darkest skies.

In a general sense whenever something smelled, it was usually accompanied by an equally horrible taste, so pardon his overall hesitancy. Converse-clad feet waver awkwardly from side to side, glancing briefly into the latter’s clear gaze, and then back to the liquid. “This isn’t MY type of F U N..” Of course the latter knew that, he just reveled in his slow but sure corruption of the brunet. “You’re going to get me intro trouble.. My mum is gonna kill me !!” Sigh. “Just — – I, err, I’ll do it. But I don’t want anymore after this, I know I won’t.” Hopefully, at least. Whiskey hues scowl at the tempting liquid as he raises the glass to his lips, glancing up to meet the latter’s gaze as he takes a hesitant sip: “I-is it SUPPOSED to taste this b a d ??” It’s bitter and foul upon his tongue and burns as it travels down his throat, not that it was an unpleasant experience. Aidan releases a hiss as he tilts his head back to swallow the shot, deciding that perhaps it would be easier if he did so, nose permanently crinkled. “Oh my God, m’gonna die.”

Whiskey hues wearily look-over the dark liquid sloshing around the glass, and for a moment he thinks that he should have stayed home to avoid this situation: “M’not scared.. S’just — – I know it’s WRONG.” But he takes the glass nonetheless and brings the rim to his nose, inhaling the scent, and it crinkles in disdain. “I-it smells so B A D.” A sigh. “J-just one shot, yeah ??” He knows that he only wants to do it to please the latter, to see the amusement cross over his countenance, and for those cerulean orbs to brighten. What was WRONG with him ??

ll he could do was stand there, wavering in his dress shoes, as his hand captures his arm. Not that he wasn’t expecting this outcome–had had been, after all–but he had assumed that he would scrawl the numbers on a spare sheet of paper, not mar his arm with the inky liquid. Cautiously, he glances around the grounds, hopeful that none of the members noticed the exchange; they would surely tell his parents, and he wasn’t swift with explanations. Once he was finished, he offers his hand out for the pen, only for the latter to return the device to his pants pocket. Nearly seconds later he finds himself sharply inhaling, an involuntary shiver gliding down his spine. “I – You –..” A sigh. “I don’t think I’d, uh, m-mind doing it again but – but not here, not at church. S’justDISRESPECTFUL.” Yet oh-so-thrilling. And, yeah, he we was more than okay with a little moral depletion – especially when the latter was involved.

Hands unconsciously brush along his arm where the tell-tale signs of their interaction were, and he finds himself struggling to contain a smile. “No, no, it’s cool. I understand, plus I don’t need my parents seeing me with you. N-not that, that’s a bad thing.” Cringe. Perhaps he should be quiet? Lids narrow at his next words, lips pursed into a firm line, as he ponders why he still has that stupid nickname. “What do I have to do to prove I’mnot a pussy?” The word were becoming less difficult to form, though his morals still reprimanded him for using such profanity. “Wasn’t smoking one enough?” A frown. But he hesitantly accepts the offer nonetheless, pocketing it deep within his trousers.

OH, HOW BADLY HE WISHES TO STAY WITH HIM. To watch him smoke again. To hear that sharp intake of breath again ---- caused by his touch. He wants to stay all day with this guy to see just how far he really could push and change him to his type of man. He was coming along so, so quickly. And it was the most fun he’s had in ages. But he can hear his parent’s voices now ----- all shrill and stuck up, going on about how “fabulous” the service was and how they “really must come again” and how “it’ll do wonders for Christian.” Fuck knows who they were talking to about him, but he doubted it would be anyone important. Just one of their boring church friends.

Years of obedience and moral-living would have inevitably lead to this very moment, though he had only hoped such a situation would have occurred a greater distance from both the church and his parents. To think merely minutes ago he had been praying along with his family and other church members that he would continue down the path of righteousness, ultimately straying from the meandering road of temptation. But who could judge him for feeling rebellious after all this time – the essence of being a suitable young adult was overbearing, and he desired the freedom others had. “Please stop calling me that?” He pleads softly as he stares into those cerulean hues once more; so much depth, comparable to the very ocean, lay within those irises. “I did what you wanted, so just – Stop?”

Rebellion was much like a siren’s call, it was irresistible and it practically beckoned him to continue down its endless, unpredictable road. Tanned fingers twitch at the thought that he smoked a cigarette, itching for its light weight between his digits once more. One taste of poison had been swallowed and he was eager for another dose until sated enough to seize the dangerous curiosity before it became a habit. “Swear I was dying,” But his lips twitch slightly upward this time as he once more crosses slender arms over his chest. “I–I..” Deep inhale, followed by a heaved sigh. “I did.” Who was he to lie upon church grounds? Questionable morals or not, he would maintain his honesty. “It was kind of exciting and–and I sort of wished m-my parents would have seen.” A timid smile crosses his countenance which is followed by a scarlet flush. Tanned hands are patting at his trouser pocket in search of the prompted object until he retrieves one, offering it hesitantly to the lad. “Why do you need it?”

TAKING THE DEVICE FROM THE MALE, he holds it carefully between his digits and uses his free hand to grasp Aidan’s arm.  He carefully rolls up the sleeve of the guy’s shirt and uses the pen to write the ten most important digits this boy could ever need: his phone number. You see, he knows he’s not going to be able to survive an entire seven days between their meetings ---- Aidan was just too much fun for that. He’s hoping the boy will pluck enough courage to contact him && if not, well, what was the point in their little GAME? Smirking at him, he returns the pen to the boy’s pocket & ever so slightly brushes his fingertips across the front of his trousers before his hand has retreated back to his side. “See, I told you that you’d like it.” He replies with a smug grin. “Didn’t I? Didn’t I say that you’d like smoking. In fact, didn’t I say that the thought of getting caught makes it all the more fun?” 

“I just thought-th-that uh” Pausing for a moment she took a deep breath, it wasn’t often that she stammered but his words had surprised her. “No friends is good, even though I pick my friends very selectively.” Heather tucked a strand of auburn hair behind her ear “So when are we going on this walk?”

“You didn’t think, you assumed.” He  corrects her with a smirk --- not admitting that her thoughts were initially correct. “Well, I’m sure I can make it up on there.” He smugly replies with a shrug of his shoulders. “And tonight, if you’re free of course.”

Silently he ponders what his parents would have said had they heard the vile words that spewed from his lips. Probably scold and reprimand him for an hour then ground him for a month only to preach about using respectable words. Another wince. Thank God they were still inside conversing with whomever had spotted them. “I’ll never say it again, and you can’t make me.” Comes his defensive response as he scratches the side of his neck, flush darkening considerably at the almost prideful words. How ashamed he was in that moment, that he had said such words to impress a boy. “But I’m not, I just – I don’t see what this has to do with you leaving.”

Whiskey hues blink vigorously as warm fingers press upon his chin, and he finds himself glancing anywhere to not let their gazes meet. But eventually temptation, like most things, overwhelmed him until he was stared into the other’s cerulean eyes – so impossibly clear. “Three very bad options,” He breathes with a small frown, hands remaining awkwardly by his sides. “People might be looking…” And the thought in itself brings a peculiar sensation, as if he desired the eyes of the church-goers to see. His pale tongue unconsciously darts out to soothe his lips, his gaze glancing down to survey the latter’s, before clearing his throat. “I’m not a pussy.” This time it’s said with confidence as he tugs the cigarette from between the latter’s slender fingers, reluctantly withdrawing from the close contact, as he purses the thin stick between his lips. It rests there for exactly five seconds before he plucks it from his lips to cough, wispy clouds of smoke spilling from his lips. Fingers offer the cancer stick back as he crinkles his nose in disdain, “What the hell –” Teeth clench shut at the mistake and he releases a groan. So much for maintaining his morals. Another cough. “Feels like,” Cough, cough: “I’m dying..”

FOUR TIMES. He’s said that silly, but somehow powerful, word four times. On church property. With less than three or so minutes of persuasion. Oh, how easy this would be for Christian. He can’t wait to dig his teeth in properly and have some fun with this boy. There’s a glimmer in his eye & a smile lifting his lips when the stick is plucked from his fingers & his smirk only grows as he watches Aidan take it between his plump lips. The coughing is inevitable, and it makes him laugh ---- though he’s careful to muffle it with the back of his hand for fear that he’d draw attention to his hiding spot. Then he’s taking the remains of the foul thing back as he drops it onto the ground & stamps on it, diminishing what little there was left. “Good boy. Maybe you aren’t such a pussy after all.”

Once more lips part to speak, desiring to retort with a prompt ‘yes,’ but he thinks better of it. Instead he frowns and bows his head to scuff the back of his heel against the ground. Most compared him to a picturesque teenager; free of drugs and alcohol, still has his virginity, and dutifully respects his parents. “B-but smoking is bad for you,” His tone is scolding but he shivers involuntary nonetheless at the lowered tone, eyes searching the latter’s for some form of understanding. Obviously he found none. “I–” Privacy, just where would they have privacy? “I don’t know.” It was safe to say he was dumbfounded.

“Someone polite would just be quiet.” Because that was the polite action to take, obviously, but he manages to seal his lips long enough to hear his next words. Whiskey hues glance from cerulean eyes, to the warm hand surrounding his, and back with a wince. “Violence d-doesn’t solve anything.” There was a fleeting thought in the back of his mind that the lad would pummel him for his disobedience and that has his palms beading with sweat – he was definitely not a fighter. Tanned cheeks flush considerably at his next words and he finds himself glancing towards those inviting lips upturned in a smirk. Temptation was wrong, he knew, and he prayed that in the end he would make the right, moral decision. Not that he was contemplating his faith just then, just temporarily distracted by the peculiar charm. “Did you just call me a,” He glances around before he leans forward: “A p-u-s-s-y?” Slender arms cross over his chest and he averts his gaze from the lad: “I am not a–a pussy.” As if he needed the emphasis to express such a claim, though he silently pleas for forgiveness at saying such a crude word on church grounds.

HE’S SO RESILIENT, but Christian can see the temptation in his eyes. “Look at you, saying such crude words on church land. You’ve come so far in the past two minutes.” There’s an almost proud tone hidden beneath the layers of sarcasm & he’s smug with the knowledge that he’ll eventually have this guy wrapped around his finger. “But you see... Aidan.” They hadn’t formally introduced each other yet, but Christian had overheard the name from the ladies’ shrill voices earlier. “Unless you’re going to do something, you’re just proving my point.” He waves the cigarette in front of his face tauntingly once more. Truth is, it tasted like shit. But smoking added some sense of authority to his aura & that’s just what he likes. 

“Yep” she said with a smile “Many times..” Heather shook her head slightly “Don’t do dinner dates, sorry.”

He isn’t used to this reponse & he really doesn’t like it. “Who said it was going to be a date? I was implying going out as two friends. But if you wanted otherwise...” He chuckles. “How about a nice, long walk?”

Pale lips part to respond but ultimately close upon hearing the sarcastic comments from the lad. Instead he finds himself glancing elsewhere, not mentally prepared for a full-on argument, and releases a soft, exasperated sigh. “M’not your–your pal.” He emphasizes with a downward turn of lips, nimble fingers toying with them hem of his button-up–a nervous gesture he wasn’t proud of. “I was going to suggest you back to your home or–or at least off church grounds.” Now he regrets involving himself in such a situation, he thinks fleetingly, that perhaps he should turn on his heel and find his parents without speaking of the incident. Tanned cheeks warm with heat at his next word, however, and he instantaneously reaches up in an attempt to scrub off the lipstick he knew would be there. “They’re nice ladies,” Insists the brunet in a defensive tone, lips poking out into a pout.

“I just don’t want you to get into trouble.” Whiskey hues shift down to stare at the ground beneath his dress shoes, a thoughtful expression crossing his countenance. When a pair of shoes come into view, however, he glances up to meet his gaze. “O-oh, no.. No thank you, I don’t smoke.” Hands are waving defensively before him as he eyes the thin stick within slender fingers. “My parents would kill me.” He offers, as if he expects him to fully understand parental expectations. Of course he was curious about it, that he would admit, but he told himself that he would never touch such a thing. Especially not on church grounds. “Language.” Another reprimand. “Just once?” Eyes shift from the stick to the latter and back, knowing he would soon regret his decision.

HE WAS SWEET. Adorable. “Are you scared mommy and daddy are going to see you?” He questions, laughing softly. Once upon a time he would’ve known exactly how that felt. But he’d lost the fear of upsetting his parents a long time ago. In fact, he now took every opportunity to get them to catch him doing this stuff. Irritating them was far more satisfying than pleasing them.  “It won’t take two seconds.” He adds. “Or we can go somewhere more--” Lowering his voice to a whisper, he continues: “private, if that’s what you wanted.” He can barely help himself from teasing this unfortunate soul. Each movement of his & each word that spilled meekly from his mouth SCREAMED innocence & there’s nothing Christian loves more than the cautious, shy ones. They were so much fun.