Smoking - Chapter 11
Title:: Smoking
Genre:: Drama
Fandom:: RPS Vam, Villinde, Dugera, Lindunn, others.
Rating:: R
Summary:: A story, reaching back to the beginning like a twisted, curling whisp of smoke from a slow burning fire.
Disclaimer::Most characters are property only of themselves; I own the storyline and the writing. This is a work of ficiton; treat it as such.
Links
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
He didn’t know her name. He had no idea who she was, where she came from. But he was sick of lying. He was sick of making things up. He would do this, he would conquer this… how hard could it be?
She wasn’t pretty. She was, in fact, quite bland. She didn’t have hips, her breasts weren’t much bigger than his, and her face - when he looked at her face - was too broad, too blunt, too shallow to be a girl’s. Her hair was cropped short. She could have passed for a radical feminist… a tree hugger… a man.
Bam closed his eyes, kept kissing her. Tried to ignore the uncomfortable, sickly squirming of his stomach, the crawling of his skin, the reflex to gag. He’d thought he’d be able to cure himself like this. Find a girl who looked as much like a man as possible, and he’d be fine. But it wasn’t working. She was hard and angular, that much was true… but she was still a she.
No. He would do this. He was determined to do this. He didn’t want to keep lying.
She pulled him back on the bed, she, so lost in rapture, in delicious ecstasy that he’d wanted her - or so she thought - she, who had admired him from afar and never expected to be so lucky. She pulled him back on top of her and he had to breathe deep to stop himself from shuddering.
He kept his eyes closed the whole time. He kept his eyes closed and he thought of anything and everything but what he was doing. He played images on the back of his eyelids - a whole skate rink full of guys, skating back and forth in front of his surreptitiously greedy eyes; a video that mysteriously appeared on his computer, two nubile youths going at it for people who just happened to click a link; his best friend unabashedly walking naked around his room; the changing rooms at school, before he dropped out; his best friend in the shower at the age of 14, dripping wet, bending over in front of him looking for a towel…
He came shuddering into the girl underneath him and she cried out in glee before he rolled off of her, skin crawling and stomach heaving.
He didn’t say a word to her when he got up, shaking himself, hurriedly pulling his clothes on. It was with one last, disgusted look that he closed the door behind himself and rushed away from the room, back down to the party below.
“Bam! My man! Where you been!?”
“Nowhere, DiCo…”
“Dude. You got lucky, didn’t you?”
He forced a smile. Nodded. Ignored his stomach, silently telling it to shut up, he didn’t want to be sick over something this stupid.
“I knew it. Damn, Bam, you’re always getting all the chicks! It’s not fair, I say. So, how was she?”
“Oh. You know. Hot. Drunk. Crazy for me.” He winked, cringing inwardly as his friend slapped him on the back.
“That’s the spirit man. Okay, so you’ve had your fun, now it’s time for mine. You gotta help me pick one out.”
“Sure, DiCo, whatever.” They pushed their way through the crowds of people in his house, DiCo scouting for any girl crazy enough to take him up, Bam trying desperately not to be sick.
It was when he looked over at the couch that he had to stop and grip the wall for support.
“Dude, you okay?”
“Yeah, too much to drink, I think…”
“Ah, shit.” DiCo nodded knowingly and grinned, suddenly having spotted what Bam had seen. “Looks like Dunn’s about to get lucky too, huh?”
Bam nodded; he couldn’t take his eyes off of the couch, and it was making him sick. It was making him sick to watch his best friend… his best friend and his brother, his best friend and his big brother rolling around on the couch together, kissing so hard their lips had turned to a bright, painful crimson. He felt sick to the stomach, he felt tears in his eyes… it wasn’t because he thought what they were doing was wrong… he was jealous… he was so jealous he couldn’t even start to examine the exact reasons.
“You didn’t know they fight for the other side when they drink?” DiCo asked, wondering why his friend couldn’t stop staring. Bam snapped out of his trance, shaking his head.
“No. No, DiCo, I didn’t know.”
“It’s only when they’re drunk… watch, they’ll laugh it off later… Come on, man, there’s chicks a plenty a waitin for us! Leave those fudgepackers be; they’ll snap out of it in the morning.”
Bam shook himself, nodded, and followed DiCo away. But his mind, his thoughts, they stayed back by the couch, watching his best friend and his big brother shamelessly doing what he couldn’t bring himself to.
He wished he could just ‘snap out of it’ in the morning; wished he could just laugh it off like he knew Ryan and his brother would. Wished it could mean nothing to him, just like it did to them.
But the truth of the matter was… it did mean something to him, he couldn’t just laugh it off; it was for real, he knew that now, he knew that now for sure. After 6 years of willing it to just go away, telling himself it was a phase… he knew for sure, for definite - for always - that he couldn’t just get over it.
He was stuck with it. For good.
------------
“So she’s on her knees in front of me wonderin’ what to do and I’m just like, yo, what the fuck you think I want you to do? Pray for the Pope? Suck it, bitch. And she just opened her mouth - such a sweet mouth, ya know - and she swallowed it whole!”
“Haha, no way man, I never thought that bitch could throat!”
“Yo me neither but dude, I’m telling ya, that girl’s got a mouth like a vacuum cleaner.”
“Damn.”
“Damn is right, man. How’d you get her back there anyways?”
“Oh, you know, the usual. ‘Hey, wanna go out back for a smoke?’”
“Haha, little do they know what they’re gonna be smokin’, right man?”
“Right.” Bam winked at his two friends and sat back in his chair, grinning superiorly at them. DiCo and Raab were staring at him in awe - 14 year olds who had never even kissed a girl, much less had the adventures their friend - the same age - had.
“Dude, ya think she’d go down on me?” Bam raised an eyebrow at Raab, looking him up and down.
“Who, Rachel? Not likely, man.” DiCo snorted and Raab’s face fell, but Bam punched him lightly in the shoulder.
“Dude, I’m kiddin’. Give it a shot. Anything’s possible, right?” At this, DiCo laughed even more, and Bam grinned wickedly, but Raab was laughing too; in the end, the three of them ended up wrestling on the floor for who would get to approach Rachel next. Bam, of course, came out on top.
“Looks like I win again, ladies. You’ll have to find your own chicks.” He winked at them and clambered back up on the sofa, grabbing for the remote control. “It’s time for some MTV anyways.”
His two friends agreed and settled themselves into two separate armchairs. It was only after he was sure that they were absorbed in the TV that he let his face fall, let his guard down a bit - focusing on the TV in order to take his attention away from the tension in his stomach.
They need never know that Rachel never went down on him. They need never know that Rachel never even existed.
They need never know the truth about anything. The truth wasn’t what mattered anymore - not to Bam.
-------
The first time I ever set foot on a skateboard, I was 6 years old.
I’d got it for my birthday; a present that Jess had picked out for me with Ape, because he thought I’d like the wheels. I liked things with wheels when I was little.
I didn’t know what it was when I opened it. But Ape told me and I was determined to learn how to do it. Mainly because she’d said, “Now, don’t be upset if you can’t ride it properly; it’s supposed to be pretty hard to learn.”
Even when I was 6, I loved proving her wrong.
In fact, I think trying that skateboard out is the first clear memory I actually have.
I ran down to the sidewalk in front of our house with it in my arms; it was almost as big as me, and I remember that the grip tape stuck to my shirt and it felt weird against my skin.
I put the board down on the sidewalk in front of me and approached it from behind. I put my right foot on the part at the end that turned towards the air, and put all my six-years-worth of weight onto it. It flipped up and almost hit me in the face. Surprised, and pretty annoyed, I put the board back down, more than ever determined to stand on it.
It took me a while to figure it out. I got angry at it a couple times, kicked it, threw it in the street… but eventually, I managed to do it. Eventually, I was standing - very wobbly-legged and unbalanced - on the board, my arms spread-eagled as I attempted to keep my balance.
I must have only been standing on the board for a matter of seconds, but during those seconds, I was so proud of myself… and then, the board started wobbling, the wheels started moving, and all of a sudden the skateboard was flying down the sidewalk, laughing at me, and I was lying flat on my face with scraped up hands and knees and a scratched up nose.
Ape ran out of the house towards me, thinking I would be crying, but I wasn’t.
I was seething mad.
Because there was no way - no way in heaven or hell - that I was going to let a piece of wood and wheels get the better me.
I pushed myself up, ignored the scrapes on my hands, and went after the skateboard.
“Bam, honey, don’t you want to call it quits for today? Your hands are all scraped up, sweetheart.”
“No, Mom, I gotta learn how to do it.” She put her hands up in the air in surrender and backed off; she had already learnt that when I wanted to do something, I did it.
By the end of that day, I was crying with frustration, and Ape - who had sat there watching me the whole time - carried me inside and gave me chocolate chip cookies and milk to make up for it, and she let me do the icing on my birthday cake - and, of course, eat all the leftovers.
I was almost 7 by the time I was anywhere near confident on the skateboard. But that first frustration … the initial determination to conquer it … that flame, if you like, of resolve never died out; it still drives me, still fuels my obsession with skateboards - flat pieces of wood with wheels stuck to them. Because I still haven’t conquered them. There are still secrets locked in that thing that I can’t get out, and it drives me crazy every day of my life.
There’s no way in hell that I’m going to let a piece of wood with wheels attached get the better of me; I will conquer it, one day, I will beat it… it can’t hide things from me forever.
I will prevail, even if it kills me.
Genre:: Drama
Fandom:: RPS Vam, Villinde, Dugera, Lindunn, others.
Rating:: R
Summary:: A story, reaching back to the beginning like a twisted, curling whisp of smoke from a slow burning fire.
Disclaimer::Most characters are property only of themselves; I own the storyline and the writing. This is a work of ficiton; treat it as such.
Links
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
He didn’t know her name. He had no idea who she was, where she came from. But he was sick of lying. He was sick of making things up. He would do this, he would conquer this… how hard could it be?
She wasn’t pretty. She was, in fact, quite bland. She didn’t have hips, her breasts weren’t much bigger than his, and her face - when he looked at her face - was too broad, too blunt, too shallow to be a girl’s. Her hair was cropped short. She could have passed for a radical feminist… a tree hugger… a man.
Bam closed his eyes, kept kissing her. Tried to ignore the uncomfortable, sickly squirming of his stomach, the crawling of his skin, the reflex to gag. He’d thought he’d be able to cure himself like this. Find a girl who looked as much like a man as possible, and he’d be fine. But it wasn’t working. She was hard and angular, that much was true… but she was still a she.
No. He would do this. He was determined to do this. He didn’t want to keep lying.
She pulled him back on the bed, she, so lost in rapture, in delicious ecstasy that he’d wanted her - or so she thought - she, who had admired him from afar and never expected to be so lucky. She pulled him back on top of her and he had to breathe deep to stop himself from shuddering.
He kept his eyes closed the whole time. He kept his eyes closed and he thought of anything and everything but what he was doing. He played images on the back of his eyelids - a whole skate rink full of guys, skating back and forth in front of his surreptitiously greedy eyes; a video that mysteriously appeared on his computer, two nubile youths going at it for people who just happened to click a link; his best friend unabashedly walking naked around his room; the changing rooms at school, before he dropped out; his best friend in the shower at the age of 14, dripping wet, bending over in front of him looking for a towel…
He came shuddering into the girl underneath him and she cried out in glee before he rolled off of her, skin crawling and stomach heaving.
He didn’t say a word to her when he got up, shaking himself, hurriedly pulling his clothes on. It was with one last, disgusted look that he closed the door behind himself and rushed away from the room, back down to the party below.
“Bam! My man! Where you been!?”
“Nowhere, DiCo…”
“Dude. You got lucky, didn’t you?”
He forced a smile. Nodded. Ignored his stomach, silently telling it to shut up, he didn’t want to be sick over something this stupid.
“I knew it. Damn, Bam, you’re always getting all the chicks! It’s not fair, I say. So, how was she?”
“Oh. You know. Hot. Drunk. Crazy for me.” He winked, cringing inwardly as his friend slapped him on the back.
“That’s the spirit man. Okay, so you’ve had your fun, now it’s time for mine. You gotta help me pick one out.”
“Sure, DiCo, whatever.” They pushed their way through the crowds of people in his house, DiCo scouting for any girl crazy enough to take him up, Bam trying desperately not to be sick.
It was when he looked over at the couch that he had to stop and grip the wall for support.
“Dude, you okay?”
“Yeah, too much to drink, I think…”
“Ah, shit.” DiCo nodded knowingly and grinned, suddenly having spotted what Bam had seen. “Looks like Dunn’s about to get lucky too, huh?”
Bam nodded; he couldn’t take his eyes off of the couch, and it was making him sick. It was making him sick to watch his best friend… his best friend and his brother, his best friend and his big brother rolling around on the couch together, kissing so hard their lips had turned to a bright, painful crimson. He felt sick to the stomach, he felt tears in his eyes… it wasn’t because he thought what they were doing was wrong… he was jealous… he was so jealous he couldn’t even start to examine the exact reasons.
“You didn’t know they fight for the other side when they drink?” DiCo asked, wondering why his friend couldn’t stop staring. Bam snapped out of his trance, shaking his head.
“No. No, DiCo, I didn’t know.”
“It’s only when they’re drunk… watch, they’ll laugh it off later… Come on, man, there’s chicks a plenty a waitin for us! Leave those fudgepackers be; they’ll snap out of it in the morning.”
Bam shook himself, nodded, and followed DiCo away. But his mind, his thoughts, they stayed back by the couch, watching his best friend and his big brother shamelessly doing what he couldn’t bring himself to.
He wished he could just ‘snap out of it’ in the morning; wished he could just laugh it off like he knew Ryan and his brother would. Wished it could mean nothing to him, just like it did to them.
But the truth of the matter was… it did mean something to him, he couldn’t just laugh it off; it was for real, he knew that now, he knew that now for sure. After 6 years of willing it to just go away, telling himself it was a phase… he knew for sure, for definite - for always - that he couldn’t just get over it.
He was stuck with it. For good.
------------
“So she’s on her knees in front of me wonderin’ what to do and I’m just like, yo, what the fuck you think I want you to do? Pray for the Pope? Suck it, bitch. And she just opened her mouth - such a sweet mouth, ya know - and she swallowed it whole!”
“Haha, no way man, I never thought that bitch could throat!”
“Yo me neither but dude, I’m telling ya, that girl’s got a mouth like a vacuum cleaner.”
“Damn.”
“Damn is right, man. How’d you get her back there anyways?”
“Oh, you know, the usual. ‘Hey, wanna go out back for a smoke?’”
“Haha, little do they know what they’re gonna be smokin’, right man?”
“Right.” Bam winked at his two friends and sat back in his chair, grinning superiorly at them. DiCo and Raab were staring at him in awe - 14 year olds who had never even kissed a girl, much less had the adventures their friend - the same age - had.
“Dude, ya think she’d go down on me?” Bam raised an eyebrow at Raab, looking him up and down.
“Who, Rachel? Not likely, man.” DiCo snorted and Raab’s face fell, but Bam punched him lightly in the shoulder.
“Dude, I’m kiddin’. Give it a shot. Anything’s possible, right?” At this, DiCo laughed even more, and Bam grinned wickedly, but Raab was laughing too; in the end, the three of them ended up wrestling on the floor for who would get to approach Rachel next. Bam, of course, came out on top.
“Looks like I win again, ladies. You’ll have to find your own chicks.” He winked at them and clambered back up on the sofa, grabbing for the remote control. “It’s time for some MTV anyways.”
His two friends agreed and settled themselves into two separate armchairs. It was only after he was sure that they were absorbed in the TV that he let his face fall, let his guard down a bit - focusing on the TV in order to take his attention away from the tension in his stomach.
They need never know that Rachel never went down on him. They need never know that Rachel never even existed.
They need never know the truth about anything. The truth wasn’t what mattered anymore - not to Bam.
-------
The first time I ever set foot on a skateboard, I was 6 years old.
I’d got it for my birthday; a present that Jess had picked out for me with Ape, because he thought I’d like the wheels. I liked things with wheels when I was little.
I didn’t know what it was when I opened it. But Ape told me and I was determined to learn how to do it. Mainly because she’d said, “Now, don’t be upset if you can’t ride it properly; it’s supposed to be pretty hard to learn.”
Even when I was 6, I loved proving her wrong.
In fact, I think trying that skateboard out is the first clear memory I actually have.
I ran down to the sidewalk in front of our house with it in my arms; it was almost as big as me, and I remember that the grip tape stuck to my shirt and it felt weird against my skin.
I put the board down on the sidewalk in front of me and approached it from behind. I put my right foot on the part at the end that turned towards the air, and put all my six-years-worth of weight onto it. It flipped up and almost hit me in the face. Surprised, and pretty annoyed, I put the board back down, more than ever determined to stand on it.
It took me a while to figure it out. I got angry at it a couple times, kicked it, threw it in the street… but eventually, I managed to do it. Eventually, I was standing - very wobbly-legged and unbalanced - on the board, my arms spread-eagled as I attempted to keep my balance.
I must have only been standing on the board for a matter of seconds, but during those seconds, I was so proud of myself… and then, the board started wobbling, the wheels started moving, and all of a sudden the skateboard was flying down the sidewalk, laughing at me, and I was lying flat on my face with scraped up hands and knees and a scratched up nose.
Ape ran out of the house towards me, thinking I would be crying, but I wasn’t.
I was seething mad.
Because there was no way - no way in heaven or hell - that I was going to let a piece of wood and wheels get the better me.
I pushed myself up, ignored the scrapes on my hands, and went after the skateboard.
“Bam, honey, don’t you want to call it quits for today? Your hands are all scraped up, sweetheart.”
“No, Mom, I gotta learn how to do it.” She put her hands up in the air in surrender and backed off; she had already learnt that when I wanted to do something, I did it.
By the end of that day, I was crying with frustration, and Ape - who had sat there watching me the whole time - carried me inside and gave me chocolate chip cookies and milk to make up for it, and she let me do the icing on my birthday cake - and, of course, eat all the leftovers.
I was almost 7 by the time I was anywhere near confident on the skateboard. But that first frustration … the initial determination to conquer it … that flame, if you like, of resolve never died out; it still drives me, still fuels my obsession with skateboards - flat pieces of wood with wheels stuck to them. Because I still haven’t conquered them. There are still secrets locked in that thing that I can’t get out, and it drives me crazy every day of my life.
There’s no way in hell that I’m going to let a piece of wood with wheels attached get the better of me; I will conquer it, one day, I will beat it… it can’t hide things from me forever.
I will prevail, even if it kills me.