It was hot in the room. Way too hot. Stanley Marsh wrestled with his blankets, kicking them off his feet and laying to let them rest across his waist and hips. The fan in his room had broken some time ago and it was causing some strange dreams as of lately. He always woke up before it got too serious but this time was different. As he fought with the blankets, the fabric became more solid and in time, hands were gripping his wrists and a body was wrestling back.
Grunts and gasps were heard between the two as Stan pushed the figure onto their back and felt the person lift their legs around Stan's hips, perhaps in imitation of the blankets a moment ago. With a bit of shifting, the person managed to successfully topple Stan over so his head was at the foot of the bed and a small chuckle was heard. Stan could see his room, the messy blankets and the clothes he hadn't bothered to clean from the floor, but the person in front of him was blurry, like he'd been wearing someone else's glasses that distorted his vision.
Stan struggled against his opponent, wrenching his wrists around within the tight grasp, to no avail. The person was stronger than him in his current sleepy and overheated state and that frustrated him a little. He had played sports in school, how could he not win in a wrestling match with someone his size? Or...Stan assumed this person was the same size as him.
Relaxing in the others grip, Stan waited until the hold on his wrist slackened and twisted slowly so he could run his fingers along the length of the strangers arm. Hmm, thin arms, a hint of solid muscle to them. Perhaps someone who worked out, but only once a week or less. His hands reached the shoulder blades of his opponent and he began to map out what this figure might look like. His fingertips traveled slowly, across a shirtless chest that didn't seem particularly special, but the skin was soft to his touch and that was something at least. Whomever it was didn't seem really in shape, though it was obvious they were fairly normal for teenagers these days. He took comfort in the fact that the figure wasn't overweight, so he could rule out at least one attacker.
Stan only stopped when his hands touched the waistband of jeans and one finger slipped below the band, a slight groan coming from the person above him. A horrible curiosity struck Stan and he wound his arms around the figure's waist, dragging his fingers over their lower back and getting a small contented sigh in return. This was something. He knew of three people that loved to have their back rubbed and only two who loved what he was about to do next. With one hand, Stan dug his nails into the soft skin, not too hard to draw blood, but enough to cause pale red lines against the peachy flesh as he pulled his hand upwards and bringing his nails up with the motion.
A low moan rumbled through his opponent and Stan smiled a bit. He had something to go off of now. But it seemed the figure had had enough of Stan's finger searching and lowered some of their weight onto his body, leaning in so Stan could feel their breath on his cheek. His own breath hitched slightly as he felt soft lips press to his cheek, then his jaw and then his neck. These soft touches and simple affections were somewhat thrilling to Stan as he'd only ever had the extra simple kisses of his ex girlfriend and no kisses from the couple of partners he'd experimented with. Wendy had been too nervous to get intimate in case Stan vomited on her, so the reason behind why he was not feeling nauseous now was beyond him. Perhaps because this was a dream and he could be cool and not a vomit fountain in his dreams.
The lips at his neck had turned to teeth and Stan gasped as he felt his flesh being pulled gently at various spots along his neck and shoulder. "Angh..." Stan felt a little heat in his cheeks as he heard himself make some sort of pleased noise. But the figure didn't seem to mind and kissed a path down the center of Stan's chest. All of this was fine and dandy, but a moment after, Stan felt a pressure against a part of him that was beginning to react to all this stimuli and he gasped again.
A hand, belonging to the figure above him no doubt, was gently rubbing at the front of his pajama pants, coaxing his member to stiffen further and it was working. It wasn't as if Stan hadn't done this to himself before, spending a lot of nights brooding over Wendy or simply having to spend the nights alone to his dismay, but having someone else do it was always better. His partners had shown him this, but for some reason, neither of them had felt quite as good as this. It was if a very pleasant feeling came from simply having contact with whomever this was, increasing the physical stimuli to a higher degree.
Knowing what he did about the back and his friends, Stan could understand this familiar comfortable feeling from the faces he was currently trying to place on the person licking at his skin. Wait, licking?
A wet tongue was dragging its way along Stan's inner hip, leading to his navel and stopping. "Don't-..." Stan clapped a hand to his mouth to stop himself asking for more. He wasn't a whore, he knew whoever this was wouldn't leave him hanging. Or at least he hoped they wouldn't.
He was pleased to know his first hope was right as the figure's hand didn't stop, but rather delved into his pajama pants to grab ahold of him with a firm grip. It wasn't painful, but the sudden skin to skin caused Stan to arch his back up from the mattress. The hand on his member began stroking him, slow at first but speeding up as Stan responded with full body shifting and a few little moans.
"Touch me too."
The voice wasn't his own, Stan was sure of that, but he knew it from somewhere. He knew it well, but the name was eluding him like a jewel at the other end of a broken bridge. All the same, he brought his hands up to the person's hips, having only a little difficulty getting the right spot before sliding one hand down the front and gently brushing his fingertips against an already stiffened shaft. How he hadn't felt that before when the figure had leaned on him, Stan wasn't too sure, but it didn't really matter.
His fingers closed around the figure's arousal and he felt them shudder, something that gave him a bit of pride. He copied the motions of his partner, stroking in a slow rhythm at first while he silently reveled in the moan he heard. Wanting to hear more of that sound, Stan quickened his hand. As if they were now competing, the person above Stan did the same with his own hand.
Stan chewed at his lower lip, fighting little noises of contentment that threatened to break free if he wasn't careful, but his partner seemed not to care, his breath coming with audible deliberation, letting a soft moan slip out whenever he felt like it. It was these noises that kept Stan climbing the ladder to that height he knew from past experience, getting hotter just from knowing he was causing this person to make such sounds.
"Stan...I-"
Stan sped up his hand, alternating a little pressure by tightening a few of his fingers. A pleased shiver passed through his partner and the action was re-payed by the figure pulling some rather stunning things with his own hand. A little pressure here, a gentle brushing around the tip of Stan's member coupled with a quick and steady pace that had Stan wishing that he could simply bite his lip to stifle the moans he was now emitting.
It was always at this point, at the most dangerous times, that Stan stopped dreaming. He fought himself awake with a cold sweat and usually spent the next few minutes finishing himself off because it was uncomfortable to sleep any other way. But even as Stan tried to open his eyes in the reality where he was currently tossing around within his covers, he realized the dream wasn't ending.
Caught off guard, Stan let out a most embarrassing yelp as the figure bit down on his skin again, hot breath ghosting over him and once again getting him higher simply from knowing he was pleasing whoever this was. That familiar tightening of something in his stomach let Stan know he wasn't going to last much longer, and judging by the panting of the figure above him, he figured it was the same for them.
"St-stop!" Stan said, breathlessly trying to word things right.
The figure stopped, a curious tone to their doing so, and Stan smiled reassuringly. He couldn't see the figure's face so he wasn't even sure if they'd seen his smile, but all the same he continued with his plans. Twisting so he could get a steady ground on his mattress, he grasped his partner's shoulder with his free hand, never letting go of the heated flesh below their waistband, and slowly pushed them over to their back. He brought his leg over to straddle the figure's hips and the most adorable sound was heard, and Stan was incredibly pleased to know it wasn't his. He leaned down, giving his partner the same warm kisses he'd been receiving along his neck line as he resumed his motions with his hand.
The pace was easily picked up again by the person now below Stan and they seemed to work even harder now that they were getting the kisses. Stan was almost ridiculously proud of himself as he let his teeth bite along the warm flesh at the figure's neck and heard whoever it was whimper.
"I-...I'm going to-..." The figure was breathing hard and Stan thought it sounded almost difficult to get a breath in. Like the person was going to stop breathing at any minute. He once again paid special attention to the arousal of the other, tightening his hold and moving his hand at different lengths with each stroke. "Ah!"
Stan could feel the other release, their body tightening as they shook silently. He kept his hand within the figure's jeans, not wanting to worry about cleaning up anything he had gotten on himself just yet or spreading it anywhere as he rocked on top of the other for just a while longer. Squeezing his eyes shut and letting himself hit his orgasm with a strained cry, Stan felt his back arch almost painfully and his whole body quiver for a moment.
When it was over, Stan dropped his head to the person's shoulder, trying to steady his heartbeat. That had been one of the be-...hell, it had been the best orgasm Stan could remember. The familiarity from the one now catching their breath below him had made things so much more personal and intense. He pressed feverish kisses to his partner's skin, as if conveying some sort of deeper affection though he still couldn't place the name of who he was kissing.
"Stan..."
Their voice was so familiar and yet...
Stan woke up, laying still in his bed with a sense almost similar to dread. He knew he'd wake up eventually, but now he was left with a mess to clean up, a horrible sense of loneliness and this nagging curiosity in the back of his mind.
"God dammit." Stan sat up, moving carefully and uncomfortably as he tried to figure out who he had dreamed of. As he shifted to make for the bathroom attached to his bedroom, thankfully so as he had gotten tired of having to share the bathroom down the hall where his father happened to frequent when he did any home cooking...which had occurred just hours ago for dinner, Stan caught sight of his phone on the desk. The Message light was blinking and Stan frowned. Who would have texted him this late at night?
He got up, almost rolling his eyes at how awkward he felt trying to bunch his pajama pants up so he wouldn't have to walk like a freak to get to the bathroom. Flipping his phone open, Stan saw the name of the messenger and his heart practically leapt into his throat. That name had been the one he was trying to reach! Seeing it had made it so much easier to remember...the voice, the figure...he knew this person well.
Hey Stan,
sorry if you're sleeping.
I've been up since 2am...so hot out.
Just wanted to let you know if you wanted
to hang tomorrow like we talked about,
you can come over for 3pm. I have to nap
in front of the fan downstairs when mom
leaves for work...
So...yeah...sorry if I woke you!
Kyle.
Stan felt his face heat up as he remembered those kisses, the feeling of those fingers around him, pinning that so called stranger to the bed and straddling him...to see his best friend's face settling so perfectly in that stranger's place made his dream seem so much more embarrassing.
"Augh, what a fag." Stan groaned, hoping to whatever god there was that this wouldn't lead to an awkward day tomorrow. He closed his phone, opting to respond tomorrow once he was finished cleaning himself up and taking a pleasantly dreamless sleep after.