Afterpartyisthebest ¦ ¦ Dorian

[Conner Miller]

Philomena was away in her cage. That meant Conner was free to do as he wished now, without the worry of his baby getting hurt. An empty bottle of beer fell from his hand and smashed onto the pavement of the parking lot he stood in. He had his back propped against the side of his '88 Ford F350. Oh, it was a gas hog, but he loved his truck. Sue him; he was a redneck. There was even a Toby Keith CD playing right now as he had the key in the ignition. He'd put a lot of work into his pickup. There was even a second coat of polish on the paint in preparation for winter, busted out the winter tires.

A finished cigarette fell to the ground and was ground under the heel of his boot. Another was lit, put in his mouth quickly. He slowly moved into his truck, into the driver's seat and started the engine, letting it run for a bit so the timing belt had time to warm up. The school's party hadn't been that great, he was going to go to a real party. Maybe find some hot chick to spend the night with. His tail almost started wagging. And the booze and promise of weed was certainly a plus. One of his better ex-girlfriends had invited him. He didn't want to be the first there, however. Thus, he just listened to his idling engine roar. Maybe someone would even like to tag along. He snorted. That was if said person wasn't some uptight little prude. He was already a good bit tipsy. Good to drive, probably the best driver in school, even when a bit unsteady. But his judgment was a bit impaired, and he would probably end up regretting something in the morning, which was rare. This time, fate wouldn't be so kind.




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[Dorian Maietta]

Any ‘average’ person would have calmed down as the minutes passed. Would have been able to mellow themselves out and not fuss over things that were probably not worth worrying over. Well that didn’t matter, because he was himself, and not ‘average’ people. Instead of swatting his irritations aside, as he usually did, Dorian had been quick to take himself back to his room and promptly trash his own living space. It was childish, yes, but things had been thrown and torn apart, the drawers were all pulled out of the dresser… The only things that weren’t scattered somewhere on the floor were his myriad of pills, and a few other choice items. The former of which he’d been sure to slam back another little fistful of, before leaving again. The immature temper flare was his fighter’s fault, anyways. Stupid asshole, hanging around with some nasty little slut when he wasn’t around. Dorian considered that a completely justifiable reason for being pissed.

Pupils dilated, there was already a very slight stagger to his step. Attributed to the wonderful burning rush inside of his head, for the most part, thought just a tiny bit of it may have been because his ankles were hurting a bit from the heels he’d been sporting earlier. They had already been swapped out for a more comfortable pair of knee-high, black buckle-up boots. Still obviously feminine, but easier to handle than the heavy heels. He’s stripped himself of the dress entirely, really. Already tired of it, the 'skimpy' black leather shorts and loose-necked knit sweater that he'd tossed on suited him just fine. The dress had just been for his fighter’s sake, anyways. He snorted at the thought as he picked his way through the parking lot. He didn’t exactly have a useable vehicle at the moment, being a less-than-perfect driver, but that didn’t matter. He’d spotted a somewhat familiar face on the way out, and was actively searching for that same person again. It was purely out of luck that he was able to catch sight of them, just as they disappeared into what he assumed was their truck. Old model, good god.

Tugging at his monochrome polka-dotted thigh-highs in an almost self conscious manner, he slithered his way towards the vehicle in question with a slowly growing smirk. Would he be able to make Alex angry by giving his attention to someone else for a little while? Oh, he dearly hoped so. Dorian half wondered if his ill intentions were obvious on his face, as he gave the driver’s side window a sharp tap with the knuckle of his index finger. ”Yo! Cosa stai facendo?” Again, his first language dripped naturally off of his tongue without his realizing he hadn’t said it in English. ”Or rather… Unlock the other door, I’m going with you.” He’d obviously gotten used to speaking to his own fighter, being able to freely order him around however he saw fit. But he was ‘behaving’, and caught his little error, correcting it with a quickly added ”If~ you don’t mind.” His quirked eyebrows and narrowed eyes were either throwing out a warning or an invitation. Either way, it was clear that he had no intention of going back to his room.

[Conner Miller]

Conner yawned slightly as he sat in the cab of the monstrosity of a truck. The F350 has always been the standard for America's biggest pickup trucks. Dual tires in the rear just made it wider. This one had the crew cab as well, so Conner could take quite a few people with him. And he had big rims and big tires on the truck, so shorter people had to literally jump in. It matched Conner in personality and looks, which was all that was really necessary.

Flicking the headlights on, he heard someone rapping on the window. Lazily, he rolled it down. This guy... the one in the nurse costume. The fighter found the other teen a bit perplexing, merely from the gender confusion he experienced. Italian? He spoke Italian? Conner didn't really understand a word the guy had said, but could recognize the language. He'd dated many nationalities. Who was this guy, ordering him around as he did, as if Conner was his own personal servant? A scowl was just setting on his face when the petite teen corrected himself. "That's more like it. Sure, I suppose you can come if you really want." He slid from the seat, holding the door open for the feminine one to hop in and slide in over the seat. He felt very self conscious as he caught himself appraising this guy as if he were female.

Mr. Miller waited until the other was in the passenger seat before he got back in. The cigarette in his mouth would soon be done, so he shifted into first and started to pull out of the parking lot. "I'm headed to a party, suppose you figured that out by now. Anyways, the name's Conner. Conner Miller." He waited for the other to introduce himself before he got to what was really bugging him. "So you were the one in the nurse get up, huh? Don't you get cold in what you're wearing?" He was almost at the college where it was being held. Well, campus. It certainly wasn't a university sanctioned event. Conner drove fast, but he drove well, especially considering the size of the truck. "Whose attention do you want, in shorts like that?"




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[Dorian Maietta]

His lips twitched a bit into a wider smirk. Such an unhappy expression he’d received as a response, just then. But he shouldn’t have been, and wasn’t, surprised by it. If the earlier events had been an accurate indication, someone had quite the temper, now didn’t they? But, oh? It looked like he was going to get his way, anyways. So there was the possibility of more opportunities to prod at that volatile temper. And he would be more than happy to take every opportunity presented to him.

Sliding into the seat with a purred ”thanks~,”, he toyed idly with the ends of his bangs. Waiting patiently for the other to get going. Of course he’d already had at least some vague idea of where he was headed. Not that he really cared much. He just wanted to be somewhere else. Where exactly that happened to be didn’t matter one bit. ”Nice to meet you.” With his current company’s eyes on the road, there was a ninety-nine percent chance that the suspiciously sweet smile he’d flashed him would go unnoticed. But it was a habit. He usually played ‘nice’ for at least the first few minutes, you see. ”I’m Dorian Maietta. Call me whatever you like.” It wasn’t as if there was much to be made from his name anyways, as far as nicknames went. And if he didn’t like what he was hearing, there was no doubt that he’d be quick to let everyone know.

Oh my. So he had gotten a bit of extra attention because of his costume, then? Hehe… Good. ”Yup, that was me~. I thought my fighter would like it, but he seemed… already preoccupied, when I got there.” The false pout was audible in his voice as he huffed and gave an irritated little flick of his tail. His loss, mh? ”Cold, though? Only a bit, but I don’t mind it. Feels nice~, y’know?” Exhilarating. Was that the right word? Maybe. Didn’t matter. A devious grin twisted across his lips at Conner’s question. Who’s attention? Now, why oh why would he be concerned with something silly like that? Ah, but he was dressed a bit… Well, he was asking for it. Giggling quietly to himself, he leaned across the seat to blow a warm puff of air over the other’s ear. ”Yours.” And just a second later, he’d recoiled back to his place on the passenger’s side, grinning wide and laughing quietly. ”Just kidding~. I’m not after anyone in particular. Rather…” He had to pause for a moment, either to think on what he wanted to say, or how it should be worded. ”If I catch anyone’s interest, it’ll simply be a happy accident.” Close enough.

[Conner Miller]

Scratching his head idly, he only had one hand on the steering wheel at this point. His eyes flitted back to Dorian for a second, wondering what all was going on here. Conner had never really been comfortable around gay guys, even to the point of bullying when he'd been at his other school. And his interest in the opposite gender was rather obvious, but the guy beside him was a gender-bender. Or so it seem to the jock. However, Conner had already had quite a lot to drink this evening. Enough to loosen him up. "I'll just stick with Dorian. Can't quite tell if that'll be what I'm calling you as the night goes on. I'm going to get shit-faced. When I start to feel hungover, as in sober, we're headed home." He didn't want to get caught, passed out in some guy's room again, sleeping with said guy's girlfriend. Stupid mistakes made big messes.

"I don't get cold quick, either, but I couldn't wear that. Guess you're not the type to care what others think..." The fighter wasn't exactly fond of the feeling that Dorian was toying with him, but he didn't care enough to say something about it. "Well, Anna was looking fine. Of course, I was pissed when he moved in, interrupting my routine." He was quite blunt. "I suppose I thought you looked nice. Until I realized you had a dick." He smirked a bit, covering up how embarrassed he'd actually been at the party. This time, he was wise to the act.

Conner's head banged loudly against the window as he jerked his ear away from the suddenly soft, warm breeze. Dorian couldn't have caught Conner more off guard if he tried. That is, without physical contact. His face was quite flushed, and his tail was poofed up, tip curled and rigid on the seat. He had a fluffy tail to begin with, but now it was like a squirrel tail. His ears were flat, out of shock, still as lush as his tail. "F***ing caught me off guard. Jeezus, do you want me to wreck my girl here?" A heave escaped him as he rode up onto the sidewalk, cutting through the grass until he was beside a rather large, loud, messed up house. A few people shouted in surprise, but most seemed to know him well enough to get excited and run up to the roaring truck. Conner laughed, and trenches the lawn so that a fountain of dirt covered the cars on the sidewalk and a few unlucky individuals. He opened the door, but leaned over the seat real quick to whisper in Dorian's ear. "Remember, you're here with me. If shit happens, you need to be by my side. There isn't a person here that would cross me." It was true. Generally he caught some shit in the beginning, but it stopped once someone got knocked out. As if to speak of the devil, a loud drunk made a comment on the teen still having his ears.

There wasn't a man here stronger than Conner. There were few here that had been with 13 different women in the same week, all considering him to be their boyfriend, even if he hadn't asked them out. He laughed as he walked up to the guy. The test boy never saw the fist that broke his nose. Just stars then unconciousness. Conner's poker face was on, as it grew quite before everyone was shouting again. He was congratulated on the Mike Tyson knock out, and he soaked up the drunken praise, enjoying the spotlight like any cocky jerk should. "Dorian, let's go find some good stuff." Conner wouldn't keep an eye out for the feminine not for long. Even if he was one of the few here with ears, he was still on the look out for any easy girls that looked like they didn't mind no sex, just pleasure. They all seemed fond of his ears, which was fine by him. He didn't need his father's shotgun pointed at his boys. Conner's tail was already wagging, as he began to pass through the crowd, pausing to share a deep kiss with his flirty ex-girlfriend, in front of her boyfriend. "Thanks for telling me to come, baby." Another passionate kiss and he walked on. Definitely a player.

He made it through to keg, getting a bottle of beer, and grabbing something strange which he poured into it. Obviously heavy stuff. Conner's hand was suddenly on a lit blunt, which he was heavy on already. If Dorian was so inclined, he'd be able to share without asking. He was relaxed, entirely in his element. "Here's to what better be a f***ing good party."




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[Dorian Maietta]

Hehe. That little bit had him curious, almost. He wanted to see how well his new ‘friend’ here could hold his alcohol. If he could, well more power to him. If not… Then that would just make this all the more interesting, mh? Dorian himself was something of a lightweight. A given, when his size was taken into account, but at least he was well aware of his limits. Knowing him, though, those limits might be ignored. ”Mh~? Of course. Why should I give two fucks about what people I don’t know think of me? Besides…,” he purred, head tilting to the side with the tip of his tongue flicking out briefly to trace along his lips. ”I look good in things like this. Dick or no dick.” His teasing was a bit more obviously, and purposely so, with that last bit. Why would his manhood make him look any less attractive in whatever he felt like wearing? C’mon now, that logic didn’t hold up at all.

”You should keep him away from her, by the way.” Really, he did his best to seem nonchalant, and make it seem as if he’d meant that to be in Conner’s best interest. But his motive was as selfish as it always was. Dorian just didn’t want his fighter hanging around that gross little thing, anymore. And then… Oh my. How extreme. ”Hehe. You act like I did something bad. Are you secretly a shy one, I wonder?” Honestly. That gentle flush, the bristling of his tail… it was really something that Dorian would have expected to see from Alex. But even on this face, it was still undeniably appealing. Maybe more so? Maybe, maybe not. He hadn’t decided, yet. And there wasn’t much time to think on it, anyways. He hadn’t even noticed they’d arrived, really. Hadn’t been paying much attention to the world outside of the vehicle. A nod in affirmation was the only response he gave to the hastily whispered words. It almost made him want to see something go down between him and some poor random.

And then, suddenly, his almost-wish was granted, just like that. One moment, he’d been scanning the faces he could see as he slid out of the truck. And the next, he was turning around just in time to see some kid he didn’t recognize getting taken out. Hehe... Bad tempered people were the best, mh? The sacrifice was nearly purring aloud, as he padded along, a few short feet behind Conner. It wasn’t all that surprising that he’d recognized quite a few of the people here. For a moment, he’d been keeping track in his head. He’d bought drugs from that one, swapped a few things with those two over there, oh, gone down on most of that little corner group over there… Ah, but it was so easy to lose track, and he was so very lazy. Tossing a few questionable glances at whoever happened to catch his eye, he couldn’t help but laugh at the drunken remarks he would get, when caught staring. If he were to divide them in half, it was about… Fifty-fifty, in regards to people confusing his gender.

The Italian was quick to snatch up a beer, dabbing at the rim with the tip of his tongue before taking a swig. Watching Conner’s little display with hazy eyes and an amused little smirk, he quirked an eyebrow at him once he was close enough to talk to, again. ”My my~. You’re lucky you’re you, or you’d be just as well off as that poor thing you dropped on the way in.” With a dismissive wave and a devious little chuckle, he went back to taking care of the bottle in his hand. He’d never been especially fond of the taste, to be honest. But it would more than likely help his mood out, since he was still just the tiniest bit sour about earlier. Already, he was eyeing the all too desirable thing in the other’s hand, like a hawk. Really, why hadn’t he brought his pills, again? Smirk widening all the more, his ears pressed back with a quiet ‘ting’. ”He~y,” he purred, hazel eyes alight with ill intentions as he tapped his index finger to his own lips. ”Shotgun.”

[Conner Miller]

The near comforting familiar, yet a bit unpleasant scent of the party filled his nose, the alcohol in the air almost enough to get one buzzed. Conner was buzzed a good while before he left. A slowly emptied bottle of rum could be found in the back seat of his truck, crushed cans of Yuengling to be found by his parking spot. Alcoholics Anonymous would have trouble with this bull-headed youth. If Dorian thought Conner might secretly be shy, the only instance where that could be true would.be with Dorian himself. If Anna had done similarly, he'd likely have his arms around her and lips locked with hers, starting to tug the first layer of clothes off. If she'd been willing.

At Dorian's comment, Conner had a large grin. "This ain't what I'd call luck. I worked to get to this point. Earned it. So I enjoy the the privileges that come with my achievement. It's hard to get to be top dog." And that was the bonafide truth. Nothing was luck for him. He'd have been dead long ago if he relied on luck, because his luck was pretty shitty. He let the smoke roll slowly from his mouth. It seemed like it would never stop; the way it continued to ebb from his mouth, he'd obviously been taking pretty big hits.

"Like to share, eh?" Conner didn't like to take hours getting drunk, which was why he'd already had four shots of the Green Fairy, plus whatever else was on the table. Anyone who wasn't a complete heavy weight wouldn't be standing right now. But Conner put his young body through hell daily. He could totally handle it. But his judgements had become much less than perfect, so when Dorian requested a shotgun Conner did it as he usually did, quite impulsively. Seeing as Conner had only really done this with girls, it probably looked a bit odd to onlookers, depending on how they perceived Dorian.

Conner's hand slid under Dorian's chin, tilting it up slightly as Conner bent down. His other hand went on Dorian's shouldering, and Conner's lips were quite close to the other's. But the lit blunt was really what this was about, in Conner's head, no longer caring about the gay stuff from earlier. When the Italian opened his mouth, he'd find that Conner had very large set of lungs as the smoke shot from the blunt in a steady, long stream. Then Conner pulled back, with a devilish grin. "Like that?" he inquired with half kidded eyes, the flannel sleeves of his shirt rolled up. He didn't want to.get beer stains on the new gray beater, so he was careful about his drinking.

[Dorian Maietta]

He’d lost track of what he’d drank, and exactly how much. Whatever he was handed, regardless of from whom, he would snatch up eagerly. Reasonable a thought as it would have been, the question of whether or not this would mix ‘well’ with the pills he’d filled himself with earlier never crossed his mind. As it was, it didn’t. And unaware of the internal chemical cocktail as he was, Dorian seemed undeniably pleased with the hazy buzz that kept cutting any coherent threads of thought that he tried to string together. His grin was as lazy as the half-lidded hazel eyes, and he even giggled a bit when he dribbled Everclear down his chin. His shots were getting sloppy. Who had handed him that, anyways? He hadn’t recognized them, but oh well~. Wasn’t important.

“Hehe… ‘S that so?” Top dog, indeed. He was so sure of himself, wasn’t he? But Dorian was too busy eyeing his mouth, fascinated with the way the smoke rolled over his lips like that. For a split second he thought of those weird little fog machines, and had to cover his just slightly flushed face with one hand to try and hide his slurred giggles. What a weird comparison, but it made sense. Sort of… Right? ”Those have lights… If it lit up, that would be weird… Pffff--,” and he trailed off in more laughter, either unaware or unconcerned with the fact that he’d thought out loud. Quite obviously, the very definition of the term ‘lightweight’. Of course, he’d deny it as much as he was able, if it were pointed out. Pride and denial were very good friends, you see.

The only answer he gave to the question was a tilted smirk. Only due in part to the fact that he couldn’t think of anything to say. He didn’t seem surprised in the least when his own request was granted. In fact, he’d leaned in eagerly, still grinning along the other’s lips with a nearly audible purr. The deep breath was an easy one, of course. Things like this were his specialty. Smoke, pills, needles. He did them all, as often as he could afford, or get away with. ‘Addict’ was a badge he was strangely proud to wear. Of course, if there hadn’t been smoke involved, he would have slipped him his tongue, simply out of habit.

His tail flicked from side to side in approval as Conner pulled back, and Dorian just flashed him a devious little smirk of his own, a slow stream of smoke accompanying his unsteady laughter. ”Of course.” Flicking his bangs aside and reaching for another bottle, he traced the tip of his tongue along the curve of his own bottom lip. ”Hn… You taste nice, did you know that?” Where was his head? Really, he couldn’t feel it. It was still there, right? As if to be completely certain of this, he ran his fingers through his hair, toying with his earrings in passing. All he’d done was raise his arm, but apparently it was enough to throw off his center of balance, just enough to make him wobble unsteadily on his feat. He was quick to throw his arm out to steady himself, luckily, and the only harm were a few empty bottles he’d knocked off the table when he’d grabbed for its edge, and the bit of alcohol he’d spilled down the front of his sweater. Of course, giggly as he was, he had to laugh at himself for that. At least he thought well enough to want to sit, before he ended up on the floor. ”Hey, heeey. To the couch. Carry me.” He’d dropped the bottle he’d been holding, already, and reached out towards Conner with his now free hand, making a ‘grabby hands’ gesture at him. Oh, right. This one didn’t like being told what to do, right? Rephrase, quick, quick. ”Pleeeeeease?”

[Conner Miller]

Conner's focus was loose at.the moment, if one wanted to be kind about it. "Lit up?" He repeated, quite lost, the a crooked grin spread across his features, smoke rolling from his nostrils with a clear liquor bottle at his lips. "Like... Drugs?" His coordination was certainly slipping, though he was still dexterous. He leaned in, closer to Dorian, looking at the shirt. "I'd give you mine if I didn't think you'd spill shit on it." His huge arms slipped under the other's more delicate frame, lifting him as if he weighed nothing. He strode over to the couch, glad to see Dorian was starting be a bit more polite, making his demands into requests.

With what was currentlyba rather short attention span, he clumsily tripped over some obstacle between the coffee table and the couch. Quickly, he spun so as to not crush Dorian under his weight, his back hit the couch cushions. Conner couldn't stop giggling, amused at his own foolishness. "Oooops," he snickered. "My bad." If people were staring, he didn't notice or care. They wouldn't dare to say anything, for fear of Conner's more dangerous, drunken rage. Conner was much less predictable in a fight when drunk. "So... What do you mean I taste good? You only got the weed." Conner resituated Dorian so that he was more or less.laying on him. His comment sounded almost like an invitation.