I keep trying to think of a way to preface this, except I don't really have anything to say. So, hey, forget that part. Let's just get to it.
Quicker Than You Can Say Holy Shit
by Charli J. Travis/William. 3,131 words. Title from Charles Bukowski.
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Something like... )
You will be the death of me yet, girl. Expect feedback around 4:00am EST, because you better believe this is the first thing I do when I get home tonight.
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I love the fact that most people's feedback to this fic includes praise for how well you write being stoned. YOU WIN AT BEING A STONER, CEEJ.
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Also, any vodka/horny parts in this were totally shoutouts to you and yours. Because, you know, I heart you a lot.
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He definitely wanted to use the word arachnid, though. Travis + biology = me exploding.
Travis generally thought he understood people better the nearer they got to him, anyway.
It had him rubbing up against everybody just to fucking feel how soft their hair was, YOU MEAN LIKE I WANT TO DO TO HIS FRO?
but some good chronic heightened his senses enough to have slow touches send chills up his spine the same way vodka made him horny. Oh, you!
Typical Travis, stoned and playful; typical Bill, always being carried away by someone. It's funny because it is TRUE.
The bigger question -- no, for real, check it out -- is can spiders be arachnophobic? Oh GOD. Is Travis channeling Pete? That's something Pete would say.
"I just want to stick my hands down your pants. It shouldn't be this hard." Sometimes it just IS, man!
...I'm not going to touch the sex because then I'd just be quoting the whole thing at you. And, like, you already know what it SAYS, so.
To Travis, he promised, "Next time ( ... )
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Also, sex and science! It's a whole thing.
Pee ess: If the fro is not in full effect when we see them, I will pout.
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PS? See my latest post, then email me.
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