An ill mouthed girl with a fiery temper and bad attitude comes across a blonde headed stranger in her bed whilst covered in something strange. His friends are just like brothers and family soon becomes a tight nation to them all as Sloan grows close...
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Sloan
After a few moments of looking into each others eyes I shook my head and turned away, slightly bashful. I wasn't too sure why. It just happened. He grasped onto my chin with his forefinger and thumb, smiling proudly like he had in the zoo, but with such a warm and gentle grin that I couldn't help but blush. I wasn't a fucking blusher. But this motherfucker had such a damned potent effect on me, it made me do things I didn't even know I could. I smiled back at him, shuffling closer to sit, cross legged, between his outstretched limbs. He dropped the hand, picking up the drink from beside him and wolfed down most of the bottle, handing it over after licking his lips. I took it gratefully, gulping down a few sips and hating the way it stung my tongue, scrunching my nose up and handing it back to where he finished it, tossing the glass somewhere behind his head. "Monkey Shoulder's better." I shrugged, tone slightly slurred. I was anything but a lightweight, however whisky had always rushed straight to my head.
He scrunched up his face, shaking his head in disagreement. "No way, man, you're crazy."
I shrugged and winked in response. "Yep."
He leaned a little closer, smiling unnecessarily and speaking louder than he should of with a wonderful scent of alcohol on his tongue. "Remember that day you asked me who my very best friend was?" He practically yelled, placing both hands behind my neck, drunkenly leaning his head on mine. I nodded in response, smiling giddily as was he. "Well, I think I've found her." He said, crashing his lips down on mine in a sloppy and disgustingly sweet kiss that I wished lasted longer than the few seconds it had. He pulled away and I couldn't help the contagious beam upon my teeth, his cheeks stretched wider than I'd ever seen before. "God, I love you, man."
"It's great to see you so into your religion." I joked, smirking dorkily.
"Can it, McCain." He said, rolling his eyes with an enlightening grin.
"Nah." I said, shaking my head. "I love you too much to put you through the torture of my silence." I winked, pressing a soft kiss upon his nose. It was supposed to be his lips. But I guess I drank a little more than I thought. And then he tilted his head up just a bit - enough to fix my error - and deepened the kiss. He pushed me backwards gently, one hand on the small of my back as he guided me down into the grass. I almost gulped and pushed him away, kind of afraid as to what the passers by may think, but then I remembered that we were - in fact - in a fucking foreign country, and that I didn't know anyone; so I reached my hands into his curls, twirling the dark strands around my fingers as he moaned quietly into my mouth. He was almost lying on top of me, his arms barely supporting him as he slightly hovered, one leg perched between mine as one hand rested at the side of my head, the other brushing my shoulder. He leaned down further, moving his lips in what I could only presume to be a synchronised motion with mine. But we were to tipsy to care, in all honesty. I just loved the carefree yet painfully wonderful feeling of him and I. Of us, I guess. Not that it was official, or anything. But it was a nice thought; that I was his and he was mine. Ownership. But a loving one.
