Chapter Text
“You got a handle of tequila, three different types of beer, a pack of White Claws… and only two bottles of water?”
Gary has the audacity to roll his big blue eyes. His nostrils flare adorably. “Those waters are for the ride over. Obviously there will be a sink with water in the cabin.”
Collie never imagined himself dating someone with such an attitude, or being totally endeared by it. “That cabin has well water, baby, we have to bring our own drinking water.”
“I literally grew up drinking well water.”
Collie runs his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair and musses it. He tries his best to suppress a smirk, silently repeating a mantra of, ‘don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it-’
“That explains a lot.”
Gary scoffs and turns away, leaning his bony elbows against the shopping cart like he will die of exhaustion from walking fifty feet to grab a case of bottled waters. If he does keel over, at least Collie gets one last look at his cute ass.
It’s been over six months since Gary’s ‘cute ass’ slammed into his life. Their romance progressed rapidly… they were already roommates, for fuck’s sake.
And speaking of fucking, Collie’s also spent the last six months learning how to make the brat cry and whimper and beg like a good boy, and holy hell, he can’t get enough. They’ve played around with different… things, and are slowly finding their limits; Collie doesn’t like his ass being eaten, bottoming, being placed in any kind of physical restraint, being blindfolded, and spanking Gary with anything other than his hand. Gary doesn’t like his feet being touched too much because it tickles. That’s pretty much it for him. He’s kind of a freak, Collie’s lucky as fuck.
And if he keeps thinking about exactly how ‘lucky’ he is, he’s going to get a boner in the bakery section.
The last thing he needs to grab, a special request by Gary and Clementine, is a brownie-cookie cake with vanilla frosting. It’s a monstrosity. He swears he can feel a sugar high coming on simply from putting the container in the cart.
This year’s boy’s trip to Ray’s late grandfather’s cabin in bum-fuck nowhere New Hampshire will be the biggest, probably the rowdiest, and definitely the gay-est. It’s Collie’s third year going and Gary’s first. The agenda consists of day drinking, riding in the boat, barbeque, night drinking, bonfires, and listening to Art throw up in the woods.
They’re about an hour into the drive now, Collie does his best to take the bends in the one-lane-highway slowly with the ‘Yota. Northern New Hampshire is just as boring as Maine, save the massive liquor stores with tax free booze, and their “Live Free or Die” motto is actually metal as hell.
Gary cranks his window open and sticks his head halfway out like a dog. His bleached hair dances in the breeze. “Christ, It’s hot as fuck. My sack is going to be fucking glued to my leg all day.”
Collie snorts in response. His baby has such a way with words.
“You’re giggling like you won’t have my nuts in your mouth later.” Gary taunts.
Well, maybe.
The stop sign up ahead gives Collie the opportunity to glance over at his passenger princess boyfriend, who’s wearing a smug grin. He wants to bite his pretty jaw and tell him how much he loves him, how he’s given his aimless life direction, but it’s a strange way to follow up a comment about balls going in his mouth.
Gary’s cheeks flush like Maiden Pink flowers, it makes his boyish features look impossibly sweeter. “You’re staring at me like you’re going to eat me.”
A car behind them honks, turning Collie’s attention back to the winding roads. He doesn’t respond to Gary, but he can’t stop smiling.
The lake the cabin sits on is named after the indigenous tribe the land was stripped from. Ironically, the only “native” Collie sees along the dirt road is a crude wooden carving of an “Indian Chief” outside of a gaudy white colonial house.
Happy Thanksgiving.
“How much longer are we gonna be on this road? I feel like I’m sitting on a washing machine.”
Maybe Collie’s passenger princess needs a nap, or a beer? He’s been uncharacteristically quiet for the drive.
“Probably 5 minutes.” Collie answers in a gentle tone, reaching across the bucket seat to squeeze Gary’s thigh. His nearly-hairless leg is a bit slimy from his first layer of sunscreen. “Are you excited, baby?”
“Yeah. I’m happy Clem is coming, it’d be boring without her.”
“Oh, really?” Collie’s hand slides up higher, feeling the blond shivering under his touch. “I think I could figure out a way to make things fun.”
The road bends to the left, then right, then slopes downward, jostling the truck as Collie drives over tree roots and potholes. Gary says nothing, but clutches the grab handle.
It definitely takes more than 5 minutes of driving, but finally, a faded wooden sign nailed to an oak tree comes into view. Crooked looping letters spell out, “The Garraty Family”, with white handprints along the edges of the sign. Ray’s unmistakable tiny handprint is innocently smudged. Collie catches himself stuck between thinking it’s the lamest shit he’s ever seen, and wondering what it’s like to have a prideful family.
The driveway is narrow and already lined with cars. Collie drives carefully past them to park close to the cabin so Gary can’t complain about carrying groceries and his duffle bag in the heat. It’s the least he can do for the poor, spoiled soul.
Just as the truck is shut off, the screen door on the side of the cabin opens and Pete and Ray step out with wide smiles. They look like an old married couple greeting their grandkids with a genuine fondness that makes Collie’s stomach turn, but he’s actually starting to understand it. He opens the truck door only to be brought into a tight, shoulder-slapping hug from Pete.
“Here I was, thinking you queers would never show.” Pete opens the back door and immediately begins grabbing their bags and cooler out of the truck, only to stop and chuckle at the varied selection of alcohol. “Tequila, three racks of beer, and… are those White Claws?”
Gary scoffs for the second time this morning. He crosses his pale arms over his chest. “They’re refreshing.”
Collie should spank his lover for having such an attitude towards their gracious hosts; standing with his pale arms crossed, revealing lithe bicep muscles built during his farming youth. His baby blue swim shorts have ridden up his legs, putting his cute bulge on full display. Collie should pull him closer by the waist band and nip at his throat-
“You look like you’re deep in thought, Coll, ‘you thinking about beer already?” Ray asks, tethering Collie’s wandering perverted mind back to reality.
“You bet your ass I am.” Collie retorts, picking up a duffle bag and a rack of beer to carry inside. Ray and Pete quickly pick up the rest, leaving Gary to grab the towels from the back seat.
The cabin is dated and well lived-in. Kitschy signs hang on the dark wooded siding of the house with stupid phrases like “Life is better at the lake” and “Gone fishin’”. It contrasts well with the hundreds of beer bottle caps lining the porch railing.
Pete pushes the wooden door open with his shoulder and holds it for the rest of the group. Collie comfortably navigates the galley kitchen and begins setting down his things. Gary follows behind with the likeness of a lost child. He’s being more shy than usual, but it is 10:30 am and he didn’t get home from work until 9:00 last night.
“I’ll take the towels, sweetheart.” Collie offers, already grabbing for them before Gary has an opportunity to speak. He presses a kiss into the blond’s temple, which earns him a half smile.
“Do you two love birds want a beer?” Ray asks.
It is 10:30 am… but they are on vacation.
“Yes.” They answer in unison.
A cold PBR is placed into Collie’s hand like an artifact. He turns to his pretty boy with a smile. They crack their beers and ‘cheers’ the lips of their cans together before tipping their heads back to enjoy the sour, bready hobbs flavor. It’s probably not as refreshing as a White Claw, but whatever.
“Is that Gary and Coll?” Calls a newly familiar voice from the den.
The sip of beer in his system seems to have given Gary purpose. He giddily follows Collie as he paces around the corner to a mis-matched set of loveseats and recliners. Art and Hank are focused on the replay of a World Cup game playing on the box tv, while Billy sits with spread legs on the loveseat and Richie Harkness halfway in his lap, who looks smitten as hell.
Richie and Billy started dating just a few months ago. They’re disgustingly perfect for each other, Billy with his romance-novel-cover looks and love for music and art, and Richie with his adorable art-boy aesthetic and passion for literature and journalism. It’s a fucking miracle that they can’t conceive, they’d have an insanely artistically-talented, traditionally beautiful child that would terrorize an expensive private art college.
Selfishly, Collie likes knowing Billy is ‘off the market’, and there was no possible way he could steal his baby… though, Gary did admit to Collie that he told Billie he had a ‘crush on his new roommate’ the night he met Billie at Renato’s Bar, and Billie made a bet with Gary that he could make Collie jealous. He knocked that out of the fucking park. Maybe Collie should thank the bastard.
Collie opens his mouth to greet his friends in some dumb fashion, but is quickly interrupted.
“Where’s Clem?” Gary asks in a tone that’s the opposite of demure.
Billy snorts. “Nice to see you too, Gary.”
Hank doesn’t look away from the tv, but begins gesturing towards the screen door with frantic hands. “She’s by the water.”
A gust of air hits Collie’s shoulder as his baby glides out of the room and through the rickety door. He turns back to his friends, Art and Hank now fully attentive to their surroundings thanks to a commercial break. Collie opens his mouth to speak and is quickly interrupted again.
“I could’ve sworn you had someone with you a second ago.” Pete ribs, clanking his beer against Collie’s. His scar punctuates his smile nicely.
“Yeah, well, Clem is here, you know how they are.” Collie answers.
“Didn’t they just hang out last week?” Ray asks.
“Two days ago.” Collie and Hank answer in unison.
Ever since that fateful night at the apartment when Clementine put Gary’s hair into pigtails, the two have become fast friends. They text like school girls and always sit next to each other when the gang gets together. Gary’s former bedroom is practically a spare room for the girl since she sleeps over so often, usually after smoking spliffs with Gary and watching shitty old music videos on Youtube. She highlights Gary’s hair now too. Collie’s getting used to the smell of bleach.
Honestly, Collie likes her a lot, too. She reminds him of his youngest sister, who was always a bit quirky and outgoing. She even bought Collie a hair mask that he now uses once every week or two.
“Well, a guy’s gotta have some friends.” Ray comments.
Conversation naturally fizzles out and the soccer game ends. Collie is already half way through his beer. He probably should have eaten breakfast first, but again, he is on vacation.
The sun peaks out from behind a cloud, illuminating the lake outside of the dusty windows. A bubbly laugh from Clementine pulls the group’s attention towards the old screen door. Collie smiles to himself and wonders what kind of outrageous comment Gary said to make her laugh.
“I’m going to grab the box of Peebers’ from the fridge and get my ass outside. You all are welcome to join me.” Pete announces, slapping Ray’s ass on his way towards the kitchen. “What do you think, Collie, should I grab a White Claw for your baby?”
“I mean, only if you want to face the wrath of a skinny white twink. He’s got a mouth on him.” Collie responds. He honestly didn’t know what a twink was until a few months ago when Pete called Gary a “god damn lying twink son of a bitch” because he was upset that Gary was winning a game of Catan.
“I can hear you.” The blond shouts, which comically echoes through the cabin.
Everyone ventures outside with sunglasses, hats and beer. Collie lets his hair down to feel the heat of the sun on his scalp. Any previous thoughts of work or responsibilities fade away as he takes in the sight of the dark blue lake and the tangy smell of ferns. It truly is a perfect summer’s day.
His breath catches high in his throat when he sees Gary standing on a rock in front of the water, smiling sweetly and laughing with Clementine. His gray tank top hugs his torso beautifully, accentuating his narrow waist. The faded yellow bucket hat he initially bought as a joke actually frames his face well, and makes his eyes stand out.
Obviously, looks aren’t everything, but fucking hell, Collie can’t believe that’s his beautiful boyfriend.
Clementine turns towards the group first. Her hair is currently cherry red and heavily layered, which will likely change in a month or two. She waves at Collie and runs over to hug him, as if she didn’t just see him two days ago.
“I’m so happy you’re both here!” She greets cheerily, her freckled cheeks lift and pull with her toothy smile. She steps back and clears her throat. “Did you happen to get that cake?”
Collie’s two beers in and lightly buzzed when Ray announces that “it’s time to hop on Ol’ Jan”.
Jan is the boat his grandfather left for Ray and his mother in his will. It’s got to be about 20 years old and a bit rough around the edges, but it can still get up to 65 miles per hour and drag their drunk asses across the water in a tube.
Collie steps in the boat from the dock and holds out his hand for Gary to take. They’ve both discarded their shirts at this point. Fresh and faded hickeys speckle Gary’s collarbones and hips. Collie’s so distracted by the light trail of hair beginning below his naval and disappearing into those goddamn blue swim trunks that he doesn’t notice Gary has taken his hand.
“Come here, baby.” Collie coos, watching as Gary tries to time his step with the shallow waves rocking the boat. “There you go- woah.”
Gary steps onto the leather seat and then stumbles directly into Collie’s chest. His fingers grip into Collie’s arms just like he does in bed. It’s- fuck, Collie wishes he had a a moment alone with Gary to love on him. He waits for Gary to laugh and poke his nipple or do something else inappropriate, but he simply blushes and waits for Collie to direct them to a seat.
Maybe the sun exposure is making him more docile than usual.
They sit at the front of the boat with Pete, who confidently wears the scar on his muscled chest. He’s come so far. Everything about him is so light and joyful, and not in a lobotomized way.
“Collie?” Gary asks.
“Yeah?”
“Do you want me to braid your hair?”
“Oh, yeah, go for it.” Collie removes the hair tie from his wrist and places it on Gary’s open palm.
The request wasn’t odd or new. Gary asked to braid his hair for the first time about a week after they slept together. He boasted about his plaiting skills that he’d learned on horses’ manes at his father’s ranch. It was the only time he wasn’t terrified of the animals.
The braid he does is a bit looser than what Collie typically would allow, but his baby did it with his long, clumsy fingers, and that makes him happy. He thanks Gary, kisses his cheek, then wraps his arm around the other just as the boat starts to pick up speed. The breeze is welcoming against the summer heat.
They pass houses much, much more grand than Ray’s family cabin, modern homes with massive windows and outdoor stone staircases from wide porches lined with adirondack chairs down to artificial grass and bushes by the water. If the boys had pooled together their settlement funds, they could probably afford a bedroom in one of those homes.
Gary nuzzles his head on Collie’s shoulder. He lets Collie run his hand along his arm and nestles in closer to his side. Fuck, Collie loves him so much.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so relaxed, Barkovitch.” Pete hollers over the sound of the wind and the engine.
“It’s just-” Gary sounds like he’s trying to justify his comfort, “it’s-, this is nice.”
Pete grins, turning his chin towards the blue sky. “Yeah, Gary, this is nice.” He says without a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “I wish I could live like this everyday.”
Ray pulls the boat to a decently secluded corner and drops the anchors in the water. Richie puts on a Spotify playlist on an old Beats Pill. The first song is from J. Cole’s Forrest Hills Drive album. Olsen whoops and slaps Richie on the arm.
“Hey,” Collie whispers into Gary’s hair, “Do you wanna get in the water?”
Gary stirs. “Mh, I don’t swim well.”
“We have life jackets baby, you don’t have to worry about staying afloat.”
Fresh beers in hand and a life jacket each, the pair stand at the back of the boat. Clementine gets up to join them in the water with her life jacket upside down on her bottom half like a diaper. “It’s easier to float this way” she insists.
Much to his surprise, Gary cannonballs in first, smiling like a child. Thankfully, his beer is still sealed, as he loses it from his grip and has to doggy-paddle through the dark blue water to get it back.
Clem jumps in next, without much fanfare. Her upside down life jacket prevents her from getting deep into the water. Just like Gary, her beer slips out of her hand and she has to swim to grab it.
A rush of youth surges through Collie’s veins. He looks at the edge of the boat, then back to the water. He can totally back flip off of that. Sure, he hasn’t tried something like that in probably 12 years, but he can fucking do it. Full send.
He tosses his beer into the lake and stands on top of the back of the boat facing inward, making sure his feet are dry and planted. Butterflies begin to flutter in his belly.
Fuck it.
Collie launches himself, glutes and hamstrings firing as he jumps up and back while thrusting his hips forward. He can tell he makes the full rotation when the tip of his braid smacks his chin. If he were on solid ground, he definitely would’ve landed on his knees, but he’s not, and comfortably lands in the refreshing lake.
The boat erupts into cheers. Collie turns to Gary, who squints his eyes and hands him his beer. “You splashed me.” He comments in a dramatic tone.
“That’s funny, you usually like getting wet and messy.” Collie sasses, reaching through the water to pinch his ass.
Gary paddles behind him and bites his shoulder. It’s the brattiest thing he’s done all day, and Collie loves it. He’s going to buy Gary one of these dumb, fancy lakehouses someday.
“Alright, Parker, meet your match.” Pete shouts from the same lip of the boat Collie just jumped from. He backflips into the water gracefully, like the fucking bastard he is. Ray gives him a standing ovation.
Billy stands up like a superhero, throwing his sunglasses on to the seat. Richie cheers him on as he perches on the lip of the boat like a statue.
“C’mon Stebbins, show us that low-carb-diet strength!” Ray shouts.
Unlike Pete and Collie, Billy takes off a bit slower and with less height in his jump. He rotates midair and splashes heavy into the water on his side. It takes a moment for him to resurface, since he forewent the life jacket. Collie can tell by the look on his face that the only thing he really hurt was his ego.
“Nice, uh, warm up.” Pete says earnestly.
Tom foolery ensues. Olsen and Art get into a wrestling match to see who can push the other off the boat first. Ray pulls his shirt up and jokingly “flashes” a boat full of confused, middle-aged straight couples driving by. Clementine convinces Richie to put on a song by a singer named Ayesha Erotica, and it’s actually kind of catchy.
Gary seems to be coming alive, too. He finishes his beer quickly and asks Olsen to “get me anothah kid” in a very poor Northern Maine accent. He laughs boisterously with the rest of the group while smiling and splashing. It’s probably already past 1:00 pm. Collie is so grateful they are spending more than one night, he wants to take in as much sunshine and Gary as possible.
Collie has also noticed Gary eyeing the tree line a few times. He seems to be looking at a stretch of shore with no houses, just rocks and forest. Nothing seems to be moving there other than tree branches in the breeze, but Gary is searching that area like an entity is about to appear from the woods.
“Collie?”
Collie glances over at his blue-eyed beau floating just a few feet away. “Yes?”
“Will you swim with me to those rocks over there?” He points to where he was just staring, “I’m gonna piss in the woods.”
“Sure, baby.”
They only swim about 5 feet when everyone else begins to notice.
“Where’re you guys going?” Pete calls.
“Gary’s gotta piss.” Collie hollers back.
“And you gotta go together? You gonna hold his dick for him?” Ray asks.
Gary whips around to face the boat while continuing to paddle towards the rocks. “How dare you! Y’all are sick and disgusting perverts.”
They make it to shore in less than a minute, stepping up rock by rock and dropping their life jackets on a sun-drenched flat stone. With bare feet, they step carefully on dead pine needles and dirt as they make their way into the treeline.
Those god damn stupid baby blue swim trunks cling to Gary’s form just right, putting his entire ass on display, his cheeks shifting wonderfully as Gary leads them into the woods. Gary must feel Collie’s gaze burning through him because he slowly turns around with a coy expression. Collie watches as his chest puffs and deflates. They seem to be playing a weird game of chicken.
Gary quickly grabs a hold of his hand and pulls them behind a large boulder. Collie has no time to get his footing when he’s shoved against the rock, the blond pressing his hands firmly against his chest and crashing their lips together.
It takes less than a second for Collie to catch up, meeting Gary’s enthusiasm with a bruisingly tight grip on his hips and ass and whatever the fuck else he needs to feel. Collie wraps a fist into the hair at the base of Gary’s scalp to hold his head still as he takes control of his baby’s desperate, incessant kissing.
Gary whines, loud and pitchy.
Holy hell.
“Touch me.” He begs directly into Collie’s open mouth.
Collie pulls his head back to lick at his throat. “You needed me, sweetheart? That’s why you got us out here?”
The blond grinds against his thigh, already full hard. He whines again, scratching at Collie’s peck as Collie nips at his jugular. He’s already melting; no bratty exterior shell for Collie to crack and bite and break; just a fretful, needy boy.
Collie manhandles him to face away, pressing Gary’s pale back to his front. He hooks his chin over the blond’s shoulder and gawks at the growing bulge in his swim trunks, wasting no time to pull Gary’s pink cock out and holding his open palm up to his panting mouth. He hears Gary’s breath catch.
“Spit.”
It takes him a moment, but Collie feels the slow trickle hit his hand. He wastes no time wrapping his fist around Gary’s cock and firmly jerking him off.
“Hah, fuck.” Gary lolls his head along Collie’s shoulder. His knees are already starting to soften, relying on Collie’s grip on his belly to hold him upright.
“That’s it, Gary, I’ve got you.” Collie moves at a quicker pace than he normally would, they are outdoors in unknown woods, afterall. “Never letting you go.”
Gary yelps as Collie continues to pick up speed, prompting Collie to clamp his free hand over the blond’s mouth. “Shush, we don’t want our friends hearing you being a little slut, right?”
Already too worked up, Gary responds by moaning loudly into Collie’s palm. His writhing form bucks into Collie’s fist then pulls away slightly like it’s too much.
Enthralled by the opportunity to punish, Collie releases his mouth to smack him lightly on the cheek. The result is instant, Gary switches back to quiet breath-y noises.
“Good boy.”
His belly is already shaking. Collie’s poor baby must’ve been so pent up all day. Collie kisses his neck, jaw and cheek while Gary seems to just be holding on by a thread. He tries to grind against Collie’s hard cock, but his wobbly legs won’t cooperate.
“It’s- I’m, fuck, s’ close. Love you, Collie.”
Collie clutches him tighter to his chest, so endeared by his words he nearly forgets what he’s doing. He puts his lips directly over Gary’s ear and rumbles out a long exhale. “I love you too, angel. Are you going to be a good boy and cum for me?”
Gary’s dick twitches, Collie doesn’t let up. All Gary can do is make little punched out noises as he gets closer and closer to the edge. His pretty mouth opens, revealing his pink tongue and straight teeth. Collie feels his shaky hands wrap around his fist as he strokes him firmly.
“Love you, love-ah, hah!’
Gary’s eyes roll back in his skull as he comes. Collie coos every praise he can think of as his baby begins to fully collapse, pathetically pawing at Collie’s pumping fist, which does nothing until Collie is satisfied that Gary’s had enough. Beyond their heavy breathing, the only other sound is the music playing from the boat.
After several moments, Gary is able to push off of Collie’s front and stand on his own. Their hot, sweaty flesh audibly unsticks. Collie quickly turns Gary around and cups his pink face with the hand that isn’t covered in spend.
The exhilaration of fucking somewhere kind of public and so close to their friends has Collie’s heart jackrabbiting. It’s not something they’ve ever tried before, but considering Gary’s passionate, forward approach, maybe they should try this more often?
He gazes into his baby’s eyes with nothing but fondness, and is met with something slightly unexpected. Gary’s expression is searching, like he thinks he’s in trouble. His wide blue eyes seem to silently ask, “was that okay?”.
As if there was ever a time that Collie hasn’t wanted to touch him.
“Sweet boy,” Collie touches their foreheads together, “so good for me. You can always ask for what you need, okay?”
Gary simply nods.
Collie leans in and kisses his sweaty nose. “We’ve got to get back quickly, or we’ll never hear the end of this.” He’s still hard and aching, but the slight edging will make him last longer later, anyways.
Gary rolls his eyes and steps back, putting himself back in his shorts. “Yeah, we don’t want them to think we’re fags or something.”
“I mean, we could just be honest. I can tell them that my needy little slut begged me to touch him.”
A crunchy step on dry leaves fills the silence as Gary is left speechless. He clears his throat. “Okay, fine, let’s get back as quickly as possible.” He leads the way back to the stone with their life jackets.
Collie furrows his thick brows. “I thought you had to take a piss?”
Gary shrugs. “I lied. I’ve pissed in that lake, like, three times since we got off the boat.”