Some Call It Luc

Finally, I can update this! Thanks for waiting. This is the second part to "Some Call it Luck," so you'll want to read that first if you have not. This is a very long story, slow burn, but it's worth it! (in my opinion). Please enjoy.

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My body freezes.

"Lux called me earlier. She sent me some screenshots she found."

"What."

"I'm sorry, Andy. Holy shit," Charlie says, hands shaky as he slides over his phone.

What?

My eyes drift to the screen despite my brain wanting to shield me from this missile of information. I read the text messages on the screen between Lux and Charlie, as she says to call her back, and that she just found these messages after switching to her iPad for work. I click on the screenshot, and feel my heart pound as I read each one.

ChelZee:

we won't get any time alone :(

DAX:

Of course we will dummy :P I have a plan. Idk if I should tell you now or later though.

ChelZee:

NOWWW babyyyy

DAX:

Got tickets to a big opera. Lux can't resist, but you'll say you hate the idea, and go off alone. She'll livestream the whole thing nd stay behind. Text me that you need help or ur lost, and i'll leave her there for the show.

ChelZee:

Ooh. I love you <3 literally perf

DAX:

Like I'd take u to London and not fuck you while we're here, silly little girl.

I don't really need to, nor do I want to, read any more.

"Oh."

"...Andy?"

"Are they coming back, then?"

Charlie shakes his head. "Lux says she's not going to tell them she knows yet. Are you okay?"

Good question. "It's only the second day of the trip, wow."

Charlie nods, grabbing his own drink, and he begins to chug. "Fuck. This campaign is gonna be hard to make. I'm drinking a lot."

-----------------------

"I'm just sitting in a hotel room eating fucking grapes with curlers in my hair, Charlie," Lux's voice on the speaker sounds raspy. Worn-out. It's 11pm now. Not sure what time it is in London.

"They have some nerve, really," Charlie says. "I'm so sorry, Lux. This is insane. You're going to stay the whole trip?"

"Are you kidding? I'm spending Dax's credit card until it declines over the next five days, then I'm flying home without telling them. Unless you want me to drag Chelsea back."

"Five days is a lot of days," I comment. Lux sighs. "It's Andy, by the way."

"Andy? Oh, hon. How are you holding up?"

"Doing alright," I reply.

"Sounds amazing. I'm going to go eat more

bland food

and watch soap operas. Bye Andy. Charlie."

Lux hangs up.

Charlie's face is nearly sick, and I can tell he's more than pissed off. He's livid. It's worse, because he's almost smiling, and I can hear tiny, crazy, one-off laughs from him between drinks, and then he shakes his head, reverting to anger again.

"What the fuck," he says.

"Six month rule," I explain, taking another sip. "Me. It's a me thing. Don't worry about it."

Charlie blinks at me, and then he takes a large swig. "Explain, Jock."

"My relationships always hit the six month mark. Then something... 'happens,' I guess. It spells doom. I've learned that it... might just be my life."

"...You only date girls for six months," Charlie frowns.

"No, no. I mean... it's hindsight. The coincidence thing."

Charlie nods. "That's why you're acting like you don't care. Guess you saw it coming.

I'm

personally a little fuckin' floored."

I stand up. "Hey, I didn't foresee my girlfriend cheating on me with that coiffed-haired fuck, alright?" I snap. "I'd prefer if it was something like... 'oh, my girlfriend is weirdly religious and I found out after six months' or like... 'she's trying to force me to go vegan'. Hell, I'd take the 'my girlfriend's brother is a porn star' thing. That's what I thought the Six Month Curse was this time anyway."

"I'm

not

a fucking porn star. That is the

craziest

thing I

ever

fucking did and I never did it again. You don't think it spelled doom that you've watched a

homemade

gay porno enough times to recognize me?"

I toss my hands up, speaking softer. "I'm sorry. You're pretty fucking recognizable."

"Because you've wanted to fuck me for five years," Charlie snaps. "Here you are with a girlfriend."

"Didn't you just have a beard a bit ago?"

"I'm

not

gay," Charlie says.

I don't mean to laugh, but indeed, that's what happens. "

You

are what gay looks like in a dictionary."

Charlie flicks his cup at me, and it's just ice and droplets of the last of his drink, but I'm caught off guard as it drips down my face and my chest.

For a moment, we both just stare at each other.

"Holy shit. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Charlie whispers. "Ah... shit. I'm sorry. You're the one who got cheated on. I'm... an idiot."

I rub my face, the sting of ice already going away. "She's your sister. And Dax is your friend."

"Dax is

no longer

any fucking friend of mine. How long has this been going on?" Charlie gasps, smacking his own face with both hands, Home Alone style. "Dax... is Dustin. 'Married guy.' Fucking

idiot,

Chuck what the hell."

It makes sense. I try to get more broken up over it, but just like Charlie, I've decided to drown out my emotions with alcohol. I'm doing a better job, however. Charlie is distraught and disgraced. I try to yank it from within my gut: the disappointment, the sadness, or even shock. At the very least, I should be shocked. I'm not sure why I can't muster up surprise at being cheated on, even by someone who I thought would never do such a thing.

"Wait, what's Dax's real name?" I ask aloud, pondering. What a stupid nickname anyway.

"Daniel I think? I don't know..."

He can have her.

I sit up straight on the couch. What a callous thought. He can have her? How did I come to that conclusion so fast? After feeling so much levity at the sight of Chelsea 48 hours ago or so, now I've essentially accepted betrayal and defeat. This is where I should be possessive and upset. Dax of all people. I actually forgot what he looked like.

"I have the key to Dax's house," Charlie comments, still staring off into the distance. "If it weren't for Lux, I'd trash it. Damn cybertruck..."

I look at him to see how serious he is about this, because his voice sounds like it's a long-lost wish of his. I try to keep up some facade of anger or at least frustration. I try to muster up something, especially given Charlie's obvious anger. I barely feel a thing other than...

Relief.

"The hot tub work?" I ask, hearing my own voice boom louder than I intended. Then I look at the empty bottle of gin. Gin? Why is this Charlie's drink of choice?

"What's wrong with you?" he asks.

"Sorry, didn't mean to yell," I comment, standing up for the first time in a while. I instantly wobble, and my eyes widen. Charlie doesn't seem to catch it, and I straighten out my shirt. "Does it work?"

"Do you even care that you got cheated on?"

"Do you care that we've split a bottle of gin and I'm probably trying not to think about it?" I ask, looking out toward the backyard. "Do people with two bedrooms usually have a pool

and

a hot tub?"

Charlie stares at me for a moment, an exaggeratedly annoyed look on his face. "You have to shower first."

"Roger," I nod, slowly making my way to my room to grab my things. I don't think I brought swim trunks, and I groan to myself. If Charlie weren't so high-maintenance, he'd let me hop in the hot tub with a spare pair of shorts on, but he's Charlie. Though our woodworking journey has been really smooth so far, he is definitely more of a neat freak than I am.

I turn back around to tell him I changed my mind, when I see a drawer. The potential of there being some swim trunks in there, in a size I could squeeze on, was slim to none.

The chance that I fling it open and find something I'm not supposed to see, pretty much 100%. Which is what happens, of course, as I slam it shut and hope the realistic-looking dildo doesn't shift around the bottle of lube or the condoms too much. I thought this was a guest room.

My first thought is that the dildo looks kind of small, no?

I pull open the drawer again, getting a good look at the toy. It's overly "human" colored, a weird tan-pink that could be any race. I'm by no means going to reach in and grab the thing, but I wonder what the point of getting a five inch dildo is, when you can go bigger and better. Not that five inches is

small

, but if you're

buying

something--

Not that bigger is always better, I just figured... given Charlie's history...

I shake my head to snap out of it, snapping the drawer closed, and turn around. Just to jump out of my skin at the sight of Charlie in the doorway. "Shit! Jesus--"

"Snooping?" he asks. I'm just wondering why he lied to me before in front of Dax about his sexuality. Not like I care. I mean,

I

in particular care a little bit, but that was because of his confirmed ability to take two dicks at once, not because he's so damn pretty and soft-looking.

"I-I don't... um..." I end up stupidly glancing at the drawer again. "I don't have trunks. I won't hot tub tonight. It's cool.

Charlie raises a brow. "Are you going to be weird if I tell you I usually go naked because this is my house?" He doesn't give me the chance to respond before walking away. "Up to you. I'm going to bed anyway."

I'm not sure if I automatically expected him to join me. Not sure if the feeling in my chest is disappointment or annoyance. He just suggested I skinny dip in his hot tub. "Hey, Charlie?"

He steps back. "What's up?"

"You don't have to entertain me anymore here. I can find a flight and head out, seriously. It was strange enough before Chelsea cheated. Now I feel like I'm crowding your space... literally for no reason."

Charlie shakes his head. "I only have so much energy to keep telling you that I

want

to finish the dresser, Andy. Seriously. Consider it paying you back for my sister being a dumbass if you think I'm grinding teeth."

This time, he walks away swiftly, and I figure he's going to do what he said he would.

I shower thoroughly, unsure why I feel like he'd judge otherwise. I see the dirt fall off of me from our woodworking day, and scrub a little extra. I give my hair an extra scrub, too, just in case some sawdust got caked into the sweat, which usually happens.

When I'm squeaky clean, I finally make my way to the hot tub.

Floored, when I see the golden wisps of blonde hair, illuminated by the porch light, and a few lights from the pool.

Is he naked?

That's my first thought. Then I realize, of course he is. He told me he would be. He also said he'd be going to bed. So I'm not sure.

I've already committed to opening the door, and the sound has made him tilt his head a bit. I see a wine glass. Still drinking, I suppose.

I didn't realize how hard the alcohol hit me until I was in the shower. Charlie is a trooper.

I approach quietly, but I feel like it's too quiet, so I clear my throat as I sit by the hot tub in my sweats, towel slung over my shoulder. Charlie doesn't look. Do I want him to look? I'm only shirtless...

Get it together, Andy.

"How hot is hot?" I ask. Charlie finally turns my way. "I'm a wimp, alright?"

"Not extremely. You'll be fine," Charlie says solemnly. There's one light in the water, and it doesn't reveal any clear picture of what's beneath the surface, but I can tell that Charlie is indeed nude. As promised. My half-drunken brain wants to convince me that he said that to pique my curiosity. I wonder if he changed his mind about going to bed.

Thinking of me. Seeing him naked. Or maybe...

I shove the thought into the back of my mind, despite my mind telling me that I really,

really

should dedicate a moment to horning out about him to just get it over with. I need to do it when he's not around me. I should just delve into the fantasy. I used to wish I was one of the men in the video starring him. Now...

I could strip off my pants, splash into this hot tub, crush him against the side of it and take him right here. I could drink another two glasses of alcohol and build up to it, flirting with him subtly... I could...

I have to stop myself. I should've gone to bed when I saw him in the hot tub, and came up with an excuse later. I need a moment. To just... let him consume my thoughts.

Not while he's right beside me.

I've mindlessly made my way to the edge of the hot tub, and Charlie sort of makes a show of looking away from me, off past the rustic metal bars of his backyard fence, and into the city night. My time to strip. I quickly kick my pants away, not allowing Young Andy to even think about getting hard while I'm outside the water. Charlie hasn't even warranted an erection yet. He's just

here.

As soon as I'm immersed in the water, a meter or so away, Charlie turns back, sighing out, and relaxing deeper into the heat. I don't want to look like a pussy, so I bear the heat and force my body to get used to it, trying not to clench.

The quiet is eerie. The water splashing accentuates it. "This is nice."

"Good for the muscles. We've been working hard," Charlie sighs, stretching his neck.

I see that there's another glass, empty. I'll pretend not to notice. Everything in me resists my mind going down this dark, obvious path. I just want to know if Charlie is teasing me. If I just ask him about it, would he consider it too far? He is the one who told me not to get in his pants before we even worked on the dresser. Things are different... now that Chelsea cheated.

No. They're not. What am I even talking about?

Charlie wouldn't think about me like that regardless of the circumstance. Whether he knew that I knew about him, whether or not Chelsea cheated on me, it doesn't matter either way. I have no chance. Not that I want one.

He takes a long drink of wine, and sighs out. "Are you etching tomorrow?" he asks. I nod. "I'll help with whatever you need. I'm not great at woodcarving and whittling, but I can work with any measurements."

I'm sure you can. Even eight and a half inches.

"Of course. Thanks again, man."

I'm not sure what I expected, but absolutely nothing has happened that wouldn't happen with any two sane people working on a project together. About forty minutes later, I feel like I could nod off after a glass of wine, and Charlie and I turn away from each other, exiting the hot tub, and going our respective ways to bed.

*-'+*`~ **^~'*

I must've stumbled around in a sleepwalk style mission, as I find myself in the kitchen with a glass of water, thirsty as fuck. The last thing I remember was the room being so hot, I was choking on my own tongue.

The cup of water looks like melted diamonds, an oasis for my dehydrated body. The hot tub, of course, will do that to you.

I chug it down, the drink only lasting for a moment before I'm gasping, filling up the cup again and practically moaning as I quench the craziest thirst of my life. Three cups later, I finally catch my breath.

Then I look down. Is this why? I'm

painfully

hard, sticking straight out in my sweatpants. Would that make someone extra dehydrated? At least light headed.

Suddenly, I feel like I'm being watched, and I close the fridge, all the light in the room disappearing, save for a patch of moon blue from the window. It illuminates the counter, and I swear there's ten bottles of various shooters, beers, and other alcohol, just lit up by the moonlight. Did I drink that?

No, no, it was... him...

I look up, and suddenly, he's stepping right up to me.

"I was wondering what that noise was," he says, voice clear, cutting through the silence. "You okay?"

"Sorry... I got really thirsty... um..." I don't know why on earth I'm looking down, right at the rifle pointed at Charlie's navel from my pants. Charlie looks down too, and he tilts his head.

"Oh."

I'm frozen in place as he just eyes it, not having any particularly strong reaction. Then he looks up at me.

"No wonder you were confused about the fake dick in my room."

"What?"

Even in the dark, he looks impossibly sharp, mysterious... gorgeous. Somehow, I can see every crystalizing shade of his hazel-ish eyes. Even as he says this.

"You're way bigger than that, right?" he asks, voice soft. "

Way

bigger..." Suddenly, his hands slide down as smooth as butter, and he steps close to me. "I know I'm a little drunk but, ha... you're hard to ignore. I didn't want you to stay."

His hand wraps around my cock, and I wonder when I dropped my pants down around my ass in the first place, Charlie's fist barely wrapping around my length as he begins stroking.

"I'm glad I stayed," I admit, and Charlie smiles softly, looking back down.

"It's the biggest one I've

ever

seen, Andy. Are you actually going to fuck me with this?"

"Obviously. That's why you let me stay. You probably wanted me to fuck you before I even told you about the video."

Charlie's hands work around my cock seamlessly, and he nods. "

God

, I can't wait for you to wake up."

"Me neither," moan, dropping my pants.

"Wake

uuuupppp

Andy," he says in a sing-songy voice, and the tiny, drawn out laugh he does tickles at my skin.

"

Fuck

, yes, yes, I'll do it--"

"...

Are

you gonna wake up?" Charlie asks, face suddenly shockingly close to mine, eyes wide, smile in a toothy grin.

I gasp so hard I practically collapse my lungs as I sit up in bed. I look at the clock.

Fucking hell. It's 9:07.

God, what was that dream? My heart beats so hard and fast, I wonder if I actually came on myself for a moment as I look down, and shove my hand into my own pants.

Nope, just stony hard. Sweating enough to fuel an engine. Needing to bust like

crazy.

Hell, the anxiety I have about him almost made the last part of that dream a little scary. I mean, I'm clearly intimidated by Charlie. There's a lot of reasons to be. But I don't want to screw him that bad. I don't! Not enough to warrant such a wild, vivid fantasy.

Quickly, I almost run to the bathroom, put on the sink and the shower, and do the wildest, quickest jerk session I've ever done. The precum and sweat has my hand sliding around with no need for a spit take.

God, all my critiques of porn, and that's what my brain comes up with on its own. We didn't even get very far in the dream.

I end up cumming so hard, I bite my own tongue, drawing blood. I whimper out a pitiful sound as I shoot into the toilet the best I can, and then start peeing immediately after, bringing the sting of tears to my eyes.

"

Fuck,

" I groan, beginning to clean up immediately afterward. Not only am I late, but I'll have to face Charlie after my brain made a mockery of him in my dreams.

I rush into the garage at 9:20-ish to find Charlie munching on orange slices in a comfy chair, playing on his phone. I half expected to be embarrassed to see him having accomplished a wild amount of work for the time I was dozing off--having that

insane

dream--but he hasn't touched anything. Not sure why I'm flattered. He waited.

"Hey," he calls as I stumble in, out of breath. "Sleep good?"

"I'm sorry, shit. You could've woken me up." Don't ask about my sleep right now.

Charlie shakes his head. "I can find ways to entertain myself in my own house, don't worry. Also, I believe in letting people sleep when they need to sleep." He stands up, dusting himself off. "You okay?"

"Yeah of course, why?" I ask.

His face twists up, and he shakes his head. "Geez."

I smack my hands together. "Ah, Chelsea. It doesn't seem real, so." It really doesn't. I kind of keep forgetting what she's doing, remembering every couple hours. "I just want to work on my final, take the videos and pictures I need, and dive into the work."