The sobs were delicious. The screams just punctuated each thrust. “That’s right, Jimmy, no one can hear you, let it all out. Let it alllll out.”
The body underneath him bucked and twisted, obviously trying to get away, but he just kept humping, shifting to dig the heels of his hands into the shoulder blades that popped out of the sweat soaked back he was riding. The screaming was becoming hoarse and shrill, the sobs nearly inaudible. Chris could still feel them, though, pulsing through the bony ribcage that heaved with each breath. He shifted again, putting all his weight on the one shoulder blade, and let the fingertips of the other hand walk up the stick thin arm chained to the bedpost. “Hungry, Jimmy?”
Rather than the contrite “yes sir” he hoped for, the sobbing wreck underneath turned his head to the side and looked up at him through wet lashes, blue eyes rimmed with red. “Airlock. Airlock airlock airlock air-”
Chris yanked the back of Jim’s head and shoved it into the pillow, hard as he could. He bore down with all his weight, the raging need in his dick momentarily forgotten. Jim’s thrashing became wilder, wild enough that he dislocated a shoulder trying to dislodge the hand in his hair. Chris moaned at the sight, and began to plow in to Jim’s ass again.
Choking sounds made Chris loosen his grip on Jim’s head, and it snapped up, butting into Chris’ chest. Jim retched and gasped and tried to suck in air before letting his head hit the pillow. He gave out a heaving sob before his body relaxed. Tears rolled over the bridge of his nose, drool ran out the corner of his mouth, leaving the pillow thoroughly soaked. Chris kept plowing into the suddenly docile body.
After a few minutes, Chris smacked Jim on his bad shoulder, hoping to get another rise out of him. Jim just lay there. “Jimmy?” Chris slowed his frantic fucking, rolling from one side to the other, to see if he could hit a sensitive spot. Nothing. “Jim?” Now Chris was still, checking for any sign, good or bad. No response. “Jim. Jim!” He leaned in close, unable to distinguish the beating of his own heart from a pulse that may or may not be thumping through the over-lean chest underneath. “Jim! Crystal!” Nothing.
Chris scrambled off Jim’s back and fell to the floor. Panic rose in his throat, bitter and slimy. He crawled around to the side of the bed to look at Jim’s face. His face was gaunt, cheeks sunken, eyes hollowed. Chris reached out to stroke the still plump lips, wondered when Jim had gotten so emaciated without his notice. He touched a chapped lip with his own rough fingertips before crawling under the bed to unhook the mechanism which kept Jim chained to the bed. The chains fell away with a clang, and Chris nearly banged his head on the underside of the bedframe to see if Jim had moved any.
He hadn’t. Chris got up on his knees and peered deep into Jim’s eyes. The tears had stopped. The drool had stopped. “Jim? Come on, crystal…”
“Chris…” Jim’s eyes slowly focused on one of Chris’, then the other. “Airlock. Dammit” –Jim choked a little- “dammit, break me.”
Chris closed his eyes and swallowed back a sob of his own. “No. Your shoulder-”
“Can be reset when I can’t green light. You got the green light, you fucking pussy. Air. Lock.”
Chris scrubbed at his face with the back of his hand before letting loose a feral growl. “Goddammit Jim, I’m gonna break you alright. And you’d better enjoy it, because I’m-” a mournful wail broke through the anger for just a moment, surprising Chris with its depth of emotion and its sudden escape from his own mouth. “I’m never doing this again.” He got to his feet shakily and ignored the way Jim’s spine snaked from the bottom of his head to the top of the bony protrusions above his ass. He hazarded a glance at Jim’s face, but instead of staring glassy eyed at a point just beyond Chris, Jim was turned around, looking at Chris with wide, sad eyes.
“Crystal,” Jim whispered.