Mr Perfect

I never believed in God.

I never found comfort in him. All I’d known for so long was the warm embrace of the blood. The all-encompassing feeling of thick, slick wetness all over my body all at once.

I’d made peace with the feeling. I found comfort in it. Once the fear and pain subsided, all I knew was peace. The blood was my haven. My garden of Eden. My refuge.

Yet the cavernous space in my soul that once was filled with hope no longer existed. The vacuum of the ocean and the acceptance of my eternal prison had taken it from me.

I never believed in God.

If He was real, why would he allow so much suffering? So much pain?

Though I had grown accustomed to the silence, it still deafened me. It was what filled the hole in my chest in place of my dreams of escape. To think I believed I had a chance…

How much time had passed, I couldn’t say. It could have been years, it could have been centuries. Time is nothing but a fleeting concept in the blood.

I never believed in God.

Why would I? There is no hope for me. I know that. Deep down, I knew it the moment I stepped into the ship. I knew it the moment the porthole was welded shut. I knew it the moment the ship snapped open.

I never believed in God. But I was starting to.

I don’t know how. I don’t know why. I could feel a new warmth seep into my flesh. One I hadn’t recognized. One that was so different from the safety and familiarity of the blood, it almost burned. Light danced around me, despite my blindness. Sparks of gold fill my conscious mind.

That’s when I feel them. Cold clamps surrounding my body, making me gasp. Blood fills my lungs and I feel the familiar, sticky liquid rush against my face as I’m dragged from the depths of my home.

Then it was darkness.

I couldn’t hear. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t breathe.

An Angel.

What else could he be?

I eventually came to. The first thing I noticed was the quiet. Quiet. Not silence. Dull sounds register in the distance, the first sounds I’ve heard since I was given to the blood.

The next thing I noticed was the feeling of air—cool and satisfying—filling my lungs with each mechanical inhale.

Then I noticed the sticky sensation that crawled over my skin and stuck like glue. I open my eyes, wincing as a white, sterile light blinds me. Blurry shapes and colors appear as I try to look around. After blinking a few times, my vision begins to clear.

Then I see it.

The blood.

The overwhelming redness of liquid that stained my skin, my clothes.

My heart races. I look around, trying to figure out where I was.

Am I in heaven?

It looks like I’m in a hospital. Or a lab. Somewhere clean and white and pristine. A faint voice sounds from the other side of the room. I force my weak muscles to sit myself up.

My vision is almost clear. Thank god it is. A man stands across from me.

An Angel.

He is what I pictured.

His hair was golden as the sun—something I suddenly yearned to see after eons of darkness. His features were kind and bright, filling the room with a kind of security I hadn’t ever felt before, not even in the asylum of the blood.

His voice rang in my ears, soft and bright. The first voice I’d heard in so long. Every word he spoke sounded like the feeling of sitting beneath a tree on a warm summer day. I felt drawn to him, as if an invisible string was gently tugging me towards him.

I reach out, my hand gripping his wrist. His warmth spread like wildfire under my skin. I could feel him tense. I stared up at him, his blue eyes piercing into my darker ones, filling me with a sort of wonder and hope.

He was talking. I could see his lips move—feel the vibrations of his voice. But I didn’t know what he was saying. My ears still rang, just enough to blend his words, but they were clear enough to hear the reassurance he was conveying.

I never believed in God.

I never believed in anything. There was no hope for me. At least, that’s what I thought.

But now he’s here. My Angel.

The void that once filled my chest filled a little bit more every moment I spent with him.

He took me to his planet. Grace. A fitting name. We spent much of our time on the synthetic beach an alien species had created for him. I watched the waves gently rise against the sand. It reminds me so much of the blood.

The blood.

I have nightmares often. They feel silly. I’m not in the blood anymore. But they always feel so real. I’m so afraid I’ll wake up and I’ll still be there, floating aimlessly in the blood as I was for so many years.

But he’s always there for me. He comes into my room and lays with me every night. I insisted he didn’t, feeling incredibly embarrassed, but I’ve grown to crave his warmth at night. I longed for the feeling of his arms around my torso, his fingers tracing gentle shapes on my skin. His embrace felt safe. Safer than the blood. Safer than anything I’d ever known.

We didn’t talk much. At least, I didn’t talk much. He loved to talk. He would tell me stories about the kids he once taught, about his family whom he hadn’t talked to since he was in college, about random adventures and experiences.

I loved hearing him talk. With every word my heart thudded a little harder, a warmth filling my stomach and chest. I stared at him often. He never noticed, or if he did he didn’t make it known. I have never felt the way I feel for him. Like I’ll die without him.

In a different circumstance I might even say I love him.

But for now, this is enough. I couldn’t ask for more, not when he’s already given me so much. But I can’t help but want it. I want it in the morning when he wakes up pressed against me, mumbling against my chest. I want it when I’m watching him teach the aliens. I want it when he’s cooking in the evening. I want it when I’m wrapped tightly against him in the middle of the night after a nightmare.

I’ve never wanted anything so badly. I feel almost guilty.

But then one night, everything changes. I wake up from a nightmare to Grace over me, gently petting my hair and whispering. I shakily reach out and cup his cheeks in my hands. My eyes are wet and blurry with tears as I look up at him.

Then without thinking, I pull him down, our lips crashing together. He doesn’t kiss me back at first and I feel a tidal wave of dread wash over me. I pull away and start to apologize, but then he’s kissing me again.

Our next movements are hasty and desperate, clothes being ripped off and sent to the floor. I’m on top of him now, kissing his perfectly sculpted body; worshipping it. I relish in the whimpers that fall from his lips as my hand gently strokes his length.

My Angel.

That’s what he is. Laid out like a painting beneath me, clawing at anything and everything to ground him as I slowly push into him. I lean down to nuzzle against his throat as I bottom out, his walls squeezing me tightly. He tells me to move and I obey, my hips snapping with a harsh grunt that I can’t control.

I observe him closely, watching his body writhe beneath me as I ruin him. I know he’s close. I am too. And when we both finally reach our peaks it’s like the heavens had opened up and took the both of us.

Bursts of light flickered behind my eyes as they rolled back in my head, The warmth spreading through me was new and exciting and everything that I had missed until now.

As we laid there afterwards, a tangle of limbs, I feel the void in my soul spill over. He was my missing piece.

Chapter 1

⋆☀︎｡September 14, 2015⋆☀︎｡

“This brings us to the next aspect of signal transduction which is…”

I can feel my brain drift in and out of the real world as I listen to the professor talk. Usually I’d be all in, but I just didn’t have it in me today. To say I’d been swamped would be an understatement. Not only did I choose to stack up a ridiculous amount of credits at the end of last year—in retrospect I should have been a little more humble—but I also picked up extra shifts at the lab. AND I made it a point to become a tutor. Why did I do this to myself?

“Anyone…? C’mon, people, we’re not moving on until someone answers. What are two key messengers in signal transduction?”

This snaps me out of it. I raise my hand and the professor looks a little bit annoyed that it’s me for the umpteenth time.

“Diacylglycerol and Cyclic AMP” I answer. A head in front of me—one I noted earlier, as I had never seen the messily arranged blackish curls before—turned and looked at me. I glanced down and my breath hitched. He looked my age, definitely not an older student coming back to college to finish a degree. His eyes were the deepest brown I had ever seen and there was something I was immediately drawn to.

My eyes quickly glanced away as my heart thumped out of my chest.

Oh dear God.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ᯓ★

My brain stutters for a minute as I take in the messy blonde hair and askew glasses. In the month I’d been in the class I’d never seen this guy. I’d definitely remember if I did.

His blue eyes met mine and for a second I swear everything stopped. And then he looked away. I stared shamelessly for another moment before Joe whacked my arm. I clutched my injury and glared at him.

“Quit starin’, Rock. You’re drooling,” he snickered. I rolled my eyes and went back to the notes I was definitely taking.

Once the professor wraps up the lecture, Cole and I leave. I try to catch another glimpse of the guy from earlier, but he was gone by the time I got up. Damn.

Cole rants about something, I don’t really care what about. I hum every so often to at least seem like I’m paying attention, but all I can think about is him. I don’t know what it was about him, but I’ve never been so stuck on a complete stranger before.

“What do you think?” Cole looks at me.

“Huh?” I blink, looking over at him finally. He huffs.

“The party, dude. Are you even listening?” He pouts.

Fuck. I forgot about the party. I hate parties. They’re always loud and messy and never end well. I groan. “Why are we throwing another party? We just threw one.”

“Because they’re fun. If you didn’t have a stick up your ass all the time you’d know that.” That makes me roll my eyes even harder.

“Well sorry I don’t appreciate cleaning up the house after it gets totally wrecked. And I never know anyone. And the people I do know are busy being idiots. What’s the point in being there if I don’t have anyone to…” I trail off as I spot a familiar blonde-haired man across the green.

That’s it.

“Cole, I’ll be right back.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ᯓ★

The second the lecture finishes I’m out of my seat. I had to get out of there. What is going on? I’ve never even thought about another guy like that. And of course I’d been with girls, and they were great and all, but the moment I looked at that guy…

I practically sprint out the door and speed walk to the field near my apartment. I spot my roommate in our usual spot and hastily sit down against our tree.

“What’s your rush, man?” Mark asks, glancing up from his notes.

“What? Nothing… nothing at all. I’m not in a rush,” I blabber. I can feel his judgmental stare on me as I avoid eye contact. Darn it. I let out a deep sigh. “I was in lecture, right,” Mark hums in acknowledgement, “and- and I raised my hand to answer a really simple question and as I spoke this guy turned around and I looked at him and my heart was like BAM! BAM! BAM!”

“Ooooh, Ryland’s got a crush,” Mark cooed at me with a smirk. I shot him a glare and groaned into my hands.

“No I don’t! I’m not- I’m not gay!” I say, though I’m not even sure I convinced myself with that. I let out another sigh and lean my head against the tree behind me.

“I don’t care if you are. Who’s the guy anyway?”

“I don’t know his name. He’s about my height, big curly hair, glasses, brown eyes…” I can’t help but trail off, replaying the image of the stranger’s face in my mind.

“Sounds like a catch,” Mark says absently. I get the feeling he’s not that invested in my gay crisis. I shrug and snap back into reality. My eyes scan the area, trying to think about anything but the mystery man, when I see him.

“Oh god,” I mumble. I can feel my face heat up as the guy starts to walk over. Mark looks up at me and then the stranger headed our way. He smirks again and closes his notebook, ready to watch the impending disaster.

“Hey, there,” the guy walks up. I notice he’s wearing a shirt with Stanford Soccer on it. “You, uh, you’re in my lecture hall, right?” I nod. “I’m Rocky.”

“Ryland,” I manage. I know I must be staring, but my brain shut down a long time ago.

“Do you go out much? Phi Psi’s throwing a party tonight, if you wanted to drop by.”

I smile and shake my head. “I think I’m okay, that’s not really my-“

“He’ll go,” Mark interrupts. My head whips around to look at him.

“Great. Well, uh… see you there,” Rocky winks before walking back the direction he came.

Damn it.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ᯓ★

Chapter 2

⋆☀︎｡September 14, 2015⋆☀︎｡

I stare at my closet in distress. What was Mark thinking? I don’t party. I barely even drink, for crying out loud. I groan and flop onto my bed. This is ridiculous. I’ve spent the last hour tearing up my closet trying to find something that’s not a stupid graphic tee or a stuffy sweater.

What do I even say to him? What is there to talk to him about? I’m so screwed…

I check my watch.

Shit.

How is it already almost 8? I was supposed to leave half an hour ago! The house is a solid twenty minutes, even on my bike. In a rush I grab a plain white t-shirt and throw it on. It’ll have to do.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ᯓ★

I can feel the bass of whatever shitty club mix is on the speakers in my chest. I hate parties with a passion. If I could go back in time I never would have joined a frat.

There’s a girl sitting next to me on the couch. I don’t know her name. I don’t care. And I know she’s hitting on me. But I’m too focused on him. I can’t deny the hope I have that he’ll show up, even though the chances are slim. It’s already 8:30.

I excuse myself from whoever that girl is and head to the cooler near the front door. Just as I’m opening the lid, the door opens and he walks in. I swear to god my heart was out of my chest. He looked ethereal.

His hair was so perfectly messy and his glasses sat askew on the bridge of his slightly crooked nose. A light flush dusted his face and I could sense his hesitation.

“You came,” I blurt before I can think of a proper greeting. He looks at me and smiles awkwardly.

“Of course. Uh… sorry I’m late,” he stutters.

“That’s alright. You haven’t missed much. Can I get you a drink?” I offer, opening the cooler lid I had dropped while I was staring.

“Oh, uh… sure,” I hand him a beer and grab one for myself. I grab his arm—oh my god, does he work out?—and lead him out to the back. It’s quieter. As the door shuts behind him I take a seat on the steps of the porch. His body heat radiates next to me as he sits down.

“So…” I start. I didn’t know what to say, honestly. “What uh… what’s your major?” I mentally slap myself. What the hell kind of a question is that?

“Molecular biology,” he says, taking a sip of his beer. My heart skips another beat.

“That’s cool. Gotta say, aerospace engineering is waaaay harder.”

I slap myself again. I know that’s such a bullshit thing to say. And I know I sound like an asshole, but I can’t help it. I’ve been conditioned to believe it. But just when I’m about to apologize, he laughs. I’ve never heard something so sweet. I stare at him, starstruck.

“Nice one,” he chuckles. I smile and take a swig of beer.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ᯓ★

“Y’know…” Ryland slurs. He hasn’t even had three beers yet. “You’re pretty-hic-cute… y’know that?” My face is bright red. He’s looking at me like he’s been in the desert for days and he’s just found an oasis.

“Oh yeah?” I hum. He nods.

“I’m not even like, y’know…” he leans closer, like he’s telling a secret. “…gay… but like…” he eyes me again and I can feel the many shots I took earlier kicking in. In a moment of confidence I reach out and push his glasses up the bridge of his nose, leaning in a little bit.

“Why don’t we go inside?”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ᯓ★

Rocky and I sat out there and talked for who knows how long. It was wonderful.

I don’t know when we came inside. And I don’t know how we ended up on the couch, but we did. Even if I didn’t want to admit it, I was a lightweight.

But there we were. The beat of the music pounded in my ears as I raised another tequila shot to my mouth. Cheers erupted around me as I put the cup face down on the table.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ᯓ★

I press Ryland against my door. I don’t remember how we got here and I don’t care, either. All I can focus on is his mouth in mine and the feeling of his hands fumbling with my clothes.

The kiss is messy and hot and I can feel him everywhere all at once but it still isn’t enough. As his shaky hands miss the fly of my jeans I push him back into the room and shut the door.

I turn around and god. There he is, laid out on my bed, waiting for me, his eyes glazed over with want. I step between his knees and tilt his chin up to look at me.

“Please…” he mumbles, his hands running up my arms and torso, then down my hips.

“Please…”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ᯓ★

Light from the window blinded me, even though my eyes were still closed. My head felt like it was being put in a hydraulic press. I groan quietly and press my hand to my face. This is why I don’t drink.

I wrack my brain to try to remember but I can’t think over the sound of my heartbeat in my ears.

I have no memory of last night. I remember coming to the party and talking with-

I feel something move against my chest. I look down and there he is.

Soft curls rest against my chest and I can feel his breath warm against my skin. I can’t make out hard shapes—my glasses are who knows where—but I know it’s him. My heart stops as I take in the sight of him, dead asleep with his arms wrapped around me tightly.

Oh. My. God.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ᯓ★

Chapter 3

⋆☀︎｡September 15, 2015⋆☀︎｡

“Good morning…” I hear him mumble against my skin. If I wasn’t in the middle of freaking out I’d say it’s cute.

Rocky lifts his head a little bit and gives me a lazy smile. “How’d you sleep? Hope I didn’t tire you out too much,” I smile back at that. I glance away and run a hand through my hair, wincing at the knots I pull.

“I slept… fine,” I say. He rolls off of me and sits up against the headboard. I avoid looking at him as I realize the lack of clothes the both of us have on.

“What’s the matter, Ry?” Rocky hums, sliding two fingers under my chin and turning my head towards him. I already know my face is as red as a tomato.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ᯓ★

My cheeks burn as Rocky’s hands tug my shirt off of me. I couldn’t quite get his clothes all the way off, so they’re stuck half-off his body. His hands grip my hips and tug me closer on his lap. I can feel him under me and I can’t help but whine.

“Please, Rock…” he smirks a little at me.

“What do you need, Ry? Use your words,” he hums.

“Touch me… please- I just… I need something- anything…” I whine, trying again to get the buttons of his shirt undone. This time I’m successful.

“Good boy…”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ᯓ★

The shade of red that my face darkens about ten shades as I start to remember the night before.

Rocky is still staring at me, waiting for me to respond while I drool over my memories.

“Oh- uhm… nothing. I’m fine,” I try to play my nervousness off. I know it’s not working.

Rocky huffs. “Sure you are.”

We sat there for a while. Not saying anything, just… sitting. I can’t ignore the heat of his body next to mine, and the memories keep flooding back.

I can almost feel his hands on me: touching me… teasing me. I can hear his moans and his grunts—ones he tried so hard to hide—in my ear as he ruined me. I can smell the sweat and alcohol mixing between us as his mouth crashes into mine.

It’s all so overwhelming. I can feel my own body react and I try to will it away. I feel Rocky lay his head back down on my shoulder and it doesn’t help anything.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ᯓ★

“Rocky… yes… oh, god…” I can’t control the words that are coming out. I can’t even think. All I can focus on is the feeling of Rocky over me, his hands bruising my hips as he hits places I didn’t even know existed.

“Yeah…? You- fuck- you like that?” He grunts. I can only nod. He completely stops and I cry out. “Use your words or we’re done here.”

“Yes! Yes, I love it- oh my god don’t stop… oh, please, I’ll be good…” Rocky grins and continues thrusting, harder and deeper than before. I watch his head fall back as he gets completely lost.

“Fuck… you’re so good, Ry… so good for me…”

My eyes lock on his face. The beads of sweat dripping down his skin. His curls that I messed up—the ones sticking to his forehead. His lips, perfectly parted as quiet sounds slip from his throat. His eyes, glazed over as they watch me.

I throw my head back as he works me just right, leaning closer and folding me in half. I reach out for him, my hands finding purchase on whatever they can. They land on his back and he winces as my nails drag against his skin.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ᯓ★

Rocky leans over to grab his phone and I catch a glimpse at the red marks covering his muscular back and shoulders. My eyes widen as I take in the scratches, some deep enough to draw a little blood.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” I groan. I feel like I’m going to cry.

Rocky sits up and looks at me, confused. When he realizes, he smiles softly at me. “Hey, it’s okay. It was really hot, actually. It’s like a trophy,” he grins, reaching out and cupping my cheek in one of his warm hands. I feel a hot tear streak down my face despite my desperation to not let it go. He wipes it away.

“I’m sorry…” I mumble. He sighs and gently presses a kiss to my lips.

“Don’t apologize,” he hums. I smile back and fall into his arms. I press my face into his neck and breathe in the scent of him. All of the tension in my body leaves me as we lay there together.

I can’t help but think back to my thoughts from yesterday. I never thought of myself as gay. I liked girls. Or at least I thought I did. But this was the first time I’ve ever liked a guy, let alone slept with one.

But I’d be lying if I said it felt… right. Sex with girls was always fine. It got the job done and it felt good enough. But this… this was a whole new level.

“So… can I maybe… take you out?” Rocky’s hesitant voice cut through my thoughts. I could sense how nervous he was. “Or if you’re not into that, that’s fine. I get it, I just thought I’d shoot my-“

“Yes,” I cut off his rambling. I pick my head up and look at him. “I’d love to.” Rocky grins and I can see the gears turning in his head as he starts planning.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ᯓ★

I pull my shirt over my head. I had a class that started soon and Rocky had soccer. Despite how badly the both of us wanted to stay, we knew we couldn’t right now.

“Uh oh.”

“What is it?” I look over at Rocky, who’s staring at his phone.

“Um… come here,” he beckons me over. The bed sinks with my added weight as I sit next to him and watch the video he’s looking at.

One of the frat guys I vaguely remember from last night is downing Jell-O shots while people around him chant his name.

“What’s wrong with this?” The video starts over and I still don’t see anything wrong, apart from some college kid destroying his liver.

“Look behind him,” Rocky says. As I look past him, I see two blurry people making out on a couch. I squint and the video focuses a little bit better on the background.

What the fuck.

My face drops as I see Rocky and I. Making out on the couch. In front of who knows how many people.

“Welp… I hope people were drunk enough to not remember,” Rocky says hopefully. I groan and bury my hands in my hair.