Losers: Part II

“I shouldn’t have let you go without me. I should’ve — Goddamn it — I should have been there!”

My scalp ached from how hard I was gripping my own hair. It was just after midnight and I was alone in Dante’s apartment. I wasn’t usually a stress smoker, and the only thing Dante had on hand was pre-rolled joints, but I lit up anyway. The weed helped, but only a little. It could barely blanket my worry after what Lucas had just told me.

“It wouldn’t have made a difference, J.” Lucas sounded so tired. It seemed cruel to keep him on the phone, but I was too frustrated with myself to stop talking.

“I knew I should have gone with you,” I said. “I had a feeling something was going to happen, and it fucking did!”

“You’re psyching yourself out,” Manson said, speaking in the background of the call, as if he were further away from the phone. “You’re exactly where you need to be, dude. Take care of Vincent, okay? Maybe tell him all this after he’s had some sleep?”

“Yeah, I’ll…uh…” I had to pause and take a deep breath. Jesus Christ, I was spiraling. I needed Vincent here. I needed to not be alone. “I’ll do that. You should try to get some sleep.”

“Okay,” Lucas’s voice was so groggy, I could hear him begin to yawn. “You should go to bed, too. Love you.”

“I love you, too.” I nearly begged him not to hang up. But he sounded so tired, and after the day he’d had, he truly needed the rest.

When the call ended, I sank down onto the couch, clutching my phone in my hands. My legs were bouncing anxiously as I stared at the carpet. What could I have done, if I’d been there? I couldn’t have stopped it, but I could have made sure Lucas wasn’t alone, at the very least.

How the hell had it come to this? It was one thing when these guys were just bullies. We could tolerate a few bruises, we’d learned to live with harassment. But trying to run Lucas and Manson off the road? That was attempted murder.

Holy shit, these people seriously wanted us dead.

Time ticked by and I barely noticed. Unable to sleep, and unable to force myself to get up and find a distraction, I sat there lost in my thoughts until the front door suddenly opened.

“Hey, babe. You’re up late.” Vincent tossed his keys on the counter and dumped his bag on the floor, his smile fading as he came closer. “What’s up? What are you doing just sitting there?”

Manson had asked me not to tell him until morning, but that wasn’t possible for me. Keeping my voice low, as calmly as I could, I told him what had happened. About Nate showing up at the show to challenge Manson, how they pursued Lucas when he and Manson were split up. He came to sit beside me, and remained silent as I spoke, absorbing every word with a grim expression. His hand rested on my back, slowly rubbing across my shoulders.

“I should have been there,” I said, after I’d poured the whole story out and nothing remained except my own guilt.

Vincent shook his head. “Don’t do that to yourself, babe. They’re okay. They’re not hurt.”

“They could have been. Lucas could have —” I stopped myself before my voice broke. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close. I curled up against his chest, clinging to him. Part of me was ashamed that I needed this, ashamed that the only thing that could comfort my fear and my fury was his gentle embrace.

“Lucas is okay,” he said, and just hearing the words made my throat swell with emotion. Goddamn it, I hated to cry. I was determined not to, regardless of how overwhelmed I felt.

“They needed me,” I said. “They needed me, and I wasn’t there.”

“What did you need, Jason?” he said gently. “I want you to think about that for a minute.”

My brain was scattered, but I tried to think. After I’d counted to twenty, things started to slow down. After a count of forty, I said, “I needed this. I needed to be here with you.”

He kept rubbing my back, holding me. His shirt smelled sweet, and mildly like alcohol. He hadn’t even been able to change out of his work clothes before attending to me.

“Relax.” His arms tightened slightly when I tried to sit up, and I collapsed limply against him again. “Stay right there. You’re not inconveniencing me, alright? Holding you is exactly what I was looking forward to being able to do when I got home, babe. I want you to stay just like this until you feel better, okay?”

I released a shuddering sigh and closed my eyes. The slow movement of his hand on my back was lulling me into a trance-like state, almost too exhausted to sleep.

“You didn’t let anybody down,” he eventually said, when I sighed again and practically melted into him. I swore he could read my thoughts; my fears were far too obvious to him. “There was nothing you could have done if you had been there. It only would have meant that you would be in danger too, and I can’t have that.”

He got up suddenly, keeping his arms around me as we shuffled together into the guest bedroom. He gave me a little push towards the bed and said, “Undress. Then get comfortable in bed.” He kissed me on the forehead before he retreated to the bathroom, loosening his bowtie. I flung off my clothes and got under the covers, shivering at the pleasantly cool sheets. My worry had faded, but an uncomfortable feeling of guilt remained. I wasn’t entirely sure what to pin it to, except for the very fact that I needed this.

Goddamn it, why couldn’t I suck it up?

Vincent returned, to the sight of me lying under the covers with my face squashed into the pillow. The mattress dipped with his weight as he crawled over to me and slid under the covers. He’d stripped down, and he smelled like his face wash and toothpaste.

“Hey, look at me,” he said. I uncovered one eye from the pillow to look at him, and he chuckled. “Don’t hide from me. Do you want to smoke before we settle in?”

“Already did.” I mumbled my words into the pillow. He gave me a little push, and I rolled over so he could be the big spoon. His naked body curled into mine, enveloping me. I felt instantly warmer, and my muscles sagged. I swear I sunk another inch into the mattress as the tension went out of me.

“How was work?” I said, stifling a yawn as he nuzzled the back of my neck. His cock was hardening, and it nudged against my ass as he snuggled closer.

“It was good, babe. Busy night, it went by fast. I couldn’t wait to get back to you.”

Smiling sleepily, I arched my back a little, pressing my ass into him. He made a soft sound, a little hum of appreciation.

“Let me take care of you,” he said, his voice a husky whisper in my ear. Heat flooded my veins, and I lay still in quiet anticipation as he reached for the bedside table. He grabbed the lube we’d brought, and squeezed some into his hand. He reached his arm around me again, snuggling close, and wrapped his fingers around my cock.

He stroked me slowly, his fingers squeezing as he slid over my head. My breath caught, releasing sharply when he did it again. He was moving at a leisurely pace, and kissing the back of my neck. His cock was wedged up against me, hot and hard between my legs.

“I love feeling you stiffen up in my hand,” he said. His breath was warm on my neck, his hair tickled my ear. He rolled his hips against me, grinding his cock on me with a soft sigh. “I want to fuck you to sleep, babe. You don’t need to move a muscle.”

Closing my eyes, I relaxed into the sensations. The way he was stroking me was luxuriously lazy, bringing soft noises out of me. I pressed into him again, jerking my hips demandingly. He chuckled, the sound low and wickedly condescending.

“Please…” My words were barely more than a whisper. “Want your cock…inside me please…”

He rolled his hips again, his length sliding between my legs, nudging against my balls. His hand left me for a moment, and I heard a click as he opened the bottle of lube again.

“You want me inside you?” he said, crooning in my ear. “You’re going to have to be patient.”

His hand was warm but the lube was cold as he swiped his fingers over my hole, massaging slowly to relax my muscles. I missed the tug and squeeze of his hand, but he’d told me not to move. I lay there limply, flesh and bones he could manipulate as he pleased.

A finger pressed inside, moving at the same languidly slow pace he’d used while stroking me.

“Be patient,” he said again, when I moved my hips as if to grind against him. “I’m going to take my time with you, so just relax or I’ll have to tie you up.”

Not that I disliked being tied up; but I didn’t want him to stop touching me, so I forced myself to lie still again. But it was impossible not to twitch and tremble as he fingered me. He added more lube, and a second finger, so warm and slick inside me.

“Please, Vince…” I was getting desperate. He was toying with me, and every touch was soothing, it practically made me melt. But my need was growing. My cock was so hard and I reached down, but he made a soft sound of reproach.

“Patience,” he hissed. I pulled my hands back, panting and squirming. He went on toying with me, murmuring the filthiest things in my ear as he did, “You’re loosening up so nicely for me. Feel how easily my fingers slide in?” As if to prove his point, he pressed his fingers deep inside me, curling them just slightly. “Do you think you’re ready to take my cock?”

“Fuck, yes.” I barely restrained myself from grinding against him again.

He smiled, his lips against my neck. “Mm, maybe I should make you wait. I love the way you squirm when I finger you.” He wedged his other arm beneath me, curling his fingers around my cock again. My entire body flinched, curling inward, instantly overwhelmed with his touch.

“Nope, no getting away,” he said. He pulled me back up, using the arm he’d hooked beneath me. Once I was pressed to his chest again, he went back to stroking me. “Stay right here with me. I want to feel you.”

I groaned hopelessly, pressing into him, arching my body against him. He tightened his grip on my shaft as he stroked me. “You’re so dramatic. I haven’t even started fucking you yet.”

His two fingers and clenched hand was more than enough to rip me apart. But then his fingers withdrew, and his cock angled up toward me. He pressed forward slowly, nudging firmly against my hole. I was so slick, so relaxed from his fingers, that it was easy for him to slide inside.

But I still felt the sudden stretch, the fullness. “God, that’s so good — Vincent, you feel so — so good —”

“Shh, relax,” he reminded me. “Just relax, babe, that’s it. Let me take care of you.”

The thrust of his cock was just as methodically lazy as the way he was stroking me. It was a slow torturous pleasure. After a while, he went still again, thrust fully inside me. He was so deep it made my toes curl.

“We’ll have to do something special for you soon,” he said. “We’ll get the whole household involved. I want you to be fucked to oblivion.”

I was gasping, writhing against him. He kept up the same firm, steady pace as he stroked me, mercilessly unwavering. His hand was so damn slick. In desperation, I moved my hips to fuck myself on him.

Oh, fuck, that —

I whimpered his name as I came. Every stroke of his hand made me shudder, it sent ripples of pleasure cascading through me. He groaned, stroking me through it, his hips jerking into me.

“Don’t think I’m going to stop anytime soon,” he said, as I lay there panting, shuddering with overstimulation as he kept stroking me. “I warned you: I want to fuck you until you pass out.”

He rolled on top of me, crushing me into the mattress as he drove into me. He’d drag his cock almost fully out of me before plunging back in, and every time he drew back, it felt like he was pulling out my soul.

He meant what he said. He fucked me until every shred of energy I had left was gone, until I couldn’t even lift my head and my eyes were falling closed, My groans had been reduced to nothing more than breathless whimpers. He shuddered, growling my name as he came inside me.

He didn’t pull out. He rolled us back onto our sides, away from the wet spot I’d left on the bed. He wrapped his arms around me again, sleepily kissing my shoulders and neck until I drifted off, completely lost to the world and all its worries.