[ Day Glow ] - pop, JC/Ricky, PG13
Sep. 9th, 2007 04:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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darkseaglass. A little snippet from the Soldier Boy universe. I wanted to get them horizontal, but they weren't cooperating. Hope this works for you, though, honey. *hugs*
Being with Ricky is so damn easy. Almost as easy as being with Chris--and in some ways, easier.
With Chris, JC had to hide how he felt, at least until he could control it. Once he could control it, he could squash it, until it didn't have any power over him any more.
But with Ricky…Ricky feels the same thing. Wants the same thing. Wants to spend hours trading and sharing lazy kisses, while the world spins slowly around them, hazy and out-of-focus. Wants to wrap himself up in JC, the way JC wants to be wrapped up in Ricky.
"Where do you think you're going, Josh?"
His mom's voice stops JC dead in his tracks, hand reaching out for the door knob. He shifts his pack and turns.
"Hiking. Remember--I told you a group of us were going for the weekend? We're going to Laurel Ridge."
"From school? Or church?"
There's no way he can say church and have his mom believe it; she's good friends with the Pastor's wife, Alice Simmons, and she would know if the youth group was doing anything.
"From school," he says, and it's not really a lie, completely. Ricky goes to JC's school, though they don't have any classes together.
He was actually kind of surprised when Ricky told him he still attends high school; like Chris, Ricky projects an air of being older than he is.
"Are you going to be gone the whole weekend?" She's drying her hands on a dishtowel, and the red dots make JC think of the dream he had last night of Chris, chest spattered in red. He shudders and blinks, then focuses on the question.
"Mostly. We'll be back some time tomorrow afternoon." JC gestures to his pack, sleeping bag tied to the frame. "I got food and stuff with me, and the others will, too. And the weather should be good." Also not a total lie, but it is Pennsylvania in late fall. Personally, JC's hoping for rain.
His mom frowns, then nods, the frown smoothing out into a smile. "Do you want to take my car? It's a long walk to the state park."
JC grins. "That'd be cool, mom, thanks."
~~~~~
Ricky laughs when he pulls up in mom's Chevy. "You got us wheels? Cool, man."
"It's the mom-mobile, but it beats hiking to go hiking." JC waves at Ricky's mom, watching them through the open door. There's a little boy peering around her; JC thinks that must be Ricky's youngest brother, but he can't remember his name. Some friend he is.
"Sure does." Ricky settles his pack in the backseat, then turns to wave back to his mom and brother before sitting down beside JC. "You sure you want to do this?"
There's an odd note in Ricky's voice, like the desperation JC hears every time they spend hours making out and then have to go their separate ways. It makes heat wash through JC. He swallows roughly and nods. "I am, yeah."
"Good." Ricky gives him a lopsided smile. "Vamos--we're not getting any younger."
"Some of us don't have to worry about aging so much as others." JC puts the car into reverse and ignores the face Ricky makes at him. He snickers. "No worries, cat, you'll always be pretty to me."
Ricky mutters something under his breath, quick, rapid-fire Spanish, then reaches over and slides his finger up the inseam of JC's jeans.
"Hey! Driving here," JC yelps when electricity zings through him. Ricky's touch shouldn't affect him that strongly, that fast, but the fact of the matter is he's so ready -- hours and hours of stolen kisses and furtive rubbing and groping have him primed for more.
"Drive faster," Ricky mutters, giving JC one last caress before moving completely back to his side of the car and reaching to fiddle with the radio.
JC kind of hopes they make it all the way to Laurel Ridge--and he's not worried about crashing the car.
~~~~~
It's two dollars to park the car, and three dollars for them to get a camping permit. The park ranger goes over the park rules and regs, points out where they can get drinkable water and where the campsites are, then waves them into the park with a hearty, "Have a nice hike!"
JC loves Laurel Ridge; he's hiked here more times than he can count with his family, with his church youth group, with his Boy Scout troop when he was still active in it. Last year he and Chris came for their spring break, and hiked the entire path. It took them most of the week, and thinking of it now makes JC feel melancholy.
"You ever hike much?" He asks Ricky as they set off down the main trail.
"Not for fun. I've hiked if I had to get somewhere and didn't have any other way to get there."
"Tell me about your home? What do you miss most about it?" JC asks, tipping his head curiously. Ricky talks all the time about here, but seldom about there, or the family left behind and JC wants to know. Needs to know.
So Ricky talks about Puerto Rico, and his eldest brothers -- Paulo and Antonio, who stayed behind with their families. He paints a picture of beaches and blazing heat, of an ocean that's never just one color of blue, but a swirl of many shades, with white tips on the waves when the wind kicks up. Of growing up dirt poor and how that affected all of them, especially when his Mama got sick and miscarried a baby girl.
He talks about learning to play guitar at his Tio's feet -- "Tio Eduardo, he lives music, breathes it," -- and later how he bartered for piano lessons, things from painting a room to taking care of the old woman's few livestock.
"You did all that, and went to school, too?" JC shakes his head.
"Si, and I worked, too, as soon as I was old enough to get a paying job. Washed dishes, hauled garbage, whatever would pay."
JC wonders if he could be as strong as Ricky; if he could do all Ricky's had to do.
"You're pretty amazing," he says quietly, pulling Ricky off the hiking trail and behind a couple tall trees. There isn't as much cover as there would be in the summer because the trees are nearly bare, as autumn moves relentlessly toward winter. But there aren't as many people out here as would be in summer, so it balances out.
"Not so much," Ricky says, letting JC press him against one of the trees. "Just, I had to, yeah? You'd do it, if you had to."
JC shakes his head, because he doesn't think it'd be the same. And then, because he wants to put those thoughts out of his head he kisses Ricky, pushing up close against him, his breath hanging silvery in the air just before their mouths meet, slick and warm and so good.
"JC--" Ricky groans his name, licks it into his mouth. JC tastes the strong, bitter coffee Ricky drank earlier, with spicy bits of cinnamon layered over it. He teases Ricky's tongue with his and adds his own soft groan when Ricky cups his face, big hands framing and holding.
They lean against the tree for ages, kissing and biting until their lips are spit-shiny and swollen. JC's feel hot and tender when he breathes the cold air in.
It's pretty chilly out, but even so JC isn't cold. He's warmed to his toes by Ricky's body against his, Ricky's breath hot and moist against his neck, by strong arms holding on to him, and he'd be content to set up camp right here, right now, and snuggle down into sleeping bags and see what else they can warm up.
He thinks this is probably going to be the shortest hike he's ever done in his life.
~fin~
darkseaglass. A little snippet from the Soldier Boy universe. I wanted to get them horizontal, but they weren't cooperating. Hope this works for you, though, honey. *hugs*Being with Ricky is so damn easy. Almost as easy as being with Chris--and in some ways, easier.
With Chris, JC had to hide how he felt, at least until he could control it. Once he could control it, he could squash it, until it didn't have any power over him any more.
But with Ricky…Ricky feels the same thing. Wants the same thing. Wants to spend hours trading and sharing lazy kisses, while the world spins slowly around them, hazy and out-of-focus. Wants to wrap himself up in JC, the way JC wants to be wrapped up in Ricky.
"Where do you think you're going, Josh?"
His mom's voice stops JC dead in his tracks, hand reaching out for the door knob. He shifts his pack and turns.
"Hiking. Remember--I told you a group of us were going for the weekend? We're going to Laurel Ridge."
"From school? Or church?"
There's no way he can say church and have his mom believe it; she's good friends with the Pastor's wife, Alice Simmons, and she would know if the youth group was doing anything.
"From school," he says, and it's not really a lie, completely. Ricky goes to JC's school, though they don't have any classes together.
He was actually kind of surprised when Ricky told him he still attends high school; like Chris, Ricky projects an air of being older than he is.
"Are you going to be gone the whole weekend?" She's drying her hands on a dishtowel, and the red dots make JC think of the dream he had last night of Chris, chest spattered in red. He shudders and blinks, then focuses on the question.
"Mostly. We'll be back some time tomorrow afternoon." JC gestures to his pack, sleeping bag tied to the frame. "I got food and stuff with me, and the others will, too. And the weather should be good." Also not a total lie, but it is Pennsylvania in late fall. Personally, JC's hoping for rain.
His mom frowns, then nods, the frown smoothing out into a smile. "Do you want to take my car? It's a long walk to the state park."
JC grins. "That'd be cool, mom, thanks."
Ricky laughs when he pulls up in mom's Chevy. "You got us wheels? Cool, man."
"It's the mom-mobile, but it beats hiking to go hiking." JC waves at Ricky's mom, watching them through the open door. There's a little boy peering around her; JC thinks that must be Ricky's youngest brother, but he can't remember his name. Some friend he is.
"Sure does." Ricky settles his pack in the backseat, then turns to wave back to his mom and brother before sitting down beside JC. "You sure you want to do this?"
There's an odd note in Ricky's voice, like the desperation JC hears every time they spend hours making out and then have to go their separate ways. It makes heat wash through JC. He swallows roughly and nods. "I am, yeah."
"Good." Ricky gives him a lopsided smile. "Vamos--we're not getting any younger."
"Some of us don't have to worry about aging so much as others." JC puts the car into reverse and ignores the face Ricky makes at him. He snickers. "No worries, cat, you'll always be pretty to me."
Ricky mutters something under his breath, quick, rapid-fire Spanish, then reaches over and slides his finger up the inseam of JC's jeans.
"Hey! Driving here," JC yelps when electricity zings through him. Ricky's touch shouldn't affect him that strongly, that fast, but the fact of the matter is he's so ready -- hours and hours of stolen kisses and furtive rubbing and groping have him primed for more.
"Drive faster," Ricky mutters, giving JC one last caress before moving completely back to his side of the car and reaching to fiddle with the radio.
JC kind of hopes they make it all the way to Laurel Ridge--and he's not worried about crashing the car.
It's two dollars to park the car, and three dollars for them to get a camping permit. The park ranger goes over the park rules and regs, points out where they can get drinkable water and where the campsites are, then waves them into the park with a hearty, "Have a nice hike!"
JC loves Laurel Ridge; he's hiked here more times than he can count with his family, with his church youth group, with his Boy Scout troop when he was still active in it. Last year he and Chris came for their spring break, and hiked the entire path. It took them most of the week, and thinking of it now makes JC feel melancholy.
"You ever hike much?" He asks Ricky as they set off down the main trail.
"Not for fun. I've hiked if I had to get somewhere and didn't have any other way to get there."
"Tell me about your home? What do you miss most about it?" JC asks, tipping his head curiously. Ricky talks all the time about here, but seldom about there, or the family left behind and JC wants to know. Needs to know.
So Ricky talks about Puerto Rico, and his eldest brothers -- Paulo and Antonio, who stayed behind with their families. He paints a picture of beaches and blazing heat, of an ocean that's never just one color of blue, but a swirl of many shades, with white tips on the waves when the wind kicks up. Of growing up dirt poor and how that affected all of them, especially when his Mama got sick and miscarried a baby girl.
He talks about learning to play guitar at his Tio's feet -- "Tio Eduardo, he lives music, breathes it," -- and later how he bartered for piano lessons, things from painting a room to taking care of the old woman's few livestock.
"You did all that, and went to school, too?" JC shakes his head.
"Si, and I worked, too, as soon as I was old enough to get a paying job. Washed dishes, hauled garbage, whatever would pay."
JC wonders if he could be as strong as Ricky; if he could do all Ricky's had to do.
"You're pretty amazing," he says quietly, pulling Ricky off the hiking trail and behind a couple tall trees. There isn't as much cover as there would be in the summer because the trees are nearly bare, as autumn moves relentlessly toward winter. But there aren't as many people out here as would be in summer, so it balances out.
"Not so much," Ricky says, letting JC press him against one of the trees. "Just, I had to, yeah? You'd do it, if you had to."
JC shakes his head, because he doesn't think it'd be the same. And then, because he wants to put those thoughts out of his head he kisses Ricky, pushing up close against him, his breath hanging silvery in the air just before their mouths meet, slick and warm and so good.
"JC--" Ricky groans his name, licks it into his mouth. JC tastes the strong, bitter coffee Ricky drank earlier, with spicy bits of cinnamon layered over it. He teases Ricky's tongue with his and adds his own soft groan when Ricky cups his face, big hands framing and holding.
They lean against the tree for ages, kissing and biting until their lips are spit-shiny and swollen. JC's feel hot and tender when he breathes the cold air in.
It's pretty chilly out, but even so JC isn't cold. He's warmed to his toes by Ricky's body against his, Ricky's breath hot and moist against his neck, by strong arms holding on to him, and he'd be content to set up camp right here, right now, and snuggle down into sleeping bags and see what else they can warm up.
He thinks this is probably going to be the shortest hike he's ever done in his life.
~fin~
