Quick note: This was on my other account, but because I use this one more, It's going on here. Just so you know.

So here I am with another slash-filled story! Spontaneous. Completely spontaneous. Sort of. Moving along.

Read, review, comment, favorite, or just tell me to go fuck myself and move along with your day! Your choice here, I don't want to overwhelm you with options.

Hey there. How's it going. I bet you're wondering what this story is about.

… No?

Well too bad, I'm telling you anyway.

My name is Arden McHale. I'm the oldest child of Siobhan and Leopold (Yes, I know, best name ever) McHale, and my younger sister's name is Elizabeth. Also known as Lizzie.

I'm twenty-four years old, born May 22nd, and I've been dating the most amazing woman for the past year.

Well... I thought she was amazing. Then she cheated on me with... Okay, I don't know who he was, but he's an ass. I mean, here I had the most amazing relationship in the whole world, and this guy comes along with his 'hot' body and 'huge' dick and fucks it up. Literally.

So she's no longer 'the most amazing woman'. Now she's just Linsey. Or 'That Bitch/Whore/Cunt/any other harsh insult' for those nights that I'm feeling more sorry for myself than usual. Yep.

So where am I now?

Sitting in a bar with half a bottle of beer, pondering the reason as to why women are such bitches. And why alcohol in a bar is so damn expensive.

I was frowning into my nearly-empty bottle when a pair of hands came into view, making me look up. Only to the person's (it was a guy) chest though, because from experience their faces usually hold some sort of either, A) Sympathy that you have nothing better to do than waste money at a bar, or B) A smirk because you have nothing better to do than waste money at a bar.

"Want another?" he asked. I sighed, tapping the side of the bottle before scrunching up my nose. Not very attractive, I know, but why should I give a fuck? It's a guy.

"Nah. I'd rather not get completely wasted tonight."

I could see him nod before he offered to take the bottle from me, and I released it from my grip. "You know we close at one."

frowning, I looked up and around. And yeah, he was right. A quarter to one and it was almost empty except me, him, and some people in the back who were either really friendly, or they were in the middle of an orgy.

I shuddered and turned away, leaning on the counter. Surprisingly, sex with more than one person at a time just didn't interest me. Too much to do, and not enough blood to the brain to know where to put what.

I happened to catch a glimpse of the bartender, and I will regretfully admit that I stared only slightly longer than is strictly necessary.

I could chalk that up to being drunk though.

He wasn't bad looking. Bangs stopped just above his eyes, dark hair, five-o-clock shadow with black rimmed glasses...

… And I'm checking the guy out. Okay. Apparently my drunk self is a little gay. No big deal.

The bartender noticed me staring in his general direction and rose an eyebrow while glancing around. "... Can I help you?"

Now, just to get this straight- This is what I meant to say: "I think I drank more than I meant to."

What I actually said: "Nice ass."

Don't ask me how it happened. Because to this day, I still don't know.

His eyes widened and he stared back for a few seconds, blinking. "I'm very sorry," I said again, "I think I'm more drunk than I wanted to be."

He still only stared back.

"Okay, sorry if you're not used to strangers complimenting your ass." I said, holding up my hands. When he finally moved, he started stuttering, pretending to clean his glasses.

"Oh, um.. I-I... Uh... Yeah, I... Hm..." he murmured. I smirked slightly, leaning forward.

"Or are you used to it?"

Oh yeah. I'm drunk if I'm hitting on a guy. I've never even thought about fucking a dude.

… Okay, that's a lie. I've thought about it. But come on, who hasn't?

The guy froze again, and I smiled wider. "Okay, I'll just be blunt. I'm drunk, I have nothing better to do, and you're sexy as hell. Or at least your ass is. So I think we should go back to my place. And I think you know where my thought process is going."

He nearly dropped the cup in his hand, making me laugh quietly as he rolled his eyes.

"C'mon..." I pushed, "What else are you doing tonight? Or this morning, if you will."

He hesitated before putting the glass down and sighing, giving me a look that basically said, 'you're a complete ass, but I'm actually considering this.'

"... How close is your house?" he asked finally.

"Five miles."

"I walk here. My house."

Fuck yes. Arden McHale, master seducer of all men and women near you.

Ha!