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.From the drink, andfrom the damn heat.When did it get so hot in here? Vincedoesn't know, but having Eric beside him doesn't help.Theboy's body melds along his side and if his hand moves anyfurther up Vince's thigh, it'll be grasping his dick.Is thatsupposed to be unintentional? Because Vince isn't that drunk.At least, he doesn't think he is.When he gets the bottle again, he holds it up and frownsat the small amount of amber liquid inside.Only a third left, ifthat.Did they already drink the rest? His head hums like aradio between stations and there's too much current runningthrough his blood, it's burning him up.Eric reaches for thebottle, accidentally brushing his crotch, and Vince's cockstiffens as if electrocuted.He tries to move away but Ericcrawls over him, intent on the whiskey."My turn," he says.He sounds like a petulant child.Vince brings his leg up between them.The last thing heneeds is Eric copping a feel of his hard-ass dick and gettingthe wrong idea."There's not much left," he mutters.His voicesounds slow and foreign to his own ears.After half a bottle ofJack Daniels, he thinks, surprisingly lucid, what do youexpect?He hands over the bottle and now it's Eric's turn to frownat the remaining whiskey."Well shit." When he shakes thebottle, the alcohol bubbles and froths."Who drank it all?""You did." Vince shoves him back and Eric falls to the bed,holding the bottle up so he can stare at it as though thatalone might fill it again.Unsteadily Vince tries to stand hegets up on one leg before his knee gives out and he plopsdown on the mattress again.So much for going to thebathroom.He tells himself he doesn't have to take a pissanyway.His friend sits up and tries to set the bottle on Vince'sdesk.With amused detachment, Vince watches Eric struggleto reach that far, bending at the waist and holding the bottleout by its neck at the full length of his arm.The bottle bumpsthe edge of desk, wobbles, and threatens to tip over as Ericpushes it with his fingertips."A little help here?" he asks ina huff."You've almost got it," Vince laughs.His gaze is drawn tothe small of Eric's back where his shirt has pulled free fromhis jeans and a thin line of skin is exposed, peachy in the lightof the lamp and covered in very fine fuzz.Tiny hairs catch thelight and flare to life like copper wire with each move Ericmakes.The further he stretches, the more his shirt pulls up,and the mean streak in Vince wants to push the desk out ofthe way just to see more of that pale skin, that downy hair.Even the alcohol doesn't dull the ache that blossoms in hischest at the thought of pressing his face to that soft skin andfeeling the barely-there fluff tickle his upper lip.Who am I kidding? he thinks, closing his eyes against thedrunken thoughts that rage through him.Hurtful things, painand sex and a love so keen, it has almost honed itself intohate.Far away he hears the bottle tap against the woodendesk, he feels the bed move beneath him as Eric stretches toset the whiskey down.How many cigarettes did they burnthrough? How much drink? Smoke churns within him likenausea and alcohol flows through his veins.His hands areheavy, his chin droops to his chest, he can't seem to keep hiseyes open any longer.With a sigh of relief, he lets go.He falls back against the mattress, still warm from Eric'sheat.It's hot in here, despite the faint breeze that stirs thecurtains.Vince turns his face blindly into the scant chill andsighs again.Right here, he thinks, though he isn't quite surewhat he means by that.Everything inside his body feels as ifit's still falling, like he hasn't hit the bed yet."Got it!" Eric cries out."Ha.Without even getting up." Hisvoice trails off as he turns around and Vince can imagine thelook of consternation on his friend's face the slight frown, hisbrows drawn together, a thin wrinkle creasing the top of hisnose.His classic what now? expression, the one he perfectedlong ago.Vince expects to feel a hand on his shoulder andhear that pouting voice whine his name.Any minute now Ericwill shake him awake to move him over so he can have hisside of the bed back.But when the touch comes, it's gentle and loving, not therough manhandling that Vince expects.The back of a handacross his cheek, a finger tracing the straight edge of his noseto rest in the dimple above his mouth, a thumb brushedacross his lips.Kiss me, he thinks suddenly, hating the part ofhimself that responds to this tenderness.Don't you fuckingkiss me.I'll hurt you, Eric.I'm just waiting for my chance."Vince." His name in breath like kerosene, it sets his bloodon fire.No kisses, damn.He tells himself he isn'tdisappointed.That hand pets his cheek in long, smoothstrokes."Do you remember what you told me?"When? He knows when [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]