Snow (sweptawaybayou) wrote,

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Pass the pipe, baby. . .

Part two of Summer Afternoon. . .

So not mine. So never will be.
Rated C! for drugs/slash/alcohol abuse

The light seemed paler out here, less bright, anyhow. Unless you looked at the water, and then you knew it was summer. Too hot. Too humid. The reflection off the lake would blind you if you stared too long. The air hung in place, not moving, no breeze. Cicadas screeching in the trees, mosquitoes clustered in the shade. Dave sat on a picnic table, a somewhat cold beer in his hand, the radio from his car playing top 40 crap from the only local station, but Eliza had insisted on music. Even though she was already out in the water with Vince and Nicky, her halter top and daisy duke cutoffs left in the dirt. Jimmy sat on the hood of Dave’s car and Dave couldn’t look at him. It had been a painful enough drive out here. Eliza had tried to push into the front seat when he picked them up, and was cuffed by Jimmy. The back of his hand against her face.

“You ride in the back, bitch.”

Was all he said. She glared at him, but didn’t fuss when he pulled the seat forward. Dave had driven faster than usual, not leaving his hand to rest on the 8-ball gear knob like usual. It was too close to Jimmy’s leg.

They swung by Viggo’s church, drove out behind it, dust leaving a marker in the air. Jimmy directed Dave with grunts and points to the shed that stood out by the slow moving, dirty brown river. The shed where his father kept the baptism supplies. Dave waited, the engine idling, while Jimmy tricked at the padlock, went inside, returning with a case of beer kept cold by the depth of his hiding spot, the trap door under the box of robes.

Vince fired up his little glass pipe as soon as they got on the two-lane highway. Giggling and coughing, relighting constantly as Dave notched it up to eighty-five and the hot wind whipped through the open windows. Dave threatened to snap Vince’s neck if he burnt the leather. He turned off the cracked pavement and onto dry dirt, bypassing the campgrounds and picnic areas, going around to the back of the lake. The tires of the ‘stang bumping them hard through the dips and holes as they followed the park ranger maintenance road. Dave pulled up under the shade of the trees, got out fast, acting like it was because he didn’t want his car smelling of drugs, tried to make room for his hard on in his jeans without anyone noticing.

The kids had created this space for themselves. Stolen a couple scratched and scarred wooden picnic tables from the other side of the lake. Tramped down the grass and weeds with car tires and bare feet, tents and kegs. They built their own fire pits and littered the ground with cigarette butts and tiny roachs, broken pipes and baggies, cans and bottles, fast food wrappers and used condoms, spent fireworks and empty lighters. Everyone knew about it and they were all busted here on a semi-regular basis by Deputy Sheriff Kane, who seemed to have conveniently forgot that three years ago this was where he spent his free afternoons and nights. But it never stopped them from coming back. Sometimes they’d swing through the campground, pick up any big city jailbait that might be looking for some fun, stuck out here with parents and family. Bring the girls around to this side. Fuck them up, then, just fuck them. But generally, it was just them. Swimming in the only clear water for fifty miles, smoking and doping and drinking and fucking.

Dave pulled off his shirt, and got another beer out of the front seat of his car. Trying not to stare at Jimmy’s bare back. Thick, white, ropey scars there that dropped from his shoulders into the frayed edge of his jeans. There were so many that the tanned skin in between looked strange, like it was the part that didn’t belong.

“Turn that shit off man.”

Jimmy spoke without turning and Dave reached in the car, flipped the knob obediently. He looked out into the lake, watched as Vince and Eliza sandwiched Nicky between them. The water was up past their hips, but Dave could see her hand reaching below the water, the look on Nicky’s face and the ever present smile on Vinnie’s. He knew ‘liza was giving Nicky a handjob and Vincent was buried deep with in him.

Shit, this was not helping him out any.

“So Vinnie said y’all had some weed.”

Dave took a long pull of the warm beer.

“You’re such a fuckin’ stoner.”

Jimmy leaned back, reached in his pocket, pulled out a baggie, and handed it to Dave.

“Yeah. A stoner with a car.”

Dave leaned on the door and set the baggie and his beer on the roof, pulled the small pack of papers out of the green leaves and sticks. He started rolling a joint carefully, packing it tightly, licked the paper as he closed it, almost dropped it as Jimmy spoke again.

“Forgot to mention that. Thanks for the ride. Nice hood.”

Dave put the joint to his lips and lit it, hands shaking. What the fuck was he supposed to say to that? Took a deep drag, holding it in, his eyes closed. Kept his mouth shut.

Two fatties later and the heat wasn’t bothering Dave at all. Sweat trickled down his back, the sides of his chest, as he kept the buzz going with warm beer. Jimmy had wandered off, the other three were napping at the base of a huge tree on the shore line, naked, tangled together like puppies collapsed after playtime. The droning of the bugs and the bird song combined in the heat induced stillness and Dave felt himself sway on his feet. Time to get some blood going, or he knew he’d pass out. He walked away from the car, from the others, taking a faint path through the kudzu and trees, batting mosquitoes and gnats out of his face.

It ended in a marshy area, tall stands of bamboo and baby trees, small clear areas of swamp grass. Dave kicked off his boots, unbuttoned his 501’s, peeled them from his sweat-soaked ass and legs. He walked into the water, warm from the long summer, his toes squishing in the silky mud, tadpoles and minnows darting away. Kept going until it was up to his knees, then sat down, dipped his head under, then shook it. He leaned back on his elbows, eyes closed, let the sun beat down and the world spin around him.

Splashing sounds up beside him and Dave knows it’s Eliza. Come to blow him, curse him, make him wish he had a baseball bat. He shifts his chin just an inch and peeks out into the blinding heat.

Not Eliza.

Jimmy sits down beside him in the water, a cigarette dangling precariously between his lips. Ashes drop down onto his chest, mixing with the water there and he reaches up, wipes them off.

“Gimme a drag.”

Dave asks and Jimmy knocks his hand down as he reaches out of the water for it.

“You’ll get it wet.”

He holds the end up to Dave’s mouth. Dave takes a deep breath of smoke, blows it out into the air. Jimmy takes the last puff, then throws it out into the lake.

Dave doesn’t take his eyes off of him, waits until the cigarette is gone, and grabs Jimmy. Pulls him onto his chest. Devours his mouth, his big hands on Jimmy’s shoulders. Can’t breathe against his face, doesn’t care. Dave feels Jimmy’s hands wandering, stroking the smooth muscle of his abdomen, sliding under the water, grabbing a tight hold on Dave’s hard cock and Dave moves them both up on their knees. Slides his tongue down Jimmy’s wet neck, licking up lake water on his chest, goes lower, finds himself nose to dick and sucks it in his mouth. Jimmy’s hands on his head, guiding him, showing him. He scrapes teeth on skin, hardens his lips, lets Jimmy push in so far Dave thinks he’s drowning. Tastes sweat and precome, mud and lake. Nibbles down the sides, sucks hickies at the base.

Dave feels hands pushing him back and looks up into those hooded blue eyes. Lets Jimmy pull him forward, closer to the shore, lies on his back in the soft, black mud, legs up and spread, water splashing around him. Makes low noises that only they can hear when Jimmy is inside him, their eyes locked, double-dog daring the other to look away.

Jimmy’s hand on Dave’s cock, working him in time with his thrusts, squeezing and pulling, pushing in and out. Dave breaks first, grabs the back of Jimmy’s head with his dirty, wet hand and pulls him in, sucking hard on Jimmy’s tongue as he comes into the lake, shaking. Jimmy bites down on Dave’s bottom lip, cursing under his breath as he explodes in tight, quick, violent shudders.

They separate, the water settling around them as they lay still. Both notice how low the sun has gotten. Neither one of them care.

Dave hears his car horn and Jimmy sits up.

“Time to go.”

He stands up and leaves. Dave pulls himself out of the mud and goes deeper into the lake, washing the black, sticky stuff off of his back. Then he heads for the shore, pulls his jeans on over his long, wet legs and starts down the path back to the others, keeps trying to kill the dumb grin that he knows is on his face.

Dave decides that maybe this summer won’t be as boring as he first thought.


Part One is Here.

::buys you a beer and lights your cigarette::
Tags: cracktrailer, fic, rps
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