Date: Mon, 14 Aug 2006 19:11:48 -0700 (PDT)
From: Lusty <lustyville@yahoo.com>
Subject: Lucas and Lionel-Part 16. Drowning

     "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
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