Word count: 1 800
Warning: Underaged boys (13 and 17)
Summary: On a lazy summer day boys get bored. Things happen.
Beta: Grammar nazi par excellence maichan808 (her: LOL, spelling fail me: >:( )
For: Cheerleader extraordinaire not_refined (her: IT'S ADORABLE THEY'RE ADORABLE YOU'RE ADORABLE me: I'mma puke from all of the adorableness)
Disclaimer: Yeah, not really.
The heat hung heavy upon the afternoon. Jared could feel the tiny beads of sweat forming along the line of his upper lip as he laid sprawled on the floor of Steve’s room. The fingers of his left hand kept the rhythm he could only hear in his head.
“I’m bored,” Steve whined as he threw himself next to Jared. He was always bored, so that wasn’t news.
“Mhm,” Jared hummed noncommittally.
“We should do something,” Chris suggested. As the eldest of the four, he was usually in charge of the plans.
“Mhm,” Jared repeated. He craned his neck slightly to the left allowing his eyes to trace the outline of the body on the bed. Bare feet, golden hair catching the ray of sun coming through half-lidded window, and somewhat bumpy knees underneath the hem of the pale blue shorts. Above the waistband he could see the sliver of freckled belly being scratched lazily with long fingers. Actually, from where he was laying he couldn’t see, but the picture was clear in his mind nonetheless: the perfect profile with full, plush lips, nose sprinkled with a constellation of freckles, eyelashes any girl would kill for, and spikes of light brown hair on top of it all.
“What do you say, Jenny?” Chris prompted. He may have been in charge of the plans but none had ever been set to motion unless Jensen gave it a go.
Jensen. Sometimes, when Jared was alone, he’d close his eyes and let the name roll off his tongue, slowly, so he could taste it, savour it, feel it linger at the tip before he’d let it go. He had no claim over it, anyway.
“I dunno,” Jensen finally spoke. “It’s too hot to think, let alone move.”
“But I’m bored,” Steve repeated, kicking Jared in the shin.
“Ow,” Jared protested and lifted his head. “And what exactly do you want me to do about it?”
“I need to not be this hot,” Jensen said.
Impossible, Jared thought to himself but didn’t say anything, just watched as Jensen got up and proceeded out of the room. As one, they scrambled up from their respective positions and followed.
He walked through the living room and out of the house, taking a turn around its corner, stopping at the hatch in the ground that led into the basement. Without a word he bent down and pulled the lid open.
Jared watched as the shorts strained across his thighs and ass, feeling the heat that had nothing to do with the cruel summer sun curl in the pit of his stomach. He hoped to God it wouldn’t show. Being the youngest in the group has earned him enough ribbing as it is.
“Well?” Jensen said impatiently and disappeared down the flight of stairs into the darkness.
The air that hit them as they entered the basement was cool and damp, moldy and stale. Still it was a welcome contrast to the heat they’d left behind. Behind his back, Jared could hear the lid being pulled back down, surrounding him with impenetrable darkness.
He took a tentative step forward. He couldn’t see a damn thing, but he’d seen earlier the small space of the room was almost completely occupied with two cots, each on one side, with barely enough room to walk in between them. Jared congratulated himself on his caution when his calf touched the cot on his left lightly. He bent in the waist of his too skinny, too long body and stretched his arm to feel the space in front of him before he would sit down. He expected to touch the rough surface of an old blanket covering the cot. Instead, his fingers were met with warm skin, taut across a firm bicep.
He pulled his hand back as if he’d been burnt.
“Sorry,” he muttered, suddenly feeling out of place. He remained on his feet, shifting the weight of his body from one leg to the other, uncertain of where to turn in the darkness.
“Here,” Jensen said, and Jared could hear him shuffling underneath him. “There’s enough room.”
For a long second the words made no sense to Jared, then it occurred to him that Jensen was making room for him. He smiled to himself. It wasn’t all that unusual for Jensen to make sure he’s settled. Jensen would always subtly take care that the pizza they’d sometimes scratch enough money for would be shared fairly; sometimes he’d sit on the floor so Jared could fit himself on the couch; every so often he’d insist on re-watching The Goonies just because it was Jared’s favourite film, and Steve and Chris liked to act as if they were too old for it.
He lowered himself carefully next to Jensen as he heard Chris and Steve slumped down to the cot on the right. To his surprise, he found Jensen laying down, not sitting up as he thought. Stiffly, he laid himself along Jensen’s side. Jensen must’ve been on his side, propped on his elbow, so there’d be enough room for Jared.
“Let’s tell scary stories!” Steve’s voice cut through the darkness suddenly and Jared twitched. He heard Jensen huff a quiet laugh, so close to his ear he could feel the hot breath tickling it.
“I dunno,” Jensen drawled. “I don’t think the baby here could take it, what with the darkness and all. We don’t want to scare him.”
“Fuck you,” Jared mumbled, feeling his cheeks heat.
“Mm no,” Jensen said so quietly no one but him could hear. “Because that? Would be illegal.”
Jared inhaled sharply, then coughed in a truly fake manner trying to hide it.
“It’s alright, Jay,” Chris said from somewhere on his right, “no need to fake coughing up a lung. It’s not like Steve could actually tell a scary story in the first place.”
There’s a tell-tale sound of a fist hitting flesh and a “oompf” coming from Chris. Next to Jared’s, Jensen’s body shuddered with a laugh.
“You had that coming, man,” Jensen said and added, “Am I right?” as he laid a hand across Jared’s stomach in search for support.
Jared was going to agree until he got distracted with the realisation that the hand hadn’t been removed from its place on his body. He shook his head slightly, as if to clear his mind.
“Uh, yeah,” he managed, breathy, too silent.
“Screw you,” Steve spat. “And just so you know, I’ve heard this really spooky story from a pal of mine – you don’t know him…”
Chris snorted, but Steve disregarded the interruption and continued, if a little coldly.
“… and this one time, when he was driving in the middle of the night and… Well, you don’t care to hear it, anyway.” And he shut up demonstratively.
In unison, the three of them shouted encouragements for Steve to continue, varying from Jared’s C’mon, man, just tell the story! to Chris’ Fuck you, don’t be a dick!
“Fine, fine,” Steve said with mock exasperation. “So, this one time a guy I know was driving home from a bar. It was winter… No! It was in the fall, last fall, yeah, I remember now, and it was around midnight. The road was unlit, ‘cept for the moonlight. It was foggy, too…”
At first, Jared was listening to the story so intently that he completely missed how Jensen’s hand sprawled across his stomach started moving. Suddenly, he was too aware of the way Jensen’s fingers crept a few inches lower to where the hem of his t-shirt met the waistband of his shorts. His body went absolutely still. Holding his breath, Jared bit his lip, waiting for… he didn’t know what.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. At thirteen, he knew all too well what his dick was for. Or at least, what it would be for at some point (the sooner, the better, he hoped). Jared was no stranger to jerking off. A few months back he found this book in his older brother’s room with these stories (and really, only his dork of a brother would read about sex instead of looking at dirty magazines like normal teenagers), and he’d been walking around half-hard, and more than that, thank you very much, for weeks.
Therefore, Jared knew what to expect. Jensen’s hand, however, didn’t seem to care much for Jared’s expectations, so instead of down, his warm fingers went up, underneath the t-shirt to circle around his bellybutton so, so slowly. Jared felt a flush of warmth starting to spread through his skin, all the way down, making his toes curl, and all the way up, making his cheeks burn.
He made himself let out a long, slow breath when it came to either breathing or dying of asphyxia, all the while worrying if the slight movement would make Jensen remove his hand. Jared really, really didn’t want Jensen to take his hand away, not when the hand was doing this amazing thing where it was pressing down on his skin and making small circles, scratching lightly along his happy trail… stopping every time as it would reach the waistband.
Steve’s voice has been reduced to a background hum as the beating of Jared’s heart grew louder with every new touch. There was no way Jensen was missing it, the constant thud-thud-thud, its increasing speed. Jared felt as if his whole body was pulsating with arousal, need, want.
This unfamiliar sensation of somebody else’s touch on him was incredible, utterly new and exciting beyond anything he’d ever felt before. That it was Jensen’s hand… well, that was a completely different kind of a miracle, and it was working its magic a little too well. Jared could feel his dick straining his shorts, impossibly hard. He craved Jensen’s touch just there, but he dreaded it all the same. He feared he’d shoot if someone so much as breathed at it. He wanted release so badly, yet he was mortified at the thought of coming all over Jensen.
His mouth was open slightly in attempt to silence the rapid, shallow breaths that barely seemed to reach his lungs. Jensen’s mouth had to be all but pressed to his ear – he could feel the hot, damp air swirling around it every time Jensen would exhale, and it was coming faster and faster, closer and closer with every second. The realisation hit unexpectedly: Jensen was getting off on this, too. He inhaled sharply, hips bucking up with no control of his own whatsoever as Jensen’s hand finally reached under the elastic band and…
“Jared, honey!” A high pitched voice came from outside and Jensen snapped his hand away in a split second. “Your Mom called to tell you dinner’s gonna be in 10.”
“Thanks, Mrs. C! I’ll be right up,” he managed finally as his foot found the first step. He was grateful for the darkness hiding him as he climbed. He was even more grateful for the two-size too big t-shirt he had on as he opened the lid and stepped out into the sun.