Steve – Kawira Mwirichia

It was Steve’s idea: he’s the one who suggested it.



Steve looked over at Ted with that impishly defiant smile of his and said “It’s only bitches that break car windows to get back at a lover, but us? Well, we show those sons of bitches exactly what they are missing…”

Ted looked up from the bed and smiled half-heartedly: he still wasn’t sure about all this. Steve was setting up the video camera a few steps away from the bed, (jokingly?) searching for the right lighting that would make his body look statuesque. What was it that Steve had said earlier? The most humane approach to revenge is to take the task up yourself: leaving it to the gods, with their abundant resources and even vaster imagination, would mean severe repercussions to the one who wronged you. So severe, in fact, it called upon us human beings to muster up enough compassion to seek out our own measures of retribution against the guilty party. Yes, those were Steve’s thoughts on the matter.

Steve continued to push this and that toggle on the camera, trying to focus on Ted’s amazing body. He had never seen a man as gorgeous as Ted: and naked, he was even more stunning. His body was unpretentiously athletic, and the tufts of hair that accentuated his body only added to that natural appeal. The camera lens travelled lower and lingered between Ted’s legs. Steve was convinced that this man was created to taunt, if not tempt, all things male in this world with his masculinity. They shouldn’t waste anymore time, the old bag would be back in two hours time and they needed to be done by then.



Ted was the one on top. And Steve liked it from behind. However, Ted still wasn’t able to fully get into it: he was still thinking of John, the one Steve would forever refer to as ‘the old bag’. Ted had frozen over the day he finally realized John had been doing nothing but taking advantage of him: that no, he had never been loved, and even worse, never been respected by that man. He could still remember John’s friend laughing at him out at the parking lot. The laugh still cut so deep now, and Ted couldn’t believe how foolish he had been with John: how naive, and trusting, and vulnerable, and open… and what did he get in return?

Steve grunted in pain. Ted had begun to get rough with him and had pushed his head down into the pillow while ploughing him even harder.

Ted’s eyes closed and his body got hotter with rage: that bastard. Was it all a lie? The friend, seeing Ted coming John’s way then, had whispered loud enough for Ted to hear: hey, John! Here comes that little bitch of yours. Looks like she’s in heat too. And they’d both laughed at him. But Ted hadn’t seen it like that at that time; he had thought John was just kidding. He loved him after all, didn’t he? So he had grinned back and holding John’s gaze, asked:

Am I your bitch?

No you’re not, baby: I am. Steve’s reply was automatic, but Ted did not hear it. He didn’t even know that he had asked that out loud.



Ted had begun to let go: unravelling fast, with each stroke bringing him closer to that feeling of complete freefall, so that John was far away now; a figment of his imagination. That collected somewhere at the back of his eyelids and exploded into a bright white light. A gentle breeze swept over his body and hovered above his head as a soothing hum. His entire body responded to it: stretching itself upwards and raising his head as if straining to hear it. A soft smile broke upon his face and his soul sought to burst out of his flesh. It seemed as if heaven itself was calling out for him and his mouth opened in quiet awe:

I’m coming.



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