The One Where Karl isn't as Sensitive as Expected [Chris/Karl - NC-17]
Title: The One Where Karl isn't as Sensitive as Expected
Authors: fortassetu and credulesque
Pairing: Chris Pine/Karl Urban
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~3,500 of basically pure PORN.
Summary: In which Chris teases Karl about his questionable acting choices and Karl gets his payback.
A/N: This is the first fic I've ever co-written with anyone and IT WAS FUN, Laura dahlink we are doing this again. Fo shizzle.
Karl doesn’t expect to find Chris Pine lounging on his couch when he returns to his hotel room. He walks into the main room with the TV and puts his keys on the coffee table in time to notice that Chris is lying on the couch, looking at him upside down, with a lopsided grin on his face.
“I watched it,” he says, looking triumphant. Karl raises an eyebrow.
“Watched what?” he asks, and hangs up his jacket in the bedroom. It falls off the hook so he throws it on the bed, annoyed despite himself. Chris calls through the doorway anyway, determined not to let it drop.
“The Truth about Demons, man,” he shouts, and Karl whips around the corner.
“You watched that?” he laughs, incredulously, and then goes silent when Chris turns on the TV.
It’s the goddamn nipple scene.
“There’s some good acting in here,” Chris smirks, moving so he’s sitting the right way up again. Karl curses the fact that he notices the flush on Chris’ cheeks.
“Well, it does happen to be my job,” he says, hotly, and Chris just laughs again.
“How many takes?” Karl’s head snaps around to look at him.
“I beg your pardon?” he asks, quietly, and Chris has lost the laugh, but not the smile.
“You heard me, how many takes?” he repeats, and Karl decides enough is enough.
“I don’t even remember, what does it matter?” he half-snarls, and Chris holds up his hands defensively.
“Hey, man, I just wanna know.” There’s a pause. “Are you sensitive?”
Karl gives him a look. “No, no, I’m being serious here!” Chris says, ruining the effect of his words with a sort of uneasy chuckle. Karl just sits down on the couch and sighs. It’s been a really long day, running around from person to person, reading scripts and deciding what to do with his life until the end of 2010. He’s so absorbed in thinking about who he still has to call and make nice with, that he doesn’t realise Chris is sitting on his lap till it’s too late. “Are you really sensitive?” he asks, and then his hands are on Karl’s chest, wide palms settling on his ribs and moving up. He barely has time to breathe before Chris finds his nipples, twisting gently through the fabric of his shirt.
Apparently Chris doesn’t expect Karl to groan, or to shift uneasily underneath him, because he looks surprised, off guard, for a fraction of a second. But it’s only a fraction of a second, and then Chris has Karl’s hands pinned underneath his knees, free to play around with him, and he’s got half of Karl’s shirt undone in no time, pushing it off his shoulders so Karl can’t move his arms freely. “I think you are,” he continues, whispering the words against Karl’s throat. “Let’s see, though, if you are - all in the spirit of scientific testing, I’m sure you understand.”
Karl never thought it was possible to be so annoyed with someone and yet want to fuck them so badly at the same time. Chris just smirks and runs his hands over Karl’s chest again, mapping out the territory, and skimming his hands over Karl’s nipples again. “Does this get you hard?” he asks, quietly, voice sinful smooth against Karl’s ear. He rocks back gently against Karl’s lap, and then smirks against Karl’s pulse point. “Obviously yes.” Karl hates himself for it, but he can’t help moving up against Chris, rubbing his hard-on against him.
Chris, though, obviously doesn’t hate Karl for it, because he makes an appreciative sound in the back of his throat and licks down Karl’s chest, pausing to run the flat of his tongue lightly over Karl’s left nipple. Just when Karl thinks yes, it’s only licking, I can do this, Chris closes his mouth around the nub of flesh and goddamn bites, just a little, but it’s enough to send a shot of electricity along Karl’s spine so he shivers. “So, the results of the first study are in,” Chris whispers, his breath cool against the slickness of Karl’s skin, covered in Chris’ spit. “And I think we can confirm you are, indeed, very sensitive, Mr Urban.” He’s got his wicked grin back.
He seems to take pity on Karl then, though, because he undoes the final buttons, letting Karl move his hands again, and then traces his left ribcage with his tongue.
“Chris,” Karl warns him, cursing how husky his voice is. “Chris,” he repeats, and Chris looks up at him lazily.
Something snaps.
“I am going to fuck that look right off your face,” Karl states, very calmly, and Chris’ pupils dilate suddenly, as if hit by a wave of lust. Karl can only just see the blue of his irises, but then he transfers his attention to undoing Chris’ jeans, hands fumbling a little on the button. “Slut,” he chuckles, when he notices Chris is going commando.
“Look who’s talking,” Chris hits back, but his voice has a breathless quality that Karl smirks inwardly at.
“Now,” he continues, all business, “how many fingers can I get inside you before you go incoherent?”
Chris’ eyes widen and he gasps, shocked, leaning his head down to mouth wetly against Karl’s neck, hiding the flush that’s creeping up his cheeks. He bites down gently at the juncture of Karl’s neck and shoulder and clamps down as Karl slides hands down the back of his jeans to cup his ass and pull him closer, as close as he can against him.
Karl grinds up against him, hips slotting into place until Karl can feel Chris’ cock hard and leaking through into his jeans. Chris whimpers, somewhere deep in his throat, a long drawn out whine that says more than words can and Karl feels a hot wave of pleasure roll through him as he realises how much Chris wants this, how he’s practically begging.
Chris’ cock is pushing out of his jeans, spreading precome over Karl’s stomach, and it’s hot and sticky between them as Chris’ cock slides wetly over his stomach and Chris pants against his neck.
Karl tilts his head so his lips brush against Chris’ ear and he whispers, hot breath tickling Chris’ ear so he moans against Karl’s neck, “your plan’s sort of backfired hasn’t it?”
His voice comes out way huskier than he’d intended, rough to the point where it’s almost a low growl, but he doesn’t regret it from the way Chris shudders against him. Chris sits up so he’s straddling Karl’s hips and looks straight down at him, eyelids hooded so his eyelashes look thicker, fanning out over the rosy tinge of his cheeks.
Karl groans at the sight and Chris smirks, quirking an eyebrow at him and running his hands down Karl’s chest and settling on his hips, fingers playing over the skin just above his waistband. Chris fiddles with the button on his jeans, his arms brushing against the head of Karl’s cock through the rough denim, eliciting a low rumbling growl from Karl that Chris can feel vibrate through his cock.
The room is silent except for their heavy breathing and when Chris unzips Karl’s jeans the sound is almost too loud, too much on the heavy air between them. Karl can’t help bucking his hips up slightly, searching helplessly for more friction as Chris pulls his jeans down just enough for him to see where his cock is straining the fabric of Karl’s briefs, and he idly traces the wet spot where the head of his cock is leaking against the thin material.
Karl mumbles meaningless words, “just touch me, come on Chris, damnit,” spreading his legs wantonly and not even caring what he must look like, his hair mussed and sticking to the sweat on his forehead, his lips red from where he was biting them.
Chris just smirks and leans down over him to lick his left nipple, rubbing purposefully against Karl’s cock through his briefs, enjoying the strangled gasp he extracts from Karl. He moves up slowly, licking and nibbling his way up his neck and sucking gently at the pulse point he finds there, fascinated by the way it leaps and jumps under his tongue in time to the steady pounding of Karl’s heart under his right hand.
Karl’s babbling desperately against him now, whispering filth into his ear and thrusting up frantically against Chris, feeling the wet slip-slide of Chris’ cock against his stomach and wanting it, needing it against his own cock. Karl moves his hand from Chris’ ass to the waistband of his briefs, sliding his fingers underneath and shifting his hips so he can slide them down, pushing them off with his jeans and kicking them onto the floor.
Karl’s cock slips hot and hard between them, finally, and Chris gives up on his measured pace, his hands scrabbling desperately at Karl’s hips as Karl moves his hands up over the curve of Chris’ ass, through the sweat pooling at the base of his spine and he digs his fingers into the flesh of his back, pulling his head down so he can kiss him, hard and messy.
When Karl pulls back, breathless and gasping, Chris draws one finger through the precome pooling on Karl’s stomach and sucks on his finger, eyes shut gently, his lips quirking around his finger. Karl doesn’t have a finger-sucking kink, but he’s pretty sure that’s about to change. Chris lets his eyes open, ever so slowly, and moves down Karl’s body like he has all the time in the world, his tongue tracing a path down Karl’s ribs, ending at the root of his cock. Karl can see his eyelashes, dark against his skin, and then Chris’ lips stretch around his cock, one cheek bulging slightly where Karl’s cock presses against his mouth. His hands dig into Karl’s hips as he spreads Karl’s legs further, hooking one knee over his shoulder until Karl’s spine is a little bent, leaving him virtually helpless in Chris’ hands.
He can’t help smirking, though, when he sees Chris move one hand away, down to his own cock, needing the friction so badly. The sound of him jerking off is slick, mirrored by the sound of Chris’ mouth on Karl, and they echo in the room, assaulting Karl’s ears; verbal sex. He can’t reach out and touch Chris, his hands fisting on the material of the couch until he’s sure he’s going to break the fabric, and then Chris moans around his cock, having abandoned jerking off in favour of sucking on Karl with abandon, just rutting against the couch, leaving streaks of precome on the sofa.
It’s too hard, too much, but Karl still has to touch himself, rolling his nipples gently between his fingers, pinching at his own skin until he’s not sure if he’s whimpering with the pleasure or the burn. He bucks his hips up, fucking Chris’ mouth, and Chris makes a broken sound, hollowing his cheeks until Karl hisses with the jolts up his spine.
Chris’ throat is raw, fucked and hot, and there’s precome and sweat dripping down his face, over his lips and chin, tracing patterns on his throat that Karl wants to lick off his skin. Karl’s hands tighten on the sofa, his mouth open, babbling, as his foot digs into Chris’ back. “I’m going to, Jesus fuck, Chris, I’m gonna -”
That’s all the warning Chris gets, but apparently he has a good reaction time even now, because he pulls off, eyes hooded and smug as Karl comes all over his chin, neck and chest. Karl has to shut his eyes, but the image is burned onto his retinas, unforgettable, and it feels like he’s never going to stop coming, painting Chris’ body with his release. Chris just licks his lips, all slow and content, and sucks on his bottom lip, tasting Karl. He draws a shaky hand through the come on his chest, running his palm down until he can thrust into his loose fist. Karl smirks and catches his wrist.
“I don’t think so,” he whispers, quietly, and sucks on two of his fingers slowly, making Chris watch every movement, and then pulls Chris up along his body until he’s on top of Karl again. Karl’s fingers inch down his stomach, over every dip and flat plane of Chris’ body, skirting just past his cock, and then ever so slowly, he slides one finger inside him. His other hand comes to curl around Chris’ cock, tight around the root so Chris can’t come yet, and he curls his finger ever so gently. Chris’ arms are shaking where he’s holding himself up, and Karl just smirks and kisses him. Chris can’t even kiss back, his eyes shut tight. He’s whimpering, half begging, and Karl takes pity on him, rolling them to the side so Chris’ leg is hooked over Karl. There’s sweat pooling in the bends of his knees, clinging to his skin, but Karl doesn’t let up, swinging him between pleasure and pain, release and denial, with his fingers.
He adds another finger, spreading, testing Chris for sweet spots, until Chris calls out, voice husky, and Karl mouths along his neck and shoulder, pleased with the result. He licks up the rest of the come on Chris’ chest and then brings their mouths together, tasting himself all fucked out in Chris’ mouth. While Chris is occupied, trying to summon the strength to kiss him back properly, Karl adds a third finger, stretching him torturously until Chris is half sobbing with the need to come. His hips spasm wildly, fucking him back onto Karl’s fingers one moment, and rubbing his cock against Karl’s stomach the next, as if he’s unsure as to which will give him the most pleasure.
“Please, I need to, I have to come, Karl, please,” he begs, and Karl can see the sweat glistening on his forehead, the flush on his cheeks and neck, spreading down his chest as he nears climax.
“What was that?” he whispers, his breath coming in puffs against Chris’ ear. He curls his fingers just short of Chris’ prostate and smirks against the skin of his shoulder.
“Please, please,” Chris repeats, an endless litany of begging, and Karl pushes his fingers gently against that spot just as he lets go of Chris’ cock.
The effect is immediate, and Chris comes all over Karl’s stomach, almost crying with the release, his hands digging into Karl’s shoulders so hard they nearly break the skin. His mouth is fixed against Karl’s collarbone, and Karl can feel his eyelashes against the skin of his neck, fluttering like trapped moths drawn to light.
When Chris eventually looks up, Karl draws a hand along his stomach through the come, and licks it slowly, in front of Chris’ face. Chris can’t look at him; he’s still too sensitive after release to get hard again, and if he looks at Karl he probably will. He’s still panting, and his breath comes hard against Karl’s skin. “I’m gonna make you come even harder,” Karl promises, and Chris seems torn between agreeing and wanting to move away, still not ready. “I thought I was the one who was supposed to be sensitive,” chuckles Karl, and Chris attempts to sulk, but he’s too tired to make the effort. Karl just licks his hand again and smirks.
Chris tries to speak; “you’re a teasing bastard, you know that?” but the words come out croaky and hoarse, his throat’s so wrecked from Karl fucking it. Karl’s eyes visibly widen as he realises this and he slides a hand around the back of Chris’ neck to drag him forward so he can kiss him, sliding his tongue into Chris’ mouth and letting Chris taste himself on Karl’s tongue.
Chris moans into his mouth, his lips sliding wetly against Karl’s, and he moves his hands slowly up Karl’s chest, feeling his skin hot and sweaty underneath him. His cock drags against Karl’s thigh, through the sticky mess of come between them and Chris gasps, his cock still too sensitive for him to get hard but appreciating the friction anyway.
Karl pulls away and smirks up at Chris, his hand sliding down the curve of his spine to grip his ass, “I got just the thing to follow that up.”
Chris raises an eyebrow and sits back as Karl leans down to grope around in his jeans pocket, rolling his eyes and smiling as Karl brings up a joint and a lighter.
“Aren’t you the rebellious one,” Chris says, scooting down Karl’s body so he can rest his chin on Karl’s chest.
Karl smiles lazily, “I got it off Zach.”
Chris chuckles into Karl’s skin, tasting sweat and come at the corners of his mouth. “Of course you did.”
Karl flicks the lighter on, an orange glow bathing his face and Chris just watches him as he lowers his eyes to the flame and sucks in a breath as the paper catches, crumbling into the heart of the fire.
Karl exhales, a cloud of sticky sweet smoke wafting into Chris’ senses, and he looks up from under his eyelashes, noting the way when Karl exhales, he does it so slowly, the smoke curls out from the corners of his lips, sinfully slow and tempting.
“You gonna share?” he asks, a wicked smile on his face as he crawls up the length of Karl’s body to slide a tongue over his top lip, plump and soft under his tongue, tasting weed and licking the smoke from the corners of his mouth.
When Karl replies his voice is husky and rough; whether intentional or not it sends a shiver down Chris’ spine, “I think you’ve got that covered.”
Chris shifts and feels Karl’s cock twitch against his stomach. “God, already?” he asks, but it comes out more breathless than he intended, and he grabs the joint from Karl to distract him, inhaling too quickly and feeling it burn down his throat, lighting his body up from the inside.
He can feel Karl watching him, the way his lips fit around the roach and the shape they make when he exhales; his head is getting thick and fuzzy and he’s becoming more and more aware of Karl’s body underneath his. The sharp tang of his sweat and the insistent bulge of his cock pressing against him.
Chris inhales and leans up to press his lips to Karl’s, pushing his lips apart with his tongue and breathing gently into Karl’s mouth, letting the smoke trickle slowly from between his lips. Karl’s hands slip up his back, dipping down to his sides then settling on his shoulder blades, pulling him closer until the heat from Chris’ body is almost too much. He can feel drops of sweat tracing their way down the sides of his face and when Chris pulls away he kisses his way across Karl’s face, licking at the beads he finds there.
Through the foggy mess of Karl’s thoughts he realises that Chris is gently thrusting against him, his cock slipping against his stomach and nudging his own cock insistently; they’re not hard but that doesn’t stop lightning sharp shivers of pleasure being elicited from the sensitive skin. Their movements are lazy and slow, there’s no longer any frantic rush to get off, just the steady pleasure and low thrum of desire between them, mingled with the hazy smoke and sharp edge of intoxication.
Karl slips a hand between them and runs a finger down Chris’ cock, slowly, looking up at him from under hooded eyelids, his pupils blown and Chris gasps into the thick air, dropping his head to suck on the skin of Karl’s neck. Chris slips a leg in between Karl’s thighs so their cocks brush against each other and he nips and sucks a path up Karl’s neck until he reaches his lips, kissing him again, lazily thrusting his tongue into Karl’s mouth, tasting weed and sex and come.
He feels, more than hears Karl sigh into his mouth and Chris pulls away. “Y’alright?” His voice is still rough and hoarse.
Karl nods lethargically, letting his head fall back against the arm of the sofa; “yeah, m’alright.” He stubs the joint out on the ashtray on the table behind his head and slides both hands up around Chris, pulling him in closer until Chris’ head is nestled comfortably in the groove of his neck.
“We’re still naked, sticky, ‘nd this will probably be horrifically awkward in the morning,” Chris mumbles into Karl’s neck, his breath hot against his skin.
“Mm,” Karl rumbles agreeably, “I’m okay with the naked thing, ‘nd if it’s awkward I’ll pretend to be asleep so you can slip out and do the walk of shame back to your room.”
Chris’ eyelids are heavy and he lets them fall shut, muttering, “we’re still going bowling tomorrow right though? Won’t let some random sex ruin my chances of beating you into the ground.”
Karl’s slow laugh reverberates through his whole body, “yeah Chris, we’ll still go bowling.”
Chris sighs, his limbs feel heavy and his brain foggy as he’s dragged into sleep but the steady movement of Karl’s chest under his right hand makes him smile unconsciously into the curve of Karl’s neck.
~end.
For anyone who hasn't seen The Truth about Demons and is curious as to which particular ~nipple scene~ we were referring to, take a look.
Authors: fortassetu and credulesque
Pairing: Chris Pine/Karl Urban
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~3,500 of basically pure PORN.
Summary: In which Chris teases Karl about his questionable acting choices and Karl gets his payback.
A/N: This is the first fic I've ever co-written with anyone and IT WAS FUN, Laura dahlink we are doing this again. Fo shizzle.
Karl doesn’t expect to find Chris Pine lounging on his couch when he returns to his hotel room. He walks into the main room with the TV and puts his keys on the coffee table in time to notice that Chris is lying on the couch, looking at him upside down, with a lopsided grin on his face.
“I watched it,” he says, looking triumphant. Karl raises an eyebrow.
“Watched what?” he asks, and hangs up his jacket in the bedroom. It falls off the hook so he throws it on the bed, annoyed despite himself. Chris calls through the doorway anyway, determined not to let it drop.
“The Truth about Demons, man,” he shouts, and Karl whips around the corner.
“You watched that?” he laughs, incredulously, and then goes silent when Chris turns on the TV.
It’s the goddamn nipple scene.
“There’s some good acting in here,” Chris smirks, moving so he’s sitting the right way up again. Karl curses the fact that he notices the flush on Chris’ cheeks.
“Well, it does happen to be my job,” he says, hotly, and Chris just laughs again.
“How many takes?” Karl’s head snaps around to look at him.
“I beg your pardon?” he asks, quietly, and Chris has lost the laugh, but not the smile.
“You heard me, how many takes?” he repeats, and Karl decides enough is enough.
“I don’t even remember, what does it matter?” he half-snarls, and Chris holds up his hands defensively.
“Hey, man, I just wanna know.” There’s a pause. “Are you sensitive?”
Karl gives him a look. “No, no, I’m being serious here!” Chris says, ruining the effect of his words with a sort of uneasy chuckle. Karl just sits down on the couch and sighs. It’s been a really long day, running around from person to person, reading scripts and deciding what to do with his life until the end of 2010. He’s so absorbed in thinking about who he still has to call and make nice with, that he doesn’t realise Chris is sitting on his lap till it’s too late. “Are you really sensitive?” he asks, and then his hands are on Karl’s chest, wide palms settling on his ribs and moving up. He barely has time to breathe before Chris finds his nipples, twisting gently through the fabric of his shirt.
Apparently Chris doesn’t expect Karl to groan, or to shift uneasily underneath him, because he looks surprised, off guard, for a fraction of a second. But it’s only a fraction of a second, and then Chris has Karl’s hands pinned underneath his knees, free to play around with him, and he’s got half of Karl’s shirt undone in no time, pushing it off his shoulders so Karl can’t move his arms freely. “I think you are,” he continues, whispering the words against Karl’s throat. “Let’s see, though, if you are - all in the spirit of scientific testing, I’m sure you understand.”
Karl never thought it was possible to be so annoyed with someone and yet want to fuck them so badly at the same time. Chris just smirks and runs his hands over Karl’s chest again, mapping out the territory, and skimming his hands over Karl’s nipples again. “Does this get you hard?” he asks, quietly, voice sinful smooth against Karl’s ear. He rocks back gently against Karl’s lap, and then smirks against Karl’s pulse point. “Obviously yes.” Karl hates himself for it, but he can’t help moving up against Chris, rubbing his hard-on against him.
Chris, though, obviously doesn’t hate Karl for it, because he makes an appreciative sound in the back of his throat and licks down Karl’s chest, pausing to run the flat of his tongue lightly over Karl’s left nipple. Just when Karl thinks yes, it’s only licking, I can do this, Chris closes his mouth around the nub of flesh and goddamn bites, just a little, but it’s enough to send a shot of electricity along Karl’s spine so he shivers. “So, the results of the first study are in,” Chris whispers, his breath cool against the slickness of Karl’s skin, covered in Chris’ spit. “And I think we can confirm you are, indeed, very sensitive, Mr Urban.” He’s got his wicked grin back.
He seems to take pity on Karl then, though, because he undoes the final buttons, letting Karl move his hands again, and then traces his left ribcage with his tongue.
“Chris,” Karl warns him, cursing how husky his voice is. “Chris,” he repeats, and Chris looks up at him lazily.
Something snaps.
“I am going to fuck that look right off your face,” Karl states, very calmly, and Chris’ pupils dilate suddenly, as if hit by a wave of lust. Karl can only just see the blue of his irises, but then he transfers his attention to undoing Chris’ jeans, hands fumbling a little on the button. “Slut,” he chuckles, when he notices Chris is going commando.
“Look who’s talking,” Chris hits back, but his voice has a breathless quality that Karl smirks inwardly at.
“Now,” he continues, all business, “how many fingers can I get inside you before you go incoherent?”
Chris’ eyes widen and he gasps, shocked, leaning his head down to mouth wetly against Karl’s neck, hiding the flush that’s creeping up his cheeks. He bites down gently at the juncture of Karl’s neck and shoulder and clamps down as Karl slides hands down the back of his jeans to cup his ass and pull him closer, as close as he can against him.
Karl grinds up against him, hips slotting into place until Karl can feel Chris’ cock hard and leaking through into his jeans. Chris whimpers, somewhere deep in his throat, a long drawn out whine that says more than words can and Karl feels a hot wave of pleasure roll through him as he realises how much Chris wants this, how he’s practically begging.
Chris’ cock is pushing out of his jeans, spreading precome over Karl’s stomach, and it’s hot and sticky between them as Chris’ cock slides wetly over his stomach and Chris pants against his neck.
Karl tilts his head so his lips brush against Chris’ ear and he whispers, hot breath tickling Chris’ ear so he moans against Karl’s neck, “your plan’s sort of backfired hasn’t it?”
His voice comes out way huskier than he’d intended, rough to the point where it’s almost a low growl, but he doesn’t regret it from the way Chris shudders against him. Chris sits up so he’s straddling Karl’s hips and looks straight down at him, eyelids hooded so his eyelashes look thicker, fanning out over the rosy tinge of his cheeks.
Karl groans at the sight and Chris smirks, quirking an eyebrow at him and running his hands down Karl’s chest and settling on his hips, fingers playing over the skin just above his waistband. Chris fiddles with the button on his jeans, his arms brushing against the head of Karl’s cock through the rough denim, eliciting a low rumbling growl from Karl that Chris can feel vibrate through his cock.
The room is silent except for their heavy breathing and when Chris unzips Karl’s jeans the sound is almost too loud, too much on the heavy air between them. Karl can’t help bucking his hips up slightly, searching helplessly for more friction as Chris pulls his jeans down just enough for him to see where his cock is straining the fabric of Karl’s briefs, and he idly traces the wet spot where the head of his cock is leaking against the thin material.
Karl mumbles meaningless words, “just touch me, come on Chris, damnit,” spreading his legs wantonly and not even caring what he must look like, his hair mussed and sticking to the sweat on his forehead, his lips red from where he was biting them.
Chris just smirks and leans down over him to lick his left nipple, rubbing purposefully against Karl’s cock through his briefs, enjoying the strangled gasp he extracts from Karl. He moves up slowly, licking and nibbling his way up his neck and sucking gently at the pulse point he finds there, fascinated by the way it leaps and jumps under his tongue in time to the steady pounding of Karl’s heart under his right hand.
Karl’s babbling desperately against him now, whispering filth into his ear and thrusting up frantically against Chris, feeling the wet slip-slide of Chris’ cock against his stomach and wanting it, needing it against his own cock. Karl moves his hand from Chris’ ass to the waistband of his briefs, sliding his fingers underneath and shifting his hips so he can slide them down, pushing them off with his jeans and kicking them onto the floor.
Karl’s cock slips hot and hard between them, finally, and Chris gives up on his measured pace, his hands scrabbling desperately at Karl’s hips as Karl moves his hands up over the curve of Chris’ ass, through the sweat pooling at the base of his spine and he digs his fingers into the flesh of his back, pulling his head down so he can kiss him, hard and messy.
When Karl pulls back, breathless and gasping, Chris draws one finger through the precome pooling on Karl’s stomach and sucks on his finger, eyes shut gently, his lips quirking around his finger. Karl doesn’t have a finger-sucking kink, but he’s pretty sure that’s about to change. Chris lets his eyes open, ever so slowly, and moves down Karl’s body like he has all the time in the world, his tongue tracing a path down Karl’s ribs, ending at the root of his cock. Karl can see his eyelashes, dark against his skin, and then Chris’ lips stretch around his cock, one cheek bulging slightly where Karl’s cock presses against his mouth. His hands dig into Karl’s hips as he spreads Karl’s legs further, hooking one knee over his shoulder until Karl’s spine is a little bent, leaving him virtually helpless in Chris’ hands.
He can’t help smirking, though, when he sees Chris move one hand away, down to his own cock, needing the friction so badly. The sound of him jerking off is slick, mirrored by the sound of Chris’ mouth on Karl, and they echo in the room, assaulting Karl’s ears; verbal sex. He can’t reach out and touch Chris, his hands fisting on the material of the couch until he’s sure he’s going to break the fabric, and then Chris moans around his cock, having abandoned jerking off in favour of sucking on Karl with abandon, just rutting against the couch, leaving streaks of precome on the sofa.
It’s too hard, too much, but Karl still has to touch himself, rolling his nipples gently between his fingers, pinching at his own skin until he’s not sure if he’s whimpering with the pleasure or the burn. He bucks his hips up, fucking Chris’ mouth, and Chris makes a broken sound, hollowing his cheeks until Karl hisses with the jolts up his spine.
Chris’ throat is raw, fucked and hot, and there’s precome and sweat dripping down his face, over his lips and chin, tracing patterns on his throat that Karl wants to lick off his skin. Karl’s hands tighten on the sofa, his mouth open, babbling, as his foot digs into Chris’ back. “I’m going to, Jesus fuck, Chris, I’m gonna -”
That’s all the warning Chris gets, but apparently he has a good reaction time even now, because he pulls off, eyes hooded and smug as Karl comes all over his chin, neck and chest. Karl has to shut his eyes, but the image is burned onto his retinas, unforgettable, and it feels like he’s never going to stop coming, painting Chris’ body with his release. Chris just licks his lips, all slow and content, and sucks on his bottom lip, tasting Karl. He draws a shaky hand through the come on his chest, running his palm down until he can thrust into his loose fist. Karl smirks and catches his wrist.
“I don’t think so,” he whispers, quietly, and sucks on two of his fingers slowly, making Chris watch every movement, and then pulls Chris up along his body until he’s on top of Karl again. Karl’s fingers inch down his stomach, over every dip and flat plane of Chris’ body, skirting just past his cock, and then ever so slowly, he slides one finger inside him. His other hand comes to curl around Chris’ cock, tight around the root so Chris can’t come yet, and he curls his finger ever so gently. Chris’ arms are shaking where he’s holding himself up, and Karl just smirks and kisses him. Chris can’t even kiss back, his eyes shut tight. He’s whimpering, half begging, and Karl takes pity on him, rolling them to the side so Chris’ leg is hooked over Karl. There’s sweat pooling in the bends of his knees, clinging to his skin, but Karl doesn’t let up, swinging him between pleasure and pain, release and denial, with his fingers.
He adds another finger, spreading, testing Chris for sweet spots, until Chris calls out, voice husky, and Karl mouths along his neck and shoulder, pleased with the result. He licks up the rest of the come on Chris’ chest and then brings their mouths together, tasting himself all fucked out in Chris’ mouth. While Chris is occupied, trying to summon the strength to kiss him back properly, Karl adds a third finger, stretching him torturously until Chris is half sobbing with the need to come. His hips spasm wildly, fucking him back onto Karl’s fingers one moment, and rubbing his cock against Karl’s stomach the next, as if he’s unsure as to which will give him the most pleasure.
“Please, I need to, I have to come, Karl, please,” he begs, and Karl can see the sweat glistening on his forehead, the flush on his cheeks and neck, spreading down his chest as he nears climax.
“What was that?” he whispers, his breath coming in puffs against Chris’ ear. He curls his fingers just short of Chris’ prostate and smirks against the skin of his shoulder.
“Please, please,” Chris repeats, an endless litany of begging, and Karl pushes his fingers gently against that spot just as he lets go of Chris’ cock.
The effect is immediate, and Chris comes all over Karl’s stomach, almost crying with the release, his hands digging into Karl’s shoulders so hard they nearly break the skin. His mouth is fixed against Karl’s collarbone, and Karl can feel his eyelashes against the skin of his neck, fluttering like trapped moths drawn to light.
When Chris eventually looks up, Karl draws a hand along his stomach through the come, and licks it slowly, in front of Chris’ face. Chris can’t look at him; he’s still too sensitive after release to get hard again, and if he looks at Karl he probably will. He’s still panting, and his breath comes hard against Karl’s skin. “I’m gonna make you come even harder,” Karl promises, and Chris seems torn between agreeing and wanting to move away, still not ready. “I thought I was the one who was supposed to be sensitive,” chuckles Karl, and Chris attempts to sulk, but he’s too tired to make the effort. Karl just licks his hand again and smirks.
Chris tries to speak; “you’re a teasing bastard, you know that?” but the words come out croaky and hoarse, his throat’s so wrecked from Karl fucking it. Karl’s eyes visibly widen as he realises this and he slides a hand around the back of Chris’ neck to drag him forward so he can kiss him, sliding his tongue into Chris’ mouth and letting Chris taste himself on Karl’s tongue.
Chris moans into his mouth, his lips sliding wetly against Karl’s, and he moves his hands slowly up Karl’s chest, feeling his skin hot and sweaty underneath him. His cock drags against Karl’s thigh, through the sticky mess of come between them and Chris gasps, his cock still too sensitive for him to get hard but appreciating the friction anyway.
Karl pulls away and smirks up at Chris, his hand sliding down the curve of his spine to grip his ass, “I got just the thing to follow that up.”
Chris raises an eyebrow and sits back as Karl leans down to grope around in his jeans pocket, rolling his eyes and smiling as Karl brings up a joint and a lighter.
“Aren’t you the rebellious one,” Chris says, scooting down Karl’s body so he can rest his chin on Karl’s chest.
Karl smiles lazily, “I got it off Zach.”
Chris chuckles into Karl’s skin, tasting sweat and come at the corners of his mouth. “Of course you did.”
Karl flicks the lighter on, an orange glow bathing his face and Chris just watches him as he lowers his eyes to the flame and sucks in a breath as the paper catches, crumbling into the heart of the fire.
Karl exhales, a cloud of sticky sweet smoke wafting into Chris’ senses, and he looks up from under his eyelashes, noting the way when Karl exhales, he does it so slowly, the smoke curls out from the corners of his lips, sinfully slow and tempting.
“You gonna share?” he asks, a wicked smile on his face as he crawls up the length of Karl’s body to slide a tongue over his top lip, plump and soft under his tongue, tasting weed and licking the smoke from the corners of his mouth.
When Karl replies his voice is husky and rough; whether intentional or not it sends a shiver down Chris’ spine, “I think you’ve got that covered.”
Chris shifts and feels Karl’s cock twitch against his stomach. “God, already?” he asks, but it comes out more breathless than he intended, and he grabs the joint from Karl to distract him, inhaling too quickly and feeling it burn down his throat, lighting his body up from the inside.
He can feel Karl watching him, the way his lips fit around the roach and the shape they make when he exhales; his head is getting thick and fuzzy and he’s becoming more and more aware of Karl’s body underneath his. The sharp tang of his sweat and the insistent bulge of his cock pressing against him.
Chris inhales and leans up to press his lips to Karl’s, pushing his lips apart with his tongue and breathing gently into Karl’s mouth, letting the smoke trickle slowly from between his lips. Karl’s hands slip up his back, dipping down to his sides then settling on his shoulder blades, pulling him closer until the heat from Chris’ body is almost too much. He can feel drops of sweat tracing their way down the sides of his face and when Chris pulls away he kisses his way across Karl’s face, licking at the beads he finds there.
Through the foggy mess of Karl’s thoughts he realises that Chris is gently thrusting against him, his cock slipping against his stomach and nudging his own cock insistently; they’re not hard but that doesn’t stop lightning sharp shivers of pleasure being elicited from the sensitive skin. Their movements are lazy and slow, there’s no longer any frantic rush to get off, just the steady pleasure and low thrum of desire between them, mingled with the hazy smoke and sharp edge of intoxication.
Karl slips a hand between them and runs a finger down Chris’ cock, slowly, looking up at him from under hooded eyelids, his pupils blown and Chris gasps into the thick air, dropping his head to suck on the skin of Karl’s neck. Chris slips a leg in between Karl’s thighs so their cocks brush against each other and he nips and sucks a path up Karl’s neck until he reaches his lips, kissing him again, lazily thrusting his tongue into Karl’s mouth, tasting weed and sex and come.
He feels, more than hears Karl sigh into his mouth and Chris pulls away. “Y’alright?” His voice is still rough and hoarse.
Karl nods lethargically, letting his head fall back against the arm of the sofa; “yeah, m’alright.” He stubs the joint out on the ashtray on the table behind his head and slides both hands up around Chris, pulling him in closer until Chris’ head is nestled comfortably in the groove of his neck.
“We’re still naked, sticky, ‘nd this will probably be horrifically awkward in the morning,” Chris mumbles into Karl’s neck, his breath hot against his skin.
“Mm,” Karl rumbles agreeably, “I’m okay with the naked thing, ‘nd if it’s awkward I’ll pretend to be asleep so you can slip out and do the walk of shame back to your room.”
Chris’ eyelids are heavy and he lets them fall shut, muttering, “we’re still going bowling tomorrow right though? Won’t let some random sex ruin my chances of beating you into the ground.”
Karl’s slow laugh reverberates through his whole body, “yeah Chris, we’ll still go bowling.”
Chris sighs, his limbs feel heavy and his brain foggy as he’s dragged into sleep but the steady movement of Karl’s chest under his right hand makes him smile unconsciously into the curve of Karl’s neck.
~end.
For anyone who hasn't seen The Truth about Demons and is curious as to which particular ~nipple scene~ we were referring to, take a look.
