Faux Pas

Faux Pas

/fəʊ ˈpɑː, French fo pa/- noun an embarrassing or tactless act or remark in a social situation.

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The smell of nicotine and cologne filled the already musky room. Sunlight trying to seep into every pore it can through the curtains.

The reminiscence of sex and alcohol filled the room, the consequences of yesterday's party.

Dipper sank on the cold mattress further, his head pounded, ringing. The pain dulled his senses much like you would expect from a hangover. His eyes heavy and slightly red, his hips were aching and it felt like a fire had been lit in the pit of his stomach. He sluggishly opened them, from the slits exposing a figure sitting on the edge of the bed. His warmth emanating, filling the cold air with warm smoke from a cigarette

His body was well sculpted. His scapula stood out against his slim and slightly muscular back, his spine curved with such beauty. To add on to that, the numerous tattoos on his back that decorated his slightly tan skin with such dominance. The light peeking through the curtains highlighted the contours of his body. Through this, he saw scratch marks extending from his scapula to his shoulders.

Even though Dipper's head was throbbing and his eyes were puffy, he was fixated and mesmerized by the figure's back.

if he had tried to remember, he would probably call out his name

As the figure puffed out his cigarette, his shoulders heaved and sighed. The smell of menthol made Dipper feel really much alive. He instinctively grazed the figure's back, fingers tracing the prominent triangle tattoo settled in the center of his back, surrounded by symbols that would probably not make any sense if one didn't ask.

It was an alluring gesture but Dipper had hoped otherwise.

The figure turned and his yellow eyes instantly captived Dipper, it shone mysteriously against the beams of sunlight. He pushed his hair back, as he stubbed his cigarette in the ashtray on the nightstand. His eyes were still captivating and undeniably sexy, it seemed to stand out and compliment his already handsome features. He leaned in, hand brushing against the bare skin underneath the blanket of Dipper, following upwards his calf, thigh, torso, chest and finally neck.

He was exploring and inspecting, Dipper can see it from his eyes, such ferocity that seemed to tear through his defenses, rendering him a prey to a predator. Dipper clutched the blanket, shoulders rose and frigid, clavicle exposed to the cool air, biting down on his lip to stifle a soft moan seeping from his parted lips. Finally, the tense air was broken-

"Morning, yesterday was great, I had a lot of fun, and I think you did too", he spoke, smirking. His low baritone voice filled the noxious air. Dipper knew, whoever he ended up with, was definitely not a regret. His face flushed, facing such a guy who seemed so many levels above him, good looks and a good body.

His head hurts just thinking about it

Dipper pulled himself up, exposing his chest marked with bite marks on his shoulders, spots of red and purple splotched on his body. His face still flushed, head and body hot and hungover, he needed time to clear his head and remember what the hell he got himself into. Everything was a blur, hazy memories filled every crevice of his mind.

He only remembered a party, words echoing, drinks served...Mabel introducing him, standing out among the others...the music and staggering...