by Lotus Oakes
Get-Together Summer
Get-Together Summer
Midpoint
Get-Together Summer
By Lotus Oakes
Copyright 2013
Smashwords Edition Copyright 2013
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When Simon was eighteen, his cousin Haley got a boyfriend.
His name was Dirk and he was tall and raw-boned, nearly rangy, with brown skin that never seemed to burn and a tangle of messy black hair. Compared to Haley — and to Simon himself — who were pale in every way, he looked like someone from a completely different world. He slammed doors and wore his shoes inside the house, leaving dusty tracks across the polished hardwood floors and plush carpets; he was loud and crude and swore at the drop of a hat and he treated Haley like some sort of princess, which was the most annoying thing of all.
It wasn’t that she didn’t entirely deserve it; the Oakleys were an old family with a long range of influence. “Modern-day royalty,” Simon had heard them called, so it was only right that people showed them respect, but at the same time, it was Haley, snooty and icy and untouchable — or so she liked to portray herself in public, and so she should have stayed. Every summer before this one, when his father and her mother brought their families together for a month-long reunion, Haley preferred to spend her time inside, curled up in the library with books that had titles Simon couldn’t even pronounce, and when the combined branches of the Oakley family threw a party, she only deigned to appear when physically coerced or outright ordered by her parents.
Not that Simon himself enjoyed going out either. The evening parties were always crowded and often boring, full of people twice his age and older desperately trying to angle for some hint of acknowledgment or gossip from an Oakley heir. Daytime outings weren’t much better. He burned if he so much as stayed in a sunny room for too long. Most suntan lotions were too greasy and smelled unpleasant, and he hadn’t yet found a hat that didn’t give him a headache.
The point, though, was that Haley was worse than he was — at least he would go to events when they happened, without it devolving into a shouting match. She was someone who stayed in her corner and would sometimes play chess with him, or read aloud from one of her books, quiet and just for him. She wasn’t someone who went out and met people, let alone talk to them or start dating them or bring them home when he was obviously not the sort of caliber of person that deserved an Oakley …
They were here again today. He’d seen them come in, holding hands, and he’d heard them talking, their voices echoing off the high arched walls. Haley had scolded Dirk for leaving his shoes on (yet again), and he just laughed, which in turn led her to laughing (how often did Haley laugh? sometimes she would smile when Simon brought her tea, or an apple, or asked her about this book or that author, but laughing seemed like such a foreign thing to her before Dirk had come into her life), and Simon hid himself in a small alcove and chewed on his index finger until they were gone, then fled for his own room. He hadn’t seen or heard from them in over an hour.
After finishing with his hoarded collection of magazines, Simon decided he was thirsty and got to his feet. He thought idly of calling someone, especially if Dirk was still in the house, but decided against it at the end. The housekeepers always put too much ice in his soda, to the point where everything tasted watery and bland.
(And if Dirk was still in the house, the last thing Simon wanted was to come across looking weak or dependent. One couldn’t expect a peasant to understand, but he didn’t like the heavy feeling of judgment he could feel coming from Dirk at times. He was perfectly capable of getting his own things, and he would prove it.)
Halfway down the hallway, he heard it.
Or rather: he heard them.
The first moan was so quiet that he dismissed it as his imagination: the creaking of the floor under his feet, nothing more secret than that. The second one, though, was harder to explain away, and the fact that it was Haley’s voice was unmistakable. He could hear Dirk too, murmuring low under her, and faint rhythmic creeping …
Simon’s first thought was to storm in and let the fires of outrage fuel him through his embarrassment. How dare they, didn’t they have any sort of shame?! Maybe he should have expected it from Dirk, being that sort of person, but Haley should know better! She was supposed to be untouched and untouchable, not … not …
His face began to heat, spreading out as a flush to his ears and his breath seemed to strangle in his throat. He sucked in a deep breath until his lungs ached from it, then held it as he crept step by hesitant step forward. The door to Haley’s room was just faintly ajar — not enough to really be obvious, but still enough that a sliver of the room inside was visible. Simon plastered himself to the wall and craned his head just a little, peeking.
The first thing he saw was Dirk’s face, set in an expression of intense concentration. There was sweat on his brow and a half-scowl on his lips when they weren’t moving, whispering a steady stream of low husky words: yeah baby like that, fuck that’s good, you’re so pretty, just like that, fuck—
He was completely and absolutely naked, sweat gleaming across his exposed flexing muscles until he very nearly seemed to be glowing. His eyes were heavy-lidded, focused on — on —
Simon didn’t want to look at first, even though he could hear her, gasping in answer to each of Dirk’s whispered endearments, but he glanced and found he couldn’t look away. She still had her shirt on, her bra pushed up over the curve of her breasts, which bounced freely with each thrust. Her nipples were small and dark pink, both tight little peaks, and every now and then Dirk rubbed the flat of his palm over them, just barely touching, which seemed to inspire her to thrash harder each time. Her arms were curved up in an elegant arch, over her head, clutching at the headboard with white knuckles.
Dirk smoothed a hand down her side, and the movement drew Simon’s gaze towards the movement of their hips, watching as he pulled one of Haley’s legs up to drape over his shoulder. Her other bent at a graceless angle, slanted downward, and Simon could actually see where their bodies joined together; he could see the wet gleam of Dirk’s cock sliding in and out, and under his voice and hers Simon could hear the wet slapping noises of bodies meeting — bodies fucking, hard and fast and easier than it should have been.
“Please,” Haley gasped, her voice husky and deeper than Simon had ever heard it. “Please, Dirk, please, I want—”
“What do you want, baby? Harder?” Dirk turned his head, pressing his grin into the tender bend of her knee, then opened his mouth and bit; she jumped with a small squeal and he laughed, snapping his hips harder. “I got that, I got all of that for you — fuck, you’re so tight, you feel good—”
“Shut up!” she squeaked, then tossed her head back with a cry as he snapped his hips again, grinding a little at the end of it. “Oh god, Dirk—”
“I love you, Haley,” he said. Simon’s gaze shot up to his face at the same time Haley’s breath caught. Dirk’s expression was softer now, his smile gentle. Haley turned her head to look at him, and the look on her face made something in Simon’s chest ache.
And then Dirk shifted forward, bracing his free hand against the headboard — pinning Haley’s wrists with the gesture — and began to move harder and faster, fucking her with eno
ugh force to make the bed creak. His other hand caught her ankle, as if to keep it from slipping, holding her leg up as he moved. Haley tossed her head with a high wail, her hands struggling weakly under Dirk’s grasp and her hips slamming up to meet his, hard enough that Simon wondered if she wouldn’t bruise later.
“Like this, baby?” Dirk crooned, finally sounding breathless himself. “God, you’re so fucking good—” He groaned, cutting himself off, and hunched forward, driving hard and fast for a few more seconds, before he froze, his eyes wide and his mouth open. It took Simon a heartbeat to realize — Oh, he came, that’s what that means, he’s inside of her and he just—
“Dirk,” Haley whined, breathless and shaking. “Come on—”
He shuddered, a full-body movement, then released her hands. Slowly he shifted to lower her leg, then urged her onto her side, facing the door. Simon pulled away slightly at that, but couldn’t make himself actually leave, watching as Dirk stretched himself out behind Haley, one of his long-fingered hands creeping down her belly. He kissed her ear as if in apology and she shivered, as his hand dipped between her legs, spreading damp blonde curls wide. Haley jerked at that and he kissed her again, making a soft hushing noise.
“I’ve got you, beautiful,” he murmured. “You just relax and enjoy yourself …”
Simon watched his hand curl, and he made a deep satisfied noise. After a moment, he could hear soft slick noises, punctuated by Haley whimpering and gasping. She squirmed a little, hooking her top leg back over Dirk’s hips, and Simon could see flashes of wet pink amidst dark blonde curls. Dirk’s other arm curled under Haley’s body, curving up to grasp one of her breasts and squeezing it, his fingers finding and pinching the nipple. Haley pressed her face harder into the pillows, shoulders shaking, and Dirk took the opportunity to scatter kisses across the side of her neck, up to her ear and down to her shoulder, his hands never pausing; he found something that made Haley tense up and cry out, and focused on that until she jerked hard in her arms, and he moved his hand up to cover her mouth in order to muffle her wail.
And as he did, he glanced up at the door. Simon recoiled instantly, suddenly and painfully aware of the ache between his legs and the pounding in his ears. Had he been seen? There was no way Dirk could know he was there, right?
Terrified, he fled, running as lightly as he could. He didn’t stop until he was back in his own room, slamming the door behind him and almost falling back upon it. His heart was pounding hard in his chest, enough to hurt, and he pressed a hand over it, twisting his fingers in his shirt. For a moment the door was enough support, and then his knees buckled, sending him sliding down to the floor. As he did, he was uncomfortably aware of his own erection, hot and insistent between his legs, and he glared down at it as if he could will it to go down.
Then he blinked and remembered Haley’s red face, and the heavy curve of her breasts, flushed gently pink, and the sweet hard points of her nipples. The memory sent a hot flash through him; he bit the inside of his cheek and winced at the flash of pain. Long seconds ticked past with his traitorous cock remaining throbbing and eager. When no one came to shout at him for seeing (he’d never wanted to see in the first place, anyway!), he finally stretched his legs out a little, undoing his fly with shaky fingers. His cock was, like the rest of him, long and lean, an easy fistful.
Simon let his head fall back against the door and closed his eyes as he began to jerk off, moving his hand as fast and hard as he could. All he wanted was to get it over with, and then maybe shower and sleep it off so later he could pretend this hadn’t happened. He didn’t want to think about anything, but the image of Haley’s arched body seemed to be burned on his eyelids, so even as he tried to empty his mind, it lingered …
Haley’s skin was soft, he knew from personal experience: her smooth shoulders and arms were more like silk than anything else. If that much was true, how would the rest of her feel? Would she whimper if he licked her nipples? Would she like it gentle — but no, she had enjoyed it when Dirk had manhandled her; she’d cried out and begged when he’d fucked her so hard that you could hear it, wet and fast. Simon shuddered, biting down on his lip. Would she like it from him? His pretty delicate cousin, with her stormy gray eyes and pink lips and her soft full breasts, that he peeked at, whenever he could — if he kissed her and opened her legs and fucked her, how would it feel? If he just pushed himself into her and let himself go the way Dirk had? He let himself imagine it, the soft weight of her settled in his arms, his cheek pressed to her hair and her ass pressed to his cock, the sound of her voice calling his name over and over, his name, not Dirk’s—
Phantom hands touched his shoulder, and in an instant Simon was the one being held instead, his back pressed against a hard solid body, a lean strong arm wrapped around his waist and a long-fingered hand taking hold of his cock, jerking him off easily, working up speed and then slowing again. Lips pressed against his ear, curved into a knowing smile, and Dirk’s voice in his ear: You like that, don’t you, you liked watching me fuck her and pretending it was you, didn’t you, you wanted your dick inside of her tight little pussy, but you’ve got me instead, how’s that? How about I bend you over that desk and pound your ass till I’m coming out your throat—
Simon came with a startled shout, clapping a hand over his mouth a moment too late. He slumped back heavily against the door — just a door now, nothing more than that — and stared down at his own hand and his own cock like he couldn’t recognize them. His breath was loud in his ears, but slowly, gently, his heart was calming to a normal pace.
“Oh, fuck me,” he said.
It was evening before Simon dared leaving his room again. Most of the house was dark, but he could see lights on in the kitchen, downstairs, casting warm yellow shadows all the way up to where he was. He moved slowly and carefully, holding his breath as he tiptoed past Haley’s room — the door was closed completely now, and he wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed by that.
Dirk was in the kitchen. He was standing at the stove, humming to himself, poking at a skillet of scrambled eggs with all the ease in the world. He was wearing clothes again, at least, though he was barefoot on the kitchen’s tile floor. Like his hands, his feet were long and oddly elegant, with slim graceful toes. Distracted by his cooking, he didn’t even look up at Simon’s very obvious approach.
It was annoying. It was annoying. This practical stranger just came waltzing into Simon’s home without so much as asking, and suddenly he was sleeping in Haley’s bed and using the kitchen like he lived there … !
Simon crossed his arms. “What are you doing?”
Dirk glanced up and flipped loose hair from his eyes. He gestured with the spatula. “What’s it look like? Making dinner.”
“That’s not dinner, that’s eggs.”
“If you could tell, why ask?” Dirk grinned, though it looked more like a grimace, his teeth bared. He’d bitten Haley with those teeth, left small red marks on her skin, and now he was showing them off like they were some kind of prize. It was disgusting. “Never had breakfast for dinner, pretty boy?”
It took physical effort to not recoil at the title. Simon lifted his nose higher; even though Dirk was taller, he didn’t really have the weight of presence that an Oakley did, and that, he told himself, was enough. “Breakfast is meant for breakfast-time. If you must make eggs for later in the day, at least make something more elegant with them.” He glanced at the custardy mound of curds in the pan. “That doesn’t look like something anyone would want to eat.”
“No? Your cousin likes ‘em.” Dirk grinned again, and Simon caught something almost sinister in the curve of his smile, an innuendo that lay just beyond his understanding — and one that he wasn’t sure he even wanted to pursue. “She asked for them, in fact.”
“Haley did?” He wasn’t sure if he was incredulous or indignant at the revelation. “Perhaps she was just curious about your peasant food.”
Dirk looked at him, then burst into laughter,
loud enough to echo in the spacious kitchen. He grabbed for the edge of the stove island to brace himself, wrapping his other arm around his stomach as if in some halfhearted attempt to hold it in. Simon bristled at once; he could hear the mocking edge as clear as anything. “What? What?!”
“Peasant food?” Dirk managed, through a series of choked snorts. “You really talk like that? Shit, I didn’t think anyone really acted that way any more! Oh my god!”
Simon clenched his fists but refused to uncoil his arms, gritting his teeth. “Peasants are peasants, no matter when they live,” he said, as loftily as he could manage.
“Let me tell you something, pretty boy.” Dirk straightened again, wiping his eyes and then pointing with the spatula. “If it’s money you’ve got the problem with, I got enough to keep Haley in the style she’s accustomed, if she wants. But I don’t think it matters as much to her as it does to you. So if you’ve got a problem, just spit it out. I’m all ears.”
“That’s not true,” Simon said, though he couldn’t say what he was responding to, exactly. “I just thought Haley had better taste than that, that’s all.” He looked Dirk up and down, trying to make his expression as withering as possible. Even dressed, his clothes were thin enough to show off the lean build of his body: his shirt had ridden up enough to bare the flat expanse of his belly, and his pants were slung low on his hips, showing off their sharp edges. Simon bit his lip. “She’s supposed to be smart, after all.”
Dirk shifted, and the movement made Simon realize he was staring at Dirk’s hips; he snapped his head up to look at Dirk’s face instead. There was an expression he couldn’t read there, narrow eyes and pursed lips.
“Haley’s a smart girl,” he said. “Smartest girl I’ve ever dated. Smarter than any of the boys, too.”
His tone was casual, but the words sounded like a death-knell. Simon did recoil this time, flushing.
“So you’re one of those?” he demanded trying to inject as much dripping disdain into his voice as possible. “You’re so insatiable you’ll sleep with anyone, just for the sake of a cheap thrill? You get away from my cousin this instant, you — you —”
