People who were abused as children may believe, on some deep level that may even be out of their conscious awareness, that they are not good enough to deserve a genuinely caring relationship. They feel in a one-down position to others, making it hard to accept real love. They may have even been convinced by their abuser that they deserved the abuse. This is never true as no-one deserves to be mistreated.
-Elizabeth Hartney, PhD - from the article The Cycle of Sexual Abuse and Abusive Adult Relationships
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Chapter Five
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{o}-{o}-{o}
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It was still early when they got back to his place and Seth was still out. Mox wondered if he'd come home at all that night. A lot of times when he went on a date, even if it was a first date, he ended up spending the night at his date's place. There was something about Seth that made women willing to jump into bed with him. Mox didn't know what it was, and really didn't care. He'd had girls hit on him before, lots of times and he turned down every one.
He was glad Seth was gone and found himself hoping he would be out all night to give Toril a chance to settle in before the explaining started. He wasn't quite sure how Seth would feel about having an unexpected roommate, especially a roommate that meant Mox would be sleeping in the living room. He was afraid if they had to have a discussion about it, Toril might leave. The longer she stayed before any type of confrontation, the easier it would be to convince her to keep staying. If I'm lucky, I can get to him before he comes in the house or get him outside and away from Toril and talk to him in private. I don't want her to hear.
He showed her his room, which was small and neat. A double bed, a small closet and a bookshelf which held his collection of books and CD's. "As luck would have it, I just changed the sheets this morning," he told her.
She was examining the doorway, the door, and the lock and he knew she was pleased with it, but she walked over to the bed. "I feel bad taking your bed away," she said.
He shrugged. "It's cool. I don't mind the sofa, it's a futon anyway." He knew she didn't want to sleep on the futon with another man living here. "Uh, if you want to wash your clothes, we do have a washer and dryer."
She nodded, putting her backpack and duffle bag on the floor. "Would it bother you if I did that tomorrow?" she asked, in a timid voice, " I'm really tired and I'd love to get some sleep."
Of course she's tired, he thought. She's been sleeping in an abandoned building and she just ate a heavy meal. "If you want to take a shower first, the bathroom is off the kitchen."
He found a pair of sweatpants and a clean t-shirt to let her wear that night. He also gave her his code to the bedroom door. "We can reprogram it tomorrow," he told her. "Change it so the only code will be the one you set." That wasn't quite true, there was a master code that could be used to override all codes, but he didn't think he should tell her. He had no intention of ever walking in that room without her permission as long as she was staying there.
She opted for the shower and he got her a clean towel and a washcloth. For two single guys, they had ample amounts of linens and towels, because his and Seth's mothers recognized they might not find sheets and towels high on the priority list so both of them had made sure they had plenty. Mox thought it was overkill, but he was grateful for it now.
He told her she was welcome to use his shampoo. "Mine's the baby shampoo," he said. Seth used one of those "For men only" combination shampoo and conditioner that came in a black bottle and smelled like some strange musk and spice aftershave. Mox hated all scents that were thought of as masculine. Baby shampoo was the closest he could find to having no scent. Baby shampoo and ivory soap.
He looked under the sink and found a foil package of hair conditioner that came in the mail. He wasn't sure why they had saved it, maybe Seth did in the case of a hair conditioning emergency, but he gave it to Toril. "It might not do your whole head," he commented. Just as when she was a child, she had very long hair.
While her fiberglass cast was made of a more waterproof material than the old plaster casts, Mox still helped her wrap it in plastic wrap and taped it with duct tape. He could have suggested a bath instead, where she could have kept her arm out of the water, but he knew when he was really dirty, a shower made you feel much cleaner.
"That should be waterproof enough," he said, "but you might want to try to keep it out of the direct spray from the shower."
"It's fine, thank you," she said, which he took to be the dismissal it was and left the room.
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While she was in the shower, he went to his room and changed into a clean pair of gym shorts and a tank top. He put together some clothing for him to wear tomorrow and brought it out to the living room so he would have them when he woke up.
Not trying to crash your date, but in case you come home tonight, I'll be sleeping in the living room. I have a friend using my bedroom. I'll explain more later. No, you don't have to respond to this if you're busy.
Even though he told him he didn't have to, a few minutes later, he got a response. That's fine, I probably won't be coming home tonight anyway. You could use my room if you wanted.
No, that's okay. He didn't want to use Seth's bedroom. Not that there was anything wrong with Seth's bedroom, but it wasn't his. The futon/couch seemed somehow like neutral territory.
When he was done with Seth, he texted Roman and Lance. He didn't tell either of them about having Suzie/Toril with him. He didn't know why, but he wasn't ready to talk to anyone they had reconnected. Maybe he was worried they'd make a fuss and want him to start drilling her about everything and he was smart enough to know if he pushed her too far, she'd run off.
She took a long time in the shower, which he expected her to. When she came out, she was wearing the sweatpants and T-shirt he'd lent her, and they hung from her small frame, making her look cute and ultra feminine the way small women always seemed to look in men's clothing. She had a towel wrapped around her head. "Do-Do you have a blow dryer?" she asked, her voice timid. "I didn't want to go searching through your bathroom."
"Under the sink" he said. He didn't use a blow dryer, but Seth did. She went back into the bathroom and he heard the sound of the blow dryer going. He unfolded the futon and put sheets on it. He turned the air conditioner in the living room so the room would get cooler. They did have central air conditioning, but the unit was so old that it barely worked so they had window air conditioners in the bedrooms and the living room. Seth's was a monster of a unit, because for reasons Mox didn't understand, Seth liked his room so cold when he slept that Mox suspected he buried his whole body under the covers so he wouldn't get frostbite. Mox liked it when it was cold enough so that he needed a sheet and a lightweight blanket to keep warm, but beyond that was overkill.
When Toril came into the living room again, her hair was drier, but tangled in the back. She held a brush in her hand and her face was red with embarrassment. "I-I can do almost anything with one arm," she stammered. "But I have a lot of trouble brushing all of my hair."
He smiled, knowing this was making her uncomfortable and wanting to ease her from the discomfort. "Sit on the couch," he said, deliberately not calling it a bed, even though it was more of a bed than a sofa in this state. She sat down on the very end of the bed, both feet on the floor. He took the brush from her and as gently as possible, he brushed all of her hair, marveling at how soft and fine it felt. His own hair had a bit of a course texture, but her hair felt like strands of silk that slipped through his fingers and through the brush like water.
"You don't have to be so gentle," she said. "I'm not going to break."
There was a moment of frozen silence between the two of each other, because both of them realize how bad her comment could be taken, in a different context, a context both of them were far more familiar with. Almost everything people can say can be taken as a double entendre, he thought. He recovered as quickly as he could and brushed her hair a bit firmer.
God this is awkward, he thought. We're total strangers in some ways, and very close in others. I have no clue how I'm supposed to handle this. Do I treat her like a friend or a stranger?
When her hair was smooth, lying down her back like a cape of silk strands, he put the brush down and helped her take the tape and plastic off her cast, noting with relief that the cast was bone dry. He handed her the brush, which she took, curling her fingers around it tightly. "I'll bet you're tired," he said, his voice was gentle. When she nodded, he did too. "Why don't you get some sleep? We can talk more in the morning."
She didn't need to be told twice. She got up from the bed and went to Mox's room. He heard her close the door behind her and he let out a long sigh. But, he was tired too, and after turning out the lights and getting into bed, he fell asleep almost immediately.
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Mox was a light sleeper most of the time, especially if something changed in his sleeping arrangements, so he woke up instantly, when he felt weight on the other side of the futon. The room was black and at first he thought Seth might have been stumbling through half drunk and hit the futon. "Hey," he started to say, ready to add something about being careful and letting a guy get some sleep, but the words froze in his throat.
It was Suzie, no Toril, sitting on the side of his bed. He rose to a sitting position and looked at her. "Are you okay?"
In the light from the street lamps coming through the window in pale, silver strands, he saw shining streaks on her face. Tears, he thought. She's crying. "What's going on?"
Instead of answering, she punched him in the chest, hard.
"What the-" he began, and she hit him again, this time in the face and he felt something in his nose beginning to loosen and knew it would soon be bleeding, not hard, but a trickle. "Toril, what is going on!"
"I hate you!" She cried out and she tried to punch him again, but this time he grabbed her wrist. "I hate you so much!" Then, she slammed her hand with the cast into his chest, with all the force she could.
It almost knocked the wind out of him. "The fuck!" he said, unable to stop the word from spilling out of him. "Toril, what the hell are you doing?" He wondered if she was in some fugue state, somewhere between sleep and insanity and maybe didn't even realize what she was doing.
Her answer was to try to clobber him with her cast again, but this time he was prepared and grabbed her by her upper arm. Her arms were muscular, but she was still much smaller than him, so his fingers were almost able to wrap around her whole arm. "Stop it!" he said, doing his best to keep a firm grip without causing her pain. "I'm sorry if you hate me, but for fuck's sake, stop!"
She wriggled trying to pull out of his grasp, but he held on as tightly as he dared, wondering what in the world happened to make her like this. Did she have a bad dream and decide to take it out on me? She was kneeling on the bed and she started shifting one knee, moving it on top of him. For a moment he was sure she was going to knee him in the balls as hard as she could, but instead she dropped it to the other side of him, so she was straddling his waist. He was so startled by this, that he let go of her arms. She immediately shifted so her full weight was on top of him. Then she leaned over, putting some of her weight on her good arm and looked down at him.
He saw a million emotions flickering across her face, spilling out of her eyes and he couldn't move. She was pressed into him, and he realized she was moving her hips, only slightly, but enough so...
Enough so...
"What are you doing?" he whispered, his voice horse. Despite his past, he had his triggers. He'd heard jokes before about how easy it was for guys to get an erection, but he wasn't sure if he got them in part, because he was taught. But usually it took a little more persuasion than this.
That's when she leaned down and kissed him. It was not a gentle or romantic, it was hard and bruising. She was smashing his lips into his teeth and he found himself opening his mouth a little wider just to relieve some of the pain and pressure. Her tongue entered his mouth and he thought for a moment, she'd try to ram it down his throat and choke him, but instead she moved it lightly along his, as if caressing it.
As if he was on autopilot he kissed her back, and he realized this was the first time he had really and truly passionately kissed someone of his own free will. The first time he ever kissed someone as Mox. Not Timmy, not Dean, but Mox.
If he knew this was the only time she would kiss him, or let him kiss her, he might have let it happen longer.
When they drew apart, she started tugging at his shirt, his shorts, trying as best she could to get his clothes off of him with only one good arm. Part of him thought he should stop her, part of him wasn't sure he wanted this.
But part of him did want it, badly.
And that was the moment he got it, got the other side of the life he'd grown up in. He'd known of its existence, seen it in others, but never himself. Never felt a desire so strong that it turned a man into something that felt almost like a monster, to feel this need inside of him that was like some strange pressure that felt both pleasurable and painful. And in his mind, he felt that part of him that would stay celibate forever, crumbling away. He found himself both helping her get his clothes off, and taking hers off, their fingers and hands moving rapidly as if they both needed to be naked right that second.
In the pale light from the windows, noting her skin was still smooth. When he ran his fingers over her back, he felt almost no scars as he felt on his own back. She was good, he told himself. Or, they wanted to protect her and keep her value up. She wasn't beaten. I helped that to happen. Me, I was the one who told her it was best to just cooperate. He had a feeling the few scars he could feel were the results of her new occupation.
"Are you sure?" he whispered when they were both naked and she was raising up on her knees, her good hand wrapped around him, both wanting it and being afraid at the same time.
She didn't use words, she just guided him and sank down on him slowly. "I still hate you," she whispered, "But I love you, too."
It shouldn't have made sense, yet it did. He didn't think either of them could explain it, but it was a truth they both recognized. And he wondered if it was the same for her, this delicious friction and pressure and this desperate need for release.
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When it was over part of Mox's mind wanted to spin off on a journey of self hatred, but another part told him this wasn't being forced, both of them had wanted it. Hadn't she started it? He hadn't attacked her.
She was lying next to him in the dark, breathing hard, her cast hand resting above her head, her breasts rising and falling with every breath. "It's the first time when you think about it," she said.
"First time?"
"First time I had sex because I wanted to," she elaborated.
He wanted to ask her more, but he felt this wasn't the moment to pry. He rolled over on his side, propping himself on one elbow. "Who... did I just..." he hesitated. He knew that people who loved each other called what they had done making love, but he wasn't sure if that was the right way to describe what they had done. They hadn't been gentle, they had been rough. She had punched him and slammed her cast into him before and told him she hated him. But, then again, he didn't think "fuck" was the word to use either. "...have sex with?" he settled on. "Suzie or Toril?"
"Who did I have sex with?" she countered.
"Jon Moxley," he said. "In fact, in my mind, you just took my virginity."
She rolled over so she was facing him, balanced on her good elbow. "Well, I could say the same thing."
"And whose virginity did I just take?" he asked.
She drew in a deep breath. "Alexa," she said softly, "the name you wouldn't let me tell you all those years ago? It's Alexa Bliss."