Zach raised an eyebrow. “And did you learn anything?”
“They say gay men do it better,” Chris announced, with an air of challenge. He mimed giving a blowjob.
Zach sniffed. “I doubt that’s a universal constant. I’m sure you could find a straight woman who gives phenomenal head, and I know I could find you a nelly bottom who’s had years of practice and still hasn’t learned to cover his teeth.”
Chris tutted. “Ye-e-e-s. But in general? Is the average gay dude a better cock-sucker than the average straight woman?”
“Oh, almost certainly. But how do you prove it? How do you determine who’s ‘average’? And who’s going to judge the techniques of the various contenders?”
“Oh, that’s easy,” Chris said, smirking. “I will. It’s a tough job, but someone’s gotta do it.”
Zach finished his coffee, set down his cup, and leaned back until his paisley beanbag chair tried to swallow him. “I think I begin to see where this is going, Pine.”
Chris brightened. “So it’s working, then?”
“As cunning plans go, this one’s worthy of Baldrick.”
Either Chris got the reference or he could tell from the tone that it wasn’t a compliment. He slumped further into the couch, his legs falling open wider as he did so. “I bet if I asked flat out, you’d say no just to spite me.”
“Oh, no,” Zach purred. And paused just long enough to spike the tension between them. “Not if you really sold me on how much you want it, how badly you need it, how very, very good you’re going to be while I open my mouth and go to town on your dick…”
“You want me to beg.” His fingers tapped restlessly on his thigh.
“I want you to beg, Pine.”
Chris’s tongue darted out to moisten his lower lip. There was a single ringing moment of silent anticipation. Then he flung himself onto the floor in front of Zach, hands curled beseechingly together, face held in grave lines. “Please, Zach. Please suck my cock. I need it so bad, and I know you’ll be so awesome at it. I’ll pay you back somehow, I promise. But I can’t wait, I just can’t. So won’t you please, please, pretty pretty please suck me off?”
“Passable,” Zach decided. “Take your pants off.”
Chris scrambled to obey. He wound up sitting on the couch with his rather nice, cut cock standing up proudly, looking much braver than Chris himself did. And then it was Zach on his knees, knee-walking over the rug towards him, then sitting comfortably at his feet.
“Your last STI check?”
Chris’s brain seemed to be suffering from the lack of oxygen. “Huh?”
“Your last STI check, Pine. When was it, and did it come back clean?”
“What? Oh. Yes. Clean. After Beau. But I have a rubber in my wallet if you want to.”
Zach didn’t. He wanted to put his mouth on the Pine tree and suck him out some sap.
So he did.
Chris lasted all of two minutes against the carefully-honed talents of Zachary J-for-Just-Extraordinary Quinto. Who could have made it last, but didn’t care to. Not with Chris moaning all the time about “yeah, just like that, like that, oh, God, Zach, oh hngngnggngngg…” Not with his hands in Zach’s hair and his hips twitching with the urge to thrust up and the heady, musky scent of him in Zach’s nose and the taste of his big fat dick on Zach’s tongue.
Afterwards, Chris just sat there, looking wide-eyed and shell-shocked. Zach smirked and licked his lips as provocatively as possible. “Well?”
Chris nodded several times before remembering about the awesome communicative power of speech. “Um, you win. World champion. Best in show. Pole position. America’s Next Top Cock-sucker.”
“Oh,” Zach said, mock-disappointed. “So you didn’t like it, then?”
Chris mimed slapping some sense into him. Then he appeared to sober. “Hey, Zach?”
“Mm-hmmm?”
“I, uh, have another theory. You wanna hear it?”
Zach wasn’t sure he did. His dick, on the other hand, was quite sure. “Go ahead.”
“My theory is that Chris Pine likes taking it up the ass. You wanna help me confirm it?”
Zach looked up at him, saw anxiety and hope and, yeah, definite excitement. Chris Pine was offering up his body. And he was doing it after he’d had an orgasm, not in the full flush of arousal. Yeah, so he definitely had to move the name ‘Chris Pine’ out of the ‘straight as a boring straight thing that is boringly straight’ column in his mental register. “I’d love to, Chris. But perhaps that’s something we should work up to slowly?”
Chris frowned. “You mean like tongues and fingers first and fucking in half an hour? Or you mean like, put the fucking on hold indefinitely because you think I’m fragile or something?”
“There will be no ultimatums, thank you, Pine.”
“Should that be ‘ultimata’?”
Zach sniffed. “That depends how pretentious one wishes to be.”
Chris snorted a laugh. Then he leaned forward and hugged Zach. “I mean it though,” he whispered. “I wanna get fucked. And I want it to be you.”
“Okay,” Zach breathed, stroking his back, letting one hand wander down to his bare ass. “Okay.”
Chris shivered and made a tiny, satisfied sound.
This conversation, Zach reflected, had not gone at all the way he would have predicted. But he was certainly not going to be writing any letters of complaint to the editorship of Cosmopolitan magazine.
Zach raised an eyebrow. “And did you learn anything?”
“They say gay men do it better,” Chris announced, with an air of challenge. He mimed giving a blowjob.
Zach sniffed. “I doubt that’s a universal constant. I’m sure you could find a straight woman who gives phenomenal head, and I know I could find you a nelly bottom who’s had years of practice and still hasn’t learned to cover his teeth.”
Chris tutted. “Ye-e-e-s. But in general? Is the average gay dude a better cock-sucker than the average straight woman?”
“Oh, almost certainly. But how do you prove it? How do you determine who’s ‘average’? And who’s going to judge the techniques of the various contenders?”
“Oh, that’s easy,” Chris said, smirking. “I will. It’s a tough job, but someone’s gotta do it.”
Zach finished his coffee, set down his cup, and leaned back until his paisley beanbag chair tried to swallow him. “I think I begin to see where this is going, Pine.”
Chris brightened. “So it’s working, then?”
“As cunning plans go, this one’s worthy of Baldrick.”
Either Chris got the reference or he could tell from the tone that it wasn’t a compliment. He slumped further into the couch, his legs falling open wider as he did so. “I bet if I asked flat out, you’d say no just to spite me.”
“Oh, no,” Zach purred. And paused just long enough to spike the tension between them. “Not if you really sold me on how much you want it, how badly you need it, how very, very good you’re going to be while I open my mouth and go to town on your dick…”
“You want me to beg.” His fingers tapped restlessly on his thigh.
“I want you to beg, Pine.”
Chris’s tongue darted out to moisten his lower lip. There was a single ringing moment of silent anticipation. Then he flung himself onto the floor in front of Zach, hands curled beseechingly together, face held in grave lines. “Please, Zach. Please suck my cock. I need it so bad, and I know you’ll be so awesome at it. I’ll pay you back somehow, I promise. But I can’t wait, I just can’t. So won’t you please, please, pretty pretty please suck me off?”
“Passable,” Zach decided. “Take your pants off.”
Chris scrambled to obey. He wound up sitting on the couch with his rather nice, cut cock standing up proudly, looking much braver than Chris himself did. And then it was Zach on his knees, knee-walking over the rug towards him, then sitting comfortably at his feet.
“Your last STI check?”
Chris’s brain seemed to be suffering from the lack of oxygen. “Huh?”
“Your last STI check, Pine. When was it, and did it come back clean?”
“What? Oh. Yes. Clean. After Beau. But I have a rubber in my wallet if you want to.”
Zach didn’t. He wanted to put his mouth on the Pine tree and suck him out some sap.
So he did.
Chris lasted all of two minutes against the carefully-honed talents of Zachary J-for-Just-Extraordinary Quinto. Who could have made it last, but didn’t care to. Not with Chris moaning all the time about “yeah, just like that, like that, oh, God, Zach, oh hngngnggngngg…” Not with his hands in Zach’s hair and his hips twitching with the urge to thrust up and the heady, musky scent of him in Zach’s nose and the taste of his big fat dick on Zach’s tongue.
Afterwards, Chris just sat there, looking wide-eyed and shell-shocked. Zach smirked and licked his lips as provocatively as possible. “Well?”
Chris nodded several times before remembering about the awesome communicative power of speech. “Um, you win. World champion. Best in show. Pole position. America’s Next Top Cock-sucker.”
“Oh,” Zach said, mock-disappointed. “So you didn’t like it, then?”
Chris mimed slapping some sense into him. Then he appeared to sober. “Hey, Zach?”
“Mm-hmmm?”
“I, uh, have another theory. You wanna hear it?”
Zach wasn’t sure he did. His dick, on the other hand, was quite sure. “Go ahead.”
“My theory is that Chris Pine likes taking it up the ass. You wanna help me confirm it?”
[...]
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Chris frowned. “You mean like tongues and fingers first and fucking in half an hour? Or you mean like, put the fucking on hold indefinitely because you think I’m fragile or something?”
“There will be no ultimatums, thank you, Pine.”
“Should that be ‘ultimata’?”
Zach sniffed. “That depends how pretentious one wishes to be.”
Chris snorted a laugh. Then he leaned forward and hugged Zach. “I mean it though,” he whispered. “I wanna get fucked. And I want it to be you.”
“Okay,” Zach breathed, stroking his back, letting one hand wander down to his bare ass. “Okay.”
Chris shivered and made a tiny, satisfied sound.
This conversation, Zach reflected, had not gone at all the way he would have predicted. But he was certainly not going to be writing any letters of complaint to the editorship of Cosmopolitan magazine.
***END***
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I didn't think anyone would actually write something for me and this is AWESOME!
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