NOUR'S  POV

I sigh in relief as I read Jim's lapidary reply: Come. My place, in five. If he wasn't available, I would have had to resort on cutting, and I am pretty sure Amine and Matthias are home right now. They are always complaining that I spend too much time in the bathroom and I am not in the mood to confront them. 

I start driving faster. It's not that I am excited to see Jim (quite the opposite, actually) but I want all of this to be over already. I know I will feel like crap afterwards but at least the lust in my veins will be gone. I wonder how the other shifters with the same condition as me do, although I might be the only one left. 

Jim lives in the poorest part of the city. I always see the same people in front of his building. There is a guy who doesn't have arms and who is so heavily medicated that he always looks half asleep. A homeless couple sleep on a dirty matress, a few meters away from the front door. There are also a few skinny teenagers who play football outdoors, come rain, hail or shine. Everything is just too depressing here.

 When I first came, they were all looking at me with suspicion. I suppose they didn't understand what business someone like me could do in this part of the city. I don't look particularly wealthy, yet it's obvious at first glance that I don't belong here either. Then, they got used to seeing me with Jim. Sometimes they don't see me for months, sometimes they see me every week, depending on my mental state of mind. They probably think that Jim is my dealer. 

I always try to bring them something, some clothes or a bit of money but today my visit wasn't planned. I haven't seen Jim in months and I thought I was doing better at repressing my urges but apparently I still have a way to go. My hands start shaking inside my pockets but I it only reinforces my resolve. Don't chicken out, Nour. You need it. 

Jim isn't a bad guy. He never purposely tried to hurt me. He is naturally rough but I am the one to order him around, telling him to go harder, faster. He does what I say without complaining because he doesn't give a flying fuck about me, as long as he gets to come. 

He never asks questions, which is something I really appreciate. I know most people only think about themselves, so it's good that Jim doesn't look at me with fake concern. Of course, most people look at me with envy rather than concern, because they think I am this sexy hunk who is so proud of himself. There is no doubt that if they were to see me now, their envy would morph into contempt and pity. 

I haven't even knocked that he is already opening the door. He nods his head slightly before stepping back to let me in. His place looks as messy as ever but I couldn't care less, it's not like I plan to move in. I start to unfasten my belt without another word, until I realise that he is still watching me from the kitchen. His hair is greasy and he probably didn't change his shirt in four days.

"Well?" I ask, slightly annoyed by his passivity. "What are you waiting for?"

"Do you want something to drink?" he replies calmly. "Tea? Coffee?"

I snort. We've been fucking for almost a year and only now does he think about offering me something to drink. 

"Nah, I don't want anything to drink, big boy. I just want sex. Is that too much to ask? Do I need to find someone else to do it?"

He looks slightly pissed-off, now. Good. I don't want tenderness from anyone, and especially not from him. I want him to take me dry and to make me bleed. I don't like the pain, but feeling pleasure would be worst. Above all, feeling loved would be devastating, although I doubt I will ever feel this way. Maybe that's why I chose him: although I don't hate him, he physically disgusts me. I don't like the way he talks, the way he dresses or even the way he smells. 

"Do something now, Jim, or this will be the last time you will have the priviledge of taking this fine ass of mine"

I know, right. I am being horrible to him. I could have said yes, please to his previous offer and we could have make small talk while sipping our tea. Hell, no. 

"Fine", he reluctantly agrees, as he starts slowly removing his shirt, "but we are going to talk after that. There is something I need to tell you. Something important."

I sigh, trying not to let my irritation shows. Whatever you're going to say, I doubt it will affect me the slightest I mentally comment. 

"Fine, fine, we'll talk. Now, without further ado, put it in me."

Trigger warning: sex as a form of self-harm

Jim is quite skinny, but he is well-endowed down there and his tool hurts so much. He never preps me before entering me and he never stops tearing me in half, even when I start sobbing. He told me the first time I went to his place that he wasn't into vanilla sex and all I could feel was instant relief. Sometimes, I ask him to bite me, to call me degrading names or to pull my hair. I don't think he enjoys it any more than I do, but I am the only one to let him have his way with me, so he doesn't protest. I am way out of his league and he knows it.

Today, maybe it's because I was so mean to him earlier but he is even more brutal than usual. He always takes me in a standing position, with my head pressed firmly against the wall. This way, we don't have to look at each other. We never kissed, obviously.The first times we fucked, I couldn't stop crying but with time I got used to it and now I hardly make any noises. I became very talented in keeping my pocker face on, and it had proved very useful in the daily life.

My ass hurts, but so does my lower back and my stomach. My cock is already limp but it's not enough. I want my body to learn how degrading and painful sex is. I don't want to feel good beneath another man and I don't want dirty dreams to occur ever again. All I could think about in the last half hour was how good Rémy felt against me and I can't allow myself to feel like that. Because it's fake.

I know how fucked-up I sound, but you have no idea what it's like to grow up in an insatiable body. When I was fifteen or sixteen, I could have more than twenty orgasms per night. Sometimes, I had to discreetly leave the classroom to take care of my hard-on. I knew it didn't happen to the other boys, even the horniest. 

"Choke me" I order suddenly. 

"What?" he asks, putting his sweaty hand on the back of my head. He always breathes heavily and he sweats profusely during sex. 

"Choke. Me. Now."

He growls and puts his arm around my neck. He strangles me and I start wondering if he is going to let me breath at some point. 

"Okay, stop" I wheeze. 

"Why?" he asks, frustration clear in his voice. "I thought you wanted me to hurt you? Isn't it pleasurable? Almost like you are going to die and sadly, I don't think you would mind"  

He eventually releases me and I start coughing, my hand instinctively massaging my sore throat. A few minutes later, he comes inside of the condom and I keep my eyes tightly shut. This is the part that actually disgusts me the most.

I call it hatemaking.

**End of the scene. 

I quickly start putting on my clothes again, wanting nothing more than being home and taking a very hot shower. Jim doesn't fall immediately asleep like he does most of the times, though. Instead, he looks at me with a stern expression.

"I told you there was something I needed to - "

"Go on, then", I interrupt, "do it now because I haven't got all day"

"I think I am in love"

"Wait - what?" I start laughing. 

"What?" he asks defensively. "That's true. She's all I can think about."

"I thought you were gay"

"Well, I'm bisexual. Anyway, whatever we're doing, it has to end now. I can't keep doing this with you."

"It's fine", I shrug, "I just have to find someone else willing to do the naughty with me. It shouldn't be too difficult, with this perfect body of mine."

"I don't think it will be that easy for you to find me a replacement" he retorts, looking a bit vexed. "There aren't many people willing to be so, erhm, rough. I never understood why you wanted it to be that way, though. You don't even seem to be enjoying it."

"So, what does she look like?" I quickly ask, not wanting to discuss my personal life with him.

"She is perfect. Sarah is kind, funny and cute. She always puts a smile on my face"

"So, no more rough sex, huh?"

"No, no, of course not. She isn't like you, Nour. She is normal, so she will probably want to have normal sex - not that you're not normal but, yeah." he babbles, a faint touch of pink coloring his cheeks.

"Okay, I think I get it" I let out a mirthless laughter. "Well, good luck, lover-boy. I hope you will be happy together" I add and this time my smile is genuine. 

"What about you? You could be in a healthy, loving relationship. I think you need help, Nour. You can only keep up living like that for so long."

"Thank you, but I did not come here to have a therapeutic session. I came here to fuck, and that's what we did. Besides, it hurts my throat to even breath, let alone talk - and no, I don't need ice, or cream. Bye, Jim." 

"I think you've been looking for love in the wrong places!" the helpless idiot has time to yell before I close the door behind me. 

Crap. What am I going to do without Jim?  Cold showers, scissors? It won't be enough - it never was. 

Hello hello my lovelies

Shorter chapter this time, but I didn't feel the need to make it any longer. The next one should be a bit lighter, but I prefer to warn you in advance: it will get worst, before it gets better. 

Thank you for reading "The Freak", whether or not you've read "The Third Wheel" before. Many thanks as well tp those who have been voting/commenting on this story <3

I wish you all an excellent week! Winter break is coming!

Take care xoxoxo

#hasnoshame