“I’m going out to smoke.”

he sighs, but chooses to drink the rest of what's in his wine glass rather than respond. Not that He waits for one, gone almost as soon as He announced His momentary departure. Since that disastrous date, he figures it doesn’t matter that He knows he's a lush. Plus, smoking is a nastier habit, or at least he thinks it’s nasty. But it gives Him a break from His thoughts that always rush through his head. 

But just as soon as the echo of the back door opening recedes, it's screeching open once more. “I’m out of blunts, are there any on the coffee table?”

he doesn’t bother looking around. “Nah.” he pours more wine into his glass and then turns up the TV volume. 

“Then I’ll be back.”

This time, it’s the front door that slams shut and though he saw it coming, he still jumps. If you don’t want me to say something about it, then don’t fucking announce it. A long sip. Better yet, don’t fucking do it. 

But at least he's alone now. Lately, they were at each other’s throats. he blames His mother. he knew that she’d give his friend an earful about that horrid date a while back and she’s been on His ass ever since to bring “a nice girl home.” 

Though his situation isn’t that much better. In his case it's somewhat understandable; the bombshell he dropped at Thanksgiving two years ago rocked the family’s foundations. It’s his mother’s stubbornness that’s made the foundation crumble further since. It’s why he agreed to having a “veg out” night, where they mindlessly ate and drank while watching whatever movies on cable. 

So far, they’d watched Love and Basketball, Drumline, and were currently in the middle of Love Jones. Though he admires Nia Long’s beauty, his attention always strays to Darius Lovehall for a little too long. Especially now, as he and Nia are wrapped in a passionate embrace. 

he's drunk, alone, and sexually frustrated watching one of the most intimate movies known to man. It’s only natural, he tries to convince himself even as his hand wanders down to the front of his sweatpants. 

his erection feels so hot and heavy from his longing that when his hands grip his stiffness, a chill races up his spine and goosebumps pepper his arms. he’s already close which under any other circumstance would be embarrassing. But he only has so much time before He comes back.

Since his friend creeps into his bedroom every night to use him as a pillow, even now when they're fighting, it means he can’t take care of his needs. And the few times he’s come late from his secret dates, his friend is awake, waiting for him. On those nights, he somehow feels like a cheating husband coming home to his knowing wife. Any wrong word or move and he’ll be dead. 

Thinking about Him, while horny, drunk, and alone makes his erection even stiffer, and the need to find release makes his balls hurt. It’s only in moments like these that he goes near the feelings that are tangled like wires. 

It was his friend, after all, who made him realize he can be attracted to men. Though when he had this realization, he didn’t think of his friend romantically. They had been on the basketball team together, and one day after practice in the locker room He had removed his jersey to reveal scratch marks from his shoulder blades to his lower back. The clear evidence of a passionate round of sex struck him, even more so because his friend had the perfect back. Sculpted, with enough muscle that someone of smaller stature would feel safe and secure, but there was still some baby fat on Him that made him want to walk over. Trace those scratches. Maybe make a few marks of his own.