If Looks Could Kill, I'd Be Dead

Theta

Sascha and I stood there, intoxicated to the point where we couldn’t stand without holding each other up, giggling and smiling like the drunken idiots we were.

“S-Saschaaa.” I think that was me that said that? “Let’sss danceee!” Yep, it was me, because now, I’m lacing our fingers together and tugging on his hand. I lead him through the throng of gyrating and sweaty bodies to an area near the wide open door.

For the second time that night, he grasps my hips in his hands and we dance to the fast rhythm of the music, the bass thumping through our bodies and the alcohol running through our veins.

I’m not usually a big drinker. In fact, I’m usually the designated driver because Sascha is the one who likes to drink. I just don’t really enjoy alcohol that much. But tonight, Sascha and I both get piss drunk because it’s the first party of the school year. A sort of kiss-the-summer-goodbye kind of ordeal. The only time we both get completely drunk is at a party like this one. And it’s always at the same person’s house; we end up just passing out somewhere and waking up there in the morning not remembering a lot and feeling queasy.

The fast paced song ends and the music transitions to a slower song. We stop grinding and instead of letting go of each other, we sway. Not entirely because we can’t stand straight, but we sway to the music. Sascha holds onto me to tightly; there’s no space whatsoever between out bodies. I lean my head back into the crook of his shoulder.

Sascha starts to suck on my collarbone. I let out an Mmm before I realize what’s going on.

“Sasch-” Before I can start to talk, he lets go of me. Grabbing my hand, he drags me away from the throng of people. We stumble up the stairs. We knock on a few doors, but hear “occupied!” shouted through. Sascha pulls me to the attic. It’s a loft-like room. I remember just coming up here and crashing previous years. No one is here right now, but the music is thumping through the floor, the parry continuing without us, below.

Sascha goes over to the bed, myself in tow.

“W-Whassup, Babeee?” I plop down on the bed in front of him. He’s sitting cross legged and I kneel, keeping eye contact as best as I can.

“You know, sweetie…” he wags his finger at me. I start to laugh because his finger looks like a little worm wiggling around, but quickly compose myself. Sascha and I are the type of “happy drunks”, giggling and laughing at almost anything.

“What isss it?” I urge him on.

“I want the first time I have sex to mean sssomething.” He continues to shake his finger in the air. “I almost hooked up with thisss dude earlier. He was hot.” I giggle.

“Ooh, Saschaaa.” I ruffle his soft hair. “I saw you guysss earlier. He was good looking!” I grin ear to ear.

“But it would have meant nothing.” He frowns, causing my own smile to dissipate. Whenever he wasn’t happy, I wasn’t either.

“Yeah, true.” I almost want to cry. Poor Sascha. He doesn’t deserve meaningless sex. He deserves so much better.

“You dessserve better than him, babe.” I kind of fall into him, trying to hug him. We both collapse onto the bed. I’m on top of him a bit, my face pressed against his chest, my hands holding me up on either side of his head.

“Thank you.” he smiles. Then, his smile changes. “Theta?” he says my name questioningly.

“Yesss?”

“W-what if…” he bites his lip, choosing his words as carefully as he can in his current state. I want to bite his lip, too. “What if we had sex?”

“Huh?!” But… “But, you’re gay!”

“Yeah, I know, silly.” He rolls his eyes and smiles. “But if we both want it to mean sssomething, than shouldn’t we just have sex with each other? We’re, like, best friendsss after all, right babeee?”

I take a minute to think it over. It makes sense, really. We’re both each other’s everything, and in my drunken state, I understand his logic.

“Y-yeah. You’re right.” I say.

Neither of us moves. I’m still holding myself up from his face, his pretty pale blue eyes boring into mine. I’m going to have sex with my gay best friend.

“So…” I start to say. I don’t even know what to do. Luckily though, Sascha does.

He puts me on top of him so that I’m straddling his thin waist. I’m afraid I’m going to crush him, he’s so tiny! He moves his hands from where they’re resting on my sides. He moves them down my ass, feeling, and to the backs of my thighs under my dress. He rubs them gently, up and down.

For the second time in my life, I kiss my gay best friend. Sascha’s lips are soft and full and he tastes like alcohol, as I’m sure I do. In this kiss, I feel so much more than the last one. Maybe it’s the fact that we’re about to make love, maybe it's the fact that we're fucking drunk and horny, but it most definitely feels so much different.

“Theta.” Our mouths extricate themselves and he continues. “I’m going to take off your dresssss now...” he says.

“O-okay.” I reply as he starts to unzip it. He lifts the fabric up and over my head and then tosses it away. He stares at my colourful bra in wonder as his fingers trail along my collarbones and shoulders and down my arms. I shiver. Sascha is gay. So why is this happening, again?

“T-touch me.” I command, ignoring my thoughts and intentionally forgetting; just letting it be. I hate to admit it, but alcohol always makes me a bit horny. I know it has the same effect on Sascha.

He briefly meets my eyes, a lay smirk on his lips before reaching behind me and unclasping my bra. He touches my smaller breasts tentatively, groping and fondling, eyes wide.

“So that’sss what they feel like…” he mumbles. He brings his lips to my left breast and starts to suck on the nipple, his hot tongue swirling around it.

“Sascha…” I moan his name. He flips us over so that he’s straddling my hips.

“Unbutton my shirt.” He orders me. I fumble with the buttons, my hands shaking. Also, my hand-eye coordination if pretty damn terrible at the moment. I start at the top, near the collar and keep unbuttoning until I reach the bottom button. I throw that shirt to the floor. Then, I toy with the hem of his shirt underneath and he raises his arms. I lift the second shirt over his head and add it to the pile of clothing on the floor.

His body is beautiful. Flat stomach, toned arms, pale skin… And, God, that belly button ring is so... sexy. I start to kiss his neck and collarbones. Every once and awhile, I’d stop and suck the skin of a certain spot, causing him to whine.

“Oh!” he gasps as I kiss up his jugular vein. I look up at him and his eyes are closed. He's probably picturing me as a guy.

Finally, I just kiss his lips with a feverish want. He responds, and our tongues clashing, our lips moving against each other frantically. We taste each other, alcohol on our breath. He leans down on his elbows and I cup his face in my hands.

“You’re j-jeans.” I breathe out. I need him.

“Kay.” He responds, unzipping them and wriggling out of them. They’re so tight, it takes him a moment to get them off and toss them to the clothing pile.

He starts kissing down my body, stopping to dip his tongue briefly into my belly button. His hands also do their fair share of feeling around my torso. He pauses at the hem of my thong.

“I-I’m scared to see…” Sascha trails off. I vaguely remembered that he'd always said, I’m afraid of vaginas!!! and I’d say, Yeah, penises are just so much… better and we’d laugh.

“Then, don’t look.” I slur. “Jussst do it.”

“Okay.” He replies.

He takes off my thong, not looking at my nether regions. “Just pretend it’s an asshole…” I hear him mumble a few times, quietly under his breath. “I’m only doing this because I love you, Theta.” He looks into my eyes and a small smile forms on his lips before he takes off his boxers; I don’t even have time to see his penis before it’s inside of me.

“Ah!” I cry out in pain. It feels like the lower half of my body is being split in two. He pumps in and out of me very slowly, letting me get used to his size. After the initial pain, it becomes easier and easier to bear the discomfort.

And after that, it starts to feel… good.

“F-faster.” I moan. He complies, thrusting fully into me. I almost scream as he hits my spot. “Oh-oh, God.”

He’s grunting in my ear, his soft hair brushing against my face and his hands gripping my sides for support.

“I-I’m really close.” He groans.

“Ah!” I scream as we hit our climax, his warm liquids being released inside of me and filling me. He rides out his peak, and then pulls out. He collapses next to me on the bed, breathing heavily like myself

“Sascha. God, Sascha, I-I love you.” I say, my voice shaking.

“I love you too, sweetie. I love you, too.” he pants, quickly enveloping me in his arms and spooning against me like he always does.

I know that this was a one time only, thing. I know that he only loves me as his best friend. I know that we're both drunk and probably won't remember this in the morning.

But I pass out in his arms, falling asleep and dreaming that it’s so much more.