Hetch (Men OF S.W.A.T #1)(4)
“I’ll call her tomorrow.” I appease him, knowing I should check in with both my mom and sister. After Dad died, we grew closer, opting to keep each other near, but as the years have gone on, they’ve moved on too, sometimes making me wonder if I’m the only one stuck.
“You f*cking better, Hetch.”
“I told you I would,” I murmur, not in the mood for his threats. He grumbles a reply, but I don't take it in; instead, I block it out. I block it all out. The day, the interview, the last f*cking three years, every thing that brings me down is pushed aside as I let the beer-induced sleep take me to the place I’ve been searching for.
Oblivion.
“It cuts like a knife, son, knowing it’s you, but it is what it is.”
“Dad, no!”
I wake with a startle what feels like hours later. It takes a few breaths to get my bearings before I realize I’m home, on my bed, fully clothed and not back in the past trying to save my father’s life.
The night’s activities filter through my mind as I try to sort them in order: the interview I f*cked up; Sterling coming to The Elephant and paying my tab before driving my drunk ass home, dragging me up to my apartment and telling me to get my head out of my ass.
“Fuck.” I roll and groan. My head is throbbing like I survived a brass knuckle punch, and the slight buzz filtering through my ears confirms I definitely had too much to drink.
Fucking idiot.
After breathing through a wave of nausea, I manage to find my feet and pull myself up to sitting position. The clock beside my bed tells me it’s only just midnight. I guess it’s what happens when you get drunk before five.
Finding the strength to stand, I make my way to the bathroom. I don’t bother looking in the mirror. The * staring back only reminds me of an older version of my thirty-two-year-old self. Instead, I head for the toilet. After the longest piss known to man, I undress down to my boxers, pop two double-strength Tylenol, brush my teeth, making sure I scrape along my tongue to remove the funky taste of beer and God knows what, then take my sorry, drunk ass back to bed.
My head is still throbbing, but the buzzing has cleared so I flick my lamp off and roll over to my side. It doesn’t take long to slip back into a light pre-sleep, and I’m almost out when the buzzing starts up again.
What the hell?
I roll over, flicking the lamp on to search out the source of the buzz. I might be drunk or in the early stages of a hangover, but it doesn’t take too long to realize it’s not coming from my room but through the wall.
Fuck me, it’s the new neighbor.
The walls of this damn place are so thin. They need to put this shit on the lease before another sorry bastard signs their privacy away.
Flicking the lamp off again, I settle back into bed, the buzzing sound growing louder as the seconds tick by.
Is that a toothbrush or a f*cking vibrator?
A soft gasp confirms my suspicion, followed by the loud cry of her release.
Holy shit, the little minx is getting off.
Not at all embarrassed by my actions I roll closer to the wall and place my ear up against it. I don't know if she's alone, or if the guy’s she's with is a quiet f*ck, but all I can hear is the sound of a vibrator and her. My bet is she’s alone.
Becoming more alert than I care to be after midnight, I press my ear harder against the wall. Her soft whimpers grow louder, and my dick hardens with pleasure when she shouts out.
Fuck, I should have foregone the beer and went with * tonight.
Regretting the decision now, I do what any respectable single male would do in this situation. I slide my hand down my boxer briefs and wrap my fingers around my cock. Stroking slowly and deliberately at first, I then build up to deep, rough and needy strokes as soon as I realize she’s going for a second release.
“Fucking greedy little thing.” I groan when her whimpers start becoming desperate. The buzz of the vibrator dying off interrupts me from my own pleasure.
Unsure what to do, I stay quiet, wanting more than anything to talk to her, maybe even try to see if I can get her to come over, but I can't imagine she'll respond all that well if I let her know I've been listening in. But f*ck me, the thrill of what I’m doing turns me on more than I’ve ever been turned on before.
After another few beats of silence, the vibrator starts back up again. My fist moves back in rhythm, this time faster and rougher to catch up. She’s louder this time, more vocal and it only takes a minute or two for her to find her release, the deep moans of her orgasm not quite enough to pull me over with her.
“Fuck, woman, wait for me this time,” I say on a groan, unable to hold back my frustration. I don’t know if I do it on purpose, or maybe I’m too lost in the moment to control what I’m saying, but whatever the reason, the words still come from my lips, halting any chance of me getting my happy ending.
Fuck me.
Again.
Two
Liberty
“What the hell am I doing?” I think I speak the words aloud, but I can’t be sure. A thick fog encases my head in a pre-orgasm high. I’m not sure of anything anymore as I barrel toward some kind of alternate universe where I do crazy shit and don’t give any f*cks.
Until the rational part of my brain finds its way through the fog, and clarity finds its way back into my normal universe.