Cruz Eros Quinlan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
colourmefree) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
muserevival2017-04-07 07:50 pm
colourmefree) wrote in muserevival2017-04-07 07:50 pm
Entry tags:
144.6. picture - cold water
Picture: Cold Water
warning: triggering references
Cruz twisted the cold tap on in the shower to full and ignored the hot. He stepped in under the icy spray. It felt like a million needles piercing his skin but the shocked pain all over his body was exactly what he needed. Somehow, he had to block those overwhelming urges the cravings had sent him careening for. What the fuck kind of arsehole did he think he was letting himself believe he could replace booze and drugs with sex?
You can't just fuck away the cravings! It was what Hunter had spat at him in the middle of the argument when Cruz was disgustingly trying to force himself on Hunter. It was like somewhere along the lines, the cravings had morphed into an insatiable hunger for sex, like it was a viable replacement. Or distraction? Probably both. At first, Hunter had played along. Sort of. He hadn't been opposed to Cruz's advances for sex, and Cruz really just thought that now he was feeling a little better, less wiped out, he was horny and ready to get back on track. After suffering days on end through detox and withdrawal that saw him hospitalised, there was a hunger there to feel Hunter close to him. He wanted the comfort. He wanted to remember to feel alive. He just never anticipated the horrible trap he fell into of replacing one addiction with another... and this time, dragging Hunter into his shitstorm.
Not that Hunter would take shit like that. He wasn't a pussy. In fact, he was the least like a pussy of all the people Cruz had ever met. He was kind and gentle, and he was caretaker, a nurturer, but he wouldn't be a pushover. Cruz didn't know if Hunter had noticed first that Cruz had gotten more rough and more forceful in bed. And out of bed. For these preceding days, Cruz wanted it wherever he could get it. He should have read the warning signs the day before when Hunter said he needed to go out for a walk to get some fresh air. Cruz's dumbfuck brain decided to translate that into 'Yeah, let's fuck outside - what a thrill!' Hunter told him he wanted to go alone.
Cruz pushed too hard the next evening. Why did he not see the signs? All through the day, his body had been screaming out for booze, drugs... anything. He had been nearly climbing the walls waiting for Hunter to get home from work, and he had sat stiffly in the chair for an indeterminable amount of time, trying to pretend he was watching Netflix, when really he was watching the door, waiting as every second ticked by for Hunter to come home.
He was fucking predator. It sickened him, and he could only see what was happening when Hunter was fighting him off and had to end up backhanding him slamming his knee into Cruz's groin to get him off him. "I SAID FUCKING NO! GET THE FUCK OFF ME! YOU CAN'T FUCK AWAY THE CRAVINGS!" Hunter had shouted at him. Then Hunter said he needed space, and walked out.
Cruz's watched as blood from his nose splashed to the floor of the shower cubicle and washed down the drain with the lashings of icy water. At first, he rested his head against the tiles on the wall, but he ended up sinking down to his knees, and tangled his fingers into the drenches strands of his hair. He should have known he would fuck this all up. Hunter was beautiful, and he was so fucking selfless. He had saved Cruz's life more than once, and this was how Cruz repaid him? But even then, no matter how much guilt was coursing through him and how much of a terrible cunt he felt, the cravings were so much more powerful than everything else he was feeling. How was he ever going to fucking get better? How was he ever going to be able to keep dealing with this horrible burning urge inside him that nothing could overpower? It would be so easy to step out of the fucking shower, grab a razor and end himself.
Easy, but he would be a fucking coward. And it would absolutely destroy Hunter, who had already found his best friend dead from suicide when he was a teenager. The only thing that stopped Cruz's brain being sucked into a vortex of danger here was that he didn't want to hurt Hunter more than he already had. He was breaking down, and he felt sick, but he was going to fucking stay in that shower with the cold water feeling like it was stabbing him all over until he washed all this shit away.
This wasn't the person he wanted to be anymore. And the only way he could fix it was if he somehow figured out how to be more powerful than the bad thoughts and urges.
But the question was, how the fuck was he supposed to do that when it already felt like this demon would never stop torturing him?
Cruz Quinlan
+ Original Character
Cruz twisted the cold tap on in the shower to full and ignored the hot. He stepped in under the icy spray. It felt like a million needles piercing his skin but the shocked pain all over his body was exactly what he needed. Somehow, he had to block those overwhelming urges the cravings had sent him careening for. What the fuck kind of arsehole did he think he was letting himself believe he could replace booze and drugs with sex?
You can't just fuck away the cravings! It was what Hunter had spat at him in the middle of the argument when Cruz was disgustingly trying to force himself on Hunter. It was like somewhere along the lines, the cravings had morphed into an insatiable hunger for sex, like it was a viable replacement. Or distraction? Probably both. At first, Hunter had played along. Sort of. He hadn't been opposed to Cruz's advances for sex, and Cruz really just thought that now he was feeling a little better, less wiped out, he was horny and ready to get back on track. After suffering days on end through detox and withdrawal that saw him hospitalised, there was a hunger there to feel Hunter close to him. He wanted the comfort. He wanted to remember to feel alive. He just never anticipated the horrible trap he fell into of replacing one addiction with another... and this time, dragging Hunter into his shitstorm.
Not that Hunter would take shit like that. He wasn't a pussy. In fact, he was the least like a pussy of all the people Cruz had ever met. He was kind and gentle, and he was caretaker, a nurturer, but he wouldn't be a pushover. Cruz didn't know if Hunter had noticed first that Cruz had gotten more rough and more forceful in bed. And out of bed. For these preceding days, Cruz wanted it wherever he could get it. He should have read the warning signs the day before when Hunter said he needed to go out for a walk to get some fresh air. Cruz's dumbfuck brain decided to translate that into 'Yeah, let's fuck outside - what a thrill!' Hunter told him he wanted to go alone.
Cruz pushed too hard the next evening. Why did he not see the signs? All through the day, his body had been screaming out for booze, drugs... anything. He had been nearly climbing the walls waiting for Hunter to get home from work, and he had sat stiffly in the chair for an indeterminable amount of time, trying to pretend he was watching Netflix, when really he was watching the door, waiting as every second ticked by for Hunter to come home.
He was fucking predator. It sickened him, and he could only see what was happening when Hunter was fighting him off and had to end up backhanding him slamming his knee into Cruz's groin to get him off him. "I SAID FUCKING NO! GET THE FUCK OFF ME! YOU CAN'T FUCK AWAY THE CRAVINGS!" Hunter had shouted at him. Then Hunter said he needed space, and walked out.
Cruz's watched as blood from his nose splashed to the floor of the shower cubicle and washed down the drain with the lashings of icy water. At first, he rested his head against the tiles on the wall, but he ended up sinking down to his knees, and tangled his fingers into the drenches strands of his hair. He should have known he would fuck this all up. Hunter was beautiful, and he was so fucking selfless. He had saved Cruz's life more than once, and this was how Cruz repaid him? But even then, no matter how much guilt was coursing through him and how much of a terrible cunt he felt, the cravings were so much more powerful than everything else he was feeling. How was he ever going to fucking get better? How was he ever going to be able to keep dealing with this horrible burning urge inside him that nothing could overpower? It would be so easy to step out of the fucking shower, grab a razor and end himself.
Easy, but he would be a fucking coward. And it would absolutely destroy Hunter, who had already found his best friend dead from suicide when he was a teenager. The only thing that stopped Cruz's brain being sucked into a vortex of danger here was that he didn't want to hurt Hunter more than he already had. He was breaking down, and he felt sick, but he was going to fucking stay in that shower with the cold water feeling like it was stabbing him all over until he washed all this shit away.
This wasn't the person he wanted to be anymore. And the only way he could fix it was if he somehow figured out how to be more powerful than the bad thoughts and urges.
But the question was, how the fuck was he supposed to do that when it already felt like this demon would never stop torturing him?
Cruz Quinlan
+ Original Character