"Whatever you want." Chris called back, not hearing a word Dave had said about the rum as he quickly exited the room.
'I'm not gay; I couldn't be, right?' Fuck, no. It was revolting, unnatural; one of many things that his father would probably literally kill him for.
And yet, was he really sure? Having never been with a guy or girl before, how can one really know without…testing the waters a bit? He thought on this for a split second before determining how completely impossible it was.
'It's just the alcohol. That's it.' Chris thought; desperately trying to convince himself, as he paced drunkenly around the large kitchen. 'Just gonna go back in there and…and…' His mind trailed off.
"Kiss him." he said out loud; instantly stopping in his tracks. 'I really, REALLY want to kiss him…'
Staggering through the hall, Chris approached his bedroom and noticed Dave helping himself to more rum. 'Good. At least he's pretty drunk, too. That makes it okay…right? Fuck it. Doesn't even matter.'
With an extra bout of confidence (mostly thanks to the liquor), Chris stumbled his way over to where Dave was seated and dropped right down into the boy's lap before gripping his face and planting probably one of the most awkward kisses he was sure Dave had ever received, upon his lips.
Dave blinked in surprise. It was so graceless, the way Chris held his face and pressed those bruising lips against his that Dave couldn't help but let out a small laugh. Dave tilted his head, the angle giving him the advantage of delivering a deeper kiss uninterrupted by bumping noses. His eye's slipped closed, both hands coming to rest around Chris' body as the bottle gripped in his fist tapped lightly against the mans shoulder. The first thing he noticed was that it felt incredibly good, the pair of warm, soft, inexperienced lips pressing against his. There was also something else, the strange and unfamiliar scratchy feeling of the boys facial hair rubbing against his skin made him keenly aware this was another man he was kissing.
A wave of relief washed over him as Dave seemed to fully accept the younger's inexperienced and clumsy kiss. He swore there was absolutely nothing that felt better than kissing Dave Lizewski, well, besides the sensation of grinding himself against his friend's lap of course, that wasn't too bad either.
Chris slipped his arms around Dave's waist and pressed himself as close to the other's body as he could manage; a small moan escaping his lips while he relished in the contact. His fingers dug hard into the soft material of Dave's shirt while he felt himself getting hotter by the second; pulling the older boy's larger frame against him for more friction. He had never felt anything like this in his entire life and it was like he couldn't get enough no matter how hard he tried.
The kiss became less chaste and a lot more heated as the man on top of him set a rhythmic pace of clashing hips. It was sensational, the feeling of their denim clad lower halves as they rubbed against each other. The desperation in their vigorous grinding matched the needy kisses the boys exchanged as they clung onto one another.
The knuckles on his hand turned white, clenching the rum bottle in his fist tightly. His grip slackened and the object slipped through his fingertips. The bottle resounded with dull thud while miraculously not shattering; though its contents emptied onto the floor.
Dave pawed at Chris's clothing, drawing him impossibly closer. He wanted every inch of that body pressed up against his. Warm puffs of air wafted across his face with every breath he took. The breath hitched in his throat before he groaned lowly, responding to the others chirps of pleasure. The other's tactless approach at kissing was slowly becoming tainted with skill as he demonstrated his own. He fought impatiently to slip his tongue inside of the mans mouth, to taste more of him.
Chris accepted the intrusion with little resistance, savoring both the strong essence of the alcohol and this very new sensation as Dave's tongue caressed his.
Hands worked their way from around the slim waist and up into the locks of the dirty-blonde hair; Chris' fingers tangling into the strands, gripping tightly as if afraid Dave would pull away from him. It was clear though that the other had absolutely no intention of stopping and only seemed to cling to him just as tightly. Chris noted how surprisingly strong Dave was for his slender build as the man held him close, refusing to let go.
"Want you," he whispered hungrily through their kiss, barely noticing just how much his own body was trembling. He just needed more of Dave, all of Dave, anything he could possibly get from the other.
The hands tugging insistently at Dave's hair only served to work him up further; there was a certain desperation to the act, it was like Chris needed him. Needed this.
He never wanted anyone, not even Katie as much as he wanted Chris in that moment. Dave was unable to help himself and switched their positions in one quick movement. Pushing Chris to lay on his back, Dave closed the space between them and covered Chris' body with his own. His lips capturing Chris' in a drawn out kiss.
Chris sighed softly at the feel of Dave's strong body pressed against his and breathed the other's scent in deeply. Oh yeah, this was way better.
He instinctively raised his hips to gain more of that friction that was lost during the brief moment Dave flipped their positions. His arms came to wrap around Dave's body; reaching up past the cotton shirt and pressing his hands against the small of his friend's well-defined back, Chris grinded the other down hard onto him while gasping at the intense jolt of pleasure it caused.
Chris slowly opened his hazel-brown eyes as he felt something cold slide down beside his face and smiled against the other's man lips when he noticed Dave's glasses had slipped from his face.
"Open your eyes", Chris murmured; wanting to see him without the distraction of his glasses.
Responding to the soft spoken request, Dave's eyes blinked open to behold Chris' wondrous bedroom gaze.
Chris shied away from their passionate kiss and bit down wantonly on his lip when those dazed, vibrant blue eyes fixed onto his and the sculpted muscles of Dave's lower back flexed against his small fingers. "Fuck…" he uttered breathlessly; Dave was truly gorgeous and he could only imagine what the rest of this man looked like under those ill-fitting clothes that did nothing to help his appearance.
His confidence fueled by a desperate need, Chris took hold of the hem of his partner's shirt and tugged upwards; indicating his want for the other to take it off.
- o - o - o -
Frank D'Amico was thrilled to be finished work at this hour; it was rare for him to be heading home while the sun was still out and he took his time driving at a leisurely pace. It had been a good day; a tad boring as the mob boss didn't have to kill anyone today, but there was always tomorrow.
Pulling into his reserved parking space alongside his son's old Mercedes, Frank noticed the boy was still home.
'Good' he thought, as he stepped out into the dimly-lit, private underground parking lot, clearly the boy had learned from the last time he decided to go against him. He wasn't a bad kid, but sometimes it took a little more effort on Frank's part to lead him in the right direction.
He loosened his tie and un-tucked his shirt from his dress pants as he rode the elevator; glancing down at his gold wristwatch when he reached the top floor.
'Just in time for dinner.' He smiled. That was definitely a first.
The doors slid open and Frank stepped into his lavish home, heading straight for the kitchen where his three chefs were preparing a meal.
"Sir," the one cook nodded to him, avoiding eye contact.
The three of them were completely silent as they worked, which Frank found incredibly odd as it was normally quite the ruckus in the kitchen with his lead chef barking out orders.
He stared at them in confusion before shrugging it off and tossing his briefcase onto the table; they were probably just as surprised as he was to see him home so early.
Finding the silence of his chefs strangely uncomfortable, Frank retreated to his office to finish what extra work he may have; there was always work to be done, but it was nice to be home at least.
The door to his son's bedroom was closed as he passed by and the man figured he'd check on him as soon as his work was complete. He had a tall order of cocaine to fill for a very rich client in Boston that he had putting off for too long now.
- o - o - o -
Chris pushed himself up to a seated position and gladly assisted his friend in removing his top, tugging it over his head and whipping it across the room and starting on his own.
Sitting back, Dave waited in his feverish state for Chris to finish removing his top, but it seemed he was having trouble.
'Fucking buttons!' Chris cursed; of all the days to wear a damn, tight-fitting dress shirt as his trembling hands could barely get a grasp on the buttons. He managed to unfasten the top few as he sensed his partner's impatience growing. "It's Armani for fuck sakes. I can't just rip the thing off! Do you even know how much this shirt costs!"
"I don't care. Hurry and take it off." Dave instructed, his eager hands dived down to join Chris's shaking ones, making quick work out of the buttons.
"Alright, alright. Fuckin' help me here." The younger boy whined, allowing Dave to toss his expensive shirt aside. Chris found himself immediately on his back again as his restless partner dived for him; closing the distance between their half-naked bodies and stealing another fervent kiss.
Dave craved more skin on skin contact; his skillful hands explored Chris' chest, feeling the younger mans body melt underneath his touch.
Chris inhaled deeply at the warm, crushing weight of Dave's slender, but muscled physique molding perfectly against his much smaller one. He dragged his fingernails up Dave's back then back down again to grip, almost painfully, at his sides; longing to run his hands over every inch he could reach at that moment. He gasped sharply when soft lips brushed his neck and groaned when those lips latched hard onto the sensitive areas of his neck. Dave seemed to know every move to cause the less experienced boy to cry out in pleasure.
He greedily craved more; as downright incredible as this was, it just didn't seem to be enough. His friend was teasing him crazy and he damn-well knew it. And he was still far too timid to fully word his desires.
"Dave…?" was all he could seem to manage as the look in his eyes begged for his partner to take this further.
Pausing at the sound of the mans voice calling his name, Dave withdrew slowly, hoping to god that Chris wouldn't ask him to stop. He desperately wanted this to continue. Dave leaned back to regard the others expression and saw the needy want plainly written there. Encouraged by this, Dave reattached his mouth to Chris's neck and slid hands down the boys sides.
Chris grasped the others' wrists as he followed them down his body to the start of his jeans, pushing hard against Dave's hands for him to go lower. Fingers found the belt loops of his loose jeans and began to pull at them.
"Wait." Chris whispered; undoing the button on his pants and yanking down the zipper to make it easier. He lifted his hips slightly for Dave to tug his jeans down and propped himself to help take them off.
Dave's mouth didn't break contact with his neck the entire time he stripped him of his jeans. His lips nipped and sucked at Chris skin as he listened to him illicit those sounds that made his body thrum with excitement.
"Mmm." Chris moaned, dropping his head to the side to give his lover better access to his neck. His mouth fell open as he no longer tried to contain the cries of pleasure that his partner was so effortlessly drawing from him.
- o - o - o -
"Done." Tossing his arms behind his head Frank leaned back in his chair and rested his head against his hands, finally able to relax and knowing he had over a hundred thousand dollars coming his way just from this simple deal.
"Hey, boy!" he called from his office; giving Chris a moment to respond.
'Huh, that's weird…' he thought to himself as he failed to receive a response. Usually when he called for him the kid was at his door before Frank could even blink an eye.
"Chris!" raising his voice a little in hopes he would be heard.
Chris' eyes immediately shot open and his entire body tensed at the sound of his father's voice. 'Holy. Shit,' he thought as he sat upright, 'What the fuck is he doing home so early?'
"Get off me, come on, hurry up, my dad's home!" Chris practically threw the larger boy off both himself and the sofa.
Dave dropped onto the floor, narrowly missing the coffee table. "Ow. What the-" He was then forced to stand up before he was pushed into a large closet.
"He will literally murder the both of us if he finds you so just stay here for now." The younger declared; his words littered with fear as he closed the door on his friend.
With Dave hidden, Chris darted over to his computer to boot it back up and get his homework loaded on the screen before frantically searching for both his jeans and shirt to throw back on quickly; troubling himself with the buttons of his top and managing to do up a few which was good enough for now as he heard the knock at his door.
"Hey, dad. H-How long you been home for?" He smiled, opening the door and struggling to keep from possibly slurring his words.
The pleasant effects of his drunkenness had worn off and the after effects of it were beginning to kick in as his head spun from the numerous shots of hard liquor only an hour or so ago.
"Not long. You alright, kid?" His father immediately asked, noticing the rather disheveled state his son was in. Ignoring the bruise on his face (as he knew perfectly well where that came from), Frank looked Chris up and down in confusion; half-buttoned, half-tucked-in dress shirt, hair that was normally styled meticulously looked as though the kid hadn't run a comb through it in a week, his face and neck flushed beat-red, and his eyes were that of someone either incredibly high, drunk or had just been thoroughly fucked (which, if any of the three, Frank did not want to hear about it).
"You sick or somethin'?" Stepping closer to feel his forehead and noticing a small deep-red mark on the side his neck. "Is that…a hickey?" Taking a tight hold of his son's chin with one large hand Frank forced his head to the side.
"N-No, it's umm," the boy stammered, but Frank cut him off as he noticed something else just as strange lying on the floor.
Releasing his grasp on Chris, Frank reached down and picked up a plain, white cotton t-shirt that never in a million years his son would ever be caught dead in and stared at it with disgust. "Where in the world did you get this?"
"Huh?" Chris' jaw dropped as he realized what his dad was holding: 'Dave's shirt!'
"Oh. Ha, that old thing. Ya," Chris laughed nervously as he tore the shirt from his father's hands, "just comfy shit I wear around the house when I know I'm not going anywhere that day."
"Is that so?" Frank questioned suspiciously; crossing his arms over his chest and examining the worn-out, shabby t-shirt that looked to be a size or two too large for his son.
Chris threw the shirt down behind him and extended an arm to rest against the door-frame; hoping to block out any other noticeable things that the boy's may have forgotten to hide during their scramble.
"I'm still workin' on that essay, so uh, I'll see you for dinner in a bit, kay?" His father knew something was up. Chris couldn't lie to save his life; a skill that Frank wished he had developed as lying was a strong requirement needed for their line of work.
"I'd like to see it." The man shoved past his son with little effort and stepped into his bedroom towards his computer.
'Shit, shit, SHIT! This is not happening right now.'
"I said it's not finished yet!" He scampered over to stop his dad from entering his room any further, but it was too late. And Frank had no intention of looking over schoolwork right now as his eyes scanned the boy's bedroom.
"When did you start wearing glasses?" Puzzled by the random pair lying carelessly on the floor as the mobster inspected the large room; he was fully aware the lack of attention he paid to his son, but he was sure he would have noticed this.
'Oh my fucking GOD, come ON!'
"They're fairly new, actually. Just noticed 'bout a week ago that I couldn't-" He was cut off once more as Frank marched towards him with that look on his face; a look Chris knew all too well.
A.N. - This is a roleplay between me and Jayden Blake. I play as Dave and Mindy. My amazingly talented partner acts as Chris, Frank, and Damon. Once again I'd like to point out that this is a slight AU. That means most of the events that occurred in both Kick-Ass 1 and 2 don't pertain to this plot. And be sure not to make any assumptions about the characters, and their back stories. In this fic, Chris doesn't know Dave is actually Kick Ass and the boys are 21.
Disclaimer: I do not own Kick-Ass nor do I make a profit from any of my stories.