so why are you fucking scared, then? they're gonna do what the fuck i say. ain't nothing but cash. don't be a dumbass. besides, not like you won't get customers.
i'm not scared. i'm cautious. there's a difference.
[ And Gator's got a tendency to snap. Eddie's not keen on being the victim of his or his friends' rage. He's been lucky so far, but you can't be too careful. Especially not out at some ranch in the middle of nowhere. ]
i know you're good for it. but if your friends aren't, that's tough. you feel me?
oh, i know. that's exactly why i asked if you needed somebody. i could use the payday.
don't be a little bitch. you either come or you don't. ain't like i'll miss your ass.
[ is that the truth? would he miss a shock of long hair, ugly fucking tattoos, big brown eyes that look at him like a wounded deer β maybe, maybe not. ]
yeah, i know that. they're gonna buy. your shit's pretty decent, so why wouldn't they?
i already told you, i'll be there. but the feeling's mutual, trust me.
[ Hanging out on a big creepy fuckin' ranch out in the sticks - owned by the law in this county, no less - with all the richest douchebag jocks in the school and the girls they wanna chase? Pass. Hard pass. If it weren't for the money, Eddie would happily get stoned at home and not think a single thing of it.
Even if sometimes Gator looks at him in a way that doesn't quite match the way he talks to him.
Maybe he will just go home once he's out of stuff to sell. Hard to say. ]
well good. cuz gas out to your place and back isn't cheap.
i dunno. guess you're right. whatever. i'll be there after 10.
i knew you'd cave. 10 is when the fun starts. you might even get laid.
[ gator doesn't think of the game behind those words, merely hitting send. would he have sex with eddie? that's not something he's willing to say, not yet. however, the way he strides into the party after ten pm - gator swallows more beer to make up for the lump in his throat. he hates that eddie makes him feel this way. he's some burnout with a bad history and lots of fucking issues. he's also long and lean and looks as if he'd be the lay of the century.
gator drops his cup into a nearby trashcan, then approaches, arms folded across his chest. he looks eddie over, already buzzed, but not enough to actually do anything about it. he takes eddie's arm, snatching it, lifting it into the air. a grin follows, big and broad and winning. ]
Party's here. Don't ever say I didn't do nothin' for you sonsabitches.
[ letting eddie go, he leans in and whispers: ]
Sell. That's what you're fuckin' here for, ain't it?
[ You might even get laid. Yeah, sure. Maybe if he's lucky one of the cheerleaders will offer to flash their tits at him in exchange for a dimebag - and then get offended when he's not tripping over himself to say yes. Eddie's invited because he's a means to an end - that's all. He'll snag himself a couple beers, sell as much as he can, then go home to get stoned and jack off and pass out. That's how these parties go; he's at peace with that.
Getting paid is the point, and that's why Eddie drives all the way out to the Tillman ranch - he's only been out here a few times, but it's never felt less unsettling. Too quiet, even with the noise from the party that spills out from the main house and into the outdoors. Eddie parks pretty close to the house - if he needs to make a getaway, he'd rather not have to outrun a pack of the school's best athletes to get there. Armed with his backpack and lunchbox, he takes a deep breath, and marches his way into the fray.
Some heads turn, some don't - but Gator's staring him down from the second he walks in. Eddie feels his heart race as he approaches. He can never tell if he wants to kill Eddie or fuck him, but the former seems the most likely. There's always this thought in the back of his mind - don't trust any of these motherfuckers. Trusting someone like Gator or any of his little cronies - that's how you end up beaten to a pulp.
Right now, though? He seems pretty damn harmless, hoisting his arm into the air with a grin. Eddie flashes a grin to the crowd, waving the hand Gator's lifted.
As for how he feels about Gator whispering in his ear? Weird. Very weird. In a perfect world, guys like Gator wouldn't have all these hangups about doing queer stuff. He's undeniably gorgeous under all that bravado and hair gel and attitude - Eddie bets he'd look even better with a dick in him. Not much he can do about that, though. ]
You betcha, man. Thanks for the advertisement.
[ Another smile, this time shot Gator's way, and then Eddie's ready to get to business. All manner of already-inebriated partygoers crowd around him, cash in hand, and he's more than happy to send them on their way with their high of choice. After the initial rush of customers, things slow down enough that he can step into the kitchen and snag a beer, which he sips from a corner of the room, quietly observing. ]
[ eddie smiles at him, and gator hates it. hates the way his gaze is warm, inviting, playful at all times. it's as if he's challenging gator with his mere presence, and that's enough. he allows himself to melt into the background as eddie sells, two cheerleaders in his lap by the fire. he drinks another beer, then another, but his eyes are on eddie and only eddie. the hug of his jeans, the swing of those hips. gator's not a faggot - far from it, he knows what he is. he likes pussy, he likes tits, he likes ass. just because eddie walks around as a hazard to gator's sex drive isn't important.
all gator does know is that eddie is probably a queer, and that's fine. that's to be expected with a body like that - but nevertheless, there's a pull. call gator curious, but playing with eddie's cock until he comes isn't something he'd turn down. does he find himself disgusting for it? not as much as one would think, though the guilt is still there. the heave edge to the tillman ax. he knows his father wouldn't approve, and that's the cold stone in his gut.
however, as proven too many times in gator's life, lust prevails. it always, always does.
he brings his hand under one of the cheerleader's sweaters, right in the middle of the party, pinching her nipple. she giggles, her thighs parting on gator's left knee. no one's the wiser, no one has to know. he's watching eddie when he does it, dark eyes caught up in the way he saunters to the kitchen. when he pops back out with a beer, he stands in the corner, and gator begins to kiss the cheerleader, mouth on mouth, his hand still at one of her tits. he breathes against her mouth, eyes opening again to look at eddie, hoping that this is something he wants to see. he's already high on everything that's floating around - he's taken a little of this, a little of that - but nothing is as good as knowing eddie might be watching him, too. ]
[ Eddie, on the other hand, is a queer, not that he's suicidal enough to admit it to anyone but a couple of his closest friends. Certainly not to anyone in this crowd. Small-town queers don't need to admit it. They need to survive, and Eddie's no exception. People in this town already hate him - for his name, for being a burnout, for the way he looks and acts - he doesn't need to give them any more reason. Shit, it's nerve-wracking enough being under Roy Tillman's roof as it is.
He likes girls too, but he's nowhere near as bold about it as somebody like Gator. Gator, who, across the room, has a cheerleader on each thigh, both delighted to be there. Like it's some huge fucking privilege to share his attention. And Eddie guesses that it is, in a way. Star quarterback, near untouchable, tall and broad and handsome and all those other things that make up an all-American wet dream.
When Eddie glances over again, Gator's hand is under one girl's sweater, her thighs spread. The part that surprises him is that Gator isn't looking at her. He's looking right at him. Eddie's gaze flickers away from them, busying himself with his phone, updating his friends: party sucks, obviously. Another few sips of beer, trying to keep his mind and his eyes off of Gator - and not quite succeeding. Shit, if he had one girl in his lap, he'd be far, far too distracted to even think about anyone else, let alone two. Why's he looking at Eddie? What, is he worried he's gonna steal anything that isn't nailed down if he's not watching? Wouldn't be the first time.
But when Eddie looks over - not quite at them, almost past them - Gator's staring at him. It's unmistakable. She's moaning into his mouth, arching into his hand on her chest - and Gator's looking at him instead.
Eddie feels his pale face flush and pushes himself off of the wall, making a beeline for the door. He's already sold most of what he brought - he can just hang around for a while outside, catch any stragglers who might be going out for smoke breaks. Then he'll go home, and he can wonder what the hell Gator's problem is in the peace and quiet of his trailer. For now, he makes his way out to the porch, lighting himself a cigarette and puffing on it to calm himself down. The night air is cool against his burning face, and it's dark enough to hide any evidence of it. ]
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so why are you fucking scared, then?
they're gonna do what the fuck i say.
ain't nothing but cash. don't be a dumbass.
besides, not like you won't get customers.
no subject
[ And Gator's got a tendency to snap. Eddie's not keen on being the victim of his or his friends' rage. He's been lucky so far, but you can't be too careful. Especially not out at some ranch in the middle of nowhere. ]
i know you're good for it. but if your friends aren't, that's tough. you feel me?
oh, i know. that's exactly why i asked if you needed somebody. i could use the payday.
no subject
you either come or you don't.
ain't like i'll miss your ass.
[ is that the truth? would he miss a shock of long hair, ugly fucking tattoos, big brown eyes that look at him like a wounded deer β maybe, maybe not. ]
yeah, i know that. they're gonna buy.
your shit's pretty decent, so why wouldn't they?
no subject
[ Hanging out on a big creepy fuckin' ranch out in the sticks - owned by the law in this county, no less - with all the richest douchebag jocks in the school and the girls they wanna chase? Pass. Hard pass. If it weren't for the money, Eddie would happily get stoned at home and not think a single thing of it.
Even if sometimes Gator looks at him in a way that doesn't quite match the way he talks to him.
Maybe he will just go home once he's out of stuff to sell. Hard to say. ]
well good. cuz gas out to your place and back isn't cheap.
i dunno. guess you're right. whatever. i'll be there after 10.
no subject
10 is when the fun starts.
you might even get laid.
[ gator doesn't think of the game behind those words, merely hitting send. would he have sex with eddie? that's not something he's willing to say, not yet. however, the way he strides into the party after ten pm - gator swallows more beer to make up for the lump in his throat. he hates that eddie makes him feel this way. he's some burnout with a bad history and lots of fucking issues. he's also long and lean and looks as if he'd be the lay of the century.
gator drops his cup into a nearby trashcan, then approaches, arms folded across his chest. he looks eddie over, already buzzed, but not enough to actually do anything about it. he takes eddie's arm, snatching it, lifting it into the air. a grin follows, big and broad and winning. ]
Party's here. Don't ever say I didn't do nothin' for you sonsabitches.
[ letting eddie go, he leans in and whispers: ]
Sell. That's what you're fuckin' here for, ain't it?
no subject
[ You might even get laid. Yeah, sure. Maybe if he's lucky one of the cheerleaders will offer to flash their tits at him in exchange for a dimebag - and then get offended when he's not tripping over himself to say yes. Eddie's invited because he's a means to an end - that's all. He'll snag himself a couple beers, sell as much as he can, then go home to get stoned and jack off and pass out. That's how these parties go; he's at peace with that.
Getting paid is the point, and that's why Eddie drives all the way out to the Tillman ranch - he's only been out here a few times, but it's never felt less unsettling. Too quiet, even with the noise from the party that spills out from the main house and into the outdoors. Eddie parks pretty close to the house - if he needs to make a getaway, he'd rather not have to outrun a pack of the school's best athletes to get there. Armed with his backpack and lunchbox, he takes a deep breath, and marches his way into the fray.
Some heads turn, some don't - but Gator's staring him down from the second he walks in. Eddie feels his heart race as he approaches. He can never tell if he wants to kill Eddie or fuck him, but the former seems the most likely. There's always this thought in the back of his mind - don't trust any of these motherfuckers. Trusting someone like Gator or any of his little cronies - that's how you end up beaten to a pulp.
Right now, though? He seems pretty damn harmless, hoisting his arm into the air with a grin. Eddie flashes a grin to the crowd, waving the hand Gator's lifted.
As for how he feels about Gator whispering in his ear? Weird. Very weird. In a perfect world, guys like Gator wouldn't have all these hangups about doing queer stuff. He's undeniably gorgeous under all that bravado and hair gel and attitude - Eddie bets he'd look even better with a dick in him. Not much he can do about that, though. ]
You betcha, man. Thanks for the advertisement.
[ Another smile, this time shot Gator's way, and then Eddie's ready to get to business. All manner of already-inebriated partygoers crowd around him, cash in hand, and he's more than happy to send them on their way with their high of choice. After the initial rush of customers, things slow down enough that he can step into the kitchen and snag a beer, which he sips from a corner of the room, quietly observing. ]
no subject
all gator does know is that eddie is probably a queer, and that's fine. that's to be expected with a body like that - but nevertheless, there's a pull. call gator curious, but playing with eddie's cock until he comes isn't something he'd turn down. does he find himself disgusting for it? not as much as one would think, though the guilt is still there. the heave edge to the tillman ax. he knows his father wouldn't approve, and that's the cold stone in his gut.
however, as proven too many times in gator's life, lust prevails. it always, always does.
he brings his hand under one of the cheerleader's sweaters, right in the middle of the party, pinching her nipple. she giggles, her thighs parting on gator's left knee. no one's the wiser, no one has to know. he's watching eddie when he does it, dark eyes caught up in the way he saunters to the kitchen. when he pops back out with a beer, he stands in the corner, and gator begins to kiss the cheerleader, mouth on mouth, his hand still at one of her tits. he breathes against her mouth, eyes opening again to look at eddie, hoping that this is something he wants to see. he's already high on everything that's floating around - he's taken a little of this, a little of that - but nothing is as good as knowing eddie might be watching him, too. ]
no subject
He likes girls too, but he's nowhere near as bold about it as somebody like Gator. Gator, who, across the room, has a cheerleader on each thigh, both delighted to be there. Like it's some huge fucking privilege to share his attention. And Eddie guesses that it is, in a way. Star quarterback, near untouchable, tall and broad and handsome and all those other things that make up an all-American wet dream.
When Eddie glances over again, Gator's hand is under one girl's sweater, her thighs spread. The part that surprises him is that Gator isn't looking at her. He's looking right at him. Eddie's gaze flickers away from them, busying himself with his phone, updating his friends: party sucks, obviously. Another few sips of beer, trying to keep his mind and his eyes off of Gator - and not quite succeeding. Shit, if he had one girl in his lap, he'd be far, far too distracted to even think about anyone else, let alone two. Why's he looking at Eddie? What, is he worried he's gonna steal anything that isn't nailed down if he's not watching? Wouldn't be the first time.
But when Eddie looks over - not quite at them, almost past them - Gator's staring at him. It's unmistakable. She's moaning into his mouth, arching into his hand on her chest - and Gator's looking at him instead.
Eddie feels his pale face flush and pushes himself off of the wall, making a beeline for the door. He's already sold most of what he brought - he can just hang around for a while outside, catch any stragglers who might be going out for smoke breaks. Then he'll go home, and he can wonder what the hell Gator's problem is in the peace and quiet of his trailer. For now, he makes his way out to the porch, lighting himself a cigarette and puffing on it to calm himself down. The night air is cool against his burning face, and it's dark enough to hide any evidence of it. ]
What the hell, man.