Devil's Fate

Introductions

Ryan's head was pounding. His stomach was sick. All he could think about was the amount of rum and tequila he'd consumed the night before. At the time he'd willingly taken the shots. The more the alcohol surged through his system, the better he felt. The voice in his head telling him he shouldn't be drinking so much got quieter with each round of alcohol. The ache in his heart - the part that missed Chester, the part that yearned for Jason, the part that wanted more than sex with people who didn't care - didn't hurt as much when Ryan drowned it out to numb with a stiff drink. Or five stiff drinks.

But it was morning now, which meant there was another day to face. Another twenty-four hours to drift through. Another chance to make all the wrong choices. A heavy sigh followed Ryan's thoughts and he dared to open his eyes. The familiar sight of the pea-green blinds that covered Rob's bedroom window made his insides feel a little bit worse. Too many mornings he was waking up to those blinds. Too many times he'd woken up hungover and in Rob's bed. Rob's empty bed. The former pool boy was always up first. Sometimes he was still in the apartment when Ryan would finally come to life, but most often he wasn't. Usually he was already dressed and off to work, and Ryan could never understand how he managed it.

He drinks as much as I do, but it's like he's immune to it or something. Ryan rolled from his side to his back, and his body screamed at him. He groaned out loud, his hand going over his eyes. Rob not only had the ability to get up and go to work bright and early each day after drinking all night, but he had no lack of stamina in bed either. No matter how many drinks he tossed back, he could still pound into Ryan like Superman. It was a puzzle Ryan couldn't figure out. It must be because he's younger than me. But not that much younger.

Ryan sniffed away his next thought. Everything with Rob was hard and fast. Meaningless. In some ways it felt good. The simple act of sex felt good. But in all the other ways, it felt awful. So why do I keep doing it? I know it doesn't mean anything to him. If he never saw me again, he wouldn't care."Fuck," he groaned outloud.

"I don't have time to fuck again."

Ryan's eyes popped open at the sound of the female voice. He lifted his head from the pillow, but only long enough to see the familiar woman sitting on Rob's couch. Samantha O. That's what she liked to be called, even though he and Rob referred to her as simply Sam.

Ryan's head dropped back to the pillow. He didn't want to look at her. He didn't want to linger over her long, curly black hair that was always everywhere, or her large breasts that seemed to live more outside of her halter tops than in. Ryan couldn't place when Sam had become part of the routine at Rob's, and he didn't want to. "I wasn't offering," he mumbled back.

"Well aren't you being pissy this morning," he heard her say. He didn't have to look to know she was up from the couch and walking around the apartment. Her heels clicked on the tile floor. It was like having a dagger stabbed into his brain.

"Not pissy, just hungover," Ryan answered. He was hoping she would be gone soon. He didn't really want to get up while she was there. If he did, she would want to talk, and that was too much. Jay would cringe if he knew I was doing things with a woman. God, I'm doing things with a woman. I don't even really enjoy it. Rob always brings her in...usually after I'm half in the bottle. Why? Fuck. Does it matter? Probably not.

A second later Ryan heard a long snort. His head shot up from the pillow just in time to see Sam sniffing a white line of powder from the counter top. She rubbed her nose immediately after, her eyes rolled back in her head. Ryan tensed as he watched, as he stayed still on the bed. He waited until she seemed to have herself under control again before he said, "You know if Rob catches you doing that, he won't like it."