A(ndrei)sexual & Other Tales - Chapter Eight: in which some kisses should be saved (Part Two)

Warning: 18+ readers only; this blog is dark and full of terrors!

(Bad language, and scenes of a suggestive/sexy nature.)

DORA

    "Be gentle!" I say as Andrei thrusts his body forward, my arms straining. "You know I'm not used to being on the bottom-- Ow! Stop going so fast!"

    "I can't help it!" He jerks again. "It's just so... dirty." He moans a little, the woody hardness in his hands, the sofa bed creaking with our jolting movements. "I can't control it. It's just so... tight."

    Our heavy breathing in sync, the sweat rolls down my back, and I grip the sides of the bed tighter. The neighbours can probably hear us, as the side of the bed knocks against the wall repeatedly.

    "I don't think I can hold it much longer, Dora!" he exclaims, his voice panting.

    "Andrei, not yet, I'm nearly there!"

    "I think I'm gonna--"

    He lets out a stifled cry and drops the sofa bed right in the doorway. 

    "... We were nearly there." I'm relieved. My arms are killing me. I step back and watch Andrei stretching his back. "I can't believe we managed to get a bed up two flights of stairs..."

    "Yeah, when you asked me to help you move a bed upstairs, this isn't really what I had in mind."

    I squint at him. "What the hell else would I mean?"

    Andrei looks at me with that adorably annoying smirk and winks.

    "Fuck off!" I tell him, turning away to hide the blush creeping up my neck.  If only...  "And I don't know why you're so tired, I'm the one who was carrying all the weight on the back!"

    "Yeah, and why isn't Nana here? It's his bed..."

    "He's with his friends, playing the guitar... or something. It's my birthday gift to him."

    Andrei pouts and sits down on the new furniture. "Well, he could have at least been here."

    "Come on; we need to move this inside. We can yell at Nana tonight."

    After we put the bed where Nana's old couch used to sit, Andrei pulls a little plastic bag from his pocket and starts to roll the contents up in his cigarette papers while I change my t-shirt.

    "That better be good," I say, remembering the last time he brought the smoke. "I'm still recovering from the other batch."

    He rolls his eyes at me. "Yeah yeah. This stuff costs a hell of a lot more, so it should be just dandy."

    I open a beer and set it on the table next to Andrei before opening one for myself.

    "So what did you get Ichi for his birthday?"

    I sit down on my bed, wearily. "Well... I've felt kind of sorry for how things are between us lately, so I got five hundred of his favourite cigarettes imported from Japan. I'm going to drop them around to him tomorrow."

    Andrei finishes rolling and lights the end of the joint, inhaling a lungful. He lets go of the smoke without so much as a wince and hands it to me.

    "That's pretty thoughtful, for you."

    I take a drag. "Yeah," I say through the exhale. "Hm, this feels a lot better."

    Andrei smiles widely at me. "Ah, I feel infinitely happy!"

    I suppress a laugh, handing the smoke back to him.

    "Seriously! Not just from this." He giggles. "Just being here, with you."

    I swallow, trying to control my blood flow, urging it not to go straight to my face. I wish Andrei wouldn't say shit like that to me. "Shut up, you sap." I look at my phone. "We better get going; it's after nine."

    "Already?"

    I stand up, taking my turn on the joint. "Yeah, I'm trying to make an effort, remember?"

    Andrei huffs a little, watching me take the last drag before stubbing it out, and grabs his cardigan. The dark teal colour compliments him so well it makes my heart flutter.  God, why did we have to smoke that?

    We both down our beers and head out.

    As we walk out the building, Andrei giggles to himself.

    "What's so amusing?" I ask.

    "Let's play a game!" he says excitedly. "Kiss, fuck, love; Nana, Panda and me."

    I grimace. "I'm not playing."

    "Come on! You've already kissed Panda, and don't tell me you haven't thought about slipping it to Nana --"

    "Shut up!" I say, faux-dramatically.

    "You must have seen him naked, though."

    I push him playfully, but I can feel my mood plummeting, and he can tell. There's only one person who fits all three. "Seriously, stop."

    "Dora, why have you gotta suck the fun out of everything? You're too fucking serious all the time. I'm only trying to have a laugh."

    That immediately sets me off. "No, right. No. There's a difference between being serious and not caring." I'm half laughing, my head spinning from the smoke.

    "But you do care. You care about me, right?" That little smirk, that perfect smile. I want to both slap him and kiss him, and it's painful. I'm no longer at the fun part of being high. I don't smile back at him. "You just need to get laid."

    This shit again. "Fuck you."

    "I'm serious! You're twenty now, and you've never had sex. I'm concerned for your health."

    "I don't want to have sex with anyone." This is both true and a lie... I don't want to have sex with just anyone. This conversation is getting old already, and the alcohol is settling awkwardly in my stomach, the migraine slowly starting up. I regret drinking so fast.

    "All you need to do is find a girl and get it over and done with."

    "Andrei, just drop it okay?" I'm so sick of his shit now. I know I'm usually on the verge of sickening of his shit, but this time, I just can't cope. Whatever was in that little bag was stronger than what I'm used to. I'm actually starting to feel nauseous. "I don't even like kissing girls nevermind anything else."  

    He laughs. "Or maybe it's not girls you should be kissing?"

    I become acutely aware of how quiet the street is. We're not far from the bar, and for once I'm actually looking forward to the welcome distraction of Fox and Ichi. "That thing with Panda was just --"

    Suddenly, he's grabbing my arm and pulling me towards him, the buildings swaying behind him. "Andrei, what the fuck are you doing right now?"

    He looks at me, all serious. "Maybe you should kiss me, instead." He places a hand on my neck, and I'm frozen. I'm waiting for his smirk and a cruel laugh, but it doesn't happen.

    His lips are on mine. A motionless kiss.

    I expect him to move away from me more or less immediately like he does with Fox, but he lingers... my mouth responds, entirely out of my control, and the kiss is no longer motionless.

    My lips are moving and so are his, and I can feel his tongue bar, and it's slow, unbearably slow, and hot, and now his hands are under the back of my shirt and mine are on his neck, in his hair, and I don't know why but it's nice, it's so inexplicably nice, but I'm pretty sure I have an erection, and he's pulling my hips, so our crotches and torsos are touching, pressing himself harder against me, and I feel very very hot, and yep I'm definitely hard as a rock down there (has he noticed? Oh God). I don't want it to stop, Christ I don't want it to stop. I feel both incredibly sober and astonishingly stoned at the same time as he pushes me against a shop window, our mouths are still affixed, and I'm holding his arms as his hands start wandering towards my stomach.

    I grudgingly pull away just as his fingers are snaking under the elastic of my Kleins. He sighs a little, still looking at my lips, licking his own slightly, incredibly sexy, but I'm staring at him, my lust probably evident, our hands sort of all over each other. He tugs gently at the waistline of my boxers like we might... do something, right here, and my hips push towards him automatically. My heart is vibrating in my chest. He leans forward, licking at my slightly open mouth, the metal clacking against my teeth, teasing me, pulling me in again. His lips move to my neck and up to my ear, sending tingles all across my skin. And I hear his voice, in a rough whisper.

    "I knew you secretly wanted to fuck me."

    Kiss, fuck... It takes a second for it to hit me before I'm pushing him away. 

    "Dora --"

    "Fuck. You." I'm turning away in the direction we just came, fighting the despair and embarrassment that's curdling with the beer in my stomach. It's just a game to him. He feels nothing. And I fucking hate him.  I hate him.

    "Dora, c'mon, I was just joking!" 

    I'm walking away, fast. I can feel my chest just... crumbling in on itself.  It hurts, it hurts, oh god it fucking hurts.

    "I'm sorry, Dora!" He follows me down the street, actually sounding serious for once. "Please stop, I'm sorry!" 

    I can't respond. I'll just start sobbing.

    "I only did it to piss you off--"

    "Well, what a success! I'm pissed off!"  No. No. This isn't happening.

    "I thought you would push me away before --"

    "Just shut the fuck up, Andrei, okay?!"

    Shut up. Shut up.  I think it's undeniable now that I don't want to just fuck him.

    He grabs my arm, but I violently yank it back. "Go to hell."

    "Dora, I didn't know, I didn't--"

    I turn towards him, my feet still moving, so he can see the rage in my face. The tears are falling, and I can't stop them now. "Well, now you do know so you can go fucking die."

    He stops, and I stop too. I realise what I've just said was horrible, but he's awful, and I meant it.

    "Dora... Dora, don't be like that. It was just a kiss!" He sounds a little desperate. "We're best friends!"

    That word. It's like a knife. Friends.

    "What a fucking amazing friend you are."

    He actually looks fit to cry, but the last thing I want is for us both to be stood here in tears. "I didn't think you'd kiss me back! I'm sorry!"

    "Whatever. I'm done with being your fucking best friend."

    I turn on my heel and walk in the vague direction of home, only realising I wanted him to follow me when I feel disappointed that he doesn't.  That wasn't just a kiss. 

    My flat feels incredibly lonely. I curl up in my blanket and light cigarette after cigarette, wishing it was something stronger, but Andrei took the stash with him. Not that I know how to roll it, anyway. I stare around the darkened room, now completely sober and starting to feel sick. The black smoke slipping down my throat and into my lungs really isn't helping. My body repents and shakes, and then I realise how exhausted I am of feeling things.

    Why did I have to fall for Andrei of all people?

    I hear keys in the door. Nana is home.  Shit. Fuck.

    I dash to stub the cigarette out and pull the covers over my head, hoping he'll think I'm just sleeping.

    The door opens and shuts, and the light goes on. I can hear Nana taking his shoes off, and then -

    "You scared the shit out of me!" he cries in Japanese.

    It's a good job I wasn't actually sleeping. "Welcome home," I mumble through the fabric.

    "What are you doing here? You were supposed to be at the bar."

    He sounds bitter.

    I surface, my face probably very red, black and puffy. "I wanted to stay at home."

    His eyes widen. "Woah, what happened to you?" He sniffs the air, looking around the room. "And why does it smell like you smoked an entire tobacco factory?"

    I really don't want to tell him. It would be too awkward, admitting Hey, I like boys now! But I can feel my eyes sting, partly from tears but also from the overwhelming amount of cigarette smoke surrounding the room. I hate feeling so fucking much.

    Nothing happened, I want to say, only the end of my life. The emotion is coming back. I would give anything to feel as numb as I did ten minutes ago.

    I say nothing, for fear of exposing my disposition.

    "Have you..." He pauses, throwing his jacket on the floor by my bed, and kneels down in front of me. "Have you been crying?" The look of sheer confusion on his face is actually kind of funny, but then again, he wasn't aware I actually have use of my tear ducts.

    I pull the cover over my head. "No."

    I feel a hand on my shoulder, over the blanket. "Dora, what happened? Has something happened back home? Is your mum okay?"

    "Everything's fine."

    "Then what the hell is wrong?"

    I toy with the idea of lying again, but he's so sweet. He's stroking my arm now. But I just can't tell him.

    "I'm going to make you some tea."

    He disappears into the tiny kitchen, and I listen to the sounds of the water running, and then the kettle boiling. I start to feel fuzzy inside and grateful that he is here. The thought of being on my own right now is suffocating.

    When he returns to my bedside with two cups of sencha tea and a wet-wipe for my face, I'm sitting against the headboard, another cigarette in my hand, lit but unsmoked. We sip in silence.

    "You don't have to tell me what happened," he begins, "but at least tell me... are you okay?"

    "Not really," I answer truthfully.

    "Is there anything I can do to help?"

    "Not really."

    "... Should I call Foxy?"

    "Definitely not!" I say, sternly. "I'll be okay. She doesn't need to know anything." Then I realise I have to go to work tomorrow and Andrei will probably turn up, or he'll have told Fox that I ran off, and I'll have to explain why. The thought of this is actually terrifying. I feel my chest convulse. "I'll... call her tomorrow." Nana is quiet. I know he wants me to open up to him, but I just can't. Apparently, when I open up about anything, it all goes to balls. But it's not like he ever tells me anything either. I look over at him, sitting next to me on my bed, staring into his cup. "Thanks for the tea."

    He glances over, a faint smile on his lips. "It's okay."

    "... How do you cope with feelings?"

    He looks at me, almost as if he completely understands. His eyes are sad as he says, "It's not really something that requires coping... They're just... there. There's nothing you can do about it."

    His words are oddly comforting.

    The sun rises and shines dimly through the closed curtains. Nana must have fallen asleep on my bed last night as he's lying beside me on top of the covers, his pink locks are still intact and his new sofa bed bare and unslept-on. I step out and wrap the blanket over him before heading to the kitchen with my phone.

    I tap to call Fox. She answers almost immediately. "Thank fuck, Dora, I was worried about you!"

    "Why?"

    "You never turned up last night! Andrei never called either to say you guys weren't coming. It was just Ichi and Panda, and oh my god, you'll never guess --"

    "Wait," I say, interrupting her probably uninteresting gossip. "Andrei didn't show?"

    "No! You know how much I worry about you two, you're like my little brothers."

    "Sorry," and I actually mean it. "I... thought Andrei went to the bar."

    "But I thought he was helping you with Nana's bed?"

    I pause. I'm taking too long to respond. Fox will know I'm lying if I say no. "We had a fight." Vagueness: the best response.

    "What about? You guys fight all the time, but you still turn up."

    "It... wasn't like the other fights. But it's fine, really. I just didn't feel like drinking, that's all."

    She knows I'm lying. I can tell by her stifled silence. "Well, do you think you guys can make up? I want to see you both."

    "Actually... I'm feeling really ill..." I can't believe these words are coming out of my mouth. "Could I take a few nights off? I think our smoke last night was a little... off."

    "Oh, okay..." She must know I'm lying, oh god. But she's playing along anyway. "Well, let me know when you're feeling better, okay baby?"

    "Yeah, 'course," I say. "Thanks, Foxy."

    I hang up.

    I just called her Foxy? I never call her that.  Even on my phone, she's named Foxglove. What the fuck is happening to me.

    I turn to see Nana standing in the doorway. "So you and Andrei fell out?"

    "What are you, eavesdropping?"  What the fuck.  "Seriously!"

    "I wasn't! This flat is tiny! Don't get mad at me just because you have emotions now!"

    I glare at him. I hate it when he's right.