make space to reverse the roles. He wiggled, shook, against the ground and the palms holding him together, he put all his strength into his moves. Despite it never working before.
With one last push Robyn grasped for the agressor roughly, throwing himself onto that lap of his. He directed his hands down and rubbed at the hardness sitting between them.
"You talk alot of shit for a borderline rapist," Robyn groaned, stroking the other man through his ripped-up, tight jeans, and watching him twitch in his hands. "You get off on harassing me, huh?"
"Hah..." He laughed, eyes wide.
Robyn surged forward and kissed him with a bite to his lips. So entranced in possessing, he didn't register movement until he heard a click.
"Robyn," The man moaned, "Robyn, open your eyes, baby."
Plagued by confusion after the freakily sweet pet name, he followed his order and slowly blinked his eyes open, looking towards the other.
"Don't move," The man warned.
The once hot alley suddenly felt bellow freezing as Robyn noticed the pistol in the man's hands, pointing at his own head. Robyn's heart picked up speed, he went deaf with the sound of its thumping, barely hearing the next order.
"Say my name, say you want me."
"Jason," Robyn whispered, as if his voice alone would pull the trigger, "Jason, I want- I want you."
"Hah... ah..." he moaned, "Robyn, I want to leave you broken, I really- ah... need to."
Jason raised his free hand and hooked it around the back of Robyn's neeck, inching him closer as if to kiss him.
"Here we go, baby, let me see you, come on." Jason ground his hips up and sighed at the friction he's been waiting for. Then, he grabbed Robyn's waist, hand leaving his neck.
Robyn whimpered and unzipped his pants, taking a moment to to look at the tent in his boxers before taking his cock out, just holding it in his hand.
"Fuckin' touch it," Jason groaned, continuing to grind his hips against Robyn's ass. "Touch yourself for me."
"Okay, hah, fuck- okay." Robyn moved his hand rapidly, trying to replicate how Jason would do it. He winced at the feeling of his dry hand dragging at the skin, wishing he had spit on it before. Still, he didn't stop moving.
"Good, ah- so fucking good." Jason smiled, licking his lips. "Thank you, Robyn, thank you, thank you, ah- thank you..."
Robyn shut his eyes, throwing his head back as he feels himself nearing the edge. He focused on the pleasure and hoped the paranoia would leave him alone, at least just for this moment. Jason had always been somewhat deranged, violent, but neve done anything that brought permanent harm or distress to Robyn (the same can't be said about the others he has targeted but that is beside the point) surely he wouldn't now; is what Robyn told himself, even if a silly hope only uttered to disperse the intrusive thoughts.
Jason and him have had this sort of unusual relationship since they first spoke, it was all amounting to this anyway.
Robyn came all over his hand with a quiet grunt and slumped against Jason, making it easier for him to move against his ass, who quickly came as well.
"Thank you," he murmured, "Thank you, baby."
Robyn sat back and held Jason's face in his hands, softly running his thumb along his jawline. He almost laughed at the contrast of this sequence of moments; their dirty entanglement followed by a scenery so soft you could almost imagine it with a field of colourful flowers in the background, slightly swaying in the wind. However, he couldn't. He felt himself come back to reality the moment his adrenaline ran out and immediately remembered why everyone has always called him a crybaby.
Jason cackled at his state only stopping to lick away his tears. "Stop, it's done now," he said, "It's done- I mean, look." He grabbed Robyn's chin and guided him to look at the pistol. "Let's count down, okay?"
Robyn shoved Jason as hard as he could and ran to get the pistol but the other was faster than him. "You're so depraved that after one good taste of me you can't let go" Jason grinned, "Either leave or watch me die. Maybe you can play around with my blood. Better yet, I'll even let you have your way with my dead body."
Robyn dropped to his knees and gagged. "Fuck you," he croaked. He felt weak as if he had been left at the hands of fate, he could pass out at any moment.
"Hah... you can, actually," Jason replied casually, as if his death meant nothing except pleasure for Robyn, "Again, let's count down."
"Three,"
Robyn retched, nearly throwing up from the fear and despair. He jumped up on his stumbling feet and made way to Jason.
"Two,"
"One,"
Knocked out from the sound of the shot and the splatter of brains and blood all over his nice dress shirt as he reached Jason once again, Robyn went still. There was no sound anymore, no more laughter, moans or screams from the two boys, only the ringing in his ears could prove he hadn't left this world too. He lifted his tremblings hands and poked the wide-eyed body in front of him. Without life, it didn't look like Jason. Robyn aimed for the blood pooling around them, or more so just him now, and dipped a finger in the liquid, bringing it up for a taste.
When he got to school he couldn't bring himself to speak, he couldn't bring himselft to connect. As if he were floating through time he ignored the whispers about his stained (in more ways than one) clothes, and the yell of the teacher calling him into the office, and all the questions the police officer offered him which he could never process, and and and and and