After Speech, Reach Into the Silence - carleton97

It was the worst kind of midwestern summer day to have lost the air conditioning in a power outage. It was hot – ninety-one the last time Stan checked – overcast, and so muggy it was hard to breathe. It was too hot to eat, too hot to sleep, and it was for sure too hot to wear anything but the minimum the law required. When he had woken up already sweaty and miserable at nine am, Stan's plan for the day had involved nothing more than lazing around the lakeshore, drinking iced tea, and moving as little as possible.

He'd never been happier to have a plan fall apart.

The skin across his shoulders was hot and tight from the filtered sun and he thought he could feel more freckles forming. Sweat ran down his back and dampened the waistband of his swim trunks, but he didn't care because Casey was spread out over the beach towels covering the rough wood of the dock.

Casey's face was flushed - whether from the heat or desire, Stan couldn’t tell - and the color on his cheeks had migrated downwards to tint his shoulders and chest pink. His hair was damp with sweat and lake water, sticking to his forehead in loose curls and in the odd glare of the indirect sunlight, the blue of Casey's eyes seemed to glow. Stan wished he had a word for Casey besides 'beautiful'; it just seemed so girly and, despite his appearance sometimes, Casey was far from feminine.

They'd done this before, of course, but never outside where there was a chance someone could see them, catch them making love. And Stan would probably laugh at himself later for even thinking like one of those lame ass romance novels Delilah used to pretend she didn't read, but when he was with Casey, it didn’t seem stupid at all. Because they'd done this before, yes, but it was always in preparation for something else, something Stan always thought was better, but it was...really hot to watch his fingers sliding into Casey's body.

Besides, all the condoms were up in the cabin.

Casey's sunblock wasn't the best lube in the world, but it was all he had, so he poured a little more over his hand before working a third finger up into Casey. Not for the first time, he was glad Grandpa Mike had bought half the damn lake when he had the chance because there was no way he ever wanted anyone else to hear the whimpering grunt Casey made when he was turned on.

"Oh, god!" Casey's cry startled a bluejay out of one of the scrub pines near the shore, but Stan just twisted his fingers deeper, brushing his fingers over the bump of his prostate and watching Casey's knuckles turn white around the handfuls of towel he was clutching.

Casey tried to move, to force Stan's touch where he needed it the most, but Stan anchored him with his free hand, pressing into the dip of his pelvis, his fingers digging into the spare curve of his hip. Casey started to shake, unable to hold back his panting sobs, and Stan tightened his grip on his sweaty hip, knowing he was going to leave bruises, but unable to stop himself. "Come on, Casey."

Stan leaned forward and set his mouth against the pale skin where hip met thigh. Casey grunted again, releasing his hold on the towel and tangling his fingers in Stan's hair. Stan worried the thin skin with his teeth before sucking hard and Casey tightened his grip in his hair. Casey's balls drew up against his body and he shook even harder as he came. Stan kept working the patch of Casey's skin and moving his fingers gently within Casey's body until the other boy flinched back and whimpered with the beginning of pain. He pulled away slowly and shook free of Casey's hands in his hair, kneeling up to look at him.

He was a mess.

His flush had darkened to a bright red stain that covered his face, neck, and chest. His hair was soaked through with sweat and his pupils were completely blown. His stomach and chest were shiny with sweat and come. The reddening hickey on his hip sat in the cradle of rapidly darkening finger shaped bruises, but Stan couldn't bring himself to regret the marks he'd left. He pushed down his trunks and shifted to straddle Casey's thigh, wiping his hand through the puddle of come on his stomach to replace the absorbed sunblock.

He planted his left hand next to Casey's shoulder and leaned over him, stroking himself roughly, need overwhelming him. He saw Casey's eyes drift down his body and widen slightly at the sight of Stan jerking himself off over his belly. Stan felt his own eyes drift closed with pleasure as sated hands began to pet his chest and arms. As the first tremors of his orgasm began, Casey pulled against his shoulders and he dropped down to his elbow, his mouth next to Casey's ear. Casey turned his head and bit at his earlobe as he panted and swore through the end of his orgasm.

Heedless of the heat and the mess, he collapsed half on Casey. It was a little sticky and a little smelly, but Stan couldn’t remember the last time he felt so good. He was limp with satisfaction, replete, indolent in the sweltering air. Casey's legs were tangled with his and his hands were gliding over his shoulders. They stayed pressed together like that until Casey began to squirm, obviously uncomfortable under Stan's weight and the oppressive heat.

With a shove, Casey rolled Stan off of him and clambered to his feet. He looked at his swim trunks crumpled at the edge of the dock, but ignored them and dove right into the water. Stan listened to him splash around as he dozed, but the need to be with Casey was stronger than the urge curl up like a cat and sleep away the afternoon, so he kicked off his trunks and slid into the silky water.

The lake was still cool enough to be a shock, but pleasantly so. Stan dropped below the surface of the water and swam towards Casey, grabbing him around the waist and yanking him underwater when he was close enough. A flailing arm caught him in the stomach and they both rose to the surface spluttering and coughing up water. Casey recovered first and poked Stan in the shoulder.

"You dick."

"Yeah, but I’m your dick." Stan laughed and pulled Casey into his arms.

Casey rolled his eyes and let the water buoy him up so he could wrap his legs around Stan's waist. "That was lame, man."

Stan just smiled and pulled Casey close for a soft kiss, licking into his mouth and running his hands down his back.

Plans weren't written in stone, after all.

The End

disclaimer: The Faculty isn't mine, but sometimes I like to pretend it is.