DISCLAIMER ==========
This is a work of fiction; any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental. The author asserts all legal and moral rights (copyright (c) 2002 - psun@hotmail.com) to this work and you may not copy it or transmit it in any way except in its entirety and with this disclaimer. This story features descriptions of sex between males:
- if such material is prohibited in your jurisdiction, please DO NOT READ ON, - if you're under the legal age to read such material, please DO NOT READ ON, - if you don't like, or are offended by such material, please DO NOT READ ON. And any comments - brickbats or bouquets, send them over to psun@hotmail.com And if you find that you like what you're reading, visit my page at http://www.geocities.com/savante_2002
Well, I tried to slam him out of my life anyway. With the years that had passed, I hadn't counted on the fact that he might have anticipated my reaction and that his reflexes might have improved tremendously. In a flash, he had his right leg through the opening and he'd planted himself bodily as a wedge in my doorway.
"Damn it, Dermot!" he huffed.
For making the mistake of saying my name, I opened my eyes and glared at him. Brad McKinley. Dark hair. Blue eyes. Killer smile. Incredible body. That hadn't changed. Damn.
Two words were foremost in my mind, the same words he'd yelled at me with a twist. "Get out, you breeder."
"Fuck." Squeezed between the doorjamb, he managed a quick gasp. "Dermot. I-"
"Get out."
"Wait." His blue eyes turned wide and pleading, the look which usually got him his way but I knew better. "Give me a chance. I just need -"
"Get out."
"Chanting that line like a mantra isn't going to make me going away." Those eyes flashed a warning and I knew that I had a fight on my hands. Just what I needed to make this a perfectly wonderful day. Earlier, I'd envisioned lying on my couch and just flipping through the channels on the telly. It hadn't occurred to me that I'd be involved in a WWF Wrestling championship.
Just as I was about to make another attempt to get rid of him, he took advantage of my momentary lapse and gave the door a hard shove that had me landing on the floor. Before I could start up to kick him out, he had me pinned down on the floor, my arms clipped to the top of my head. Not only had he become much faster, he was also much stronger. Then again he was always stronger than me. The genes of a gorilla did that to a person. Not to mention hours of football and gym.
Not only did he pin me to the floor, he had the gall to flash me a cocky grin, flashing a row of gleaming white. "Hey, long time no see."
"Get off me," I spat out.
"Not until you hear what I have to say." His jaw tensed in that stubborn manner that I remembered.
My brain hit on a sure method of getting him out of my apartment. Granted, I hated homophobia as much as anyone but I sure liked it right now. Putting on my queeniest voice which I never did even for a gag, I lisped delicately. "You sure you want to lie on a faggot here, McKinley? I might just get excited with your oh-so-hot bod."
His eyes narrowed. "Dermot."
"God, I can feel your hot dick on mine, so big, so thick. I am getting all hot and aroused here." As I rolled around under him, I realized that I really was getting aroused by the situation. Damn. Damn Brad and his pheromones and his perfect pecs. From memory, I could easily sketch out a vision of hard, golden curves of male muscle, smooth, slick with sweat and capped with dark male nipples. Nipples that easily came to life with the proper care. From what I could feel right now through his sweater, they were already responding pretty well. "Like whatcha feelin' stud?"
His only response to my lewd comments was a darker frown. "Can it. Ten minutes. Is that too much to ask?"
Despite all my best intentions, his hard thigh slid between mine and I could feel my dick reacting to the suggestion. Hot man. Hard muscles. Flat surface. My indiscriminate cock simply couldn't handle the barrage of suggestions. The very idea that I could still get aroused by him irritated me. What the hell was wrong with me? It wasn't as if I'd been celibate the past few years. Truth to tell, I'd had plenty of good sex and with plenty of good-looking men. Well, not plenty as in a marine platoon but there were a few. Desperate to get him away before he got wind of my reaction, I hastily agreed. "Yeah. Ten minutes. Just get off me."
His expression told me that he wasn't buying my easy acquiescence. "I know you too well, Dermot. Give me your word on that."
"Okay. Fine. Ten minutes. Asshole."
The moment he let go, I released a punch that knocked him over. It was worth four over years of frustration and packed quite a wallop.
Unfortunately, the man was as tough as ever and he barely winced. "Shit."
"Get out," I said quietly. Rolling up onto my feet, I glared down at him. A face that still haunted me more than I cared to admit. Dark, chiselled planes, an aristocratic nose and a 1000 watt smile came together in a face that would make women weep. Add that amazing face to a body that had been featured in Men's Fitness more times than I could count and you had quite a picture. Even now, his muscles strained against the white turtleneck he was wearing, the material clinging lovingly to the smooth curve of his pecs, the flat planes of his tight abs. It wasn't obvious however how he'd gotten into those skintight blue jeans. It looked as if he'd been poured into it, firm ass and all. All in all, Brad McKinley was one smooth drink of water.
Still seated on the floor, he wiggled his jaw gently. "Damn. You gave your word. That used to mean something."
"I've changed, Brad. Yeah, that's me. Turned into a low-lying, deceitful, oversexed nelly," I spat out that last bit before I turned away. For the past few years, I'd always imagined a meeting with him but I never thought it would feel like this. I'd imagined feeling nothing at all after all these years and I realized how wrong I was. There was a quick, sudden ache in my heart that told me that I still had some time to go before I could totally let go of whatever feelings I had for him.
"You've still got that sneaky left, that's for sure." He was still massaging his jaw. That hard, square jaw wasn't the least bit dented. My hands itched for another go. "Dermot -"
The man still hadn't moved from his spot on my hallway and I leaned back against the wall a few feet away. "What the hell are you doing here?" I said quietly.
He knew me too well. My placid demeanour didn't fool him in the least. Watching me warily as he'd no doubt watch some unpredictable beast, he slowly backed away. "Look, for the sake of our friendship.."
The warnings I frequently had about my temper came back to me but simply counting to ten didn't seem to be working right now. "There is no ... our friendship. Don't you remember? That effectively ended three years ago when I got you drunk, seduced you and forced you into a depraved, licentious lifestyle."
The sarcasm in my voice had him wincing. "Look, you're not even giving me a chance to say I am sorry."
"You missed that particular boat three years ago."
"Fuck. I have been trying for the past four... " He looked as if he wanted to say more but he paused. "Look, I even brought .. well, I cooked chow mein. Thought that would help. You used to like it very much."
That explained the large package lying outside my door. "Thanks. Get out."
"Aren't you at least going to offer me some of that? Remember those days.." he said wistfully.
Those days when we used to hide up in his treehouse and munch on the treats my mother insisted that I bring along. How could I possibly forget? In college, Brad had finally given in and started cooking - which he surprisingly did well. His fried chow mein had become our staple diet most nights when he wasn't experimenting with the spices and ingredients he kept in the small apartment kitchen.
"Then take it and leave."
"You want me to grovel, is that it?" He stared at me, the hurt in his eyes almost palpable. For the past 20 years, that look had worked like a charm. Eventhough I steeled myself against it, I found myself weakening.
"No, I just want you to go." Moving over to the door, I held it open despite my reservations. Eventhough I'd tried to forget the man, I couldn't deny that I'd always hoped that we could have maintained our friendship despite everything that had happened between us. He was the closest friend I'd ever had and shared almost all my childhood memories.
"Wait. I-I just want you to have this." He held it out to me and I stared at it. A friendship bracelet. Blue-green and black. I remembered the time we'd spent trying to figure out the correct knots on a dare from my sister years ago. We'd finally bungled through two bracelets. The fact that Brad had kept it surprised me. He was always the careless one, the one who kept on losing and misplacing things. His mom used to say that he'd lose his head if it wasn't screwed on tight. "Remember that day when we did it. How we laughed when you got your fingers all tangled up. Well, I found it while I was rummaging through my things.. and I thought you should have it back."
Who knew that my heart still could feel a pang at the thought. "One meal and you're out."
Surprise flashed across his dark face before he suppressed the feeling. "Okay."
It was obvious that I had relented but I couldn't help denying it. "This doesn't mean anything, McKinley."
"No, it doesn't," he agreed readily.
"Wipe that smirk off your face." Saying that, I turned back and walked into my kitchen.