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gaycrouton · 6 years ago

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Sensual

Words of Lust 19/27 [Scully and Mulder play a drunken game in the middle of a storm.]

Sensual : (adjective) of or arousing gratification of the senses and physical, especially sexual, pleasure.

For the past few weeks, they had fallen into a routine that he loved. On Friday, he and Scully would leave the office, grab take out for dinner, usually accompanied by a six pack of Shiner, and go to his apartment to watch a movie. It was a newfound familiarity and comfort he hadn’t experienced in years, hell, maybe ever. On top of that, he got to spend hours of freetime with Dana Katherine Scully, something he would do anything for,

This was their ninth week in a row, and they were still going strong. He couldn’t keep the grin off his face as he sat there with sesame chicken and crab rangoons littering his coffee table, Scully sitting next to him on her third beer, and When Harry Met Sally , her choice, playing on the TV. The first few times he was worried that she was just coming over out of obligation, solely because he asked. It was probably about four weeks in when on one random Tuesday she tapped him on the shoulder and asked, “Mulder, can I pick the movie this week? Not that I don’t love the space theme we’ve been having. I just want to kick it up.” Ecstatic barely covered his feeling. She looked forward to their nights together just as much as he did. That week they ended up watching The Silence of the Lambs, and they’d been alternating ever since.

“What are you staring at?” Scully chuckled, self consciously wiping her face of food that wasn’t there. He hadn’t realized his attention had shifted from the movie to her and he had just been staring.

“I thought I saw a fly.” Wow, good one.

“Oh really? Directly on my face, not flying around?” she teased with a knowing smirk. As he opened his mouth to respond, an earth shattering crash of thunder and bolt of lightning struck, practically making the apartment shake. She jumped with a gasp and grabbed his arm like a vice, only to instantly pull away with an embarrassed laugh, “Sorry.”

Apparently a severe thunderstorm was plaguing the D.C. area tonight. He asked if she was still down with having their movie night and she quickly agreed. It had been pretty tame when they came over, but as the movie progressed, so did the storm. Mulder had seen her look in the face of danger, take down inhumane criminals, fight the most terrifying monsters, but, when it came down to it, Scully was afraid of thunderstorms. While he knew she wanted to hang out tonight, he knew a big aspect of it was because she didn’t want to be alone. “Don’t be sorry, Scully. Thunderstorms are nature’s jumpscare.”

She smiled at him and that was the last thing he saw before they were plunged into darkness, another round of thunder and lighting taking the power with it. At the same time he was registering what just happened, he felt Scully’s small hand reach out to him in the darkness, grabbing his arm. “Well, this puts a damper on movie night,” he joked, trying to lessen her fear.

She laughed indulgently, but moved her hand down so she could hold his hand, which he immediately reciprocated. “Do you have a flashlights or any candles?” she asked. Her tone was calm, but the pitch of her voice didn’t hide her fear.

“Yeah, I think I have some candles I got for Christmas in the closet.” He stood up, taking her with him as he awkwardly felt his way to the hallway closet, using the walls as his guide, only stopping when he felt the knob.

“Someone bought you candles for Christmas?” her voice rang out in the darkness as he grabbed the candles awkwardly, nudging her to grab some with her free hand.

“A few someones actually, I guess I look like a candle type of guy,” he laughed, closing the closet door and blindly leading them to the kitchen for the lighter.

“Oh yeah, didn’t I ever tell you? Before I knew about your videotape collection, I thought you came home and lit seasonally-accurate candles, watching to make sure they burned evenly,” she teased as her face was illuminated by the flame.

He gave her a little mock-gasp before feigning horror, “Scully, were you surveilling me?” She laughed at him and let go of his hand as he worked on the fifth candle, a steady glow lighting the area. She walked around the kitchen curiously before stopping in front of the refrigerator, standing on her tiptoes to retrieve a bottle from the top surface.

Attempting to retrieve a bottle. He saw her struggling and stood behind her, easily reaching above her head to grab the old bottle of Jack Daniels before handing it to her curious hands. “Mulder, I thought you didn’t drink?”

“I always thought it would be wise to keep a bottle if I ever wanted to indulge, or for special circumstances,” he told her. Picking up some of the candles and moving them to the coffee table.

She followed suit with the rest, the bottle still tucked under her arm. When all the candles were arranged in the living room so it was nicely lit she turned to him with a shy demeanor, “Hey, is it okay if I stay here for tonight, with the storm and all?” He thought it was cute she even had to ask.

“I would genuinely be offended if you didn’t,” he replied honestly. He took a seat on the couch as she placed herself on the floor at the end of the coffee table, adjacently facing him.

“Thanks,” she sighed with an appreciative smile.

“Do you have specific plans in mind, Agent Scully?” he asked, nodding to the bottle now placed in front of her.

“Oh,” she blushed a little bit, “Feel free to say no, but I was curious if you’d be down with drinking and playing a game or something?” she asked nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

A chance to see Scully drunk? Abso-fucking-lutely. “I’m in. Do you have any specific game in mind?”

She paused for a moment, tapping her finger against her lips in thought as he was captivated by the motion. “It’s not a drinking game, but do you want to periodically take shots and just ask each other questions? Kinda like twenty questions, but with no goal?” He was equal parts excited and nervous. He wanted to learn more about Scully, but he was nervous what she might ask.

“So, basically, drink and have a conversation?” he joked.

She giggled as she opened the top of the bottle, bringing out two shot glasses he hadn’t even seen her grab. Sneaky. It also amused him that she obviously knew he’d say yes to her.

“Essentially, yes,” she drew out, pouring a shot for each of them.

“Are there any rules?”

“Hmm, want to say, we each get twenty questions, you can only pass on two, and no holds barred,” passing one of the shots over to him as she said this.

The no holds barred part intimidated him a bit, but he was curious what she had in mind. “Sounds good to me,” he replied, lifting his glass up in a cheers motion. She clinked her glass against his and they threw their head back, letting the amber liquid coat their throats.

He didn’t feel the need to put on a bravado in front of Scully, they were far passed that, so he felt no shame as he coughed and let his face contort into unbridled disgust. He heard a melodic chuckle erupt in response and looked over to see that she had taken it like a champ, no surprise. “You can go first since your in pain,” she offered kindly.

He took a swig of his beer to recover as he mused. “Why are you afraid of thunderstorms?”

She looked surprised that was his first question, but answered nonetheless, “I don’t really know. It’s totally irrational. I understand what they are, I just don’t like the mixture of how chaotic and power, and it’s so loud.” Made sense, he nodded and she took that as a sign to take her turn.“Excluding aliens, you get the opportunity to expose the undeniable truth behind one cryptid. What one do you choose?” she asked, taking the final swig of her last beer.

“Hmm,” he pondered, “Either Bigfoot or Nessie, probably Nessie.”

“Why,” she asked.

“Does that count as two questions?,” he teased.

“Nope,” she sang with a cocky grin.

“I’d probably choose The Loch Ness because it’s one that people are most familiar with, and if they believe that it could lead to a wider acceptance of the unexplained. Bigfoot is a little too humanistic, a little too in the realm of comfort.” She seemed to appreciate his answer so he continued, “What are your favorite three qualities of yourself? Can be emotional, physical, mental, anything.”

She cocked her head to the side and pouted her lip a bit in thought, glancing into the bottle as if the amber liquid would give her an answer. “Umm,” she verbalized before resorting back to silence for a while. Maybe thirty seconds passed and she was still thinking.

“Is this seriously a hard question for you? I could name ten of my favorite qualities about you right now,” he laughed.

He could see the faint blush dust her cheeks even through the candle light as she struggled to answer, “Umm, I’ll do one of each, I think it’ll be easier. Emotionally, I like my passion. Mentally, I’m proud of my intelligence. Physically, uhh,” she paused for a moment to think and it honestly dumbfounded him. She could list off anything and she’d be right, she was perfect. “Uh, I like my freckles.”

“Good choice, but an interesting one.”

She laughed lightly to dispel her self-consciousness, “Everyone in my family has them. I like the solidarity.” He hadn’t realized that, but it made a lot of sense. “My turn. You said you could name ten, do it.”

Oh shit. This was dangerous territory and he knew it. “Only ten?” he replied. She tried to repress a smile and nodded. “Not to copy you, but your passion, your intelligence, and your freckles also are on my list. Your loyalty, your smile, your rationality, your eyes, your commitment, your entire being, and your strength are, in no particular order, a few of my favorite qualities.” It made him happy to see that she was flattered by his words, having a hard time meeting his eyes.

“I appreciate that. I don’t know if ‘entire being’ counts as a quality though,” she reminded, easing the charge in the room.

“There were a lot of things I didn’t want to miss and I felt like that was all-encompassing,” he answered honestly. There isn’t enough time in the world to list off everything I love about you. Before starting any further, he poured two more shots out, taking them just like they had before. Scully giggled a little more after this shot and he was glad he wasn’t the only one feeling tipsy.

“What’s the most daring thing you’ve ever done? Not including anything work related?” he asked after finishing off his own beer.

Unlike the last question, she knew this one immediately. After the question left his lips she giggled some more and put her hands in her face temporarily. If it got this reaction, he was eager to hear. “Okay, so promise not to judge me. When I was in high school, I had a crush on my English teacher, he was maybe twenty seven while I was sixteen, and I just wanted his attention. So, one day I went to school dressed as an actual catholic school girl. The white button up, the lewdly short skirt, the black thigh highs, the whole nine yards.”

Mulder gulped and shifted a little in his seat at the thought of a young Scully dressed so scandalously, the fact she did that was arousing enough, the mental image was almost too much. “So what happened?” he pried.

“I stayed after class, you know, asking for ‘extra help’ even though I had an A in the class. He wouldn’t even look at me, and when he did it was only for a few seconds,” she exclaimed. Mulder couldn’t blame the guy, Scully was trying to kill the man.

“He probably didn’t want to be caught sporting a massive hard on in the middle of a high school,” he cried, making her laugh.

“Fair enough, but little sixteen year old me was so pissed,” she proclaimed, as if still cursing that teacher. “What about you? Have you ever had any inappropriate crushes?” his inappropriate crush asked obliviously.

“Um-,” he paused. He couldn’t exactly say his partner, even if it was the truth. “I would sometimes have crushes on my friends’ sisters. Which is just like a no-go in the bro code.” Not a lie, not incriminating. “What was the last thing you ever did on a date?” He almost regretted the question as soon as it left his lips, thoughts of Jerse and that whole escapade coming into memory. Luckily, Scully also decided to ignore that. He supposed almost being killed nullified considering the evening a date.

“I actually haven’t been on a real date in years. Maybe back in 1993, around when we were first assigned together. I was just on a date with a random guy I met at Quantico. It wasn’t very good. We went to Olive Garden and then went to his place and had mediocre sex.” He was pleased that sex was becoming a comfortable, frequent topic right now and he honestly hoped it would continue.

“Mediocre how?”

“If I don’t cum, it’s mediocre,” she sighed dramatically, pouring another round for them. He was already feeling tipsy and a small part of him was worried she was going too fast for her tiny stature, but she was a doctor so he trusted her judgement. They threw their head back, and as he was trying to recover, no aid of beer to wash it down, she laid a big one on him, “What kind of porn do you like?”

“What?” he repeated, positive he must have misheard her.

“I know about all your tapes. What type is your favorite? Oral? Dominance? Gay? Big bust? C-” He didn’t know how long she would have been able to keep going, but knowing Scully knew all the different porn categories was something he needed to keep in mind.

“I like the longer ones, where the relationship is established. I know you’re going to roll your eyes at me, but I like the ones where it looks like they care,” he confessed. In reality, the answer would have been ‘The ones closest to our relationship or ones where the woman slightly resembles you.’

“N-no! I think that’s nice, don’t be shy,” she hiccuped. She was slightly slurring, just a little bit, and she wasn’t as balanced as she used to be. He was probably fairing the same, never really drinking and having a low tolerance.

Since she had asked him a bold question, he decided to reciprocate. It didn’t make it any less jarring to feel these words come out of his mouth in her presence, “Do you use toys when you masturbate? If so what’s your favorite?”

Her eyebrows raised a bit, but so did the corners of her lips. “I do yes,” she had barely answered the question and he could feel his penis stirring at her words. “I have this one vibrator and its pink. It’s a smooth silicone, and it’s phallic shaped with a curve. I like that I can use it both internally and externally,” she said, being so generous as to use size indications with her hands. He hadn’t asked how she used it, but he was eternally grateful for this new information.

Scully propped her head up with the palm of her hand, elbow resting lazily on the table. He thought she may have to take some time to formulate a question, but she was ready to go. “When you’re having sex, do the women say your name?”

His brow cocked up as he swallowed, glancing down at her curiosity-riddled face. He didn’t really know why she wanted to know such a random thing. “Well, they do when I’m doing a good job. So, yes,” he teased with a wink.

She rolled her eyes and elaborated, “Noooo, I mean do they call you Fox, or do they moan ‘ ah Mulder ’ at you?” During her explanation she gave a little example of how one might moan ‘Mulder,’ pitching her voice up and making it breathy as she cried his name, her face contorting in mock pleasure. It was unbelievably hot. She stared at him expectantly as he shifted in his seat to hide his body’s reaction to her little display, coy smirk on her face.

He cleared his throat a bit before answering, “Oh, the call me Fox, but I still hate it, even if it’s being said in the throes of passion.”

She nodded appreciatively at his answer, fingering the rim of her empty glass. “Good to know,” she murmured. Her answer was equal parts suggestive and ambiguous. Before he could fully decipher her words she was motioning to him, “Your turn.”

“Favorite position?” he asked.

“I’m not picky, I like quite a few, but I’ve personally had a lot of success on top,” she shrugged with a self-satisfactory smile. He’d been hard for a while now, but it was getting more and more difficult to keep himself in check. Especially imagining Scully on top, her breasts bouncing up and down from the exertion of riding him, the dedication he was sure she would have to making sure they both got off.

He must have lost himself in thought a little bit, because he noticed she was just smiling at him expectantly. He took a moment to prepare two more shots before they went further, wanting a bit more liquid courage. It went down easier than expected, unlike her next question.

Scully drunkenly put a hand on the couch, sloppily pulling herself up so she was reclining on the couch arm opposite of him. He normally would have reached out to help her, but in his drunken state, he wouldn’t have been much use. She situated herself a little bit, trying to sit up straight and wiping her hair away from her face with his palms. He realized she was about to lay a big one on him and straightened up a bit himself. Looking him dead in the eye, she started with, “Is it okay if I ask a possible two-part question?”

“Possible two-part question?” He repeated.

“Well the answer to the first will determine if the second is necessary,” she clarified. He simply nodded and motioned for her to continue, which she did hesitantly, “Mulder, do you think I’m attractive?”

Her question took him off guard. How could she not know? He mentally flashbacked through the past seven years of their partnership; the years of trying to catch second glimpses of her, the years of hiding erections from her that she caused, years of casual flirtations, and she didn’t realize he adored her? She was looking at him with wide, vulnerable eyes that broke his heart. “Of course I do, Scully. You’re easily the most attractive woman I’ve ever met. It’s honestly distracting.”

A brief smile graced her lips before she got serious again, leaning forward a little bit. “Why haven’t you tried to have sex with me?” It felt like all the air left his lungs. Of all the follow up questions, he wasn’t expecting that. He tried to think of an answer in his inebriated state, but he kept getting distracted by her questioning eyes and pouting lips.

“I-I never thought you would want to, I figured you saw me as untouchable since I’m your partner. I also didn’t think you found me attractive,” he muttered honestly.

The shock he had felt a moment ago had transferred to her, her jaw dropping open in surprise. “You don’t think I find you attractive?”

He shrugged shyly, “Well, you’ve never expressed interest.”

“Mulder, I feel like if I expressed anymore interest, you’d walk into the office with me bent over your desk waiting,” she proclaimed. He closed his eyes and tried to calm his breathing, imagining what it’d be like walking into the office, Scully precariously perched over the desk they had spent years across, her crotch wet and waiting just for him, looking over her shoulder at him with a coy smile.

“You want to have sex with me?” he asked almost incredulously.

A bright flush had painted her face, a mix of alcohol and embarrassment, maybe something more. “Yes,” it was barely audible coming out as a gentle whisper. “Do you want to have sex with me?”

“I want to make love to you,” he clarified. A rare toothy smile erupted on Scully’s face and he couldn’t help but lean in closer to her, happy when she did the same. Their lips met together in shy exploration. She started smiling at the first touch of contact, making deepening the kiss a little hard. They did anyhow though, tongues sliding wetly over each other in exploration. She tasted like booze and that hint of Scully he could never recreate.

She placed her hands drunkenly around his neck and pulled herself closer to him, effectively laying on top of his reclining torso, pressing his back into the couch. She was so warm and comfortable. He ran his hand up her spine and reveled in the way she leaned into his touch. Eventually, they pulled back and he got to enjoy what a thoroughly-kissed Scully looked like. She was panting a little, her hair was mussed, and her lips were swollen. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips, as if she was trying to enjoy the lingering taste of him. His erection was now screaming with need, even though this was all he wanted, the rational side of him was still there. “Scully, we can’t do this right now. I want the first time I’m with you to be when we’re sober.”

She dramatically sighed and he thought she was going to argue, but she conceded, “You’re right.” She pouted at him, her gaze flicking down to his tenting pants. “But what are you going to do about that?” she asked, teasingly running a finger along his bulge.

He laughed but tried to concave his hips instead of thrusting at her. “Scully, I’ve been your partner for years. I’m an expert at willing boners away,” he reassured.

“So we can’t touch each other while we’re drunk?” she reiterated.

“I wouldn’t be able to stop,” he groaned, god she was beautiful.

She was silent for a moment, lost in a train of thought. Her eyes lit up and she looked at him excitedly. “What if we just- touched ourselves?” she offered, shrugging and acting like this was the most rational solution she’d ever come up with.

He knew he was a little young to have a heart attack, but honestly he was scared it was going to happen tonight. Scully, his Scully, partner of seven years, sweet catholic, was suggesting they touch themselves in front of each other. “Like, mutual masturbation?” he asked for clarification, voice higher than normal.

“Exactly, mutual masturbation,” she cooed, starting to unbutton the top of her blouse. His eyes followed her movements, deft and elegant, lacking the clumsiness normally associated with alcohol. He was pretty sure he was blushing. The thought of jacking off less than a foot away from Scully seemed almost taboo.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

She got to the last button and let her top fall open, revealing a black, lacy bra. She let the shirt fall down her shoulders gracefully, discarding it on the floor beneath them. She scooted back a bit so that he was resting on one arm of the couch while she was on the other. Her hands were poised behind her back as she sang, “Only if you’re interested.” His eyes were constantly dancing back down to her chest, waiting for her to take away the black scrap of fabric. It became obvious she wasn’t going to remove it unless he answered. He internally chuckled at her statement. He was far more than interested.

Instead of verbally answering, he started to undo the buttons on his own shirt, discarding it on top of her own. His self-consciousness started to fade when he saw her eyes appreciatively take in his exposed chest, tracing ever muscle and curve with her gaze. She looked back up at him with gratitude and unhooked her bra, letting it fall forward to reveal two beautiful breasts. He took a sharp intake of breath between his teeth and his cock ached to be touched.

“Scully, you’re so gorgeous,” he praised. She leaned her bare back on the arm of his couch, the same couch he had spent countless hours fantasizing about her on. She continued to look at him as she raised her hands to play with her breasts, grabbing them and pushing them together before pinching her own nipples.

His eyes practically fluttered to the back of his head and he audibly groaned, earning a sensual snicker from Scully, who was moving her hands down her sides until she was easing her pants and underwear down her legs, adding to the pile. He quickly did the same, wanting to keep her comfortable in her state of undress by providing his own. When he sat back down, his dick was bobbing prominently in the air, begging for attention. She took it in with hungry eyes before returning his compliment in a raspy voice, “So are you.”

She let her thighs part, revealing her pink, glistening lips, practically dripping from wetness. He caused that. The sight was too much and he finally gave over to pleasure, taking his length in his firm hand, stroking up in down in exploration, eyes never leaving her body. She grunted when she saw this, “God Mulder, you have no idea how much that turns me on.”

She let her hand slide down her stomach, passed her pubic hair, to her arousal, parting her lips playfully before swirling around her clit, letting her head drop back with a hearty moan. Scully was touching herself right in front of him, for him, because of him, on his couch. For a second he was worried that he had died and gone to heaven but, if this is what it was like, he didn’t even care. Her chest had flushed red and, yet again, he didn’t know if it was because she was shy or simply from arousal. She was watching his hand intently as she continued playing with herself, her wetness audible in the room.

The candle lighting, though done for necessity, was now highly sexual. The light of the flames danced on her porcelain skin, a dance as natural and primal as her hand’s against her body. He reached down and, with his other hands, cupped his heavy balls, the sensation making him thrust off the couch slightly, desperate for friction. Scully must have needed more too, because she spread her knees farther, throwing one over the back of the couch as she reclined further into the couch, finger fucking herself vigorously, her elegant fingers dipping deep inside herself, curling up to hit the places she knew so well. She was now spread absolutely eagle in front of him, hiding nothing.

He didn’t think he had ever experienced such a high level of eroticism before in his life. It felt like every nerve ending in his body was on fire, he could feel his heart beating in his erection. He was already stimulated enough when she became increasingly vocal, an audible aphrodisiac. One hand was ravishing her clit while the other groped her breasts. She was whining and panting, high pitched, breathy, and painfully feminine. Her hips almost constantly undulating, gyrating into her hand. All the while her eyes were dilated and focused on his body, watching his hand pump so fast it was disappearing and his chest heave lungfuls of air.

It was hard to resist not throwing his head back in pleasure, he didn’t want to miss any part of this display of personal intimacy. How many times did she go home and lay on her bed doing exactly this? All he wanted to was throw himself to the otherside of the couch and bury himself inside her, hearing those keening sounds in his ear as he makes her cum, thrusting into her tightness with reckless abandon. “I want you so bad, I can’t wait for us to finally be together,” he panted out, his forearm aching with strain from him relentless strokes.

“I want you too, we’ll have each other so soon,” she reassured, her voice coming out like a strained cry. He could see a light sheen of sweat starting to cover her body at the same time he noticed it on his.

Her hand started to move faster and faster and he knew she was chasing her orgasm. She started to tell him she was about to cum, but the orgasm took over. “Muld-ah!” Her body was nearly convulsing, her hips thrusting desperately against her hand which was going doing everything it could to stimulate every need of hers. Her mouth was open as she cried out variations of his name and the lords, spine arching and concaving like a rhythm.

His hand when as fast as it could as his grip tightened. It took only a few seconds before he was following her into ecstasy. “Ugh-Scully,” he cried out as he bucked into his hand, milking himself for everything he had. Hot wet spurts of semen covered his abdomen, but all he could focus on was the fact seeing him come sent her spiraling into a second orgasm. Her legs clenched around her hand as she moved her body, as if making love to the air.

When they were done, the only sounds in the room were their frantic breaths evening out. He leaned down and grabbed both of their shirts, wiping himself off with his own as he handed hers off so she could do the same. “Thanks,” she sighed appreciatively with a sated, goofy smile he was sure matched his own.

“You’re a genius, you know that right?” he commended.

“Just wait until you get the full experience,” she teased with a wink.

#msr #msr smut #msr fanfiction #dana scully #fox mulder #mulder and scully #x files fanfic #xf fanfiction #gaycrouton #onlytheinevitable #my fanfiction #words of lust

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egosamsara-blog · 8 years ago

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march 16, 2017

today marks the day my cousin, nessie russell, would have been 21.

in another world i’m sure i’d tease her about how i’d just be counting down the days until september 1st so that i would be 2 years older than her again and make a corny ass joke about how we could now drink in a bar together.

i have been dreaming of this day since i turned 21 – 1.5 years ago. not because i like drinking, but because finally nessie and i were going to be “official adults” in the eyes of american society. i didn’t see her much the last couple years of her life so this is the thought i would fall asleep with at night. always some “next” destination to get to. the present was never good enough for either of us it seemed.

but i didn’t wait until i was 21 to start getting fucked up on legal drugs. i found them in a medicine cabinet in my grandfather’s house in upstate new york when i was 16. i didn’t know much about oxycontin other than it was a pill that got you high, and thank god for that because the cannabis i was smoking at boarding school kept getting me pulled out of class and put on work project. it stank too much, but this pill – i could crush it up and put it in water and sip it all day long. no need to go to the liquor store. and i had a lot of them. but then i had none of them. and then i needed them.

and then i needed them for 4 more years. arrests, running away, being put in mental hospitals, self harm…. i have traveled through at least 20 states all the way up to canada and down to mexico. i could have bought a house, a boat, and a comfortable life with the money i blew on roxicodone and dialudid.

i wasn’t finished; i kept running in circles for 2 more years. crushing up pills didn’t do the trick anymore, i needed a spoon and an endless slideshow of public bathrooms.

i honestly didn’t want to stop. at this point every shot of white china was mixed with the prayer of “i hope this is too much”, a spike of guilt, and a chuckle of remorse. and fuck pills, they were too expensive by now.

i was not alone. when i was 17 my high school in connecticut was spilling over with every single type of pill. every person i talked to had a similar story to mine. we were scribbling furiously away, afraid that if we didn’t live fast enough we wouldn’t be worth remembering. we all graduated from pills to heroin. some forgot what happened in high school but i remember.

i’ve always remembered everything. that’s why i wanted to escape – i saw how drugs were infecting my generation and it scared me shitless. nessie saw it too. she also saw something else i didn’t see until she passed.

nessie loved herself. she saw a light within herself and held onto it as tightly as she could, even through her addiction. i always admired that in her and i wanted it as well. she was so beautiful, the way she’d move through a room with no idea that everyone was staring at her. she was always glowing.

but i guess people, places, and things stole that away from her. by the end of her addiction she wrote to me, “i never thought it could get this bad for me… i thought i was different.” she died several weeks later.

she had so much beauty in her life, but opiates are a dark drug. they put one in the womb of bliss – warm and floating free, feeling the dopamine and serotonin reverberating through your brain. then when they leave they put you on a metal dissection tray, pin you down, and rip you open from head to toe. one has no choice of what comes spilling out.

this is an hourly struggle for heroin addicts. sometimes less than that. sometimes i couldn’t refill the syringe fast enough. it depended on the way my brain felt that day. why would we do this to ourselves, you ask? who wouldn’t be addicted to euphoria? how many of you curl up in a warm fuzzy blanket and watch netflix for 10 straight hours with the blinds closed and a plate of microwaveable food next to you? a glass of wine? a xanax?

now… how many of you turn another cheek at someone who gets their kick from shooting up heroin? is it not the same? aren’t we all trying to escape somehow?

in 2006 Purdue released time-release oxycontin. one could easily take the time release coating off, which became extremely trendy for opiate addicts to do. by 2012 people i knew and loved were starting to die.

Brendan Shay – he made me laugh for 20 straight minutes once when he drove me from my house to a party with a car full of friends.

Christopher Wells – a talented musician who i did theater with… he would play the piano or guitar and sing during play practice. i would sit on the bench or lay down and listen for hours.

George Hammond – one of the brightest smiles in my memory. every time i looked at him he made me smile, no matter my mood. ask anyone they would tell you the same.

Brad Allen – he used to play the guitar and keyboard for whoever would listen. always cracking a smile; we called him ‘happy brad’ for a reason.

Caitlin Pieretti – she loved so deeply and fully and never missed a chance to make your day better. even if you were bugging out she had a joke to crack to even out the vibe.

Brent Rodney – one of the most giving men i’ve ever met. if he didn’t have a dime he’d give you his time. i loved him so much from the day i met him to the day he died.

Shawn Cagle – he didn’t care how young me and my friends were, he and Brent were always so kind.

Jackson Conroy – i was in the same church as him growing up; vacation bible school, youth group, ski trips. his family makes beautiful music to this day.

Bruno, Vinny, Dre, Harold …

these friends i have listed are few of the many. their ages ranged from 19-26. i got worn out trying to think of all of them. i can only write so many obituaries in one essay. what all these people have in common is that pharmaceuticals didn’t work for them. when an addict goes into a detox, they are put on maintenance meds such as suboxone or methadone so that they don’t get sick from the lack opiates in their system; then they’re loaded up with xanax so they don’t shake; anti-depressant so their brains never feel normal again; sleep meds so they can stop thinking at night when the ideas are most important.

usually getting to a detox facility is another journey within itself. many heroin addicts in america are in the north east, so they have a white powder heroin often cut with pharmaceutical grade fentanyl. fentanyl is more potent that street heroin by 1:50 grains but looks the same. that means 1 grain of fentanyl is as powerful as 50 grains of heroin. this makes getting the dosage right very dangerous, and many addicts aren’t aware of this. many are aware of this and mess with it anyway. the point is, heroin overdoses are common. a drug called narcan is used to bring addicts back to life.

Purdue produces suboxone and narcan. Janssen Pharmaceutica produces fentanyl, a toe to the leg of Johnson and Johnson who’s hip is…. guess who? Purdue.

let’s imagine none of this matters and this was a simple health epidemic. let’s imagine this was all political and no emotion was set in, let’s imagine that thousands on thousands of young lives were not stolen and thrown away. let’s imagine that a whole generation isn’t being looked at like scum of the earth for picking up some medicine that we thought was safe to take.

did you know in america opiates and amphetamines are considered okay to prescribe to an 11 year old? i was prescribed benzos when i was 15. did you know that the human brain develops way up into your 20s? did you know that the human brain is very sensitive to foreign chemicals? i’m sure you did… now why the fuck didn’t the doctors?

when trump released his health care reform, trumpcare 2017, he gave those struggling with mental health a special shout out. 1.3 million young americans will lose coverage under trumpcare. trump wants to take out a requirement in the ACA that gives coverage to those struggling with mental health issues. you don’t even have to like opioids… if you are depressed you have a “pre-existing condition”.

so even if you hate politics, now is the time to care about them. because if we, the future generations of america, do not stand up and fight now – who will be here to do it later?

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