Closet Cases

L.R.T.

You had no idea, in retrospect, how in the world your current situation had come to be.

You remembered arguing with him, a result of the jealousy you felt when she began hitting it off so well with him. She was yours. Weren't you enough anymore? Why did she need this clown's help with anything? He certainly wasn't winning any style contests any time soon. You had done the whole "Pokemon outfit" thing first, anyway - and better. Moltres beat his scary Cacturne any day.

So then, how was it that you were pressed together in a closet filled with custodial supplies? How did you get from cheering her on, her ever-faithful companion, to your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling his head closer to yours? How did he end up on his knees in front of you, using his mouth for something far better than anything else he'd ever used it for in the time you'd known him.

It was going too far - it had gone way past too far, actually.

What if she found out what happened? What if she was horrified and never looked at you the same way again - if she wanted to look at you again at all?

You wished it could have been almost anyone else making you gasp in pleasure, every flick of his tongue sending shivers down your spine. There was nothing for him to get out of it other than blackmail. You could almost see it now - his purple eyes darting to look at you whenever you dared oppose him, knowing that you were thinking of the way he looked at you from his position on the floor. There was a flicker of mischief in his eyes as though he were a kid on Christmas morning finally getting to unwrap the package he had so desperately been waiting for.

Maybe you gave yourself too much credit. The only person that longed for you was a bonafide psychopath. Of course, he wasn't playing with a full deck, either. What attracted these people to you? Why did this one get to you so easily? It seemed as though all he had to do was brush his lips against yours and you were ready, standing at attention. How desperate were you?

Desperate enough to tug at his hair and moan out his name as you let yourself go - a name that never in a million years did you ever think would pass across your lips in such a way. So desperate that when he stood again and faced you, that smirk you always found so undeservedly haughty on his face, you wanted more. More of him touching you, more of his lips against your skin, more everything.

When he reached down and zipped your pants back up, you didn't know what to say or do. Begging him for more was low even for you. Taking him yourself was something so far out of the realm of possibilities at the moment, you wouldn't know where to start.

He cupped you roughly through your pants, his smirk twisting into a sly grin when you pressed into his touch, unable to stop yourself. He leaned in, his lips lightly brushing against your ear before he said, "That was fun. You know where to find me if you want round two."

As quickly as it started it was over and he was gone, leaving you confused and alone in the dark closet, only noticing for the first time how out of breath you were and how wobbly you'd gotten in the legs. You slid down the wall to the floor, staring into the darkness in front of you. How were you ever going to look at him again? How were you ever going to look at her? How could you possibly have let this happen?

You rubbed your face with both of your hands, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to forget everything that had just transpired. That was what you would have to do, wasn't it? You couldn't let him get inside your head like this - that was what he wanted, to mess with you. If you came out the way you were right now, he would know his plan was a complete success. He was probably waiting outside the door, ready to accost you the second you emerged.

Staying in there for the rest of the contest wasn't an option, though. For one thing, she would pitch a fit that you weren't around. For another, the fumes from the various bottles of cleaning supplies were starting to make you woozy - at least that's what you hoped was the culprit.

With a heavy sigh, you stood, willing your legs to work again as the blood rushed back to them from another certain extremity. You ran your hands through your hair and rubbed your face again, trying to look presentable and not as though you'd just gotten oral sex from another guy in a janitor's closet. That was certainly something you never thought to prepare for.

You cracked the door open ever-so-slightly, peering out. From what you could see, the coast was clear but he often came out of nowhere - a flamboyant green bundle of ego that drove you up the wall...or down it, as the case was today. Deciding that it was now or never, you came out, closing the door behind you and turning to face whatever may come.

"Ha! Hey, look. James is finally comin' outta da closet!"