Title: Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough
Fandom, pairing(s), rating: The Two Coreys (Feldman and Haim), NC-17 (For the Kink Ficathon.) \o/
Prompt: blow jobs (and I made it a hat trick with drugs and 80s trivia)
A/N: Set in December 1989. Excessive use of the word "dude" and "fuck." I would love anyone that gets the joke in the title. And I love moosesal for the beta work and for being kick ass.
A/N 2: Um, if you're not a child of the eighties, then you won't know who Jami, River, Keanu, Charlie, Scott, Nicole (Haim is on top giving her the bidness!), Martha, Leaf, Noni, Wil and Depp are, will you? How sad. And by sad, I mean me for paying attention to all of this shit as it happened. OH MY GOD, COREY ILU. Ahaha. Ahem. Oh, this is the NON-soul killing Schadenfreude version. O_O
Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough
Corey Feldman walked into the kitchen, nodded "hello" to a couple making Warhol crackers in the microwave. Fucking kids. He passed them and headed through the French doors out back to where he knew anyone who was anyone would be. Jami Gertz hadn't done much since that one drug movie, but she was connected enough to make sure that there would be plenty of important people at her party.
He saw River and Keanu laying naked on some pool floats passing a smoking apple back and forth. River had this thing about how pottery glaze wasn't "Vegan" and it took precious minerals from the earth. He said that apple bongs were "more in tune with Gaia." Fucking hippy. Naw, he was cool. Total trippy queer, but cool.
River's hand shot up in a wave, splashing water all over Keanu. "Corey! Hey, man. There's some beer in a cooler somewhere."
"Naw, I'm good. I'm looking for something to elevate my mind, man."
Keanu whispered something to River, who frowned slighty. "Shut up. He's alright. Corey - check out Noni's stash. She's probably up at the front of the house waiting for Johnny." River sing-songed Depp's name and rolled his eyes. Feldman knew River had a thing for Depp.
"Cool, thanks man." Keanu muttered something and laughed, and Feldman beamed and shot him the finger. Like anyone was going to make it big with a name like that. And what was his claim to fame? Playing a burnout. Twice! Feldman was this generation's DeNiro, and that fucking guy was making comments under his breath? Not to mention he stunk to high-fucking-heaven. How could someone who spent most of his life in the ocean smell like a fucking immigrant's armpit on a hot day? Jesus. Corey did a quick smell check to the collar of his poet's blouse. Drakkar Noir, baby.
Feldman saw some people he knew from the party circuit passing a spliff around and joined them. Some chick called him "Frog Brother" and laughed, but then she passed the joint to him and sat on his lap, so he didn't get pissed. She congratulated him on his marriage then jammed her tongue down his throat. They dropped some E and went off in a corner to mess around for a while. Her face was just okay, but she had great tits. And a willing friend. This was shaping up to be a decent party.
Corey smoothed his hair back into a ponytail and left the girls sprawled on one of the guest beds. They'd started partying too soon and passed out before he could get off. Fucking figures. But the night was young, and so was he, and there were plenty of opportunities ahead. He made his way to the front room where he had scored the E and saw Martha and Leaf trying to drag River and Keanu out of the party to go to some place on the Strip to smoke weed with other hippies. He made a U-turn and walked to the gameroom where a bunch of people were crowded around something.
He noticed that one of them was Scott Baio, which wasn't good. The guy was an utter prick. Must have smelled free booze and poon, because who the fuck invited him? Feldman was surprised he hadn't seen Haim yet; he had a hardon for Scott's girl, Nicole Eggert. They both thought it was fucked up that Scott had played her nanny on their lame ass TV show, and was now boning her. But they both agreed that they would have totally done the same. The chick was hot.
Corey walked up to the group. "Hey, what are we all looking at? Someone pass out already? Oh, shit."
The crowd had parted enough for him to get through and it was Haim. He was obviously high on something and was sprawled over a chair. Scott was trying to toss some peanuts into Haim's mouth, open as per usual.
"What the fuck are you doing? Lay off."
Scott rounded on him, shoulders back and hands in loose fists. "You gonna make me?"
"Yeah, I'll fucking make you, you fucking TV has been. Hey, heard your show was canceled, dick breath."
Someone put their hand on Corey's chest to keep him from rushing at Baio. Scott had a good half-foot on him, but no one was going to treat him or his friend like that. Not fucking Chachi, that's for goddamn sure.
"Why don't you be in charge of this, huh?" Corey grabbed his dick and flipped Baio off. Some of the older Hollywood crowd snapped out of their smoked-out high and wandered over. Charlie Sheen came over and saw Haim on the chair smiling and drugged to the gills.
"Hey, that's my friend, man. Why don't you take your girl and go somewhere else, huh?"
Scott backed off a bit; he looked up to Charlie. They both partied in the same circles and boned the same Playboy Bunnies. At the same time, if the rumors were to be believed. Scott gave Feldman a dirty look and wandered off. Charlie took a quick pull off his beer and clapped Feldman on the shoulder. "You gotta look out for him, okay? Don't let him get wasted like this, you got me? He's just a kid. Jesus."
The crowd broke up after that, and Feldman got Corey under one shoulder and hauled him to his feet. "Hey man, let's go somewhere else, cool?"
Haim laughed and babbled something nonsensical. After a few steps, he shook himself out of his stupor and cried out, "My hat! Hang on." Haim broke free and staggered to the foyer and grabbed a long-billed military cap off the entry credenza. "Shumacher gave me this hat." He pulled it on his head, his bleached bangs poking out and curling up around the bill, and gave his million-dollar grin.
"Alright, alright, you got your hat, now can we please find a party that's not filled with douchebags?"
Haim beamed, slumped into the passenger seat of Corey's Porsche as they pulled out of the driveway, and held his hand out, palm up. "One douchebag-free party, coming up." There was an address written in marker on his palm.
Feldman grinned, "Hot chicks? Big tits? Free drugs?"
Haim grabbed the stick shift, jammed it into second and pointed forward, "Drive on, fucker!" He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a baggie of weed. He popped the glove compartment open, pulled out a pipe, and pushed the dash-lighter in.
"You're fucking crazy, man!"
Haim grinned, his tongue hanging out, and whooped. "Get me laid, bro!"
"Let's go over the rules, asshole, okay?"
Haim had his face pressed against the glass. He flipped Feldman off.
"You flip me off? Me? I'm the chump driving your ass all over L.A. trying to find some fucking party that may or may not be a figment of your fucking imagination." The blow Feldman did at the party earlier was starting to wear off and he was getting twitchy. The last thing he needed was to circle the fucking Valley looking for a score. He needed to have a score in the bag. Drugs or pussy, at this point he would take whatever fell in his lap. He rubbed erratically at his nose. Goddammit.
"So let's go over the rules. One, do not let someone write directions to a party on a junkie's sweaty palm if they're using washable markers. Two, do not let a fellow junkie write instructions when they can't spell for shit. Three, do not leave a party where there are drunk babes that could be fucked, because I'm in some serious pain here, asshole."
Haim tried to focus his eyes on Corey. "Why you rubbing your nose? You still snorting that shit? Man, that's going to kill you." He cracked up, then started cracking his knuckles obsessively. "Oh shit! Shit, shit, shit! Pull over! Pull the fuck over!"
"Jesus!" Corey pulled over to the side of a warehouse in the industrial part of town. "What the fuck man, did I hit something?" He started to open his door when Haim grabbed his arm, grinning like an idiot.
"No, I forgot that I put my bag in the trunk earlier. I think I've got an eightball in there."
They raced to the back and pulled everything haphazardly out of the duffel. Nothing.
Haim sank to his haunches and started running his hands through his hair, teeth chattering. "Feldog, I need something, man. I need you to take me somewhere I can get a fix. FUCK."
Corey scrubbed his face with his hands. Four in the morning, an hour away from the first party, and they were standing in an alley in the worst part of town with no fix close enough. Fuck. He bent down to grab one of Haim's jackets lying on the curb. There was a bright yellow something poking out of one pocket. A balloon with a nice, hard rock in it. His face broke into a grin.
"Core, if I said I could get you high, and right now, what would you do for me? I mean, I've been putting up with your shit all night long."
Haim jumped to his feet licking his lips compulsively. "What? You found something? Jesus, what do you want? You got something, really? You want me to jack you?"
Feldman almost dropped the balloon. "What did you just say to me?"
"N-nothing, man. Just, you holding?"
Feldman shifted. He was not getting harder at the thought. Because it was seriously impossible for his dick to get any harder. "No, say that again."
Haim bit his lower lip and unrolled and rolled his jacket sleeve. Feldman couldn't take his eyes off the striped silky fabric. He needed to look at that and not Haim's full lower lip trapped between his teeth. Because he wasn't going to-
"Jack you off? I mean... Yeah. It's not like it'll mean anything, just one friend helping another." Haim's voice took on a whine. "You're going to help me, right?" He stepped closer. Close enough for Corey to watch his Adam's apple jump in his slender throat.
"Yeah, man. Yeah. I, uh, got some shit in the glove box we can use."
Haim raced back to the car, ripped the glove box open and grabbed a crushed aluminum can and a needle case. He stood with his arms crossed, bouncing one foot up and down while Corey got them set up. A lighter under the can, the needle in the liquid, and Haim was pulling his pants down in a matter of seconds, it seemed.
"The fuck are you doing?"
"Shoot it in my groin. I got a photo shoot the day after next. I can't have tracks, or my mom'll kill me."
"I'm not putting this shit near your dick, man."
"Not my- Here." He took the needle and pushed his briefs down. He pushed with one finger against the soft brown curls near the inside of his hip and found a vein. He pushed the needle in, drew it back out and pushed it in again. He sighed when he pushed it all the way in, Corey wouldn't forget that ever. It was like he'd slipped his dick into a chick with a tight pussy. Haim took the needle out and handed it to Corey. He pulled his pants back up without buckling them and sprawled back over the passenger's seat while Corey lit up more of the speedball.
"You need some help, bro? You need me to do you? I can do you."
Feldman shook his head and pulled his jacket sleeve up. "I'm good." He made quick work of it; he wasn't in love with the needle, just the rush. He got back in the car and lay his seat all the way back while the cool euphoria raced through his veins towards his head. He started laughing softly, remembering a time when Wil asked Corey if he could jack him off one day during the filming of Stand By Me. He'd said no back then, although they did the occasional circle jerk with River joining in sometimes.
After a few minutes, he looked over at Haim, who was stretched out. His dick was out, and he was stroking himself softly in the absentminded way all guys do when they're watching TV at night. Haim lay there, his eyes shut and a stupid grin on his face, and reached over and started palming Feldman's crotch.
"Get those off. You helped me, right? Fuck, you helped me. This is so good, Feldog."
Well, why the fuck not? He unzipped and awkwardly shoved his jeans down over his ass. Haim curled on his side, knees against the stick shift, and started pumping Corey's dick with his right hand. After a minute, Corey stopped him.
"You're gonna take the skin off, man. I need some lube or something."
Haim's eyes were still a little out of focus. He had that dreamy, far-off look that made the teen chicks cream. "Oh, okay, then." He licked his lips and leaned over, taking Feldman in his mouth.
Corey grabbed the roof of the car and sucked in breath. He hadn't expected that, but Christ, it felt good to get sucked off when you were high. Haim curled up in his seat and gripped Corey's hips, mouth bobbing up and down. Haim pulled up a bit and pushed spit onto his lips, then slowly slid his mouth back over the head of Corey's cock.
Feldman sat there, unsure what to do with his hands. He couldn't put them on Haim's head or shoulders, because that would make them gay, or something. He didn't want to be an ass and just let them sit at his sides, either. He noticed a chill against his dick and opened his eyes. Haim was pulling on his legs, trying to turn him in his seat.
"Lean back against the door. I'm gonna get a crick in my neck if I have to fight the steering wheel the whole time."
This wasn't fucking happening. He shifted and pulled his jeans down further. At least now he could hang on the "oh, shit" bar over the window. He was really fucking glad it was December and they didn't have the convertible Beamer out tonight. Haim rested his forehead on Corey's belly for a minute while he adjusted himself. Corey was trying to not notice what Haim was doing, because it felt really fucking good, and if he didn't look at his best friend's mouth stretched over his dick, or his long girly eyelashes on his baby face, he could imagine it was Alyssa sucking him off again. She'd been really fucking good at that.
Haim was really fucking good at it. He didn't want to know why. And he didn't want him to stop, either. Now Haim was double fisting his cock into his own mouth.
"Jesus jumped-up Christ, Core-"
Haim pulled off and gave him a grin. He bent back over him and sucked Corey in all the way to the root in the slowest fucking suck ever imaginable. Haim looked up with those baby blues under those thick lashes and swallowed before continuing. Corey thought to himself that if he could ever get his brain to function normally, he'd make sure to always have a score on hand. Or whatever the fuck he needed to get Haim to do this again. Not that he was queer or anything. He just really fucking loved how good this felt, holy christ almighty.
Haim took one hand off and rested his weight on one of Corey's bent legs. He pumped one-handed into his mouth while Corey writhed underneath, trying to keep from blowing his load down the throat of Teen Beat's Hottie Of The Month's mouth. Oh, Jesus, that was going to do it if he didn't get a handle on it.
Haim whimpered a little, the sound sending vibrations up Corey's spine. He opened his eyes and shifted a bit so he could watch himself climax. Best friend's mouth or not, Feldman loved to watch himself come. He saw that Haim had one hand on his own dick, and from the look of it, was about to shoot off, himself. He couldn't help it. He grabbed two handfuls of Haim's curls and pumped his crotch up into his best friend's face, groaning with the force of his climax. He fell back against the foggy window and tried to catch his breath. Haim grabbed the handle to the convertible top over Corey's head and jerked himself onto Corey's bare stomach.
"What the fuck, man?"
Haim held one finger up, then rolled his window down and spat. "Couldn't help it. Fuck, I've needed that all night."
"Where the hell did you learn to do that? What the fuck did we just do, Core?"
Haim chewed on one ragged nail and stared out the window. "Shut the fuck up, man. You're fucking with my high."
"Oh, I'm fucking with your high? I just let Leukoplakia blow me. I just fucking had the best blow job--" He pointed a warning at Haim's face. "Shut the fuck up. Who else have you done that to, because there is no way in hell that was your first time."
"Look, let's just get the car turned on and go, okay? Okay?"
Haim was struggling with his clothes in the passenger seat, trying to pull himself together.
"Look, Core. Doing H and shit is one thing, but you're telling me that you've done this enough to be that fucking good at it? I'm all for partying, you know that, but what's happening to you? Every party we go to has you so messed up you're almost pissing and shitting yourself. Not cool, man, not cool."
Aw, Jesus, he was crying. "You fucked me up, man. You fucked me up. I was doing good before you, I swear to fucking god. Ebert said I was the best actor of my age he'd ever seen, man. Shit!"
"Oh yeah? Well, fuck you, man. Don't put your problems on me. You think I like having your stink all over me? You think I like going from the fucking Big Chill of our generation to fucking teen comedies? I have a wife, and I'm doing this shit with you." Feldman pulled his jacket up to show the tracks on his arms. "This is because of you, you fucking douchebag. I was fine with blow and X."
Haim stared at the tracks, his eyes finally coming in to focus. "How long have you been skin popping?"
Feldman shoved his sleeve down and smoothed his hair back, refusing to answer. He found the keys on the floor and turned the car on.
"The hell, man?" Haim licked his lips again and wiped his face on his jacket sleeve. "Who you getting it from? My source dried up, and, I'm just saying, you know, you could just tell me his name."
"Jesus fucking Christ, Core!" He pointed wildly at the side of his head, "You aren't even listening to me, are you? What the hell is wrong with you?"
Haim's eyes watered and he hung his head. "I don't know, man, I just... Look." He bit his lip and grabbed at Feldman's sleeve. "Hey, hey, man, come on!" He tried to put his lopsided grin on his face to make it all better. "Hey, just... You don't want to get caught with that stuff, you know? If you've got something, just let me hold it for you."
"What? No, way, dude!"
Haim scooted closer, still licking his lips, his eyes starting to roll wildly. "Just, fuck, come on. If you've got something left, just let me have a little. You know, for the road." Haim grabbed at Feldman's coat pockets, looking for a baggie or balloon.
Feldman shoved him back one-armed, trying to keep control of the car. "Get the fuck off me, man. I don't have any more!"
Haim flung himself back against his door. "God dammit fucking Christing FUCK." He was shaking. His hands were shaking and his body was shaking and he buried his face in the crook of his arm and pounded his fist on the dashboard. Feldman was seriously freaked out now.
"Hey, man, keep your cool, okay?"
Haim was crying again. "You don't get it, man, I fucking need it. I fucking need it and you're my best friend and you won't give me any more, and I fucking need it you fucking asshole."
"Okay, man, okay. Just cool it, alright? Just be cool and we'll get you some, okay?" Haim started biting on his fingernail again. "We'll get you some, cool? Core?"
Haim nodded, still looking out the window.