Use Somebody
“Rob, I don’t know what to do.”
She appears at his door unexpectedly, seeming distraught.
“It’s 3:30 in the morning. Kris, what happened?” he asks, worry etching his face.
“Michael and I, we, we had a fight. He accused me of cheating.” Anxiety courses through her as she rakes her hand through her hair.
“Oh, well, what do you want me to do?”
“I just...I need a friend right now, okay?”
“You could’ve called Nikki or something.”
“I figured you might need someone too. You’re not attached and-“
His tone grew somber as she eased her way into his flat. “Kristen, that’s exactly why you shouldn’t be here, love.”
He reclines on his lumpy beat-up loveseat and takes another swig of his half-empty beer bottle. She sits down next to him, close enough that their thighs touch. He shudders. Even through the thick denim of her jeans, she feels the heat pulsating from his body. The fiery need begins to grow within her.
Kristen leans her head on his broad shoulder. He silently strokes her hair, knowing that their proximity to one another could be dangerous.
She looks up at him, pleadingly, “Get me drunk. Please.”
Rob glares at her. “Kris, I don’t know...”
Her deep verdant eyes pierce his gaze. “Just do it.”
He has difficulty refusing her demands. She makes him weak, and they both know it.
“Come on, Rob. The strongest shit you have. I’d just like to forget for a while.”
He sighs, rising from his seat beside her. “Fine, Kris. You want to fuck up everything even more? Go right ahead.”
She hears cabinets clanging open and shut while he searches for her poison, something that will knock her on her ass, like she wants.
Rob returns with a bottle of expensive tequila, sans a shot glass. “Take a sip, Kris. I think this’ll create the effect you’re craving.”
“Thanks,” she answers solemnly. Cradling the bottle with her tiny hands, she brings it to her lips. The taste of it burns her throat and hits her belly immediately as she swallows. She lies down, still possessing the bottle.
***
She raises her head, startled and confused.
“Uh, Rob, the room...it’s, it’s moving, around and around.”
He crouches down to her eye level so he can see her face more clearly in the darkness of his living room.
“It’s called being piss drunk, Kris. God, you only had a few shots.” His palm grazes her cheek and rests at her chin.
“It doesn’t exactly take much. I mean, look at me.” She motions up and down her petite frame, then rubs at her temple. “Ow. Could you carry me to bed?”
“What?”
“You heard me, Robert,” Kristen slurs, her normally husky voice even deeper than usual. “Carry me,” she whines petulantly.
“Uh, I don’t know.” He runs a hand through his newly-shorn locks. “That doesn’t sound like such a wise idea, love.”
“You know you want me. I want you too.”
“I, um...it shouldn’t happen like this. I mean-“
She cuts him off, cupping his cheeks with her soft icy hands and letting her tongue slip into his mouth. He hungrily accepts her entry and cradles the back of her head, devouring her as if he had never tasted anything like her. In truth, he hadn’t. He rips the blanket off that he had placed on her hours earlier. His hands remove her socks and trail up her legs, which are still sheathed in dark ratty jeans. He pulls away for a second to take off his shirt. Her hands clasp around his neck as he finds the fly on her jeans and carefully unzips it. Their lips still tangled, she helps him along and shimmies the vestige of fabric off so that it rests on the arm of the sofa.
He reaches under her shirt, grasping at her bare torso as she adjusts her position and wraps her legs around his chest. His lips break away from hers, brush down her chin and delicately continue down her throat. Finally, he tears off her tank top and presses his lips down to her belly button. She laughs, “That tickles.”
He lifts her off the couch and brings her down the hallway to his room, her legs sliding down to his midsection. Her half-naked upper half meets his and she feels a desperation tearing at her. The heat from her center is so intense she starts to moan.
He lays her down and surveys her intently.
“Take off your pants,” she demands, propping herself up on her elbows, her hair a tangled mess.
“Are you sure about this, Kris?”
“No, I’m never sure of anything, but I’m here in front of you and I need you now.”
He honors her request, his bluish-grey eyes never leaving her face. His boxers fall to the floor and he kneels down in front of her, rubbing her feet. She feels his fingers dance up her shin, slowly working up to her thigh. He pauses to get her knickers off and slide them down her legs. He reaches back up to her bucking hips. “Relax,” he whispers as two of his fingers work over her clit, then slip inside of her. She screams in pleasure, her insides pulsate and tighten around his touch.
Her back arches and she whispers his name excruciatingly while he continues working her. His fingers never leave that spot. He crawls onto the bed beside her, nibbling at the tender spot behind her ear and taking off her bra with his free hand. She holds on to his shoulders as she senses his fingers exiting her. He opens her legs further and presses his full weight onto her body. It hurts her slightly, but she doesn’t care. She just wants to feel him against her now-burning flesh, every single part of him. She strokes him between his legs, guiding him to her entry. He takes her hand and places it on his hip to steady himself. He thrusts into her roughly with desperation, staring into her face.
But she closes her eyes and she can’t see the anguish in his expression. He had wanted to be with her, at any cost, so he took this chance. He knew it shouldn’t have been this way, but the situation was impossible. So, for now, they would both settle for this night of intoxication and stolen fleeting glances when they thought no one was looking.
He pushes and pushes, filling her up after several quick movements. He can feel her tighten and release on him.
“Are you close?” she utters in a raspy tone into his ear.
“Soon, love, soon.”
He collapses onto her chest for a few moments, panting heavily. His cheek lies against her breast as he releases inside of her. “Can I stay inside you...for just a while longer, Kris?”
“Yeah. It’s nice,” she responds sweetly, caressing the back of his neck. He closes his eyes in contentment, still wrapped around her warm sweaty body.
She soon drifts off too.
Several hours later, daylight creeps into his room. He feels around for her and spies her naked back. She’s sitting up, about to rise in search of her clothes.
“Come back, love.” His fingertips graze her back and he grabs at her hips. “At least let me make you breakfast. You need to eat something.”
She glances back at him.
“You look like hell, Kris. Please, stay. Just another hour.”
“He’s going to wonder where I’ve been and I’ll prove him right.”
“You already did.”
“I know.” Her eyes fill with a mixture of sorrow and hurt. “I shouldn’t have done that to him.”
“Wait,” he hands her one of his few dress shirts, crumpled on the floor. “Put this on.”
She wraps it around her, inhaling his scent and imprinting it on her memory. “Fine. I guess I can stay for breakfast, but don’t expect things to change publicly now.”
He sits up and swings her legs onto his lap. She gives him a quick kiss on the mouth, their tongues battling once again. “You look better now. The whole shirt-as-a-dress thing suits you,” he smiles.
She hops off of him, grinning back. “Now, where’s my breakfast, huh? You better be a damn good cook.” She walks away, toward the kitchen, awaiting him to follow.
She appears at his door unexpectedly, seeming distraught.
“It’s 3:30 in the morning. Kris, what happened?” he asks, worry etching his face.
“Michael and I, we, we had a fight. He accused me of cheating.” Anxiety courses through her as she rakes her hand through her hair.
“Oh, well, what do you want me to do?”
“I just...I need a friend right now, okay?”
“You could’ve called Nikki or something.”
“I figured you might need someone too. You’re not attached and-“
His tone grew somber as she eased her way into his flat. “Kristen, that’s exactly why you shouldn’t be here, love.”
He reclines on his lumpy beat-up loveseat and takes another swig of his half-empty beer bottle. She sits down next to him, close enough that their thighs touch. He shudders. Even through the thick denim of her jeans, she feels the heat pulsating from his body. The fiery need begins to grow within her.
Kristen leans her head on his broad shoulder. He silently strokes her hair, knowing that their proximity to one another could be dangerous.
She looks up at him, pleadingly, “Get me drunk. Please.”
Rob glares at her. “Kris, I don’t know...”
Her deep verdant eyes pierce his gaze. “Just do it.”
He has difficulty refusing her demands. She makes him weak, and they both know it.
“Come on, Rob. The strongest shit you have. I’d just like to forget for a while.”
He sighs, rising from his seat beside her. “Fine, Kris. You want to fuck up everything even more? Go right ahead.”
She hears cabinets clanging open and shut while he searches for her poison, something that will knock her on her ass, like she wants.
Rob returns with a bottle of expensive tequila, sans a shot glass. “Take a sip, Kris. I think this’ll create the effect you’re craving.”
“Thanks,” she answers solemnly. Cradling the bottle with her tiny hands, she brings it to her lips. The taste of it burns her throat and hits her belly immediately as she swallows. She lies down, still possessing the bottle.
***
She raises her head, startled and confused.
“Uh, Rob, the room...it’s, it’s moving, around and around.”
He crouches down to her eye level so he can see her face more clearly in the darkness of his living room.
“It’s called being piss drunk, Kris. God, you only had a few shots.” His palm grazes her cheek and rests at her chin.
“It doesn’t exactly take much. I mean, look at me.” She motions up and down her petite frame, then rubs at her temple. “Ow. Could you carry me to bed?”
“What?”
“You heard me, Robert,” Kristen slurs, her normally husky voice even deeper than usual. “Carry me,” she whines petulantly.
“Uh, I don’t know.” He runs a hand through his newly-shorn locks. “That doesn’t sound like such a wise idea, love.”
“You know you want me. I want you too.”
“I, um...it shouldn’t happen like this. I mean-“
She cuts him off, cupping his cheeks with her soft icy hands and letting her tongue slip into his mouth. He hungrily accepts her entry and cradles the back of her head, devouring her as if he had never tasted anything like her. In truth, he hadn’t. He rips the blanket off that he had placed on her hours earlier. His hands remove her socks and trail up her legs, which are still sheathed in dark ratty jeans. He pulls away for a second to take off his shirt. Her hands clasp around his neck as he finds the fly on her jeans and carefully unzips it. Their lips still tangled, she helps him along and shimmies the vestige of fabric off so that it rests on the arm of the sofa.
He reaches under her shirt, grasping at her bare torso as she adjusts her position and wraps her legs around his chest. His lips break away from hers, brush down her chin and delicately continue down her throat. Finally, he tears off her tank top and presses his lips down to her belly button. She laughs, “That tickles.”
He lifts her off the couch and brings her down the hallway to his room, her legs sliding down to his midsection. Her half-naked upper half meets his and she feels a desperation tearing at her. The heat from her center is so intense she starts to moan.
He lays her down and surveys her intently.
“Take off your pants,” she demands, propping herself up on her elbows, her hair a tangled mess.
“Are you sure about this, Kris?”
“No, I’m never sure of anything, but I’m here in front of you and I need you now.”
He honors her request, his bluish-grey eyes never leaving her face. His boxers fall to the floor and he kneels down in front of her, rubbing her feet. She feels his fingers dance up her shin, slowly working up to her thigh. He pauses to get her knickers off and slide them down her legs. He reaches back up to her bucking hips. “Relax,” he whispers as two of his fingers work over her clit, then slip inside of her. She screams in pleasure, her insides pulsate and tighten around his touch.
Her back arches and she whispers his name excruciatingly while he continues working her. His fingers never leave that spot. He crawls onto the bed beside her, nibbling at the tender spot behind her ear and taking off her bra with his free hand. She holds on to his shoulders as she senses his fingers exiting her. He opens her legs further and presses his full weight onto her body. It hurts her slightly, but she doesn’t care. She just wants to feel him against her now-burning flesh, every single part of him. She strokes him between his legs, guiding him to her entry. He takes her hand and places it on his hip to steady himself. He thrusts into her roughly with desperation, staring into her face.
But she closes her eyes and she can’t see the anguish in his expression. He had wanted to be with her, at any cost, so he took this chance. He knew it shouldn’t have been this way, but the situation was impossible. So, for now, they would both settle for this night of intoxication and stolen fleeting glances when they thought no one was looking.
He pushes and pushes, filling her up after several quick movements. He can feel her tighten and release on him.
“Are you close?” she utters in a raspy tone into his ear.
“Soon, love, soon.”
He collapses onto her chest for a few moments, panting heavily. His cheek lies against her breast as he releases inside of her. “Can I stay inside you...for just a while longer, Kris?”
“Yeah. It’s nice,” she responds sweetly, caressing the back of his neck. He closes his eyes in contentment, still wrapped around her warm sweaty body.
She soon drifts off too.
Several hours later, daylight creeps into his room. He feels around for her and spies her naked back. She’s sitting up, about to rise in search of her clothes.
“Come back, love.” His fingertips graze her back and he grabs at her hips. “At least let me make you breakfast. You need to eat something.”
She glances back at him.
“You look like hell, Kris. Please, stay. Just another hour.”
“He’s going to wonder where I’ve been and I’ll prove him right.”
“You already did.”
“I know.” Her eyes fill with a mixture of sorrow and hurt. “I shouldn’t have done that to him.”
“Wait,” he hands her one of his few dress shirts, crumpled on the floor. “Put this on.”
She wraps it around her, inhaling his scent and imprinting it on her memory. “Fine. I guess I can stay for breakfast, but don’t expect things to change publicly now.”
He sits up and swings her legs onto his lap. She gives him a quick kiss on the mouth, their tongues battling once again. “You look better now. The whole shirt-as-a-dress thing suits you,” he smiles.
She hops off of him, grinning back. “Now, where’s my breakfast, huh? You better be a damn good cook.” She walks away, toward the kitchen, awaiting him to follow.