Secret santa fic: ch. 3 and 4 of 8
Apr. 24th, 2008 01:16 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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wl_fanfictionThe Polar Effect
For: KD1190
By: PD&Glyph
Edited by: Glyph
3
Brad was fuming. He hated the fact that he was in the office, seeing Ms. Greenwood, his counselor. Hell, he hated the fact that the coach had sent him before practice. Did he know that he was wasting everyone’s time by sending him here?
Obviously not.
“Mr. Sherwood?” Ms. Greenwood’s voice floated out of her office, and he rose, grumbling, ignoring the looks he was getting from the nerdy looking rejects who always seemed to hang out around here. “Ah, Mr. Sherwood, it’s so nice to have a lower case celebrity in my office,” she smiled, extending her hand to be shaken. “So. I know why you are in such a bad mood, but hear me out, because this could keep you on the fast track to that University football scholarship,” she said frankly.
Brad’s bad mood lightened just a bit, but it just filled in with anxiety. He had to get that scholarship. He had to…
“Mr. Sherwood, no one in this entire school district doubts that you’re an excellent football player. No one. In fact, you’ve had, what was it at last count, five separate offers from universities to come and play for them?”
“Yes ma’am,” Brad gave a sheepish grin.
“Which is more than anyone could ever hope for, especially if they’re a young, good looking boy like you. But your grades need attention, too,” she said severely, holding up a sheet of paper and giving it to him.
He scowled. Yeah, he already knew his grades weren’t great, but she didn’t have to rub his face in it.
“You need to pick up your grades, Mr. Sherwood. Not only are you in danger of loosing your scholarships, and your place on the team, but you’re in danger of not being able to graduate unless you take on another class and pass it.”
Brad felt the blood drain from his face. “Wait… you… They would pull me from the team?”
She rolled her eyes before nodding. “Yes, Sherwood, they’d pull you. The principle has been quite lenient concerning you already because you’ve done our football team so well, but even he cannot let you keep going academically the way you have.”
Brad sat back, swallowing hard against the bile rising in his throat. If he didn’t pass… if he lost his scholarships… if he didn’t make it… What would Mom do to him? “What should I do?”
“Well, I have a list of classes you can take that you haven’t already, and I must say that you’ve pretty much skipped your electives courses. Which in itself is very good news for you right now, since that’s all you need to take to make up your credit and boost your GPA.” She handed him the page.
He read through it and frowned, looking up at her. “Is this some joke? I can’t take any of these classes.”
“You’re gonna have to,” she shrugged her small shoulders.
“What about Phys. Ed? Or Calisthenics?”
“You’ve already taken them, so even if they let you in again, you wouldn’t get any credit for it.”
He groaned, rubbing his eyes. “Fine, what do you suggest?”
“Well, the only one that you’d get away with right now would be theater.”
“Uh uh, no way,” he said rising and picking up his bag.
“Sit down Mr. Sherwood!” she said sharply. He sat immediately, blinking at her. “I can talk to Mr. Sessions and get him to only have you on for production, not for acting, but that’s going to have to be your new class, and you will have to pass it.” Her blue eyes left him no wiggle room.
Brad groaned, hitting his head against the wall behind his chair. “Fine, when do I start?”
“Today. It’s your new 7th period.” She smiled at him brightly, tick-tacking on her computer keys and printing something out. “It should be a cake walk for you. It’s just power tools, moving furniture around and painting sets.” She handed it over and rose.
He did the same, feeling like a black fog of doom had settled over him as he shook her tiny hand and left her office, glaring at anyone who was watching him.
He was going into drama… he was going to die.
“Yup,” he sighed, looking up at the huge warehouse-like building that was the drama department. Odd looking kids passed him by, taking in his obvious status and raising mocking eyebrows. It was like seeing a tyrant humbled, and they loved it. “I’m gonna die.”
Inside the drama room, it was like entering a huge studio warehouse. Cement block walls painted a dark gray, cement floor spattered and chipped with layers upon layers of paint, and beaten up tables and chairs spaced around a large stage, the only thing that looked well cared for. Even loved.
Everyone turned to look at him, but he just made his way past them all and gave the short Mr. Sessions his papers to be looked over and signed. “So why did you take this class Mr. Sherwood?” Mr. Sessions nasal British accent was immediately irritating to Brad.
“Because this is where I was assigned.”
“Uh huh, so they must think that I’ll go easy on you since you’re the school’s star ball player, am I correct?” Sessions looked up at him from over his glasses, black eyes bright with distaste.
Brad was taken aback but frowned down at the older man. “I wouldn’t know.”
“Well know this Mr. Sherwood. I am not going to go easy on you, in fact just the opposite. I am tired of getting jocks sent my way because this class is deemed an easy grade for them to raise their GPA, so you’re going to have to pass my class just like everyone else, Mr. Sherwood.”
The class was silent, and everyone was staring as Brad’s face turned bright red, taking everything Sessions was giving him with a tight lip.
“Welcome to the class,” Sessions handed him his papers back. “Now have a seat.”
Brad nodded, walking to the very back of the class, watching as a couple of students snickered, and a few vacated a table. He took it, but this wasn’t over. He stared straight at Sessions, quirked a grin, and propped his feet up on the table with echoing thunks. A few people in the class giggled, but silence fell again when Sessions stared them down.
His sharp gaze returning to Sherwood, Sessions raised his eyebrow and nodded before turning to the rest of the class. “Okay ladies and gentlemen, today we’re going to be studying blocking.”
Brad sighed, slouching down in his chair as far as he could and felt that itching feeling, like someone was watching him. He turned and scanned the class until his eyes met a pair of bright greens, half hidden in gold waves. Brad scowled as the eyes continued to watch him, only breaking the battle of wills when papers were handed out and they turned down to concentrate on his work.
Brad frowned, feeling a little disappointed, but shrugged, pulling a book forward and bending down over the papers.
He had work to do, too.
4
Ryan was watching Brad work.
Hell, no one would’ve thought him weird, because they were watching him, too. He was a pitiful actor, but no one could say he didn’t work extremely well with power tools. He was putting up the set three times faster by himself than most of the production crew was altogether. That and he could lift heavy things, which was good since the crew was made of skinny boys and girls with nail polish.
He was like one of those elves from the storybook. You didn’t talk to ‘em, you rarely saw ‘em, and if you acknowledged them, they kicked up quite the fuss. The only difference was, Brad was taller than everyone there.
Except for Ryan.
And Brad knew that ‘the Stiles kid’ was watching him, and it pissed him off to no end. He could literally feel the eyes on the back of his head as he bolted in the 2 by 4 stiles with their corner blocks and keystones. “Sherwood look out!” someone called. Brad looked and saw a flat heading straight for his face when two pairs of hands stopped it from colliding with his kisser. Brad blinked up and was chagrined to find that one of his saviors was Ryan, and the other was the school bicycle, Isolde, call me Ick.
Together they shoved it back up, and three freshmen came out of nowhere, screwing it down, double checking things and securing it. “You should pay more attention to your surroundings,” Ick smiled tightly down at him, “not just to the pretty boys.”
Brad scowled at her and stood. She was almost nose to nose with him. He jerked his chin at Ryan. “Pretty boy my ass,” then he turned to Ryan, who was just watching him, like always. “You stop staring at me Stiles, or you’re gonna find yourself hurting…” he snarled before grabbing his power tools and stalking off to check them back in.
“You’re staring at him still?” Ick turned to Ryan once Brad was out of earshot.
Ryan nodded.
“Why?”
“Because my dear, Mr. Stiles is in loooove,” Greg strolled up, paint on his nose and the baggy shirt he wore over his real clothes.
“Shut up Greg,” Ryan mumbled, going up the spiral iron staircase and hiding in the heavens.
“Not a very convincing argument,” Ick remarked.
Greg pulled her close. “No, not really. So…” he grinned at her, “you coming over tonight?”
She smiled down at her boyfriend of four years. “Sure, why not? I don’t have anything better to do.”
“Oh thanks-” he began but she silenced him with a kiss.
“And I want Jeff to play, too…” she whispered.
He shivered. “How do you make playing Monopoly sound so sexy?”
She just grinned.
Ryan watched as everyone slowly filed out of the auditorium, hoping his block kept the cage around the stairs from being locked. The lights were dimmed, the floorlights winking like stars all in a row up at him, and he sighed, leaning his head back against the wall. Fucking Greg. Did he always have to be right?
He sighed, rising and dusting his ass off as he made his way down the stairs, watching for signs of necking teens when two powerful hands grabbed his collar and slammed him against the concrete wall, tearing a grunt from him as his head hit the wall. “You think it’s hilarious to make fun of me, don’t you Stiles?” Brad snarled up at him. “Think it’s funny to tell all of your friends I’m a fucking queer?”
“No…” Ryan said quietly.
Brad slammed him into the wall again. “Shut the fuck up! Where else would they get the idea?” he demanded.
“You stare at me…”
Brad went silent, and blinked. Ryan gripped his hands, clutching them tightly, and Brad jerked away from him like Ryan’s touch burned. Their breathing was the only sound, ragged, uneven, and Ryan turned slowly and walked back upstairs, turning once to look at Brad, face harshly illuminated in the yellow safety lights arranged on the stair steps. Without a word he continued up.
Brad’s heart was hammering in his throat. Who was this guy? Some kid he’d wanted to hit and hurt so bad that he’d stayed behind, skipping a class to make sure this kid knew not to fuck with him. And here he was… following Stiles up, curiosity and something else flooding his system like a drug. He told his feet to stop, but they kept going, a dull thunk thunk thunk on the metal stairs.
This was the costume shop.
Brad had only been here once to retrieve some speakers. The place smelled like a discount retail outlet, musty and dry, clothes of every shape, size and color in the rainbow strewn everywhere. Stiles stood on a thick pile of them and held out his hand. Brad gripped a roll rack of clothes tightly, his sweating palm fogging the chill metal.
He went to Stiles… His mind was terrified of this scrawny young man offering his hand, so undemanding, so calm and patient. But those eyes. Those eyes were what scared Brad the most.
They glowed true green for him, shown with something that made him want to run screaming in the opposite direction. Instead he felt his hand slide into Stiles’, their fingers meshing, warm and damp from their combined sweat, telling Brad that he wasn’t the only one dealing with nerves.
By the light of a single halogen bulb, Brad watched Ryan as he brought Brad’s roughened, clumsy looking hands up to his mouth and kissed them, watching Brad as his breath quickened and his eyes widened as Ryan trailed his tongue along the lines in his sensitive palm. Brad jerked away at that sensual touch but Stiles’ hand shot out and cupped the back of his neck. Brad snarled suddenly, the spell momentarily broken as he grabbed Ryan and threw him to the floor, onto the thick pile of clothes and pinned him neatly, gripping the thin wrists like he’d break them.
The guy was gasping beneath him, his graceful hands clenching and unclenching, lips parted and wet, eyes wide and glassy. Brad’s snarl slipped away and he leaned down, mashing his lips to those tempting lips of Ryan Stiles, biting them, forcing them to part and thrusting his tongue in brutally until with a jerk he felt Ryan’s tongue flow forth and battle him.
He’d never felt such a battle of wills. Always with his girlfriends, he’d taken the lead. Ryan rolled them, worming his way between Brad’s legs and brushing against his raging erection. Brad’s head fell back in a moan, Ryan’s lips sending erotic thrills up and down his body as they mouthed at his throat, sometimes gentle, sometimes worrying the skin ‘til Brad whimpered.
He felt nimble fingers working at his pants and thrust against them, hearing the hiss of excitement from Ryan’s lips against his neck and dragged him back up for another, but very different, battle of wills.
Brad felt his dick hit the cool dark air and cried out in shock as Ryan’s long fingers wrapped around him. He gripped the thin arms tightly until he knew he was bruising the guy, but he’d never been so expertly handled. The thought that he knew Stiles was a fag flew momentarily before he realized the guy was moving down his body, burying that beak of a nose in his groin, kissing the curve of his hip, tugging on some hair and sending little jolts of lightening coursing through him before Ryan took his first taste.
His groan was loud enough that he thought if anyone was listening, they’d know exactly what was happening, but with Ryan taking everything he had, he just didn’t give a damn. His delved his hands into those thick, dusty gold waves, fisting in them and thrusting into Ryan’s mouth, making him take everything.
Ryan moaned around his cock, and Brad’s eyes rolled up into his head as the muscles that had tightened and released around him relaxed, letting Brad thrust to his hearts desire. Ryan tapped his hip and Brad blinked down, his hands releasing Ryan’s hair as the boy slowly came back up, using his tongue in ways Brad hadn’t known tongues could.
Ryan rose and began slowly, hypnotically removing his clothes while Brad watched in shock, his cock glistening in the dull light. Ryan wasn’t as muscular as him, but he was almost feline in his build, graceful, his muscle created from working hard, not lifting weights. Brad followed the trail of almost downy gold hair to Ryan’s cock and swallowed against his suddenly drooling mouth.
Brad shucked his pants eagerly as Ryan watched him, throwing them behind him and doing the same to his shirt. Ryan knelt down, those beautiful hands reaching out to stroke through Brad’s chest hair. He leaned down and sealed his lips around a nipple, biting it and making Brad hiss with pleasure before he gripped Ryan’s bony shoulders and rolled them again, kissing him savagely before Ryan turned and thrust his ass at Brad like a cat in heat, growling low in his throat.
Brad moaned at the feel of Ryan caressing him without hands, making Brad’s saliva slicked cock almost slip into Ryan’s ass a time or two. Brad reached down and positioned himself, but it was Ryan who rocked back on him, crying out, biting Brad’s hand as it clapped over his mouth even as he rocked back further. Brad was in heaven, god Ryan was so tight!
Ryan had to stop, resting his head on his forearms as his body clamped down on Brad. The man wasn’t as big as some he’d seen, but he was thick, and it took preparation, something Ryan had no real patience for right now.
Brad had felt Ryan’s body relax minutely and had urged forward just a bit, feeling his balls tightening just from the guttural moan beginning in Ryan’s toes and falling from his slack lips. Brad leaned forward, pushing Ryan’s head forward, feeling the whimpers as he slid further into Ryan’s ass, mouthing the back of his neck.
Ryan was oddly touched as he felt the calming, featherlight kisses along his neck, even as Brad throbbed and pulsed inside of him. Sweat made their heated skin slide against one another as their pulses raced and their breathing even out. Brad shuddered as Ryan worked his hips up Brad’s shaft, sliding him out slowly, feeling every subtle nuance of the thick cock inside of him. “Ryan…” he heard the sigh and drove his hips down, tearing a cry from Brad that he echoed, pain sparking behind his eyes, only to be swallowed and dulled as Brad hit his prostate without trying. Almost like he’d been made just for Ryan.
Ryan started the rhythm, but Brad made it good as he gripped Ryan’s hips, occasionally running fingers through the soft thatch of hair there as they rocked together. He saw Ryan reach a hand down and pulled him upright by his hair, startling him and pulling a grunt from both of them at the change in angle. He fastened his teeth on Ryan’s neck and reached out to stroke Ryan’s dripping cock, feeling the man writhe against him as he continued to pound into that so sweet, so willing ass. Ryan whimpered, his voice ragged as he tried to make Brad touch him but Brad just continued his light exploration.
Ryan growled again, and Brad paused as Ryan pulled away and dragged the larger boy to the ground, pressing him to the floor, straddling his lap and sliding back over him like a sheath. Brad, eyes wide at the sudden change of scenery, threw his head back, tendons standing out, and thrust hard as Ryan rode him, tweaking his nipples expertly.
Brad panted, blinking sweat out of his eyes, and reached out, stroking Ryan, making the older boy shudder and tighten around him. Brad gripped him tightly, wanting, needing to feel him react even more, and began to pump, realizing distantly that this was the first time he’d ever touched another guy’s dick.
“Close…” Ryan whispered, his head lolling back as he thrust into Brad’s fist, his nails digging into the broad shoulders, pulling the chest hair. “So…. Close…” he whimpered.
Brad nodded, trying to keep the rhythm between them, but it was so hard… so hard with the warmth pooling around his groin and legs and belly. He threw his head back with a strangled cry and came harder than he’d ever done before. Dimly, he felt Ryan still thrusting and he tightened his fist until he thought it had to hurt, pumping fast until he felt wet warmth coating his stomach, tickling down his sides.
He came to, feeling blissfully warm and strangely at peace, a heavy body laying on top of him, smelling like home, blinding him with gold waves until they shifted, showing him bright green eyes glowing with something Brad couldn’t name.
Ryan’s lips trembled as he kissed Brad, and it was very different from their first one. It was tender, gentle, like you’d want to be kissed after a hard day, or in a theater by your sweetheart.
Did that make Ryan his sweetheart?
Brad opened to the tongue teasing along the seam of his lips and sighed happily at Ryan’s flavor. He’d think about it tomorrow.
For: KD1190
By: PD&Glyph
Edited by: Glyph
3
Brad was fuming. He hated the fact that he was in the office, seeing Ms. Greenwood, his counselor. Hell, he hated the fact that the coach had sent him before practice. Did he know that he was wasting everyone’s time by sending him here?
Obviously not.
“Mr. Sherwood?” Ms. Greenwood’s voice floated out of her office, and he rose, grumbling, ignoring the looks he was getting from the nerdy looking rejects who always seemed to hang out around here. “Ah, Mr. Sherwood, it’s so nice to have a lower case celebrity in my office,” she smiled, extending her hand to be shaken. “So. I know why you are in such a bad mood, but hear me out, because this could keep you on the fast track to that University football scholarship,” she said frankly.
Brad’s bad mood lightened just a bit, but it just filled in with anxiety. He had to get that scholarship. He had to…
“Mr. Sherwood, no one in this entire school district doubts that you’re an excellent football player. No one. In fact, you’ve had, what was it at last count, five separate offers from universities to come and play for them?”
“Yes ma’am,” Brad gave a sheepish grin.
“Which is more than anyone could ever hope for, especially if they’re a young, good looking boy like you. But your grades need attention, too,” she said severely, holding up a sheet of paper and giving it to him.
He scowled. Yeah, he already knew his grades weren’t great, but she didn’t have to rub his face in it.
“You need to pick up your grades, Mr. Sherwood. Not only are you in danger of loosing your scholarships, and your place on the team, but you’re in danger of not being able to graduate unless you take on another class and pass it.”
Brad felt the blood drain from his face. “Wait… you… They would pull me from the team?”
She rolled her eyes before nodding. “Yes, Sherwood, they’d pull you. The principle has been quite lenient concerning you already because you’ve done our football team so well, but even he cannot let you keep going academically the way you have.”
Brad sat back, swallowing hard against the bile rising in his throat. If he didn’t pass… if he lost his scholarships… if he didn’t make it… What would Mom do to him? “What should I do?”
“Well, I have a list of classes you can take that you haven’t already, and I must say that you’ve pretty much skipped your electives courses. Which in itself is very good news for you right now, since that’s all you need to take to make up your credit and boost your GPA.” She handed him the page.
He read through it and frowned, looking up at her. “Is this some joke? I can’t take any of these classes.”
“You’re gonna have to,” she shrugged her small shoulders.
“What about Phys. Ed? Or Calisthenics?”
“You’ve already taken them, so even if they let you in again, you wouldn’t get any credit for it.”
He groaned, rubbing his eyes. “Fine, what do you suggest?”
“Well, the only one that you’d get away with right now would be theater.”
“Uh uh, no way,” he said rising and picking up his bag.
“Sit down Mr. Sherwood!” she said sharply. He sat immediately, blinking at her. “I can talk to Mr. Sessions and get him to only have you on for production, not for acting, but that’s going to have to be your new class, and you will have to pass it.” Her blue eyes left him no wiggle room.
Brad groaned, hitting his head against the wall behind his chair. “Fine, when do I start?”
“Today. It’s your new 7th period.” She smiled at him brightly, tick-tacking on her computer keys and printing something out. “It should be a cake walk for you. It’s just power tools, moving furniture around and painting sets.” She handed it over and rose.
He did the same, feeling like a black fog of doom had settled over him as he shook her tiny hand and left her office, glaring at anyone who was watching him.
He was going into drama… he was going to die.
“Yup,” he sighed, looking up at the huge warehouse-like building that was the drama department. Odd looking kids passed him by, taking in his obvious status and raising mocking eyebrows. It was like seeing a tyrant humbled, and they loved it. “I’m gonna die.”
Inside the drama room, it was like entering a huge studio warehouse. Cement block walls painted a dark gray, cement floor spattered and chipped with layers upon layers of paint, and beaten up tables and chairs spaced around a large stage, the only thing that looked well cared for. Even loved.
Everyone turned to look at him, but he just made his way past them all and gave the short Mr. Sessions his papers to be looked over and signed. “So why did you take this class Mr. Sherwood?” Mr. Sessions nasal British accent was immediately irritating to Brad.
“Because this is where I was assigned.”
“Uh huh, so they must think that I’ll go easy on you since you’re the school’s star ball player, am I correct?” Sessions looked up at him from over his glasses, black eyes bright with distaste.
Brad was taken aback but frowned down at the older man. “I wouldn’t know.”
“Well know this Mr. Sherwood. I am not going to go easy on you, in fact just the opposite. I am tired of getting jocks sent my way because this class is deemed an easy grade for them to raise their GPA, so you’re going to have to pass my class just like everyone else, Mr. Sherwood.”
The class was silent, and everyone was staring as Brad’s face turned bright red, taking everything Sessions was giving him with a tight lip.
“Welcome to the class,” Sessions handed him his papers back. “Now have a seat.”
Brad nodded, walking to the very back of the class, watching as a couple of students snickered, and a few vacated a table. He took it, but this wasn’t over. He stared straight at Sessions, quirked a grin, and propped his feet up on the table with echoing thunks. A few people in the class giggled, but silence fell again when Sessions stared them down.
His sharp gaze returning to Sherwood, Sessions raised his eyebrow and nodded before turning to the rest of the class. “Okay ladies and gentlemen, today we’re going to be studying blocking.”
Brad sighed, slouching down in his chair as far as he could and felt that itching feeling, like someone was watching him. He turned and scanned the class until his eyes met a pair of bright greens, half hidden in gold waves. Brad scowled as the eyes continued to watch him, only breaking the battle of wills when papers were handed out and they turned down to concentrate on his work.
Brad frowned, feeling a little disappointed, but shrugged, pulling a book forward and bending down over the papers.
He had work to do, too.
4
Ryan was watching Brad work.
Hell, no one would’ve thought him weird, because they were watching him, too. He was a pitiful actor, but no one could say he didn’t work extremely well with power tools. He was putting up the set three times faster by himself than most of the production crew was altogether. That and he could lift heavy things, which was good since the crew was made of skinny boys and girls with nail polish.
He was like one of those elves from the storybook. You didn’t talk to ‘em, you rarely saw ‘em, and if you acknowledged them, they kicked up quite the fuss. The only difference was, Brad was taller than everyone there.
Except for Ryan.
And Brad knew that ‘the Stiles kid’ was watching him, and it pissed him off to no end. He could literally feel the eyes on the back of his head as he bolted in the 2 by 4 stiles with their corner blocks and keystones. “Sherwood look out!” someone called. Brad looked and saw a flat heading straight for his face when two pairs of hands stopped it from colliding with his kisser. Brad blinked up and was chagrined to find that one of his saviors was Ryan, and the other was the school bicycle, Isolde, call me Ick.
Together they shoved it back up, and three freshmen came out of nowhere, screwing it down, double checking things and securing it. “You should pay more attention to your surroundings,” Ick smiled tightly down at him, “not just to the pretty boys.”
Brad scowled at her and stood. She was almost nose to nose with him. He jerked his chin at Ryan. “Pretty boy my ass,” then he turned to Ryan, who was just watching him, like always. “You stop staring at me Stiles, or you’re gonna find yourself hurting…” he snarled before grabbing his power tools and stalking off to check them back in.
“You’re staring at him still?” Ick turned to Ryan once Brad was out of earshot.
Ryan nodded.
“Why?”
“Because my dear, Mr. Stiles is in loooove,” Greg strolled up, paint on his nose and the baggy shirt he wore over his real clothes.
“Shut up Greg,” Ryan mumbled, going up the spiral iron staircase and hiding in the heavens.
“Not a very convincing argument,” Ick remarked.
Greg pulled her close. “No, not really. So…” he grinned at her, “you coming over tonight?”
She smiled down at her boyfriend of four years. “Sure, why not? I don’t have anything better to do.”
“Oh thanks-” he began but she silenced him with a kiss.
“And I want Jeff to play, too…” she whispered.
He shivered. “How do you make playing Monopoly sound so sexy?”
She just grinned.
Ryan watched as everyone slowly filed out of the auditorium, hoping his block kept the cage around the stairs from being locked. The lights were dimmed, the floorlights winking like stars all in a row up at him, and he sighed, leaning his head back against the wall. Fucking Greg. Did he always have to be right?
He sighed, rising and dusting his ass off as he made his way down the stairs, watching for signs of necking teens when two powerful hands grabbed his collar and slammed him against the concrete wall, tearing a grunt from him as his head hit the wall. “You think it’s hilarious to make fun of me, don’t you Stiles?” Brad snarled up at him. “Think it’s funny to tell all of your friends I’m a fucking queer?”
“No…” Ryan said quietly.
Brad slammed him into the wall again. “Shut the fuck up! Where else would they get the idea?” he demanded.
“You stare at me…”
Brad went silent, and blinked. Ryan gripped his hands, clutching them tightly, and Brad jerked away from him like Ryan’s touch burned. Their breathing was the only sound, ragged, uneven, and Ryan turned slowly and walked back upstairs, turning once to look at Brad, face harshly illuminated in the yellow safety lights arranged on the stair steps. Without a word he continued up.
Brad’s heart was hammering in his throat. Who was this guy? Some kid he’d wanted to hit and hurt so bad that he’d stayed behind, skipping a class to make sure this kid knew not to fuck with him. And here he was… following Stiles up, curiosity and something else flooding his system like a drug. He told his feet to stop, but they kept going, a dull thunk thunk thunk on the metal stairs.
This was the costume shop.
Brad had only been here once to retrieve some speakers. The place smelled like a discount retail outlet, musty and dry, clothes of every shape, size and color in the rainbow strewn everywhere. Stiles stood on a thick pile of them and held out his hand. Brad gripped a roll rack of clothes tightly, his sweating palm fogging the chill metal.
He went to Stiles… His mind was terrified of this scrawny young man offering his hand, so undemanding, so calm and patient. But those eyes. Those eyes were what scared Brad the most.
They glowed true green for him, shown with something that made him want to run screaming in the opposite direction. Instead he felt his hand slide into Stiles’, their fingers meshing, warm and damp from their combined sweat, telling Brad that he wasn’t the only one dealing with nerves.
By the light of a single halogen bulb, Brad watched Ryan as he brought Brad’s roughened, clumsy looking hands up to his mouth and kissed them, watching Brad as his breath quickened and his eyes widened as Ryan trailed his tongue along the lines in his sensitive palm. Brad jerked away at that sensual touch but Stiles’ hand shot out and cupped the back of his neck. Brad snarled suddenly, the spell momentarily broken as he grabbed Ryan and threw him to the floor, onto the thick pile of clothes and pinned him neatly, gripping the thin wrists like he’d break them.
The guy was gasping beneath him, his graceful hands clenching and unclenching, lips parted and wet, eyes wide and glassy. Brad’s snarl slipped away and he leaned down, mashing his lips to those tempting lips of Ryan Stiles, biting them, forcing them to part and thrusting his tongue in brutally until with a jerk he felt Ryan’s tongue flow forth and battle him.
He’d never felt such a battle of wills. Always with his girlfriends, he’d taken the lead. Ryan rolled them, worming his way between Brad’s legs and brushing against his raging erection. Brad’s head fell back in a moan, Ryan’s lips sending erotic thrills up and down his body as they mouthed at his throat, sometimes gentle, sometimes worrying the skin ‘til Brad whimpered.
He felt nimble fingers working at his pants and thrust against them, hearing the hiss of excitement from Ryan’s lips against his neck and dragged him back up for another, but very different, battle of wills.
Brad felt his dick hit the cool dark air and cried out in shock as Ryan’s long fingers wrapped around him. He gripped the thin arms tightly until he knew he was bruising the guy, but he’d never been so expertly handled. The thought that he knew Stiles was a fag flew momentarily before he realized the guy was moving down his body, burying that beak of a nose in his groin, kissing the curve of his hip, tugging on some hair and sending little jolts of lightening coursing through him before Ryan took his first taste.
His groan was loud enough that he thought if anyone was listening, they’d know exactly what was happening, but with Ryan taking everything he had, he just didn’t give a damn. His delved his hands into those thick, dusty gold waves, fisting in them and thrusting into Ryan’s mouth, making him take everything.
Ryan moaned around his cock, and Brad’s eyes rolled up into his head as the muscles that had tightened and released around him relaxed, letting Brad thrust to his hearts desire. Ryan tapped his hip and Brad blinked down, his hands releasing Ryan’s hair as the boy slowly came back up, using his tongue in ways Brad hadn’t known tongues could.
Ryan rose and began slowly, hypnotically removing his clothes while Brad watched in shock, his cock glistening in the dull light. Ryan wasn’t as muscular as him, but he was almost feline in his build, graceful, his muscle created from working hard, not lifting weights. Brad followed the trail of almost downy gold hair to Ryan’s cock and swallowed against his suddenly drooling mouth.
Brad shucked his pants eagerly as Ryan watched him, throwing them behind him and doing the same to his shirt. Ryan knelt down, those beautiful hands reaching out to stroke through Brad’s chest hair. He leaned down and sealed his lips around a nipple, biting it and making Brad hiss with pleasure before he gripped Ryan’s bony shoulders and rolled them again, kissing him savagely before Ryan turned and thrust his ass at Brad like a cat in heat, growling low in his throat.
Brad moaned at the feel of Ryan caressing him without hands, making Brad’s saliva slicked cock almost slip into Ryan’s ass a time or two. Brad reached down and positioned himself, but it was Ryan who rocked back on him, crying out, biting Brad’s hand as it clapped over his mouth even as he rocked back further. Brad was in heaven, god Ryan was so tight!
Ryan had to stop, resting his head on his forearms as his body clamped down on Brad. The man wasn’t as big as some he’d seen, but he was thick, and it took preparation, something Ryan had no real patience for right now.
Brad had felt Ryan’s body relax minutely and had urged forward just a bit, feeling his balls tightening just from the guttural moan beginning in Ryan’s toes and falling from his slack lips. Brad leaned forward, pushing Ryan’s head forward, feeling the whimpers as he slid further into Ryan’s ass, mouthing the back of his neck.
Ryan was oddly touched as he felt the calming, featherlight kisses along his neck, even as Brad throbbed and pulsed inside of him. Sweat made their heated skin slide against one another as their pulses raced and their breathing even out. Brad shuddered as Ryan worked his hips up Brad’s shaft, sliding him out slowly, feeling every subtle nuance of the thick cock inside of him. “Ryan…” he heard the sigh and drove his hips down, tearing a cry from Brad that he echoed, pain sparking behind his eyes, only to be swallowed and dulled as Brad hit his prostate without trying. Almost like he’d been made just for Ryan.
Ryan started the rhythm, but Brad made it good as he gripped Ryan’s hips, occasionally running fingers through the soft thatch of hair there as they rocked together. He saw Ryan reach a hand down and pulled him upright by his hair, startling him and pulling a grunt from both of them at the change in angle. He fastened his teeth on Ryan’s neck and reached out to stroke Ryan’s dripping cock, feeling the man writhe against him as he continued to pound into that so sweet, so willing ass. Ryan whimpered, his voice ragged as he tried to make Brad touch him but Brad just continued his light exploration.
Ryan growled again, and Brad paused as Ryan pulled away and dragged the larger boy to the ground, pressing him to the floor, straddling his lap and sliding back over him like a sheath. Brad, eyes wide at the sudden change of scenery, threw his head back, tendons standing out, and thrust hard as Ryan rode him, tweaking his nipples expertly.
Brad panted, blinking sweat out of his eyes, and reached out, stroking Ryan, making the older boy shudder and tighten around him. Brad gripped him tightly, wanting, needing to feel him react even more, and began to pump, realizing distantly that this was the first time he’d ever touched another guy’s dick.
“Close…” Ryan whispered, his head lolling back as he thrust into Brad’s fist, his nails digging into the broad shoulders, pulling the chest hair. “So…. Close…” he whimpered.
Brad nodded, trying to keep the rhythm between them, but it was so hard… so hard with the warmth pooling around his groin and legs and belly. He threw his head back with a strangled cry and came harder than he’d ever done before. Dimly, he felt Ryan still thrusting and he tightened his fist until he thought it had to hurt, pumping fast until he felt wet warmth coating his stomach, tickling down his sides.
He came to, feeling blissfully warm and strangely at peace, a heavy body laying on top of him, smelling like home, blinding him with gold waves until they shifted, showing him bright green eyes glowing with something Brad couldn’t name.
Ryan’s lips trembled as he kissed Brad, and it was very different from their first one. It was tender, gentle, like you’d want to be kissed after a hard day, or in a theater by your sweetheart.
Did that make Ryan his sweetheart?
Brad opened to the tongue teasing along the seam of his lips and sighed happily at Ryan’s flavor. He’d think about it tomorrow.
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Date: 2008-04-24 03:01 pm (UTC)