"Well, shit. Look at him. Just a kid, a god-fearing little shit who probably still thinks hand-holding is a sin. But damn, it's been, what, 4 months? Feels like a lifetime. The way the moonlight hits his face when he looks up... makes him look kinda soft. Soft and smooth. Not like those fucking lizards back at the truck stop."
(He shifts, feeling a twitch in his jeans)
"My dick is gonna rot and fall off if I keep thinking like this. But what else can I do? Jerking off to memories of thots I banged when I was younger only goes so far. And now, this kid... he's right there. Sleeping like a baby. Probably has that pure, untouched ass."
(He spits on the ground, shaking his head.)
"I ain't no faggot. Never touched a guy in my life. But what if it's not about being a faggot? What if it's about... survival? Like, we gotta keep each other sane. Maybe it's just a physical thing, ya know? Like hunger. You eat crickets when you have to. So what's the difference? Protein is protein. Pussy is pussy."
(He leans forward, his voice a low grumble in his throat.)
"I wonder if he'd even know how. Probably not. He'd be as stiff as a board. But maybe that's the best kind? The ones who don't know nothing. They're the most fun to teach. Shit. Now I'm talking like a predator. What's happening to me?"
(He grips his knife tighter.)
"But it's not like there's any women around. And it's not like we're getting off this fucking island. My balls are blue. I can smell him from here-- sweat and that clean boy shit. It ain't perfume, but it's... something. It's human. It's warm."
(He looks at the sky, as if asking for a sign.)
"If there was a god, he'd drop a ship right fucking now. But there ain't. Just us. And this feeling that won't go away. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe I'll just... see how he reacts if I get a little closer. Y'know, show him how to sharpen a stick or something. Get right up against his back. Test the waters. Fuck. A man's got needs, and this island don't give a damn about no rules."
(He puts away his knife and lies back, staring at the stars.)
"Tomorrow. We'll see what happens tomorrow. Goodnight, you little Mormon cunt. Dream of salvation. I'll be dreaming of something else."
****
(The next night, Garth stares at the embers of the fire, then at Jesse's slumbering form. The moon is high, and the island is crystal silent. His inner monologue is a raw, chaotic war.)
"Alright, think, Garth, you degenerate sonofabitch. You got two paths here: ask like a goddamn gentleman, or just take what you need like a man. Propose? Fuck, that sounds gay as hell. 'Hey, little Mormon boy, wanna help a man out so we both don't lose our fucking minds?' I can hear it now. He'd probably start reciting the Book of Mormon and run off into the palm trees. Then where would I be? Alone with nobody to suck my dick."
(He spits)
"So then, just rape his punk ass. That's the other option. It's quiet. It's easy. He's small. I could have him pinned and gone before he even knew what hit him. But then what? He wakes up tomorrow, his ass hurting and his god still deaf. He'd look at me like I was the devil. Might even try to kill me with my own fucking knife. Then I'd have to kill him, and then I'm truly alone. Great plan, you fucking moron."
(He scratches his bellow, the hair there matted and salty.)
"Maybe there's a middle way. Like, I don't ask, but I don't force it either. Y'know, just kinda... grope him in his sleep. See if he stirs. If he likes it, or at least doesn't fight it, then we're golden. If he wakes up screaming, I just say I was having a nightmare. Fuck, that's still gay as hell."
(He looks at his hands, rough and calloused.)
"The truth is, I don't wanna be a rapist. Never thought I'd be the kind of man who even considered it. But this island... it's making me into something else. Something animal. And that animal is saying: just do it. He'll get over it. Or he won't, and you'll have to kill him and eat him. Either way, you're fed for a week. Fuck, that's dark. I'm going to hell."
(He glances over at Jesse's sleeping form again.)
"Look at him. So peaceful. I wonder if he even gets horny. Probably just prays the feeling away. Fucking amateur. Alright, I'm drunk on my own lust. I can't sit here all night talking to myself like a retard. I gotta decide."
(He stands up, his joints popping.)
"The way I see it, we both need this. He just doesn't know it yet. So I'm gonna give him the gift of knowledge. Tonight. Not with force, but with... persuasion. Yeah, that' the word. I'll persuade his little Mormon body that it needs to wake up and play. If he says no, well, then he's choosing to be a cocktease. And we all know what happens to teases."
(He takes a step toward the sleeping figure.)
"Shit or get off the pot, right? Alright, Jesse. Time to work for your keep, boy."
To be continued...
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