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Lights out, TV glowing and casting flickering shadows on the wall and Gerard’s face. He sat comfortably on the couch, the Star Wars blanket he’d taken from his room draped over his legs.
It seemed as if all planets had aligned for him today— his parents went to sleep early, Mikey went out somewhere, and a random channel on TV was doing a horror movie marathon. It played mostly the classics— Friday the 13th, Halloween, Nightmare on Elm Street, The Shining—, but a few B-movies came up from time to time.
Gerard didn’t mind them that much. Most of them were about supernatural creatures (not something he particularly enjoyed, but they kept him entertained) and had terrible special effects that made them more laughable than scary.
Se7en had just ended, the credits cut off by a commercial break. Gerard yawned and stretched on the couch, his squinted eyes glancing at the clock on the wall above the TV. It was around 2 in the morning already, and as much as he loved horror movies, he was starting to get tired.
He ran a hand through his black hair, shifting on the couch as if preparing to stand up and go to bed. His eyelids were droopy and he felt that faint static in his head that appears when you try to stay awake despite everything in your body telling you to go to sleep.
The commercial ended then and the channel resumed its regular programming. Gerard was already reaching for the remote when the film started playing and he noticed the overly shaky camera and the sketchy vibe it radiated.
He thought another well-known movie would come up— he had already watched too many of those tonight, missing one wouldn’t hurt. But instead, they played another low-budget one. The hand hovering over the remote lowered, resting back on the cushions with a practically inaudible thump.
“Eh, what the fuck,” he murmured, shrugging and settling back on the couch. The B-movies were fun to watch, despite their imperfections. They reminded him of the times in high school when he’d thought of making home-made movies off the comic book ideas he had. He never actually filmed anything, because sticking to drawing was easier and didn’t require convincing people to act for something.
It started off with a masked guy wandering through the woods late at night— cliché, but he wasn’t consuming critically anymore. It was a slasher, apparently— points for that, because Gerard liked slasher films and also because it was the first B-movie he’d watched tonight that didn’t revolve around some mythical creature.
The guy was covered in blood that was too bright red to look realistic. Gerard snorted under his breath. Maybe watching this would get a few laughs out of him before he dozed off, which was totally not the purpose of the movie, but he could react to it however he pleased. It’s not like the guy who made it was over there monitoring him.
The movie then cut to a black screen and then back to some kids hanging out— the kids who’d end up dying throughout the film, Gerard supposed.
About twenty minutes passed before anything interesting happened. The group— nine college students who decided to go camping for some reason Gerard hadn’t paid attention to— wandered through the forest at night. It was all really overdone and not very original, but he kept watching.
Predictably, one of the college kids— a brunette girl— got separated from the group and lost in the woods. Gerard was about to leave again because the film was too cliché for his tired mind to even laugh at— then the masked guy appeared on the screen. He approached the girl with exaggerated stealth, and Gerard thought he looked like when a cartoon character was sneaking somewhere and stood on their toes because for some reason that made it impossible for them to be found out (even though he thought it actually made it easier because they could easily lose their balance and fall on their ass.)
He had spaced out (or began to doze off, he wasn’t sure) when the brunette girl suddenly screamed out and made Gerard flinch back to reality. He needed to lower the volume before his parents woke up because of over-exaggerated screeches.
He pointed the remote at the TV, the bar that appeared on the corner of the screen going down at the same time as the volume. He really looked at the scene playing out right then, and he paused for a second.
The murderer was on top of the girl, knife in hand as he stabbed her in the stomach, obviously-fake blood spraying out like sprinklers.
Gerard’s eyes stayed on the screen, still. His arm slowly lowered, remote still in hand.
His attention was weirdly caught by the scene, for some reason. He settled back, once again, on top of the couch, letting go of the remote. He didn’t know why, but he decided to keep watching it.
The guy kept stabbing the brunette, who eventually stopped screaming after an impossible amount of time, considering she was literally being murdered. The masked man ended up covered in blood Carrie-style— this death had been pretty gory, despite being only the first.
Gerard adjusted the blanket covering his waist and legs, an unconscious action as his eyes stayed locked on the TV. The film continued, the group obviously noticing the brunette girl was missing and, predictably once more, separating to look for her. The masked guy appeared again, killing off a dude this time. He buried the knife on the guy’s neck, bright red, overly liquid blood flying out of the stab wound as he fell face-first to the floor. Gerard’s breath hitched, but he wasn’t scared. He stared at the screen intently, with an interest not even he knew where it came from yet. He didn’t notice he wasn’t blinking.
The masked guy killed other people from the group as the time went on, and for some reason that fake blood stood out too much to Gerard. It didn’t bother him or make him cringe, however. It felt more like he was being hypnotized— like it was alluring to him.
The thought went as quickly as it came. It made him swallow thickly, as if he was gulping corn syrup. His chest rose and fell with deeper breaths in and slower breaths out. His heart felt odd in his chest, heavy. His stomach did a flip and he started feeling butterflies there.
Gerard recognized the feeling. He had only ever felt it the times he had watched porn when he was alone in the house or when he was horny for no apparent reason— only this time he had a reason and it wasn’t something he expected. He’d watched a concerning amount of horror movies, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel strangely fascinated by blood every time it came up on screen and sprayed over the actors— but this time it was ridiculous amounts of blood per person, and his attraction to it was equally intense.
What the fuck is wrong with me, he thought, feeling that tickling in his belly as the masked guy went on to kill someone else, piercing through their back all the way to their chest, blood pouring down as the murderer retrieved the knife. His fingers twitched, as if scared of what they’d do if they moved completely. Gerard fiddled with the blanket, trying to distract himself with the fuzzy texture, though his eyes ended up flickering down anyway.
Unsurprisingly, there was a tent on the blanket, incriminating. He exhaled— a shaky and embarrassing sound— as he looked up at the ceiling, knowing he was a lost cause. He glanced down at his hand, still gripping the blanket, and willed it to move. He didn’t want to stare too much (he never got over the embarrassment and hopelessness that came right before jerking off), instead focusing on the TV, the masked man still going with his killing spree.
Gerard’s hand sneaked into the blanket, fingers pressing slightly past his pajama pants and the waistband of his underwear, grazing warm skin under his pubic hair. He was almost hesitant, hand shaking slightly, as if he wasn’t sure if he would turn into a total creep by doing this. Then another pool of blood emerged from someone in the movie and he just thought fuck it.
He wrapped his fingers around the base of his dick, only half-hard yet, and gave an experimental twist of his wrist, just to see if he was really doing this. He inhaled sharply, his eyes blinking shut a few times. He repeated the action a few times, now fully hard, but the dryness didn’t feel exactly good. He pulled his hand out and brought it to his mouth, spitting into his palm and diving back in.
It felt much better now, his hand sliding more easily. His breath came out in puffs as he stared, heavy eyelids and dazed gaze, at the screen. The movie must be nearing its climax because the deaths were happening much closer to each other and got pretty gory, which didn’t help Gerard calm down at all.
He pressed his thumb over the slit, a choked sound erupting from his throat as his eyes fluttered shut again, his head lolling back for a second. He was already leaking pre-cum, spreading it over himself with practiced movements. His breathing turned heavier, his mind fuzzy.
He moved his hand up and down quickly, stretching both his boxers and his pajama pants. He could hear the screams from the movie behind his ragged breaths and the thumping of his heart and, for reasons he didn’t want to look too much into right now, that excited him more.
Gerard tried to keep himself from pushing into his hand, but he didn’t have the energy to stop it every time it happened. Sounds that were in-between sighs and moans spilled from his slightly parted lips, but he tried to keep it down, simply because the thought of being caught touching himself over crappy horror movies was worse than the shame he would probably feel afterward.
An accidental and particularly sudden flick of his wrist had him whining out and bucking his hips, cutting the tension in his belly and sending him past the edge.
In a matter of seconds, he threw his head back against the backrest of the couch and came into his hand, chest falling and rising fast. His arm relaxed and rested limp, his hand still wrapped loosely around his now-flacid cock. He attempted to catch his breath, looking up at the unlit ceiling light.
His hand was a mess of cum, sweat and his own saliva, and he grimaced a little when he pulled it out, his nose scrunching a bit. He avoided touching anything with that hand as he peeled the blanket off himself, standing up on slightly weak legs and walking to the bathroom.
The lights blinded him for a second when he flicked them on, his eyes having adjusted to the dark environment of the living room. He stepped in front of the sink and just let the water pour on his hand, a tired sigh escaping his mouth like a puff of air. Having mostly come down from the post-orgasm daze, his sleepiness kicked back in and he was impatient to doze off. He turned off the tap after about a minute, drying his skin with the side of his pants, and went out of the small bathroom.
The movie was still playing on the TV, but Gerard didn’t pay any mind to it right now. He just turned it off, grabbed his Star Wars blanket from the couch and headed straight to the basement.
The old wooden stairs creaked under his weight, and he had to hold onto the railing because he was so fucking tired all of a sudden, he was sure he was gonna fall asleep standing and fall and break his neck or something. He didn’t even bother turning on the lights— he’d be too lazy to turn them off again when he went to sleep.
He covered himself with his blanket again, his greasy hair falling on his face as he laid sideways on the bed. He dozed off almost immediately— not awake enough to be embarrassed about jacking off to a crappy slasher film yet. He’d worry about that in the morning.
For now, he just knew he had to avoid watching gory movies with other people.