Disclaimer: Characters are borrowed - but black spikes is mine and so are Googra Gustas.

Author's Notes: The Googra Gustas get a mention again - huzzah. One of my friends made me a T-shirt like the one mentioned in the story. Thanks to the people that have been e-mailing me 'cos they like my stuff. Thanks D.

Story Notes: Big warning for some self-mutilation masturbatory action and for s/m as well. Go if you won't like - thanks!

This story is a sequel to: Confrontation

"The Offer"
By Jodie Louise

I'm lying awake staring at the ceiling. I can't sleep. Keep thinking about Frase and what he offered to do for me. I'm rock hard thinking about it. Imagining not Spikes, but Fraser pouring hot wax over my stomach - Fraser hit me with his belt...and I have to touch myself.

I am pulling my cock savagely - needing to have the release. And I feel so bad so wrong for thinking `bout Fraser like this. But I need him to punish me. I need, I hafta be hurt. I'm sick, I know that but I don't know how to get better again. Frase offered, he offered and I don't love myself enough to refuse. If I loved myself I would refuse, but I don't. I no longer have any respect for myself, nothing to stop me using Fraser, using someone I love like that. I need to stoop lower, even further down and taint absolutely everything I love. Everything - until it is all a black stinking mess.

I reach for the razor blade beside my bed with my free hand, I hold the blade against my wrist pumping my cock. I press the blade in. The faster I pump the faster the blade cuts my wrist and it is sexy, very sexy. I relax into the pain and pull harder, harder. And I come. I cannot tell the difference between the warmth on my skin, which liquid is blood and which is cum.

I throw the sheets into the trash. Don't think those stains are ever coming out. Bandaged my wrist, the cuts weren't as deep as I thought - blood keeps coming through though. Probably should get it checked out but if I do that they will want to know how I did it. They will give me Seroxat or Prozac or Lithium. Lithium. Song by that cute guy that blew his brains out. Liked Kurt. Used to be one of my fantasies. Why Lithium rather than Prozac or anything else? Has anyone written a song about Prozac? Can't think of any.

Today is the day. Fraser wants an answer to his offer. I gotta give him an answer. Don't know what I should say. But what I should say is a whole lot different from what I'm gonna say. I should say NO. I don't think I will - I don't think I can.

So I'm here lying all exposed on my bed. Frase is hitting me with his belt. I told him `yes'. It feels wonderful, I am one wonderfully sick fuck. Part of me wants him to stop, `cos it's not fair, not fair at all. I can't. I can't tell him to stop. The dark side has taken over. And now the dark side wants to get into Fraser's head too - wants Fraser to enjoy doing this.

Thwack! Thwack!

I love the sound of leather hitting my skin. I thrust into the blows. But it's not quite enough. Fraser hasn't said a word throughout this. He has been silent - my silent unwilling dominator. I wanna corrupt him. But I need more. I need him inside me. I need him to pound into me again and again and again. I want us to do this thing - I want to surrender completely to him and give him a chance to explore the dark side of himself. I am growling - pushing into the blows. And need him now, need him...

"Fuck me. Fuck me Frase. Fuck me until I bleed."

The blows stop. I turn and look at him. His cock is flushed, hard, extremely hard, it springs from his body. Frase is blushing. His face is bright pink. He is getting hot on it, getting really hot on doing this stuff to me. We are staring at one another a moment. I can't tell what he is thinking. He runs to the bathroom. I can hear retching. Sounds like he is getting rid of his last meal. I get out of the bed and go to the bathroom. Frase has his head in the bowl. Sick is splashed around the bowl and splatters his face. He is still hard. He is still hard - that means he enjoyed it, got off on it, and now he's being sick. I crouch down beside him and hold him. Stroke his back.

"You're a bastard, Ray."

I look at the floor.

"I know. I know." I reply.

I don't say anything else - know when to duck out of a bad situation. Feel like saying that I didn't put a gun to his head - didn't make or even ask him to do this. Now he is getting cold feet 'cos he enjoyed doing the hitting thing. I don't say that because this isn't the time. Instead I get a facecloth and wipe the sick from Fraser's face.

It wasn't enough. Fraser pretended he didn't like it when he did and it wasn't enough. So I had gone back to the fetish bar. It don't take long. The same club we had met before. Spikes sees me and weaves his way between rubber clad people and a human `dog'. The `dog' starts stiffing at his crotch. The `dog' is a naked guy. Spikes knees him in a very soft place and the `dog' whimpers - it's `owner' yanks on the lead and pulls him away. Spikes grins at me and joins me at the bar.

"Wanna a drink, Spikes?"

He smiles at me. He eyeliner is wobbly and his face pasty, like he's wearing make-up. Looks like marble.

"Vodka shots."

"Okay."

I wave the barman over and order our drinks. When the vodka arrives we look at each other and down it, just like that first night. Playing stupid drinking games. I look at Spikes from the corner of my eye.

"Sure ya old enough to drink, Spikes?"

`Cos he looks young in the light from the bar.

"Sure I'm old enough to fuck, Stan?"

This is quite a fair question really - not one I'd thought `bout before which is stupid me being a cop and all.

Spikes grabs a hand full of my ass and is looking at me. He suddenly seems a lot older. I've made him older. Knowledge does that sometimes - ages you. His eyes are somehow different. I feel powerful because I know that I have changed this person. I have corrupted them and moulded them into the sort of lover that I needed at a particular time. One day Spikes will probably hate me for it. One day when he realises that he can no longer have a normal relationship, that he needs to inflict pain to get off. His eyes are too old for him. And I did that, it was me.

We don't say anything. Don't need to. We're leaving the club, both know what's gonna happen, and I need it, need it so much. Who'd have thought a skinny little teenager could give me what I need? Fraser could if he wasn't so...freaked...that he enjoyed that stuff. But Fraser can't. He can't.

I always seemed to mess things up when I tried talking to Stella. The words came out wrong or I didn't have the `right' expression on my face. And I would make stuff worse without even trying to - later I made stuff go wrong on purpose. I haven't reached that stage with Frase yet. May be I should put us both out of our misery and skip all the inbetween stages and get right to the fucked up baiting each other part. Let's face it the relationship is already fucked up - he hits me pretending he hates it but gets off on it. Really off on it. Who's the one with their head in the sand now? At least I know and can admit I'm a sexual deviant. May be I should get one of those Googra Gusta T-shirts which has that on it - "I'm a sexual deviant..." written in black on a tight white T-shirt. Then at least everyone will know what a sad fuck I am. They'd probably have great fun trying to guess my sexual kinks. Hell, may be I should give one to Frase as a present - I'm sure it would go very well underneath that mountie uniform.

Anyhow I know I've gotta talk to him about him getting off on doing stuff to me and not admitting it. It's not being true to his nature. Well, I s'pose if I was honest I would say that if he wants to try this thing with me that he might as well enjoy it, and somehow I gotta convince him it's okay to enjoy it. I never needed to do the s/m stuff with Stella - it was only after we split - I try not to think too much about what that could possibly mean.

I am trying something I did for Stella once. I don't know who was more surprised that I managed to cook a meal - me or Stella. So I've got a bottle of red wine, the paella is bubbling nicely and I can smell the garlic bread cooking. Not sure if garlic bread really goes with paella but it don`t matter. The bread just looked really nice on the front of the packet. I'm hoping this effort will dazzle Fraser so much that we can talk properly `bout stuff. I don't think my cooking skills are good enough to be too distracting. And I've set the table real nice with some candles. Borrowed some nice plates and things from my mom. I try to forget that when I made all this effort for Stella it didn't exactly work out right but what the hell.

When I open the door Frase is there with a bottle of wine. He looks quite relaxed which is good.

"I didn't know you could cook - it smells very good Ray."

"Yeah, well. Most of it came out of packets."

"Even so it still smells delicious."

The evening sorta continues just like that. Frase being oh so polite and me drinking far too much wine `cos I know I gotta speak to Frase about this thing. But there is never a `right time'. In the end I decide to butt in during one of Fraser's moose or whatever they're called stories.

"Frase, I need to talk to ya 'bout something."

I'd cut him off in mid-flow and he just stares at me. Then he nods.

"I gotta talk about us Frase and this thing we're doin' - I mean, y'know, the kinky stuff. I can tell you like it - I like you doin' it to me. I don't think you got anything to feel guilty about. We're both doin' something we like and I think you should accept that."

Fraser is staring at his plate. Can't tell what he's thinking.

"I want something...normal." he says finally.

I manage to stop myself from hitting him.

"Ya ain't going to get anything normal with me. If you want me you gotta do this thing - if you don't let me know so I can stop wasting my time."

I've got out of my chair. I am mad. I know I am waving my arms like a maniac.

"Hell, Frase. You don't like normal. You enjoyed it kinky. Don't pretend you're some innocent mountie guy. If you want something fucking normal why don't you get a fucking wife and breed lots of kids. Why don't ya just forget ya like guys at all and pretend the rest of your fucking life that the only sex you like is with a woman in the missionary position."

I am stabbing my fingers in his direction, totally losing the plot. He does not say anything.

"Fuck you. I never asked you to do that kinky stuff. You offered. Don't that say something about you Fraser? Don't that say you're as much the grade A pervert that I am?"

"I made the offer out of love for you, Ray. Anything else that - that...happened was coincidental."

"What the fuck does that mean? You were so hard ya could've used it as a crow-bar! Is it really that bad to admit that it turned you on?"

"Yes." he shouts slamming his fist on the table, knocking over a glass of wine.

We both go quiet - both of us shocked.

"I love you, Ray. Love was never meant to be hurting one another."

I go to him, stroke his cheek. Of course it wasn't - but we were talking about sex and sex was different. May be I needed a different angle on our relationship. He looks up at me. He looks like he might cry.

"Ray. I loved doing those terrible things to you, and I wanted to do more. So help me God - I want to do those things again. I wanted to stop you from doing them but now - now -"

Fraser bows his head and I pull him to me, stroking the hair at the back of his neck. We are like that for a long time, just touching. It feels kinda nice. Warm. I pull Frase closer and kiss him gently on the lips.

"Ya don't always have to hit me with stuff ya know. Just when we're both into it."

"Will that be enough for you?"

I sigh. I owe him the truth.

"I don't know, Frase, I just don't know."

He nods. And that's okay - it means everything will be alright. And I think it means we're gonna take this fucked up thing and run with it. I can take this thing between us and try to make it work somehow, kinky sex and all. I smile. May be I can add a few more things to that reason to live list tonight.

Things aren't perfect but they work. I think is was Jarvis Cocker that said perfect is boring, that it is always far more interesting to be in a flawed relationship. And it is interesting the stuff we do. We argue - what couple doesn't - and we do the kinky stuff but sometimes we'll just cuddle. Besides may be we're both getting a bit too old to do kinky stuff. And I think I'm finally growing out of my teenage angst. May be it's something to do with living in Canada - may be it does strange stuff to you. May be it is seeing all that snow stretch out for miles and miles. Kilometres and kilometres I mean. It looks like a blank sheet of paper on which you could write or draw anything. Start something new. And it is like that when I wake up in the morning every day. So each day is starting off new and fresh. I don't hafta think about the past, only the future.

End The Offer by Jodie Louise: jodie.mouse@virgin.net

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