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Frank isn’t suicidal.
Really, he’s not. It’s not even like that. Sure, maybe he’s not the most mentally stable. Sure, maybe his psychiatrist, and his mother, and his former employer would disagree. Sure, maybe he’s sitting propped up against his closet door with one end of his studded leather belt strapped around his neck and the other end tied to the doorknob.
But it’s not like he wants to die.
It’s safe. He’s done it before, more times than he can count. Sure, before he lived on his own, and the situation was a little better. Before he lost his job, and he didn’t have to move in with his friend Mikey, and his friend Mikey’s weird older sibling. Before, he had a little more privacy. He could be a little louder. The doorknob at his old place was a little lower. Arguably, the variables were a lot better. And it didn’t look as bad, but good thing no one was around to see him, anyway.
He admits it looks bad. Sure, he did just lose his job. But they fired him on some bullshit. He was on time most of the time, and he was a decent employee, most of the time. He just lost it on a customer, just a little. It wasn’t even that bad. His old boss made it sound way worse than it was. He even watched the surveillance footage. Sure, he yelled, and called the guy an asshole. It wasn’t his fault. The guy had called him a slur. Faggot. Yeah. Whatever. All because the tax made the total a dollar and sixty cents more than the guy had expected to pay. So he deserved it, anyway. How hard is it to sit around and make copies of paperwork for assholes for minimum wage all day? He would be able to find something else, sooner than later. It’s fine. Really.
It’s not like he’s depressed, even. Horny, definitely. Lonely, sure. But it’s not like he wants to kill himself.
The belt tightens around his neck, just a little. Just enough.
His pants and underwear are around his ankles, and he’s stroking his cock. He only just started and he’s already so hard he can’t think straight. That’s the best part about this, the part where he doesn’t have to think. His mind is almost completely blank as he flicks his wrist, feeling his own palm rough against himself, fingers squeezing tight around the base of his length before moving back up to the tip, running his thumb over the slit, letting precum dribble over his fingers onto the carpet before stroking again.
He never even would have known that this is what did it for him if it wasn’t for that asshole in high school. Stupid jock douchebag thought it would be funny to pick a fight with him for no reason, or because he was gay, or whatever. He’s not even gay. He’s bisexual. Not like it matters, anyway. But he also hadn’t expected to get hard as a rock when Jock McFuckhead had him pinned to the ground with his hands around Frank’s throat, gripping him so hard he had started to see stars, his vision going blurry around the edges until someone standing around spectating had finally said “That’s enough dude, you’re gonna kill him.”
He had jerked off thinking about it for months, trying to figure out how he could recreate that feeling, until he finally read about it on the internet. There were all kinds of people doing it, whole forums dedicated to it. Autoerotic asphyxiation, it’s called. If you know what you’re doing, it’s safe. Enough.
He’s not suicidal. He doesn’t want to die. Even if it looks that way.
He lets himself sink a little further down, biting his bottom lip. The belt buckle at the nape of his neck catches a few of his hairs in the hardware, pulling his scalp tight. The leather around his throat creaks. He can feel the vein in his forehead pulsing in time with his cock in his hand.
Somewhere in the apartment, a door opens and shuts. His wrist stills for a single second, his thighs raising slightly to take the pressure off of his neck while he listens. Fuck. It has to be his friend’s sibling. Mikey wouldn’t be off of work for another couple hours, at least. Come to think of it, he doesn’t even know what Mikey’s sibling does for work. He doesn’t know anything about them at all. They’re almost like a shadow haunting the apartment, all black hair and black clothes and black eyeliner scurrying away to their room every time Frank comes into the kitchen. There’s something about them, still, that he can’t stop thinking about. He always did like an androgynous mythical creature. Monster fucking, it’s called, he thinks. Another kink. Whatever. He’s only human.
The apartment is quiet again, and Frank slumps back down into position, letting the belt take a little more liberty this time. It only hurts on his skin where the leather was wrapped up before, rubbed a little bit raw and surely red by now. He rubs his thumb over the thick vein that runs down the top of his cock, feeling the blood move under his touch, the tissue underneath completely swollen and engorged as he curls his hand back into a fist around himself.
Pleasure thrums through his entire body, hot and electric. His thighs shake, his balls contract, his groin tearing into a blinding white sunrise of nerves and muscles twitching. He sinks down a little further. More precum drips onto the carpet underneath him, a sticky string still connected to the tip of his cock. The leather cuts in under the soft line of his jaw. He realizes he can’t breathe at all.
It’s not like he wants to die, but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he died like this. Maybe he already died, and this is heaven.
His eyes start to roll back, his whole body vibrating. It’s all red and white behind his eyelids, shapes moving and contorting like a psychedelic trip, bolts of lightning flashing through his skull. He’s so close he can taste it, sharp and copper like blood in his mouth, the orgasm coming to a rolling boil in his core, his body going limp. Somewhere, far away, there’s a knock at his door.
“Frank? Are you in there?”
It’s right in his ears, but a million miles away from him at the same time. The red and white behind his eyes is turning oil slick black, speckled with stars, like he’s floating in space.
“Frank?” The voice again, his friends’ beautiful, terrifying, nonbinary cryptid of a sibling, whose name he can’t remember. He can’t remember if he locked the door. He can’t think at all. He isn’t there. He’s falling through pitch dark. The pleasure starts to twist sickly with terror. He’s not breathing. He can’t move.
Somewhere, a million miles away, the door creaks open. Somewhere, a million miles away, there’s shuffling and whispered curses in the room, and then he’s being ripped out of the darkness.
He comes back to, gasping and writhing on the floor as the belt is taken frantically from around his neck. His eyes are wide open, and the room is blindingly bright. He’s coughing, and coughing, and gagging, and it hurts, his whole body hurts and aches, it hurts so much that he wants to kill whoever just took him from that beautiful place he was in, but he can’t move, he’s stuck on the floor in this shitty apartment that’s not his, convulsing and crying out as his body begs for air. He looks around wildly, so dizzy he still can’t make anything out, until he sees them.
Mikey’s sibling, beautiful and terrifying, bent over him with their black hair disheveled and pale hands shaking violently, piercing green eyes shining and wide with horror. They’re saying something, but he can’t make it out. He blinks at them stupidly, feeling tears rolling down his cheeks. He realizes he’s laying on the floor in front of them with his pants around his knees and his dick in his hand.
“What the fuck are you doing?” they say, breathless themself, holding their hands above him like they’re scared to touch him. “Dude, I thought you were fucking dead!”
Frank takes a few more deep swathes of air into his lungs. “Didn’ know — you were here —“
“Thank fuck I was,” they say. “Are you okay? Can you breathe?”
Frank rolls onto his back, chest heaving. His shirt is hiked up, exposing his soft stomach, covered in tattoos, his cock pointing up towards his belly button. He shudders as he tries to breathe, his throat slowly giving him respite. He struggles to try to cover himself up. Mikey’s sibling seems frozen in time.
“Here,” they say suddenly, trying to help him pull his pants up and failing, cursing under their breath.
“Why,” Frank gasps, “the fuck — are you in here —“
They freeze again. “I, um. I didn’t think you were home.”
Frank feels himself slowly coming back into his own body, the pain in his extremities turning into numbness turning into tingling, as if he had slept in the wrong position on every limb. He finds the strength to pull his shirt down and pull his underwear up just enough to tuck his cock away. Their striking green eyes watch every move.
“Doesn’t answer my question,” Frank says, feeling like he can finally finish a sentence. He still can’t lift his head. “Why are you in here?”
They inhale shakily through their nose. “I was gonna take some of your weed,” they say softly. “I’m sorry.”
“Fuckin’ asshole,” Frank says as he closes his eyes. “Jesus. This is so fucking embarrassing.”
“Do you need to go to the hospital?” they ask. “I can call 911–“
“No, no, double fuck no,” Frank says, writhing again. “I’m fine. I just — give me a minute.”
The silence in the room is suddenly suffocating. All Frank can hear is the wheezing of his own breathing in his throat. He’s so mad and embarrassed and frustrated that he can’t think straight. He didn’t even get to cum.
“Do you want me to get you some water?” they say finally. Frank presses his fingers into his eye sockets until he sees stars.
“I don’t even know your name,” he says, ignoring their question. “You’ve never said a single fucking word to me.”
“Gerard,” they say. “You can call me Gee.”
“Perfect,” Frank spits. He finally finds it within himself to sit up. Gee stares at him, their thin lips pushed together softly into an unknowing pout, their face ghost white, like they just found him choking himself to death in their apartment or something. Whatever.
“Do you, um — is this like, a thing you normally do, or —“
“What, fucking die?” Frank scoffs. “Not usually, no. Try to avoid that part.”
“No, no,” Gee scrunches their eyes shut, and it would be cute and endearing if Frank wasn’t wishing he would sink through the fucking floor and disappear as they gesture wildly at him with one hand, “I mean, this, the — the asphyxiation. Is that your thing?”
“Sometimes, yeah,” Frank mutters. “Why?”
Gee shrugs. “Just curious. I didn’t know if it was your first time.”
Frank narrows his eyes at them. They’re still staring at him, but there’s no judgement in their expression. It’s a knowing look, understanding, as if they’re genuinely, simply curious.
“What are you—“
“I’m kind of in the kink scene,” they explain. “A little, nothing crazy. But, y’know, there’s places you can go where you can do stuff like this, safely, like, with people who are experienced—“
“I’m good,” Frank interrupts. He’s still sitting up, staring back at them. They’re so beautiful and so fucking terrifying, the ghost in the room. Maybe he did die. Maybe this is the grim fucking reaper. “I don’t need everybody to know I’m a fucking pervert. You’re one person too many.”
“It’s not necessarily a bad thing,” Gee says simply. They push a long lock of black hair behind one ear. “To be a pervert, I mean. There’s lots of us. It’s only bad once you start doing stuff that could get you hurt.”
“Us,” Frank says blankly. “Sure. So you know how to choke people out but in a safe way. Sounds great.”
And then, Gee nods. “Well, yeah.”
Frank’s mind goes blank again, but heat floods through his body, the tingling returning to his fingers and toes. His belt is still hanging from the doorknob behind him. His stomach twists nervously.
“Could you show me?”
Maybe he’s a little stupid. Maybe he just blew the last remaining brain cells left in his stupid fucking head while he was fighting for oxygen on the floor. Maybe he just doesn’t know when to shut the fuck up. But Gee sits back on their heels, their piercing green eyes widening only slightly, their throat bobbing as they swallow.
“I mean — you — like right now?”
“Yeah,” Frank says, voice hoarse but still feigning confidence. “Why not?”
“Well, for one, your throat’s fucked,” they say, cocking their head to get a better look at him. “It’s already purple. You’re gonna have a mark for a few weeks.”
“‘S alright,” Frank counters. “I like it when it hurts.”
Gee’s body twitches visibly, but they keep their composure. “Oh. Okay. Well—“
“Listen,” Frank interrupts again. “I’m sorry if I’m being an idiot. You just saved my life and — I’m just a little…” He trails off. Gee’s eyes rake up and down his body.
“I get it,” they say. “So, first thing, you have to decide on a safe word. In this case, you would have to figure out a way to tell me when it’s too much, since you probably won’t be able to talk. Usually a good indicator is something like this—“ They reach a slender, pale arm out to firmly tap his upper thigh twice with two fingers. Frank feels it viscerally like they just lit him on fire, and the feeling goes straight to his cock. “I’ll stop immediately. And don’t try to get too cocky with it. If you start changing colors or anything like that, I’m going to stop. Is that okay?”
Frank nods, and his neck hurts more than he thought it would.
“I’d want you to tie me up, too,” he finds himself saying. “I like feeling like I don’t have any control.”
Gee’s face goes somehow even more pale, and Frank thinks he’s said too much. But they nod slowly, and their eyes move over his body again. He feels like he’s under a spell. Maybe they’re not the grim reaper. Maybe they’re a goddamn succubus.
“Maybe we start slow,” they say softly. “One thing at a time, right? Is that okay?”
It’s weird how they keep asking him if it’s okay. Of course it’s okay. Anything from them right now would be okay. His dick is so hard he could hammer fucking nails. But he gets it. They’re asking for his permission, and they need him to confirm.
“Yes,” he says firmly. “That’s okay.”
They nod gently. “Okay, so, um.”
They stand, brushing their hands on their jeans before running both hands through their hair anxiously. They look around his room, still full of boxes from his move. His bed is a mess of unmade sheets and ratty, flat pillows. Frank follows their gaze as they look around.
“You want me on the bed?” he asks quietly. Gee jumps as if they had already forgotten he was even there. They’re nervous.
“Y-yeah,” they stutter. “Here.” They extend their hand to him to help him up. Frank gets to his feet unsteadily, still a little dizzy, and they wrap a gentle arm around his waist to help him. “I gotcha. Be careful.”
Frank takes two steps and collapses onto the bed, rolling onto his back and writhing out of his shirt. Gee’s breath hitches audibly as he starts to work at getting his jeans off.
“What?” he asks. He’s so horny, he’s stopped caring about anything else at all. “Is this too much?”
“No,” Gee whispers as he pushes his pants down to his ankles, pulling his feet out one by one so he can sit back on the bed, fully nude. His cock is standing up over his stomach again. It’s taking every last semblance of his self control not to touch himself. Gee’s mouth is hung open.
“Um, okay, wow,” they say breathlessly. “I wasn’t sure— okay. Do you, um—“ They blink hard, trying to find the word. “Condom?”
“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Frank shakes his head. “In my wallet, on the dresser right there.”
Gee nods silently and turns to get the condom. Frank props himself up on his forearms to watch them, the way they move, awkward and nervous, fumbling with his wallet until they find what they were looking for. They’re sweet, he thinks, this phantom stranger. He hasn’t had anyone treat him this kindly in a long time.
They turn back to him and start shedding their own clothes, fingers shaking. Their skin is pale all over, spectral white, almost transparent. Their chest is soft, nipples hard and rosy pink. There’s some bruises around their hipbones, Frank notes, light and yellowing as if they had been there for a while. As they pull their pants down to expose their own cock, Frank’s breath catches in his throat. They’re big, bigger than anyone else he’s ever been with, their cock swollen and hanging heavy between their legs, flushed dark and already red at the tip. The dark hair surrounding it trails up their stomach to their belly button, soft and alluring. Frank’s stomach twists with nerves again. He’s not sure if he’s going to be able to do this.
“We’ll go slow,” they say, reassuring, as if they can hear his thoughts. Frank realizes he’s staring.
“Oh, um,” his mouth is dry, “Yeah, okay. I just — wow.”
Usually he’s a lot more of a smooth talker than this.
He reaches over and grabs his lube out of his bedside table. It’s been a while since he had to use it at all.
Gee begins to climb over him as he rolls back towards them, spreading his legs for them. Their dark hair has fallen into their face, yesterday’s eyeliner still framing their eyes, their expression all shadowed and dark. Frank swallows hard as he lays back, exposing his neck to them.
Maybe not a succubus. Maybe a vampire. They’re something else. He’s still not entirely sure.
“For prep, are you okay with fingers?” Gee asks. More questions. Frank has never had anyone care this much. “Or do you have like, a dildo or anything—“
“No,” he says, so quietly he thinks maybe they can’t hear him. “No, just fingers, ‘s okay.” He hands them the lube.
He watches them again, the way they spread the lube carefully on their fingers, the way their hand dips between his thighs, the way their eyebrows crease together in the middle with concentration. He can feel the pad of their pointer finger rubbing against his hole, cautious, moving around in small, careful circles, before pushing inside. Frank’s body instantly lights up around it, his cock throbbing as a broken sigh leaves his mouth. Gee exhales a shaky breath.
“Okay,” they say, their finger moving in and out of him slowly. “Two?”
Frank nods. “Yes. Two.”
Their second finger slips in next to the first. It only burns a little, but Frank loves it, the burn, the stretch, the way he knows this is going to hurt so fucking good. Maybe he did fucking die. Maybe this is heaven after all.
Gee works their fingers in and out of him for a moment, pouring more lube directly over his hole, and Frank hisses at the contact of the cold fluid. Gee watches his every move intently, so careful it should be illegal. He’s never had anyone treat him with such care before.
“Three,” Frank gasps. Their eyes flicker up to meet his.
“Okay. Three.”
The third finger pushes in, and Frank writhes, moaning louder this time, letting it trail off into a broken whimper as their hand moves inside of him, spreading their fingers to help the stretch. His cock throbs so hard it bounces upwards. Gee’s jaw is slack again, green eyes sparkling, watching their fingers disappear inside of him.
“I’m good,” Frank chokes out. “Ready. It’s okay.”
Gee nods, swallowing thickly as they pull their fingers out of him and sit back to put on the condom. Frank lets his head fall back onto his shitty pillow. He feels like he’s in high school again, losing his virginity somehow, even though he’s done this more times than he can count. He’s so nervous and still a little lightheaded and then Gee is lining themself up with his entrance, pushing the head of their cock inside slowly before backing out and pushing back in further.
Frank’s mouth drops open, a moan wants to leave his chest, but nothing will come out. Gee’s fingers are gripping into his thigh while their other hand guides themself inside of him. He’s never felt anything like it, the stretch is insane, they’re barely inside but he feels so incredibly full and wrapped tight around them already. Their eyes meet his again, darker now, focused.
“More?” they ask on a breath.
“More,” Frank answers, barely. “Please, more.”
The pain is suddenly so intense and blinding that Frank feels as if he were struck by lightning. An inhuman noise rips from his throat as Gee stills inside of him.
“Double tap,” they remind him. “Don’t forget. It’s important. You tell me when to stop.” They take their hand from his thigh and grasp his hand that’s twisted into the sheets next to them, bringing it to their own soft leg. Frank’s fingers grip into the thick muscle immediately, and Gee lets out a sharp breath.
“Dont’ fucking stop,” Frank gasps, the words slurring together. Gee nods, and presses in further.
Frank’s whole body feels pulled taut, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as they finally push all the way inside of him. The beautiful, psychedelic red and white world behind his eyelids is back, his mind completely blank, static replacing his thoughts, ricocheting off of every nerve. His cock is leaking helplessly onto his stomach. Gee’s chest heaves as they loom over him, bringing both of their hands to his knees, gently caressing over his skin.
“You’re doing so good,” they whisper. “I’m gonna fuck you, okay? You tell me if it’s too much. Don’t get proud.”
Then they start to move.
Frank considers himself experienced when it comes to fucking. He’s watched a lot of porn. He’s done some wild shit. He has never, ever, felt anything like this before.
They’re so deep inside of him, so thick, everything is so much all at once, the way their hands are moving across his body, the way they roll their hips to meet his, Frank feels like he might float away, or sink through the mattress. He wants to crawl inside of himself, he wants to explode, he wants them to fuck him to death. He’s not suicidal, honestly, but he literally wants them to fuck him so hard it kills him.
But they don’t. They stare down at him, eyes glassy, watching his expression for his reaction. They want to make sure it’s okay. They want to make sure he doesn’t forget that he has the final say.
His hairline and upper lip are beaded with sweat, their cock sending waves of pleasure through his limbs, the pain of the stretch from his hole around them bringing tears to his eyes. His tongue lolls in his mouth. He feels stupid and dizzy and beautiful.
“Okay,” they mutter, slowing their thrusts even more. Frank whines loudly. “I know, I know. I’m gonna choke you, okay? I’m not gonna press on your windpipe, I’m gonna suppress the blood flow to your brain. If it hurts, or if you feel like you’re gonna pass out, tell me to stop.”
Frank nods, his head feeling like a loose, spinning top on his neck. They drag their open palm up his body, over his chest to finally close around his throat. Frank gasps as their fingers grip tight on either side, tight up under his jaw. He can still breathe, but the dizzy, weak feeling he’s been chasing hits him instantly. His cock throbs again as they start fucking into him.
“Touch yourself,” they say. Frank’s eyes are closed, and their voice sounds a million miles away again, but he’s never felt closer to anyone in his entire life. His fingers are still gripped into their thigh. He takes his free hand and brings it around his cock, his body convulsing at the contact. It’s so much, all at once.
“Good,” Gee praises. Their hand around his throat is so tight, so strong, pressing into the bruises from the belt and sending throbbing pain through his neck, their palm careful over his trachea while their fingers and thumb cut off his blood supply. “So fucking good. Jerk off while I fuck you. You’re gonna come so hard, I promise.”
Frank does as they say. He flicks his wrist, his cock pulsing and throbbing already under his own hand. Their thrusts are becoming more intense, the angle changed as they lean over him to put more pressure onto his neck. Frank sucks in a breath through his nose, but can barely exhale. His head is swimming.
“Good,” Gee whispers. “Fuck. So good.”
They fuck into him harder, their own climax on the horizon. Frank’s legs are starting to shake uncontrollably. He thinks for a second that he might need to throw up, or piss, some other unrelated bodily function that’s going to come out with his orgasm, embarrassing him yet again in front of this ethereal spirit now possessing his body. His nerves are short circuiting. He can breathe, but he can’t think. And then it hits.
He comes so hard he blacks out for a fraction of a second, and Gee immediately releases his neck. Frank takes gasping breaths of air as the orgasm hits, every muscle in his core contracting, cum spurting up onto his chest and neck, almost hitting him in his own face. He opens his eyes just long enough to look down at the mess he’s made of himself, his cock pulsating and still leaking pools of cloudy fluid onto his stomach. Gee has their hips repositioned, leaned back and angled upward. They’re milking his prostate.
Frank lets his head fall back helplessly, the orgasm still rolling through his body like thunder, shocking every muscle and nerve as it moves through him. He’s sobbing, dry cries, as Gee continues to fuck him.
“That’s it,” they say, smiling wide, small, sharp teeth gleaming, black hair wild and fallen around their face, wet with sweat. “I told you. Fuck, I told you.”
They grip into his hips as they come inside him, their balls pressed up and pulsing against his ass as they let out soft moans above him, fingers clawing tight to steady themself. Frank stares up at them, numb, letting them use his body however they please. If he would have known it was going to be like this, he would have had them fuck him raw. He would have let them fill him up, so he could feel them leaking out of him, make them a part of him, let them fucking claim him. But there would always be time for that later.
They stay inside him, panting, sharp green eyes alight as they gaze down at him.
“Good?” they ask, and Frank can’t help himself as he starts giggling hysterically.
“Fucking— good,” he laughs. “I’ve never— I didn’t know.”
Gee pulls out of him, letting his legs lay straight as they roll to his side. Frank lets out a sharp gasp at the sudden void in his body. They had been so deep in his guts that it was starting to feel like they were a part of him. He wants them to stay inside him forever.
“Is your neck okay?” they ask. Frank blinks. His neck is fine. In fact, nothing in his life has ever been better.
“Yeah,” he says softly. “I just— who are you? Like, I know you’re Mikey’s sibling. He told me you lived here when I moved in. He said you wouldn’t really be around. I’m just— I don’t know what just happened.”
Gee throws a hand lazily into the air. “I get really nervous around new people,” they explain. “Especially people I’m attracted to. I’d rather just blend into the background. Like a ghost or something.”
Frank smiles. “Like a ghost. You’re like the Phantom of the Opera. What the fuck was that?”
Gee grins, their mouth pulling up on one side.
“I’m glad you didn’t die. Next time you want to try some stupid shit just ask me first, ‘kay?”
“Trust me,” Frank says. “There’s about a million things I wanna try with you. And at least half of them are stupid.”
And Gee smiles. The ghost in the room. His Phantom.
Frank isn’t suicidal.
In fact, if this is the way life is going to be, he never wants to die at all.