Un-named Fic
10/26/04 04:35 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyThis is set in the Summer Story 'verse.
Whit and Wade and another character. It's set sometime after Sophomore year.
Wade called Whit and told him he needed him and needed him now. Whit hung up and called Lex and asked him to cover for him, he was going to tell the Rosses that he’d be spending the night at his house. Lex cursed at him and called him a stupid shit, but in the end agreed to do it.
Lex loved him.
Whit waited at the gas station for an hour before Wade showed up, and he was a little drunk, but just a little. He let Whit get in the car before grabbing his thigh and squeezing hard, and Whit hissed—a little, it didn’t hurt too bad.
“I need to make a run to Metropolis for someone. I want you to keep me company. I need you to keep me company.”
Whit nodded. Of course.
Nobody understood how much Wade needed Whit. He didn’t have other people to count on like his friends did.
He didn’t have family. All he had was Whit.
They drove out in silence and Wade seemed to be deep in thought. After a while he spoke, and his voice was dry and cracked.
“ Whit. Do you think we’ll ever … be happy?”
Whit looked at Wade. It was possibly the closest he’d ever come to saying he cared about him. About anything.
“I – I don’t know… what are you asking, exactly?”
“Don’t get all excited, princess. I’m not asking you to wear my letter jacket and have my babies, fuck. I’m just—fuck it, forget I said anything.” He stared out the windshield with a furious expression while Whit tried to figure out how he’d screwed up.
Wade drove on for about another hour in silence and pulled over when they came to a rest stop.
Under the orange otherworldly glare of the parking lot lights, Whit blew him, while he smoked a cigarette and stroked his hair, strangely gentle for Wade.
He flipped the cigarette out the window, buried both hands in Whit’s hair, lifting off the vinyl seat as he came in his mouth.
He zipped up and sighed.
Whit sat on his side of the car, wiped his mouth with a napkin he found shoved between the seats.
Something was going on with Wade. Best to keep quiet and wait.
Another half hour and they were in Metropolis, in the club district. Wade reached over and grabbed Whit’s collar.
“Look, I need to pick up something, I’ll be back soon. Here.” He shoved a handful of bills into Whit’s jean pocket.” That should keep you ‘till I get back. Go in the club and stay in the club. Don’t talk to anyone, don’t leave with anyone.”
Whit nodded and stood watching as Wade pulled away. He looked to the club door and shrugged. What the fuck.
It beat standing on the curb.
He had nearly a hundred dollars in his pocket. He used his excellent ID to get in and get drinks and soon he felt pleasant, just a light buzz, because Wade didn’t like him getting drunk.
He was deep in thought when a small cool hand drifted across the back of his neck and he turned to find a very pretty little girl grinning impishly into his eyes. Her eyes were a startling blue, Contacts, sure, but so what.
She pulled him out to the dance floor and what she did wasn’t fucking only because they were full clothed and standing.
He liked it.
There were couches in the back, and it was dark and not quiet but it was just right. They kissed. She straddled him and Whit pulled her hard against him and they rocked back and forth as she kissed him like life depended on it. He gave control to her and she rode him harder and harder, her kisses becoming more and more frantic, until she was panting in his mouth, and he was groaning back. He was so hard, and she was so hot.
He pushed the tiny scrap of skirt she wore up her thighs, he slid fingers under her panties and he could feel how hot and wet she was.
She shook and moaned into his mouth and began grinding down on him.
He stroked her, and fucked his fingers into her and leaned his chin on her shoulder, eyes closed and feeling the sensation of her muscles fluttering around his fingers, his hand getting slicker as she got wetter. A feeling came over him and he opened his eyes just as she bit down on his neck and yowled.
She was coming as he looked into whiskey colored eyes. Sam.
He gasped, jerked back. The girl yelped as he yanked his fingers out—
Honey colored skin not caramel—hazel eyes, not whiskey, but the same heart breaking arch of nose, the same full pink lips, the same brackets etched into the skin around his mouth from smiling—the same muscle at his jaw that Whit couldn’t keep his eyes off when he smiled or swallowed or frowned. Sam.
He dumped the girl on the couch and stood.
“Hey you prick,” she yelled, only just keeping herself from hitting t he floor.
He walked towards the guy standing in the doorway. He moved back to let Whit pass.
Whit stopped. “Hey.”
The guy tilted his head and smiled, a slow affair that involved everything. “Hey.” He replied.
Whit smile back, and started to speak, looked over the guy’s head and saw Wade headed towards him. Wade, who looked a little panicky, eyes darting back and forth. Looking for him?
He shrugged at the guy and moved around him, forgetting the girl not forgetting Sam.
“Wade,” he called out, and Wade’s head snapped towards him and he looked angry, really mad.
Whit shivered. It was going to be one of those nights.
“Some one said you went back here with a girl. Did you fuck her?”
He leaned in and said, “ I smell pussy. Did you fuck her?”
He twisted Whit’s arm behind his back and leaned in until his lips were on Whit’s ear. “Why not?” at Whit’s head shake. “I would have. What are you, a Boy Scout? Pathetic faggot.”
He shoved Whit, “ Come on, I’ve got to go.”
He pushed the flat of his hand hard between Whit shoulders. Shoved again and Whit stumbled foreward.
A few heads turned to watch them go. The guy with the hazel eyes was still looking. Whit saw his reflection in the mirror at the bar, still looking and frowning hard.
It only made the resemblance to Sam heart breaking.
Outside the club, Wade turned into another person. He pulled Whit to him and ran his hands up his arms and around his waist.
“I’m sorry baby, I don’t know why I got so mad. You should have your own life. Get away from me. Some day you’ll get married and have kids and forget all about me, you should, get some girl pregnant and be happy…” he seemed to run out of words and stood staring at nothing and Whit let his mind go blank and wander, idly thinking about marriage, about girls, about how much he wanted to be kissing Sam at this moment, maybe the guy in the backroom—
Wade was trying to kiss him.
Wade never kissed him.
Wade never did anything. Whit did it all.
Whit blew him, Whit jacked him off, Whit let him rub himself off against him and never asked for anything, never said a word. He let Whit do it all, and Wade never kissed him. What happened?
There was come on Wade’s shirt and Whit pulled away and pointed.
Wade mistook it for jealousy and spoke quickly,” It has nothing to do with you and me, nothing, it’s business just business, and nothing to do with us.”
“Us?” Whit asked stupidly.
His brain fogged with all the weirdness of the evening. Wade was making him nervous.
Wade was nervous.
Wade was jumpy and affectionate and twitchy and angry and paranoid. Whit wanted to help. Wade shrugged him off.
Again he left Whit in the street. “I’ll be back, baby, I’ve got this one other thing I have to do,” and he lifted his shirt. He had a foil wrapped package in his waistband. He had a long red line over his navel, seeping blood.
Wade pushed him back when he went to touch it.
“Ah- unh. I’ll be back.”
And Whit went to the alley between the buildings and waited.
And after a while, the guy came out, and wandered up to where Whit was turning people away.
When he saw the guy, he was pleased.
When the guy met his eyes, they smiled at each other.
In an alcove that used to be a doorway, he blew the guy.
He liked it.
When he was done, he waited for the guy to leave.
The guy kissed him, filled his mouth with the taste of honey.
Unzipped him, freed him and made him gasp with the touch of his warm smooth palm gliding down his dick.
Out of his pocket the guy pulled a sample pack of lube.
“Came in the mail,” he grinned. “Stole them out of every mail box in my complex.”
“You’re a bad boy then." Whit gasped. Smooth and slick and perfect, his hand sped over his aching dick, wringing pleasure out of him, making him pant.
They both watched his dick, watched it fucking the strong honey colored hand. Whit groaned, looked up into hazel eyes.
“I’m going to come.” He said calmly, and his knees buckled with the force of his release.
The guy kissed and kissed him, drinking all his moans. Whispering how good he was. How pretty. How he wanted to see more.
He told Whit his name was Harold. Not Harry. Not Hare, Harold.
He gave him a telephone number and held him. Spoke into his ear, told his skin, told his lips “When you’re finished with that, call me.”
Whit knew what that was.
Before he left, he told Whit, "Call, or e-mail me." he pointed at a line on the scrap of paper. "Purple Crayon, that’s me.” He winked, and was gone.
Whit stood on the street and waited for an hour before Wade showed up. He was a little drunk, and a little high. Just a little.
He told Whit he needed him.
Whit nodded. Of course.
Whit and Wade and another character. It's set sometime after Sophomore year.
Wade called Whit and told him he needed him and needed him now. Whit hung up and called Lex and asked him to cover for him, he was going to tell the Rosses that he’d be spending the night at his house. Lex cursed at him and called him a stupid shit, but in the end agreed to do it.
Lex loved him.
Whit waited at the gas station for an hour before Wade showed up, and he was a little drunk, but just a little. He let Whit get in the car before grabbing his thigh and squeezing hard, and Whit hissed—a little, it didn’t hurt too bad.
“I need to make a run to Metropolis for someone. I want you to keep me company. I need you to keep me company.”
Whit nodded. Of course.
Nobody understood how much Wade needed Whit. He didn’t have other people to count on like his friends did.
He didn’t have family. All he had was Whit.
They drove out in silence and Wade seemed to be deep in thought. After a while he spoke, and his voice was dry and cracked.
“ Whit. Do you think we’ll ever … be happy?”
Whit looked at Wade. It was possibly the closest he’d ever come to saying he cared about him. About anything.
“I – I don’t know… what are you asking, exactly?”
“Don’t get all excited, princess. I’m not asking you to wear my letter jacket and have my babies, fuck. I’m just—fuck it, forget I said anything.” He stared out the windshield with a furious expression while Whit tried to figure out how he’d screwed up.
Wade drove on for about another hour in silence and pulled over when they came to a rest stop.
Under the orange otherworldly glare of the parking lot lights, Whit blew him, while he smoked a cigarette and stroked his hair, strangely gentle for Wade.
He flipped the cigarette out the window, buried both hands in Whit’s hair, lifting off the vinyl seat as he came in his mouth.
He zipped up and sighed.
Whit sat on his side of the car, wiped his mouth with a napkin he found shoved between the seats.
Something was going on with Wade. Best to keep quiet and wait.
Another half hour and they were in Metropolis, in the club district. Wade reached over and grabbed Whit’s collar.
“Look, I need to pick up something, I’ll be back soon. Here.” He shoved a handful of bills into Whit’s jean pocket.” That should keep you ‘till I get back. Go in the club and stay in the club. Don’t talk to anyone, don’t leave with anyone.”
Whit nodded and stood watching as Wade pulled away. He looked to the club door and shrugged. What the fuck.
It beat standing on the curb.
He had nearly a hundred dollars in his pocket. He used his excellent ID to get in and get drinks and soon he felt pleasant, just a light buzz, because Wade didn’t like him getting drunk.
He was deep in thought when a small cool hand drifted across the back of his neck and he turned to find a very pretty little girl grinning impishly into his eyes. Her eyes were a startling blue, Contacts, sure, but so what.
She pulled him out to the dance floor and what she did wasn’t fucking only because they were full clothed and standing.
He liked it.
There were couches in the back, and it was dark and not quiet but it was just right. They kissed. She straddled him and Whit pulled her hard against him and they rocked back and forth as she kissed him like life depended on it. He gave control to her and she rode him harder and harder, her kisses becoming more and more frantic, until she was panting in his mouth, and he was groaning back. He was so hard, and she was so hot.
He pushed the tiny scrap of skirt she wore up her thighs, he slid fingers under her panties and he could feel how hot and wet she was.
She shook and moaned into his mouth and began grinding down on him.
He stroked her, and fucked his fingers into her and leaned his chin on her shoulder, eyes closed and feeling the sensation of her muscles fluttering around his fingers, his hand getting slicker as she got wetter. A feeling came over him and he opened his eyes just as she bit down on his neck and yowled.
She was coming as he looked into whiskey colored eyes. Sam.
He gasped, jerked back. The girl yelped as he yanked his fingers out—
Honey colored skin not caramel—hazel eyes, not whiskey, but the same heart breaking arch of nose, the same full pink lips, the same brackets etched into the skin around his mouth from smiling—the same muscle at his jaw that Whit couldn’t keep his eyes off when he smiled or swallowed or frowned. Sam.
He dumped the girl on the couch and stood.
“Hey you prick,” she yelled, only just keeping herself from hitting t he floor.
He walked towards the guy standing in the doorway. He moved back to let Whit pass.
Whit stopped. “Hey.”
The guy tilted his head and smiled, a slow affair that involved everything. “Hey.” He replied.
Whit smile back, and started to speak, looked over the guy’s head and saw Wade headed towards him. Wade, who looked a little panicky, eyes darting back and forth. Looking for him?
He shrugged at the guy and moved around him, forgetting the girl not forgetting Sam.
“Wade,” he called out, and Wade’s head snapped towards him and he looked angry, really mad.
Whit shivered. It was going to be one of those nights.
“Some one said you went back here with a girl. Did you fuck her?”
He leaned in and said, “ I smell pussy. Did you fuck her?”
He twisted Whit’s arm behind his back and leaned in until his lips were on Whit’s ear. “Why not?” at Whit’s head shake. “I would have. What are you, a Boy Scout? Pathetic faggot.”
He shoved Whit, “ Come on, I’ve got to go.”
He pushed the flat of his hand hard between Whit shoulders. Shoved again and Whit stumbled foreward.
A few heads turned to watch them go. The guy with the hazel eyes was still looking. Whit saw his reflection in the mirror at the bar, still looking and frowning hard.
It only made the resemblance to Sam heart breaking.
Outside the club, Wade turned into another person. He pulled Whit to him and ran his hands up his arms and around his waist.
“I’m sorry baby, I don’t know why I got so mad. You should have your own life. Get away from me. Some day you’ll get married and have kids and forget all about me, you should, get some girl pregnant and be happy…” he seemed to run out of words and stood staring at nothing and Whit let his mind go blank and wander, idly thinking about marriage, about girls, about how much he wanted to be kissing Sam at this moment, maybe the guy in the backroom—
Wade was trying to kiss him.
Wade never kissed him.
Wade never did anything. Whit did it all.
Whit blew him, Whit jacked him off, Whit let him rub himself off against him and never asked for anything, never said a word. He let Whit do it all, and Wade never kissed him. What happened?
There was come on Wade’s shirt and Whit pulled away and pointed.
Wade mistook it for jealousy and spoke quickly,” It has nothing to do with you and me, nothing, it’s business just business, and nothing to do with us.”
“Us?” Whit asked stupidly.
His brain fogged with all the weirdness of the evening. Wade was making him nervous.
Wade was nervous.
Wade was jumpy and affectionate and twitchy and angry and paranoid. Whit wanted to help. Wade shrugged him off.
Again he left Whit in the street. “I’ll be back, baby, I’ve got this one other thing I have to do,” and he lifted his shirt. He had a foil wrapped package in his waistband. He had a long red line over his navel, seeping blood.
Wade pushed him back when he went to touch it.
“Ah- unh. I’ll be back.”
And Whit went to the alley between the buildings and waited.
And after a while, the guy came out, and wandered up to where Whit was turning people away.
When he saw the guy, he was pleased.
When the guy met his eyes, they smiled at each other.
In an alcove that used to be a doorway, he blew the guy.
He liked it.
When he was done, he waited for the guy to leave.
The guy kissed him, filled his mouth with the taste of honey.
Unzipped him, freed him and made him gasp with the touch of his warm smooth palm gliding down his dick.
Out of his pocket the guy pulled a sample pack of lube.
“Came in the mail,” he grinned. “Stole them out of every mail box in my complex.”
“You’re a bad boy then." Whit gasped. Smooth and slick and perfect, his hand sped over his aching dick, wringing pleasure out of him, making him pant.
They both watched his dick, watched it fucking the strong honey colored hand. Whit groaned, looked up into hazel eyes.
“I’m going to come.” He said calmly, and his knees buckled with the force of his release.
The guy kissed and kissed him, drinking all his moans. Whispering how good he was. How pretty. How he wanted to see more.
He told Whit his name was Harold. Not Harry. Not Hare, Harold.
He gave him a telephone number and held him. Spoke into his ear, told his skin, told his lips “When you’re finished with that, call me.”
Whit knew what that was.
Before he left, he told Whit, "Call, or e-mail me." he pointed at a line on the scrap of paper. "Purple Crayon, that’s me.” He winked, and was gone.
Whit stood on the street and waited for an hour before Wade showed up. He was a little drunk, and a little high. Just a little.
He told Whit he needed him.
Whit nodded. Of course.
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![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
10/26/04 12:11 pm (UTC)He really needs someone to take care of him. I think Sam could be good for that, if he ever gets over thinking of Whit as a little brother.
*smooch*.
*pets Whit*
(no subject)
10/26/04 02:05 pm (UTC)(no subject)
10/26/04 12:49 pm (UTC)(no subject)
10/26/04 02:09 pm (UTC)The thing with Whit is he doesn't really look at Wade. (And you know Harold is just a lttle too perfect.)
(no subject)
10/26/04 01:30 pm (UTC)(no subject)
10/26/04 02:09 pm (UTC)(no subject)
2/27/06 05:54 am (UTC)Damn.
He told Whit he needed him.
Whit nodded. Of course.
So addicted to this pairing.
(no subject)
2/27/06 06:06 am (UTC)(no subject)
2/27/06 07:21 am (UTC)*Eyes drunken crowd sharply*
Some of them are getting real rowdy and attempting to imitate Brando's performance in "A Streetcar..." Oh Lord, there go the shirts and beads.
Please, for the love Peaches, give us Whit and Wade! *g*