fandomhighdorms | The roof - Wednesday after classes

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The roof - Wednesday after classes

Slowly but surely, Chuck was going crazy. It had been three days since he last...you know. Three. Days. This was a guy who had fun with himself at least twice a day. Going out with Sam last night had been a nice distraction (jail was pretty good at distracting you) but it didn't last long.

He couldn't stay in his room since there was porn in there, he couldn't hang out in the common room since there was people in there, he couldn't go visit the rooms he normally visited because he slept with most of his friends and it was too early for the bar to be open. So he went for the old standby and decided to get high on the roof. At least up here it was somewhat private.

He might very well die if this lasts much longer.

[Open roof is open but he is in a pissy mood]

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"You were in jail?" Hannibal asked, momentarily distracted from his woe. "You and Sam Goody Two Shoes?"

This was going to be mean. Sorry, Chuck.

"Was there prison sex?"

"Oddly enough he wasn't in the mood," Chuck joked. He had been on the roof for a while now. He was high enough to handle a little teasing.

"Too bad, I would have been," he said and sighed. He missed sex. Probably shouldn't be this close to Chuck with those thoughts. Oh well. He was too lazy to leave. "Things turned out okay, it seems?"

Great, now he was thinking of sex in that jail cell. He glared over at Hannibal for that. "Yes. My father's lawyer took care of it."

"Lucky you," Hannibal said, recognizing that glare. He'd been doing it a lot too. "I'm sure Sam would have your back if you'd been in there longer. Covered your ass. Been behind you all the way."

Now, he was being mean. To both Chuck and himself.

"He certainly lent a hand to help me out last night," Chuck said, catching on rather quickly. "If it weren't for him I would have ended up on my back right there in public."

Hannibal narrowed his eyes at Chuck and wondered just how far reaching the plumbing problems went. Maybe it was only his right hand that was the issue.

"Oh, I'm glad to hear that he had the problems well in hand," Hannibal countered. "It would have sucked if you'd been jerked around until you were so drained of energy that you couldn't even stand."

"That would blow," Chuck agreed with a nod. He was thinking along the same lines of Hannibal, actually. "I'm just glad my lawyer was awake that late at night. The law would have had me on my knees if we couldn't have gotten a hold of him."

Oh, fuck. Not fair. Not fair at all.

"I'm sure the police weren't happy about having to release you," Hannibal said. "Probably made it hard to swallow but they're too proud to spit. Myself? I just wanted a lollipop to suck on last night."

"Oh, Hannibal, those are so bad for you," Chuck said, trying to look concerned. "I'm sure you could find better things to stick in your mouth."

"Oh, yeah?" Hannibal asked, trying to look as innocent as he could. "Like what?"

"Hmm...something hard, that's for sure. And big. It's so much more satisfying when it's big," Chuck said. He looked over at Hannibal innocently. "Know of anything like that?"

Now he was just screwing himself over. And not in the good way.

"The harder the better," Hannibal said, stepping closer and signing his death warrant. "If the person who knows said...thing is aggressive? Almost dominantly so? Then, that's even better. I'll have to be on the look out for something like this. Because I really want it now."

"Jesus Christ," Chuck murmured. "Yeah, I'd want that too."

He flicked whatever was left of his joint off of the roof and tried counting to ten in his head. Goddammit. God fucking dammit.

"You find someone who has that, you let me know," Hannibal said, shifting just a touch to make himself more comfortable. He wasn't at the counting stage yet. He was just imagining old women in swimwear.

"I think I have someone in mind," Chuck said after a moment. Why he was making it so hard on himself (god, pun intended) when he should just turn around and walk away right now he didn't know.

"Gonna let me in on the secret?" Hannibal asked, stepping closer to Chuck and imagining the Queen of England naked.

Chuck smirked and moved closer, close enough to take the edges of Hannibal's shirt into his hands. He curled his fingers into it playfully. "You can't guess?"

He was so going to regret this. Damn his inability to back down from anything.

"I think I can guess," he said and smiled slowly. To further torture himself (and Chuck), he leaned closer and said, "And just imagine if I was wearing a suit and tie while I let you fuck my face."

Even imagining old people in underwear couldn't trump that.

"Fuck," Chuck mumbled, closing his eyes for a second. "I'm going to make you regret saying that."

One day when he wasn't experiencing, ahem, technical difficulties.

"You're having the same issues I am?" Hannibal asked, almost grateful not to be alone.

"Yeah, I think so," Chuck said, nodding. Thank fuck it wasn't just him. That would be cause for panic.

"Can you get it up and just not...finish the race or something?" he asked, peering around the roof.

"Yes," Chuck said, keeping his voice low. "It's driving me fucking crazy."

"Yeah, me too," he said and grimaced. "How is that fucking both of us are having this issue at the same time?"

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