Date: Fri, 1 Sep 2006 17:30:05 -0700 (PDT)
From: Lusty <lustyville@yahoo.com>
Subject: Lucas and Lionel-Part17. The Buzzkill

     There were voices all around me. It sounded like people were
arguing about something. I thought I heard someone say my name
then I felt someone lift my head off the floor.

     "Lucas!" They shook me. "Wake up Lucas!"

     My eyelids felt like sandbags as I tried to force them open.
There was a hint of light and it stung my eyes so I squeezed them
shut.

     "Lucas! Dammit! Stop playing games and open your eyes!"

     I knew that voice; that was Lionel. I wanted to see him. I
willed my eyes open and soon I was looking in someone's face, but
it wasn't Lionel. The face was familiar though. Michael. Yeah,
that's who it was. It was Michael. I smiled at him. "Hi,
Michael," I said.

     "Are you okay?" he asked.

     "Um." Hands came out of no where and started pulling me to
my feet.

     "He's fine! Now go away."

     "Why don't you let him tell us that Lionel?"

     My body was pressed against someone. I leaned further in to
them, trying to balance myself and stop the room from spinning. I
put my head on the person's shoulder and smelled them. They
smelled like Lionel.

     "Lucas. Are you okay, Lucas?" I turned my head to the side
and saw Henry.

     "Henry?" I asked.

     "What did he do to you?"

     "Nothing. I'm drunk, but Lionel's here now, so I'm okay."

     "See, everything is fine. Now get the hell out of our room!"
I felt Lionel's chest vibrate as he spoke. I put my arms around
him and pulled him closer, not caring who was watching.

     "Lionel, just shut up," Michael said.

     "Is there a problem here or not?" asked a voice I didn't
recognize.

     "I keep telling you everything is fine. He fell out of the
bed, that's all."

     I felt a hand on my shoulder. "Is that true?"

     I turned and looked at the person. The security guard was
shorter than me. He had black hair on the sides of his head with
a bald spot on the top. "Yes, I fell. I'm fine." I put my head
back against Lionel's shoulder and took a deep breath. I wanted
everyone to go away and leave us alone. "Everyone can leave now.
I'm okay."

     "What the hell is wrong with you?" Michael shouted. "I heard
him yelling at you! Tell us what he did! I know he did
something!"

     "Why don't you shut the fuck up and leave! Nobody wants you
here." Lionel told him.

     Michael grabbed me and pulled me away from Lionel. He turned
me around so I could face him. "Look at me!" I focused on him.
"He hurt you and we both know it, but if you want to stay here
then that's fine. Do whatever the hell you want to do, but don't
keep pulling me in to this shit!" He shook me. "You need to snap
out of it!"

     I wasn't able to warn him before my mouth opened and the
alcohol in my stomach came spewing out, landing all over his
shirt and pants. Lionel came up behind me and grabbed me to keep
me from falling. He held me gently then rubbed my back and helped
me over to my bed. He sat me down and grabbed a t-shirt off the
floor and wiped my mouth and whispered, "Are you okay?"

     His gentleness and genuine tone of concern was surprising. I
caught myself thinking, `He does care.'

     "Do you need a trash can? Are you going to be sick again?"
His eyes seemed to smile at me.

     "I feel a little better." I looked at Michael. "I'm sorry."

     "Its okay, these are your pants anyway." He walked over to a
pile of clothes on the floor and grabbed his pants. We all
watched him as he turned his back to us and changed pants then
picked up one of my shirts. "I'm just borrowing this," he said as
he pulled my shirt over his head.

     "Okay."

     "Where did the security guard go?" Michael asked when he
turned around.

     "He left," Henry said. "Maybe we should leave too. I don't
think we're going to get anywhere by staying."

     "I don't think so either, but at least we tried," Michael
responded. Both of them seemed to be ignoring us.

     "Good, now leave," Lionel told them.

     They both walked towards the door. Michael stopped at the
doorway and looked at me. Our eyes locked and I knew he would be
there if I needed him, no matter how often I called him. "Goodbye
Lucas," he said in a voice barely above a whisper.

     I shook my head and Michael and Henry left, closing the door
behind them. Lionel walked over and locked the door. He picked up
the vomit covered clothes and put them in his dirty clothes bag
before he came back to the bed and gingerly rubbed my cheek.
"Just get some sleep and we'll talk later." I sat back in the bed
and he pulled the covers up over me. "Do you need anything?"

     I wanted to ask Lionel what had gotten in to him but I liked
the change too much to say anything and risk the return of the
old him. "No thank you."

     "Okay. You get some rest." I turned to my side and tried to
relax, but my stomach still felt weird.

     "Lionel?"

     "Yes," his voice sounded far away. I turned around to find
him, but I didn't see him anywhere. "Yes?" he said again. This
time his head appeared at the side of my bed.

     "Hi," I said, startled by his location. "What are you
doing?"

     "I was doing a few push-ups."

     "Oh." I paused for a second to allow my brain to understand
what he was doing. "I think I need some water."

     "Okay." He got up off the floor and went to our fridge. He
took out a bottle of water and brought it over to me. I watched
as he opened it. "Here." I sat up and he was at my side trying to
soothe me.

     After a few sips of water, I didn't want anymore. "Thanks,"
I told him. He put the bottle on the desk next to my bed. He was
getting back on the floor. "How long are you going to be down
there?"

     "I don't know."

     "Well why don't you take a break?"

     "And do what?"

     "Hold me?" I needed to feel someone's arms around me, making
me feel safe.

     He stopped moving and was perfectly still for a few seconds.
"Okay," he whispered.

     I turned around so he could spoon with me and I listened as
he took off his clothes. I let out a gasp as he pressed up behind
me and I felt his hard dick against my ass. "Lionel that's not
what I meant."

     "Sorry. It won't go down."

     "Well put your boxers back on."

     "I'll behave." I felt his dick jump.

     "What got you so excited anyway?"

     "I was holding this guy because he was sick and all I could
think about was his ass grinding on my dick."

     "What?" I wanted to tell him that only a sick-o would get
turned on by something like that, but I couldn't.

     He held me for a few minutes and his nose brushed against
the back of my neck. "I did this to you, didn't I?

     "Did what?" I became aware that I was involuntarily pushing
back against him.

     "The drinking. You went out and got fucked up because of
me." I didn't say anything. "You don't have to answer. I know
it's my fault." Again, I was silent. I wasn't tired anymore; I
just wasn't in the mood to have a conversation. "I made up
Rachel. There was no girl waiting to have sex with me, I only
wanted to hurt you." He kissed my neck. "I hate knowing that you
know me. Even before the trip, I would look at you and I knew you
got me and then we got back and you told me that you knew all of
my shit. I freaked. I fucking freaked, and I'm sorry, but I
couldn't talk about it then. I still don't want to talk about
it." He leaned close to my ear. "Why do you want me to remember?
I try so hard to fucking forget it, and you want me to remember?"
His hand landed on my hip. "Do you want me to tell you about it?"

     I wanted to say, `no' but I feared he would never be willing
to open up again. "Okay."

     His hand came around to the front of my boxers and slipped
inside. He grabbed my soft dick and started stroking it. I wanted
to tell him to stop, but I didn't. "I don't know what happened
while I was there," he said, "all I know is I woke up and she was
next to me, naked. Is that what you want to hear?" I kept quiet.
"Or how about how my father used to beat me when I was a kid? How
about that? Do you want to know how many times he whooped my ass
just because I was there? Or how about how the whole fucking
family knew, but nobody stopped him from hurting me?" His grip
tightened on my dick. "Oh, no, I know, what you want to hear! You
want me to tell you about the first time she did me. I was
twelve. I was big for my age, in more ways than one." He started
grinding his dick hard against me. "That bitch got me drunk and
took advantage of me. That's what you want to hear, right? She
asked if I wanted to learn about sex, and I told her yes. Why the
hell did I tell her yes? My father found out a few months later."
His voice sounded shaky. "I really wanted to go to this birthday
party and she told me I had to fuck her to get permission. Stupid
kid that I was, I did it. My father caught us and it was hell to
pay. You would think he would go after her, maybe even kill her,
but not him. He beat me so bad that I was in the hospital for a
week. When I came out, he was gone and it was just me and her.
She blamed me for chasing him off, so she was extra rough on me.
How about that? Is that good?"

     I realized he was off in a world of his own and he didn't
expect an answer from me. He continued, "I was as tall as her,
and no doubt stronger, but I would never hurt her so I took
whatever she dished out. It was our little secret, but I knew it
was a dirty secret and I didn't want it. I complained so much
about it that when I was fourteen, she sold me to two guys for a
weekend. We needed the money and I needed to be taught a fucking
lesson. Pun intended. Those guys fucked me all weekend and I came
back appreciating her more. At least I got to get off when I did
her. Is this the type of shit you want to hear?" He licked my ear
as his hand sped up on my dick. I was still soft, but he didn't
care. "Well I got more. I cut her off when I went to play
basketball over the summer. She was okay with it because she had
a boyfriend." He nibbled on my ear for a second before he blew
hot air over it, causing a strange sensation of warm where his
tongue hadn't been, and cool, where his saliva was still drying.
"I didn't know they broke up until I went home. Ronnie was there
so everything was normal until the day before we left. I had a
few drinks and she must have spiked my beer because the next
thing I knew, I was waking up next to her. Is that enough for
you, or do you want to hear some more, because I've got more."

     His hand gave up on trying to get me off, and he moved his
hand to rest on my stomach as he held me in place while he ground
against me.

     "That's enough," I told him.

     His pace quickened. He was moaning. `Stop!' I thought, but I
didn't say anything to him. I stayed still. I felt something
dropping on my neck. His moans never stopped. Finally, his cum
erupted and landed on the outside of my boxers.

     "I'm sorry," he told me as his hand glided up and down my
chest.

     `He's crying! Oh my God, he's crying,' I thought, as I
realized what the liquid was that was dripping on my neck. "It's
okay," I said.

     "No, it's not." I felt him pull away from me.

     He got up and I heard him putting his clothes on. What was I
supposed to say to him? What was I supposed to feel? I had too
many thoughts running around in my head and I couldn't grab hold
of any of them. That's when I saw the little boy's face as he
opened the door that day. "How old is Ronnie," I wondered out
loud.

     "What?"

     I couldn't believe he heard me. "How old is Ronnie?" I
turned around to see his face.

     "Six. I showed a girl down the street what I had been taught
and seven and a half months later, she was popping out a premie.
She kept him until she got her new boyfriend, then her parents
kept him, but they died in a car accident over the summer so they
gave him to me, even though I guess technically I don't have
him."

     I wondered why there wasn't a hint of emotion. "How come I
never saw him before?"

     "She takes care of him, not me."

     "Is it okay to leave him with her?"

     "She won't hurt him."

     "But"

     "Just shut up!" I looked at him and his wall was back in
place. "Don't look at me like that!" He sounded like his old self
again.

     "Like what?"

     "Like there's something wrong with me. I'm not broken! I
aint even chipped. I don't need you to fix me because I'm doing
fine on my own."

     "Right and what you just told me was perfectly normal," I
said under my breath.

     He swung and hit me upside my head. "Shut up!"

     `Maybe Michael was right. Maybe Lionel is crazy,' I thought
as I grabbed my head.

     "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hit you."

     "You never do." He backhanded me. "I suppose your hand
slipped," I told him sarcastically. Something was wrong with me.
I couldn't shut up. His hands went around my neck and he
squeezed, blocking my next sentence in my throat.

     "Would you shut the fuck up?" he screamed as his fingers
pressed in to my neck. I brought my hands up and scratched his
arms, but there was nothing I could do to make him stop. The room
started to go black and I wondered if my eyelids were closing or
if I was dying.

Copyright Lustyville 2006
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