There was a knock on my door, normal people would go up and answer it to see who it is. I however questioned who was there and why they were showing up without giving me a head's up. Walking over towards the door and look out the peephole, and what I see gives me a shock.
It's him, someone that I have a love-hate relationship with. As in I love to hate him,I really do, but somehow he just turns me on so damned much it's not even funny. It shouldn't be possible. But it is. It's one of the things that annoys me about him, and about me.
Brandon
So I open the door, as usual in my house I'm in a pair of pajama shorts, nothing new since we lived together at one time and we've even fooled around a little bit. "So what do you want?" I ask with a smug tone to my voice.
"Look I know we ended things on...well on a bad note." he begins.
I snort from laughing in his face, "A bad note? Really? You fucked my best friend, after you got done telling me all those sweet things like how I was your man, I was your world, I was your love. Trust me the best thing I ever did was leave you." I try to slam the door in his face but he puts a hand out and holds it open, forcing it to not close. "If you don't want to lose that arm, I suggest you let go of my door."
"Look we really need to talk. I need to clear the air with you." he tried to force himself in the house and I slapped his hand away. "Seriously we need to talk!"
His voice was rising and I knew he was getting angry, which only make me horny. I loved when he got angry during sex, it was the best sex we had. Mmmm just thinking about it...no I so cannot go there. He's an asshole, a two timing whore that doesn't deserve what I can give him. But then why was my cock swelling and my head spinning from remembering the last time we had rough, mad sex?
I mean he was definitely built for it. He was nearly six foot tall compared to my five-seven. He had sandy blonde hair that was spiked up while I had mahogany hair down to the bottom of my shoulder blades, it curled at the end. We were both average athletic built from various extracurricular activities. And we both had sex drives that were through the roof most times and I remembered how we would have marathon sex sessions, sadly though they were never enough to keep either of us down for long.
Finally he decided he couldn't take no for an answer and shoved the door open, it smacked me in the forehead and sent me tumbling to my ass, right on the hardwood floor. I reach up to touch my head and curse loudly, but my vision is hazy and as I try to stand I stumble and fall. He reaches down and grabs my arm to help me up, but dammit if I don't see it differently. I take a swing at him and my right hook connects with his jaw sending him back into the door, closing it and making sure this fight is contained to my living room.
I swear and try to rush him but he just grabs me around the waist and throws me into my couch. I remember now why I always hated sparring with him, fucker was good at Aikido and Jujitsu so he could throw me around like a rag doll using my own momentum against me. "Get the fuck out of my house!" I screamed and he held up his hands in surrender.
"Look Jason I just want to talk. Honestly. That's all."
"Fuck you! And fuck talking!" I picked up a glass from the end table and whipped it at his head. Sadly he ducked and it shattered on the wall behind him. "Just fucking leave or I swear to God I will cut you to ribbons!"
"Jason we both know you can't beat me in a fight. We both know that. So just calm down and let's talk this out like adults, okay?"
I swore under my breath and stalked out of the room and up to my room -our old bedroom- and reached for my short sword I kept there. I loved my swords, I had at least a dozen different ones, and this was a clam shell swept hilt short sword that Brandon -douchebag downstairs- got me for Christmas four years ago. So using it to cut him up seemed appropriate.
I drew the blade and turned to see if he was behind me when I felt him grab my arm and wrench it to the side, he tried to rip the blade from me but I sent a palm at his jaw and connected with enough force to make his head snap back. He backed up a few steps and I raised the sword. "You fucking whore I will fucking kill you!"
I tried to run him through with the blade, but he moved and I sliced the inside of his forearm, he swore and jumped to the side as I raised the blade for another strike. His fist came up and hammered me on the side of my head and knocked me for a loop. The sword slipped from my hands and my legs felt like rubber, before I could collapse fully Brandon reached out and grabbed me by the arm, pulling me to him he held me close and I could smell him. He was still wearing the Old Spice cologne and body wash I bought him the last Valentine's Day we were together.
And fuck if he didn't smell amazing. "W-what the fuck..." my head cleared and I looked up at him and just stared into his eyes. Fucking green pools of calming fucking awesomeness.
"We need to talk." he said again and I just looked at him before swinging at his jaw and connecting again. He dropped me to the ground, hard. And cursed at me. "What the fuck is wrong with you? I just want to talk!"
"The only way you're getting me to talk is if I'm tied up and can't move. And you're so not able to do that."
"Actually..." my eyes went wide and I kicked out at his legs but he dodged me and pulled me up so I was back to chest and put me in the rear naked choke, his favorite from sparring practice. My first thought was he's going to kill me. But he just shushed me and said, "It'll be okay, I promise you'll wake up, and you'll be a little easier to deal with."
As my vision began going gray around the edges, and I knew from the feeling of how my tongue was swelling, that I was going to lala land soon, I tried to fight, even though it would make me pass out sooner. But the last thing I remember before blacking out, the feel of him at my back again, and damn if I didn't feel like I was getting a hard on while he was choking me...
