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This was going to be the last time, Vaughn promised to himself.
It was almost 10:00 PM on a Friday. The usual Friday-night after-work drink and bitch-a-thon had occurred as it always had at the shitty little bar a short walk from Rhys and Vaughn’s second Helios apartment.
Ever since he got promoted to middle management under Henderson, Rhys was more likely to buy his two best friends drinks and even more likely to complain even more intensely about how much his job sucked, in spite him of being most obviously obsessed with work.
Rhys was a dedicated Friday night drunk. It was not as though he never drank during the other days of the week, but the end of the work week was special. Though he thrived on the bullshit and politics of Hyperion’s gladiatorial arena of middle-management, by six O’clock on Friday he headed to the bar with his best friends like his very sanity depended on it.
So it was tonight. Rhys had started to get a little on the ridiculous side. He was talking and laughing a bit too loudly and Vaughn decided it was best to take him home before he did anything embarrassing. While not sober by any stretch of the imagination, Vaughn never seemed to be able to lose that presence of mind in the way his friend did. After assisting the middle manager in paying their tab and bidding farewell to Yvette, Vaughn helped his best friend walk home.
Then Rhys started doing it again in the elevator up to their apartment. It had been a while since the last time. Months, perhaps.
First, he leaned all his weight against Vaughn, trapping him in the corner and bending down to try to kiss him on the lips.
Vaughn turned his head away, instantly furious. He was always angry at Rhys first in these situations. Rhys was always the one who started it.
Rhys wound up pressing his warm, wet lips against the accountant’s square jaw while humming seductively and then laughing.
Vaughn’s lingering threads of self esteem started to unravel at the tension. He wanted it so badly, both this kiss and so much more. As soon as those lips were on his skin he cursed himself for is weakness but knew the fight was lost.
Now he was furious with himself. This happened because he let it happen. He vowed silently that this was going to be the last time as Rhys untucked his shirt from his pants before the elevator dinged to alert them that they had reached their floor.
They made it as far as the couch before Rhys was using his larger size and weight to push Vaughn back on the cushions. It always made him feel like he was a butterfly about to be pinned and mounted in a collection; another notch in the belt of Rhys’ sexual conquests. Only, without the actual sex.
Rhys, ever embarrassed and closeted about his bisexuality, was sadly only good for drunken hand jobs. Ah, but what glorious hands he had. They were both smooth, well manicured and soft from a life that knew work without what one would call physical labor.
Those hands were on Vaughn’s belt, fumbling with the buckle. When he got it opened he pulled it slowly out of the belt loops and winged the article across the room like it somehow offended him.
Vaughn squirmed backwards towards the arm of the couch and Rhys climbed over him. First, he removed Vaughn’s glasses and tossed them onto the coffee table. Then, he bent so that he could finally get that kiss on the lips he was looking for. A tortured groan came from the young accountant’s lips as Rhys tongue slid against his while the tall man worked down the zipper on the his khaki work slacks.
Rhys sat back on his heels and reached one hand down into the couch cushions to produce a flip-cap jar of Hyperion brand personal lubricant.
Vaughn gave him a mildly dirty look and declared, “Gross, Dude.” It was one thing to jack off on the couch but quite another to leave the lube stashed there.
Rhys didn’t reply. He just poured some of it on to his hand and closed the container, smirking lewdly.
With his dry hand he grabbed the taut fabric of Vaughn’s blue boxers and eased it down over his thick cock. The fingers of his lubed up hand reached down to wrap around his roommate’s shaft as he started to stroke it.
Vaughn’s blue eyes fluttered closed and he relaxed back against the couch. “Ohhhh... “ He lifted a hand to his neck to remove his black bowtie and toss it toward the coffee table as he pushed his hips up against Rhys’ strong hand.
When the chestnut haired man bent down to kiss him again, Vaughn knew he would not last long. There was something especially lovely about Rhys when he was drunk and uninhibited. It made him ache inside even as his body was thrilling to the man’s touch. Their lips again mashed together wetly and Vaughn’s mouth was so eager and desperate for this that it made him feel ashamed.
When he came it was in a wave of bliss, his eyes wide open and looking into Rhys’ warm brown eyes while the man’s tongue entwined with his own.
Rhys chuckled, a soft and musical sound, as he pulled his lips back from his best friend’s. His fingers kept moving up and down along Vaughn’s cock to prolong his pleasure as long as possible.
Vaughn’s hand darted out to grab Rhys by his long, grey tie. He yanked Rhys back to his mouth and kissed him again, hard.
Rhys whimpered into the kiss, seeming to enjoy the roughness of it and the bit of constriction at his throat. He wiped his hand on his pants, not caring about the mess.
Vaughn then sat up and pushed Rhys back before roughly stuffing himself back into his boxers. He took his turn to strip Rhys of his black, skag-skin belt before opening up the front of his pants and freeing Rhys’ cock to pay him back the favor.
Rhys unfastened his tie but left it draped loosely around his neck. He opened up the front of his shirt to show the tattoos beneath though they were partially covered by his white tank undershirt.
Vaughn bent down after pulling Rhys’ erection from his Hyperion Yellow boxer shorts and, without the slightest bit of hesitation, took Rhys entirely into his mouth as he had too many times before.
Rhys stretched out a long arm to pet Vaughn’s short, brown hair and caress his scalp as he pleasured him all of his considerable skill. He rambled words he thought little of in a deep and sultry voice, “Oh Vaughn, you’re so good… fuck…. Ah… I love you, bro. Ahhh… Ahhh… Oh damn it that feels so good, man.”
Vaughn’s emotions were starting to slowly awaken from the anesthesia of his orgasm and they ached as terribly as any sutured surgery. He knew Rhys loved him, though he only could ever say it when they were like this. In these furtive moments that passed like a dream, he wanted desperately to pretend that Rhys was his.
He was not. He likely never would be.
Dutifully, Vaughn finished his beloved best friend off with his hand, not really feeling in the mood to end things on such an intimate note as letting Rhys come into his mouth. He also wiped his hand off on Rhys’ leg before the taller man pulled him down against him and they laid there in silence and partially undressed disarray.
It was not long before the lanky man was asleep. Vaughn was left awake, ashamed, and alone with his thoughts. His nostrils flared as he took in Rhys’ scent. He smelled of sex, sweat, liquor, and that expensive cologne he liked so much.
Vaughn carefully got up so as to not awaken his friend. He stared down at him for a while, taking in the beauty of the lines of his sleeping face. Gently, he took the blanket from off of the back of the couch and oh so carefully covered up the object of his considerable affections as the pain in his chest reached a tremulous crescendo.
The accountant hurried into the bathroom before he shut the door, locked it and roughly stripped off his clothing. The articles were thrown furiously at the floor. A turn of his head towards the full length mirror showed him his disappointing, unfit reflection which only served to fan the flames of his hurt, bitterness, and self hatred.
Though considerably thinner these days then he was in college, he did not look like anyone that belonged with that tall man and his gorgeous face and toned body.
Vaughn turned on the exhaust fan and then the shower. Once he stepped under the rushing water he put his back to the wall and slowly slid down to the shower floor. Sitting cross legged on the ground with his face in his hands he wept bitterly as the water washed over him.
In the morning things would be the same as ever. If Vaughn tried to talk about what they had done the night before, Rhys would find a way to evade the conversation or simply act like he did not remember what had occurred. It was the worst thing of all and he swore up and down to himself that he would never let this happen again.
If only he could tell Rhys how he felt about him. How he was in love with him and would do anything for him. Yet, he could not risk it. He could not risk how amazing their friendship was otherwise. He could stand to not touch Rhys like this, but he could not dare to lose Rhys’ friendship.
He could even tolerate just being friends with benefits if only Rhys could even bring himself to admit in the waking hours that those benefits were being shared. This terrible status quo was truly intolerable. This needed to stop, once and for all. He pounded the tile floor furiously with his fist, angry at Rhys and angrier at himself.
After a good, long cry he got back up on his feet and finished his shower. He brushed his teeth before gathering up his clothes so he could sneak, naked, past his sleeping roommate to his bedroom. Once there he threw himself on his bed and tried to sleep.
* * * * *
The next morning, after Vaughn had dressed, he put his ear to the door. Hearing nothing, he quietly walked out into their living room. Rhys was no longer on the couch and he had for once straightened up after them.
He drifted into the kitchen and set about pouring himself a bowl of Hyperion O’s cereal and was annoyed to find Handsome Jack, the object of his best friend’s obsession, leering up at him from the box with a speech bubble that declared, “They’re Edible!” The lack of logic to the cereal normally bothered him. After all, they were not even O’s, they were little H shapes like the companies logo.
This morning, however, he was too busy hating himself for his cowardice to think too much about the problems with the company’s cereal line. The milk was poured and he got himself a mug of orange juice and sat at the kitchen table to eat.
There was the sound of a door closing elsewhere in the apartment and Vaughn cringed as Rhys wandered in. He was dressed in his blue, half-striped track pants and a Hyperion T-shirt. Slung over his shoulder was his gym bag. When he saw Vaughn he froze as though he had not expected to see him there.
Vaughn glanced up, trying to soften his expression to something neutral and less bitter than he was actually feeling.
“Heeeeeeeeey,” Rhys said, affecting a casual tone but Vaughn could tell that he wanted nothing more than to leave.
“Hey,” Vaughn replied. He looked into his cereal bowl at those stupid H shapes a moment before he gathered his courage and lifted his gaze to look up at Rhys’ face and said, “Last night was nice.” He wanted to give Rhys one last chance to man up and talk to him about what they did like the 25 year old Adults that they were.
Rhys’ face blushed slightly and he refused to take the bait. Though he presumably came into the kitchen to grab breakfast, he stayed in the doorway. “Yeah, hah. Always fun to go out drinking with you guys. Sorry I drank so much… I barely remember getting home.” He added hastily, “So, I’m going to meet up with some guys from Acquisitions to play Squash… and then I have that… thing this afternoon… so I’ll see you later tonight, alright? Maybe we can grab a pizza?”
Vaughn forced his voice to match his roommates casually chipper tone, “Yeah, sure thing, bro. See you later.” It was hard for force the words out through his awful, though completely expected, disappointment.
“Bye!” Rhys said as his long legs took him out of the room and then the apartment altogether.
Vaughn picked up his mug of orange juice with a trembling hand and drank from it before he momentarily lost the ability to control his emotions. He hurled it across the room as hard as he could where it exploded in a rain of ceramic and citrus against the refrigerator. “FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!” He pounded the table with each exclamation of his fury. Then the tantrum started to pass, the trembling started to subside, and he was left with just an empty feeling inside.
A forlorn sigh escaped from his lips as he looked at the mess he was going to have to clean up. At least it was Rhys’ mug he broke and not one of his own. Rising from the chair, he went to grab some paper towels and the kitchen trash can.
“This is the last time,” He vowed, out loud, as he bent down and started to pick up the pieces of the broken mug along with the pieces of his broken heart.