Fic: Where the Searchlights Find Us Drinking
Title: Where the Searchlights Find Us Drinking
Author: firetruckyouxx
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: angsty fluff, underage drinking, slash, implied drunken sex, AU, kid!fic, mentions of/implied child abuse, smut
Pairing: Ian/Anthony
Summary: They had a special hidden spot where they used to drink together. It was like home to the two of them.
Disclaimer: This is a bunch of BS. I don't own Ian or Anthony or anything like that. Title comes from My Chemical Romance's "Cemetery Drive".
Author Note: I'm unoriginal so I use song lyrics as my titles. It seems like I never post continuously, I post once in a while. I wrote this while I was watching the Ravens game and then after that, the Giants game so don't kill me if shit doesn't make sense. Kthxbai ;)
The window groaned and creaked as it was opened, causing Ian to cringe. It was like fucking ancient so there was no surprise there. That fucking window made it ten times harder to sneak out. Ian perfected every little thing but one of these days that fucking old and annoying window was going to get him caught.
Ian tried not to imagine the consequences. He could already picture the new scars and bruises he would obtain if he wasn't careful. If his dad found out, he probably wouldn't be able to go to school for a week. Which meant not being able to see Anthony for a week.
Ian really hated his dad. He wanted to know why his mom didn't just dump his father's ass. Both Ian, Ian's sister and Ian's mom deserved so much better than that douchebag. Who the fuck hits their own son for fun?
Ian jumped out the window and landed softly on his feet, something that he had been able to perfect over the past two years. Quietly, he got up from the soft grass and ran down the street, disappearing into the fog.
He really hoped Anthony had brought some booze, unlike last time when Anthony had forgot about it. Ian frowned at the memory. It was better when there was booze, well better for Ian. The alcohol allowed Ian to forget about the motherfucker he called his father for a little while.
It wasn't like he really got drunk because he couldn't. If he even smelt of alcohol, his father would punish him, telling him he was an ungrateful fag while he beat the living shit out of Ian. He couldn't have a hangover the next morning either because that would just clue Ian's father in.
Ian looked both ways, making sure no one saw him, before entering the woods next to the road. He run for about a half-mile and then came to find an old, abandoned stone shack that had to be there for hundreds, maybe even thousands of years.
Ian entered the shack, finding Anthony sitting on of the shelves, hugging his knees to his chest while cradling a bottle of Jack Daniels. Ian half-smiled at the adorable sight.
"Hey," he greeted lowly, taking a seat next to Anthony.
"What's up, man?" Anthony whispered, holding out the heavy glass bottle out for Ian to take.
Ian took it gratefully and took a long gulp, savoring the bitter taste. He handed it back to Anthony, who took a sip of his own. Being the middle of the night in late November, it was quite chilly out so Ian pressed closer to Anthony, trying to find some warmth.
Anthony turned his head to face Ian and smiled brightly at him, sliding even closer to the lighter brunette. Ian pressed back, ending up practically on top of Anthony at that point, not that Anthony minded. Nope, Anthony didn't mind one bit.
"Hey Ian?" Anthony asked.
"Yeah?"
"Can I try something?"
Ian shrugged. "Uh, I guess."
Ian could see Anthony hesitate, looking away and bit his lip. He looked back at Ian and then at the bottle of Jack Daniels.
"Never mind," Anthony mumbled and then took a long sip of whiskey.
Ian followed suit, gulping down two mouth fulls, feeling a little buzzed. That wasn't good, not one bit. But Ian didn't seem to care, drinking more. Anthony stared at him in amazement; he's only seen Ian drunk two or three times.
He always insisted he couldn't and for a while, Anthony was oblivious to why he couldn't. Getting drunk was the point of drinking, is it not? It wasn't until the second time that Ian got drunk that Anthony found out.
Anthony remembered the night perfectly, there a full moon and Ian had came to the stone shack, bloody, bruised and broken. He collapsed into Anthony's arms, sobbing and shaking. Anthony offered him some watermelon rum that he had stolen from his parents' liquor cabinet.
Ian gulped down the remaining half of the bottle his first swig and had calmed down a bit, wasn't sobbing and shaking as bad as he had been. Anthony continued to comfort him though he was just as drunk as Ian was. Ian pulled Anthony closer, claiming he was freezing even though it was at least eighty-five degrees out in the middle of July.
Anthony could smell the liquor on Ian's breath as it puffed in his face. Ian licked his lips, eyes on Anthony's. Anthony pursed his lips, ready to refuse Ian. He was drunk and not thinking correctly. He knew that it would eventually come to this.
"Ant?" Ian whispered, breath hot in Anthony's face.
Anthony licked his lips. "Yeah?" he answered.
"Hi."
Anthony chuckled and shook his head. "Hi Ian."
Ian looked away from Anthony, eyes distant. Anthony stared at the ground awkwardly and then looked back up to find Ian was staring at him as well. Anthony offered him a small smile but Ian ignored it, looking back out the window.
Ian was mumbling something incoherent to Anthony and Anthony wasn't sure if he really wanted to know what Ian was saying. The last time he was drunk, Ian said some really fucked up about his dad. Shit that Anthony wouldn't even think about, much less say it aloud so that anyone that was listening would hear.
Ian started to slur later and more understandable so that Anthony could actually understand what he was saying.
"...and just slammed my whole body into the wall and just started punching me over and over again. I didn't think he was going to stop," Ian had slurred.
Anthony thought he was taking about a bully at school until he heard the next part and found out he was wrong, unfortunately.
"My mom had to pull him off at him while my sister was screaming and crying. She threw him out of the house. I wish she didn't let him back in," Ian had started to cry again.
Anthony remembered the solemn expression on his face as he continued mumbling like the back of his hand.
"Anthony?" Ian whispered, pulling Anthony out of the memory.
"Yeah?" Anthony looked back at him.
Instead of more speaking, Anthony felt pressure against his lips and a strong taste of minty toothpaste and Jack Daniels. Anthony was frozen with shock, he couldn't believe he was let Ian kiss him. Well, he shouldn't really be that surprised, he's just as drunk as Ian.
Anthony's impulse decided it was okay to kiss back and proceed to stick his tongue into his best friend's mouth. Ian fell back with Anthony on top of him, lips still locked.
It escalated into more and soon, the clothes started to come off and Anthony was soon inside Ian. They both came together with a loud groan, shaking with drunken ecstasy. Anthony and Ian fell asleep tangled up in each other, not a care in the world.
--
When Ian went home the next morning with a wide smile on his face, Anthony didn't see him for a week. The next time Anthony saw him was Sunday night, bruises faded and scars forming with a slight smile on his face.
Ian tackled him before Anthony could say or do anything, kissing him with anticipation. Anthony kissed back, immediately intoxicated by Ian's sweet taste, no taste of whiskey or any type of alcoholic drink. He tasted of fruity gum and something that Anthony could describe, as cliché as that sounded.
The moonlight illuminated the two kissing boys, moaning as they touched each other. Anthony liked kissing Ian sober more than drunk. He could taste Ian's real taste and they take things slow, savoring every touch, every movement.
Anthony's hands traveled down Ian's body and eventually came into contact with the round button of Ian's jeans. Their eyes met and Ian answered the unanswered question. Anthony undid the button and eyed the thin fabric of Ian's boxers.
It was so different than the last time they had sex because they were actually thinking straight and had their doubts. Anthony pushed away all his negative thoughts away. Hooking his fingers under Ian's boxers and looking up for approval. Ian nodded and sighed shakily.
Anthony gulped and slowly slid down Ian's boxers, pulling them down just enough so that Ian's dick hung out and nothing else. Anthony just eyed it for about a minute, staring at the hard dick in front of his face. He then moved his hands up to touch it, cup it in his hands.
It was extremely weird touching a dick that wasn't his own but belonged to his best friend. Anthony stroked it awkward but was still rewarded with loud moans and low grunts. Anthony quicken his pace, finding his rhythm. Ian went along with it, thrusting into Anthony's hand every once in a while.
When Ian came, Anthony worked him through it, stroking him quickly, eyes only focusing on Ian's 'o' face. It the most fucking beautiful scene Anthony had ever seen in his entire life. Anthony didn't want that moment to end. But when it did, when Ian came back up to kiss Anthony, he was content.
"I have to go," Ian mumbled against Anthony's lips, palming him through his jeans.
Anthony groaned but refused to break the kiss. Ian chuckled and tried to pull away but Anthony wouldn't let him. Anthony finally let him go, very reluctantly.
"My turn to do you next time," Ian whispered into his ear and then disappeared.
Anthony slumped back and let out a happy sigh.
--
Over the course of the next month Anthony had figured out something. He had figured out that he was Ian's savior, his lifeline. Anthony was his only hope with the struggle between Ian and his abusive father. And quite frankly, Anthony didn't mind it that much.
--
Author Note: Short, sweet and angsty. How you like them apples? Sorry if the smut is completely and utterly terribly horrendous. It's my first time writing smut and well, yeah...
GIANTS WON BIOTCH! We going to the Super Bowl motherfuckerrrrr!
Damnn the Ravens lost. That kicker's going to get motherfucking fired!
Author: firetruckyouxx
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: angsty fluff, underage drinking, slash, implied drunken sex, AU, kid!fic, mentions of/implied child abuse, smut
Pairing: Ian/Anthony
Summary: They had a special hidden spot where they used to drink together. It was like home to the two of them.
Disclaimer: This is a bunch of BS. I don't own Ian or Anthony or anything like that. Title comes from My Chemical Romance's "Cemetery Drive".
Author Note: I'm unoriginal so I use song lyrics as my titles. It seems like I never post continuously, I post once in a while. I wrote this while I was watching the Ravens game and then after that, the Giants game so don't kill me if shit doesn't make sense. Kthxbai ;)
The window groaned and creaked as it was opened, causing Ian to cringe. It was like fucking ancient so there was no surprise there. That fucking window made it ten times harder to sneak out. Ian perfected every little thing but one of these days that fucking old and annoying window was going to get him caught.
Ian tried not to imagine the consequences. He could already picture the new scars and bruises he would obtain if he wasn't careful. If his dad found out, he probably wouldn't be able to go to school for a week. Which meant not being able to see Anthony for a week.
Ian really hated his dad. He wanted to know why his mom didn't just dump his father's ass. Both Ian, Ian's sister and Ian's mom deserved so much better than that douchebag. Who the fuck hits their own son for fun?
Ian jumped out the window and landed softly on his feet, something that he had been able to perfect over the past two years. Quietly, he got up from the soft grass and ran down the street, disappearing into the fog.
He really hoped Anthony had brought some booze, unlike last time when Anthony had forgot about it. Ian frowned at the memory. It was better when there was booze, well better for Ian. The alcohol allowed Ian to forget about the motherfucker he called his father for a little while.
It wasn't like he really got drunk because he couldn't. If he even smelt of alcohol, his father would punish him, telling him he was an ungrateful fag while he beat the living shit out of Ian. He couldn't have a hangover the next morning either because that would just clue Ian's father in.
Ian looked both ways, making sure no one saw him, before entering the woods next to the road. He run for about a half-mile and then came to find an old, abandoned stone shack that had to be there for hundreds, maybe even thousands of years.
Ian entered the shack, finding Anthony sitting on of the shelves, hugging his knees to his chest while cradling a bottle of Jack Daniels. Ian half-smiled at the adorable sight.
"Hey," he greeted lowly, taking a seat next to Anthony.
"What's up, man?" Anthony whispered, holding out the heavy glass bottle out for Ian to take.
Ian took it gratefully and took a long gulp, savoring the bitter taste. He handed it back to Anthony, who took a sip of his own. Being the middle of the night in late November, it was quite chilly out so Ian pressed closer to Anthony, trying to find some warmth.
Anthony turned his head to face Ian and smiled brightly at him, sliding even closer to the lighter brunette. Ian pressed back, ending up practically on top of Anthony at that point, not that Anthony minded. Nope, Anthony didn't mind one bit.
"Hey Ian?" Anthony asked.
"Yeah?"
"Can I try something?"
Ian shrugged. "Uh, I guess."
Ian could see Anthony hesitate, looking away and bit his lip. He looked back at Ian and then at the bottle of Jack Daniels.
"Never mind," Anthony mumbled and then took a long sip of whiskey.
Ian followed suit, gulping down two mouth fulls, feeling a little buzzed. That wasn't good, not one bit. But Ian didn't seem to care, drinking more. Anthony stared at him in amazement; he's only seen Ian drunk two or three times.
He always insisted he couldn't and for a while, Anthony was oblivious to why he couldn't. Getting drunk was the point of drinking, is it not? It wasn't until the second time that Ian got drunk that Anthony found out.
Anthony remembered the night perfectly, there a full moon and Ian had came to the stone shack, bloody, bruised and broken. He collapsed into Anthony's arms, sobbing and shaking. Anthony offered him some watermelon rum that he had stolen from his parents' liquor cabinet.
Ian gulped down the remaining half of the bottle his first swig and had calmed down a bit, wasn't sobbing and shaking as bad as he had been. Anthony continued to comfort him though he was just as drunk as Ian was. Ian pulled Anthony closer, claiming he was freezing even though it was at least eighty-five degrees out in the middle of July.
Anthony could smell the liquor on Ian's breath as it puffed in his face. Ian licked his lips, eyes on Anthony's. Anthony pursed his lips, ready to refuse Ian. He was drunk and not thinking correctly. He knew that it would eventually come to this.
"Ant?" Ian whispered, breath hot in Anthony's face.
Anthony licked his lips. "Yeah?" he answered.
"Hi."
Anthony chuckled and shook his head. "Hi Ian."
Ian looked away from Anthony, eyes distant. Anthony stared at the ground awkwardly and then looked back up to find Ian was staring at him as well. Anthony offered him a small smile but Ian ignored it, looking back out the window.
Ian was mumbling something incoherent to Anthony and Anthony wasn't sure if he really wanted to know what Ian was saying. The last time he was drunk, Ian said some really fucked up about his dad. Shit that Anthony wouldn't even think about, much less say it aloud so that anyone that was listening would hear.
Ian started to slur later and more understandable so that Anthony could actually understand what he was saying.
"...and just slammed my whole body into the wall and just started punching me over and over again. I didn't think he was going to stop," Ian had slurred.
Anthony thought he was taking about a bully at school until he heard the next part and found out he was wrong, unfortunately.
"My mom had to pull him off at him while my sister was screaming and crying. She threw him out of the house. I wish she didn't let him back in," Ian had started to cry again.
Anthony remembered the solemn expression on his face as he continued mumbling like the back of his hand.
"Anthony?" Ian whispered, pulling Anthony out of the memory.
"Yeah?" Anthony looked back at him.
Instead of more speaking, Anthony felt pressure against his lips and a strong taste of minty toothpaste and Jack Daniels. Anthony was frozen with shock, he couldn't believe he was let Ian kiss him. Well, he shouldn't really be that surprised, he's just as drunk as Ian.
Anthony's impulse decided it was okay to kiss back and proceed to stick his tongue into his best friend's mouth. Ian fell back with Anthony on top of him, lips still locked.
It escalated into more and soon, the clothes started to come off and Anthony was soon inside Ian. They both came together with a loud groan, shaking with drunken ecstasy. Anthony and Ian fell asleep tangled up in each other, not a care in the world.
--
When Ian went home the next morning with a wide smile on his face, Anthony didn't see him for a week. The next time Anthony saw him was Sunday night, bruises faded and scars forming with a slight smile on his face.
Ian tackled him before Anthony could say or do anything, kissing him with anticipation. Anthony kissed back, immediately intoxicated by Ian's sweet taste, no taste of whiskey or any type of alcoholic drink. He tasted of fruity gum and something that Anthony could describe, as cliché as that sounded.
The moonlight illuminated the two kissing boys, moaning as they touched each other. Anthony liked kissing Ian sober more than drunk. He could taste Ian's real taste and they take things slow, savoring every touch, every movement.
Anthony's hands traveled down Ian's body and eventually came into contact with the round button of Ian's jeans. Their eyes met and Ian answered the unanswered question. Anthony undid the button and eyed the thin fabric of Ian's boxers.
It was so different than the last time they had sex because they were actually thinking straight and had their doubts. Anthony pushed away all his negative thoughts away. Hooking his fingers under Ian's boxers and looking up for approval. Ian nodded and sighed shakily.
Anthony gulped and slowly slid down Ian's boxers, pulling them down just enough so that Ian's dick hung out and nothing else. Anthony just eyed it for about a minute, staring at the hard dick in front of his face. He then moved his hands up to touch it, cup it in his hands.
It was extremely weird touching a dick that wasn't his own but belonged to his best friend. Anthony stroked it awkward but was still rewarded with loud moans and low grunts. Anthony quicken his pace, finding his rhythm. Ian went along with it, thrusting into Anthony's hand every once in a while.
When Ian came, Anthony worked him through it, stroking him quickly, eyes only focusing on Ian's 'o' face. It the most fucking beautiful scene Anthony had ever seen in his entire life. Anthony didn't want that moment to end. But when it did, when Ian came back up to kiss Anthony, he was content.
"I have to go," Ian mumbled against Anthony's lips, palming him through his jeans.
Anthony groaned but refused to break the kiss. Ian chuckled and tried to pull away but Anthony wouldn't let him. Anthony finally let him go, very reluctantly.
"My turn to do you next time," Ian whispered into his ear and then disappeared.
Anthony slumped back and let out a happy sigh.
--
Over the course of the next month Anthony had figured out something. He had figured out that he was Ian's savior, his lifeline. Anthony was his only hope with the struggle between Ian and his abusive father. And quite frankly, Anthony didn't mind it that much.
--
Author Note: Short, sweet and angsty. How you like them apples? Sorry if the smut is completely and utterly terribly horrendous. It's my first time writing smut and well, yeah...
GIANTS WON BIOTCH! We going to the Super Bowl motherfuckerrrrr!
Damnn the Ravens lost. That kicker's going to get motherfucking fired!