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I can only imagine what you must think of me now. No, scratch that. I know what you think of me. It’s just that you've been so sad lately. Well, more melancholy actually. When I looked at you, all I saw was blank, distant stares and troubled eyes. I remember hoping that my mind was just playing tricks on me, but something in me knew that I shouldn’t risk with the chance that I might just be seeing something I wasn't. You gave off neon-bright signs that something was wrong. For one thing, you've never been a heavy drinker; not until lately anyway. You spent a lot of time locked up in your room. Not like that's such a bad thing because everyone needs to be left alone every once in awhile (especially with Joey around) but you gave the sorriest excuses just so you would never have more human contact than absolutely necessary. I once caught you at a vending machine at around three in the morning at an hotel with about ten dollars worth of junk that management and dietitians would never even let us sniff. That night you claimed that you already had had dinner from room service so you didn't need to join us. I checked your bill before we left the day after. There was nothing on it except an order for more liqueur. Nutritious Lance. What I found scary was that it wasn't the first time, and it certainly wasn't the last time I would see you sneak to the candy machine during those scenarios. But for all that, you still grew paler and thinner. So if you must know, yes, I did set up the party. Don't act so surprised. It isn't like it was all that hard to do. It wasn't like you listened in on every one of my conversations. It's wasn't like you were focused on everything that went on around you. It wasn't like a birthday around here where everyone knows that something will happen with the only question being: 'what?'. Like they say, 'if nothing is expected, it is better to hide right out in the open.' Of course, there should be something said for a little bit secrecy. Dammit Joey; you and that mouth of yours. You tried to crawl away. I don't think so Mr. Bass - you're not squirming your way out of this one. I held onto you by your shirt collar until I was being the 'draggee' instead of the 'dragger'. Too bad that I had to tell management to give you a healthy smack on the ass before you actually gave in and came. That didn't mean that you wouldn't stick yourself in the farthest corner with a pout and be stubborn enough to not let yourself have any fun. Now come on, you're more mature than that. Up until that point, I thought you were just being a spoiled brat. I'm sorry that I didn't see how serious it really was until I watched you at the top of the stairs. The last time I had ever seen anyone that scared was the last time we had to go in for physicals and JC freaked out over the blood tests and vaccination shots. And I thought that I had problems. God, you looked like someone was tearing every emotion in you limb from limb. Then you tried to bury yourself into that wall. I know that JC would interpret it as something profoundly symbolic, but then, that wasn't the issue. The issue was that you were falling apart and I had to intervene with a bucket of super-glue. "Lance....?" You lift your head enough to show that you knew that someone was with you, but you wouldn't look at me directly. "Chris?" By the sound of it, if I could see your eyes, they would be harsh and red. I wait for there to be more, but you still remain stubborn. You're going to make me do everything, aren't you? Fine with me. I have nowhere I really need to be anyway. "Lance?" Now there's nothing. I sigh and start to leave. I turn and look at you again. I sigh again and sit beside you. God, I just know that I'll hate myself for this later. I place a hand on your shoulder. "Lance?" You give a pouty, disgusted face as you jerk away. Sorry. I forgot that you can't stand that. "Lance?" I get a grunt in return. That's good enough for me. "Lance, I'm scared." You flinch. Well you deserved it, the way you've been acting lately. "I don't know what's wrong with you....... Lance?" I watch as your face slowly contorts into something visibly painful. "Lance!" Out of pure frustration and fear of helplessness I grab your face in my hands and force you to face me. 'Talk to me,' I command. You won't believe how surprised I was when I felt you shake. But I wasn't surprised when I saw the tear leak its way out. Well, one thing led to another and I got fucked. Not that I'm complaining. It was actually pretty good, it worked the way it should have; sharing a deep emotional bond and both of us getting off on it. There was only one problem: I'm straight. Or at least I thought I was. I wasn't drunk, I wasn't stoned or high. I swear I wasn't. I think the only thing mind-altering I had was that contagious depressive mood of yours. I started sharing feelings and experiences that I never would have admitted in any other situation. Seeing it's effect, I don't think I'll ever let my guard down again. I didn’t notice how hungry I was until I tasted bliss. Finding your lips mingling with mine was like finding something precious that I had no clue was missing. I know it’s cheesy, but I'm in the mood to be cheesy. After that, I'm not sure what happened. Everything happened so fast and so oddly mind-numbing that it went as quickly as it came. One minute I'm making you moan and melt into my hands, then I'm calling out words that I never say if I could stop them. The next day you came down to the hotel dining room with color in your cheeks, a bounce in your step, and piling as much French toast, scrambled eggs, orange juice and coffee as your plate could possibly handle. Everyone looked at you with wide eyes saying how much you changed so suddenly. Nobody noticed how quiet I was being. Thank God because I didn't want to draw a crowd on my inner-turmoil. I went though the entire day being very aware that I had to focus. For the most part, on anything but you. I ended up getting yelled at a lot because I would miss a dance step or forget to respond to a question or joke as fast as I normally would. I'm only human you know. I can make a mistake or two. Justin asked what's wrong. I could name a thing or two right now if you'd really like to know. I could, but I won't. The next day after that was spent on the bus. It was going to be a 21 hour drive which meant nothing more than five minute rest-stop breaks for a day and lots of boredom. Except then, I was being far from bored. I noticed lots of things then. I noticed how you smelled like soap and cologne and dirty clothes that were still spotless enough to be worn. I noticed how you held onto your pen as you got deeper and deeper into your work. I grew red when you noticed how hard I was noticing you. I grew even redder when I stopped and realized how nice it felt to be noticed by the one I was admiring. Wait, did I just say that I admired you? Maybe I'm a little more stressed out for my own good then. You stop typing and look up from your laptop. "Can I help you, Chris?" "Sure, you can blow me." By that look on your face, maybe I just said exactly what I had been thinking by mistake. "Excuse me?" No changing your answers now boy. "You heard me." You give me a curious look for another second or so before shrugging it off and going back to your work. That was a close one. The only problem was that I wanted it to be a bit closer. Out of defeat, I shuffle my way out of the chair and make my way to my bunk and seclude myself to it. I fell asleep with a picture of you cumming in my mind and wished it was real. I woke up later with an erection that resembled the Washington Monument. I leaned out of the bunk slightly to see around the inside of the bus. There was snoring and the digital clock on the wall read four a.m. in the morning. Coast clear. I pulled closed the curtain on the bunk and slowly let my hand make it's way down to my penis. I don't need any foreplay, if I did that, I don't think it would last too long. I glide my hand roughly over my shorts as a struggle to get them off in my crowded bunk. It proves its impossible and I decide that maybe it would just be better if I just left it on. I start moaning in minutes as the heat becomes more powerful and I have to bite my lip before I became to loud. My hips start tilting up into the stale air and I can feeling myself getting closer. That's when the curtain pulled back and you were there. I know that I looked like a deer in headlights. What do you expect? Do you honestly think I thought that you would hear me and walk right in? Do you think I planned all this? Something tells me that you've been watching to many porno movies. You move in like you own the bunk and close the curtain behind you. A grin crosses your face as you raise a finger to your puckered lips in a motion that tells me to be quiet. I nod. At this point, I'm in no mood to argue. You slowly crawl up to me and you begin to stimulate every pore in my body. I feel kisses everywhere as they gradually make their way to my throbbing erection. Everything is going in slow motion as I sink into a black-hole and stars begin to dance behind my eyes. A tongue snakes its way my base up to my tip as I feel the back of your throat begin to vibrate and I don’t even attempt to hold back my groans or my orgasm. You swallow whatever else you can as you detach your lips from my penis with a moist 'pop' and a smile on your face. I try desperately to get my breathing back to where it belongs, but it won't. You bring your face to mine and kiss my lips in a fiery fever and whisper: This is my thanks to you. Enjoy it. You smile and give me a wink before you start preparing me for more. So sue me. I have a weakness. You're my weakness. This is going to be one long night. |
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