Talking to Girls Ch. 01

"Eh?"

"Buying a drink is not buying time, because she's not a whore. You came to her, but you showed you can get her attention."

"Ah."

"You already bought her a drink and there are plenty of other fuckboys at a party. Unless you're me, more popular ones. So now you gotta make that blimp on her radar count. You started engaging. She must think she furthers it. Like asking someone to dance. You don't do that by screaming at that person like a creep, you mutually acquaint and feel each other out on the floor. Push and pull."

"Push..." the smaller boy repeated, while lighting the joint and inhaling. "...And pull," he finished blowing the smoke out of his lungs in a soft satisfied moan. Zach felt a blush creep against his neck once more as he followed the ember tip of the joint studiously through the humid room.

"So buy a drink and show you're... pretty, funny enough to engage?" The blonde boy murmured while leering at him, conducting his words with the blunt. "Cause I dance like a concrete brick having a seizure. What if you're neither?"

"First of all, your self-esteem cannot be that low, you're at the very least not ugly."

"How kind of you."

"Second of all," Zach droned on in his baritone voice, "those all pale in comparison to self-confidence. Being in someone's league is first and foremost a measure of confidence."

"So I gotta immediately be a money-spending egotistical asshole", Freckle hummed in mock-epiphany with scrunched eyes.

"No you pessimist," Zach cried out with a chuckle, softly pushing against Freckle's thigh. "You keep it small. A drink, a wink. Just to let her know you are open to sharing the good time you're already having without her. Potentially with her, either through drinks, a smile, or a light conversation. And who knows what else. Bonus points if you can show off how good a bed-partner you would be. Getting laid is all about making someone feel like a million bucks, but showing you're worth a billion."

"And not pounding on her like a fuckboy let's her know you have other fish on the dance floor just like her..."

"...so she'd better take the next step in coming to you. Curiosity evens the playing field."

"Push and pull." Freckle sighed wistfully, tapping the joint on a cracked edge of a chipped coffee cup on the small table simply by stretching.

He really is like a cat, agile.

Flexible.

"But," Freckle interrupted his thoughts, "then walking to someone and saying 'wanna talk' seems less of a risk."

"Yes," Zach answered quickly, "but if you're confident enough, offering a drink is a shortcut to getting wasted."

"Sounds about rapey."

"Christ you're a downer."

"Gonna blame the cush," Freckle giggled, sagging down the couch somewhat to lay his head against the rest, staring at the ceiling contentedly. Probably for the better, because Zach noted how the way he wetted his lips after the last drag with half-lidded eyes could be misinterpreted with eye-contact. "And how often doth the great mr. Kingsize offereth the faireth maidens the finest of watereth downeth studenteth beereth...th?"

"I don't, I get offered. From girls."

Freckle's giggle immediately tuned into a laugh, a beautiful high pitch reverberating through the small room, slowly transforming in a hotbox. He shook his head, the golden locks softly caressing his forehead, accompanied with the greatest compliment one man could give another. "Fuck you."

"You will if you follow my advice," Zach aptly responded. "Fuck chicks I mean," he added, while Freckle started coughing once again. "How can you roll so much better than you smoke? And alcohol is for getting consensually shitfaced only. Because let's be honest, seducing and fucking can both be fucking awkward. And with how easily men physically respond to both, we need all the help and forgiveness we can get."

"The flag must stay full mast."

"The sword must pierce."

"The meringue must stiffen."

...

"What?"

"Better give it some sugar then."

Zach looked confused into two half-closed eyes that had leaned over to size him up, scrunched even further. And could not help himself.

"Shuddup I panicked and I'm hungry," Freckle giggled along with his laughter.

Making himself quite the adorable skittish cat, even with the blunt.

Focusing on the joint, Zach saw the embers softly dancing in the tip, soft pink lips blurred in the background behind draped in luxurious huffs of grey on each satisfied exhale. Not a crack on them, even when stretching in a mischievous smirk. Zach his eyes shot up into the ember glint reflected in the green. A small sense of déjà vu washed over him, like only an old half-forgotten memory could create.That mischievous laugh with those eyes, ten years ago.

"Mutual agreements..." the boy meanwhile echoed softly, "...and the upper hand. Instead of... just the hand?" With a slowly developing smirk he took a last inhale from the joint and offered it to Zach with a challenging shit-eating grin. "Guess for me, it can be a joint instead of a drink."

"Don't know when that would apply though, unless you always have drugs with you." Finally, Zach snatched the joint out of Freckle his hands and took a big gulp. And immediately started to cough.

"You're adorable."

"Fuck... you, what... the hell did you... put... fuck?" Receiving high-pitched laughter Zach shook his head in futile attempts to hold his breath. The idea was to catch up while getting away with a nice haze to bone some chicks, not nuking his synapses.

"Strawberry," Freckle gasped between giggles, with barely any air left in his lungs.

"Dude, fucking strawberry", Zach whispered without inhaling, vision hazy through watering eyes. "You are trying to murder me."

"Gotta get my 5 stars on Yelp you mountain of a man," Freckle mused, surfing his hand with the music, patiently waiting for Zach to catch his breath and take another few tokes. The house party outside carried on, the first pairs driving off to taste their mutual conquests, others too drunk to continue. The only thing Zach noticed was Freckle looking curiously at the joint between his lips with a small tongue-flick over his own.

Greedy cat, probably waiting his turn. Better get some miles off this blunt.

Neither noticed the outside music lowering in volume, but without the dissonance from outside forces, the atmosphere naturally turned into a more intimate nature.

"So what's the next step?"

"Well," Zach huffed somewhat startled by the sudden sound, retracing his conversational steps, "you push some more. Stress your assets. Without being a douchebag."

He added the last sentence as soon as Freckle's soft lips parted, closing them once again. Instead, the boy nodded, and stretched his joints in satisfying cracks without breaking eye-contact. The lift of his black sleeves flashed a small strip of surprisingly tout belly. Unsure what he was looking at, or for, Zach averted his eyes to the joint and scrunched his nose. The smoke in his lungs slowly but surely fogged his brain. Made his decisions impulsive if not careful, he noted in another small prickle of déjà vu he could not quite place.

"And what would my assets be, Zach?"

"Want me to compliment you like a girl?"

Freckle visibly cringed, jutting his arms down. "You said I wasn't ugly," he mumbled with a blush while averting his eyes.

Fuck you did it again.

"Sorry," Zach breathed quickly, as if speed could undo his brashness. And in a split second of guilt in need of disappearing, he broke down the first masculine barrier he erected through decades of avoidance. Thou shall not compliment other men on appearance.

The words simply rolled out. "I mean your eyes are pretty stunning, never seen green on anyone, and they seem to sparkle whenever you smile. And those blonde locks suit you, though they're a bit too long if they cover your eyes..."

Noticing the blush on Freckle's cheeks, Zach grew an evil smile only a newfound kind of power over someone can provide, not contemplating on how it was gained.

"...you have nice dimples when you laugh, and cute freckles of course. Pretty beautiful hands actually, quite long. Can't see anything from the rest of your body but you sure are flexible and your but-"

"Okay, stop, stop!" Freckle shouted. During the compliments he sank further and further off the couch till only his black hoodie remained against the sofa, the stretch once more hiking up the cloth the reveal a sliver of his navel. "F-fuck," he whispered weakly, "I-I give, I give!"

"Good, now stop being a pussy and sit up so I can continue."

Did I just almost tell a man he had a nice ass?

"The next step in the dance of seduction is actually starting to touch."

Fucking strawberry.

"And not here's your hand here's my dick. But physical contact is a barrier in need of soft prying, instead of Kool-Aid manning into her pants."

Around his belly-button? Wonder where else he has freckles.

"Gotta be smooth as a cucumber. Which is such a weird fucking sentence."

Not getting a response, Zach peered upwards, to find Freckle already rolling a second joint.

Jesus how long did I take to answer? And how high is his fucking tolerance?

"I guess an indirect kiss doesn't count."

Eva should be close to dead or insatiable.

God that girl has some tits...

"Dude."

Suddenly Zach's feet were swept up and planted on Freckle's lap. "Sorry," the smaller boy murmured quickly, as he gripped his hands around Zach's white socks, "you need to stop tapping your feet, it's driving me nuts."

Fuck was I being that impatient? I'm being an asshole.

Meanwhile Freckle started to slowly massage Zach's socked feet absentmindedly, blushing, almost as if trying to avoid the alpha's face in a silence giving Zach's thoughts leeway to spew.

Either that or he is being paranoid. That can happen with an overdose. He's had more than me. And he weighs less. Fucking strawberry.

The soft ministrations of Freckle now rubbing the white cotton-covered soles of his feet and wiggling his toes caused the alpha to slowly slump further into the black couch, fully covering it with Freckle sitting under his calves. Zach held his hand out to give Freckle the stump of the fully smoked joint. He had done so twice before, but the twin brother had seemed too occupied with his thoughts to notice. Now he looked up from Zach's legs to take the stump, but in a seeming form of nonverbal miscommunication the boy squeaked, as the small remainder of the joint seemed to fall. Freckle quickly pried Zach's socks, long delicate fingers gliding and pulling the soft fabric off his ankles and soles before tugging them off. Probably to save his feet from burning embers.

"Shit sorry," Zach cursed while trying to shoot up from his slumped position, but Freckle clamped his calves through his jeans tight on his lap, making him unable to do so. "I got it," the boy answered meekly, "don't worry. Not the first burn in this couch." He slowly started to massage Zach's feet once again while talking about prior joint-related fire mishaps, fingers threading the holes between his toes. Can you have knots in your feet, the quarterback wondered, zoning out, because save from a few squirms, intense relaxation did not take long to develop. Time, normally so linear, slowly seemed to lengthen and stretch itself under the soft EDM.

God he is good with his hands.

"So," Freckle continued softly between puffs, "what comes after touching, Zach?"

"Oh. Erh, lemme think," Zach murmured, "I guess more compliments."

"Easy for you to say, fucker, look how you... you look!"

Zach let out a drawn-out laugh as he puffed on the joint given to him.

Why is it longer?

Oh shit this is the... second one? I need to go.

"Fucking abs-fuckboy."

"Yeh yeh, I'm hot," Zach chuckled as he peered over the joint to see Freckle's emerald irises flicker with what Zach surmised was nothing but envy.

"Let me guess, the next step is taking someone's clothes off, and everyone strips in a flash when they come near you."

In response Zach shrugged with a smirk. And a slight squirm, as Freckle's warm hand dipped between his big and second toe. He wanted to return the joint to stand up, when noting Freckle finicking with his own sweater.

"Dude what are you doing."

"Proving..." Freckle huffed, while pushing his head through the small opening in a reverse birth. "...a point!" he exclaimed excitedly in his own rendition of eureka, as his curls fanned out and bounced up and down.

But not in a bathtub.

Undressing?

It's a boy.

"Zach? Look! Wait, pull your arms up."

Too slow for comprehending anything, Zach pulled his arms up like a sportsman following orders. And only a few seconds later he felt the polyester fabric of the couch cling to the chocolate-coloured muscled ripples of his back

Wait what?

How the fuck d-holy shit.

Like a moth drawn to a lighthouse, the excited chirps of the excited stoner were drawn out by the light skinned washboard that rippled with the volume of the young stoners voice. Trying to avoid the two soft pink nipples that adorned Freckle's tight chest, instead Zach's eyes, which were frantically seeking refuge on the feast of a taut body, drew to the muscles behind the strawberry blonde treasure trail that crawled down from the navel, over the pelvis, under the waistband, to places only imaginable.

Kitten has abs.

Cat has abs.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Seemingly unaware of the jock's spiralling, Freckle hunched over towards him, causing Zach's vision to glide upwards and up close to his collar bone, where he felt for a brief second his warm breath dissipate and amass condense right beneath an up close unprotected and taunting adam's apple. As a man of sport Zach knew how to appreciate musculature, and was on the cusp of figuring out this went far beyond that limit. But his drug-addled mind had a hard time catching up as one barrier that protected his own masculine dogma after the other started to be pried away brick by brick. As he tried to sputter words unsaid, his vision temporarily blackened as he felt the last inch of muscle shirt leave his fingertips.

"...and they say God doesn't have favourites..." Freckle finished his murmuring, as Zach heard the polyester drop on the floor somewhere out of his focus.

So he does have freckles everywhere.

"Zach?"

Freckle put his two hands straight on his caramel-colored chest, almost as if he grabbed two handfuls of tit. If Zach did not know any better. His chest did not, warmth radiating from the burning fire residing there, flames licking to all kinds of places he did not want to harden. Some kind of wiring Zach never got acquainted with before, and felt like betrayal. If he knew any better.

Meanwhile, Freckle only leaned closer, face slightly tilted to create a questioning glance a mere feet away from him.

"Nhgh, eh, this is getting pretty g-gay-man."

But instead of aghast retreat, Freckle's lips merely pulled into a smirk. Like his eyes, probably.

"Yeh, cause your team never spanks each other's asses naked in the showers," he heard that higher-pitched voice up close and dangerously soft. "But talking about workouts, this one goes too far."

Tracking a drop of sweat that fell down the younger boy's skin after amassing in his clavicle, Zach gasped for fresher air into lungs filled with smoke and humidity. The smaller blonde remained hunched over him, lightly flitting his long fingers across the robust ridges of his abs, upwards to his bloated mountainous pecks. Sparking small electric currents as unknown muscle-groups were being pointed out. There, the long tender fingers flicked the stiffening quarter-sized nipples into chubby chocolate colored pencil-mark erasers under someone eliciting animalistic grunts. Barely congruent with a story regarding sport routine, the emerald gaze of the stoned boy seemed to pierce through layers of sweat and skin into Zach's very soul.

A shivering mewl escaped the alpha's lips in sheer confusion, as he felt his left pec roughly squeezed and man-handled, ivory skin kneading and sinking into his caramel skin as his left nipple was twisted. The unclasping of metal going unnoticed because of it.

"Next step is kissing isn't i-"

"ZACH, YOU IN THERE?"

Zach shot up as if zapped by a cattle prod, the sudden movement causing a slight oxygen deficiency in his head accompanied by the disorientation of being weedfucked. Normally he would question why his instinctive reaction to the intrusive noise was like a kid caught stealing from his parents. But with the woozy singe in his head, and the sudden trouble of keeping his mountainous body balanced and upright, his brain simply had no capacity left to do so.

"ZACH! ZACH?"

As the barrage of knocks continued to pummel the poor door, the alpha vehemently fluttered his gaze over the room to not find the shirt he was looking for.

"Zach, calm down."

The words barely overcame the hurricane of his inner turmoil, hitching breath struggling to regulate. Through watering eyes Zach barely made up from down, shivering, fragile, exposed. The hand meant to be reassuring scalded his back, trembling violently from contact. In a pained grunt he turned around to step back. Unsafe. Exposed. Disheveled. The sweat on his skin caused the hand of the faceless intruder to slip on his wrist, struggling for purchase. But finding himself without a belt, and the foot of his adversary on the leg of his jeans, the step back merely caused the fabric to lower around his waist, unbalancing him. In need of staying upright, he stepped again, and again, and again, till a hand pushed him into a full fall with his back on the ground.

"ZACH I CAN HEAR YOU! EVE GOT AN UBER, PULL YOUR COCK OUT OF WHOEVER YOU STUCK IT IN AND OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR MAN!"

Just as a disoriented yip made an escape from the jock's lungs, soft delicate fingers grasped over his mouth as two emerald doe eyes made eye contact, hovering less than a feet above him.

Just as a disoriented yip made an escape from the jock's lungs, soft delicate fingers grasped over his mouth as two emerald doe eyes made eye contact, hovering less than a feet above him.

"No Zach," Freckle replied to the door, his steady voice carrying over the music. "Just me."

Zach's head automatically shot upwards the closed aperture but the smaller boy deftly turned it back with a turn at the jock's chin. The emerald fire behind his irises sparkled in flickering hues, surrounded by constellations of freckles, contacting ground control. One of the blonde brows turned slightly upward.

"...You were supposed to be gone," the door stated with the voice of Iris, his best friend.

"I'm supposed to be a lot of things."

The sentence poked through Zach's panic like a hot needle. Truer words had not been spoken about the boy kneeling beside him, both unreadable and baring his soul for shelter from his own. This cat was... he had no words. No vocabulary, no semantics to describe him. Like looking at the universe from a rooftop, seeing the northern lights. He felt small and wondrous, connected and lost-

"Keep your fucking door closed then," the door spoke.

Both boys silently heard the footsteps fade into the music. Silently they watched one another, neither moving an inch, until finally Freckle stood up, and brought the shivering hulk of mass up guiding him to the couch. Somewhat made difficult by Zach's jeans chafing his ankles. Yet when he tried to bend to hoist them up, Freckle simply stood on them and pushed him along, causing Zach to leave the rough fabric behind in a half-tumble.

"Priorities, Kingsize. They're not going anywhere."

With a blush the alpha sat down on the couch as quickly as possible, but ten fingertips gently indented his shoulders to push him left and downwards. Sluggishly giving in to the sway Zach ended up laying down. The back of his long humid strands of silky dark hair splayed against the armrest, and the black polyester of the couch clung to his sweated skin, partly letting go with each inhale, only to reattach. Zach heard the dragging of a chair, as he unsuccessfully tried to figure out how to cover his barely clothed body, naked for all eyes except for his underwear.