"Fuckin' 'ell..."
Through a haze, I slam the toilet door open and take a few steps. The room's spinnin'... I close my eyes, wipe my nose, snort, wipe my nose and try again. Stars're swimmin' in the corners of my eyes and I think I really oughta sit down... "Wassamatta?"
My eyes focus on Eric for a fraction of a second before everything slips into obscurity again. He looks like a complete wanker, his over-animated features are contorted in a worried frown over the state I'm in and makes him look even more daft than usual. "Whadya think?" I meant to make that a sneer but the words come out all slurred. I try to walk past him to the living room but - fuck - I stumble on my own fuckin' feet. He catches me as I fall and suddenly I'm pressed against him, my face buried in his black leather jacket. Eric's a fuckin' victim so his own fuckin' vanity, why else's he still wearing that thing inside? My ear's gettin' warm from his naked skin and I can hear his heartbeat - he's scared now, the cunt. Stupid sod's never able to put two and two together. 'Emma goes to the toilet with some weird stuff I just bought her and comes out all fucked up - what coulda 'appened?' Eric shifts nervously from foot to foot but I can't bring myself to move just yet. "Emma?" he asks gently, whining as if I'm about to fuckin' die on him or something twice as nasty. I grunt something inaudibly in reply and take a deep breath to fill my nose with the smell of his warm skin instead of that cheap flu. Hesitantly, he puts his arms around me, trying his best to make me feel better, but I don't need comfort, I need to sit down and have something to drink. "Fuck, Eric," I say and this time I manage to make it a sneer. "Juss 'elp me sit down an we can make out la'er." Eric tenses at my words and lets his arms fall down to his sides. Immediately, I get colder and shiver involuntarily. "'M sorry," he mumbles and helps me walk over to an armchair to sit down. I close my eyes and let my head fall back against the wall, listening to how my breath as it calms down and gets more even. He's still by my side, obviously worried, but I still don't say anything to comfort him. If he wants to stand around all day like some thick prat or other, that sure as hell ain't my problem. Eric draws a breath to speak, shifts foot again. Pulls his fingers back until they make a snappin sound, nervous bastard. He does that one more time an I'll fuckin jump him, drugged up or not. He draws another breath and lets it go. "What the fuck diya want?!" I glare at him. Can't he just lemme be? "Uh, Emma?" "Yess," I hiss testily. "What is it, Eric?" "Stay awake?" He looks down at me with pleading eyes and what he's really trying to get across is, stay alive. "Dude! I'm not gonna fuckin die, okay? Look, my skin ain't changing colour, my eyes aren't fallin' out, I'm not ODing or anything. I'm feeling sick, thassall, and you standin around ain't 'elpin!" Every little hair on my body stands up straight on edge from the cold. I sigh. "Wanna 'elp?" he nods. "Then gemme a blanket." "Can't, they're all icky." "Well, maybe you shoulda thought 'bout my survival before you brought all those cunts 'ome!" His eyes darken and he shrugs. "I never counted on you endin' up like 'is," he says. "Fuck, I never counted on you to bring 'ome some shit to make me end up like 'is!" I yell at him. "And besides, I'm not endin' up, I just feel like throwin' up, and if you just lemme be, I'll be allraight!" I stare at him and he looks down on me, his stupid hazel eyes are reduced to narrow slits. I know it's old, I know it's been said a thousand times before, but Eric looks just like a kicked puppy and I know just what he's gonna say before he's opened his mouth to say it. "Don't," I tell him. He looks at my arms and lets his jacket slide down over his shoulders. The room's fuckin freezing but I know his skin is as hot as a fever. Even when he's cold and bitchin' about it, he's hot, that's about as much logic you'll ever get around him. I know this from all the nights we've spent together, taking turns on holding each other down and buttin out cigarettes on each other's torsos and forearms. When it's good, when we've got enough drinks and drugs, playing with knifes and the likes can last a whole night through. I'll straddle him with my legs and he'll be sprawled out on the floor with a pervert's grin on his face as I cut him or burn him with whatever he hands me. Moaning, squirming, toying with his own blood - he doesn't even pretend as if it doesn't get him off better than those fucking groupies he picks out from the concerts and, truth to be told, I love it just as much as he does. I guess that makes us both sick to the core. I know other ways I could make him moan and squirm and it's on nights like those when I can barely keep myself from tryin'. I'd love to and he knows it, dares me to but I chicken out each and every time. Eric's a fuckin' psycho and if I take the wrong step, I'd end up in a bloody mess.Yeah, that's Eric -logic for ya. Now he's offering me his beloved jacket and I look at the scars that covers his pale skin, some red and fresh, some old and white... I did some, some he did himself. Some he never speaks of. Then, suddenly, the door slams open and two offenders fall down on the floor in a chuckling mess. John helps Nick up and they go hooray over the fact that he can still stand up on his own. Then they turn to look at Eric. "Ohoo, lookie-lookie, I daresay we're interrupting' something!" John nudges Nick in the side and they start giggling again, this time at us. I glare angrily at them, but John can't ever seem to take a hint. "Go on, don't mind us." To a drunk, high fucker with a mentality of a twelve-year-old, sure, it might've looked a bit suspicious. Two half-naked band mates strippin' down to wearing nothing but bondage trousers. Ha ha.
“Where's my shirt?” Right now I'm not in the mood for any of it. "Shut up, you fuckin' baby!" "Oh come-on, can't take a joke?" John gives me an annoyed look, as if I'm the one who's actin' childish. "Eric, stop fuckin' nursin' me." I snatch his jacket from his hand. "You ain't me fuckin' mum, 'lright?" "Emma," he whines, drawing another chuckle from the daft duo in the doorway. That's it. A week, couple o' weeks, that's for how a joke's still funny but these lads are up in months now and I can't even remember where they got it from. I stand up, determined to walk over and get at least one good hit before I'm knocked to the ground. But suddenly my eyes don't work like they ought to and my knees go weak as over-boiled spaghetti under me. Eriic moves, quick as lightning and - fuckin' clumsy sod - I'm in his arms the second time in about fifteen minutes. He catches me and holds me still with one hand firmly on my hip, the other on my shoulder. Can't say the day's turning out bad, so far. "Stop fuckin' laughing," he yells to them. "She can't 'elp it!" "No," John agrees. "After all, who can resist your embraces, eh cunt?" "Don't call me that!" I'm the only one who can call him that, it's my name for him and they all fuckin' know it. Eric's smart comments aren't helping much. His hands are still on me and right now that's about as far as I can think. Me head's stopped spinning by now and I could probably stand on my own, but he's smooth and warm and why bother? Not every day I get an excuse as good as this one. I blink lazily and Nick frowns. "Shit, Emma," he slurs. "Wha' 'ave you done now, eh? We leave you two alone five seconds maximum and you manage to fuck yerself up like this ev'ry time." I can't even be arsed with tellin him off anymore. "Get 'er t lie down, Eric," John orders and Eric's hand moves up to my shoulder, try to shake some life into me. "Emma? Let's go to bed, right? Fuck me; you can't even stand on yer own." "Wha' is this yer tellin me?," I murmur sarcastically and sigh at John's helpless giggling. "John, you stupid fuckin' cunt, yer like a three-year old, probably still fascinated like fuck by your own snot, ain't ya?" Eric's lips brushes past my ear, making me quiver all over, as he murmurs to me to calm down and ignore them and I gloom at my own reactions. I'll put it down to frustration and I'm only mortal, right? I let him guide me to the kitchen and the unmade, untidy mess of covers and blankets and stained pillows before I return his jacket. Then I practically throw myself at it before I even realise where I am. I squirm uncomfortably and look up at him accusingly. "Fuckin'... Eric, this is your bed." "Yeh, but yours' still full o blood." John's back at it again, asking me something about a rough last night. "I'll give you one if you don't piss off!" I yell. I close my eyes and relax while Eric pulls the blankets out from under me and tucks me in, covering my bare stomach, chest, all the way up to my mouth. If only I'd been meself I'd have nothing of this but if he enjoys taking care of me I can just as well give 'im this chance. The best thing with drugs and booze is that it gives you an excuse to fuck things up. "Don't fall asleep on me, Emma" Eric shakes me and I groan irritably. "Oi, open yer eyes!" "Oi yerself! You fucking tell me, howz it possible to sleep with you around?" John and Nick's finally realised there ain't gonna be much fun 'round here in the next five or so hours and starts to pack their things together again. "Awright you wankers." John opens the door and smiles mockingly. "We're headin out for some company that's a bit more alive, if you don't mind..." "Yeh," Nick sniggers. "Stay at it, Emmy. Eric, do what it takes to keep 'er up, alright? Just go easy on her." "Good riddance," I shriek back at them. "Ey, wait up." Eric looks at the pair with pleading eyes. "I'm hungry. Can you get us somethin' to eat? I can't leave 'er 'ere." John rolls his eyes and walks out. "Sure thing." The door slams shut behind them and I can finally relax. Eric walks out and starts rummaging 'round in the living room, humming tunelessly to himself. Eric's bed's soft and warm and reeks of his sweat and spunk; I don't mind. I lost my sense for what's disgusting a long time ago when I arrived to this country. And I haven't missed it since. There's many ways he coulda got these sheets so dirty in such a short time and though it really is an interesting thing to think about, I find myself on the edge of drifting off again. Each blink of an eyelid makes the clock turn another quarter, but with each one my head gradually clears. What Eric's up to, I have no idea about until his voice comes thought to me. "I'll have none o that, señorita . 'Ere, have a smoke." The bed shifts under his weight when he sits down beside me. I part my lips obediently, close 'em around the cigarette and suck it agilely when he lights it for me. I smile a sly smile at him and open my eyes lazily; the grin he gives me back is crooked and tainted by mischief and dirt. "Too bad you got yerself so completely fucked up, otherwise we coulda 'it the town with the others. Even though there ain't much goin on on a Friday night, I was lookin' forward to gettin' pissed and maybe raising the occasional hell..." "Yeh, bad for yer." I raise my eyebrows mockingly and let the smoke escape my mouth. "With my own Emmy by my side, what else could I possibly want?" "Oh, I dunno... a drink, perhaps?" He chuckles at the greedy expression on my face as he pulls up a bottle of scotch from under the bed. "Where'd that come from? Give it 'ere!" Eric teases and takes a long sip, sighs theatrically and generally acts as if the bottle contained the elixir of life, oh god, what a taste. The only thing he's really enjoying is the look on my face as I reach out for it in a feeble attempt to take it. Mean sod. "Don't be a dick," I whine. "Gimme some. I'm sick for fucksakes!" Eric's smile turns grim. "Now now, I think we're forgettin' something missy." "Eric, stop fuckin' about!" I take the cigarette and wave it in front of his face. "I'm serious, I'll fuckin' burn ya." "Wrong answer." He snatches it from me, takes a long drag and tosses it across the room. "Oi!" I roll my eyes at his stern appearance. "Please, Eric." "Can't hear ya, girl." "Give it to me!" Eric takes another mouthful and ignores my whining; there's no gettin' around it. "Pretty please Eric, give me some whiskey. I'd do anything and if you give it to me I'll be forever in your debt." The perverted smile's back and he slaps my hand away. "Right you are, Emmy. Now, open up." One of his hands sneaks up under my neck and the other tilts the bottle slightly. The scotch splashes onto my tongue and I close my eyes, swallow again and again while the hot fog I know all too well spreads out from my stomach into all my limbs. His hand's unsteady and some of it streams down my chin and neck down to my chest. Incompetent sod. The last few drops go down my throat and I relax again with a contented sigh. I wince when I realise that Eric's fucking with me's only gettin warmed up, and his fingertips suddenly mingle with the whiskey on my skin. I stifle a gasp; he plays with the clear liquid, drawing little images just the way he usually does with his own blood. Fuckin' hell, his fingers are burning... I will not tremble. I won't. I will not acknowledge what he's doing. Eric's warmth seems to be sucked up by my skin going right into my bloodstream, rushing down to my crotch. So warm... His lazy touch sends shivers down my spine but fuck it, I push it away. What I need to push away are his hands or I'm headin' into some major deep shit but the thought's erased from my head as soon as it turns up there. He's so completely focused on my skin he doesn't even meet my eyes. I swallow, force my breath to remain steady but my resolve's going out the window any moment now... Don't move, don't tremble and for god's sake, stay silent. This is war and I will fight for as long as there's still blood left in my veins. Surrender, whether it's by pushing him away or playing along, is not an option. Speaking of, even my own fuckin' body's betraying me by now. I can't even recall the last time I was this wet and thank hell I'm still wearing my pants. Eric takes his other hand out from under me and pulls the covers down to my stomach, as far down as he dares, his movements are steady and firm and he uses every inch of his fingers to elicit some kind of reaction from me. The fucker gets what he searches for, alright. My breath comes in hoarse gasps and hisses through my gritted teeth but I can't help myself; I'm weak and defenceless and Eric's not playing it fair at all. I lock my eyes on his; I don't want to see what he's doing to me, the way my chest heaves, my nipples go stiff. I don't want to see what he sees, that my veins are fuckin' throbbing, my heartbeat exposed for all to see. I will not tremble, no way, so I tense to the level where my knuckles go white. Eric's hot fingers slides downwards, he wets each of them with his tongue and start circling my nipples through my top, drawing another involuntary gasp from me. Fuckin' lazy cunt. He's doing this as if he's never done anything else and still, his eyes are narrow and his features drowsy. Eric's teasing one of 'em, barely brushing over it with his wet fingertips. I can't help the shaky sigh from escaping my lips anymore and just as I do, he looks back at me. His eyes are completely black; I can't spot a hint of hazel where his irises use to be. There's no telling which excites the sick cunt the most, the imagined war or the actual happenings. A smirk plays in the corners of his mouth. Eric isn't stupid. I curse myself for forgetting this, just as he's tricked me to a hundred times before. No, he's a sly fucker and just because of my imbecility he's now got another way to play me. I know I'm loosing it, he knows I know I'm loosing it. Eric's idle touches continue until his hands are resting still on my sides - I groan, take them in my own and try to push 'em further down but before I know it, he's holding my arms down, pinned at each side of me. He sits down on top of me, straddling my hips with a leg on each side to keep me locked tightly in position. "Lemme go!" I hiss. Although we both know I don’t really mean it.
Eric looks at me, from my face down to every inch of me that isn't in fact already covered by him. The forlorn puppy's gone without a trace. What I've got sitting on top of me is more a wolf than anything else and he licks his lips and bares his teeth. I buck my hips, squirm and dig my fingernails into his hands, trying in every way to slip loose. Eric doesn't even flinch. "Let go of me, yer fuckin' bastarrrd!" I growl, trying not to loose my face. The bed shakes from my violent attempts to get him off me, but I could just as well try to move a mountain. "Shut up," he yells back, and for a second I almost think he's gonna hit me. But then the same old Eric-the-pervert is smiling down at me, the smile that's usually followed by a bicycle chain or a stiletto knife. Without knowing what the fuck to believe I stare back at him. He leans closer and closer until his face is only centimetres away from my breast - his breath comes in hot puffs against my nipple before his cat-like tongue and soft lips presses against it, sucking and licking slowly. Pretending to not enjoy the way he treats me is suddenly much harder - as I said before we're both sadomasochists by nature and I can hiss and moan and curse and try to break free all I want but he will still show no intentions of letting me go. With wet licks and lazy kisses he turns to the other side of my breast, and fuck it, I tremble. What can I say to my defence? My muscles are weak and won't obey me but we both know it isn't the drugs anymore. To make up for that, I yell at him in between the moaning and gasping for air: "Fuckin' cunt! Eric, dya 'ear me? Let go, you bastard!" He frowns at me and bites down lightly on my nipple, drawing that other kind of cry from me that I seem to recall I promised myself I wouldn't let him hear. "Oh, fuckin'... fuck, Eric..." There's nothing worse than fuckin' losing. "Dammit," Eric hisses, jumps off the bed and licks his lips nervously. Then I hear it too; footsteps and shouting in the stairway: Fuckin’ good ol’ John and Fuckin’ ol’ good Nick, could these lads have picked a better timing? Eric looks from the door to me and back again. "Fuck you," I whisper and pull the covers up to under my nose. "I'm asleep." I roll over on my stomach and ignore him, so he goes out and opens the door, greets them and acts as if nuthin's happened. They joke and laugh and to hell with it, he's not gonna rub it into me like this. Covered with a blanket, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and walk out to the door. "Hey Emma…" John pushes his fingers through his brown curls and smiles at me. "You alright now?" "Yeh, I'm awright," I say with a tired smile. "So, whatsahappenin'?" "Not much. We've got thrown out from everyplace we go and it's only eight o clock!" "Well, you've both been stoned since five and you look like creeps. Whadya expect?" "Anyways," Nick shrugs, "we're stayin' here tonight." Eric glowers at him. Hah. "Since when?" "Since now. We got you all these goods..." he points down at the bags by their feet "...and thought we might as well invite ourselves in. We found some more people out huntin' for a good time: since the only gig worth watching's been cancelled we're hardly the only ones." "What?" Eric urges. "Where?" "They're heading over right now, and they're all bringing their friends."
“Where's my shirt?” Right now I'm not in the mood for any of it. "Shut up, you fuckin' baby!" "Oh come-on, can't take a joke?" John gives me an annoyed look, as if I'm the one who's actin' childish. "Eric, stop fuckin' nursin' me." I snatch his jacket from his hand. "You ain't me fuckin' mum, 'lright?" "Emma," he whines, drawing another chuckle from the daft duo in the doorway. That's it. A week, couple o' weeks, that's for how a joke's still funny but these lads are up in months now and I can't even remember where they got it from. I stand up, determined to walk over and get at least one good hit before I'm knocked to the ground. But suddenly my eyes don't work like they ought to and my knees go weak as over-boiled spaghetti under me. Eriic moves, quick as lightning and - fuckin' clumsy sod - I'm in his arms the second time in about fifteen minutes. He catches me and holds me still with one hand firmly on my hip, the other on my shoulder. Can't say the day's turning out bad, so far. "Stop fuckin' laughing," he yells to them. "She can't 'elp it!" "No," John agrees. "After all, who can resist your embraces, eh cunt?" "Don't call me that!" I'm the only one who can call him that, it's my name for him and they all fuckin' know it. Eric's smart comments aren't helping much. His hands are still on me and right now that's about as far as I can think. Me head's stopped spinning by now and I could probably stand on my own, but he's smooth and warm and why bother? Not every day I get an excuse as good as this one. I blink lazily and Nick frowns. "Shit, Emma," he slurs. "Wha' 'ave you done now, eh? We leave you two alone five seconds maximum and you manage to fuck yerself up like this ev'ry time." I can't even be arsed with tellin him off anymore. "Get 'er t lie down, Eric," John orders and Eric's hand moves up to my shoulder, try to shake some life into me. "Emma? Let's go to bed, right? Fuck me; you can't even stand on yer own." "Wha' is this yer tellin me?," I murmur sarcastically and sigh at John's helpless giggling. "John, you stupid fuckin' cunt, yer like a three-year old, probably still fascinated like fuck by your own snot, ain't ya?" Eric's lips brushes past my ear, making me quiver all over, as he murmurs to me to calm down and ignore them and I gloom at my own reactions. I'll put it down to frustration and I'm only mortal, right? I let him guide me to the kitchen and the unmade, untidy mess of covers and blankets and stained pillows before I return his jacket. Then I practically throw myself at it before I even realise where I am. I squirm uncomfortably and look up at him accusingly. "Fuckin'... Eric, this is your bed." "Yeh, but yours' still full o blood." John's back at it again, asking me something about a rough last night. "I'll give you one if you don't piss off!" I yell. I close my eyes and relax while Eric pulls the blankets out from under me and tucks me in, covering my bare stomach, chest, all the way up to my mouth. If only I'd been meself I'd have nothing of this but if he enjoys taking care of me I can just as well give 'im this chance. The best thing with drugs and booze is that it gives you an excuse to fuck things up. "Don't fall asleep on me, Emma" Eric shakes me and I groan irritably. "Oi, open yer eyes!" "Oi yerself! You fucking tell me, howz it possible to sleep with you around?" John and Nick's finally realised there ain't gonna be much fun 'round here in the next five or so hours and starts to pack their things together again. "Awright you wankers." John opens the door and smiles mockingly. "We're headin out for some company that's a bit more alive, if you don't mind..." "Yeh," Nick sniggers. "Stay at it, Emmy. Eric, do what it takes to keep 'er up, alright? Just go easy on her." "Good riddance," I shriek back at them. "Ey, wait up." Eric looks at the pair with pleading eyes. "I'm hungry. Can you get us somethin' to eat? I can't leave 'er 'ere." John rolls his eyes and walks out. "Sure thing." The door slams shut behind them and I can finally relax. Eric walks out and starts rummaging 'round in the living room, humming tunelessly to himself. Eric's bed's soft and warm and reeks of his sweat and spunk; I don't mind. I lost my sense for what's disgusting a long time ago when I arrived to this country. And I haven't missed it since. There's many ways he coulda got these sheets so dirty in such a short time and though it really is an interesting thing to think about, I find myself on the edge of drifting off again. Each blink of an eyelid makes the clock turn another quarter, but with each one my head gradually clears. What Eric's up to, I have no idea about until his voice comes thought to me. "I'll have none o that, señorita . 'Ere, have a smoke." The bed shifts under his weight when he sits down beside me. I part my lips obediently, close 'em around the cigarette and suck it agilely when he lights it for me. I smile a sly smile at him and open my eyes lazily; the grin he gives me back is crooked and tainted by mischief and dirt. "Too bad you got yerself so completely fucked up, otherwise we coulda 'it the town with the others. Even though there ain't much goin on on a Friday night, I was lookin' forward to gettin' pissed and maybe raising the occasional hell..." "Yeh, bad for yer." I raise my eyebrows mockingly and let the smoke escape my mouth. "With my own Emmy by my side, what else could I possibly want?" "Oh, I dunno... a drink, perhaps?" He chuckles at the greedy expression on my face as he pulls up a bottle of scotch from under the bed. "Where'd that come from? Give it 'ere!" Eric teases and takes a long sip, sighs theatrically and generally acts as if the bottle contained the elixir of life, oh god, what a taste. The only thing he's really enjoying is the look on my face as I reach out for it in a feeble attempt to take it. Mean sod. "Don't be a dick," I whine. "Gimme some. I'm sick for fucksakes!" Eric's smile turns grim. "Now now, I think we're forgettin' something missy." "Eric, stop fuckin' about!" I take the cigarette and wave it in front of his face. "I'm serious, I'll fuckin' burn ya." "Wrong answer." He snatches it from me, takes a long drag and tosses it across the room. "Oi!" I roll my eyes at his stern appearance. "Please, Eric." "Can't hear ya, girl." "Give it to me!" Eric takes another mouthful and ignores my whining; there's no gettin' around it. "Pretty please Eric, give me some whiskey. I'd do anything and if you give it to me I'll be forever in your debt." The perverted smile's back and he slaps my hand away. "Right you are, Emmy. Now, open up." One of his hands sneaks up under my neck and the other tilts the bottle slightly. The scotch splashes onto my tongue and I close my eyes, swallow again and again while the hot fog I know all too well spreads out from my stomach into all my limbs. His hand's unsteady and some of it streams down my chin and neck down to my chest. Incompetent sod. The last few drops go down my throat and I relax again with a contented sigh. I wince when I realise that Eric's fucking with me's only gettin warmed up, and his fingertips suddenly mingle with the whiskey on my skin. I stifle a gasp; he plays with the clear liquid, drawing little images just the way he usually does with his own blood. Fuckin' hell, his fingers are burning... I will not tremble. I won't. I will not acknowledge what he's doing. Eric's warmth seems to be sucked up by my skin going right into my bloodstream, rushing down to my crotch. So warm... His lazy touch sends shivers down my spine but fuck it, I push it away. What I need to push away are his hands or I'm headin' into some major deep shit but the thought's erased from my head as soon as it turns up there. He's so completely focused on my skin he doesn't even meet my eyes. I swallow, force my breath to remain steady but my resolve's going out the window any moment now... Don't move, don't tremble and for god's sake, stay silent. This is war and I will fight for as long as there's still blood left in my veins. Surrender, whether it's by pushing him away or playing along, is not an option. Speaking of, even my own fuckin' body's betraying me by now. I can't even recall the last time I was this wet and thank hell I'm still wearing my pants. Eric takes his other hand out from under me and pulls the covers down to my stomach, as far down as he dares, his movements are steady and firm and he uses every inch of his fingers to elicit some kind of reaction from me. The fucker gets what he searches for, alright. My breath comes in hoarse gasps and hisses through my gritted teeth but I can't help myself; I'm weak and defenceless and Eric's not playing it fair at all. I lock my eyes on his; I don't want to see what he's doing to me, the way my chest heaves, my nipples go stiff. I don't want to see what he sees, that my veins are fuckin' throbbing, my heartbeat exposed for all to see. I will not tremble, no way, so I tense to the level where my knuckles go white. Eric's hot fingers slides downwards, he wets each of them with his tongue and start circling my nipples through my top, drawing another involuntary gasp from me. Fuckin' lazy cunt. He's doing this as if he's never done anything else and still, his eyes are narrow and his features drowsy. Eric's teasing one of 'em, barely brushing over it with his wet fingertips. I can't help the shaky sigh from escaping my lips anymore and just as I do, he looks back at me. His eyes are completely black; I can't spot a hint of hazel where his irises use to be. There's no telling which excites the sick cunt the most, the imagined war or the actual happenings. A smirk plays in the corners of his mouth. Eric isn't stupid. I curse myself for forgetting this, just as he's tricked me to a hundred times before. No, he's a sly fucker and just because of my imbecility he's now got another way to play me. I know I'm loosing it, he knows I know I'm loosing it. Eric's idle touches continue until his hands are resting still on my sides - I groan, take them in my own and try to push 'em further down but before I know it, he's holding my arms down, pinned at each side of me. He sits down on top of me, straddling my hips with a leg on each side to keep me locked tightly in position. "Lemme go!" I hiss. Although we both know I don’t really mean it.
Eric looks at me, from my face down to every inch of me that isn't in fact already covered by him. The forlorn puppy's gone without a trace. What I've got sitting on top of me is more a wolf than anything else and he licks his lips and bares his teeth. I buck my hips, squirm and dig my fingernails into his hands, trying in every way to slip loose. Eric doesn't even flinch. "Let go of me, yer fuckin' bastarrrd!" I growl, trying not to loose my face. The bed shakes from my violent attempts to get him off me, but I could just as well try to move a mountain. "Shut up," he yells back, and for a second I almost think he's gonna hit me. But then the same old Eric-the-pervert is smiling down at me, the smile that's usually followed by a bicycle chain or a stiletto knife. Without knowing what the fuck to believe I stare back at him. He leans closer and closer until his face is only centimetres away from my breast - his breath comes in hot puffs against my nipple before his cat-like tongue and soft lips presses against it, sucking and licking slowly. Pretending to not enjoy the way he treats me is suddenly much harder - as I said before we're both sadomasochists by nature and I can hiss and moan and curse and try to break free all I want but he will still show no intentions of letting me go. With wet licks and lazy kisses he turns to the other side of my breast, and fuck it, I tremble. What can I say to my defence? My muscles are weak and won't obey me but we both know it isn't the drugs anymore. To make up for that, I yell at him in between the moaning and gasping for air: "Fuckin' cunt! Eric, dya 'ear me? Let go, you bastard!" He frowns at me and bites down lightly on my nipple, drawing that other kind of cry from me that I seem to recall I promised myself I wouldn't let him hear. "Oh, fuckin'... fuck, Eric..." There's nothing worse than fuckin' losing. "Dammit," Eric hisses, jumps off the bed and licks his lips nervously. Then I hear it too; footsteps and shouting in the stairway: Fuckin’ good ol’ John and Fuckin’ ol’ good Nick, could these lads have picked a better timing? Eric looks from the door to me and back again. "Fuck you," I whisper and pull the covers up to under my nose. "I'm asleep." I roll over on my stomach and ignore him, so he goes out and opens the door, greets them and acts as if nuthin's happened. They joke and laugh and to hell with it, he's not gonna rub it into me like this. Covered with a blanket, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and walk out to the door. "Hey Emma…" John pushes his fingers through his brown curls and smiles at me. "You alright now?" "Yeh, I'm awright," I say with a tired smile. "So, whatsahappenin'?" "Not much. We've got thrown out from everyplace we go and it's only eight o clock!" "Well, you've both been stoned since five and you look like creeps. Whadya expect?" "Anyways," Nick shrugs, "we're stayin' here tonight." Eric glowers at him. Hah. "Since when?" "Since now. We got you all these goods..." he points down at the bags by their feet "...and thought we might as well invite ourselves in. We found some more people out huntin' for a good time: since the only gig worth watching's been cancelled we're hardly the only ones." "What?" Eric urges. "Where?" "They're heading over right now, and they're all bringing their friends."
