Chapter Text
My hand shook as I tried to put the keys in the lock as fast as I could. The palms travelling all over my torso weren’t helping; in fact, they were making it worse. I cursed under my breath, the keys jingling in my hands, the sweat dripping down the back of my neck.
“Natsu, if your aim with a key is so bad I fear your other aim isn’t going to be much better.”
Honestly, that little comment ticked me off, but it had been a while since I’d been with a woman and I was prepared to let it slide.
At long last, the door gave mercy, and we toppled inside.
Since I’d left without any plans of bringing anyone back, the room was a total mess, with clothes all around, dating back to two months ago. I could see that it wasn’t what she expected, but I guess we were both too horny—or too drunk—to really care. We made our way to the bed, bumping into my desk, my chair, my closet, and apparently 20 other things as I did my best to tear her clothes off in the process. I’d heard other guys say that undressing them was the biggest part of the fun but I never saw the appeal, and just wanted to get it over with as fast as I could.
“I’m not drunk enough to let you rip my Gabbana” she mumbled, but I brought my lips down on hers because honestly, I didn’t want to hear it. She knew why she was here and so did I, so any unnecessary comments weren’t appreciated.
I felt one of her hands slide in my hair as the other—against all odds—tried to take off her dress in a safer manner, and it really irked me more than it should have.
“Okay you get undressed while I go to the bathroom,” I said, pulling away. She didn’t protest, and I left the room. I walked into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. My hands rested on the sink as I stared at the face watching me. Not bad, I guessed, since it had scored me nights like this. I took a deep breath and rummaged in the drawers for a condom, but I came up short.
Ignoring the panic rising up in me, I tried to remain calm and think about my options. It was almost 3AM so running out to find an open store was virtually out of the question. I could ask the woman in my room if she had one but I doubted it. I felt my annoyance grow even more, this night turning into more of a chore than actual enjoyment.
I tiptoed to my kitchen, and pulled out the scotch I kept for times like this, times when I was losing my nerve and needed something to push me into that bedroom and onto whoever was in there. I took a swig straight out the bottle, gulping down like no tomorrow.
Slowly, I dragged my legs back to the room, “Okay, let’s do this.”
“It sounds like you’re going to fight me,” she chuckled, and for the first time that night I let myself examine her.
She was a tall-ish brunette, looking straight at me with a challenging expression, amplified by the view of her entire naked body sprawled across my bed like she owned it. Her name was a mystery to me, even though I was sure she’d mentioned it a lot of times while we were at the bar. She raised her eyebrow in waiting. I slapped my face to tighten my resolve and got on top of her.
It’s not that I didn’t want it—I really needed it, since it had been a while—but I was already contemplating what a nuisance it would be to get her to leave the next day.
I don’t know if it was the alcohol gripping my mind once again, or the fact that she pulled me down and slammed her mouth on my own, but I managed to block out those thoughts and focus on the moment. My hands travelled down her neck to her chest, and hers were already undoing my belt.
Suddenly, my mind was going blank and the more I tried to think about the fact that this was a dirty room with a girl I didn’t particularly find attractive and I had no protection, the less I seemed to care. And that’s just the way I liked it. Quick, nameless sex with a random person and then she’s out of my sight and out of my mind and out of my bed for good. Yes, that was just the way I wanted it.
She started moaning, maybe a bit too much considering I was still only fondling her breasts, but I went with it, and took off my shirt. This was it. She was right.
It did feel like a fight.
I pounced, gripping her thigh with one hand and helping her undo my belt with the other, my mouth already on hers, her extremely loud moans bouncing off of my lips. I tried not to listen too hard, think about something else, focus on the movement, the touch, the feel of skin.
The bed was rocking, the headboard slamming the wall even before we got anywhere near the good part, and I felt my legs tangle in my pants and her hand reach out to try and wrestle them away. Finally, my mind got quiet.
Finally, I was in the moment.
Finally, I could do what we came here to do.
I pulled my boxers off, and right on cue, we heard ear-splitting music. And I mean loud. Way too loud for an apartment building and way too loud for 3 in the fucking morning.
“What the hell is that?” My guest asked, and I pulled away to try and discern where it was coming from. It appeared to be coming from the apartment right next to mine, which as I remember when I was buying this one, had its bedroom right on the other side of the wall. But it was impossible. I’d lived in the building for a year and there was nobody there. 365 days I’d gone to sleep and woke up in that same bed and there was never so much as a peep from anyone.
I couldn’t make out what the music was but it was too damn loud for my taste. I turned to my date and I could see that she was pissed off too.
“Okay,” I ran my hands through my hair, “let me put my clothes back on and I will go and check it out.”
She didn’t say anything as I pulled on my shirt and jeans, sitting with her arms crossed.
I remembered something, and turned to her, “Do you have a condom?”
She stared at me with her mouth hanging open, “Isn’t that the guy’s responsibility?”
“I mean I guess,” I mumbled, sure that if we’d continued what we were doing with no interruptions none of us would be thinking about protection.
I walked out of my apartment, stomping down the hall even though it was late, and pounded on the neighbor’s door as loud as I could. There was no mistaking it now, the music was coming from the previously empty apartment. I waited a few seconds, and when nothing changed, I banged my fist against the wall again.
Still nothing.
Extremely pissed off, I hauled my ass back to my bedroom, where the brunette was now sitting on my bed. I could see from her face that whatever spell we’d been under before was completely gone now. It was obvious that the sexual tension was the only thing keeping us together, and that was melting away by the second.
The look in her eyes said ‘what am I doing?’ and honestly the same question had already popped into my head a few times in the course of the night.
I wasn’t sure if she wanted to continue, and I started toward her, but the way she snapped her legs closed told me that there was no chance of anything else happening for the rest of the night. Still, if someone had to ask it had to be me.
“Do you want to go home?”
She stared at me, her expression unreadable, “Do you remember my name? My age?”
I tried to think, but that might insult her further, so I just shrugged my shoulders.
“Yeah,” she added, pulling her dress from the floor, “I think I want to go home.”
She dressed in silence, and the music in the other room seemed to die down too. It went away gradually, like whoever was listening to it decided to lower it one decibel at a time.
I looked around the room trying to give the girl some privacy, which was ridiculous considering we were just locked in a naked embrace. She fished her bag out of a pile of clothes I had lying around on the chair, and I went with her to the door.
“Let me at least drive you home,” I offered, even though I was in no condition to drive and we both knew it.
“Maybe you can call me a cab.”
I did as she said, after spending a couple of minutes in the hall looking for my phone. The music was gone by then. “The music is off,” I said, “in case that’s what was ruining the mood.”
“Honestly, there wasn’t much of a mood to begin with.” She replied. “Maybe this is for the best. It saved us one awkward morning.”
I silently agreed, and she left the apartment. I dragged my body, already weary from the alcohol, back into my room. I plopped down on my bed, my head spinning. I could barely make out the events of the night, the only things clear in my mind being me drinking in a bar, hitting on some girl, catching a cab back to my place, and that was it. Her face was already blurred with the rest of the girls over the years. You could bring me 10 women and I’d have no idea which one—if any—I’d been with.
I thought back to where it all started, and it was probably my late teens. I’d lost my virginity to someone in a club bathroom, that I remembered clearly, because I was too drunk to take her anywhere and too careless to think about what a stupid thing I was doing. I was with my friends, and they were all doing the same things so it seemed fine at the time. I was the late bloomer even.
However, it seemed to become the norm. And when I say ‘the norm’, I’m slightly exaggerating.
I’d bring a girl home a few times a year, when being home alone started to feal unbearable. Sometimes, they would come over for a while, a week or a month, but it was never any sort of relationship.
Yeah, my love life consisted of a few hookups and that was it.
I got up and walked around the room, into the hall, passed by the bathroom, and into the living room. It was quiet and nice, styled by whoever it was that the landlord had hired before I bought it. It was a nice home, had everything I needed, and I bought it with my own hard-earned money, so I was damn proud.
Yes, when you put it that way, there was never really anything missing.
I crawled back into bed, my ears still ringing from either the drinking or the music, I couldn’t tell. But I remember falling asleep with the thought that I’d have to give that damned neighbor a piece of my mind.
The next morning found me squirming in my bed, cursing the me from last night that didn’t think to close the damned curtains before going to sleep. The sun shone unwelcomingly in my eyes, giving life to the room, and most importantly, to my memories from the previous evening. I tried to conjure a memory of the girl but I failed, instead the only thing my mind could focus on being the fucking loud music and the unsuccessfulness of it all.
I rolled to the other side of the bed, hiding my face under the pillow to drown out the light, but I was already too awake to continue sleeping. Growling in anger, I threw the pillow at the window, the latter of course sustaining no damage whatsoever, and got up to face the day.
My ears still ringing, I plugged my phone to charge it, since the battery was completely drained. I took a quick shower, rinsing off the lipstick stains on my torso and the smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol oozing from my pores. My head felt like it was going to split in half, and all that trouble for a girl who left before I could collect my reward.
Anger bubbled up inside of me again, and I was debating whether to just go next door and bash the neighbor’s head in, when I settled against it. I was not one to avoid a fight, but I was still a little groggy. It would have to wait.
I ignored my stomach’s desperate plea for food, and instead pulled on some sweats. I jogged down the stairs of the small building to the store across the street. I needed to replenish both my alcohol and condom supply before I went out on a hunt again. And boy, was I going to. If there was one thing Natsu Dragneel didn’t like, it was being beaten. And I was roaring to go out again and show the world that if one woman leaves another will take her place right away.
I got a bottle of Jack, and three boxes of condoms, ignoring the stares of the people around me. I slammed my treasure proudly on the register, waiting for the guy in front of me to pay for his things so I could leave faster. The guy in question, probably roused by my aggressive movements, took a peek at my direction. He eyed the condoms and the bottle, cocking one eyebrow up as if amused, and then gave me a once-over.
He was tall, almost as tall as me, hair so blonde it was almost white. He wore dark jeans and a blue t-shirt. We stared at each other, his face a mix of interest and confusion. I could practically read the ‘what an idiot’ in his eyes, but then he just smirked and looked away, as if I wasn’t worth thinking about.
I suddenly felt angry. Who does he think he is?
I threw some money at the cashier, not even bothering to think about my change, and angrily stomped outside the store, ready to pick a fight with the guy. I looked around, finally noticing him as he was crossing the street. I trailed after him, but stopped in my tracks when he entered my building. Since when did someone like that live there?
Shaking the confusion off of me, I quickened my pace to catch up to him. Even from behind I could tell that ne was working out, both his body and his face oozing confidence and ego. But that wasn’t a problem. It’s not like I wasn’t strong. I could take him and come off the better of it.
I entered my building, jumping two stairs at a time to catch up to him. He got up the third floor, my floor, where my apartment is, and I was ready to throw hands.
And then, when he fiddled with the keys in the lock of the door next to mine, it hit me. He was the guy who blasted his music yesterday. The guy who scared away my date and the guy who was responsible for me having to go out again tonight and try to find another one. Oh, he was going to pay alright. And when I come to collect, I collect double.
Before he could open the door, I grabbed a fistful of his shirt, smirking when he dropped his groceries in surprise. I ignored the apples rolling down the floor, and instead my eyes locked on his. His momentary confusion was over, and his hand gripped my arm.
“What’s the big idea, pal?” He asked, clearly ticked off.
“You tell me.” I said, anger bubbling in the pit of my stomach.
For a second, it appeared that he had absolutely no idea what I was talking about, but it didn’t faze him in the least. “Tell me what you’re here for before I mop the floor with you.”
“Oh?” I snickered, feeling the control over my body slowly give way to my instincts, “First you ruin my night, now you wanna ruin your own morning?”
There it was, that same questioning look in his eyes. Did this guy sleep walk or something? Why weren’t my words registering?
“I ain’t got any idea what you’re talking about buddy, but if you’re itching for a fight, I’m happy to provide.”
I debated whether I should just punch now and ask questions later, but the sounds on the floor below us told me that we weren’t alone. I remembered that this was a public building, and eased up a bit.
“That damned music,” I said, my grip loosening, “You totally killed the mood my woman and I had going yesterday.”
He seemed confused at first, and then a smile creeped up his lips, “Sorry to disappoint,” he chuckled, “I wasn’t here last night. Must’ve been my girl.”
Completely confused, I dropped his shirt, his own hand leaving my arm in the process.
I hadn’t counted on this. I had absolutely no idea what to do. Sure, I could bash his head in but what would that accomplish when he wasn’t even the one to blame? He could see me hesitating, and bent down to collect his things. The apples being safely back in his grocery bag, he turned to the door. “I’m Sting. And, don’t worry,” he said, “I’ll talk some sense into her and it won’t happen again.”
My eyes had a hard time focusing on the glass in front of me. I couldn’t tell if it was full or empty, or what it contained, or which round it was, or who’d given it to me. I looked up to try and remember where I was, the music and chatter not helping.
Suddenly, I felt something warm tickle the inner part of my thigh, and I looked down to find a small hand squeezing my jeans. My eyes trailed up the arm to find its owner, a tall black-haired girl staring into my eyes. I looked down at her exposed cleavage, a red tank top doing its best to try and cover at least a little part of her torso. She squeezed my leg again, and my eyes darted back to her face, finally figuring out that she’d been saying something all this time.
“What?” I croaked, my right hand blindly grasping for the glass on the counter as I tried to hear what she was saying.
“You zoned out for a while,” she said, “I asked you if you want to come home with me.”
Oh. Oh no. I never go anywhere. If she wanted something, she’d have to come to me, first. I would do a lot of things to get laid, but going to another woman’s home was not one of them. The comfort, the knowing that I was in my own apartment was what kept me focused. I’d tried to follow some girls to their place before, and let’s just say I wasn’t up to the task. I needed some sense of security, some sense of possession if I was ever going to sleep with them.
Plus, I liked kicking them out in the morning, and feeling accomplished as they dragged themselves back to wherever, while I showered off their touch, their smell and their sweat off me. It was the best part of the sex. The part that came after.
“I ain’t,” I muttered, my speech beyond recognition, “goin’ anywhere.”
She rolled her eyes, ordering two more drinks for us from the barmaid. A martini and a whiskey. So that’s what I was drinking. “That’s what you’re saying but you’re staring at my chest.” She said, and I realized she was right. That struck me as especially funny, and she didn’t seem all too pleased when I laughed.
“Okaaaay,” I slurred, “you’ll just have to come to meee.”
She shrugged, downing the drink the barmaid got her, and shoved my own drink in my hands. Her arm detached itself from my leg as I chugged the drink in one go, and took out my wallet to leave some money on the counter. I had no idea how much I left. I’d inspect the damage in the morning when numbers would have meaning again.
The girl and I took one of the taxis conveniently parked outside, waiting for suckers like us, and it took me a few minutes before I was able to blurt out the address. I leaned in the seat, trying to restore some order to my thoughts when I felt something creep up my leg again. I snapped my eyes open and looked down on the hands struggling with my zipper.
Oh, she was a feisty one.
Ignoring my stomach pains, I slammed my mouth on hers, pain shooting through my head as I fought my brain to shut up and just enjoy it.
The taxi driver was probably used to all this, and the fact that he was waiting outside a packed bar at 2 AM on a Saturday meant he knew what he was getting into.
We kissed clumsily, her teeth chipping at my tongue like it was a wrestling match and not foreplay, and her fingers finally managed to pull down my jeans enough to find their way inside. Feeling like I should do something as well, I sneaked one hand under her shirt, trying to focus my sense of touch and take in what I was feeling. I tried to take off her bra, but gave up when I noticed that it was too difficult to maneuver in the cramped car. Instead, my hand just cupped her breast and stayed there, like I was holding something for support rather than for arousal.
She didn’t dwell on it though, breaking apart to transfer her mouth down to my neck, and my other hand finally remembered that it should be moving, and I buried it in her hair. This seemed to be the confirmation she was waiting for, and she bit down hard.
It was a good thing the car screeched to a halt or I would’ve screamed.
Still in a daze, I struggled with my wallet before she took it herself, paid God knows how much, and we stumbled out the door and into the building. My stomach was still doing summersaults, reminding me that I had nothing for dinner and everything to drink. I felt queasy, the cab ride making it totally worse since I had some mild sort of stupid motion sickness that made it difficult for me to ride a car unscathed. I was mostly fine in vehicles, but combined with alcohol it could be a hell of a bitch.
I slipped off the stairs a bunch of times, but the woman wasn’t giving up, hauling my drunk ass of the floor and practically yanking me through the halls, “Which floor?” She breathed, not caring that I was stumbling because my jeans were now down to my ankles, my boxers in full view.
“Third,” I choaked out, feeling my head split and contract, dark edges enveloping everything I was seeing, the stairs and doors swimming in and out of view with every passing second. I had no idea what was going on, still feeling like I was being driven around in a car, the alcohol and her tight pull on my arm not helping in the least. I drifted in and out of consciousness, when she finally had enough and slapped me awake.
“Third floor,” she mumbled, as we crashed against my door, and she pulled me up for a kiss, running her hands down who knows where, and I fought to keep my mind afloat as I kissed her back. I tasted blood, too out of it to care if it was hers or mine, instead slamming her back against the door as I tried to bend down to the jeans now practically dragging behind me so I could search for my keys. She didn’t take the hint and pulled me back up, crashing her mouth onto mine and I honestly debated just doing it in the hallway to get it over with. She seemed to come to the same conclusion, her left hand toying with the elastic on my boxers, my head slamming against the door one more time, the loud sound echoing through the hallway.
Suddenly, the surface we were perched on shifted, and she yelped. Earthquake?
Despite my drunken state, I managed to grip her waist and keep us both upright, before I noticed that the ground wasn’t shaking. The ground had nothing to do with it. It was the door.
I was mortified when the door we were both leaning on opened. The girl in my arms seemed to feel the same way, widening her eyes in shock as she stared inside. It registered in my mind that this was the apartment my new blonde neighbor I met in the morning lived in.
And indeed, as I turned around, disheveled and drunk, jeans long discarded on the cold floors, one hand tight on my boxers and the other on my guest’s waist, head bubbling with pain and confusion, I saw my blonde neighbor.
Except… wait.
Scratch that.
I was either too drunk or my neighbor had shrunken down to a smaller, thinner, girlier version of himself. The hair was still blonde yes, but it was long, running past the shoulders and down to the elbows of the person. Her eyes—yes it was a she—were dark brown and concerned, laced with confusion and fear. I don’t know why it registered at the time, but she was wearing pink fluffy pajamas and slippers. Cute.
A look of drowsiness and the fact that, again—it was 2 in the fucking morning—led me to believe that she’d been sleeping before we’d had the grand idea to dry hump on her door.
She seemed to say something. Well, either her or the girl I brought with me, but I swore I could hear a voice as my face slammed hard on the ground beneath me.