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Warren sips his beer for the third time that night and manages to wince only slightly. If you ask him, beer taste like spit and piss. But he's at his first Vortex Club party. He has to fit in.
...Too bad he's not really having a great time. He's leaning against the tile walls between the ‘bar’ and restrooms, watching people fall in the pool and dance drunkenly to the overplayed selection of Pop and R&B culture songs.
Warren would rather be locked in his dorm room, watching a good indie film, or finishing his Science lab report early. But nooooo, he just had to want to be apart of the cool kids.
But all cynicism aside, he's not entirely pissed he attended. Warren's been so wrapped up in his studies and personal matters to really take a good look around him and unwind. It's been a month and a half since the school year started and he's just now noticing most of the student body.
Besides, Alyssa, Stella and Brooke are all here, making sure he's having a good time. Stella is busy working up front as a bouncer while Brooke periodically hands Warren a beer (he doesn't have the heart to tell her it tastes like shit). And Alyssa…
He hasn't seen Alyssa in a while now. The brunette cranes his neck a bit and scans the room, looking for the black and purple haired girl--
--Until he saw him.
That kid everyone says stay away from.
Apparently it's because he's a ‘Prescott’, and a 'Prescott' means bad news. That he's dangerous.
Warren personally doesn't get the big deal. So what if he's a rich pretty boy? (Did he just call him pretty? Well, he isn't bad looking…) Warren grew up outside of town in the forest with his family, so anything socially hip Warren misses.
And the guy doesn't even look dangerous. If he was so dangerous, why is no one batting an eyelash when the blonde approaches the bar for a beer?
Hell, Warren's drunk enough.
He downs the rest of his drink and abandons it on a nearby stool. He walks with a confident stride he's never had before and taps the red jacket clad boy.
Warren almost falls on his ass when the Prescott whips around and glares at him.
“What do you want?” His voice is a bit hoarse.
Great, Warren doesn't know what he wanted. What did he want again? Shit.
“Uh…” Warren dumbly draws out. “Just wanted to say hi.”
His glare narrows and Warren gives him a small smile, with a quick but ginger wave in greeting.
The blue eyed boy rolls his eyes and leans against the counter, sloshing his drink around in its container. “Hi. Now beat it.”
This shortie really thinks he's tough, huh? It's probably the booze talking, but Warren's ready for this challenge. Fuck yeah.
“Just thought I say hi. What's your name?”
The boy raises and eyebrow before slowly turning his gaze to the crowd. “Nathan.”
“Oh cool. I'm Warren.” Shit, is it cool to say ‘cool’? Or did Warren just fuck that up? Nathan starts to laugh at Warren's expense, which doesn't ease his nervousness.
“Okay, Warren.” Nathan says and he chugs his beer like water, much to Warren's horror. How is his innards still functioning? Nathan tosses his empty beer bottle towards the pool.
“Let's fuck.”
...what??
“...What??” Warren voices his thoughts, blinking in both confusion and shock. He must've heard wrong. The music's pretty loud and all.
Nathan pushes off the counter and grab Warren by his grey hoodie. The shorter boy pulls Warren down until Nathan's warm breath tickles his left ear. “I said, ‘let's fuck’.”
No mistaking it now.
Nathan drags Warren towards the restrooms before he could put together a response. His dull mind is blank but his heart is racing.
Before he knows it, he's in a stall. With Nathan Prescott.
And somehow this doesn't gross him out. Or scare him. He's just anxious now. Warren blames it on the ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-alcohol.
Oh god he's gonna have sex in a bathroom stall and he's busy singing in his head? He's too far gone, and Warren wonders if that means his hangover will be awful as living shit.
Warren's pulled back to reality when he hears his zipper being messed with. He looks down at a kneeling Nathan, smugly grinning at Warren as he unhook his pants. What, no foreplay? So impatient...Warren duly notes. “I thought we were gonna…”
“Fuck?” Nathan finishes at the same time he fishes in Warren's boxers. “Yeah, well, change of plan.”
Warren groans when the cold callous hands brush up against his cock, a warm coil making its way from his spine to the pit of his stomach. He gasps at the sudden change in temperature; from his warm snuggly seat in his pants, to the outside, and into Nathan's hot mouth.
A steady pace is set and with one hand Warren grips Nathan's gel-coated hair to both balance himself and guide the blonde's head forward and back, hollowed cheeks encasing his erection in the most delicious way.
“Mhm...saving it...for a special someone?” Warren pants, unable to hide the amusement laced in his words.
With an audible pop, Nathan temporarily pulls back from Warren's wet dick. “I guess you could say that.” And he firmly strokes in a lazy fashion, lapping his rigid tongue at the head teasingly. It takes Warren every self control left in him to not start thrusting.
Holy fuck he's close. He's too drunk to care about his slightly premature end. His eyelids are heavy and the musky smell of himself and the pungent smell of vomit, sex, and beer around him drives his brain into shutdown mode. When his dick is once again sucked on, from base to fucking tip, he can't help to start gyrating against Nathan's talented lips, edging him closer…
And without warning he's coming, blinded by a white flash of light and groaning all the way there. He bows his head in exhaustion and tiredly watch as Nathan spit his seed on the floor rather rudely.
Warren leans back against the side stall wall and tries in vain to stay upright. The beer already clouded his coordination, his satisfying orgasm did no better.
Nathan pats Warren's cheek twice and wears a smirk that Warren's already used to. “Nice chatting with you, Warren.” And the blonde steps out, being the complete asshole that he is and not even helping Warren pull his pants up or clean up the mess they've made. Yep, very impatient, the dickwad.
Ah well, at least he got some head.
----
“I'm baaack.” Warren drags himself inside his dorm room and closes his door. He flips off his shoes and starts to undress into his nightwear.
Nathan perks up from Warren's bed, in the middle of reading a dirty magazine. “Back already? How was your first Vortex party?”
Warren slips on a simple shirt and jogging pants. “Oh you know, it was okay.”
Nathan snorts. “Just 'Okay’, huh?”
“Yeah, got a few beers, got a little wasted, met some slut too. Gave me head in the bathroom like the whore he was.”
Warren smirks as he feels a pillow hit his backside.
“Fuck you, asshole. Be grateful I even played along with your perverted fantasies.”
Warren ignores his boyfriend's harsh words and slowly picks up the thrown pillow. “Oddly, the slut didn't let me fuck him. He's apparently ‘saving it for someone special’.”
Warren shoots Nathan a knowing smile.
“Hell yeah. And that someone better hurry the fuck up and get their ass over here if they want some tonight.”
Warren chuckles, locking the door and shutting his bedside lamp off.
“So impatient.”