Written by Scaramouche for karaokegal for the 2011 xmas_rocks exchange
| This story is a work of fiction and therefore completely untrue. No harm or libel is meant or implied about any of the individuals named within this work and it was written without their involvement or permission. No profit is being made. |
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He went and fucked me up good. Oh well, not like I ever expected us to have a sunshiney happily ever after. I'm not a happily ever after kind of person. Everybody knows that. But nonetheless I very nearly aimed a karate kick at Alex's television after being broken the news that his brother was going to marry Valerie. I don't remember what I was doing at Alex's on that day, but there I was. He was practically prancing, so fucking happy for his fucking little brother. And I just wanted to break his tv. Or something. Anything. After Al put down the phone and went, "Jesuschristedproposedtovalandgotayes", all in one word, all I managed was "Uh", and a blank stare at my hands. Al ignored it, it was easy to chalk up to my "immaturity" and "need to be the center of attention" and what have you, but in all honesty - honest honesty - I was just jealous. Of Eddie stealing the spotlight for maybe two days, of the adult world snatching away a part of my friend the guitar hero, I wasn't sure - at the time. I just felt like a big hole had been cut into me. I found it hard to believe then - to some degree I still do - but we had had our... thing going on for almost seven years. When I had first shaken hands with Eddie, I'd had the immediate impression of a pathological flirt. And in less than a year, after enough rubbing of sweaty skin against each other on stage, and drunken confessions afterwards, he had flirted me into sleeping with him. That night, after it became obvious where we were headed, I asked if he habitually bedded guys. He said he'd never done it before. I tried to hide my, well, shock - which was not least due to the fact that neither had I - and asked why he'd picked me of all people. He shrugged and said he had the impression I was good in bed. He just enjoyed good sex was all, who it was with didn't matter much. I adopted the same attitude. Because I indeed enjoyed sex too, with nearly anyone. That might sound totally a David Lee Roth thing to say, but it was Eddie I got it from. We fucked that night, twice. A few days later he came back. Then he came back again. Then I started taking the initiative too. It was never "taking it up the ass" for us. Just sex. We had our groupies and lonely wank sessions and "steadier" relationships that lasted six months at most, but we always met up at least once a week if there was less than a hundred miles between us. A very practical arrangement. And then Valerie fucking Bertinelli came along. And our arrangement continued unchanged while the rest of the world cooed over how cute they were together. I should probably have seen the signs, but no, I remained oblivious until his brother dropped the bombshell. At that moment I wasn't mad at him. On the contrary, an unnatural cool came over me. I just knew I had to see him, straight away. So off I was, leaving Alex scratching his head. It was late afternoon, and he was at home, alone. Had probably met Valerie for lunch, popped the question, fucked her and rushed to break the news to the whole world. Or maybe it had happened the night before. I didn't know or care. Or actually I did care. Just a little. A little. Anyway, there he was, in a tee bearing his own surname, and I was apparently putting on an excellent act because his smile on seeing me was in no way different from usual. "Hi." "Hi." "Um. Come on in." Pause. "Did you - " "Yeah, I heard." I replied a bit too fast, he frowned. "I was at Alex's. When - when you called him. Just now." "Oh." He seemed confused. I was talking too much. "Okay." "So I just - er - congratulations." "Thanks." His smile reappeared, but only for a second. "You're - you're okay with... this... right?" "Eddie, we're grownups. Since when do you need my permission?" "I meant to tell you - " "It's okay." It was not okay. "Nothing has to change between us, you know." There was a slight desperate edge to his voice. "Honey, you know that's not true." I had never called him honey. I had never called anyone but groupies honey. And it didn't go unnoticed. "Honey?" Enough of this. I grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked him close, biting his lower lip before whispering, "We're over. This is the last time, then I'm not touching you again." Unless you divorce real quick. He was getting hard already. "What, all work and no play from now on?" "Yep. And no talk either. Sorry." Then I stuck my tongue down his throat. This could still turn out all right. I hoped. We stumbled into the bedroom, scratching and biting and pushing and pulling too much to remove more clothing than was necessary. He tried to steer me in the bed's direction, but I shoved him against the wall, roughly. I didn't want the bed. His future wife had slept in it. He didn't care. "Fuck me." I didn't need to be told twice. And the instant I thrust into him I realized how fucking mad I was at him. For thinking he'd just end the seven years like that. For not saying a word about it. We were friends, too. For thinking he'd get rid of me that easily. I wanted to hurt him. Give him something to remember me by. "Oh. God. Jesus. Dave." He fucking loved it. So I went for it. Harder. Faster. Pulled at his hair, bit and squeezed hard enough to leave bruises. Valerie would notice and wonder. The thought was an immense turn-on. He was getting uncomfortable. Good. I wouldn't last much longer. "You like it rough", I panted in his ear. "I know you do. I bet she's a monster in bed too." He just grunted in response. He was angry now, too. Good." "Does she bite? Scratch? Scream?" He started thrusting his hips erratically back at me. Sweet Jesus, it was good. "What's she sound like when she comes?" "Shut... the... fuck... up." His fists were clenched, knuckles bone white. He was about to come but he didn't want to give me that satisfaction. Good. "Does she take it in the ass?" He came hard with a strained groan. I clamped my hand over his mouth half a second too late to silence him, he bit down very hard on my fingers, hard enough to draw blood, and I was over the edge. Maybe ten seconds passed while we stayed immobile, catching our breaths, then he pushed me violently away and pulled up his pants. His eyes were dark with suppressed rage as he turned to me. "Get out." "You liked it." "Get. Out." "You loved it." "Want me to call 911 in advance?" "That ranks in the top five fucks in my life." "You'll need an ambulance soon." "Oh, do I now?" I grabbed his wrist just as his fist came flying at me, and twisted his arm until his face contorted in pain."Good luck with your new life." Then I was out the door, zipping up my jeans on the way. Like I said, he fucked me up good. For several years to come. Maybe our relationship wasn't just sex after all.
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