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What's Life Like Bleeding On The Floor?	By : Marisol Category: My Chemical Romance > General Views: 902 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of My Chemical Romance. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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“So how did you sleep, Gerard?”

I winced as I sat down, glancing up at the man across the table from me. He was a friend of Frank’s. I knew that much because I had seen them groping, touching, kissing as well as talking. They seemed to be close, but they had probably been in here a while, giving them a change to get to know one another, unlike myself. I let out a breath of air, looking away to hide the embarrassment that laced my features. They knew. They had all heard the screaming, coming not only from me, but from Frank, who practically had a field day. I looked up at the man who had spoken to me, Michael, or Mikey. He didn't seem like the kind of person that you would find in a jail. He was kind of lanky with just a couple of tattoos and probably the neatest hair here, besides Frank's. Tattoos aside, he seemed friendly enough but if he was in jail, I was probably wrong about him being friendly and everything.

“Shit, this shit looks like … “

“Shit?”

I looked over from Mikey to someone sitting down at the end of our table, or at least of the little group of men. He was tall and had the craziest hair I had ever seen. They had nicknames but his real name was easy enough to remember. Ray. But he used to be a priest, very much like myself. Oh, thank you God. Even in jail, you find a way to torment me. I hate you. He was pushing his food around his plate, looking like a bored boy in the back of a high school math class. I didn’t blame him. The grey and yellow solid/liquid thing along with some sort of milk didn’t look exactly appetizing either and I didn’t feel like eating. No, not really and you wouldn’t either, if you were in my place. I sighed and I took a forkful of something and I raised it to my mouth, but it never completed the journey there. Just as it was going into my mouth, I received a smack to the back of my head, making me spill the contents on my spoon all over my white wife beater. Thanks a lot, asshole. I turned around, ready to spit out fire but then I froze.

“You’re in my spot, Gerard”

I moved over for Frank, who then took my spot and dug in, bored, into his food. I stared at him for a moment and I could feel pairs of eyes on me and Zackary. Sure, he was good looking for a guy, I guess but I certainly wasn’t gay. I mean, I’m a priest, or well, I was a priest. I shuddered, the pain in my rear returning just thinking about it. How could he be so normal about it? He was acting as if nothing was happening and as I looked up, I noticed that so was everyone else. They had gotten over their moment of shock, but I hadn’t, no way. The events of last night came rushing back to me as I spaced out.

“So, pray tell … Where is your God now, Gerard?”

I didn’t have an answer to give him, mainly because everything seemed to be happening at once. I couldn’t make sense of anything that was going on around me. Right now, it was the hand groping my nonconsensual erection and his excitement pressing against the curve of my ass. I couldn’t help it. I shuddered and let out a sob with no tears, into the pillow, which I bet Frank pointedly ignored. Oh God, why me? What did I do to deserve this? Oh yeah, I was a murderer. I wiggled and squirmed, trying to do a lot of anything that would get me out of this position, but ah, no such thing. I was pretty much stuck. I figured that much out after I heard a rustle of material and my pants were roughly shoved down, exposing my naked ass to the cold air and making easy access for Frank to stick his pole in. Tears began to swell in my eyes as my head trashed to side to side, groping the sheets, begging the Lord to have mercy upon me and my soul, begging for him not to let this happen to me.

“Stop crying, you pathetic piece of shit. Besides, you’re gorgeous. Get used to this.”

My bare hips pushed away from his wandering finger that gently traveled over the curve of my ass, dipping inside, being quite the curious little fellow. It was not hard to see that I didn’t want this. I heard him moan above me and in the next moment, I felt him for what it was. He may have looked underdeveloped in person, but he certainly wasn’t where it counted. Oh, not at all. He pressed himself up against me, making me shudder and I heard him let out a soft chuckle, but I could also feel the heat that was him, and he was shaking. It was probably a mix between the cold air and desperation. Even his curious fingers did not prepare me for anything that was to happen next.

“Are you going to eat that?”

“Huh?”

“Listen to me when I move my mouth, alright? I asked if you were going to finish that.”

“Oh, sorry Mikey and no, I’m not. Here you go.”

I pushed my plate across the table to him, but I kept my fork. He probably didn’t want to use my fork. I then drew my hand back quickly, hoping no one caught notice of the scratches of my forearm. I knew Zackary did because of the way he was looking at me. It was something similar to the way he was probably looking at me last night. I turned away quickly, busying myself as I played with my fork as I drifted off again.

Heat.

Pain.

A scream worked it’s way out of my lips as I buried my face into the bunk that smelled like Frank, who had just shoved himself inside of me. I was unprepared and a complete virgin in every which way. I had been a priest after all. Frank held himself inside of me, one hand digging into my hip, his nails cutting into my skin, pulling as the skin peeled back and small amounts of blood dripped out of them. His other hand held my hands in place above my hand. I heard him let out a completely sexed-up moan that made my cock twitch. He ran his nails down my forearm, pushing his hips even further inside me as he arched his back. I screamed again. Nothing would ever compare to this.

Imagine someone heating up a butcher knife so it was almost to the point of melting, and then having someone shove it mercilessly up your ass. Yep, that pretty much summed it up. Tears rolled down my cheeks as Frank held his cock in place inside of me, but when he pushed his hips forward, something ripped. A sudden rush of liquid poured down the inside of my leg and I heard him chuckle. I hadn’t even noticed I was bleeding. I was in so much pain from gripping the bunk, praying to God that he would stop. He pulled out and I sighed, my ass already as red as a tomato, I would have guessed and sensitive as fuck. I whimpered pathetically and just as I thought he would stop because he saw how much pain I was in, he slammed himself back in, another hot knife. I screamed again and he began rocking his hips, small groans of appreciation and pleasure working their way out of his mouth.

“Fr … Frank … pl…please sto…stop…i…it.”

Frank seemed to know his way fairly well around a body to make each thrust matter, each thrust probably was the equivalent of hell, or at least something close to that. Each thrust he made inside of my body, I shook uncontrollably, tears rolling down the side of my face and when I begged for him to stop, he slapped me across my face again, burning me. He then gave up being gentle and for the next few mintues, which passed by like hours, I was fucking ripped apart and bleeding like someone who had just gotten shot. It was sandpaper against fresh wound and I wanted to die. I had never felt pain quite like that before and I never wanted to expierance it ever again. I was screaming the entire time.

And then came the chemical reaction, where Frank let go of my hip and the deepest thrust inside of me, which brushed against something that made me gasp, both in pain and minimal pleasure. He ran his nails down my back, cutting open my back as well and I turned away, not wanting him to touch me anymore. He let out a moan, not of my name, but of Mikey's as he stained himself inside of me. I felt used, dirty and disgusting as he released himself into me, his smaller body falling on top of mine, staining his own chest in my blood. He panted but then seemed to release what he was doing and he shoved me off the bunk, landing on the cold floor and I yelped. I lay there for a few minutes, bruised, bleeding and I had just been … raped.

The few seconds it took me to walk back to my bunk were probably the most embarrassing in my life. I had the remains of Frank’s pleasure running down the inside of my leg, mixing with my blood. I don’t remember how I made my way back to my bunk, but I did.

I cried myself to sleep that night.

Why didn’t God kill me when he had the chance?
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What's Life Like Bleeding On The Floor?