What It’s LikeAuthor: obsessed1Rating:
Colton Haynes/Tyler Posey (background Tyler Hoechlin/Dylan O’Brien)Warnings:
Alcohol and drug use, Sexual activities under the influence (ie, dubious consent and two-beer queer)Note:
because he’s awesome like that. Beta by Dundee, AKA katytron
. Any remaining errors are mine own.Disclaimer:
Never happened. I made all of this up purely from my own perverted mind.Summary:
“I haven’t smoked pot in I don’t know how long,” Colton confesses. “Safer that way.”
“Afraid of the lawman?” Posey teases, tapping the side of the bowl twice with the side of his lighter.
“Nah.” Colton takes another sip of Jack, buying time. “Makes me horny as hell, man.”On AO3 HereWhat It’s Like
The room’s spinning pleasantly when Colton collapses against the couch, beer bottle in hand. The party’s mostly over, and he’s not entire sure, but he thinks it might just be him and Posey left. Dylan and Hoechlin are… somewhere. He’s not sure where, not even sure he wants to know. Or if he cares; it’s their business, as far as Colton’s concerned.
And then his bottle is empty all of a suddenly-like, and all Colton cares about is tipping it upside-down over his mouth, the end of his tongue to the spout so he can catch those last few drops.
“Dude, that’s kinda fucking obscene,” Posey says, joining him on the couch. “Here.”
And Posey hands Colton a bottle of Jack, and whoa. That’s definitely not a winding the party down
drink. Then again, considering Posey’s pulling out his bowl and what’s got to be at least an ounce of weed, it doesn’t look like Posey’s anywhere near done for the night.
“That shit kills brain cells, man,” Colton says as Posey breaks up a bud, working out the bits of stem and seeds like it’s his fucking job.
“And?” Posey pockets the rest of the ounce and packs the bowl, fingers nimble and familiar with the motions. “So does alcohol, but you don’t see me staging an intervention for your drunk ass.”
Colton’s pretty sure there should be a reasonable response to that, but he’s too drunk to try that hard. Instead, he just unscrews the cap on the bottle and takes a drink. “I haven’t smoked pot in I don’t know how long,” he confesses. “Safer that way.”
“Afraid of the lawman?” Posey teases, tapping the side of the bowl twice with the side of his lighter.
“Nah.” Colton takes another sip, buying time. Then decides, ah, fuck it
. “Makes me horny as hell, man.”
“Yeah.” Posey takes a hit, long and deep, and holds it. Colton catches himself holding his breath right along with him at first, and forces himself to stop and drink some more instead. When Posey exhales, the smoke is pale and sweet-smelling and Posey’s grin just a little more dopey. “Yeah man, I know exactly what you mean.”
He offers Colton the bowl, but Colton just shakes his head. “Nah. Don’t want to have to beat off in your bathroom.”
“You could always watch Tyler fuck Dylan,” Posey says. “Bet they wouldn’t mind if you jerked off in the corner.”
, Colton’s never thought of them like that before, but now it’s all he can think of, and he’s pretty sure he can hear moans coming from the other room. He shifts, totally aware now that while he might have had a stupid amount to drink tonight, he’s having no problems with whiskey dick whatsoever. Instead, he’s quickly reaching the point where it doesn’t matter that he hasn’t touched the pot, because Colton’s engines are revving like crazy, his body on fire just from thinking about what might be happening right now. Ah, fuck it.
He grabs the bowl and lighter from Posey. The mouthpiece is wet – would figure Posey’s a sloppy smoker – and Colton takes a second to wipe it with the hem of his shirt before wrapping his lips around it and re-lighting the bowl, pulling deep.
The smoke fills his mouth and nose, sweet and distantly familiar as it sneaks down into his lungs right before he passes the bowl back over. He cycles the pot smoke, out of his mouth up to his nose, down to his lungs, letting it linger before doing it all over again, distantly registers the hiss of Posey taking a hit of his own.
“They let me watch last month,” Posey says, gasping to hold the air in.
Colton coughs, releasing the last of the smoke. “Bull-fucking-shit!”
Posey holds up his hand in what’s probably supposed to be a Boy Scout salute but looks more Vulcan. Colton is definitely too sober for this shit. He takes another hit, and tries not to think about what Posey could have seen.
He shouldn’t have bothered. “I mean, Dylan’s my best bro and all,” Posey says, and he’s slouched back, legs spread, one hand loosely resting on the inside of his own thigh, “but you should see him with a cock in his mouth. Seriously, man, I couldn’t handle him and straws for days
Colton groans; if he wasn’t turned on before, he is now, and who the fuck decided dudes had to wear tight jeans, anyway? “For fuck’s sake, Posey, you’re killing me here.”
“Tyler.” At first, Colton thinks Hoechlin’s walked in on their conversation – and wouldn’t that be just fucking peachy? – but then it clicks. “S’just us, you can call me my name, you know.”
The request sounds like the dirtiest kind of invitation, and it takes so long to register as something other than sex to Colton’s ears that Posey – Tyler – is already taking a hit before he’s nodding. It would sound stupid to say anything right now, so Colton just sits there and watches how Tyler’s cheeks hollow out as he pulls the smoke in.
“I thought you didn’t like dick,” Colton says once Tyler breathes out, handing over the pipe.
“Not normally.” Tyler’s rubbing his own chest in wide, lazy circles. “But when I’m high, it’s different, you know? It’s like… people are people, or something. It’s all good in the end, I guess.”
“I guess,” Colton says, for want of anything else while Tyler takes three short, sharp drags for his next turn.
“S’kicked,” Tyler says at last, lifting the bowl.
“Just as well.” Colton sets the pipe on the coffee table. He’s so fucking hard right now, and all he can think about is how Hoechlin must look with Dylan’s face buried in his crotch. Fuck
, Colton needs to do something about it. He glances over at Tyler, sees how he’s sprawled, eyes closed and flushed, dick straining against his own fly, and decides it’s worth it. He totally warned Tyler, anyway.
The rasp of Colton’s zipper is louder than it should be, and he shivers eagerly as he reaches in his pants, trying to draw it out but knowing that’s not going to fucking happen. He can still taste the Jack and the pot, can smell Tyler’s aftershave, can feel the press of his cotton briefs against his dick as he rubs, slow and teasing. Fuck, he’s forgotten how good it feels to get off like this.
“Oh God,” Tyler whispers, suddenly closer than Colton remembers. “That is so fucking hot. You gonna pull it out?”
“Maybe.” Of course he is.
Tyler groans, and then there are sloppy kisses being pressed up and down Colton’s neck. “Never touched another guy’s dick before,” he says. “Can’t stop thinking about it, though. I get high, and all I want is a cock between my lips. Wanna know if come tastes different.” He slides his hand down Colton’s chest, his stomach, and fuck
Colton should put a stop to this because of so many fucking reasons
, but instead he’s arching up into the touch, and pushing his pants down his hips, underwear and all, so his cock is free in the air. Tyler’s not the first two-beer queer he’s met, after all. “You sure about this, dude?”
“Yeah,” Tyler whispers in his ear. “Oh yeah.” And he wraps one of those calloused, guitar-playing hands around Colton’s dick and strokes. It’s awkward and pulls to the side at first, but fuck, pretty much anything is better than his own hand at this point. And Tyler might be stoned out of his fucking mind, but he’s a fast learner, so it only takes a few pumps before he’s got Colton groaning a lot louder than is probably a good idea, head thrown back and eyes screwed shut while the world swims around him.
“Jesus, that feels so fucking good,” Colton says, one hand grabbing at Tyler’s shirt so he can hold on. It’s dry and dirty and uncoordinated, but he could get off like this. Doesn’t matter that he normally likes it wetter.
He must have said some of that out loud, because Tyler’s panting and shaking, nodding into his shoulder. “Yeah, okay,” he’s saying, and then he drops to his knees between Colton’s legs. “Always wanted to try this, too,” he says, and goes to fucking town.
There’s that first scrape of teeth that puts a fierce, perfect edge on the whole thing, makes Colton growl and scoot forward to give Tyler better access, and Tyler can’t make it more than halfway down, but it’s wet and sloppy, and he makes up for it with his hand, and he’s slurping and moaning like Colton’s cock is the best fucking thing he’s ever tasted
Colton loses track of time for a while, swimming in sensation, in the feel of hand and mouth on him, the desperate, needy little noises Tyler’s making. He wonders if maybe some time he could tie Tyler up, just use his mouth like a hole to fuck, and that thought alone makes Colton thrust his hips up, makes him dig his hand in Tyler’s thick hair, makes Colton grind out a warning, because he’s going to come soon, and he might be high and drunk, but he’s not a rude fuck.
But Tyler just keeps sucking like it’s his job, slurping on and on at Colton’s cock, and there is no way Colton can resist shooting off any more. Not with his balls drawn up tight and his orgasm dancing like lighting across his skin, his muscles drawn tense as he comes, shaking and so very fucking grateful, because man, did he ever need that.
Tyler pulls off and spits in his hand, looking around with dazed eyes and a wide grin. “You see a napkin around here?”
And Colton laughs, pulling him back up on the sofa. “I’ve got a better idea,” he says, and opens Tyler’s pants, fumbling with his buckle before he gets to his cock. “Give it here.”
It takes Tyler a second to respond, and he grimaces when he slaps Colton’s load into his waiting hand. It’s going cold already, slimy and thinned out by Tyler’s saliva, but it’ll do. Pretty soon, Tyler’s not going to care how nasty it is, that’s for sure.
Then Colton’s stroking Tyler with his wet hand, slipping easily up and down his shaft, fingers tight as he pulls his friend off as fast as he can. Tyler shouts in surprise, climbing into Colton’s lap and grabbing his shoulders, pushing closer, nodding, gasping, kissing, biting.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck
,” Tyler’s chanting as he maul’s Colton’s mouth, and dude, Make Up is going to have a fit if there are hickeys. “Harder, please, oh God, like that, yes, please…”
It’s enough to make Colton wish he hadn’t already got off. “You’re making me want to fuck you,” he growls in Tyler’s ear. “Bet you’ve never even touched your own virgin ass, either, but I could make you feel so good, Ty, make you say my name.”
“Yes, yes.” Tyler’s leaking, swelling even more in Colton’s hand, and it won’t be long now. “Yes, I wanna know what that’s like, wanna feel it, so bad, yes, Col, yes…” He trails off, swallowing heavily as he shudders in Colton’s arms, and Christ, it’s gorgeous. It would fucking figure the kid would be so pretty when he falls apart.
“Make you feel it for days.” Colton’s not even paying attention to what he’s saying now, only that he’s got to get Tyler off, got to see, hear, feel him when he comes. And it’s got to be now
Tyler gasps and nods, then kisses Colton hard once more before bowing back, teeth gritted and eyes shut, as he comes all over both of them. It’s wet and messy, but before Colton can be bothered to care, Tyler’s sagging against him, panting hot and ragged over his neck.
“Fuck,” Tyler says, heartfelt and right on the damn nose. Colton grunts in agreement.
“Are you two done out there?” Dylan shouts. “Some of us would like to get some sleep tonight.”
Colton laughs and buries his face in Tyler’s wiry shoulder. Of course.
“Go suck a dick!” Tyler shouts back.
“Already did that!” Dylan says. “Now move it out of the common areas, assface. And Tyler says you’re totally cleaning up come stains in the morning.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Tyler unfolds himself from Colton’s lap and does up his pants before offering his hand. “Come on, man. Let’s get cleaned up and I can find you a shirt that isn’t covered in jizz. Then maybe we can smoke another bowl.”
Colton cocks an eyebrow, or tries to. Mostly he thinks he just looks about as fucked-brainless as he feels. “That your way of asking me for seconds, Posey?”
“Dude,” Tyler says, tugging him up and into a kiss. “I keep telling you to call me Tyler.”