#SO I ORDERED A LOUIE PLUSH AND UH. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

feverinfeveroutfic · 3 years

Text

chapter twenty-three: seduce and destroy

“So are we sure that Joey's gonna be okay with everything?” Sam asked Chuck.

“I'm sure of it,” he promised her.

It had been about a week since they had made that video tape and now that it was in fact closer to Valentine's Day, she, Chuck, and Alex had made the trip on back home to California. Sam may as well have seized the opportunity to take her couch with her back to her mom's house on Catalina Island, but then again, there was no way they could lug it into the plane altogether. As a result, she vowed for another return to New York City soon enough.

An hour long flight early that morning after, and the three of them had landed back in the heart of Berkeley.

Sam thought about Joey back home in upstate New York, and she knew that he wasn't around at that point. It would be some time before he surfaced again, and it would be some time before she could break it to her parents. As a result, she wasn't ready to head on back down to Los Angeles as of yet, given Testament had a whole two months listed there at that lovely studio with the purple plush carpet. Upon their landing at the Berkeley airport and their awaiting a ride from Eric and Greg, she tapped on Alex's shoulder and he took a glimpse back at her.

“What's up?” he asked her; she ran her tongue along the edge of her top row of teeth. Even in the dim pale light from the morning fog, he had a bright twinkle in his eye as if he had just seen treasure: he raised his dark eyebrows at her a bit and those deep eyes brightened even more. The gray streak stood high up on the crown of his head like a little needle.

“You wanna hang out?” she offered him. He bowed his head forward a bit.

“You—wanna hang out—with me?” he repeated it.

“Go for it, Alex,” Chuck told him from in front of them.

“Yeah, let's do it,” she said.

“Okay! Uh—what do you wanna do first?”

“Well, I want to see your old high school,” she suggested.

“Yeah, we can do that. Eric'd have to give us a ride over there, though.”

“We're actually not too far from there, though, Alex,” Chuck pointed out.

“You just want us to walk, Chuck,” Alex scoffed, and Sam laughed at that.

“At least it's not raining, Alex,” she pointed out to him.

He then turned to her with his eyebrows raised again.

“You know, I just got an idea,” he said in a low voice, and he gestured for her to follow him down the sidewalk and towards the end of the driveway.

“And here comes Eric!” Chuck proclaimed right then, but they were already about to round the corner there. Alex led her up the street, up to the corner there. Even on foot, and even from another angle, Sam already recognized that neighborhood. She walked side by side with him all the way up the sidewalk to that familiar block.

“Oh, this is where the studio is!” she decreed, and he looked over at her and eagerly nodded at that. He reached that door step first and he pushed the door open, much to both of their surprise. She bowed inside of there first and he held the door for her.

“There's no one here,” he declared with a chuckle. “There's no one here and yet the door's standing wide open.”

He shut the door behind him, and once they had taken off their jackets and hung them up on the wall there, he gestured for her to follow him into that main room once more. But rather than congregating around the sound board and the telephone there, he kept on going onward to the far side of the room, towards the door there.

“What's in here?” she wondered aloud as he held the door for her. She ducked into the large spacious room with a long smooth linoleum checker board floor and a long low pool table. On the far wall stood a low minibar.

“Eric told me about this room here,” he replied, and then he turned to her. “You shoot billiards much?” he asked her in a soft voice.

“Not really.”

“Aw, man! It's real easy. I'm not a big sports fan—never got the sports bug growing up but I don't mind a little shootin' pool, though.”

The pool table stood long and low there on the floor before them, with the balls already in place in their respectful triangle; Alex took two long dark cues right off of the rack on the wall, and he handed one to her.

“You don't really think of it as a sport, either,” said Sam.

“Nah, it's more of a game of wits,” he explained as he approached the triangle there on the table top. “When we were recording The New Order, Eric showed me how to do it.”

“All I know is you can't get the pure white ball in,” she told him.

“Nope, otherwise you get a scratch,” he replied and he lifted the rack: all fifteen balls stayed in place. “The eight ball's last to go into the hole, too, lest the game is over...” His voice trailed off and he hesitated with his free hand rested upon the table's edge.

“What's the matter?” she asked him.

“Hey, you know what—seeing it's just you and me in here,” he told her, “and I'm seven months away from turning twenty one—and you're twenty four now—” He stooped down and opened the fridge door; and he handed her a beer bottle.

“As long as you don't drive home,” she said as she took the bottle.

“Nah—we're not too far from my parents' house,” he replied as he took a bottle for himself.

“I don't know if you can walk home drunk, though,” she confessed.

“You can't.”

“A little job for me then,” she concluded as she pried off the bottle cap and she was met with that intense smell of fresh hops straight out of the bottle. She took a small sip where Alex guzzled down a straight shot first hand. He shook his head about and then he looked over at her with his eyes bright and bold with life.

He set the bottle down on the side of the pool and launched the white cue ball forth to the closest point of the triangle. All fifteen balls sprawled out over that green surface.

“Okay, so—you wanna start from the bottom with the number one ball,” he said, and he lingered right next to her as she brought the tip of the cue to the solid yellow. They hung over that side of the table together, such that the front of his shirt brushed against her back. She could feel his hips within range of hers, and yet he never brushed up against her.

She extended her left arm out and cradled the tip of the cue between her fingers.

“Yeah, just like that,” he said right into her ear. “Now just tap it.”

She did, and that yellow ball rolled over to the corner pocket.

“That was excellent,” he remarked as he stood upright and rounded their corner of the table for the second one up. He lingered close to her with each of her shots, while she watched his face take on a serious expression with each of his.

“Alex, I like—half expect to see you with a cigar hanging out of your mouth,” she confessed at one point, and he stuck out his tongue in disgust at that. In between his shots, he took a swig from the beer bottle.

That first round he hit the eight ball into the far corner, away from the door and in the direction the minibar.

“Do it again?” he offered her.

“Please!”

He pressed a button on the side there and there was a soft grinding noise. All those gentle marble noises caught her ear and all fifteen balls gathered into a glass slot right by their knees, and together, they set them all back onto the green surface. He handed her that black triangle and she brought them all back into that familiar shape right before them.

“Solids and stripes are forever, dear Samantha,” he said in a low voice as he rounded the side of the table and back towards the minibar. As so long as he didn't overdo it, she was sure that he would be fine with another one.

She got that first shot that time around, and she knew that he would have the eight ball in the corner that time.

“You get a scratch with the white cue ball,” she reiterated.

“I'd like to scratch my white balls with the pool cue,” he retorted, which in turn made her giggle. He tapped the cue ball which rolled forward and hit the red stripe right square in the middle. He took a rather large swig of beer that time, and another when she accidentally made that black eight ball fall into one of the holes.

“Aw, damn!” she scoffed.

“It's okay, it's okay,” he assured her as he pushed the button again.

One more time around and she was sure that he had had his fill of beer: she had already barely finished her first one as he took another large swig from the bottle. She peered up at the dimly lit but high ceiling overhead and the sight of fluffy blue and white clouds painted over the tiles.

“I never realized just how much I love this studio,” she remarked once she took a shot. “I like, really love this place.”

“Same here,” he added as he strode over to the other side of the pool table for another shot.

“Remember how kinda dumpy and dingy the hole in the wall was?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said as he took a swig from the bottle. “It was cold in there all the time, too!”

“Right? At least this place has a heater.”

“I mean, Samantha—I could not get warm. Louie couldn't, either! You know it's cold when the guy keeping rhythm and working out more than us can't even keep warm.”

Another shot from him, followed by her.

He took another swig from the bottle.

Three more stayed there in the midst of the table, the black eight ball, the solid blue, and the cue ball. At that point, after what felt like fifty swigs from the beer bottle, he rubbed his eyes and held the pool cue close to his chest.

“You okay?” she asked him as she held onto the cue with both hands.

“Yeah,” he replied, and he swallowed, complete with a tilt of his head. He fluttered his eyelids a bit and then he bowed forward. He extended his arm out before him: his aim seemed a bit more off than before with the cue ball and the solid blue. He let out a low whistle, and then he took a shot. The tip of the stick slipped out and the cue ball spun around about an inch from the solid blue.

He stood upright so she could have a shot at the eight ball in the center hole. He sniffled and rubbed that full tip of his nose.

“Call it a draw?” he asked her and even from across the table, she could see it in his eyes. There was no way he could drive home, or even so much as walk home, especially since he wasn't even twenty one yet. She set the cue down on the edge of the pool table, and she sauntered over to him, complete with a slight sashay to her hips.

“I don't want you to go,” she begged him as she set the pool cue upon the edge of the table.

“It's funny, I—don't want me to go, either,” he replied; he staggered back a bit and leaned back against the wall. He showed her a little grin right before he let out a soft hiccup.

“I wanna—I wanna do something with you,” she sputtered; something had overcome her right then and there. Cliff was gone and Joey was back home in upstate New York recovering from awful. Here she was, face to face with Alex and a bottle of extra hoppy beer.

“When do you guys plan on releasing your new album?” she asked him in a low voice.

“Hopefully the springtime,” he replied as he licked his lips. “That's the hope, anyways. The plan. What we've got in mind for ourselves.”

“Alex,” she started again.

“Huh?”

“How many bottles of beer have you had so far?”

“Just—a couple,” he replied with a hiccup.

“You sure about that? 'Cause—I'm looking over here at the table and I'm counting three.”

He bowed his head and stifled a belch. She chuckled at that. Whenever Joey drank too much, it was obvious that he didn't want to do it. But Alex had let himself loose a little bit, and all for her.

“You know, my boyfriend is away,” she told him. He hiccuped and fluttered his eyelids so as to keep himself awake; she inched closer to him and she could smell the hops on his breath. He raised his eyebrows at her and locked eyes with her.

“And I—like that he's away from here.”

He rested his hand on her shoulder and he stroked her arm. She had nestled up close to him twice and both times he wasn't nearly as willing to get down such as this.

“What're you doing?” she asked him when she felt his hand on her hand.

“If we pick the forbidden fruit together, would you eat it?” he asked her; his speech was slurring a bit.

“Maybe,” she replied as she cozied up right before him: she eyed that prominent Adam's apple and the point of his chin. Maybe it was in fact the alcohol talking but she wondered if his skin really was as soft as it looked. Not even twenty one years old yet and yet something about him warranted something more. He was already loosened up: she could see it in his eyes. That soft look of love, albeit the look on alcohol. But she could sense it between them: all the times Joey let go still hung fresh in memory.

But then he blinked a few times, and his eyelids hooded more and more with each time. He moved in closer to her lips as if he had been waiting this whole entire time to do it. But she lunged away from him.

“Alex,” she stopped him and she put both of her hands on his chest, “—Alex, what're you doing?”

He put his hand on the small of her back and he brought her face closer to hers: those lips within range of her own.

“You tell me,” he said in a husky voice.

“Alex—Alex, please—you're tipsy,” she told him.

“So?”

“You're tipsy!” She gaped at him. She wanted to laugh but she also knew that he was loose. It loosened up Joey when he so felt like it; she could see it in his eyes and in those slightly parted sensual lips.

“Samantha, I—I—I—I—I—I—I—I—I—I got it!” he insisted and he shook his head about: the gray streak fluttered about like a little feather. He breathed hard as if he had just run a whole mile. He then reached up to his shirt collar and unfastened the first two buttons. He showed her his tongue all the while.

“I've always seen booze as a truth serum of sorts,” he explained, “it makes you wanna—do the things you really want to do but couldn't—because—something was holding you back.”

“Like doing it with me?” she teased him; he undid a few more buttons and he showed off his body to her.

“Make love to me,” he begged her in a hushed tone. “Please—make love to me.”

Sam put her arms around his slender waist, still very soft from childhood.

“You're a dirty boy,” she teased him as she brought her mouth closer to his. “You're a dirty, naughty boy—I'm gonna give it to you.”

“You wanna slap my thigh or should I do it?”

“What?” she sputtered.

“You wanna slap my thigh or should I do it?”

Her hand slithered around his hip and her fingers did the trick with a little squeeze.

“I said my thigh,” he insisted.

“I don't care,” she said in a low voice. “You have a nice ass—such a nice little caboose.”

He hunched his shoulders a bit as she squeezed him again. His hands grazed over the small of her back and then underneath her blouse. Those slender fingers rode up her spine and towards the hooks on her bra. They were about to let loose for real in that room. It was all happening so fast.

It was all so spontaneous and so sudden.

“Eight ball in the corner,” he breathed.

“Eight ball right in the corner,” she echoed as she brought her lips to his. They both had had a bit to drink, especially him, and yet she found herself coming so much closer to him than ever. Their walls lowered a bit more right then and there: she kept her hands pressed onto the seat of his jeans but she could feel something right in front of her. She looked down at his body, at his bare skin right there in front of her.

He had been so sensual up to that point: as if he had been seducing her this whole entire time. She scanned his chest and his stomach, all the way down to his waist and the top of his jeans. She reached down and undid that button for him. Slender and very soft.

“Oh, my god—you're such a babe,” she breathed out.

“So are you, my goddess,” he retorted; she lunged for his warm tender body once again.

“You're such a fucking—babe,” she breathed harder into his ear. “You're so hot. You're so hot!”

“So are you!” he moaned out as he let his jeans fall right off of his hips and onto the floor.

He tilted his head back so she could kiss his neck and nibble on his skin a bit. He gritted his teeth and let out a soft little grunt at the sensation. They were both as loose as anything else; it was as if she knew right off base as to what pleased him. Every little nibble there on the base of his neck coaxed a little whimper from his throat. That big strapping strong boy had been made into jelly by the mere feeling of her teeth. Her hands ran down his chest and onto his stomach.

His skin was like silk, the finest she had ever witnessed before. He gasped and then he groaned even louder as she bit down a bit harder on him. He then pushed her out of the way and he darted across the floor to the window there. He yanked it open and leaned right out there.

“Oh, my god,” she blurted out over the sound of his wretching. He spat and then he lifted himself up for a better look over at her.

“I'm sorry, that—that was the booze—that wasn't you, I swear,” he told her. “Ugh.”

He spat once more out the window.

“Would you like some water?” she offered him.

“Yes please,” he groaned in a broken voice; his little body, previously seen as beautiful, began to shudder and shake from the feeling. She hurried over to the minibar for one of the water bottles and she screwed off the cap before she handed it to him.

“Ohhh, god, thank you.” He tipped it back and took a large drink of it. She rubbed his back and looked right into face: his skin had washed out to a soft pale tone but his eyes were clear again.

“You okay?” she asked him as he took another large drink, and then he nodded at her.

“I think so,” he confessed in a low voice. Sam huddled closer to him as he breathed heavy from that feeling within him. He stood there next to her in his underwear and with his shirt still open and loose all around his body. Everyone else was either gone or somewhere else: she had to be there with Alex from that point onward.

“Any other girl gets you, I'm gonna give 'er hell,” she vowed. “You're so perfect, Alex. I'm never gonna let you go.”

“I'm not perfect,” he told her, “I mean, you just saw me right there. I'm far from perfect.”

“But you're perfect to me, though,” she insisted as she kissed the side of his neck. He closed his eyes and smiled at that. “You're more than perfect to me.”

He let out a low whistle and he took yet another drink of water.

“Besides, I thought you saw Joey as perfect,” he pointed out as his voice broke some more.

“I do,” she stated, “but you are, too.”

He polished off the water and then he stepped away from the window and back towards the side of the room for his pants. Sam walked back with him, complete with her arm around his back in order for him to keep his balance. He picked up his jeans and then he hesitated.

“Do you hear that?” he asked her with partially closed eyes.

“Hear what?”

Silence on the other side of the door. But then there was a soft shuffling noise there.

“Is there someone here?” he wondered aloud. Sam adjusted her blouse before she opened the door for them.

Ruben stood there before the sound board with a clipboard rested before him. He lifted his head and his eyes widened behind his glasses at the sight of his daughter with a strange boy.

“Sam!” he greeted her.

“Dad!” Sam exclaimed.

“Mr. Shelley!” Alex blurted out. “Oh, shit—oh my god—”

“What the hell's going on in there?” Ruben demanded. He flashed Alex a dirty look, especially since he had only his jeans on over his legs, and on part of the way. He hoisted up his jeans and almost face planted right into the carpet, but he caught himself on the doorknob of the sound room.

“Who are you?” Ruben demanded as he pressed his hands to his hips.

“Dad, this is Alex,” Sam introduced him; her face grew warm, and warmer than usual as well. She ran her fingers through her dark hair so as to keep it off of the side of her neck and her face.

“Alex—you look like the kind of kid who I would've avoided while growing up because you just look way too old to be with my little girl—what, with those grays up top there.”

Alex swallowed out of nerves but Sam rolled her eyes at that.

“Where have you been, by the way?” she asked him as Alex closed a single button on his top.

“Here in the Bay Area,” he promptly replied.

“Yes, but where exactly?”

“Berkeley and also up in Castro Valley.”

“Castro Valley, where Cliff was from?” Sam was stunned by that. Alex almost lost his balance once more and he stumbled forth onto the sound board, but he caught himself before he could fall head first onto the telephone rested there on the ledge. Ruben frowned at that.

“You alright, son?”

“Yes,” he stammered as he picked himself up off of the floor. “I mean, no. I mean, yes? I mean—”

Ruben sniffed the air behind them.

“I smell hops,” he observed, and then he turned to Sam still with a stern look plastered upon his face. “Have you kids been drinking?”

“I haven't,” Sam replied, and he turned to Alex as he fixed his pants.

“It's—It's really not what it looks like, Mr. Shelley,” he sputtered.

“Well, what does it look like?”

“Um—uh—uh—”

“I will say this, I do appreciate your manners, though, son,” Ruben said as he placed his hands to his hips.

“Just doin' what I can, Mr. Shelley,” Alex replied as he straightened himself into an upright position. He ran his fingers through his dark hair and tried to keep himself still right there before them.

“Dad, we were just having a bit of fun,” Sam explained.

“Samantha!” Alex sputtered.

“What? It's just the truth, Alex. We were having fun.”

“Uh—yeah. There's a—a, uh, billiards table in there.” Ruben peered into the room behind him and then nodded his head at that.

“I'll be right back,” he told them, and then he doubled back out the fron door. Sam and Alex gaped at one another.

“That was close,” he said in a low voice.

“Yeah, I'll say,” she added as she ran her hands over the crown of her head.

“I don't know—I don't know what happened,” he confessed with a bit of a stutter.

“You got taken aback, that's what happened,” she told him, “but if it's any fairness to you at all, though, Alex—I did, too. I want to know how he found us.”

“I do, too!” he exclaimed. “It was really just the weirdest thing for him to show up unannounced like that.”

He stood right there before her with his back to the door frame. Even though he had vomited it all out the window, the look of delirium upon his face and his lazy eyes told her that he was still drunk in the head.

“No one can know about this, though,” she told him in a low whisper. “That you and I were both in there and—doing you know what. No one can know. Not even your parents.”

“No way,” he said with a shake of his head.

“You are my best kept secret after all,” she said as she eyed the base of his neck and the little hickey she had left there for him. “Although, you might wanna do something about—”

“Oh! Oh, damn it.” He buttoned his shirt all the way up but she giggled at the sight of him.

“Hang on a second,” Ruben's voice floated back into the main room there. He gestured to Alex. “You're that kid, Skolnick, right?”

“Yes?” He raised an eyebrow at that, and Ruben snapped his fingers and showed him a smile.

“I thought you looked familiar! I just saw the video for that song 'Over the Wall' literally just last week. You sure are a hard working boy, aren't ya? Mr. Lead Guitarist.”

“Again, I—I try my best, Mr. Shelley,” he replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Anyways, you didn't answer my question, Dad,” Sam recalled, “why are you here?”

“I'm working for the label now,” he announced.

“Our label?” Alex was stunned by that. “Testament's label?”

“Yeah.”

The two of them glanced at one another, bewildered.

“The position opened up right when Sam's mother and I got divorced and I just had to take it up mainly because I love the Bay Area and—I, too, miss Cliff. He was like the son I never got to have. It also pays really well and—” His face softened at the sight of Sam right there in front of him, in her jeans and a blouse, and the fire opal bracelet Chuck gave her and the pendant Joey and Ronnie had given her. “—apparently I get to see my little girl again!”

“So you left the door unlocked,” Alex stated.

“I just went up the street real quick, son,” Ruben told him. “I was coming right back.”

“You still left the door unlocked,” Alex insisted.

“I was coming right back,” Ruben argued, albeit with a straight face. He returned to Sam and his eyes lit up again. “So where are you staying at right now, Sam?”

“Well, he and I just got here from New York City—right now, I've been staying with Mom down on Catalina. I just didn't feel like going back down again.”

“That's a hard trip to do, too,” he remarked. “I mean, I'm preaching to the choir on that, too. Going across the country is already a challenge. You know, I finally found a place in Castro Valley, and I have a spare room, too. You know you're more than welcome to come on over any time you're here in the Bay Area.”

“Yeah, you don't have to stay in a hotel,” Alex pointed out.

“What he said! I'm almost on my lunch break, too. Let me take you out to lunch.” Ruben turned to Alex. “Alex can come along if he so wishes.”

“Oh, that's real kind of you, Mr. Shelley, but—I'm not feeling too good right now. I think I'm gonna go home and lie down. Besides, I want the two of you to have some time together anyway.”

“Hard working kid and he's a gentleman,” Ruben remarked, and then he raised a finger to them. “I'll be right back.” He doubled back to the front door, and then Sam and Alex glimpsed at one another again.

“No one can ever know about us,” she whispered to him, to which he shook his head.

“Not a soul.” She extended a pinky finger to him and he hooked his around it. She gazed into his face as the color washed out again.

“Go have some more water,” she encouraged him in a hushed voice.

“Yeah, I feel like I'm gonna puke again...”

#hehehe #fanfic #fanfiction #testament fanfic #testament band #testament #chapter 23 #fever in fever out #fever in fever out fanfic #alex skolnick #alex x sam #souls of black #book four #very mild smut #like... really mild #also on wattpad #also on ao3 #writing #text

4 notes · View notes