venture • lrh

two

DETAILED SEX LIVES

*

His eyes are disgustingly gross rolling over her body as she walks into the living room. Who are we talking about? Luke Hemmings, the living man whore who to her surprise still hasn't gotten any std's. Sitting wide-legged on the couch. As if he's a gross worn-out man that's been wearing the same white - dirty stained - shirt for over a week.

Luke Hemmings is a known guy in the city, not only because he's quite easy to get in bed with, but also because he's the team captain of the national soccer team here. The same team as Michael is in. They knew each other before their parents got together. To make this story even more uncomfortable for them, their parents met on the sideline. The hell they blamed one another for being on the same team back then. They played for an amateurish team, nothing compared to where they play now.

Currently, they're even competing to play even higher so they can travel to other countries. But that's only if they win the upcoming game. She's praying for Michael that they'll make it. For Luke... she hopes he just falls over the ball.

Luke is also the team captain on the team. He's the striker and as much as Alex hates to admit it, he's good. If he has the ball, he can score most of the time and that's not something you can say about most soccer players on their team. Some don't even know how to play and it makes her wonder how the fuck they're not on the bench, it makes her wonder how they made the team.

"What do you want, Hemmings." She hisses as his eyes are still not done with inspecting her. "Don't you have some girl to fuck?"

"Don't get so jealous there, Finley." He says. Maybe that's one of the things that she does find fascinating about him. He seems to say or do everything without any expression on his face. He is almost a human robot. He only ever smiles when he scores, it's a wonder girls want to go to bed with him. She supposes it's the mysterious attitude he carries with him. "Just because I don't want to fuck you, doesn't mean I'm not busy." He states. Alex rolls her eyes at him out of stupidity.

"Michael is upstairs I suppose?" She asks him, ignoring the comment he made. He shrugs his shoulders and an annoying smirk is covering his face. "Honestly, drown in your own patheticness." Without looking at him for one more second, she turns around and makes her way upstairs. Once she's upstairs, she knocks on Michael's door, not wanting to know what he's doing.

Yes, she hasn't knocked before and she's learned her lesson for that. His dirty blonde hair was wildly hanging on his head and a thin layer of sweat was covering his body. His face was red and his lip was swollen from biting down on it. His hand wrapped around his cock and pumped up and down fast.

It wasn't a sight she enjoyed, to say the least. In all honesty? She thinks she needed therapy at that exact moment. That image has never left her mind and she wants to change that. A low hum is hearable from the other side of the door and so she opens it. Michael is laying on his bed, just wearing his sweatpants, his hair wet from yet another shower. He smiles when he sees his best friend and pets on the empty side of the bed. Without hesitation, she jumps on the bed and crawls into his arms. He chuckles and wraps his arm around her.

As some best friends who appear to not be attracted to one another, they love cuddling a lot. 

"To what do I owe this sweet pleasure, Alex?" He chuckles, putting his phone down after sending one more text. Her lips remain sealed as to the matter where she doesn't even have an answer to his question. His hand is running through her hair. By now he doesn't even expect an answer anymore. "You know, Al," he begins. "You really need to find yourself a boyfriend."