A Day In The Life of a Nose Candy Addict [1/1]
Title : A Day In The Life of a Nose Candy Addict
Summary : “Hey there, slugger,” Bedussey greeted, drawing out his vowels nonchalantly as he jingled the keys again.
Author :
ohso_intricate
Pairing: Bedussey x Pancho (Patrick x Pete)
Rating : R for lots of swearing and explicit content.
Author's Notes: I said I was going to do this a while ago. Finally got around to it. Has no point. Didn't feel like writing actual porn. Forgive me.
Mid-afternoon on a Wednesday in the middle of Summer, and Pancho was having trouble keeping his hands from shaking. He sniffed loudly through his nose, seated in front of his dealer‘s door, hands clasped together in his lap. They quivered against each other, his foot bouncing up and down on the ball of his feet. His elbows rested against his thighs, and he spared another glance at his watch. His ran a hand through his hair. Oh, Cindy was going to kill him.
Fuck Bedussey. Fuck him with something hard and fucking sand-papery. Where the hell did he get off, not being home? Didn’t he know he had orders to fill? Of course, Pancho didn’t exactly make appointments, but shouldn’t a coke dealer be home at all times? How unprofessional. He looked down at his watch again, sniffing once more, about to just break into the god damn apartment and get his fix on his own. The fucker was lucky they were on friendly terms.
He heard footsteps and keys jingling and looked up. Bedussey looked down at him with a mildly amused expression, dressed in a plaid shirt and corduroys, sunglasses dangling from his neck. The sun shone proudly off of his bald spot. Pancho scowled.
“Hey there, slugger,” Bedussey greeted, drawing out his vowels nonchalantly as he jingled the keys again.
“Fuck you, man,” Pancho spat, getting to his feet. “Just, you know-- just.” He sniffed, hands shaking at his sides. He balled them into fists. “Fuck you. Just open the god damn door, man. Just fucking open it.”
“Your lady on your nuts again, man?” The dealer inquired, stepping towards the door to his apartment. He searched for the correct key.
“Shit, dude.”
Bedussey merely nodded, finding the key and pushing it into the slot. He jiggled it a few times, before finally turning it and pushing the door open. He then began to descend down into his home, Pancho following close behind. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dim lightly, sniffing loudly. Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs he started towards where he kept his supply.
“You want the usual?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Pancho agreed hurriedly, rubbing his bare arms. “Yeah, man. Don’t matter.”
“Wanna split it?” Asked Bedussey, now unlocking the other door. “Half-price, man. Or will your lady be pissed? Bitch does more than you do.”
Pancho ignored the statement towards Cindy, watching intently as Bedussey unlocked the door. “Yeah. Just, yeah, man. Whatever. Unlock the-- Unlock the fucking door, man! Just open it!”
But Bedussey went on as the key he’d tried did not work. He began looking for the correct one. “When you gotta be home?”
“Right now,” Pancho hissed. “Cind is-- she’s--” He paused, sniffing. “I don’t wanna talk about it. She’s being a bitch. Is that it?” He pointed to the key that Bedussey now had between his index finger and thumb. The dealer shrugged.
“Fuck if I know.” He tried it, only to find it didn’t work. He started looking again. “I don’t even fucking use half of these.”
“Then get rid of’em!” Pancho’s patience was obviously wearing thin. “Just open the damn door, you fat mother fucker!”
“Watch your fucking mouth, dude,” Bedussey said, trying another key. “This fat mother fucker’s got your fix.”
“Yeah, yeah. Sorry, dude, sorry. Yeah. Is that it? That’s it.” He shoved the door open before his dealer had a chance to, as soon as it was unlocked. He walked in quickly, but Bedussey took his time, sauntering inside and towards his table. Money was spread out upon it, accompanied by bags filled with a white substance. Pancho shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, eyeing the table eagerly.
“Hurry up, man,” he insisted. “Cind’s gonna fucking kill me if I’m any later than I gotta be.”
“Fuck her,” Bedussey responded pleasantly. “She’s not paying for shit. Didn’t you break up with her anyway, man?”
“Last week,” Pancho informed him. “We-- you know how it is. Got back together. You know-- shit, you know.”
“I know.” Bedussey took a seat and Pancho ventured closer. “Pull up a chair, man. We’re splitting, remember?”
“She’s gonna kill me. Kill me, man. No joke.”
“Sit your ass down.”
***
Thirty minutes later, Pancho was still in Bedussey’s apartment, now on the pool table, his dealer sprawled out beneath him. Mouths and tongues moved together, teeth clicking, hands roaming, and Pancho began to wonder just what the fuck he’d been so worried about in the first-- oh, yeah, Cindy.
“Fuck her,” Bedussey hissed against the other’s mouth. “Wait, man. No, don’t. Fuck me.”
“S’kind of the plan, dude,” Pancho mumbled, his hands traveling downwards to Bedussey’s pants. He unbuttoned and unzipped as his mind unwound, delving further to stroke the hardness beneath the material. Bedussey moaned into his mouth, bucking his hips into the other man’s hand. Pancho’s mouth attached to his neck, sucking hard, nibbling on the feverish flesh. Bedussey writhed helplessly beneath him, hands rushing downward to grip his companion’s ass.
Not more than ten minutes afterward, Pancho had Bedussey’s cock in his mouth and was sucking like there was no tomorrow. His cell ringing non-stop (no doubt Cindy) reminded him that, for him, there probably wouldn’t be.
“She tries to kill me, I’m hiding out here,” he breathed, against the tip of the other man’s cock. Bedussey let out a breathy laugh.
“Long as you don’t bring a fucking wire, man, I’m good.”
Pancho laughed as well. “Yeah, dude. A fucking wire. You wanna watch out for that one.” And he took the swollen member back into his mouth.
***
“The hell were you?!” Cindy screeched as he walked through the door looking satisfied.
“Sorry, baby,” he cooed, surprisingly not brought down by her shrieks. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. I got the stuff. Calm down.” He reached into his pocket for the bag, only to find the empty inside of his jeans. His eyes widened and he checked his other pocket, then his back pockets, then lifted his shirt. He swore under his breath. “Oh-- Shit, babe, I’m sorry. I must’ve-- Fuck, I left it. I’ll go-- baby?”
Cindy stared, red in the face, lips pursed, eyes wide, at his shirt -- no longer pulled up. He looked down to see what she was looking at and his jaw dropped at the large, white stain -- still sticky -- that was presented. His head shot back up, met by her infuriated face.
“Oh shit. Oh shit, baby, I can explain. It’s not -- I -- Oh, fuck.”
He was out the door before her hands could make contact with his throat, heading straight to Bedussey’s.
Summary : “Hey there, slugger,” Bedussey greeted, drawing out his vowels nonchalantly as he jingled the keys again.
Author :
ohso_intricatePairing: Bedussey x Pancho (Patrick x Pete)
Rating : R for lots of swearing and explicit content.
Author's Notes: I said I was going to do this a while ago. Finally got around to it. Has no point. Didn't feel like writing actual porn. Forgive me.
Mid-afternoon on a Wednesday in the middle of Summer, and Pancho was having trouble keeping his hands from shaking. He sniffed loudly through his nose, seated in front of his dealer‘s door, hands clasped together in his lap. They quivered against each other, his foot bouncing up and down on the ball of his feet. His elbows rested against his thighs, and he spared another glance at his watch. His ran a hand through his hair. Oh, Cindy was going to kill him.
Fuck Bedussey. Fuck him with something hard and fucking sand-papery. Where the hell did he get off, not being home? Didn’t he know he had orders to fill? Of course, Pancho didn’t exactly make appointments, but shouldn’t a coke dealer be home at all times? How unprofessional. He looked down at his watch again, sniffing once more, about to just break into the god damn apartment and get his fix on his own. The fucker was lucky they were on friendly terms.
He heard footsteps and keys jingling and looked up. Bedussey looked down at him with a mildly amused expression, dressed in a plaid shirt and corduroys, sunglasses dangling from his neck. The sun shone proudly off of his bald spot. Pancho scowled.
“Hey there, slugger,” Bedussey greeted, drawing out his vowels nonchalantly as he jingled the keys again.
“Fuck you, man,” Pancho spat, getting to his feet. “Just, you know-- just.” He sniffed, hands shaking at his sides. He balled them into fists. “Fuck you. Just open the god damn door, man. Just fucking open it.”
“Your lady on your nuts again, man?” The dealer inquired, stepping towards the door to his apartment. He searched for the correct key.
“Shit, dude.”
Bedussey merely nodded, finding the key and pushing it into the slot. He jiggled it a few times, before finally turning it and pushing the door open. He then began to descend down into his home, Pancho following close behind. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dim lightly, sniffing loudly. Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs he started towards where he kept his supply.
“You want the usual?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Pancho agreed hurriedly, rubbing his bare arms. “Yeah, man. Don’t matter.”
“Wanna split it?” Asked Bedussey, now unlocking the other door. “Half-price, man. Or will your lady be pissed? Bitch does more than you do.”
Pancho ignored the statement towards Cindy, watching intently as Bedussey unlocked the door. “Yeah. Just, yeah, man. Whatever. Unlock the-- Unlock the fucking door, man! Just open it!”
But Bedussey went on as the key he’d tried did not work. He began looking for the correct one. “When you gotta be home?”
“Right now,” Pancho hissed. “Cind is-- she’s--” He paused, sniffing. “I don’t wanna talk about it. She’s being a bitch. Is that it?” He pointed to the key that Bedussey now had between his index finger and thumb. The dealer shrugged.
“Fuck if I know.” He tried it, only to find it didn’t work. He started looking again. “I don’t even fucking use half of these.”
“Then get rid of’em!” Pancho’s patience was obviously wearing thin. “Just open the damn door, you fat mother fucker!”
“Watch your fucking mouth, dude,” Bedussey said, trying another key. “This fat mother fucker’s got your fix.”
“Yeah, yeah. Sorry, dude, sorry. Yeah. Is that it? That’s it.” He shoved the door open before his dealer had a chance to, as soon as it was unlocked. He walked in quickly, but Bedussey took his time, sauntering inside and towards his table. Money was spread out upon it, accompanied by bags filled with a white substance. Pancho shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, eyeing the table eagerly.
“Hurry up, man,” he insisted. “Cind’s gonna fucking kill me if I’m any later than I gotta be.”
“Fuck her,” Bedussey responded pleasantly. “She’s not paying for shit. Didn’t you break up with her anyway, man?”
“Last week,” Pancho informed him. “We-- you know how it is. Got back together. You know-- shit, you know.”
“I know.” Bedussey took a seat and Pancho ventured closer. “Pull up a chair, man. We’re splitting, remember?”
“She’s gonna kill me. Kill me, man. No joke.”
“Sit your ass down.”
***
Thirty minutes later, Pancho was still in Bedussey’s apartment, now on the pool table, his dealer sprawled out beneath him. Mouths and tongues moved together, teeth clicking, hands roaming, and Pancho began to wonder just what the fuck he’d been so worried about in the first-- oh, yeah, Cindy.
“Fuck her,” Bedussey hissed against the other’s mouth. “Wait, man. No, don’t. Fuck me.”
“S’kind of the plan, dude,” Pancho mumbled, his hands traveling downwards to Bedussey’s pants. He unbuttoned and unzipped as his mind unwound, delving further to stroke the hardness beneath the material. Bedussey moaned into his mouth, bucking his hips into the other man’s hand. Pancho’s mouth attached to his neck, sucking hard, nibbling on the feverish flesh. Bedussey writhed helplessly beneath him, hands rushing downward to grip his companion’s ass.
Not more than ten minutes afterward, Pancho had Bedussey’s cock in his mouth and was sucking like there was no tomorrow. His cell ringing non-stop (no doubt Cindy) reminded him that, for him, there probably wouldn’t be.
“She tries to kill me, I’m hiding out here,” he breathed, against the tip of the other man’s cock. Bedussey let out a breathy laugh.
“Long as you don’t bring a fucking wire, man, I’m good.”
Pancho laughed as well. “Yeah, dude. A fucking wire. You wanna watch out for that one.” And he took the swollen member back into his mouth.
***
“The hell were you?!” Cindy screeched as he walked through the door looking satisfied.
“Sorry, baby,” he cooed, surprisingly not brought down by her shrieks. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. I got the stuff. Calm down.” He reached into his pocket for the bag, only to find the empty inside of his jeans. His eyes widened and he checked his other pocket, then his back pockets, then lifted his shirt. He swore under his breath. “Oh-- Shit, babe, I’m sorry. I must’ve-- Fuck, I left it. I’ll go-- baby?”
Cindy stared, red in the face, lips pursed, eyes wide, at his shirt -- no longer pulled up. He looked down to see what she was looking at and his jaw dropped at the large, white stain -- still sticky -- that was presented. His head shot back up, met by her infuriated face.
“Oh shit. Oh shit, baby, I can explain. It’s not -- I -- Oh, fuck.”
He was out the door before her hands could make contact with his throat, heading straight to Bedussey’s.