Drunk off his ass was more like it. The stumbling man came nearly falling into the room and taking in the fresh scent of... Lysol®?
Damn, his room hadn't smelt this fresh in years. The scent wafted out into the hallway, confusing not only mystery drunk man but also his poor neighbors who had to deal with the scent of his room every time he opened the door, even if their's wasn't any better.
Mystery drunk man shuffled into his room to find something even more curious. The main area was completely clean, no trash, no laundry, no cans or cups or bowls. Just tile. He hadn't seen that damn tile in years, and now it was scrubbed clean.
He walked around, clumsy and unbalanced. He went and touched everything in the room. Sir Drunk wanted to check every corner and crack for proof that someone came and cleaned his room
The dorm was unusually silent. Often, when he came home, he could hear the sound of crinkled paper under his feet and the broken fan would whirr choppily and unsteadily. But oddly enough, he didn't mind the silence. Until he realized there was one sound now that wasn't there before.
Light sleepy breaths. Not snores, just little puffs of air. Did some girl sneak into my dorm to fuck? He thought to himself. He snickered as he pulled his jeans off, wet with spilled liquor, and stumbled over to the bed to see a lithe curvy body sitting in this bead with curly brown hair. His heart skipped a beat when he saw just her back.
She was absolutely breathtaking, even from behind. The thin blanket complemented her curves, even though she obviously had no tits. You could tell. He didn't feel like fucking anymore and sobered up a bit as he walked over to the bed to get a look at this beautiful woman's face.
When he looked at it, the first thing that he noticed were the faint dusting of light freckles and a little scar under their eye. Of course, he did notice eventually that the "girl" he was sitting with was definitely not a girl.
Mr. DrunkDude still was nowhere near sober, but he was a romantic drunk, possessive and sweet. When he saw the boy's face, it didn't really matter to him then. He was too preoccupied with more important things. Things like noticing his button nose, with a slight curve, probably from a break or a punch to the face. Noticing his lips, full and flush, yet a bit dry in the corners, probably from sleeping on his side. Noticing his deep collarbones, with a light pen mark on one. Noticing his only masculine feature, his sharp strong jawline.
Mr.DrunkRomeo wanted to lace his fingers through this boy's hair and take all the little snarls and knots out. He wanted to trace the boy's face over and over, and forever on. At this moment, he didn't want the boy to wake up just yet.
Not just yet
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Mr.Drunkard had spent the last ten minutes softly caressing the small boy's face. He would freeze at any sign of awakening and then continue moments later. It was a vicious cycle. Somehow, he just never sobered up. Trust me, if he was sober, he would have kicked the poor sleeping boy out the second he saw him and maybe fed him to the wolves, but half a bottle of vodka and more beers than he could count did something to a man.
"Suuuuppr prrurttyyy... beuooootifull..." He murmered, patting the boy's nose like he was saying goodnight. He scratched his left pec, before planting his face elegantly and smoothly, with a flair of civilness...
Straight into Noel's stomach
YOU ARE READING
99 problems | A gay juvie story
RomanceFor a 15-year-old boy, Noel was unusually innocent. He was unaware of what "sex" was. He knew, obviously, that when a man and a woman had "sex", the man produced sperm, and the woman would have a child. But past that, he had no idea. But Noel fuck...
