Prompt #14 - Lies
A/N: All dialogue in this fic will be spoken in Spanish, but because I am not at all a Spanish speaker, all dialogue will be in English and “~look like this.~”
Part 1 - For the Best
Part 3 - Feel My World Crumble
Part 4 - When Our Worlds Collide
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
His whole body clenched tightly; his toes curled around the underside of his feet, and his hands gripped the porcelain of the toilet so hard that his knuckles were white. Rictor’s body jerked off of the floor, and he gagged; everything he had eaten that day came up his throat and out into the bowl. Tears pinched out of his clenched eyelids, and he struggled to breathe.
“~Julio! What is going on in there!~” his mother banged on the door, concern etched in her voice. “~You’ve been in there for nearly a half hour!~”
It was the middle of the night, and she should not have been awake. Rictor pushed himself away from the mess in the toilet and blinked tiredly at the door. “~It’s okay. I just had too much to drink.~”
“~Stupid boy,~” she muttered. “~I hope one of these days you’ll learn your lesson.~”
He rolled his eyes and wiped absently at his mouth with the back of his hand. “~Don’t worry.~”
“~You always make me worry! You are crazy, boy, you know that?~” he heard her sigh. “~If you need anything there are antacids in the medicine cabinet.~”
He frowned at the thought of his stomach and leaned his head against the cold tile of the wall. “Gracias.”
“~Get to bed soon too, okay? You have looked bad all week.~”
He snorted. “~Yeah, yeah.~”
“~Good night,~” she whispered through the door before softly padding away down the hall and back to her room. Julio folded his arms over his chest. He felt cold and sick, and for a night that was well above ninety degrees, that was saying something.
But he couldn’t get the smell off of him.
The smell of alcohol, and the smell of what’s her name…that dark haired Latina he picked up. He frowned; could he honestly not even remember her name? Again, his stomach lurched at the thought and he threw himself forward, hands gripping the toilet and bile rising up his throat as he vomited. He felt so sick.
He was so sick of himself, too.
All of this sadness and confusion -- and physical illness -- because he wanted to prove something. He needed to know that he could still go out and be a hit with the ladies…that they liked him…that he liked them. And when he finally gathered the courage and found one that seemed to be into him, he went in for the kill.
He had her wrapped around his finger.
She had followed him out the back door of the club with her hand wrapped tightly in his, giggling about something or another when her friends encouraged her -- but he didn’t care enough to listen to what it was. She flung her hair over her shoulder and asked him his name, but he could remember bitterly thinking that it did not even matter. He wasn’t ever going to call her back or see her again. She was just a test subject -- an experiment -- even if it sounded that bad.
They got out into the hot night air, and he spun around and pressed her against the brick wall of the building. She let out a high pitched giggle in return, one that reminded him of nails on a chalkboard. He did not want to waste time laughing though, and he pressed his lips against hers. She tasted all like lip stick and cigarette smoke -- a taste he had hated since he was a small kid. But he cringed and ignored it, grabbing the sides of her face roughly as he pushed himself against her. She moaned against him, and traced her hands down his sides until they rested low on his hips.
He was not up and ready to go yet and the thought panicked him. Gently, not too forcefully, he thrusted his hips against hers, trying to illicit a response. She definitely took it as a sign, and curled her fingers around his belt buckle and began tugging on it.
He could do it.
She wanted him, and the tremble of her body definitely proved it.
But he could not force himself to move those hands from her head. Her tiny fingers had been all over him by that point, but Rictor just cupped her face as they made out. She was arching her back into him, wrapping a leg around his waist. He could have easily pulled that low cut tube top down and revealed those big, perky breasts of hers; caressed them, teased them, maybe even sucked them.
But he did not.
She pulled away from his mouth and let out a loud moan. “~I want you right now!~”
He stared her in the eyes, but said nothing. Hers were dark and covered in all sorts of different kinds of make up, looking chunky and fake, and so whorishly feminine. Manicured hands slid up his arms and wrapped around his wrists, pulling his hands away from her face and settling them onto the tops of her thighs. The short hem of her skirt splayed across the tips of his fingers, and suddenly it didn’t seem like such a good idea.
But she was already digging around inside of his jeans and jerking him off. Rictor’s eyes rolled back in his head at the contact, and his throat dried out. “Madre de Dios…”
His hands clutched tightly around the flimsy material of the skirt, just so he could have something to hold onto. She moved around him expertly -- and she probably had done it many times, more than likely -- and he arched back to enjoy the free touch. Eyelids fluttered closed, and instantly his thoughts began racing as fast as his blood seemed to be exploding through his veins.
And he saw sunlight in his mind. Bright sunlight and sand only found in the Arizona desert. Brilliant red flashed in his peripheral vision, and his eyes followed it completely mesmerized. Long, soft hair flowed freely in the wind, falling down chiseled shoulders and a powerful back. Shatterstar was giving him that look -- the one where his eyebrows pinched inward and his bottom lip curled slightly. He was irritated but amused it seemed, and that look always made Rictor laugh at him.
“What’s up, amigo?”
“Nothing, I was looking for you.”
“For me? Why? What’s up?”
“I just wanted to hang up on you.”
“Hang out. Hang out with me.”
"Whatever."
And he smiled; lips baring his teeth, dimples piercing his slightly freckled skin, and his silver eyes sparkling happily. 'Star clapped him on the shoulder, a rare display of contact that he never gave to anyone else. Under the Arizona sun scorching and sweating with nothing at all to be happy about, but he was. Shatterstar was enough to make him grin -- no, smile -- and that was really all either of them needed. Words would exchange then with just mere looks; something massive and unexplained looming between them and Rictor wanted to just scream at himself that it was not appropriate, but nothing else made him feel more right.
It was thick and scary and so masculine.
And his eyes snapped open then; the girl had been speaking to him, muttering something dirty to him with heavy lidded eyes and a big smile.
“Huh?” he breathed.
“~You give all your girlfriend’s little nicknames on the first night?~” she grinned cheekily, hand still wrapped around his cock tightly.
He did not even know what he had said. “Huh?” he asked again, pawing at the thick sheet of sweat on his face.
“Star,” she whispered huskily into his ear, pressing tighter against him and it made him cringe. “~You called me Star. That’s pretty hot.~”
He swallowed down the massive wave of embarrassment he felt and shrugged. “~As long as you like it, mammacita.~”
“Hmmm,” she hummed and pulled him toward her. “~I want you in me now.~”
He was reeling; had he said that out loud? Even worse, what the hell was he doing thinking such things when some hot babe had his dick in her hand and was throwing herself at him? He was obviously way too drunk. 'Star was big, strong, and every bit as manly as any guy could be -- everything that this girl was not. 'Star was angry and ferocious and shockingly intelligent, and someone who had and would kick the shit out of him just to keep him in line. The girl…well she wasn’t capable of killing him seventy different ways in a twenty second time span, and that should have been enough.
And she was a fucking chick! That should have put her at least 1000 points above 'Star in terms of who invaded his head space.
But it did not. It was definitely the alcohol, he decided.
Anger seeped out of him at the fact that he was thinking such thoughts. He wasn’t gay; he couldn’t be. It was not right, and banging this slut there in the alley for bragging rights was, and he would not let his fucking conscience think otherwise.
It came out of him in the form of a deep growl, and forcefully he yanked her skirt up and around her waist. She giggled at what she probably thought was his rough playing and she clutched his opened shirt tightly in her fists. He stared at that place between her legs; she was lacking underwear and freshly shaved and looked as though she prepared herself that night for exactly what they were doing -- some random one night hook up. A tight ball of disgust formed in his throat, and he had to force himself to swallow it down.
“~You act like you haven’t seen a pussy before,~” she laughed at him. Laughed.
He gave her his best smirk. “~You wish.~”
And she did not say anything else. She wrapped her leg around him tighter, pulling him closer and forcing his dick between her legs. He did not look -- he could not. He just leaned in again to kiss her, going somewhere familiar because the rest of her certainly was anything but.
“~Do you have a rubber?~” she asked him.
His eyes widened and he fumbled around in his back pocket looking for his wallet. Shakily he tore through it and found what he was looking for, stuffed the leather back into his jeans, and ripped the wrapper with his teeth. She plucked the condom from his fingers and rolled it onto him herself, allowing him to shiver.
And before he even had the time to snap his eyes open and look at her again, she had slid down on top of his cock easily, enveloping him in a warm, moist, and completely unfamiliar territory.
“Fuck!” he hissed.
She perked an eyebrow at him and used the wall to grind against him. And they had fucked right there in the alley, emotionlessly and mostly silent. It was his first time having sex, and with all of her writhing and doing most of the work he was positive it was not hers.
He did not even know how old she was, but he was pretty sure she was younger than him. He was only a teenager himself, but it amazed him how many people he knew that were not virgins and just selflessly threw themselves around like they could care less. Just like he was right then. How could a girl this young be so experienced? The thought should not have surprised him, but it did. In America he had met girls like her, and they were probably even younger, and he had even danced with some in a club just like the one they were in.
Did girls go to places like that just for cheap fucks? A thought popped into his mind then, and he could remember 'Star and how unimpressed he had been about that. Chicks loved that guy and threw themselves at his feet as if he were the king of the world. And 'Star could not give a shit less what the hell they wanted from him.
And Shatterstar certainly would not be impressed if he saw him right then either, pressed up against a dirty wall with some whore he would never even see again. Shatty was so confused about the way sexual relationships even worked, and Rictor had been too in the kind of way where he knew how the mechanics worked but nothing at all about how it was supposed to be emotionally.
And most definitely his inexperience was equal to 'Star’s, even if no one else saw it. He had always pictured himself, ideally, with someone that he loved and someone who cared for him. It should have been something special and safe; something that made him feel good about himself.
But realistically, he did not feel good about himself -- at all. He had to skip over the entire part of it being something special and loving because he had to prove that he could do it in the first place. He had to get it done and over with and be able to say ‘Yes, I hit a home run.’ And he had to be able to say it was with a hot babe, a girl…some chick who may or may not be his wife someday who he could have a dozen babies with.
Even if that thought made him nauseous, and he knew for a damn fact that Shatty would not have been this uncaring and casual about it with him.
“~Oh yes!~” she moaned against him.
And Rictor was suddenly not at all in the mood. His grip on her loosened and he took the time to really look at her; she was everything that he was not. She was everything Rictor should have had, but was everything that he did not want. He frowned sadly and blinked, wincing slightly when she had noticed him.
“Uh,” she scrunched up her face. “~What’s the matter with you?~”
“~I…~” his throat went dry, and he could not find the courage to speak.
She looked down between them and shifted her hips. “~You aren’t even hard anymore.~”
He just blinked.
Her face burned a dark shade of red; she was very obviously embarrassed and maybe even a little bit mad. She frowned irritably and pulled herself off of him. “~Did you even have a good time?~” Once they had fully separated, she looked down at his soft cock. Rictor could see the laugh coming from a mile away. “~Wow, you are pathetic. You know, you’d probably never even get a girl like me again…like you could handle it even if you did.~” she shook her head and adjusted her skirt. “~See you later, loser.~”
Rictor normally would have gave that bitch a piece of his mind, but he was so damn humiliated and hurt and confused that he did not have the energy to even do that. He reached his hand down and removed the condom from himself, tossing it carelessly to the street. Fixed his pants and he buttoned up his shirt, trying to tidy himself up as best he could.
Who the fuck was Julio Richter kidding?
That was the stupidest thing he had probably ever done. There were times to learn things the hard way, but that was definitely something he could have done without.
And when he reached his hand up to his face to wipe away the sweat there, he got a whiff of that girl on his hand…her smell mixed with the latex of the condom, and right then and there Rictor doubled over and threw up on the street. He heaved heavily, and spit the contents out of his mouth the best he could; a stomach full of liquor and a nose full of pussy and he was done for.
Dios, he felt disgusting.
And when he got home and locked himself in the bathroom he could still smell it -- her, the humiliation…and most of all the lies.
He was a fucking liar, and no matter how much he tried to convince himself or try to prove a point -- it was what it was.
And on the floor in the bathroom he looked up at the light on the ceiling, and again he pictured that Arizona sun. The heat and that red flashing brilliantly in the light over that awkward smile, making a feeling wash over him that he could not explain up until that point.
He knew what he needed and how to get it, he would just have to wait for the courage to do it.
Part 1 - For the Best
Part 3 - Feel My World Crumble
Part 4 - When Our Worlds Collide
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
His whole body clenched tightly; his toes curled around the underside of his feet, and his hands gripped the porcelain of the toilet so hard that his knuckles were white. Rictor’s body jerked off of the floor, and he gagged; everything he had eaten that day came up his throat and out into the bowl. Tears pinched out of his clenched eyelids, and he struggled to breathe.
“~Julio! What is going on in there!~” his mother banged on the door, concern etched in her voice. “~You’ve been in there for nearly a half hour!~”
It was the middle of the night, and she should not have been awake. Rictor pushed himself away from the mess in the toilet and blinked tiredly at the door. “~It’s okay. I just had too much to drink.~”
“~Stupid boy,~” she muttered. “~I hope one of these days you’ll learn your lesson.~”
He rolled his eyes and wiped absently at his mouth with the back of his hand. “~Don’t worry.~”
“~You always make me worry! You are crazy, boy, you know that?~” he heard her sigh. “~If you need anything there are antacids in the medicine cabinet.~”
He frowned at the thought of his stomach and leaned his head against the cold tile of the wall. “Gracias.”
“~Get to bed soon too, okay? You have looked bad all week.~”
He snorted. “~Yeah, yeah.~”
“~Good night,~” she whispered through the door before softly padding away down the hall and back to her room. Julio folded his arms over his chest. He felt cold and sick, and for a night that was well above ninety degrees, that was saying something.
But he couldn’t get the smell off of him.
The smell of alcohol, and the smell of what’s her name…that dark haired Latina he picked up. He frowned; could he honestly not even remember her name? Again, his stomach lurched at the thought and he threw himself forward, hands gripping the toilet and bile rising up his throat as he vomited. He felt so sick.
He was so sick of himself, too.
All of this sadness and confusion -- and physical illness -- because he wanted to prove something. He needed to know that he could still go out and be a hit with the ladies…that they liked him…that he liked them. And when he finally gathered the courage and found one that seemed to be into him, he went in for the kill.
He had her wrapped around his finger.
She had followed him out the back door of the club with her hand wrapped tightly in his, giggling about something or another when her friends encouraged her -- but he didn’t care enough to listen to what it was. She flung her hair over her shoulder and asked him his name, but he could remember bitterly thinking that it did not even matter. He wasn’t ever going to call her back or see her again. She was just a test subject -- an experiment -- even if it sounded that bad.
They got out into the hot night air, and he spun around and pressed her against the brick wall of the building. She let out a high pitched giggle in return, one that reminded him of nails on a chalkboard. He did not want to waste time laughing though, and he pressed his lips against hers. She tasted all like lip stick and cigarette smoke -- a taste he had hated since he was a small kid. But he cringed and ignored it, grabbing the sides of her face roughly as he pushed himself against her. She moaned against him, and traced her hands down his sides until they rested low on his hips.
He was not up and ready to go yet and the thought panicked him. Gently, not too forcefully, he thrusted his hips against hers, trying to illicit a response. She definitely took it as a sign, and curled her fingers around his belt buckle and began tugging on it.
He could do it.
She wanted him, and the tremble of her body definitely proved it.
But he could not force himself to move those hands from her head. Her tiny fingers had been all over him by that point, but Rictor just cupped her face as they made out. She was arching her back into him, wrapping a leg around his waist. He could have easily pulled that low cut tube top down and revealed those big, perky breasts of hers; caressed them, teased them, maybe even sucked them.
But he did not.
She pulled away from his mouth and let out a loud moan. “~I want you right now!~”
He stared her in the eyes, but said nothing. Hers were dark and covered in all sorts of different kinds of make up, looking chunky and fake, and so whorishly feminine. Manicured hands slid up his arms and wrapped around his wrists, pulling his hands away from her face and settling them onto the tops of her thighs. The short hem of her skirt splayed across the tips of his fingers, and suddenly it didn’t seem like such a good idea.
But she was already digging around inside of his jeans and jerking him off. Rictor’s eyes rolled back in his head at the contact, and his throat dried out. “Madre de Dios…”
His hands clutched tightly around the flimsy material of the skirt, just so he could have something to hold onto. She moved around him expertly -- and she probably had done it many times, more than likely -- and he arched back to enjoy the free touch. Eyelids fluttered closed, and instantly his thoughts began racing as fast as his blood seemed to be exploding through his veins.
And he saw sunlight in his mind. Bright sunlight and sand only found in the Arizona desert. Brilliant red flashed in his peripheral vision, and his eyes followed it completely mesmerized. Long, soft hair flowed freely in the wind, falling down chiseled shoulders and a powerful back. Shatterstar was giving him that look -- the one where his eyebrows pinched inward and his bottom lip curled slightly. He was irritated but amused it seemed, and that look always made Rictor laugh at him.
“What’s up, amigo?”
“Nothing, I was looking for you.”
“For me? Why? What’s up?”
“I just wanted to hang up on you.”
“Hang out. Hang out with me.”
"Whatever."
And he smiled; lips baring his teeth, dimples piercing his slightly freckled skin, and his silver eyes sparkling happily. 'Star clapped him on the shoulder, a rare display of contact that he never gave to anyone else. Under the Arizona sun scorching and sweating with nothing at all to be happy about, but he was. Shatterstar was enough to make him grin -- no, smile -- and that was really all either of them needed. Words would exchange then with just mere looks; something massive and unexplained looming between them and Rictor wanted to just scream at himself that it was not appropriate, but nothing else made him feel more right.
It was thick and scary and so masculine.
And his eyes snapped open then; the girl had been speaking to him, muttering something dirty to him with heavy lidded eyes and a big smile.
“Huh?” he breathed.
“~You give all your girlfriend’s little nicknames on the first night?~” she grinned cheekily, hand still wrapped around his cock tightly.
He did not even know what he had said. “Huh?” he asked again, pawing at the thick sheet of sweat on his face.
“Star,” she whispered huskily into his ear, pressing tighter against him and it made him cringe. “~You called me Star. That’s pretty hot.~”
He swallowed down the massive wave of embarrassment he felt and shrugged. “~As long as you like it, mammacita.~”
“Hmmm,” she hummed and pulled him toward her. “~I want you in me now.~”
He was reeling; had he said that out loud? Even worse, what the hell was he doing thinking such things when some hot babe had his dick in her hand and was throwing herself at him? He was obviously way too drunk. 'Star was big, strong, and every bit as manly as any guy could be -- everything that this girl was not. 'Star was angry and ferocious and shockingly intelligent, and someone who had and would kick the shit out of him just to keep him in line. The girl…well she wasn’t capable of killing him seventy different ways in a twenty second time span, and that should have been enough.
And she was a fucking chick! That should have put her at least 1000 points above 'Star in terms of who invaded his head space.
But it did not. It was definitely the alcohol, he decided.
Anger seeped out of him at the fact that he was thinking such thoughts. He wasn’t gay; he couldn’t be. It was not right, and banging this slut there in the alley for bragging rights was, and he would not let his fucking conscience think otherwise.
It came out of him in the form of a deep growl, and forcefully he yanked her skirt up and around her waist. She giggled at what she probably thought was his rough playing and she clutched his opened shirt tightly in her fists. He stared at that place between her legs; she was lacking underwear and freshly shaved and looked as though she prepared herself that night for exactly what they were doing -- some random one night hook up. A tight ball of disgust formed in his throat, and he had to force himself to swallow it down.
“~You act like you haven’t seen a pussy before,~” she laughed at him. Laughed.
He gave her his best smirk. “~You wish.~”
And she did not say anything else. She wrapped her leg around him tighter, pulling him closer and forcing his dick between her legs. He did not look -- he could not. He just leaned in again to kiss her, going somewhere familiar because the rest of her certainly was anything but.
“~Do you have a rubber?~” she asked him.
His eyes widened and he fumbled around in his back pocket looking for his wallet. Shakily he tore through it and found what he was looking for, stuffed the leather back into his jeans, and ripped the wrapper with his teeth. She plucked the condom from his fingers and rolled it onto him herself, allowing him to shiver.
And before he even had the time to snap his eyes open and look at her again, she had slid down on top of his cock easily, enveloping him in a warm, moist, and completely unfamiliar territory.
“Fuck!” he hissed.
She perked an eyebrow at him and used the wall to grind against him. And they had fucked right there in the alley, emotionlessly and mostly silent. It was his first time having sex, and with all of her writhing and doing most of the work he was positive it was not hers.
He did not even know how old she was, but he was pretty sure she was younger than him. He was only a teenager himself, but it amazed him how many people he knew that were not virgins and just selflessly threw themselves around like they could care less. Just like he was right then. How could a girl this young be so experienced? The thought should not have surprised him, but it did. In America he had met girls like her, and they were probably even younger, and he had even danced with some in a club just like the one they were in.
Did girls go to places like that just for cheap fucks? A thought popped into his mind then, and he could remember 'Star and how unimpressed he had been about that. Chicks loved that guy and threw themselves at his feet as if he were the king of the world. And 'Star could not give a shit less what the hell they wanted from him.
And Shatterstar certainly would not be impressed if he saw him right then either, pressed up against a dirty wall with some whore he would never even see again. Shatty was so confused about the way sexual relationships even worked, and Rictor had been too in the kind of way where he knew how the mechanics worked but nothing at all about how it was supposed to be emotionally.
And most definitely his inexperience was equal to 'Star’s, even if no one else saw it. He had always pictured himself, ideally, with someone that he loved and someone who cared for him. It should have been something special and safe; something that made him feel good about himself.
But realistically, he did not feel good about himself -- at all. He had to skip over the entire part of it being something special and loving because he had to prove that he could do it in the first place. He had to get it done and over with and be able to say ‘Yes, I hit a home run.’ And he had to be able to say it was with a hot babe, a girl…some chick who may or may not be his wife someday who he could have a dozen babies with.
Even if that thought made him nauseous, and he knew for a damn fact that Shatty would not have been this uncaring and casual about it with him.
“~Oh yes!~” she moaned against him.
And Rictor was suddenly not at all in the mood. His grip on her loosened and he took the time to really look at her; she was everything that he was not. She was everything Rictor should have had, but was everything that he did not want. He frowned sadly and blinked, wincing slightly when she had noticed him.
“Uh,” she scrunched up her face. “~What’s the matter with you?~”
“~I…~” his throat went dry, and he could not find the courage to speak.
She looked down between them and shifted her hips. “~You aren’t even hard anymore.~”
He just blinked.
Her face burned a dark shade of red; she was very obviously embarrassed and maybe even a little bit mad. She frowned irritably and pulled herself off of him. “~Did you even have a good time?~” Once they had fully separated, she looked down at his soft cock. Rictor could see the laugh coming from a mile away. “~Wow, you are pathetic. You know, you’d probably never even get a girl like me again…like you could handle it even if you did.~” she shook her head and adjusted her skirt. “~See you later, loser.~”
Rictor normally would have gave that bitch a piece of his mind, but he was so damn humiliated and hurt and confused that he did not have the energy to even do that. He reached his hand down and removed the condom from himself, tossing it carelessly to the street. Fixed his pants and he buttoned up his shirt, trying to tidy himself up as best he could.
Who the fuck was Julio Richter kidding?
That was the stupidest thing he had probably ever done. There were times to learn things the hard way, but that was definitely something he could have done without.
And when he reached his hand up to his face to wipe away the sweat there, he got a whiff of that girl on his hand…her smell mixed with the latex of the condom, and right then and there Rictor doubled over and threw up on the street. He heaved heavily, and spit the contents out of his mouth the best he could; a stomach full of liquor and a nose full of pussy and he was done for.
Dios, he felt disgusting.
And when he got home and locked himself in the bathroom he could still smell it -- her, the humiliation…and most of all the lies.
He was a fucking liar, and no matter how much he tried to convince himself or try to prove a point -- it was what it was.
And on the floor in the bathroom he looked up at the light on the ceiling, and again he pictured that Arizona sun. The heat and that red flashing brilliantly in the light over that awkward smile, making a feeling wash over him that he could not explain up until that point.
He knew what he needed and how to get it, he would just have to wait for the courage to do it.