Disclaimer: I own them... only I don't own the guys they're modelled on...
cause that's kinda against the law... damn laws...
Warning: Class A drug use and Britisms...
Craig Simmons shifted irritably in his dirty white trainers, his hands
shoved deep in his Parka pockets when he wasn't pulling back the sleeves so
that he could check the time, which he did at least three times in five
A random man walked by, staring at the irate looking seventeen year old,
who looked threatening enough with his pseudo-skinhead haircut- just long
enough to see that his hair colour was a light brown- never mind the
England football shirt and the snarl in his smoky blue eyes.
Craig sneered at the man. "What?"
The man continued on with his head down and Craig laughed shortly, before
his laugh turned into a growl of frustration. He looked up and down the
length of the road. He stood at the top of a junction, his skinny, tight-
jean clad legs cold in the biting early spring wind that was blowing
He turned, smiling, as his best friend walked up behind him, head tilted at
a funny angle so that he could see under his black wind-whipped hair,
hanging down around his chin in opposition to Craig's own shorn cut.
"Andrew, you bastard, where the hell have you b'in?" He asked, smacking
Andrew gently over the back of the head. "It's fucking brass monkeys out
Andrew pouted, his electric green eyes betraying his humour. "Aw, c'mon
Craig, no one calls me Andrew 'cept me mum, and you certainly ain't her."
Craig, taller than Andrews own 5'6" by two full inches, looped an arm
around the smaller boy's shoulders and rubbed his knuckles into his head,
making Andrew yelp 'leave it out' and swipe at Craig.
"An' glad I am of that fact Drew." Craig laughed. "Now c'mon, or we'll miss
After getting a train into the next town, Drew and Craig visited an off-
licence to get a couple of bottles of some random vodka-based mixed drink,
which they took to the park to drink. They perched side by side on the back
of a bench, feet rested on the seat, and drank, Craig 'borrowing' a fag
from Andrew's packet.
"You owe me fer not turning up on time." Craig explained to a scandalised
looking Drew as he lit up. Drew shrugged and lit his own cigarette.
They couldn't have looked more different if they tried, yet at the same
time they looked like one unit.
Craig, in his 'thugling' Parka and jeans, along with recently donned
baseball cap, randomly throwing gravel stones at the bin in front of them,
legs apart, slouched in the typical 'hard guy' position.
Andrew sat huddled into himself, as much from his natural body language as
protection from the cold. He was dressed in tight jeans like his friend,
but he wore a bondage top, a long sleeved black thing with a white striped
front, long strips of leather criss-crossing his chest, meeting at a metal
ring in the middle of his chest, while straps stretched from his wrists to
a D-ring at the back, by the base of his neck. He was wearing a dog collar
and spiked wrist cuffs pinned the long sleeves down, the fabric covering
all of his hands except for the ends of his fingers.
They looked more like a high-school bully and his victim, and indeed, they
had started out that way, until a random school project had forced them to
work together back when they were thirteen. Seventeen now and they remained
the best of friends, almost brothers. They'd been through a lot with each
other, had fallen out a lot when they were younger, but their friendship
had turned to steel under the pressure of life and each would sacrifice
almost everything for the other.
They never said any of this, except, maybe, in the quiet times when they
were both drunk or wasted and awake and alone together in the eerie half-
glow of oncoming morning.
Craig flicked his finished smoke to the floor and exhaled a plume of smoke,
standing on the seat of the bench and hurling his bottle to smash into
glass pieces at the foot of the bin.
"C'mon, I'm bored. Let's go."
Drew shrugged and followed, throwing his empty bottle neatly into the bin.
They entered the Fez club using fake ID and stood at the front, surveying
the heaving mass of bodies, dancing and thrashing to whatever beat-heavy
song was playing. Craig nodded to the bar and moved off, Drew in tow behind
him. They bought another drink each, and then another again, having not
danced yet, just satisfied to be checking out the talent for now.
Craig sighed, drumming his fingers on the bar top. He suddenly appeared to
catch sight of someone in the crowd and turned to Drew.
'Stay here.' He mouthed, gesturing as well, and Drew nodded, getting the
message, watching curiously as Craig moved off and into the seething block
of people. He lost sight of him for a few seconds, then caught sight of
Craig again on the other side, talking to a taller guy, heads bowed over
something. He thought he saw money being exchanged, then Craig was moving
off, looking up to catch Drew's eye and beckon him to meet him in front of
the toilets, where the music was less loud.
Drew met him, sweating a little from the sheer heat in the club. "Sup?"
Craig grinned and held out his hand, palm up. Resting there were two small
pills, one blue and one pink, stamped with a picture of a little bird.
"Disco biscuit anyone?" Craig grinned.
Drew grinned. "How much did they set you back?"
Craig shrugged. "Eight quid each." Drew looked uncertain. "Don't worry
Drew, Mike's cool, he wouldn't screw us with that ketamine-heavy shit."
Drew smiled, relaxing, and held Craig's hand, licking one of the pills off.
Craig threw his into his mouth and then cuffed Drew over the head. "You
muppet." He said fondly. "Let's get out there 'til these puppies kick in."
They went out and danced, sometimes alone, sometimes with some random girl,
whoever came by and was caught in the beat.
Half an hour passed and the ecstasy started kicking in. Drew and Craig were
pushed together in the throng, now dancing together, now pressed against
whatever other body was around them. After another thirty minutes, sweat
pouring off them, Craig's Parka long since abandoned, Drew fell into Craig
and seemed unwilling to move off, leant heavily with his head against
Craig's chest, arms hanging limp.
Craig, laughing at his friend, dragged Drew out of the dancing crowd and
into the toilets, which were cooler and less packed except for a couple of
other dancers and a guy snorting coke from a toilet cistern in one of the
None of the occupants gave Craig a second glance as he walked Drew into the
bathroom and then into a cubicle to sit him down on a toilet. Craig slapped
Drew's face gently.
"Drew... Drew!" He said between laughs.
Drew moaned and rolled his head up to look at Craig through eyes with
pupils so dilated that they looked black instead of green. He grinned
dazedly. "I love you man..." he said, then giggled, beginning to slide off
the toilet seat.
Craig laughed. "Dude, you are SO wasted. It's the alco-pops innit... you
Despite his light actions, Craig thought Drew looked a little TOO trolleyed
for his liking. *Mike, that cunt... low on ketamine my arse.* He propped
Drew down on the floor, between the toilet and the wall and told him to
He went out, was distracted for five minutes by the colours of the moving
lights, then remembered himself, bought some bottled water and then made
his way back to the toilets. He wasn't happy to find that coke-boy had
migrated from his cubicle to Drew's and was holding his friend's head up
against the wall in a sloppy kiss, his hand down between Drew's legs,
groping feveredly. Drew wasn't doing much to protest, except for a hand
pushing weakly against the other guy's shoulder, but it was enough to make
Craig see red. He tapped coke-boy on the shoulder, and brought his other
hand round when the guy turned, landing the base of the water bottle
straight into the guy's face. Coke-boy's already weak nose crumpled under
the blow, blood exploding from his face to run in a thick streak down his
chin onto his bare chest and knocking the guy out at the same time.
Craig nonchalantly leaned over and took Drew by the arm, gently tugging him
out of the cubicle and giving coke-boy a parting kick in the ribs before
pushing Drew out of the club in front of him, manoeuvring him quite well
considering he was trashed as well.
Craig moved Drew into the alley beside the club and leant him up against
the wall, opening the water bottle and taking a swig before holding it to
Drew's mouth to make him drink too. They passed the bottle between each
other like this until the water was gone, and then Drew tipped the dregs
over his head, trying to cool off, feeling hot even though his body was
shivering as the cold night air landed on his sweat soaked body.
The E was hitting Craig's system hard now, enhancing the crystal beauty of
the sky and the clarity of everything around him.
He looked at Drew with new eyes, seeing the starry look of the other boy's
eyes, the way his hair fell like feathers over his fine featured face,
tendrils slipping into the corner of his partially open mouth as he drank
in the cold snip of the night. He remembered the insane jealousy that had
run through him, seeing his best friend, HIS mate, held up in that cubicle
by a complete stranger; the thought of what could have happened if he'd
stayed out on the dance floor, leaving Drew alone in his drugged out state
burned through him and a fierce protective feeling shot through his nerves,
determined, aggressive and strangely tender towards the thin shivering body
in front of him.
He stepped forward, breathing the other boy's name once before joining
mouth to mouth. He tasted vaguely like smoke and sweet-sour alcohol, but it
didn't matter to Craig.
Drew's arms looped round Craig's shoulders as they had done so many times
before, only this time it seemed to be the only thing that held him up and
kept him connected to this world as Craig's tongue mapping out his mouth
made him feel weak and made his head feel like spinning as the drug made
him see overwhelming beauty in everything that he felt, touched and saw. He
didn't know what he wanted, only that he wanted more, and he pressed
himself harder into Craig, hooking a leg behind the other boy's to pull him
This seemed to spark something off in Craig, who moaned heavily into Drew's
mouth and rubbed up against his friend, his hands clawing down to grab hold
of Drew's ass and squeeze hard, pulling Drew's hips up and into his own.
Craig and Drew parted mouths, both panting hard, and Drew leant his head
back on the wall, eyes falling shut as Craig bit and sucked on his neck,
working on a hickey as he kept grinding against Drew.
Drew clung to Craig's shoulders, his back rubbing against the wall through
his top as Craig continued to buck against him, one hand slipping up under
the skin-tight shirt to stroke Drew's skin and rub over his nipples.
Craig's pinch on the tight little bud gave Drew's body enough sensation to
go over the edge, Drew's eyes rolling up into his head as he came in his
jeans, hands bunching Craig's football shirt.
The feeling of Drew's body tensing under his own and the wordless cry which
as much a sob as it was a gasp that Drew let out brought Craig to the
brink. A few more sharp thrusts up against Drew's leg and he came too,
swearing as he did so, 'Fuck... fuck...oh God..."
He went limp against Drew's body, his head against Drew's shoulder, hand
still up under his shirt. He lifted his head, the drugs in his system still
enough for him to not get freaked out about what he'd just done, and made
to kiss Drew again, only to find out that the short boy had passed out.
Craig chuckled, then sighed and carefully hoisted one of Drew's arms over
his shoulder, staggering out to the street and looking for a cab to take
them both home.