Hey everybody! Hope you are all having an amazing summer!
Fellow graduated seniors: Jesus motherfucking Christ we made it! Don't get me wrong, I'm gonna miss everybody, but high school can suck my fat one. Fuck drama.
Thanks everyone who reviewed my last chapter! Next time I'll try and update a little faster.
(Beginning- what the hell? why won't this site let me make page breaks?)
"Shit! Ooww! Cocksucking motherfucker!" Stan swore as he cradled his right foot in both hands, balancing unsteadily on his other foot.
The brunet inhaled deeply through his teeth and tentatively placed his right foot back on the ground. He grabbed the suitcase that had fallen onto his toe and threw it violently on to the backseat of his black truck. Slamming the car door shut, Stan limped back up to the doorstep of his house. He stepped into his shoes and locked the front door behind him.
The brunet then hoisted himself into the car and sat for several minutes, fiddling nervously with his keys. After a slow inhale and exhale, Stan licked his lips and turned on the engine. Backing into the street much slower than usual, the brunet tried to calm his excited nerves. His thumbs drummed out frantic rhythms on the steering wheel as he waited at the intersection that would take him towards Kyle's neighborhood.
The sky was gray and the wind was blustery with tiny particles of ice, and Stan flipped on the windshield wipers. He groaned at the thought of driving to Denver in this weather. He should have left earlier like his parents.
The drive to Kyle's seemed longer than normal, Stan thought as he pulled across the empty intersection. There weren't many other cars out on the roads right now. The brunet exhaled another nervous breath. The notion of driving all the way to Denver alone with Kyle was either immensely appealing or horribly dreadful, and Stan couldn't decide which.
The brunet navigated slowly through Kyle's neighborhood before pulling reluctantly up to the driveway. He contemplated dragging his ass out of the car and into the cold to help Kyle with his bags, like a gentleman, but ultimately decided to beep the horn twice and wait for the redhead to come out of the house.
The redhead emerged from the house looking clean and poised and immaculate. Stan swallowed hard and unlocked the passenger door. The brunet scoffed incredulously as Kyle delicately set his fancy leather suitcase in the back of the car and slid smoothly onto the passenger seat. The redhead shut the door quickly to keep in the heat and hugged his knees up to his chest for immediate warmth.
Kyle tilted his head down so that his temple rested against his knee and he was facing Stan.
"Hey," the redhead breathed out softly with a quick, childish smile. Stan's chest fluttered and he cleared his throat nonchalantly.
"Are you sure it's safe to drive to Denver in this weather?" Kyle cautiously asked.
"We're fine," Stan replied shortly, not trusting his voice at the moment for some reason.
"If you say."
The sky started to darken, but the roads remained mostly clear as the wind blew small tufts of ice across the landscape. The two started out with hesitant small talk, then began to converse normally as they settled in. Stan was having Kyle teach him dirty phrases in French by the time they made it onto the highway that led out of the county.
"Alright, alright," Stan managed through tears of laughter, "how about ummm… 'She's a good fuck.'"
"Elle baise bien…or elle est une sacrée baiseuse*, depending on what exactly you want to say," Kyle responded with a grin and a snicker.
Stan dissolved into another peal of laughter.
A little while after that Stan was bitching about the status of his and Bebe's demolished relationship.
"I mean, I warned her before we got together that I didn't want a relationship. Fuck, and I knew she would get all emotional and attached after we slept together, but I told her ahead of time! Jesus fucking Christ! And then, you know, I felt bad and all, so we dated, but I was bored as fuck and-"
"You're a real douche, Stan," Kyle quietly cut him off.
"Come on, dude," Stan reasoned. "Haven't you ever been in this situation?" He teased.
"Yup." Kyle admitted softly.
Stan looked taken back and surprised.
"Well, what happened with her?"
Kyle shook his head, Stan elbowed him teasingly.
"Come on, man just tell me," the brunet continued to coax.
The redhead sighed and looked out the window.
"It wasn't with… not really with…" Kyle tried, but couldn't force the words out. He kept shaking his head. It was like there was something stuck in his throat that choked the words down.
A jolt went through Stan's body when he realized what Kyle was trying to say.
"It was with a guy?" Stan asked, deathly quiet, shocked. He swallowed back sudden, intense jealously and tried to keep his breathing steady.
Kyle nodded timidly, obviously waiting for a more explosive reaction from the other.
"Oh. Wh-What happened?" Stan asked.
Kyle looked at the brunet incredulously, but licked his lips nervously and told him.
"Well," the redhead started quietly, "I went to a boarding school, so, you know, I lived with everyone there, and there was this guy-" Kyle's words started speeding up as he talked.
"Slow down," Stan instructed.
"Oh. Um Sorry. So there was this guy-Christophe- and he lived on the same dorm floor as me. Um he was older than me- two years, and he was tutoring me in French, cause you know, and then one time he was over, and, ok well that part's not really important, but we kinda had a thing and we hooked up a few times. And then there was a dorm party this one night, and I got fucked up and he told me he didn't want a relationship, but I was like half wasted and didn't care and then we had sex." Kyle gasped the last part out. His face was flushed and he kept his eyes on his knees while he talked.
"You had sex…with him," Stan repeated awkwardly. "Um. Ok."
"…so anyway he got what he wanted, then took after some kid in his fencing club- Garret? Gregory? Yea, Gregory." Kyle finished dismally.
Stan looked contemplative as he mulled over all this new information in his head.
"Wow. That…sucks," he offered, distracted.
"Yea. Getting used generally does- ask any of your ex-flings. They'd know all about it," Kyle replied snidely.
For the first time in a long time, traces of true guilt began to descend upon Stan. He had never really seen this situation from the other side…
Silence flooded the car and Kyle turned his head to the other side and began to nod off.
Around nine it started flurrying, and about 9:30 the two had pulled out the glove box map to argue
about their location. The car slowed to little more than a crawl as the weather worsened.
"Do you even know where we are?" Kyle screamed.
"Shut up," Stan growled and pointed to a route on the map. "We're right fucking here."
"Oh god you're an idiot. We can't be on the 87. We would have to taken highway 34 to get there!"
"We already fucking went on the 34!"
"No we didn't Stan!" Kyle accused. Their arguing began to rise in intensity.
"How the fuck would you know? You've been prancing your ass around Europe. You've only been back here like three months!"
"I was gone less than a year Stan! I still know how to get around Colorado- I haven't changed that much!"
"Oh really? Because you came back after nine months and now you frolic around like you're hot shit, you think your so goddamn perfect Brovlovski! Your fucking stupid designer clothes and your hair and everybody thinks your so fucking adorable but I hate you, you FUCKING FAGGOT!" The second the words left his mouth, Stan knew he would sorely regret them.
Kyle looked heartbroken, then immediately furious.
"And you haven't changed at all," The redhead began quietly. "You're scared as fuck, and your in denial. You fucking douche, I know the reason you get bored with chicks so easily," Kyle's face held a smug grin, and he unbuckled his seatbelt to get closer to the other as he drove.
"It's cause they're not satisfying, are they?" The redhead teased maliciously. He leaned closer to Stan's ear. "You have a new one every month because you have an itch they can't scratch, huh?"
Stan gave Kyle the absolutely most murderous glare the redhead had ever seen in his life. The brunet's knuckles were white as they gripped the steering wheel, and his arms were shaking in rage. If Kyle had been smarter, he would have known to shut up. But he wasn't. Kyle was relishing the upper hand.
"So," the redhead asked innocently, "do you even think about them when you're with them? Who do you think about, Stan? I really, really wanna know. Are you a fucking faggot like me?"
Stan launched himself at Kyle, tearing his hands from the wheel. The car swerved left, then right, then plunged anticlimactically into a snowdrift on the side of the road. Neither teen noticed. They were both
busy grappling furiously across the driver and passenger seat. Stan managed to subdue Kyle beneath him and wrap his hands around his neck, and the redhead had thrown a few good punches that left Stan with a bloody nose, and both had bruised jaws.
"I fucking RESENT you," Stan screamed down at the redhead. "I HATE you for making me feel like this about another guy! I'm not a fucking fag!"
Kyle gasped for air as Stan released his grip a little.
"Yea well," the redhead began between breaths, "join the club, cause I hate myself for falling for a guy that I know is gonna use me and then toss me aside as soon as his itch is scratched."
Stan stared down at the other with an unreadable expression, and slowly unwrapped his fingers from Kyle's throat. He winced at the red hand marks left on the other's neck. They would probably bruise. Stan and Kyle both sat back up in the driver and passenger seat respectively, breathing heavily. They glanced around at their surroundings.
"We're on the side of the road," Stan remarked, confusion evident in his voice.
He attempted to maneuver the car back onto the highway, but the snow beneath the back tires couldn't hold the car up. The engine revved loudly, but the car went no where.
Stan groaned and dropped his head to the wheel.
"Get out," he told Kyle. "Help me push the car."
Kyle frowned, then sighed, and jumped out into the ice.
The two worked for a good twenty minutes- pushing, attempting to drive, pushing. By the time they got back on the road it was almost 11:00. They were breathing heavy from exertion and shivering from the temperature.
"There's no way we can make it even close to Denver in this weather," Kyle announced tiredly.
"I know," Stan admitted. "Let's look for a motel or something."
About forty five minutes later, the two came across a lone sign for a bed and breakfast a little further up the road. It was a quaint looking house with rose gardens and white shutters.
"This is mad sketchy. We're gonna get tortured and killed," Stan voiced his opinion.
Kyle huffed, "Shut up. We don't even know if there's vacancy."
An elderly lady answered the door. She had gray hair tied back in a bun and lifted her spectacles up onto the bridge of her nose to take a better look at her customers.
"Hi there. Um, I'm Stan, this is Kyle," Stan motioned to the redhead, "and we were supposed to meet up with my family in Denver. But we can't really get there tonight, so do you have a vacancy?" Stan finished awkwardly.
The woman sniffed lightly and peered at the duo for a few moments.
"What are you wearing?" She asked them accusingly.
"Wha-?" Kyle began.
"I swear, the children these days. Running around with nothing on! You're going to get sick. You know in my day, if the children ran around like that, they'd be whipped by their parents!" The woman turned to go back into the house.
"Um, so do you have a vacancy?" Stan called after her.
"Get your things, and I'll go make up a room," she instructed, as she headed towards the stairs.
The two heaved their luggage into the house, and shut the front door behind them. The house was styled
like that of a typical grandma- floral patterns, tea cozies, lace doilies.
"You were right, Stan. We're in serious danger here. I doubt we'll live through the night," Kyle deadpanned.
"Hey, she could still try and bake us into a pie or something. Hansel and Gretel, hello?" Stan whispered as the elderly woman crept back down the stairs.
"You boys can rest on the couch right now. I'll make you some snacks."
Several minutes later she returned with two mugs of hot chocolate and a small quantity of cucumber sandwiches on a tray. While they ate, she relayed them with stories of her late husband, Irving, and the days of her youth. Kyle listened with intent interest, but Stan was honestly just falling asleep. Once they had finished, she showed them to their room and retired for the night.
It wasn't until the two started unpacking their toothbrushes that they realized there was only one bed.
"Um," Kyle started hesitantly, "there's only one bed." He looked around the room for a couch or loveseat.
Stan just shrugged. "We'll deal."
Kyle's heart sped up a bit. The thought of sleeping alone with Stan electrified his nerves, although the situation would have been a lot nicer had they not hated each other.
The redhead ventured to bathroom to brush his teeth. He fretted about the snowstorm as he flossed. What if the weather wasn't clearer by tomorrow? They wouldn't make it to Denver in time, and worse, he would be stuck alone with Stan for longer than planned in that godforsaken truck. Kyle reviewed their brawl in the car. Shit, he had admitted falling for Stan hadn't he? The floss cut into his gums as he accidentally pulled too hard, and he spat blood into the sink.
Kyle glanced around the bathroom as he swished water in his mouth. There was a nice sized bathtub in the corner. It was white porcelain and had an old copper spout. Want overcame him.
"Hey Stan, taking a bath," he peeked out of the bathroom and called out. Stan grunted in response and continued to watch the weather forecast on the television. Kyle shut the door and shed his clothes. The bathroom was icy, and Kyle crouched by the tub as he waited for the hot water to fill it up. When it was full, the redhead nearly jumped in delight, and gingerly stepped in, one foot at a time.
It was perfect. Kyle sighed in contentment. The tub was spacious, and the redhead stretched his body out in the water. He played around for a while, feeling the waterline with his palm, walking his fingers along the rim of the tub. He thought of nothing. It was fantastic. The weightless and warmth nearly rocked him to sleep, until he was woken by the creak of the bathroom door opening.
"Sorry," Stan apologized. "Gotta brush my teeth." He motioned awkwardly to the sink.
The brunet stepped over Kyle's clothes, and the redhead curled up in the water, feeling uncomfortable. He was naked in the water, while Stan was fully clothed. He listened to the brunet brush and floss, and waited impatiently for Stan to leave. When the brunet was finished, he padded across the bathroom to the tub. Nervousness suddenly bubbled up within Kyle, and he drew his knees tighter together. Stan sat down on the tile with his back leaning against the tub. He sighed.
"So, the weather guy," Stan began, rubbing his face tiredly, "says that the weather will be off and on through the night. It might be clear for a while tomorrow morning, but a storm's supposed to hit Denver tomorrow afternoon."
Kyle groaned. "So when do we have to leave tomorrow?"
"Around eleven, I think. Fuck, this is bad."
The redhead hmm'd in agreement.
Stan fidgeted slightly and readjusted himself so that he was kneeling, facing the tub. His head rested on the porcelain rim, and he brought one arm around to dip his fingers in the warm bath water. For a few minutes, Stan pensively watched his fingers flex in the water, before lifting his eyes to watch Kyle. The redhead was also watching Stan's fingers, with half-lidded eyes.
"I wanna come in," Stan announced.
Startled, Kyle glanced up at the brunet, and meant to reply with 'absolutely not,' but what came out of his mouth was, "Sure, Ok."
Stan stood and pulled his tee-shirt over his head smoothly. Kyle shifted slightly in the water. Watching the brunet strip made the redhead's body feel electrified. He scooted down towards the front of the tub and twisted around so that he was facing Stan. He hugged his knees to his chest. The brunet slid into the warm water and sat, knees bent, facing Kyle. He playfully nudged Kyle's shin with his foot, and the redhead smiled.
The two joked lightly for a while, before Stan licked his lips and asked, "Hey Ky. You know how you said you slept with that kid?"
A tinge of dread enveloped Kyle. "Yea…" the redhead answered slowly and suspiciously.
The brunet's face was crimson as he nervously asked, "Um. What …was that like?" Stan felt ridiculously stupid asking the question, but his curiosity couldn't be contained.
At this, Kyle raised one eyebrow. That was not what he had been expecting. The redhead shrugged his shoulders.
"It…hurt. But it was also kind of nice. I don't know."
"Oh," Stan replied awkwardly. "Tell me about France," the brunet asked, changing the subject.
The redhead laughed and narrated stories of some of the most ridiculous customs Stan had ever heard. The brunet laughed heartily and extended his legs, so that they rested on either side of Kyle's balled up form. The redhead shyly shifted closer to Stan. Kyle's heart was beating quickly, and he was hyper-sensitive to every movement and touch. The brunet seemed to understand and he pulled the redhead closer. Kyle was sitting between Stan's open legs, and, with a flushed face, he slowly lifted his legs and folded them around Stan's waist. The brunet dragged Kyle close, so that their naked hips were pressed together. The redhead wrapped his arms around Stan's neck.
Kyle thought his heart was going to beat out of his chest. The sensation of Stan's slick, wet hips against his own made him breathless. The redhead buried his nose in Stan's neck, as the other trailed his fingers down Kyle's back. Stan's hands slid down to the other's hips, then ass, and pushed Kyle up against his body. The redhead tried not to gasp. His head was swimming, and he instinctively rolled his hips against Stan's. The brunet groaned, and tried to hold Kyle closer, if that was possible.
The redhead could feel Stan hardening against himself, and that notion flooded his body with heat. He tightened his grip around Stan's waist with his legs. Kyle moved his hips again. Stan thrust back. Soon they had a messy rhythm, as Kyle clung desperately to Stan, both of them panting heavily. Kyle left soft kisses and nips on Stan's neck as they moved. Then the brunet grabbed Kyle's hair and gently pulled his head back, so that Kyle was looking straight at Stan. The brunet nearly came at the sight of Kyle's face. The redhead's lips were swollen and parted and his cheeks were flushed. His pupils were dilated and his hair was messed up. Stan brought one hand down and placed the tip of his index finger on Kyle's lips. The redhead took Stan's finger into his mouth and sucked softly, closing his eyes.
"Fuck, Kyle," Stan groaned out. He thrust harder against Kyle.
"Stan," the redhead breathed out in a high-pitched gasp.
He then shuddered and came, Stan following a few moments later. Kyle slumped against the other, trying to regain his breath. The redhead was shaking slightly, and Stan held him close. After a few minutes, Kyle untangled himself from Stan and looked around. The bath water was now lukewarm and cloudy. The redhead made a face.
"Fuck that's gross," he remarked. Stan shrugged his shoulders in response. Kyle jumped out of the water and grabbed a towel, Stan following suit.
The two dressed in their pajamas- just boxers, and slid under the covers. They watched a late night comedy on the television, which was hilarious in their state of exhaustion.
At one point Stan looked over at Kyle. His fingers toyed with redhead's hair, then trailed down to tilt Kyle's chin towards his own. The brunet was leaning down, when Kyle frowned suddenly and turned his head away. Stan retracted his hand slowly in confusion.
Kyle fell asleep a little before two, and Stan shut off the television. The redhead's back was facing him, and Stan moved closer to place a chaste kiss on the back of the other's neck, before falling into blissful sleep.
Stan awoke slowly the next morning. Kyle was not in bed with him. The brunet felt Kyle's side of the bed. It was cold; he must have woke a while ago. Dressing hastily, he emerged from the room to the sounds of the hissing stove and pleasant chatter between Kyle and the old landlady. The house smelled of bacon and burnt toast.
The brunet checked his appearance in the hallway mirror before heading down. There was a collection of small red hickies on one side of his neck. Stan felt giddy and warm as he fingered them. He entered the kitchen shyly. Kyle was sitting on the counter enjoying a peach, while talking to landlady as she sat with a mug of tea. Stan caught the redhead's eye just as he was taking another bite of fruit. Kyle blushed behind his peach.
"Well good morning," the woman greeted Stan.
"Good morning," Stan responded. The lady fixed an amused stare on Stan's hickies, and the brunet blushed.
There was bacon, toast, yogurt, and sliced fruit on the kitchen table. Stan grabbed a glass of orange juice and nibbled on a piece of burnt toast with butter.
"I made the toast," Kyle admitted when Stan made a face at the burnt bread. The brunet snickered.
After breakfast, Kyle packed his and Stan's things up while the brunet called his parents. They paid and tipped the old lady, and were just about to start up the car, when she came back out carrying two brown paper bags. They were filled with lunch- cheese sandwiches wrapped in aluminum foil, apple slices, some carrots, and two lemon tarts. She looked at the boys and grabbed Kyle's wrist.
"Look at this. Do your parents even feed you? Kids these days," she muttered. Kyle laughed and thanked
her for the lunch and the stories.
"You boys drive safely now," she warned and headed back into the house.
It was 11:30, and they were back on the road. There were huge storm clouds on the horizon, and Stan and Kyle drove straight towards them as they headed for Denver.
(End- TBC...)
*Elle baise bien: essentially means 'she fucks well,' with the verb baiser meaning to kiss, but used in slang as to fuck
Elle est une sacrée baiseuse: is more like she's a great fuck, or a hell of a fuck, with the noun baiseuse most closely meaning 'a woman who fucks'
See, you learn something new everyday. Your welcome.
Review please! I promise it will make me update faster. Oh! And thank you endmysoup, your especially generous review made me stop in the middle of my senior summer and write this chapter.
