Dysphoria
Scissor-Pain and Phantom Limbs
Although the moment was short-lived, a tired smile touched Ozzy lips as the twenty-something-year-old huddled up to his smaller frame. His grin waned promptly after Adrian pulled away, abruptly rising from the mattress. He sat up not even a second later, watching cautiously as the man stormed over to the bathroom door. His eyebrows furrowed at the warning. What the hell was his problem? How dare he talk to him like a fucking dog, after all he had done for him last night.
The boy sat alone a little while longer, stupefied by his poor treatment before crawling off of the bed. Tangled in the mass of blankets, he found his shirt. He inspected each of the hickeys littering his bare chest and abdomen before pulling the band tee back on, over his head. In a matter of a few minutes, he was fully dressed and ready to leave.
Standing in the doorway with a scowl on his face, Osiris bitterly looked over his shoulder one last time, towards the bathroom. "Well, good fucking morning to you, too." He growled, loud enough to be heard through the wall. "Ah, and for the record, it's not as big as you think it is." With that, he stepped into the living room of the apartment, scanning the area for the exit. Half of him couldn't wait to leave this hell hole behind. The other half knew damn well that Adrian was quite possibly the best fuck he ever had.
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