Date: Sun, 22 Sep 2002 23:56:28 +0800
From: paul sung <psun@hotmail.com>
Subject: Dear Enemy Part II

DISCLAIMER
==========

This is a work of fiction; any resemblance to persons living or dead is
entirely coincidental. The author asserts all legal and moral rights
(copyright (c) 2002 - psun@hotmail.com) to this work and you may not
copy it or transmit it in any way except in its entirety and with this
disclaimer. This story features descriptions of sex between males:

- if such material is prohibited in your jurisdiction, please DO NOT READ ON,
- if you're under the legal age to read such material, please DO NOT READ ON,
- if you don't like, or are offended by such material, please DO NOT READ ON.
And any comments - brickbats or bouquets, send them over to
psun@hotmail.com And if you find that you like what you're reading, visit
my page at http://www.geocities.com/savante_2002


Well, I tried to slam him out of my life anyway. With the years that had
passed, I hadn't counted on the fact that he might have anticipated my
reaction and that his reflexes might have improved tremendously. In a
flash, he had his right leg through the opening and he'd planted himself
bodily as a wedge in my doorway.

"Damn it, Dermot!" he huffed.

For making the mistake of saying my name, I opened my eyes and glared at
him. Brad McKinley. Dark hair. Blue eyes. Killer smile. Incredible body.
That hadn't changed. Damn.

Two words were foremost in my mind, the same words he'd yelled at me with
a twist. "Get out, you breeder."

"Fuck." Squeezed between the doorjamb, he managed a quick gasp. "Dermot.
I-"

"Get out."

"Wait." His blue eyes turned wide and pleading, the look which usually
got him his way but I knew better. "Give me a chance. I just need -"

"Get out."

"Chanting that line like a mantra isn't going to make me going away."
Those eyes flashed a warning and I knew that I had a fight on my hands.
Just what I needed to make this a perfectly wonderful day. Earlier, I'd
envisioned lying on my couch and just flipping through the channels on
the telly. It hadn't occurred to me that I'd be involved in a WWF
Wrestling championship.

Just as I was about to make another attempt to get rid of him, he took
advantage of my momentary lapse and gave the door a hard shove that had
me landing on the floor. Before I could start up to kick him out, he had
me pinned down on the floor, my arms clipped to the top of my head. Not
only had he become much faster, he was also much stronger. Then again he
was always stronger than me. The genes of a gorilla did that to a person.
Not to mention hours of football and gym.

Not only did he pin me to the floor, he had the gall to flash me a cocky
grin, flashing a row of gleaming white. "Hey, long time no see."

"Get off me," I spat out.

"Not until you hear what I have to say." His jaw tensed in that stubborn
manner that I remembered.

My brain hit on a sure method of getting him out of my apartment.
Granted, I hated homophobia as much as anyone but I sure liked it right
now. Putting on my queeniest voice which I never did even for a gag, I
lisped delicately. "You sure you want to lie on a faggot here, McKinley?
I might just get excited with your oh-so-hot bod."

His eyes narrowed. "Dermot."

"God, I can feel your hot dick on mine, so big, so thick. I am getting
all hot and aroused here." As I rolled around under him, I realized that
I really was getting aroused by the situation. Damn. Damn Brad and his
pheromones and his perfect pecs. From memory, I could easily sketch out a
vision of hard, golden curves of male muscle, smooth, slick with sweat
and capped with dark male nipples. Nipples that easily came to life with
the proper care. From what I could feel right now through his sweater,
they were already responding pretty well. "Like whatcha feelin' stud?"

His only response to my lewd comments was a darker frown. "Can it. Ten
minutes. Is that too much to ask?"

Despite all my best intentions, his hard thigh slid between mine and I
could feel my dick reacting to the suggestion. Hot man. Hard muscles.
Flat surface. My indiscriminate cock simply couldn't handle the barrage
of suggestions. The very idea that I could still get aroused by him
irritated me. What the hell was wrong with me? It wasn't as if I'd been
celibate the past few years. Truth to tell, I'd had plenty of good sex
and with plenty of good-looking men. Well, not plenty as in a marine
platoon but there were a few. Desperate to get him away before he got
wind of my reaction, I hastily agreed. "Yeah. Ten minutes. Just get off
me."

His expression told me that he wasn't buying my easy acquiescence. "I
know you too well, Dermot. Give me your word on that."

"Okay. Fine. Ten minutes. Asshole."

The moment he let go, I released a punch that knocked him over. It was
worth four over years of frustration and packed quite a wallop.

Unfortunately, the man was as tough as ever and he barely winced. "Shit."

"Get out," I said quietly. Rolling up onto my feet, I glared down at him.
A face that still haunted me more than I cared to admit. Dark, chiselled
planes, an aristocratic nose and a 1000 watt smile came together in a
face that would make women weep. Add that amazing face to a body that had
been featured in Men's Fitness more times than I could count and you had
quite a picture. Even now, his muscles strained against the white
turtleneck he was wearing, the material clinging lovingly to the smooth
curve of his pecs, the flat planes of his tight abs. It wasn't obvious
however how he'd gotten into those skintight blue jeans. It looked as if
he'd been poured into it, firm ass and all. All in all, Brad McKinley was
one smooth drink of water.

Still seated on the floor, he wiggled his jaw gently. "Damn. You gave
your word. That used to mean something."

"I've changed, Brad. Yeah, that's me. Turned into a low-lying, deceitful,
oversexed nelly," I spat out that last bit before I turned away. For the
past few years, I'd always imagined a meeting with him but I never
thought it would feel like this. I'd imagined feeling nothing at all
after all these years and I realized how wrong I was. There was a quick,
sudden ache in my heart that told me that I still had some time to go
before I could totally let go of whatever feelings I had for him.

"You've still got that sneaky left, that's for sure." He was still
massaging his jaw. That hard, square jaw wasn't the least bit dented. My
hands itched for another go. "Dermot -"

The man still hadn't moved from his spot on my hallway and I leaned back
against the wall a few feet away. "What the hell are you doing here?" I
said quietly.

He knew me too well. My placid demeanour didn't fool him in the least.
Watching me warily as he'd no doubt watch some unpredictable beast, he
slowly backed away. "Look, for the sake of our friendship.."

The warnings I frequently had about my temper came back to me but simply
counting to ten didn't seem to be working right now. "There is no ... our
friendship. Don't you remember? That effectively ended three years ago
when I got you drunk, seduced you and forced you into a depraved,
licentious lifestyle."

The sarcasm in my voice had him wincing. "Look, you're not even giving me
a chance to say I am sorry."

"You missed that particular boat three years ago."

"Fuck. I have been trying for the past four... " He looked as if he
wanted to say more but he paused. "Look, I even brought .. well, I cooked
chow mein. Thought that would help. You used to like it very much."

That explained the large package lying outside my door. "Thanks. Get
out."

"Aren't you at least going to offer me some of that? Remember those
days.." he said wistfully.

Those days when we used to hide up in his treehouse and munch on the
treats my mother insisted that I bring along. How could I possibly
forget? In college, Brad had finally given in and started cooking - which
he surprisingly did well. His fried chow mein had become our staple diet
most nights when he wasn't experimenting with the spices and ingredients
he kept in the small apartment kitchen.

"Then take it and leave."

"You want me to grovel, is that it?" He stared at me, the hurt in his
eyes almost palpable. For the past 20 years, that look had worked like a
charm. Eventhough I steeled myself against it, I found myself weakening.

"No, I just want you to go." Moving over to the door, I held it open
despite my reservations. Eventhough I'd tried to forget the man, I
couldn't deny that I'd always hoped that we could have maintained our
friendship despite everything that had happened between us. He was the
closest friend I'd ever had and shared almost all my childhood memories.

"Wait. I-I just want you to have this." He held it out to me and I stared
at it. A friendship bracelet. Blue-green and black. I remembered the time
we'd spent trying to figure out the correct knots on a dare from my
sister years ago. We'd finally bungled through two bracelets. The fact
that Brad had kept it surprised me. He was always the careless one, the
one who kept on losing and misplacing things. His mom used to say that
he'd lose his head if it wasn't screwed on tight. "Remember that day when
we did it. How we laughed when you got your fingers all tangled up. Well,
I found it while I was rummaging through my things.. and I thought you
should have it back."

Who knew that my heart still could feel a pang at the thought. "One meal
and you're out."

Surprise flashed across his dark face before he suppressed the feeling.
"Okay."

It was obvious that I had relented but I couldn't help denying it. "This
doesn't mean anything, McKinley."

"No, it doesn't," he agreed readily.

"Wipe that smirk off your face." Saying that, I turned back and walked
into my kitchen.