How are your 2011s going? Mine is going fine. Anyways, here's chapter three, so two more chapters left. I'm really thankful for those sweet reviews you left, and I swear, even though you guys may not be into it, I'm continuing my TDI fanfic after I'm done with this one. I'm not upping the rating, even though there's another hawt scene here, because it's awfully vague.

Rigby stared at me, then shook his head, crawling into his trampoline.

I tried to apologize, but I said what I said - there wasn't a way to turn back. I couldn't say, "look, Rig, I didn't mean it."

It's not like me. I looked away, and fell asleep, a dreamless one.

Rigby was looking at me when I woke up, "What the h are you looking at?" I mumbled.

"Nothing. Look, dude, I'm pretty sure I was high on cocoa last night, or like, under the influence of…I dunno, but it was my fault you got in deep shit. Fucking yourself isn't a big deal, but..over…? Gah. Okay, let's pretend I never said-"

"Hey." I gave him a bear hug. "Get ready, we're going to work early." Why? I like the park to myself. It's a big place. And in the morning, the dew it so…cleansing. And plus, without Benson, I can relax.

"Fucking pessimist." I heard him chuckled.

"I'm calling Margaret." He didn't reply. I picked up the old phone and dialed her number.

"Hey, Mordecai. What's going on? Why weren't you here to work last night?" Work. that's what she calls sex. "Work" because its hard would to make her hit her full pleasure. "Work" because it's work to go over then and fuck her then leave. Leave. No kiss with love. French kisses with lust.

"Sick," I coughed, "If I feel better I'll go over there tonight."

Her sweet voice was gone now, and it turned into a sexy growl, "I would've wanted you to come over here and fucked me senseless even if you were sick as…" She kept mumbling over and over dirty things.

"Marg-" I moaned.

"Dammit, I love it when you do that…" She kept rambling in a sultry voice. I was obsessed, but I wouldn't admit it.

I hung up. "Rigby, I'm going over to Margaret's."

"Don't get her preggers…" I heard his laugh a little.

I ran over there. It was only a few blocks away, and God, when I got there I was out of breath. I rung the doorbell four times, and she answered, completely naked. "Damn, M-"

She grinned, "Shut up." And pulled me over to her bedroom. She stripped me down, and we did what we did almost every night.

She pressed onto me, so close it hurt, my back pressed up against the cold wall, the room steamy and now smelling like vanilla. When she drew back, I stung so painfully, then she pounded back onto me, and she screamed a swear. I grasped her tightly so she wouldn't leave, her eyes fighting tears. She threw herself on me one final time, and stayed clinging onto me, and I said, probably louder than I should have, "Damn, Margaret, I love you!"

She stopped at that moment. And silently put her clothes back on. Left the room, and slammed the door behind her. I stood there, naked, and now somehow shameful. It was just about the sex, wasn't it?

I got dressed, and walked through her house, making my way to the door. Margaret not in sight. I trudged to my own house silently. Rigby was on Benson's computer playing an online game, yelling at the screen. "Hey," I sighed. No reply.

I went up to him, and he looked up, "Hey, Mordecai. 'Sup?"

"I fucked Margaret." I did, and it slipped. It slipped that I said "I love you" when she thought it was all about the sex to both of us? Does she ever love? Or is it just pleasure to her? Because I don't know about her, but I really want someone to love.

"Oh… How was that?"

"Fucking amazing. But she kind of hates me."

"Did you get her pregnant? What did I tell you?"

"I told her I lo-… Nevermind, I'm going to bed." Why should I tell Rigby? The chances of him making fun of me for it was so likely.

"It's midday. We gotta go to work." To heck with work. I don't want to hear that word. We gotta go to work is like saying sleep with me, right here, right now for Marg.

"Tell Benson I'm sick."

"Alright, bro. Whatever you sayy…" He muttered, sarcastically.

I walked to bed. Rigby followed. I got under the un-made covers. "Okay, tell me what really happened."

"I told her I loved her."

"So?"

"It was all about the sex." I held back tears.

"She's a slut."

"She isn't. She wants sex. And so do I. I miss her." I just really want sex. It sounds greedy, but I'm so used to it, obsessed, really.

Rigby put his arm around me, "Rig.." I muttered.

"Be quiet." He learned forward.

Was he gonna kiss me? Why was that my first thought? Damn, do I want him to kiss me? He's not gay, neither am I! Or, I don't think I am. Wait! Lady pecs, where are they on him? God, his breath is hot against my lips, it's causing me to sweat.

Then we make contact. It's better than the fourth of July. He presses up against me, and pushes me against the wall my bed's leaned on. I was sitting straight with my legs stretched out in front of me, and Rigby crawled over them, his left arm and leg on one side of me and his right arm and leg on the other.

He sat down on my legs, dangerously close, and whispered, "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this."

I smiled softly. "I think I do."

In minutes, we were too close. I'm not gay, I kept repeating to myself, but my screams proved me wrong. The room smelled similar to Margaret's, except with a hint of ecstasy and Dude-Time.

He held onto my shoulders, claws digging into my skin, hurting so pleasurably, and wrapped his arms around me and stopped, then whispered, "Thank you."

I ignored him and grinned, breathing heavily. "You know, I think this is the best possibly way I could've found out I was gay."