The thing is, sometimes it gets boring in that basement.  Yeah, there's a tv, and a radio, and hey... a washer and dryer even... but still.  Sometimes it gets boring.  It's raining outside, or it's too hot outside, or it's late at night and neither Hyde nor I can get to sleep.  So you see, really, it's not my fault.

Tonight it was boring, and it was dark, and there were candles.  The electricity had been out for hours, since noon, and I hate the dark.  I hate the dark, because I'm a pussy, but also because when I was nine I watched a really scary movie and it fucked me up for life.  So yeah, mostly I'm a pussy.

It's I don't know what time when I went down there, but I knew Hyde wouldn't be asleep.  I just hoped he wouldn't have some skank down there with him.  Unfortunately he didn't, and I say unfortunately because... well, we'll get to that.  I get down there and he's got this big thick candle Mom gave him for when the electricity went out and he's staring at it like it's trying to tell him something.  Which, honestly, isn't that unlikely because a) this is Hyde, weed is probably involved, and b) he's paranoid even sober.

And as soon as I sit next to him on the couch, this big roll of thunder vibrates the house and I jump, because I do that.  Hyde, of course, has to mock me for this.   Calling me a chicken.  Bawking at me like a rooster.  Ruffling my hair and saying 'aww, the poor widdle Eric isn't afwaid of the rain, is he?'

Which always annoys me so instead of striking up a friendly conversation so I can ignore the hurricane I just know is brewing above me (it doesn't matter that this is Wisconsin and there's no chance a hurricane would make it this far over dry land, I don't care what meteorologists say) I snap back at him.  And, that's okay too, because it's still getting my mind off of the pure horror that is drops of water and clouds smacking together.

It can get pretty hot in the basement in the summer on a regular day, but when we haven't had electricity for the better part of 12 hours, it can get downright sweltering.  When Hyde reaches up and yanks off his shirt I don't really think anything of it at first.  I toy with the idea of taking off mine, cause it really is that hot, but that's when I remember that's a really, I mean colossally, bad idea.

And things are going good for us.  Hyde's back with Jackie, Donna and I are working through things.  It's really going alright for us.  Last time he was mad at Jackie, and I was always feeling uncertain about Donna.  And last time didn't really go all that far, just... touching.  Touching in all the right places that were wrong, but just touching.  And we stopped before we went any further, and vowed to never do it again, and amazingly things went back to normal pretty quickly.  

Cause Hyde is Hyde.  The same guy I've known for countless years.  The guy that's so close to being my brother that he lives in my basement.  The guy that's always brooding, and never smiling, but really, honestly, not all that unhappy when it comes down to it.  And now he's sitting over there with his shirt off, and he's staring at that damn candle again, and suddenly that's doing things to me.  And the candlelight is casting all these shadows on him, with his face half hidden, and the muscles that really aren't that big seeming defined and sculpted.

So it's the rain's fault, and it's the boredom's fault, and it's the candle's fault that I make the first move.  It's not mine.  It's not mine at all.  I was not in control.

He lights up a joint, because that's what we do, and he passes it to me.  His fingers touch mine and the lightening seems to have gone from the sky to inside him, because I swear to God I was electrocuted in that moment.  He holds in his hit and looks at me with that 'what the fuck are you waiting on' expression of his and instead of taking my hit off of the joint, I take it straight out of his lungs.

He's kind of surprised, I guess, but Hyde never lets you know when he's surprised.  He grunts just a little bit when my lips press to his, and jerks his head back when my tongue skates over his lips, but really doesn't do anything after that.  He looks at me with those eyes I've never been able to read and raises an eyebrow and all he says is 'Dude.'

Immediately I turn right back into spastic boy, fumbling over my words and retreating to my side of the couch and nearly throwing the joint back at him.  I'm mumbling out five sentences in one and he's looking at me with that cool calculating gaze of his that puts me off guard anyway, much less at a time like now.  Finally I run out of words, or breath, I'm not sure, and sit there looking down at my hands and really really wishing Star Trek was real because I would really like for Scotty to beam me up to some place where Hyde isn't right now.

He opens his mouth and I think he's going to tell me to get the fuck out but instead he says he thought we'd agreed to not do this again.  I tell him he's not wrong, and that I'm sorry again.  He smiles, and it's such an uncharacteristically soft smile that for a moment I wonder if the pot was really strong enough to affect him that much from one hit.

"Stop apologizing, Foreman," he says to me.  "I was just surprised."

I don't even have time to wonder anything else cause then his lips are on mine, and his hand is jerking on my shirt so hard that my teeth mash into his with the force he's pulling me at.  I feel like maybe I bit into his lip, or he bit mine, because I think that's blood I taste but I just can't fucking care.   He's gripping the back of my neck and shoving his tongue down my throat like only he can, and it's just so different from how Donna kisses.

Donna kisses great, don't get me wrong, but with Donna it's sweet, and caring.  There's no bruising, there's no roughness, there's no sort of 'this is not supposed to be happening' thing floating through the air.  Hyde's leg is pressing down on mine and he's pinned me to the couch and got me squashed so tightly against him that I can't breath.  And the thing is, I don't want to.

Then he's leaning me down, and he reaches down and jerks my legs so I'm not laying on them, which is actually kinda sweet.  He does it so fast though that the only thing I'm thinking at the time is how fucking hot that is, because now he's on top of me and his hand's shoved up under my shirt and his tongue just doesn't quit.

There was no stopping to talk about it, there was no one pulling away and going 'woah, what are we doing here.'  There was no thinking about Donna, and I'm almost positive Jackie didn't enter his mind.  There was no hesitation, even.  It was just me, and him, and his hands, and his tongue, and his fingers, and every single part of my body feeling good.

It happened so fast, and I know it must have hurt, but my brain was so taken over with lust and want and need that I didn't let that register.  When he hand reached down I didn't even think of stopping him.  When his fingers reached back and delved in places Donna would never have gone in a million years, my eyes rolled back in my head.  

I never knew that would feel so good.  And maybe it doesn't, maybe it's just him.  Maybe it's just cause it was Hyde, and I don't know how I let myself think that after last time I could just walk away and never want that again.  Maybe I'm a fucking fool to think that this magnetic undeniable connection we've had over the years was strictly platonic.  Scratch that, that one's not a maybe.  

So when it went further tonight than it did last time, I went with the flow.  I never stopped him, and I never played the conscience.  He would have gone there last time if I'd let him, but I'd been too sober, too able to think, too inhibited by my own hang ups to let him.  Tonight, because of the thunder, and the boredom, and the candle, all of that went out the window.

I'll never forget that noise he makes in the back of his throat.  This low growling, whispering, hissing sound as he bends his head and his hair falls in my face.  The way his voice catches on words that he's holding back, words that I probably shouldn't hear anyway, because tomorrow when it's daytime I go back to being Donna's fiancé.  The flash of danger in his eyes when I grabbed his hair to pull him down for a kiss and he wouldn't kiss me until he decided it was time.

That last kiss was a mistake.  The whole thing was a fucking mistake, but that last kiss was probably a bigger mistake than the actual thing.  With his hand on my cheek and his eyes boring straight into mine, and the softest, most lingering kiss I've ever experienced.  Not even with Donna.

So now I'm going to burn this, because I can't ever read this again, and I can't risk anyone ever finding it.  My memory is really what needs to be burned, because I know that when I wake up with a hard on now it won't be Donna I'm thinking of.  It won't be Carrie Fisher, it won't be some random Playboy girl.  It's going to be Hyde, and his hands and his lips and his tongue and his fingers and his growl and his eyes.

It's going to hurt in the morning, I know it is.  But right now I can't regret it even a little.

Red's right.  I am a dumbass.