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Losing Your Cherry	By : Susiebeeca Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Gorillaz Views: 1623 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Gorillaz. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Losing Your Cherry
- 2-basic warnings and disclaimers. No sex here
- 1
- 2
"Hey Russ." Del tossed something at his head. "Think fast!"

Russ turned in time to get hit in the face with something crinkly and soft. It bounced onto his lap, and even in the low light he could see it was pot in a ziploc bag. Del was bounding over to him with a lit lighter in his hand; his shirt was streaked with crumbs and his eyes were the same colour as his tongue.

Russ sighed. "How high are how?"

"About five-foot-seven," Del said, and collapsed on the bed in a fit of gigggles. He tugged Russ' shirt sleeve, grinning, and began to say "Get it? Cause you asked how high, and I said—"

"I get it, Del. It wasn't that funny." He put the TV on mute and turned on a lamp. Del winced, but then became fascinated with how the dust motes were floating in the cone of light against the wall.

"Where'd you get this stuff from?" Russ asked, holding the bag up.

His friend swiped his hand through the dust in the air, and giggled again. "No worries,
man, it's the good shit."

"Last time you said that, I ended up in the emergency room, remember?"

Fumbling in his pocket, Del found a pack of rolling papers and pulled the plastic cover off with his teeth. "Yeah, but that was your own damn fault. You ate like twenty burritos from that freaky-looking street vendor. Remember that?"

He blinked, and looked at the bag again. "Oh. Right. You got me there."

"Damn straight." Del tucked his legs under him and opened the bag, dipping his fingers in the papery leaves. "You gotta have more faith in me, bro. I know my shit."

Russ watched him as he moved into complete focus, carefully lining up the pot and curling the ends of the paper over it. Del's hands were surprisingly delicate for a guy his size; Russ watched the controlled movements of the tapered fingers, the bitten-down nails that slid over the gummy end of the paper, the pink fingertips that pinched the end of the joint and brought it up to his lips.

"I thought Shari was over," Del said as he lit the end.

"She was, but she had to go home and work on her English paper."

Del smirked. "Yeah? Didja get any?"

Russ threw a pillow at him, and Del dodged it. It knocked the joint out of his hand, and he swiped it from the carpet before it could go out. "None of your business," Russ said, smiling.

"Why? You tell me everything else."

He rolled his eyes. "No. She was only over for an hour, and most of that time was just watching TV. She was pretty beat."

"See," Del said, "That's why I don't date white chicks."

Another pillow. "Okay, first of all, she's only half-white. And what does that have to do with anything, anyways?"

Del took a long drag, and blew smoke out the gap in his teeth. He waved his finger for emphasis. "White bitches hold out on you. Asians I don't know about, but black chicks—fuck, they'd do anything. The blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice, you know?"

"You are such a fucking racist."

"Well tell me it isn't true!"

"It isn't," he said firmly. "Shari's been great to me, and it has nothing to do with her being bi-racial."

Del laughed. "I thought you were gonna say something else ther

"Like what?"

"Wouldn't it be great if she was bi-sexual?" He offered the joint to Russ, but he shook his head. "I mean, you could get two chicks at once, right?"

Russ opened a bag of chips. "Threesomes only work in the minds of horny teenage guys."

"And how would you know?" Del asked, reaching into the bag. "Three-ways are fuckin' awesome."

"You talk shit. You've never had one."

"Maybe not," he admitted, "but I've seen enough porn to know they can work."

Russ swatted him with the chip bag. "Oh, right. Porn is about as real as—"

"—As Shari's tits?" He laughed and flailed his arms as Russ wrestled him to the ground. They rolled around grappling for a few minutes before Russ pinned Del to the carpet.

"Take it back," he demanded.

Del hooted and tried to claw his way out. "Never!"

Russ sat down hard on Del's back. "I said, take it back!"

"Okay! I take it back!" He squirmed. "Get off me, you fat fuck, I can't breathe!"

Russ climbed off and sat back on the edge of the bed. "I'll have you know, my good man, that her tits are the real deal."

The joint had been squashed in the scuffle, so Del started to make a new one. "Aah, you can keep ‘em. Anything more than a handful's a waste."

"Really? What kind of girl are you into? Or are two X chromosomes and a heartbeat the only things you look for?"

Del flipped him off. "Oh, ha ha. Despite what you might think, I won't go for just anyone." He stretched out on the mattress, and smiled lazily. "I like ‘em coal-black with tiny tits. Just like Jenny—remember her?"

"The one you lost your cherry to?"

"Yeeeah," he drawled. "God, she was awesome." He then rubbed Russ' side with his foot. "Shari was your first, right?"

"Yeah." He smiled at the memory of that first ecstatic fumble in the school parking lot.

"You've been together forever. She must be a good fuck." Del laughed. "Or maybe you just don't have anything to compare it to."

"Piss off, Del."

"No, really, is she good to you?"

Their eyes met—Del's were wavering a little—and Russ smiled. He put his hand in Del's dreads and ruffled them. "Don't worry. She's good to me."

Del leaned into Russ' palm and sighed contentedly. "How good?"

"Um... " Russ pulled his shirt off and turned around to show Del the scarred scratch marks on his back. "She bites," he said, "and—man!—she just goes nuts. I never told you, but she was the reason I threw my back out last semester."

Del laughed and slapped him between the shoulder blades. "Fuck yeah! Man, if you were into it, I'd get in bed with you two any time."

There were three seconds where all Russ could hear was his heart. He swallowed heavily and eyed Del, who looked a little embarrassed and was puffing on the joint.

"You, uh, didn't mean to say that, did you, Del?"

"Water under the bridge," he answered. "Just forget it. All I meant was you're a cute couple." He draped his arm around Russ' broad shoulders and his thumb brushed against Russ' nipple. It hardened to a point, and Russ huffed and pushed Del's arm off.

"But you picked, like, the most cliched spot to lose your virginity," Del went on. "I mean, the back seat of your brother's car?"

"Front seat."

"What?"

"It was in the front seat," Russ repeated. "The damn steering wheel was jamming in my ass the whole time."

They both laughed, and Russ relaxed a little. The room was filling with the smoke, so he leaned over to open a window.

Del absently scratched his crotch. "My first time was after school, with Jen pushed up against her locker. I didn't even get to finish, cause the football team came out of the gym a minute after we started."

"I know, you moron," Russ said, "I haven't forgotten that story since the last time you told me. Or the time before that. Or the time before that—"

He ducked as Del's shoe flew by his head. "You've got no aim," he said, laughing.

"That's not what Jenny said," Del answered.

"How did I know you were gonna say that?"

"You know me too well." Del grinned and offered the sagging joint again. Russ hesitated a moment, but ended up taking it.

"Remember your first blow job?" Del asked

"No."

Del blinked, his gummy eyelids sticking together. "What?"

"I said no." Russ sucked out the last few mouthfuls and handed the roach back to Del, who was already rolling a fresh one.

"No you don't remember, or no you've never had one?"

"Uh..." Russ shrugged. "The second."

Del stopped dead, and the flaky leaves fell out the unrolled end of paper. "Dude, I was joking. You shittin me?"

"I'm serious." Taking the plastic bag off Del's lap, Russ gathered up the opened joint and pinched it shut. With it in his teeth, he cupped his hand around the lighter and tried to ignore Del's eyes boring into him.

"You mean, Shari never—"

"No, she isn't into that." He took a long drag, and the burning smoke scratched down his throat. Del watched him blow wisps out his nostrils, and reached for the joint, but Russ kept it out of his reach.

"How does she know she don't like it?"

Russ pulled on it again. "Her first boyfriend was a real jackass and made her do it all the time. She hated it, so she doesn't want to do it now." He blew a smoke ring, which slowly looped above them and dissipated.

"Fuck," Del said, and closed his eyes. "I always dug her, you know? —I never knew she was such a fucking selfish bitch."

Russ frowned. "Don't call her that."

"Well she is," he snorted. "You give a little, you get a little, right?"

"It's not like that, Del... " The cigarette was half-spent and turning wet in his mouth; he inhaled deeply and pushed it around his lips with his tongue.

"The fuck are you talking about?" Del swatted Russ' shoulder. "And are you gonna pass it or what?"

He flicked the tip out the open window. "I think you've had enough for now."

"What are you, my fuckin mother? It's my fuckin' dime bag, I'm gonna have as much as I fuckin' want."

"Have you noticed how limited your vocabulary gets when you're stoned?"

"Go to hell. Not all of us wanna talk like we swallowed a fuckin' dictionary."

The rolling papers had scattered over the floor. Del picked one up and made a lopsided doobie, half of the leaves poking out through rips.

"For God's sake, Del, you're too stoned to even roll a joint properly."

"I know you got a bong ‘round here somewhere..." He lay on his belly and reached under the bed, fumbling through Playboys and discarded socks, his ass wagging in the air. His pants, clearly four sizes too big, were perched precariously on his hipbones; then the idea hit Russ, and before he could stop himself, he grabbed Del's back pockets and pulled his jeans down to his ankles.

Del yelped and jumped up, banging his head on the bedframe. Russ sat back, laughing, as Del emerged covered in dust and rubbing his head.

"That wasn't funny!" he whined, trying to wiggle back into his pants. He hopped two steps to the right, hit the wall, and fell. "I can't . . . fucking pants . . . won't get on . . . "

He gave up and kicked the jeans aside, and leaned against the wall in his boxers. His knees were spread, and Russ' eyes darted down to the bulge in the front, outlined through the clingy material. His face heated and he looked away.

"You're a bitch, you know that?" Del muttered, his eyelids shut.

Russ gently opened them to see how pink his eyes had become. "How much did you have before you came over?"

"A nickel and a half a bottle of something at Kyle's. I dunno." Del pushed Russ' hand away and reached underneath him; he'd been sitting on the bong.

Russ raised an eyebrow. "And you willingly drank something he gave you?"

"Yeah, why not? He's a good guy. Gimme the..." He pointed at the crumpled Doritos bag. "...you know, the ... those things."

"He may be a good guy, but he cuts his shit with cattle tranquilizers and God knows what else." Russ tossed the bag over to Del, who missed, and the chips tumbled out over his legs. "I wouldn't take stuff that's come anywhere near him."

He stuffed a handful of chips into his mouth, and slowly licked the orange scuzz off the pads of his fingers. "Huh. There's a lot of shit you wouldn't do."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." Del picked up the bong and the weed and dumped them in Russ' lap. "Fill this thing for me, willya?"

"No, you've had enough. Come on, you're really out of it."

He chuckled and shook his head. "Fuck. You'd be a lot more relaxed if you were gettin' some."

"Shari and I have plenty of sex," he said, biting back his angrier retort. The weed was starting to kick in, and he could feel the pleasant numbness tingling in his fingertips.

"Yeah, but not the good stuff." Del stretched and started to fill the bong himself. "You're gettin' the raw end of the deal, bro."

"Fuck off! Our relationship is just fine."

"But she won't suck your dick."

"So?"

"So you eat her pussy out, dontcha?"

Despite himself, Russ went red. "Well, yeah, but... "

Flicking the lighter, Del brought the bong up to his mouth and said "And she won't return the favour. She's a fucking bitch."

A big, hard hand clapped over his and pulled the bong away. "For the last time, don't call her that."

"You can stand up for her all you want," Del said, "but it's not gonna change the fact that she's a fucking bit—"

The last word cut off when Russ shoved him back against the wall. Del choked for a second, trying to suck in air, and then he looked up, red-eyed, at what seemed to be a huge hulking shadow in front of him. The gears in his mind were agonizingly creaking, and for some reason he couldn't figure out what had just happened. He'd been hit. He'd been struck. He had to defend himself...

Del grabbed Russ' head and sunk his teeth into the earlobe. Russ swore and shook him off, but Del was up in his face again, pounding his fists into Russ' stomach. He got socked hard across his face, and in retaliation he threw himself at Russ, his thrashing arms all knuckles and nails. He made a gash across Russ' forehead, and beads of blood rose up in the wells; Russ touched it, looked at his fingers, and his mouth dropped open in shock.

"I'm bleeding, you—you—" He spluttered and wiped the blood off on his pants.

Del blotted his nose with his sleeve, smearing the blood. "So am I, motherfucker."

Then hands were at Del's throat and he couldn't breathe, so he kicked upwards several times before hitting something soft. The hands choking him grew weak, and they fell off each other, panting.

"She's... not...a bitch," Russ heaved.

Del sneered. "You're pussy-whipped."

"You're a dickweed."

"Fag."

"Asshole."

"You fuckin' fight dirty."

"I fight dirty? You're the one scratching and biting. Not to mention you knocked the wind out of me," Russ said. He was clutching his stomach.

Del rubbed his neck. "Yeah, well, you tried to strangle me."

"I guess we're even."

"You're still pussy-whipped."

Russ got up and smoothed his clothes out. "Well, what am I supposed to do? Tie her down and rape her face?"

"No. Dump the bitch."

"Why?"

With his shirt sleeve, Del dabbed the blood off Russ' forehead. "Every time your mouth goes south, so should hers."

"Relationships aren't a game of tit-for-tat," he said. "I know you think of dating in terms of scoring points, but it doesn't always work that way. I mean, if a girl agrees to have anal sex with you, it doesn't mean that to even things out she's gonna strap on a dildo and bend you over, right?"

Del snickered. "You been watching some fucked-up porn or what?"

Russ touched the dark finger marks on Del's neck. "Sorry if I hurt you."

"Whatever, man. It's cool." And then he put his hand on Russ' and squeezed the fingers under his palm.

They leaned against each other, both a little woozy, and slumped down to the floor, half-sitting and half-lying. Their foreheads rested together, Del's thick dreads brushing Russ' cheeks. Russ could feel the three points of contact—his knee on Del's shin, their faces, and Del's hand on his shoulder—like tiny energy centres, and the air was swirling around him so closely that he could almost see the shimmering sparks around their touching skin.

He bit his lip when a light kiss pressed on his temple. "You could never hurt me," Del said under his breath, right at Russ' ear.

They pulled apart. Then something caught Russ' eye. "Hey, look what I found!" He blew the dust off something small and wrinkled, and handed it to Del for inspection. It was half a
joint, mostly mashed up but still usable.

"Way to go, buddy," Del said. "Let's finish that one before we hit the bong again."

As Russ lit the snuffed-out end, he felt Del's thigh press against his. His friend cleared his throat a few times and muttered "If a bitch ever held out on me, I'd fuckin—"

"For Christ's sake, would you let that drop already?" Russ rubbed the bridge of his nose. "God. There isn't enough pot in the world to make you a decent human being."

"Well maybe I don't wanna be a decent human being," he snapped, and handed Russ the smoking joint. "Nice guys get the shit end of the stick."

Russ seeped at the cigarette. "Not all the time, they don't."

"You gotta be tougher than that if you wanna deal with chicks." Del shivered and pulled his elbows, drawing his arms around him. "Fucking hell. I'm so tired of putting up with women and their shit."

He hid his head in his arms and sighed. Russ watched him, not quite sure of what point he was trying not to get across. "I..uh...I thought you liked girls."

"Yeah, but to a point!" He threw his arms up. "Wah wah wah, men suck, tampons, cramps, put on a condom, you don't fulfill me, I was faking it. And that's just dating—what about getting married? Who the hell needs to put up with that for the rest of their lives?"

"So be a bachelor." His mind was putting together another scenario, but he was furtively and desperately trying not to think about it. If he didn't think about it, maybe it—maybe it wouldn't not happen—Russ grimaced. It sounded loopy, but it did make a jagged sort of sense to his drugged brain.

And then he said it. "You ever think about—you know—with a guy?" Del asked, leaning forward.

Little explosions went off inside Russ' head, and he chewed on his tongue to keep from making noise. He handed Del the roach and shrugged. "Everyone thinks about it one time or another."

Popping open a safety pin from his pants, Del skewered the roach and brought it up to hip lips. He inhaled, the paper burning down to the tip; then he turned, grabbed Russ by the jaw, and pressed their mouths together. Russ gasped, and Del blew the smoke down his throat.

They lingered, lips touching, as the smoke curled out of Russ' mouth and blended into the air. "Warn me before you do that next time," he said finally, and leaned away.

Del opened a coke. "No, I mean really think about them. Like a girl."

"N-no," Russ said. "Yes. I don't know." He wiped his eyes, which had become sore and sticky.

Del looked at the burnt-down tip. "I think this is spent. Hand me the bong?"

As he bent down and fumbled for it, Russ' crotch pressed against his stomach, and he dimly realized that he was hard. He figured that his pants were probably loose enough that Del, in his incoherent state, wouldn't notice it, but pulled a cushion over his lap just to be sure.

"Oh, fuck, that's weird," Del said. "I got a boner."

"Charming." Russ sealed his mouth around the top of the bong, and Del watched him draw the white smoke up out of the water. Their faces were so close that he could catch the stray wisps in his mouth. "We've been talking about sex for the past half-hour. It's no wonder."

Del's hand moved up Russ' thigh, and pushed the pillow off. "Looks like you got one too," he said, and lightly touched the front of his pants. Russ' eyes went down to where Del's fingers were resting, and then slowly looked back up to meet his gaze.

"Yeah, so?"

Del smiled, and flashed his teeth. "Nothing," he said, and let his head flop back on the mattress. His hand hadn't left.

Russ put the bong down and turned to lean on his side, facing his friend. The hand on his crotch had begun to squeeze slightly; there was a haze in the air, and Russ' eyes were weak, but nothing that was happening felt wrong. He closed his eyes and the ground underneath him swayed idly back and forth, and his head came to rest on the bed, an inch away from Del's nose. His breath touched Russ' face in little spurts.

"You smell good," Russ said. He leaned closer, so that the tips of their noses were touching, and took in a deep breath of Del's scent, the pot-tinged sweetness with a spicy undertone of... was that the Doritos?

"So do you," Del answered. He pecked Russ' mouth. "Taste good, too."

They stared at each other for a second, and the nothing made sense—Russ found his friend wrapped tightly in his arms, and their mouths were pressed together, wet and opened. Del's tonuge was slicked against the roof of his mouth and he was grasping big handfuls of Russ' stomach, and they were both moaning.

Russ found his hand rubbing Del's erection, which slipped around under his boxers; he found the feeling fascinating, and tried to get a firm hold on the rubbery flesh as Del whimpered and began to mutter things in his ear. They tumbled around on the floor together, breathing hard and it was like they were wrestling again, only this time their hands were sliding under their clothes and the air seemed incredibly sweet and dense.

Del finally pulled away, wiped his mouth, and picked up the bong again like nothing had happened. And for a minute Russ wasn't sure if it had, until Del turned to him and made a kissing sound.

"That was kind of weird," he said. "Did we really just... make out?"

Russ touched his lips. "I think so." I hope so.

"Oh. That's... that's cool, I guess." He picked the ash out of the bowl, and then looked up at Russ with an uncharacteristic shyness. "You're not a bad kisser, bro."

"Neither are you."

Their hands touched, and Russ stroked his finger down the ridges of Del's knuckles. He followed the pattern of hairs up his arm, and over the muscles on his shoulder, then up to his neck; Russ put his mouth on the worm-like vein by Del's throat and sucked gently.

"Mm," Del said, and ran his hands over Russ' chest. They rocked against each other, and Russ pressed his friend into the comforter. Russ caught Del's lips in his teeth and pulled on them tenderly; he could feel Del's hands below his belt, clutching his round cheeks and circling round to the front where he could access Russ' fly.

"Russel," Del said, his eyelids drooping, "d'you wanna... uh... " He put a hand over his mouth and laughed.

Russ swept a dread off Del's forehead. "What is it?"

Del touched his fly and began to pull it down. "D'you...wanna know what...know what a blowjob feels like?"

Something told Russ that he should be able to read meaning into what Del had said, but the whole scene felt very surreal to him, like he was watching it from the wrong end of a telescope. "Uh...what do you mean?"

"Let me show you," he said quietly. He unbuttoned Russ' pants and let them fall to his knees, then took hold of his member through the cotton boxers and tugged it up and down. Russ gasped and bit his hand.

"You might want to lay down for this," Del said, and guided Russ onto his back.

Somewhere outside there was music playing, and it drifted in through the window as Del pulled Russ' boxers off, staring in admiration at the length laid bare in front of him. He touched it gingerly, and stroked his fingertips down the ridge, which made a tear appear at the tip.

"Please, Del," Russ breathed. The warm hands were everywhere on him, and then the hot breath on his head turned into a delicious, wet clasp that enveloped the top four inches and began to creep lower.

"Oh. Oh Jesus, yes!" He grabbed Del's shoulders and kneaded them as he rocked his hips. He'd never felt anything like this before, the slippery suction, the hands gripping his hips, and the way Del's nose bumped against his stomach each time his head bobbed down. Del was sucking his cock. He couldn't believe it.

Del's face was loving and patient as he worked the shaft from the tip to the hilt, and his hands began massaging little circles into Russ' flesh. He ran the pad of his tonuge around the veins, down to the fuzzy base, around the mounds below. Russ moaned and patted Del on the head, trying to get him to look up.

"Stop. Del, come on, stop."

He looked up, concerned. "What, am I hurting you?"

Russ shook his head. "No, no, I just—I don't want—" He smiled feebly. "I don't want you to be—uh—doing this, and me just laying here—"

"Oh, I get it." Del sat up, turned around, and scootched in beside Russ so that their feet were hanging off opposite ends of the mattress. "That better?"

"Yeah," he said, and nuzzled his nose into Del's thigh muscles. "Yeah...'sgood..."

He parted the folds of cloth and let Del's erection spring out into his palm. It smelled hot and musky, and Russ was hit with a memory of thumbing through old books in his grandmother's attic when he was a kid, in the blistering heat of July. If you could only see me now, Granny, he thought, and snorted.

Del looked up. "What's funny?"

Russ tried to stop giggling, but everything had become irresistibly absurd. "It's just—" he panted, "I mean—I just thought of my grandmother and—" His voice cracked, and he fell off the bed laughing.

He stopped when a pillow clubbed him hard in the face. He pulled it aside to see Del storming out, his pants and the bong under his arm.

"Oh shit," Russ said, and scrambled to his feet. Then he tripped over his pants around his ankles, and banged his chin against the carpet; he skidded a bit and stood up shakily, pulling his pants up.

"Del, wait," he called after the figure disappearing down the hallway. Russ zipped his fly and then ran into the hall after his friend. Del was leaning against the kitchen counter, propped up on his elbow, and when Russ got closer, he saw that Del's face was blotchy and covered in sweat.

"I'm sorry," Russ said, and put his arms around Del from behind. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

Del turned around and put his head on Russ shoulder. "I'm sucking you off and you laugh at my cock. What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

Russ stroked his hair. "Ssshh. You've had too much. Your face is all pasty."

Muffled against Russ' shirt, Del said "I thought that's what you liked."

"Funny as ever." Russ kissed the shell of his ear gently. "I wasn't laughing at you, man, I was..." He stopped. "I don't know."

"You were what?"

He stopped. "Uh...scared, I guess."

Del pulled away to look at him quizzically. "The hell are you talking about?

Fingering the cold counter top, Russ looked away and began. "Well...what if this goes wrong? What if you...you know...get freaked out and never want to talk to me again? I don't wanna risk it. I don't know. I was just hoping this would happen for so long, and then it just...did. I didn't know what to do."

Shut up, shut up, shut up! he screamed at himself, but it kept right on coming, falling out of his mouth like long strings of drool. "I fell in love with you that first time we hung out together, at that party in seventh grade, remember? I had no clue what was going on. You just seemed...fucking perfect for me, and I...I couldn't stop thinking about it. And you had to be such a homophobic jerk all those years that I never wanted to tell you, and..." It sputtered out. He had nothing left in his head. "And...I don't know." Russ touched his face. "I don't know a thing."

The song had changed outside, and now the strains of No Woman No Cry came in from the bedroom window. Del was gaping, and finally Russ couldn't take it anymore and turned to go back into the bedroom, a painful clutch in his chest.

He closed the window, pinching off the flow of music. Kicking the crushed chips off his comforter, Russ lay down on his bed and stared at the ceiling until the water stains clouded and melted into one another.

The mattress groaned and dipped aweigweight settled next to him. Russ turned his head to see Del lying next to him and petting his arm.

They wordlessly moved closer together, and their mouths opened to each other. Russ' hand went back between Del's legs, and they undressed between long, sucking kisses; Russ ran his hands over Del's torso, and then down to cup his sac.

Flexing his thighs, Del moaned and said "Lie on your back, babe. I wanna try it that way."

Russ sighed as the warm weight of his friend eased down on top of him, the sticky hands caressing his thighs and—yes—the heat of that mouth. His hands rested on Del's ass, with just the tips of his fingers touching the cleft; he applied a light pressure and brought his hips down to his mouth.

Del gasped when Russ' tongue touched him, circled him, and then pulled back to let him slide entirely into Russ' mouth. Clinging to each other, they rocked back and forth in the rumple of sheets, drowning out the buzz from outside with sqealing bedsprings and soft moans. Their pumping picked up pace slowly, and as Del's nails dug into Russ' legs, the headboard began to pound against the wall along with their growing shouts and gasps.

The slippery hips broke free from Russ' grasp and Del pulled out just in time; Russ watched as he groaned and came, hitting both of their stomachs with hot droplets. Del paused for a minute, panting, and then grasped Russ with both hands and his teeth and pulled at him til he came, bucking his hips and yelling.

They lay like that, their stomachs rising and falling against one another, until Del shifted and rolled around so that his head was on Russ' chest.

"So," he said, grinning, "you like?"

Russ kissed his forehead. "Oh yeah."

"I don't know what Shari was bitching about," Del continued. "Why would you hate sucking dick? It felt kinda nice, actually."

"Shari!"

He looked up. "What?"

Russ' hands were clamped over his face and his eyes were huge rings. "Shit, shit, shit! I cheated on Shari!"

"No you didn't," Del said gently, tracing circles on Russ' skin. "You're stoned. You didn't know what you were doing. It's not your fault."

"It's not that," Russ said, flopping back down on the bed. "It's that I'd do it again, sober. And that would be cheating, no matter what you call...what we did here." He groaned. "What am I gonna do?"

Del put his head on the pillow next to Russ. "Well....do you have to decide by midnight tonight or something?"

"N...no.."

"Then forget about it," he said. His eyelids were beginning close. "We'll figure it out in the morning."

Russ smiled, and pulled the dry side of the blankets over him. Then he leaned down to kiss him on the mouth. "Okay. Er...Good night."

Del smiled. "Love ya, babe."
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Losing Your Cherry