Lush Copulation

I don't get a say in this, like every other time. Why are we even here? Why do I have to come along? I could give logical explanations, like it's my brother's birthday, or that I'm still a virgin. Honestly, I think the world just wants to torture me at every corner. I know someone's nineteenth birthday is supposed to be a very special occasion, but a strip club? And my brother's friends, since I have none, think that a 'wallflower' (virgin) like me should have some experience before I go off to university. Yessiree, I'm eighteen and going to the best university in the country, but not before my brother deflowers me. Not literally of course, but he thinks I'll die there if I haven't had sex yet. What he lacks in intelligence, he makes up in charm and cheerfulness, so I can't hate him for coming up with this.

And they all think I'm this innocent little thing, just cause I'm still a virgin. If they only knew what I've done, then they wouldn't be considering me a 'wallflower'; they would think they're the 'wallflowers'. Just because I haven't gone all the way, doesn't mean I'm not experienced, but why would I tell them? The girl in front of us has taken off another article of clothing, leaving her in only a see-through sheet and a thong. The boys around me are getting all riled up, but I'm just bored. The reason I haven't told my brother how experienced I am is because they haven't been with girls. I've known I was homosexual since the ninth grade, and have been hiding it from my brother ever since. He wouldn't understand, he, and his friends, have to be the most homophobic guys I have ever met, so there is no way I'm going to tell my brother. Luckily, since I'm studying to become a doctor, I get over ten years of schooling as far away from my family as possible while staying in the country, and who I'll only have to see during the holidays.

"I'm going to get a drink! Anyone want one?" I scream over the blaring music. No one hears me, too entangled as the stripper leans extremely forward, in the direction of my brother. I could still hear the hoots and hollers coming from our table when I reach the bar. Not caring that I'm underage, I order a shot of tequila. Plopping onto one of the bar's stools, I stare at the exit side, my turned head resting on one of my hands, propped up on the counter. I blank out for some time.

The sliding of a shot glass gets my attention.

Turning my head, still resting in my hand, I glance at the glass. My eyes then look up, hidden beneath my blonde spikes called bangs, to watch the bartender pour me a shot of tequila. Well, technically, I only watched the liquid. I didn't feel like wasting time with the humanity of alcohol. I snatch the glass, before I chug it down in one gulp, my head leaning far back, my eyes closing on impact. The liquor is harsh and burns my throat, just how I like it. A few more of these, and I won't care anymore, about anything really. I give a hand motion for another, after I slammed the glass back down on the counter.

I was delighted to hear the sound of the liquid hitting my glass. Yet, I could hear something else, something that sounded a lot like soft chuckling. The bartender was laughing at me! Just as I was about to give him heck he speaks, the laughter still apparent in his voice. "You're in a hurry to get drunk. I guess you won't be wanting some salt or a lemon." I take another shot, it going down a little easier. I was faster in the movement, needing to get familiar with the motion again. He whistles in mock amazement. He was making fun of me, but the numbing feeling of the tequila was already kicking in, so I didn't care.

He was chuckling again, not needing my signal to pour another glass. I took another shot, while he speaks. "Just so you know, we have a five shot policy for tequila. You'll have to have beer or a cooler after your fifth." What did I care, I would be numbingly drunk enough to deal with this whole situation by then.

"Whatever, sure," I mumble, knowing that he'll hear me. Other than the washrooms, the bar was the quietest place in the whole club, the hanging mini-roof protecting the bartender and the seated customers from the blaring music enough to have a decent, quiet conversation. If I had actually lifted my head for once, I would have seen the bartender shrug indifferently at me, but was staring at me, interested.

A pat on my back gets my attention, and I turn to see my brother staring at me, a worried expression on his face. "You disappeared on us. Are you not having fun?" That's my brother for ya, the carer, always thinking of others first. I try my best to give him a comforting smile, the liquor already helping me. "Nah," I only slightly slur. I wince, but luckily he doesn't see. I don't want him to know I've been drinking. I compose myself. "It's a little stuffy over there, I was going to have a drink or two then re-join you guys. C'mon, it's your birthday, go, have fun."

My smile must've reassured him, for he gave me the okay. He left with no reply, just his warming smile, giving me the wonderful feeling of guilt. I hated to lie to him, but he would never let me drink underage, or do drugs, my protective older brother. "Does your brother know you're drinking alcohol? 'Cause you gave him, and me, the impression that you were gonna have a pop, or something." The guy sure loves to talk. Something gets my attention though, what he had said…

"How'd you know he's my brother?" I actually glance up at him, but he's hidden by the shadows for me to see anything.

"Same face. Put two and two together." There's a smile in his voice, I can tell.

"How can you see in this dark?" I ask, now squinting to see him. Now, that I can't actually see him, I want to see him. He's actually not that bad to talk to. I wonder if he's good looking…

"Work here almost every night for the past few years. You get used to the dark." That's a little creepy, but I don't say that. Instead, I say, "I see… another." His laugh this time is hearty, and I know I've brought some tears to his eyes.

It takes him a minute or two to compose himself, and after a breathy exclaim, he pours me another shot. Glancing backwards, to make sure my brother isn't watching, I take another shot. The burning is now non-existent, and I'm a little sad it's gone. Before I can dwell more on the tragedy of losing the burning sensation, some strange, but softly constant beeping attracts my attention. I shift my gaze to where the sound is coming from, and in the darkness, I can see the outline of the bartender stopping the beeping of his watch. It was an alarm, but for what?

He then speaks, but his voice is slightly different from his normal cocky cheerfulness. "You bored?" What kind of question was that? "I guess so," I reply, trying not to sound sarcastic. Honestly, why would a guy be at the bar getting drunk, instead of watching girls strut around taking off their clothes, unless he was bored?

I feel more than see him lean in, his breath gushing past my ear and my neck. "You wanna leave?" His already husky voice had become huskier. He was insinuating a lot with those words, and even more with his purposely arousing actions. He leans back a little bit. "My shift is over in less than five minutes, you wouldn't have to wait long." If I'd only had three shots underneath my belt, I would have noticed the slightly desperate pleading in his voice. He wanted me bad, but I didn't even notice.

"But how did you…?" I wasn't going to say the 'gay' part so close to my brother, but he understood.

He leans in again. "A guy not staring at that woman like your brother and his friends are is… it's obvious." He's so mean, making it so hard to have a choice. He purposely leaned in closer, so when he spoke his bottom lip would hit my ear with every syllable. And his warm breath against my skin wasn't helping either. He was making me so frustratingly hot, yet my spine was absolutely freezing. I couldn't say no, so I replied, "yes." He leans back once more, and I know he's grinning.

I swirl around on my stool, so my back faced the bar, before I stood up. I walked towards my brother, my legs barely supporting me. I felt a little ashamed, I was going to lie to my brother again, and I was becoming a lightweight again, since I haven't had a drink in months, choosing studying over partying. I manage to reach their table with only some small stumbles and trips, hardly noticeable. "Sora?" I call out, loud enough that only my brother can hear over the obnoxiously loud music. He turns to me, his face aglow with delight for about a split second, before he actually sees me, and his face is shadowed with worry. "Roxas? Are you okay?"

I shake my head slowly, giving Sora a sorrow filled look. "I'm not feeling well. I'm sorry, I've got to get home. I've already called a taxi to get me there." He gives me a disappointed look, and my chest tightens with guilt. Then, he gives me a small smile saying, "no wonder you weren't interested in the stripper." He laughs, and I give a weak one in return. After he gives my arm a squeeze, I leave the club, waiting just outside the door, for the bartender.

I must've been becoming more unaccustomed to alcohol because of my hiatus than I realized, since I blanked out quite a few times. I don't remember the bartender coming out, but I remember that we rode his motorcycle to his apartment. And I also don't remember getting from the entrance of the building to into his apartment, but I remember the sex. Even drunk, and slightly out of it, the sex was good, really good. I don't regret losing my virginity to a complete stranger, since he took the appropriate precautions for safe sex, but I regretted that I didn't do this sober. God, it would've been even more amazing if I had been sober. Oh well…

---

Opening my lids a crack, I wince, groaning from the pain. My head was pounding so loudly, and it was so damn bright. Closing my eyes tightly, I fling one of my arms over my eyes, but the pain from this infernal light wouldn't lessen. I wanted to die right here and now, every part of my body sensitive, seething. Why do I ache so?

"Roxas?" The voice was just a whisper, but it sounded like he was yelling right in my ear. I groaned again, rolling away from him, hoping he would go away, the burning light as well. "Sorry." The voice grew softer, and I was grateful. Now if only the brightness of that light would do the same. I think he notices my discomfort. "Is it the lights?" I tell him yes, but it comes out as some incoherent mumbling and more groaning. "Okay, give me a sec." The weight on the bed lessens, and I realize, now that he's off the bed, that he had been on the bed the whole time.

Within a few minutes the room had become considerably darker, but the light was still just too bright. The increasing weight around me tells me that he's back on the bed, right beside me. I feel his sinewy hands grab a hold of my biceps and, being too weak and disoriented to fight back, he pulls me up, leaning me against the headboard of his bed. I want to slump as far as I can, but the position he placed me in makes it extremely difficult without injuring myself. It was aggravating. I felt like crying, but because my eyes were shut so tightly, not a tear would be able to escape them.

Then, and I was thanking him vehemently, he tentatively placed something on the bridge of my nose. When I felt something on my ears, I realized he placed glasses on my face, most likely sunglasses. Warily, I crack open one of my eyes, and thankfully, to my extreme pleasure, I could keep my eyes open with only the throbbing from my temples: the light wasn't bothering me as much now.

Now being able to see, I get a bearing of my surroundings before I was gonna look at the bartender. It was your regular bedroom with all the accessories (dresser, closet, desk), though it was bathed in a copper hue, due to the sunglasses. I kind of liked the affect. I guess he must have sensed that I was no longer in an incredible amount of pain, and that's why he shifted around, so he was facing me. I didn't even get a good look at him before he shoved a glass of bubbly water in my face, obscuring my view of him.

Taking the glass from his hand, I glanced down at it before mumbling, "What is it?" The question was more to myself, but I was glad when he replied. "The strongest painkillers I own in club soda."

I peer up from the glass, my blue eyes widening slightly when I finally get a good look at him. Even with the copper hue of the sunglasses skewing with his appearance, the bartender was gorgeous. Shirtless, his long, lean body was gracefully lithe, and he was attractively thin, nothing about his tall body gangly. His hair was a blast of spikes, slightly rumpled from sleep (and maybe sex), and I couldn't tell, but I think his hair was probably red. And even through the sunglasses, his eyes were a stunning green, piercing right through me. I only vaguely noticed the dark diamond tattoos, one beneath each eye, almost like tears.

It takes me a few tries to find my voice, awe stricken by his appearance. My body beginning to move again, I manage to give him a weak smile, the action causing my temples to slightly ache more. "My hero," I faintly say, before downing the glass in three long chugs. He takes my glass with a relieved, and laughing, smile. When he returned, he just leaned against the doorway, waving my cellphone in his hand. Oh god, my brother!

He must've known what I had been thinking for he spoke. "Your brother text messaged you about a half an hour ago." I feel a sickening feeling grow in the bottom of my stomach. "His message said that he and friends are at a motel with a few of the strippers, and that they're recovering from massive hangovers. Worse than yours. He said that he probably wouldn't be home until the sun sets." I sigh in relief, and he gives me a knowing, mocking smirk. I don't care if he thinks my situation is funny.

Even though I don't care, I still flip him the bird. He just laughs. My smile grows, the painkillers kicking in fully, mellowing out the pain. Soon, I won't even need these sunglasses. Then, before I knew it, he had stalked up to the bed, crawling overtop of me. His face was nearly inches from mine, and I was drowning in his vibrant green eyes. Unable to stop myself, I whisper, "you're gorgeous." He leans back only somewhat, just enough for me to see his whole face. He is grinning, and a soft rumble emits from his throat. "I would hope so, you only told me that about a hundred times last night."

Confused, and a little astonished at myself, vaguely wondering how I couldn't remember that part, I didn't realize he was carefully taking off the sunglasses before it was too late. Without the barrier, I was completely lost in his eyes, especially when he leaned in, out foreheads lightly pressed against each other. "Tell me you remember the sex." Though the statement was a question, there was an unwavering amount of amusement in his voice. I dumbly nodded my head, causing our foreheads to rub against the other.

"Good." Then, he kissed me.

It was only a peck, but it surprised me. He grinned when he saw my agape mouth and wide eyes. "C'mon, we did so much more than that," he reminded, before capturing my lips in another kiss. I was ready this time, and happily returned the kiss. I wrapped my arms around his neck when he deepened it, just before one of his arms took a hold of my waist, the hand resting on the dip in my back, as he positioned us so I was straddling his hips, our chests flushed together, the blanket barely covering me. His other hand begins to trail down my back, before it cups my left cheek, giving it a playful squeeze.

Realizing I'm naked, I push away from him. His hold tightens on me, so I can't move farther away, but he only stops me, not bringing me closer once more. He stares at me beneath half lowered eyelids, and I stare back, slightly peeved and flustered. "What now?" he asks, his hand that was cupping my cheek now tracing circles at the base of my spine. It was really soothing. Trying not to soften to his ministrations, I state "I'm naked!" quite indignantly.

Sighing, he gives my neck a small nip, asking, "So?" I clench my teeth, to stop the gasp slipping past my lips. He knew that spot would affect me so. Just as I was to reply, he re-enforced his grip, yanking me back so quickly that I let out a small squeak, much to my embarrassment. I tried to regain my dignity, but we were pressed together so hard that it took all my willpower to keep myself from moaning from the pleasure of our proximity. "It's not like I haven't seen you before," he reminded, nipping a path up my neck, starting at the place he had nipped me earlier. I felt the stirrings of arousal from both of us.

"Stop!" I managed to weakly mutter, trying to push myself away from him. Sighing, he grabs tightly onto my chin, forcing me to face him: eye-to-eye. I tried my hardest to not drown in his eyes again. "Look, you don't need to be home 'til, at the latest, dusk. We have time for at least another go," he said frankly. Brows furrowing, I glance to the window. "What time is it?"

"Almost noon."

I was surprised; who could believe I'd wake up this early after a night of sex and drunkenness? Returning my gaze back to him, he lets go of my chin, the hand moving to gently grip my roots. Leaning in he says, "You were amazing when you were drunk, so I'd imagined that having sex with you sober would be even better. So, I want to have sex with you once when you're sober." He then swoops in for another kiss, and I didn't resist, though there was a question on my mind.

Leaning forward, he pushes me down back on the bed, our bodies still meshed together. When we part, I ask the question on my mind. "But I'm hung over. That's not sober." He smiles, his hand that isn't in my hair rubbing up and down on my side. "Do you feel hung over?" he asks. I pause, thinking, my brows furrowing once more in confusion. Now that he mentioned it…

"Well, no. How?" I know I took some painkillers, but that shouldn't have cleared the pain so easily. He inclines his head, leaving a trail of soft kisses on my jaw. Tilting his head back, so I can see it again, his knowing smile grows into one of mischievous, knowing glee.

"My friend works at a pharmaceutical research facility. There's this new kind of painkillers that comes out in a few months that can clear, to a certain amount, hangovers. Luckily I had some huh?" he replied, his hand that had been stroking my side now running down my chest, going steadily lower. "Oh," I numbly whispered, as his fingers brushed against my obvious interest in this situation.

Taking a hold of it, he asked, pushing against my body, "do you remember my name?" He then squeezed, hard. Moaning and gasping at the same time, my fingernails dug into his shoulders, my body arcing into his, I managed to cry out one word, "Axel."

"Good," he breathed against my lips, before ensnaring my lips in a scorching kiss. He squeezed again.

Damn.

End.

Angel of the Fallen Stars