when Brad finally felt motivation to get up and leave, he felt like he was leaving Brad there too.
title: It's hot
author: vanchi
rating: R for now
description: The weather triggers memories for Brad. And oh, does Brad remember.
disclaimer: i own all.
note: i've been reading a lot of roz's and alex's fictions lately. this is what came of it. you make me want to write better!
It’s hot. Hot and dry and really just disgusting. It’s the kind of hot that makes you just feel like shit. It’s the kind of hot that makes you want to sleep the summer away. But technically, it’s still spring.
Summer’s gonna blow.
Brad’s sticky. He’s sticky and he’s sweaty and he’s restless. If you asked him, he’d tell you he fucking hates California weather. It was cloudy and cold out yesterday. The day before, it was hailing. But today? Today we’re pushing 97F and it’s just dry, the kind of dry that makes Brad wish he’d gone for the house with the pool. He also sort of wishes he was on speaking terms with Chester, the one with the freaking oasis in his backyard, exotic plants and waterfalls and the most beautiful pool Brad’s ever seen to boot. If Chester asked him, Brad could honestly that Chester himself is an oasis.
But they’re not on speaking terms. And Brad really does love the spontaneity of California weather.
Why aren’t they speaking? Fuck if Brad knows, and you know what? To hell with Chester anyway. No one needs him and his goddamn oasis. Especially not Brad.
--
It’s raining now, like crazy. Brad goes to the beach because he loves it here when it rains. There are no tourists, no sun tanners, no people at all. The rain is hitting his face and it’s like cold tears. Brad wishes his tears always felt like this. His clothes are beginning to stick to his frame because they’re just that soaked, but it feels good to Brad, so he continues his trek north. The sand is muddy under his Converse Chuck Taylors, and that feels good to him too.
Brad once brought Chester here on a day like this. Well, it was more of a drizzle than a heavy rain, but it’s the same principle.
He complained the entire time, that he was cold, that he was wet, that his shoes were getting dirty, etcetera. Chester always complains a lot and although it was kind of annoying, it was still kind of cute. This day was of course no exception, and a small smile played at Brad’s lips pretty much the whole time. He remembers the laughter and shy smiles they shared that day and almost smiles now.
But that was the day that Rob called.
Brad tackled Chester and they rolled around, sloppily exchanging rather unsanitary kisses, playfully groping and hitting one another. Then Chester’s phone began to vibrate in his pocket. His front pocket, so both he and Brad, who was on top of him at the time, felt it. They both giggled and Brad grinned and grinded down on the sensation, moving to hold Chester’s hands above his head in the sand. Chester grinned back up at him, thrusting his hips upwards and made a weak attempt to tug his hands out of Brad’s grasp. The kisses were much harsher and passionate now and the phone had stopped vibrating but the sliding and the thrusting had escalated, and Brad let go of Chester’s wrists and hands traveled one another’s bodies. Chester was sighing and moaning and Brad cherished every sound he could hear over the sound of the nearby surf.
But the phone began to vibrate again. They laughed amidst the frenzied groping and biting and squeezing and licking and humping, because that’s what Chester and Brad did. They laughed, they smiled, they fucked, they played games.
But the phone continued to go off and it was getting annoying. Brad pulled the phone out of Chester’s pocket and threw it onto the sand, intent on finishing what they’d started. But Chester was apparently focused on other things. He picked up the phone and squinted at the screen. He was reading something, probably a text or several texts, and he stopped reacting to Brad’s touch.
Eventually Brad gave up and just sat there, waiting for Chester to finish with his phone.
When Chester finally tore his eyes away, Brad knew. He saw it. They couldn’t finish. They wouldn’t finish. And they’d probably never do this again. All in one look.
Brad moved off of Chester, his erection pressing uncomfortably against the front of his pants.
Chester looked at him apologetically and got up. He left Brad there on the beach. In the rain. And when Brad finally felt the motivation to get up and leave, he felt like he was leaving Brad there too.
This is Brad’s first time coming back since that day. It’s the first time he’s felt like he could handle coming back here. But now? Looking around, he feels like he still can’t handle it, like he never will.
--
author: vanchi
rating: R for now
description: The weather triggers memories for Brad. And oh, does Brad remember.
disclaimer: i own all.
note: i've been reading a lot of roz's and alex's fictions lately. this is what came of it. you make me want to write better!
It’s hot. Hot and dry and really just disgusting. It’s the kind of hot that makes you just feel like shit. It’s the kind of hot that makes you want to sleep the summer away. But technically, it’s still spring.
Summer’s gonna blow.
Brad’s sticky. He’s sticky and he’s sweaty and he’s restless. If you asked him, he’d tell you he fucking hates California weather. It was cloudy and cold out yesterday. The day before, it was hailing. But today? Today we’re pushing 97F and it’s just dry, the kind of dry that makes Brad wish he’d gone for the house with the pool. He also sort of wishes he was on speaking terms with Chester, the one with the freaking oasis in his backyard, exotic plants and waterfalls and the most beautiful pool Brad’s ever seen to boot. If Chester asked him, Brad could honestly that Chester himself is an oasis.
But they’re not on speaking terms. And Brad really does love the spontaneity of California weather.
Why aren’t they speaking? Fuck if Brad knows, and you know what? To hell with Chester anyway. No one needs him and his goddamn oasis. Especially not Brad.
--
It’s raining now, like crazy. Brad goes to the beach because he loves it here when it rains. There are no tourists, no sun tanners, no people at all. The rain is hitting his face and it’s like cold tears. Brad wishes his tears always felt like this. His clothes are beginning to stick to his frame because they’re just that soaked, but it feels good to Brad, so he continues his trek north. The sand is muddy under his Converse Chuck Taylors, and that feels good to him too.
Brad once brought Chester here on a day like this. Well, it was more of a drizzle than a heavy rain, but it’s the same principle.
He complained the entire time, that he was cold, that he was wet, that his shoes were getting dirty, etcetera. Chester always complains a lot and although it was kind of annoying, it was still kind of cute. This day was of course no exception, and a small smile played at Brad’s lips pretty much the whole time. He remembers the laughter and shy smiles they shared that day and almost smiles now.
But that was the day that Rob called.
Brad tackled Chester and they rolled around, sloppily exchanging rather unsanitary kisses, playfully groping and hitting one another. Then Chester’s phone began to vibrate in his pocket. His front pocket, so both he and Brad, who was on top of him at the time, felt it. They both giggled and Brad grinned and grinded down on the sensation, moving to hold Chester’s hands above his head in the sand. Chester grinned back up at him, thrusting his hips upwards and made a weak attempt to tug his hands out of Brad’s grasp. The kisses were much harsher and passionate now and the phone had stopped vibrating but the sliding and the thrusting had escalated, and Brad let go of Chester’s wrists and hands traveled one another’s bodies. Chester was sighing and moaning and Brad cherished every sound he could hear over the sound of the nearby surf.
But the phone began to vibrate again. They laughed amidst the frenzied groping and biting and squeezing and licking and humping, because that’s what Chester and Brad did. They laughed, they smiled, they fucked, they played games.
But the phone continued to go off and it was getting annoying. Brad pulled the phone out of Chester’s pocket and threw it onto the sand, intent on finishing what they’d started. But Chester was apparently focused on other things. He picked up the phone and squinted at the screen. He was reading something, probably a text or several texts, and he stopped reacting to Brad’s touch.
Eventually Brad gave up and just sat there, waiting for Chester to finish with his phone.
When Chester finally tore his eyes away, Brad knew. He saw it. They couldn’t finish. They wouldn’t finish. And they’d probably never do this again. All in one look.
Brad moved off of Chester, his erection pressing uncomfortably against the front of his pants.
Chester looked at him apologetically and got up. He left Brad there on the beach. In the rain. And when Brad finally felt the motivation to get up and leave, he felt like he was leaving Brad there too.
This is Brad’s first time coming back since that day. It’s the first time he’s felt like he could handle coming back here. But now? Looking around, he feels like he still can’t handle it, like he never will.
--