50 States of Chains

by hungary4prussia

2p USAxCAN fanfic. Alfred F. Jones, or Al, is a young musician traveling to find his voice as well as fulfill his never ending sexual desire. He is always the master, and women are easily swayed. When a trip on business to Canada finds him face to face with Matthieu Williams, a successful producer and CEO of a label, Al doesn't know what to do; when the master becomes the slave.

1. Troubled Child

1. Troubled Child

Sunrise, creepin' in your eyes
Cold empty side walks
Miles away from trustin' someone
Far from giving up
Young blood, cry tough
Mean street run
There's a hunger inside you
Desperate rebel runaway
Far from giving up
Someday, someway, all very soon
You'll end, long nights
Chasin' the moon
War with yourself
Makes you feel better
Caught behind the lines
Troubles child
Faith finds a cure
It makes you feel better
You know you can shine
Troubled child
Voices echo, from the past
Decisions made for you
Trials they made
To touch your heart
Never found their way...

Chains...the feeling of metal grinding against my skin pressing through to bone...I grinned in the sickest of manners. This was my playground. This was my escape. As every shattered breath enters and exits though...a piece of me drifts away and I can't...I can't. I stop. She stares. I shake my head and lift the blindfold. She unties. I come undone in my heart. She backs away hiding in her black hair. I pull on boxers and look over the cityscape before me.

To the one who's heart beat echoes mine...Fuck you...You have me bound...tied...land locked...Caught in a web of chains. That's right...chains...the sickest metaphor...the only metaphor I have for the emotion called love. The dawn breaks. I hate the sunrise. It means more living, another day...another innocence to take or play with...but with the dawn comes color into my grey world. So many shades of colors. I wait for the one that stops my breathing and holds my heart. FUCK. Those chains. They burn. Like the fire red sky now. I burn.

Chains are made of metal. But even at some point of heat...metal...can be melted down...remolded...reshaped...reused...replaced?
No.

Men are of steel, I am of a strong heart...but my simple organ of a heart...can be broken by a pair of piercing eyes such as those...That clearly states I'm weak...Chains...I smile...To find the one to break them...Now there's the reason I get up every morning, fuck like a whore, look and listen to those hearts and eyes...but I'm disappointed every time. I've been to all 50 states and all the chains are the same...they are weak...they break...but today...I had no idea...a journey outside a state line...could end me...

Chains...They are my favorite thing to play with...and my worst enemy for my locked heart...My name is Alfred F Jones, Al for short...and today...my life will change.