THE STAR'S SHADOW 5
USUAL DISCLAIMER
"THE STAR'S SHADOW" is a gay story, with some parts containing graphic scenes of sex between males. So, if in your land, religion, family, opinion and so on this is not good for you, it will be better not to read this story. But if you really want, or because YOU don't care, or because you think you really want to read it, please be my welcomed guest.
THE STAR'S SHADOW
Written by Andrej Koymasky
October 6th 1993
©2020
translated by the Author
English text kindly revised by Hank
CHAPTER 5
CLASHES
Patrick often had sudden and violent changes of mood. Usually he was very closed and sad. At times he became tense, hysterical, and trembled like a frightened puppy. Other times he was naughty, surly or bad. Jean Luc became used to these changes little by little; but he suffered for them as he felt Patrick's suffering.
Jean Luc had to shut himself inside his own small room so he wouldn't be seen when a boy was brought to the room for sex. He could hear them tossing and moaning in the wide bed while they had sex. Once he heard Patrick moaning: "Stronger, harder!" Jean Luc usually became aroused and masturbated hearing those unmistakable noises. He dreamed of sharing that bed with his idol...
Each time, Patrick called him back from the small room after the paid whore left. Each time Jean Luc tidied the tracksuit which he normally slept in and went back into the singer's room and to sit on the edge of the bed. Patrick always was relaxed after having sex, but a sadness surrounded him.
Once Jean Luc asked him, "Do you enjoy having sex?"
"Yes. They're always very skilled and very efficient. They know how to arouse and satisfy a man. The one who just left was very skilled "
"But why don't you choose them?"
"They know who to choose. They know my tastes. What about you... did you have a girlfriend, before?"
"No."
"But don't you feel like fucking at times?"
"Well, yes..."
"Tell them. They can get you a girl if you want. They know where to find them."
"No, it doesn't matter. And then..." he was near saying that he would have liked a boy, not a girl... but he kept silent.
Patrick seemed not to notice the sentence was left hanging and continued, "Yes, they are skilled. They know how to pleasure me..."
"But that isn't enough for you, is it?"
"Would you give me your hand, Shadow?" Patrick asked without answering. Jean Luc gave it to him. The other squeezed it lightly: "Tell me about you, Shadow."
"What do you want to know?"
"I really don't know. Just talk..." he said with a faint smile.
Jean Luc talked..."I like rain... the noise that rain makes and the way it smells. It makes me feel clean, like life being renovated. Your song about rain is very touching. It is obviously you like rain too. Isn't that so?"
"Yes..."
"And storms... I also love storms. I would like to be naked under a storm."
"I always sleep naked. I like being naked, I would always like to be naked if I could."
"Yes, I understand you."
"Do you sleep in that tracksuit?"
"Yes."
"I could not stand it. I like falling asleep and feeling the sheet caressing my skin. Caresses that when I was a child, not even my mother gave me. My stepfather did, instead... but they were not caresses... they were not affectionate. They were just lust... He just wanted to fuck me. He deflowered me. I was thirteen..."
"A bad memory..." Jean Luc affirmed in a low voice.
"Bad and good. I hated and liked it, therefore I hated myself. Like when I make those whores fuck me - I hate and love them... and hate myself. I am a shit, right?"
"Yes, a little..." Jean Luc answered with a smile, and brushed his cheek with a light caress.
Patrick grasped that hand, took it to his lips and kissed it. Jean Luc quivered.
"You don't despise me, do you?"
"No! Why should I?"
"My stepfather despised me. He buggered me first, then despised me. Pierre and Jules also despise me. Charles possibly less than the others. Also those whores they provide; while they screw me, they despise me. The great Patrick Dupuis mounted like a... a bitch in heat! Probably they despise me because I pay them.
"Perhaps it's just your imagination, Patrick."
"You, hear everything from your room, don't you?"
"Yes..."
"And it doesn't annoy you?"
"No, it doesn't."
"Really?"
"May I tell you something?"
"What?"
"I am gay too, just like you."
Patrick looked at him, astounded, then laughed and laughed and laughed. "You really are my shadow, then..." he said calming down, and again lightly kissed Jean Luc's hand.
"And I am happy to be your shadow."
"Even when I treat you badly?"
"Even when you feel bad..." Jean Luc corrected him with a sad smile.
"Yes, I feel bad. I often think I would like to die, but I will never have the courage to do kill myself."
"Courage? No, to commit suicide one doesn't need courage, but cowardice. To live one needs courage, a lot, a lot of courage."
"You never have wanted to die?"
"No, never. I love myself."
"You love yourself... Not me, I loathe myself."
"But why? You are a splendid man."
"The body, maybe... but what does that count for?"
"No, not just your body. Your songs... which are the echo of your soul. And they are so beautiful..."
"You are more of a poet than I, you are..." Patrick whispered. Then asked: "Will you give me my pill, now?"
"Why? Try to sleep without it."
"I'm scared..."
"You do not have to be. You have to face your fears..."
"Want you... lay near me, tonight? So, perhaps..."
"Whatever you want. But what will the others say? During the night they come in two or three times to see how you are..."
"They can say what they like. Will you lay by me?"
"Willingly."
"And hold my hand?"
"Yes."
Laying next to the body he loved and desired was at the same time a pleasure and a trial to Jean Luc. True, their bodies were almost identical now, but he felt he as if he was wearing a mask. The real one was there next to him, warm and very desirable... He felt Patrick slipping off to sleep, and after a while he too fell asleep.
He was awakened later by Patrick who was crying, tossing and moaning in his sleep: "No... no... don't touch me... no..."
Jean Luc lightly embraced him and caressed his hair, "Shush... shush... everything is okay. Don't worry... I am here..."
Patrick gave a convulsive jerk. Jean Luc again caressed his hair and whispered: "Calm, be calm... everything is all right, Patrick."
The singer seemed to relax. Jean Luc became prey to a strong desire and gave Patrick a very light kiss on the lips and then quivered. Laying down, he tried to control himself, to calm down. Patrick had fallen asleep turned on his side. His legs and arms sprawled across Jean Luc's body in an unconscious half embrace. The boy encircled his shoulders with his arm and lightly caressed his naked back. Patrick moved closer to him.
The second time he was awakened by the noise made by the door opening.
Patrick's personal waiter entered and looked at him, "What are you doing, here?" he asked Jean Luc with a frown.
"He had a nightmare..."
"He didn't take his pill. He has to take it," the man said seeing it on the night table.
"If he wakes up again, I will give it to him." the boy whispered.
"Mister Jules will not be happy..."
"We will see..." the boy answered dismissing him with a gesture.
The man shrug his shoulders and went out. Jean Luc looked at Patrick. He was sleeping but his expression was sullen. He lightly caressed him again and fell asleep.
The third time he woke up because Patrick had let out a strong moan. He was all a shiver, and becoming more and more violent. Jean Luc shook him lightly several times.
At last, Patrick opened his eyes and met the intense look of the boy. "Ah... you... still here..."
"I promised you. You had a nightmare..."
"Yes..."
"Do you feel like telling me about it?"
"It's always the same... my fans, the girls. They tear my clothes, made me fall down, surround me, rip my shell, touch me with their hands, their breasts, their hungry mouths... hungry for my sex... and I am powerless, I can not stand to escape or protect myself. Oh, those mouths... those hands..." he said with a sob.
"You are in my hands. Hands that will never harm you. Sleep quietly."
"Jean Luc?"
"Yes?"
"Do you want me? Do you desire my body?"
"Does it matter? I will stay near you, and my body is yours, okay? I am your shadow."
"You... you don't want to use me?"
"No, surely not. Never!"
"You... even if you want me... will respect me?"
"It's natural."
"Even if it would cost you?"
"Even."
"Why?"
"You said it, didn't you? How can you possibly make love with yourself... or with your shadow?"
"Jean Luc?"
"Yes?"
"I trust you... even if you touch me..."
"I will not touch you, anyway."
"But you... you do want me, right?" he again asked, in a low voice.
"Yes, that's true. For many years. But believe me, not just your body."
"This body... a putrefied corpse inside."
"No, I don't believe you. The Patrick I am learning to know is a lot better than the one of my dreams."
"How can that be?"
"I don't know. But that's how it is."
"You say so... out of kindness."
"No, no. But now sleep, little one. Sleep quietly."
"Without the pill?"
"Half of the night already has passed."
"I keep you from sleeping..."
"It doesn't matter."
"Why are you so...so..."
"So? So, how?"
"So... I don't know..."
"Sleep..."
Patrick again dozed off. His body was half uncovered. Jean Luc tried to put the sheet on him, but it was stuck under the singer's body and therefore he couldn't and he didn't want to risk waking him up again.
In the morning Jean Luc woke before Patrick. During the night he woke up five or six more times. He couldn't remember. Patrick was lying against him and through the sheet and his tracksuit he could feel his morning erection pushing against his hip. He looked at his watch -- it was nine o'clock. He lightly shook the singer until he opened his eyes.
"Good morning, Patrick. How do you feel?"
"Terribly tired. I slept badly... And I didn't allow you to sleep."
"Would you have preferred taking your pill?"
"I don't know... probably."
"Many nightmares?"
"Yes. But I woke up and saw you... and it was me sleeping quietly and serenely. A funny impression. They did a great job -- you are a fair copy of me. I just wish I was as calm as you are..."
"If I could, I would give you half of my calmness and take half of your fear..."
"A not so very profitable exchange, for you..."
"But I would do it."
"Who am I to you?"
"A... friend?"
"We barely know each other. But yes, there is something between us besides our looking alike."
"That was artificially created. I feel a little like... a cyborg."
"Why did you accept? For the money?"
"Only for a very small part. I always dreamed of meeting you... being near you. But, I never dreamed I could do it... so much. That is what convinced me."
"Shall we stand up?"
"Yes. Are you coming to take a shower?"
"Together?"
"Why not?"
"Right, why not? Don't you care being seen naked by me?"
"I saw you naked... And then, you'll know me..."
Under the shower, while they were each washing themselves, Patrick looked between the boy's legs, "But there we are different."
With an amused smile, Jean Luc merrily answered, "They didn't do plastic surgery there. Besides, nobody will see us there anyhow."
"Anyway, I'm glad we're different there."
"Ah, really? And why?"
"I don't know. Because. I would like to have met you before they transformed you. Do you have any pictures?"
"No, only my passport."
"Will you show it to me later?"
"Sure..."
"Yours is straight forward when it is hard... mine points up instead... They seem the same length... And then the hairs - yours make a trapezium, mine a lozenge... Balls... mine are slightly bigger... but yours are rounder! But, tell me... don't you miss having sex?"
"Not for the moment."
"We could make an exchange. Afterwards I could come into your room and you could go with the boy... They are skilled..."
"No, thank you. Then they would notice that we are different, there..."
"True..."
"Anyway, if I feel the need, I'll tell them... it's all right for me now."
"Before, yes, I must confess. I dreamed of that so many times..."
"But I would feel strange, now. Possibly before, if we had met before..."
"Sure, I understand."
"To be so near me and... for you it is a real swindle, isn't it?"
"No."
"But there... you are different. May I touch you?"
"Probably it would better not to, don't you think? Let's remain just friends. It will be easier, I think."
"Perhaps."
But Patrick was not always so sweet with Jean Luc. One evening, Jean Luc had contradicted him on a trivial subject and the singer chased him from his room.
"I hate you! I hate you! Who do you think you are? You are just a shadow! You are like all the others. You just want to use me, milk me and control me! Go away, go away!" he shouted. His face was red and angry and his eyes hard and cold.
"Yes, sure, I'll go, but I am your friend..."
"Friend! I don't have friends. I have just parasites, like you! Go away! I don't want to see you!" he shouted in anger.
The hate and the wrath on the singer's face shook him. He would have liked to have done something to appease him, but he felt that the best thing was to go away. Jean Luc left the singer's bed and went into his own room. He shut the door. He heard somebody rushing in response to the singer's yells. He recognized Jules' voice. Then silence. Jules entered Jean Luc's room.
"I had to give him a tranquilizer. What happened?"
"I don't know. Suddenly he shouted at me that he hates me. Perhaps he is annoyed seeing me so... so alike him?"
"I don't understand. At times he seems happy to have you nearby. It seems that you have the power to calm him, but then... Bah! Be careful what you do. We cannot afford to... to lose him."
"He is ill. He needs help..." Jean Luc said with a great deal of pain.
"I do the caring for him." the man drily answered.
"You eliminate the symptoms, perhaps, but not the causes..."
"Do you want to be his doctor? You are conceited..."
"No, but I feel pain in seeing him so upset."
"And then, try not to let it be you who upsets him," the man answered with hardness as he left.
The following morning Jean Luc was already dressed when he heard the singer move about.
After a while Patrick opened the connecting door. "Ah, you are dressed already."
"Yes..."
"I hoped you would come to shower with me..."
"I already took one."
"I see... Have you had your breakfast?"
"Not yet."
"Then, we'll have it together," the singer said as he turned to go to the shower.
Jean Luc understood that Patrick was trying to apologize for the previous night, but didn't know how...
The waiter brought them breakfast. Patrick wore his light blue silk gown. It suited him. They ate in silence.
"Jean Luc?"
"Yes?"
"It is hard... living with me, isn't it?"
"I don't know. We have only been together for fifteen days"
"A diplomatic answer."
"No, a sincere one."
"Are you always sincere?"
"I try to be."
"But so... you are armless."
"What is the gain in being... armed?"
"You could avoid wounds... maybe."
"Or perhaps you risk wounding yourself."
"I'm sore... I am."
"Yes, I can feel it..."
"Did I... wound you, last night?"
"Yes. But it will heal."
"Aren't you mad at me?"
"No... I feel..."
"Pity, right? Do you have pity for me?"
"No, sympathy."
"Isn't that the same?"
"No. I once read that sympathy in Greek meant to suffer together."
"You suffer because of me."
"No, I suffer together with you. Because of your suffering."
"I do not understand. You can not be so much... me."
"This is not a question of plastic surgery, but of caring and liking. 'To like' comes from 'to be alike', do you see..."
"You are a very complex young man. I still have to learn who you are. I bet you believe in love."
"Sure, don't you?"
"Nooo! Love is just a disguised form of egoism."
"And yet you sing of it in your songs."
"It sells."
"I don't believe you. It can't be just that..."
"Perhaps not. Perhaps I would like to believe in love too, but then... it all comes down to a cock slipping into a hole, to a tongue rummaging you, to the other's enjoyment that is just a means to your own enjoyment..."
"No. It could be as you say.... I mean, but... sex also can be a means of giving one's self and not just taking."
"Give ones self? No. Everybody wants only to take. Me too. I take your life... as long as it suits me."
"No, if it was not me wanting to give it to you."
"Money. Being near me... You just take too. Don't think you're better than the others."
"No, not better than the others. Money? I could renounce it. Being near you... I like, sure. But if I knew that my being near you harmed you, I'd leave immediately. You really are important to me."
"Maybe... but it's difficult to believe you. I mean, you could be convinced of what you say I grant you, but you deceive yourself. We all deceive ourselves."
"And you, how do you deceive yourself?"
"If I knew, perhaps I would not deceive myself."
Highs and lows. Jean Luc got used to them, even if at times they were difficult to understand -- mainly because of the rapidity in which Patrick alternated between them.
One night, after being ill treated again Jean Luc was falling asleep. Patrick came into his small room.
"Are you sleeping?"
"Not yet."
"Do you hate me?"
"Should I?"
"Yes, I think you should."
"I think not, quite the contrary."
"Then you don't hate me!? May I came in your bed?"
"Yes... but we will be a little squeezed."
"Better if we are squeezed. I need to be embraced -- by you."
"Didn't you take your pill yet tonight?"
"I don't know. Move." Patrick lay next to Jean Luc who embraced him. "When you embrace me, you got aroused, don't you? I can feel it..."
"It's unavoidable..."
"Are you frustrated? I mean, isn't it a burden on you?"
"No."
"At times I get aroused being near you too."
"Yes, I noticed it..."
"But you haven't taken advantage."
"Up to now... no."
"Do you want to kiss me?"
"Perhaps it's better not to..."
"That boy... he kisses nicely, and yet... Tonight I wanted to take him... He's also very skilled in taking it up his ass..."
"Did you enjoy being on top?"
"Yes, at first, but then I felt a huge emptiness."
"I see."
"Does it bother you my saying these things to you?"
"No..."
"Hold me tighter. Let me feel your body..."
"Like this?"
"Yes... Why don't you pull off this tracksuit?"
"It's better if I don't..."
"How patient you are with me..." Patrick murmured.
Jean Luc caressed his hair and the nape of his neck. Patrick sunk his face between Jean Luc's shoulder and his ear, and kissed his neck.
Jean Luc quivered: "No, Patrick, don't do..."
"Why? I like it..."
"You are arousing me and I would... not be able to restrain myself. Afterwards... it could become a problem, for you and for me."
"Some moments, like now, I feel I want you, Jean Luc."
"But in others you chase me, you detest me..."
"But now, I want you." the singer hoarsely murmured and licked his neck.
"Please... no, Patrick, please..."
"Your body...it's not mine. I desire you. You desire me..."
"No, please... afterwards I don't want to be despised by you. They pay me, but... not for this."
"That's it exactly. With you it will be different. You are not a paid whore..." Patrick said and slipped his hand under the tracksuit and caressed Jean Luc's chest.
Jean Luc held him strongly against himself preventing him from moving his hand on his chest. "Patrick, please, don't push this any further..."
"But I want you."
"I want to be a friend to you, not an object..."
"But I want your body! I want to use you. I want you to make me enjoy. I want to enjoy. You cannot refuse!"
Jean Luc left him, drove him back, and said with hardness, "Go to your room! Go away! Beat yourself off if you want to enjoy! Maybe in front of the mirror! Or tell them to call that boy if you want to use somebody!"
"Hey, my shadow rebels!? Who do you think you are, to say no to me?"
"A human being! And if this doesn't suit you, I quit at once!"
"They will give you not a penny!"
"I don't give a damn! I don't want as much as a penny from you if price is to be used. Go away! Go away!"
"You send me away? In my home?" Patrick asked with sarcasm.
Jean Luc stood up in silence and opened a drawer.
"What are you doing now?" the singer asked sitting up on the bed.
"I'm looking for my clothes, the ones I came here in."
"And why?"
"Because I am leaving. Immediately!"
"No!" Patrick shouted, a scared expression in his face.
Jean Luc pulled out his clothes.
Patrick left the bed and went to him. He took his arm, "No, wait..." he asked.
The boy wriggled and pulled out the top of his tracksuit.
"Jean Luc, please... wait..." the other implored.
Quivering with wrath, he put on his singlet.
Patrick brushed his arm: "Please... don't desert me... not you... not you..." he said mournfully.
Jean Luc put on his shirt.
"Not you... please..." Patrick moaned.
Jean Luc turned and read despair in his eyes which cooled down his wrath at once.
"Jean Luc... I know I am not worth a shit, but..."
"You are worth very much. But you're wasting yourself."
"I... I need you. You're the only clean thing in my life... I was wrong, I know... Please, forgive me..."
"All right... I'll stay... for the moment... Go back to your bed."
"In... my bed?"
"Or in mine, if you want. I will wear my tracksuit."
"No... yes, as you like."
"Don't spoil everything, please, Patrick..."
"Help me... I... I feel lost."
Jean Luc put his tracksuit top back on. He pushed the singer toward the bed and laid down at his side and embraced him: "Try to sleep, now. Relax."
"You wont desert me, will you?"
"If you do not force me to..."
More calm days followed. Patrick started to have sex with the agency boy a couple of times per day. Jean Luc guessed that the singer was trying to satisfy the desire he felt for him. He went to talk with Claude, who seemed the most reasonable of the three.
"Why don't you try to find him a steady boyfriend? One with whom he could develop something more than just a physical relationship?"
"No, it would make matters worse. That would derange him more than he already is."
"I believe the opposite. That could give him more stability..."
"Are you a psychiatrist? The psychiatrist said so, and so do we. Never too many times with the same boy. No affectionate involvement. It is his emotional tension that allows him to compose and to perform."
"I feel that the tension is excessive. It is killing him..."
"No, we know what we're doing. He isn't in any danger. His growing success demonstrates that. In September we start an important tour - the United States and Japan..."
"Yes, Pierre told me. I just hope you are not tying the rope too tight"
"You do your work and we'll do ours. And, spend less time in bed with him."
"We don't do anything in bed. I only give him some human warmth, and he needs that."
"I know you don't have any sex."
"And how can you know that?" Jean Luc, astounded, asked.
"His bedroom is monitored."
"Whaaat?"
"Yes, for his own good."
"Ah! ... I hope at least he doesn't know."
"Of course he doesn't, and you will not tell him. Understand?"
"Yes, certainly." Jean Luc answered, shuddering with disgust.
CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 6
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