Hot water sluiced down his back as he stood in the shower, trying to figure out where the path had diverged, and he had slipped into the abyss of insanity that was his life. He was thankful that Paul wasn't there, that Ric had chosen not to follow him into the showers - the fact that for a moment at least, his life was peaceful, uncomplicated. Hands resting on the wall, head lowered, water washing away the sins of his life…

He was so deep in thought he never saw the other man watching him from the doorway. Never heard the soft chuckle from those gorgeous, tortuous lips. He was unaware that he was no longer alone, until he felt a soft, warm hand wrap around his cock. He tried to turn, but a strong hand on his back kept him facing the wall. Soft kisses rained down across his shoulders, peppered with tiny bites to his soaked skin.

He opened his mouth to speak, only to be hushed. The tone of the other man's voice wasn't menacing or threatening in any way, but he sensed the underlying anger, the resentment, frustration - built up over the past months of betrayal, avoidance, ignoring one another. He hadn't done it willingly, but he had done it nonetheless. He wanted to apologize, beg forgiveness, profess his undying love.

What he did was cry out in pain as a hard, throbbing cock was shoved into his ass without warning, without preparation. Without the usual loving caress he would have received in the past. Hot tears sprung from his eyes, mixing with the spray of water from the shower, and he tried to relax, tried to adjust to the assault on his insides. The hands gripping his hips tightened, becoming painful. But nothing compared to the pain he felt inside.

He whimpered as the thrusts into his ass quickened. He wanted to tell him to stop, slow down, go somewhere and talk, do this properly. But he knew, deep in his heart, that he somehow deserved this. His mind was no longer his own - Paul had taken care of that, whispering promises in his ear. It's just for show, he had said. He knows about the plan, he had said. In a week or two, everything will go back to the way it was, he had said. Stick with me and you'll go far, he had said.

The only place he had gone was insane. He needed him, wanted him, loved him. But he had seen the anger in those eyes, the pain, the betrayal. Now he could see nothing in them. He could feel nothing but the pain. The sharp thrusts burned a line from his ass straight to his heart. The tears continued to fall as he felt a hand slip from his hip and wrap around his cock again, sliding over it in silken strokes.

"You like this, don't you." It wasn't a question so much as a statement, a matter of fact. He nodded slowly, his body beginning to adjust to the searing pain. His cock twitched, hardening under the familiar touch. He didn't need to see the other man's face to know he was smiling. And he didn't need to see the smile to know that it was one of satisfaction. His pain was bringing him pleasure, and he knew that it was necessary for him to feel this pain.

His hands slipped on the wet wall, his grip faltering. Much like his grip on reality. He was losing it, losing the battle to hold onto the last bit of sanity that held him here. For a moment, his thoughts turned to Paul, knowing this wouldn't be happening if he was here, and for that, he was thankful. This wasn't how he had envisioned their reunion, wasn't how it had played out in his mind, over and over again.

In his dream, it was gentle, slow, loving. Not full of anger and pain and humiliation. His dream was of joy. His reality was something else. His reality was less of the man he loved and more of the man he loathed. He shook his head, trying to remove the thoughts of Paul from it. But it was no use. The touch on his cock was familiar, but the lines between the man pounding his insides now, and the one that did it on a nightly basis were blurred, not only by the tears, but the cloud in his brain as well.

He felt the hard cock in his ass throb once, twice, three times, and he knew it would soon be over. He didn't want it to end. He wanted to stay here, locked together for eternity. He wanted to turn back time, go back to the days when those eyes looked upon him with love, adoration, respect. He had none of that now. All he had was the emotionless thrusting into his ass, the painful tugging of his cock - and the thought of how he would explain this to Paul growing in his mind.

Randy's final thrust into him was hard, so hard it slammed him against the wall, banging his head against the cold tiles. There was no cry of pleasure from his lips, just a grunt of satisfaction, signaling the end of the act. He was teetering on the edge, ready to follow into the sweet abyss of pleasure when the stroking stopped and he was empty again. Turning quickly, his eyes pleaded with Randy to finish the job.

The smirk on that familiar face told him everything he needed to know. "Did you really think this was about you?" He shook his head, tears filling his eyes again. "It's really not, ya know. It's nothing personal." He couldn't find the words to respond, couldn't form a question or statement, couldn't deny a thing. He watched silently as Randy cleaned himself under the cooling spray of water, shook the droplets from his hair and turned to walk away.

He stood there, every inch of his body, inside and out, screaming out in pain, anguish, despair. He wanted to say he was sorry, wanted to tell Randy he loved him, wanted to beg for the forgiveness he sought. But he said nothing, watching silently as once again, Randy walked out on him. But that wasn't true, was it? He was the one that walked out - not by choice, but because Paul had said it was for the best.

"Randy." His voice sounded foreign to him - weak, small, pleading. Randy turned, looking at him. He couldn't register the look there. Was it anger? Pity? Disgust? "Please…" Randy laughed, but it wasn't a sound of merriment. "No, Dave," he said. "There's nothing you can do or say that'll make a difference. You brought this on yourself. You made your decision when you went with him."

Dave nodded silently, defeated, accepting his fate. He watched until Randy had disappeared from his view, his hand dropping to his still-throbbing cock and he jerked off. His tears mixed with the cool water from the shower, the thick white cum shooting onto the wall, and the misery filling his soul. He slumped to the floor. He cried - for the love he had lost, the things he had done, what he had become.

When Ric found him, he was curled up on the wet floor, cold water raining down on him. He shivered as the water was turned off and a towel was wrapped around him. He was still crying as he was led from the showers into the empty locker room. He continued to cry as the older man dried him off, helped him into his clothes and led him out the door.

Silent sobs racked his body as they left the arena, the smirking face of his one true love following him all the way to the car. Nothing mattered now. He had lost everything - his love, his control, his mind. The only thing he had left was the pain, the tears, the realization that he would never be the same. His mind screamed out to make it go away. His body begged to be touched again by tender hands. And his heart bled for the love it would never know again.