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." "Nah."

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 him.

"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 thing.


Shee--ee--eeeen. 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:

"Xander's dead." 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.

"He's alive."

"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?"



"Hmmm. 'k."

Devon leaned back and watched Oz get comfortable on Xander for a while. Rubbed down the wet-sticky center of his torso with his finger.

"Oz --"

"He's alive."

"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. And sticky."



"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."

"That's true."

"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 him lightly.

Xander continued to not move.

"Oz, you're a fucking sicko."


"What are you gonna do? Hump him back to life?"

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 force.

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 those festivals.

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 smelly.

"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."

Well, ffffuck.


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 entire paragraph."

"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.

Xander's smile.

"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 hard.

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 teaching him.

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 center.

It took about twenty seconds before he started cooling fast, almost scarily so.

Later, Oz ran a testing finger over his then-dry shoulder.

"See? More pot."

Devon nodded very, very slowly.