Fic: Intoxication
Title: Intoxication
Author: jenlynn820
Pairing: Chris Pine/Zachary Quinto
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: I don’t know Zach or Chris and I make no profit from this work.
Summary: Chris is drunk on whiskey, Zach is drunk on Chris.
Beta: eruberueth
Word Count: 2400
The door was opened and then closed. Next came the click of expensive shoes on hardwood. Then nothing. A half smile curled Zach’s mouth as he shut his book with a soft thud and turned his head. There was Chris, long and lean, standing just inside the doorway of the bedroom. Zach dragged his eyes slowly from head to toe. Chris’ light brown hair was still perfectly styled. Chris had one hand at his waist, his tuxedo jacket open, revealing a crisp white shirt. He leaned casually on the doorframe, hip jutted out just a little, just enough to give him an air of casual confidence, just enough to ooze raw sexuality.
Zach’s eyes slid back up Chris, appreciative, smile deepening as he really took in the color of that tux. It was a blue that wasn’t navy, wasn’t electric, wasn’t royal. When the light hit it there was a sheen, an incandescence that Zach wasn’t convinced didn’t emanate from Chris himself. This blue tuxedo would have been absurd on anyone else, would have been an eyesore. But Chris held himself with just the right amount of swagger, with the perfect glint of danger in his exceedingly blue eyes, that on him, there was nothing ridiculous about it at all.
It almost worked, too. The suit that fit like a glove, the impeccably coifed hair, the insouciant little smirk tugging on Chris’ insanely kissable lips. Zach focused on Chris’ face now, on the ruddiness of his cheeks, on the heat that crept onto his throat, making the skin deliciously pink against the stark white collar of that tuxedo shirt. The tip of Chris’ nose was also adorably red, matching his cheeks.
Zach swung his legs over the side of the bed and padded over to Chris. Chris stayed right where he was. Zach stopped in front of the other man and reached out; laying his hand flat against Chris’ flushed cheek. Chris’ skin was warm, almost feverish to the touch. Zach slid his hand along his jaw line, against the side of Chris’ neck. “Hey,” Zach said, thumb smudging over Chris’ lower lip.
Chris smiled then, a loopy, silly smile. “Hi.”
Zach let out a breathy bit of laughter. He watched the way Chris’ eyes lit up, the way the skin crinkled into deep lines at the corners. The blue of Chris’ eyes was wild, enhanced by the color of the tuxedo, set off by the white shirt. But they weren’t clear like they could be; they weren’t the color of a bright summer sky. The blue was watery, diluted. Chris’ eyes were glassy, unfocused. That, combined with the redness of his face and that glorious, manic grin meant only one thing. “You’re drunk,” Zach said.
Chris sniffled and took a stumbling step forward, forcing Zach to catch him, to hold tight to Chris’ shoulders so he didn’t fall over. “They had some seriously good shit at the second after party.”
“I bet,” Zach said, stepping backwards with Chris in tow until he got Chris close to the bed. He used his hands to guide Chris around and then gave Chris a soft nudge. Chris flopped back on to the bed with a heavy thump, legs hanging over the edge.
“You know, I honestly don’t fucking know why my publicist sent me to this thing,” Chris said as Zach moved around the bed and helped pull off the jacket, tossing it onto a chair in the corner.
“To give you a cover story for being back in NY,” Zach offered.
Chris snorted. “I don’t belong at these things. You belong at these things.”
Zach laughed now. “I’m not sure if you’re insulting me or complimenting me,” he said, getting to his knees at the side of the bed and pulling one shoe, then the other off of Chris’ feet, before doing the same with the socks. The argyle socks. Zach had to smile. He got to his feet and slid onto the bed next to Chris. “You know, I have a thing for argyle socks,” he said, running his hand down Chris’ chest, over his dress shirt.
“I know,” Chris said, his voice soft, lazy.
Zach pulled the bowtie loose, tugged the piece of silk away from the collar, throwing it aside. He brought his fingers to the buttons of Chris’ shirt, undoing them slowly, letting the panels fall open. Zach pushed the white fabric away from Chris’ skin, revealing the expanse of his chest, the smoothness of his stomach, the scattering of golden hair. Zach bent down, nuzzled his nose to the crook of Chris’ neck, inhaling the scent of soap and cologne and Chris.
Zach smoothed his mouth along Chris’ throat, his collar bone. Chris just lay there, drunk and pliant, moving only to curl his shoulders and shrug off the shirt completely. Zach let his fingers brush along Chris’ side, his palms rubbing over Chris’ nipples, his thumbs tracing the faint outline of Chris’ ribcage. Zach licked and sucked at the skin of Chris’ belly, mouth inching down down down until he reached the low waist of Chris’ tuxedo pants.
Zach pushed his body up, straddled Chris’ legs. He stroked his fingers down Chris’ torso, listened intently to the pleasured little sounds that fell from Chris’ lips. Zach looked down, could see how hard Chris was, his cock pushing against the taut fabric of his pants. Zach undid the button and slid the zipper down with one long slow tug. Chris let out a hiss, his eyelids fluttering, his face flushing more deeply. Zach pushed his hand inside Chris’ pants, fingertips light against Chris’ skin, and then finally brushing softly against his length.
“Zach,” Chris said, his voice catching, Zach’s name coming out in a stutter of breath.
Zach stretched his body out, pressing himself against Chris’ naked frame, hand still buried inside Chris’ pants, fingers still caressing Chris’ cock. Zach kissed Chris’ neck, his jaw, his closed eyelids and then finally touched his heated mouth. “I’m not sure we should do this,” Zach whispered, his voice thick with desire, belying his words.
Chris’ eyes opened half way. They were glazed, dreamy. Chris brought his hand to the back of Zach’s neck, squeezing. “I am,” he said, giving Zach a sloppy, wet, kiss that tasted like expensive whiskey and cigarettes.
“You’re really drunk,” Zach said. “You should sleep it off.”
“NnnnHnnn,” Chris murmured. “I want you.” Chris kissed Zach again, with more intent, more passion.
Zach gave in to the kiss, to the way Chris was stroking his back, to how good Chris’ hands felt as they slipped beneath the elastic of Zach’s boxers and kneaded his ass. Zach drew his lips away from Chris’, looked into his bleary, liquid blue eyes. “I’d be taking advantage,” he said.
Chris laughed. It was throaty and deep and rattled Chris’ chest. “So take advantage,” he said, tugging on Zach’s boxers until Zach moved and allowed Chris to strip them from his body. Chris spread his legs wide, hooked one around Zach’s back, used his heel to bring Zach closer. “I want you to. You can do anything you want to me,” Chris rasped.
Zach’s insides quivered at that offer. He brushed his mouth against Chris’, then along his chin, his neck, as his hand groped to the side table and found the bottle of lube. He lifted his head and met Chris’ gaze. “I like you this way,” he said, caressing Chris’ cheek, his jaw line, feeling fresh stubble prick at the pads of his fingers. “Wanting me, needing me. I really could do anything to you,” Zach mused.
Chris’ eyes swam; the look in them was hazy with alcohol, soaked with lust, and unbearably vulnerable. “You can,” Chris said.
Zach uncapped the bottle and squeezed the liquid onto his fingers, coating them and then slipping them between Chris’ thighs, teasing his entrance with slow circles, easing Chris open, watching his Adam’s apple bob, before pushing inside, past one knuckle, then the second. Chris was relaxed already, from the liquor he’d consumed, from the unfailing trust he had in Zach. Zach rushed a little, stretching Chris with impatient strokes, his own cock throbbing painfully as he watched Chris’ blush deepen on his cheeks, spread down his throat.
Chris’ eyes were closed, his lips parted, when Zach withdrew his fingers. Chris made a soft sound that made Zach’s heart thrum. Zach poured more lube onto his hand, slicked his cock quickly and shifted his body. He planted a hand on Chris’ thigh, squeezed the muscles and pressed himself into Chris. Chris’ body held Zach in its heat. Zach drew in a ragged breath; let himself soak up the silken warmth of Chris, the rhythmic pulse of Chris’ body around his cock. Zach dipped his head low, touched his mouth to Chris’. “Sometimes I think it’ll kill me,” Zach said, the confession falling unbidden from his lips. “How can you feel so good, how do I live without this when you’re not here?”
“Always here,” Chris said, fingers spreading out on Zach’s chest, right over his heart.
Zach blinked, sudden, unexpected emotion filling him, making it hard to breathe. He kissed Chris hard. Zach didn’t need air, he just needed this, needed Chris’ mouth and Chris’ heat. The kiss was wild and rough as Zach started to rock his hips.
Chris gasped into Zach’s mouth, arched his back, pushed Zach deeper inside his body. “Don’t hold back,” he said. “Do what you want to me, take advantage.”
Zach lost control at those words, at the raw need in Chris’ voice, the tightness of Chris’ body, the heat of his skin, his compliant body. Zach rammed himself down, over and over, setting a mad, abandoned pace. Chris yielded to him, moved with him, opened his legs wider, kissed Zach desperately. Zach’s hips stuttered, the thrusts uneven, artless. Zach reached for Chris, wrapping his fist around Chris’ cock and roughly stroking him, pressing his thumb along the vein, squeezing and jerking his length.
Chris trembled beneath Zach, licked his lips, let out soft pleas for more. Zach kissed Chris, pounded into him. “I love you,” he whispered into Chris’ ear just as Chris came, spilling over Zach’s hand. Zach moaned, slammed his mouth to Chris’ and slammed his hips down; thrusting into Chris a few more times before he came too, melting down against Chris in a heap.
Zach inhaled Chris’ scent like it was oxygen, trying to catch his breath. He lifted his head a bit and pressed his lips to Chris’ shoulder. “You should turn up drunk on my doorstep in a ridiculous blue tuxedo more often,” he opined. Chris didn’t answer so Zach smiled. “What, did I offend your decidedly pedestrian fashion sense?” No answer. “Chris?” Zach said, this time lifting his head enough to see Chris’ face.
Zach couldn’t suppress the laugh. Chris was the picture of serenity, eyes closed, mouth slack, and snoring lightly. “Chris,” Zach said, more loudly and this time Chris startled a bit, eyes popping open.
“What? Oh, hey, Zach…”
“Hey, Chris, have a nice dream?” Zach said, arching an eyebrow.
“I think I got hammered at the MET Gala. And I think Kate Hudson hit on me.”
“Did she?”
“Mmm… and all I could think of was that song, you know? Whoa here she comes, watch out boy she’ll chew you up,” Chris sang, grinning at the end.
“She’s a man-eater. Yeah,” Zach said. “Anything else?”
“I came back here and we fucked. That I remember pretty well,” Chris said, sleepily, drunkenly, as he kissed Zach’s lips.
“I was going to be pretty offended if you didn’t,” Zach said, smiling now.
Chris pulled Zach’s head down, so that Zach rested it on his chest while Chris stroked his back. There were a few beats of silence. “You couldn’t ever take advantage of me, just so you know,” Chris said.
“I wouldn’t,” Zach said.
“I know,” Chris breathed. “That’s what makes you so sweet, Zach Quinto.”
“Just don’t let it get out, okay? I have a reputation to uphold,” Zach said.
Zach could hear Chris smile when he spoke. “Your secret is safe. No one but me will know that you’re not the too cool for school pretentious hipster you pretend to be.”
“Thank you,” Zach said.
“You're welcome,” Chris said. Chris yawned then, touching Zach's neck, fingertips dancing over the back of Zach’s skull. “Ralph Lauren.”
Zach lifted his head. He looked at Chris and pointed at himself. “Zach Quinto. You really are wasted,” Zach said.
Chris giggled. A whisky induced giggle that made his cheeks even redder. “Thanks, Einstein. The tux you referred to as ridiculous. It’s by Ralph Lauren. Ralph himself complimented me on how well I wore it.”
Chris looked like a five year old kid who was proud to have tied his own shoelaces. “He was probably coming on to you.”
Chris snorted. “His wife was there.”
Zach shrugged. “Threesome. I hear they’re into some kinky shit.”
Now Chris was apoplectic with laughter. “Only you would hear gossip about Ralph fucking Lauren and his wife.”
“I happen to know people,” Zach said.
“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” Chris said, closing his eyes, letting out a loud yawn. “I really am drunk,” he announced.
Zach smirked, brought his head down and kissed Chris’ neck lightly. “We could try to fuck it off some more,” he said, making his tone velvety and seductive. A soft sound came from Chris. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Zach sucked on Chris’ neck, rolled his hips experimentally inside of Chris, caressed his hand down Chris’ side. Chris was unresponsive, unmoving, and then Zach heard it. That tell-tale sound from earlier. But he honestly couldn’t believe it so he looked down for visual confirmation and then he laughed, unable to contain himself. Chris was snoring again, lashes a dark smudge against his cheeks, lips parted into a soft O. Zach shook his head a little and pressed a gentle kiss to Chris’ mouth. “Sweet dreams,” Zach said, settling himself down against Chris’ body, still buried inside him, as he closed his own eyes.
A few beats later Zach felt Chris’ arms slink around him, felt Chris nuzzle his face against the crook of Zach’s shoulder and settle in for the night. Warm, tender emotion spread through Zach as he held Chris close and let himself drift off.
~fin~
Author: jenlynn820
Pairing: Chris Pine/Zachary Quinto
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: I don’t know Zach or Chris and I make no profit from this work.
Summary: Chris is drunk on whiskey, Zach is drunk on Chris.
Beta: eruberueth
Word Count: 2400
The door was opened and then closed. Next came the click of expensive shoes on hardwood. Then nothing. A half smile curled Zach’s mouth as he shut his book with a soft thud and turned his head. There was Chris, long and lean, standing just inside the doorway of the bedroom. Zach dragged his eyes slowly from head to toe. Chris’ light brown hair was still perfectly styled. Chris had one hand at his waist, his tuxedo jacket open, revealing a crisp white shirt. He leaned casually on the doorframe, hip jutted out just a little, just enough to give him an air of casual confidence, just enough to ooze raw sexuality.
Zach’s eyes slid back up Chris, appreciative, smile deepening as he really took in the color of that tux. It was a blue that wasn’t navy, wasn’t electric, wasn’t royal. When the light hit it there was a sheen, an incandescence that Zach wasn’t convinced didn’t emanate from Chris himself. This blue tuxedo would have been absurd on anyone else, would have been an eyesore. But Chris held himself with just the right amount of swagger, with the perfect glint of danger in his exceedingly blue eyes, that on him, there was nothing ridiculous about it at all.
It almost worked, too. The suit that fit like a glove, the impeccably coifed hair, the insouciant little smirk tugging on Chris’ insanely kissable lips. Zach focused on Chris’ face now, on the ruddiness of his cheeks, on the heat that crept onto his throat, making the skin deliciously pink against the stark white collar of that tuxedo shirt. The tip of Chris’ nose was also adorably red, matching his cheeks.
Zach swung his legs over the side of the bed and padded over to Chris. Chris stayed right where he was. Zach stopped in front of the other man and reached out; laying his hand flat against Chris’ flushed cheek. Chris’ skin was warm, almost feverish to the touch. Zach slid his hand along his jaw line, against the side of Chris’ neck. “Hey,” Zach said, thumb smudging over Chris’ lower lip.
Chris smiled then, a loopy, silly smile. “Hi.”
Zach let out a breathy bit of laughter. He watched the way Chris’ eyes lit up, the way the skin crinkled into deep lines at the corners. The blue of Chris’ eyes was wild, enhanced by the color of the tuxedo, set off by the white shirt. But they weren’t clear like they could be; they weren’t the color of a bright summer sky. The blue was watery, diluted. Chris’ eyes were glassy, unfocused. That, combined with the redness of his face and that glorious, manic grin meant only one thing. “You’re drunk,” Zach said.
Chris sniffled and took a stumbling step forward, forcing Zach to catch him, to hold tight to Chris’ shoulders so he didn’t fall over. “They had some seriously good shit at the second after party.”
“I bet,” Zach said, stepping backwards with Chris in tow until he got Chris close to the bed. He used his hands to guide Chris around and then gave Chris a soft nudge. Chris flopped back on to the bed with a heavy thump, legs hanging over the edge.
“You know, I honestly don’t fucking know why my publicist sent me to this thing,” Chris said as Zach moved around the bed and helped pull off the jacket, tossing it onto a chair in the corner.
“To give you a cover story for being back in NY,” Zach offered.
Chris snorted. “I don’t belong at these things. You belong at these things.”
Zach laughed now. “I’m not sure if you’re insulting me or complimenting me,” he said, getting to his knees at the side of the bed and pulling one shoe, then the other off of Chris’ feet, before doing the same with the socks. The argyle socks. Zach had to smile. He got to his feet and slid onto the bed next to Chris. “You know, I have a thing for argyle socks,” he said, running his hand down Chris’ chest, over his dress shirt.
“I know,” Chris said, his voice soft, lazy.
Zach pulled the bowtie loose, tugged the piece of silk away from the collar, throwing it aside. He brought his fingers to the buttons of Chris’ shirt, undoing them slowly, letting the panels fall open. Zach pushed the white fabric away from Chris’ skin, revealing the expanse of his chest, the smoothness of his stomach, the scattering of golden hair. Zach bent down, nuzzled his nose to the crook of Chris’ neck, inhaling the scent of soap and cologne and Chris.
Zach smoothed his mouth along Chris’ throat, his collar bone. Chris just lay there, drunk and pliant, moving only to curl his shoulders and shrug off the shirt completely. Zach let his fingers brush along Chris’ side, his palms rubbing over Chris’ nipples, his thumbs tracing the faint outline of Chris’ ribcage. Zach licked and sucked at the skin of Chris’ belly, mouth inching down down down until he reached the low waist of Chris’ tuxedo pants.
Zach pushed his body up, straddled Chris’ legs. He stroked his fingers down Chris’ torso, listened intently to the pleasured little sounds that fell from Chris’ lips. Zach looked down, could see how hard Chris was, his cock pushing against the taut fabric of his pants. Zach undid the button and slid the zipper down with one long slow tug. Chris let out a hiss, his eyelids fluttering, his face flushing more deeply. Zach pushed his hand inside Chris’ pants, fingertips light against Chris’ skin, and then finally brushing softly against his length.
“Zach,” Chris said, his voice catching, Zach’s name coming out in a stutter of breath.
Zach stretched his body out, pressing himself against Chris’ naked frame, hand still buried inside Chris’ pants, fingers still caressing Chris’ cock. Zach kissed Chris’ neck, his jaw, his closed eyelids and then finally touched his heated mouth. “I’m not sure we should do this,” Zach whispered, his voice thick with desire, belying his words.
Chris’ eyes opened half way. They were glazed, dreamy. Chris brought his hand to the back of Zach’s neck, squeezing. “I am,” he said, giving Zach a sloppy, wet, kiss that tasted like expensive whiskey and cigarettes.
“You’re really drunk,” Zach said. “You should sleep it off.”
“NnnnHnnn,” Chris murmured. “I want you.” Chris kissed Zach again, with more intent, more passion.
Zach gave in to the kiss, to the way Chris was stroking his back, to how good Chris’ hands felt as they slipped beneath the elastic of Zach’s boxers and kneaded his ass. Zach drew his lips away from Chris’, looked into his bleary, liquid blue eyes. “I’d be taking advantage,” he said.
Chris laughed. It was throaty and deep and rattled Chris’ chest. “So take advantage,” he said, tugging on Zach’s boxers until Zach moved and allowed Chris to strip them from his body. Chris spread his legs wide, hooked one around Zach’s back, used his heel to bring Zach closer. “I want you to. You can do anything you want to me,” Chris rasped.
Zach’s insides quivered at that offer. He brushed his mouth against Chris’, then along his chin, his neck, as his hand groped to the side table and found the bottle of lube. He lifted his head and met Chris’ gaze. “I like you this way,” he said, caressing Chris’ cheek, his jaw line, feeling fresh stubble prick at the pads of his fingers. “Wanting me, needing me. I really could do anything to you,” Zach mused.
Chris’ eyes swam; the look in them was hazy with alcohol, soaked with lust, and unbearably vulnerable. “You can,” Chris said.
Zach uncapped the bottle and squeezed the liquid onto his fingers, coating them and then slipping them between Chris’ thighs, teasing his entrance with slow circles, easing Chris open, watching his Adam’s apple bob, before pushing inside, past one knuckle, then the second. Chris was relaxed already, from the liquor he’d consumed, from the unfailing trust he had in Zach. Zach rushed a little, stretching Chris with impatient strokes, his own cock throbbing painfully as he watched Chris’ blush deepen on his cheeks, spread down his throat.
Chris’ eyes were closed, his lips parted, when Zach withdrew his fingers. Chris made a soft sound that made Zach’s heart thrum. Zach poured more lube onto his hand, slicked his cock quickly and shifted his body. He planted a hand on Chris’ thigh, squeezed the muscles and pressed himself into Chris. Chris’ body held Zach in its heat. Zach drew in a ragged breath; let himself soak up the silken warmth of Chris, the rhythmic pulse of Chris’ body around his cock. Zach dipped his head low, touched his mouth to Chris’. “Sometimes I think it’ll kill me,” Zach said, the confession falling unbidden from his lips. “How can you feel so good, how do I live without this when you’re not here?”
“Always here,” Chris said, fingers spreading out on Zach’s chest, right over his heart.
Zach blinked, sudden, unexpected emotion filling him, making it hard to breathe. He kissed Chris hard. Zach didn’t need air, he just needed this, needed Chris’ mouth and Chris’ heat. The kiss was wild and rough as Zach started to rock his hips.
Chris gasped into Zach’s mouth, arched his back, pushed Zach deeper inside his body. “Don’t hold back,” he said. “Do what you want to me, take advantage.”
Zach lost control at those words, at the raw need in Chris’ voice, the tightness of Chris’ body, the heat of his skin, his compliant body. Zach rammed himself down, over and over, setting a mad, abandoned pace. Chris yielded to him, moved with him, opened his legs wider, kissed Zach desperately. Zach’s hips stuttered, the thrusts uneven, artless. Zach reached for Chris, wrapping his fist around Chris’ cock and roughly stroking him, pressing his thumb along the vein, squeezing and jerking his length.
Chris trembled beneath Zach, licked his lips, let out soft pleas for more. Zach kissed Chris, pounded into him. “I love you,” he whispered into Chris’ ear just as Chris came, spilling over Zach’s hand. Zach moaned, slammed his mouth to Chris’ and slammed his hips down; thrusting into Chris a few more times before he came too, melting down against Chris in a heap.
Zach inhaled Chris’ scent like it was oxygen, trying to catch his breath. He lifted his head a bit and pressed his lips to Chris’ shoulder. “You should turn up drunk on my doorstep in a ridiculous blue tuxedo more often,” he opined. Chris didn’t answer so Zach smiled. “What, did I offend your decidedly pedestrian fashion sense?” No answer. “Chris?” Zach said, this time lifting his head enough to see Chris’ face.
Zach couldn’t suppress the laugh. Chris was the picture of serenity, eyes closed, mouth slack, and snoring lightly. “Chris,” Zach said, more loudly and this time Chris startled a bit, eyes popping open.
“What? Oh, hey, Zach…”
“Hey, Chris, have a nice dream?” Zach said, arching an eyebrow.
“I think I got hammered at the MET Gala. And I think Kate Hudson hit on me.”
“Did she?”
“Mmm… and all I could think of was that song, you know? Whoa here she comes, watch out boy she’ll chew you up,” Chris sang, grinning at the end.
“She’s a man-eater. Yeah,” Zach said. “Anything else?”
“I came back here and we fucked. That I remember pretty well,” Chris said, sleepily, drunkenly, as he kissed Zach’s lips.
“I was going to be pretty offended if you didn’t,” Zach said, smiling now.
Chris pulled Zach’s head down, so that Zach rested it on his chest while Chris stroked his back. There were a few beats of silence. “You couldn’t ever take advantage of me, just so you know,” Chris said.
“I wouldn’t,” Zach said.
“I know,” Chris breathed. “That’s what makes you so sweet, Zach Quinto.”
“Just don’t let it get out, okay? I have a reputation to uphold,” Zach said.
Zach could hear Chris smile when he spoke. “Your secret is safe. No one but me will know that you’re not the too cool for school pretentious hipster you pretend to be.”
“Thank you,” Zach said.
“You're welcome,” Chris said. Chris yawned then, touching Zach's neck, fingertips dancing over the back of Zach’s skull. “Ralph Lauren.”
Zach lifted his head. He looked at Chris and pointed at himself. “Zach Quinto. You really are wasted,” Zach said.
Chris giggled. A whisky induced giggle that made his cheeks even redder. “Thanks, Einstein. The tux you referred to as ridiculous. It’s by Ralph Lauren. Ralph himself complimented me on how well I wore it.”
Chris looked like a five year old kid who was proud to have tied his own shoelaces. “He was probably coming on to you.”
Chris snorted. “His wife was there.”
Zach shrugged. “Threesome. I hear they’re into some kinky shit.”
Now Chris was apoplectic with laughter. “Only you would hear gossip about Ralph fucking Lauren and his wife.”
“I happen to know people,” Zach said.
“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” Chris said, closing his eyes, letting out a loud yawn. “I really am drunk,” he announced.
Zach smirked, brought his head down and kissed Chris’ neck lightly. “We could try to fuck it off some more,” he said, making his tone velvety and seductive. A soft sound came from Chris. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Zach sucked on Chris’ neck, rolled his hips experimentally inside of Chris, caressed his hand down Chris’ side. Chris was unresponsive, unmoving, and then Zach heard it. That tell-tale sound from earlier. But he honestly couldn’t believe it so he looked down for visual confirmation and then he laughed, unable to contain himself. Chris was snoring again, lashes a dark smudge against his cheeks, lips parted into a soft O. Zach shook his head a little and pressed a gentle kiss to Chris’ mouth. “Sweet dreams,” Zach said, settling himself down against Chris’ body, still buried inside him, as he closed his own eyes.
A few beats later Zach felt Chris’ arms slink around him, felt Chris nuzzle his face against the crook of Zach’s shoulder and settle in for the night. Warm, tender emotion spread through Zach as he held Chris close and let himself drift off.
~fin~