eleveneleven [2/15]
Title: eleveneleven [2/15]
Author: asphyxiatide/marina.
Rating: r, will be nc-17 later on.
Pairing: alex gaskarth/zack merrick
Summary: zack and alex meet in front of a 7-11, they start watching movies together, and before long, zack finds himself desperately begging alex to get a new job. bribery ensues.
Warnings: gratuitous potty mouth, horror movie fanatic (and resulting gory things), excessive girl pants jokes, badly typed accents, boys kissing, boys dancing suggestively, boys hitting on each other on dance floor, hookers, boisecks (well, eventually), condom people.
Disclaimer: as far as my characters, i just stole them and turned them gay and made one of them a hooker. movies and content discussed = property of the respective owners. plot and most dialogue = property of author/marina/me.
Dedications: this one goes to my bestie alex (yes, again) or going to see 17 again with me and describing all the dirty situations that could've occured when zac efron found sterling knight taped up in the bathroom. also for asking me to write about them.
Author Notes: i really hate this chapter but oh well, it has to exist. ):
chapter one
I followed the three day rule: not so soon that I'd seem eager, not so long that Alex would think I had forgotten about him. Oh, it was far from that. I hadn't gotten him off my mind once.
His hair was too dark to call blonde, but I couldn't have safely called it brown, and his eyes were wide and liquid, expressive. He was lanky and thin, but still sort of soft in the right places. He had been wearing an incredibly tight pair of jeans; they were girl jeans judging by the length of the zipper. He had donned a jacket over a red hoodie, both left open. I hadn't gotten a glimpse at much of his shirt, but he had been wearing one of those hipster scarves around his neck and down his chest. It had been red to match both the hoodie and the red underwear that were visible just above his belt. I dig a guy who can plan an outfits around a regular pair of underwear.
When I finally got around to calling him, it went something like this.
"Holla," Alex sing-songed.
"Hey," I tried. "It's Zack."
"Oh."
"Uh, you busy?"
"No," he said, rather brightly. "I'm not."
"You wanna come by?"
"Yeah, I do."
"Well..." I mused.
"Got an address?" Alex asked, adding sympathetically, "Tell me you don't have roommates, I moan a lot when I'm fucking people."
"You never said what kind of release," I cooed. This got me about three seconds of silence.
"Real fuckin' cute, Zack."
I then gave him my address.
"Fifteen minutes," he told me, then hung up without saying goodbye.
I was actually kind of serious about not fucking him. It would've ruined the beginning of things, the wanting it, the needing it. That whole beginning of a relationship, just figuring out each other's basics: the likes, dislikes, music, movies, TV, quirks, all those things. The second you stick your dick anywhere but in your hand, it's over, shattered. The youthful innocence, the cuddles on couches while you're watching a movie, gone. My last ex, we used to watch Brokeback Mountain together. The first time we watched it after we had rounded the bases it went from "Ennis and Jack are so cute" to "which one of us is gonna be Jack next time?", and "let's have cowboy sex".
I was Jack. Totally fucked.
The doorbell rang as the coffee pot dinged.
"Hey," I said.
"Hi," Alex breathed.
I let him in and he sat down on the couch, observing my entire apartment. The whole thing was more or less one room, a bar separating the kitchen from the rest of the space and a curtain pulled halfway across the ceiling to hide my bed, my closet, my bass and its amp, and my nerdy CD collection.
"This is nice," Alex told me, thanking me for the coffee and proceeding to nearly double the volume of the beverage with cream and sugar. I took mine black and smiled ruefully as he took spoonful after spoonful of sugar.
"Yeah, thanks," I replied. "Been fixing the place since I moved in a couple months ago."
"You've only been here a couple months?" he blurted. As I spoke, Alex tested a sip his coffee, which was now diluted to the color of butterscotch candies. He furrowed his brows and added another spoonful of sugar.
"Mhmm, only been in California for a couple of months, just moved here from Maryland." I blinked at him. "If you'd like something else to drink I've got more things in the fridge, there's iced tea-"
"No, no," Alex squawked. "I've just got it perfect now, but thanks." He took an uncomfortably large, lukewarm mouthful and forced himself to swallow it. I raised an eyebrow.
"You sure?"
He was quiet with thought.
"A glass of iced tea would be nice," he admitted. I stood, taking his mug and reaching for the plate with the milk and sugar. "Wait, no," he exclaimed. "Leave the sugar please."
I eyed him with a smirk, then retrieved him a glass of tea. He spoke as he spooned an obscene amount of sugar into his drink, the grains drifting to the bottom of the glass like snowflakes.
"Maryland, huh?" he began. "I'm from the northern half of the state. Bay Area, actually."
"What part?"
"East part of the North Bay, halfway from San Francisco to Napa, where all the wine-heads and drunkards live. Place was called Fairfield. I usually tell people it's the home of one of the only Jelly Belly factory in the United States." His lips curled into a smile as he nursed his straw.
"Oh, the jelly beans?" I exclaimed, putting my mug on the coffee table and turning a little more towards Alex. "I love those things."
Alex was quiet. He was staring at the stack of DVDs on the table as if they had just come to life and asked him how he was feeling today.
"You called me here... to watch a movie with you?" His voice was dripping with incredulity.
"Well... yeah." I pursed my lips. "I kind of have no friends."
"Oh," he started, slamming his glass down onto the table with a thud. "You just moved across the country to Southern California and you try to make friends with a gay hooker?" Alex growled, staring at me. "Real fucking smart, Zack. What, are you gonna call your parents and be like, 'hey Mom, hey Dad, I made a new friend today! His name's Alex, he fucks middle-aged closet homosexuals for two hundred bucks an hour!' What kind of friend am I, Zack? I'm a fucking prostitute. And I fucking offered you a free blow. That's a rarity. I just thought it'd be nice to suck a guy who could keep his dick up for more than five motherfucking minutes at a time. Fuck! I could charge you to watch this movie with me, y'know. I fucking should."
It was silent. Then Alex emitted a sigh. He dropped his shoulders and his angry façade.
"Oh, who the fuck am I kidding?" he asked no one in particular. "I don't have any friends either. Whaddaya got in the stack there?"
They were mostly nerdy things, save for the second and third installments of the Saw series, but Brokeback Mountain had been tucked into the bottom. I was praying he wouldn't pick that one. Honestly, I would've rather watched the scene in Saw III where Eric Matthews smashes his ankle with a heavy bathroom tile then snaps the bones apart like twelve times in a row than watch Health Ledger and Jake Gyllenhaal have angry cowboy sex once.
"Let's watch Brokeback Mountain," he suggested, scooting it out from the bottom of the pile. I frowned inwardly, but put it into the DVD player anyway. I made a mental note to only put horror flicks in the pile next time. If there was a next time.
Pretty soon I was on Brokeback Mountain, too.
When I came back down to Santa Monica, I found myself being totally not turned on at all by Anne Hathaway's tits, needing more coffee, and generally hating life. Then I noticed Alex's head in my lap, his body curled up on the couch next to me. My heart thudded softly against my ribcage, different from the usual chaotic crash I normally got whenever something like this happened. It was kind of odd. The reflection of the television flickered in the dark bits of his eyes as he watched.
"I just saw Anne Hathaway's boobies," Alex giggled.
"Boobs suck," I muttered.
"I know," he sighed. "I was just imagining her in Hoodwinked and thinking about how funny it would be if she and the lumberjack had like, had a thing." He giggled contentedly, adjusting his head in my lap and rolling onto his back. I smiled down at him; he was looking up at me now.
"That's gross," I laughed. "The lumberjack's not a pedophile, Alex."
"What if Red's an... adultophile?"
"Still gross."
It was quiet except for the sounds of Ennis and Alma arguing on screen.
"Can we go back to the boobies?" he tried, turning his head back to the TV.
"No," I declared.
"Why-y?"
"Because boobs suck," I announced. Alex made a noise of disapproval.
"But the line before it was cute," he begged.
"No," I repeated.
"Please?" he pleaded, scooting up and coming close to my face. "I'll kiss you for it."
"Oh, you're gonna try and bribe me?" I laughed, leaning in.
"I like to manhandle my men," he cooed, cracking this crooked smile that made me melt a little bit. I put on my best Jack Twist voice and quipped,
"Anehway we get thurr, I like tha dureckshun yer goin'."
I pressed my lips against Alex's for a second, but then that second turned into five and then our lips were parting and that five turned into thirty, and before I knew it we were laying there flat out and full-on making out on my couch. My hands wouldn't go any lower than his hips, but Alex shoved a leg between mine and grinded against my pelvis. After a few minutes, I finally broke the kiss. Alex didn't seem bothered or otherwise affected by this; he simply laid across my chest and turned his attention back to the television, his lips slightly red and wet from the kiss.
The movie melted away without incident. After it had ended, I looked down at Alex. He had fallen asleep. I laced my fingers into his hair and stroked it softly as his eyes fluttered open.
"Is it over?" he asked, reaching up to hold my hand against his head.
"Yeah," I muttered. "It's running the credits."
"Oh." Alex rested his chin on the knuckles of his interlaced fingers. "Can I come by again tomorrow?" he asked hopefully.
I considered this for a moment. I wasn't busy. Alex was cute. We had a Saw series to get through.
"Yeah," I said.
He furrowed his brows and pursed his lips, studying my clavicles. "I should probably get back to work. I've got an appointment at six and I need to get a motel room before they're all taken."
I watched Alex ruefully and his eyes studied my chest as it rose and fell rhythmically. I wasn't sure what you're supposed to tell a prostitute to do when they left your house to go work. I wanted to at least try to be polite. I was merely concerned that I would insult him easily. He peeled himself up, gathering his hoodie and coat off the coffee table with a yawn.
"You're gonna fuck somebody all tired like that?" I asked, sitting up.
"All I've gotta do is lay there, moan strategically, and think about fucking you enough to stay hard, then jack off when I'm supposed to." Alex shrugged his coat on. "Then come screaming their name. Easy shit, makes me a lot of money. Fuck. It's just business to me." Why was he always wearing a hoodie and a coat around Santa Monica?
"Oh," I whispered, long after he had already shut the door behind him.
Author: asphyxiatide/marina.
Rating: r, will be nc-17 later on.
Pairing: alex gaskarth/zack merrick
Summary: zack and alex meet in front of a 7-11, they start watching movies together, and before long, zack finds himself desperately begging alex to get a new job. bribery ensues.
Warnings: gratuitous potty mouth, horror movie fanatic (and resulting gory things), excessive girl pants jokes, badly typed accents, boys kissing, boys dancing suggestively, boys hitting on each other on dance floor, hookers, boisecks (well, eventually), condom people.
Disclaimer: as far as my characters, i just stole them and turned them gay and made one of them a hooker. movies and content discussed = property of the respective owners. plot and most dialogue = property of author/marina/me.
Dedications: this one goes to my bestie alex (yes, again) or going to see 17 again with me and describing all the dirty situations that could've occured when zac efron found sterling knight taped up in the bathroom. also for asking me to write about them.
Author Notes: i really hate this chapter but oh well, it has to exist. ):
chapter one
I followed the three day rule: not so soon that I'd seem eager, not so long that Alex would think I had forgotten about him. Oh, it was far from that. I hadn't gotten him off my mind once.
His hair was too dark to call blonde, but I couldn't have safely called it brown, and his eyes were wide and liquid, expressive. He was lanky and thin, but still sort of soft in the right places. He had been wearing an incredibly tight pair of jeans; they were girl jeans judging by the length of the zipper. He had donned a jacket over a red hoodie, both left open. I hadn't gotten a glimpse at much of his shirt, but he had been wearing one of those hipster scarves around his neck and down his chest. It had been red to match both the hoodie and the red underwear that were visible just above his belt. I dig a guy who can plan an outfits around a regular pair of underwear.
When I finally got around to calling him, it went something like this.
"Holla," Alex sing-songed.
"Hey," I tried. "It's Zack."
"Oh."
"Uh, you busy?"
"No," he said, rather brightly. "I'm not."
"You wanna come by?"
"Yeah, I do."
"Well..." I mused.
"Got an address?" Alex asked, adding sympathetically, "Tell me you don't have roommates, I moan a lot when I'm fucking people."
"You never said what kind of release," I cooed. This got me about three seconds of silence.
"Real fuckin' cute, Zack."
I then gave him my address.
"Fifteen minutes," he told me, then hung up without saying goodbye.
I was actually kind of serious about not fucking him. It would've ruined the beginning of things, the wanting it, the needing it. That whole beginning of a relationship, just figuring out each other's basics: the likes, dislikes, music, movies, TV, quirks, all those things. The second you stick your dick anywhere but in your hand, it's over, shattered. The youthful innocence, the cuddles on couches while you're watching a movie, gone. My last ex, we used to watch Brokeback Mountain together. The first time we watched it after we had rounded the bases it went from "Ennis and Jack are so cute" to "which one of us is gonna be Jack next time?", and "let's have cowboy sex".
I was Jack. Totally fucked.
The doorbell rang as the coffee pot dinged.
"Hey," I said.
"Hi," Alex breathed.
I let him in and he sat down on the couch, observing my entire apartment. The whole thing was more or less one room, a bar separating the kitchen from the rest of the space and a curtain pulled halfway across the ceiling to hide my bed, my closet, my bass and its amp, and my nerdy CD collection.
"This is nice," Alex told me, thanking me for the coffee and proceeding to nearly double the volume of the beverage with cream and sugar. I took mine black and smiled ruefully as he took spoonful after spoonful of sugar.
"Yeah, thanks," I replied. "Been fixing the place since I moved in a couple months ago."
"You've only been here a couple months?" he blurted. As I spoke, Alex tested a sip his coffee, which was now diluted to the color of butterscotch candies. He furrowed his brows and added another spoonful of sugar.
"Mhmm, only been in California for a couple of months, just moved here from Maryland." I blinked at him. "If you'd like something else to drink I've got more things in the fridge, there's iced tea-"
"No, no," Alex squawked. "I've just got it perfect now, but thanks." He took an uncomfortably large, lukewarm mouthful and forced himself to swallow it. I raised an eyebrow.
"You sure?"
He was quiet with thought.
"A glass of iced tea would be nice," he admitted. I stood, taking his mug and reaching for the plate with the milk and sugar. "Wait, no," he exclaimed. "Leave the sugar please."
I eyed him with a smirk, then retrieved him a glass of tea. He spoke as he spooned an obscene amount of sugar into his drink, the grains drifting to the bottom of the glass like snowflakes.
"Maryland, huh?" he began. "I'm from the northern half of the state. Bay Area, actually."
"What part?"
"East part of the North Bay, halfway from San Francisco to Napa, where all the wine-heads and drunkards live. Place was called Fairfield. I usually tell people it's the home of one of the only Jelly Belly factory in the United States." His lips curled into a smile as he nursed his straw.
"Oh, the jelly beans?" I exclaimed, putting my mug on the coffee table and turning a little more towards Alex. "I love those things."
Alex was quiet. He was staring at the stack of DVDs on the table as if they had just come to life and asked him how he was feeling today.
"You called me here... to watch a movie with you?" His voice was dripping with incredulity.
"Well... yeah." I pursed my lips. "I kind of have no friends."
"Oh," he started, slamming his glass down onto the table with a thud. "You just moved across the country to Southern California and you try to make friends with a gay hooker?" Alex growled, staring at me. "Real fucking smart, Zack. What, are you gonna call your parents and be like, 'hey Mom, hey Dad, I made a new friend today! His name's Alex, he fucks middle-aged closet homosexuals for two hundred bucks an hour!' What kind of friend am I, Zack? I'm a fucking prostitute. And I fucking offered you a free blow. That's a rarity. I just thought it'd be nice to suck a guy who could keep his dick up for more than five motherfucking minutes at a time. Fuck! I could charge you to watch this movie with me, y'know. I fucking should."
It was silent. Then Alex emitted a sigh. He dropped his shoulders and his angry façade.
"Oh, who the fuck am I kidding?" he asked no one in particular. "I don't have any friends either. Whaddaya got in the stack there?"
They were mostly nerdy things, save for the second and third installments of the Saw series, but Brokeback Mountain had been tucked into the bottom. I was praying he wouldn't pick that one. Honestly, I would've rather watched the scene in Saw III where Eric Matthews smashes his ankle with a heavy bathroom tile then snaps the bones apart like twelve times in a row than watch Health Ledger and Jake Gyllenhaal have angry cowboy sex once.
"Let's watch Brokeback Mountain," he suggested, scooting it out from the bottom of the pile. I frowned inwardly, but put it into the DVD player anyway. I made a mental note to only put horror flicks in the pile next time. If there was a next time.
Pretty soon I was on Brokeback Mountain, too.
When I came back down to Santa Monica, I found myself being totally not turned on at all by Anne Hathaway's tits, needing more coffee, and generally hating life. Then I noticed Alex's head in my lap, his body curled up on the couch next to me. My heart thudded softly against my ribcage, different from the usual chaotic crash I normally got whenever something like this happened. It was kind of odd. The reflection of the television flickered in the dark bits of his eyes as he watched.
"I just saw Anne Hathaway's boobies," Alex giggled.
"Boobs suck," I muttered.
"I know," he sighed. "I was just imagining her in Hoodwinked and thinking about how funny it would be if she and the lumberjack had like, had a thing." He giggled contentedly, adjusting his head in my lap and rolling onto his back. I smiled down at him; he was looking up at me now.
"That's gross," I laughed. "The lumberjack's not a pedophile, Alex."
"What if Red's an... adultophile?"
"Still gross."
It was quiet except for the sounds of Ennis and Alma arguing on screen.
"Can we go back to the boobies?" he tried, turning his head back to the TV.
"No," I declared.
"Why-y?"
"Because boobs suck," I announced. Alex made a noise of disapproval.
"But the line before it was cute," he begged.
"No," I repeated.
"Please?" he pleaded, scooting up and coming close to my face. "I'll kiss you for it."
"Oh, you're gonna try and bribe me?" I laughed, leaning in.
"I like to manhandle my men," he cooed, cracking this crooked smile that made me melt a little bit. I put on my best Jack Twist voice and quipped,
"Anehway we get thurr, I like tha dureckshun yer goin'."
I pressed my lips against Alex's for a second, but then that second turned into five and then our lips were parting and that five turned into thirty, and before I knew it we were laying there flat out and full-on making out on my couch. My hands wouldn't go any lower than his hips, but Alex shoved a leg between mine and grinded against my pelvis. After a few minutes, I finally broke the kiss. Alex didn't seem bothered or otherwise affected by this; he simply laid across my chest and turned his attention back to the television, his lips slightly red and wet from the kiss.
The movie melted away without incident. After it had ended, I looked down at Alex. He had fallen asleep. I laced my fingers into his hair and stroked it softly as his eyes fluttered open.
"Is it over?" he asked, reaching up to hold my hand against his head.
"Yeah," I muttered. "It's running the credits."
"Oh." Alex rested his chin on the knuckles of his interlaced fingers. "Can I come by again tomorrow?" he asked hopefully.
I considered this for a moment. I wasn't busy. Alex was cute. We had a Saw series to get through.
"Yeah," I said.
He furrowed his brows and pursed his lips, studying my clavicles. "I should probably get back to work. I've got an appointment at six and I need to get a motel room before they're all taken."
I watched Alex ruefully and his eyes studied my chest as it rose and fell rhythmically. I wasn't sure what you're supposed to tell a prostitute to do when they left your house to go work. I wanted to at least try to be polite. I was merely concerned that I would insult him easily. He peeled himself up, gathering his hoodie and coat off the coffee table with a yawn.
"You're gonna fuck somebody all tired like that?" I asked, sitting up.
"All I've gotta do is lay there, moan strategically, and think about fucking you enough to stay hard, then jack off when I'm supposed to." Alex shrugged his coat on. "Then come screaming their name. Easy shit, makes me a lot of money. Fuck. It's just business to me." Why was he always wearing a hoodie and a coat around Santa Monica?
"Oh," I whispered, long after he had already shut the door behind him.