Damien: Just you and meMature

Rayn followed me to my new job at the studio. I say followed. What I mean is, he insisted that I walk instead of drive, and that I give him a piggy back. I tried to get him to just be normal for like five minutes and let me drive, but the guy's kinda persuasive when he's climbing on your back and using your neck to pull himself up.

"You there," he says, prodding my cheek as I trudge over to the studio with him clinging to me like a... clinging thing. "Be faster. I need to pee."

"You should've just let me drive," I grumble.

"But this is more fun," he whines. I roll my eyes and drop him. The idiot wasn't holding on, so he falls straight on his ass. He complains about it loudly, staying exactly where he is.

"C'mon, loser," I start to walk off, leaving him there.

"Hey! Wait for me, asshole!"


The studio session went pretty well - the band recording said their drummer had broken his leg or something and couldn't double kick. They were pretty friendly guys, and were as surprised as Kyle was to find out how childish Rayn is.

"We'd heard you could be pretty weird, but we'd never figured they meant this weird," the singer guy said, watching Rayn pretending to be a cat.

"...And then I fucking pounced on that squirrel. The bastard bit me," he continued with his epic tale of how he chased down that squirrel earlier and rolled up his sleeve, showing off the red marks on his arm where the squirrel had indeed bitten him. "I couldn't get back into his apartment to clean up, ‘cause he'd decided to screw his boyfriend while I was distracted. I'm probably going to get rabies now." I glanced at him, my eyebrow arched a little.

"It gets worse, trust me," I muttered under my breath to the singer guy.


"Well, I gotta go," the singer guy says eventually, "see you tomorrow, yeah?" I nod and watch as him and his band leave.

"Looks  like it's just us," Rayn says, putting on a husky voice and a creepy face, getting real close to me. I peck him on the nose, grinning as he recoils, scrubbing at his nose with his sleeve. "COOTIES!" he yells, rolling away from me. I giggle, getting up.

"Well, I don't have a shift at the bar tonight. And I'm gonna be alone all night otherwise. Any suggestions?" I probably should've mentioned no drugs. Is my will power really that weak that I'm hoping he suggests that?

"Hmm..." he pretends to consider it, slithering off the sofa onto the floor on his back. "You never did join me for that line." I smile.

"I'm s'posed to be giving that shit up," I remind him, but we both know it's gonna happen, no matter how many times I tell him that I'm not supposed to. So long as I'm either asleep or sober for when Kyle gets back, I'll be fine, right?


We go back to the motel he's staying in, and he pulls his gear out of his bag, the mirror, the razor, the nasal straws. The little bag of powder. I ask him if he has any crack. He shakes his head, but I shrug it off. Right now, in this state, anything will do. He draws out a line, and I watch impatiently as he snorts it up. Hurry up, asshole. I need that hit.

After a couple of lines, we feel like we own the world. I'm fucking invincible, and wondering how the hell I coped without this awesome rush. Rayn climbs out of the window, dropping to the floor, whooping like he fell further than from the ground floor. I watch for a second as he starts bouncing around the parking lot. I follow him out, with far less grace, tripping over the flowerbed the motel owner had planted around the rooms.  

I'd forgotten just how horny coke makes me. Fuck. Where's Kyle when you need him?

Rayn runs up and jump hugs me, knocking me back into the wall. My morals and worries are a million miles away. Without thinking, I catch him and kiss him hard. He kisses back, shifting a little in my grip so I end up holding his ass rather than his legs. I hum, feeling my pants tighten as he fidgets again. Turning, I shove him back through the window, pulling myself back inside.

I barely have time to stand up straight before Rayn drags me over to the bed, forcing me to lay down. He palms me through my too-tight pants and kisses me again, moaning a little as I bite his lip, willing him to get a fucking move on. He fumbles with the button on my pants and I shove them down the second they're undone. He goes down on me and I tangle my fingers in his hair, letting whatever noises I wanted to make come out of my mouth.

Once he figures I'm lubed up enough, he moves up onto the bed with me, leaving his pants behind on the floor.

"This doesn't count against my asexuality, ‘kay?"


The End

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