Work Text:
So this is how it starts, right. Paul, he's a good guy--I mean, as in, what's good anyway? So he doesn't like, watch the news a lot. Okay. And he hates bums, and the other day he laughed when this girl fell down the steps of the lecture hall and went, 'Shit, did you see her face?', but that's just, like, how he is, you know? But if you put that aside for a second, and block out most of the crap that comes out of his mouth, he isn't purposely mean. He's just a bit of a moron. Which is more than you can say for some people, right? So yeah. He's a good guy, somehow, and anyway--anyway. So it's Monday, I'm in our room, and he's just come back from a weekend back home and he says,
"Dude. Dude, so I went on my sister's computer, right? And I was just, you know, just dicking around redtube and--"
"As you do," I interrupt, dryly.
"Yeah, so yeah, so I was trying to like, delete the history, after, you know. So I click on history, and there's something from two days back, and it's like, 'Porn blabla!' I don't remember what but it said porn. So I click it, right--"
"As one would," I nod.
"Shut up, man! Let me finish. So I click it, and it's, like. It's this. I don't even know how to fucking explain it." He gives a small laugh and sits himself in the living area's armchair with an additional huff of incredulity. "You know that wizard kid? The--thing, with the--" He waves, vaguely.
"What?"
"The kid! With the glasses and shit! Who did the thing with the horses, fuck, what's it..."
I glance sideways, frown over it and say, "Uh. You mean Harry Potter?"
"Yeah! Him! Yeah, the kid, with the--" That same vague wave. "--magic...shit. Anyway, dude! So there're these people, right, on the internet, and they like--write shit. I mean, as in." He leans forward a bit, lowers his voice, "Erotic shit." A dramatic pause. "About the kid."
I look at him. I blink, slowly. I am also very unimpressed.
"Dude!" he exclaims, sinking back into the chair with a push. "Don't you get it? It's porn. They use the word dick. And it's about Harry Potting."
I lean back in my swivel chair, scratching my jaw and quietly mutter, "Potter."
"Whatever! It's--" He exhales, at a loss. "I don't know! Don't you think it's weird? I mean. Come the fuck on." And then, as a horrified afterthought, "My sister reads it."
"Hey," I say, smiling. "Maybe she even writes it."
Paul is not amused. I twist back to my computer and continue to kill dudes on CSS, the muffled sound of gunshots and dying groans loud in the silence between us until Paul gets up. Grabs his weekend back. Saunters to his room while throwing a friendly, "You freaking geek, Arthur, turn that noise off," over his shoulder.
~
"Ooooh nooo," Paul cringes on the couch, feet coming off the ground as he holds a fist to his face, disgusted but unable to look away. I scroll on and the noises keep on coming. "Oooh man, oooh, that just ain't right. That just--oooh! What the fuck, man! What the FUCK!"
I laugh, take another swig of my beer, and keep on scrolling, laptop balancing on my knee. It's Wednesday, we're bored, there's fuckall to do on campus and hey, we've got booze--anything has the potential of being funny by now.
"Okay okay okay go back to the main post, man, go back to the--yeah, okay, click that one. No wait--no, give me a second." He reaches for the beer on the coffee table, gulps down a good amount, gives a little howl and says, "Okay click now."
I shoot him a quick, amused glance. I click.
It's fucking brilliant. We both saw it coming, and all, I mean--it had a warning, NC17, and then some letter shit we sort of half got the hang of by now--D/H, sub!D, blabla djfhgdj I don't even know what--but that just made it all the more hilarious, all the more fucking batshit crazy. Who the fuck were these people, anyway? Who the shit had time to do this? I mean, holy crap, the art's got shading. I mean--cock shading. That takes time, man.
Paul cracks the fuck up, throws his head back in silent laughter, punching a fist to the couch's backrest to emphasise his amusement. I laugh, slack jawed, shaking my head as I scroll lower to see the reactions.
"Shiiiiiit," I marvel, snorting at the four pages of capslock. "These chicks are crazy. Fucking insane, too, look at this--" I shift the laptop, showing him.
"Dude." Paul suddenly sits up, serious, claps the back of his hand to my chest. "We should leave a comment."
I snort again, making a confused face. "What the fuck?"
"Just do it, man! Just--" He grabs the laptop from my lap, types, 'ooohhhh that makes me so hot oohh Draco's cock is so hot oh fuck ooohhjhjhgsdhg' and clicks Post Comment. I stare at the screen for a moment, then at Paul, and then explode with laughter--punching his arm as I go, falling back onto the armrest and rolling my face into the leather upholstery, muffling it into it. It's not that it's that funny. It's that I'm pretty drunk. And also, it is sort of funny.
A few moments later, cutting off a swig from his bottle, Paul chokes out a "Pfwhuat? Ha!"
"What?" I sit up, still coughing up amusement.
"The art chick replied," he says, eyes scanning the screen. I take back the laptop and read:
2009-06-07 12:54 am UTC
ooohhhhgdhgf me too oohhhgoooddd loser.
"Dissed, man," I say, looking to Paul. "Dissed by a virtual, pervy geek chick. Way to go, Paulus."
"What the fuck's wrong with you? That is not a diss." He sniffs, squares his shoulder, nods at the laptop. "Check her profile. Come on. Maybe she's hot."
"You're weird," I tell him.
"No," he says. "She's weird. I'm just shitfaced, is all. And click the fucking profile, man! Come oooon, Artie, come oooon, come ooo--"
I click the profile. We're both silent for a moment, reading quickly, and when I get to the bit that makes my brain loop a little in its slightly numbed state, I can see Paul starting to grin beside me.
"Holy," he says, "shit."
I inch back my head. "That is too weird, man."
"This is genius. Dude, add her. Dude, open msn right fucking now and add her, I swear, I--" He stops, barks out a laugh and says, "Man, I bet we know her. I bet she's that weird girl from 3B, the one with the wig, man. With the rat."
"Dude, shut up. There's no way we know--"
"How big is this place, Arthur? Not that big. Weirdos stick out. I, for one, can name every single freak on campus." His grin widens and he leans back. "She's in the fucking building right now somewhere. Arthur. In this building. You have to add her. I'll be fucking disappointed in you if you don't." He raises his eyebrows, underlining his point.
I raise my eyebrows in reply. We have a minor stare-off. Then, me, with a small, disgusted sound, "What the shit," and, "Not with my fucking account, though."
"Arthur!" Paul laughs, sitting up. "I don't fucking care! Make a fake one, I don't care! Just do it!"
So I do it. Which is a bit stupid, yeah, but who hasn't? Who hasn't made an extra account to harass annoying people on the internet? Who hasn't been a complete dick online, just for the hell of it, because it's so freaking funny?
Yeah. Exactly.
~
paulisaloser: hey
paulisaloser: heeyyyyy
paulisaloser: hellooo hi hiiii heeyyy hi helloooo hi
merlinsyfronts: ?
paulisaloser: oh so ur alive
merlinsyfronts: uhm, hi? Do I know you?
paulisaloser: no
paulisaloser: but id like to kno u
merlinsyfronts: What?
paulisaloser: i saw ur art on lj
paulisaloser: its hot
paulisaloser: ur rly tallentd
paulisaloser: jdhgfjdhfg
paulisaloser: ha ha
merlinsyfronts: all right, well. This is creepy. So. Bye.
paulisaloser: wait no no
paulisaloser: sorry
paulisaloser: dun go
paulisaloser: dunt go dun go dnt goooo
merlinsyfronts: ...what is your problem?
paulisaloser: im just lonely
paulisaloser: :'(
paulisaloser: b my friend?
merlinsyfronts: HA HA
merlinsyfronts: WHAT
paulisaloser: geez im glad u find my lonelyness funny
paulisaloser: bitch
merlinsyfronts: Maybe I wasn't laughing at you
merlinsyfronts: Maybe I was laughing with you
merlinsyfronts: Maybe I'm ~lonely~ too
paulisaloser: ha ha ur a fuckin weirdo
merlinsyfronts: Takes one to know one, my friend
paulisaloser: eppiiccc laaaame comebaaaack
paulisaloser: hey listen i have an idea
merlinsyfronts: I don't want to hear this, do I?
paulisaloser: ha ha listen
paulisaloser: listenn listen
paulisaloser: we shud meet up
paulisaloser: im hott
merlinsyfronts: HOLY SHIT
merlinsyfronts: WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU
paulisaloser: i go to ur uni
paulisaloser: we have polsci togther
merlinsyfronts: ...
merlinsyfronts: Are you fucking serious?
paulisaloser: hell yeah
merlinsyfronts: I don't take polsci
paulisaloser: ha ha joke!!!! but no im srious u go to blckmoor right?
merlinsyfronts: you read that on my profile
paulisaloser: dude the statue bhind the library got broken arm looks like penis
merlinsyfronts: ...
merlinsyfronts: Oh my FUCKING god
merlinsyfronts: Who are you? I don't know a Paul
paulisaloser: oh im not paul
paulisaloser: pauls a loser
paulisaloser: im not a loser
merlinsyfronts: uhm. WHAT?
paulisaloser: uhhhhh paul is a friend? who the f cares lets meet uuuuup
merlinsyfronts: Do you have any idea how creepy you sound?
merlinsyfronts: Seriously
merlinsyfronts: ANY idea?
paulisaloser: ha hahahhaaa loolllll
paulisaloser: ok so tomoz at the drinking fountin on 2nd floor mcavon buildling at five yah
merlinsyfronts: uh, NO?
paulisaloser: ok lots of love n kisezzzz c u there
merlinsyfronts: NO
paulisaloser: c uuuu ther! xoxoxoxoxoooooo
merlinsyfronts: NO
merlinsyfronts: NO
merlinsyfronts: I WON'T BE THERE
merlinsyfronts: NO
paulisaloser has logged off.
merlinsyfronts: ...
merlinsyfronts has logged off.
~
So we're standing there, on the other end of the hall, on the corner, and I'm like--no. No I'm not looking. I can't look. Too fucking insane. Awkward. So Paul goes, You fucking pussy, Arthur, and sort of peeks around the wall like in some dumb Scooby doo move. And me, I'm waiting, not knowing whether to laugh or be nervous or whatever but leaning toward laughing because this is odd, and Paul just--freezes. And I still don't know what he's seeing, right, I'm just waiting, shoving a fist to his arm and going,
"What the hell, man!"
"Wait," he hisses back, even if we really don't have to be quiet at all. "There's this dude blocking the fountain I can't--see the--" he stops. Goes rigid. Pulls back, shoves himself flat against the wall and looks at me, wide-eyed. "Abort plan," he says. "Abort plan, abort plan, move move move dude, let's get the fuck out of here, it's--"
"What? What?" I try to push him aside, have a look myself when he says,
"It's a dude." And, again, "It's. A. Dude."
I pause, turn to him. I stare. "What."
"The chick," he explains, slowly and on the verge of exploding with some kind of reaction, "is a dude."
I stare a little longer. My face twitches to give way to either a smile or a grimace. I lean into the wall, gently nudge Paul aside, and peer around the corner.
On the other end of the hall, by the drinking fountain, there's this guy. He's leaning back against the wall, arms crossed, one leg bent with his foot flat to the surface behind him.
And I know him. I know him.
Well--sort of. We had a class together last year. I was in his work group. Fuck me if I remember his name, though--I think they boycotted me by the end of the term or something, something with attendance or some shit? I don't know. Refused to put my name on our project. Whatever. Losers.
The guy drops his leg, slumps a little. He glances at his watch. Breathes a laugh at himself, turns to look to both sides of the hall.
I pull back in a flash, pressing back to the wall, shooting Paul a look.
"Fuck," I say, starting to laugh. "What the FUCK!"
"Dude!" Paul returns, starting to walk back to the stairwell. "I know!"
~
I mean, it would've been funnier if we actually knew the guy's name. Or anyone who knew him. Or--yeah, basically anything more than we do. It's not really the best prank ever to point at him and go, HE DRAWS NAKED HARRY POTTER DUDES HAVING SEX! You have to go at it subtly. Like print his shit, put his name on it, and hang it all over the dorms.
We think maybe we can figure it out by catching him online again but after a few hours with the fake account on it's still a no-show, and we get bored and play some playstation instead. Then Paul falls the fuck asleep on the couch, mid Mario-carting, and I decide to see if there's someone interesting on CSS. You know what? Killing virtual people soothes me.
And then some shit happens, I don't know, man, but I end up on fucking livejournal doing this:
(Anonymous)2009-06-09 02:16 am UTC
dude come online-paulisaloser
Twenty minutes later, my msn plings a message.
~
merlinsyfronts: WOT
paulisaloser: yoooooou showed up anyway yooou said you wouldnt yoooouo faaaail
merlinsyfronts: whaaaat
merlinsyfronts: no I didn't
paulisaloser: uh yes u did
paulisaloser: i saw yooooou
merlinsyfronts: ...what
paulisaloser: black hair
paulisaloser: blue shirt
paulisaloser: haaaaaaha lose
merlinsyfronts: WHAT.
merlinsyfronts: oh that's a nice one. Really. Congratulations.
paulisaloer: aaaaaaaaahahaha
merlinsyfronts: why the SHIT didn't you say anything?
paulisaloser: ur sort of ugly
paulisaloser: idk not my type anyway
merlinsyfronts: wow
merlinsyfronts: thanks for the fucking honesty
paulisaloser: no prob ha ha
merlinsyfronts: jesus
paulisaloser: oh dont be a saaaaad
paulisaloser: we can still be friends ;)))))
merlinsyfronts: You're pretty fucked in the head, you know that?
paulisaloser: whats ur name
merlinsyfronts: YEAH
merlinsyfronts: I'M GONNA GIVE YOU MY NAME
merlinsyfronts: SURE
paulisaloser: oh is that sarcsim or something
merlinsyfronts: Yes.
paulisaloser: whats ur naaaaammmmeeeee
merlinsyfronts: why. the fuck. would I give you my name.
paulisaloser: ill suck u if you do
merlinsyfronts: WHAT THE FUCK
merlinsyfronts: shit, I've had enough of this
merlinsyfronts: BYE
paulisaloser: ill hang ur pretty arts on the notice board if u don’t
paulisaloser: comeooooonn
paulisaloser: come on come on come on come on
paulisaloser: ......helloooooo
paulisaloser: HELLOOOOO
merlinsyfronts has logged off.
paulisaloser: FUCK.
paulisaloser: Spoilsport.
paulisaloser: caaaannnot take a joke obviously
paulisaloser: uhmmmmm did you just delete your journal?
paulisaloser: HAHA OH DUDE. OH. THAT IS SAD.
paulisaloser: whatever i'm outta here
paulisaloser: CIAO
paulisaloser has logged off
~
Okay, listen. I did not set out to do this, yeah? I didn't--like, wake up one day and went, Oh I know what I'll do today I'll annoy this random kid and make his life a living hell. Obviously I didn't think that. And also, that's a big fucking exaggeration since I'm not making his life a living hell. Just a bit--Well. What I'm saying is this: the dude is twenty something. He is over fourteen and he likes Harry Potter. He likes Harry Potter so much, right, that he makes up imaginary gay sex scenes with any given two characters and then--and then--he draws them. Publicly. Is the internet public? So yeah. On the internet.
I'm sorry, but that's just asking for it. If you do stupid things, people will notice. You can't blame them for commenting. Jesus, if I ever decide to walk around in MC Hammer pants, dude, I would like someone to ask me what the fuck I'm thinking. Or set them on fire. I mean, how am I supposed to be adult about it, when he--I mean--HARRY POTTER!
Either way. It's not like I'm heartless. I didn't tell Paul about the journal deleting. Didn't bring it up myself, too. See? I have some humanitarian bones left in me. Because believe you me, Paul? He would've been a way bigger asshole than me.
And I did, okay, all I did was--okay, so what happened is more like, erm, okay. He was walking somewhere, this kid, and I noticed him because--well, now I knew what he looked like. Obviously. The point is I would've never noticed him before, because--well. To put it gently, dude's the biggest fucking anti social hermit I've ever seen. And me, well. I wouldn't say I say popular, per say, but I'm pretty sure other people would. And do.
...Fuck it. I'm the biggest fucking deal on campus, man.
So I noticed him scurrying along some hall, and I thought--I don't know what I thought. I was eating Pringles. I had popped and could not stop, and was sauntering after the dude in a way that could be called stalkerish but I'd rather not call it that so I won't. Let's call it interested. Curious.
I was curious all the way to his room. He lived two floors below mine. The Hippie Floor. Figures.
In the end I did what any self-respecting person would do.
I drew a Harry Potter puppet, gave it a huge boner, pinned it to his door and fucked off.
~
merlinsyfronts: okay look
merlinsyfronts: you pull one more shitty trick like that
merlinsyfronts: and I'm involving the dean
paulisaloser: uuuhm what the fuck are you even talking about?
merlinsyfronts: cute. CUTE.
merlinsyfronts: Leave. Me. The. Fuck. ALONE.
paulisaloser: i seriously have no idea what youre talking about
paulisaloser: weeeeirrddooo
merlinsyfronts: you know this is harassment, right?
paulisaloser: what talking on msn?
paulisaloser: you started talkingg to me first LOSER
merlinsyfronts: Don't you have anything better to do?
paulisaloser: hahaaaa look whos talking
merlinsyfronts: oh my GOD
merlinsyfronts: what is it you WANT from me
paulisaloser: maybe im just a lonely sad soul
paulisaloser: whos intentions are good
paulisaloser: oh lord pls dont lemme be misunderstoood
merlinsyfronts: stop pinning SHIT TO MY DOOR
merlinsyfronts: CREEP
paulisaloser: hey
paulisaloser: hey
paulisaloser: hey
paulisaloser: you know what i just realised
paulisaloser: arthur p, you know him right? uh yah everyone knows arthur p
paulisaloser: anyway so he sort of looks like an old hotter better version of the blonde kid youre totally jerking off to
paulisaloser: the one u make harry p have gaysex with
paulisaloser: dude are you hot for arthur p? because thats so sad
merlinsyfronts: whaaaaaaaaaaaaat
merlinsyfronts: WHAAAAAAAT
paulisaloser: ill take that as a yes
merlinsyfronts: Artie P is hands down the biggest butthole I have ever met
merlinsyfronts: and that's saying something. This campus is crawling with douchebags. Please to be including yourself
paulisaloser: uhm you dont know what the fuck youre saying moron
paulisaloser: you dont even know him
paulisaloser: you dont even know anyone
paulisaloser: do u even have any friends
paulisaloser: i doubt it
merlinsyfronts: HA HA says the creep who's been spending the last week coming up with intricate ways to harass me
paulisaloser: i think ur hot for arthur p
paulisaloser: i bet you think about sucking his cock
paulisaloser: just like in ur drawings
paulisaloser: on your knees
paulisaloser: hmmnnnnnnnnnnnnnn
paulisaloser: so goooooood
paulisaloser: so biiiiigg hmmmnnn
merlinsyfronts: ...
merlinsyfronts: okay if ANYONE here has an unhealthy obsession with Arthur
paulisaloser: admit it man
paulisaloser: U
paulisaloser: R
paulisaloser: HOT
paulisaloser: FOR
paulisaloser: HIS
merlinsyfronts has logged off.
paulisaloser: .........
paulisaloser: booooo
paulisaloser: you whore
paulisaloser has logged off
~
Maybe I shouldn't have turned on the computer after I came back from that party, I don't know. I don't know if I wouldn't have done it eventually, if I hadn't done it that night. But as it is, this is what happened and, well, whatever. I was sort of stumbling down the lawn with someone, don't remember who, but I remember at some point we were shouting things at the lit dorm windows. Trying to see who'd react, you know? Maybe something funny would happen. Maybe someone would throw a water balloon at us. A laundry pile. Shit like that happens out here. Some people opened their windows to shout at us to shut the fuck up, but no one threw anything. We exchanged some nasty words with a short-haired girl. I called her a bitch. She told me to blow her. I pissed against the wall. I'm not the nicest drunk, I guess.
And then the internet guy shoved his head out of his window, squinting and obviously still half asleep, and said, Can't you and your boyfriend scream at the other side of the building, Penn?
You! I said, pointing up and wobbling.
Uhm, he said, and closed the window.
So when I finally made my way back up the stairs, I went through some photo files, picked a pic of me and some guys at a frat party last summer, printed it out, snorted as I drew little hearts around my head and the stumbled down two flights again. Walked down the hall. With great satisfaction and a smirk, I pinned the picture to his door.
Yeah.
I'm also not the smartest drunk ever.
~
Listen, assface | Inbox |
xmerlinsyfronts to me show details 12:16 PM (2 hours ago)
Last warning. One more and it's a restraining order. Think I'm kidding?
Try me. Really.
Reply Forward Invite merlinsyfronts to chat
~
Go ahead. ASK ME. Ask me what possessed me. ASK.
I don't even fucking know anymore. Maybe I'm bored? Maybe the drone of the privileged students' life is getting to me. Too many parties, too many girls too many friends who fucking heroworship the shit out of me--too many meaningless flings that add nothing to my self-worth but make me wonder whether anyone ever really knows the real me?
HAHAHAHA.
No.
It's like that time when we were seventeen and my sister, a year younger, had her first boyfriend over so I spent a week chewing gum and saving it, and then I dumped it all in her undies drawer. Or when me and some friends drew penises under every single table in the chemistry room. Or when I kicked the cat into the pool.
I don't fucking know why I did that shit. Not at the time, not now. I just sort of, you know. Get an idea. And then I do it. I'm a creative fucker like that.
So when I walked out of the dorms and crossed the grass on my way to the main building, and saw the internet guy studying under a tree and then saw some dudes I vaguely knew playing frisbee a little whiles away, I thought: oh that's a good idea.
So I went over to the frisbee guys, went, "Hey can I borrow this for a sec thanks man I'll have it right back just--" And then I let it spin off, perrrrfect aim, watched as it swooped down and clunked its edge squarely into the guy's head before falling to the ground.
It was good.
The guy blinked at his book, frozen. Then, slowly, he looked up, still blinking, disbelievingly staring at the frisbee at his side.
I jogged over, leaned down to pick up the plastic orange disc. "Great catch, man," I said, snorting.
"Uhm," was his reply, shooting me a mean frown. Then, very condescending, "Do you mind?"
I straightened up, shrugged out my arms. "What?"
"Not throwing frisbees at my head?"
"Well, dude," --I chuckled up another snort-- "you're sort of just sitting there, aren't you?"
He laughed, incredulous, breathing out a sarcastic, "Uh, yeah?"
"Exactly. If you don't wanna be hit in the head by frisbees, don't sit like, three yards away from where people are playing. Or just at all. Don't they have libraries for this shit?" I threw a vague gesture at his books.
The guy opened his mouth to almost say something, but seemed unable to. Like the bullshit I just gave him was too stupid to even find a reply to. So he just sputtered a little with a disbelieving smile.
And me, I take the joke to the next level. Because I'm an edgy bastard like that.
I crouch in front of him, the elbow of the hand holding the frisbee supported on my knee, and reach with my other hand into his hair. I feel for a bump at his temple. It's nothing, really, but his hair is warm from the sun and a little soft and rough and I can just see the panic on his face when I touch his skin--the sheer, pure lack of understanding and wariness and confusion. I smile, slow and pretty, and his nostrils flare when I retract my hand.
"You're fine," I tell him, standing up with a huff. "You fucking baby."
He glares up, angry but still unsure of what's happening, and I give him a tight, fake smile before turning around, walking back. I give the frisbee back. Clap the dude on the back. Point at the other in acknowledgement. Tell them to keep it up. Saunter off.
Bam.
Total control.
~
paulisaloser: whatsuuuup
paulisaloser: you fucking diva
paulisaloser: decided to unblock me huh
merlinsyfronts: Uhm, hi! Sorry Merlin's out right now :)
paulisaloser: what the shit?
merlinsyfronts: I'm his roommate, I just went on his computer for a second but this went on automatically :)
paulisaloser: MERLIN
paulisaloser: HIS NAME IS MERLIN
merlinsyfronts: Uhm okay I'll close this off now, I'll tell him you talked when he comes back! Bye! :D
paulisaloser: wait wait wait
paulisaloser: WAIT
merlinsyfronts: Yes? :)
paulisaloser: what do you mean hes out
paulisaloser: where the hell does he even go
merlinsyfronts: Oh he's in the library! C:
paulisaloser: the library is closed
merlinsyfronts: Yes but he works there! Uhm sorry to ask but who is this? :x
paulisaloser: none of your freggin biznatch, thats who i am
paulisaloser: he works in the library?
paulisaloser: ha ha figures the geek
merlinsyfronts: Alright then I'm closing this off for real now! Bye
merlinsyfronts has logged off
paulisaloser: uhhhhmmmmmm
paulisaloser: dhjsdhhdkjhdjdhhhhh
paulisaloser: booooorrrinnnggggggggg
paulisaloser: ........
paulisaloser: okay fuck this shit
paulisaloser has logged off
~
I was just gonna check it out. Like, just see if anyone was actually in the library. I wasn't gonna stay or anything, and you know I'm telling the truth because I took my iPod with me and was going to run some laps around the grounds anyway. I'm in my freaking sweats, for fuck's sake. I have one ear in and am listening to Missy E singing about her pom-poms-shake-yer-pom-pom when I pass the library.
And yeah, the lights are dim inside, not out. And the sign says closed, tells the opening hours, but the door opens when I try. And yeah, the internet guy--Merlin--is there, sitting at one of the long tables, his feet up on a near chair, his bag on the tabletop spilling out with papers and pens and other whatever shit.
He's drawing. And fuck me if it isn't what I think it is.
I pull the ear out, smiling, stroll over to the table and grandly flop into the chair--tossing my iPod onto the table.
The guy looks up, startled, and stills completely on seeing it's me. His hand is poised over his paper, pencil in hand, and he glances sideways--uncomfortable.
"What you drawing?" I ask, jerking my chin in the direction of the art.
He makes to scramble at his papers with a strangled "No--" but hey, who didn't see that coming? I'm already halfway into grabbing the paper by the time he reacts, and it takes just a small tug and I have it. Turn it. Look at it.
"Niiiice," I say, breathing a small laugh. "The art of cocksucking." I glance up. "Hobby of yours?"
He holds my gaze and oh, he's angry now. He's working on it, too, the muscles of his jaw working, teeth grinding, and then--like the flip of a switch--his eyes widen. Flicker with fleeting realisation. I can see him replay conversations in his head. I can just see his little mind freaking out, getting properly livid, looking at me like he wants to freaking kill--
He gets up, chair screeching against the floor. He starts to shove his stuff into his bag. He's flushed, completely, blushing furiously and his breathing is a bit erratic. I grin, slowly, getting up as well. He throws the bag over his shoulder and walks down the length of the table--I walk it with him, parallel on the other side. He picks up on his pace. I set in a jog, and get to the end of the table before he does--round it, block his way.
He pushes past, a passing flash of heat, makes toward the exit. I am to follow, and before he can reach the door I grab his arm. He turns around, unable to do anything else, gives me a death glare as he starts a hissing,
"Let me--"
I shove him back, making his bag slide off his shoulder and fall to the floor, rattling items spilling out the open zip. I don’t mean it like it comes out, but then again what the fuck do I mean, anyway. He inhales sharply, straightening up to shove back but I push again, lightly but holding onto his shoulders now and backing him up--backing him up against a wall. It's a small little dance, him pushing and me pushing back, trying to grab his wrists but he easily twists them out of my grip three times before he kind of lets me get them well and pinned behind him. Then he wriggles, tries to use the expanse of his narrow chest to shove me off but yeah, no, that doesn't help at all and if he looks flushed with his pupils all wide-blown and his mouth a little open with panting breaths then, well, maybe I feel a little out of sorts as well and maybe that's the reason I push a knee between his and press in. He's so tall, and there's so much of him all along the length of me and he's so hot, even through his clothes he's a freaking furnace and so I tell him, I lick my lips and lean close to his ear and tell him that--
"You're so hot." And then, swallowing, closer to the skin of his neck, "Fuck." It's the best white flag I can give myself before brushing my lips to the line of his jaw, his throat, feeling his pulse speed up and his breath hitch. And I know this, I know skin and I know neck, and while the stubble is new and the adan's apple is uncharted, neither are unwelcome somehow, in the moment, and I bite down--gently enough--following it with a rolling tongue and a linger of a cool breath. Merlin chokes back a strangled sound, head falling back against the wall and oh, oh this, this gives way for new opportunities, long tendons of them up the side of his neck so I make my way up with a bit of teeth and a lot of tongue, getting louder in it, wetter, sucking redder spots on already flushed skin and oh, this is good skin. This is good fucking--
His hips stutter forward when I lick along the shell of his ear, sucking in his earlobe. The sudden friction of his thigh between my legs is--fuck, it's got to be something because I manage some kind of grunt of a weak reaction to his cheekbone as I roll my hips in return, feeling his heady erection through his jeans against my thigh--knowing I'm doing the same, rutting down on him, one hand letting go of his wrist to hold on to his waist, push him harder against me. The hand I just freed drops to my shoulder and he tilts his head back down, jaw slack as his eyes flicker darkly over my face. I'm angling our thrusts and he rakes his nails over the nape of my neck, dips down my shirt and then back up, twisting his fingers into my hair, pulling my face to turn to his.
"Take it out," he breathes, close to my lips, rubbing his leg up suggestively.
An exhale gets stuck in my throat, twists into some godawful sound, and my very valid rebuttal is a hoarsely whispered, "I'm not . . . I’m—"
Merlin's fingers twist harder and he pulls me down, kisses me open and filthy on the mouth. And with that, and the nails to my scalp and the jeans grazing up and down my groin, I am fucking helpless--start kissing back, openly licking into his mouth to learn the slide of his tongue, the thickness of it before sucking down, loving the reaction that gets me, the small moan and the arch to his spine.
"Take it out," he says again, gasping it to my wet lips, nearly breathless now. The one wrist I've still got pinned above his head wriggles under my grip and I let go, wanting to know what he'll do with it, and have to bite back an embarrassing gulp when he bluntly reaches down and starts stroking me, slow and kneading, through my sweats.
"Come on," he urges, getting restless, hips stuttering in their rhythm as he gyrates against me. It's hard to concentrate with his hand working like that, though, hard to do anything but buck into it and so I have to still him for a moment with a harsh and tight kiss. In this distraction my hands meander to the button of his jeans, sweaty and fumbling and he hums encouragingly into my mouth, hand tightening on my clad cock. I try to make quick work of the zip, of pushing his jeans as far down his thighs as I can without leaving his slick and wet mouth, and in return he easily tugs down my sweats--my boxers, two hands squeezing my ass and pulling me in without warning, our hard cocks sliding messily between the both of us. We gasp at this, seconds apart, and starts moving--a bit frantic, wild, but it's still not smooth enough and so I hold up an open palm to his face and wait to see if he knows what to do.
He does, and that in its own is even hotter. He licks at my hand without reserve, randomly tracing lines and slipping between fingers, sucking in my thumb, letting the saliva drip down my wrist. He finishes with a small nip to the side and leans back, out of breath, and I look down between us as I take first take my own cock in hand, groaning at the wet slide of it, and then envelop him in the grip--twisting, stroking, jerking us off in time to the climbing hitches of his breath. My other hand is low on his thigh, fingers digging and probably bruising--his hands still on my buttocks, clenching and letting go, clenching and letting go, occasionally drifting up to the small of my back--either soft fingers or scratching nails. Both manage in sending the shivers down my spine.
When my hand comes up a little on his thigh, resting below the fold of his ass--so freaking soft, my god--and I suck down on his bottom lip, he comes with a choked groan and in the moments that follow, I am surprised to hear it's my name he gasps out. I still in my movements, and he takes over, stripping my cock quick and fast and wonderful, whispering snatches of dirty suggestions in my ear. I come hard with my face buried in his shoulder, hands clinging on to his hips, slow and laboured in catching my breath.
~
"I can't believe you had me up against a wall," he says, later, when I'm quietly panicking--running a nervous hand through my hair, blinking down at my stained sweats.
"That has never happened to me," he continues. "I mean--fuck, I didn't even know that kind of stuff happened in real life. I didn't even--"
"Shut up," I tell him. "Just shut, the fuck, UP."
He stops, raises an eyebrow at me. I look away, starting to flush again with some memory or another, and he goes, "Oh, right. Crisis!,” moving his hands to the word like it’s funny. I glare and he smiles, sweetly, and adds, "Whoops."
"Listen, asshole, can you just--" I trail off because he steps forward, gets into my personal space again and now--oh, yeah, now it makes me nervous. Now. Pathetic.
"Listen, dickweed," he says, gently, winding his arms around my shoulders, playing with the hair at my nape. "How about," --he leans in-- "How about, yeah," --mouths at my neck, behind my ear-- "we go up, and we stay there for a little while longer, and in the morning," --licks at the skin, grins against the goosebumps there-- "you can go back to being a douche, hmm? How does that sound?"
And in all honesty, yeah, in all freaking honesty, this is exactly what I intend to do: push him off, shove for good measure, tell him to get the fuck off and also add some remarks about what he is, who he is, and what he can put this or the other. Perhaps throw something, if it really needs to get like that, and then storm off and leave a trail of solid fucking testosterone in my wake.
This is what I do instead: curl two hands at the hem of his shirt, then under, feeling around his bare back and closing my eyes at the feel of him tonguing my earlobe.
~
When I woke up naked and tired in a bed that wasn't mine, only to find that Merlin kid—just as naked and apparently not so tired--on a chair across the bed, glancing up, drawing, glancing up again and drawing--well. I should've seen it coming.
But instead I sort of went, in a scratchy morning voice, "You didn't really delete your journal, did you?"
And he sort of snorted and mumbled, "Moved it." And then, "Creep."
So when a very heterosexual week later I find every single fucking hallway pinned up with flyers featuring a drawing of me, in the fucking nude, with Merlin's fucking name all over it, I am not really surprised. Angry, yes. Irate, sure. About to flip a fucking bitch, naturally. But really surprised? Really? No. Not really.
So I march my way over to his, snatching every flyer on my way, and when he opens the door still half asleep but grinning I have every intention of making for some serious damage. Kick him in the nads. Punch him in the face. Knee him in the--
So of course I just end up fucking him slow and deep over the worktable, heart high in my throat as I moan breathlessly into the sweaty, dipping path of his spine.
~
So this keeps on for a while. Or something.
In the end I guess I have, I don't know. A boyfriend or something. Or at least that's what he says.
I still have issues with the word. And a shitload of other things.
Paul is confused. Not a lot of other people seem to care that much. Sometimes I think maybe I'm not the biggest fucking deal on campus. But then I realise how ridiculous that sounds and stop myself there. Of course I'm a big deal.
I mean, I'm Arthur fucking Penn. Not that I let it get to my head or shit, I mean--I keep it real.
I suppose everyone is just very accepting.
...Well, at least the sex is fantastic.
~
merlinsyfronts: Hey
paulisaloser: wifey
paulisaloser: wazzup
merlinsyfronts: Seriously. That wifey joke has stopped being funny like, an ice age ago.
paulisaloser: oh you looouurrve it
merlinsyfronts: UGH BEFORE YOU PISS ME OFF
merlinsyfronts: I wanted to say something
merlinsyfronts: so stfu and listen
paulisaloser: WHOT
merlinsyfronts: okay so I showed our pic to some ppl on lj
paulisaloser: WHAT
paulisaloser: WHAT
paulisaloser: WHICH PIC
merlinsyfronts: HAHA
merlinsyfronts: the one I took at the beach
merlinsyfronts: moron
paulisaloser: oh
paulisaloser: ok
merlinsyfronts: anyway they thought you were hot
paulisaloser: cuz i AM hot
paulisaloser: hott like fiiiaaah
merlinsyfronts: Yeah.
merlinsyfronts: Sure.
merlinsyfronts: anyway, people started talking and all, about stuff and it got me thinking right
paulisaloser: bout what
merlinsyfronts: how do you feel about RPG?
paulisaloser has logged off
merlinsyfronts: AHAHA awh
merlinsyfronts: yeah, pretend to be offline, loser
merlinsyfronts: whatever I'm coming upstairs
merlinsyfronts: THIS CONVERSATION IS NOT OVER
merlinsyfronts has logged off
~
[END]