"Lionel is an asshole!"
"You're just figuring that out?"
"Michael, don't make it a joke. I mean it! He's an asshole!"
"Calm down."
"How can I calm down? Did you see how he embarrassed me at the game? He made me look like an idiot! I hate him!" Michael raised an eyebrow. "Okay, I don't hate him," I admitted. "I wish I could hate him, but I can't. I love him too much. Uhhhhh! I'm so sick of him!" I threw my jersey across the room. I usually changed in the locker room after games, but today I couldn't face my teammates. Because of Lionel, I made a complete ass of myself on the court. He hit me in the back with the ball once and he kept passing the ball either too low or too high for me to get it. The Coach yelled at me a few times and told me to get my head in the game, because it was obviously my fault; the perfect Lionel couldn't be fucking up like that. It was all me. I wasn't listening to him. I wasn't keeping my eyes on the ball. I don't know, maybe some of it really was my fault. I couldn't focus properly. I kept thinking about him and her, and him and Rachel. I always played about half the game, sharing my minutes with the starting point guard, but because of my messed up playing, and Lionel's intentional mistakes, I ended up on the bench for the entire second half.
"Wake up."
"Oh, sorry, I got lost in my head for a second."
"Really? I thought you had nothing but space up there." He laughed and I glared at him. "Sorry, now's not the time for jokes."
"Ya think?"
He didn't respond. He sat there and looked off in to space. "Are you going to finish changing?" he finally asked.
"Yeah." I kicked off my shoes and removed my shorts. I didn't feel like putting on clothes. I wanted to crawl in my bed and disappear under my sheets.
"It's okay if you don't feel like going anywhere."
"Huh?"
"You're staring at your bed."
"No, I'm just thinking." I paused. "We should get going." I found some clothes and put them on. "Where should we go?"
"We don't have to go anywhere. I know you had a rough day."
"No, I need to go. I can't be in this room. He's everywhere."
"You make it sound like he's haunting you."
"He might as well be."
"You are too much! It hasn't even been a full day since your little spat"
I interrupted, "Can we not talk about it?"
"Sure." He watched as I grabbed my keys. "So where to?"
"I asked you first."
"I know, but I have no idea what you want to do. What do you feel like doing anyway?"
"Getting plastered."
"That won't solve anything. You'll still be sad tomorrow."
"Yeah, but I'll be happy tonight. Now stop being the voice of reason, and let's get out of here." I walked to the door, but he stood still. "Please, Michael, come on."
"Okay, but you decide where we go, and for the record, I think this is the absolute worst thing you could do. There I said it, now let's go."
"Thanks," I told him, making sure he heard the sarcasm in my voice.
I picked a pub down the street, so we weren't outside too long. We walked inside and I was relieved that no one from the basketball team was there. They were probably out celebrating their victory. Michael and I sat down at the bar and my fun began. Some alcohol from the first beer spilled on my lips and it stung as it entered the tiny cuts, but I ignored the pain. I lost count after my seventh drink and soon I had a nice buzz going. I remember putting my hand on Michael's thigh and rubbing it, and then him moving my hand.
"We're not going to play that game," he told me. I tried to focus and figure out which one of his heads had said it. He noticed the way I was looking at him. "Okay, I think you've had more than enough. You're going to be sick in the morning."
"I feel great," I said, but I must have been speaking gibberish because both of his heads gave me a funny look. I squinted to get a better look at him.
"I can't believe I let you do this to yourself."
"You're drunk too."
He stared at me for a few seconds. "I'm not drunk."
I wanted to say, `Oh so you do understand me?' but my brain lost track of the words and I ended up motioning for his beer which resulted in me knocking the beer off the bar and in to his lap. "I'm so sorry," I said or thought, I'm not sure which.
He stood up and started wiping his pants and I started wiping them too. He grabbed my hand. "I think I got it," he said.
I heard that loud and clear. The bartender gave us our total and I took out some cash, but it didn't look like much. `Shit!' I thought.
"We have a tab. Remember?" Michael whispered in my ear. His hot breath tickled my skin and I put my arm around his waist in an attempt to pull him closer, but he pulled away. He grabbed my money and put it in my pocket for me then he signed a receipt and got his card back from the bartender. "Let's get you home," he said as he put my arm around him and helped me stand up. My coordination had flown out the window, so he struggled with keeping me on my feet, but somehow he managed.
When we got back to my dorm, I must have signed him in, but I don't remember doing it. I blinked and when I opened my eyes, Michael was undressing me and putting me in bed. He tucked me in like I was a child and then he planted the sweetest, most tender kiss on my forehead. He turned away from me. I reached to grab his arm, but ended up with air. "Don't leave," I said.
"I'm not leaving. I'm sleeping on the floor."
"Hold me."
"I don't think that's a good idea."
"Why not?" I closed my eyes and I could picture him opening his mouth to say something. "I'm drunk, don't argue. Hold me." I forced my eyes open. I was searching for his face, but I settled for the ceiling instead. "Please." The light from the room seemed to burn my eyes so I closed them again. I fell asleep. As I began to stir, I felt someone snuggled up behind me. My initial thought was Lionel, but then I remembered that I had been with Michael. I was still feeling the effects of the alcohol, but that's no excuse for what I did next. I started contracting my ass and soon his dick was coming to life. I tried to think of the last time Michael had fucked me, but my brain couldn't focus on more than one thing at a time and I desperately wanted to feel someone inside me.
After a few minutes, he whispered, "What do you think you're doing?"
"Fuck me," I whispered back.
Apparently it was too low for him to hear. "What did you say?"
"Fuck me." I started really grinding my ass in to him.
"I can't." He moved the arm that was draped around me and started to get up.
"If you don't, I'll find someone else who will." A thought hit me. "Is Henry in?"
"Shut up. You can't even get out the bed without my help." I felt him get up. I turned on my back and I looked at him.
"I can move fine." I sat up on the side of the bed and then I moved to get up, but the dizziness was too much. I almost fell but he caught me. If I was sober, I would have realized that I couldn't have planned it better myself.
"Take me," I whispered in his ear as he lowered me on to the bed.
"You're drunk."
"So."
"I don't want you like this."
"You're drunk, too."
"No, I think you sobered me up already." He surprised me with a warm smile.
"So what's the problem?" I asked as I found his face with my hand and rubbed his cheek. The distance between us grew as he stood up again.
"You're the problem."
"Oh, no problems here. None." I rubbed my hardon through my boxers.
"You love Lionel."
"And what does that have to do with us?"
"It has everything to do with us. I don't want just part of you."
"You never cared before. Why can't you just fuck me like you use to? You were good at it." I knew I was whining but I didn't care.
"Wow, lucid enough to string a few sentences together," he said with his voice laced with sarcasm.
"Don't use big words."
"Like what?"
"Lucid."
"It has five letters," he told me.
"So does fuck me."
He laughed. "Um, no, try again."
"Please?"
"Nope, still not there yet."
Blame the alcohol, but his smug demeanor pissed me off. "What is your deal? You act as if you've never put your dick in me before, like you're scared or something."
"Don't you get it?"
"What?"
"Oh God! You are dense!" He stared at me. "Uhh! I guess I can tell you. You're too drunk to remember this in the morning."
"Yes I will."
"Sure." He crawled in bed next to me.
"What are you doing?"
"Ssh." I quickly locked away my anger and turned to my side so he could spoon up behind me. My eyes were starting to close again. "I know Lionel hurts you more than what you tell me about." That's the last line I remember him saying, but he gave me a whole speech. "I'm fairly certain that the cuts on your lips are somehow his fault, but I know you'll never admit it. Sometimes I fear that he might kill you and that scares me because you're my buddy and I love you. Not sexual, well a little sexual, but I know you belong to Lionel and I'm not desperate enough to settle for half your heart. Besides, you're not really my type anymore. You've let him change everything about you. I look at you sometimes and I wonder where my Lucas went. I'll always be your friend, but I don't know how much longer I can sit around and watch you destroying your life over a stupid high school dream guy who has turned your life in to a nightmare. Don't you miss the old you? The one who didn't cry all the time? The one who didn't need Lionel to make him feel whole? The one who was strong enough and man enough to stand on his own two feet? I've been looking for him for a while now. I hope I find him soon." I was snoring by this point. He kissed my neck and then whispered, "I know Lucas is still in there somewhere. Come back Lucas. Come back."
I woke up and almost had a heart attack when I opened my eyes and saw Lionel standing over us. "Lionel?"
"You couldn't even wait a day!" He shouted. "I knew you would shack up with Michael as soon as I left, but even I didn't think you would do this shit this soon!"
The shouting woke Michael. "What's going" he opened his eyes before he finished his question then he jumped away from me. "It's not what it looks like," he told Lionel.
"I know. You both accidentally fell out of your clothes."
"Nothing happened! We still have on boxers you idiot!" Michael shouted back as he threw off the covers. Michael stood up and got in Lionel's face. "You know you have some nerve coming in here trying to be the jealous boyfriend! Especially after that stunt you pulled yesterday."
"He told you?" I never saw a black person look ashen before, but that's the best word to describe Lionel's face. He looked sick and I was waiting for him to hurl right there.
"Yes, I know all about how you walked out on him so you could go fuck some girl."
"Oh, that. I"
"What do you mean, `Oh that.' What did you think I was talking about?"
"Lucas you better get your friend out of my face before I hurt him." Lionel said.
Michael turned and looked at me as I struggled to sit up on the bed. Hangovers are horrible and I was experiencing the mother of all hangovers. I felt like I had blacked out the night before because I only remembered bits and pieces. I wasn't even sure we hadn't done anything, but I knew if Mike said it, then it must be the truth. I startled myself when my lips parted and out came, "Maybe you should leave Michael."
"What about you? I don't want to leave you alone with him when he's like this."
"Like what?" Lionel asked as he stepped closer to Michael.
"Like a crazy person."
Michael shouldn't have said that. Lionel grabbed him and forced him to the door. He opened the door and forced Michael out then he grabbed some clothes and a pair of shoes and threw them at Michael. "Don't come back!" he warned. He closed the door and turned to look at me.
I knew it was the alcohol, but I didn't really care much either way whether Michael was there or not. All I knew was Lionel was home. "You gave him my pants," I stated in a matter-of- fact voice.
"Why did you have him over here?" Lionel asked.
"Why did you fuck that girl?" As I was asking the question, I started feeling really sick and all I could think about was putting my head back on the pillow. I didn't give him time to answer. "Don't answer that. Look, I have a hangover. Let's just do this later." I stretched out on the bed and pulled the covers up before I put my head on the pillow and closed my eyes. Hangovers trump arguments any day.
Suddenly the covers were ripped off of me and hands were on my arm, pulling me off the bed. I hit the floor with a loud thud, succeeding in knocking the wind out of my lungs. Thankfully, my ass cushioned the fall and I only lightly bumped my head. "No, we're going to talk now!"
I took a minute to catch my breath "Would you stop doing shit like that?" It was more of a thought, but I said the words out loud.
He flipped me over and pulled down my boxers. My voice cracked as I asked, "What are you doing?" I didn't feel queasy from the hangover because the adrenaline was rushing through my veins and all I could think about was what Lionel was going to do to me.
"Checking to see if you let him fuck you."
I reached down and pulled my boxers up. "My ass does not belong to you. You made that clear yesterday." There was a long silence that drained my adrenaline and returned the queasiness. I started to feel lethargic and that's when I wondered what he was doing. "Lionel?"
He smacked me hard on my ass and it stung. "Don't you ever talk to me like that again!"
"Or what?" I asked him as a yawn escaped my lips. I expected him to hit me, but instead, the silence returned. I whispered, "I can't believe I'm so tired." I was almost in dream land again.
Then came the knock at the door. "Security. Open up!" I knew it was Michael's doing, and so did Lionel.
"I'm going to kill Michael!" he shouted as he walked to the door. I closed my eyes and fell asleep again.
Copyright Lustyville 2006 Please send comments to lustyville@yahoo.com and check out my yahoo group at: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/lustyville.