Page 33 of His Favorite Color is Blood
Even the stumps he adored so much were now yet another instrument in Misha’s misery. There was something about the image of a man with no legs being abused by people stronger and taller than he was that made Grim itch for blood. He couldn’t stomach the thought of someone hurting the boy who uncovered the many colors of his personality every day. He was witty and sarcastic, with a proclivity for black humor that Grim couldn’t resist. He liked to discuss things and was stubborn at pursuing his goals. When Misha told Grim he needed to learn how to defend himself, Grim had no idea how serious Misha was being.
Within three days, they had used up so many bullets Grim had to buy more ammo. They did a lot of strength training and self-defense techniques, and thelonger they were together, the less surprised Grim was of the desperation at the core of Misha’s attempts. After being through so much, Misha would rather die than be taken again, and Grim couldn’t bring himself to argue about this no matter how uneasy he was about bruises appearing all over Misha’s body. Misha’s fear was as unreasonable as Grim’s own guilt.
But while Grim longed for something to relieve the itching in his bones, the bloodlust that crept farther into his conscious mind with every day of complete peace, he didn’t want to sacrifice his time with Misha to get his kicks. It was the glint of a blade versus the lively glimmer in Misha’s eyes and the scent of fresh blood versus the aroma of Misha’s cum and sweat. And yet, he wished the Coffin Nails would come up with a contract for him and give him an incentive to leave the calm embrace of the forest and sense the warm blood sinking into his skin. He was growing impatient. Nervous. But Misha didn’t seem to sense any change in Grim’s behavior, as he was warming up to him every day.
This morning was just as sunny as the ones before, but at least it was less humid. The area around their bungalow was completely secluded in a valley with a stream down the road where Grim took Misha on his back a few times and wild animals passing their house at night.
Those moments when Misha explored nature, when he was in the moment instead of in his head, were the happiest Grim had seen him yet. Far away from people, he could adjust better to being outside after such a long period of captivity. It was working. Misha even fell asleep in the grass once on a sunny day after going through yet another book of sudoku. His decreasing anxiety could have something to do with the fact that there was no technology here, no Wi-Fi, only a barely there cell connection Grim managed to catch at the side of a hill nearby.
With sun pouring down from the sky, Misha sat outside in just a pair of denim shorts, wearing his new sunglasses and eating a popsicle from the stash in their freezer. As days passed, their sexual relationship hit a plateau, but they slept together, touched, kissed, and jerked each other off a few times. Misha wanted to take things slow, and he wasn’t going anywhere, so Grim settled on giving him the time he needed. To his growing excitement, Misha was also less shy about his stumps, and despite that under-the-knee area still being taboo, Grim could at least see them, touch them with his own legs in bed, and enjoy the thought that one day, he would get to lick them all over again.
“Hey, lazy bum! Stop playing with your phone and come train with me,” Misha yelled to Grim despite still sucking on the popsicle himself.
Grim smirked and made his way down the hill without haste, enjoying the warm sun on his skin. In his downtime, Grim prepared some makeshift exercise equipment that was meant for Misha’s size. They kept them in the shadow of a tree nearby, but it didn’t seem like Misha was inclined to move that way yet unless he wanted Grim to carry him again. He’d been fine with that recently, especially when they ventured farther away from the cabin. Grim loved the trust Misha offered him whenever Grim took him on his back and trekked through the forest, giving Misha as many possibilities to enjoy the fresh air as possible. Misha was already getting a healthy glow to his skin, and his freckles became darker.
Misha sucked in the rest of his popsicle, making Grim want to lick up all the sweetness that dripped down Misha’s lips. He moved down the stairs, supporting himself on his arms, and reached out for Grim’s hand.
Grim smiled and raised him with one arm, making the transfer into the wheelchair much easier for Misha. “Ready for more, birdie?”
“Let’s go.” Misha rolled his wheelchair forward. With the grass short and the ground even, he had a lot of freedom to move around the clearing surrounding the cabin. “I want to practice standing on my arms. At least there’s something that should be easier for me than for people who have more weight below.”
Grim nodded and cupped Misha’s head, petting his hair. He enjoyed having him low enough to be able to do this, and doing so instantly calmed him down. “Your choice. If that’s what you want. I suppose it also trains balance.”
“Yeah, and stomach muscles. I don’t want to be a slob, and you bought me too many treats.”
They had taken a big shopping trip before coming down here, and Misha had spent ages reading the packaging and looking through hundreds of products he’d never seen before. He told Grim that he kept in shape not to lose Gary’s interest, but it was nice that he still wanted to keep up his fitness habits. Grim flattered himself that it was for him, even though Misha wouldn’t say so.
“You do have very nice muscles for someone who lived most of the last few years in a basement,” said Grim, walking next to the wheelchair.
“I did pull-ups and all sorts of stuff I could. I didn’t want to feel like I’m useless. Otherwise, I could just as well lay in bed all day and wait ‘til I die.”
Nothing like a touch of morbidity on a sunny day, but Grim appreciated the comment.
“You feel very alive.”
Misha stopped once they reached the area where they trained and looked up at Grim, grabbing his hands. “When all of this settles down, and it’s safer for me to be around people, you will get me prosthetics, right?”
Grim’s head bobbed up and down as he stared at Misha, mesmerized by the honesty he could see on his face. Misha was already planning their future together. “Yeah. It will be easier for you, because we will be moving around a lot.”
“I’ll never have legs, but I will be able to walk into a store without everyone staring at me. Maybe I could even get those blade legs and run again.” Misha squeezed Grim’s hand with a smile.
In that moment, Grim wanted to get Misha every single thing he could possibly want. “Okay.”
“And if my stumps get tired or sore from the pressure, you could massage them at the end of the day …” Misha bit his lip, never looking away from Grim’s eyes.
Grim exhaled, squeezing Misha’s hand as his mind wandered to those lovely legs, cherished and glistening with oil between Grim’s hands. “You are such a tease.”
Misha laughed and pushed at Grim’s hip. “You should have seen your face!”
Grim rubbed his eyes. “It’s all your fault. I should spank you for baiting me like that.”
“Sorry,” Misha said and looked away as he made his climb down to the ground, but Grim could swear that he heard him whisper “not sorry.”
“I will kiss them for such a long time that it’ll make you come,” he said, looking at the back of Misha’s head with a sly smile. He knew for a fact that it was possible.
“Are you going to leave hickeys on my stumps?” Misha asked and supported himself on his hands and knees. It was just banter, but Grim loved the future tense in it. Like it was a real possibility. Like Misha was deeming him worthy of worshiping those heavenly stumps.
“I can, if that’s what you want, but I like to be really gentle,” whispered Grim.
