chloe

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nicolassturniolo Boring ass post

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Golden sunshine poured through the crowded car, nostalgic summer wind hitting your face through the rolled-down passenger window. You relished in it—the last few moments before the sun fully set, closing your eyes to feel the final rays on your cheeks.

"Five minutes." Matt says, fingers tapping on the steering wheel in anticipation.

The forest became more condensed as you neared your destination, thick trees bordering each side of the street. Restlessness enveloped the backseat—Chris, Nick, and the group's mutual friend Noah stirring. Soon Matt turned onto a cobbled back road, a familiar route that made your stomach swirl with excitement.

For as long as you could remember, the cabin was your sanctuary. Your family and the Sturniolo family were tight-knit, and every year would carve out time to spend at the shared house. This year was especially significant, considering that it was the first time you were going to celebrate the Fourth of July here—and the first time you had the property all to yourselves.

It took convincing, but your parents handed over the keys for the weekend. They trusted that their children, as new adults, would treat the cabin responsibly. They couldn't have been more wrong.

As you came within eyesight of the house, it was clear you guys weren't the first to the party. White plastic tables were planted throughout the lawn, housing bottles of alcohol, cup-pong, and various types of classic American food. People crowded the area—the yard, dock, and wrap-around porch teeming with partyers. You recognized most of them, even from afar—summer kids and locals you were used to seeing during these months. Why they were here though, you had no idea.

"Ah. They're early," Chris mumbled from the backseat.

"Are you fucking serious, Chris? We're supposed to be taking care of the lake house, not destroying it." Matt shot at him, gripping the wheel as he turned to park behind a line of cars.

"It's the Fourth of July and we have an empty house. What did you think we were gonna do?" Chris tried to justify himself.

Matt's face stayed unimpressed, and you sighed from the tension. Being able to mentally prepare yourself for a party was more favourable, but you weren't opposed to having a little fun. You stayed silent, not wanting to take Chris's side.

The five of you filed from your seats, and rounded to the back of the car to grab your belongings. Frustration seeped from Matt as he slammed the trunk, enclosing the now empty vehicle. Chris began trudging down the dirt path towards the music, one hand folded to hold his backpack strap. Nick and Noah followed, talking amongst themselves, while you hung behind with Matt. He began grumbling as soon as the others were out of ear shot.

"It's always what Chris wants."

"It might be fun." You nudged his shoulder with your own as you walked.

"You're taking his side?"

"No. Never. I'm just saying, might as well make the most of it."

Matt shrugged, a smile beginning to creep on his face. "Yeah, you're right."

"Always am."

"You sound like Chris."

Despite your aversion to Chris, the two of you were a lot alike. The style you adorned yourself with, the bands you liked, your favourite movies—you shared them all with him. You cringed when you thought about it—being anything like him. You tried to convince yourself that you were all the good parts of Chris, but it left you confused when you identified that many positive aspects.

When you and Matt reached the log cabin, you were now in the center of the blowout. A girl in a striped tube top giggled at Matt, gesturing for him to join her. He fumbled his backpack into your arms, stuttering something about bringing it to his room for him. The girl pulled him by his bicep, and the two of them camouflaged into the crowd. It was safe to say he was now on board with the party.

Now alone, you stepped up the deck stairs of the familiar lakehouse. American flags were hung from the banister, blowing in the soft summer air. Dusk fell over the lawn, covering the partyers in a deep blue hue. Sparks from a bonfire flew as a guy stoked it, the classic woodsy scent wafting in all directions.

You tore your eyes from the magnetic scene, and made your way to your bedroom for the weekend. It was the first room at the top of the stairs, and had always been assigned to you. Without thinking, you pushed the door ajar. In your immediate line of vision, a scene from your nightmares was at play. A girl was placed on the dresser, her lips locked onto Chris's. Although his face was turned from you, his red backwards cap made it obvious it was him. He was between the girls thighs, her legs straddling around his waist. They were oblivious to you entering, hands exploring one another like the world depended on it. Flooded with embarrassment, you debated silently retreating. A mix of disgust and confidence overtook you though, and you cleared your throat instead.

Chris whipped his head around, eyes meeting yours.

"We're busy," the girl sneered.

"You can go be busy in a different room," you quipped, throwing both backpacks you held onto the bed.

"Or you can go be a stuck-up bitch somewhere else," she responded, wiping her smudged lipstick.

Chris stepped away from her body, hands dragging off her thighs. "Okay, you can get out."

"What?" The girl grasped for his sleeves.

He pushed her hands off of him. "She's like family, okay? Don't fucking talk to her like that."

She scoffed and hopped from the dresser. Profanities whispered from her mouth as she stomped through the doorway.

Why had he defended you like that? Did he really see you as a sister?

"She seems like a real treat!" Sarcasm dripped from your tongue.

"Why do you always gotta ruin shit for me."

"We've been here ten minutes, I'm sure you can find someone else," you started. "And don't hook up in my room."

These kinds of situations were common with Chris. Regard for other's feelings was completely out of his realm of perception. He acted in a way that made everyone accommodate to him—the classic "golden child", as Matt often put it. You, however, never catered to his narcissism. This drove him crazy, and was one of the many reasons the two of you never got along.

"Whatever, I'm gonna go set up the fireworks." As the words left his mouth, a pang of horror washed through you.

"Fireworks?" you questioned, paleness creeping to your cheeks.

"Yeah..?"

"Here?"

He caught wind of your sudden agitation, but his tone didn't become any more compassionate. "Yes. Here. That a problem?"

Without waiting for a response, Chris pushed past you. Rhymic steps descended down the hallway as he left.

Your heart stuttered in your chest, premature panic settling into your skin. Why hadn't you thought about this? You should've known that Chris would bring fireworks, it was Fourth of July after all. Goosebumps traveled up your spine at the thought of the booming noise.

Ever since you were little, yelling had been a part of your life. Whether it was picture frames shaking off the walls, or being forced to "pick a side" of your parents arguments, shouting was constant. It acted as lullabies when you slept, and background noise to every activity. That's part of the reason you loved this cabin so much—no arguing ever happened here. It was a safe place, free from the deafening sounds of your every day existence.

Because of this childhood, you were confined to a life of relative quietude. You knew that something like fireworks would undue all the progress you made in rebuilding yourself. Anxiety fixed into your bones as you closed the door behind you. Fighting the fit of terror creeping on, you curled to the pillows of your bed.

Just wait it out. Wait the fireworks out, and everything would be okay.

Minutes of anticipation ticked by, and you watched as darkness concealed the sky. From the mattress, you could see the dock through the second-story window. Boys were crowded in a circle, kneeled around what you assumed to be the culprits of your fear. Laying on your side, you waited until plugging your ears became a necessity.

Through the solid pane of glass, you heard the hissing begin. Beams of light shot to the sky, cascades of vibrant colours sweeping over the trees. You cup your hands over your ears instantly, but the insulation does nothing to block the thundering blasts. Tears well in your eyes in time with the next reverberating roar. Blistering through the walls, the sound of the fireworks was not letting up. Boom, boom, boom. Inhaling shaky breaths, you curl yourself tighter on the duvet.

Without warning, a hand is placed on the side of your goosebumped arm. You flip your body around, palms slipping down from your ears.

"Chris?" Your voice is shaky, and your tears are revealed instantaneously. "What are you doing here?"

"I left my—it doesn't matter. What's going on?" You had never seen genuine worry in his eyes until this moment.

"I-I can't—" Throat hoarse and mind jumbled, it was impossible to force any words out.

He sat down next to you, hand still firm on your shoulder. "Hey, hey, it's okay."

"I'm okay I just," a blaring blast caused you to flinch. "Fuck."

Sitting up, you brought your knees to your chest. Hugging them, you opened your mouth to make an excuse. But as the noises continued to bellow, more briny sadness wept from your eyes.

Chris instinctively moved next to you, wrapping his arm around your shivering shoulder. "What can I do?"

"Just…just stay with me.” You met his gaze. "Please."

He nodded, brows pulled together in concern. "Of course."

Nuzzling against his chest, your tears stained his t-shirt. Warmth radiated off of him, a blanket of comfort settling over you. He brought his hand to cup one of your ears, while you pressed the other firm to his body. You shook against him each time a firework roared, but his hold on you stayed steady. He anchored you to reality each time he exhaled, warm breath blowing onto the top of your head. The storm inside your mind lulled as his hands muffed the sound.

A concussive thud hammered in your chest, heartbeat erratic. At first you blamed the thrumming on the uproar of the holiday, but as the booms became sporadic, your heart continued to pound. You were too consumed by fear to realize it initially, but Chris wrapped around you made you feel a type of way you didn't want to admit. Butterflies you wished you could slaughter fluttered in your stomach as you breathed in the scent of him. Perfect cologne and the smell of a bonfire clung to his shirt.

"Chris?" you muttered, bringing your face up to look at him.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you." Your eyes flit to his lips without thinking, and you pulled them away immediately.

He returned the gaze, view lingering on your mouth long enough to make your stomach flip.

You were suddenly all too aware of your proximity—your touching shoulders, your noses inches from one another. Chris seemed conscious of this as well, his breath hitching as you impulsively scanned his face. Hotness seeped into your skin. You held a silent thankfulness for the dark, grateful that he couldn't see the blush flushing your cheeks.

He parted his lips, looking down at your own before speaking. A mental argument seemed to be taking place in his mind. "I'm sorry."

Tilting your head, you questioned, "For what?"

"For getting so close to you, I didn't know what to do."

"It's okay…it's nice," you admitted.

A small smile crept onto his mouth, but concern still filled his eyes. "Do you want me to stay?"

Hesitating, you looked through the window. "Don't you want to get back to your party?"

He shook his head. "This feels more important."

Nervous, you tried to relieve the tension. "All out of girls to hook up with?"

He huffed a laugh. "Now, don't get jealous."

Scowling, you formed a line with your mouth. "I'm not jealous."

Chris pulled you back to his chest, nuzzling his chin to your hair. “Sure.”

Wind wafted softly past your cheeks as you listened to the birds sing. Cupped in your hands steamed a coffee Matt had brewed for you, the sweet aroma aiding the peacefulness of the morning.

"I don't know, that really doesn't seem like Chris," Matt says, sipping from his own mug.

"I'm telling you, he was… sweet."

"That's unsettling."

Listening to the songbirds melodies, you clicked your manicured nails on the ceramic cup. "It was refreshing."

In your mind, you replayed the previous night over again countless times. Chris soothed your panic as effectively as a drug, leaving you addicted to his touch. He held you until you fell asleep against him, his warmth easing you to slumber without delay. When you awoke, an indent laid in the bed next to you, the only evidence of his previous presence. At what point in the night he left, you weren't sure. But when you reached to graze the duvet, it was still heated from his body.

"Don't tell me you're lettin' him snake his way into your brain." He glanced over at you, eyes squinted with suspicion.

You returned his gaze, not responding.

Matt groans, "Jesus. Not you too."

"No. It was just nice seeing him not be a dick for once." You shrug, bringing the coffee to your lips.

"Better not get attached. Don't need another person swooning over Chris."

Later that day, when the sun rose to its peak, a swim in the lake was growing increasingly more desirable. Feet dangling off the edge of the dock, you got your body used to the chill of the water. Radiance beemed down into your near bare body, tanning everywhere that your bikini didn't lay. You were always the type to ease into the water at your own pace.

In your procrastination, the sky darkened. Clouds rolled in gray billows across the horizon, small drips of precipitation ricocheting off the water. Allowing the gentle summer rain to patter off of you, you had no intention of retreating to the house.

Focusing on the croaking frogs, you almost didn't notice the sound of someone nearing you. The soft shake of the wood underneath you stopped as the steps reached the end of the dock.

"You gonna jump off?"

Matt had taken Nick and Noah to a nearby grocery store, so you knew who the voice came from immediately.

"Hey, Chris." You kept your eyes on the rippelling of the lake.

"Going swimming?" his voice asked from the back of you.

"Nope, just got my bathing suit on for fun."

"Funny."

Placing your hand behind your seated body, you turned to look at Chris. "Do you need something?"

"I got the sauna set up," he says proudly, peering down at you.

"Cool." you nod. "Is that, like, an invitation?"

"If you want it to be."

Droplets became heavier against your exposed skin. Chilled, stormy air drifted past you, raising goosebumps along your figure.

"Or you can stay out here in the cold," he scoffed, "your choice."

Raindrops pattered against his shirt as he turned away. Reluctantly, you pushed yourself from the wood and followed.

Humid and steamy, the sauna sat on the forest’s edge. It was logged with cedar—a beautiful home-made construction done by the triplet’s father. When you stepped inside, the tropical temperature seeped comfortably into your body. Like a blanket of relaxation, the heat calmed you.

This peacefulness quickly dissipated when Chris closed the door. His t-shirt was off in an instant, your eyes immediately falling to the chisel of his stomach.

“Since when you do work out?” Your gaze lingered far too long on his biceps.

He laughed. “Since when do you check me out?”

“I’m not—“ you hesitated. “Shut up.”

His eyes flit down to your chest, tracing the curves of your tits.

“My eyes are up here,” you shot, sitting down on the bench.

When he planted himself beside you, the air shifted.

“Hey, about last night—“

“We don’t have to talk about it,” you interrupted.

Moisture beaded at the nape of his neck, the swelter of the sauna affecting him. Adjusting his waist upwards, you saw the imprint of hardness through his shorts. You gulped and began focusing on the strings of your bathing suit bottoms, fiddling aimlessly.

Chris glimpsed at your fingers messing with the string. “You nervous?”

“What?”

“You always start fidgeting when you’re nervous.”

“Hey, did you mean it?” You changed the subject. “Last night.”

He tilted his head in confusion.

“When you were with that girl. You said I was like a sister.”

A smirk curls at his lip. “You wanna know if I think of you like a sister?”

“Don’t make it weird.”

“I think of you as my brother’s annoying best friend.”

“Okay, good.” Why did you say that?

“Good?” he questioned, adjusting his hips again.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you said quickly.

Sweat began dewing at your skin. The heat caused your thinking to become a muddled mess, self control slipping by the minute. His glistening abs, his arms that were surely able to manhandle you—your critical thinking skills were crumbling.

"What did you mean, then?"

You stuttered, but couldn't force out an answer.

He smiled—that cocky grin that always made your blood boil. But as you looked at him, that usual rage was replaced with a deep, aching lust. Crossing your legs, you tried to fight the arousal. He noticed this movement, of course, and it seemed he was just as affected. In an attempt at hiding his erection, Chris's hands were placed in the centre of his lap.

It was just a matter of who was going to break first.

You adjusted your bikini top using both straps, causing your boobs to bounce as you released the strings. Chris was watching, and sucked in a sharp breath. His fingers were closed in a fist at the middle of his thighs, veins tracing up his forearm. You were beginning to lose this mental battle.

"What you thinking about?" his voice broke the silence.

You tore your eyes from his hands. "Uh.. nothing really. You?"

"Don't lie to me."

"What makes you think I'm lying?"

"You bite your bottom lip," he replied, eyes fixed on your mouth.

You released the lip you didn't realize you were biting. "Are you just constantly analyzing me or something?"

"You just have some tells."

"Well, you do too." Your gaze darted to his lap.

"You're not slick, either." He nods his head towards your crossed legs.

Blush attacked your cheeks. Your chest feels heavy—both from the sauna and from the weight of your pounding heart. He unscrewed a bottle of water, adam's apple bobbing as he drank. Mouth feeling irreversibly dry, the sight fuels your thirst.

"You want some?" he asked, bringing the bottle from his mouth.

You nod. He placed it next to him, on the opposite side from you.

You glare.

"You can grab it, it's right there."

Feeding into his games was never the preferable option, but you were too thirsty to refuse. You separate your intertwined legs and reach over him. It's just far enough that you can't reach—definitely not an accident.

Something in you wanted to mess with him back, so you did the first thing that came to mind. Folding to sit on your knees, you pulled your hair into a ponytail. Now on all fours, you reached over his lap to the water. When bringing it back to you, you traced the cold metal at the bottom hem of his shorts. The condensation trickled against his exposed skin. Sitting back on your knees, you accepted victory and drank.

"Come here." Chris spoke, demanding.

"What?" Your stomach flips.

"You know what you're doing. Come here... please."

All sense of pride washes from you. Without thinking twice, you place the bottle down and crawl to his lap. Straddling on either side of his waist, his erection pressed against you immediately. You move slightly against him, the friction of his cock between your legs sending shivers through your body.

"See, that wasn't so hard, huh?" He mocked, snaking his hand to hold the curve of your waist.

"Lot of talk from someone who's bricked just from looking at me."

Moving his face to your neck, he plants a kiss just below your ear. "I can feel how wet you are for me."

His words elicit goosebumps down your skin. You shake your head, denying. But unconsciously, you bit your lip.

A silent duel ensued between the two of you, a fight to keep your composure. As soon as his waist moved upwards, it was a losing battle. His bulge rubbed against your clothed clit, causing a moan to fall from your throat. Placing both hands on your hips, he guided your body against him. Gnawing desire ripped through you, and his measured pace in which he piloted you only made your lust grow. You pressed down on his lap, aching for friction.

Biting back a moan, he held you in place. "Patience."

Your brows pulled together.

"So eager," he taunted, "don't worry, I'll give you what you need."

Sliding your bottoms to the side, his fingers dipped into your folds. Immediately being coated in arousal, he used it to circle your clit with his thumb. You throw your head back, relishing in the pleasure. Hot, congested air covered your body, the smell of cedar and Chris's cologne filling your nose.

"You gonna be a good girl for me?" He slowly sunk two fingers into your pussy.

You tightened around him, your walls gripping him like a vice. "Fuck Chris—"

"God, you sound so fucking sexy moaning my name," he groans, curling his fingers expertly.

You grind down on his hand automatically, submerging him deeper inside of you. Unable to refrain, you began riding the length of his digits. Pulse hammering, you chased the pleasure.

He pulls out of you. "If you're gonna ride anything, it's gonna be my cock."

Giving up on not seeming desperate, you quickly fondle with the strings of his gray shorts. Your breasts are at his face, shaking in time with your untying. Scooting back, you're able to pull down his shorts and boxers. Hard and leaking with pre-cum, his dick slaps to his stomach. He's bigger than you anticipated—and throbbing with a need for you.

Chris watched your awed expression. "You can take it."

A whine escapes your lips, but you don't argue. Instead, you reach to his length, gripping his base. Taking your thumb, you pump the pre-cum down his veins. Pulsating under your hand, his dick moves involuntarily from your touch. He sucks in a breath through bared teeth.

"Patience," you mock.

He bucked into your hand, a clear sense of defiance. He holds back onto your sides, urging for you to get closer. You silently obeyed, moving your bottoms aside and hovering over his cock. His hands are steady on you as you align yourself.

Slowly, you lowered your hips. Your walls sucked in his tip, the two of you moaning in sync. At a painstaking pace, you sunk him deeper. He’s big inside of you, your pussy stretching like elastic around his cock. You gasped as you hit the base, taking his entire length.

Chris’s cheeks were flushed red from the heat, and his chest was slick with moisture. Hair tousled and breath labored, he looked perfect beneath you. You began raising yourself off his dick, emptiness filling you before you sank back down. With Chris’s guided help, you set a pace.

Undoing your bikini strap in a slick movement, your tits fell from the fabric. He kneaded them, using them as handles as you rode him. Your nipples hardened under his touch, and your boobs bounced with the rhythm you had set. Arching your back, they were in full display in front of his face. He took the opportunity, and latched his mouth to your hardened bud. Sucking at the sensative skin, whimpers fall from your lips.

“Holy fuck, Chris,” you breathed, holding his shoulders.

He released your nipple. “Riding me so fucking good.”

His fingers traveled to where your bodies meet. He rubbed your clit in messy circles, and began thrusting with your pace. The added sensation caused an ache to coil low in your stomach.

“You feel so—holy shit.” You can barely force words out, and he knows this.

You ride him relentlessly, using him to fuel your own pleasure. His tip rams your g-spot each time, the angle impeccable. Throwing your head back, you quicken your speed. Sounds escape from his throat, guttural groans that make your chest pound. You squeeze your eyes shut.

“Fucking yourself dumb on my cock, aren’t you?” you can hear the stupid grin in the voice.

“Chris—“

“Gonna cum around me?”

You nod helplessly.

“Cum around my dick, fucking slut.”

A wave crashed over you, and you leaned your forehead against his. In a mess of shivers, you released around him. He continued to thrust upwards, chasing his own pleasure. You’re unable to move, and your thighs are shaking around his pulsing cock.

As he continues his relentless pace, you realize he has no intention of stopping. Instead, he holds your back, flipping you to lay on the wood.

“Oh my god Chris I can’t—“ you try to finish a sentence, but it’s impossible.

“You feel so good—holy shit,” he groans, speeding up.

His face lowers to yours, and you dig your manicured nails into his back. Lips desperately colliding, your tongues fight for dominance. It’s sloppy, disordered, and perfect. His pumps match the pace of your kiss, and you can tell he’s close. Your nails are sure to draw blood. Your back is pressed to the hot wood, and the weight of him against you is intoxicating. He tastes sweet in a way you wouldn’t have expected.

You clenched your pussy around him, feeling your second climax nearing.

“Oh fuck, do that again,” he breathed.

You continue to tighten, feeling his thrusts become disordered. In a messy final stroke, you feel him spilling inside of you. The sensation causes another climax to rip at your core. Moaning into his mouth, the two of you pant together. Scalding heat permeates both of your bodies, sweat slicking between you.

“Just to be clear,” he starts, pulling out of you.

“This never happened,” you finish.

a/n: go check out Summer of Sturniolo!

This is definitely the longest fic I've done! I wrote this before the newest video came out, but it’s funny that their theme was fireworks too 😭