Thanks to all for the comments, from Jess and me! :) Here are three more parts, and maybe I'll post another part or two tonight. If not, def. tomorrow.
Title: Nidiots
Rating: PG-13 to NC-17
Genre: Comedy and smut.
Disclaimer: We own nothing but the insanity of the storyline. Period.
Summary: The drunken adventures of Bam and Ville.
Notes: I (Carley) played Bam. Bam's POV was written by me. Ville's POV was written by my friend Jess. Now you know who to blame for what, ok?
Chapters 1 and 2 Chapter 3-Willa Walo and Elvis
~*~Bam~*~
So, I kept my promise to Ville...after all, I am a model citizen (not to mention a spectacular lover)...and tomorrow rolled around and we drank ourselves into a stupor again. Well, of course. What else would we do with ourselves? Nothing sexual, that's for damn sure. All our sexual parts were red and sore and itchy and just....not appealing, so drinking was the only other option left to fill our day.
We were lying on the floor in the pirate bar, a collection of various beer cans stacked up in a beer can pyramid in the corner. The first clear sign that you're hopelessly drunk...making a beer can pyramid to commemorate the joyous event. Ville was lying with his dirty Finnish feet in my face and his head propped up by my legs, smoking a cigarette and yammering on about something that I just couldn't understand. Honestly, I don't even think he was speaking English. Or Finnish, for that matter. Whatever was coming out of his mouth was some kind of weird, jumbly drunk boy language that I didn't even pretend to want to listen to. I made out something about those damn penguins he mentioned the other night, the ones that were trying to steal my sanity or whatever, and that was it.
"Bammie, I've had quite a few beers," he slurred and I giggled.
"What's your fucking point, Willywoohoo?" I said, and moved my knee so it jerked his head up. He gasped and stared at me as if I betrayed him in the worst way, and I just gave him my best good boy smile. You know, the one that always got me out of the deepest shit with Ape. He grumbled and flipped me the finger and put his head back down, so I figured I wasn't in too much trouble for being a smartass.
Suddenly, I became painfully aware of a small, miniscule detail in our drunken exploits that I probably should have remembered earlier-I was lying ass down on the ground. Sore ass down on that ground. Within thirty seconds every single ounce of pain went rushing straight towards my....nether regions and I let out what can only be described as a manly battle cry (I'll translate for Ville on this one: A girly ass scream) and pushed him off me so I could jump up and get my poor ass some air. Unfortunately, I forgot about the whole "drunk as fuck" thing, and I wound up getting half to my feet when I stumbled and fell again. Right on my poor, scarred ass. Brilliant.
Ville of course sat on the ground and laughed the entire time instead of helping me up. Cause, hey-that's what lovers (and beer buddies) are for. I managed to pull myself up with the aid of the counter and once I was shakily on my feet, I pointed to Ville and grumbled, "You. On your ass."
Ville looked at me for a moment before he shrugged and stretched himself out on the floor in the position I had been in before (mind you he did it with absolutely no grace whatsoever, but that's ok, he got the job done) and I dropped down so I was lying up top of him, ass in the air. "We need to learn to lay without our bruised parts coming into contact with anything," I muttered, making sure I wasn't rubbing against his aching cock before I buried my face in his neck. He wrapped his arms around me and mumbled something-I honestly don't know what, when he gets drunk he is just untranslatable, but I didn't care either at the point. I was more comfortable now, which meant my beer soaked brain could think again, which meant I had a brilliant idea.
"Willy, I want a goldfish," I stated suddenly and I heard him smirk.
"You have cats, Bammie. A goldfish wouldn't last a day in this house," he slurred, running his hand through my hair.
"No, but I want a woldwish," I whined and he laughed, that half stoned retarded laugh that drives me crazy (but I secretly love, I must admit).
"Woldwish," he repeated between giggles, his heavy Finnish accent coming through bigtime with all the booze in his system.
"Yea and I'll name him Willa Walo. I'll name my woldwish after you, Willa." I snuggled deeper into his neck....if that's even possible to do really...and felt a sudden wave of sleepiness come over me. I was just too damn comfortable.
I started to fade away with the sounds of Ville talking his jumbly drunk boy talk filling my ears...
~*~Ville~*~
There is nothing I like better than an armful of Bam. Well, there are several things I like much better, but we weren't exactly up to doing any of them. So I was content to just hold him, and talk. And talk. A talkative, cuddly drunk. I knew Bam wasn't listening; I'm told quite often (usually by Bam) that my accent gets worse the drunker I get, making me sound like, as he puts it, the Swedish Chef on pot.
Hell, I didn't even know what I was chattering about at that point, so I just shut up. "Bam, get up. I wannanother beer." The boy was a dead weight on my chest. "Bammie, c'mon," I whined, giving his curly hair a gentle tug.
Suddenly, he let loose with a loud snore and I felt my shoulder all wet where he had been drooling on me. Giggling, I tried to crane my neck around to see him, but he'd tucked his head under my chin, one hand on my chest, the other gripping my hip. He is so cute when he sleeps. The little shit.
I was very very tempted to wake him up by slapping his ass, but I'm just not as mean as he is. So I put my finger in my mouth, got it good and wet, and stuck it in his ear.
Bam jumped a mile. He started brushing frantically at his ear, making digusted noises and glaring at me. I, of course, was laughing hysterically. "Fuck, Ville.. That's so gross!"
"I lick your ass and you scream for more, I stick a wet finger in your ear and you freak out?" I smirked at him and lay my head back on the floor. "You're such a little girl."
He tried to pull away from me, but I held on tight, whining just a bit. Bam is stronger than me, or maybe just more forceful.. Either way, he jerked himself out of my arms and sat up to grab us each another beer. "Willa, I wanna woldwish!"
Bam turned that sad little boy look on me then, you know the one I mean. Can anyone resist that face? I sure as hell can't. By arching my back, lifting nearly off the floor, I could just make out the clock, upside down. " 's early," I slurred. "Let's go get you some fishies."
We sobered up a bit, and went to the nearest pet store. In typical Bam fashion, we returned home with about 40 goldfish and started drinking again. I stared at them, swimming in the tank he had bought. "Why'd you get so many?"
He let me wrap my arms around his waist, patting my hands and he took a sip of beer. "So we can have a goldfish swallowing contest." Bam laughed as I pulled away from him in shock.
"Bam! You're out of your fucking mind! There's no fucking way I'm swallowing fish. Goddamn fish, Bam! Seriously-" He clapped a hand over my mouth, stopping my Don Vito-like rant.
"C'mon, Willa, it'll be fun." So I found myself holding a goldfish, half gagging and half giggling. Bam motioned impatiently for me to go first, and I sighed. "Do it! C'mon, take it like a man."
I closed my eyes and popped the slimy, squirmy thing into my mouth. I swear, I felt it wriggle the whole way down my throat and chased it with a swallow of beer. "Bloody fuck, that's disgusting!" He was giggling madly, pointing and laughing. "You do one."
Bam took swallowed his goldfish easily, smirking at me. "Tastes just like chicken!" he exclaimed, making me laugh again. "Do another."
I managed to get down 18. Years of practice with some unutterably nasty shots helped. Bam managed 20. I don't know how. There were two goldfish left, 'Willa Walo' (Bammie rarely breaks his promises to me, no matter how ridiculous), and 'Elvis'.
We were both sick as dogs for two days.
Chapter 4-Sad Sad Filler
~*~Bam~*~
So, we were finally over what I referred to our "seasickness" (aka the purging of our stomachs after the Goldfish Eating Contest), and decided to go back to full time drinking. I mean, why the hell not? We're Ville and Bam, it's what we do as people. Our entire existence is based on a steady stream of booze, sexual encounters, Cheez Its, and well...more booze.
Unfortunately, I was too lazy (not to mention sick as a dog) to restock the beer myself, so I made the poor decision to send Raab Himself out on a beer run. Naturally, we haven't heard from him since. He's probably lying passed out under the boardwalk in Wildwood by now, the little lush. Anyway, what that meant was Ville and I ran out of beer a few hours ago. Which was a true problem, cause we weren't properly drunk yet. I know this, because us being properly drunk equals us eating goldfish and passing out. And getting tattoos on random body parts, of course.
So, Ville, who was once again butt naked on my bed, decided we had to go to the bar right now. Of course, he had to untie the string from his penis first (he decided to actually try to use string to make his penis puppets. Trust me, it was as amusing as it sounds. And then some.) I took a second to admire the heartagram on his cock. Now that the swelling had gone down some, it looked really fucking cool. I, however, still looked like a Grade A twat with the word "nidiot" stamped across my pasty ass. "Willa, let's go already," I whined impatiently as he fumbled around the room, probably looking for his clothing.
A few minutes later, and I had him stretched out on his back on my bed, whining and moaning that I was hurting him as I pulled his too tight pants on. "Ville, this is fucking hard," I groaned, tugging at the zipper. "Why don't you just buy pants that fit you?"
"They...*gasp*...fit...*cough*...fine," he struggled as he grabbed my arms to help in the pulling process. A relatively short time later, we had him in his pants and all zipped up and ready to go.
"Seriously, dude, I'm not fucking doin' that shit for you no more," I grumbled as I helped him off the bed. He pouted at me a bit and batted his eyelashes in that way he does when he wants me to cave. Which, as much as I hate to admit it-usually works. "Do you know how hard it is to fit you in those little girly jeans?"
Ville snorted. "Try putting on your shoes with your hands down someone's pants," he responded and then his eyes widened and his hand flew over his mouth. I groaned. If that was another reference to his wild and crazy times with Lily and Mige, I swear...
"Willa, you're dead!"
"No, Bammie, it wasn't what you think, we were drunk and we were late for a show and..."
I put my hand up to stop Ville's rambling and shook my head. "No...look," I pointed at the dresser behind Ville. He spun around and gasped when he saw what I saw-Willa Walo the WoldWish, floating at the top of his little bowl. Dead.
Five minutes later we were both standing in the bathroom, over the toilet. "Bammie, what are you doing?" Ville asked, coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist. He leaned his head on my shoulder and I sighed heavily. "I'm preparing Willa for burial at sea," I said solemnly as I put the finishing touches on the toilet paper coffin I made for him.
"Burial at sea?"
I nodded and carried the paper coffin with the dead goldfish over to the toilet. "I'm sorry you died so young," I said as I dangled him over the water that would soon be his final resting place. "And I'm sorry I let Trouble eat your buddy Elvis." I cocked my head to the side and thought for a moment, and then added, "Oh, and I'm sorry I ate all your other brothers and sisters."
"Bammie, drop him in already, I wanna be drunk!" Ville whined behind me. I stuck my tongue out at Ville but I did what he said. After all, I wanted to be drunk too.
I pushed the handle on the toilet and watched Willa swirl away. Watching the swirling water made me slightly dizzy, than a wee bit nauseous, and then full blown sick. Next thing I knew, I was sending Willa a final goodbye present-the contents of my stomach, all digested and ready to go.
I felt Ville's hands on my neck, and he leaned over to kiss my cheek. "Looks like you just sent some of Willa's brothers to him, via puke," he whispered and I smacked him away-gently, of course.
After a few moments my head stopped spinning and my stomach stopped aching and I pulled myself up to stare at Ville. "That was it," I said definitively. "It had to be; I mean I only ate 20 of the little buggers."
Ville nodded and bounced on the edge of his feet. I knew the whining was going to start any second, so I sighed and grabbed his hand. "Ok, I'm ready to get drunk now," I said as I dragged him out of the bathroom. "Oh, and I'm fucking hungry! I could eat a horse!"
"NO!" Ville shouted, eyes wide with terror. "No more animal eating for you!"
I snickered and pinched his cute (okay, did I really just say that?) little cheek. I really had to teach my Finnish boy American slang terms. Eventually.
~*~Ville~*~
We headed to Rex's for some greasy hamburgers and fries, and more beer. Because as much as I hate to say it (and I really really hate to say it), our relationship mostly revolved around us being drunker than hell. But what the hell, when you're good at something, you like to do it often.
He was kicking my shoe under the table, I suppose it was his affectionately violent version of footsie. Bam eats like a pig. He takes these huge bites, almost impossibly fast. I think it has to do with growing up around Phil and Don Vito. At the moment, he was chewing another too large mouthful while simultaneously trying to cram french fries into his mouth.
I watched him, trying not to laugh. Not in an attempt to be nice, more because I'm not fond of snorting beer out my nose. There was an adorable smear of ketchup on his chin nad I reached over with my napkin to gently wipe it away.
"Quit it, *Mom*." Bam slapped my hand away and went back to stuffing his face. He sat back and belched, then laughed at the face I pulled. "What? Compliments to the chef."
"Remind me never to cook you anything." He just laughed harder, knowing the closest I come to cooking is popping a frozen pizza into the microwave. I finished my food (if I didn't, he'd start eating it) and slammed my beer. "Well, now we'll never get drunk."
Bam grinned. "Man cannot live on beer alone." I rolled my eyes and ordered another round.
On the way back home, we picked up another case and a bottle of vodka. "Let's have martinis." Sure, we had no olives, and I doubted Bam had vermouth anywhere in the house, but that's fine. I like them dry.
This time, he pulled a face. "Martinis?" Bam shook his head. "That's such a pussified drink, Vil."
"I dare you to call Sean Connery a pussy."
He had to think about that one. "Good point." Bam started stuffing beer in the fridge, and soon alcohol filled every availiable space. He bent over to retrieve the last two bottles and I couldn't help it. I smacked his hot little ass, making him jump. "Ouch!"
"Ooh, is your tattoo on the left cheek, then?" I laughed as he started cursing me, and poured him a shot of vodka as a peace offering. "After a few shots you won't feel anything, Bammie. Bottoms up, sweetheart."
Bam was still glaring at me, but he did his shot like a good little drunk. "You suck."
I let my eyes widen a bit and gave him as innocent a smile as I could manage. "I thought you like it when I suck." I slowly ran my tongue over my lip, smirking when his eyes dropped to my mouth.
"Quit bein a dicktease and gimme that booze." Bam reached for it, scowling as I held it over my head. "Ville! C'mon..." He jumped for it, but I've got about 4 inches on him and long arms. "Wiiiillaaaaaaa," he whined.
"Oooh, yes Bammie.. Beg for it." I watched warily as his little devil smile pulled at his lips. He stepped into me and began sucking at my neck. The little shit, he knew exactly what that did to me. I, sadly, fell for it and wrapped my arms around him.
Bam immediately grabbed the bottle of vodka and gave me a triumphant smile. "Ha!" He laughed at my pout and poured out two more shots.
Chapter 5-I Smell Sex and Candles
~*~Ville~*~
We were playing pool. Badly. Pool is not a skill that comes easier the drunker you are, like say, singing. We were also out of vodka, much to my dismay. Just shit American beer left (PBR, the trailor park king of beers). But once again, we were clobbered.
Bam squinted down at the table, frowning just a bit. "Willa, you dumb fuck, I'm stripes." I've decided 'dumb fuck' is Bammish for 'my love'.
Trying to think through a bottle of vodka and almost half a case of beer, I shook my head. "No, I'm pretty sure I am. Bammie, love, get me another beer?" I tugged at his sleeve a little. "Pwease? I'll fall down the stairs."
He shrugged me off to take his shot (now we were both shooting at stripes), and managed to completely miss the cue ball. By several inched. "And ya think I won't?" Bam laughed, leaning on the table for support. We would be back to lying on the floor in seconds.
"But you're falling all the time. You're used to it." I pouted a bit for effect, trying to use my cue stick to keep me up. "Besides, do you want me to hurt this pwetty face?"
Bam watched me bat my lashes at him, and shook his head, grinning. "Well, I ain't runnin up and down the stairs like a bitch, so get your pwetty face downstairs." He grabbed my hand and tugged, nearly pulling me off my feet.
I stopped him, shaking my head. "Haven't you got, like, an ice box or something?" At Bam's confused look, I motioned with my hands, swaying. "You know, a cooler or something?" His look only became more confused. "So we can go upstairs and drink."
My emphasis on the word upstairs got through to Bam, even if nothing else did. "Oh! Yeah!" He turned and half ran, half fell down the stairs. I could hear him banging around in the Pirate Bar, cursing at Raab for drinking some of our beer.
As his curly head appeared at the top of the stairs, I gave him a teasing smile and stumbled towards his room. I'd love to tease him properly, swaying walk, maybe a striptease, but we're always to drunk. I settled for shrugging out of my shirt, thankfully getting untagled before he came in.
Bam set the cooler down and gave me a shove, making me fall onto the bed. He jumped next to me, making us both bounce . He grinned while I giggled. I watched him stand and hand me two beers from the cooler. He made his way over to his stereo, after only a few steps in the wrong direction, and loaded it.
My stupid voice immediately poured into the room. "Oh, for fuck's sake, Bam, turn that rubbish off. Put on something good." He gave me a hurt look, and I rolled my eyes. It's my music, I can call it shit if I want.
"This is good." Bam changed it anyway, and laughed when he saw me slam my beer and start on his. He grabbed himself another and situated himself on the bed beside me. "Willa, I'm dwunk." I smiled as he cuddled against me.
"Bammie, I want to fuck!"
He laughed, pressing a slightly sloppy kiss to my chest just above one nipple. Bam sat up and grinned down at me. He wrapped one hand around my cock, squeezing playfully and making me moan. "Of course you do. Cause I'm that damn good!"
I pushed his hand away and pouted. "No.. I want to fuck *you*!" That gave him pause. We had played around with him back there, maybe a finger, barely to my knuckle, once a tiny anal vibrator. But he never bottomed for me. I set my beer down and wrapped my arms around his neck. "C'mon.."
Bam looked down from his postition above me, and I could practically hear his mental gears turning- slowly. I watched hesitancy turn to lust in his pretty blue eyes. "Yeah, okay..." He finished his beer in one go, and leaned down, fitting his lips to mine.
I loved kissing him. Bam's a really good kisser; I'd tell you to try it, but piss off, he's mine. The fun thing about alcohol, is it turns you back into a horny teenager. So we laid on his bed, making out and pawing at each other with drunken eagerness.
He was kissing and biting at my neck, my fingers tangled in his hair. Bam rocked his hips into mine, and let me pull him back to my lips. Starting as I bit his lip hard, he closed his eyes as I leaned up to lick and nibble one nipple into a stiff peak. "Willa..."
I know that moan, I lived for that moan sometimes, the one that tells me to quit mucking about and get on hands and knees for him. Well, not tonight, darling. I tried to roll him onto his back, but he refused to move, instead began slowly circling one finger around my entrance.
Bam smiled darkly, hearing me whimper softly, feeling me bend one knee to give him better access. He knew I was done after that, and he would get his way. As usual. He teased me for a bit, knowing I like it almost as I like to tease him.
Suddenly he was knuckle deep, and I was grinding shamelessly against him. I claimed his lips again, not caring that the friction of my dick rubbing against his hip was slightly uncomfortable. Stupid tattoo. There are times I ride the short bus, as Bam says. He grabbed supplies out of the nightstand and in seconds, had one of my legs over his shoulder, the tip of him already pressing into me.
He slid in, and I heard Bam groan, resting his hot cheek against my calf. "Fuck, Ville.." He started to move, slowly at first, with growing speed. The shelf headboard was knocking against the wall by the time he found a rhythym that suited him- and me- and I was sure we'd bea hearing from his friends in the morning.
I forgot all about my plan to top him as my head fell back and a soft cry escaped me. When he started stroking my cock as well, coherent thought left me. The room spun just a bit, half from the booze, half from the incredible sex. I was so close to coming, and suddenly, something fell onto my head, making me see stars. "Owwww!!! Baaaaaaamiee..."
Bam stopped mid-thrust and started laughing. He picked up a heavy three wick candle that had fallen on my head and tossed it to the floor. I was holding my head and glaring at him; he leaned down to kiss my forehead. "Can't stop," he muttered, and kept fucking me.
He finished, and pulled away. I was about to complain, because basically I had to start over, but he scooted down to finish me with his mouth. Bless the boy. We lay together then, sweaty, panting, giggling drunkenly. "You tricked me. Sneaky bastard."
"Ah, you love it."
And I did.
~*~Bam~*~
So I tricked him. So what? I was horny, drunk, and I wanted to shove my fully functional dick in his fully functional ass. So sue me. That's no reason for why he did what he did to me.
Let me explain. See, after sex-and a river of brewskies, of course-I get unbelievably sleepy. In short, I do my duty as a lush and pass the fuck out. So, after our little tryst, I was out cold. Nothing was going to wake me up.
Or so I thought.
I was brought back into the realms of reality in a rather uncouth way. That rather uncouth way being hot wax poured all over my poor, defenseless chest. As soon as I realized what the hell was burning into my skin I jumped faster than I ever have in my life. Trust me, I think I set the record on that one.
Ville was standing by the bed, that fucking candle that whacked his head in his hand, lit and melting all over the place. His face was lit up in the evilest of grins; I swear in all the time I've known him, I've never seen him smile like that. Between those green eyes of his all big and sparkly and that grin, he looked like some kind of demented cat...person. A sexy as hell cat person, but that's beside the point. The point was, he was deliberately dripping wax on me while I slept. On me! ME!
"Willa, dude what the fuck?" I screamed at him while rubbing at my throbbing chest with the sheet from the bed.
"You were sleeping," he said simply, as if that explains it. "I want you to be awake so we can cuddle."
"Well fuck you asshole, I wanna sleep off my booze," I muttered as I searched the room for pants. He came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist as if that was going to make me forget what he just did. I shrugged out of grasp and huffed away, making sure he knew I was pissed at him. I went into the bathroom and finally found a pair of boxers that weren't too terribly dirty and gross and came back into the room.
Ville was sitting on the bed waiting for me to come out with two beers in his hand. When he saw me, his eyes lit up and a sweet smile spread across his face. "Wanna beer, Bammie Wammie?" he asked, offering one of them to me.
I grabbed it and walked away from him, eyes on him at all times to make sure there weren't any more tricks up his sleeve. Cause as they say..fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, I'm gonna kick your mother fucking ass. Or something like that.
"You know, I should really be mad at you," Ville said after I found a seat on the other side of the room and turned the chair so it was facing away from him. I folded my arms across my chest and pouted. "Seriously, first you trick me so I can't fuck you, then you let a candle hit me in the fucking head and you don't even stop..."his voice reached a whining point and he stopped suddenly, looking down at his beer.
I took a sip of my beer and let out an over exaggerated sigh. If he could be a bitch about things when he got mad at me, why couldn't I do the same to him? Turnabout's fair play, right?
But then he was sitting on my lap, licking that soft spot on my neck that he knows all about-damn that soft spot!-and I felt my walls crumble and my hands wrap around his back. "No more hot wax, Willa," I muttered as I buried my face in his neck.
He laughed. "I thought it was kinky actually," he said. I widened my eyes and pulled back to look at him. I was hoping my look screamed "hell no" and it must have, because he laughed and patted my head. "I'm only kidding my darling. Now, let's go get drunkerer!"
I smiled and let him pull me in the general direction of downstairs. After all, I am a whore for beer.
Comments are the sex!