(no subject)
4/4/05 02:05 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyI've been working on this forever and ever--and picking and poking and grrrrr!
But at last I feel I can post this. Still parched muse-wise but my campaign of writing until the juices kick back in seems to be working to some extent, judging by the number of stories cluttering up the Space. Some are gelling and some are oozing...time will tell! Being kinda forced to stay away from the computer makes writing a new and nerve-wracking experience.
Yes, Mr. Roxy is behaving badly.*pout* I was going to withhold sex. Tchah! I know, like I could hold out! Hmm? Oh dear--did the children faint again?
Anyhoo, the Previous Parts are here, claiming to be airport security and doing body cavity searches.
On to the next part of Summer Story?
Pete shivered. It was always a little too cool in the morning. They were in the middle of damn October, and Mom just had to turn the heat down at night-- and God help anyone who turned it up. Pete thought it was damn unfair everybody had to suffer because Mom was having those hot flash things. Not that he’d complain out loud for anything in the world but damn, women were strange complicated creatures. He knew from first hand experience how true this was. Hell, if he could figure out what was on Lana’s mind from one minute to the next, he’d be one happy man. It was true what Bill always said, best to just go along and fake like you know what's happening.
Life was so …weird.
And now, life was even more fun than ever-- Sam was back home and the house was crowded as hell, what with Happy Sam and Pissed Off Sam and Depressed Sam, and Happy Whit and Moody Whit and Don’t Talk To Me Fuck You Whit all living together under the same roof.
Damn.
He was about to unleash Ya’lll Go To Hell Pete on them. All he knew was, they better find a way to live with each other soon or *he* was moving out.
He crossed the hallway and tapped on Whit’s bedroom door. “You up?” he called softly. “It’s seven.”
Whit grunted and Pete heard thump-thump as Whit’s feet hit the ground, and then he was leaning out of his open bedroom door, scratching and yawning at Pete.
Pete grimaced and stepped back, leaning away from Whit. “Shit,” he winced, “what do you do at night, boy? Eat road kill?”
“Do you ever get tired of making fun of me in the morning?”
“Naw—it never gets old,” Pete grinned happily at him.
At that moment Sam came out of his room bleary eyed and wild haired and headed straight into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. Whit looked openmouthed at Pete. “Did you *see* that? He stole the bathroom. He *knows* we’ve got to get ready for school!” Whit practically sputtered in outrage.
Pete rolled his eyes and walked away. Unh-unh. No. Not enough money in the world!
Sam waited for the water in the shower to get hot and leaned against the sink as he brushed his teeth in a fury. He was trying very hard not to let Whit’s attitude get to him. Even though in fact Whit had been nothing but polite and friendly. So very, very polite, oh-so very friendly.
So. Mother. Fucking. Polite—
He jabbed himself painfully in the gum with the toothbrush, flung it furiously into the sink and hung over it for a second, his eyes watering from the pain.
Damn it!
Take deep breaths….
He spit and rinsed and jerked his shorts off, flung them to the floor as he climbed into the shower. He caught a glimpse of his face before stepping in and had to laugh, he looked like he was twelve years old. He shook his head. Get a grip, Samuel, get a grip. You have more important things to do then worry about…
Whit straightened up his room while he waited for Sam to come out, because it never hurt to build up Abbie points. He shoved the end of the blanket between the box spring and the mattress—Abbie believed in hospital corners—
Damn it--Sam was taking his own sweet time coming out, he huffed to himself and punched the pillows viciously, yanked the bed covers up so hard he untucked them again. Damn! He flung the pillows down on the bed and swung to face the door. He was going to pull him out of there by his--his…hair....
A knock on the and a soft voice telling him the bathroom was free now deflated his temper tantrum.
Sam was like a too bright light sitting in the middle of his head and blinding him. He was sure this summer that he’d gotten over him, he didn’t think about him much and when he did the emotion that always used to overwhelm him was thankfully muted—then again, he’d spent the whole summer with a terrific guy, a wonderful guy. Just not a guy he was in love with. Damn it!
Take deep breaths….
He managed to slip into the bathroom without running into Sam. The bathroom was warm from steam and smelled like Sam, in way. He avoided the boxers crumbled on the floor, stepped into the shower and tried hard not to think about Sam in there, washing himself, rubbing soap over his chest, foam sliding down his belly, getting caught in the hair around his dick, the curls would be wet and softened by the water and dragging his fingers through them would feel so good, soft under his fingertips, Sam’s head would tilt back against the wall, and he’d lick the water running down his chin, chase it down his neck—
Whit’s hand slid along his erection, pumping slowly, squeezing, twisting up the length and sliding over the tip the tip--he’d jack him slowly just like this with his soapy hand, he’d suck the warm water off his nipples until he was moaning, begging Whit to finish him, to fuck him hard, he’d make him scream his name—Aaah, fuck!-- Fuck...
Whit stood under the rushing water, panting, head down and his hands braced against the wall, watching come swirl around the drain as he rode out the after shocks of a surprisingly intense orgasm. The water cooled and he closed his eyes and shivered.
******
Pete, Clark and Lex were in the kitchen by the time he came downstairs, his hair still a little damp from the shower and a big sweater that used to belong to Charlie enveloping him. The guys looked up and grinned when he came in the door. Lex looked him over quickly and frowned a little and Whit thought he was going to say something, but he just sighed.
Fuck Lex, Whit thought. He knew he was in for a lecture from him about 'knowing what you wanted and being honest with your self' and blah-fucking-blah. But he needed to wear the sweater now, it held a little of Charlie’s scent and kind of grounded him. Sort of. Plus it was really warm and the house was a fridge.
He got a glass from the counter and filled it with milk from the jug in the fridge, and let the soft murmur of his friends talking wash over him. His damp hair made him feel just a little cool, but the sun was just starting to shine through the window over the sink and it warmed him a bit. He leaned against the counter and tilted his head back as he gulped down the milk. He burped pretty impressively he thought and looked over at the table with a grin, to find Sam standing in the doorway staring at him.
The look on his face--Whit blushed and slammed the glass down on the counter.
“Hey Sam,” Clark called out, “Come to join us for Not-Breakfast?” he indicated the table, bare of food.
Sam raised his eyebrows in question. “ Um. Breakfast? Seems pretty much non-existant.”
“Hence Not-Breakfast!” Clark laughed.
Lex didn’t seem as amused as Clark. “Your brother invited us over for breakfast, but neglected to tell us we were supposed to *bring* it with us.” Lex frowned at Pete.
Pete was totally unrepentant. “It was implied that you bring it with you. Besides, what makes you think my mom doesn’t have anything better to do then feed your greedy asses?”
“Damn,” Whit muttered. “We’re not getting breakfast? Shit—I made my bed, too…”
Sam laughed, “How about I take you guys to breakfast? You’ve got a little time before school, don’t you?”
Whit quickly spoke up. “Yeah-thanks, I can’t go, I’ve got some stuff to do at the gym.” He started to leave, Sam gripped his arm lightly. “Hey,” he said, “I can take you if you want.”
He sounded so hopeful that for a second Whit softened, and then a wave of ice swept him.
“No, thanks—I’m just going to take the bus today. Thank you though, that was really nice of you to offer.”
Sam watched him leave. “Yeah, no problem.”
The boys looked at each other. Sam’s disappointment was almost a physical presence in the room..
Clark shook his head and Pete hissed and muttered, “Awkward.”
Lex said nothing, just watched Sam leave the room with a speculative look on his face. Clark caught him, and sighed inwardly. Wonderful. He’s planning something, God help those guys.
TBC!
But at last I feel I can post this. Still parched muse-wise but my campaign of writing until the juices kick back in seems to be working to some extent, judging by the number of stories cluttering up the Space. Some are gelling and some are oozing...time will tell! Being kinda forced to stay away from the computer makes writing a new and nerve-wracking experience.
Yes, Mr. Roxy is behaving badly.*pout* I was going to withhold sex. Tchah! I know, like I could hold out! Hmm? Oh dear--did the children faint again?
Anyhoo, the Previous Parts are here, claiming to be airport security and doing body cavity searches.
On to the next part of Summer Story?
Pete shivered. It was always a little too cool in the morning. They were in the middle of damn October, and Mom just had to turn the heat down at night-- and God help anyone who turned it up. Pete thought it was damn unfair everybody had to suffer because Mom was having those hot flash things. Not that he’d complain out loud for anything in the world but damn, women were strange complicated creatures. He knew from first hand experience how true this was. Hell, if he could figure out what was on Lana’s mind from one minute to the next, he’d be one happy man. It was true what Bill always said, best to just go along and fake like you know what's happening.
Life was so …weird.
And now, life was even more fun than ever-- Sam was back home and the house was crowded as hell, what with Happy Sam and Pissed Off Sam and Depressed Sam, and Happy Whit and Moody Whit and Don’t Talk To Me Fuck You Whit all living together under the same roof.
Damn.
He was about to unleash Ya’lll Go To Hell Pete on them. All he knew was, they better find a way to live with each other soon or *he* was moving out.
He crossed the hallway and tapped on Whit’s bedroom door. “You up?” he called softly. “It’s seven.”
Whit grunted and Pete heard thump-thump as Whit’s feet hit the ground, and then he was leaning out of his open bedroom door, scratching and yawning at Pete.
Pete grimaced and stepped back, leaning away from Whit. “Shit,” he winced, “what do you do at night, boy? Eat road kill?”
“Do you ever get tired of making fun of me in the morning?”
“Naw—it never gets old,” Pete grinned happily at him.
At that moment Sam came out of his room bleary eyed and wild haired and headed straight into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. Whit looked openmouthed at Pete. “Did you *see* that? He stole the bathroom. He *knows* we’ve got to get ready for school!” Whit practically sputtered in outrage.
Pete rolled his eyes and walked away. Unh-unh. No. Not enough money in the world!
Sam waited for the water in the shower to get hot and leaned against the sink as he brushed his teeth in a fury. He was trying very hard not to let Whit’s attitude get to him. Even though in fact Whit had been nothing but polite and friendly. So very, very polite, oh-so very friendly.
So. Mother. Fucking. Polite—
He jabbed himself painfully in the gum with the toothbrush, flung it furiously into the sink and hung over it for a second, his eyes watering from the pain.
Damn it!
Take deep breaths….
He spit and rinsed and jerked his shorts off, flung them to the floor as he climbed into the shower. He caught a glimpse of his face before stepping in and had to laugh, he looked like he was twelve years old. He shook his head. Get a grip, Samuel, get a grip. You have more important things to do then worry about…
Whit straightened up his room while he waited for Sam to come out, because it never hurt to build up Abbie points. He shoved the end of the blanket between the box spring and the mattress—Abbie believed in hospital corners—
Damn it--Sam was taking his own sweet time coming out, he huffed to himself and punched the pillows viciously, yanked the bed covers up so hard he untucked them again. Damn! He flung the pillows down on the bed and swung to face the door. He was going to pull him out of there by his--his…hair....
A knock on the and a soft voice telling him the bathroom was free now deflated his temper tantrum.
Sam was like a too bright light sitting in the middle of his head and blinding him. He was sure this summer that he’d gotten over him, he didn’t think about him much and when he did the emotion that always used to overwhelm him was thankfully muted—then again, he’d spent the whole summer with a terrific guy, a wonderful guy. Just not a guy he was in love with. Damn it!
Take deep breaths….
He managed to slip into the bathroom without running into Sam. The bathroom was warm from steam and smelled like Sam, in way. He avoided the boxers crumbled on the floor, stepped into the shower and tried hard not to think about Sam in there, washing himself, rubbing soap over his chest, foam sliding down his belly, getting caught in the hair around his dick, the curls would be wet and softened by the water and dragging his fingers through them would feel so good, soft under his fingertips, Sam’s head would tilt back against the wall, and he’d lick the water running down his chin, chase it down his neck—
Whit’s hand slid along his erection, pumping slowly, squeezing, twisting up the length and sliding over the tip the tip--he’d jack him slowly just like this with his soapy hand, he’d suck the warm water off his nipples until he was moaning, begging Whit to finish him, to fuck him hard, he’d make him scream his name—Aaah, fuck!-- Fuck...
Whit stood under the rushing water, panting, head down and his hands braced against the wall, watching come swirl around the drain as he rode out the after shocks of a surprisingly intense orgasm. The water cooled and he closed his eyes and shivered.
******
Pete, Clark and Lex were in the kitchen by the time he came downstairs, his hair still a little damp from the shower and a big sweater that used to belong to Charlie enveloping him. The guys looked up and grinned when he came in the door. Lex looked him over quickly and frowned a little and Whit thought he was going to say something, but he just sighed.
Fuck Lex, Whit thought. He knew he was in for a lecture from him about 'knowing what you wanted and being honest with your self' and blah-fucking-blah. But he needed to wear the sweater now, it held a little of Charlie’s scent and kind of grounded him. Sort of. Plus it was really warm and the house was a fridge.
He got a glass from the counter and filled it with milk from the jug in the fridge, and let the soft murmur of his friends talking wash over him. His damp hair made him feel just a little cool, but the sun was just starting to shine through the window over the sink and it warmed him a bit. He leaned against the counter and tilted his head back as he gulped down the milk. He burped pretty impressively he thought and looked over at the table with a grin, to find Sam standing in the doorway staring at him.
The look on his face--Whit blushed and slammed the glass down on the counter.
“Hey Sam,” Clark called out, “Come to join us for Not-Breakfast?” he indicated the table, bare of food.
Sam raised his eyebrows in question. “ Um. Breakfast? Seems pretty much non-existant.”
“Hence Not-Breakfast!” Clark laughed.
Lex didn’t seem as amused as Clark. “Your brother invited us over for breakfast, but neglected to tell us we were supposed to *bring* it with us.” Lex frowned at Pete.
Pete was totally unrepentant. “It was implied that you bring it with you. Besides, what makes you think my mom doesn’t have anything better to do then feed your greedy asses?”
“Damn,” Whit muttered. “We’re not getting breakfast? Shit—I made my bed, too…”
Sam laughed, “How about I take you guys to breakfast? You’ve got a little time before school, don’t you?”
Whit quickly spoke up. “Yeah-thanks, I can’t go, I’ve got some stuff to do at the gym.” He started to leave, Sam gripped his arm lightly. “Hey,” he said, “I can take you if you want.”
He sounded so hopeful that for a second Whit softened, and then a wave of ice swept him.
“No, thanks—I’m just going to take the bus today. Thank you though, that was really nice of you to offer.”
Sam watched him leave. “Yeah, no problem.”
The boys looked at each other. Sam’s disappointment was almost a physical presence in the room..
Clark shook his head and Pete hissed and muttered, “Awkward.”
Lex said nothing, just watched Sam leave the room with a speculative look on his face. Clark caught him, and sighed inwardly. Wonderful. He’s planning something, God help those guys.
TBC!
(no subject)
4/5/05 01:34 am (UTC)And now, life was even more fun than ever-- Sam was back home and the house was crowded as hell, what with Happy Sam and Pissed Off Sam and Depressed Sam, and Happy Whit and Moody Whit and Don’t Talk To Me Fuck You Whit all living together under the same roof.
Hah!! That Pete! I love his sense of humor!
You've got such a great world here, I'm always pleased to see another section of it!
I'm wondering what's up with Clark and Lex, though. Are things going well with them? (And by "things," I mean "sex"!!)
Okay, well, really I mean both! I missed this story!
(no subject)
4/5/05 02:04 am (UTC)Actually, this place is rapidly becoming a disturbingly sex free zone. I have to fix this sad state of affairs. *nodnod*