Porn Battle V (the fifth dimension)
Porn Battle V (the fifth dimension) IS A GOTo join the battle, all you need to do is pick a prompt (any prompt, even if it's your own) and write the porniest bit of fiction you can, or make the hottest manip or painting or vid or song. Make it as kinky or as subtle as you like, but make it hot, melt your readers, create a stampede to all the ( Read more... )
He is drunk, both of them are, but not enough that it matters anymore than the lingering adrenaline high of one more entry in the W column, and plenty of running yards shared out between the two of them. Also, Riggins did shove him into the wall, but he does that kind of stupid-ass thing all the time, and Smash doesn’t normally respond by spinning him round and grabbing at his shoulders until there’s too much mouth and tongue involved to think about calling it wrestling.
Plus, Riggins is right - he’s no leader, so if anyone’s responsible for this outbreak of insanity, it must be Smash. Riggs might have an inch on Smash, but he’s scrawny, and Smash could’ve tossed him the length of the locker room if he’d wanted. Sure, after that, Riggins would have charged him, because he’s crazy that way, and he takes all kinds of beatings he doesn’t need to. That’s normally the kind of thing Waverly comes out with, but you don’t need to be her kind of smart to know Riggins picks fights on purpose, because he’s bored, or pissed at himself, or pissed at someone else, and figures drunken brawling’ll fix it for him.
Smash isn’t exactly sure where this bit fits in. He supposes getting down on your knees on a dirty floor to suck your team-mate’s dick, in Dillon Texas, of all places, could be considered destructive behaviour. But then Smash is the one letting him do it. Maybe they’re more drunk than he thought.
Riggins’ mouth is hot, and he’s focussing with the kind of determination that means he maybe is drunk, and his efforts are going into not falling over as much as the blow-job. It’s a good blow-job though, better than a rally girl, except his hair is kind of lank with grease and sweat where it hits Smash’s leg. Smash pushes it back behind Riggs’ ear, which makes him look up with a weird ‘what the fuck?’ kind of glare. Riggins’s hands have been pretty still: one on the floor, one gripping Smash’s thigh. He pulls his mouth back, working over the head of Smash’s dick with the tip of his tongue, and an edge of teeth behind his lips which only hurts for a second. Riggins slips his hand down to rub at Smash’s balls and pull at the base of his dick, and now it feels exactly like the good drugs - everything in his body shuddering with fire because it’s working far too well. Smash barely shoves him away in time.
Riggins sprawls backwards with a splatter of cum over his chest, where his shirt was lying open. He rubs at the spot where it hit his cheek, scowling. “What the hell, Williams?”
“Sorry,” Smash says, because they may not be friends but they’re teammates and besides that, they’re guys, and there are rules about these things. There are other rules too, if you don’t want to be the kind of guy who lets other guys blow him in dark rooms. “Just give me a sec,” he pants out. Riggs is smiling now, which is normally a danger sign. But they’re drunk, and they won today, and right now they’re both flying.
“A hand, two-zero?” Riggins asks, like it’s the funniest thing ever.
“Since you asked nicely, thirty-three,” he counters, because there are rules, after all.
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*Lyla cheers on the boy-porn*
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Oh god, yes, this was hot and I love your eye for detail, and that "A hand two-zero?"
And The Smash's comeback?
ROFLMAO.
As funny as it was HOT.
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