I woke up with the worst hangover headache I’d ever had. Before I even opened my eyes the light in the room bothered me, and I frowned, squeezing them shut and inhaling deeply. The sudden rush of oxygen caused my pulse to quicken momentarily, making the blood in my temples pound painfully. I knew sooner or later I’d have to open my eyes and feel the familiar nauseous ache, so I did it quickly.
Everything was kind of blurry for a moment, and I blinked a few times to un-cloud my vision. I was lying on my side, my right arm outstretched a little on the bright white sheets. When I raised my eyes to look over to where I thought a bedside clock may be, my eyes focused onto a sleeping face a few inches from mine. Scared shitless, I leapt from under the covers and was on my feet beside the bed in seconds.
My heart thudding through my chest, I noticed that I felt cold and saw with a horrible, sinking feeling that I was naked. “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck...” I muttered over and over while I rooted through two sets of male clothing strewn on the floor. I finally found my pair of boxers and put them on. It was at this point that whatever adrenaline rush I’d gotten out of panic stopped, and it felt like my head was fighting with itself, attempting to split in two. I moaned, putting both hands on either side of my head and sank the floor out of dizziness. When my body hit the floor, I heard violent movement on the bed and then another moan of pain. I flipped onto my back, digging a couple fingers into each of my temples and shut my eyes. It was a dream.
“Uhh,” he groaned. There was more rustling. “What the hell.”
I swallowed once or twice, trying to regulate my breathing before I spoke. “Hey, are you naked too? Say no.”
As I said this, I heard him flinch severely and then sigh. “Nope.”
I dropped my hands in relief. “You aren’t?” With much effort I lifted my head up and over the side of the bed to look at him. He was sitting up with his knees over the side of the bed, head in his hands. Thank God.
“Yes,” he grimaced, dragging out the word a little longer in horror. “Oh, I’m gonna puke.”
I looked over as he rushed into the bathroom, still naked. His body looked a lot like mine, not quite scrawny and with a sort of soccer player’s frame. Beside me were a crumpled pair of boxers and I balled them up, unable to throw them at him before he closed the door. He ran through the doorway, shutting the door with his foot and lunged towards where I guessed the toilet was. I tried not to pay attention to the throwing up sounds because I knew it would make me even more nauseous, but he was pretty quiet. The distraction was better than focusing on the issue at hand.
When he came out, he had a toothbrush in his mouth. I looked away out of courtesy, even though I probably saw it all the night before, and heard him grab the boxers from the floor, returning to the bathroom.
I got another wave of nausea and flipped onto my stomach to avoid the brightness in the room. I’d gotten so thin that I could feel my sore abdominal muscles barely touch the wooden floor. It used to stress me out how much fat I’d lost, but I didn’t care anymore. I still had all of my muscle. What was this, like the first time in three years I’d touched alcohol? The stuff disgusted me, and the first time I did it in a millennium I ended up fucking it up. Until now I tried to avoid the topic of the sex I probably had the night before, and gingerly tried to entertain the idea of me having sex with another guy. My stomach lurched and I moaned, turning onto my side. “Fucking kill me.”
When I heard the door open, I didn’t even move. Since my head was facing the underside of the bed, I yelled a muffled, “Did we have sex?”
“I don’t know!” He yelled back. I turned my head, squinting, trying to recognize his face but he’d already returned to his side of the bed and sat back down.
“Well, do you remember anything? Who are you? Do you even know me?” I thought I should probably stop cowering on the floor, but I was hit with another wave of nausea.
“Look, I don’t even remember what I did before I got drunk!” He shouted.
“Why are we yelling, it’s making me nauseous,” I shouted back.
“I don’t know I’m freaking out!”
I groaned, pulling myself to my feet and sat on my side of the bed. “Are you gay?”
He laughed somewhat hysterically which made me turn to face him back startled, and threw his hands into the air. I couldn’t help but admire the ripples of muscle on his back. “Apparently, unless one could be straight and sleep naked in a bed with another naked man. Why, are you?”
“I didn’t think so,” I muttered, massaging my head in my hands. “Maybe we didn’t do anything.”
“You seriously think that? Really.”
I shut my eyes and waited for the room to stay still. “It’s not like we’ll ever find out if we did or not.”
“Yeah I guess,” he murmured. “Do you... you don’t, uh. Hurt, anywhere you usually wouldn’t, do you?” He turned to look my way, frowning with one eye kind of shut.
“No, I don’t know! Would that even be something I’d be able to... feel the next day?”
“I don’t know! I’ve never done this before... Jesus,” he yelled standing up and pacing.
I cleared my throat and stood up too, walking over to him. He stopped and stared at me as I clasped both hands on either side of his face to keep him still, studying it carefully. “I’ve never even seen you in my life!” I cried walking away, feeling myself heat up with the stress. “I could have fucking AIDS right now. I could’ve had it and given it to you.”
“For the record, I don’t have anything,” he muttered, leaning against the dresser mirror.
“Yeah, me neither.”
“I know what we need to do,” he said finally, after a long silence.
Walking over to me quickly, he pulled me upright and took a long look at my body. It was hard not to notice how handsome his face was and how nice his body was. His eyes were a cold, dark brown and I had trouble seeing the difference between his pupil and iris. Without hesitating any further he put a hand on the back of my head and kissed me, eventually prying my lips apart with his and entwining our tongues. I guessed he was trying to see if it would turn him on and played along, holding either side of his waist. His muscular abdomen really was stunning. He tasted like cold mint, and the way he started to kiss me hungrily was kind of hot.
When neither of us pulled away and we started to get out of breath, I timidly pulled his hips into mine. He didn’t need much encouragement. It only started to really freak me out when I could feel him hard through his boxers. I pushed him back, panting slightly, and walked away from him to the other side of the room with my hand on my forehead.
“What the fuck,” I moaned. It was embarrassingly close to a whimper. “That turned you on?”
He didn’t answer and instead collapsed onto the bed on his back. Turning his head to look at me upside down he gestured towards me and said, “Oh like I’m the only one.”
I looked down at my waist and noticed I was probably harder than he was. “Ha!” I shouted, throwing my head back. “I’m a fag! I’m a fucking fag.”
“I guess we fucked,” he sighed, throwing a bit of the blanket over his face.
The way he was stretched out across the bed, arms over his head, gave me a perfect view of him. He had more muscle mass than I did without looking beefy at all, which was nice. The longer I was exposed to his abdomen, the more fascinated it made me. As my eyes washed over them again, I pictured myself running my hands up and down them, feeling the ridges and planes of his torso...
He pulled the covers back off his face and noticed me looking at him. “Are you checking me out now?”
“Yep,” I said, looking down.