"Nah, man. She was so fucking hot. I mean, did you see her grinding up against Everett last night? Shiiit. Lucky bastard."
I huffed a forced chuckle into my bedroom air, rolling a burning cigarette between my two fingers as I lifted it up to my lips and took a deep drag. My mind tried scrambling for pieces of intoxicated memories from the party I snuck off to last night, but only found flashes of glow sticks on heads bobbing to the deafening music, unfamiliar hands tugging him and touching him everywhere in the crowd like suffocating vines, and my head angled over a dirty toilet, vomiting up the whole night vigorously. With blurred glimpses into that sickening night, there was no memory of the brunette chick he was droning on about.
"Yeah, yeah I remember," I responded, effortlessly covering up my pointless lie. My body ached for sleep, and the more satisfactory remarks and insight I practically spoon fed to that guy I could consider my 'bestie' would hopefully get him to shut up. "Really hot. Yeah... Hey, what's your name again?"
"You son of a bitch," he laughed loudly into the speaker. I winced slightly at the volume breaking the microphone's sound barrier. "I know you better than to think you've forgotten me. Bro, you were basically latched onto me last night by my fucking neck. Did all of those parties we've hosted in the Highlands mean nothing to you?"
I chuckled at his fake sobbing through the phone and rolled over on my stomach on my bed. "I was joking, Isaac. Of course I remember your famous sapporo shotguns and contraband stash you always keep in your briefs."
"Amen, Y/N. I save lives, not catering money."
"Hm. Maybe one day, when you're old and homeless on the side of the street, you'll think to yourself, 'Hey, maybe I regret giving Y/L L/N the goods that one time-'"
"Hey! I live in the moment, you fucker. I'd take my life to give my friend whatever he wants."
"Says the same guy that promised me a ride from Katy's but found him passed out with a naked Marcee Banks in the basement." The vivid memory of tangled and exposed limbs never failed to give me tendencies to choke myself with my blazer tie. Though, I was out of luck, for I could be found groaning into a phone in reaction to my friend's commentary in only my boxers.
Shuffling commenced from the other side of the call; he must've been laying down in the bed as well. "It was that one time! You really need to get over the grudge. It'll give you white hair," he drawled, his Russian accent thick in that moment. He could practically have seen him roll his black eyes and drag a hand through his sandy blonde hair.
"So you won't be the odd one out?" I teased, positioning my drug between pursed lips.
"Shut up before I drive over to your daddy's mansion and beat your ass six feet under!" He cackled, and was accompanied by mine in a chorus of our obnoxious teasing, until it eventually died down to a comforting silence. "Um, so Y/N... Last night, after you gave, uh, that Dray dude a blowjob in front of everyone, you told me what happened with your guy. So he knows now?"
My E/C eyes widened in a quiet panic, and my blood froze to sharp blades of ice. Of course, my drunken self decided to burst out in sobbing fits as I dragged Isaac to a nearby bathroom, throwing my body over his back and clinging onto him as I admitted my careless mistake I committed was caught like a deer before an approaching car. I remembered the tears and snot splattered on my face in a mark of vulnerability and sensitivity I have never shown anyone before. It felt gross, like I spilt my whole guts out to him like a teenage girl with a caffeine addiction before I threw up all over the pink tinted tiles after. But, despite his unfocused eyesight and slurred speech, he still rested a hand on his back and reassured me of the better. I knew it was a pretense of the brighter side, but I still took whatever positivity I could at that point.
I considered his words, and drugged my thoughts into swirled spirals as I inhaled the rest of the nicotine out of my cigarette, taking it out between my lips and stubbing it out on the ashtray that was placed between my bright alarm clock. "I don't know," I answered him with full honesty. "If he does, he hasn't brought it up yet."
His friend sighed tiredly, and tsked. "Give him time. It must be kind of a big deal for him, man. I mean, what would you do if you found out another guy was jerking off to you? I bet it kind of surprised him."
My teeth flashed a humiliated grimace while I shoved my face into the nearest pillow I vigorously grabbed. "I don't know, okay? I don't know," I repeated, upset at the situation I began with the carelessness of my repetitive action. I really didn't know. What I was aware of was how Five handled things like this: he simply pretended they never existed. 'Avoiding problems makes the solutions come up somehow,' he told me before, and I merely laughed at his stupidity. Oh, well that's fucking hypocritical of me to say.
"Hey, don't stress, okay? If it makes you feel any better, next week our right-hand-man Jamie's throwing a gambling sesh. Wanna come and challenge us?"
My H/C hair shook loosely in front of my eyes as I rolled on my back and smirked at his pitched idea. "Sure, but I suck ass at Blackjack. Remember that time when Mikey threw that huge rage fit when he lost and exposed all of our plays? Dammit, I lost a fortune that day."
"Gotta learn and grow, love. $300 is a handful."
I frowned, sucking on an aching tooth. "Got your socks on, bro? That sounds kinda fruity to me."
Giggling filled my ears, and I smiled at the familiarity of the joyful sound my best friend made. My friend for many years that I had no shame in showing off that I idolized him in everything he did. "Nah. But no homo this time. Leave that for your boyfriend."
"He's not my boyfriend!" I snapped defensively. A scorching red fire burned beneath the skin of my cheeks; I already knew I looked like a gushing pile of fucking hoo-ha. "I just-"
There it was. A startling pounding on my wooden door. If it weren't for the late hour of the night, I would've expected for it to be Reggie Boy with his ass whooping stick coming for me like the damn devil riding my back. But no, the unfamiliar rapping rhythm the knocking sounded made me arch a brow. Who the Hell needed me at this hour, let alone at all? My first thoughts dragged to Klaus, who sometimes kept his stash in my horrendous monstrosity I considered a closet. I could almost hear the slight rasp in his voice everytime he scurried his pathetic way into my room for his cancer sticks (what? Don't look at me, the fuck?). Y/N, need that good stuff now, he would slur as he kept his balance even with his back against the wall. What a pitiful pubescent-like thing.
The line of my call went to a dull silence, probably due to the blonde listening into the sudden hush of my babbling. One second. Two. Three. Nothing. Then, it commenced again, only louder, more impatient. "Who the Hell is that, N/N?" Isaac whispered, being mindful of the unknown surroundings in which I was taking in without a clue of who it was that wanted to talk to me.
A pause. "I'll be right back, love," I whispered back through clenched teeth and snickered at the distant groan he heard.
"Socks, man. Put on socks!" he whined insistently, and I shook my head while sitting upright, putting my phone on silent and shoving it under my blankets.
My bare feet walked across the obliterated room covered completely with a blanket of dirty clothes, food bags, shredded up binders, and a unique pattern of the surface of a bong here and there. Visions of Isaac and I coughing smoke in each other's faces when we experimented our limits of our nicotine intake, laughing and pointing at the lack of oxygen in our faces making them glow red. Even Klaus joined for a session once, but was soon given the boot without his own bong when he tried giving my friend a lap dance. Didn't know there was also a bit of retard in this along with nicotine, Isaac told me, making me laugh. We always seemed to have a knee slapping time full of wheezing and totally straight flirting. Not to mention our speedy making out fits we always ended our nights with and all of our clothes totallyyy not thrown around my room.
What? Huh? Didn't tell you we did that before, hm? Well, now you know. Gotta like them nice and foreign, yeah? Blya da.
Anyway, I danced over each clean spot I dug out for the precise path that led me to certain areas in my room, and I adjusted the hem of my plaid boxers while I reached the door. And holy shit, was I not expecting a messy Number Five perched against the side wall, wearing nothing but boxers the same.
The brunette jolted at the obnoxious squeak my door produced, the sound echoing down the hall like a cymbal's crashing crescendo. His brown hair hung messily around his green eyes, and his moonlight skin so pale, so fragile looking, defined by the complementary shadows the late hour had given the mansion. The hills of his toned arms were crossed over his chest as he angled his chin downward, studying my gaping expression with an emotionless glance. Definitely not Sir Reginald...
"Five?" I called out to him with uncertainty. The mere shakiness of it hinted that my lungs were completely baked, and the startling appearance of him right by my doorway made my nerves sing to fine points. My throat was a fucking desert at this time, and I swallowed back the nonexistent bile that boiled up it.
No answer. His eyes slowly moved downward to scan my equally unflattering appearance, and something curled his lips upwards, like the corners of them were attached to invisible strings. With the intensity of his burning gaze, he could have nudged his sight past my skin and bones and seen the jumble of nervousness that tied my stomach into a knot. Yeah. He definitely knew.
As if the universe itself was tired of the tension, he forced himself off the wall with a push, and invited himself into my room. I definitely did not freeze and almost crack beneath his touch when his shoulder brushed against mine. I could almost feel the electricity that wired him together beneath that unbearable heat of his pale skin. I slowly pivoted in my spot in a mix of disbelief, and I muttered, "Yeah, sure. Come on in, Fivey."
Five turned his head to face me, and shrugged with pressed lips. "Didn't get much of a greeting at first. Thought I'd play along in this charade game." He paused, considering something, and his dark eyebrows furrowed. "And don't call me that."
"If you came all the way over here just to be a pain in my ass," I sneered, "you lost your audience. I'm done dealing with girly cat fights with you." And with that comment, I caught sight of a pack of Marlboro's laying enticingly on my desk, and I licked my lips as I swiftly snatched it up. One more wouldn't hurt. Well, until I was 60 and hanging onto my collapsing lungs for dear life with an iron lung. I live in the moment, you fucker. Ha!
The messy mountain of dirty laundry dipped on my bed as the boy rested on it, laying on his side with an arm supporting his fatigued head. "I'm not here to fight with you, Y/N," he huffed out a humorless laugh, and saw as his green eyes watched me press a cigarette to my mouth and light it up with a nearby lighter. "Maybe about your poor life decisions, but I'm showing you a little grace tonight."
"Hallelujah." Gray swirls of smoke twisted and licked at my cheeks as I grinned with triumph up at the ceiling. The way that first drag made me feel like a fresh breath of heavenly air after a second too long was spent underwater. Besides the weighing stones of the overbearing presence that accompanied me making it feel less euphoric. "What do you want? Really? To interrogate me on Newton's Law of Gravity?"
A hand slapped his sharp face as he groaned loudly. "I knew I would regret this the moment I knocked on your damn door." Sheets rustled as he sat up, and I leaned my backside against the rough edge of my wooden desk, observing the absurd perfection in his every writhe and move. "No, actually I wanted to talk to you." A deep breath, and his head was in his hands. "I saw this video Klaus showed me."
Oh God.
"And-And I needed clarification before I had to begin assuming things, and- well, I basically am already doing that." Assuming? There would have been no assumption in that situation. With my apparently caught actions being clearly evident through my moaning that was unfortunately captured by the press of a recording button, it was clear I was not straight when it came to the eighteen year old who sat across the room from me. I almost felt sorry for my reputation. Well, I never really needed him anyway.
Small tremors of unknown emotion racked down his arms, and his bangs fell shaggy in clumps of hair that resembled a crown of twigs. I haven't wanted to run my fingers through his hair more than that very moment. I wanted to smooth out the stress tangles with my palms and watch his eyes glow bright at my light touch. If that never happened, uh, I guess I had Isaac to crawl to. "Hm. What are you assuming? It seems pretty damn clear what I think about you."
His sage green widened, and I could have sworn I saw something glisten a warning in the colors, but the angry blush that splotched his dimples cheeks distracted my conscience. "Wow. You're not nervous at all."
"Oh, I am. I'm just so fucking faded right now, dude." I blew a cloud into the misty atmosphere and marveled at the graceful patterns it made before it disappeared into an invisible gas Five was clearly not enjoying inhaling.
"Y/N. Stop acting like you're completely stoned. I know you're listening," he hissed angrily. My eyebrows raised testingly at his change of moods. I knew I was in the wrong at that waking point, but I held no care. "You were doing weird shit and you think I don't care? That's not how it works."
"No, no. I thought you had experience with being so..." I gestured with my hand that held my cancer stick down at his body, and he got the memo, considering his face blushed deeper. "I was guessing you have seen some similar shit."
"Oh, now you're the one assuming too?" He was now standing, slowly approaching where I halfway sat down on the desk.
"Mm..." I hummed, tilting my head back far enough to where the crown of it bumped into my Beetlejuice poster, and ran my tongue openly over my bottom lip. "Maybe. Maybe not. There's a lot to assume on my part too."
Silence. Without looking, I knew the body heat that radiated off of him was near, for the goosebumps on my legs faded as I grinned at his closeness. I hadn't a clue what attracted me to him like that before. It all just sort of happened like a flick of a light switch. One moment I hated him, and in the next, it was all just gentle chaos. Countless nights of staring at my ceiling covered with Polaroids I took with friends on previous occasions, wondering if Five would ever be smiling and happy in one of them. Or when I quickly glanced at him every so often during the torture hours of our classes. Or when I fucked Isaac on a daily, wishing it was him I was pleasing and that it meant something in the end, and not just resulting in whispering promises in each other's ears to forget it in the impending morning.
But the boy that stood between my legs was not Isaac, as I tilted my head down to view him, it was Five. The one I craved above everyone else I've ever had in my miserable years. And as I chewed on my bottom lip with my teeth as I scanned his unreadable face, the first thought that struck me in the head was: Damn, he's closer than I thought he was.
Our noses were practically brushing against each other's.
"I want to know," he quietly whispered, eyeing my mouth when he sucked on his lips. At the close proximity between us, I could hear each small hitch in his breath and the small grinds of his teeth. Every single flinch and twitch I have missed over the years of not being this close to him; not being this close at all. Now, I've found my new nicotine.
My nervousness was swallowed by the lump in my throat, and I mentally slapped myself for letting my ego crumble beneath his featherlight touch. What happened to Y/N L//N? Where did he go? Did he finally crawl into a ditch and die after this whole time? I knew it! Haha! Dammit!
"...Want to know what, Five?" I responded, barely being able to hear my own voice since I was basically breathing out my words in quiet waves of anxiety.
He moved a little closer. "To know if it means anything at all..." Closer. "Does this mean anything?"
My mouth slowly gaped open when the faint taste of his lips skated over mine, and I let myself grin a white smile. It always had. Each moment with him never meant nothing. "Yes. Yes, yes it does. Ugh, dude. You're playing hard to get."
"Mm. Says the guy who ran away from me when I tried confessing my feelings on that night of the banquet."
My spine shivered at the brought up memory filled with messier hair, unkempt tuxedos, and rapid breathing, all behind a marble pillar as a crescendo of an orchestra's symphony crashed around us. With the surprise of the moment, my legs began to carry me away from him. With the look on his face, I knew it felt like someone reached over and slapped him hard. "I can't help that you jumped me like a middle schooler trying to kiss their crush."
"Jumped you?" I began to nod in confirmation, when I flinched as two hands ran down my arms that braced themselves on the sides of my desk, and I nearly sighed at his warm palms painting steaks of golden bliss over my needy body. "No, Y/N. I remember asking you if you were okay, and you said yes... It confused me, and it still confuses me now." His hands were now on my thighs, and I spread them out even more for him. His lips ghosted up to my ear, and I could almost hear the smirk in his voice. "If I asked you the same question now, would you say yes again?"
My breath hitched, and I was wholly aware of his hips digging into mine at an alarming rate of greed. "Oh. Yeah, I would," my voice wavered shakingly. And let me tell you, when I tried to keep my voice steady, it didn't work at all. Thumbs up, big man!
A groan flowed into my ear, and I sighed at the contact when he brushed his soft lips against it. Hot, wet kisses trailed from the arch of my ear to my earlobe, all the way down to the soft, vulnerable plane beneath it. "Y/N..." he breathed gently against my skin, sucking on it deliciously and I tilted my head to the side, losing sight of my dimly lit bedroom as I squeezed my eyes shut, preparing for that one question that would knowingly turn this whole night around 180 fucking degrees. "Y/N," he repeated after he finished marking my throat, "can I kiss you?"
My knuckles turned white against the death grip I had on my desk, and I slowly let my eyes drift open, and I breathed out heavily, letting my lungs pant as I watched him pull away so I could release the cutting pain of the wood into my skin and place my hands on his shoulders. "Fuck yeah, you can." And with that, I didn't know what the God's name happened, but I was found pressed up against the wall, my hands in his hair and long legs spreaded to welcome his hard hips against my thighs as he smashed his patient lips against mine, making me gasp at the pressure.
Our hands were roaming everywhere all at once, and I arched into every rub and scratch he raked into my limbs as I French kissed him heavily. There was no kiss I ever had before with any girl or boy that could even be compared to that one. The burning passion burning through our veins as the energy flowed as a current between our two bodies was real, and not staged like the rest of my kisses seemed to be. No, it wasn't Isaac's usual chapped lips scratching mine, rather his was soft and full and tasted like peaches. It wasn't Marcee's kiss where she drooled so much, rather we succeeded in keeping our spit in our mouths when we licked each other's. It was hot, messy, delightful in every way I could imagine. Whatever partner he had in the past, it was evident he had much experience with this shit.
Bottles of Bud Light knocked over from the pressure of my hands and crashed beneath us, and various writing writing utensils rolled after it. Everything was a mess beneath us, but was caused by ours. My nails scratched down his broad back when he buried his head into a part of my neck, and I breathed out something indecipherable when one of his palms traveled down under my boxers, cupping my backside.
"Damn, he's dirty," I panted into the air, my tongue running over my teeth as I kept my E/C eyes shut. A low sound emitted from his occupied mouth, and a shark pain shocked my nerves. I hissed through clenched teeth as the pain from his deep bite soaked through my body like a flood of running water. "What are you trying to get at here?"
He chuckled above my blemishes, and angled his head the other way to kiss at the other side of my neck. I shivered at his cool lips pressing against my body at last. "You."
"Oh, now you admit you think I'm hot and sexy. Five, you little-"
"Shut up before I leave you with a boner for the rest of the night."
"Yes sir."
It would be a lie if I told you I hadn't enjoyed it all. God, was he good at it; he knew it too. With the way he smiled at every shake and every sigh he drew out of me like streaming lights of lust, or the way he confidently touched me where I bared him, making the roles of my expected scene switch without my damn consent. Ugh, that little bitch boy!
No way in Hell I'm getting bottom! You think I'm on drugs (well, you know what I mean)? How did Five expect such things from me? Nah-uh. No way am I pitching my pride in the dumpster like he was doing now.
I swatted his curious hands that were buried in my boxers away, and I shoved my cigarette in my mouth when I grabbed at his thighs, swiftly swiping him off his feet and grinding my hips into his as I carried him. "God dammit!" he yelped, his arms flailing before he caught his balance with two grips on my shoulders before he cracked his head against the corner of my closet.
"If you think I'm that soft to fuck you on my burgundy desk, you'd be incorrect," I smirked at him, and watched his face pale a white hue of embarrassment. Though, it didn't affect the determined locked set of his square jaw.
His head lolled back as he groaned throatily, and I could feel the heat in my apex spur into action. Shadows caressed and dipped at every curve and knot of his bare skin, and the silhouette of his sharp figure made me want to lick every inch of him to my fill. Why did he have to move in such ways that made my hormones sing with longing urges? "I wasn't thinking that," he whined, and bounced his frame up as he began to slip. That maneuver unfortunately made the waistband of my boxers slide a bit down to reveal that dip between my left hip, and my cheeks burned.
"Do you really think I can't read people like a fucking book?" I asked when I struggled to make my way over to my bed through the mountains of black clothing and hills of trash I carelessly threw aside during a random time of the day. The black sheets that covered my bed were practically calling my name. "I saw it in your eyes and the way you shoved your tongue down my throat. And I mean to tell you, before I forget, your tongue can salsa dance, bro."
I threw him onto the bed rather roughly and watched as his face hardened at my observation. "Do you ever take anything seriously?" he asked incredulously with a curl to his lip.
"Mm, no." I shrugged my shoulders, and kicked back the blankets of my bed so I could fully view him writhing beneath me, all bothered and flushing. Wait, how did we get here again? How did he end up displayed beneath me on my bed? His infamous brown-black hair fanned beneath his head and over his brows, his hands resting beside his red ears and legs beginning to spread as I stared between them with a drag of my drug.
His face abruptly crumpled after a fit of bewildered staring, and I internally put my neck in a death gripping choke hold at my slip up. I grimaced as he opened his mouth for a minute, then closed it. Then opened it again. Oh no, here came the Five lecture. "Oh, so the fact that we're about to have sex doesn't phase you at all?" he hissed at my widening eyes. I could almost feel the anger radiating off of him like the smell of his sweet cologne he sprayed on the pulse points of his body.
I held up my hands in defense of my standing and smiled with raised brows. "It does, trust me. I've waited a long time to do this with you."
"Then why do you keep sitting there and smoking yourself up to a quick high? I'm literally right here. Hello. Hi. Have me already," he deadpanned with bored eyes.
I considered his offer thoughtfully, and swung my hips around in circles slowly on my hard heel. A glimpse of a black and white poster caught my attention through the avoiding gaze of the boy's annoyed look, and glanced up to stare at my AC/DC poster. I searched in the lead singer's frozen eyes for any enlightenment. Brian Johnson, please have the answers to all of my worries. But no, his mouth did not move like Gusteau's cul Français from fucking Ratatouille, rather stayed in a silent scream at the flash of the camera. I hated life.
Okay, okay. Here's this, Y/N: what if you were Brian and you were about to have sex with a hot surfer boy you picked up at a gay bar? What would you do? I don't know! Brian isn't gay! And not a fruity porn star either!
"Brian... help me..."
"What?"
"Shut up! Shut it! Okay, alright, fine... OKAY! I just wanna fuck you so bad, I can't think!!" I shouted at him, and scrambled to position my legs beneath his, and grabbed the bottom of his knees to hook them around my hips.
"Wow, that was blunt," he snickered, but was cut off as he choked out a breathy moan when I grasped onto the middle of his thighs. Man, I had enough of his annoying chatter. He reminded me of his brother at some points, which pushed me close to a manic breaking point.
He felt firm in my palm, and I worked on him slowly. His breathing quickened and hitched, and he squeezed his eyes shut when he tilted his head back into the black pillow beneath him. Then, I unfortunately realized in that moment of confusing realization: maybe black wasn't a good choice of sheet colors.
Whatever. It didn't matter.
I leaned down and took my drug in between two fingers, and kissed without rhythm at his shoulder, keeping my stroking unfaltering. His skin burned against my lips, and I reveled in how his body attracted me so much, like a magnet to a magnet. I couldn't get enough of him. My fingertips drew patterns below his rib cage as I licked up to the bottom of his ear, and heard his faint sigh when I sucked on his earlobe.
His hips shifted, and my hand was taken off of the apex of his thighs and angled over his shoulders, taking all of my weight onto his chest when I let my body fully frame him. I kissed and kissed at his neck and weaved my fingers into his soft hair, pulling and tugging. My limbs were molten and sluggish, almost as if I didn't know what I was doing. But I was with Five. And his encouraging eyes staring at me after every maneuver I moved onto him made me believe that this is where I belonged. This is what I should've been doing with him all along.
❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎
There will be more parts to this, so don't worry. It's not over.
And not gonna lie, after writing this, you'll definitely see Isaac more from now on.