Zach gapes at him. “Seriously, Pine? Seriously? You’re going to start all that again? It’s really not cute.”
Chris groans and rolls his eyes. “Not the thong, you tool. I mean I can’t go out there like this.” He opens his robe, and oh. The massive erection.
“Apologies,” Zach says, reaching around him to pull the door shut. “That would… No, you cannot go out like that.”
“Well,” Chris says pointedly.
“Well what?”
“Speaking of really not cute,” Chris growls and reaches up to shove down on Zach’s shoulders. It takes him a second to realize that Chris is trying to push him down to his knees – trying being the operative word, as the shoes raise Zach’s center of gravity by about six inches and Chris’ forehead is starting to wrinkle with frustration. It’s really kind of… adorable.
“Rocky,” Zach says in his best deep Tim Curry voice, tilting Chris’ chin up with his forefinger. “Ask Frankie nicely.”
For a second, he’s worried that Chris is going to smack him or at least give his garter belt a good snap, but then Chris’ eyes go wide and puppyish and he gives a soft, pleading, Rocky-like grunt and Zach laughs as he carefully kneels, clutching the countertop for balance on the way down. John’s guest bathroom is much too small for this and everyone (sans Simon and Anton, sadly, but plus Eric) is waiting outside, but no sense in letting a good hard-on go to waste.
Pressed for time, Zach doesn’t bother to tease, just wraps his lips around the head of Chris’ dick and starts to suck. Chris moans softly and widens his stance a little, his hands coming up to rest in Zach’s hair but starting to wander. He tugs at the boa around Zach’s neck, running the soft feathers through his fingers.
Zach pulls off of him with a pop. “I can’t wash that. You are not going to come on it.”
“Better swallow, then,” Chris says with a wink and Zach wonders why he ever thought Chris was terminally straight. But as Zach gets back to work, Chris gently pulls the length of the boa from Zach’s shoulders, looping it around his hands. He parts the robe a little wider and brings the feathered mass up to his chest, teasing at first one nipple then the other and, yeah, that’s kind of blazingly hot. Zach groans around Chris’ dick and reaches down to pull himself out of his black briefs. The floor is easily-cleanable tile; what John doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
When Chris spies what Zach’s doing, he moans a little too loudly and his hips twitch involuntarily. “Shit, Zach, that’s so hot. That’s it, jerk yourse—ah!”
Zach swirls his tongue again to shut Chris up – he’s close enough as it is, and he’s pretty sure that if there’s a lull in conversation outside the bathroom, everyone’s going to know exactly what his left hand is doing. So he redoubles his efforts, tonguing the slit of Chris’ cock and bringing his other hand up to lightly squeeze Chris’ balls, still trapped in the gold thong. Chris makes a choking, stuttered sound and comes, dropping the boa directly on Zach’s head, though it doesn’t stop Zach from swallowing each hot pulse (mostly to preserve his makeup), then coming all over his hand and the floor with a silent shudder.
Chris groans with relief and stumbles back against the sink, looking patently ridiculous with his robe flapping open and his cock still hanging out, but Zach’s not one to complain. Chris tosses him the hand towel from the rack, but luckily Zach manages to catch it – with his clean hand. “Tissues, Christopher. I don’t really want to explain to John why this has to go in the laundry immediately.”
With a grin, Chris takes back the towel, too lazily sated to object to Zach’s grumpy tone. Zach takes the proffered tissues and carefully cleans the floor before standing back up. To his utter embarrassment, Chris has to help him – no matter how sexy they are, six-inch heels aren’t forgiving of wobbly knees.
Let There Be Lips, one month later, NC-17 (1/2)
Zach gapes at him. “Seriously, Pine? Seriously? You’re going to start all that again? It’s really not cute.”
Chris groans and rolls his eyes. “Not the thong, you tool. I mean I can’t go out there like this.” He opens his robe, and oh. The massive erection.
“Apologies,” Zach says, reaching around him to pull the door shut. “That would… No, you cannot go out like that.”
“Well,” Chris says pointedly.
“Well what?”
“Speaking of really not cute,” Chris growls and reaches up to shove down on Zach’s shoulders. It takes him a second to realize that Chris is trying to push him down to his knees – trying being the operative word, as the shoes raise Zach’s center of gravity by about six inches and Chris’ forehead is starting to wrinkle with frustration. It’s really kind of… adorable.
“Rocky,” Zach says in his best deep Tim Curry voice, tilting Chris’ chin up with his forefinger. “Ask Frankie nicely.”
For a second, he’s worried that Chris is going to smack him or at least give his garter belt a good snap, but then Chris’ eyes go wide and puppyish and he gives a soft, pleading, Rocky-like grunt and Zach laughs as he carefully kneels, clutching the countertop for balance on the way down. John’s guest bathroom is much too small for this and everyone (sans Simon and Anton, sadly, but plus Eric) is waiting outside, but no sense in letting a good hard-on go to waste.
Pressed for time, Zach doesn’t bother to tease, just wraps his lips around the head of Chris’ dick and starts to suck. Chris moans softly and widens his stance a little, his hands coming up to rest in Zach’s hair but starting to wander. He tugs at the boa around Zach’s neck, running the soft feathers through his fingers.
Zach pulls off of him with a pop. “I can’t wash that. You are not going to come on it.”
“Better swallow, then,” Chris says with a wink and Zach wonders why he ever thought Chris was terminally straight. But as Zach gets back to work, Chris gently pulls the length of the boa from Zach’s shoulders, looping it around his hands. He parts the robe a little wider and brings the feathered mass up to his chest, teasing at first one nipple then the other and, yeah, that’s kind of blazingly hot. Zach groans around Chris’ dick and reaches down to pull himself out of his black briefs. The floor is easily-cleanable tile; what John doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
When Chris spies what Zach’s doing, he moans a little too loudly and his hips twitch involuntarily. “Shit, Zach, that’s so hot. That’s it, jerk yourse—ah!”
Zach swirls his tongue again to shut Chris up – he’s close enough as it is, and he’s pretty sure that if there’s a lull in conversation outside the bathroom, everyone’s going to know exactly what his left hand is doing. So he redoubles his efforts, tonguing the slit of Chris’ cock and bringing his other hand up to lightly squeeze Chris’ balls, still trapped in the gold thong. Chris makes a choking, stuttered sound and comes, dropping the boa directly on Zach’s head, though it doesn’t stop Zach from swallowing each hot pulse (mostly to preserve his makeup), then coming all over his hand and the floor with a silent shudder.
Chris groans with relief and stumbles back against the sink, looking patently ridiculous with his robe flapping open and his cock still hanging out, but Zach’s not one to complain. Chris tosses him the hand towel from the rack, but luckily Zach manages to catch it – with his clean hand. “Tissues, Christopher. I don’t really want to explain to John why this has to go in the laundry immediately.”
With a grin, Chris takes back the towel, too lazily sated to object to Zach’s grumpy tone. Zach takes the proffered tissues and carefully cleans the floor before standing back up. To his utter embarrassment, Chris has to help him – no matter how sexy they are, six-inch heels aren’t forgiving of wobbly knees.