Fadedsturniolo

The sugary contents of your cup did wonders for your horribly dry tongue. You’d never been into alcohol much, but you couldn’t decline a turn in the rotation happening inside when you saw the joint papers were pink. So after pouring a cup of some peachy juice from the sticky countertop, your mind pleasantly fuzzy, you welcomed yourself outside.

You had laughed when you heard mentions of a “Project X-style party” happening right at the beginning of August. A birthday party, to be sure. Then the invitation was sent to you in a crowded group chat, with the encouragement of sharing the invite with anyone and everyone, and suddenly the insinuation didn’t seem like a joke anymore. You knew the house; used to pass its massive iron entrance gates on your way to school on your rural side of town. Everyone knew it—and the family that owned it—not only because the three boys in your grade were triplets, but because their parents were among the wealthiest in your town.

You’d heard the talk and tales of the parties the boys used to throw in high school when their parents were out of town, which were far out of your league of popularity. But the invites had spread like wildfire this time.

Secretly, you’d always wondered what the house beyond the iron gates looked like.

You heard your name from someone on the grass.

“Come watch this!”

Madi had put denim shorts on over her white bikini, and the little braids in her hair were stretched and loose. She stood near a beer pong table under the tree with a few others, pink-cheeked from the alcohol, their silhouettes lined in a golden glow.

Stepping off the porch, the grass was cool under your bare feet. The warm breeze drifted through your hair, still damp from swimming. You suddenly wished you had put your shorts on too, but the chaos inside wasn’t worth navigating through to get them.

“You’re making me come over here to watch beer pong?”

“Look at these two. They’ve been trying to get this picture for ages.”

You saw them then, as you approached; in one of the lower hanging oak branches was two nearly identical boys perched like birds, a good nine feet off the ground, both smiling wide and bickering with someone on the ground below them. You hoped they hadn’t been drinking.

“It’s Matt! He won’t do it!” Chris said, his hand gesturing in annoyance.

“No—No, I’m gonna do it,” Matt exclaimed, laughter laced in the words.

You realized the guy on the ground was Nate Doe. “Do it before you break your fucking necks,” he said, one hand on his hip like a distressed caretaker, a plastic cup in the other.

“We have an audience now, Matt. This was your idea anyway.”

Matt took a deep breath, nodded, seeming to have come to some level of readiness, and rotated himself in the tree. Chris followed suit, and both of them hooked their legs on the branch to hang upside down. Gravity caused their shirts to fall to their chests as they swayed. Matt squealed and Chris’s laughter was maniacally contagious as he made a game of pretending to pull his brother off the branch, while Nate took a rapid burst of photos.

“Boys are stupid,” you mumbled to Madi as you watched them right themselves and climb down to see the photos, before turning your back to the scene, a smile playing on your lips.

“Yeah, but they’re cute, huh?”

That thought had definitely crossed your mind.

You opened your mouth to respond, when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Hey, it’s your turn.”

You jumped, spinning around.

Chris himself stood there, grinning from ear to ear, taking a step backwards away from you.

You frowned at him. “My turn for what?”

“To hang in the tree, obviously.”

You laughed sarcastically, looking him up and down. “I think not.”

“Rules of the house, plus it’s my birthday,” he shrugged. “Ask Matt. He’ll tell you the same.”

“That’s perfect. When I get concussed, you can pay for my hospital bill with your birthday money.”

Chris laughed easily. Pretty, you thought. He certainly had changed from the kid you once knew. You noticed his sharper structure, his red muscle tee displaying the shadowy dips in his toned arms, his dark hair flopping over his eyes. His smile that stole all of your attention.

You leaned into the bit further, hoping he’d smile like that again. “I don’t even remember the last time you talked to me, and now you expect me to perform acrobatic stunts in a bikini?”

And he did, running a hand through his hair. Madi had wandered away, intertwined in a gossipy conversation, as Matt and Nate began setting up for beer pong.

“I remember,” he said. “It was at graduation. After the ceremony, outside the venue.”

A hazy recollection of the encounter came to you. “Have you been taking any classes since then?”

“Fuck no,” he scoffed. “Dad’s been integrating me and Nick into the company. What about you? You always seemed like the type to care about grades.”

You chose to take it as a compliment. “Just online for now.”

“Nice,” he said genuinely, then nodded his chin in the direction of the pool. “Wanna go swimming?”

You blinked, taken aback by the abrupt proposal. For a moment you were reminded of what it was like making friends as a kid, how easy it was.

You thought, then shrugged with a nod, which felt easy too.

The next several hours were intoxicatingly blissful.

It was strange, the way being with him felt entirely natural. He hadn’t lost that endearing childlike humor, or the way the notorious flirting came like breathing to him.

It started off in a minuscule way. He had taken your drink from your hand and sipped from it. His fingers wrapped around yours in the exchange, and you felt a tingle from the touch flutter up your arm.

And when you both had been sharing a large pool floaty, when Chris reached up and tucked a loosened tendril of hair around the loose bun on top of your head. It was a small thing, and he moved right along into a new thought immediately after.

And then again, when you were standing wrapped in a towel, you were in the middle of saying something, he suddenly bent down closely, observing your face pointedly.

You paused with your lips apart. Your eyes flickered between his eyes and his mouth.

“Huh.” His smirked expression held something wondrously playful, inches from your face. “Have you always had freckles on your nose?”

You closed your mouth and warmth crept into your cheeks. He didn’t stay there long enough to notice, because someone had called his name, a friend hopping over to tell him about something funny that had happened inside, showing him a video. You couldn’t stop watching him as he laughed and shook out his wet curls, or as he pulled his shirt over his head.

And as the night went on like that, the distance between you grew smaller and smaller. When you went back inside to refill your cup, he kept a hand on your back as you navigated through the body of people. When he got caught up in a conversation, he brushed his knuckles over the back of your hand, almost absentmindedly.

The night gathered into late hours. What was left of the crowd had migrated inside, apart from a rowdy group in the pool and the ongoing weed rotation on the porch.

You wandered about the yard until you came upon an old and withered wooden picnic bench. It appeared abandoned and forgotten about, covered in dirt and spiderwebs, sun rotted and splintering.

Chris pulled a plastic tube out of his pocket. “Partake?”

He popped the top and pulled the preroll out. Not pink unfortunately, but certainly not cheap, you could tell by the brand on the filter.

“Sure, except anywhere but here.”

He looked at the bench you gestured to. “What’s wrong with here? I don’t wanna share with the rest of them.”

Your eyes widened. “Look at that thing! God knows how many spiders are living on it.”

Chris’s shoulders sagged. He looked around the yard, closed the joint back in its container, and jogged over to the water spout attached to the pool system.

You then spotted the hose lying in the grass spring to life. He grabbed it and pulled it over, placed his thumb over the nozzle and began spraying the bench down.

You couldn’t help but laugh, placing a hand over your mouth. It was too cute, really, his determination—the immediate desire to solve your issue.

He turned to you. “What?” He dropped his hand, the water pointing at the ground. “What’s so funny?”

It was impossible to school your amused expression. You pulled your lips between your teeth and waved a hand. “Nothing at all.”

Your laughter was abruptly cut off by a blast of water to the face.

Both of you were silent. He pointed the hose back on the ground and watched your shocked, open-mouthed expression.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to spray people in the fucking f—“

Water assaulted you again.

“Chris!”

You eyed each other like two dogs with their tails in the air, bracing for whoever moved first. The silence lasted three seconds.

You pounced and closed your hand around the nozzle.

Water sprayed wildly in the air, sporadically as you both wrestled for control of the hose. Chris was not fucking around either. His grip on the nozzle was vice-like and he clearly wasn’t about to let you win. You couldn’t tell if he was laughing at your effort or the fact that you were both soaked once again.

Regardless, he let you continue to struggle anyway, until his arm snaked around your torso and he pulled your back flush against him, trapping you. He wrenched the hose free from your fingers, and held it high out of reach, cackling as he pointed it downward to spill right over the top of your head.

“Chris! That’s not fair! It’s freezing!” You squealed, reaching upward in a pathetic attempt to disarm him, but he was taller, his arms were longer, and he was relentless.

“Don’t blame me for your inferior genetics,” he teased.

Finally, he dropped the hose and released you. You stumbled away and looked down at yourself.

“Now you can find me a fresh towel,” you told him.

His smile never left his face as he took your hand and pulled you back toward the house. “Come on. There’s a better spot anyway.”

On the other end of the porch from where the smoke circle was, Chris led you to a daybed tucked into a nook against the house, slightly obscured from view in the porch light’s shadow.

Chris handed you a folded towel from a stack on the little table and made himself comfortable against the pillows. You squeezed your hair out and wiped yourself dry before sitting criss-cross beside him.

“You better hope this thing didn’t get soaked,” he said, reaching into his pocket again.

“Me?”

“You.”

You stared at him. “You’re going to sit here, look me in my face and act like you didn’t initiate the entire water fight?”

He didn’t respond, but his smirk told you what you needed to know. He popped the top and let the preroll fall onto his palm.

“You got lucky. Hand me the lighter in that drawer.”

You rolled your eyes and did as he asked. You pretended not to notice when he blatantly stared at your ass when you sat up on your knees to reach for it.

“Ladies first,” he said, handing it to you. He lit it for you, cupping a hand to shield from the gentle breeze.

Your first hit was small, mostly because you didn’t want to be sitting there hacking up your entire esophagus. Chris never looked away, watching you. When you passed it to him, he took one long pull like it was nothing.

You heard a song you knew and loved come on from inside. The quiet between you both was comfortable as you looked out at the oak tree’s spidery limbs. You noticed the stars becoming increasingly covered by clouds.

“I smell rain,” you said, voice soft. The petrichor air felt delicate, with all the other sounds seeming so distant.

“Hm,” he hummed as he exhaled the smoke through his nose.

“Rain on your birthday is good luck,” you continued thoughtfully. “Cleansing for the year ahead.”

He looked at you then—really looked at you. You nearly blushed under his intense gaze.

Then he held the joint up to your lips.

He watched your mouth as you inhaled. As you held the smoke in your lungs, he brushed a thumb along your bottom lip gently.

Your eyes remained locked as you exhaled.

“C’mere.”

You licked your lips and leaned down slowly, his fingers threading through your hair near your neck.

You didn’t kiss him at first. You ghosted your parted lips over his, faintly, teasing, and took his bottom lip between your teeth.

“Quit playin’ baby,” he mumbled. “Been wanting to kiss you all night.”

His low tone ignited a warmth in your lower abdomen. You sealed the gap between you and felt yourself melt. Your mouths moved together fervently, your lips sugary from the juice and your tongues tinged with smoke. He trailed his hand down to rest around your throat, and you felt yourself arch into him naturally.

Chris’s mouth was soft and calculated. His tongue swept along your lip, a silent request for you to open. You didn’t mean to moan, a soft sound that escaped without permission. His body responded to it, hands gripping your bare waist to pull you into his lap.

The kiss grew messier then. Your fingers raked through his drying curls, while his trailed along your nearly naked body.

And they grew curious. His thumbs slid under the ties on the sides of your swimsuit bottoms, tugging playfully. You couldn’t stop your hips from rolling over his. The low sound he made into your mouth and his hands gripping your bare ass fueled the growing fire in your belly.

It felt good. Way too good. You licked feverishly into each other’s mouths and you felt yourself getting wetter and wetter. You ground your hips into him again, placing your hands on his chest.

“Would be too easy,” Chris breathed against your lips. “Could fuck you right here.” He moved his mouth down to your neck, your chest. His index finger came up to hook around the string at your collarbone.

You whimpered greedily and gripped his shoulders as his tongue licked along your throat. The reminder that there were several people just around the corner seemed insignificant in the moment.

“Practically begging for it, huh? Look at you.” His hands trailed down to hold you around your ribcage. “Bet you’re already nice and wet for me under this little thing.”

His thumbs slid beneath the triangles of the bikini top, brushing along your peaked nipples.

Your breath caught. The fuzz in your brain made everything hotter—his hands, his tongue. You fisted the fabric of his shirt and lifted it over his head, needing more of his warm skin against yours.

You had just tossed his shirt aside as he brought his mouth back to your neck, when you heard a group of people stumble through the back door around the corner out and onto the porch, and were meandering your way.

“Someone will see,” you whispered.

“So?”

“Chris—”

“Shhh,” he punctuated the hush with a kiss.

Your wet bodies were pressed together and his fingertips dug into your skin. You had no idea if anyone saw you, and as the world outside of your glass bubble faded away, you lost the desire to care.

His mouth moved back down to your neck again as he rolled his hips upwards. You gasped, feeling his hardened length through the material of his swim trunks, the wildfire inside of you spreading to your fingertips.

You couldn’t hold onto your last shred of composure anymore. You didn’t care if there were a plethora of people who could find you both at any moment. The wetness of your swimsuit created the sweetest friction as you found a proper rhythm, grinding against him with a slow but steady motion.

Chris’s confident, cocky demeanor began slipping—you could tell when his head tipped back, lashes fluttering, parted lips pink and swollen and his breathing stuttering. The sight of him brought a small moan out of you. He lifted his head at the sound, a corner of his mouth curving up into that fucking smirk.

“You feelin’ good baby?”

You could only nod, whimpering and gasping. He watched your body’s movements, holding you at your hips.

“Fuck,” he moaned, bringing your mouths together again. “Wanna fuck you just like this. Look at you,” he slid a hand up your body, letting it rest at the base of your throat where your collarbones met.

“Chris,” you breathed. Your hips sped up slightly and your cheeks turned pink at his words.

“Keep going, baby.” He trailed the hand down your chest, your naval, and past the hem of your swimsuit, snaking between you and brushing firmly against your dripping wet heat.

Your abdomen twitched and you gasped. You moaned out, maybe a little too loud. Your mind was reeling from the high of the weed and his touch, and there wasn’t a soul around that could pull you out from it.

“God, you’re soaked,” he said, lips brushing against yours as he spoke, his voice low and breathless. “You gonna come baby? Right here all over my fingers, so many people right around the corner?”

The movement of your hips was desperate now. “Y-yeah, fuck—gonna come, Chris—”

You let out a weak whimper as your orgasm crashed through you, hard. You rode his fingers through it, moaning into his mouth, your tongues dancing wet and sloppy. Your hands gripped his shoulders and stars exploded behind your eyelids.

Chris pulled his hand away from you and gripped your waist firmly, his fingers digging into your skin, guiding you to continue the roll of your hips.

“Shit,” he swore, the pace of his own groin matching yours until his head fell back and the beautiful sound of his breathless moans left his lips. You felt his dick twitch against you as he followed you over the edge, and watched as his eyes fell shut.

As if space and time were slowly fading back into existence, you both breathed shakily, still moving against each other slow and lazy, milking the aftershocks. The vibrations of the bass from inside of the house and the buzzing of insects and pool water splashing and laughter echoing became apart of reality once again.

You sat still where you were and looked at each other. Neither of you moved your hands, your bodies, or the distance between your faces, which was nonexistent.

At first, neither of you spoke, either.

Until Chris let out a chuckle.

You stared at him, moving your head back slightly.

“Who’d’ve thought we’d end up here?”

You rolled your eyes. “If not tonight, then eventually, I suppose.”

He kissed you again, this time simply. “You think so?”

“You’re saying you’re the kind of guy who hung out with me at your birthday party and made my night all kinds of wonderful just to get under my swimsuit?”

He just smiled, his pretty blue eyes low. “Well, I can’t say that’s not what I hoped for when I first walked up to you—”

Your mouth fell open.

“But,” he continued with a giggle. “I stopped caring about that.”

“Oh?”

His hands rested on your thighs, “I stopped caring because I realized I just wanted to hang out with you, no matter what the outcome was.”

“And here we are anyway,” you replied, your tone teasing. “Your fingers covered in cum with your friends just a few feet away.”

With his clean hand, he picked up the joint that had been abandoned beside you and relit it. “About that,” he said casually after an exhale, leaning back against the pillows.

You held your breath as you waited for his next statement.

“Pretty sure a few people saw us.”

author’s note; i imagine that instead of going inside to clean themselves off, they decided to jump back in the pool instead. 🙂‍↕️

taglist: @courta13 @sturnsc @pepsipoet @iluvchr1s lmk if you wanna be added!