[t/w] dubious consent. take care and read with caution.

*+*❅*+*

It was maybe 10pm when I arrived to the party. It was hosted at some random person's penthouse a few blocks from my building, so I just decided to walk through the cold with my hands sinking deep into the pockets of my jeans. I couldn't help but miss my jacket as the cold air bit at my naked arms.

When I climbed the elevator and walked in, it was just getting started. People were taking out bottles and cans, rolling and lighting blunts, and passing around vapes while sitting on the roof. One guy I recognized from the football team, a linebacker, had his phone out in a livestream trying to convince a group of girls to come out. There was a small above-ground pool on the patio, where a few people were dipping their feet in as they sipped on cans of beer.

I went to the kitchen to grab a drink and found some guys I knew pouring red solo cups full of gin and soda. I smiled, moved to greet them with laughs and side hugs and snagged a cup for myself.

Tyler, a sophomore on the basketball team, poured another finger or two of vodka into my drink. "C'mon, Luke, I know you better than that. No need to be shy."

Leo, a friend of his, smirked. "Pour me some more too, will ya'?"

"Feels weird to be doing this on a Sunday night," I mused, sipping my drink. It was strong enough for my lips to purse at the burn.

Tyler shrugged. "It's not like I have anything better to do. So let's get drunk, boys!"

A round of cheers and shots ensued, then another, before we finally started on our mixed drinks. I was feeling warm and light already.

It was maybe a couple of hours into the night where things began to pick up. People were drunk, the music was blasting, the phone kept ringing with complaining neighbors. I was buzzed, lounging on the couch with the guys while they kept trying to spot pretty girls through the throngs of bodies. We were laughing, some of them were flirting, and I was just drinking, relaxing. My mind was going quiet.

And then I squinted my eyes open and saw familiar silver detailing through the crowd, studded into black leather.

My jacket.

The wearer turned around, flashing that lopsided smile at someone I couldn't see, running a slender hand through his blond hair.

Why would he wear it, so blatantly and loudly? This party wasn't from any schoolmate of mine, but that didn't make it less subtle. That jacket was mine. Anyone who knew me would know that.

My breath left me, and I turned, pretending I didn't see him. I really couldn't do this right now. I had come here to forget about him, but he still seemed to follow me. My chest tightened, and I drained the rest of my cup, standing quickly.

"I'm getting more," I said, before two other cups were thrust into my hand to refill. I took them and squeezed through groups of high schoolers to get into the kitchen.

I was filling up a cup when a pretty girl with warm brown skin and kinky hair tapped me on the shoulder, smiling. "Could you pour some for me, too?"

I nodded. "Yeah, of course." I squinted at her, cocked my head. Déjà vu crept up to me. "Do I know you?"

She frowned. "I'm not sure. I don't think so. My name's Layla."

I hummed in recognition. "It's a pleasure. I'm Luke."

"The pleasure's mine," she said. "Hey, I'm sitting with some friends of mine outside by the pool. Would you want to come?"

I glanced at her dark eyes, her genuine smile. Maybe she was flirting, but I couldn't tell. Did I really care? I just didn't want to be where Beau was dancing, smiling, waiting.

"Sure," I said, "let me just drop off these drinks."

As Layla came with me to give the guys their drinks, I heard some crude, congratulatory comments and soft whistles. She twirled her hair at a couple of them with that pretty smile. I paid those little mind as I followed her to the outdoor patio area, where a group of girls was lounging across lawn chairs and sitting on the lip of the pool.

"Hey, guys, meet Luke!" Layla called out, getting their attention and introducing them to me one by one.

It took me twenty seconds to forget who was who as I sipped on my drink, but all the girls seemed to at least know of me. They had been invited by a friend of a friend and didn't attend my school, but seemed nice enough.

I listened to them talk for maybe twenty minutes, commenting occasionally on the gossip from their school and asking questions about their boyfriends, when a hand dropped down on my shoulder.

I turned to be met with him, and God, he looked beautiful. He always did, I guess, but tonight he was something special: dressed in my jacket, a baggy pair of jeans, his hair styled out of his face. His expression wide and clingy.

"Beau!" Layla greeted and he turned from me to wave mildly at her. "I was wondering when you'd show up again! Luke, meet my skating partner, Beau. He's the one whose friend invited us."

I suddenly remembered where I knew Layla from. She'd fallen on the ice during a skating show a couple months back and I'd helped her get patched up. Maybe she hadn't recognized me, or maybe she had and had played coy for Beau's sake. The latter thought disgusted me.

Looking up at him. With him so loudly wearing my clothes, so obviously following me, I had a feeling I knew why he was here. My words came out bitter. "We're acquainted."

"Adam mentioned a friend of his saw you here," he said hurriedly, biting his lip. It was chapped and bleeding.

"Ah." I nodded, standing and making to step away. "Well. Thanks for the invite, girls. Hope you have fun—"

His hand grabbed my shoulder, ripping my attention back to him.

"Luke," he said, looking at me with those included sapphire eyes masking something uncertain and antsy. I couldn't read the look on his face as he gestured down the hallway. "Can we talk?"

I swallowed, hesitated. Looking behind myself, I saw the girls watching us with confused stares. Maybe they didn't know. I'm not sure. I didn't want to follow Beau, but when I glanced back, the frantic tweak to his jaw had me giving in. My breath left me in quiet defeat. "Sure, okay. Yeah."

He seemed to relax, nodded, turned and strode down the hall with his shoulders tight and his hands deep in the pockets of my jacket. I followed, letting him lead me down a spindly apartment hallway and into some random room before he shut the door behind us. I stared at the opposite wall, where a twin bed sat parallel to a window with billowing blinds, a baby blue comforter draped haphazardly over the polka-dot sheets. Maybe a younger sibling's room?

"Beau," I sighed, about to turn around when a strong grip took me by the jaw and jerked me into a pair of waiting lips.

I gasped, trying to dip my head away but being followed by hands, lips, a warm body. His—my—jacket hit the floor, then my ass landed deftly on the bed and my back whacked the wall under the window. I kissed him, dragged him into my lap—then pulled Beau off of my mouth to look at those kiss slick lips. I was boiling. He tasted like liquor.

"Hold on—"

"Don't you want sex?" he asked, moving to put his hands on my waist, to look at me through those pretty lashes. His eyes were so sexy, so liquid. A shudder ran through me when his fingers moved, tightened. I wanted it, wanted him, but I couldn't. Not now. He was drunk, I was drunk.

"Wait, wait." I shook my head, moved to grab his wrists. They wouldn't budge. "You're drunk. What the fuck are you doing?"

Squeezing my waist, he moved down to sit on his knees in front of the bed, blinked coyly at me and smothered some expression. "Isn't this what you want?"

"Beau—" I tried backing away, but his hands followed, tracing down my hips and reaching for my fly.

"Luke," he breathed, pressing up against me. He was so beautiful reaching into my pants, pulling me out of them. I couldn't help but push back into him as he watched himself drag a hot hand up and down, up and down. "I know you're mad. I'm sorry."

I blinked, tried to sort through my scrambled thoughts. "What?"

He looked up at me, pressed a warm cheek to my thigh over my jeans, kept his hand moving while he looked at me with those sparkling eyes. They were wide and desperate. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

His words didn't register, only the way his mouth crept closer to me. "Beau, please just—"

I was cut off by a gasp as I was taken between those plump, pink lips. His pale cheeks hollowed and his head bobbed, but his eyes were still on mine, gripping, pleading. My thoughts flew away as I fisted the grown-out roots of his hair, trying to reign in the jerky thrusts my hips gave. "Fuck. Keep going, please. Beau."

He hummed, took me as deep as I could go, grabbed my by the belt loops and suddenly dragged me towards him. The scope of my world narrowed to that pretty face between my legs, to the way my hips were moving against his lips, to the tears that trickled down those sunken cheeks every time I hit the back of his throat. It felt so good, like I was floating. I gasped and moaned, unabashed, not entirely here, clouded by lust and alcohol.

And then I came.

It was blinding and consuming and sudden and I threw my head back, banging it against the window frame, but the pain barely registered. He ripped off of me, coughing, sputtering, some of my cum landing on his cheeks, on his brow, dripping into his eyelashes as he tried to wipe it away. He looked beautiful, I couldn't help but think. Especially now, flushed and sweaty and crying and dripping. I watched him hotly as I finished, watched him scramble for some kind of composure or dignity. He seemed to choke on something like a sob.

It was like a bucket of ice was dumped on my head.

"Beau, wait, are you okay?" I tried to stand, but strong hands pulled me back to sit down. Still coughing into the crook of his elbow and wiping at his eyes, he crawled back into my lap, taking me into his hand and pinning me under the weight of his thighs. I was overly sensitive, hissing, struggling to find myself enough to weasel out from under him. The heat was gone.

"Do you want to fuck me?" he asked, voice hoarse. My heart stopped.

"What?"

He reached both hands down to undo the button of his jeans, biting his lip. I didn't even think he was hard. "Come on, Luke, let's fix this—"

I grabbed his arms, but he fought me, trying to get naked in my lap. He was still crying a little, still clearing his throat, swallowing loudly like I was stuck there. My breath became short, nervous. "Beau, what are you doing?"

"Please—" he grabbed me, tried to kiss me. Fear ripped though me.

"Stop!" I shouted, shoving him off of me and sending his thin body slamming into the floor. He gasped, winced. A pang shot through my heart, but I smushed the feeling down as I stood and gathered myself back into my pants with disgust. My hands shook. "Get the fuck off of me! What the Hell is your problem?"

He looked at me, those soft eyes turning hard and hot. "It's what you wanted! You want me for sex, right? I gave you sex! Why the fuck are you mad?"

"I don't—!" I shouted into the open air in front of me, gripped my hair and pulled harshly at the twists. "I thought you wanted to talk! Talk! I was worried about you, I was worried about us. I thought you were thinking the same thing, not that you wanted to— to—!"

His eyes licked fire, his jaw tensed. "You weren't worried about me."

"I was! I am!" I exclaimed, exasperated, and he curled his hands into fists where he sat, breathing heavily. "Why are you acting like this? Why would you—why would you do that?"

He scowled. "You wanted it."

"No!" I snapped, loudly, meanly. I took a heavy step towards him and this time, Beau flinched back.

I noticed then how pathetic he looked, collapsed on the floor, covered in tears and cum that he hadn't been able to completely wipe off. His face was locked, but his fear was palpable, so much so that I could almost taste it. He was like a cat with his back arched up to intimidate, trying to cover up how vulnerable he was underneath his spiky exterior.

Carefully, I took a deep breath and lowered my voice. "I didn't ask for it, okay? Maybe I wanted it, but it shouldn't have happened." I shook my head, looked away from his little, broken body and the softening look on his face. "I'm sorry I didn't reply to you. I've been... I don't know. I've been having a really hard time with this gay thing, okay? I needed space, and maybe I should have at least told you that, but God, that doesn't mean you can get my fucking attention by throwing yourself at me."

There was a long silence. When I looked back down at him, Beau wouldn't look at me. I sighed, grabbed my jacket off the floor and slung it over my shoulders. With one last withering look at him, turned towards the door and grabbed the handle.

"Just... get home safe tonight," I said, stepping outside. "And... I'm sorry, too."

I closed the door behind me, pinched the space between my brows, and decided then to go do a line of shots.

*+*❅*+*

My head hurt.

The music was loud, the lights flashed every color. School was starting tomorrow and grades were due within the week. But those thoughts didn't even breach the haze induced by vodka and whatever I had smoked earlier that night.

I was dancing, then I was on the porch smoking something else, then I was dragged to the kitchen to crack open another beer. Someone poured something clear and strong into it. Another guy was waving around a phone, filming people stripping and jumping into the pool. My vision was swimming, blooming, blending, and smearing. My stomach hurt from the liquor and lack of food, and my throat burned from smoking. Some guys I knew from the football team were there, hooting and getting me more drinks, laughing at my stumbling.

At some point, I was sitting back against the stairs and tried to stand when I collapsed back down. The world was spinning. I felt like Hell. Vertigo and nausea and this unbelievable pressure sat heavy on my chest for maybe five minutes, or five seconds. I couldn't feel time while I sat there, staring at the ceiling, watching it spin, wanting to vomit and sleep and cry. I looked to the balcony patio and considered just throwing myself off of it, down the however many stories and into the road below.

I was too wasted. I knew I wouldn't remember much of anything the next day—fuck, I couldn't remember what had been happening five minutes ago. My body was just... aching.

The guys I had been hanging out with left. I was alone. I didn't know how I was getting home. I wanted to go home.

Someone came up to me, with a deep voice, soft like velvet.

"Luke? Where's your phone?" they asked, a blur of blond hair and blue jeans. I blinked at them, squinted.

"Beau?" I asked.

"It's Jase, you dipshit." Arms reached under my armpits, hoisted me up. "How the fuck did you get this wasted? What were you doing?"

"I fucked up," I muttered. "God, I fucked up bad."

"No shit, you fucked up. Do you need to throw up? Were you... did someone put something in your drink?"

"I dunno'" I said, suddenly choked up. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I didn't know what to do, I'm sorry I pushed you. Did I hurt you?"

"What are you talking about?" Beau asked, leading me into the bathroom, helping me kneel on the floor. "Hold still—"

Warm fingers sunk into my mouth, moved into my throat. I gasped, writhed, and bit down. Beau yelped, yanked them out.

"No, no, not again—you don't have to, I didn't say you had to—"

"Goddammit," Beau said, scrambling to grab a toothbrush from the counter and grabbing my jaw. Shoving the bottom of it into my mouth, he jammed it into my throat, and tears sprung to my eyes. "Luke, hold still. If you get fucking alcohol poisoning I swear—"

I gagged once, twice, then the thing was ripped from my mouth and I was throwing up into the toilet bowl. I was crying from the force of it, sobbing between bouts of vomit. It was milky clear, with little flecks of blood from my raw throat. It hurt. It hurt so bad.

When it was finally over, I collapsed over the bowl and sobbed, still spitting pink strings into the toilet. Beau's hands ran up and down my back, warm and soothing. So unlike his touch earlier tonight.

"Why did you do that?" I asked. "Why wouldn't you listen?"

The next thing I remember was him helping me into Jase's car, then climbing into the driver's seat.

"You're cold, aren't you? Do you want the jacket back?" I asked, trying to shrug it off. A soft curse and two warm hands reached to pull it back onto me and I slumped back against the window.

I fell asleep on the window to the soft hum of the radio, wondering what I did wrong.

[a/n] this was certainly a chapter.

i just wanted to include a note here asking y'all not to be too quick to judge either beau or luke. they're both flawed characters and i promise questions will be answered throughout the course of the book. their actions may not be correct, but they are rational to some extent.

take care, see y'all in the next one <3

xx