“Jesus Christ Brian, you know how to throw a party,” I grin at him and he slides sideways.

Oh wait, that’s me.

I pull myself back up onto the leather couch.

“Careful, Sunshine… don’t want to spill that expensive champagne on my expensive couch,” he plops down beside me and we survey the mess in the office.

“I think the expensive couch is the least of your worries, Brian,” I snicker and put down my empty champagne glass, adding one more to the dozens scattered across the office.

He leans over and kisses me on the side of the face, a big, wet, sloppy kiss. “That’s what cleaning staff are for, daaaahhhhling,” he drawls out the last word and leans his head on my shoulder.

I let my eyes wander across the empty room. Everyone else has gone home. It’s just us. Me and him. Shitfaced.

I pick up a half empty bottle of champagne from the floor and take a swig. Tastes so good, and I already know I will feel so bad tomorrow morning. The headache is just starting to tingle behind my temples.

So I take another swig. It fades back a little.

Pass Brian the bottle and undo the top button on my shirt. “Hot,” I mumble, and undo a couple more buttons.

He looks at me. “What?”

“I’m *hot*,” I say again, louder this time.

He laughs. “You’re drunk,” he takes another chug of the bottle.

“Am not,” I press my palms up to my face. Oooh. Wow. Warm. Maybe I am a little tipsy. Just a tiny little bit.

“Okay then, walk me a straight line,” Brian pushes on my shoulder to get me to stand up.

“Sure!” I jump to my feet and promptly trip over them, doing a funny little dance to catch my balance. Laugh out loud… oh so funny, so fucking funny… ah ha ha ha… I bend over, laughing.

Then Brian’s behind me, laughing and sliding his hands around my waist. He pushes our lips together and champagne runs out of his mouth into mine and down my chin and I think about champagne kisses and how maybe that’s a song title or something but then I don’t really remember or care and stop thinking. Just smile against his mouth and let my tongue slide between his lips.

He walks me backwards a few steps till my thighs bump up against the hard edge of a table. I pull my mouth from his and look behind me. “Hey,” I say. Wow, I’m brilliant.

He gives me his famous lop-sided grin. “We haven’t christened the office yet,” he purrs into my ear.

“Yeah we have, like 20 times!” I blurt out. Maybe it’s more than that. I lost count.

He laughs through his nose in that condescending way which should really piss me off, but actually I find kind of charming. Brian can make anything kind of charming.

“Okay fine. We haven’t christened this table yet,” his lips brush across my neck.

“Um…” I suck in a breath of air. “Where did we fuck on Tuesday?” I coulda sworn it was a table.

Kisses on the line of my jaw. “Coffee table,” he breathes out. “Boardroom table’s new.” More kisses. On my cheeks, a lick in my ear.

“Oh,” I close my eyes and let my hands drop to my sides. He starts to finger my belt, then wow, it’s gone. His hand in my jeans, between the denim and my underwear, fingers cupping my cock. Oh. Yeah.

“And the new light table is arriving for the art department on Monday,” he says pushing my jeans and underwear down to my knees.

I step out of my pants and let him unbutton my shirt and push it over my shoulders. “I’ll have to make sure and stop by,” I let out a breath as he bends down and sucks on my nipple. Wrap my fingers into his hair.

He humms against my chest, the vibration tickling me. Then a bite. “Ouch!” I yelp, laughing.

“C’mon, you love it,” he stands up and whispers against my lips, lightly pinching both my nipples over and over. Fucking *hell*. Oh, oh, oh, oh!

“Brian,” I whimper. I’m not begging. Definitely not begging. Even though this sounds like begging. I don’t even know what I would be begging for, if, in fact, I was begging. I just want… um… yeah, this. Just this. Fuck yeah, this.

Then his hands are on my hips, and he turns me around. “Bend over,” he says, pushing my face to the glass table.

“No more foreplay, hunh?” I laugh out. Kidding, of course. Cock in hole *now* is just fine, thanks very much. The glass tabletop is so cool against my warm face. I lie my arms out against the glass and it all feels so good.

I hear him undressing behind me, and after a second, I turn around to catch him walking around the office, picking up half empty champagne bottles.

“Hey,” I push myself up and shake my ass at him. “I’m waiting here!” I laugh.

“Just you wait,” he raises his eyebrows and I lie back down on the table. It feels sooooo good.

He plunks down the bottles beside me. There must be at least six, all with a glass or two of champagne left in them.

“Shame to see these go to waste, don’t you think?” he says, chugging back on one of the bottles.

“Hmmm, yup,” I say. He presses his naked cock against my ass and his skin is warm against mine. Fuck champagne. I just want cock.

“Want some?” He bends over and whispers in my ear.

I shake my head slowly against the glass. “No, I’m oka—fuck!” I hoot out as he pours cool champagne down my back. “Oh my God…” I moan, the liquid fizzing on my skin, spilling down my sides.

Brian licks at my back, his tongue warm against my cooled off skin. “Like that?” he giggles a little. Fuck, he’s totally drunk.

“Love it,” I arch up my back into his touch. He pours another splash down my skin and I feel it trail down my spine, his tongue quickly there to lap it up.

His hand wraps around the back of my neck and he pushes my head back to the glass, holding my cheek to the tabletop. Then I feel it… oh God… he pours the rest of the bottle down my lower back and waterfalls it between my ass cheeks. I close my eyes and try not to squirm as it drips between my ass.

“How ‘bout that,” he says, his voice heavy. He presses the mouth of the bottle between my cheeks, rubbing the smooth glass against my hole.

“Good,” I mumble. Almost at incoherency. Almost there. I flex my fingers against the glass and I hear a thunk as he puts the empty bottle down on the table. He picks up another, and takes his hand from around my neck.

Air washes across my skin and it feels fucking fantastic, just this damp trace of wetness along the coast of my back, slipping down my sides, dripping down between my ass.

He runs his thumb through the pool of champagne in my lower back, then slides it down across my hole… pushes my cheeks apart, spills more cool champagne onto my ass, and this time it trickles down slowly, slipping down between my cheeks, across my asshole, trailing down my balls to finally drip onto the concrete floor.

I feel every drop, every trace of liquid, every breath that Brian takes as he watches the procession. Suck in quick breaths, and wait, hold on… knowing that he will and then he does… he leans into my ass, tracing his tongue across my skin, parting my cheeks, and capturing the drips of champagne from my skin, licking it off me, sucking it from me. Tickles my asshole till I can’t help but tremble, can’t help but pant against the table, can’t help but bunch up my hands into fists, groaning, hot again everywhere, so hot, oh God…

Then he grips my hips and twists me over, sliding my wet back up in the puddle of champagne on the table, lifting my legs up to rest my heels on the edge of the glass. I look up at him, his lips red and shiny with champagne and spit. He grins at me, and pours the rest of the bottle on my chest.

I yelp and laugh as it splashes up into my face, fizzing all over, cool and tickling and sticky and filling the air with the smell of sweet alcohol.

He smiles and keeps his eyes locked on mine, bending over and licking it off my chest. “Don’t worry, there’s lots more where that came from,” he says, his lips brushing against my skin.

Picks up another near empty bottle and takes a long drink. “Drink?” He wiggles the bottle lightly and I lift my head up to take a sip.  But he shakes his head, pressing his hand to my chest and I lie back down on the wet table top.

“Open wide,” he grins, holding the bottle a few inches above my face. He slowly pours champagne from the bottle into my mouth and I swallow quickly, feeling bubbles go up my nose. He drips more from the bottle onto my throat, following it with his lips and mouth to suck it off… then down my chest to my stomach, pouring some into my belly button. He slurps as he laps it out of the small opening.

“Christ, Brian, I’m covered in it,” I smile and throw my hands over my head. I reek of champagne and it makes me feel decadent and sexy. 

He puts the now empty bottle on the table and picks up another with a bit of champagne left in the bottom.

“C’mon, just a little more,” he has this really drunk smile on his face, eyes kinda closed. He tips the bottle out onto my stomach, swinging it out over my cock.

“Ah! Tickles!” I gasp in a laugh as the fizz hits my dick and balls, but it quickly turns into a moan as his tongue laps it up. He slides my cock into his mouth and sucks me softly till I feel my heart pounding in my chest and my knees feel quivery.

Slowly he lifts his head, letting my cock fall from his lips. He looks at me and licks his lips, cheeks all flushed and his eyes dancing. I let my lids close a little and take a couple of deep breaths, knowing what’s going to come, and wanting to make it last.

His head disappears from view, then he pops back up again… I hear the crinkle of a condom then the lull in his face as he slides it on. He wraps his fingers around my ankles and lifts my feet to his shoulders, slowly sliding my body along the glass till my ass is hanging off the edge of the table.

Rub of his cock against my hole, then he slides inside me, pushing my knees to my chest. Oh fuck… first push in feels too good. Then the next push in and I close my eyes and suck in a gasp. And then one more and I know it’s time to fucking hold on.

He starts fucking me hard, deep pounding thrusts inside me, every one gliding over my prostate and sending this zing of pleasure through my body till it all runs together and it’s everything… just so good and so intense and I reach out and grab hold of any part of him, pulling our bodies closer, clamping my ankles down around his neck and rocking together in perfect unison, our grunts and gasps echoed by the other, our skin sticky and sweaty and covered in alcohol. He lets my legs slip from his shoulders and he leans over and kisses me, putting his damp palms on my cheeks and holding our faces together tightly, pressing our lips and noses so hard together that all I can taste is champagne and cigarettes and all I can breathe is him, and then he cums, hard jabs bursting inside me and cries into my mouth and his fingers pressing hard on my skin… a few more thrusts and I let go, let it wash over me, let it happen and don’t think anymore, just euphoria and warmth on my stomach as cum spills from my aching cock.

He rests against my chest for moments, hands pressing into my scalp, faces pushed together. My heart slowly returns to normal, my breaths finally even out.

We peel apart, our bodies stuck together with dried champagne and cum.

“I think it’s time to break in that shower you had installed,” I grin and slide off the table, my feet shakily touching the floor. I’m a sticky, sticky mess.

He passes me the last champagne bottle and I drink back the rest, letting it trickle down my chin. Gives me a grin, then motions his head to follow him. We walk through the short hallways naked, and it feels kind of funny to be walking around an office naked, past desk chairs and computers and the photocopier. But then it’s equally funny to see things like desk chairs and computers and a photocopier in a room where there used to be tons and tons of naked men walking around.

Then again, I think maybe I’m still a little drunk.

I watch him slip into the shower, giggling a little, really drunk, really happy.

Just like me.

Life couldn’t get any fucking better than this. I step in behind him, the shower enclosure much smaller than the one in the loft.

“Kinda tight in here,” he says, leaning back against my chest, the water spraying down into his face.

“Not as tight as here,” I say into his ear, and slide my middle finger up his ass.

He sucks in a gasp of air and drapes himself over me, sighing as I pull my finger out.

I hold him tightly and run my hand up and down his back, coasting across his smooth skin. The water sprinkles down on us and it feels so good, so relaxing. Nice.

“Brian,” he mumbles against my chest.

“Yeah?” I say back, his short hair wet and prickling up against my chin.

“You know I’m really… really… really proud of you, right?” he turns his face towards my chest, kissing me lightly, then looks up at me, his eyes a little red and a big grin plastered across his face.

I nod. “Yeah, I know.”

He kisses me on the mouth, then puts his head back against my chest. “Because I am, I really am.” He grips me around the waist, hugging me hard. I squeeze him back.

I know he is. And, damn, I’m proud of myself. I did it. All on my own. I did everything.

Life doesn’t get much better than this.

Justin slides down to his knees and kisses my pubes, then slowly takes my cock into his mouth.

No… life doesn’t get much better than this.

JUSTIN’S POV

I head back into Deb’s, Brian’s footsteps echoing in my head and his kiss still warm on my lips. Linds and Mel are pulling off their jackets when I step through the doorway, and they give me a look, but I don’t say anything. I have nothing to say. Don’t wanna talk about it.

I don’t care what Brian said. I mean, yeah I kind of agree with him. But I wish he would’ve come back inside with me. It just makes everything feel wrong in here now with him gone. Like someone else is missing, and I don’t like that feeling.

I sit down on the floor beside the couch, staring at the old rug that I stared at a thousand times while I lived here. I used to curl up on the floor, leaning back against the couch where Vic and Deb would be sitting… we’d be watching some crap old movie, and I’d barely be paying attention, just thinking about Brian, thinking about the last time he’d fucked me, thinking about the next time he was going to fuck me… adjusting the pillow on my lap so Deb and Vic wouldn’t notice my hard on.

I didn’t live here all that long, but long enough to really feel like a part of the family. I admit I never really paid that much attention to Vic… I mean, I was a stupid kid when I moved in here, and he was old. I didn’t see him for the man he really was.

Vic was the first person I ever knew with AIDS. Like really knew. I remember being nervous the first time I ate dinner over here, as if somehow I’d get it from him.

So stupid.

But Vic opened my eyes to everything. Opened my eyes and shared his life with me. Taught me so much and for that I’ll be forever grateful.

He used to give me knowing smiles when I’d come downstairs late for breakfast, my cheeks still flushed from my morning jack off session. He’d cover for me every single fucking time I’d be creeping in the back door at seven o’clock in the morning after spending the night at Brian’s. He’d make the best waffles and pancake breakfasts. He gave me pats on the back and helped me with my Spanish homework and taught me how to make really good spaghetti sauce.

He told me stories about Brian as a teenager, after I swore up and down I’d never let Brian know he told me.

He showed me where Deb kept her photo albums and we’d pour over them, laughing at the clothes and stupid hair cuts.

He’d sit up late with me when I’d come home stoned or drunk, making me scrambled eggs and coffee.

He was a pretty good friend. And I feel bad that I never really let him know.

I rub at my nose and blink hard.

Stupid allergies.

Everyone sits here, looking at each other. Not even really talking. Em asks me for the hundredth time if I want tea or juice or anything. I keep shaking my head at him and wishing he’d sit down.

It’s awkward and painful and terrible and hurtful and everyone is sitting here not wanting to talk about it or about Brian or about anything. There’s nothing to do but just sit here.

I remember when my grandfather died, and the whole family came over and we all sat there in the living room. I think I was about 12. Old enough to have to sit there with everyone else and young enough to really hate it. All I wanted to do was go outside and run away from this. All I wanted to do was get away from the smelly flowers that were making my nose run and my eyes itchy. All I wanted to do was get away from my mom, who kept running back and forth from the kitchen as if the thing that you had to do when someone died was eat.

This is so different. Deb is just sitting here. Silent. After Brian left she just fell back onto the couch and didn’t say a fucking word.

And Hunter keeps asking Ben about the meds, and Ben keeps telling him not to worry. I glance up at him, and he looks scared. When Brian first told me that Hunter was HIV positive, I remember shrugging my shoulders and thinking, yeah, no doubt.

Now I feel like shit for that. And I feel like shit for Ben and Rodney who are probably sitting here thinking about their own death sentence. And for Michael who’s going to lose Ben to this fucking disease soon enough and I feel kind of shaky and… just sad for everyone.

“Deb, we’re so sorry, but we’ve left Gus at a friend’s house… we should really go now,” Lindsay says as she starts to stand up.

Deb just nods absently.

“Okay, well…” Mel starts, then stops. At least I know that I’m not the only person who feels incredibly awkward here.

They take a couple steps to the door, then Lindsay stops and bends down, touching my shoulder. “Did you want a ride home, Justin?”

Goddamn, I hope my relief isn’t as obvious as it feels. I nod my head and climb to my feet, giving Deb’s hand a squeeze as I walk past. She looks up at me for a moment, her eyes dry but so hard. I think she’s turned her sadness and anger at herself towards Brian, and for a brief second I think it’s going to be extended to me, but then she squeezes my fingers back.

“Thanks for coming, Sunshine,” she says, and turns around to look at Mel and Lindsay. “And thanks girls… I really appreciate it.” She twists around on the couch again and stares at the coffee table.

We get outside and Mel takes a deep breath. “How awful,” she says and wraps her arm around Lindsay.

“Poor Vic,” Lindsay says, her voice cracking a little. “Poor Deb.”

We don’t say anything else until we get to the van, and I climb in the back. Lindsay starts the engine, and we sit there for a minute, then it turns into a couple of minutes. Finally Mel turns around and looks at me.

“Justin?” I look up at her and she smiles gently. “Where are we taking you tonight?”

“Oh… um…” I don’t want to even think where Brian is right now. “Just to me and Daph’s, if it’s not out of your way,” I say quietly.

“Sure thing,” Lindsay looks at me in the rear view mirror and pulls onto the road. “So…” Lindsay starts to say, but then Mel cuts her off.

“What the hell did Brian do this time?” Mel says, twisting around in her seat to look at me.

I shrug and shake my head. “You know. Brian shit,” I really don’t want to get into it, not with anybody.

“I’m sure we’ll hear all about it from Em tomorrow,” Lindsay pats Mel’s leg and she turns back around in her seat.

They make idle small talk in the front seat for the rest of the way home. I just don’t feel like talking. I don’t feel like anything.

When we get to my apartment, I quickly thank them and get out of the van, grateful to be away from everyone. I start to pull my keys out of my pocket, then sit down on the step for a minute to just breathe before having to go inside and tell Daphne.

I light a cigarette and take a long drag, pulling the smoke into my lungs the way Brian does. Brian. Fuck. I hate that he’s probably pissed at me. I hate that he’s probably fucking his brains out, smashed out of his head, high as a fucking kite. I hate that I’m missing him and wanting him here.

And I hate that thinking about Vic dying makes me think about who I am. About the life I lead, the chances I take, that I want to take, that I think about taking.

Ethan asked me to bareback. He said he wanted to be close to me. Wanted to be inside me. Wanted to cum inside me. Wanted to fall asleep with his naked cock buried in my ass. I think those were his words. Probably a bit more eloquent than that, but his words, more or less.

But I said no. I told him that we should wait six months, just in case. Because I was in such a ‘high risk’ relationship before.

Course, that was bullshit. The truth was that I wasn’t ready for that. Not from him.

And the thing that scares me is that if Brian had asked me… there would be no question. I would let him in a heartbeat.

That’s just fucked up. We only ever really talked about it once. God, I wanted him to bareback me so bad, I could taste it. I wanted him inside me. Raw. Naked. I wanted to feel it. His skin pulling on my skin. How hot it would be. How good it would feel. And his cum spilling inside me. OhmyGod. Fuck, just thinking about it, I’m getting hard.

But then… going to Deb’s tonight. Sitting there in that room with three condemned men. It made me feel so lucky. And stupid for *ever* thinking that getting a shot of cum up the ass was worth my life.

Fuck.

I stub out my cigarette and head inside.

I don’t even hesitate, just head straight for Babylon. Score a hit of E and ride it… check out the dance floor, lean against the bar and sip a bourbon.

What a goddamn night.

Vic’s gone. Dead. For real this time. Not hanging on in a hospice. Not wasting away in a hospital on life support. Not sitting practically comatose at Deb’s.

Really gone.

I’ll miss him. I really will. He…

Dammit. I push at my eyes for a second and down the bourbon, getting another one from the bartender. I cradle the glass in my hand and wander away from the bar and towards the seating alcove.

I can’t deal with this right now. Not all of it. Not everything.

Christ, I feel worse than when Jack died.

Because Vic should’ve lived. He had a lot to live for. And he was a good man. A really good man. A decent man. Honest. He never should’ve gotten that fucking disease.

I remember when Mikey first told me Vic had AIDS. Deb was fucking crushed. I stole a bottle of bourbon from Jack and snuck it over to Mikey’s. We sat up in his room, drinking till we puked. Well, Mikey puked, anyway. I held his head up and rubbed his back and washed his face with cold water. And he cried and cried and cried and wondered over and over if that would happen to us.

Because we were gay and everyone was saying that this was the gay disease. Michael swore he’d never fuck, ever. Swore he’d be a virgin till the day he died. I smile, remembering that oath. Remembering the way I called him pathetic and told him that all he had to do was be careful and he’d be okay. Never knowing if what I was saying was true or not.

Vic was the uncle I never had. But more than an uncle. Christ, he took me for my first AIDS test. I showed up at Deb’s, freaking out, looking for Mikey. But Vic found me first. I just looked at him and told him I thought I was going to die, the same as him. He put on his jacket, put me in their old beater car, and drove me to the clinic. Sat with me while I got my blood taken. Called me when it was time to get the results back. I never let anyone fuck me without a condom again and I refused to do it anyone else. Good lesson to learn at 17.

I don’t even think Mikey knows about that to this day.

I slide down onto the vinyl seat and look at the empty space across from me. It was only a few days ago that Justin and I sat here… playing around and checking out tricks and making bets. Stretch my foot out and wish I felt one kicking me back. Felt that pressure on the sole of my shoe. Felt him pushing back at me, looking up to see his smile, his lean frame curled into the corner.

Not tonight.

He’s pissed at me. I don’t think he’s really pissed at what I said, but probably more because I wouldn’t go back with him. But I couldn’t. I’m not going back there to say how fucking “tragic” it all is. Vic was fucking lucky. I just said the truth, and Vic would agree, I know he would. Christ, he and I talked about it often enough. Recent nights out on the back porch smoking weed and watching the stars.

Pretty sure Deb doesn’t know about that. Doesn’t matter.

Just goes to show you. Life is too short. Gotta fuck all you can, drink all you can, live all you can, while you still can. Like I said to Justin. Fuck while you still can.

I catch someone in the corner of my eye, a few feet off, and I half expect to find Justin, arms crossed, ready to take me home. I’d go home with him right now in a heartbeat. There’s nothing worth my time here.

But surprise, surprise, I glance up and whaddya know, it’s what’s-his-name. From the other night. And the gym.

I suppose I can win a bet tonight instead. And this one is pretty fucking important to win. Justin can’t say no to going back to school if I beat him at this, fair and square.

I stand up and lean against the wall, leg out, unbutton my shirt, just one. Find his gaze. He smiles at me. I smile back. Give my head a nod, and he comes over.

“You know that was bullshit, right?” I say smoothly.

He shrugs. “I figured.”

“My little friend and I were having a disagreement. He’s a fucking drama queen,” I laugh a little. True enough.

“Brian, right?” he lets his eyes scan up and down my body.

I nod. I don’t bother asking his name again. It doesn’t really matter anymore, anyway. I just keep smiling. Let my hands run over my crotch.

He glances down, then looks up at me, smiling. “You need help?”

“Nothing I’m sure you couldn’t take care of,” I grin, and put my hand on the back of his neck. He starts to move in to kiss me, but I gently urge him further down.

His lips land on my neck, then the small exposed skin of my chest, then he falls to his knees and opens my pants. Small kisses around my groin, in my pubes, then he takes me, sliding more and more of my cock into his mouth.

Ahhh… I never get tired of that feeling, never want to not know that feeling, never want to not have that… can’t help it, I fucking love getting my dick sucked.

And it almost takes everything else away, almost mixes in with the drugs and the booze and makes me numb. But I keep thinking about shit and thinking about Justin, for fuck’s sakes, and Vic and Michael and Deb and it hurts inside a little, hurts inside a lot, actually and I try not to think about it… 

He plays with my balls and I cup his head to keep him back on track and push him a little harder and tilt my hips, driving my cock deeper into his throat and chew my gum and ball my fingers up into a fist and concentrate on his wet lips, his tongue running along the underside of my dick and I close my eyes and try to let go and just fucking enjoy it…

And then I cum and it’s pretty good, he swallows all my jizz and then he’s in my face, asking if I liked it. Whatever. I put my cock back in my pants and brush off his small talk.

He holds his business card out to me and tells me he’s a doctor and I shrug, like that’s supposed to be impressive or something, but I take the card anyway, and see MD after his name.

… and then the music seems to suddenly fade away and it gets dark and all I hear is his voice…

“…you’ve got a lump on your left testicle,” his voice is even and calm and I think, this is a pretty pathetic fucking joke, but then realize…

It’s not.

The smile falls from my face and I feel this white wash of heat spread through my body, my face suddenly so hot, my dick suddenly so soft, my palms suddenly so damp.

I slide the card into my pocket and turn around, away from him.

What the fuck does he know anyway?

Can’t be right.

Isn’t right.

That just… isn’t…

I walk blindly to the coat check and pick up my jacket. Climb in the car. Drive home. Get inside. Don’t turn on any lights. Fall into bed with all my clothes on.

That can’t be…

The phone starts ringing then stops. Then my cell phone rings then stops. Then the loft phone again and this time it rings long enough for the machine to pick it up.

A sigh. Then a voice. “Hey… um. Yeah, well, I’m at the apartment. Just… you know… calling. Guess you’re at Babylon fucking the shit outta someone right now. I’ll call you tomorrow. 'Night,” Justin’s voice fills the loft and it seems good and warm and familiar and welcome and then I hear the clunk as the phone hangs up and the machine clicks off and it’s quiet again.

So he’s at his place. And not pissed. But I’m glad he’s there. If I had to come back here, and he was here… I… don’t know what I’d say. What I’d do. I don’t think I could look at him right now. I feel…

Scared, hurt, sad, freaked shitless, wasted, confused, petrified… lost.

Fuck that doctor. He’s just some trick that got down on his knees for me at Babylon. Just some lonely loser using some pathetic ploy to try and get me to call him. Yeah, that’s it. I’ll call him up and he’ll say that I have to come in and see him, and he’ll stick his hand up my ass and play with my balls some more and then tell me that he was wrong and that everything is okay. Fine.

Just looking for an excuse to suck me off again. That’s it.

I put my hand on my crotch and unbutton my pants. Slide my fingers into my jeans and touch my balls softly. Nothing there. Nothing wrong. Course I’m not really looking, just barely touching, not really feeling for anything. Not…

I pull my hand out of my jeans quickly and roll over onto my side, curling my hands under my head.

I don’t have to go. Don’t have to… do anything about it. If I ignore it, it’ll go away.

Those words trickle into my head and everything seems so heavy.

Close my eyes and wonder how everything went to hell so fucking fast.