Try This At Home
Oz's van was sitting in a mall parking lot in
the middle of the afternoon. No trees, no shade.
Which, as far as Devon was concerned, meant
that there would be nothing to stop the sun
from falling directly on top of them.
Devon was morbidly sure that if he cut open
the roof of the van he'd be able to see nothing
but a big, yellow ball staring down at him
from a distance of ten feet, tops.
Which was kind of a cool image, when you got
right down to it.
He shifted on top of the pile of clothes he'd been
calling home today and decided to share.
"Oz. It is 6 BILLION degrees in this van."
Oz was right, of course. No way the sun was right
on top of the van. It'd be, like, 90 billion
degrees if the sun was there.
Still, though, he knew this couldn't be good for
"Oz. I'm gonna die."
Shit. Fuck lot he knew. Oz wasn't even sweating.
Well, he was, but it was just that light coating
Devon giggled to himself. He could probably make
a new song out of that word alone. Clean, Mean,
Spleen. God, it would write itself.
And when Trisha-Suzanne-Caitlin-Dar-Gail-
DifferentGail-Kitten whoever asked what it meant,
Devon would say: "It's about a girl...."
And look all far away like he was remembering.
Yeah. Life was good.
"Oz. We are so gonna die."
Oz looked over and stared. Devon couldn't see him --
the van was pretty dark with the windshield covers
up -- but when Oz stared, he stared.
Devon waited for wisdom.
Devon nodded slowly, content. But it wasn't long
before a new thought occured to him:
Devon poked him with his foot for emphasis.
Xander didn't budge. Well, except for the part
Devon had pushed.
He pushed him again, also for emphasis, and
swung back around to face where he was pretty
sure Oz was.
Except that Oz was now straddling Xander's
chest and taking his pulse.
It seemed weird that he could see all that, but
then he realized that Oz had taken the blocker
off the back windows.
"Dude, he's dead."
"Huh." Oz sat down a little further, checked his
pulse again. "No, he's alive."
"Is this some kind of werewolf thing?"
"What, checking his pulse?"
Devon leaned back and watched Oz get
comfortable on Xander for a while. Rubbed
down the wet-sticky center of his torso with
"That may well be, Oz, but he's sweating
even less than you are. You're a bastard,
by the way. I'm the only one here that's wet.
"That was a lot of words, Dev."
"How many points?"
"At least fifty. You're kicking Xander's butt."
"Well, dude, he's dead."
Devon sighed, gave up. Oz started absently
running his fingers through Xander's hair.
"You are not gonna fuck a dead guy."
"But you're feeling him up!"
Oz collapsed over fully on top of Xander and
started giggling. His orange hair shone in the
sun like each strand was made of metal.
Devon thought about how it might sound
scraped down a guitar's strings and shivered.
Oz was still giggling, one hand out of sight,
the other resting on Xander's chest, beating
Xander continued to not move.
"Oz, you're a fucking sicko."
"What are you gonna do? Hump him back
Oz just lay there and howled. Not literally,
though, because it would be creepy in daylight.
He just kinda kept laughing against Xander's
chest, shaking a little. And he was wearing a
t-shirt and shorts.
Devon was perfectly willing to remain naked
until he saw snow again, and even Xander
had managed to get his shirt off before
dying. God, why did they expect him to
suffer like this?
Devon threw his heat-worn muscles into
action, rolling powerfully onto his knees
and crawling nearly all the way to Xander.
And then Devon kissed the dead guy, and kept
kissing until the dead guy shifted and started
kissing back, at which point he detached
himself from the dead guy quickly and with
Which in turn made Xander scream like a girl,
which made Oz start laughing harder, and
which made Devon relax again.
No dead guy with any balls whatsoever
would scream like that. Well, big, smelly,
man balls. Xander had pretty nice balls,
really, just not great big ones.
So Xander wasn't dead.
"Oz, Xander and me are gonna die."
Oz just kept giggling. It was gonna be one of
But! (And Devon thought he'd get points for
this one) He still wasn't sweating like Devon
was. Sure, Devon lacked great big man balls
himself, but they were certainly getting
"Xander, my balls are getting smelly."
"Do you have any idea how badly I didn't
need to hear that?"
"Dude, the heat."
"Are a mediocre basketball team?"
"Noooooo..." Devon knew it sounded like a
whimper but he just couldn't help himself. He
was gonna die and he was gonna lose the
game. Xander was getting points all over the
place. Again. "How come you're talking in,
like, coherent sentences? Again."
"I could talk if I was dead, Devon."
Oz was still laughing, occasionally taking
in gulps of air.
"Devon: Miss Wiggins 1999."
"It's hot in here."
"Oh. Well, you're not high enough."
Suddenly, Oz popped up onto his knees like a
prairie dog. "It's true. Stared at Devon intently.
"You need to slow down your metabolism."
Devon wailed quietly.
"Oh, he's definitely too sober, Oz."
"Dude, there was the sun, and you're dead, and I
so don't need more weed."
Oz turned back to Xander and nodded. "Denial."
Xander leaned in and kissed Oz, biting at the edge
of his mouth. Ran his hands up under Oz's
t-shirt and then Devon was watching Oz's mouth
open wider, his kiss get more savage as Xander
apparently played with his nipples.
Devon stared. Shifted slightly and felt sweat roll
back and down. The sensation made him buck
his hips a little and suddenly Oz and Xander
had stopped kissing and were closer to him.
Pouring off heat at him and staring down.
"It's almost a shame how much he's gonna
have to smoke, Oz."
"You should've heard him earlier. Said an
"Oh, Devon... how could you do this to us?
Here you are, sober. Whining."
"But it's hot in --"
And that was as far as he got before Oz laid
claim to his mouth and breathed in a small,
dense cloud of pot. Devon breathed reflexively
and felt his tongue being lapped. Oz's hand
cupped his cheek, slid a little in the sweat.
And then the kiss was over and he exhaled,
breathed, exhaled, breathed, and then there
was Xander's mouth. Wider, sloppier than
Oz's, messily passionate. Full of smoke.
A loss of contact, not enough oxygen, and Oz
again. Devon could feel his heart seeming
to speed up and more sweat broke out all
over his body in a sudden flash.
Another broken kiss and hands moving up
and between his thighs, tickling damp skin.
Xander's mouth again, Devon sucked before
contact was even made and felt the real
shotgun, fast and unavoidable. Just slow
enough to feel it burn down his throat.
Devon pushed back on Xander's chest and
opened his eyes. He hadn't inhaled all the
smoke and some escaped his mouth to
obscure Xander's face.
"How do you feel, Devon?"
And then more hands on his thighs. Four
hands that might as well have been a dozen.
The sensations hit hard, a slow caress in
many directions that could have been
either velvet or sandpaper.
Whatever it was made him moan, writhe.
Quick squeeze on his cock, two expert
strokes. Oz's mouth descending on his.
Xander's not-shaky-enough voice:
"Breath of life..."
And Devon breathed and released, breathed
and released. Trusting, hoping, that Oz and
Xander would let him have some oxygen.
Wet heat on his cock, tongue pushing at him
and then Oz was straddling him, muscles
lean but there. Stretched over his chest,
balls brushing his skin. Oz was a little fuzzier
there, it tickled and Devon realized he'd
opened his mouth for another attack when
Oz rested his cock there.
Thick, curving thing and Devon opened up and
took it in, sucked on the head, groaned when
he realized he'd been mimicking the motions
Xander was making on his cock. Didn't stop.
Oz shifted a little and began to thrust and
Devon reached up and grabbed his cock.
Stripped it while sucking and all of a sudden
Oz was pushing down his throat and coming
Devon swallowed as best as he could and
breathed through his nose, pulling in nothing
but months and months of pot and Oz's
sharp scent. He groaned and heard Oz shout
one last time before slipping out of his mouth.
And then Xander pulled off and changed
positions, bumping Oz a little. Suddenly
Xander's cock was in his face and he was
surrounded with different sharpness.
Something he thought of as vaguely gamy.
Scent settling thickly inside him, making it
harder to breathe and wham Xander had
his cock again and Devon impaled his mouth
on Xander's own so he could muffle his yell
into flesh. More wet, more heat, sliding and
fucking into each other and Xander used his
teeth in ways Devon wasn't aware of
Devon could only suck harder, swallow and
swallow until the drooling head fucked into
his throat and Jesus had he ever not had a
cock in his mouth?
Stretching him, pushing and pushing, hard
against his tongue.
Xander's hands squeezing his hips.
Oz's hand sneaking between his cheeks and
slipping back and forth back and forth over
his hole. Using the sweat to make his way
slick, Xander's thumb slipping into the small
hollow of his navel and fucking that, too.
Devon couldn't decide if it hurt or not, could
just thrust faster and suck harder and a wash
of bitter come down his throat, pulsing down,
throbbing against the tender flesh there...
Devon groaned again and shot, arching taut
and trying not to bite.
And, just as suddenly as everything else, both
Xander and Oz were gone from him, in
opposite corners of the van leaving Devon
sprawled out naked and untouched in the
It took about twenty seconds before he started
cooling fast, almost scarily so.
Later, Oz ran a testing finger over his
"See? More pot."
Devon nodded very, very slowly.