Delirium

.one

Drugs are a bet with your mind.

-Jim Morrison

"El...Elliot.."

"Come on baby boy, tell me what you want."

The eighteen-year-old gripped onto the blanket that was currently wrapped around his bare body, desperately trying not to expose the tremors that wanted to run through his body. He leaned forward, his breathing strained at the overwhelming need of what he knew Elliot would inevitably give him.

"Cyan," he had said again, his knowing voice washing over the said male. Cyan opened his mouth, knowing that he needed to voice out what he wanted before Elliot would give him anything.

"J-Just...one more. I need one more."

Elliot shook his head, grabbing Cyan and pushing him back onto the bed and pulling the blanket from around his body. "Just one more what?" Elliot asked. He was teasing now, knowing good and well what Cyan was asking for but keeping it at a distance.

"Elliot..." Cyan whined but nevertheless still turning his head to the side as his older boyfriend trailed kisses down his neck and leaving marks along his shoulders. A moan escaped his lips and his body pressing up into Elliot's.

"Tell me exactly what you want."

"D-don't make me beg." Cyan wrapped his arms around Elliot's body, digging his nails into his skin. "I hate begging." He muttered out breathlessly.

Elliot chuckled, pulling his lips away from Cyan's skin. Reaching over to the nightstand, he grabbed a filled syringe along with a black elastic band.

"Last one tonight. I don't need you going through another OD." Elliot said as he wrapped the band around Cyans arm. Cyan, still high off his arousal, sat up and allowed Elliot to take his arm.

"Last one..." He repeated, taking one end of the band and helping tighten it. Once he could feel the numbing feeling from the lack of blood flow, Cyan took the needle from Elliot.

"Not too fast," He warned and yet Cyan ignored him. Piercing the needle through an old mark, he allowed the substance to empty out in his body and rush through his veins.

"Fuck..." He whispered, leaning against the other's chest as the narcotic began to take effect. He was out of it within a matter of moments, the feeling that currently overwhelmed him being the only thing on his mind. He didn't notice the way that Elliot gripped onto his waist, pressing him up against the wooden headboard and marking him up with enough bruises to cover his entire neck and collarbone. He didn't even notice the sex or when he had passed out.

He didn't notice because none of that mattered while he was high.

Nothing mattered.

~

Aug 8th

I found this journal but I'm not going to bitch and whine about my feelings inside of it. The only reason that I'm doing this is that when I get old and can't remember anything, this will be with me and I'll be able to relive everything. Even the fucked up things because you're only young once right? Maybe I can laugh at all of my mistakes one day.

So this will be my first entry and I hope to God that Elliot never finds this. I can just hear his laughter and teasing. I love the son of a bitch even if he's insensitive at times. But...he did save me.