Pick-up Lines
Brutal I
Calm, cool, collected. He sloshed his drink around, as seemed appropriate, and winked at the dark haired Italian next to him, getting his attention. Spot licked his lips, ran his thumb around the edge of his glass suggestively.
The Italian responded by picking the cherry out of his tropical looking drink, slowly and suggestively sucking on it, wrapping his tongue around it to pluck it off the stem, and swallowing.
Spot was actually impressed. This was going to be fun.
"Fuck me if I'm wrong, but don't you wanna have sex?"
"With you?" Smirk. "Not really."
Ouch. Spot winced. Brutal.
Brutal II
Okay, so he'd been burnt once. Spot knocked back another drink, put his game face on, and headed back to the bar. The gorgeous Italian was still there, though now turned away from him. From what Spot could overhear through the pumping techno music, he was flirting with some blond guy with an eye patch.
Spot narrowed his eyes, and tapped the Italian guy's shoulder. He glanced back and sighed. "Yes?" he asked, sounding bored.
"Nice shoes. Wanna fuck?"
"You?" Eye roll. "Not really." He went back to the blond.
Spot glared slightly. This was more complicated than he'd thought.
Sleep Here Often
Sarah woke slowly. She sat up and patted her hair down; remarkably, it was perfect. A glance out her window told her it was definitely time to get up, the curtain was gauzy and not hard to see through, really.
Which made it even more startling to see someone sitting on the fire escape outside her window, dozing off, head cushioned against one hand. She gasped, then calmed; judging by the colors of his clothes, it had to be Jack.
Pushing the curtain aside, she leaned out the window, and he looked up guiltily.
"So..." She said. "Sleep here often?"
Brutal III
Spot sat down on the bar stool just as he started to sway. He drank to get his courage up; usually, he didn't have to, really, but he'd been rejected. Spot Conlon was not used to being rejected. At all. Ever.
The Italian looked over at him and sighed. "...Yes?" he asked.
Spot grinned. "Do you wash your pants in Windex? 'Cause I can really see myself in--"
"Give it up."
Spot groaned. "What do I have to do?" he demanded, almost whining.
And in return, he just got a raised eyebrow. "Wouldn't you like to know?" he smirked.
Brutal IV
"Okay," Spot said, clutching his drink like a lifeline. "Okay, I'll... I'll level." He was a bit drunk, or possibly extremely drunk, but luckily slurred speech wasn't a symptom for him.
"Yes?" the Italian sighed.
"I don't usually... Usually people say yes."
"With the pick up lines you've been using, I doubt that."
"'S true. Here, lemme try... 'Did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?'"
"Nope."
"What, are you straight?"
"Ha, no."
"Then what do I have to do? Come on. I'll do aaaaaanything." Yeah, Spot was drunk. Sober, Spot would never beg.
The Italian smirked. "Anything?" he repeated.
Brutal V
He was naked, and covered in sweat, and was discovering sore muscles he'd never known he'd had before.
But dear fucking God, it was worth it.
His Italian companion--they'd never gotten as far as names--wasn't dressed yet either, just sitting on the edge of the bed, smoking a ridiculously phallic cigar.
Spot moaned and shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable. No luck. "Come on," he pleaded. "Untie me? I've got rope burn."
"Maybe in awhile." The Italian glanced down at the floor, and laughed. "You know, you were right. My pants do look better on your bedroom floor."
Body
They were dancing. He'd never liked dancing before; he wasn't good at it, he felt awkward, embarrassed, but here he was. This was barely even dancing. This was grinding, pure and simple. Body to body, lost in the crowd, shoved up against some random stranger.
But what a stranger. Perfect brown skin, body of a god, eyes like chocolate... Enough to make Blink feel drunk, without inhibitions. He felt himself lean in closer and murmured, "If I said you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?"
His dance partner nipped his ear lightly. "Oh, absolutely," he breathed.
Floppy Drive
Lusting after geeks was probably not cool. Jack was a jock, and he was popular, and he had to worry about his status, after all. So flirting with the local computer geek was a pretty strict no-no.
Which was sad, because he was finding himself David, who was doing his CoSci homework during Jack's typing class. Jack watched him as he frowned, concentrating, and then typed furiously.
The bell rang and David put in a disk, and Jack sauntered over to him smugly. "Hey, geek." He smirked and put a hand on David's shoulder. "You make my floppy drive hard."
Subtraction
Dutchy approached the Spanish boy and glanced down at him, lowering his head to look over his glasses and through his eyelashes. He'd had a crush on Bumlets for years. And this was the only pick up line he knew.
"Hey..." He said slowly. "I lost my phone number, can I have yours?"
No wonder he ever got dates.
But he got a smile in return, and Bumlets pulled out a pen and scratched a number on the back of Dutchy's hand. Dutchy blinked. "What is that... A subtraction problem?"
A smile. "You don't hear 'yes' very often, do you?"
Staring
Oh dreamy. So dreamy. Mush sighed and watched the pretty blond boy across the room.
"Go talk to him," David hissed, poking him in the side.
"And say what? What?" Mush demanded. "I can't talk to boys. You know that. I... I never know what to say. People just stare at me. I can't!"
"Then stop sulking."
"But he's so pretty."
"Then talk to him!"
"And say what?"
"I don't know. Whatever goes through your mind." He shoved Mush, who stumbled across the room. "Uh... Do you mind if I stare at you up close instead of across the room?"
Milk
Dear God, even his milk mustache was adorable. Dutchy blushed and watched Bumlets try and wipe the mustache off with a napkin, blushing. "I love milk," he finally admitted, as Dutchy gazed adoringly.
"Me too," Dutchy said.
"I never see you drink it."
"It, uh... I'm lactose intolerant... It gives me gas." He winced. Real smooth, Dutch, he told himself. He'd only been with Bumlets a week, and their relationship wasn't exactly set in stone yet.
"That's too bad." Bumlets downed the rest of his glass, licked his lips. "I'm like milk."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." Grin. "I'll do your body good."
Outfit
Dutchy was big on fashion. Bumlets tried to find it amusing, but really, it was kind of irritating. He could spend hours staring into a closet trying to pick just the right outfit... For a guy who wasn't a flamer, Dutchy was damn obsessed with how he looked.
"Could you be any more vain?" Bumlets finally snapped. "We're gonna be late, and not even for a fun reason."
"Fun reason?" Dutchy asked, finding another shirt and tossing it aside, groaning. "Like what?"
Bumlets sighed. Dutchy never got hints. "You know what would look good on you?" he finally snapped. "Me."
Latex Love
"Oh dear Jesus fucking GOD you are the hottest man I've ever seen," Race said, letting his eyes roam up and down Blink's body. He was breathing hard just looking at the outline of Blink's pecs through his skin tight undershirt. And his breathing wasn't the only thing that was hard.
"Well, thanks," Blink answered, grabbed Race's shoulder, and kissed him hard, grinding together.
"Please tell me you screw on the first date," Race said into his cheek, pulling away only momentarily.
"I only screw if I'm really in love."
"Then let's let nothing but latex come between our love..."