The Scenic Route

Chapter 18

Smut Warning

"You like that big gentile dick?" Stan asks, smirking, but Kyle doesn't take the cue to laugh. He nods and rubs his thumb through the slit, smearing precome, watching Stan's eyes flutter shut.

"I want to suck you but I don't really know how," Kyle says. Stan groans and humps himself through Kyle's fingers.

"You could practice on me," he says. "I could give you tips."

"Was Wendy good at it?" Kyle asks glumly. He knows he should avoid these sorts of questions, but he's going to wonder so he might as well ask. Stan shakes his head.

"She didn't do it," he says. "I mean, she wouldn't."

"Did she think it was anti-feminist?" Kyle asks, surprised. He's only had his hand on Stan's dick for thirty seconds and he already wants it in his mouth.

"No, she - un, Kyle - she, uh, tried it once and got all pissed off because I said 'don't bite me.' I was kidding, but she, ah, took it really personally. 'Kay, I'm gonna, I'm gonna come if you keep doing that with your thumb."

"So come," Kyle says, and Stan does, wincing like it hurts him and then going loose-limbed with a groan, his head falling back. Kyle licks his neck while he breathes through it, wants a picture of him like this. Stan looks so content to be conquered by an orgasm, all grown-up and still fragile.

"C'mere," Stan says, though Kyle is already practically on top of him. They roll together under the blankets and kiss sleepily, touching each other's miscellaneous places. Kyle traces the curl of Stan's ear and Stan rubs his thumb over the dip before Kyle's hipbone, making him shiver. The world is soundless except for their kissing, the whisper of the snow and the soft hum of the central heating, which must have kicked back in.

"Did you really take a bus from Boston?" Kyle asks.

"Eleven hours," Stan says. "Then the snow caught up to us when we got to Pennsylvania, and there was an announcement on the intercom that we might not make it if the weather got worse. I prayed so hard." He kisses the bridge of Kyle's nose, looking nervous about this all over again.

"Eleven hours, God - when did you leave California?"

"Wednesday."

"Holy shit, dude!"

"Yeah. It's the week before Thanksgiving, man. The airport was worse than the bus ride. Are you seriously going to stay here all week?"

"I think so. I mean, originally I was just doing it to avoid you. How'd you find out, anyway?"

"Kenny," Stan says. Kyle grins.

"Of course. Did you tell him you were coming here?"

"No. Man, I didn't even know I was coming here until Wednesday afternoon, after I finished my last class. I had a ticket to Denver and everything."

"Wait," Kyle says. "Wait. Your last class lets out on Wednesday afternoon?"

"Not for the whole week. I skipped Thursday and Friday." He shrugs. "I'm a football player, dude. We get away with shit."

"You dick," Kyle says, grinning. He kisses Stan's neck, can't go half a minute without the taste of his skin. "You're all salty," he says. "When was your last shower?"

"Uh, Wednesday morning?"

"Jesus, Stanley. How do you still smell so good?" Kyle moans and pulls him closer.

"Maybe you like it when I'm dirty," Stan says, and Kyle snorts. "So you can be all horrified and feel really clean in comparison."

"Whatever, dude. So, now what are you going to do? There's a blizzard. You're stuck here." Kyle lifts his eyes to Stan's shyly.