Wallace/Scott, dark, R

“So what’s the occasion, guy?” Wallace asked as he watched Scott practically empty their liquor cabinet.  “Are you –really- getting hammered or do you just want to play mad scientist?”
“Don’t you remember?” Scott replied, as if it was ludicrous that Wallace not remember whatever he was referencing.  He let the pause grow pregnant before rolling his eyes, not sarcastically, but more of an attempt to make the affair not seem like a big deal.  It just made him look sad and puppylike, though.  “It’s the three-month anniversary of when Envy and I broke up.”
Wallace swallowed, but didn’t chide himself.  He didn’t have a fucking atomic alarm clock that told him the precise minute of the precise day of the precise week that Envy broke up with Scott.  He’d been doing this for the last two months, apparently.  The first time he had been alone.  The second time he had done it with Kim and Stephen.  Now he was setting out glasses of each kind, putting the absolute wrong liquors next to them.

“Pabst Blue Ribbon doesn’t go in shot glasses, Scott.”

Scott tsk’ed and moved the bottle aside.  “I thought they were color coded to the correct beverage container or something…”

“Uh uh.”

Wallace watched as Scott continued this amusing act, only stepping in when he opened both the aforementioned Pabst Blue Ribbon and a bottle of expensive vodka that Wallace only partook in at least once every six months.
“No no no,.” He said gently, guiding Scott’s hands down.  “You don’t mix beer and vodka.  Your mother and I are very disappointed in you.”
He paused, raising an eyebrow.  “Look guy, if you want to get hammered without puking up your liver, let an expert handle it.”

So he did.
And

4 cl Parfait Amour
2 cl Vodka
12 cl Guanabana juice

and

2 cl Creme de Cassis later,

Scott was outfitted with the gayest looking drink he had ever seen.  He looked at Wallace expectantly.
“Well, go on, it’s not going to bite.” Wallace said, sipping delicately at his concoction.

“You forgot the umbrella.”

“You have –got- to be kidding me, guy.”

“Come on, isn’t that obligatory or something?” Scott whined, but he stuck his pinky out and tried it anyway.
“Tasty!” He said, then wrinkled his nose.  “But also alcohol-y.”

“You’re my martini bitch for the night, Scott, suck it up.”
--
It was hours later.  Fortunately Wallace was able to put the alcohol away before he got too drunk, but a few more drinks succeeding that and he was long gone.
But not as long gone as Scott.
“They were so small, though…” Scott said, licking the inside of the martini glass.  “The glasses were reaaaally small, and now I’m crazy drunk…you’re the alcohol wizard.”

“One of my many titles.” Wallace said, swaying his hips slightly as he started to strip.  He unbuttoned his shirt with a flourish, turned around on one heel, almost fell on his ass but managed to throw it right over Scott’s head accompanied with a “Woooshhhhh” sound and small, drunken hiccups.  Scott whined and kicked it off.  “Gay germs, man!  Gay…sweat…sweaty gay germs!”

“You love it.” Wallace cooed, resting one hand on Scott’s shoulder while the other started to edge his pants off.  He hummed a weird, swerving jazz song he made up on the spot.

“You…you fail at swankiness!”  Scott protested as Wallace shoved his pants down, revealing his favorite pair of red boxers.  “Carry me to bed.” Scott huffed, crossing his arms.

“Only if I get to squeeze your ass to my heart’s content.” Wallace retorted, lifting Scott up with a small grunt and staggering over to the futon.  He would have squeezed his ass, but he was too busy trying not to drop him.
He managed to get both of them on to the futon, where he promptly squeezed at Scott’s buttocks, much to his chagrin.  “You know you like it.  Pinch pinch pinch!”

“Come on, stop it, man…” Scott groaned, starting to strip down to his boxers as well.  He let Wallace help detangle his shirt, throwing the bundle of clothes over the side of the futon.

“Straight guys…totally love people playing with their asscheeks.” Wallace said uncertainly.  “Besides, we had a deal.”

“Yeah, well pinch my ass while I’m asleep in five minutes, I’m sleeping.”

“Your eyes are still open~”

“Sleeping –right now-.” Scott fake-huffed, grabbing at the covers, hogging them in fact.  Wallace had no choice but to edge closer.
There was an awkward silence.  Wallace could feel his cheeks getting slightly hot as well as the rest of his body.
He swallowed, watching as Scott turned over and looked up at the ceiling, then down at him.

“Hey Wallace…”

“Yeah ?  I thought you were sleeping.”

“Don’t want to go to sleep.” Scott mumbled, turning to face Wallace.  In the darkness, Wallace could see his eyes were large and slightly wet.  His pupils were slightly dilated.  He was thinking of Envy, he bet.

“Hey, come on, guy…” Wallace murmured, reaching forward to ruffle Scott’s hair.  Scott frowned and pushed Wallace’s hand away.
“Why are you always there for me, man?  I mess up everything I touch and you still do all this coddling shit?”

Wallace could honestly say he was stunned.  He couldn’t tell whether Scott was angry or grateful, or where this had even come from.

“I don’t coddle you…”
“You do.”
“Do not.”
“Do.”

Wallace cupped Scott’s cheeks and affixed him with as serious a stare as he could muster.  Then a mischievous smile spread across his face.  “You’re so cute, how can I –not- coddle you?” He cooed, giving him a merciless noogie.  Scott didn’t respond, and he frowned, recoiling slightly.
“Hey, c’mon…it’s no big deal, guy…we should talk about this tomorrow when you’re not totally hammered.”
“It is a big deal.” Scott disagreed, tone serious from his sudden introspection but wavering from the alcohol.
“Look, if you’re just going to disagree with everything I say, then I’m going to sleep.” Wallace bit out.  The conversation was tiring him and honestly, he thought Scott would be more of a fun drunk.
“Why do you even keep me around?  You could’ve had me evicted by now.”
Wallace ignored him.
“You pay the bills, you cook, you clean…are you expecting me to…give something back, or something?”
“Fucking hell, Scott, sleep it off!” Wallace snapped, agitated now.  “This is the last time I give you so much to drink, you’re really starting to piss me off now, guy!”
Scott sat up, mirroring Wallace’s angry visage.  “Good, because it is a big fucking deal!  I mean, come on!  I just mooch off you and you still let me stay here, don’t just shrug it off when I’m trying to tell you that it’s a little weird you haven’t asked me for any favors or whatever yet!”
Wallace turned away violently again.  He could feel himself getting worn down.  “What are you even trying to say…?  You’re acting weird as hell…why are you saying all this shit?”
“Hah, that’s ironic, the queer calling me weird.” Scott responded with a drunken hiccup.
“I’m saying you’re just keeping me around because you think I’ll let you fuck me!  You do that to all the other straight guys around here, right?  All of Stacey’s boyfriends?  You have a lot of double standards, don’t you?  Why are you being so…why don’t you just say you want to do me?”
Wallace grit his teeth.  “You’re calling my respecting your limits a double standard?  You’re fucking far gone, guy.” He hissed, wondering why he was even arguing when he couldn’t expect any rational response.
Scott was laughing, pawing at Wallace’s shoulder.  “Come on, you should just do it.”
Wallace swallowed, shrugging Scott’s hand off.  “I’m not interested, guy…I don’t take advantage of drunk guys.”
“Oh, -sure-.”
Wallace felt Scott squeeze his crotch and decided that was enough.  He got up, throwing off the blanket.  “Fuck this, I’m going out.”
“Don’t you fucking dare, Wallace.”
Wallace was pulling on his coat when Scott suddenly got up, grabbing his hair and pulling him backwards, hard.  Wallace landed in a bad way on his coccyx bone, the base of his spine exploding in pain.  “O-oww, shit!”
“Nope, you’re not going anywhere.” Scott insisted.  “I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you for once, and you’re not just gonna…brush me off, not here.”
Wallace was slightly stunned, one hand cupping the area right above his buttocks and trying to recover.  Scott suddenly grabbed his wrists, tying Wallace’s scarf around them tight enough to cut off his circulation.   Wallace bit his lip, small tears of pain coming to the corners of his eyes as Scott took his belt and tied his ankles.  “This is your idea of paying the rent, huh?  Why don’t I just do this?” Scott slurred drunkenly, forcing Wallace’s pants and boxers down to his knees and throwing his polo shirt over his head, where it joined the tangled mess of his scarf.
Wallace had started to panic.  This was going too far, and Scott was surprisingly strong while inebriated.  He had underestimated him, and underestimated how irrational he was becoming.  Though he felt his cheeks burning, he warned Scott of his intentions.
“L-look guy…I’m about to make a lot of fucking noise if you don’t-!”
Scott kicked Wallace’s ribs hard enough to bruise, prompting a groan from his roommate.  As if to add insult to injury, he groped around the floor for a tie, tying it around Wallace’s eyes to serve as a makeshift blindfold.  “You’re into the kinky stuff, yeah, everyone knows…not a far cry from being such a manwhore…” He muttered, trailing off.  “Do I need to gag you too?  You don’t have anything around to use, do you?”
The way Scott was fluctuating between belligerency and seemingly innocent questions made Wallace near sick, and he paled, shaking his head weakly.  “Scott, for fuck’s sake…”
“Try me, Wallace.” Scott snapped, taking the other male’s member in his hand and starting to stroke him firmly.  Due to the alcohol, he became hard rather quickly.  There was something exciting about this, he could admit that much, but there was a difference between healthy adrenaline and the realistically dangerous situation he was in.  He wasn’t sure if he wanted Scott to remember this or not.  He certainly didn’t want to.
Scott continued his violent pumping until Wallace was completely hard, then straddled him and started to guide him inside.  Not only was the feeling of blood pooling slowly on to his stomach horrifying, but the friction was extremely painful.
“S-Scott, you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing, for fuck’s sake, stop…j-just stop!”
“Shut up, you want this.” Scott responded, biting his lip until he was taking Wallace up to the base.  He simply sat there,  pinching Wallace’s nipples to the point of bleeding.
“Move.”
Wallace didn’t respond.
“I said fucking move, you said it yourself, you don’t know what I’m doing…I don’t know what I’m doing, so you do something.” He drawled.
Wallace trembled slightly before shaking his head.  “I’m not d-doing it…I’m n-not gonna do it.”
“You’ll fucking do it, you owe this to me!” Scott insisted.  “Come on, do it already, come on!”
He whined and wheedled sickeningly, bracing himself with his hands behind him, squeezing Wallace’s kneecaps, his thumbs driving into the male’s reflex points.  He continued groping around his knees drunkenly until Wallace jerked up, continuing to do so and tease more erratic, involuntary spasms out of the other.  He pressed one foot on to Wallace’s mouth, playfully pinching his nose shut with his toes until Wallace struggled out of the suffocating hold, tears starting to trickle down his cheeks now.  “Okay, okay, stop!” He said raggedly, voice cracking slightly.  He weakly moved his hips, trying to sate Scott, who fortunately let his legs rest. His ankles were bruised from the forced jolting by now.  Scott squeezed at Wallace to the point of pain until the other male came with a small sob.
“You know what, this isn’t working.” Scott said, lowering himself from Wallace’s member as if he hadn’t came at all.  Wallace could hear Scott’s pants unzipping, then suddenly felt the other male scoop up some cum that had dripped along Wallace’s stomach from their previous activities, starting to finger the male.   Wallace could hear the slapping sound of palm against cock, and knew Scott was masturbating.  He felt nausea nip at his stomach again.
The cum hardly provided friction and though the alcohol dumbed the pain down slightly, Scott’s inexperience could only make the entire affair more unpleasant.  Fortunately it didn’t take Scott long to finish up, and hissed out a small curse before cumming over Wallace’s neck, face, polo shirt and scarf, thoroughly soiling his entire upper area.
“Why aren’t you hard?  Did I turn you straight?” Scott sneered, laughing lightly.  He pinched at the male’s anal ring, chuckling when it seemed Wallace had passed the point of fear and had stopped responding.  “Where do you keep all your gay stuff?”
“Don’t have any.” Wallace sobbed sharply.  Scott covered his mouth mockingly, pawing at the makeshift blindfold until it came off.  “The size queen doesn’t have any stuff?  No Thor-sized dildos?  No martini-flavored lube?”
“Guy, please…” Wallace whispered, eyes bleary and bloodshot, cheeks tear-stained.
“Ugh, whatever.” Scott huffed childishly.  “Welp, I’m going to bed.” He said, untying the other male.  Wallace quickly stood up and grabbed his clothes, replacing them before running out the door without his coat.  He was out the door as Scott watched dumbly, still wavering from his inebriation.
The next morning he lay in the futon alone, texting Wallace repeatedly, slightly perplexed as to why the other had left but assuming he was staying over at a fuckbuddy’s house.  So it usually went.
‘waaaallace’
‘walace’
‘i have a shitgy hangover’
‘i need advil and I can’t get up w/o getting dizzy, where are u’
‘pls come back soon, i feel grose nd i can jardly type’
‘where are u’
‘wallace plz answer’
‘wallace’
‘wallace’
‘oh god you dint have sex me while I was drunk last night, did u?’
‘my but sort of hurts but you wouldn’t do something like that would u’
‘did we even do anything’
‘
-END-