FicWad

Hey whoa. It's been forever. I missed writing. So here's a slightly messed up little story, based word for word, (more or less) on the magnificent song by Brand New. Hope you enjoy it.

With one or two, I get used to the room...

I inhale deeply, the resionous smell of the straight vodka filling my nose. I gaze down into the plastic cup with a disparaging look, like I'm criticizing it for existing, before throwing it back in a sharp movement. I swallow, blanching. My eyes squeeze shut involuntarily,but when they open I can see the dingy bar more clearly.

The only light is dim, coming from a couple of random lightbulbs, a disco ball, as well as from several neon signs advertising Budweiser and Corona. The crowd is heavy, and the bass thumps loudly, shaking the entire building. I narrow my eyes, squinting through the smoke that is floating up lazily, adding a whole other level to the atmosphere with its haziness.

And they're scared that we know all the crimes they'll commit, who they'll kiss before they get home...

The crowd is wide, ranging from businessmen to college kids to grandpas.Old Men with long ponytails look at the young girls with hungry eyes. I want to say it's wrong, but I'm no better.

We go slow when we first make our moves....

My eyes latch onto a lean figure a few stools down from my own, who is gripping what would appear to be whiskey and trying to appear casual, but I can see it in his face that he feels out of place. He bites his lip tensely, contemplating his drinking before taking a small sip of it. I look hard, drinking him in with my eyes. His dark hair reflects some of the low lighting, and his eyebrows come together slightly over hazel eyes, which are flitting around as he tries not to look too long in any one spot. In his haste he looks over to me, eyes widening when his eyes meet mine. I offer a haphazard smile, which I intend to be comforting but feels wolfish as I show him my teeth. He smiles back though, looking slightly relieved. After eyeing his scarf and the delicate lines that spiral up his arms, I decide he's perfect. With a clear look of appraisal, I stare obviously at the empty seat next to him. His smile spreads, and he nods welcomingly.

But five or six bring you out to the car, number nine with my head on the bar...

"Can I buy you a drink?" I ask him in a low voice. His eyes gleam in response.
"Only if you get another for yourself." He beams at me.
I order myself a gin and tonic, and the boy requests the same. The bartender slides the plastic cups toward us, and I smile gently over the rim as we watch each other. He finishes his sip with a satisfied "ahhh" sound, before tilting his head back and giving me a once over. He must like what he sees, because he's comfortable enough to introduce himself.
"I'm Frankie," He says pleasantly, extending a tattooed hand. I accept it heartily, giving him my own name and complementing him on his tattoos. He beams proudly, and from there, we tumble headlong into a conversation.
An hour later, the area in front of us is littered with plastic cups from several strong drinks. Frankie's eyes are comfortably glazed as he pats me on the shoulder, waving to the bartender.

And it's sad but true. Out of cash and I.O.U's...

I reach clumsily into my back pocket, and feel with fumbling fingers for any cash. The sizeable wad that I started with has shrunken, and I can't afford to buy any more drinks. Frankie looks at me with playful eyes, from underneath a fringe of thick eyelashes.
"Frankie, I am broke, broke, broke." I tell him. He pouts seductively, and I can't wait anymore.
"However, I do have much more at my place, if you'd be interested." I inhale hopefully at the end, but I know he'll say yes. Upon his immediate acceptance, we tumble through the crowd towards the door.

I got desperate desires and unadmirable plans. My tongue will taste of gin and malicious intent...

He picks the music on the quick carride to my apartment, talking animatedly about several different things. I half listen, offering an occasional response to keep him going, and after a little I just let him fall into a straight monologue, which he continues as we take the stairs. He stumbles often, smiling ditzily every time I offer him my hand to pull him back up. I know the world is spinning so fast for him, rolling and rocking and making it difficult to move. I dumped out almost all my drinks in the bar, and am much more sober than he is.

Barely conscious in the doorway you stand, your eyes are fighting sleep while your mouth makes your demands. You laugh at every word, trying hard to be cute, and I almost feel sorry for what I'm gonna do...

We finally make it up the stairs to my apartment, and I know Frankie's vision is swimming as he blinks desperately. He stumbles through the doorway, trying to get a grip on his new surroundings.

"NiceplaceyougothereGerard." He slurrs, beaming at me coyly.

Brass buttons on your coat hold the cold, in the shape of a heart that they cut out of stone...

I chuckle and it comes out harsh and dark, not warm or comforting like I intended it to sound. "Thanks Frankie." I toss my jacket off, and hold out my hand for Frankie's. He ponders for a moment before shrugging out of his leather jacket and passing it to me the way a little kid hands something over reluctantly to an adult. Even though he's hammered, he still maintains a fraction of the cautioness that I saw in him in the very beginning. This was a risky choice, but I think he'll be worth it.

You're using all your looks that you've thrown from the start, if you'd let me have my way I swear I'd tear you apart...

I pull down a bottle of Stoli from the cabinet, offering it to him for approval, all the while trying to come up with something clever to say that will make him more comfortable. In the end I just offer him another glass, which he accepts without batting an eyelash. I wait for him to finish it, sipping slowly on my own as his tongue trips it's way through a story that I pay little attention to. It starts here, I decide.

'Coz it's all you can be. You're a drunk, and you're scared. It's ladies night, and all the girls drink for free...

I set my glass down with a sharp clink, taking a step forward and caressing his cheek. His eyes widen instantly, and he looks just like a deer in the headlights. I move slowly, lowering my face to his and pressing my lips against him. He's still frozen for a moment, and then he begins to move, softly with me. After a moment, he breaks away, gasping.

"I don't know if I want this."

I stare at him with a pitying glance. I've tasted him, and I can't stand to let him go. Not yet.I say the only thing I can think of, the foolproof arguement. Because it works on anyone like him. Lonely. Small. Afraid.

"You can sin," I tell him in a muted voice. "Or spend the night all alone."

I can envision him turning the words over in his head, trying to ignore the logic, to find some way to refute it. But he comes up with nothing, and when his eyes meet mine again, they are pleading. Just don't break me, they seem to say. And then he lets go, giving in to me completely as he latches his mouth over mine again.

And I ravage him. I ravage this poor, small, beautiful thing. I hold back nothing, not when I feel him tensing, when his moans start to contain more hints of pain than pleasure. I'm a monster. And I can't be stopped.

I will lie awake, lie for fun and fake the way I hold you. Let you fall for every empty word I say...

Some hours later, he flops against the mattress, limp and exhausted. I can't tell if he's still drunk or terrified, if he got any pleasure out of this at all, but I wrap my arms around him, speaking in a velveteen voice. "You're wonderful. I'm so sorry if I hurt you. You're just too beautiful. I'm sorry." He turns, looking at me with wide eyes again, before clutching my hand.

"It's okay." He murmurs. His eyelids flutter shut, and I feel him relax into a dream, safe from wicked boys like me.

I watch him sleep, enjoying the way his hair floats up and down as he snores, ever so softly. He IS beautiful. Which is why I'm NOT sorry. Not really.

Still, I promise myself, just like I do every time, that this will never happen again. But I know that this won't be the last time.

I just can't get enough.

I will lie awake, lie for fun and fake the way I hold you. Let you fall for every empty word I say.



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