The Artist

Jack and the Spike tower.

Jack

AND SUDDENLY HE laughs and I'm reminded that he's drunk, extremely drunk. He doesn't even know what he's saying. I shake my head. Maybe I was just imagining the whole thing. Spike climbs over to my lap and wraps his arms around my neck, bringing his body close to mine. Close enough for me to feel his dick stirring awake.

I thank goodness that we're in my car right now and the windows are up and tinted. If anyone were to see us like this, it would be a disaster. "You know," I snap my attention back to him, "you're very cute. Quite handsome too." He sighs and his breath — reeking of alcohol — is punching me on the face. How much did he drink? "You're just… too good for me. I don't even know if we'll work out…" I kiss him and my own dick stirs awake. He moans while his hands find their way to cup my face. My own hands find their way to his waist and he starts to grind against me. His kisses turn feverish and suddenly, his hands are under my shirt, lifting them up.

"Is that an eight pack?" He slurs again and I'm instantly reminded that he's still drunk. I try pulling away but he keeps following me. I push him away and stop him when he tries leaning in again. "What, fuck?" He curses. I kiss his cheek when he glowers at me. "Let's focus on taking you home," I say, trying to focus on being responsible. I hate being responsible. He grinds himself again and I hold myself from moaning, scowling at him instead. He looks at me innocently as he asks, "what's wrong? Looks like something bothered you." He does it again and it takes everything to push him back to his seat. I look at my dick, now it's evident I've got the blue balls. Shit.

I lower my pants slightly so my dick could get out and I could be more comfortable. When it does spring out, I waste no time in spitting on my hands and grabbing my dick, moving up and down, up and down repeatedly. I roll out Spike's name when I climax and cum before I lay back, relaxed. At the corner of my eye, however, Spike wastes no time in licking it all off — and I'm fine with that — until he starts it up again. I pull his hair back as I grit out, "what the fuck are you doing?!" He grins at me excitedly as he says, "Well, you can't have all the fun! I've done this alot, okay? I promise it won't suck!"

I rear back as I think, wow. What the fuck? I look back at him and he looks back at me — presumably — awaiting my permission. The excitement on his face looks almost impossible to wash off but what he said really bothered me. Big time. I could lash out at him but I'm holding it back because drunk Spike barely gives a shit about anything. Better wait this out until the morning.

I suck in air and try to push the words he said to the back of my mind while I try to focus on having him sober or at his house. Wait. Why is he in this condition in the first place? I snap back to spike who is looking at me with a more impatient stare. "How about we play a game, spike? That sounds good?"

Spike sits up, turning his body to me and he nods. "Okay," I state. "The rules are simple. I ask a question and you answer—"
"Why are you always so upset?" "What?"
"You're always so…" he scrunches his face, "Angry. Well, not that anyone can tell since your face is so blank. It's like you play poker." He comes closer to me, his eyes on my face, "do you play poker? You could teach me."

I push him away and clip on his seat belt. He fiddles with it, trying to unclip it and I breath out in relief, feeling safe. I look back at him. "Were you always so energetic?" I shake my head and refocus, "Spike?" He blinks at me and gives a small smile. "You're so handsome," he sighs out. I groan, why is he so difficult? "Spike." I say more firmly. "Why are you drunk?"
"Because I drank."
I realise my question didn't come out right.
"Why did you drink?"
"Because I felt like it — is there a point to these questions, because I feel like they sound stupid."
"What was the argument about?"
"Uh…I don't really remember. But I do remember you and your gorgeous face, I mean really… I am, so lucky."
Out of everything serious, I can't help but smile truimphantly. Spike never says these things and I don't mind hearing it either so I don't know when am I gonna hear these things again. Presumably never because he's not drinking again.

"Spike," I call like he's a small child. Well, he is like a small child right now and I don't have much choice because he won't listen to me. "Try to remember. What were you guys fighting about?"
He frowns, his eyes focusing on a particular object before he gives me a surprised look. "Vik!"

Not this thing again. I barely know a shred about this guy and already his name is all over the market. "And who is he?" Spike doesn't say anything. For a while now and there's silence, the question hanging in the open air. By now, I kinda get the idea that he won't tell me anything. "Can you drop me home, now? I miss my bed."

I'm getting frustrated now because he wouldn't tell me what they were arguing about and I brushed that off but now he won't tell me about this Vik guy? I fold my arms and narrow my eyes at him. "You can walk the rest of the way." He's drunk and I know that but I've honestly lost my patience here. He unbuckles his seat belt and opens the car door. "Thank you!" He chirps and steps out, walking the rest of the way until he reaches his house. Victoria steps out and another strawberry blonde guy follows, looking at him in suspicion when Spike waves at him. Victoria looks over the street and spots my car, saying nothing. She walks back in with The strawberry blonde guy pulling Spike along with. I pause for a while before I start the car and leave.

Once I get home, I see no sign of Jesse but I do see a sticky note on the kitchen cabinet. It's green and says 'Off to have some fun, don't wait up.' I roll my eyes and open the cabinet, ready to make some tuna fish sandwich. After taking three slices, I take out some mayo before my phone rings. I ignore the call twice before answering it the third time.

"I get that you called me on purpose SO WHAT IS IT?!" There's brief silence before the person on the other line begins to laugh. I sigh, exhausted. I've had a long day so I really don't need this. I don't even have enough energy to scowl for Pete's sake. "You're cute." He keeps laughing after that and I get more impatient.

"Who the fuck are you, huh?" I asked, frustrated. "Do I need to pay you off or something?" He stops laughing. I can't hear anything in the background except maybe some punk metal music and a few voices so I'm guessing he's in some kind of bar. Or a party. "Stay away from Spike. Far away," he says, his voice firm and clear. "And I promise, you'll be out of this… equation without a scratch."

What? "Equation?" I couldn't help but ask. He tuts and replies, "Well, you had to get involved. I'm sure I've been mentioned, right? You've heard of my name…" he adds suggestively. I then realise that this is him. The guy always mentioned. I murmur the name and ignore the unease. "Vik." 
I could feel him grinning as he replies, "yeah, that's right."