Actions

Work Header

Psycho

Work Text:

"So one room... a double bed, or two singles...?" The motel receptionist asked.

Double bed? Roy thought, they were two guys, how were they gonna share a double bed? Was she saying they were faggots or something.

Where she had been pretty with her white teeth, perfect tan and long blonde hair, asking that made her instantly ugly to Roy.

He stared at her, face twisting with fury, wanted to smack her in her ugly face but he was used to ignoring the surging impulse to do violence by now, and kept his arms clamped to his sides instead, looking across to Bo who was mid way through answering, "Singles, thank you m'am,"  not even noticing her insult.

Not for the first time in his life, Roy felt nauseated and out of touch.

*

Their room was small and dingy. Dirt coloured curtains fixed across the window, blocking out the blaze of Californian sun. The bed covers were a deep red that didn't hide the stains and impregnated with a smell of dust which immediately stuck in the back of the throat when they got near and got worse when Bo jumped his butt on the bed.

The reception, with its plants and cleanliness, had bred expectations of better and they were both a little disappointed.

Real shitty.

Not the worst room either of them had slept in, heck Roy knew that his own room back home was far worse - his father had stopped cleaning years earlier - right about the time when he realised Roy's mom wasn't coming home again, but this was a definite contender for the worst room either of them had been in that had actually been paid for.

Roy stood by the bed Bo sat on and looked around, noting the patches of dried damp on the white ceilings, the dirt ground into the vinyl headboard.

"Wow, this place is gorgeous," Bo said, "Ya spose if we asked nicely they'd relocate us to the Presedential suite?"

"Bet this is their Presedential suite," Roy said.

Bo laughed, "Ah well Roy, ya get what you pay for and this was dirt cheap."

"I guess."

Roy took off his jacket. Steaming hot from all day driving in the sun and all the left over anger from the altercation at the gas station he decided on a shower and rifled through his bag for the threadbare towel he had taken from home.

"If you need the bathroom go now," he said to Bo.

Bo looked up to him blankly, brain apparently evaporated out of his head by the relentless heat of the day.

"Why?"

"Cos I wanna shower doofus, some of us like to be clean ya know."

"Hey I showered this morning," Bo protested. Roy didn't care.

"Well do you need the bathroom or don't ya?"

"Nah I'm good. Got a nickel for the tv?"

"In the bottom of my bag, where the candy is."

Bo had hidden the candy down there, right under all Roy's stuff, afraid they would be stopped and searched after what Roy had done to the gas station attendent

***

The plastic shower curtain wrapped transparent around an aqua blue, square cubicle. It was uncomfortably small for Roy who was tall and of robust frame but he like it.

The shower had always spoken pleasantly to him. A negligent teenage baby sitter had let him watch Psycho as a kid. It had made his heart beat hard enough with excitement that he had felt it for the first time.

Memory of that night swerved up hard through his thoughts again. It had been a real stormy night and his sitter had spent most of it out in the driveway with her boyfriend in his car making out, leaving Roy alone with the horror film.

It hadn't scared him, not even when the lady had got all slashed up in the shower.

It had just been exciting which had made him happy. He loved horror films. Scary, upsetting things.

Life was too boring otherwise.

Thinking back it had always seemed stupid or false to him that he'd not been scared but it worked like that often, that the things other found scary just excited him.

He slipped into the soft moisture of the spray, feeling it fur on his body and his face. Then his eyes closed and his thoughts were immediately on his babysitter. Even though he had been young when he saw her last he'd wanted to fuck her.

He felt familiar stirrings in the dick, which hung a good size, or so he believed, beneath him.

He let his mind go, it summoned a neck stretched back, a female face in the depths of pleasure. Then the expression on her face morphed into pain, sharp searing pain.

An aching flash of sexual arousal came to him then skipped out on him.

His body just snapped shut at thoughts of violence against the woman in his imagination, like it had been doused in something cold, or, as was more the case, something totally scalding.

He really needed to jerk it off so he obediantly thought of her normally again, in lingerie, panties, legs spread, beckoning, trying to draw it on but this time his body wasn't responding at all when he tugged himself.

He felt arousal, painful in his guts, but no matter what conventional fantasy he imagined he just wasn't getting hard enough to resolve it.

He sighed, despairing and instantly saw a face in his mind that he wanted. It was making an expression of ectasy and violation but as soon as he felt his eyes tightly close again in arousal, his body withdrew from his command, refusing to let him jerk off to it.

Frustration.

The minutes flew by in mental exploration. Then strangely, with his eyes closed, bedded down amongst his tense and taut grief, as the musles in his back seized silently and without cause at themselves, he felt his erection begin to grow again.

Eyes still fixed hard, closed, he gave it an exploratory fist.

He remembered a thought he'd had. He'd been watching Bo watch television once. Bo had pissed him off, only something small, nothing you could really get angry with your best friend over and as he watched him he seethed.

In his mind he'd smashed a fist in Bo's temple and while he reeled he'd dived on him and begun punching, feeling all the tense anger flow clean and clear out of his chest and his biceps and the other places where the muscles were cramped from the years of not hitting out when every pulse of his brain and body was demanding that he do so.

Somehow as he thought of this in the shower he began to feel the threat of arousal.

It was a fair fight, not just him battering into some woman who fought feebly, Bo would fight him back fiercely he imagined but in the end when it seemed like it would be either of them who triumphed, that Roy might find himself passing out under Bo's choking hands he'd gotten a punch in at Bo's face that knocked him out.

He pulverised Bo in his fantasy, in time with strokes he unconsciously applied to his shower wet dick.

"Roy you know if you fall asleep with your mouth open in there you'll drown..."

Bo's voice, outside, jolted into this fantasy.

Instantly at once the erection, so throbbing and ever present began to deflate.

He took a painful shot of air. Violent agony in his chest and stomach anxiety. Pain, burning horrible pain but it had settled down to a semi and no amount of tugging would rouse it again.

His orgasm thumbing his nose at him like some bratty kid who needed a punch. It all felt like agony.

He was angry. He was always angry.

He dried and came out, sat on the bed and fell asleep.

***
He woke up more furious, scowling at the pillow underneath his head as he rubbed spittle away from his mouth.

"Roy what's the matter?" Bo asked.

"Nothing.

Bo looked up at him with that annoying, superior, 'I know you' sort of look.

"I said nothin," Roy spat.

It was then that he became aware who he was snapping at and more to that point that he had his hand on Bo's chin hard, to the point where he had to be hurting him.

Here they found themselves.

Bo was shivering in fear but completely still, his reluctance to resist painted so vividly, as the light of the Sunshine state fell over his face.

Roy didn't know why Bo didn't shake him off, why he didn't just call him a fucker and push him.

But the fact that he didn't, that he still had control felt fulfilling and at once he knew he was hard but more than that, he wasn't just hard, he was close to coming. He could feel Bo's throat tight under his hands.

He could feel his fear as he finally questioned him.

"Roy?"

At this sight of his concern, his fear, his stupid helplessness, Roy came.

It was like a jolt of electricity through his body.

"What the fuck."

Fear and disgust in his voice warred with one another.

*

Roy woke to find his pants sticky.

Cold and wet even though the air around him was as humid as ever.

He'd come in his sleep, like he was some 12 year old whose Johnson was just working.

It was dark.

Bo was asleep on the bed next to his.

When he got in the shower later, towards the morning, his mind went straight to Bo.

How he would hurt him if he could and there, he put his hand right on his stiffening cock.