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Blurred Edges of Reason
By Rayna
Pairing: Steven/Andrew
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None. ^^
May, 2005
It was a stormy day, not so rare in mid-Florida, and the rain was a much welcome relief for the sunburnt grass and wilted produce. While farmers rejoiced, two teenage boys sitting in their last class period for the day were scowling out the window at the bleary scene. They were in a portable that had been placed a good twenty meters from the actual school building, and twenty meters from any kind of covering that would keep them dry. That, added to the fact that they'd have to go clear across campus to get to the student parking lot, in the pouring rain and hazardous lightning, made them both glum and irritable.
It was Friday, and their teacher hadn't placed a humongous workload on them, and they finished their assignments rather quickly. They were friends, but didn't spend such a large amount of time with each other that they got sick of one another. They found that was the downfall with most people who claimed to be friends: they spent so much of their time together that things got repetitive and annoying, and that was the end of the friendship. Each of them could fully agree, though, on the lowness of their situation.
The quieter of the two, introverted to all who didn't take the time to get to know him, and more of a loner than his own person, Andrew, was sitting with his head on the desk. It wasn't that he was tired--he was just dreading the last bell and wishing the storm would blow over so he wouldn't get soaked. He never brought his bookbag with him, instead carrying his supplies under his arm, and he didn't think the school would appreciate him destroying their books. He'd put them under his T-shirt, of course, but that seemed like an awful lot of effort to exert just because Mother Nature felt like asserting her authority at the moment.
Perhaps the polar opposite of Andrew, Steven was easygoing, talkative, and knew so many people, he was like a walking phonebook. He could get along with anyone without having to try overly, and was a very likeable person, but got aggravating in his happiness after an extended period of time with him. Currently, though, he was bored almost to the point of pain, and in desperate need of someone to talk to. There was still a good forty-five minutes left of school, and he didn't plan on spending it in reclusive silence, staring idly out the window like he found himself doing. So he sat in the empty chair in front of Andrew's desk and turned around, intent on conversation.
Andrew was alert to the racket of the chair legs scraping on the portable floor, and slowly raised his head. He found Steven smiling almost charmingly at him, and was instantly suspicious. "What are you so happy about?"
Steven shrugged one shoulder and directed his gaze out the window, where it looked to be about 8 p.m. "I was just thinking about how long we've known each other, and that if a situation ever presented itself where I was in need of some assistance, that surely you would help me out..."
A smile crept across Andrew's face. "You want me to give you a ride home, right?"
Steven's grin widened. "Look at it out there, man! Would you really want me to walk all the way home in the pouring rain, where I could step in a puddle and get struck by lightning?" He paused and smoothed his recently-combed hair down with the palms of his hands. "I'd look like a drowned rat."
"If you hadn't gotten yourself fired, you would still have your car and I wouldn't have to drive you home," Andrew couldn't help but remind him.
"I'm fully aware of that," muttered Steven angrily, though there wasn't much heat in his voice. It was obvious he wanted to end the current branch of conversation, so he hurriedly asked, "So will you give me a ride, or not?"
While Andrew was tempted to say no, he relented to Steven's wishes on the grounds that Steven would owe him a favor whenever the opportunity presented itself. Agreed, they both struggled with silence, trying to think of something else to talk about.
Finally, Steven asked, "Are you doing anything today, or going straight home?"
Andrew drew his eyebrows together. "Why?"
Again, Steven shrugged. "Just curious."
"What do you want?"
Steven laughed. "Jesus, you just automatically expect that I want something. I'm just trying to get rid of the silence... and hoping to persuade you that you should let me come over and maybe spend the night because my house is boring and my sister and her fianc� are staying over there." The last sentence was said very quickly and under his breath, but he could tell by the amused expression on Andrew's face that he'd been heard.
"I knew there was something... All I had planned was to get some food and go home. I guess you can come over if you want. It's not like my time's occupied by anything else."
"You really need to get a girl. I swear it'd make you happier." Steven's face was serious, but Andrew scoffed.
"I don't think so. Judging by the way you act sometimes, especially after a breakup, it would probably make me insane, and you handle things well." He shrugged and picked at his fingernails, uncomfortable with even talking about relationships. "Girls are just so... I don't know..."
Steven didn't complete his sentence, just pursed his lips in thought. "That's exactly what they are," he said after a moment.
Andrew looked up at him. "What?"
"'I don't know.'" They were quiet for a while, thinking, until Steven suddenly said, "Look at all that rain. It looks like a lake's falling out there."
Indeed, the rain was falling in thick, slanted sheets, and all the ditches and unsteady land was filled with huge pools of water. Most of the puddles were clearly deep enough to completely submerge a sneaker, and, with that thought, Andrew looked down at his clean black and white ADIDAS. They were his favorite shoes, and he hated the fact that he'd have to sit down and scrub the mud off. He'd already went through three wads of chewing gum with the shoes since he'd bought them, and they'd proved stable enough, but he wasn't so sure how the suede would do in water.
"Thirty minutes," Steven said, and continued to count down the minutes until, at long last, and just when Andrew was considering a homicide, the final bell rang.
Everyone filed out, and Andrew and Steven were among the last to leave. Andrew had his books under his shirt, and Steven was wishing he'd brought a plastic bag to put over his head. They stepped out the door and into the freezing rain, where their feet sunk and slurped in the mud as they walked. Andrew squinted his eyes, grit his teeth, and trudged onward while Steven pranced around like a chihuahua on speed.
"It's so cold! God, I can feel myself catching pneumonia!" His voice was loud, high-pitched, and very annoying.
Andrew rammed his shoulder into Steven's. "Will you shut up? We're almost there."
Steven continued to mutter quietly, his complaints only becoming vocal enough for Andrew to hear when he slipped on the grass and nearly went sprawling, but he caught Andrew's arm for support. The rain was pummeling them so hard they could barely see, and crossing the parking lot for Andrew's car, Steven gave up completely, holding Andrew's arm and letting himself be guided along with his eyes closed.
They made it there alive, though thoroughly soaked and shivering, and both collapsed into their seats with great sighs of relief. They took a moment to gather themselves before Andrew started the car and pulled out of the parking lot.
"What are you getting to eat?" Steven asked, reaching into his pockets and digging through them. He pulled out a sopping five-dollar bill.
Andrew slicked his hair out of his face and held it behind his head for a few seconds before replying. "I don't know. Wendy's?"
"Okay."
While Andrew attempted to see through the thick sheets of rain and keep from either hitting someone or being run into himself, Steven busied himself in the passenger seat with getting out of his wet shirt. It had stuck to his body with an almost vacuum-like suction, and was difficult to get off. He finally managed it and put his wet shirt in the floorboard, then folded his arms across his bare chest to try and regain body heat. It wouldn't work, though, while the rest of him was still soaked.
Not much conversation happened as they got their food and went to Andrew's house. Andrew lived a long way from school, and Steven could never quite remember how to get there. There were a bunch of twists and turns, and then, quite suddenly, Andrew pulled into his driveway. The rain had slackened to no more than a drizzle, but it was still freezing on their already-wet skin as they scrambled with their bags of food to the front door, where Andrew fumbled to get his key in the slot with his trembling hand.
"Can we move it along before the fries get soggy?" Steven complained, trying to double over with the bag under his chest so it wouldn't get wet.
Andrew sighed, calmed himself, and finally managed to get the key in the hole. No one else was home; his dad had recently started seeing a woman, and spent a lot of time at her house, so Andrew usually had the place to himself. He and Steven took the food to his bedroom, where they spread everything out on the floor, separated it, and then changed out of their wet clothes. There were already muddy footprints and trails where the water had dripped off them on the carpet, but Andrew would clean it later.
"Do you have any spare clothes I can wear till these dry?" Steven asked, standing in the middle of the bedroom in nothing but his boxers, which were wet and clingy. He looked down at himself with distaste and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
"Um..." Andrew was in a similar state of undress, and he slicked his dripping hair back off his forehead as he tried to think what to loan Steven. They were of similar build, similar height; Andrew may have been a tiny bit stockier, more broad-shouldered, but too loose a fit would be better than too snug of one. He knelt next to his dresser drawers and pulled out two pairs of shorts, then fussed about finding a shirt because most all of the ones he had were of bands and he didn't want Steven to wear them... just because he liked them too much. At last, he found a plain gray T-shirt and tossed it to his friend, whose teeth had started chattering together.
Steven caught the clothes and didn't even bother to go to the bathroom to change into them. He slipped out of his wet boxers, leaving them in a wet puddle on the floor, then looked questioningly at Andrew. "You don't care if I go commando in these?" He held up the shorts to emphasize what he was talking about.
A slight red tinge appeared on Andrew's cheeks, and he dug through his top drawer for another pair of boxers.
When they were both changed into dry clothes, they finally sat on the floor and ate their food with all the enthusiasm of two teenage boys who hadn't eaten in four hours. There was no talking, only smacking, crunching, slurping, and the occassional sigh of contentment. Steven, in particular, had a way of taking a handful of seven or eight french fries and shoving the entire load into his mouth, not caring when they hung out and draped over his bottom lip; he retrieved them with his tongue, a disgusting display for Andrew to witness. Andrew'd seen it countless times before, though, and was almost immune to Steven's animalistic antics.
"Mmm," Steven hummed once he was done, rubbing his stomach and leaning back. "That was good."
"Yeah," agreed Andrew as he stuffed their trash into the bags the food had come in. He took everything to the kitchen to throw it away, and when he returned, Steven had turned the TV on and had taken up residence in his bed.
Andrew narrowed his eyes. "Why don't you get on the floor where guests belong?"
"Guests belong on the floor?" Steven laughed, moving over to give Andrew room.
"They sure don't belong on my bed." Andrew was uncomfortable, but decided not to argue anymore because it seemed Steven had made up his mind to stay where he was. Cringing, he crawled over Steven's body with the intent of laying closest to the wall, and managed not to touch him at all.
As it was still cloudy and raining, it was hard to tell by looking outside what time it was, but at around eight-thirty according to Andrew's watch, Steven spotted something laying on the floor beside the bed. He leaned over and picked it up, holding it in front of his face to make sure it was what he thought it was. Grinning, he glanced over his shoulder to look at Andrew's face, which had flushed red.
"Do I even want to know why there's a condom laying in the middle of your floor?"
Andrew tried to think of a better answer than the truth, but decided to just be honest. Rubbing the back of his neck, he grinned sheepishly. "I had planned on, you know, practicing putting one on a few nights ago, but I fell asleep before I got around to it."
There was several seconds of silence before Steven burst into laughter. "Oh, man!" he howled, holding the condom up in one hand and putting the other over his eyes as he laughed. "You fell asleep? I'm sure you'll be quite the ladies man someday!"
If possible, Andrew blushed even darker.
"But, hey, man, practice makes perfect," Steven said once he'd gotten control of his laughter. "Are you tired tonight?"
"Why?" Andrew asked automatically.
Steven shrugged one shoulder idly. "I'll show you how to put it on if you want." He grinned. "If you won't fall asleep on me."
A look of something akin to horror found its way onto Andrew's face and stayed there. "Oh... um... I don't know."
"It's really something you should know about, dude. Someday, you're gonna find yourself in a situation where you'll need it, and you don't want a chick to sit and watch you struggle with it, do you? That'd be embarrassing." It was clear Steven had a mindset now, and Andrew knew it.
"Isn't that kind of..." He wanted to say 'gay,' but the word wouldn't come out, so he chewed his lip anxiously and left the sentence uncompleted.
"We're friends. There's nothing wrong with me showing you how it's done. Now undo your pants."
For nearly ten seconds, Andrew stared at him, but Steven was too busy tearing open the wrapper with his teeth to care. Uncomfortable, but intrigued, Andrew undid the button to his shorts and pulled down the zipper, but left everything else untouched.
"Are you gonna take it out, or am I gonna have to do that, too?"
Even more horrified at that thought, Andrew maneuvered his penis through the hole in his boxers and then, gently, out over his zipper. He felt Steven move closer beside him, so that their thighs were pressed together, and looked down as an unfamiliar hand crept into his lap. Somewhere on the verge of being frightened, he brought his eyes to Steven's, trying to gauge what the other boy was thinking.
Steven offered him a smile as he cautiously gripped the length of flesh, coaxing it to full arousal with several deft strokes. He listened to Andrew's breaths deepen, then grow shallow and labored, almost in time with the speed of his hand. In truth, the way Andrew was breathing was beginning to have its effects on him, but he buried his own needs for the moment, intent on the task he wanted to accomplish.
Once Steven was content that Andrew was as erect as he could be, he halted the movements of his hand and brought the condom up where they could both see it. "Okay," he said, eyebrows raised as he began to explain how the chore was done. "You have to make sure the little nub here is pointing up; if it's not, then it's upside-down, and that's not good." As he spoke, he demonstrated what he was saying. "You put it over the head, like so, and roll it down until it's around the base. Always make sure it's as far down as it'll go, or else it'll slip off, and that's not good, either. That's pretty much all there is to it." He leaned back, smiling cheerfully. "So?"
"Um..." Andrew truly had no idea what to say. It was perhaps one of the most uncomfortable moments of his life.
"That's all you have to say? No 'thank you'? I just spent five minutes teaching you a very important life lesson, and that's the extent of your gratitude towards me? 'Um'?" Despite what Steven was saying, there was a smirk on his face that showed he was only jesting.
When it was clear Andrew really wasn't going to say anything, he sighed. "Mind if I jack off?"
Andrew gaped at him, face scrunched in a disbelieving grimace. Finally, he brought himself to shrug, because he couldn't see a reason why he should say no, especially after the way Steven had just touched him.
"It's not everyday I get to beat another dude off," Steven said as he was undoing his pants and shoving his hand inside. "Did you get anything out of it?"
Andrew was too busy watching the movements of Steven's hand to focus on what was coming out of his mouth. When he realized he'd been spoken to, he grudgingly brought his eyes away, up to Steven's face, and asked, "Huh?"
Steven laughed breathlessly as he leaned back into the pillows, spreading his legs wide and lazily lolling his head to look at Andrew. "Did you like when I touched you, or is it better doing it yourself?" Before Andrew could answer, he filled in his own part of the story. "I know the first few times, I swore it felt better when I did it, but you know, not anymore. It gets kinda boring, the same old thing over and over. That's why you gotta experiment with different stuff..." He sighed deeply as he continued his slow stroking.
Andrew's eyes had drifted back down again of their own volition. His own erection was throbbing at the lack of attention it was receiving, but he was afraid to touch it for fear of Steven making fun of him.
"Lay down and relax. Want me to...?" He didn't finish his sentence, and Andrew laid down, facing him on his side. That was answer enough to the question Steven had been going to ask, and he abandoned his own desire for Andrew's.
After watching Steven for those few minutes, Andrew was impossibly more aroused than he'd been to start with, and was starting to get over his rampant embarrassment. He was actually beginning to enjoy the touching, and Steven's breath ghosting over his chin. Still, he jumped in surprise when he felt Steven's lips touch his; somehow, that brought back the crushing reality that this was gay, and he didn't want to be gay. He exhaled deeply through his nose, shuddering uncontrollably and feeling, for some reason, dirtier than before, and all this by the act of one simple kiss.
Steven must have sensed the change, because he pulled away, but continued to gently fondle Andrew. "Not much of a kisser, huh? That's okay. Your lips could be put to better use somewhere else..."
"What?" Andrew had to ask.
"It's times like these that I wish I had about four sets of hands," said Steven, completly ignoring Andrew's inquiry. From his view of things, he was using his left hand to pleasure Andrew and was forced to lay on his right, which was virtually immobile beneath him. "How about helping me out?"
Andrew chewed nervously on his lip, but was almost--almost--to the point where he no longer cared what he was doing, as long as it felt good. He wasn't there yet, but couldn't deny that he was curious about how it'd feel to touch another boy. Taking a deep breath in a poor attempt to calm himself, he swallowed his pride and allowed himself to touch Steven. At the quiet groan emitted from Steven's lips, he almost pulled back in fright, but quickly realized the groan was one of pleasure. Encouraged, he began to stroke his friend much as he did himself: fast, desperate, to achieve release in the shortest amount of time as possible.
"God, Andrew," Steven panted, hips jerking forward with every volatile pump of Andrew's fist. "Aah, that's good. Oh, yeah... Just like that." He moaned low in his throat and tightened his grip on Andrew's arousal, easily matching Andrew's pace. It wasn't long before they were both crying out desperately; Andrew's voice a close-eyed, close-mouthed whimpering, and Steven's more of an animalistic grunting as they strove for release.
Always the more vocal of the two, Steven warned of his oncoming climax by the use of several colorful obscenities, a harsh gasp, and then the gushing semen that splattered onto Andrew's wrist and dripped between his fingers.
A few carefully delivered strokes later and Andrew was toppling right after him, gasping weakly as he came.
They lay, panting shallowly, trying to catch their breath.
It was Steven who recovered first. "Now watch how easy cleanup is," he said, gently taking the condom off Andrew's softening dick. All the come was caught neatly in the tip, and Steven smiled at him. "If it's worth anything, it's keeping everything clean. Look at your hand, and look at mine."
Andrew smiled bashfully and went to the bathroom where he washed his hands, avoided looking at himself in the mirror, and returned to the bed where he found Steven watching TV. He climbed into bed behind him, where he'd been before, and turned so that he was facing the wall.
"No one has to know about this, you know," Steven said before Andrew had fallen asleep.
"Yeah," Andrew agreed readily.
"Our secret."
Andrew smiled. "Yeah." His mind had finally caught up with his body, and he found he could no longer fight the pulls of sleep, so he stopped trying. He yawned, and only jumped slightly when he felt Steven's arm drape over his waist. Then... he fell asleep, content with the knowledge that no one else had to know about what he and Steven had done... because it was their secret.
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