"Change Your Latitude" - Ian C./Aaron
Title: Change Your Latitude
Author: shadow_shimmer
Rating: R
Pairing: Ian C./Aaron
Notes: This is for darkestvoices who requested:
Pairing: Ian Crocker/Aaron Peirsol
Genre: PWP w/humor if possible
Rating: R and above
Doesn’t want to see: het, bodily fluids, fluff
And my prompts were: Prompts: fiesta, beach
Notes: Many thanks to horizon_greene for the beta. It is better because of her. And thanks to onlyseeingdark for help in brainstorming. I apologize to everyone for how late this is.
Change Your Latitude
There was sand in Ian’s mouth and an uncomfortable weight across his back. It was still dark out but the wind had died down the way it does right before dawn sometimes. He was pretty sure that he was still drunk and he was also pretty sure that he hadn’t been passed out long or else his legs would have the pins and needles thing going on when he tried to move them, but they didn’t. The only thing protesting his movement, it sounded like, was Aaron, who was apparently laying on Ian’s back and was comfortable there.
Muttering something about an earthquake, Aaron rolled over a little and looked down at Ian who was looking up and over his shoulder. “Ian?” he asked, squinting, which meant he probably took his contacts out and lost them again.
“Yeah,” Ian answered, around the grit, “ ‘s me.”
“Right,” Aaron muttered, running a hand through his hair - gingerly - and showering Ian with confetti and glitter. Leftovers from the pinata, Ian assumed. “Don’t move.”
Ian let his head fall back onto the beach and shut his eyes. “Not even a little?” he asked, wiggling his hips, wondering just how much they’d all had to drink because it might well be days before he was sober again.
“Not unless you wanna get me all excited,” Aaron said.
“Don’t think you could, man. That mescal drains the life outta you. Whose idea was that anyway?” Ian wondered. “Brendan’s? Did he try to poison us? ‘Cause that shit is toxic.”
Ian could feel Aaron nodding against his back. “I know, right?” And then a minute later, “Did you just insinuate that I couldn’t get it up right now if I wanted to?”
“Something like that,” Ian agreed, wondering if he could just drag the both of them down to the cooler that was drifting in and out of focus so he could get a beer to rinse his mouth out with. Even salt water would work, if the waterline was closer. That had to taste better and burn less than that cactus crap that he’d been doing shots of earlier.
“If I had something to get excited over, I could so get it up right now,” Aaron replied, sounding both faintly indignant and like he had a mouthful of Ian’s shirt.
Being occupied with dragging them closer to the cooler, it took Ian a minute before what Aaron said registered. He looked back over his shoulder before he thought better of it - moving anything above the neck, including his eyes, was a struggle - and said, “What, you mean that I don’t turn you on?”
Aaron chuckled. Kind of. It was more of a “I’ve just had too much mescal and my vocal chords feel like they’ve been bathed in hydrochloric acid” choking sound, but it made sense to Ian who had gotten them close enough to the cooler to knock it over and rummage inside for what appeared to be the very last Corona.
“Not if you just lay there like that, no,” Aaron said, resting his head on Ian’s shoulder and making a weak attempt at grabbing the beer.
“What? What are you talking about?” Ian asked, panicking now that he had the beer but no way to open it without trying it the redneck way and really, he wanted to be able to manage his next TV appearance with all of his teeth intact.
“You don’t turn me on just laying there, Ian,” Aaron enunciated slowly. “Do you have your phone?”
“You wanna have phone sex?” Ian asked, not really surprised.
Aaron laughed and coughed again before rolling over a little and then sticking a hand under Ian’s hip. “C’mon, man. Is it in your pocket?”
Holding the beer to his head, Ian thought about where he’d last seen his phone. “Um, yeah,” he decided. “In my pocket. But, dude. What you’re grabbing? Totally not it.”
Apologizing and sounding utterly insincere, Aaron found the phone and then took the beer. He popped the cap off with the base of the phone and then drank about half of it before handing it back to Ian.
“Did it change your latitude?” Ian asked, trying to roll over underneath Aaron so that he could drink and not drown.
Aaron let him roll until he was on his back and then laid back down on him. “Nah, but if you’re good, I just might change yours.”
Back to that. “Give up, Aaron,” Ian said, sipping on the beer. Corona mixed with sand mixed with pinata candy mixed with mescal wasn’t exactly what Ian had been craving. His stomach was gurgling ominously and Aaron’s weight on it didn’t help any.
“Hey,” Ian said, pulling at Aaron’s hair. “Why can’t you lay on the sand?”
“Itches.”
“Whatever,” Ian wasn’t going to complain too much about it. Being drunk and being alone usually meant being depressed for him and having Aaron there - well there - was weird, but not too weird, because Aaron had a tendency to get really friendly when he was drunk, and scientists said that people who had more positive physical contact with other people lived longer anyway, and Ian was all for the long, happy life bit.
*
When it became a distinct possibility that Aaron had passed out again, Ian began thinking about just rolling him off to the side and going to check on Brendan, but he must have been thinking really loud because Aaron blinked up at him and asked, “Did I feel candy in your pocket? Are you hoarding like a Snickers or something? ‘Cause if you are and you weren’t planning on sharing it? I don’t know if I could forgive you.”
“I don’t think it was a candy bar you felt while you were groping me,” Ian told him, pointing the beer bottle at him for emphasis.
It didn’t seem to Ian, later, that Aaron really even thought about it. He just squinted and pushed up and off of Ian and said, “Man, if I was groping you, you’d know it.”
“How?” Ian asked. He knew they were playing chicken - that Aaron had just dared him and he’d just double dog dared Aaron back - and he was pretty sure he was gonna win this one.
Sliding to one elbow, Aaron smirked at Ian. “ ‘Cause,” he said, sliding a hand over Ian’s stomach, “I’d have my hand down your pants.”
And then he did. Put his hand down Ian’s pants and Ian dropped what was left of the beer and shut his eyes because, “Holy shit.” Having your best friend’s hand on your dick should not make you hard. It should very definitely freak you out, but it should not make you hard.
But Ian was hard and Aaron didn’t just have his hand on Ian’s dick, he was jacking him off and it was so fucked up. And on top of it all, Ian had lost the dare.
Aaron moved so that his nose was almost touching Ian’s and Ian could smell him - Corona and Axe - and then pressed his hips to Ian’s thigh and Ian was left wondering if what was hard and rubbing against his leg was Aaron’s cell phone.
“Told you.”
Ian wanted tell Aaron not to talk - that talking would only make things more confusing, but it was too late and Aaron was smirking and squinting at him.
“Told me what?”
Sighing, Aaron stopped what he was doing, grabbed Ian’s hand and put it between his legs. “That I could get hard, idiot.”
Somehow, being touched by Aaron didn’t seem like such a big deal - like maybe they were still playing because Aaron pulled shit like that all the time. He was always grabbing Ian’s ass or humping Brendan’s leg or saying crude stuff to both of them about blow jobs and cock rings.
But touching Aaron was kinda a big deal. ‘Cause even if it was Aaron - and Ian had caught himself wanting to bury his hands in Aaron’s hair once or twice just to see what it felt like - Aaron was still a guy and Ian was still a guy and that just wasn’t quite what Ian got off on. Usually.
Being away from home and being around guys like Aaron had opened Ian’s mind and broadened his horizons considerably. But he could still hear his dad and his pastor in his head, and while their views on this sort of thing stopped just short of condemning, they were pretty far short of accepting.
Still, Ian didn’t move his hand.
“Thinking about God?” Aaron asked, leaning in closer to Ian again. Probably so he could see him better.
Ian shrugged. Or kind of half shrugged, and Aaron shook his head. “Don’t,” he said. “Think about me. I’m better looking. And taller.”
Which was just funny and irreverent enough for Ian to forget his dad and Sunday School sermons about temptation and morality and not do anything but try not to bite Aaron’s tongue when Aaron stuck it in his mouth.
Not having had a whole lot of experience in kissing, Ian figured that his immediate conclusion that Aaron was the best kisser ever was probably the result of fermented cactus and novelty. But after they worked through the surprise and the awkwardness, it slipped into something that seemed to work more than nicely. It was a little nerve-wracking to be kissed like Aaron was kissing him - pushing him into the sand - but Ian didn’t know what to do about it because he didn’t really want it to stop.
So he began working his hand into the waistband on Aaron’s shorts, because that’s what he’d do with a girl when things got to this point, but Aaron just muttered, “Fuck it. Unzip ‘em,” against Ian’s mouth and Ian couldn’t think of any reason why not and several reasons - including a sudden interest in feeling Aaron’s skin - why to, so with some help from Aaron, he got the belt undone and the zipper down.
Leaving the shorts half on but loose around Aaron’s waist left plenty of skin bare for Ian to touch but he didn’t know where to start. Aaron’s back? His leg? Stomach? Ian settled for everywhere because there was a sneaking suspicion among the mescal spines in his head, that this might be the only time he ever let himself do this, and he wanted to experience all of it.
And once he came to that resolution, he felt good enough about it that he didn’t hesitate when Aaron undid his jeans and tugged them down to his hips.
“Are you gonna . . .” Ian asked, looking at Aaron looking at him and wondering what the hell he saw. “Or do you want me to?”
“Suck me?” Aaron blinked, surprised. “Nah. I got this.” And shuffled his way down the sand until Ian could feel him breathing on his stomach.
There was a minute there, between the breathing and the sucking that Ian wanted to ask whether getting your first real blow job from a guy and not a girl meant something . . . irreversible, but he wasn’t quick enough and then it was happening and Ian had a whole shitload of other things to think about.
Like, “I can die happy,” and “Now I know why it’s such a big fucking deal,” and “ . . . I don’t think this is the first time Aaron’s done this.”
The most disturbing aspect of that last thought wasn’t that Ian’s latent suspicions about Aaron had just been spectacularly confirmed, but that the idea of Aaron with another guy aroused an uncomfortable mix of jealousy and excitement in Ian that he had no idea what to do with. So he repressed it and tried to focus on the now, which meant sliding his hands into Aaron’s hair - he was pretty sure that was what you did in this situation - and then just letting Aaron do his thing.
But Aaron didn’t let him finish. He sat up, licked his lips and rubbed his eyes and then began digging in his pockets.
Oh god, Ian thought. Too far too fast.
Aaron didn’t come up with a condom, though, just sun block. And when he saw the look on Ian’s face he actually laughed out loud, to Ian’s embarrassment. “Relax, man,” he told Ian. “Not tonight. Not on a public beach.” He sat back and squeezed some of the sun block into his hand. “Unless you wanna do me in the back of the truck?”
“Christ, Aaron,” Ian said, shocked.
“Later then,” Aaron told him, sliding the hand covered in Hawaiian Tropic back over Ian,]who was trying to work out the idea of “later” - because that implied something he wasn’t sure he wanted.
Then Aaron moved his hand just little downward and Ian figured that worrying about a repeat performance could take a back seat to worrying about what Aaron was about to do next. So he just shut his eyes and wondered if he was ever gonna be able to smell coconut and almonds again without getting a hard on. Because goddamn that felt good - strange, but like bite your tongue, scratch someone bloody, screaming kind of good.
The kind of good that could make a normally shy person come all over himself right out in the open - in front of another guy - and just not care.
*
Passing out sounded good to Ian, and Aaron, who was laying down beside him now, looked like he was willing to take care of himself and let Ian sleep.
There was something inherently unfair about that.
“Hey,” Ian said, putting a hand over Aaron’s. “Lemme do that.”
Aaron gave him an “Are you sure about that” squint, but let Ian take over without saying anything.
A quiet Aaron meant a dangerous Aaron and Ian wasn’t in any shape to deal with that. Knowing Aaron, he was probably sober enough to be have been suddenly struck with either regret or guilt. If it was regret, Ian never wanted to know about it and if it was guilt, Ian wanted to alleviate it. “Whatever it is,” he told Aaron. “Forget it.”
Which didn’t appear to work and Ian was getting desperate, both to get this whole thing over with and to head off any kind of confrontation. So he kissed him. And he tried to make it good enough that Aaron would remember it and him without thinking he was totally inept, and also so that Aaron would know that he was okay. For the most part.
Which did work.
*
They used Aaron’s shirt to clean up and in the process found a wayward Snickers in one of Aaron’s pockets.
“That’s totally mine,” Aaron told Ian, who was eyeing it.
“Share the love, man,” he said to Aaron, trying to look cute but figuring that with the sand in his hair and the sun block smeared on his shorts, it was a futile effort. “I shared my last beer with you,” he added.
Already unwrapping it, Aaron just shook his head. “Whatever. Fine. It’s all squishy anyway.”
*
Ian was licking the last of the melted chocolate off of Aaron’s fingers - figuring that if you can eat something off of a guy after your first night together then there’s a real future ahead of the two of you - when Brendan wandered up behind them, making them jump as he sat down.
Aaron looked totally nonchalant, if a little disheveled, but Ian figured that he had something written on his face - probably in chocolate or sun block - that said, “Meet the newest cast member of Queer Eye.”
“I just have one question,” Brendan said, looking from Aaron to Ian and then back again. “Do you guys have any more candy?”
End
Author: shadow_shimmer
Rating: R
Pairing: Ian C./Aaron
Notes: This is for darkestvoices who requested:
Pairing: Ian Crocker/Aaron Peirsol
Genre: PWP w/humor if possible
Rating: R and above
Doesn’t want to see: het, bodily fluids, fluff
And my prompts were: Prompts: fiesta, beach
Notes: Many thanks to horizon_greene for the beta. It is better because of her. And thanks to onlyseeingdark for help in brainstorming. I apologize to everyone for how late this is.
Change Your Latitude
There was sand in Ian’s mouth and an uncomfortable weight across his back. It was still dark out but the wind had died down the way it does right before dawn sometimes. He was pretty sure that he was still drunk and he was also pretty sure that he hadn’t been passed out long or else his legs would have the pins and needles thing going on when he tried to move them, but they didn’t. The only thing protesting his movement, it sounded like, was Aaron, who was apparently laying on Ian’s back and was comfortable there.
Muttering something about an earthquake, Aaron rolled over a little and looked down at Ian who was looking up and over his shoulder. “Ian?” he asked, squinting, which meant he probably took his contacts out and lost them again.
“Yeah,” Ian answered, around the grit, “ ‘s me.”
“Right,” Aaron muttered, running a hand through his hair - gingerly - and showering Ian with confetti and glitter. Leftovers from the pinata, Ian assumed. “Don’t move.”
Ian let his head fall back onto the beach and shut his eyes. “Not even a little?” he asked, wiggling his hips, wondering just how much they’d all had to drink because it might well be days before he was sober again.
“Not unless you wanna get me all excited,” Aaron said.
“Don’t think you could, man. That mescal drains the life outta you. Whose idea was that anyway?” Ian wondered. “Brendan’s? Did he try to poison us? ‘Cause that shit is toxic.”
Ian could feel Aaron nodding against his back. “I know, right?” And then a minute later, “Did you just insinuate that I couldn’t get it up right now if I wanted to?”
“Something like that,” Ian agreed, wondering if he could just drag the both of them down to the cooler that was drifting in and out of focus so he could get a beer to rinse his mouth out with. Even salt water would work, if the waterline was closer. That had to taste better and burn less than that cactus crap that he’d been doing shots of earlier.
“If I had something to get excited over, I could so get it up right now,” Aaron replied, sounding both faintly indignant and like he had a mouthful of Ian’s shirt.
Being occupied with dragging them closer to the cooler, it took Ian a minute before what Aaron said registered. He looked back over his shoulder before he thought better of it - moving anything above the neck, including his eyes, was a struggle - and said, “What, you mean that I don’t turn you on?”
Aaron chuckled. Kind of. It was more of a “I’ve just had too much mescal and my vocal chords feel like they’ve been bathed in hydrochloric acid” choking sound, but it made sense to Ian who had gotten them close enough to the cooler to knock it over and rummage inside for what appeared to be the very last Corona.
“Not if you just lay there like that, no,” Aaron said, resting his head on Ian’s shoulder and making a weak attempt at grabbing the beer.
“What? What are you talking about?” Ian asked, panicking now that he had the beer but no way to open it without trying it the redneck way and really, he wanted to be able to manage his next TV appearance with all of his teeth intact.
“You don’t turn me on just laying there, Ian,” Aaron enunciated slowly. “Do you have your phone?”
“You wanna have phone sex?” Ian asked, not really surprised.
Aaron laughed and coughed again before rolling over a little and then sticking a hand under Ian’s hip. “C’mon, man. Is it in your pocket?”
Holding the beer to his head, Ian thought about where he’d last seen his phone. “Um, yeah,” he decided. “In my pocket. But, dude. What you’re grabbing? Totally not it.”
Apologizing and sounding utterly insincere, Aaron found the phone and then took the beer. He popped the cap off with the base of the phone and then drank about half of it before handing it back to Ian.
“Did it change your latitude?” Ian asked, trying to roll over underneath Aaron so that he could drink and not drown.
Aaron let him roll until he was on his back and then laid back down on him. “Nah, but if you’re good, I just might change yours.”
Back to that. “Give up, Aaron,” Ian said, sipping on the beer. Corona mixed with sand mixed with pinata candy mixed with mescal wasn’t exactly what Ian had been craving. His stomach was gurgling ominously and Aaron’s weight on it didn’t help any.
“Hey,” Ian said, pulling at Aaron’s hair. “Why can’t you lay on the sand?”
“Itches.”
“Whatever,” Ian wasn’t going to complain too much about it. Being drunk and being alone usually meant being depressed for him and having Aaron there - well there - was weird, but not too weird, because Aaron had a tendency to get really friendly when he was drunk, and scientists said that people who had more positive physical contact with other people lived longer anyway, and Ian was all for the long, happy life bit.
*
When it became a distinct possibility that Aaron had passed out again, Ian began thinking about just rolling him off to the side and going to check on Brendan, but he must have been thinking really loud because Aaron blinked up at him and asked, “Did I feel candy in your pocket? Are you hoarding like a Snickers or something? ‘Cause if you are and you weren’t planning on sharing it? I don’t know if I could forgive you.”
“I don’t think it was a candy bar you felt while you were groping me,” Ian told him, pointing the beer bottle at him for emphasis.
It didn’t seem to Ian, later, that Aaron really even thought about it. He just squinted and pushed up and off of Ian and said, “Man, if I was groping you, you’d know it.”
“How?” Ian asked. He knew they were playing chicken - that Aaron had just dared him and he’d just double dog dared Aaron back - and he was pretty sure he was gonna win this one.
Sliding to one elbow, Aaron smirked at Ian. “ ‘Cause,” he said, sliding a hand over Ian’s stomach, “I’d have my hand down your pants.”
And then he did. Put his hand down Ian’s pants and Ian dropped what was left of the beer and shut his eyes because, “Holy shit.” Having your best friend’s hand on your dick should not make you hard. It should very definitely freak you out, but it should not make you hard.
But Ian was hard and Aaron didn’t just have his hand on Ian’s dick, he was jacking him off and it was so fucked up. And on top of it all, Ian had lost the dare.
Aaron moved so that his nose was almost touching Ian’s and Ian could smell him - Corona and Axe - and then pressed his hips to Ian’s thigh and Ian was left wondering if what was hard and rubbing against his leg was Aaron’s cell phone.
“Told you.”
Ian wanted tell Aaron not to talk - that talking would only make things more confusing, but it was too late and Aaron was smirking and squinting at him.
“Told me what?”
Sighing, Aaron stopped what he was doing, grabbed Ian’s hand and put it between his legs. “That I could get hard, idiot.”
Somehow, being touched by Aaron didn’t seem like such a big deal - like maybe they were still playing because Aaron pulled shit like that all the time. He was always grabbing Ian’s ass or humping Brendan’s leg or saying crude stuff to both of them about blow jobs and cock rings.
But touching Aaron was kinda a big deal. ‘Cause even if it was Aaron - and Ian had caught himself wanting to bury his hands in Aaron’s hair once or twice just to see what it felt like - Aaron was still a guy and Ian was still a guy and that just wasn’t quite what Ian got off on. Usually.
Being away from home and being around guys like Aaron had opened Ian’s mind and broadened his horizons considerably. But he could still hear his dad and his pastor in his head, and while their views on this sort of thing stopped just short of condemning, they were pretty far short of accepting.
Still, Ian didn’t move his hand.
“Thinking about God?” Aaron asked, leaning in closer to Ian again. Probably so he could see him better.
Ian shrugged. Or kind of half shrugged, and Aaron shook his head. “Don’t,” he said. “Think about me. I’m better looking. And taller.”
Which was just funny and irreverent enough for Ian to forget his dad and Sunday School sermons about temptation and morality and not do anything but try not to bite Aaron’s tongue when Aaron stuck it in his mouth.
Not having had a whole lot of experience in kissing, Ian figured that his immediate conclusion that Aaron was the best kisser ever was probably the result of fermented cactus and novelty. But after they worked through the surprise and the awkwardness, it slipped into something that seemed to work more than nicely. It was a little nerve-wracking to be kissed like Aaron was kissing him - pushing him into the sand - but Ian didn’t know what to do about it because he didn’t really want it to stop.
So he began working his hand into the waistband on Aaron’s shorts, because that’s what he’d do with a girl when things got to this point, but Aaron just muttered, “Fuck it. Unzip ‘em,” against Ian’s mouth and Ian couldn’t think of any reason why not and several reasons - including a sudden interest in feeling Aaron’s skin - why to, so with some help from Aaron, he got the belt undone and the zipper down.
Leaving the shorts half on but loose around Aaron’s waist left plenty of skin bare for Ian to touch but he didn’t know where to start. Aaron’s back? His leg? Stomach? Ian settled for everywhere because there was a sneaking suspicion among the mescal spines in his head, that this might be the only time he ever let himself do this, and he wanted to experience all of it.
And once he came to that resolution, he felt good enough about it that he didn’t hesitate when Aaron undid his jeans and tugged them down to his hips.
“Are you gonna . . .” Ian asked, looking at Aaron looking at him and wondering what the hell he saw. “Or do you want me to?”
“Suck me?” Aaron blinked, surprised. “Nah. I got this.” And shuffled his way down the sand until Ian could feel him breathing on his stomach.
There was a minute there, between the breathing and the sucking that Ian wanted to ask whether getting your first real blow job from a guy and not a girl meant something . . . irreversible, but he wasn’t quick enough and then it was happening and Ian had a whole shitload of other things to think about.
Like, “I can die happy,” and “Now I know why it’s such a big fucking deal,” and “ . . . I don’t think this is the first time Aaron’s done this.”
The most disturbing aspect of that last thought wasn’t that Ian’s latent suspicions about Aaron had just been spectacularly confirmed, but that the idea of Aaron with another guy aroused an uncomfortable mix of jealousy and excitement in Ian that he had no idea what to do with. So he repressed it and tried to focus on the now, which meant sliding his hands into Aaron’s hair - he was pretty sure that was what you did in this situation - and then just letting Aaron do his thing.
But Aaron didn’t let him finish. He sat up, licked his lips and rubbed his eyes and then began digging in his pockets.
Oh god, Ian thought. Too far too fast.
Aaron didn’t come up with a condom, though, just sun block. And when he saw the look on Ian’s face he actually laughed out loud, to Ian’s embarrassment. “Relax, man,” he told Ian. “Not tonight. Not on a public beach.” He sat back and squeezed some of the sun block into his hand. “Unless you wanna do me in the back of the truck?”
“Christ, Aaron,” Ian said, shocked.
“Later then,” Aaron told him, sliding the hand covered in Hawaiian Tropic back over Ian,]who was trying to work out the idea of “later” - because that implied something he wasn’t sure he wanted.
Then Aaron moved his hand just little downward and Ian figured that worrying about a repeat performance could take a back seat to worrying about what Aaron was about to do next. So he just shut his eyes and wondered if he was ever gonna be able to smell coconut and almonds again without getting a hard on. Because goddamn that felt good - strange, but like bite your tongue, scratch someone bloody, screaming kind of good.
The kind of good that could make a normally shy person come all over himself right out in the open - in front of another guy - and just not care.
*
Passing out sounded good to Ian, and Aaron, who was laying down beside him now, looked like he was willing to take care of himself and let Ian sleep.
There was something inherently unfair about that.
“Hey,” Ian said, putting a hand over Aaron’s. “Lemme do that.”
Aaron gave him an “Are you sure about that” squint, but let Ian take over without saying anything.
A quiet Aaron meant a dangerous Aaron and Ian wasn’t in any shape to deal with that. Knowing Aaron, he was probably sober enough to be have been suddenly struck with either regret or guilt. If it was regret, Ian never wanted to know about it and if it was guilt, Ian wanted to alleviate it. “Whatever it is,” he told Aaron. “Forget it.”
Which didn’t appear to work and Ian was getting desperate, both to get this whole thing over with and to head off any kind of confrontation. So he kissed him. And he tried to make it good enough that Aaron would remember it and him without thinking he was totally inept, and also so that Aaron would know that he was okay. For the most part.
Which did work.
*
They used Aaron’s shirt to clean up and in the process found a wayward Snickers in one of Aaron’s pockets.
“That’s totally mine,” Aaron told Ian, who was eyeing it.
“Share the love, man,” he said to Aaron, trying to look cute but figuring that with the sand in his hair and the sun block smeared on his shorts, it was a futile effort. “I shared my last beer with you,” he added.
Already unwrapping it, Aaron just shook his head. “Whatever. Fine. It’s all squishy anyway.”
*
Ian was licking the last of the melted chocolate off of Aaron’s fingers - figuring that if you can eat something off of a guy after your first night together then there’s a real future ahead of the two of you - when Brendan wandered up behind them, making them jump as he sat down.
Aaron looked totally nonchalant, if a little disheveled, but Ian figured that he had something written on his face - probably in chocolate or sun block - that said, “Meet the newest cast member of Queer Eye.”
“I just have one question,” Brendan said, looking from Aaron to Ian and then back again. “Do you guys have any more candy?”
End