FIC: Tequila (Plushenko/Lambiel, NC-17)
Title: Tequila
Pairing: Evgeni Plushenko/Stéphane Lambiel
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: This is a work on fiction. None of it ever happened except in my mind.
Warnings: None
Summary: There is a party after a KOI show, tequila shots are had and inhibitions are lowered. PWP.
A/N: Many thanks to properly_stored for the quick beta, and pourtant and the rest of the middle-aged stans for encouragement. ♥
Concrit is much appreciated. I promise I can take it. Oh, and I adore Yana, so let's just say this is an AU where Zhenya isn't married.
Evgeni is watching him dance. Well, 'dance' seems like an understatement - Stéphane is giving himself to the music, all movement and hips and sex as he is grinding against the woman in a way that would be obscene, were it anyone but him.
Okay, maybe it is a little obscene even if it is Stéphane, because the moves he's making right now would be enough to make even Johnny raise an eyebrow or two. Evgeni shakes his head. Only Stéphane could get away with this, this sex-with-clothes-on that he calls dancing without being slapped at least once. As it is, everyone else is watching and actually cheering them on, which he thinks might be a really bad idea.
It's a small party, just a room they borrowed in the hotel where they could play music and not annoy anyone. The atmosphere tonight is relaxed and happy; they've finished yet another show and tomorrow, all they have to do is get to Prague at some point so most people there are letting loose and drinking for the first time while they've been on the road, really. Especially Stéphane. All it really takes for him to get in the mood for a party is a beat he can dance to, anyone who's spent a little time with him knows that, but tonight Evgeni's seen him take shots as well as drinks and he now seems positively high. He throws his head back to reveal that long neck and Evgeni can't look away, has to let his eyes wander down over collarbones and the slight sheen of sweat on the skin visible beneath them.
Stéphane dips her just a bit too low and they both have to struggle to stay on their feet, their laughter ringing out even over the music. Then the song ends, and Stéphane and the woman hug and laugh while some of the onlookers applaud them. Evgeni turns around and is heading for the makeshift bar when an arm around his waist and hot breath on his ear brings him to a stop.
"Was I good?" is the first thing Stéphane says and really, if Evgeni wasn't so used to him he'd be rolling his eyes right now. Instead he tries to ignore the heat of Stéphane's body beside him and think of an appropriate answer. In the end, he just nods. He doesn't trust his mouth around Stéphane; it seems to say the weirdest things without his will even in his second language.
Stéphane leans against him and sighs, "I am exhausted. Let's have a drink." Without waiting for an answers, he steers them both in direction of the table that holds all the beverages they've gathered tonight. There, he instantly abandons Evgeni in favour of the tequila and some lemons he produces from god knows where (although in a way, it's not entirely surprising that Stéphane has found time to acquire some lemons during their busy day just so he can have tequila shots now.)
While Stéphane slices the lemons with the ease of practice (somehow he has also managed to charm himself to a knife and a cutting board), Evgeni grabs a couple of shot glasses and fills them up. The scent of tequila is strong and for a moment he begins to doubt that it's a good idea to be doing these shots now, memories of past tequila-induced disasters floating through his mind, but then Stéphane hands him the salt and he figures just one shot won't hurt.
Salt, tequila, lemon blend in his taste buds while the shot burns its way down his throat, and it's horrible in a really fantastic way. He squeezes his eyes shut while chewing on the lemon, and when he opens them again, Stéphane is licking what must be lemon juice off his thumb. He grins at Evgeni.
"I haven't had a tequila shot in so long," he says with a happy little sigh. "This was a good idea." Then he runs a hand through his hair, making his bangs stick up wildly. The sight of him suddenly hits Evgeni. He's wearing a black shirt tonight, the sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms and the top buttons undone, his dark jeans are low and snug on his hips and his grin is positively radiant. For some reason (he'll probably blame the bad influence of the tequila later) Evgeni just has to reach out, just has to tuck that stray tuft of hair in with the rest, has to let his fingertips linger on that soft hair just a bit too long. Stéphane's grin fades, but he looks at Evgeni with a calm expression, his eyes narrowing a bit and it feels to Evgeni as if they're asking him questions he can't really answer right now, so he looks away.
Stéphane, however, simply passes him the salt and pours two new shots, and this time Evgeni forgets that tequila could ever be a bad idea.
The second shot is easier, as always, and he takes a moment to consider the way the different tastes cancel each other out. He thinks he can almost feel the alcohol rushing through his blood stream along with the beat of whatever music is playing now, the bass that's throbbing in his bones. With the beer he drank earlier, he's beginning to feel rather light-headed, and it's nice, he thinks, drinking with Stéphane like this.
Stéphane, who is now looking at him with an almost devious expression.
"You know," he says, brushing the remaining salt off his hand, "I don't think I can dance any more tonight."
"So?" Evgeni asks, waiting for him to get to the point - and there has to be a point, because Stéphane can always dance more.
"So." Stéphane leans in conspiratorially. "Let's steal the tequila and run."
This is unexpected, even for Stéphane. "Run?"
He nods eagerly. "Yes, run. Leave the party. Steal all the tequila for ourselves. Drink it all and feel terrible tomorrow. Are you with me?"
This is another thing he'll probably blame on the tequila later, but right now that sounds like the best idea ever, so he nods just as eagerly at Stéphane, who breaks into another wide grin.
And so Evgeni takes the tequila and the glasses, and Stéphane takes the salt and lemons, and they actually run past all the other people and out through the door and don't stop running until they reach the elevator, giggling like teenagers all the way. It isn't until they're inside the elevator that it occurs to Evgeni to ask where they're even going.
"My room," Stéphane says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. Which is how Evgeni finds himself in Stéphane's room around midnight, feeling momentarily awkward.
The first thing Stéphane does is to turn on his iPod (of course he's brought speakers for the thing) and shuffle through it until he finds something that suits his mood. It turns out to be some upbeat pop rock that makes him dance a little as he walk up to Evgeni, who's still rooted to the floor just inside the door.
Now that they're away from the party, Evgeni can smell Stéphane's scent as he steps up close: the sweet, flowery part of it is faint now and mostly it's just Stéphane, a musky scent that almost takes him by surprise with its masculinity. That scent and the look in Stéphane's eyes makes the blood flow to Evgeni's groin, and when he realises this, he can feel the surprise painted in his own face. However, Stéphane merely smiles and takes the bottle and the glasses out of his hands, his fingers lingering over Evgeni's just a moment before he turns around.
They end up sitting on the floor for some reason Evgeni doesn't quite understand, cross-legged and barefoot, facing each other with their stolen goods in between them. Stéphane smiles at Evgeni before he slowly and deliberately licks the salt off his hand, keeping eye contact the whole time until he takes his shot. It takes all of Evgeni's willpower to do his own shot after that, and he mutters a few choice words in Russian around the lemon slice afterwards. Stéphane merely gives him a smile that tries to be sweet and innocent but isn't entirely successful.
Another shot done and now Evgeni remembers exactly why he thought tequila might be a bad idea, because his treacherous mouth has discovered that his brain is beginning to feel the effects of alcohol and now he's talking about body shots of all things, and Stéphane is laughing. Then the laugh turns into a grin and Stéphane seems almost cat-like as he leans forward and asks in a strangely casual tone:
"So, Zhenya." He seems to like the way the nickname sounds, because he repeats it like he's tasting it. "Zhenya, Zhenya, Zhenya. Have you ever been with another man?"
Evgeni's mouth goes dry and he feels a heady rush of anticipation. "I-- No, I've never..."
Stéphane leans even closer, bracing himself with a hand on the floor. ”But you want to, right? That's why you came with me.”
He wants to deny it but then Stéphane closes the distance between them and presses his lips to Evgeni's. They're soft and warm and gone all too soon, but just that contact is enough to send the blood rushing to Evgeni's cock as if he's a teenager again. Stéphane pulls back just a little, looks Evgeni in the eye and raises an eyebrow in silent challenge. And what else can Evgeni do?
He buries his fingers in Stéphane's hair and pulls him back. Their lips crash together a bit too violently but Stéphane doesn't seem to mind, because now his tongue is licking at Evgeni's mouth, seeking entrance which he is granted a second later. Stéphane's kiss is eager and forceful, almost overwhelming, and he tastes like tequila and lemon. Their tongues stroke along one another in a random, staccato rhythm that Evgeni completely loses himself in until he suddenly finds himself pushed on his back while his T-shirt is swiftly removed. Stéphane straddles him and kisses and nibbles at his neck, his stubble scraping against Evgeni's jaw.
It's a strange time to be philosophical, but as Evgeni buries his hand in Stéphane's hair again he realises that he really did follow him up here in the hope that it would lead to this, and blaming the tequila is out of the question because his mind feels very clear right now. He thinks of watching Stéphane dance and flirt and disappear with others through the years, but then he doesn't think of much at all because Stéphane's hot tongue finds his nipple and oh fuck, that feels good.
Stéphane's tongue swirls around lazily, then his teeth close gently around the nipple and Evgeni can't help but release a low moan. Stéphane raises his head and grins triumphantly at him.
"I always thought you might have sensitive nipples." he says, and then he puts his tongue and teeth to use on the other nipple, which causes Evgeni to arch his back and thrust his hips and his already hard cock up against Stéphane, who makes an appreciative noise and sits up straight. Then he crawls off Evgeni and sits down on his knees in between his legs instead, pausing to unzip his own jeans and adjust his straining cock before he makes quick work of pulling Evgeni's trousers and briefs down.
Evgeni emits an involuntary gasp at the feeling of cold air against his erection and Stéphane smiles at him, looking him right in the eye even as he takes hold of his cock and licks a broad trail from the balls and up the underside of the shaft. He pauses for a minute, blowing air on the head, before he rounds his lips and takes in the whole thing right down to the base. It's hard for Evgeni not to moan so he does, because for one sweet delicious moment the tip of his cock is brushing against the back of Stéphane's throat and he's surrounded by wet heat and suction. Then Stéphane starts moving, his tongue swirling in intricate patterns while Evgeni's cock slides in an out of his mouth, and it's all Evgeni can do to keep still and not actually fuck his mouth, but that would be rude and inconsiderate so instead he just digs his fingers into the carpet and focuses on breathing. Until Stéphane sucks one of his balls into his mouth and hums along with the music, his soft hair touching Evgeni's cock, and then it's hard to breathe at all.
Stéphane teases the slit with his tongue one last time before he releases Evgeni and sits back on his heels. Feeling he should reciprocate, Evgeni sits up and reaches for Stéphane, but before he can do anything, Stéphane kisses him slowly, languidly instead. Evgeni can taste himself on Stéphane's tongue, the slightly bitter taste of pre-come. Deciding he needs to kick himself into action, he begins undoing the buttons on Stéphane's shirt, which takes some time because Stéphane bites Evgeni's lower lip and practically purrs, but eventually he's able to slide the fabric off Stéphane's shoulders and let his hands roam.
Stéphane's back is warm and strong and smooth. He traces a finger up the spine and feels Stéphane shiver in response and bury his hands in Evgeni's hair. Evgeni traces the muscles back down and around to Stéphane's sides, to the lean stomach and up to the nipples, which he teases with his thumbs, earning another shiver from Stéphane. There is hair on his chest and Evgeni follows that hair down again, across the smooth stomach and down below the navel where the hair is like a trail of crumbs leading his hands down beneath the band of Stéphane's briefs.
The moment one of Evgeni's hands closes around the shaft, Stéphane moans into Evgeni's mouth and the kiss grows more heated and frantic. Evgeni's free hand pushes the briefs down to free Stéphane's cock while the other begins stroking in a steady rhythm. It's an awkward angle, but it seems to work because soon enough Stéphane has to break the kiss and lean his head on Evgeni's shoulder.
Stéphane's forehead is hot and damp against Evgeni's skin and he makes a little noise in his throat and then Evgeni just can't help himself anymore, he just has to see what it's like. He nudges Stéphane back and bends down to take an experimental lap at Stéphane's cock. There's a tiny bit of pre-come but otherwise it doesn't taste like much of anything, so he decides to just take in his mouth what he can and give it his best shot. He knows he's not as good as Stéphane (who has more experience with these things); he can't take it all in so he has to use his hand as well like some women have done with him, and as far as technique goes, well, he's really just guessing. Still, after a moment he manages to settle in a rhythm and Stéphane hums, letting his hands rest gently on Evgeni's head, fingers stroking his hair.
Stéphane feels hot and hard under his tongue and he's beginning to make needy little noises that really turn Evgeni on, so he rewards him by bringing up his free hand to stroke his balls while he sucks on the head of his cock, using his tongue to tease the slit while Stéphane moans loudly. He's just priding himself on a particularly well done bit of multitasking when Stéphane pulls hard at Evgeni's hair, dragging him up for a hard and fast kiss, before he looks him in the eye.
"I want you to fuck me now. Is that okay with you?"
Evgeni thinks of asking him just what kind of a question that is but decides against it, opting for a simple "Yes" instead. The second the word has left his lips, Stéphane jumps up.
"You. Bed, naked, now," he orders, kicking off his jeans on the way towards a suitcase. Evgeni doesn't much like being told what to do, but considering the circumstances, he lets it slide and quickly kicks his pants and briefs off the one ankle they're still on. He's only just sat down on the bed and begun to feel a little awkward there, naked and erect, when he feels the bed dip behind him. It's Stéphane kneeling on the bed, now naked (oh so gloriously naked) and holding up a bottle of lube and a condom as if he were holding up a trophy.
"Just sit back," he says, pushing Evgeni back against the headboard. "I'll do this part."
He tosses the condom onto the bed next to Evgeni and opens the bottle with a deft hand, spreading his knees a little further apart. A squeeze on the bottle and a clear little pool of lube forms in his hand. Stéphane looks right at Evgeni as he reaches behind him, then he hisses and bites his lips, letting his head roll back. He's putting on a show, Evgeni knows this but he's rapt. The slim frame, the flexed abs, smooth skin and hard cock: he's beautiful and he knows it.
"I want to see." The words leave Evgeni's mouth before he even realises it, but he feels an intense need to see what Stéphane is doing. Stéphane obliges with a smile and a slight chuckle, laying down on his back instead, legs spread apart. He puts some more lube on his fingers and then he inserts two fingers into himself and moans. Evgeni can't help but moan too, as his hand automatically finds his cock and starts moving in the same slow, lazy rhythm in which Stéphane is fucking himself with his fingers.
Stéphane inserts a third finger and Evgeni can see how he's stretched wide and open. If anyone had told him a week ago that he'd find the sight erotic he's have laughed, but right now, he's captivated by it. It seems like forever and yet just a moment until Stéphane pulls out his fingers, props himself up on his elbows and looks at Evgeni, breathing heavily and with a faint blush spreading on his cheeks.
"Now," he breathes, and Evgeni doesn't think he's ever gotten a condom on as fast as he does now. He crawls over to Stéphane and kisses him hard before he grabs the bottle and squirts some lube onto his cock, brings Stéphane's calves to rest of his shoulder, positions himself and pushes.
There is resistance at first, but then the head of Evgeni's cock breaks through the ring of the muscle and pushes inside, and Stéphane gasps and bites his lip. Evgeni pushes slowly and steadily inside, where it's hot and tight (tight tight tight), until Stéphane grabs his ass and pulls him in the rest of the way until he's buried to the hilt. Stéphane groans and then laughs, an exhilarated little laugh that makes him throw his head back and expose his neck. Evgeni takes the opportunity to lick at his collarbone, then bite into his shoulder and Stéphane moans again.
"Fuck me," he says huskily, and Evgeni takes a deep breath and starts moving, slowly at first to get used to it. It's so hot and tight and fantastic that he can't really think at first, but as the fog of his mind clears out a little he remembers that time a woman stuck a finger up his ass and found his prostate for him, so he tries a few angles until he finds the one that makes Stéphane's voice rise an octave as he cries out something in French.
"There, yes. There, oh god," he breathes out, and then he gives Evgeni a radiant smile and pulls him down for a rough and hurried kiss.
The edge of the bed is right behind Stéphane's head, so Evgeni grabs onto it for leverage and starts thrusting into Stéphane, harder and faster now and Stéphane seems to like it because he's moaning quite loudly now, a high and needy sound that sends shivers down Evgeni's spine. He kisses him to try to take his mind off the feeling of being inside him, the pressure that's building in him and stretching the skin tight over his balls, and Stéphane answers with a lazy open-mouthed kiss, his tongue teasing Evgeni's as his hand reaches in between them to grab hold of his own cock and stroke it in a frantic pace.
He moans something in French again and Evgeni only catches his own name but fuck, it sounds sexy as hell and he's really not going to last long now. He's just about to say something when Stéphane's entire body clenches and he moans once, loudly, then goes still as his come splatters onto his own chest. The feeling of Stéphane clenching around him drives Evgeni over the edge and he groans as he thrusts as deeply inside Stéphane as he can, feeling the push of his orgasm rolling through his body.
He rests his forehead against Stéphane's and stays inside him until he's gone limp, then he kisses him and pulls out slowly, pulls the condom carefully of his tender cock, ties a knot with trembling fingers and throws it on the floor before he looks at Stéphane again. Stéphane looks utterly spent, still panting as he lies there naked on the bed, flushed and sweaty and with his own come on his chest and stomach, hair stuck to his forehead and a huge grin on his face, looking very much like the cat that got the cream.
Stéphane tries to raise his head to look at Evgeni but has to give up, apparently too exhausted to move, so Evgeni takes a corner of the sheets to wipe his chest and helps him lie down in the proper end of the bed, pulling the duvet up to cover him. He wonders what the etiquette is in situations like this, whether he should get his clothes and leave (which he doesn't feel like right now because he's tired and his own bed is cold) but then Stéphane pulls him down with him, settling in with a hand on his waist.
"Thank you," he says. "That was just what I needed."
Evgeni thinks Stéphane is being weird again but says nothing, merely smooths the hair back from Stéphane's forehead and kisses him softly on the lips. Stéphane is already falling asleep and Evgeni thinks he should probably turn the lights off but he's drifting too, lulled by the sound of Stéphane's soft breathing. He's almost asleep when Stéphane makes a little noise like humming and smiles.
"I love tequila," he mumbles, and Evgeni chuckles and thinks that yes, so does he.
Pairing: Evgeni Plushenko/Stéphane Lambiel
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: This is a work on fiction. None of it ever happened except in my mind.
Warnings: None
Summary: There is a party after a KOI show, tequila shots are had and inhibitions are lowered. PWP.
A/N: Many thanks to properly_stored for the quick beta, and pourtant and the rest of the middle-aged stans for encouragement. ♥
Concrit is much appreciated. I promise I can take it. Oh, and I adore Yana, so let's just say this is an AU where Zhenya isn't married.
Evgeni is watching him dance. Well, 'dance' seems like an understatement - Stéphane is giving himself to the music, all movement and hips and sex as he is grinding against the woman in a way that would be obscene, were it anyone but him.
Okay, maybe it is a little obscene even if it is Stéphane, because the moves he's making right now would be enough to make even Johnny raise an eyebrow or two. Evgeni shakes his head. Only Stéphane could get away with this, this sex-with-clothes-on that he calls dancing without being slapped at least once. As it is, everyone else is watching and actually cheering them on, which he thinks might be a really bad idea.
It's a small party, just a room they borrowed in the hotel where they could play music and not annoy anyone. The atmosphere tonight is relaxed and happy; they've finished yet another show and tomorrow, all they have to do is get to Prague at some point so most people there are letting loose and drinking for the first time while they've been on the road, really. Especially Stéphane. All it really takes for him to get in the mood for a party is a beat he can dance to, anyone who's spent a little time with him knows that, but tonight Evgeni's seen him take shots as well as drinks and he now seems positively high. He throws his head back to reveal that long neck and Evgeni can't look away, has to let his eyes wander down over collarbones and the slight sheen of sweat on the skin visible beneath them.
Stéphane dips her just a bit too low and they both have to struggle to stay on their feet, their laughter ringing out even over the music. Then the song ends, and Stéphane and the woman hug and laugh while some of the onlookers applaud them. Evgeni turns around and is heading for the makeshift bar when an arm around his waist and hot breath on his ear brings him to a stop.
"Was I good?" is the first thing Stéphane says and really, if Evgeni wasn't so used to him he'd be rolling his eyes right now. Instead he tries to ignore the heat of Stéphane's body beside him and think of an appropriate answer. In the end, he just nods. He doesn't trust his mouth around Stéphane; it seems to say the weirdest things without his will even in his second language.
Stéphane leans against him and sighs, "I am exhausted. Let's have a drink." Without waiting for an answers, he steers them both in direction of the table that holds all the beverages they've gathered tonight. There, he instantly abandons Evgeni in favour of the tequila and some lemons he produces from god knows where (although in a way, it's not entirely surprising that Stéphane has found time to acquire some lemons during their busy day just so he can have tequila shots now.)
While Stéphane slices the lemons with the ease of practice (somehow he has also managed to charm himself to a knife and a cutting board), Evgeni grabs a couple of shot glasses and fills them up. The scent of tequila is strong and for a moment he begins to doubt that it's a good idea to be doing these shots now, memories of past tequila-induced disasters floating through his mind, but then Stéphane hands him the salt and he figures just one shot won't hurt.
Salt, tequila, lemon blend in his taste buds while the shot burns its way down his throat, and it's horrible in a really fantastic way. He squeezes his eyes shut while chewing on the lemon, and when he opens them again, Stéphane is licking what must be lemon juice off his thumb. He grins at Evgeni.
"I haven't had a tequila shot in so long," he says with a happy little sigh. "This was a good idea." Then he runs a hand through his hair, making his bangs stick up wildly. The sight of him suddenly hits Evgeni. He's wearing a black shirt tonight, the sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms and the top buttons undone, his dark jeans are low and snug on his hips and his grin is positively radiant. For some reason (he'll probably blame the bad influence of the tequila later) Evgeni just has to reach out, just has to tuck that stray tuft of hair in with the rest, has to let his fingertips linger on that soft hair just a bit too long. Stéphane's grin fades, but he looks at Evgeni with a calm expression, his eyes narrowing a bit and it feels to Evgeni as if they're asking him questions he can't really answer right now, so he looks away.
Stéphane, however, simply passes him the salt and pours two new shots, and this time Evgeni forgets that tequila could ever be a bad idea.
The second shot is easier, as always, and he takes a moment to consider the way the different tastes cancel each other out. He thinks he can almost feel the alcohol rushing through his blood stream along with the beat of whatever music is playing now, the bass that's throbbing in his bones. With the beer he drank earlier, he's beginning to feel rather light-headed, and it's nice, he thinks, drinking with Stéphane like this.
Stéphane, who is now looking at him with an almost devious expression.
"You know," he says, brushing the remaining salt off his hand, "I don't think I can dance any more tonight."
"So?" Evgeni asks, waiting for him to get to the point - and there has to be a point, because Stéphane can always dance more.
"So." Stéphane leans in conspiratorially. "Let's steal the tequila and run."
This is unexpected, even for Stéphane. "Run?"
He nods eagerly. "Yes, run. Leave the party. Steal all the tequila for ourselves. Drink it all and feel terrible tomorrow. Are you with me?"
This is another thing he'll probably blame on the tequila later, but right now that sounds like the best idea ever, so he nods just as eagerly at Stéphane, who breaks into another wide grin.
And so Evgeni takes the tequila and the glasses, and Stéphane takes the salt and lemons, and they actually run past all the other people and out through the door and don't stop running until they reach the elevator, giggling like teenagers all the way. It isn't until they're inside the elevator that it occurs to Evgeni to ask where they're even going.
"My room," Stéphane says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. Which is how Evgeni finds himself in Stéphane's room around midnight, feeling momentarily awkward.
The first thing Stéphane does is to turn on his iPod (of course he's brought speakers for the thing) and shuffle through it until he finds something that suits his mood. It turns out to be some upbeat pop rock that makes him dance a little as he walk up to Evgeni, who's still rooted to the floor just inside the door.
Now that they're away from the party, Evgeni can smell Stéphane's scent as he steps up close: the sweet, flowery part of it is faint now and mostly it's just Stéphane, a musky scent that almost takes him by surprise with its masculinity. That scent and the look in Stéphane's eyes makes the blood flow to Evgeni's groin, and when he realises this, he can feel the surprise painted in his own face. However, Stéphane merely smiles and takes the bottle and the glasses out of his hands, his fingers lingering over Evgeni's just a moment before he turns around.
They end up sitting on the floor for some reason Evgeni doesn't quite understand, cross-legged and barefoot, facing each other with their stolen goods in between them. Stéphane smiles at Evgeni before he slowly and deliberately licks the salt off his hand, keeping eye contact the whole time until he takes his shot. It takes all of Evgeni's willpower to do his own shot after that, and he mutters a few choice words in Russian around the lemon slice afterwards. Stéphane merely gives him a smile that tries to be sweet and innocent but isn't entirely successful.
Another shot done and now Evgeni remembers exactly why he thought tequila might be a bad idea, because his treacherous mouth has discovered that his brain is beginning to feel the effects of alcohol and now he's talking about body shots of all things, and Stéphane is laughing. Then the laugh turns into a grin and Stéphane seems almost cat-like as he leans forward and asks in a strangely casual tone:
"So, Zhenya." He seems to like the way the nickname sounds, because he repeats it like he's tasting it. "Zhenya, Zhenya, Zhenya. Have you ever been with another man?"
Evgeni's mouth goes dry and he feels a heady rush of anticipation. "I-- No, I've never..."
Stéphane leans even closer, bracing himself with a hand on the floor. ”But you want to, right? That's why you came with me.”
He wants to deny it but then Stéphane closes the distance between them and presses his lips to Evgeni's. They're soft and warm and gone all too soon, but just that contact is enough to send the blood rushing to Evgeni's cock as if he's a teenager again. Stéphane pulls back just a little, looks Evgeni in the eye and raises an eyebrow in silent challenge. And what else can Evgeni do?
He buries his fingers in Stéphane's hair and pulls him back. Their lips crash together a bit too violently but Stéphane doesn't seem to mind, because now his tongue is licking at Evgeni's mouth, seeking entrance which he is granted a second later. Stéphane's kiss is eager and forceful, almost overwhelming, and he tastes like tequila and lemon. Their tongues stroke along one another in a random, staccato rhythm that Evgeni completely loses himself in until he suddenly finds himself pushed on his back while his T-shirt is swiftly removed. Stéphane straddles him and kisses and nibbles at his neck, his stubble scraping against Evgeni's jaw.
It's a strange time to be philosophical, but as Evgeni buries his hand in Stéphane's hair again he realises that he really did follow him up here in the hope that it would lead to this, and blaming the tequila is out of the question because his mind feels very clear right now. He thinks of watching Stéphane dance and flirt and disappear with others through the years, but then he doesn't think of much at all because Stéphane's hot tongue finds his nipple and oh fuck, that feels good.
Stéphane's tongue swirls around lazily, then his teeth close gently around the nipple and Evgeni can't help but release a low moan. Stéphane raises his head and grins triumphantly at him.
"I always thought you might have sensitive nipples." he says, and then he puts his tongue and teeth to use on the other nipple, which causes Evgeni to arch his back and thrust his hips and his already hard cock up against Stéphane, who makes an appreciative noise and sits up straight. Then he crawls off Evgeni and sits down on his knees in between his legs instead, pausing to unzip his own jeans and adjust his straining cock before he makes quick work of pulling Evgeni's trousers and briefs down.
Evgeni emits an involuntary gasp at the feeling of cold air against his erection and Stéphane smiles at him, looking him right in the eye even as he takes hold of his cock and licks a broad trail from the balls and up the underside of the shaft. He pauses for a minute, blowing air on the head, before he rounds his lips and takes in the whole thing right down to the base. It's hard for Evgeni not to moan so he does, because for one sweet delicious moment the tip of his cock is brushing against the back of Stéphane's throat and he's surrounded by wet heat and suction. Then Stéphane starts moving, his tongue swirling in intricate patterns while Evgeni's cock slides in an out of his mouth, and it's all Evgeni can do to keep still and not actually fuck his mouth, but that would be rude and inconsiderate so instead he just digs his fingers into the carpet and focuses on breathing. Until Stéphane sucks one of his balls into his mouth and hums along with the music, his soft hair touching Evgeni's cock, and then it's hard to breathe at all.
Stéphane teases the slit with his tongue one last time before he releases Evgeni and sits back on his heels. Feeling he should reciprocate, Evgeni sits up and reaches for Stéphane, but before he can do anything, Stéphane kisses him slowly, languidly instead. Evgeni can taste himself on Stéphane's tongue, the slightly bitter taste of pre-come. Deciding he needs to kick himself into action, he begins undoing the buttons on Stéphane's shirt, which takes some time because Stéphane bites Evgeni's lower lip and practically purrs, but eventually he's able to slide the fabric off Stéphane's shoulders and let his hands roam.
Stéphane's back is warm and strong and smooth. He traces a finger up the spine and feels Stéphane shiver in response and bury his hands in Evgeni's hair. Evgeni traces the muscles back down and around to Stéphane's sides, to the lean stomach and up to the nipples, which he teases with his thumbs, earning another shiver from Stéphane. There is hair on his chest and Evgeni follows that hair down again, across the smooth stomach and down below the navel where the hair is like a trail of crumbs leading his hands down beneath the band of Stéphane's briefs.
The moment one of Evgeni's hands closes around the shaft, Stéphane moans into Evgeni's mouth and the kiss grows more heated and frantic. Evgeni's free hand pushes the briefs down to free Stéphane's cock while the other begins stroking in a steady rhythm. It's an awkward angle, but it seems to work because soon enough Stéphane has to break the kiss and lean his head on Evgeni's shoulder.
Stéphane's forehead is hot and damp against Evgeni's skin and he makes a little noise in his throat and then Evgeni just can't help himself anymore, he just has to see what it's like. He nudges Stéphane back and bends down to take an experimental lap at Stéphane's cock. There's a tiny bit of pre-come but otherwise it doesn't taste like much of anything, so he decides to just take in his mouth what he can and give it his best shot. He knows he's not as good as Stéphane (who has more experience with these things); he can't take it all in so he has to use his hand as well like some women have done with him, and as far as technique goes, well, he's really just guessing. Still, after a moment he manages to settle in a rhythm and Stéphane hums, letting his hands rest gently on Evgeni's head, fingers stroking his hair.
Stéphane feels hot and hard under his tongue and he's beginning to make needy little noises that really turn Evgeni on, so he rewards him by bringing up his free hand to stroke his balls while he sucks on the head of his cock, using his tongue to tease the slit while Stéphane moans loudly. He's just priding himself on a particularly well done bit of multitasking when Stéphane pulls hard at Evgeni's hair, dragging him up for a hard and fast kiss, before he looks him in the eye.
"I want you to fuck me now. Is that okay with you?"
Evgeni thinks of asking him just what kind of a question that is but decides against it, opting for a simple "Yes" instead. The second the word has left his lips, Stéphane jumps up.
"You. Bed, naked, now," he orders, kicking off his jeans on the way towards a suitcase. Evgeni doesn't much like being told what to do, but considering the circumstances, he lets it slide and quickly kicks his pants and briefs off the one ankle they're still on. He's only just sat down on the bed and begun to feel a little awkward there, naked and erect, when he feels the bed dip behind him. It's Stéphane kneeling on the bed, now naked (oh so gloriously naked) and holding up a bottle of lube and a condom as if he were holding up a trophy.
"Just sit back," he says, pushing Evgeni back against the headboard. "I'll do this part."
He tosses the condom onto the bed next to Evgeni and opens the bottle with a deft hand, spreading his knees a little further apart. A squeeze on the bottle and a clear little pool of lube forms in his hand. Stéphane looks right at Evgeni as he reaches behind him, then he hisses and bites his lips, letting his head roll back. He's putting on a show, Evgeni knows this but he's rapt. The slim frame, the flexed abs, smooth skin and hard cock: he's beautiful and he knows it.
"I want to see." The words leave Evgeni's mouth before he even realises it, but he feels an intense need to see what Stéphane is doing. Stéphane obliges with a smile and a slight chuckle, laying down on his back instead, legs spread apart. He puts some more lube on his fingers and then he inserts two fingers into himself and moans. Evgeni can't help but moan too, as his hand automatically finds his cock and starts moving in the same slow, lazy rhythm in which Stéphane is fucking himself with his fingers.
Stéphane inserts a third finger and Evgeni can see how he's stretched wide and open. If anyone had told him a week ago that he'd find the sight erotic he's have laughed, but right now, he's captivated by it. It seems like forever and yet just a moment until Stéphane pulls out his fingers, props himself up on his elbows and looks at Evgeni, breathing heavily and with a faint blush spreading on his cheeks.
"Now," he breathes, and Evgeni doesn't think he's ever gotten a condom on as fast as he does now. He crawls over to Stéphane and kisses him hard before he grabs the bottle and squirts some lube onto his cock, brings Stéphane's calves to rest of his shoulder, positions himself and pushes.
There is resistance at first, but then the head of Evgeni's cock breaks through the ring of the muscle and pushes inside, and Stéphane gasps and bites his lip. Evgeni pushes slowly and steadily inside, where it's hot and tight (tight tight tight), until Stéphane grabs his ass and pulls him in the rest of the way until he's buried to the hilt. Stéphane groans and then laughs, an exhilarated little laugh that makes him throw his head back and expose his neck. Evgeni takes the opportunity to lick at his collarbone, then bite into his shoulder and Stéphane moans again.
"Fuck me," he says huskily, and Evgeni takes a deep breath and starts moving, slowly at first to get used to it. It's so hot and tight and fantastic that he can't really think at first, but as the fog of his mind clears out a little he remembers that time a woman stuck a finger up his ass and found his prostate for him, so he tries a few angles until he finds the one that makes Stéphane's voice rise an octave as he cries out something in French.
"There, yes. There, oh god," he breathes out, and then he gives Evgeni a radiant smile and pulls him down for a rough and hurried kiss.
The edge of the bed is right behind Stéphane's head, so Evgeni grabs onto it for leverage and starts thrusting into Stéphane, harder and faster now and Stéphane seems to like it because he's moaning quite loudly now, a high and needy sound that sends shivers down Evgeni's spine. He kisses him to try to take his mind off the feeling of being inside him, the pressure that's building in him and stretching the skin tight over his balls, and Stéphane answers with a lazy open-mouthed kiss, his tongue teasing Evgeni's as his hand reaches in between them to grab hold of his own cock and stroke it in a frantic pace.
He moans something in French again and Evgeni only catches his own name but fuck, it sounds sexy as hell and he's really not going to last long now. He's just about to say something when Stéphane's entire body clenches and he moans once, loudly, then goes still as his come splatters onto his own chest. The feeling of Stéphane clenching around him drives Evgeni over the edge and he groans as he thrusts as deeply inside Stéphane as he can, feeling the push of his orgasm rolling through his body.
He rests his forehead against Stéphane's and stays inside him until he's gone limp, then he kisses him and pulls out slowly, pulls the condom carefully of his tender cock, ties a knot with trembling fingers and throws it on the floor before he looks at Stéphane again. Stéphane looks utterly spent, still panting as he lies there naked on the bed, flushed and sweaty and with his own come on his chest and stomach, hair stuck to his forehead and a huge grin on his face, looking very much like the cat that got the cream.
Stéphane tries to raise his head to look at Evgeni but has to give up, apparently too exhausted to move, so Evgeni takes a corner of the sheets to wipe his chest and helps him lie down in the proper end of the bed, pulling the duvet up to cover him. He wonders what the etiquette is in situations like this, whether he should get his clothes and leave (which he doesn't feel like right now because he's tired and his own bed is cold) but then Stéphane pulls him down with him, settling in with a hand on his waist.
"Thank you," he says. "That was just what I needed."
Evgeni thinks Stéphane is being weird again but says nothing, merely smooths the hair back from Stéphane's forehead and kisses him softly on the lips. Stéphane is already falling asleep and Evgeni thinks he should probably turn the lights off but he's drifting too, lulled by the sound of Stéphane's soft breathing. He's almost asleep when Stéphane makes a little noise like humming and smiles.
"I love tequila," he mumbles, and Evgeni chuckles and thinks that yes, so does he.