ok... i figured id start this kinda tame... so its beginning...
itsasledgehammer : I am fully aware that no one ever updates and i am trying so hard to do it at least once a week but i have finals so... after school stops messing up the important things (like bash slash) i will be more prompt... I swear
30 minutes later I'm walking towards the front door of Murphy's. I bum a cigarette off of some pseudo-punk slouching outside and head into the foyer type thing. I flash my fake id at the bouncer,shoot him a glare as he feels me up and move inside.
As I enter the tiny pub I look around and immediately spot Portman. He's leaned up against the bar drinking something from a red plastic cup. He looks up as soon as I enter the room and smiles as I weave my way through the crowded room. He turns toward me as I sit down and grab a drink and asks, "You have any problems getting in?"
"Not really. The bouncer at the front door checked me for drugs, weapons and tesicular cancer." I idly glance at my fake id and look at Portman. "This says I'm 5' 7", 172 pounds..."
He smirks. "Yeah, maybe when you were 10."
"Maybe I should get a new one."
"Hey. That says you're 22, that's all that matters in my book."
"True, I..." at that point the opening band starts and I'm saved from whatever idiotic thing I was going to say and eventually we're lost in a haze of marijuana smoke.
Portman's POV
The band comes on and the entire place is soon a mix of smoke and loud music. After the opening band leaves the stage the Misfits come on and we move towards the front of the stage. As they launch into a cover of Supercalafragalisticexpialadocious the crowd starts yelling and Fulton looks delighted.
We head out to a back alley and light a joint and go back inside. The lights have been turned off now and all you can see is a cloud of smoke. I look up towards the stage and marvel that the guitar player can smoke, drink a beer, sing and play guitar at the same time. These guys are good. The rest of the concert passes in a blur and before I know it the masses of people are pushing us towards the exit.
We go out back to the alley and light up and as were huddled together against the cold night air I sense a shift in his thinking. He seems so innocent right then, despite the joint between his lips and the knife he's casually twirling in his fingers. He looks at me and starts to say something and the next thing I know I have him pinned against the alley wall kissing him like my life depends on it. My mind vaguely reminds me that this shouldn't be happening but I ignore it in favor of the voice telling me to keep going. He moans and I have to force myself not to molest him right then and there. I have no idea how he'll react, or what he's going to do when this is over. All I know is for whatever readon I don't want it to stop. I have a sudden desperate need to touch him and my fingers scramble at his shirt. He's so different from the girls, so solid. I feel him gasp as my fingers scrape his stomach and I know I should stop but I can't bring myself to tear myself away. I hear a clatter as his pocket knife hits the dirty alley floor and as I press in closer I feel it underneath my boot.
Fulton's POV
There's a solid thud as his weight pushes me against the wall. I feel the air leave my lungs, although that was probably due to the small fact that his tongue was in my mouth doing things I hadn't thought possible. He pulls at my shirt and I feel his nails rake up my stomach and bite back a gasp. Who knew pain could be so nice? He tastes like marijuana, vodka and peppermint, and I can see myself becoming addicted to that taste . I don't know what he;s thinking or why he's doing this, but I really don't care right now. My brain is solely focused on his hands on me and his body against mine, and I feel like I'm drowning.
Portman's POV
The first thing I notice when I wake up the next morning, before the pounding headache and me smelling like day-old weed, is the fact that Fulton is curled up in my arms.
How, you ask?
Not quite sure. But I don't know how he'll react, so I reluctantly get out of bed, reassure myself that it was only a friendly gesture and go to eat breakfast. As I step out of my room I see Charlie coming out of his room down the hall and nod in his direction. As he walks up to me he wrinkles his nose and I give him a questioning look.
"Damn Portman, sleep in a greenhouse last night?"
True, maybe a shower is a better option.
I decide to go skate some laps and then take a shower in the locker room.
Fulton's POV
When I wake up the next morning my head weighs a ton and I am having alot of trouble recalling last night. I roll over to see if Portman is in his bed still and hear the crinkle of paper underneath me. I pull out a note, realize it's from last night and everything comes flooding back to me.
Shit, did that really happen? I did have alot to drink... It could have been a dream.
That thought keeps replaying in my mind and I decide it would be wise not to mention it. I mean, what if I'm making it up and Portman freaks out? With that thought I haul myself out of bed and head for a much needed shower.