Chris & Mishka - Part II

Chris let out a deep sigh as he pressed the button for the elevator. While he waited, he took a moment to survey his surroundings. The small artificial waterfall roared down the rocks into a stream, rooted with tropical plant life and flowers. It was really pretty, and must have cost the hotel a fortune! It was still a hotel, no matter how you slice it, so people probably soaked it in and just kept walking. Maybe if he was drunk, he’d pass out there and think he was in Hawaii, but that was unlikely! It made him laugh, thinking that if Tripp was here, they’d probably appreciate it like no one ever did before! They’d give the hotel their investment’s worth, by come back from the bars drunk at 3 am, and fucking in the shallow water...Tripp…Tripp was gone! Chapter 4, Senior Year, had such a horrible ending! Slam that book shut and burn the fucking thing!

As his mind wandered into ‘X-Rated Never-Never Land’ with his feisty ex-lover, he heard a familiar voice from somewhere behind him. “You gotta be shittin’ me! There was no fuckin’ money in it!”

Chris turned around, and there was Tripp at the front desk, raking his fingers through his fake blond-streaked hair. He looked really pissed off, but man, he was so fucking fine! He paced in front of the desk barefoot, wearing only a pair of low-riding cargo shorts. His hair stuck out in every direction, a telltale sign he had a pretty wild night and hadn’t showered yet! It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know his wallet was gone! As many times as he lost it, drunk, all through college, it was amazing he still bothered to replace it!

What the fuck was he doing here? Three weeks ago, he didn’t even want to hear Chris’ name! They were both supposed to come down here, but Tripp canceled his plans after they ended it. Chris felt his heart begin to race. Why the fuck was Tyler here?

He began to make his way over, as Tripp continued to argue with the small, rotund latin woman working behind the desk. “What the fuck is wrong with people? I mean, there was nothing in it! Well no cash! I spent it all - or dropped it - or whatever the fuck! I just know I had no money - but all my fucking credit cards! God dammitt!,” he growled, kicking the desk’s rock hard wood with his foot. Apparently he forgot he had no shoes on. “Mother fucker!,” he wailed, grimacing in pain.

As he bent to nurse his throbbing foot, he noticed Chris and froze. They stared at each other for an awkward moment. It had only been three weeks, but it seemed like an eternity. “Hi.,” Chris said, to break the ice. “Hey!,” Tripp responded, with a forced smile. Up this close, Chris could tell that he had puked several times last night. His face always looked a little pale the morning after he got sick. Chris saw him like that many times over the years, and much of it was his fault!

“Rough night last night, huh?,” he commented, as Tripp lost his balance and his hip crashed into the desk. In this reckless condition - with his messy hair and tribal tattoos - he looked like a derelict rocker.

“Yeah, I just got in! I never slept. I fucked my brains out until six o’clock, polished off the rest of a bottle of J.D., and walked here...,” Tripp said, laughing at his reckless behavior. “The sunset was pretty! Fucking blurry as hell, but pretty! I guess it was kinda like an acid trip!...Oh, and I lost my wallet!...So, how was the uncut, European cock?...Did he toss your man salad, then dump a thick load of Russian dressing in your fuck tunnel?” 

Chris felt his face flush. He wanted to avoid that topic, especially because he still loved Tyler more than life. “Who’d you fuck?,” he asked, crossing his arms and resting his back against the desk. The small, rotund latin woman tried to make herself look busy, but there was no way she wasn’t listening.

Tyler looked thoughtfully up at the ceiling and rubbed his chin full of golden brown stubble. “Ummm...Let’s see...Drew and I fucked that chick, Brigitte, and her friend...You know who they are!...The chicks from this hotel?...Anyway...Then, we switched...Kimmy gave me a shitty blow job - I mean SHITTY!...I could have fucked a bucket of slugs and it would have felt better...Then, we watched them lick each other’s pussies and beat off...So, then, Brigitte called us selfish assholes because we didn’t lay around and cuddle with them! We started acting like complete idiots!...Drew and I ran around like total jackasses - punching each other and shit - having fights with wet sand......THEN...,” He smiled like the cat who ate the canary. “...things got a little - e-hem - heated between me and Drew...”

Seeing that Chris was both jealous and intrigued gave those wicked blue eyes of his such a gleam of satisfaction. “So...Did he fuck you?...Did he shag the shit out of that hot little Dutch ass, Chrissy Poo?...Shit, Blue and a PORN STAR! That musta been some WICKED dick action, eh?,” he taunted, moving his pierced tongue around in his mouth like a little rogue. Back when they were dating, Tripp would never stand there for very long with clothes on, doing that with his tongue.

“What did you do with Drew?,” he demanded of him, trying to ward off his on-deck woody, by moving his eyes to a potted palm nearby. Tripp seemed pleased to accommodate his request. “I kissed him,...fingered his ass...He wanted me to fuck him,...so I did...But I made him beg for it!...Mmmmm, what a sweet virgin pucker!...” His crudeness made him giggle, but Chris found nothing funny about it! Leos were plagued with the tendency to be jealous and dramatic, and Tripp (the adventurous Aries) loved to push those buttons on him! “...You should have heard him squeal like a pig for my big, fat cock! I buried all eight inches in that tight little ass!,” he added, to twist the knife some more.

“Yeah?...Well Mishka was amazing! Of course I don’t need to be a caveman and go into detail in the hotel lobby - like some people - so I’ll leave it at that!,” Chris said, with a snotty grin as an exclamation point. Tripp could hardly focus on him without wobbling. Though Chris was deeply concerned about what he was doing to himself, he didn’t let on.

“You fucking HYPOCRITE!...Just when I fucking MISS you and feel like crying, I remember how you judge me!...All the fucking lectures from ‘Mr. Mommy & Daddy Would Die If They Knew I Was In Love With A Guy, So I Have To Use Their Best Friends’ Daughter As A Cover-up’!” He said it loud to piss Chris off,...and because he was wasted out of his mind! More so than Chris originally thought!

He stood there fuming, clenching his fists to refrain from decking him in the face. He fought with Tyler physically only three times in their four year friendship. It always ended in sex...He was telling the truth now though, so as much as Chris wanted to punch the smirk off those beautifully chiseled cheekbones, he refrained.

“Tyler,...you’re a mess!...You need to get your stinky ass into the shower and drink a gallon of water!,” he said, with a concerned calmness. He grabbed for him. Tyler pulled away violently. “Fuck you!,” he yelled, turning heads. He crashed into the desk hard, which stunned their captive audience - and Chris - but made Tyler erupt into drunken hysterics. “Whoopsie!,” he declared, like a 4 year-old.