than all the sky which only
part one introduced some important themes, and now, CAPTAIN SASSYPANTS' birthday extravaganza continues.
Two-three (that you love me)
Olympics and snowboarding RPF: Shaun White/Louie Vito/Hannah Teter, mild crossdressing and metaphors ensue. The crossdressing is mild, not the metaphors: those are freaky-intense.
Notes: Trufax they have tiny rooms. Verisimilitude! Which brings me to my next point: not real, parody, elaborate lies. Not edited, either: so many commas. 3400 words exactly. R, because birthday girl did not want porn, but make-outs and cussing are fine.
SASSYPANTS NOTE: For your twenty-first, sunlara let's celebrate drinking and getting high! And having threesomes.
Two
"Hey, man." White passes the joint over, and Vito sucks down the smoke. He's never been chill about it, not even when he's supposed to be, like after a while. The high will hit, and he can be plenty calm then, but on the way, in the truck made out of fat joints, over a smooth white road of rolling papers, he's fidgety as all fuck.
Maybe he's there already; this is BC bud, right, and it's always good shit. There's this thing about BC, that it's chill, and it makes Vito chill, whenever he's here. Whistler is always crazy: full of people, partying and whatever. It's the kinda crazy that buzzed people have, not something weird or keyed-up. "Dude, here." Vito thinks he's been trying to pass the joint back to White for almost forever, and he's starting to lose track of time and space, but White's definitely being slow. It's the only time he's slow, Vito thinks, and lazily smiles.
White takes it back, and Vito's able to stop tapping his fingers then, like usual, because he never realizes how jittery he is until he's not, and he's wondering why his hands feel so tired, and warm. The activity is probably enough; sometimes, when he's waiting for a run, he'll tuck his hands behind his knees, and feel like he's playing some kind of ultra-lo-fi pinball, with an invisible ball tracking between his fingers, bouncing off his knuckles. The warmth in here seems different, though, like it's hotter than just smoke and Vito being a spaz.
He asks White, "it hot in here, or just me?" There's not some sort of boundary here; they're liminal already, touching and making up the space in between. White laughs, smiling helplessly. This is fine, and what Vito wants half the time, all the time, as much as he can, anyway. They're nothing close to exclusive, but they can touch like this, and have it mean so many other things.
Their knees brush, and it means, 'hey man, this room is small, and we know what to do.' Then White's hand is on the inside of Vito's leg, saying 'can I touch you here, again, like how you like it?' After that, Vito curls his hand around White's, and pushes back, knuckles twinned and resting against White's chest, over his sternum, asking 'move in closer, hear my heartbeat.' Vito doesn't waste time, then, wanting to feel it, and hold everything.
"You wanna?" White tilts his head toward the narrow bed, and Vito hauls him down on it, one move, like he's gotten all the air, and the only trick he needs to pull off is to get White pliant and pleased. It is exactly like a good trick, because when Vito clicks in, realizes where they are, he's full of the same sense of hugeness, an enormous accomplishment that he only had the slightest thing to do with. Because that's what it is, riding the air, and sometime the right stick of the powder, until he's airborne. This metaphor made more sense when White wasn't moving under him, anchoring him to the right now, rather than the brightness of Cypress, or anywhere else.
"Yeah, you bet I wanna." Vito shimmies his hands down White's arms, and then reaches to pull at his shirt. It's so hot in here, Vito can't imagine that White won't want it off, but that's what he does, holding Vito's hands down firmly enough that it's not coincidental. "What, dude?"
There's not that much, really, that they don't share. Vito's a pretty share-y guy, right, he knows how to do this. And White, even if he's weirdly guarded some of the time, makes up for it. Not in ways that Vito expects, but like. When Vito'd been bummed about breaking up with his highschool girlfriend, and people either said that she was the nicest girl ever and that he was a freak for leaving (his parents mostly, who had wanted Sharon as a daughter-in-law, which: ew) or they talked shit about her, White, despite clearly being a little unsure about who Sharon was, and it's not like they ever met or anything, had mentioned that he hadn't liked leaving home at first, either, for much longer than a weekend.
It had been weird, and irrelevant, and it's why Vito waits White out, here, hands thrumming with potential energy.
White shifts under Vito, and their legs are intertwined now; Vito knows that White wants it, and they're gonna have to do it, because he can't last forever like this. There's plenty of time for lazy making out, but not when White's like this, and Vito's stupidly needy. "Okay, but you gotta promise not to laugh. Or freak out."
What would he laugh at? It feels like they're doing this for the first time all over again, and that's a little funny, but it doesn't have that much to do with anything White has, or might, or whatever; Vito doesn't want to do some kind of philosophy here, he wants to get to it. "What, you get a tattoo or something? Like a badass leaping tiger?" They're important questions, and Vito giggles a little, as White lets go of his hands.
"Just. You'll see, okay?" White shoves at Vito with one shoulder, and sits up. "I'd do something special for you, but I'm not gonna." There's a kind of mellow that comes with the high, and Vito's content to let White work out of his shirt, and just stare at the light in the corner. "So, yeah." Vito blinks, and tries to refocus on White, except his vision keeps on sliding away. He has a complete picture of the room: chairs pulled close together, the window behind then, how the beds match, even though the sheets on White's are all pulled up from them. Only, there's the perfect outline of White that Vito can't start looking at, and filling in. Like a cutout, almost, down to the last curl, and Vito reaches out, to try and reshape one with his fingers. "Oh, thank fuck."
Sometimes, it's hard to tell what he's done, or done right, for Vito, and doubly so when he's high. "Yeah?" Vito gets his hands up, now, touching White again. "Why are you wearing something?" Usually, Vito likes the way White feels, soft and right; he's never touched anybody else like him, all the comfort of knowing that this is what he's supposed to be doing, that enduring sense, and at the same time, the wiry softness of White's arms, or the prickle of hair under his jeans. It's like touching a girl, and a guy, and everything that he's ever wanted, except that now there's this weird rough thing between them.
"Are you stupid?" Vito doesn't respond, somehow shattered at what seems insurmountable, this new awful feeling, within himself and under his hands. How is White doing this? "No, dude."
Opening his eyes, Vito looks at White. "Oh." White's like he always was: skin, muscle and bone. Now, he's got a pale blue top on; it hits the band of his boxers, and Vito follows it up, clinging to White, and then, meeting in some sort of lacy design in front. There are little straps over White's shoulders, and they're cute, like girls wear. "It's pretty." His brain is slow, sometimes. Not in a bad way, even though Vito knows he'll probably never do math problems in his head, only that it's something he works with. Right now, White's acting like Vito, though, waiting for someone to explain things. "I said, it's pretty." Vito repeats, so that White won't be confused anymore. That mostly helps. White shrugs, and it makes the lace catch the light and shimmer. "Can that be enough?"
It was supposed to be. Vito's not unsmooth, but this is White, who hasn't previously needed any kind of smoothness. If White had his own way, they'd probably end up against the side of a truck, trying to get each other off after a really good run. Vito likes that as much as anything else, and jerking off White, when they've landed hard tricks and his heart's already racing, is a special kind of this. And that's what they're about, something special and fun, so Vito isn't going to worry about what else it might be.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." White stumbles over his words, like they're sticky, clinging to his teeth. "Didn't expect this is all. I've never. Uh." White bobs his head, and pouts, sticking his lower lip out. Vito's gonna flick at it, but it'd be like kicking a puppy, or something. "Hannah left it on my side of the room." Additionally, Teter'd would probably kick him if he thought about it. She does that kind of thing, even when they're not taking her stuff. Or, well, White is, because Vito doesn't think he'd fit into it. Broader in the shoulders, is what it is, and if Teter's already thinking about kicking them, (Vito's not sure if that's true, anymore) then they don't need to ruin anything else.
Thinking, Vito decides, is harder now, with White right here. Kissing is easier, and he leans in, with one push, and White opens his mouth, and now they're doing it right.
Three
"Hey, dudes, what's up--" Teter isn't thinking, she pushes open the door to the room, and this is no longer a plan. Should never have really been, because it's not like it hasn't happened before, right? It's almost a tradition, that the Village is pretty hopping, or however she's supposed to describe all this sex going on.
Or, well, not going on. Vito rolls off of White, and stares at her. "Worst."
Well, that's not what she was hoping for. "Thanks, Vito. Dudes, honestly, did not know you were in here. Lock the door if there's something rocking, okay?" How she gotten to the point where stuff like that actually makes sense? Those words should never be said seriously, and Teter giggles.
Watanabe has been trying to hotbox his room, and it's totally possible that after a few hours in there, despite the leaky window, she's more than a little high. Very possible, almost certain. Without looking too closely at the bed, or what's going on, she unzips her backpack from where it's leaning against the wall, and pull out the handle of vodka. The glass is cold against her hand, so when she opens the bottle and knocks it back, it's refreshing. That, and boozy. Between the two, she might be able to deal with this. Staring out the window is infinitely preferable; the view's not very interesting, and that's the point. There's the outline of her reflection as the afternoon gets darker, glimmering against the light inside the room.
She has to man up, this is ridiculous. One more drink. Teter runs the back of her hand across her lips, and looks at Vito and White. She's not gonna leave now, not after all this. Vito fidgets with his necklace, flipping the St Christopher medal around and around again; it shines in a fast way, and Teter has to blink to stop from staring mindlessly at Vito's quick fingers. Hard not to, the way that they're long, and she knows that his hands are capable, and well, it might be fun to try them out.
"Hey, how's it going?" White sits up, and runs one hand through his hair, which only makes the mess more obvious. Awkwardly, Vito reaches out to pat it down, before thinking and pulling his hand in, and White looks sadly at him. "Can I have some?" Her shirt is pulled flat across his chest, and they share a secret smile.
"Yeah, sure." Walking over to White's bed, Teter frowns at Vito until he moves over, and stops scowling. She sits next to him, fingers outstretched to just brush his knee. Stretching her hand like this is unnatural, it feels too wide, like the joints might click apart and fall, like some kind of video effect. Vito doesn't notice, though, as he takes the vodka from White. "It's good stuff, right? I wanted something to party with."
Vito nods. "Yeah, yeah, dude. That is some classy stuff. You can't party with it, though." He's so serious about it that both White and Teter look at him. "Because, you know, someone'll water it down, and you'll end up with orangey vodka, instead of the vodka you wanted."
For a moment, Teter's not sure if she should be offended, or what. It was a clumsy way of trying to get at her, if that's what it was. Orange juice isn't such a bad thing, next to all the other things she's been called. It doesn't even come close to some of the things that she's heard in person, and White admirably looks confused.
Of course, because this is what he does, White steps up. "Orangey vodka tastes good, though, dude. It's like, they sell it already flavored, right? So maybe they are just saying that you should try lots of combinations, the ones that are already together, and maybe some new ones." White pouts, while he thinks. "I like it. You know, it's like, vodka just goes and makes you do stupid stuff, but with orange, it's funner, and then it makes you do stupid stuff."
Please have understood, Teter thinks. There are no words for how terrible it might be. Maybe, 'this' 'was' 'a' 'terrible' 'fucking' 'mistake' all done up like a neon sign. A big neon sign, so big it might be even bigger than the torch complex. She hasn't seen it yet, except for at the Opening Ceremonies, and it was pretty big and bright. Although, Vito hasn't run off on seeing White in her top, so maybe he'll deal with this?
Maybe. It's like being at the top of the mountain, where anything could happen. The powder could be deep, it could only skim the rock and maybe she'll tear up her board some, or there'll ice under it, and she'll rip down the mountain. Since coming up here, the only thing anyone's been able think about is what happens at the bottom, once all of that potential's out there, but there's something that's satisfying about being at the top, and waiting for everything to happen, to come rushing down. Smoking up makes her really thoughtful.
Possibly. Vito covers her hand with his own, and swallows nervously.
"Hey, uh. Vodka?" Teter waves one hand around, and White hands it to her. She kisses Vito with the dry fruitiness of the vodka lingering under her tongue. He's good, at least, moving one hand up and down her back, and trying: pressing hard, waiting for her response, then breathing out gently. It shouldn't surprise her; no one here is bad at anything. There's another hand on her back, and Teter mentally amends that to, 'except sharing.' White links fingers with Vito, and they're holding hands over Teter's shoulderblade, then, and it's something solid and true holding her up.
The kisses are nice, and Teter's determined to get them a few other places. She pulls back from Vito, who looks confused, and his arm is wrapped all the way around her, so he tries to pull her back in. White holds fast, though, and leans over to start licking her neck. It's already so warm in her, and White knows what he's doing, sliding right across the deep internal jugular, and the slight thudding of the external jugular, and then he drags his lips over her carotid artery, and it's like, boom; she shivers back into his hands, and merely looks at the kiss that Vito gets then.
They might be thinking about doing something more, and Vito tangles his fingers in White's hair, like he means to stay. Which is normally alright with Teter, but not right now. White's probably the reasone they're doing this at all, like always, and he's got to get some attention. Because he had been staring at the tops she brought along, and wearing the lace all afternoon has got to be annoying and honestly kind of itchy; really, the only time she ever wears them is when she's gonna be taking them off in twenty minutes, but like everything else, White's gotta go harder on that. It's hard not to giggle at that, and Teter nudges Vito to get his attention again.
It's not like she's ever found anger easy to reach, even when she needs to be like that, has to get worked up to get things her way, or to get people to stop being stupid. So, now, watching White and Vito make out, she doesn't worry about it. Whenever she's messed around with White, it's been because they're bored. Maybe not just bored, because it'd be easier, and definitely less messy to just text whoever, so there's gotta be something else. Sure, they're tried it before, and that had been actual desire.
It had been in Los Angeles, over the summer, that they'd hooked up for the first time. The date's easy to remember because she'd been psyched about it for so long. LA's cool, not like, somewhere she'd want to be forever, but there's fun stuff, beaches and bars and plenty of her friends. The place is confusing, though, so instead of staying at a hotel, she had crashed with this chick she knew from Park City, or had meant to, anyway. That evening, she'd been totally wiped, and no one seemed to know where she wanted to get to, so White had bought her a drink, then she'd bought one for him, and they'd ended up in someone's bed, buzzed and sweaty from pushing through the crowds all day.
It was fun, and Teter's very committed to fun.
Vito looks at her and waggles his eyebrows. White's not gonna know what's going on, and Vito waits, as she shoves White down, pinning him as much as she can, and finally looking.
White's, well, very white. More so than any other boarder; Teter tries, she honestly does, because skin care is important, but some mornings she doesn't remember sunblock and her hands are the color of faded paper against White's biceps. Vito's naturally closer to everyone else, golden and slightly burnt. The colors stand out better, against White's pale shoulders though, and it was definitely the right idea to lend him the teal one. Vito's fingers are quick, rolling the fabric up, under Teter's grip, and then White pouts.
"No one else had to take their shirts off." Vito sighs, and then slides his t-shirt off, dropping it to the floor. There's no way to do this without getting a few scratches, that much is obvious. Vito's got a cut low on his jaw, and a bruise the shape of a corner over his ribs, and a jagged-looking scar low on his belly. Teter touches it, dragging her fingertip across the unevenly-healed skin, and for once, she's pleased that she doesn't have pretty hands, because Vito moves, responding to the slight yet rough touch.
Outside, it's almost full darkness, so while Teter pulls off her sweatshirt and unhooks her bra with one hand, because she has some sense of how things go, White turns the light on all the way. Both of them stare at her in the still-tawny light, because there's something more here. White might have gotten tired of the lace, and Vito is shirtless half the time anyway, but there's a way that they're committed to doing this now, when she drops her bra on the floor. It's going to be very good.
Standing behind Vito, who's kneeling at the end of the bed, Teter suggests, "the freckles go all over." It's been fascinating, once White had gotten undressed, almost like looking at someone who was slightly alien. Not, like, a green dude, although that has its own appeal, or even a green girl, like on the old episodes of Star Trek. Slightly different, tiny coral dots everywhere: shoulders, hips, back, thighs, even his feet. After the last time, she'd tried to recall the color, and maybe the closest was when she blushed, and thinking about having White again always made her blush more. Having him now, though, it's likely, almost sure.
Vito nods seriously. "I know." White grins up at them.
Two-three (that you love me)
Olympics and snowboarding RPF: Shaun White/Louie Vito/Hannah Teter, mild crossdressing and metaphors ensue. The crossdressing is mild, not the metaphors: those are freaky-intense.
Notes: Trufax they have tiny rooms. Verisimilitude! Which brings me to my next point: not real, parody, elaborate lies. Not edited, either: so many commas. 3400 words exactly. R, because birthday girl did not want porn, but make-outs and cussing are fine.
SASSYPANTS NOTE: For your twenty-first, sunlara let's celebrate drinking and getting high! And having threesomes.
Two
"Hey, man." White passes the joint over, and Vito sucks down the smoke. He's never been chill about it, not even when he's supposed to be, like after a while. The high will hit, and he can be plenty calm then, but on the way, in the truck made out of fat joints, over a smooth white road of rolling papers, he's fidgety as all fuck.
Maybe he's there already; this is BC bud, right, and it's always good shit. There's this thing about BC, that it's chill, and it makes Vito chill, whenever he's here. Whistler is always crazy: full of people, partying and whatever. It's the kinda crazy that buzzed people have, not something weird or keyed-up. "Dude, here." Vito thinks he's been trying to pass the joint back to White for almost forever, and he's starting to lose track of time and space, but White's definitely being slow. It's the only time he's slow, Vito thinks, and lazily smiles.
White takes it back, and Vito's able to stop tapping his fingers then, like usual, because he never realizes how jittery he is until he's not, and he's wondering why his hands feel so tired, and warm. The activity is probably enough; sometimes, when he's waiting for a run, he'll tuck his hands behind his knees, and feel like he's playing some kind of ultra-lo-fi pinball, with an invisible ball tracking between his fingers, bouncing off his knuckles. The warmth in here seems different, though, like it's hotter than just smoke and Vito being a spaz.
He asks White, "it hot in here, or just me?" There's not some sort of boundary here; they're liminal already, touching and making up the space in between. White laughs, smiling helplessly. This is fine, and what Vito wants half the time, all the time, as much as he can, anyway. They're nothing close to exclusive, but they can touch like this, and have it mean so many other things.
Their knees brush, and it means, 'hey man, this room is small, and we know what to do.' Then White's hand is on the inside of Vito's leg, saying 'can I touch you here, again, like how you like it?' After that, Vito curls his hand around White's, and pushes back, knuckles twinned and resting against White's chest, over his sternum, asking 'move in closer, hear my heartbeat.' Vito doesn't waste time, then, wanting to feel it, and hold everything.
"You wanna?" White tilts his head toward the narrow bed, and Vito hauls him down on it, one move, like he's gotten all the air, and the only trick he needs to pull off is to get White pliant and pleased. It is exactly like a good trick, because when Vito clicks in, realizes where they are, he's full of the same sense of hugeness, an enormous accomplishment that he only had the slightest thing to do with. Because that's what it is, riding the air, and sometime the right stick of the powder, until he's airborne. This metaphor made more sense when White wasn't moving under him, anchoring him to the right now, rather than the brightness of Cypress, or anywhere else.
"Yeah, you bet I wanna." Vito shimmies his hands down White's arms, and then reaches to pull at his shirt. It's so hot in here, Vito can't imagine that White won't want it off, but that's what he does, holding Vito's hands down firmly enough that it's not coincidental. "What, dude?"
There's not that much, really, that they don't share. Vito's a pretty share-y guy, right, he knows how to do this. And White, even if he's weirdly guarded some of the time, makes up for it. Not in ways that Vito expects, but like. When Vito'd been bummed about breaking up with his highschool girlfriend, and people either said that she was the nicest girl ever and that he was a freak for leaving (his parents mostly, who had wanted Sharon as a daughter-in-law, which: ew) or they talked shit about her, White, despite clearly being a little unsure about who Sharon was, and it's not like they ever met or anything, had mentioned that he hadn't liked leaving home at first, either, for much longer than a weekend.
It had been weird, and irrelevant, and it's why Vito waits White out, here, hands thrumming with potential energy.
White shifts under Vito, and their legs are intertwined now; Vito knows that White wants it, and they're gonna have to do it, because he can't last forever like this. There's plenty of time for lazy making out, but not when White's like this, and Vito's stupidly needy. "Okay, but you gotta promise not to laugh. Or freak out."
What would he laugh at? It feels like they're doing this for the first time all over again, and that's a little funny, but it doesn't have that much to do with anything White has, or might, or whatever; Vito doesn't want to do some kind of philosophy here, he wants to get to it. "What, you get a tattoo or something? Like a badass leaping tiger?" They're important questions, and Vito giggles a little, as White lets go of his hands.
"Just. You'll see, okay?" White shoves at Vito with one shoulder, and sits up. "I'd do something special for you, but I'm not gonna." There's a kind of mellow that comes with the high, and Vito's content to let White work out of his shirt, and just stare at the light in the corner. "So, yeah." Vito blinks, and tries to refocus on White, except his vision keeps on sliding away. He has a complete picture of the room: chairs pulled close together, the window behind then, how the beds match, even though the sheets on White's are all pulled up from them. Only, there's the perfect outline of White that Vito can't start looking at, and filling in. Like a cutout, almost, down to the last curl, and Vito reaches out, to try and reshape one with his fingers. "Oh, thank fuck."
Sometimes, it's hard to tell what he's done, or done right, for Vito, and doubly so when he's high. "Yeah?" Vito gets his hands up, now, touching White again. "Why are you wearing something?" Usually, Vito likes the way White feels, soft and right; he's never touched anybody else like him, all the comfort of knowing that this is what he's supposed to be doing, that enduring sense, and at the same time, the wiry softness of White's arms, or the prickle of hair under his jeans. It's like touching a girl, and a guy, and everything that he's ever wanted, except that now there's this weird rough thing between them.
"Are you stupid?" Vito doesn't respond, somehow shattered at what seems insurmountable, this new awful feeling, within himself and under his hands. How is White doing this? "No, dude."
Opening his eyes, Vito looks at White. "Oh." White's like he always was: skin, muscle and bone. Now, he's got a pale blue top on; it hits the band of his boxers, and Vito follows it up, clinging to White, and then, meeting in some sort of lacy design in front. There are little straps over White's shoulders, and they're cute, like girls wear. "It's pretty." His brain is slow, sometimes. Not in a bad way, even though Vito knows he'll probably never do math problems in his head, only that it's something he works with. Right now, White's acting like Vito, though, waiting for someone to explain things. "I said, it's pretty." Vito repeats, so that White won't be confused anymore. That mostly helps. White shrugs, and it makes the lace catch the light and shimmer. "Can that be enough?"
It was supposed to be. Vito's not unsmooth, but this is White, who hasn't previously needed any kind of smoothness. If White had his own way, they'd probably end up against the side of a truck, trying to get each other off after a really good run. Vito likes that as much as anything else, and jerking off White, when they've landed hard tricks and his heart's already racing, is a special kind of this. And that's what they're about, something special and fun, so Vito isn't going to worry about what else it might be.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." White stumbles over his words, like they're sticky, clinging to his teeth. "Didn't expect this is all. I've never. Uh." White bobs his head, and pouts, sticking his lower lip out. Vito's gonna flick at it, but it'd be like kicking a puppy, or something. "Hannah left it on my side of the room." Additionally, Teter'd would probably kick him if he thought about it. She does that kind of thing, even when they're not taking her stuff. Or, well, White is, because Vito doesn't think he'd fit into it. Broader in the shoulders, is what it is, and if Teter's already thinking about kicking them, (Vito's not sure if that's true, anymore) then they don't need to ruin anything else.
Thinking, Vito decides, is harder now, with White right here. Kissing is easier, and he leans in, with one push, and White opens his mouth, and now they're doing it right.
Three
"Hey, dudes, what's up--" Teter isn't thinking, she pushes open the door to the room, and this is no longer a plan. Should never have really been, because it's not like it hasn't happened before, right? It's almost a tradition, that the Village is pretty hopping, or however she's supposed to describe all this sex going on.
Or, well, not going on. Vito rolls off of White, and stares at her. "Worst."
Well, that's not what she was hoping for. "Thanks, Vito. Dudes, honestly, did not know you were in here. Lock the door if there's something rocking, okay?" How she gotten to the point where stuff like that actually makes sense? Those words should never be said seriously, and Teter giggles.
Watanabe has been trying to hotbox his room, and it's totally possible that after a few hours in there, despite the leaky window, she's more than a little high. Very possible, almost certain. Without looking too closely at the bed, or what's going on, she unzips her backpack from where it's leaning against the wall, and pull out the handle of vodka. The glass is cold against her hand, so when she opens the bottle and knocks it back, it's refreshing. That, and boozy. Between the two, she might be able to deal with this. Staring out the window is infinitely preferable; the view's not very interesting, and that's the point. There's the outline of her reflection as the afternoon gets darker, glimmering against the light inside the room.
She has to man up, this is ridiculous. One more drink. Teter runs the back of her hand across her lips, and looks at Vito and White. She's not gonna leave now, not after all this. Vito fidgets with his necklace, flipping the St Christopher medal around and around again; it shines in a fast way, and Teter has to blink to stop from staring mindlessly at Vito's quick fingers. Hard not to, the way that they're long, and she knows that his hands are capable, and well, it might be fun to try them out.
"Hey, how's it going?" White sits up, and runs one hand through his hair, which only makes the mess more obvious. Awkwardly, Vito reaches out to pat it down, before thinking and pulling his hand in, and White looks sadly at him. "Can I have some?" Her shirt is pulled flat across his chest, and they share a secret smile.
"Yeah, sure." Walking over to White's bed, Teter frowns at Vito until he moves over, and stops scowling. She sits next to him, fingers outstretched to just brush his knee. Stretching her hand like this is unnatural, it feels too wide, like the joints might click apart and fall, like some kind of video effect. Vito doesn't notice, though, as he takes the vodka from White. "It's good stuff, right? I wanted something to party with."
Vito nods. "Yeah, yeah, dude. That is some classy stuff. You can't party with it, though." He's so serious about it that both White and Teter look at him. "Because, you know, someone'll water it down, and you'll end up with orangey vodka, instead of the vodka you wanted."
For a moment, Teter's not sure if she should be offended, or what. It was a clumsy way of trying to get at her, if that's what it was. Orange juice isn't such a bad thing, next to all the other things she's been called. It doesn't even come close to some of the things that she's heard in person, and White admirably looks confused.
Of course, because this is what he does, White steps up. "Orangey vodka tastes good, though, dude. It's like, they sell it already flavored, right? So maybe they are just saying that you should try lots of combinations, the ones that are already together, and maybe some new ones." White pouts, while he thinks. "I like it. You know, it's like, vodka just goes and makes you do stupid stuff, but with orange, it's funner, and then it makes you do stupid stuff."
Please have understood, Teter thinks. There are no words for how terrible it might be. Maybe, 'this' 'was' 'a' 'terrible' 'fucking' 'mistake' all done up like a neon sign. A big neon sign, so big it might be even bigger than the torch complex. She hasn't seen it yet, except for at the Opening Ceremonies, and it was pretty big and bright. Although, Vito hasn't run off on seeing White in her top, so maybe he'll deal with this?
Maybe. It's like being at the top of the mountain, where anything could happen. The powder could be deep, it could only skim the rock and maybe she'll tear up her board some, or there'll ice under it, and she'll rip down the mountain. Since coming up here, the only thing anyone's been able think about is what happens at the bottom, once all of that potential's out there, but there's something that's satisfying about being at the top, and waiting for everything to happen, to come rushing down. Smoking up makes her really thoughtful.
Possibly. Vito covers her hand with his own, and swallows nervously.
"Hey, uh. Vodka?" Teter waves one hand around, and White hands it to her. She kisses Vito with the dry fruitiness of the vodka lingering under her tongue. He's good, at least, moving one hand up and down her back, and trying: pressing hard, waiting for her response, then breathing out gently. It shouldn't surprise her; no one here is bad at anything. There's another hand on her back, and Teter mentally amends that to, 'except sharing.' White links fingers with Vito, and they're holding hands over Teter's shoulderblade, then, and it's something solid and true holding her up.
The kisses are nice, and Teter's determined to get them a few other places. She pulls back from Vito, who looks confused, and his arm is wrapped all the way around her, so he tries to pull her back in. White holds fast, though, and leans over to start licking her neck. It's already so warm in her, and White knows what he's doing, sliding right across the deep internal jugular, and the slight thudding of the external jugular, and then he drags his lips over her carotid artery, and it's like, boom; she shivers back into his hands, and merely looks at the kiss that Vito gets then.
They might be thinking about doing something more, and Vito tangles his fingers in White's hair, like he means to stay. Which is normally alright with Teter, but not right now. White's probably the reasone they're doing this at all, like always, and he's got to get some attention. Because he had been staring at the tops she brought along, and wearing the lace all afternoon has got to be annoying and honestly kind of itchy; really, the only time she ever wears them is when she's gonna be taking them off in twenty minutes, but like everything else, White's gotta go harder on that. It's hard not to giggle at that, and Teter nudges Vito to get his attention again.
It's not like she's ever found anger easy to reach, even when she needs to be like that, has to get worked up to get things her way, or to get people to stop being stupid. So, now, watching White and Vito make out, she doesn't worry about it. Whenever she's messed around with White, it's been because they're bored. Maybe not just bored, because it'd be easier, and definitely less messy to just text whoever, so there's gotta be something else. Sure, they're tried it before, and that had been actual desire.
It had been in Los Angeles, over the summer, that they'd hooked up for the first time. The date's easy to remember because she'd been psyched about it for so long. LA's cool, not like, somewhere she'd want to be forever, but there's fun stuff, beaches and bars and plenty of her friends. The place is confusing, though, so instead of staying at a hotel, she had crashed with this chick she knew from Park City, or had meant to, anyway. That evening, she'd been totally wiped, and no one seemed to know where she wanted to get to, so White had bought her a drink, then she'd bought one for him, and they'd ended up in someone's bed, buzzed and sweaty from pushing through the crowds all day.
It was fun, and Teter's very committed to fun.
Vito looks at her and waggles his eyebrows. White's not gonna know what's going on, and Vito waits, as she shoves White down, pinning him as much as she can, and finally looking.
White's, well, very white. More so than any other boarder; Teter tries, she honestly does, because skin care is important, but some mornings she doesn't remember sunblock and her hands are the color of faded paper against White's biceps. Vito's naturally closer to everyone else, golden and slightly burnt. The colors stand out better, against White's pale shoulders though, and it was definitely the right idea to lend him the teal one. Vito's fingers are quick, rolling the fabric up, under Teter's grip, and then White pouts.
"No one else had to take their shirts off." Vito sighs, and then slides his t-shirt off, dropping it to the floor. There's no way to do this without getting a few scratches, that much is obvious. Vito's got a cut low on his jaw, and a bruise the shape of a corner over his ribs, and a jagged-looking scar low on his belly. Teter touches it, dragging her fingertip across the unevenly-healed skin, and for once, she's pleased that she doesn't have pretty hands, because Vito moves, responding to the slight yet rough touch.
Outside, it's almost full darkness, so while Teter pulls off her sweatshirt and unhooks her bra with one hand, because she has some sense of how things go, White turns the light on all the way. Both of them stare at her in the still-tawny light, because there's something more here. White might have gotten tired of the lace, and Vito is shirtless half the time anyway, but there's a way that they're committed to doing this now, when she drops her bra on the floor. It's going to be very good.
Standing behind Vito, who's kneeling at the end of the bed, Teter suggests, "the freckles go all over." It's been fascinating, once White had gotten undressed, almost like looking at someone who was slightly alien. Not, like, a green dude, although that has its own appeal, or even a green girl, like on the old episodes of Star Trek. Slightly different, tiny coral dots everywhere: shoulders, hips, back, thighs, even his feet. After the last time, she'd tried to recall the color, and maybe the closest was when she blushed, and thinking about having White again always made her blush more. Having him now, though, it's likely, almost sure.
Vito nods seriously. "I know." White grins up at them.