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Pot Is Not A Hallucinogen	By : CherrySodaGirl Category: My Chemical Romance > Slash - Male/Male Views: 1188 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of My Chemical Romance. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Pot Is Not A Hallucinogen
- 1
When his voice reached my ears, promising a brilliant green leaf could be in my possession, I was immediately high. My heart started racing when he spelled out the word- w-e-e-d-sending little shivers along my spine. Addict? Me? I like to believe pot isn’t addiction- not like my other habit of tobacco. I smoke weed for the feeling of utter renewal; the tingle that moves about my body, releasing me from the stresses of the day. It was like sex minus the drama- alcohol minus the memory lost. So, anytime Frank Iero called me with his famous giggle echoing through the phone, I knew my night would be complete.

However, this particular night has a mini obstacle called parentals. Usually Frank’s parents were partying up at some rich fucks pent house sweet, giving us free range of his apartment size basement. But, on this rare occasion, his parents were home entertaining prestigious people from Princeton- so his house was out of the question. And my parents were so far up my ass they wouldn’t even leave me alone in the house, let alone with Mister “bad influence” Iero. I don’t know, they have it in their head he is a bad kid; I mean, sure he drinks, does drugs, parties all night, and doesn’t go to school…

Wait…where was I going with this?

Though, after my brilliant manipulative skills and award winning puppy dog eyes, I managed to convince mommy and poppy dearest to lend me their black car, with the promise of being home by eleven. Well, my body will be home at eleven…but lord knows where my mind would be.

I sat outside Frank’s mansion (house just seems too simple to describe the monstrosity that is his home) puffing away at my cigarette as I waited for him to sneak out with the goods. Shouldn’t be too hard- it was almost nine, so his parents were already half way drunk from what Frank told me on the phone.

I made friends with the dark street, allowing my thoughts to wander for a moment. Nothing important plagued my mind; just the usual eighteen-year-old thoughts. Sexuality, future, life, home life, no life. I was a wolf without a pack in my high school. The nerd. The loser. The possible homosexual-creepy dude- that sits in the corner all day. Frankie was younger than me by two years, but acted so much older and more outgoing. I envied him, and that was partly the reason why I welcomed him into my lonely circle during his Freshman year. He was my only friend. Well, him and the pot…

What….pot needs friends too…

The sound of the passenger side door opening broke me from my memories and forced me to drag my eyes to the short raven-haired boy who currently occupied the seat next to mine. He had a devilish smirk plastered on his face, and I already knew the words that were destined to fall from his perfectly shaped lips: “I got da goods.”

I turned on the ignition with a slight laugh, “Good boy.”

“Now,” he lit up a cigarette as I zoomed through the dense New Jersey darkness, “I got the stuff, you need to find us the place.”

I groaned- didn’t think this completely through, now did I? The beach was closed off, so that was out the question. The park was usually riddled with cops in unmarked cars, just waiting for someone to participate in some illegal activities. And I really wanted to steer clear of the backs of buildings since lord knows which nosey occupant would tattle on us. However, after driving for an hour, and my curfew coming up my ass faster than George Bush on oil, we decided to settle for an empty Wendy’s parking lot- since you know, the logic is all there.

I shut off the lights and got myself situated as Frankie prepared the drug for our ingestion. Is that the right word? I don’t care. Point was...there was pot three centimeters away from me. I watched as rolled up the green substance in the white paper with a watering mouth- earning a snicker from my friend’s side.

“Here,” he handed me the joint, “since you are fucking dying for this, take the first hit.”

I smirked and placed the white paper between my lips; the taste of weed already attacking my taste buds. I lit up and inhaled deeply; enjoying the burning pain in the back of my throat like a masochist. I pulled the joint away and held the smoke in for ten seconds-allowing it to fill my entire body with pure whiteness- before releasing it into the closed off car.

Frank snatched the joint away from me, “Before you fucking smoke the whole thing you damn addict.”

We smoked for an undetermined amount of time; the high was now attacking my body, sending a multitude of tingles throughout my entire system. I swore I could feel every heartbeat rock my body, the black hair upon my head grow, I think I could ever feel my skin cells having a hula party on my leg. I swear they were! I could feel their little feet dancing, tickling me…I think they were burning a fire in my pants cause it was getting hot down there.

Frank started to erupt in a fit of giggles, mumbling about how he hasn’t had a good fuck in such a long time. I carefully reminded him of his virginity…and he laughed even harder. I laughed. We laughed. We looked like the biggest asses to ever grace this doomed planet. But it’s okay…we had an excuse…we were potheads!

But our laughter soon ceased when a New Jersey trooped pulled behind us. We sat really still, hoping beyond hoping that he would deem the car empty and just drive away. No such luck on our part; and we watched in fear as the 6’2 cop exited his car and made his way towards us.

An “oh fuck” from Frankie’s side caused me to snap my head towards him. In a flash, he had his shirt off, my pants undone, and his hand down my boxers. It happened so fast, I didn’t even have time to react to the sudden sensation of him massaging my suddenly throbbing manhood. Before I could argue with the compromising position, a knock dragged my eyes away from his hand to the window…where the cop stood.

I swallowed hard and opened the window…

The cop was stunned- his face bright red with embarrassment. There was a tense silent between me and the officer…as his eyes tried to stay focus on his rehearsed lines and not the hand that was down my pants.

In a shaky voice he said, “You two be good now.” And quickly ran back to his vehicle; too in shock to notice the smell of weed.

Once my fifth heart-attack passed, I snapped my head towards Frank with all intention to yell at him for practically outing me to a fucking cop. However, he silenced all my complaints with his soft lips against mine…

The tingle I had become addicted to from the pot was dancing along our conjoined lips; tugging at that organ called a heart. It skipped. It never skipped. The tingle ran down my stomach where a million dead butterflies were revived and fluttered happily in my body. I brought my hand up to caress his soft face; when did his features ever look this calm? He seemed so at peace…I seemed so high from something other than the drugs.

I pulled away and looked into his green eyes that were neither blood-shot or dull from the pot, and said in a shy voice, “I must be hallucinating…”

“Silly,” he smirked, “pot doesn’t make you hallucinate.”

Our lips found each other again; trapping our minds and bodies in this orgasmic feeling that danced through our bodies…

And after that night I no longer needed the pot…because I had a much better high- Frank Iero.
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Pot Is Not A Hallucinogen