Corrupt Me

If, on Friday morning, someone had said to me that I would be resting next to a sleeping, half-naked Micah after I just gave him a blowjob while drunk at a party that night, I would have laughed in their face and called them a fucking idiot. But that’s what happened. In the back of my mind, I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea when it was happening. I mean, it was Micah’s first time, and he was drunk, also for the first time. But it was also his suggestion for us to do something in the first place, and he clearly wanted to do it, if the way that he was writhing and moaning underneath me was anything to go by. Plus the fact that he said that he did was a good indicator. And so, I gave him what he wanted and worked hard to give him the best blowjob I possibly could.

I’ve been told on many occasions I’m good at giving head, and when I’ve been drinking, I happen to enjoy it. Despite being a pretty dominant personality normally, in the bedroom I’m versatile. I’m not a dominant or a submissive, a top or a bottom. I’m both and neither at the same time. Sometimes I just like to be taken control of and other times I want to be the one fucking someone so hard they see stars. And other times again, I want the person I’m with to feel really good, without getting too much out of it myself. But that third option is very rare, and the last time (before the party at least) was with Riley.

I always wanted to please Riley, and he always let me please him. How do you think I got so good at giving head? Yep, because of him “teaching me” to be the best sex doll I could be. I never got to feel what receiving was like with him. He never gave me anything in return, never offered. When we would fool around, he’d fuck my mouth, and then leave me to sort myself out. He’d make me deep throat so often and so deep that tears would leak out of my eyes and I would almost choke. The first time we had sex, he finished first and left me there, bleeding and confused and in pain and, despite all that, almost ready to explode. I had to jerk myself off to finish, find my clothes and get dressed by myself and find my way home. I didn’t even know where I was. The only way I could find my way home was through the GPS app on my phone. And when I finally got home, I cried to my mom. I told her everything that had happened. I told her I felt betrayed and used and dirty. I told her I felt like I wanted to die.

She told me that it was my own fault: if I wasn’t such a disappointing, useless, disgusting homosexual whore, it wouldn’t have happened. I let myself get into that situation. I let Riley fuck me. I let myself love him even though he didn’t deserve it. It was all my fault. So why was I coming crying to her about my own fuck ups?

It didn’t matter to her that I was only 14, or that I was her only child. She never wanted me. I ruined her life. I made her boyfriend disappear. He never wanted kids either. They were 21 and in love, and I changed all that when I came along. They wanted to travel. They wanted to run a successful business together. They wanted the world. And instead they got me. And I’ve known every day of my life that I was the reason my father left, that I was the reason my mother is miserable. I’ve never been let to forget it. When I was younger, I was constantly told that I shouldn’t have even been alive, that I should have been aborted. Hell, I still get told that today. But yet I still tried to please my mother. I still wanted to be her little boy. I wanted her to love me and hold me and patch up my wounds when I fell down. It was wasted hope that she could love me. I received more love and affection from my best friend’s mother than I got from my own. Despite being a pampered housewife, Drew’s mother is the kindest, most generous and genuine adult I’ve ever known and I should have gone to her that night to cry out my hurt instead of to my own mother. Katherine would have cared. She would have held me and let me cry and comforted me. I hoped that the cold-hearted bitch I called ‘Mom’ would have some sort of compassion inside of her when she saw how upset I was and be a mother to me for once in her life, but no. I never got that.

I cut myself that night. It was the first and only time I did, but I did it well. I called Drew at 12:30am, slightly hysterical because my arm wouldn’t stop bleeding and I didn’t know how to make it stop. I knew that cutting myself was a dumb thing to do even at the time I was doing it but I just wanted something to make the emotional pain go away, if just for a little while.

Drew was fantastic. He got his mother to drive him round to my place so that they could take me to the hospital. I can only imagine the look on my mother’s face when she opened the front door at 12:45 to my friend barging past her to head to my bedroom and dragging me out with a bloodied towel wrapped around my forearm. I was slightly dizzy by then from blood loss, but I was still able to walk and talk by myself.

We sat in the waiting room for about two hours. Someone was able to give us some medical pads and a bandage to try to stop the bleeding but by the time I was able to see the doctor, I was pretty out of it. I needed stitches, but no extra blood or anything like that. It turned out I’d nicked a vein but it wasn’t one of the major ones so there wasn’t too much damage, considering. The doctor sent me home with orders of bed rest for a couple of days. He asked me why I hurt myself, and although I didn’t answer the question he asked, my response being that I knew it was stupid and it wouldn’t happen again satisfied him enough to let me go home. I’d already talked enough about why I cut myself to Drew and Katherine. I told them the truth and that’s the reason why Drew hates Riley and has absolutely no respect for my mother to this day.

On the way home from the hospital, I sat in the backseat of the car next to Drew. I asked him to promise me to forget about my momentary lapse of judgement. I didn’t want him (or anyone else, for that matter) to see me as some sort of mental case or someone who needs to be protected from the big, bad world out there. He said that he would never forget, but promised not to talk about it, and that was that. We haven’t ever talked about my trip to the hospital or the very faded scar on my arm. I’m lucky I’m a fast healer, in more ways than one.

I wanted to forget about that night completely. I threw myself into the physical aspects of my shitty relationship with Riley. I pretended that him leaving me the night I lost my virginity didn’t hurt me more than the actual sex hurt. I pretended that he noticed and cared that my arm was bandaged the next time he saw me, and that when the bandage came off, the scar he saw made him cry in anguish that his boyfriend had hurt himself deliberately. I pretended that he loved me, like I loved him.

And after we broke up when he went to jail? I slept around. I’d find my way into the pants of almost everyone I wanted. I’d go out to clubs, get drunk and bring guys home just to annoy my mother. I wanted a reaction from her, anything. I never got one. I stopped caring about her, about anyone really, except my few friends. I became a hard shell. An asshole. A slut. The so-called Devil in Disguise.

Physically, my scar is hardly visible now, which is probably why Micah has never noticed it even though I constantly wear short sleeves. Braden and Rochelle know about what I did, but they don’t know the reason why and I plan to keep it that way. I’m not sure I even want Micah to know, to be honest, but I know I’ll have to tell him if it ever gets brought up or if he notices the scar. He cried when I told him about Riley in the empty classroom the day I told him I loved him, but I deliberately didn’t go into any detail. I didn’t want to upset him more than I already had that day.

***

I didn’t sleep after Micah and I had finished fooling around. He had passed out not long after I said to him, “I fucking love you so much, baby”. I don’t think he heard what I said, but he didn’t really need to. Hopefully he already knew that before.

I watched him as he slept. He was breathing deeply, his bare chest rising and falling slowly. I watched a few strands of hair that were covering his face move slightly with each breath. He looked so gorgeous. Angelic, really. His face was so peaceful compared to only a few minutes prior, where his expression was full of lust and need. God, and his body. So skinny and pale, but so delectable. I could look at his body all day long and never tire of it.

It’s kind of funny how, when I first met him, I wanted him because he’s gorgeous. I didn’t know him. I didn’t care to know him; I just wanted to get in his pants. I wanted to fuck him and then move on. That was the kind of person I was before I met him. After Riley, I didn’t want anything to do with relationships. I was done with them. “They never work out,” I’d tell myself. “You’ll get fucked over again.” So I didn’t bother trying.

I wasn’t going to bother with Micah either. I really wasn’t. He was hot; I was going to fuck him. That would have been the end of the story if I hadn’t actually gotten to know him and he hadn’t treated me like an actual person, despite what his friends told him about me.

And I fell for him. After spending so long denying that I was capable of feeling love for another human being again, he came in and turned my whole world upside down.

I know that I’ve done the same to his world as well. I can’t imagine him being in the situation with me at the party if I haven’t. He wouldn’t have been open to having a relationship with another guy. He wouldn’t have been at a party like that, getting drunk enough to pass out, half naked, with said other guy. And now look at him.

I smiled as that last thought ran through my head. I was still propped up on my elbow on the bed, watching Micah sleep, which could have come off as a little creepy if he woke up suddenly and saw me smiling at him like a freak. Thankfully he did nothing of the sort and I was free to continue my slightly stalkerish behaviour in peace.

I have no idea how long Micah and I were alone in the spare bedroom at Braden’s house before Rochelle came to find us. It could have been a few hours for all I knew, but I definitely wasn't ready for the night to be over already. I let out a sound that was a cross between a groan and a whine when Rochelle came into the room. I'd left the door unlocked and she didn't bother knocking, probably thinking we were both fast asleep by then.
“Oh, shit! Sorry Angel. I didn't mean to – wait, is he okay?” she said, pointing at Micah's sleeping form.
“Yeah, of course. He just passed out,” I replied, moving away from Micah and doing up my pants, which I had left unbuckled after our little sexy time. My boxers were disgusting but there wasn't much I could do about it. I'd just have to deal with it until I got home. I also picked up my t-shirt from the floor and put that on. Rochelle stood in the doorway, unfazed by my and Micah's nakedness. She's seen way more of me than she's probably ever wanted many times before.
“You'd better wake him up. It's nearly 12 and if you don't want his parents getting suspicious, he'd better be home soon.”
“Fuck, is it that late? Thanks Chelle, I'll get him up now. We’ll be out in a bit,” I said, and she nodded, then left.

I looked back to Micah. He was still fast asleep. I gently took hold of his shoulder and shook him a little bit. He made a bit of a snuffling noise and shifted slightly, but remained asleep.
“Baby? Mics, come on, time to wake up now,” I said quietly, nudging him again, slightly harder this time.
He took in a sharp breath and stirred, his eyelids finally fluttering open. He looked around the room in a daze, no doubt wondering where he was. His eyes found me and they widened significantly.
“Oh, my God,” he whispered as he sat up and started looking around the room.
“Are…are you okay?” I asked, worried about his reaction to waking up like he did.
“I… Yes, of course. I just… Wow,” he said with a small bark of a laugh. “Come here.” He motioned to me to lean towards him, and as I did, one of his hands found the back of my neck and he pulled my head towards his. I captured his lips in a soft kiss, so pleased that he seemed okay with what had happened earlier. I think he wanted to deepen the kiss but I knew that I couldn't let myself get carried away. Micah really needed to get home, and soon, if he was going to avoid getting into trouble. I pulled away slowly while Micah let out a whine. He motioned for me to return to the kiss but instead I leaned away.

“I'm sorry, honey, but we need to get you home. It's late,” I said apologetically.
“How late?”
“Rochelle said it’s nearly midnight.”
“Midnight!?” he squealed. “Shit!” He began looking around the room more frantically; I think to find his clothes, which were scattered on the floor near the bed. Then he stopped suddenly and looked at me with a strange expression. “Wait… Did you say Rochelle said that?”
I nodded, and he dropped his head into his hands, groaning.
“What's wrong?” I asked, confused at his reaction.
“She saw me like this!” he answered, gesturing to his naked torso. “It's embarrassing! And they all probably heard me. Oh God! I can't look at any of them again!”

I chuckled, and he glared at me. “Babe, it's no big deal that they heard you. Trust me; they've all dealt with more than just sex noises from me. And your body’s gorgeous, so no worries there,” I told him honestly. He sighed, rolled his eyes and nodded. He got up from the bed and finally located his clothes. He began to pull on his jeans, a feat that is only just possible when sober, since his jeans are so skin tight they look painted on. Drunk Micah struggled. I think he must have just got his feet through the leg holes when he stumbled and fell onto the bed. He looked shocked for a moment before he giggled at his own temporary stupidity. I was watching in amusement and I couldn’t help but laugh along with him. He looked ridiculous.

Another couple of tries, and Micah’s pants were finally on. His top was easy. We’d taken our shoes off in Braden’s living room, so once Micah was all set, we exited the bedroom and headed back to where everyone else was.

When we entered the room, we were met with an interesting sight. Matt and Jord were fast asleep on the couch, Matt’s head on Jordan’s shoulder. Jake was laying spread-eagled on the floor (also fast asleep), Braden and Rochelle were making out on the love seat and Drew was sitting nonchalantly next to them, smoking what smelled like weed and texting someone, probably one of his many hook-ups. He was the only one who acknowledged mine and Micah’s presence at the doorway of the living room.

He smiled lazily as he looked up. He was definitely high. “Hey, you two, you have fun in there?” he asked, finishing with a smirk in Micah’s direction. My boyfriend went bright red. I rolled my eyes and ignored his question.

“Do you have to smoke that shit inside?” I said, gesturing to the blunt between his fingers. I admit, yes, I’ve done a bit of weed before, but it’s really not my thing. I always feel a bit sick after smoking it so I don’t do it very often. Drew uses a bit more often than I do, but he’s not some big stoner or anything like that. He just uses it occasionally at parties and things.

Drew sighed and put the cigarette down in the ashtray that was sitting on the table in front of him.
“Better?” he asked, rolling his eyes.
“Minutely,” I replied, smirking a little.
“Whatever. How was the sex?”

Micah began coughing violently on his own spit, which made Braden and Rochelle finally stop making out and come up for air.
“Whoa! Micah, dude…” Drew said, eyes wide as he glanced back and forth between Micah and myself.
“We…We didn’t –” Micah gasped out while still coughing up a lung. I gave him a few hard taps on the back and his lungs slowly cleared. He tried to speak again, “We didn’t uh – y’know…”
“We didn’t have sex,” I finished for him.
“Sounded like it,” Drew muttered, then laughed to himself about something that probably wouldn’t have been funny unless you were high.

I turned to Rochelle. “You ready to take us back, Chelle?” I asked and she nodded, disentangling herself from Braden and getting to her feet. When I finally saw Braden’s face, I could tell he was extremely drunk and I briefly wondered how much of the party he would remember in the morning. I waved goodbye to him and to Drew, who gave me the finger and picked up his blunt again with a grin. I shook my head as I followed Rochelle out to the car. Micah held my hand, stumbling a little and needing me to guide him out of the house and to the car without falling in the rose bushes along the driveway. God, he was still so drunk. Such a lightweight. I hoped that his mom wouldn’t see him like that. I knew he had a key so hopefully he could get into his house without causing too much trouble.

The car trip home was quiet. Micah snuggled into my side in the backseat and for a second I thought he’d fallen asleep until I kissed him on the side of his head and he moved his head to smile cutely at me. I placed a soft kiss to his mouth and he sighed in content, before putting his head down on my shoulder once more. He couldn’t stay like that for long, though, as only a few minutes later we arrived at his house. I nudged him upright and helped him out of the car, telling Rochelle that we wouldn’t be too long. Micah and I walked slowly up to his house. He fumbled with his house key, but managed to open the front door without too much struggle. I was practically holding him up by that point, so I decided to take him to his bedroom and tuck him in before I left. I had no idea where his bedroom is so I couldn’t carry him. Keeping him standing was the best I could do.

He began walking down a hallway towards what I assumed was his bedroom. Being dark, I couldn’t see much of his house, but it seemed like a nice place. I think we had almost made it to his room when a voice stopped us suddenly.

“Micah?” the female voice asked.
“Fuck!” I said frantically, then realised that that probably wasn’t going to be the best impression to give to whoever was speaking. A light flicked on and a room was illuminated to the right of us. A girl was standing in the doorway wearing pyjamas and a confused expression.

“G-Georgia? Oh God…” Micah groaned, burying his head into my shoulder. I looked at the girl. I figured she was one of his sisters. She looked a lot like Micah’s other sister Elise, but a bit younger and wearing glasses. She was pretty, in a nerdy sort of way.
“MJ? You okay?” Georgia asked, concerned. “Who’s this?”
“Uhhh… Damn. Um, this i-is Angel. He’s um… my friend?”

Well that sounded convincing. Not.

I took it upon myself to make my own introduction. “I’m Angel. We’re in the same classes at school. We did a biology assignment together.”
“Uh-huh, and why are you in my house at midnight?” she asked, not looking impressed.
“H-He’s helping me,” Micah put in, trying to help me out. “I got um… sick and he’s helping me.”
“Sick. Right. You can stop lying to me now, Micah. You’ve been drinking. I can smell it. Smoking too, apparently. What is up with you lately?”

Micah groaned. “P-please don’t tell Mom and Dad, Georgie. They’ll k-kill me. Please. You’ve covered for Elise before,” he pleaded. “I just got a bit c-carried away…”

She looked at us in silence for a moment, clearly deciding what to do about this whole situation.
“He wasn’t smoking, by the way. That was someone else,” I said, as if that would help her come to a decision.
“Was that someone else you?” she asked accusingly.
“No,” I replied firmly. She nodded once and continued on thinking for a while.
Eventually, she sighed. “Okay, Micah. I won’t tell Mom and Dad. But I won’t cover for you again. You’ve been behaving so strangely lately. It’s like I don’t even know you anymore. We’re all worried, you know.”

Georgia eyed me. It seemed like she wanted to say something about the people Micah’s been hanging out with (i.e. me) being a bad influence or some shit, but decided against it. I was grateful for that, because I don’t think Micah could handle much more interrogation and accusation. He was leaning pretty heavily on me by that point.

There was a moment of silence before I decided to break it. “Well, pleasure to meet you Georgia. Now, can I please take Micah into his room so he can sleep? He’s getting a little heavy.”
“Hey!” he protested quietly. Georgia let out a quiet laugh and I smiled too, subtly squeezing his hip where my hand was resting.
“Yeah, go on then. Mics, remember. Last time I cover for you, okay?” Georgia replied before switching off her bedroom light and disappearing into the darkness. We started walking (stumbling) down the hall again until we arrived at a closed door. Micah opened it and we went inside. His bed was in the middle of the room and I led him to it immediately. He let me take his jeans and shoes off, leaving him in his t-shirt and underwear and by the time I did that, he was almost asleep. He was looking up at me lazily and I smiled softly down at him.

“Sleep well, baby,” I said quietly, leaning down to kiss him.
“Thank you Angel,” he mumbled before passing out. I watched him sleep for a minute or two before I remembered that Rochelle was outside waiting for me. I left his room, quietly closing the door behind me, and found my way out of his house with ease.

Rochelle drove me home in silence. I knew that she was tired but I was grateful that she was willing to be the designated driver for my boyfriend and me. I thanked her with a kiss on the cheek when she dropped me off and headed inside my house. I was so ready to sleep. I hadn’t had a lot to drink but I had enough to make me slightly drowsy. I got changed out of my clothes and soiled boxers and, since I couldn’t be bothered finding something to sleep in, slid into my bed with nothing on.

I’m not gonna lie. I replayed the scene that had happened in Braden’s spare bedroom in my dreams that night.