Chapter 22 - Ricochet
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The three of us are drinking together. Again. As always.
I don’t know why I’m spending so much time with these two. Well, Sam, he can’t seem to live without my presence. Like a puppy with separation anxiety, he is. And when I’m not working, I’ve got nothing else to do, I guess. What difference does it make, to rot here or rot at home? His apartment is nicer. Cleaner. And Lucas, he’s just always here, too. The third wheel that refuses to leave the two of us alone, together. Like he’s afraid of what will happen if he does.
We watched It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia and played a game where we all drank when the characters did, but then it got boring and we turned the show off. We’re began, instead, a game of never have I ever. We discovered none of us have ever gambled (though Lucas made a snide comment about me and people’s lives). None of us have ever done LSD. None of us have ever left the country. That got boring too, quick.
So now we’re all sitting on the floor, in a circle (or a triangle?) around the coffee table, idle and aimless.
Sam, who was staring a hole into his drink, lifts his head and looks at me. He’s got that expression he gets sometimes — dazed and fascinated.
“I don’t get how you do it,” he says.
“Do what?”
“Make me feel like this.”
“Drunk?”
He laughs, “no.”
He stares at me with a soft gaze for a moment.
“I just,” his hand finds my wrist and he watches his thumb run along the bone, “I think I forget who I am when I’m around you.”
“That’s not a good thing,” I reply.
He looks up at me again, into my eyes.
“It is for me.”
Then he leans in and kisses me. Soft, a little clumsy. The kiss deepens. He shifts closer again, tilts his body until I lean back on my elbows, with him pressing into me. He climbs into my lap without breaking lip lock.
Behind him, Lucas gets up to leave, saying awkwardly, “well, I’ll take my cue, I guess.”
But Sam reaches out and grabs him. He breaks the kiss.
“No,” he says, looking up at at Lucas pleadingly, “please stay.”
Lucas looks at Sam for a moment, sighs, then sits back down. He takes a big drink for support.
Sam, reassured, leans back in to keep making out. Behind Sam, I watch Lucas watch us, wearing a tight face.
I bite Sam’s lower lip and hear him whimper silently into my mouth. My pussy reacts. I close my eyes and start to get really turned on when Sam begins to sneak his hands under my shirt’s hem, pressing the skin of his palms into the skin of my stomach.
We haven’t fucked in like a week. It’s Lucas’ fault.
Sam’s tongue is wet in my mouth and I miss the way it felt between my other lips.
Fuck it. I’m not gonna let that paranoid possessive guard dog get in the way of good head.
I push myself up and Sam off of me in one rough motion. He crashes into Lucas, who catches him. They share a gaze briefly before Sam looks back at me. He is smiling. Lucas is staring at him.
I fall casually back onto the couch, hooking one leg over the arm rest. Spread. Sam, from the floor, gazes up at me with hunger in his eyes, getting the instruction. He crawls towards me, slowly, never breaking eye contact. I can feel myself smirking.
On his knees between my legs, he hooks his hands into the waistband of my elastic shorts. I lift my legs to let him pull them off. No underwear. Didn’t have a clean pair left and couldn’t be bothered to go home to get more.
He places my shorts ceremoniously onto the empty space next to me on the couch. He puts one hand on either thigh, staring into my pussy with intent. He bends forward slowly, leaving a kiss on my left knee. He moves slowly up the thigh, leaving a trail of kisses. When he nuzzles my crotch, I lean my head back and I close my eyes, idly placing a hand in his hair.
I forget Lucas is there for a moment. I remember. I get curious and open my eyes. He’s staring at us, breathing quick. We make eye contact. Neither of us look away.
“Mommy,” Sam moans between my legs.
“Good boy,” I reply, staring into Lucas’ eyes.
He looks like he’s going to be sick.
I wake up gasping for air, but relieved. I had a nightmare I was sinking into dark goo. My head had just gone under and I’d begun to drown. I sit up. The air in my lungs feels immensely comforting as I breathe. I start to notice the room. Lucas isn’t in the bed.
Happy to have an excuse not to go to sleep again (in case I’m back in the goo), I get out of bed myself to see where Lucas has fucked off to. The bedroom door is already open. Lucas isn’t in the living room, nor the kitchen. The bathroom door hangs ajar, dark inside.
I creep through the apartment to check if Lucas’ shoes are gone, but I spot him on the balcony, smoking. His back is turned to me.
I consider, for a moment, joining him.
But I can’t be bothered for another nighttime deep talk with him. I walk silently back to the bedroom and crawl back into bed, tucking myself in next to Sam and hoping the assurance of his body heat is enough to keep the terrors away.