Truth in a Dare | Pinto | PG-13
Title: Truth in a Dare
Series: Pinto
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~1,140
Warnings: Selfishly written, un’betaed fluff.
Summary: Classic Pinto kissing on a dare.
Disclaimer: Somewhere over the slash rainbow of my mind, it happened. But not in Kansas, unfortunately.
A/N: littlebirdtold requested a Pinto kiss on a dare.
A shriek of laughter followed by a chorus of gasps and giggles from the crowded living room had Chris cracking a smile. Karl had been right to suggest the cast celebrate the movie’s wrap-up by renting out a big cabin up by Lake Tahoe, and spending the weekend getting shit-faced and sunburnt.
Chris sported a classy farmer’s tan and a red, peeling nose from falling asleep outside after one too many of Simon’s mystery cocktails. He was fairly sure narcotics had been involved in their concoction, because it was the only way to explain the complete and utter unconsciousness that had gripped him after just two.
Dinner had been fifty bucks worth of Thai food - and since Zoe had insisted they use plates and eat around the table like an epic, alcohol-fuelled co-dependent family, someone had been stuck with the dishes. Chris had volunteered before people could begin to whine; he was happy to have some time to himself, just to wind down from everything and everyone.
The window above the sink was open, and a cool, damp evening breeze rolled past the filmy white curtains to kiss his cheeks. The radio beside him crackled and fizzed with poor reception, but continued to spill out The Cure’s ‘Love Song’. The smell of the clean lake air and the sharp citrus washing liquid filled Chris’ senses as he hummed with the music and idly scrubbed at soapy plates and wine glasses.
The past month’s tension seemed to wash away with the grime of Pad Thai and peanut sauce as Chris methodically rinsed and set dishes aside to dry. As much as he loved being part of the group, it was moments like these that eased his mood, his mind, his muscles. Chris was always one to find himself easily entangled in his worries and concerns; so right now, with quiet laughter and a staticy song and a couple glasses of wine smoothing out the edges, Chris was happy.
Twittering and murmurs wheedled into Chris’ consciousness, and he grinned to himself, wondering just what the hell everyone was doing in there. Although, truth be told, it was probably better not to know. Never again would he look at maple syrup or paintbrushes the same way. Or cherries. Or Anton. Good God.
Chris hadn’t noticed the silence that soon descended upon the house. He shook his hips to the beats of Diana Ross’ soulful sounds and splashed around in the bubbles a bit more than was probably necessary. But come on - bubbles.
“Hey, Pine.”
“Wh-”
Zach was there, and his hilariously shaved eyebrows were closing in as he bracketed Chris’ face in his palms, thumbs at the unshaven ridge of Chris’ jaw. Hot lips that tasted of spicy chilli and tangy Mexican beer descended upon Chris’ mouth, Zach’s tongue opening Chris up like fucking Christmas.
Chris was utterly prone; his hands covered in sudsy, pink washing gloves that remained still with shock in the warm dishwater. Any thoughts past what the hell and finally obliterated in an explosive fashion.
His initial cry of surprise was swallowed by deep, invasive licks that left tremors rippling straight to his toes. Zach’s fingertips were insistent at Chris’ chin, tilting his face up for a more dramatic angle at which to plunder Chris’ wet, willing mouth. Zach’s lithe frame gravitated towards Chris’ side; canted forward until one hand was fisted at the nape of Chris’ neck and the other returned to Chris’ burning cheek.
Chris felt split open by Zach’s expert tongue, burnt through with desperation that had been simmering just beneath his skin for fucking months. Zach hummed low in his throat like some contented predator as he nipped at Chris’ bottom lip, lapped at the sore spot, and bit down harder. A flame shot through Chris’ stomach, direct to his swelling dick, and his soft gasp was the only sound to echo in his ears.
Ducking his head down enough to smear his lips over the sweet corner of Zach’s mouth, Chris managed to simply say, “Zach.”
Without warning, a great symphony of hoots and hollers sounded from the doorway. Chris snapped back in tandem with Zach, whose face was no doubt the same colour as Chris’ sunburnt one. Chris was well aware that as he turned to lean against the rim of the sink, he was dripping soapy water all over his bare feet - but that was the least of his concerns.
If his mind would actually function enough to remind him of what he should be thinking of, other than Zach’s mouth. Jesus fucking Christ, who had a mouth like that?
“Sorry, Chris,” John said with a grin that was anything but apologetic, “But we were all choking on the UST. It had to be done.”
“UST? Is that a reference to a body part I don’t want to hear about?”
“Unresolved sexual tension,” Zoe said with a shit-eating grin, “We were playing truth or dare -“
“And we dared Zach to,” Anton said and waved a hand vaguely, “Y’know. Go for the gold.”
“Captain’s gold!” Karl said, as if his drunken Trekker ass had just discovered the most hilarious joke ever.
Chris could sense Zach pointedly not squirming beside him. He blinked at his friends. He was too perplexed and buzzed from the kiss and booze to even find the nerve to be annoyed. It wasn’t like he hadn’t kissed Karl’s brains out that one night when everyone had discovered fifty-cent shot specials.
“Well that’s not creepy at all. You guys watching and the doorway.”
“In all fairness,” Zach finally said, “They were a really quiet audience.”
Chris swept a look up Zach’s face, and found that his cheeks were still rosy and his gaze still too-dark. A flood of relief rushed through his limbs to see that hazy veneer of lust leaving a shine in Zach’s eyes and a flush to his kiss-bruised lips. Good.
“They win the creeper’s award for being as disturbingly quiet as possible.” Chris gave them all two pink-gloved thumbs up. “Now GTFO.”
John shook his head. “Harsh, dude. Harsh. We were doin’ you a solid.”
Chris was already looking at Zach, John’s words barely sounding over the thundering in his ears. “I’ve got it from here, man. Thanks.”
“Aw, they’re gonna do it again,” Zoe said dreamily as she wandered out with the remainder of the cast.
Zach swallowed visibly, his stare fixed intently on Chris. “Are we?”
“Mmm,” Chris said in agreement as he inclined his chin in an invitation. “But only after you give me a truth.”
Zach’s eyelashes lowered as he leaned in. “What?”
“The pink gloves turn you on, don’t they?”
Zach laughed as he snaked his arms firmly around Chris’ waist and tugged him close and snug. “True facts.”
Then they kissed again.
Series: Pinto
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~1,140
Warnings: Selfishly written, un’betaed fluff.
Summary: Classic Pinto kissing on a dare.
Disclaimer: Somewhere over the slash rainbow of my mind, it happened. But not in Kansas, unfortunately.
A/N: littlebirdtold requested a Pinto kiss on a dare.
A shriek of laughter followed by a chorus of gasps and giggles from the crowded living room had Chris cracking a smile. Karl had been right to suggest the cast celebrate the movie’s wrap-up by renting out a big cabin up by Lake Tahoe, and spending the weekend getting shit-faced and sunburnt.
Chris sported a classy farmer’s tan and a red, peeling nose from falling asleep outside after one too many of Simon’s mystery cocktails. He was fairly sure narcotics had been involved in their concoction, because it was the only way to explain the complete and utter unconsciousness that had gripped him after just two.
Dinner had been fifty bucks worth of Thai food - and since Zoe had insisted they use plates and eat around the table like an epic, alcohol-fuelled co-dependent family, someone had been stuck with the dishes. Chris had volunteered before people could begin to whine; he was happy to have some time to himself, just to wind down from everything and everyone.
The window above the sink was open, and a cool, damp evening breeze rolled past the filmy white curtains to kiss his cheeks. The radio beside him crackled and fizzed with poor reception, but continued to spill out The Cure’s ‘Love Song’. The smell of the clean lake air and the sharp citrus washing liquid filled Chris’ senses as he hummed with the music and idly scrubbed at soapy plates and wine glasses.
The past month’s tension seemed to wash away with the grime of Pad Thai and peanut sauce as Chris methodically rinsed and set dishes aside to dry. As much as he loved being part of the group, it was moments like these that eased his mood, his mind, his muscles. Chris was always one to find himself easily entangled in his worries and concerns; so right now, with quiet laughter and a staticy song and a couple glasses of wine smoothing out the edges, Chris was happy.
Twittering and murmurs wheedled into Chris’ consciousness, and he grinned to himself, wondering just what the hell everyone was doing in there. Although, truth be told, it was probably better not to know. Never again would he look at maple syrup or paintbrushes the same way. Or cherries. Or Anton. Good God.
Chris hadn’t noticed the silence that soon descended upon the house. He shook his hips to the beats of Diana Ross’ soulful sounds and splashed around in the bubbles a bit more than was probably necessary. But come on - bubbles.
“Hey, Pine.”
“Wh-”
Zach was there, and his hilariously shaved eyebrows were closing in as he bracketed Chris’ face in his palms, thumbs at the unshaven ridge of Chris’ jaw. Hot lips that tasted of spicy chilli and tangy Mexican beer descended upon Chris’ mouth, Zach’s tongue opening Chris up like fucking Christmas.
Chris was utterly prone; his hands covered in sudsy, pink washing gloves that remained still with shock in the warm dishwater. Any thoughts past what the hell and finally obliterated in an explosive fashion.
His initial cry of surprise was swallowed by deep, invasive licks that left tremors rippling straight to his toes. Zach’s fingertips were insistent at Chris’ chin, tilting his face up for a more dramatic angle at which to plunder Chris’ wet, willing mouth. Zach’s lithe frame gravitated towards Chris’ side; canted forward until one hand was fisted at the nape of Chris’ neck and the other returned to Chris’ burning cheek.
Chris felt split open by Zach’s expert tongue, burnt through with desperation that had been simmering just beneath his skin for fucking months. Zach hummed low in his throat like some contented predator as he nipped at Chris’ bottom lip, lapped at the sore spot, and bit down harder. A flame shot through Chris’ stomach, direct to his swelling dick, and his soft gasp was the only sound to echo in his ears.
Ducking his head down enough to smear his lips over the sweet corner of Zach’s mouth, Chris managed to simply say, “Zach.”
Without warning, a great symphony of hoots and hollers sounded from the doorway. Chris snapped back in tandem with Zach, whose face was no doubt the same colour as Chris’ sunburnt one. Chris was well aware that as he turned to lean against the rim of the sink, he was dripping soapy water all over his bare feet - but that was the least of his concerns.
If his mind would actually function enough to remind him of what he should be thinking of, other than Zach’s mouth. Jesus fucking Christ, who had a mouth like that?
“Sorry, Chris,” John said with a grin that was anything but apologetic, “But we were all choking on the UST. It had to be done.”
“UST? Is that a reference to a body part I don’t want to hear about?”
“Unresolved sexual tension,” Zoe said with a shit-eating grin, “We were playing truth or dare -“
“And we dared Zach to,” Anton said and waved a hand vaguely, “Y’know. Go for the gold.”
“Captain’s gold!” Karl said, as if his drunken Trekker ass had just discovered the most hilarious joke ever.
Chris could sense Zach pointedly not squirming beside him. He blinked at his friends. He was too perplexed and buzzed from the kiss and booze to even find the nerve to be annoyed. It wasn’t like he hadn’t kissed Karl’s brains out that one night when everyone had discovered fifty-cent shot specials.
“Well that’s not creepy at all. You guys watching and the doorway.”
“In all fairness,” Zach finally said, “They were a really quiet audience.”
Chris swept a look up Zach’s face, and found that his cheeks were still rosy and his gaze still too-dark. A flood of relief rushed through his limbs to see that hazy veneer of lust leaving a shine in Zach’s eyes and a flush to his kiss-bruised lips. Good.
“They win the creeper’s award for being as disturbingly quiet as possible.” Chris gave them all two pink-gloved thumbs up. “Now GTFO.”
John shook his head. “Harsh, dude. Harsh. We were doin’ you a solid.”
Chris was already looking at Zach, John’s words barely sounding over the thundering in his ears. “I’ve got it from here, man. Thanks.”
“Aw, they’re gonna do it again,” Zoe said dreamily as she wandered out with the remainder of the cast.
Zach swallowed visibly, his stare fixed intently on Chris. “Are we?”
“Mmm,” Chris said in agreement as he inclined his chin in an invitation. “But only after you give me a truth.”
Zach’s eyelashes lowered as he leaned in. “What?”
“The pink gloves turn you on, don’t they?”
Zach laughed as he snaked his arms firmly around Chris’ waist and tugged him close and snug. “True facts.”
Then they kissed again.