fletcher cross
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Post by fletcher cross on Jun 30, 2008 19:04:10 GMT -5
Fletcher awaited him quietly, itching to get out of the place. He wanted to go home and get warm—he knew that as soon as he transformed back, he’d be wet due to his genius idea of walking through pools of water. Plus, he’d be freezing. Thankfully, it took merely a split-second for Andrew to be beside him. He looked up at the vampire curiously for a moment, as if searching for something. He shrugged it off. Again he pressed himself against the boy’s leg and started off down the tunnel. Something unusual was going on, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. It struck him. The number of green fireflies was dwindling; the area slowly got darker and darker...
He whined as quietly as he could, now aware of the fact that Andrew’s ears had probably bled to death because of him, to make sure he was alright. Sure, he could feel the other boy, but he might’ve injured himself in some obscure way, or so he told himself. They only had a little way to go, though. Well, technically, he didn’t know; he had a feeling that they were pretty damn close, which was better than nothing. I... Fletch’s thoughts drifted back to the beginning of the mess, more specifically the kiss. He shivered, hairs bristling as he walked along. Oh, what he would give to relive that moment.
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andrew lacetti
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Post by andrew lacetti on Jun 30, 2008 19:21:36 GMT -5
Andrew walked beside Fletcher down the tunnel. Was it him, or was it getting darker as they went? Andrew took a glance upwards--there weren't as many lightning bugs as there had been in the rest of the caves and tunnels. Maybe that meant they were getting closer to the exit. Hopefully. Andrew felt something furry press against his leg again and looked down to spot Fletcher once more. He reached down a bit and ran his hand over his back, just for the hell of it really. He'd never pet a Werewolf before. The light brown and white fur was soft, yet kind of bristly. It was pretty odd; but cool. And now he was probably the only Vampire in history that had gotten to pet a Werewolf.
Hearing a quiet whine come from Fletcher, Andrew glanced down again. He wondered what was up now. At least he was being quieter now; Andrew felt very relieved at that fact. But he hoped Fletcher was okay. He tilted his head slightly, a questioning look on his face. Knowing Fletcher couldn't answer him, he didn't ask about it; there was really no point to that. "Do you think we're close?" Andrew finally asked, still looking ahead of the dark tunnel. It had been close to night when he'd come in, so it was probably dark now. But something was telling him that they were getting closer and closer.
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fletcher cross
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Post by fletcher cross on Jun 30, 2008 19:36:12 GMT -5
Sigh. This is like a never-ending torture session... Fletcher tensed for a moment as he felt something on his back. He realized it was Andrew, and glanced at him briefly before focusing on his attempt to walk through the darkness. The werewolf hadn’t exactly been petted before. It was an odd feeling, like someone tracing their fingers over his spine (which they technically were doing). He meant it in the eerie, light way that some did. The more important thing to think about was why the hell Andrew was petting him—and why he had let him (okay, he knew the answer to that one).
He shook his head. It was clearly impossible to see. By this point in time he was taking small, short steps and leaning his paw out in front of him before setting it down fully. So far he had stepped on three sharp things, which he assumed were rocks or fissures in the stone, and he was pretty sure he was bleeding. Who would ever want to come to the Underground? He could see why the faculty at Winterthorne had banned it, now. Fletch’s ears pricked at the sound of Andrew’s voice. As it wasn’t easy to tell that he was shrugging, he simply nodded. Yes, they were close. The smell of dew wafted into his nose.
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andrew lacetti
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Post by andrew lacetti on Jun 30, 2008 20:00:59 GMT -5
It was really beginning to get dark in here as they moved forward. Andrew was really starting to have trouble seeing anything in the dark tunnel--did Werewolves have any better vision then Vampires? he wondered. Andrew had to keep paying attention to where he was going, using his senses as best as he could. Well, he was definitely never coming back down here again. Particularly if Fletcher for some reason came back here. Andrew's thoughts trailed to that kiss. What had he been thinking--doing that? The only good that had come out of that was gaining the knowledge that Fletcher didn't actually hate him. He again wondered how exactly the Werewolf did feel. Being room mates was probably going to be even more akward now. What he wouldn't do to live that few seconds a thousand times.
A new and rather disgusting smell hit Andrew's nose after a while. Blood. But it was different. Something about the smell stuck in Andrew's nose. Werewold blood, that's what it was. He could imagine poor Fletcher was stepping on tons of sharp stones or fissures. At least Andrew had shoes. Andrew brought his right hand up to his nose, wiping at it as though that might actually get the smell away. He wondered if his blood would smell just as foul to a Werewolf, not that he wanted to experiment it. But as Andrew continued to move with Fletcher, fresh air started to lightly brush his skin. They were close! So, so close.
After a while longer, the terrain beneath Andrew's feet started to change; it become softer. The fresh air was surrounding him more, the smell of the Werewolf blood gone now, thankfully.
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fletcher cross
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Post by fletcher cross on Jun 30, 2008 21:09:32 GMT -5
The first thing Fletcher noticed was the change in the ground beneath him. Softer, and definitely easier on him. The second was that, as he took the first steps out of the Underground, the moonlight shone a little too brightly. It hurt his eyes; he winced a little as he looked up at it. He was glad, though, to get out of the series of caves and tunnels. Working through a maze was not how he had originally planned to spend his night. Back to more important matters. Blinking, he searched for the small, leather bag he had dropped somewhere near the entrance. After a few moments of hunting, he spotted it and grabbed it in his mouth. Ah...Andrew. He didn’t want him to leave; Fletcher turned around and gave him a look that said “stay there”. He dashed off into the forest.
“I no longer like mazes,” he muttered. When Fletcher returned, around seventy-two seconds later, he was drenched. His clothes clung to him, the jeans he now wore several shades darker and the t-shirt and jacket damp. His eyes seemed focused on wrapping a small piece of cloth, which he had ripped from the bottom of his t-shirt, around one of his bleeding hands. He hated things like that. So he lost his clothing and magyck during transformation, but wounds and near-death experiences (including, but not limited to, almost drowning) were fair game? Screw that. He was taking these matters up with the Werewolf God again.
Expectantly, he added, “And I’m fine.”
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andrew lacetti
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Post by andrew lacetti on Jun 30, 2008 21:33:58 GMT -5
Ah, the fresh air was so much better than the stiffy air of the Underground. The chilly mountain breeze brushed past Andrew's face. He paused after he had made it a few yards out of the dark tunnel, turning around to look and see what Fletcher was doing. Andrew saw him pick up a leather bag and look over at him. The look Fletcher gave him was obviously "stay here", which is basically what Andrew had been planning on doing anyway, staying where Fletcher was. They were both probably headed to their dorm after all. At least, Andrew was. His little adventure had tired the young boy out. Andrew dug his hands deep into the pockets of faded blue skinny jeans as he waited.
Andrew saw Fletcher--and it was human Fletcher now-- approaching from the woods he'd ran off to in a matter of a few seconds. He could imagine that the Werewolf was freezing, his clothes were absolutley soaked. Andrew opened his mouth to ask if he was alright, but he was cut off by Fletcher answering the question already. "Okay," Andrew answered. He wished that he could do anything to warm Fletcher; he could use his fire wielding powers to heat up his hands and things without actually calling any fire, but he wasn't sure that touching Fletcher again was a good idea after kissing him. "Let's go back to the dorm room I guess," Andrew said, looking up at the Werewolf.
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fletcher cross
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Post by fletcher cross on Jun 30, 2008 21:48:02 GMT -5
He was so worn out that even using a little magyck to lift his temperature was beyond his limits. Fletcher finished wrapping his hands up and picked up the bag that was lying in the dark grass, which he flung over his shoulder. His lips tugged into what could only be described as a pissed-off frown. Of all the things he packed, the one thing he hadn’t taken with him was an extra pair of shoes. His old ones were officially gone, so for now he’d just have to go barefoot. Absent-mindedly, he grabbed the edge of his shirt and attempted to squeeze the remaining water out of it. He also wasn’t going swimming for a while.
Sighing, more out of exhaustion than being upset, his shoulders sagged at the mention of moving again. “...Could we wait a moment?” He was almost pleading now. Things had gone from nice to at war, then to confusion, then to war again, then nice, then downright silent, and now this. He rubbed his eyes wearily, frowning in confusion at the new texture against his eyelids until he remembered the wounds. The arm fell to his side as he watched Andrew. He would give anything to have the guts to take the boy by the hand as firmly as the other had and kiss him. Maybe, since the Gods of Utter Disaster owed him so much, they’d grant him the power of illusion at the least.
ooc;; are we making a thread in the dorm...?
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andrew lacetti
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Post by andrew lacetti on Jun 30, 2008 22:11:48 GMT -5
[[ yeah sure ]]
Andrew nodded his head, grateful to Fletcher for suggesting resting for a moment. However much he wanted to be able to get back to his dorm room and hide under his covers on his bed, his legs groaned at the thought of having to walk back to the warmth and safety. Andrew looked around for anything to sit on, finding a random big rock big enough for a few people at least. That looked like a good place to sit. Moving his tired feet a few feet, Andrew climbed onto the rock, sitting cross-legged on the stone. He could feel his eyelids drifting over his green orbs involuntarily. Andrew blinked a few times to keep them open. Falling asleep right now wasn't a good idea.
A sigh escaped Andrew's lips from exhaustion. He looked up at Fletcher; staring at his lips, his blue eyes. It took alot not to kiss him again. He'd done it once, he could probably get up the courage to do it again. What he wouldn't do to get to kiss him again. Okay Andrew, stop, he warned himself. Like he'd really ever get to kiss Fletcher again; they didn't belong together, right? No point in getting his hopes up. Andrew moved his black hair from his eyes. "Just tell me when you want to start going back," Andrew said with another look at Fletcher.
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fletcher cross
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Post by fletcher cross on Jun 30, 2008 22:25:10 GMT -5
”Alright.” Was it him or was Andrew avoiding any form of contact?—well, as if he hadn’t beforehand. The boy was now a good few feet away from him, which made it harder to even consider approaching him. Okay, try to think logically for once in your life, he told himself, remaining standing as he did so. If he kissed me—does that mean—there has to be some kind of chemistry? Or just really bad vision. Maybe he meant to suck me dry, he reasoned airily. Of course that wasn’t the case. Andrew wasn’t that type of person; despite the fact that he didn’t know him all too well, he could at least tell that.
Okay, part one of the what was going to seem like the longest and most difficult plan that he’d have to go through with in his life commencing. He drifted over towards where the freshmen was sitting and dropped his bag down. Heaving himself up on the rock, he decided that what he was about to ask was best asked without making any sort of contact. So he focused his gaze on the stars and questioned, “Andrew? Why...did you kiss me?” That had to be ranked among the top ten most idiotic questions in the world. He had to know, though, if he had meant it or—he didn’t want to think about the other possibilities.
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andrew lacetti
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Posts: 97
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Post by andrew lacetti on Jun 30, 2008 22:46:27 GMT -5
Andrew gazed down at the rock he was sitting on as he saw Fletcher drift over and sit down on the rock next to him. What does he want now? Andrew wondered, stomach churning nervously. He felt his body tense at the question he heard leave the Junior's mouth. What--no, how-- was he going to answer this? Lie; tell the truth? Did he even have the guts to tell Fletcher the truth? Andrew bit on his lower lip, the loops of his snakebites hit quietly against his pearly white teeth. A sigh left his lips. "Well, uh..." Andrew tried to begin, taking a deep breath; avoiding all eye contact. Just tell him the truth, Andrew told himself, What's the worst that can happen? But he didn't want to think about that.
"Uh... I've-had-this-major-crush-on-you-forever," he finally said, talking quickly. Andrew wondered if Fletcher could even had understood his words. He half hoped he had, there was no way he'd be able to repeat those words; but he half hoped he hadn't, how much awkward could this fucking get? Andrew took another deep breath. Okay, now to see how Fletcher would react to that...
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fletcher cross
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Post by fletcher cross on Jul 1, 2008 10:34:34 GMT -5
His heart skipped a beat. Or four or five. That couldn’t have been good for his health. Warning: medical research has shown that lack of a heartbeat could lead to your imminent death.
In the time that Andrew had been thinking, Fletcher had been tracing his fingers over the stone anxiously. Then the boy had spoken. Granted it took him a few moments to sort out what exactly he had said, but just after his heart gave way, the furious blush that was bound to appear swept over his face. He couldn’t believe it. The boy that had seemingly hated him an hour or so ago had just admitted that he had feelings for Fletcher. What was he going to do? Sure, now most things he wanted to try would feel a lot safer, but there was still that whole vampire/werewolf thing.
He wasn’t as worried about what people would say as what might...happen. It was a stupid thing to think about. First off, there was the smell. Personally, vampires smelled disgusting to him. They always had. It was like a combination of rotting flesh and bad fish. It was fortunate that the smell was milder when he was in his “human” form versus when he was a werewolf, where he was unable to escape the smell. Second, there was the fact that he could transform at any given moment. It wasn’t that romantic when you were about to kiss someone and they turned into a rather large dog. It didn’t happen all the time; usually the forced transformations were under stress. So he just had to keep calm, right? The last thing, and the most worrisome thing to Fletcher, was the blood factor. He wasn’t at all afraid of someone drinking his blood—he’d just never heard of a vampire drinking a werewolf’s blood. He was way more afraid of what would happen to Andrew.
But maybe he was thinking too much.
Fletcher had barely noticed it, but during his thoughts he had slid off of the smooth boulder and walked a few feet forward. “...” He looked over at Andrew. “Get off the rock.” It was more of a request than a command.
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andrew lacetti
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Post by andrew lacetti on Jul 1, 2008 17:19:33 GMT -5
Andrew chewed at his lip, still nervous. Fletcher wasn't saying anything. Why? He probably didn't like him back, right? Of course he didn't. So maybe he didn't hate him, but Andrew was sure he didn't like him--like Andrew did at least. His green eyes slowly went up from staring at the stone beneath him and up to see what Fletcher was doing. He noticed the Werewolf seemed thoughtful about something. Great, if he didn't hate me before, he definitely hates me now, Andrew thought despairingly. He never should have let himself fall for a stupid Werewolf anyway. Its not like he'd ever stood a chance with Fletcher. Vampires and Werewolves, they just didn't belong together by nature, right? Andrew's eyes drifted back down to the stone; getting lost in thoughts.
Thinking too much wasn't a good thing. All these thoughts hurt. He'd been stupid to think anything would--how anything could--happen between them. Suddenly Andrew heard a voice and snapped out of his thoughts. He felt himself giving a nod as he slid quietly off the large boulder. Andrew quickly caught up, that was the good thing about being able to move so quickly, he never had to worry about falling behind. As Andrew took the last few steps to catch up, he looked up to Fletcher. "And what about you? You already admitted you don't hate me, and you sure as hell didn't try to pull away when I kissed you," Andrew asked curiously.
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fletcher cross
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Post by fletcher cross on Jul 1, 2008 17:58:18 GMT -5
“And what about you? You already admitted you don't hate me, and you sure as hell didn't try to pull away when I kissed you.”
Fletcher listened to the sound of crunching grass as Andrew came up behind him. Usually people suspected that only vampires had an enhanced sense of hearing. Not that he did when he was in his human form, but wolves were sharp like that. So as he listened to the noise, which seemed particularly loud due to the fact that there seemed to be no one around, he wondered what it was like to have a vampire’s hearing. It was magnified, of course, but by how much? Did the crunching sound like boulders falling down a cliff, or more like someone shattering bones over a loudspeaker? He shuddered at the thought, and how someone could live like that. Live knowing, hearing, and seeing everything different than they would have had they been normal. Or, at least, as normal as you could get at Winterthorne.
The question hadn’t caught him off guard; he knew it was coming. What he didn’t know was how to answer it. “Shouldn’t you know?” He wasn’t going to get into another fight about vampiric powers, but you didn’t need to read minds to figure out what was going on. Fletcher turned to look at Andrew, the curious expression that had lingered in his green eyes intriguing him. Hm. A surge of confidence ran through him, originating from a source unknown (possibly comfort in the fact that he wouldn’t get rejected). Granted, the confidence came with a whole lot of lust. So for the second time, he approached the younger boy, stopping only when the distance between them was a few centimeters.
Except instead of yelling, he wrapped his arms around the other and kissed him with all the will he had.
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andrew lacetti
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Post by andrew lacetti on Jul 1, 2008 18:16:55 GMT -5
Well, of course Andrew thought he did know the answer to his own question, but he'd been at least hoping to hear Fletcher actually say it. Oh well, Andrew thought, Fletcher's answer was still good enough for him. Moving a few more steps so he was standing right next to Fletcher, Andrew finally slowed his pace to a normal one. His green pools were still gazing up at the Werewolf, mouth opening to begin an answer. But then he noticed that the other had stopped walking forward and was coming closer to him. Andrew paused in his moving too. His head felt sort of fuzzy and numb as he saw the Werewolf step closer. What was he going to do this time? Yell at him again? Or-or...
Kiss him. Andrew's breathing had become shallow and ragged as he saw Fletcher leaning towards him; and the sudden feel of his lips on his, Fletcher's strong arms wrapping around him. Andrew felt his eyelids close over his green orbs, his own slender arms sliding around the Junior's waist. He pressed his lips more firmly against Fletcher's. This was great. More than great actually--it was perfect. Just what he'd been wanting and dreaming of for who knows how long. And it was finally happening, he'd never thought it actually would. Andrew slid his hands up to the back of Fletcher's head, trying to pull the other as close as possible. This was just too impossible. Maybe he was dreaming.
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fletcher cross
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Post by fletcher cross on Jul 1, 2008 21:19:04 GMT -5
He felt the warmth of Andrew’s arms wrapping around his waist, and then again around his head. It was a small movement that the other boy made, but it sent a series of sensations up his spine. As the green eyes that had held him in his gaze so delicately disappeared out of view, he found himself closing his eyes as well. Leaning in further, he tightened his grip around Andrew and pulled his hips closer (hey, if the other had the head covered, why not get the rest?). He had locked his lips so long that breathing was now considered to be an interference with the moment and therefore unnecessary. And as much as he wanted to spend the night by the forest, kissing the vampire he’d fallen for, he still felt like he was going to fall over.
“Andrew?” Fletcher breathed, pulling away long enough to whisper the other boy’s name in his ear. His hot breath lingered on the freshman’s neck for a few seconds before he kissed it lightly, trailing small and soft pecks back to his lips. His skin had to be at least one thousand times softer than he had imagined it; it was like smoothing his hands over silk. Even though vampires were supposed to be strong, and he probably felt light to the other, he couldn’t help but notice how thin the boy was—it was like caressing a feather. He had to admit, there was nothing more beautiful than smoothing his lips over the curves and angles of Andrew’s fair skin, which shone in the moonlight. He didn’t want to leave, but he needed to.
“Let’s go home.”
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