[I]"Mama, why do you taste so good? Mama, mama... why are you screaming? Please, stop..."[/I]

Aleksandr's eyes shot open.  His stomach was in knots.  His hands clenched his abdomen, "Fuck," he whispered.  Sitting up and hunching over.  His head was between his knees as he took in deep breaths.  His eyes were shut closed.  His hands slowly let go of his stomach and grasped his head, digging his fingers into his hair.  He felt like vomiting, again, and his head was spinning. 

Father Seraphim opened the bedroom door, after hearing stirring in the living area.  His eyes scanned the room and then focused on Aleksandr.  He quickly made his way to Aleksandr, "Aleksy, are you feeling alright?"  He sat down on the couch next to Aleksandr. The movement of the couch made Aleksandr's stomach hurt worse.

Aleksandr peaked out from under his arms, "Please, stop..." he asked his dad desperately, gritting his teeth.

His father's eyes moved back and forth, assessing the situation, "Are you sick?" his voice was low and sympathetic.

Aleksandr nodded.

"You're not [I]high[/I] are you?" Father Seraphim asked in a sterner voice this time.

Aleksandr said nothing for a bit as he glared at the floor, "No, Papa..." he muttered, feeling himself salivating, the kind that happens right before the upchucking. 

Father Seraphim stroked his beard, "If you're not feeling well, I'll have to find someone else to chant, tonight," he put his hand on Alekandr's back, rubbing it lovingly. Aleksandr quickly got up from the couch when his father touched him.  The warmth was nauseating. 

He stumbled towards the bathroom with his hand over his mouth and slammed the door shut.  Squatting before the toilet, he let out a whole bunch of dry heaves. Mostly saliva came out, dripping from his lips.  He was expecting at least vile. [I]But, God, she tasted so good[/I].

Father Seraphim sat concernedly on the couch.  He wasn't sure whether he should enter the bathroom or not. He closed his eyes and said a small prayer for his son, crossing himself afterwards.

Aleksandr pushed himself from the toilet and curled up on the bathroom floor, feeling the cold tile press through his shirt.  It felt nice there.  A small smile slithered on his lips, and a silent laugh escaped his mouth as his head cocked backwards slightly. He was fucking losing it. [@Arista]