That's Us

Lucas, Yes.

Just as I’d expected, when the final bell rang, Lucas was waiting for me outside. I saw him before he saw me, and I watched his expression morph from murderous to salacious the instant our eyes locked. His mouth kicked up on one side in an appreciative, hungry sneer as his eyes slid down the length of my body at a glacial pace, sending chills down my spine along with them.bThe next thing I knew, hard arms were around my waist, a hard mouth was seeking entrance to my own, and particularly hard and frighteningly large bulge was being pressed into my belly.

Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, oh my God… Adrenaline exploded through my bloodstream. My pulse sounded like a raging river in my ears, and the only thing I could hear over the white noise was my consciousness screaming, Fight or flight! Fight or flight!

The noise fell away, however, when Kenzie whispered in my ear, “Did you read my note?” I swallowed hard and nodded, unable to remember how words worked.bPlease don’t ask me if I love you back. Please don’t make me talk about it. Let’s just get this over with.

Lucas pulled away just enough so that we were eye to eye warm earthy green to glacial blue. The paralysis was so strong whenever he looked at me like that that I couldn’t even blink. Breathing required conscious effort. “I meant it.” *Gulp*

Before I could formulate a response that wouldn’t get dismembered, Lucas stripped me of my backpack and slung it over his shoulder. While Lucas carrying my stuff was nothing new, on that particular day, it felt more like he was using it as collateral. With one arm draped possessively around my shoulders Lucas steered me to the grassy area just behind the student parking lot where the the ten-foot-tall monster truck he’d pieced together from scrap parts lurched up onto a massive boulder, looming over the Civics and Escorts below (as if our classmates were even capable of being more intimidated by him).

Every day, Lucas would escort me to that mobile monument of testosterone, and every day, I’d watch as, one by one, the kids with whom I’d laughed and passed notes with just hours before cast their eyes downward

and turned away, and every day, I’d watch with pleading eyes as, one by one, the kids with whom I’d laughed and passed notes with just hours before the cast their eyes downward and turned away. I didn’t blame them. Lucas had made it abundantly clear, I was his, and looking at what was his the wrong way could be hazardous to a person’s health.

Lucas’s pornographic declaration of love burned a hole in my pocket and my mind as we drove in awkward silence to Karen's house. We’d crossed Karen's splintering rotten threshold a hundred times before, but on that eerily warm December day, the last day before winter break, I knew going in that part of me was never going to come back out. Lucas disappeared into the kitchen for a split second while I loitered on the four-by-four patch of parquet that Karen liked to call the foi-yay. Justbeyond it was the living room, home to all things brown and itchy, and

beyond that was the entrance to the kitchen where I could hear Lucas banging around. Instead of grabbing a beer and settling into Karen’s Brillo Pad of a couch, per my usual, I simply stood, petrified, on the parquet, not knowing where to go or what to do. Before I could formulate an escape plan, Kenzie reemerged from the kitchen, looking all too pleased with himself. He stalked toward mein bare feet—when did he take his boots off? grabbed my hand without saying a word, and led me up the sagging, squeaking stairs to Calvin’s old bedroom.

I’d only been up there once before, but it was exactly the way I remembered it—sparsely furnished, impersonal, and sad. Calvin had never stayed long enough to decorate, and Karen was either too depressed or absent to bother. The tiny wooden furniture looked as though it’d come out of a 1950s era dollhouse and been glazed with carcinogens. Lucas dropped my hand once we reached our destination and turned to face me. “Do you trust me?” f**k no! shouting inside my mind.

I swallowed hard, straightened my posture, and forced myself to meet hisgaze. “I want to.” Holding Lucas's stare was never easy, but at that moment, it felt like I was peering down both barrels of a shotgun. I had been hunted, separated from the herd, groomed. And now, here I was, serving myself up to him like a prized f*****g heifer. Lucas lowered those cobalt crosshairs from my face and sent them coursing over the length of my trembling body. His mouth and fingers soon followed, deftly taking with them the safety pins from my skirt, which soonbecame a tartan heap on the matted carpet. Resigning myself to my fate, I took a deep breath and slipped off my Siouxsie and the Banshees T-shirt and

(heavily) padded bra, adding them to the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Lucas’s mouth roved leisurely back up my torso, stopping to pluck and nip at each tight pearl pink n****e he encountered along the way. My hands

found their way to his velveteen scalp, as usual. I couldn’t help myself.

Lucas’s head was the softest thing I’d ever felt, and lately, I’d seemed to be finding excuses to touch it more and more. How could someone whom my eyes found to be so terrifying also feel like roses to my fingertips, taste like spearmint on my tongue and smell like freshly laundered cotton and warm freshly brewed coffee? When I took my head and eyes out of the equation, the rest of my senses would come alive whenever we touched.

By the time I finally tasted Luca's wintery breath, he’d worked me into such a wanton lather of need that I’d forgotten I still had on my underwear. That is until I felt his thick fingers slip between my hips and the thin strip of cotton covering them. Instead of sliding them down my thighs and continuing his unhurried seduction, however, Lucas set the tone for what was to come

by grasping both sides of my purple panties and stretching them to their breaking point. I released a tiny gasp of surprise, which was immediately followed by a much louder one when he then brought my shredded panties to his mouth and slowly ran his tongue over an embarrassingly large wet spot.

Lucas made unwavering eye contact with me as he savored the proof of my desire, desire I hadn’t even admitted to myself that I was feeling, and then reclaimed my mouth with his own. Only this time, when he kissed me, hetasted like s*x, and I was shocked to discover that I f*****g loved it. Still fully clothed, Lucas guided me to sit on the edge of Calvin’s bed. I watched in confusion as he began taking items out of his pockets and placing them on the dusty nightstand beside us a lighter, a pack of cigarettes, his keys, a pack of gum. From his back pockets, he removed his wallet and then a pair of handcuffs, followed by another pair of handcuffs. The f**k? Flashing me a wicked grin as the second set of steel bracelets hit the table, Lucas reached behind his back once more. (Those tight Levis were like a clown car of sin!) He retrieved a clear plastic bear filled with honey from his waistband. I don’t know if it was the thought of what he was about to do with those implements or the shocked expression on my face, but for the first time, since we’d met, I saw Lucas smile. Sure, I’d witnessed the corners of his mouth curl upward on more than one occasion, but it was always more of a sneer, smirk, or snarl. This was dazzling. His usually frosty eyes crinkled warmly at the edges, and his lips parted, revealing teeth so perfect that he could have been the spokesmodel for watermelon gum (especially considering how much of it he gnawed through a day). Combined with all those freckles, that smile gave me a peek at the eighteen-year-old boy hiding under Lucas's

armor. And he was cute.

While I sat and contemplated this strange new attraction I was developing to, someone whom, moments ago, I’d always considered to be more my captor than my boyfriend, Lucas tore off his plain white T-shirt and tight waist band with the grace of a jungle cat. Without his shirt, I could now see the head of his angry massive erection protruding at least two inches above the top of his boxers, the elastic waistband straining to keep the heavy weapon holstered against his abdomen. My brief, uneventful life flashed before my eyes. So, this is how it all ends, I thought. Bludgeoned to death by a skinhead’s p***s in my ex-boyfriend’s childhood bedroom. And I never even got to meet Billy Idol.

Taking his first weapon of choice—the stainless steel handcuffs—in one hand, Lucas guided me onto my back on the center of the bed. Blanketing me with his hard body, he expertly spread my legs apart with his own. His

carefree smile had already been replaced by something wicked, predatory. Lucas made searing eye contact with me until our puffy, swollen lips were reconnected. Instinctively, my hands sought his warm, fuzzy head as he began to drag his other head through my saturated folds. I could feel his self-control begin to falter. Kenzie drove his hands into my super short platinum-blonde hair (recently bleached and hacked off in yet another fruitless attempt to seduce Don Spring) and tugged hard. The force pulled my head back, exposing my neck and causing my body to arch into his unyielding chest. (Don who?) Lucas buried his face into the hollow of my collarbone and hissed, “God, I want you.” God, I wanted him right back. I might not have wanted to be seen with

him in public or admit to anyone that we were together, but in that forgotten little room on the outskirts of town, I could pretend that everyone else and all their opinions simply didn’t exist. And Lucas felt safe enough to lay his

armor down and be the vulnerable, affectionate—albeit kinky—fuzzy-headed boy that no one else got to see but me. The boy smelled nice tasted nice, and made me feel nice. There was no more denying it. I was in that room because I wanted to be. Once I was practically foaming at the mouth, Lucas left me panting to secure both my wrists to Calvin's bedposts, using the handcuffs I’d already forgotten he had. Although my spindly pale legs were free, the weight of my new steel-toed Grinders kept them secured to the foot of the bed almost as well as the steely bracelets around my wrists. The rest of my boyish sixteen-year-old figure was now splayed out and on display like the sacrificial virgin that, I was. Unsullied, but not for long. Within the next few minutes, that body would have its innocence ripped away in a torrent of pain and blood and honey. Within a few weeks, it would undergo an onslaught of hormonal changes from the birth control pills...