Archive of Our Own ^beta
我们自己的 ^{beta 档案}

He didn’t understand it.  他不明白。

“Why would I need to go into witness protection,” he said. “If he’s dead?”
“我为什么需要进入证人保护，”他说。“如果他死了？”

Of course, he was dead. There was no way he could have survived. No way. No way.
当然，他已经死了。他不可能活下来。不可能。不可能。

After he’d left him to rot in the sand, he’d been carted back to the police station. But it wasn’t them that he was dealing with now. The chief had gotten a call and muttered ominously to a deputy, “there here”. Then Jim had been left him to some bland faced man, who introduced himself with a name so ordinary he instantly forgot it. Said he worked for a higher branch of government, but didn’t specify what it was.
在他把他丢在沙子里腐烂后，他被运回了警察局。但他现在面对的不是他们。局长接到一个电话，不祥地对一名副手喃喃自语，“在这儿”。然后，吉姆被留给一个面容平淡的男人，他用一个如此普通的名字介绍自己，以至于他立刻就忘记了。他说他在政府的一个更高部门工作，但没有具体说明它是什么。

“Of course, he’s dead,” he told him in a mild voice. “Perhaps his friends or family would retaliate against you though, so it’s best you go into the program for your own safety. You understand.”
“当然，他已经死了，”他用温和的声音告诉他。“不过，也许他的朋友或家人会报复你，所以为了自己的安全，你最好参加这个项目。你明白的。

He didn’t. John Ryder was a lone wolf. The police couldn’t find a shred of information about him, definitely nothing about any friends or family.
他没有。约翰·莱德是一匹孤狼。警方找不到关于他的一丝信息，绝对没有关于任何朋友或家人的信息。

Still, he felt so utterly numb from everything that had happened, he allowed himself to go through the motions of getting his name changed and shifted off to another town far away. He felt so drained, empty and lifeless like a mannequin being moved around a store.
尽管如此，他对所发生的一切感到完全麻木，他允许自己改名并转移到另一个遥远的城镇。他感到如此疲惫、空虚和死气沉沉，就像一个在商店里移动的人体模型。

He’d been put in a trailer park but it wasn’t too trashy. The area had a nice small-town charm. All lush and green with old folk drinking lemonade on porch swings, completely different to the stinking Texan desert and the grey slick city streets of Chicago. During the week he worked as a farmhand for an elderly couple who lived down the road. During the weekends he’d go around the town and mow lawns and trim hedges. He needed to work, work, work. He couldn’t stop, not for a moment. If he had any time to think then his mind would fall away from the flowery gardens and red brick houses go back to the black glistening highway.
他被安置在一个拖车公园里，但并不是太垃圾。该地区有很好的小镇魅力。一片郁郁葱葱的绿色，老人们在门廊秋千上喝柠檬水，与臭气熏天的德克萨斯沙漠和芝加哥灰色光滑的城市街道完全不同。在工作日，他为住在这条路上的一对老夫妇做农场工人。周末，他会在镇上四处走动，修剪草坪和修剪树篱。他需要工作，工作，工作。他停不下来，一刻也没有。如果他有时间思考，那么他的思绪就会从鲜花盛开的花园中消失，红砖房会回到黑色闪闪发光的高速公路上。

What had he wanted to do with his life before? He could barely remember. He’d liked the idea of helping others, had thought about picking up a trade and becoming a handyman. His brother had helped him get the job delivering cars and he’d liked it enough before the Events had happened. At barely nineteen years old, he was not too concerned with figuring it all out just yet. He could travel around, try different things, find what he liked, what he was suited to. Everything seemed so breezy and relaxed before that fateful trip.
他以前想用自己的生活做什么？他几乎记不清了。他喜欢帮助他人的想法，曾考虑过从事一门手艺并成为一名杂工。他的哥哥帮他找到了一份送车的工作，在事件发生之前，他就已经足够喜欢这份工作了。年仅 19 岁的他，还不太关心弄清楚这一切。他可以四处旅行，尝试不同的东西，找到他喜欢的东西，他适合的东西。在那次命中注定的旅行之前，一切都显得如此轻松和轻松。

He was on his lunch break, sitting under an apple tree, his back to the trunk, his knees tucked up under his chin as he picked at his baloney sandwich. He wished he could look less of a nervous wreck, eyes twitching around every few seconds as though scared someone was going to jump out at him. A few weeks into living in the town, he’d overheard the couple who owned the farm, Helen and Bill discussing him as he went to take a drink from the garden hose.
他正在午休，坐在一棵苹果树下，背对着树干，膝盖夹在下巴下，一边挑选着他的三明治。他希望自己看起来不那么紧张，眼睛每隔几秒钟就会抽搐一下，仿佛害怕有人会跳出来冲他。在镇上住了几个星期后，他无意中听到了农场的主人海伦和比尔在他去花园的水管里喝水时谈论他。

“A sweetheart isn’t he that Bunn…Benny Gibbs,” she said with a mixture of fondness and concern in her voice. Jim peered around the side of the house at them on the porch seats, drinking sweet tea, their housecat wrapping around their legs. He’d been assigned the name Benny Gibbs and had gotten the nickname, Bunny already. He didn’t know how he felt about it.
“一个甜心，他不是那个 Bunn......本尼·吉布斯，“她的声音里夹杂着喜爱和担忧。吉姆从房子的侧面望着他们坐在门廊座位上，喝着甜茶，他们的家猫缠着他们的腿。他被分配了 Benny Gibbs 这个名字，并且已经有了 Bunny 的绰号。他不知道自己对此有何感受。

“He’s a bit…special,” Helen whispered to her husband. “Very nice young boy, just…”

“A nutcase,” her husband said voice full of scorn. Helen tutted.

“Now that’s not very polite,” she admonished him.

“Well what else am I supposeds to call ‘im?” said Bill. “I hafta call his name six or seven times before he turns ‘round. I saw ‘im down the general store once, offered him a lift home, he looked like he’d seen a ghost. I’ve never seen a grown man afraid of a damn car before.”

Helen was a picture of concern. It was very typical. Most of the women in town had this air of sympathy whenever they interacted with him. Bunny, to them was an affectionate nickname for this poor damaged kid. Most of the men however, just looked at him with contempt and Bunny to them was an emasculating name full of mockery.

“I feel sorry for him, so easily startled,” she said. “Such a little bunny rabbit.”

“Won’t come and get a beer or watch the game with the fellas,” Bill muttered under his breath.

“Yes, he’s friendly but very unsociable. He’ll never come around for dinner or anything like that,” Helen agreed. “I thought of setting him up with Janey, that young schoolteacher she’s around his age, but he was completely uninterested. Old Alice from down the street thinks he might be one of those…”

She did a limp wrist gesture. Bill wrinkled his nose up with disgust.

“Larry from the butcher’s reckons he might have the shellshock but he looks too young to have been in any war,” the man said.

“Well, I heards you don’t needs to be a soldier to have shellshock, he mighta gotten it from somewhere else.”

Her husband shrugged. They got to talking about Old Alice and her sneaky city slicker relatives bickerin’ and squabblin’ over her will when she weren’t even buried in the ground yet.

Jim had turned off the garden tap and went back to work.

Now, throwing bits of bread to a hen pecking around by the apple tree, he felt his skin crawl. He wasn’t used to small town gossip. In Chicago he would’ve been anonymous no one would have cared about some nervy guy who kept to themselves. But he couldn’t go back to Chicago, not with all the endless cars everywhere. This town was small enough that people didn’t drive often. He heard maybe one car every few hours’ drive by and every time he did, his heart would feel sick and his skin would go clammy.

He didn’t have time to think about what he’d overheard for the rest of the day too busy focusing all his energy on farm work. That evening, he stood in the shower, leaving the bathroom door open so he could see into the rest of the trailer, his pocket knife in his fist as he washed himself with his other hand. He’d showered like that ever since the Events had happened. A small part of his brain that didn’t sound like his own voice, a deadly familiar rasp said; “you’d like it though wouldn’t you, if he appeared again right now, you all bare naked and vulnerable.”

Stamp out the voice, stamp it out, stamp it out.

There was no way he could make friendships in this town. The last time he’d made a bond with someone…he couldn’t think of it. If he got close to people then he’d put a target on their back. He had to keep his distance.

The image of Helen flapping her wrist limply flashed in his mind. People had been saying that about him for years. Been saying it before he was old enough to even know what it meant.

When he was younger, he’d insisted with indignation that he couldn’t be gay, he couldn’t be, didn’t you know Mary-Anne had kissed him in the car and palmed him through his dress pants on Prom night? He’d clumsily rubbed her through her underwear, until she took his wrist and guided it for him, helping him to get her off. He’d found it all sticky, smelly and unpleasant, but still, it was with a girl, not a guy so how could he be gay?

He didn’t like to think of how uncomfortable he’d felt with his hand up her dress and her tongue in his mouth. The boys in his year had once passed a dirty magazine around the locker-room, leering and snickering over the heaving breasts and glistening red flesh. Jim had been ‘the good boy scout,’ for not wanting to look at it. Glancing at it sideways he felt himself flush and his stomach tremble, not at the smooth curves of the women, but the hard muscular men with the obscene cocks hanging between their legs.

Neither he nor Mary-Anne had managed to finish their little encounter together. Mary-Anne had yelped at a sudden furious knocking on the car window. It was Jim’s mother, with curlers in her grey hair, a pack of cigarettes in her dressing gown pocket, cheeks red with outrage.

“Filthy, filthy, absolutely disgusting!” she’d yelled. “You get out of this car right this moment!”

All the boys in his year had found it hilarious, guffawing with approval and giving him claps on the back. Old Lady Halsey had marched across the road in her dressing gown and slippers to the school carpark and sprung Jim and Mary-Anne feeling each other up. What a riot.

His mother didn’t let him out of the house for a fortnight after that.

After finishing up with the shower, he got ready for bed. He always needed some Valium to help him sleep, having lost the ability to drift off normally.

His mind wandered over to his mother. Old Lady Halsey, dead now. He’d felt guilty, at eighteen over his mixed feelings about her passing. Her chain smoking had made her look seventy years old when she was only in her fifties. Had killed her early. He’d been struck by grief of course, but had also felt an overwhelming sense of relief. Now he was free.

It had just been him and his widowed mother growing up, his brother nearly twenty when he’d been born and not very interested in his kid brother, already off living his own life. When his mother was pregnant, his father had gotten into a bar fight and a glass smashed into the side of his neck had hit an artery, leaving him bleeding out on the floor. Most of his childhood was spent with her pouring over photo albums, smoking endless packets of cigarettes. The violent death of her husband had made her smothering and afraid for her baby boy, endless rules and regulations to keep him safe. Don’t leave the house, bad men were everywhere wanting to hurt you.

He hated that she’d been right all along. The second he’d had a taste of freedom a bad man had hurt him. Hurt him beyond repair.

Weren’t there bizarre moments of pleasure though, moments that made him feel a horrid arousal? He didn’t like to think of it. Didn’t like to think of how his heart had quivered when he first saw him, all tall and strong in the dark rainy night. The tiny trembling excitement when he’d grabbed his knee. After he’d revealed his true intentions, he should have just felt terror, right? That’s what any normal person would feel. Why did his skin tingle all over then, at him pushing down on his crotch? Or the diner, spit damp fingers caressing his face, in the interrogation room, when he took Jim’s hands in his own. Or now, how whenever his thoughts drifted to him there was a yearning in his chest almost as if he missed him, wanted to see him again.

He should have just been afraid. He shouldn’t have felt that awful horrible disgusting interest. It was sick. It was goddamned sick. What was wrong with him, to feel that for someone like him?

Don’t think about it. Push it away.

Endless work kept him from memories. Valium kept him from dreaming.

When he’d first looked him over, he was reminded with a detached coldness, of a younger version of himself from so long ago. A naïve little explorer completely unaware of how brutally he was about to be beaten down by the universe.

If he’d just left that thing by the side of the road. If he’d just left it alone.

Why had he been wandering from town to town? He thought maybe he’d wanted to take a year off between school and college to explore the world. Or maybe his parents had pressured him to get a job and he’d run off, scared of being a responsible adult. He couldn’t remember. It was something stupid. It wasn’t supposed to be a very long trip, he was just a reckless kid let loose on the world for the first time. He would’ve come back and resumed living his normal life. If he’d just kept on walking, instead of stopping and asking himself, what was that sound out in the desert?

He’d been wandering down the highway, hoping to hitch a ride with someone soon, when he heard faint pained cries somewhere out in the sand dunes. Curious, he followed the cry until he came across a shrub full of crackly dead twigs. There was a creature limping uselessly before falling to the side. He went over to it.

It was a coyote with an injured leg. Sometimes however the second before he blinked it seemed to take on another shape for a moment. He’d have to shake his head a little to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. It was just an animal, not a shaggy-maned figure with yellow eyes and a mouth full of needle teeth.

“Poor thing,” he’d said as he picked up the animal, cradling its bloody paw. “It’s alright, it’s alright.”

There had to be an animal hospital the next town over. He was just about to pull his water bottle out for it to drink from when he yelped, dropping it to the ground. The creature had sunk its teeth into his hand and then sprung away, no longer limping. He cursed, examining the wound it had left behind.

“Just trying to help!” he called after it good-naturedly. On the horizon it paused and turned, looking back at him. It moved in a strangely human way, its yellow eyes shining, its wide taunting smile stretched across its face.

No. It wasn’t a person looking back at him it was a coyote that’s all. Just an animal. That was all.

He washed the wound off with his water bottle and went back to walking along the highway. It didn’t hurt that bad. It wasn’t serious. He didn’t have to worry about it. He was a kid. Invincible. Didn’t have to worry about anything.

He didn’t remember much about the next week. He’d collapsed at the edge of town, spit rolling down his chin, feeling like his body was on fire. At the edge of his vision, he kept seeing yellow eyes and needle teeth glittering with malevolence. There were snippets of memory, of a candy-striped nurse and a doctor in a white coat tutting sympathetically to each other and saying; “poor guy, barely looks twenty years old.”

“Terrible way to go, rabies.”

“We should contact his family let them say their goodbyes.”

Then there was nothing. Like a deep sleep with no dreams. Shifting on the spot, he felt his muscles ache and his head throb as he opened his gummy eyes, his throat feeling like it was lined with sand. He didn’t feel like his skin was burning up anymore. Just felt a bit sore, like he’d run a few laps of a football field. There was a scream and the sound of someone dropping something before running off, shouting for the doctor. He slowly sat up, blinking with confusion. He was sitting on a gurney, completely naked in a cold grey room.

“I can’t…I can’t…” he heard a horrified whimpering from outside the door. “In the mortuary, in the mortuary….”

There was a face at the viewing window in the door peering inside. The doctor from before who’d been talking about some poor guy with rabies was staring at him all ashen faced and gawping.

“It’s impossible, it’s impossible,” the doctor was saying over and over again. “He was pronounced dead hours ago? How? How?”

They locked him inside the mortuary and he should have just broken the window in the door and escaped, instead of just sitting there like a stunned goldfish. But he hadn’t been broken yet. Still trusted people. No one was going to hurt him. Surely not.

A bland faced man had appeared at the window looking in. The door opened and he walked inside, calmly giving him a folded-up set of clothes.

“What’s happening?” he’d asked with confusion. He’d only gotten silence in response.

After dressing, he was hurried out of the hospital by the blank faced man. It was the middle of the night and he’d been snuck into a car with blacked out windows. He was taken to what looked like a normal building in a normal suburb. Inside, there were people at high tech computers, going through files, whispering to each other as they took notes and shuffled papers. They all had the same peculiar quality of looking completely unremarkable, nothing about them making them stand out in any way. Every room full of plain, average looking people you’d forget about the second they left your eyesight. He wondered if he was at some kind of secret government building, like a branch of the FBI or something.

He was sat in a room and a bland mousy haired woman sat down ahead of him with a tape recorder and a pen and paper. After being made to explain what had happened with the coyote, she looked over into the corner of the room and raised her eyebrows.

Then they led him out down a hallway and he caught excited whispers.

“We haven’t had one of these in a while.”

“The last one got away from us,” said another. “A shame. We were so close to finding the key to immortality.”

It was then, he’d felt, too late, the first slithers of unease in his chest. The whole time he’d been naïve. These were people from the government. Authority. They weren’t going to hurt him. He would be safe.

So very stupid.

It wasn’t just an ordinary building with ordinary people inside. He’d been trapped in hell with demons gleefully torturing him in the name of science and discovery.

They were inventive, these people. They tried so many different ways to kill him, whispering to each other with fascination, scribbling notes as he kept coming back again and again. Cut off his head and he’d lie there lifeless for five minutes before his detached skull would slide back onto his spine, reattaching and he’d sit up, right as rain again. Burnt his body to ashes and bone and after ten minutes, he’d start to reform, pulling himself back together. Dropped from great heights, dismembered and skinned and boiled and burst. Between it all, endless painful injections with syringes, slicing up his body to poke at his insides, trying to figure out the secret to his survival. And he just kept on returning despite it all.

You’d think for a branch of government in charge of keeping secrets of the supernatural away from society, they wouldn’t be sloppy or careless. A knife had been left in his chest and he’d awoken to the handle sticking out of him. His body was on autopilot, barely thinking. Soon, the building was a sea of corpses all punctured eyes and slit throats.

But he found outside the cursed building and back in the real world, all traces of his identity gone. His house burnt down, his few friends and family dead in mysterious circumstances, all records of him having never existed. Of course. They wouldn’t have wanted anyone to go looking for him, ending their fun early and ruining their research.

Reinstating his identity would just set the next batch of them on his tail all over again. No, he had to keep to the shadows, he couldn’t stay in one place too long, had to use a new name. If they found him again… no he couldn’t bear to think of them finding him again.

He’d blocked out the memory of the hellish agony of all the experiments. To remember it would leave him a howling sobbing wreck curled up on the ground. He had to forget it to be able to exist as a person. But he coldly, calmly tucked away all the methods into his mind. Ideas to use on other people.

It had all taught him a lesson that in a way he appreciated. That no good deed goes unpunished. He liked passing that lesson on to the rest of the world. Seeing them all trusting and eager to help, like he’d been so long ago now. They had to be taught. Taught like he had been.

And he was also taught that this was a secret he had to keep to himself. He couldn’t trust anyone not to become curious and want to poke around at him. He didn’t have the strength to go through any more experiments.

There was nothing left for him in this world. No friends, no family, doomed to hide away in the shadows trying not to get caught again life a terrified mouse hiding from a hawk. It was a wretched way to live.

So, he started his own experiments. Maybe there was a limit and one day he’d run out of extra lives. For a while he threw himself off cliffs and slit his wrists in bathtubs but he kept on coming back. He was grasping at straws now, desperately trying to figure out the answer to the puzzle. He got attached to the Greek myth of Charon, who took the dead to the afterlife down the river Styx. How if you didn’t have pennies over your eyes or under your tongue when you were buried, you were doomed to walk the bank of the river for a hundred years.

It was worth giving it a go. He couldn’t exactly glue pennies to his eyes and go about his day, so he started going around with one underneath his tongue. He decided if he were to die, he’d like to take a few rednecks and yuppies with him. Maybe, maybe he’d get lucky this time. He just had to keep trying until it stuck.

You’d think threatening a man’s wife and kids would drive him to kill. No. No one could bear to do it. He thought maybe flirting with some of the men would make them want to beat him to death. But no amount of leering and thigh grabbing would push them to it. They were all just too scared, too goddamn afraid to fight back. Maybe he had an aura of the coyote about him. An unearthly aura something not quite of this world.

If he ever found that fucking thing, he’d wring its neck.

Then he found him. His boy. Jim Halsey.

Of course, he’d tried the old trick with him, leer and grab hoping maybe he’d lash out. But he was interesting. He saw the disgust and fear like most men but there was also a contradictory curiosity and attraction in his face too. At the diner when he’d leaned over to cup his face, he saw how his lips had parted and his eyes fluttered closed, pink dusting his cheeks. The boy was a closet case. The disgust and fear weren’t really aimed at the hitcher more it was aimed at himself for enjoying the attention of another man. If he’d really wanted to, he could have easily sweet-talked him into having a bit of fun in a cheap motel room. But he’d shoved the idea aside as unimportant. This boy was the first to fight back. The first one to hit instead of cower. The first one to not just submissively accept death. This boy could do it. He was the one who could kill him. All he needed was a push or two and he’d do it happily.

After that final gunshot, he’d hoped with everything he had that it would stick.

“It’s impossible, it’s impossible, no one could survive that, we pronounced him dead…!”

The familiar baffled squawking rang in his ears as sighing, he opened his eyes. He’d have to get out of here quick. Before they rang the wrong people, before he was taken away again.

After an easy massacre, he spat the useless penny into his palm chucking it over his shoulder. Complete waste of time. He’d really thought having a goddamn penny in his mouth would help him to fucking die? He must have been out of his mind. Holing himself up in a motel room, he sunk into a dark hole of despair. The thrill of the chase had been a nice distraction. Now he was brought back to the horrible reality of his cruel fate.

When he’d found the coyote, he knew he’d been younger, just a smooth faced young boy. In the chipped mirror he saw the face of a man in his forties. Despite the immortality he was still aging. What happened when he passed a hundred? He’d be a decrepit old sack of skin, just sitting helplessly in a pile of his own waste, unable to die. What would happen if he was still here when the world ended? When the earth burnt up would he remain, floating in the void of space, suffocating, coming back, suffocating and coming back over and over for all eternity? The idea filled him aching dread all the way down to his soul.

He’d really thought Jim Halsey would be the one. Lovely long-legged boy.

He found himself missing him. Missing his dark eyes all wide with terror and lust, the curly hair almost long enough to reach his chin, that lovely smell of sharp acid fear and fresh sweet excitement. He’d been fun to play with. The urge to kill had disappeared, he’d only ever done it for experimental sake, trying to find someone to fight back and end him. Now he knew it’d all been a waste of time he didn’t really have much of a desire for it anymore.

Between killing sprees there wasn’t really much to do. There was still a lingering fear that if he showed up in a big city, he’d be discovered and carted away to another nondescript government building. So, he remained drifting through empty highways and pokey little towns like tumbleweed. All there was to do that kept him from wallowing in dread was to kill, torture and fuck.

He didn’t have anything else to do, might as well go find the boy. Waste some time with him until he figured out his next idea of trying to make death stick.

It was all too easy. In the papers an article appeared about Jim, mentioning he was now under witness protection. It didn’t make sense. None of his murders had showed up in the papers before. He knew his government pals wanted to hush his kill spree up, didn’t want anyone looking into it too closely. And why mention that Jim’s name had changed?

Slipping into the police station had been too simple. Jim’s file was too out in the open, barely hidden away at all. Suspicion gnawed in his chest.

They were using the boy as bait. Making him easy to find. They were counting on him tracking Jim down and then they’d pounce.

Why bother change his name at all then? Wouldn’t it have been easier just to let Jim go so he could find him? No, putting him in witness protection was their way of keeping a better track on Jim. The kid was from Chicago, he was easier to lose in a big city. Jim could decide to pack his bags and leave the country if he wanted. No, witness protection meant Jim had to stay where he was, not leave the little town, and stay just where they wanted him.

For a branch of government, they weren’t very clever.

He could just avoid their trap completely, not go to the town, leave Jim alone. But he felt a certain glee in outsmarting them.

What would they expect him to do? They’d be watching the highways into the town for a string of abandoned cars and mutilated bodies, expecting him to kill his way to the kid. They expected him to just barge straight into Jim’s trailer unaware of the people they had watching the boy like a hawk.

He’d have to pretend to be an ordinary guy to get into town. Hitch rides without killing the drivers be as inconspicuous as he could, not leave a trace of suspicious activity that could set them on his trail.

It was dark when he reached the pleasant little place all lush and green, full of small-town charm. As he slunk carefully to the gravel road that led to the trailer park, he kept to the shadows, watching for parked cars and vans. Nothing. But he didn’t let his guard down. That’s what they were good at, not being noticed.

In the trailer park, he peered through the window of the reception area. There she was, mousy haired bland faced, sitting at the front desk and looking as unremarkable as possible. The same one who’d interviewed him all those years ago. In between filing her nails, she’d flick through her security television, showing grainy images of the gravel road to the park, the park grounds, the front of Jim’s trailer, the inside of it. The boy was curled up in bed with his back to the wall, a knife clenched in his fist. The sight of him made his blood feel hot, his breath tightening. Under her desk he could see a red duress button. No doubt at the first sight of the man she’d press it and set the rest of her government chums on him like slathering dogs.

Climbing through the window and sliding up behind her was easy as pie. It would have been nice to really drag it out, make it as torturous as possible but ah well. He shot an arm around her neck and heard her choke out. She grasped for the duress button and he swung down with his knife. In a flash, her severed fingers dropped to the floor like little pink sausages. She was determined though, kicking out with her feet desperately towards the button. So, he knocked her off the chair and onto the floor, sitting down on her chest and keeping her pinned as she flailed. With one hand he stroked her cheek as he twisted her nail file deep into her ear and into her brain, staring into her eyes as she bled out of every orifice in her face.

After her last death rattle, he got up, playing absent minded with the blood on his fingers. Tapping at the security screen, he set it so it played tapes from the night before. Then he slipped back out the window, making his way towards Jim’s trailer. The window was shut so he wiggled the lock open with his knife, crawling inside. He leaned over his bed, seeing Jim Halsey again for the first time in months.

The boy was curled up in the foetal position, eyelids fluttering with sleep, mouth pursed, eyebrows knitted in a frown. Bad dreams no doubt. Bending over him he gently ghosted his fingertips across his cheek, down his neck and over his side. The boy squirmed in his sleep. Ticklish.  His pouty lips murmured silently and he bent down to hear him better.

“Just a dream,” he whispered. The man chuckled. At the sound, Jim’s dark brown eyes flew open.

There was a strange mixture of fright and relief in his face. He slowly dragged his eyes down his body. Only in an old t-shirt and briefs, his shaking legs all dusted with dark hair. Taking his hands in his, he pulled a pair of handcuffs out of his jacket. Jim didn’t resist as he snapped the cuffs on.

He thought he might have had to drag him out kicking and screaming but he was wrong. Only a hand on the small of the kid’s back and he obediently walked with him out into the trailer park. There was a motorbike leaning against one of the trailers and he paused, undoing one of the cuffs and clicking it around a pole so he wouldn’t run off. Putting a finger to his soft pouty lips he made a hushing sound, grinning at the way it made the boy’s eyes go all liquid dark.

There was nothing to stop him screaming for help, but he kept quiet. Easily he broke into the trailer, stole the motorbike keys and the owner’s wallet off a sideboard. Returning to the boy, he undid the cuffs and walked him over to the motorbike.

Pulling him onto the back of the bike, he redid the cuffs so Jim’s arms were wrapped around him, unable to move unless he pulled his hands over the man’s head.  Jim could easily slide the cuffs up and use them to choke the man to death but he had a feeling he wouldn’t. He felt his knees pressed into his sides and his shivering body against his back as he started up the engine. They drove off into the night together. On a bicycle built for two.

His mind was torn up.

He was the only person he had left, the yearning animal side of him whispered. The logical side yelled whose damn fault is it, that you don’t have anyone? 

There was only one person who had ever stayed. 

But he was a psycho, a madman, who’d put you through hell on earth.

But he didn’t want to be alone.

Alone was better than being with him.

But his hands were so big and strong and his eyes so piercing sharp…

You idiot, idiot, you’re goddamn risking your life for the first man to touch you in your special spot?

You need to wrench yourself sideways, throw them both off the bike and then run.

They’d pulled up next to a dilapidated abandoned church house, surrounded by bramble and weeds. All his energy was put into trying not to cry, the tears quivering at his lashes a second away from spilling down his cheeks. The door was boarded up and John swung his leg back and kicked it down. Then he rode the motorbike inside the building

Inside the church the pews and floor were coated with dust, cobwebs, broken glass and debris, the walls and arched ceiling covered with graffiti. On the back of the bike Jim stared at everything over the floor that could slice his bare feet to ribbons. John came to a stop by the altar. He undid the cuffs, climbed off of the bike, turning around to pull Jim off it as well. He felt numb with cold, shivering all over. He sat him down on a pew and Jim pulled his legs up to avoid the floor, hugging them to his chest.

John was crouched in front of him, staring into his face. Jim didn’t want to look at him. It was like staring at a bright light that would burn him into nothing. His hand caught Jim’s chin, tipping it up and forcing him to meet his electric blue gaze. Jim felt his heart in his throat, his breath tight, the heat in his chest a sharp contrast to the coldness of his skin.

He sent him that smile that was somehow both fond and mocking. Cupping his face, he thumbed away his tears.

Then he began to slowly pull off his jacket, not breaking eye contact. Jim felt like he couldn’t breathe, every point of his skin prickling with that bizarre mix of fear and desire he always felt when he was around him. But John just draped the jacket over him like a blanket and then went over to sit on the altar.

It was like air had been let out of a balloon. God he was stupid expecting John to ravish him. He scoffed to himself. Not expecting, hoping. He brought the jacket in closer to himself, revelling in its comforting warmth.

“Are you gonna kill me?” he whispered. John smile grew wider as he took out a cigarette and lit it.

“No point to that anymore,” he said. Jim watched, the cigarette between his lips, the way he blew the smoke out in lazy languid breaths.

“You were dead,” Jim murmured.

“I was,” John replied. Something happened in his face. A sudden steeliness. Closing up like a safe.

“Why’d you come and find me for?”

He just got a shrug in response.

“You’re good company,” he said.

Jim drifted between sleep and wakefulness, as the man sat at the altar, smoking, eyes moving across the endless graffiti, the smoke trailing up the ceiling. It was pleasantly toasty inside the coat, with a comforting smell of leather and cigarettes and a faint, underlying whiff of petrol and sweat.

Morning birds squawked and grey dawn light poured through the cracks in the ceiling and smashed windows. Still dozing, he felt strong arms sliding under his body, lifting him easily. He was being carried down the aisle and out of the broken door. He felt a bit like John’s favourite toy being lugged around from place to place.

The air hit his face as they went outside and he snuggled more firmly into the jacket to avoid the cold. He was placed on a patch of grass under a tree, soft as a mattress. He fell back into his sleep.

When he woke up, it was late morning. He slowly sat up, looking around and blinking with confusion. Sitting on the church steps was John, staring at him without blinking. Jim shivered at the thought of him watching him sleep. Had John slept at all during the night? He’d never seen him sleep, eat or drink before. Maybe he didn’t need to.

That was crazy. It wasn’t like John was some kind of supernatural creature…right?

He’d been dead? How had he managed to survive the gunshots?

 “Nice sleep?” John asked breaking him out of his thoughts. A pleasant enough question but coming from him it sounded sarcastic. He stood up from the church step and started making his way towards him.

“Yeah,” Jim said, watching him like a snake about to strike. “I’m kinda hungry though.”

“Poor baby,” he replied with a crooked grin. Jim scowled at him but the pet name had made an embarrassing heat flush to his cheeks. John reached down and gave him an affectionate scratch under the chin.

Maybe he wasn’t John’s toy. Maybe he was like a pet dog. Whatever he was, he knew he wasn’t a human. John’s brain didn’t seem to work like that. People were just things to play with and he was unlucky enough to be his favourite.

Jim got to his feet as John started heading off through the trees, the grassy ground sloping upwards into a hill.

“What about the bike?” he said as he did up John’s coat to hide his partial nakedness.

“Nah,” John said casually. “Nice day to walk.”

As he hurried after him, He realized the bike probably would be reported as stolen soon and John didn’t want to be tracked. It was interesting, to see the method to the madness. He’d seemed like such a phantom during the Events, appearing and reappearing out of nowhere. This was how he kept himself hidden.

The twigs, prickly grass and pebbles stuck painfully into his feet as they walked. Over the hill, the ground dipped down into a small valley with a shallow creek at the bottom, mossy wet rocks by the riverbed. Jim stumbled slightly on the incline, gasping a little with pain as a he stepped on a particularly pointy stick. Why couldn’t have John had let him get his shoes the night before?

The older man watched as he did an awkward hopping walk into the creek. The water went up to his calves and felt cool and soothing on his bruised and cut up feet. He sighed with relief. He didn’t want to go back on the grass again. He’d walk here.

John strolled beside him on the riverbed, humming to himself as they travelled down the twisting, turning creek. Dragonflies and mosquitos moved lazily around his wet ankles and the sun was growing stronger above them as morning changed into midday. Jim could feel sweat prickling at his forehead and under his armpits. He wanted to take the coat off for some relief but walking around in his underwear wasn’t the most pleasant of thoughts.

He didn’t have handcuffs on him anymore. He could just run off. What was making him stay? It was pathetic, he told himself fiercely, to follow him around like a love-struck puppy. Where the hell was his sense of self preservation, his survival instinct?  It was so incredibly stupid, to let his guard drop like this. At the moment, John seemed to have lost interest in murder. But at any second he could get that itch again.

In the distance they could see a bunch of kids playing in the creek and some teenagers hanging from trees and from a tyre on a rope attached to a branch. They garnered a few glances but most of them were uninterested. There was a bunch of bikes and backpacks dumped by a walking trail and John headed for it. Climbing out of the creek, Jim hissed a little at the unpleasant feeling of wet dirt between his toes. As casually as anything, John bent down and started going through the bags.

“Really?” Jim said, glancing over his shoulder at the kids in the creek. “Stealing from children?”

John threw him a few sticky melted candy bars.

“You said you were hungry,” he replied.

It was an uncharacteristically nice thing for John to do. They went down the trail and Jim tried to ignore the feeling in his chest, warm and gooey as the chocolate he was wolfing down. Following the trail, they ended up in a quiet neighbourhood street. Jim spotted a clothes donation bin on the sidewalk and hurried towards it.

Opening up the chute he wiggled in head first, finding himself in a dark world of smelly clothes and shoes. He’d never have thought he’d ever have to resort to stealing pants and shoes from charity. Never thought he’d be having a nice stroll through country towns with a murderous serial killer. A serial killer he had a sick infatuation with.

John watched him with an amused smile as he put on a mouldy pair of trainers that were too big and holey pants that were too tight. The shoes squelched unpleasantly at his feet but it was better than walking around in his underwear.

Down a few blocks, they reached the main street of the little town. John stopped, looking over at a general store.

“You reckon they sell cigarettes?” he said as he pulled out a wallet. Jim stared at him with outrage and John raised an eyebrow at him.

“You had money the whole time?” he snapped. “I coulda bought shoes and pants!”

“Yeah, but it was funny seeing you stuck in the bin, wasn’t it?” he replied with a smirk.

They moved towards a men’s clothing store down the street. They found nearly all the stores closed barely any cars or people around at all.

“It must be a Sunday,” Jim said with frustration, peering into the dark window of the clothing store. “These country towns…. everything shuts on Sunday. You’d never see anything like that in Chicago.”

John said nothing. He slunk around to the side of the building where the trash cans and old cigarette butts were. Easily he jumped the fence and Jim followed him, nervously looking over his shoulder, hoping no-one was watching. Walking through knee high weeds and gravel, they went around the building until they found a back door that was bolted shut.

Jim tried to see what John was doing but he was blocking the way.  The motel room during the Events had been locked as well and it had tortured him trying to figure out how the hell John had gotten in. He played around with the door a few moments and then like magic, it swung open. They went into the dark, shadowy building together.

It was full of racks of dress shirts and blazers, boots and hats. John shot straight for the manager’s office in search of cigarettes. Jim went through the jeans section, guilt gnawing at his chest. If he wanted to stay with John, it would mean he’d have to get used to this. Have to turn a blind eye to the break ins and robberies and other petty crime.

After picking out a shirt, fresh underwear, pants and shoes, he wandered over to the change rooms, locking the door behind him. It was kind of stupid, not like there was anyone there but John to see him get naked. He guessed it was just habit.

He was pulling off his pyjama shirt when he paused, thinking he’d heard something. His heart jumped to his throat. There was breathing outside the door.

“John?” he called out with alarm. There was a pause, as though the other man was taking a moment to recognise the name. Then he said;

“Whatya doing in the changing room?”

 It struck him then with a horrible lurch that of course, John Ryder wasn’t even his real name. He really knew absolutely nothing about the man he was travelling with at all.

“Getting changed obviously!” he said, hating how his voice had gone all high pitched.

“Aw,” John said. “Shy are you?”

“No!’ he protested sounding like a petulant teenager.

“C’mon princess, come out and show off your new dress for me,” he leered. Jim felt a shudder wrack through him. Men had been calling him degrading names all his life, princess, sweetheart, angel. All because they felt contempt for his looks. Normally it pissed him off, but from John it felt different. Made all his skin prickle with heat.

He jumped when he heard the door unlocking. His heart was in his throat. John was like a ghost sliding silently into places where he didn’t belong. Jim didn’t know how he did it. Didn’t know how he’d snuck around Nash’s diner without being seen, stealing Jim’s wallet and replacing it with his bloodied knife, sneaking a severed finger in his fries. Didn’t know how he’d gotten into the motel to steal Nash away without anyone noticing like a shadow in the night.

“What’re you doing!’ he half whispered half cried out with shock, covering up his naked crotch with his bunched-up pyjama shirt. John sent him a look that made all the hairs on Jim’s naked body stand on end. Hungry and lascivious, like he wanted to pick every last morsel of meat from his bones. The stall was too small for two six-foot men. John crowded up against him and Jim felt his bare ass touch the mirror. This close he could smell him, old cigarette smoke and sweat. He took Jim’s face in his hands and he was reminded of that moment in the diner, his face so close to his, his fingers trailing over his lips and his eyelids.

“C’mon, like you haven’t wanted this the second I got in your car,” he said with a smile that made his teeth look all jagged and shiny.

All Jim could do was stare up at him helplessly, feeling like he was a rabbit in the path of a hungry coyote.

“Leave if you want,” John said, as though he was daring him. “No-one’s stopping you.”

He wasn’t going to leave. They both knew it. He looked down, swallowing, feeling his Adam’s apple bob. Then he dropped his pyjama shirt to the floor, completely naked to him. John ran his hands down his bare shoulders, stepping in impossibly close. Jim put his hands on his chest, feeling the muscle there.

“Look at you,” John murmured into his ear.

His chest was firm as a brick wall beneath his hand. It was embarrassing, how these interactions with him were the most erotic he’d ever experienced.

“I’m…I’m a virgin…” he said and John sent him that look both gentle and malicious.

“No-one’s ever touched you?” he said voice as soft as butter.

“Just a prom date gave me a hand job….”

“She make you come?” John interrupted. There was a sudden coldness in his voice, in his eyes. He remembered what he’d said when Jim had climbed into the truck with him, Nash’s screams ringing in his head. He’d wondered why on earth John had made his presence known to the cops, given up the game of blaming everything on Jim just to target Nash.

“She’s sweet,” he’d said bitterly. Then when he’d refused to shoot him, the disbelief and then icy fury that took over his face.

“You useless waste.”

Back in the changing room, Jim shook his head wordlessly.

“What a shame.”

He was turned around roughly, almost as if he was punishing him. How dare you ever be with anyone but me? He could see them in the mirror, his own face alternating between wanton and afraid, his lips wet, his cock swollen between his legs. John’s hands on his hipbones, his eyes shining bright and predatory. Jim eyes dropped to the ground, unable to look at himself.

“No,” John spat and grabbed his chin, forcing his head back up. “Watch.”

The sound of him undoing his belt and unzipping was deafeningly loud. Jim was shaking uncontrollably and John laughed into his neck, a tickling vibration against his skin.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m not gonna fuck you. Not yet.”

He heard him spit into his hand, coating himself in the saliva.

“Squeeze your legs together,” he said and Jim wordlessly obeyed. He jumped when he felt him, blunt and heavy, pressed at the back of his thighs. John gripped his hips tighter.

“Stay still,” he hissed in his ear. Jim panted open-mouthed as he pushed, pushed and then slipped his cock between his clenched thighs. He could see the glistening head in the mirror, poking out underneath Jim’s straining cock. He started to rock his hips and Jim whimpered helplessly. He didn’t know you could do something like this. It seemed absolutely crazy. His eyes fell closed, the strange tickling feeling in his perineum and underneath his shaft making an aching pleasure surge through his body.

John’s hands swept up his chest, pinching his nipples and Jim gasped.

“Don’t close your fucking eyes,” he said viciously. Jim stared into the mirror, watching his flushed face, pupils blown and spit slick lips, his cock bouncing with John’s thrusts. His hands tugged and pinched and pulled at his nipples until they were angry red and pointed.  He could hear himself, his snuffling little excited breaths, the wet slap of John’s cock between his thighs.

His teeth grazed his neck and Jim couldn’t stop the small shocked sound that left him. Jim was just a sheltered kid, who’d only been taught the bare basics of sex at school, who didn’t even know he could do anything outside the missionary position. This was all so absolutely crazy.

John’s mouth was hot, his teeth sharp, his fingers rough at Jim’s nipples, his cock heated between his legs. It was too much, too much, his entire body tingling with lovely terrible ecstasy. He thrashed, letting out desperate little sounds, grasped wildly for John’s hands.

“John, help me, oh god, I can’t, I can’t….” he babbled feeling like his insides had been liquefied. His thighs clamped like an iron vice down on John’s cock. The man’s teeth sunk in deeper as he sighed into his neck, rocking him back and forth.

The white fluid splattered over the glass and he felt his legs go weak, going limp in the older man’s arms. He heaved for breath open mouthed, mind a deafening static.

“Ssh, ssh,” he said softly, half carrying him to stop him collapsing to the floor. “You’re okay, you’re okay.”

If you’d just heard him, maybe he would have sounded gentle but his expression told a different story. Most of the time, John looked like a human. A regular, handsome, blond-haired, blue-eyed man. But sometimes, something happened to his face where his eyes got too shiny and his smile too wide all full of glistening teeth like some kind of horrible feral animal.

He hated himself for finding it so alluring.

John turned him around to face him. Taking his hand, he stroked his wrist and brought it down to the front of his open jeans. Jim bit back a shuddering sigh, feeling him, hot and slick and pulsing.

“Do it like you do to yourself,” he said. “Go on.”

He hadn’t had a bedroom door growing up his mother having taken it off him. She also timed his showers, screaming about wasted money if he went a second over the limit. He always had to be quick if he wanted to get off.

John watched as Jim took his hand back, wetting his fingers with his tongue all slick with saliva. Then he took his cock, using his fingertips to delicately pull the foreskin back and forth over the dark, shiny head. John’s breathing grew ragged.

“That’s it,” he said, voice a rasp. “Good boy.”

Jim lathed his other palm with spit, reached down and cradled the man’s balls in his hand, feeling their heavy weight. Then he started stroking his shaft, feeling the vein throbbing against his hand, the soft moist sounds filling up the cramped room. He could smell him, smell his arousal mixing with the heady aroma of Jim’s own release. John gripped Jim’s wrist tight, so hard he thought he might break the bones. His head rocked back and without thinking Jim buried his nose into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent, dark masculine sweat. John’s hand sunk into his hair, fingers digging into his scalp, keeping him in that spot. Jim thought he might suffocate, breathing heavily as he lost all finesse, grasping at the other man’s cock all hard and clumsy.

With a groan, he felt the muscles in John’s stomach go loose as he shot over Jim’s palm and stomach. He trailed his fingers in the mess, mixing it up into Jim’s dark pubic hair. He collected the white viscous liquid and raised it to Jim’s lips. He flinched a little, staring at John with shock as he slipped the dripping fingers into his mouth. John shot him a lazy smile.

Then taking his chin he leant down to kiss him, tasting himself on Jim’s mouth. It was unbelievably, mind-blowingly filthy. He tasted of cigarette smoke and the faint metallic blood from where he'd bitten Jim’s neck. When he pulled away a string of glistening spit broke between them.

“C’mon,” he said, his face all warm with affection. “Let’s get outta here.”

After getting dressed, they left the changing room with the stained mirror and carpet behind.

The main road led out onto a highway and after fifteen minutes of wandering, they found a motel by the roadside. The boy was exhausted from the long day of walking. He went into the shower to rid himself of all the grime. The man opened the door and watched him without the boy noticing. He was scrubbing at the bottoms of his feet, trying to get rid of the caked in dirt. He quietly closed the door again. Jim wandered out and then fell into bed, asleep the second his pretty head hit the pillow. He slid into the bed beside him, resting a hand on his hip, stroking the skin there.

He couldn’t help but like the kid. So many men he’d met on the highways over the years pretended to be tough but crumpled like tissue paper as soon as he got the knife out. Jim was the opposite. He looked soft but he had this inner core as strong as rock. He was a rubber ball. Always bouncing back no matter how hard you threw him down.

Lovely boy even when he was asleep. Slightly pursed lips, brow furrowed like he was working out equations in his dreams. It was fascinating the contrast between his soft and rough traits, a sweet pretty face and tough calloused hands, puppy fat in his belly and thighs against lean firm muscle in his chest and limbs. He wondered if a subconscious part of him targeted Jim cause he wanted to corrupt his innocence, make him dark and twisted. Like what he’d gone through himself. But he just wouldn’t break. Despite everything, he was still a precious thing looking like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.

In his sleep, the boy squirmed closer and closer until his head was tucked into the man’s chest, clutching at his shirt, legs thrown around his waist. He brushed the long hair curling at the nape of his neck and watched him breathe until the sun came up.

He’d have liked to have gone at the crack of dawn but it was almost hypnotising watching him sleep. When his thickly lashed eyes finally fluttered open, it was almost midday. That intoxicating mix of fear and attraction shifted across his face. When he affectionately touched his cheek, he flushed, all shy, not able to meet the man’s burning gaze.

They went outside and the man paused by the door to the motel room, getting out a cigarette.

“Can I have one?” Jim asked by his side as he lit up. He breathed the smoke in deep into his lungs. Then he reached over, taking him by the collar of his shirt and tugging him forward. He pressed their lips together and slowly started to exhale, filling up the boy’s mouth with smoke. Jim was shivering against him, sucking fumes down greedily.

“John…” he breathed huskily against his mouth.

John? John. He must’ve plucked the name out of thin air when they’d first met. Now the boy had gotten himself attached to it

What was his real name before it’d been wiped from existence? He could barely remember. He’d been anonymous for so long, only really thinking of himself as a hitcher, a man, a whatever. Should he be sad that his true name had faded from his memory? Probably.

Jim was starving, had gone to bed the day before with only some melted candy bars in his stomach. The man had given him the stolen wallet watching the boy duck into a gas station as he waited outside. Jim could easily tell someone that he’d been kidnapped by a murderous hitcher, but he didn’t think he would. He watched the boy exit the little gas station, go over to him and hand him back the wallet, pressing a packet of beef jerky into his hands. The man stared down at it.

“You must be hungry too?” Jim said, eyes wide with concern.

Wordlessly he ripped the packet open and tore a chunk of meat off with his teeth.

They began wandering down the roadside together. John seemed to have no end goal in mind. Just wanted to see where his feet took him, have a bit of fun with his new plaything until he got bored.

Jim wasn’t used to walking as much as he was.

“Can’t keep up with an old man?” he grinned over his shoulder at Jim who was lagging behind. He glared back at him.

Moving away from the highway, they found themselves trekking through a forested area. It was another lovely day to walk, shining sun, smell of wildflowers and tree sap on the air, the sound of chipmunks and sparrows chirping and rustling about and a river roaring in the far distance, their feet crunching over pinecones and fallen leaves.

Jim wanted to enjoy it but every step he took a sharp pain shot up from the ball of his foot through his leg. At first, he thought he just a city kid not used to walking through the country as much. His muscles were just a bit worn out that was all. But then he remembered. The night before as he’d scrubbed his feet in the shower, he’d seen a scar on the sole, that he hadn’t paid too much attention to.

John suddenly came to a stop. He’d seemed to have spotted something in the distance. Putting a hand over his eyes against the glare of the sun, he stared off into the forest all narrow faced and cunning.

The pain was getting worse a white-hot heat at his ankle that radiated all the way to his knee. Jim let out a pained groan coming to a stop. He sat down on a nearby rock and pulled off his shoe, grasping at his foot. John turned to look down at him.

“I think I stepped on something yesterday,” he said. “I’ve got this gash on my foot.”

John walked over and went down on his haunches by his feet. Jim looked at him uncertainly as he took his ankle in his hands, pulling off his sock. The scar looked nastier now, leaking red at the ball of his foot, the skin around it puffy pink and inflamed. An unpleasant thought niggled in his mind. If it got worse, he’d have to go to the emergency room where people would start asking questions. Sooner or later the gig would be up and he’d be found out. Then back to witness protection. Away from John.

“We might have to cut it off,” the man said, stroking his fingers up and over his fuzzy ankle. It was ticklish and Jim tried to wriggle away from his probing digits. It just made him hold on tighter and he brought his foot up, pressing a hot wet kiss to the heel. Jim flinched.

“Gross,” he said under his breath, jerking his foot away out of his hand. John’s eyes crinkled with amusement as he rose to his feet. Rolling his shoulders, he started heading through the underbrush away from Jim.

 “Where’re you going?” he said, still sitting on the rock. He could feel his shoulders bunching up, his body tense with barely subdued anxiety.

“Gotta take a piss,” he said nonchalantly. His footsteps faded away through the forest. Jim remembered the man coming to a stop and peering up at something, just before. What had he been looking at?
“得小便，”他漫不经心地说。他的脚步声在森林中消失了。吉姆记得那个男人停下来，抬头凝视着什么东西，就在刚才。他一直在看什么？

Staring through the trees, it took him awhile to spot it. The afternoon sun was glinting off a roof top a few yards away. Nestled on top of a hill, he could see the outline of a house barely hidden from view.
透过树林，他花了好一会儿才发现它。午后的阳光从几码外的屋顶上闪闪发光。坐落在山顶上，他可以看到一栋房子的轮廓，几乎看不到。

Jim sat on the uncomfortable rock, nearly choking on the lump in his throat. He felt like his mouth was full of sand and his blood had been replaced with ants. John was heading for that house. He knew it.
吉姆坐在那块不舒服的石头上，几乎被喉咙里的肿块呛住了。他觉得自己的嘴里满是沙子，他的血已经被蚂蚁取代了。约翰正朝着那所房子走去。他知道这一点。

Had he gotten that itch back? He’d lasted a day without hurting anyone, just picking locks and stealing candy bars. Maybe a day was his limit before he just had to rip and tear like an addict getting their fix.
他痒痒又回来了吗？他坚持了一天，没有伤害任何人，只是撬锁和偷糖果棒。也许一天是他的极限，然后他就不得不像瘾君子一样撕扯和撕裂。

Jim got to his shaky feet. He had to stop him. Just because they had this weird thing between them didn’t mean he should just flush his morals down the drain.
吉姆站起了他颤抖的脚。他不得不阻止他。仅仅因为他们之间有这种奇怪的事情，并不意味着他就应该把他的道德付诸东流。

Stuffing his foot back into its shoe without even bothering to tie it, he broke into a limping run through the bushes. Thin branches whipped at his face and each step made a fresh thrum of agony shoot up his leg. In the distance, he could see the shine of a back fence.
他甚至懒得系鞋带就把脚塞回了鞋子里，一瘸一拐地穿过灌木丛。细细的树枝抽打着他的脸，每走一步都让他的腿上传来一阵新的痛苦嗡嗡声。在远处，他可以看到后栅栏的光芒。

Then with a gasp, he tripped over his unlaced shoe and crashed into a patch of prickly grass. He sat up, gritting his teeth and looking at his jeans torn and his grazed knee, his bloody hands that had broken the fall. He was such a city slicker. Just a few days exploring the countryside had left him bruised, battered and bleeding.
然后，他喘着粗气，被没带鞋带的鞋子绊倒了，撞上了一片带刺的草地。他坐起来，咬紧牙关，看着自己被撕裂的牛仔裤和擦伤的膝盖，看着他那双血淋淋的双手。他真是个圆滑的人。仅仅几天的乡村探索就让他遍体鳞伤、殴打和流血。

There was a badly muffled laugh from somewhere nearby. Jim looked around, barely even shocked anymore to find him leaning against a tree, the corners of his mouth tipped up. Of course, he just appeared and disappeared out of nowhere. He should be used to it by now.
不远处传来一阵闷闷不乐的笑声。吉姆环顾四周，发现他靠在一棵树上，嘴角上扬，几乎不再感到震惊。当然，他只是突然出现又消失了。他现在应该已经习惯了。

Jim stood up, brushing the grit off his knees and palms. For a moment he doubted himself, wondered if he’d jumped to conclusions thinking that John had gone off to kill everyone in the house. Jim had run after him so fast John would’ve had to have acted at supernatural speeds to break into the house, murder the owners, leave and then find a tree to lean on in all the time it took Jim to chase him.
吉姆站起来，拂去膝盖和手掌上的砂砾。有那么一刻，他怀疑自己，想知道他是否匆忙下结论，认为约翰出去杀了屋子里的所有人。吉姆追得太快了，约翰不得不以超自然的速度闯入房子，杀了房主，离开，然后在吉姆追赶他的所有时间里找到一棵树可以依靠。

John looked over his shoulder at the gate that led to the house. A hedge hid most of the building from view.
约翰回头看了看通往房子的大门。树篱遮住了大部分建筑。

“Though we might break in,” he said casually. “They might have a couple of band aids for your boo-boos, honey. Unless you want me to kiss it better.”
“虽然我们可能会闯进来，”他随口说。“他们可能有几个创可贴来让你嘘嘘嘘，亲爱的。除非你想让我更好地亲吻它。

“Very funny,” Jim snapped back.
“真有趣，”吉姆厉声回道。

They went over, Jim limping worse than before and John reached over the gate to unlatch it. Behind the high hedge was a stretch of beautiful garden, with palm trees, an outdoor sitting area, a large swimming pool and a mosaic path that led to a big glass sliding door.
他们走了过去，吉姆一瘸一拐的脸比以前更严重了，约翰伸手越过门打开了门。高高的树篱后面是一片美丽的花园，花园里种满了棕榈树，还有一个户外休息区，一个大型游泳池和一条通往大玻璃推拉门的马赛克小路。

Jim felt slightly lulled but didn’t know whether to trust this feeling yet. It seemed like John had left the owners here untouched, but he just couldn’t be certain.
吉姆感到有些平静，但还不知道是否应该相信这种感觉。看起来 John 没有动过这里的业主，但他就是不能确定。

He was again struck by John’s method of sneaking around. He did it so easily like it was second nature for him. They stuck to the perimeter of the yard, avoiding going down the main path. He took up a feather light tread so his shoes didn’t make a sound and he made his breathing go soft so you’d have to prick your ears up to hear him. He moved with the shadows, not letting the light of the sun shine down on him. It was almost like watching an artist dance across a stage, careful and deliberate, so well-practiced he made it look almost easy.
他再次被约翰的偷偷摸摸的方法所震撼。他很容易就做到了，就像这是他的第二天性一样。他们紧紧地守在院子的周边，避免沿着主干道走下去。他踩着轻如羽毛的步伐，这样他的鞋子就不会发出声音，他让自己的呼吸变得柔和，所以你得竖起耳朵才能听到他的声音。他随着阴影移动，不让阳光照在他身上。这几乎就像看着一位艺术家在舞台上跳舞，小心翼翼，经过深思熟虑，如此熟练，以至于他让它看起来几乎很容易。

Again, his body shielded the way so he couldn’t see how he undid the locked back door. When he slid it open, he beckoned the boy inside. The house was dark and quiet. They’d found themselves in an open-plan room, the kitchen, dining area and living room all combined. It looked modern, white walls and floor, abstract art and sculptures and expensive furniture. The unease slowly trickled back into Jim’s heart. There didn’t seem to be a sign of life around.
他的身体再次挡住了去路，所以他看不到他是如何解开锁着的后门的。当他推开门时，他向里面的男孩招手。屋子里又黑又静。他们发现自己在一个开放式房间里，厨房、用餐区和客厅都合在一起。它看起来很现代，白色的墙壁和地板、抽象艺术和雕塑以及昂贵的家具。这种不安慢慢地渗入了吉姆的心中。周围似乎没有生命的迹象。

“I reckon it’s a holiday home,” John said, peering around the place. “Some rich fucks leave it empty all year ‘cept for summer.”
“我估计这是一个度假屋，”约翰说，环顾四周。“一些有钱的混蛋一年四季都空着，夏天除外。”

He was lying, he had to be, he’d done something to the owners, he knew it. It sounded impossible though. John had only left him at the rock for a minute or so. There was no way he’d have the time to do any damage. Right?
他在撒谎，他必须撒谎，他对业主做了什么，他知道。不过这听起来是不可能的。约翰只把他留在岩石上一分钟左右。他不可能有时间造成任何伤害。右？

The man slipped a hand onto the small of Jim’s back. He led him to the sofa and laid him down on it, propping the boy’s legs up so they hung over the armrest.
男人把一只手滑到吉姆的小背上。他把他带到沙发前，让他躺在上面，把男孩的腿撑起来，让它们挂在扶手上。

“Stay right there,” he said, before slipping away again. When he returned, he had a first aid kit. Soon he was bent down, attending to his injured foot and scraped knee. Again, it was uncharacteristically nice of him. Jim felt that warmth in his chest that overtook the sting of the antiseptic.
“待在那儿，”他说，然后又溜走了。当他回来时，他有一个急救箱。很快，他就弯下腰来，照顾受伤的脚和擦伤的膝盖。再一次，他一反常态地好。吉姆感到胸口的温暖超过了消毒剂的刺痛。

“Gimme your hands,” John said and Jim obeyed, letting the man take his wrists. It reminded him of back in the interrogation room. John taking his hands and then leaning up as Jim leaned down, the police staring in shock around them. For a second before he spat in his face Jim thought; “God, does he think I’m gonna kiss him?”
“把你的手给我，”约翰说，吉姆服从了，让男人抓住了他的手腕。这让他想起了当年在审讯室里。约翰握着他的手，然后仰起身子，吉姆俯下身子，警察震惊地盯着他们周围。在他朝他的脸上吐口水之前，吉姆想了一会儿;“上帝啊，他觉得我要吻他吗？”

He watched John’s broad strong hands working on cleaning his grazes and bandaging them up. He reached over, tucked a curl of dark hair behind Jim’s ear.
他看着约翰宽大有力的手正在清理他的擦伤并包扎它们。他伸手过去，把一缕黑发塞到 Jim 的耳后。

Then he gave him a pat on the cheek, before standing. He disappeared into the house, leaving Jim on the sofa. The warm feeling was shot through with something bitter, like fruit going mouldy. What was he doing? Cleaning up a bloody mess he’d left behind? Chopping bodies into tiny pieces to bundle up in a trash bag?
然后他拍了拍他的脸颊，然后站了起来。他消失在屋子里，留下吉姆坐在沙发上。温暖的感觉被某种苦涩的东西射穿了，就像水果发霉一样。他在做什么？收拾他留下的血腥烂摊子？将尸体切成小块装进垃圾袋？

He was just considering getting up and investigating when he appeared at the doorway again. Jim gawked. The man was only in boxers, a towel over his shoulder.
他正想起身调查，这时他又出现在门口。吉姆目瞪口呆。那个男人只穿着平角裤，肩上披着一条毛巾。

“I’m going for a swim,” he said with that half smile.
“我要去游泳，”他半笑半笑地说。

Jesus, God. He was struck dumb by his body, all tanned skin, blond hair dusting over thick broad muscle. John always looked strong but he was normally hidden away in his bulky coat.  Jim ducked his head down, feeling a wave of shyness go through him. He was reminded of when they’d first met, captivated by the stranger’s mouth for a moment before bursting into nervous laughter.
耶稣，上帝。他被自己的身体吓得哑口无言，皮肤都晒黑了，金发覆盖着厚实宽阔的肌肉。约翰总是看起来很强壮，但他通常藏在他笨重的外套里。吉姆低下头，感到一阵害羞贯穿了他。他想起了他们第一次见面的时候，被这个陌生人的嘴巴迷住了一会儿，然后紧张地笑了起来。

“I never learnt,” Jim admitted, swallowing down the saliva that had flooded into his mouth. His mother was convinced he’d drown so he just stayed with the toddlers in the shallow end of swimming pools. John shrugged and went out the sliding door.
“我从来没有学过，”吉姆承认道，吞下了涌入他嘴里的唾液。他的母亲确信他已经溺水身亡，所以他就和蹒跚学步的孩子呆在游泳池的浅水区。约翰耸耸肩，走出了推拉门。

Jim got to his shaky feet. His scrapes and cuts still ached, but he had to look. He started creeping around the house. It didn’t look particularly lived in, the beds fastidiously made, not a handtowel out of place or toothpaste spit in the basin. What you’d expect from a holiday house. But the wardrobe was full of clothes, tidily folded underwear, hangers of shirts and blouses. The kitchen fridge and pantry were stocked with food. Why the hell would a holiday home that was empty all year have milk in the fridge?
吉姆站起了他颤抖的脚。他的擦伤和割伤仍然很痛，但他必须去看。他开始在房子里爬来爬去。它看起来并不特别有人居住，床铺得一丝不苟，没有一条不合时宜的手巾，也没有把牙膏吐在脸盆里。您对度假屋的期望。但衣柜里装满了衣服、折叠整齐的内衣、衬衫和衬衫的衣架。厨房的冰箱和食品储藏室里装满了食物。为什么一个全年空荡荡的度假屋的冰箱里会有牛奶呢？

He imagined what John would say if he confronted him.
他想象着如果约翰面对他会说什么。

“Maybe it’s a weekender and they’ll be here on Friday?” he’d answer with a shrug. “I didn’t say it was definitely a holiday house, did I?”
“也许是周末，他们周五会来这里？”“我没说这绝对是个度假屋，对吧？”

Jim stared out the window where John was swimming laps in the pool. The man didn’t seem keen to leave. Why didn’t he seem to care at all about the owners showing up?
吉姆盯着窗外，约翰正在游泳池里游泳。这个男人似乎并不热衷于离开。为什么他似乎根本不关心业主的出现呢？

His mind was all torn again. It’s obvious he’s lying, he probably has the house owners stuffed under the floorboards, beginning to rot. But how could he do it? It was impossible for him to be that fast? But hadn’t he done impossible things before? Shooting the helicopter down? And Nash, remember Nash? He’d barely been in the shower long enough, how had he busted in, tied her up and alerted the cops in that tiny time frame? But admitting he’d killed the homeowners was too frightening a thought. It was like admitting he was sharing a house and a bed with something inhuman, not of this world.
他的头脑又一次被撕裂了。很明显他在撒谎，他可能把房主塞在地板下，开始腐烂。但他怎么能做到呢？他不可能那么快吗？但他以前不是做过不可能的事情吗？击落直升机？Nash，还记得 Nash 吗？他洗澡的时间还不够长，他是怎么在这么短的时间内闯进来，把她绑起来，还提醒警察的呢？但承认他杀了房主，这个想法太可怕了。这就像承认他与某种不人道的东西同住一栋房子和一张床，不属于这个世界。

Afternoon turned to evening. John left the pool, showered with the bathroom door wide open, almost like he was inviting him to join. Jim didn’t know if he had the courage to do that yet.
下午变成了晚上。约翰离开了游泳池，洗了个澡，浴室的门大开着，几乎就像在邀请他加入一样。吉姆不知道他是否有勇气这样做。

For dinner Jim poured himself a big bowl of Frosted Flakes and John drank an expensive wine straight out of the bottle. He watched him eat, eyes not moving away for a moment. Always, always watching, watching him sleep, watching him eat watching him do everything. It made his skin crawl and his heart flutter. Would he ever get used to the mixed feelings of revulsion and lust over John?
晚餐时，Jim 给自己倒了一大碗糖霜薄片，John 直接从瓶子里喝了一杯昂贵的葡萄酒。他看着他吃东西，眼睛一刻没有移开。总是，一直看着，看着他睡觉，看着他吃饭，看着他做一切。这让他的皮肤毛骨悚然，心跳加速。他会习惯对约翰的厌恶和欲望的复杂感觉吗？

He didn’t think he would.
他认为他不会。

This was probably the best idea he’d had in a long time. A luxurious house to stay in and a pretty young boy to play with. Finally, a bit of good fortune. He’d savour every last minute of it until Lady Luck turned on him again.
这可能是他很长一段时间以来最好的主意了。一个豪华的房子可以住，还有一个漂亮的小男孩可以一起玩。最后，一点好运。他会细细品味它的每一分钟，直到幸运女神再次对他下手。

He tried to remember what he’d been going to college for all those years ago. He knew he was taking a gap year before going back to school but he didn’t know what for. He wondered if he’d wanted to be a teacher. It gave him a kind of thrill, teaching the boy, seeing him learn from him. It didn’t matter if it was teaching him how to shoot a gun or how to kiss properly. Jim was a cautious student, needed encouragement and gentle careful coaching.
他试图回忆起那些年前他上大学的事情。他知道自己在回学校之前要休学一年，但他不知道为什么。他想知道自己是否想成为一名教师。这给了他一种刺激，教这个男孩，看到他向他学习。无论是教他如何射击还是如何正确接吻，都无关紧要。Jim 是一个谨慎的学生，需要鼓励和温柔细致的指导。

In the bed together, the sheets soft and silky, higher quality then any crappy motel room, he lay by the boy’s side. Letting him curiously touch the man’s chest, feeling his muscles, the knife scars and bullet wounds. He had no idea that every last one of those long-healed injuries had been lethal. He petted the blond hair at his stomach, looking with wide eyes and a wet red mouth. A mouth begging to be kissed.
一起躺在床上，床单柔软丝滑，比任何蹩脚的汽车旅馆房间都要好，他躺在男孩身边。让他好奇地触摸男人的胸口，感受他的肌肉、刀疤和枪伤。他不知道那些早已愈合的伤势中的每一处都是致命的。他抚摸着肚子上的金发，睁大了眼睛，嘴巴湿漉漉的。一张乞求被亲吻的嘴。

Leaning over, he did just that, pressing their lips together. When Jim felt his teeth catch at his bottom lip, he jolted with surprise in his arms. He laughed all low into his mouth and then slid over to lick down his cheek and over the line of his jaw. Jim made a quiet, uncertain sound, as though trying to decide if he liked it or not.
他俯下身来，照做了，把他们的嘴唇贴在一起。当吉姆感觉到他的牙齿卡在他的下唇上时，他惊讶地在他的怀里颤抖着。他低声笑了起来，然后滑过来舔了舔他的脸颊和下巴的线条。吉姆发出一个安静的、不确定的声音，仿佛在决定他是否喜欢它。

 “You can kiss me back, y’know,” he said. Jim tended to just lay there when he was kissed, not doing a thing back. He probably didn’t know how. He seemed to have been heavily sheltered.
“你可以回吻我，你知道的，”他说。吉姆在被亲吻时倾向于躺在那里，什么也不做。他可能不知道怎么做。他似乎受到了严密的庇护。

“I thought I was?” Jim murmured, twisting against him with embarrassment. Gently, he took his face in his hands.
“我以为我是？”吉姆喃喃自语着，尴尬地扭动着身体。他轻轻地用手捧着自己的脸。

“Press your mouth back against mine,” he said, pulling him in. Jim obeyed, awkwardly pushing his lips forward.
“把你的嘴贴在我的嘴上，”他说，把他拉进去。吉姆服从了，笨拙地把嘴唇往前推。

“Now put out your tongue,” he instructed. He felt the hot wet muscle prodding against his own, as the sloppy smacking sounds filled the room. He was a smart kid. Learned quickly.
“现在把你的舌头吐出来，”他指示道。他感觉到湿热的肌肉在刺激着自己的肌肉，邋遢的啪啪声充满了房间。他是个聪明的孩子。学得很快。

“That’s good,” he said and Jim thrummed happily in his arms at the encouragement.
“那很好，”他说，吉姆在他的鼓励下高兴地嗡嗡作响。

It was so endearing how innocent he was. They’d found a bottle of lube in the bathroom and he’d instructed Jim to jerk off in front of him with a lubricated hand. The thought of masturbating in front of another person was the kinkiest thing in the whole wide world to the boy. If he had any idea the endless other things they could do it might make his mind implode. All this gentle coaxing was out of character for him. He’d rather drag the boy to a dingy warehouse, string him up in chains, gag him with his own underwear and mark him up with burning cigarettes and his knife. Maybe hang his head off the edge of a workbench and fuck his mouth until his face was dripping with spit and come.
他是多么的无辜，真是太可爱了。他们在浴室里找到了一瓶润滑油，他指示吉姆在他面前用一只润滑的手抽搐。在另一个人面前自慰的想法对这个男孩来说是整个世界最的事情。如果他知道他们可以做无穷无尽的其他事情，那可能会让他的头脑崩溃。所有这些温柔的哄骗对他来说都是不合时宜的。他宁愿把这个男孩拖到一个肮脏的仓库里，用铁链把他绑起来，用自己的内裤堵住他的嘴，用燃烧的香烟和刀子给他做标记。也许把他的头从工作台的边缘垂下来，操他的嘴，直到他的脸上滴满了唾沫，然后过来。

Jim was a skittish little thing though. If he kissed him too roughly, he shrunk up in his arms, shaking with nerves. He reckoned if he even tried to do something as simple as pulling his hair he’d bolt away. He’d already chased and caught him he wasn’t interested in doing it again.
不过，吉姆是个轻浮的小东西。如果他吻得太粗暴，他就会缩在他的怀里，紧张地发抖。他估计，如果他试图做一些像拉头发这样简单的事情，他就会飞走。他已经追上了他，抓住了他，他不想再做一次了。

He’d work him up to the more fun stuff over time. It was nice to savour his innocence for now. Jim was sweet. His favourite thing was cuddling, burying himself into his chest like a rabbit into its den. He liked it when he played with his hair, when he kissed him feather light, just the slightest swipe of a tongue against his own.
随着时间的推移，他会让他做更有趣的事情。现在能品味他的纯真真是太好了。吉姆很贴心。他最喜欢的事情是拥抱，把自己埋进自己的胸膛里，就像兔子钻进它的巢穴一样。他喜欢玩弄他的头发，喜欢轻柔地亲吻他，喜欢舌头在自己身上轻轻的滑动。

Still, he liked being more vulgar to make him squirm like a pretty girl with a dirty old man’s hand up her skirt.
尽管如此，他还是喜欢表现得更粗俗一些，让他像个漂亮的女孩一样扭动着，手里有一只肮脏的老男人的手在她的裙子上。

“C’mon,” he said, mouthing down over the bulge of his Adam’s apple. “When’re you gonna give me your cherry?”
“来吧，”他说，嘴巴低垂着他的喉结。“你什么时候把你的樱桃给我？”

“Don’t,” he murmured back, face flushed and embarrassed.
“不要，”他喃喃自语，脸色通红，尴尬不已。

“Precious princess,” he teased, pulling up his shirt to lap at the stiff peak of his nipple. Perhaps some people would expect him to be the type to just forcibly take what he wanted. He’d never been that type of psychopath though.
“珍贵的公主，”他调侃道，拉起他的衬衫，舔着他坚硬的。也许有些人会认为他是那种随便强行拿走自己想要的东西的人。不过他从来都不是那种精神病患者。

“It’s stupid,” Jim murmured. “People at school always said….said the hole was as big as a pierced ear and if you shoved a….a dick inside it would tear it apart and there’d be blood and dangling skin everywhere and it would hurt…
“这太愚蠢了，”吉姆喃喃自语。“学校里的人总是说.......说这个洞有个耳洞那么大，如果你把一个....鸡巴塞进去，它会把它撕开，到处都是血和悬垂的皮肤，会很痛......

“No, no,” he drawled. “People who just shove it in don’t know what they’re doing. That’s the amateur way of fucking.”
“不，不，”他抽搐着。“只是把它塞进去的人不知道他们在做什么。这就是业余的他妈的方式。

He settled down between Jim’s legs, a hand at his knees parting them open.
他坐在吉姆的双腿之间，一只手放在他的膝盖上，把它们分开。

“We’ll get you nice and wet and ready for me baby, don’t you worry,” he said, stroking his fingers over his inner thigh, closer and closer to his crotch. “Take it inch by inch.”
“我们会把你弄湿的，然后为我准备好，宝贝，你别担心，”他说，用手指抚摸着他的大腿内侧，越来越靠近他的胯部。“一寸一寸地接受。”

His hand slipped up to rest on Jim’s belly.
他的手滑了起来，停在了吉姆的肚子上。

 “You’re gonna feel me right inside here,” he said, voice a dark growl. “I’ll make you come on my cock so sweet.”
“你会感觉到我就在里面，”他说，发出黑暗的咆哮。“我会让你来我的鸡巴上，这么甜。”

Watching his face, the kid still looked more afraid then interested. His cheeks were all flushed and there was a curiosity in his dark eyes but his arms were all curled up to his chest defensively, his breath a nervous quiver.
看着他的脸，这个孩子看起来仍然更害怕，而不是感兴趣。他的脸颊通红，漆黑的眼睛里流露出好奇，但他的手臂都防卫性地蜷缩在胸前，他的呼吸紧张地颤抖着。

“It’s okay,” he said trying to sound soothing. He knew it only half worked the words sounded sweet but they were still dripping with feral hunger. Dipping a hand between his knees, he opened them wider, pushing his face into the boy’s crotch. He mouthed at his underwear, tasting his cock through the fabric. Jim reached down, clutched at his shoulders, making a delicious little moan. Pulling the briefs down, his cock sprung out, curving against the dark trail of hair on his belly. He had a nice one, uncut, not very thick, but a bit longer than average and his balls were taut and firm.
“没关系，”他说，试图让自己听起来很舒缓。他知道这只奏效了一半，这些话听起来很甜美，但它们仍然滴着野性的饥饿。他将一只手伸进膝盖之间，把膝盖张得更大了，把脸贴进了男孩的胯部。他啃着自己的内裤，隔着布料品尝着他的鸡巴。吉姆伸手搂住他的肩膀，发出一声美妙的小呻吟。拉下三角裤，他的阴茎弹了出来，在他腹部的深色头发上弯曲。他有一个不错的，未切割的，不是很厚，但比平均水平长一点，他的蛋蛋绷紧而结实。

Remembering what he’d done in the changing room, he slicked two fingers in his mouth and played with the boy’s foreskin, sliding it up and down over the shiny wet tip of his cock. Jim thrashed, his moaning picking up pitch. John pressed his mouth to the delicate flesh of his thighs.
想起了他在更衣室里所做的一切，他把两根手指滑进嘴里，玩弄着男孩的包皮，在他闪亮湿润的阴茎尖端上下滑动。吉姆抽搐着，他的呻吟声越来越高。约翰把嘴贴在他大腿上娇嫩的肉上。

He lapped at his sweat damp hairy skin, smelling him, nice and ripe as he nosed towards his pale pink hole, tiny and tight and trembling. The sound he made when he put his tongue there was a lovely mix of confusion, shock and pleasure.
他舔舐着他汗湿的毛茸茸的皮肤，闻着他的味道，当他用鼻子探向他淡粉色的洞时，它又小又紧，又颤抖。当他把舌头伸进去时，他发出的声音是困惑、震惊和快乐的可爱混合。

“Wh-wh-what…?” he said and John shushed him. He slathered his hole with saliva, tonguing over and over it with long wet strokes. He took a firmer hold of the boy’s cock. Jim’s legs were shaking and he was breathing harshly, intrigued yet afraid.
“呜呜呜......”他说，约翰让他安静下来。他用唾液涂抹他的洞，用长长的湿抚摸一遍又一遍地吞咽。他更牢牢地抓住了男孩的鸡巴。吉姆的双腿在颤抖，他呼吸急促，既好奇又害怕。

“Taste so sweet,” he said. “Could spend the whole night right here…”
“尝起来真甜，”他说。“可以在这里过夜......”

Jim squirmed.  吉姆扭动着身体。

“No-one’s ever done this to me,” he said and his voice was so vulnerable. It was so wonderfully wrong. He should have been lovingly deflowered by a college boyfriend in white sheets sprinkled with rose petals, not roughly taken by a sadistic old hitcher who liked slicing throats for fun. The depravity of it was delicious, making his blood burn hot and boiling.
“从来没有人对我做过这种事，”他说，他的声音是如此脆弱。这真是大错特错。他应该被一个大学男朋友穿着撒满玫瑰花瓣的白色床单深情地摘花，而不是被一个喜欢割喉咙取乐的虐待狂老杀手粗暴地带走。它的堕落是美味的，使他的血液燃烧得滚烫和沸腾。

When he pressed the point of his tongue at the tight ring, starting to push inside, Jim’s knees clamped at either side of his head. Trapping him there.
当他用舌尖按压紧绷的环，开始往里推时，吉姆的膝盖夹住了他头的两侧。把他困在那里。

“John!” he cried out. He still wasn’t very used to the name yet. But it was getting more familiar. Maybe if he spent enough time with the boy, he would start feeling like it actually belonged to him.
“约翰！”他还不是很习惯这个名字。但它越来越熟悉了。也许如果他花了足够的时间陪伴这个男孩，他就会开始觉得这真的属于他。

He pushed and pushed with his tongue against the little untouched hole that was clenching up tight. He swiped his thumb over his cockhead, feeling the pre fluid slide over his knuckle to the webs of his fingers. His tongue just managed to slightly breach the rim, slipping into his body and Jim let out a whine. He was half shrinking away, half rocking down on him, unsure whether he was enjoying the strange new sensation or not.
他用舌头在紧紧咬着的未触碰的小洞上推来推去。他用拇指在他的鸡巴头上滑过，感觉到预液从他的指关节滑到他的指网上。他的舌头稍微突破了边缘，滑进了他的身体，吉姆发出了一声呜呜声。他半缩身，半摇晃着，不确定自己是否享受着这种奇怪的新感觉。

He swirled his tongue inside him, tasting him, probing deeper. He could feel his pre-come leaking all over his hand. But he couldn’t reach that spot he wanted to. Not with his tongue anyway. Had Jim ever been touched there? Did he even know he could?
他用舌头在他里面打转，品尝他，探查得更深。他能感觉到他的预泄液流到了他的手上。但他无法到达他想要的那个地方。反正不是用他的舌头。吉姆在那里被碰过吗？他甚至知道他可以吗？

Pulling away he saw the glistening spit at his winking hole. He groaned at the sight of it, grasping at his own cock. God, he wished he could shove himself in, fuck the boy raw. But he knew it would taste all the sweeter if he waited. Sliding his cum slick finger over the fluttering entrance, he pressed inside, the muscles in Jim’s belly jumping wildly. The boy was watching the finger disappear inside him, mouth open, eyes slightly damp. Jim was so tight on him he thought he’d break his finger in his ass.
他抽身离开，看到闪闪发光的唾液射在他眨眼的洞口上。他一看到它就呻吟起来，紧紧抓住自己的鸡巴。上帝啊，他希望他能把自己塞进去，生生地操这个男孩。但他知道，如果他等待，它的味道会更甜。他用他光滑的手指滑过颤动的入口，他按压着里面，吉姆肚子上的肌肉疯狂地跳动着。男孩看着那根手指消失在他体内，嘴巴张开，眼睛微微湿润。吉姆紧紧地搂着他，他以为他的屁股会折断他的手指。

He pressed his mouth to his balls, twisting his finger until it touched the prostate, chuckling when it made Jim come undone at once. His cock shot off like a gun, drenching his stomach and chest with semen. He kept lightly stroking his sweet spot, milking every last drop of come from his cock and Jim shook, overstimulated and overwhelmed.
他把嘴贴在他的蛋蛋上，扭动他的手指直到它碰到前列腺，当它让吉姆一下子解开时，他咯咯地笑了起来。他的鸡巴像枪一样射了出去，精液浸湿了他的腹部和胸部。他不停地轻轻地抚摸着他的甜蜜点，挤出他阴茎的每一滴精液，吉姆颤抖着，过度刺激和不知所措。

Kneeling over him, he made sure his finger was keeping Jim’s hole open enough. Then he aimed his cock at his hole and stroked himself until the pleasure burnt like wildfire through his body. His come spilled into him and Jim lay there and took it. The little red bud looked gooey with saliva and semen. Lying down beside him, he continued teasingw his hole, transfixed by the fluid spurting out of him, cupping it up and slipping it back inside, fingering the wet ring of muscle. Jim made an uncomfortable noise, his cock nestled limply in its thatch of dark hair.
他跪在他身上，确保他的手指让吉姆的洞足够张开。然后他把鸡巴对准他的洞，抚摸着自己，直到快感像野火一样烧遍他的身体。他的射精洒在他身上，吉姆躺在那里吃了它。那个小红芽沾满了唾液和精液，看起来粘稠的。躺在他身边，他继续挑逗着他的洞，被从他身上喷出的液体惊呆了，把它捏起来，然后滑回去，用手指抚摸着湿漉漉的肌肉环。吉姆发出了不舒服的声音，他的鸡巴软绵绵地依偎在黑发的茅草上。

He played with his lovely ass for what felt like hours, Jim clutching at his wrist and whimpering helplessly, his cock twitching, his eyelids heavy.
他玩弄着他可爱的屁股，感觉像是几个小时，吉姆紧紧抓住他的手腕，无助地呜咽着，他的鸡巴抽搐着，他的眼睑沉重。

Yes. It was one of the best ideas he’d ever had.
是的。这是他想过的最好的主意之一。

No-one showed up at the house on Friday. Not a weekender then. An idea came to him one morning, his head resting on John’s firm chest, the man playing with his hair, the sheets a sticky mess beneath them.
周五没有人出现在这所房子里。那不是周末的人。一天早上，他想到了一个主意，他的头靠在约翰结实的胸膛上，男人把玩着他的头发，床单下面一团粘稠。

“I might go take out the trash,” he said pulling away from his inviting embrace. John sent him a quizzical look, his eyebrow quirked.
“我可能会去倒垃圾，”他说，从他诱人的怀抱中抽身。约翰疑惑地看了他一眼，他的眉毛皱了起来。

“What?” Jim said defensively. “I don’t wanna get rats or anything okay?”
“什么？”吉姆辩解地说。“我不想养老鼠什么的，好吗？”

As he got out of bed, John reached over to pinch his ass. Jim jumped, sending him a scowl over his shoulder, getting a toothy grin in return. He pulled on his shirt and jeans, feeling John’s gaze burning into his body. Then he went down the corridor into the kitchen. The trash was full of the contents of ashtrays, wine bottles, an empty Capt-n Crunch box and a burnt frypan from where Jim had tried and failed to cook bacon and eggs a few days before. The once pristine house was getting grubbier by the day, the sink full of cereal bowls and spoons, cigarette burns on the white couch, all the surfaces and floors covered in a fine layer of grit.
当他下床时，约翰伸手捏了捏他的屁股。吉姆跳了起来，在他的肩膀上皱起了眉头，换来了一个露齿的笑容。他拉上衬衫和牛仔裤，感觉到约翰的目光炙热地炙烤着他的身体。然后他沿着走廊走进厨房。垃圾桶里装满了烟灰缸、酒瓶、一个空的 Capt-n Crunch 盒子和一个烧焦的煎蛋，Jim 几天前曾尝试烹饪培根和鸡蛋，但失败了。曾经质朴的房子一天比一天肮脏，水槽里装满了麦片碗和勺子，白色沙发上燃烧着香烟，所有的表面和地板都覆盖着一层细细的砂砾。

Like rock stars trashing a hotel room.
就像摇滚明星破坏酒店房间一样。

Outside he followed another mosaic path to the curb. The house was situated on a gravel road with no neighbours in sight, surrounded by forest. Completely isolated.
他沿着另一条马赛克小路走到路边。这所房子坐落在一条碎石路上，看不到邻居，周围环绕着森林。完全隔离。

He was surprised he hadn’t thought of it sooner. There’d be no reason to send letters to a holiday house, right? He was just about to open the letter-box to investigate when he heard someone cry out and beep their horn from the end of the road.
他很惊讶自己没有早点想到。没有理由给度假屋寄信，对吧？他正准备打开信箱调查，这时他听到有人从路的尽头喊叫并按喇叭。

“Bunny! Bunny!”  “兔子！兔子！

He nearly jumped out of his skin. A truck was rolling up to him and he saw behind the wheel, the scowling face of Bill, with Helen hanging out the passenger window, her mouth hanging open with shock.
他差点从皮肤里跳出来。一辆卡车向他驶来，他看到方向盘后面是比尔皱着眉头的脸，海伦挂在副驾驶窗外，震惊地张大了嘴巴。

Jim just stared at them, stunned. The truck came to a stop beside him.
吉姆只是目瞪口呆地盯着他们。卡车停在他旁边。

“So, this is where you’ve ended up, Bunny!” Helen exclaimed. “You had us all so worried, disappearing like that!”
“所以，这就是你落脚的地方，兔子！”海伦惊呼道。“你让我们都这么担心，就这样消失了！”

“What kinda man runs off on the job?” Bill muttered under his breath. Helen tutted disapprovingly at her husband.
“什么样的人在工作中逃跑？”比尔低声咕哝着。海伦不以为然地对她的丈夫啧啧称奇。

 “Our daughter Nancy and her family live about twenty minutes up the road from here,” she said. “Are you working for the Normans now? They’re a nice young couple, just moved in here a little while ago.”
“我们的女儿南希和她的家人住在离这里大约 20 分钟路程的地方，”她说。“你现在在为诺曼人工作吗？他们是一对很好的年轻夫妇，刚搬进来不久。

The Normans? Probably at the bottom of the river in different pieces now. Holiday home, sure thing. He’d wanted to believe it.
诺曼人？现在可能在河底以不同的部分。度假屋，当然。他想相信它。

Helen peered over his shoulder and her eyebrows shot up with surprise. Jim looked around. Standing in the doorway nearly hidden in the shadows was John, smoking a cigarette, only in his boxers, fixing the couple with his icy cold stare.
海伦回头看了看，她的眉毛惊讶地扬了起来。吉姆环顾四周。约翰站在门口，几乎隐藏在阴影中，抽着烟，只穿着他的四角裤，用他冰冷的目光盯着这对夫妇。

Bill’s face coiled up with disgust.
比尔的脸上露出厌恶的表情。

“I knew you were a fag the second I saw you,” he sneered at Jim.
“我一看到你就知道你是个基佬，”他对吉姆冷笑。

“I didn’t know…the Norman’s were that kind of people,” Helen muttered to herself with shock. “They looked like such a nice normal couple, I wouldn’t have ever of thought…are you swingers or something? My goodness.”
“我不知道......诺曼人就是那种人，“海伦震惊地喃喃自语。“他们看起来就像一对如此美好的普通夫妇，我从来没有想过......你是浪荡公子还是别的什么？我的天哪。

“I don’t want a bunch of orgy having freaks near our Nancy,” Bill hissed to his wife and she shushed him. She reached out and took Jim’s hand in her own. Her wedding band was cold against his skin.
“我不想在我们的南希附近有一群狂欢，”比尔对他的妻子嘶嘶地说，她让他安静下来。她伸出手来，握住了吉姆的手。她的婚戒在他的皮肤上冰凉。

 “I know people in the church, they can set you right,” Helen said soothingly. “We can get you some therapy, help you with these behaviours.”
“我知道教会里的人，他们可以帮你改正，”海伦安慰地说。“我们可以给你一些治疗，帮助你解决这些行为。”

He took a step back, letting the woman’s hand slip from his own. Hurrying down the drive, he heard Bill shout after him;
他后退了一步，让女人的手从他自己的手上滑落。他匆匆忙忙地走下车道，听到比尔在他身后喊道;

“You better leave my daughter alone, y’hear?”
“你最好别管我女儿，你听到了吗？”

Slamming the door shut behind him he reached over and drew the blinds firmly closed.
他砰的一声关上了身后的门，伸手把百叶窗牢牢地关上了。

Damn him, he’d told himself never to get attached to people again. He couldn’t help but like Helen though, with her sympathetic looks and offers of Sunday dinner.
该死的他，他告诉自己再也不依恋人了。不过，他还是情不自禁地喜欢上了海伦，她富有同情心的眼神和周日晚餐的提议。

John cracked the blinds, fixing the truck with his electric blue gaze, cold as the artic, hard as steel. His mouth was a thin harsh line, his face like a death mask. Jim reached over and slid his hand into his. Maybe it was infantile of him but he liked holding John’s hand. It was strong and the skin was rough and he just found it comforting. John’s vicious expression lessoned just slightly almost but not quite becoming soft. 
约翰打开百叶窗，用他那电蓝色的目光固定着卡车，冰冷得像北极，坚硬得像钢铁。他的嘴巴是一条细而严厉的线条，他的脸就像一个死亡面具。吉姆伸手过去，把手滑进了他的手里。也许这是他幼稚的，但他喜欢握着约翰的手。它很结实，皮肤很粗糙，他只是觉得很舒服。约翰恶毒的表情稍微减轻了教训，几乎要变得柔和，但还没有完全变得柔和。

“This isn’t a holiday house,” Jim said. “What did you do with the people who lived here? The Norman’s?”
“这不是度假屋，”Jim 说。“你怎么对待住在这里的人？诺曼的？

His mouth tipped up, a sardonic gleam in his eye.
他撇起嘴巴，眼中闪过一丝讽刺的光芒。

“What?” he said. “Who’re the Norman’s, Bunny?”
“什么？”“谁是诺曼家的，兔子？”

Jim slipped his hand free. Then he padded away from him. In the bathroom he filled up the bath with bubbly hot water and sat in it until his skin was pruny. Could he just sit by and put up with the chaos, the violence, the murder? Was he the type of person to just turn a blind eye to everything John did as long as the man came to bed with him afterwards? Goddamn he didn’t want to think anymore. He wished he could just force his mind to be empty instead of filled to the brim with anxiety.
吉姆松开了他的手。然后他悄悄地离开了他。在浴室里，他把浴缸装满了冒泡的热水，然后坐在里面，直到他的皮肤变得松软。他能坐视不理，忍受混乱、暴力、谋杀吗？他是那种只要约翰事后和他上床就对他所做的一切都视而不见的人吗？该死的，他不想再想了。他希望他能强迫自己的头脑空虚，而不是充满焦虑。

He went back to bed, exhausted despite having done nothing all day. The stress of it everything was wearing him down.
他回到床上，尽管一整天什么都没做，但他还是筋疲力尽。一切都让他疲惫不堪。

When he opened his eyes again the sun was dipping down in the sky, turning the room a mix of maroon and magenta. He’d thought he’d heard something but he didn’t know if it was his dream or reality. It was like something calling out. Coming from outside the window.
当他再次睁开眼睛时，太阳已经落在天空中，将房间变成了栗色和洋红色的混合。他以为自己听到了什么，但他不知道这是他的梦还是现实。就像有什么东西在呼唤。从窗外传来。

Getting to his feet, he went over, his socks not making a sound against the soft carpet. The lovely garden, with the grass getting taller, the plants looking slightly untamed, the mosaic path that led to the closed gate in the hedge that would take one to the forest.
他站起来，走了过去，他的袜子在柔软的地毯上没有发出声音。可爱的花园，草越来越高，植物看起来略显野性，马赛克小路通向树篱上紧闭的大门，将人带到森林。

He admired for a moment how the sunset made the pool look a dark red. Then he frowned. There seemed to be something floating in the water. He walked out of the bedroom and down the corridor. There was a sick tight feeling in his chest and throat. The air seemed to be thrumming with something dark and deadly. It was like sticky viscous poison, almost making him choke. He was just about to reach the end of the hall when John stepped into his path blocking his way, still only in his boxers.
他欣赏了一会儿日落是如何使游泳池看起来暗红色的。然后他皱起了眉头。水面上似乎漂浮着什么。他走出卧室，沿着走廊走去。他的胸口和喉咙里有一种病态的紧绷感。空气中似乎嗡嗡作响着某种黑暗而致命的东西。就像粘稠的毒药，几乎让他窒息。他正要走到大厅的尽头，这时约翰踏上了他的去路，挡住了他的去路，他仍然只穿着他的四角裤。

“Don’t,” he said, putting a hand to Jim’s chest. “Go back to bed.”
“别，”他说，一边把手放在吉姆的胸口。“回去睡觉吧。”

Jim looked down at the hand on his white undershirt. It was covered with drying blood, leaving a handprint stain. He slowly looked over the man, a huge thick line of red gore smeared down his face and naked chest, splattered over his hands and sinewy arms.
吉姆低头看着他白色汗衫上的那只手。上面覆盖着干涸的血迹，留下了手印污渍。他慢慢地看着这个男人，一条巨大的粗红色血迹涂抹在他的脸上和裸露的胸膛上，溅在他的手和强壮的手臂上。

He remembered the sound that had woken him up, the one he wasn’t sure was a dream.
他记得把他吵醒的声音，那个他不确定是不是梦的声音。

“Helen! Oh god! Somebody help us!”
“海伦！天啊！有人帮帮我们！

Jim put a hand on his bare torso, feeling the sticky coagulating blood.
吉姆把一只手放在他裸露的躯干上，感受着粘稠的凝固血液。

“Why’d you kill them?” he said, hating his tiny squeak of a voice. John’s bloody hands slipped down to his hipbones, leaving fresh red stains there.
“你为什么要杀他们？” 他说，讨厌他那微小的吱吱声。约翰沾满血迹的手滑到他的髋骨上，在那里留下了新鲜的红色污渍。

 “They were rude to you,” he said simply.
“他们对你很粗鲁，”他简单地说。

There it was that horrible fluttering heat in his chest and in his belly. God he was sick. Too much time with John was warping his mind. He didn’t actually think this was…romantic? John was moving close, close to him, until their bodies were pressed together.
就在那里，那是他的胸口和腹部中那可怕的飘动的热气。天哪，他病了。与约翰在一起的时间太多使他的思想扭曲。他其实并不认为这是......浪漫？约翰越来越近，越来越近，直到他们的身体紧紧地贴在一起。

“C’mere,” he murmured, hungry and dangerous.
“来吧，”他喃喃自语，饥饿而危险。

Jim buried his face into the strong line of his neck, inhaling the thick scent of coppery blood and dank sweat.
吉姆把脸埋进他结实的脖子里，吸入了铜色的血液和湿漉漉的汗水的浓浓气味。

“I want it,” he breathed desperately. “I want it.”
“我想要它，”他绝望地喘着气。“我想要。”

“I’ll give it to you,” John hissed back. “Make you take it.”
“我把它给你，”约翰嘶嘶地回答。“让你接受它。”

He guided him backwards down the corridor and towards the bedroom. He was too strong to resist even if Jim wanted to, his hands unyielding at his hips. Across the bed, they pulled at Jim’s clothes, John making encouraging sounds. As soon as his chest was bared, John slicked his thumb in his mouth, pushed it to the hard nubs of his nipples. It made Jim arch, nearly off the bed.
他引导他沿着走廊向后走去，走向卧室。即使吉姆想反抗，他也太强壮了，他的手在他的臀部上毫不屈服。在床对面，他们拉扯着吉姆的衣服，约翰发出鼓励的声音。当他的胸部露出来时，约翰就把拇指滑进嘴里，把它推到他坚硬的上。这让吉姆弓起身来，几乎要从床上下来。

“That’s it,” he murmured as he thumbed them until they ached. “There you go.”
“就是这样，”他喃喃自语着，用拇指抚摸着他们，直到他们感到疼痛。“给你。”

He pulled his cock out of his boxers, thick and hard and heavy. Then his hand sunk into the dark curls of Jim’s hair.
他从四角裤里抽出他的鸡巴，粗壮、坚硬、沉重。然后他的手陷入了吉姆的深色卷发中。

“Get it nice and wet,” he instructed, pushing Jim’s head down to his crotch. He felt it smack his cheek and the rich scent flooded his nose, making his mouth fill with saliva. Normally John did this to him, not the other way around and he tried to mimic his method. Shoving the entire head and shaft all the way down his throat, gagging and pulling away, spluttering spit down his chin.
“弄湿它，”他指示道，把吉姆的头推到他的胯部。他感觉到它打在他的脸颊上，浓郁的香味充斥着他的鼻子，让他的嘴里充满了唾液。通常 John 会这样对他，而不是相反，他试图模仿他的方法。将整个头和一直推到他的喉咙里，堵住嘴，抽搐，唾液顺着他的下巴喷出。

John laughed, fondly touching his cheek.
约翰笑了起来，深情地抚摸着他的脸颊。

“Take it slow princess,” he said. “We have all night.”
“慢慢来，公主，”他说。“我们整晚都在。”

Breathing in hard, he took a hold of the shaft, slipping his lips over the head. Swirled his tongue over the underside, feeling the vein there. Tasting him, musky and masculine. Saliva was pooling down and soaking the blond hair, darkening the skin.
他用力吸气，抓住，将嘴唇滑过头。他的舌头在下侧旋转，感受那里的静脉。品尝他，麝香和阳刚。唾液淌下来，浸湿了金发，使皮肤变黑。

John’s breath was heavy as he slid his hand through Jim’s hair. Taking a firmer grip of his head he started to rock his hips up, his cock sliding in and out of his throat. Jim tried to pull away, choking on it, but John held tighter. Thick drool coated his shaft, wetting his balls.
约翰的呼吸很沉重，他的手滑过吉姆的头发。他更用力地抓住他的头，开始摇晃他的臀部，他的鸡巴在他的喉咙里滑进滑出。吉姆试图抽离，但约翰却抱得更紧了。浓稠的口水沾满了他的，打湿了他的蛋蛋。

“Look at me,” he rasped. Jim fluttered his eyes towards him, the sweat and blood a slimy mix over his face. He touched his cheek again, feeling the bulge of his cock through the skin. Grasping his head, he pushed all the way in until Jim’s nose brushed his blonde pubic hair, his balls pressed into his chin.
“看着我，”他嘶哑地说。吉姆朝他眨了眨眼，汗水和血在他的脸上混成一团。他再次摸了摸自己的脸颊，感觉到他的阴茎透过皮肤的隆起。他抓住他的头，一直往里推，直到吉姆的鼻子拂过他金色的，他的蛋蛋压在他的下巴上。

Feeling it all the way in the back of his throat, he pushed his hand down to his own cock, grabbing at himself. He moaned, gulping uselessly around the hard flesh. When John’s hold relaxed, Jim pulled away, coughing, tears streaming down his cheeks. A thick line of spit stretched from the tip of John’s cock to Jim’s mouth.
他感觉到它一直在他的喉咙后部，他把手伸向自己的阴茎，抓住自己。他呻吟着，徒劳地吞咽着坚硬的肉体。当约翰的抱着放松时，吉姆抽身，咳嗽着，泪水顺着脸颊流下来。一条粗细的唾液从约翰的鸡巴尖端一直延伸到吉姆的嘴里。

John pressed a hand to his chest, coaxing him to lie down across the mattress. He wedged his knee between his thighs and Jim opened his legs wider. Lying down on top of him, he ached beneath his heavy muscular frame.
约翰用一只手按在他的胸前，哄他躺在床垫上。他把膝盖夹在大腿之间，吉姆把他的双腿张得更开了。他躺在他身上，在他沉重的肌肉框架下疼痛。

The man pushed his mouth hungrily to his neck, teeth grazing the skin. He started moving down his body, mouthing and kissing and biting down over his collarbone, chest and stomach. Jim whimpered, gripping at his blond hair, the heat burning through his skin. John pressed a wet kiss to his perineum, tongue tasting the delicate flesh.
男人饥渴地把嘴贴在脖子上，牙齿擦过皮肤。他开始沿着自己的身体向下移动，嘴巴、亲吻和咬住他的锁骨、胸部和腹部。吉姆呜咽着，抓着他的金发，热气在他的皮肤上灼热。约翰在他的会阴上贴了一个湿漉漉的吻，舌头品尝着娇嫩的肉体。

Jim moaned. He didn’t know he could be kissed there. He only knew about sex through schoolyard whispers. John seemed so effortlessly knowledgeable. It made him feel all the more naïve and virginal.
吉姆呻吟着。他不知道自己可以在那儿被亲吻。他只是通过校园里的耳语才知道性。约翰看起来知识渊博。这让他感到更加天真和处女。

John reached over him to the bedside table where the bottle of lube was. He squeezed the liquid into his hand, pressing his damp fingers inside him. It felt uncomfortable, strange. He hoped he’d find that sweet spot soon, the spot that made fire burst through his body.
约翰把手伸到床头柜上，那里放着一瓶润滑油。他把液体挤进手里，把湿漉漉的手指按进去。感觉很不舒服，很奇怪。他希望自己能尽快找到那个最佳位置，那个让火焰在他的身体里迸发的地方。

John fisted himself, his cock soggy with saliva and lube. Getting down between Jim’s legs, he spread his cheeks, fingertip sliding over his hole. He spat on it, spreading it with the lube until Jim felt slippery and open.
约翰握紧拳头，他的鸡巴被唾液和润滑油浸湿了。他趴在吉姆的两腿之间，张开脸颊，指尖滑过他的洞。他吐了一口唾沫，用润滑油涂抹它，直到 Jim 感到湿滑和开放。

He teased his insides with his fingers before sinking down to the knuckle, popping sloppily in and out of him. Jim felt his stomach twist and he made a tiny uncertain sound. John rested his hand, large and steadying over his belly. His fingertips made the lightest little soothing circles, playing with the dark hair that started at his navel. He felt his fingers slip out, felt the spongy head of his cock press against him. Jim’s breathing shortened and John’s hand found his own, a steadying grounding grip.
他用手指挑逗着自己的内脏，然后沉到指关节处，草率地在他体内进进出出。吉姆感到他的肚子在扭动，他发出了微小的不确定的声音。约翰把手放在他的肚子上，大而稳固。他的指尖画出最轻盈舒缓的小圆圈，玩弄着从他肚脐开始的黑发。他感觉到自己的手指滑了出来，感觉到他阴茎的海绵状头压在他身上。吉姆的呼吸急促起来，约翰的手找到了自己的手，一个稳稳的、接地的手。

It squelched inside him and he clutched at his hands, sucking in breath. He felt the rim of his hole stretch to take in his girth, felt his inner walls clinging to the length of his cock.
它在他体内吱吱作响，他紧紧抓住自己的手，吸着气。他感觉到他的洞口边缘伸展以吸收他的腰围，感觉到他的内壁紧贴着他的阴茎。

His body instinctively tried to expel the intruder, a pained pressure at his lower belly. He let out a broken sob. John’s mouth was on his, kissing away the cries, going up to his eyes to taste the tears at his lashes. His cock was forced back out and John bared his teeth.
他的身体本能地试图驱逐入侵者，一股痛苦的压力压在他的下腹部。他发出了一声破碎的啜泣。约翰的嘴贴在他的嘴上，亲吻着哭泣，抬头到他的眼睛里尝尝他睫毛上的泪水。他的鸡巴被挤出来，约翰龇牙咧嘴。

Cradling his face in his hands, he played with his lower lip and Jim tasted the sharp metallic blood on his fingertips. When he cringed at the taste John smiled and slipped his blood-soaked fingers deeper into his mouth so he could taste every last drop. Jim felt it sliding thick and coagulated down his throat and he gagged.
他双手抱着脸，玩弄着下唇，吉姆尝到了指尖尖锐的金属血。当他对这种味道感到畏缩时，约翰微笑着将他浸满鲜血的手指更深地滑入他的嘴里，这样他就可以品尝到每一滴。吉姆感觉到它滑得很厚，沿着他的喉咙凝结，他堵住了嘴。

“Yeah, spit up baby, soak my hand go on,” he grunted, voice thick with lust. Jim slobbered over his fingers and John reached down, slathering it over himself. He poured more of the lube over Jim’s clenched hole.
“是的，吐出来宝贝，泡我的手继续，”他咕哝着，声音里充满了欲望。Jim 在他的手指上流口水，John 伸手向下，在自己身上涂上一层。他把更多的润滑剂倒在吉姆紧紧咬着的洞里。

They tried again, pushing, pushing in. Jim realized there was probably the blood of Helen and Bill mixed up inside him along with the spit and the lube. It made him shudder, a sick pleasured wave rocking through him. His legs fell open as wide as they could go and he felt the tight knot at the base of his stomach release. John groaned as he felt him open up. Their hips met, the man’s balls pressing snugly against his cheeks.
他们又试了一次，推，推。吉姆意识到他体内可能混杂着海伦和比尔的血，还有唾液和润滑剂。这让他不寒而栗，一股病态的快乐浪潮在他身上摇晃。他的双腿尽可能地张开，他感觉到腹部根部紧绷的结松开了。约翰呻吟着，感觉到他敞开了。他们的臀部相遇，男人的蛋蛋紧贴着他的脸颊。

“John,” he said in a pinched voice. “Oh god…”
“约翰，”他用压抑的声音说。“哦，上帝......”

For a moment John just stroked Jim’s belly, watching his face. Jim’s mouth was open, his eyes wet, the man all shimmery with tears above him. It was an aching heat, his cock like a steel rod wrapped in silk deep in his stomach. John slowly shallowly started to thrust. All at once his insides felt like hot simmering oil and he grabbed at John’s wrist, nails digging into his skin.
有那么一会儿，约翰只是抚摸着吉姆的肚子，看着他的脸。吉姆张着嘴，眼睛湿润了，这个男人在他头顶上闪闪发光，泪水闪闪发光。那是一阵疼痛的热度，他的阴茎就像一根用丝绸包裹在他的肚子深处的钢棒。约翰慢慢地浅浅地开始。突然间，他的内心感觉像热沸腾的油，他抓住了约翰的手腕，指甲深深地钻进了他的皮肤。

“There,” he choked out. “There, there, again, again…”
“好了，”他哽咽着说。“那里，那里，再一次，再一次......”

John was murmuring sweet dirty nothings and it made Jim writhe, all the feelings too much, too overwhelming. His hips sawed into him, growing harder, harsher every time Jim gasped and cried out, parts of him being stimulated that he didn’t even know could be stimulated.
约翰喃喃自语着甜蜜的肮脏的东西，这让吉姆扭动着身体，所有的感情都太多了，太压倒性了。他的臀部被锯开，每次吉姆喘息和哭泣时，他的臀部都变得更硬、更严厉，他甚至不知道自己会受到刺激的部分受到刺激。

“You’re still too tight,” he hissed. “I’m gonna have to fuck your hole all soft and loose for me.”
“你还是太紧了，”他嘶吼道。“我得帮我把你的洞弄得又软又松。”

The blood and the sweat dripped down over Jim and he could feel John’s pre-come sliding down between his cheeks. His body felt wet with he didn’t know what, a mixture of tears and spit and sweat and semen and blood. Moving together, mixing their fluids together. He could feel his eyes, strange and shiny bright, dragging over his body, savouring all his reactions. Ducking his head down, he twisted under the burning gaze. Jim felt delirious, a shuddering fever burning sick through his body. John looked unearthly above him, the sunset pouring from the window and over his muscular form, making his eyes glisten, catching the shimmering sweat and dark line of blood down his face, neck and chest.
鲜血和汗水滴落在吉姆身上，他能感觉到约翰的在他的脸颊之间滑落。他的身体感觉湿漉漉的，不知道是什么，眼泪、唾液、汗水、精液和血液的混合物。一起移动，将他们的液体混合在一起。他能感觉到自己的眼睛，奇怪而闪亮，拖曳着他的身体，享受着他的所有反应。他低下头，在炽热的目光下扭动着身体。吉姆感到神志不清，一阵战战不停的热烧在他的身体里燃烧着。约翰超凡脱俗地看着他的上方，夕阳从窗户倾泻而下，洒在他肌肉发达的身体上，使他的眼睛闪闪发光，捕捉到他脸上、脖子上和胸口上闪闪发光的汗水和黑血线。

 John’s body fell over him, covering him up and Jim felt his cock being rubbed against John’s firm stomach. His tongue swiped at Jim’s mouth and he remembered what he’d been taught, pushing his mouth back, prodding his tongue against his. There was blood on his lips. Blood on his face dripping onto his own.
约翰的身体倒在他身上，把他盖住了，吉姆感觉到他的鸡巴在约翰结实的肚子上摩擦。他的舌头在吉姆的嘴上滑过，他想起了他被教过的东西，把他的嘴巴往后推，用舌头戳他的舌头。他的嘴唇上沾满了血。他脸上的血滴到了他自己身上。

The hot oil boiled over and the muscles in his belly and thighs began to uncontrollably tremble. His cock was spurting come, adding to the moist mess of liquid smeared between them.
热油沸腾了，他腹部和大腿的肌肉开始不受控制地颤抖。他的阴茎喷了出来，增加了他们之间涂抹的湿漉漉的液体。

“Uhhh, uhhh…” he sobbed out. His cock twitched as he dribbled out the last few droplets of come. He clung to him, clung to his slick arms. Like a child seeking comfort after waking from a nightmare. Squeezing rhythmically on him, hole pulsating.
“呃，呃......”他啜泣着。他的鸡巴抽搐着，滴出最后几滴。他紧紧抓住他，紧紧抓住他光滑的手臂。就像一个孩子从噩梦中醒来后寻求安慰。有节奏地挤压着他，洞口跳动着。

Jim slurred out, dumb with bliss; “Iloveyou…”
吉姆含糊不清地说道，幸福得哑口无言;“我爱你......”

John’s teeth sunk in to his throat, like they always did whenever he came. It’s funny how he knew his tell-tale signs now. He pushed in right to his very centre as he emptied himself inside his body. It felt strange, the semen sloshing inside him. When John pulled out, Jim’s lower stomach cramped and he felt it begin to gush out. His thighs felt damp, his cheeks were wet.  John’s lips brushed right under his dark lashes. Then he buried his face into Jim’s sweat-soaked hair, inhaling deeply, breathing him in and carrying him in his lungs.
约翰的牙齿深深地扎进了他的喉咙里，就像他来的时候一样。有趣的是，他现在怎么知道自己的迹象。他直接推向自己的中心，将自己排空在他的身体里。这感觉很奇怪，精液在他体内晃动。当约翰抽出时，吉姆的下腹部抽筋，他感觉到它开始涌出。他的大腿感觉湿漉漉的，脸颊湿漉漉的。约翰的嘴唇正好拂过他深色的睫毛。然后他把脸埋进吉姆被汗水浸湿的头发里，深吸一口气，把他吸进去，把他含在肺里。

Jim felt safe, cradled in the murderer's embrace.
吉姆感到很安全，被凶手抱在怀里。

I love you?  我爱你？

The boy was curled up in his arms like a satiated house cat, warm and flushed all down his neck and upper chest. Hadn’t he looked so fucking sweet, doe-eyed and vulnerable, being penetrated for the first time, the blood and sweat from his face dripping down onto him? His pleased squirming when he hit his prostate, the way his burning inner walls clung to his cock so tight it hurt, milked every last drop of come from him, the way his expression looked almost confused, incredulous at all the new feelings he was experiencing.
男孩像一只饱腹的家猫一样蜷缩在他的怀里，温暖而通红，一直到他的脖子和上胸部。他不是看起来那么他妈的甜美，呆滞的眼睛和脆弱的，第一次被插入，他脸上的血和汗水滴落在他身上吗？当他撞到他的前列腺时，他高兴地蠕动着，他灼热的内壁紧紧地贴在他的阴茎上，以至于疼痛，挤出了他身上的每一滴精液，他的表情看起来几乎是困惑的，对他所经历的所有新感觉感到难以置信。

I love you? God. What was wrong with the stupid kid?
我爱你？神。那个蠢孩子怎么了？

Hearing him say those words had made him come harder than anything in his life. What was wrong with stupid him?
听到他说这些话，他比他这辈子的任何事情都更难受。傻他怎么了？

It was only supposed to be a bit of fun. But then he had to go off and kill a random couple just cause they said a few things that made his boy go all teary eyed. Then he had to feel like Jim spread across the bedsheets, face red with pleasure, mouth hanging open, chest covered with droplets of come and blood and sweat was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his life. He’d just had to start adoring him.
它本来应该只是为了好玩。但后来他不得不走开，随便杀了一对夫妇，只因为他们说了几句话，让他的儿子泪流满面。然后他必须感觉到吉姆铺在床单上，高兴得通红的脸，张着嘴，胸口满是水滴，血汗是他这辈子见过的最美丽的东西。他只需要开始崇拜他。

All these years trying so hard to die. Now, in this moment, he didn’t want to anymore. He’d rather stay alive with him.
这些年来，我一直在努力死去。现在，在这一刻，他不想再这样做了。他宁愿和他活在一起。

His eyes fell closed, basking in the odd unfamiliar feeling in his chest. Strange and hot and spreading through his body. Listening to the crickets outside the window and the call of a coyote…
他闭上了眼睛，沉浸在胸口那种奇怪的陌生感中。奇怪而炙热，蔓延到他的身体。听着窗外的蟋蟀和土狼的叫声......

The call of a…  一个...

He sat up, feeling a jolt in his heart. Outside the window, he could hear something. A strange crying call that sounded almost like a laugh. He hadn’t heard it in years. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be. A cold terror suddenly gripped him all over feeling like his organs had dissolved into nothing. He was going to be sick.
他坐起来，感到心里一阵震动。窗外，他能听到什么声音。一声奇怪的哭泣，听起来几乎像笑声。他已经很多年没有听到过了。这不可能。这不可能。一股冰冷的恐惧突然笼罩着他，感觉自己的器官已经化为乌有。他会生病的。

“John?” he heard him whisper, half awake. He leaned down, brushed a quick kiss to his temple. He stroked his hair until he fell back to sleep again. Going to the window, he looked over the overgrown garden. The gate to the forest was open wide. Out of the corner of his vision, he thought he saw a flash of yellow eyes and a curling grin. When he looked again, there was nothing there.
“约翰？” 他听到他半睡半醒地低声说。他俯下身，在他的太阳穴上快速亲了一下。他抚摸着自己的头发，直到他再次睡着。他走到窗前，望着杂草丛生的花园。通往森林的大门敞开着。从他的视线角落里，他似乎看到了一闪而过的黄色眼睛和一个卷曲的笑容。当他再次看时，那里什么都没有。

Down the corridor, he heard the sliding door begin to open.
沿着走廊，他听到推拉门开始打开。

His legs gave out beneath him and he sat down heavily on the bed, his breath thick and broken in his chest. It was like a waking nightmare.
他的双腿在他身下瘫软，他沉重地坐在床上，他的呼吸在胸口变得粗重而破碎。这就像一场醒来的噩梦。

Of course. The little bastard animal. What a horribly cruel curse it had inflicted on him. He couldn’t die because he’d wanted to and it refused to give him what he wanted. The moment he didn’t want to die anymore, that’s when it would finally come for him. In a way, it appealed to his twisted sense of humour. It was a joke he’d have liked to have pulled on someone else if he’d had the chance.
答案是肯定的。那个小混蛋动物。这给他带来了多么可怕的残酷诅咒。他不能死，因为他想死，但它拒绝给他想要的东西。当他不想再死的那一刻，那时他终于来了。在某种程度上，它吸引了他扭曲的幽默感。如果有机会，他真想把这个玩笑捣到别人身上。

Outside the door he saw it, crawling on its hands and feet down the corridor. It was a humanoid shape, bare naked with hanging breasts, a big mane of greyish hair, yellow eyes and a horrible smile all cracked lips, blood red gums and needle like teeth. He thought in the face it looked a little like that girl, the one who’d gotten in between him and his boy. He’d felt a furious, burning jealousy seeing them snuggled up together in the motel bed and he knew she had to die in the most horrible way he could imagine. Maybe the creature had just taken her face to make him feel all the more terrified. Look, the victim you killed the most brutally, for the pettiest of reasons, here to return the favour.
他在门外看到了它，用手和脚沿着走廊爬行。那是一个人形，赤裸裸的，垂着乳房，灰白的大鬃毛，黄色的眼睛和可怕的笑容，嘴唇干裂，血红色的牙龈和针状的牙齿。他觉得那张脸看起来有点像那个女孩，那个挡在他和他儿子之间的人。看到他们依偎在汽车旅馆的床上，他感到一阵愤怒、炽热的嫉妒，他知道她必须以他能想象到的最可怕的方式死去。也许这个生物刚刚捧了她的脸，让他感到更加恐惧。看，你最残忍地杀害的受害者，出于最卑微的原因，来这里报恩。

“Can I least put my pants on first?” he said trying to be nonchalant, trying to hide the raw terror in his voice. He felt Jim shift beside him, murmuring in his sleep.
“我至少能先穿上裤子吗？”他说，试图表现得漫不经心，试图掩盖他声音中原始的恐惧。他感觉到吉姆在他身边移动，在睡梦中喃喃自语。

It was in the doorway now, peering in at him, smiling with a mouth that was all chittering teeth, yellow eyes full of gleeful mockery. He felt suddenly very young again, not a vicious old hitcher but just a young boy, fresh and new and vulnerable. A part of him wanted to burst into tears, try to run. But that would wake Jim up and he didn’t want him to see this creature trapping him into the corner sobbing and cowering. He had to have a bit of dignity.
它现在就在门口，凝视着他，嘴里满是叽叽喳喳的牙齿微笑着，黄色的眼睛里充满了欢快的嘲讽。他突然觉得自己又年轻了，不是一个恶毒的老杀手，而只是一个年轻的男孩，新鲜、新鲜、脆弱。他的一部分想泪流满面，试着逃跑。但那样会把吉姆吵醒，他不想让他看到这个把他困在角落里抽泣和畏缩的生物。他必须有一点尊严。

It was moving, still crouched down on its hands and feet, taking one slow step at a time until it was at the end of the bed. The moonlight shone over it, made its eyes shine, its teeth glitter hungrily. Then its hand shot out and he bit back a moan of fear. It was gripping his wrist, its long yellowing claws digging into the skin. It tugged his arm down and he couldn’t fight it even if he wanted to, an unearthly strength in its wiry arms.
它在移动，仍然蹲在手和脚上，一步一步地缓慢地走着，直到它到了床尾。月光照在它身上，使它的眼睛闪闪发光，它的牙齿饥渴地闪闪发光。然后它的手伸了出来，他忍住了恐惧的呻吟。它紧紧抓住他的手腕，泛黄的长爪子深深地钻进了皮肤。它把他的手臂往下拉，即使他想也无法抵抗它，它纤细的手臂里有一种超凡脱俗的力量。

Its lips brushed his hand and he realized. The same spot. The same spot where it had bit him all those years ago.
它的嘴唇擦过他的手，他意识到了。同一个地方。多年前它咬他的那个地方。

There was a strange bright feeling in his chest. His mortality sliding back into him like liquid gold. If he ran himself into a knife right at this moment, it would finally stick. But of course, now, he didn’t want it to stick. With all his damn stupid heart, didn’t want to die.
他的胸口有一种奇怪的明亮感觉。他的死亡像液态黄金一样滑回他体内。如果他在这一刻撞上了一把刀，它最终会粘住。但当然，现在，他不想让它坚持下去。他那该死的愚蠢的心，不想死。

“Y’know, fuck you,” he said, jerking his hand away. “It’s a good thing. I’m not gonna outlive him at least. I’m not gonna see him die.”
“你知道的，去你妈的，”他说，猛地把手抽开。“这是一件好事。至少我不会比他活得更久。我不会看着他死的。

It just stared up at him, head cocked to the side.
它只是抬头盯着他，把头歪向一边。

“You’re tryna fuck me over, it’s not gonna work,” he insisted. “This is a good thing. Y’know I was just a kid, didn’t take life seriously, now I do…now I…”
“你试着操我，这不会管用的，”他坚持说。“这是一件好事。你知道我以前只是个孩子，不把生活当回事，现在我认真了......现在我......”

Then all at once, he was struck silent, feeling like he’d been hit with a brick. He stared at it, gobsmacked. It was smiling wider and wider now, making harsh little giggles in the back of its throat. Was that why it had done this in the first place? To teach him a twisted lesson? To make him value his life instead of taking it for granted?
然后突然间，他沉默了下来，感觉就像被砖头砸中了一样。他盯着它，目瞪口呆。它现在笑得越来越大，在喉咙后面发出刺耳的小笑声。这就是它最初这样做的原因吗？给他一个扭曲的教训？让他珍惜自己的生命，而不是认为这是理所当然的？

He kept on staring down at the creature, dumbfounded. Its eyes glittered with mirth. He watched as it headed for the window, smacking its hand against the glass. It was clawing at the sill and for a moment he didn’t know what it was doing. Then he realized. He went over and pulled the window open. It climbed over the sill and into the garden. He swore he only blinked a second and then it was a coyote again, running towards the fence that led to the forest, its tail whipping out of sight.
他一直盯着那只生物，目瞪口呆。它的眼睛里闪耀着欢笑的光芒。他看着它走向窗户，用手敲打着玻璃。它正在抓挠窗台，有那么一刻他不知道它在做什么。然后他意识到了。他走过去把窗户拉开了。它爬过窗台，进入花园。他发誓他只眨了眨眼，然后又是一只土狼，朝着通往森林的栅栏跑去，尾巴甩动着消失在视线中。

Jim was making fussy sounds, bare body twisting around in the sheets. His eyes were fluttering half open, half closed with confusion.
吉姆发出吵闹的声音，赤裸的身体在床单上扭来扭去。他的眼睛半睁着，半闭着，困惑地颤抖着。

“I thought…” he said, trying to sit up. “I thought I saw Nash ….at the window?”
“我想......”他说，试图坐起来。“我以为我在窗户上看到了 Nash......？”

He felt shaken, like he’d nearly fallen off the top flight of stairs before catching himself. His skin was clammy, heart feeling sick in his chest. He lay back down beside him, wrapping his arms around his dewy, lithe body, tucking his head beneath his chin. His warmth was lovely on his skin that felt icy with cold sweat. The boy squirmed in his embrace, nervous breath all stuck in his throat.
他感到一阵震撼，就像他差点从楼梯上掉下来一样，然后才回过神来。他的皮肤湿冷，心里一阵的不适。他躺在他身边，双臂搂着他湿润轻盈的身体，把头埋在下巴下。他的温暖在他的皮肤上很可爱，他的皮肤被冷汗弄得冰冷。男孩在他的怀抱中蠕动着，紧张的呼吸都卡在了他的喉咙里。

“Just a bad dream, Jim,” John whispered into his hair. He felt him settle, his breathing becoming calm again.
“只是个噩梦，吉姆，”约翰在他的头发上低声说。他感觉到他安定下来，他的呼吸又变得平静了。

"That's all."  “就这样。”