E-mail: angelchildr@freaky.nu
Rating: NC-17, m/m, forceful sex, cutting/self-mutilation, all manner of nasty things (see Author's Note for more info)
Summary: James faces some of his demons, and takes Rizzo along for the ride.
Disclaimer: They're not mine! James jumped into my head. He pulled apart my brain and made me write this. I didn't really want to…
Distribution: http://penned-insanity.freaky.nu/ (My site).
Author's Note: This is dark. Very dark. If you're squeamish or sensitive, I seriously suggest you don't read this.

In the original series, this broke away just after part 4, "Truth" - Borrowed some stuff from part 7 though.

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"I bite my lower lip; bite down hard, until I taste my own salty blood. Fighting the agony inside by inflicting physical pain onto myself doesn't help. Not this time." -Triangle, part 4 "Truth"
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I didn't go to find Rizzo after the movie. Made my excuses to Casey and nearly ran back to my room. The innocence of Casey's touch made me feel all the more tainted, and I just couldn't deal with it.

I needed to do something.

I was half way back to my room before I realized what it was I needed to do, to feel.

Got back to my room, closed the door, locked it, closed my curtains, turned to my closet. At the back, under a pile of shoes, the oddest place to hide my relief.

I pulled out the box and carried it over to my bed, opened it. Inside lay several old but clean rags and a few straight edge razor blades. My heart sped simply looking at them.

Months. It had been months since I'd last done this. I'd promised myself I wouldn't. The last time I told myself was the last. But drastic times and all that.

There is something so simple about it. The feel of blade on skin. Hot and cold, pain and pleasure, good and bad. My skin just parts beneath the razor and for that moment, that slick seep of blood is all that matters. It gives me something to feel that I know is real, and I have complete control over it.

Unlike the rest of my fucking life.

This was my secret. I had never told Casey about it, and I never would. He wouldn't understand, and I don't want him to. I want to keep him away from this part of me. I'm afraid it would stain him. And it'd be my fault.

I undid my belt and let my jeans fall to the floor. God, I was half-hard just thinking about doing this. Sat on my bed and pulled the leg of my boxers up as far as it would go. High enough that no one would ever see if I didn't want them to. Wedged one of the rags under my leg to catch whatever fell. Picked up one of the blades and rested it against my skin, letting it grow warm from my own body heat. I took a deep breath and started to press harder…

When a knock on my door scared the crap out of me.

"Shit!" I muttered to myself, then held very still, hoping my unwanted guest would think I wasn't here. I never got visitors. Why now, of all times?

I held my breath for several minutes, finally letting it go when I figured my guest had left. That was, of course the exact moment that they knocked again.

"Open the door, Foley. I know you're in there… I heard you mumbling to yourself," the low voice melted under my door and seeped across the room to me.

Fuck. All the people on campus, and Rizzo's the one at my door. I know he won't go away until I talk to him, so I hastily pull my jeans back on and answer the door.

I only open it a crack, and am greeted by the sight of Rizzo leaning casually against my doorframe.

"Fuck off, Rizzo."

"Let me in, Foley."

"Fuck you." I started to slam the door in his face, but his foot got there first, holding it open so I could see his smirking face.

"I'm coming in," and he did. Pushed back on the door harder than I did and slid his way through with a twist of his hips that would have been sexy anywhere other than my fucking door at that fucking moment.

I could feel my skin trying to claw its way off my body, and I wanted to run that blade along my leg and help it. And there was only one thing keeping me from doing it.

"I'm not kidding, Rizzo. Get the fuck out of my room. I'm not in the mood for your shit, so just take your best shot at me and leave."

He ignored me and walked across my room to my desk. He pulled out my chair and sat in it backwards, leaning on the back of it like he had nowhere else he'd rather be. I stood there staring at him, waiting for him to either say what he'd come to say or to get bored and leave.

"So," he finally said, "what did I interrupt?"

My mind froze and my mouth went dry at his words. How could he have known? Watching the smug look on his face, I realized that he didn't know, he's just trying to get a rise out of me, as usual. It's then I saw, with a seizing of my lungs, that the evidence of what I had been doing was still sitting on my bed, ready for him to discover if he looked over.

My eyes flicked over to it distractedly, which I knew immediately is a mistake. His eyes followed mine and he rose from the chair with a smirk.

"So what is it Foley? Your little jack-off stash? Is that what I interrupted?" My feet were too slow to stop him before he got there, and he reached to sift through the contents of the box. I could see the realization dawn on his face and turned to me with a look I couldn't define.

"What the fuck is this? Huh, Foley? What is this shit?" He's shouting now, and I'd had just about enough of his self-righteous attitude. Not everyone can be as 'perfect' as he is.

"Take a guess," I managed to grit though my teeth. And then I saw it. Pity. Fucking pity. From Rizzo. "Fuck you, Rizzo, I don't need your pity, and I don't want it. So you can just get the hell out of my room and leave me alone." I was shouting back at him, and I didn't care if the whole fucking building heard, just as long as he got out of my room.

"No."

"What?!?" He's kidding, right? He's fucking kidding me.

"I'm not going to leave you here alone to slice yourself to ribbons, James. You want to fucking hurt something, hurt me. But I'm not going to let you take those things to your skin. Not while I'm here."

He's against the hard concrete wall before I even realized it, and my fingers were digging into his shoulders so hard that I knew he'd have bruises. And the thought of bruises on his skin, left there by me, served to resurrect the desire I'd felt before he showed up. That was something new, and the thought of hurting Rizzo was even better than the thought of hurting myself.

With my hands still pinning him to the wall, I stepped back and surveyed him. He was leaning against the wall, his eyes dark and wide, his mouth parted to draw quick breaths through those fucking perfect lips. He's still standing there, not making any move to free himself. And as I studied him, I realized that I wanted to throw him up against that wall until he moaned. So hard that he bites his lip and the blood wells to the surface until I licked it away.

"You don't understand. You with your fucking attitude. Everyone loves you, Rizzo. You just don't fucking understand how much it hurts."

"Then make me understand, James." And there it was again. I missed it the first time, but he'd called me by my first name. I wasn't willing to analyze what that meant.

So I did exactly what I wanted to. I shoved him back against that damned wall as hard as I could, and he responded with a low groan that shot straight through my body. I did it again, and his head snapped back against the hard cement with an audible crack. His only response was a wince and another moan.

Fucking hell. He was as turned on as I was. God, were we sick. But I didn't care. I needed this, and apparently, so did Rizzo.

"I want to hurt you," I managed to whisper, and saw heat flash through his eyes.

"I know." His voice had gone low and dark and gravelly, and had the same affect on my body as his moans. "Do it, James."

Those simple words snapped the last of my control, and my mouth was pressing against his, my teeth cutting into those lips that I had watched smirk at me countless times. My hands ran down that flawless torso to hold his hips tight against the wall. I ground myself against him and wrung whimpers from his throat.

He was trying to form words around my tongue, and while I didn't want to, I backed off to let him speak. He tipped his face up to the ceiling and uttered a single, needy word.

"Harder."

With strength I didn't know I possessed, I shoved him across the room, where he landed face down against my bed.

"You going to fuck me James? Take all your pain out on me?" Even now he sounded like he was laughing at me.

"Yes. Shut up." To my surprise he did, resting his forehead against the covers on my bed. I crossed the room in two steps and pulled him further up on the mattress. A bit of metal caught the light and my attention returned to the blade I had left there earlier. My glance returned to Rizzo, still face down on my bed, and I wondered how far he'd let me take this little game.

Pinning him to the bed with my hips, I moved my hands up along the skin of his back, pulling his shirt off with the motion. His back was revealed to me, as flawless as I remembered it.

I grabbed the small bit of sharp metal and laid it against his skin. His body tensed, and I watched as the muscles of his back shifted to hold the tension. I was amazed that he was still allowing this. I had expected him to long ago stop me.

"How much, Rizzo? How much do you want?" I watched the shift of his muscles again as he took a shallow, shuddery breath. His next comment was whispered into the bedtop and I almost missed it.

"Do it. All of it."

I felt myself grin and harden even more than I already was. It was an invitation I didn't have the conscience to decline at the time. Laying the razor aside, I reached around Rizzo's body to undo the fly of his jeans, only partly surprised to find him as hard as I was. I pushed his jeans and boxers down around his knees and repeated the move on myself.

I pushed myself inside of him with no preparation and watched his hands fist into the quilt as his low groan filled the room. I drove into him at a relentless pace, not caring to pause for him. I once again grabbed the blade and placed it against his shoulder. I felt his breath hitch at the contact and smiled, pressing harder and drawing it across the skin.

The sight was even more erotic than it was when I did it to myself. The skin parted as the blade passed, and it took a breath's time before the blood seeped up to fill the shallow cut. I felt Rizzo shudder underneath me with a sound that resembled my name, and I leaned forward to run my mouth along that rapidly spreading stain.

The taste of him made my body clench and spasm, and I collapsed against him with a sigh.

When I could regain my footing, I rolled off of his body and spread myself next to him on the bed. I closed my eyes against the lights of the room and felt a calm spread over my body that I didn't remember experiencing before.

Several moments had passed when I felt the bed next to me shift. I opened my eyes to see Rizzo looking at me with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Thank you," I managed to say. He smiled and rolled onto one elbow so he could reach a hand over to me. His fingers danced across my stomach before he got to his feet with a wince and started pulling his clothes back on. I simply laid there and watched him.

When he was fully dressed, he turned back to look at me.

"So James, who hurt you so much that you welcome the pain?" It wasn't what I expected, so I answered his question with one of my own.

"Who hurt you?" He smiled sadly at me and reached for the door. He slipped out of my room before his comment made its way to my ears.

"You did, James. Didn't you know?"

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