For Chris, Tonight (A Star Trek RPF Fanfic)
Title: For Chris, Tonight
Author: therumjournals
Pairing: Chris/Zach
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,400
Summary: Zach hates anal sex, but he loves Chris.
Warnings / Author’s Note: Painful sex, unprotected sex, but all sex is consensual and you can assume that it is safe.
They’ve been making out for a while now, maybe thirty minutes, tangled together on the bed, alternating lazy nuzzles with deep, searching kisses, occasionally pulling apart to grin at each other as their eyes adjust to the dark. Zach runs a hand over the soft flannel of Chris’s pajama pants, tugging him closer until he moves to wrap a leg around Zach’s bare thighs. Zach can feel Chris’s hard-on against his hip, and he shifts slightly, enjoying the soft, pleasured groan that escapes from Chris’s throat. Chris grinds against him and slides a palm down Zach’s chest to cup the bulge in his boxer briefs. His lips find their way across Zach’s cheek, and he presses his nose beneath Zach’s ear.
“Zach…”
Zach turns his head to catch Chris’s lips, a hand in his hair to keep him close. Chris lets himself be drawn into the kiss, moving as smoothly and fluidly as the silk sheets beneath them as he covers Zach’s body with his own. He presses their hips together. “Zach…”
Zach slides his hands down to clutch at Chris’s ass, and he thrusts up hard, moaning as their erections rub together through thin layers of cotton. He does it again, a sudden, dry heat simmering beneath his skin. Chris stops him, pressing a firm hand to his hip, holding him against the mattress. His eyes flash down to Zach’s shorts, to the wet spot forming where the head of Zach’s dick strains against the fabric, and he licks his lips. He glances up at Zach, a question in his eyes as he hooks a finger into the elastic waistband of his briefs.
Zach swallows and lets himself relax, his muscles going slack beneath Chris as he nods.
“You sure?” Chris asks quietly.
Zach looks at him for a long moment, taking in his pale torso and imperfect skin and the tuft of hair that sticks up from the back of his head. He feels Chris’s thumb stroke slowly, unconsciously, across his hipbone. He nods again.
A grin splits Chris’s features, and Zach’s stupidly sappy heart thumps a little harder in his chest. Fuck, that smile. That smile is why he said yes.
Chris slides off of him and across the bed, going for the lube in the nightstand, as Zach shimmies out of his boxers and flips over onto his stomach. He can feel his muscles tensing up and he takes a deep breath, willing himself to relax. Deep breaths, calming yoga techniques, squeeze your fists and then let it go, let your body go loose, that’s it. He feels Chris watching him, then a light touch on his back, Chris’s voice soft, reassuring - “I’ll be gentle.”
Zach nods into the mattress, breathes in hard through his nose, then out through his mouth. The fact is, it doesn’t matter how gentle Chris will try to be, how gentle anyone tries to be - getting something shoved up your ass hurts like hell. Although apparently not everyone agrees, or maybe all the gay men who’ve tried to convince him otherwise are secret masochists or something, because it’s not like he hasn’t tried.
Like with Derek Howell, this ridiculously hot junior that he’d crushed on for months before finally catching his attention at a cast party. They’d gone back to Derek’s room to hook up, and Derek had been so into it that even when Zach had gasped “ow” and “wait”, he’d kept pressing into him, lubed up, but huge and unrelenting. Zach had gritted his teeth and squeezed the bedspread so hard his knuckles ached. Afterwards, he’d stayed, and they’d cuddled, but he couldn’t get it up again, and he’d limped back to his room across the foggy early-morning campus to curl up in the cool comfort of his own narrow bed, without ever telling Derek that it had been his first time.
He kept trying - it was college, after all, and there were more cast parties, and more guys noticing him, especially once he’d started leaving a little eyeliner on when he washed off his stage makeup. He learned that it didn’t hurt as much if he’d been drinking, and he learned that some guys were more considerate, the ones that would finger him and ask if it was okay before they pushed in a second finger, or a third. But eventually he had to say that yes, he was ready, and no matter how much they’d worked him open it still stung like fuck when they breached him, it still felt invasive and uncomfortable and ached the next morning, and even on the rare occasions when he actually stayed hard, he never managed to get off before the other guy passed out in a post-orgasmic haze.
Eventually, he’d gotten confident enough that he stopped doing it altogether. Instead, he figured out how to distract his dates with seductive smiles and expert blowjobs that made them forget their own names. He had plenty of guys offering to bottom for him, and he’d tried that, too, but he was so freaked out about hurting someone else that it made the experience pretty miserable for both parties involved. Not to mention that he found the whole thing kind of gross.
He’s had relationships, good ones, with guys who didn’t mind this little quirk of his, or who shared his preferences, like Alan, who was gorgeous and jacked and on the crew team and who was perfectly content with epic makeout sessions and the occasional handjob. Or Tommy, the blond West Hollywood twink with pierced nipples, who was more than willing to help him discover every other possible way to have an orgasm, who was the reason he’d barely left his apartment his first month in LA, and who was single-handedly responsible for his enduring, secret fondness for armpit sex.
It hasn’t always gone that smoothly. He’s well aware of the fact that his…distaste…for certain acts is the reason that some of his relationships have ended, or failed to get off the ground. At the point when people started recognizing him, when it had suddenly become a lot easier to find a hot guy to take back to his hotel room for the night, he’d occasionally found himself in the uncomfortable position of having to say no, sometimes forcefully, and to deal with the resulting scorn. He remembers the door slamming, his hands shaking as he poured himself a gin and tonic from the mini-fridge, breathing hard and cursing and wondering if maybe he should just suck it up and try again. Maybe it’s not as bad as he remembers.
The caterer who hit on him the next night was cute and funny, and Zach had no qualms about bringing him back to the room, even after he found out the guy had a boyfriend. They did shots of tequila on the king-size bed before Zach stripped down and scrambled onto all fours in invitation.
It’s just as bad as he remembers.
And then, a few months later, he met Chris.
It wasn’t love at first sight, or even lust. Just that pleasant buzz that you get when you catch a glimpse of someone attractive, followed by the low, constant undercurrent of arousal that stays with you when you actually meet them, when you realize you get to keep looking. But they’d talked, and talked again, and suddenly it was something more, a warm flush across the back of his neck when Chris smiled, a magnetic pull to wherever he was in the room. The uncontrollable urge to laugh too hard at his jokes. Deep breathing exercises between takes so he could talk down his impending boner and face up to the fact that he had a big, gooey crush on his co-star.
He’s the first guy Chris has ever been with. Chris confessed this to him between breathless kisses in the back of a town car, speeding toward Zach’s place on the night that Zach finally realized that maybe, possibly, Chris was flirting back. As they'd stumbled inside, Chris had reached for his belt, months of improbable fantasies about to come true, and at that moment, Zach’s carefully honed confidence shattered, his convictions flew out the window… He’d realized, suddenly, that he would do anything Chris wanted, anything, to keep him coming back for more.
Chris couldn’t have known all this a few nights later, when he was sliding his cock against Zach’s bare ass, rubbing the blunt head of it between his pale, fuzzy buttcheeks. Zach could practically read his mind, could feel him thinking, this is what gay guys do, right? Could feel the realization hit, how hot and tight it would be to press into that tiny hole, to be inside Zach, to feel him squeezing and spasming around his dick. Fuck, maybe it would even feel better than sex with a girl…
“Zach, can I…”
“Um…” He hadn’t meant to hesitate, but he couldn’t help it. Chris didn’t notice; he was watching the tip of his cock bump against Zach’s puckered entrance, waiting for Zach to respond. “Yeah. Okay.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Zach forced the words out. “Fuck me.”
White-hot, searing pain as Chris drove into him in one eager, inexorable push. Zach choked on his scream as tears sprang to the corners of his eyes, and it was all he could do to suck in a ragged breath. Behind him, Chris was in the throes of a religious experience, “Oh God, oh Jesus, holy Christ, fuck, Zach,” panting as he pumped relentlessly into Zach’s raw, aching hole.
It was over fast, a sweaty arm wrapping around his chest as Chris unloaded into him with a shout.
“Oh god, Zach,” Chris moaned, pressing his face between Zach’s shoulder blades, or trying to, as Zach scrambled off the bed with a hastily murmured excuse. In the bathroom, he slumped on the toilet and took long, wavering breaths. He cleaned himself up, wincing as the washcloth scraped against tender skin. He splashed cold water on his face, avoiding his reflection.
Back in the bedroom, Chris watched him with concern and asked if everything was alright. Zach nodded and slid under the covers to pull Chris into his arms.
He’d thought he’d have more time, but the next morning, after a long, leisurely wake-up kiss, Zach reached for Chris’s cock only to have his hand knocked away.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, as sudden panic flooded through him. Was this it, was he losing Chris already, it had only been a week -
Chris was looking at him, his eyes slightly narrowed. “Last night, did you-“
Zach raised an eyebrow, waiting.
“Did you, like…jerk off when you were in the bathroom?”
“No?”
“Oh. Did you come when I was -“
Zach sighed. “No.”
“Oh. So…”
Zach scrubbed his hands over his face. “Chris, I- ugh.“ He swallowed. “This is kind of a confession, okay?”
“Okaaay…“ Now Chris sounded panicked.
“I’m not really into…that. Anal. I don’t really like it, actually.”
Chris propped himself up on an elbow, anger and disbelief furrowing his brow. “Are you serious? What…why didn’t you tell me this last night?!”
“I’m sorry,” Zach whispered. He stared resolutely at the ceiling.
“Jesus, Zach,” Chris said, falling back onto his own pillow. “Did I…fuck, did I hurt you? Did it hurt?”
Zach twitched, something between a nod and a shrug.
Chris rolled back onto his side, running a hand through his hair as he looked down at Zach. “Do you…I mean, do you…”
“I’m not interested in topping either, if that’s what you’re asking,” Zach said, finally meeting his eyes. “I just…prefer doing other stuff.” He squirmed, flushing.
“Why did you let me?”
“You wanted to.”
Chris was quiet for a moment. “I wish you’d told me,” he said softly.
“Well, now you know.”
“Yeah.” Chris trailed a finger across Zach’s chest, lost in thought.
“You liked it, didn’t you?”
Chris licked his lips and nodded, and the look of guilt that flashed across his features made Zach’s heart flutter, made him sit up just enough to wrap a hand around the back of Chris’s head and pull him in for a vigorous kiss.
“You can do it again sometime, okay?” Zach said, resting their foreheads together.
Chris wrinkled his nose at Zach’s phrasing. “We don’t have to. Seriously, Zach, it’s cool. I...I like you, more than...you know...stuff.”
Zach couldn’t help the smile that crept onto his face. No other words could have made Zach so sure that he would do this again, for Chris.
Since then, it’s been good, more than good. It’s been amazing. Going home together led to spending weekends together, lazy mornings in bed, hands and mouths and the crease of Chris’s thigh. The rough friction of desperately grinding up against each other, fully clothed and impatient. Snuggling on the couch and doing each others’ laundry, meshing their lives together until they couldn’t even fathom trying to pull apart.
But sometimes, like tonight, Chris whispers his name, and Zach knows what he wants. And sometimes Zach says no, and instead he wraps his mouth around Chris and sucks, hard, and swallows and hums and lets Chris’s cock bump against the back of his throat until Chris is moaning incoherently, hips twitching as he tugs at Zach’s hair and explodes into his mouth in sudden, rapturous convulsions. Then Zach will roll onto his back and Chris will follow, looking into his flushed face and watering eyes, listening to his rasping breaths, and shake his head and say, incredulous, “I don’t get how you like that, but not…” Zach will smirk and shrug, not knowing either, and Chris will lean down to lick into his hot, slack mouth for minutes and minutes on end.
But sometimes, when he wants to see that wide, delighted smile… Sometimes, like tonight, Zach says yes.
Chris’s index finger is coated in lube as he rubs over Zach’s clenched hole. It feels…good, almost. His dick throbs, and he humps into the pillow beneath him, wondering, hoping, that maybe this time he’ll stay hard. Then Chris pushes the tip of his finger in and Zach tenses, going still, and he hears Chris’s breath hitch as his ass tightens up even more. Chris slides in a little further, out and in, before he pauses. He presses a dry kiss against Zach’s side and asks. “Is it okay?”
Zach nods. He means it, it is okay. It doesn’t hurt, not yet. It’s just…intrusive, and weird. He grinds down a little on his softening cock and tries not to wish that Chris’s lubed up fingers were being put to better use. Chris moves closer, plastered against his side, and Zach can feel his restraint, the way he’s quivering with an impatience he’s trying so hard not to show. Zach gives another little nod, and he can feel Chris relax infinitesimally as he presses a second finger inside.
The second finger hurts a little, more of an ache than a sting. Zach buries his face in his pillow, detached, and yet uncomfortably aware of Chris pumping and twisting and scissoring away at his asshole. Zach has a decision to make. Should he let Chris fuck him now, get it over with? Chris’s cock is thick, way bigger than two fingers, but the alternative is to let him try to jam yet another finger inside, more agonizing minutes of that burning stretch. He knows it makes Chris feel better about the whole thing, makes him feel like he’s being considerate, waiting until Zach is “ready” - fuck it. He doesn’t want to wait, he just wants this to be finished, so he can turn around and pull Chris into his arms and kiss until the pain wears off, until he’s hard again, pressed against Chris’s abs.
“You want more?” Chris whispers, and Zach shakes his head.
“Just go.”
“You sure?” Chris sounds concerned.
“Just do it.” He can feel his muscles tensing up again, his neck tight as he nods. He clutches at the sheets as he hears Chris lubing up behind him.
Chris murmurs soft words of encouragement and strokes along his sides and ass as he lines up, and Zach knows it’s supposed to be soothing, but it doesn’t help, and he can’t stop the prolonged grunt of pain that escapes as Chris shoves the thick head of his cock into his unyielding hole.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Chris gasps. “Do you want me to stop? Do you want me to wait?”
His asshole’s clamped down around the tip of Chris’s dick, and he can only imagine how good it feels, all tight and slick like when he fucks into Chris’s squeezed up fist. His own cock is completely flaccid now, but he won’t ask Chris to stop.
He breathes in deep and feels Chris push in a little farther as he exhales. “Yeah baby, just relax,” Chris urges, and Zach tries, closing his eyes and letting his body sag into the mattress. Chris’s cock is huge, thick in that way that Zach loves when it’s filling his mouth, resting heavily against his tongue, but right now he feels as though he’s being cleaved in two.
Chris slides out a little and pushes back in, and Zach knows why, knows that he’s trying to do it fast, to make it feel as good as he can so he’ll come quickly, without prolonging Zach’s discomfort. Zach knows this, and he appreciates it, so he presses his face into the pillow to muffle the chanted “ow ow ow” that echoes in his throat with every thrust.
“You okay?” Chris pants, but Zach’s pretty sure it’s just words at this point. Chris is well past coherent thought and into the grunting and thrusting portion of the evening.
“Ungh, Zach, fuck, oh fuck, feels so good -“ If Zach likes anything about this, it’s the stream of profanity that falls from Chris’s lips, betraying the building climax that’s edging out all of his self-control. Chris is lost in the friction, in the heat that pulses in his belly and curls his toes and leaves him shuddering, shaking, when he finally empties into Zach. He’s buried as deep as he can go, their bodies pressed together as Zach waits and tries to ignore the pain, the aching sting of skin stretched beyond its limit to accommodate Chris’s throbbing girth. Long seconds pass as Chris rides his wave of ecstasy, and Zach would almost smile if his face weren’t still twisted up in an involuntary grimace. When Chris is finished whiting out, he pulls out quickly, leans down to press a kiss to Zach’s lower back. Zach shifts onto his side as Chris scrambles up next to him. They hold onto each other like it’s been a while.
Zach slides back a little and reaches up to touch Chris’s cheek. Chris’s face is flushed and open and his eyes are a glittering, tender blue.
“I love you, Chris. So much.”
He always says it first after they do this, so he doesn’t have to wonder whether Chris is just saying it because of the sex. Which is silly, he knows, because Chris also says it after blowjobs and handjobs and particularly delicious sandwiches and at weird times, like when Zach is perched awkwardly on the side of the bed clipping his toenails over the trashcan.
Chris grins at him, because Zach told him the reason once, because Zach tells him everything. “I love you, too. You know.”
“I know.”
Chris brushes the tips of his fingers against Zach’s cock. Usually, Zach would have gotten up by this point to go to the bathroom, or Chris would have gone and brought him back a warm washcloth to clean up, but right now Zach doesn’t mind the change in routine. He can feel Chris’s still-warm spunk dripping down along his crack and is surprised to find himself a little turned on by the sensation, his dick swelling in response. Chris gives him a little tug and a wink.
“Now roll over, so I can get started on the 10,000 blowjobs I plan to give you.”
Zach rolls onto his back and runs a hand fondly through Chris’s mussed up hair. He smiles at the ceiling and thinks that maybe soon, maybe even tomorrow night, he’ll introduce Chris to the dirty, seductive world of armpit sex.
Author: therumjournals
Pairing: Chris/Zach
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,400
Summary: Zach hates anal sex, but he loves Chris.
Warnings / Author’s Note: Painful sex, unprotected sex, but all sex is consensual and you can assume that it is safe.
They’ve been making out for a while now, maybe thirty minutes, tangled together on the bed, alternating lazy nuzzles with deep, searching kisses, occasionally pulling apart to grin at each other as their eyes adjust to the dark. Zach runs a hand over the soft flannel of Chris’s pajama pants, tugging him closer until he moves to wrap a leg around Zach’s bare thighs. Zach can feel Chris’s hard-on against his hip, and he shifts slightly, enjoying the soft, pleasured groan that escapes from Chris’s throat. Chris grinds against him and slides a palm down Zach’s chest to cup the bulge in his boxer briefs. His lips find their way across Zach’s cheek, and he presses his nose beneath Zach’s ear.
“Zach…”
Zach turns his head to catch Chris’s lips, a hand in his hair to keep him close. Chris lets himself be drawn into the kiss, moving as smoothly and fluidly as the silk sheets beneath them as he covers Zach’s body with his own. He presses their hips together. “Zach…”
Zach slides his hands down to clutch at Chris’s ass, and he thrusts up hard, moaning as their erections rub together through thin layers of cotton. He does it again, a sudden, dry heat simmering beneath his skin. Chris stops him, pressing a firm hand to his hip, holding him against the mattress. His eyes flash down to Zach’s shorts, to the wet spot forming where the head of Zach’s dick strains against the fabric, and he licks his lips. He glances up at Zach, a question in his eyes as he hooks a finger into the elastic waistband of his briefs.
Zach swallows and lets himself relax, his muscles going slack beneath Chris as he nods.
“You sure?” Chris asks quietly.
Zach looks at him for a long moment, taking in his pale torso and imperfect skin and the tuft of hair that sticks up from the back of his head. He feels Chris’s thumb stroke slowly, unconsciously, across his hipbone. He nods again.
A grin splits Chris’s features, and Zach’s stupidly sappy heart thumps a little harder in his chest. Fuck, that smile. That smile is why he said yes.
Chris slides off of him and across the bed, going for the lube in the nightstand, as Zach shimmies out of his boxers and flips over onto his stomach. He can feel his muscles tensing up and he takes a deep breath, willing himself to relax. Deep breaths, calming yoga techniques, squeeze your fists and then let it go, let your body go loose, that’s it. He feels Chris watching him, then a light touch on his back, Chris’s voice soft, reassuring - “I’ll be gentle.”
Zach nods into the mattress, breathes in hard through his nose, then out through his mouth. The fact is, it doesn’t matter how gentle Chris will try to be, how gentle anyone tries to be - getting something shoved up your ass hurts like hell. Although apparently not everyone agrees, or maybe all the gay men who’ve tried to convince him otherwise are secret masochists or something, because it’s not like he hasn’t tried.
Like with Derek Howell, this ridiculously hot junior that he’d crushed on for months before finally catching his attention at a cast party. They’d gone back to Derek’s room to hook up, and Derek had been so into it that even when Zach had gasped “ow” and “wait”, he’d kept pressing into him, lubed up, but huge and unrelenting. Zach had gritted his teeth and squeezed the bedspread so hard his knuckles ached. Afterwards, he’d stayed, and they’d cuddled, but he couldn’t get it up again, and he’d limped back to his room across the foggy early-morning campus to curl up in the cool comfort of his own narrow bed, without ever telling Derek that it had been his first time.
He kept trying - it was college, after all, and there were more cast parties, and more guys noticing him, especially once he’d started leaving a little eyeliner on when he washed off his stage makeup. He learned that it didn’t hurt as much if he’d been drinking, and he learned that some guys were more considerate, the ones that would finger him and ask if it was okay before they pushed in a second finger, or a third. But eventually he had to say that yes, he was ready, and no matter how much they’d worked him open it still stung like fuck when they breached him, it still felt invasive and uncomfortable and ached the next morning, and even on the rare occasions when he actually stayed hard, he never managed to get off before the other guy passed out in a post-orgasmic haze.
Eventually, he’d gotten confident enough that he stopped doing it altogether. Instead, he figured out how to distract his dates with seductive smiles and expert blowjobs that made them forget their own names. He had plenty of guys offering to bottom for him, and he’d tried that, too, but he was so freaked out about hurting someone else that it made the experience pretty miserable for both parties involved. Not to mention that he found the whole thing kind of gross.
He’s had relationships, good ones, with guys who didn’t mind this little quirk of his, or who shared his preferences, like Alan, who was gorgeous and jacked and on the crew team and who was perfectly content with epic makeout sessions and the occasional handjob. Or Tommy, the blond West Hollywood twink with pierced nipples, who was more than willing to help him discover every other possible way to have an orgasm, who was the reason he’d barely left his apartment his first month in LA, and who was single-handedly responsible for his enduring, secret fondness for armpit sex.
It hasn’t always gone that smoothly. He’s well aware of the fact that his…distaste…for certain acts is the reason that some of his relationships have ended, or failed to get off the ground. At the point when people started recognizing him, when it had suddenly become a lot easier to find a hot guy to take back to his hotel room for the night, he’d occasionally found himself in the uncomfortable position of having to say no, sometimes forcefully, and to deal with the resulting scorn. He remembers the door slamming, his hands shaking as he poured himself a gin and tonic from the mini-fridge, breathing hard and cursing and wondering if maybe he should just suck it up and try again. Maybe it’s not as bad as he remembers.
The caterer who hit on him the next night was cute and funny, and Zach had no qualms about bringing him back to the room, even after he found out the guy had a boyfriend. They did shots of tequila on the king-size bed before Zach stripped down and scrambled onto all fours in invitation.
It’s just as bad as he remembers.
And then, a few months later, he met Chris.
It wasn’t love at first sight, or even lust. Just that pleasant buzz that you get when you catch a glimpse of someone attractive, followed by the low, constant undercurrent of arousal that stays with you when you actually meet them, when you realize you get to keep looking. But they’d talked, and talked again, and suddenly it was something more, a warm flush across the back of his neck when Chris smiled, a magnetic pull to wherever he was in the room. The uncontrollable urge to laugh too hard at his jokes. Deep breathing exercises between takes so he could talk down his impending boner and face up to the fact that he had a big, gooey crush on his co-star.
He’s the first guy Chris has ever been with. Chris confessed this to him between breathless kisses in the back of a town car, speeding toward Zach’s place on the night that Zach finally realized that maybe, possibly, Chris was flirting back. As they'd stumbled inside, Chris had reached for his belt, months of improbable fantasies about to come true, and at that moment, Zach’s carefully honed confidence shattered, his convictions flew out the window… He’d realized, suddenly, that he would do anything Chris wanted, anything, to keep him coming back for more.
Chris couldn’t have known all this a few nights later, when he was sliding his cock against Zach’s bare ass, rubbing the blunt head of it between his pale, fuzzy buttcheeks. Zach could practically read his mind, could feel him thinking, this is what gay guys do, right? Could feel the realization hit, how hot and tight it would be to press into that tiny hole, to be inside Zach, to feel him squeezing and spasming around his dick. Fuck, maybe it would even feel better than sex with a girl…
“Zach, can I…”
“Um…” He hadn’t meant to hesitate, but he couldn’t help it. Chris didn’t notice; he was watching the tip of his cock bump against Zach’s puckered entrance, waiting for Zach to respond. “Yeah. Okay.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Zach forced the words out. “Fuck me.”
White-hot, searing pain as Chris drove into him in one eager, inexorable push. Zach choked on his scream as tears sprang to the corners of his eyes, and it was all he could do to suck in a ragged breath. Behind him, Chris was in the throes of a religious experience, “Oh God, oh Jesus, holy Christ, fuck, Zach,” panting as he pumped relentlessly into Zach’s raw, aching hole.
It was over fast, a sweaty arm wrapping around his chest as Chris unloaded into him with a shout.
“Oh god, Zach,” Chris moaned, pressing his face between Zach’s shoulder blades, or trying to, as Zach scrambled off the bed with a hastily murmured excuse. In the bathroom, he slumped on the toilet and took long, wavering breaths. He cleaned himself up, wincing as the washcloth scraped against tender skin. He splashed cold water on his face, avoiding his reflection.
Back in the bedroom, Chris watched him with concern and asked if everything was alright. Zach nodded and slid under the covers to pull Chris into his arms.
He’d thought he’d have more time, but the next morning, after a long, leisurely wake-up kiss, Zach reached for Chris’s cock only to have his hand knocked away.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, as sudden panic flooded through him. Was this it, was he losing Chris already, it had only been a week -
Chris was looking at him, his eyes slightly narrowed. “Last night, did you-“
Zach raised an eyebrow, waiting.
“Did you, like…jerk off when you were in the bathroom?”
“No?”
“Oh. Did you come when I was -“
Zach sighed. “No.”
“Oh. So…”
Zach scrubbed his hands over his face. “Chris, I- ugh.“ He swallowed. “This is kind of a confession, okay?”
“Okaaay…“ Now Chris sounded panicked.
“I’m not really into…that. Anal. I don’t really like it, actually.”
Chris propped himself up on an elbow, anger and disbelief furrowing his brow. “Are you serious? What…why didn’t you tell me this last night?!”
“I’m sorry,” Zach whispered. He stared resolutely at the ceiling.
“Jesus, Zach,” Chris said, falling back onto his own pillow. “Did I…fuck, did I hurt you? Did it hurt?”
Zach twitched, something between a nod and a shrug.
Chris rolled back onto his side, running a hand through his hair as he looked down at Zach. “Do you…I mean, do you…”
“I’m not interested in topping either, if that’s what you’re asking,” Zach said, finally meeting his eyes. “I just…prefer doing other stuff.” He squirmed, flushing.
“Why did you let me?”
“You wanted to.”
Chris was quiet for a moment. “I wish you’d told me,” he said softly.
“Well, now you know.”
“Yeah.” Chris trailed a finger across Zach’s chest, lost in thought.
“You liked it, didn’t you?”
Chris licked his lips and nodded, and the look of guilt that flashed across his features made Zach’s heart flutter, made him sit up just enough to wrap a hand around the back of Chris’s head and pull him in for a vigorous kiss.
“You can do it again sometime, okay?” Zach said, resting their foreheads together.
Chris wrinkled his nose at Zach’s phrasing. “We don’t have to. Seriously, Zach, it’s cool. I...I like you, more than...you know...stuff.”
Zach couldn’t help the smile that crept onto his face. No other words could have made Zach so sure that he would do this again, for Chris.
Since then, it’s been good, more than good. It’s been amazing. Going home together led to spending weekends together, lazy mornings in bed, hands and mouths and the crease of Chris’s thigh. The rough friction of desperately grinding up against each other, fully clothed and impatient. Snuggling on the couch and doing each others’ laundry, meshing their lives together until they couldn’t even fathom trying to pull apart.
But sometimes, like tonight, Chris whispers his name, and Zach knows what he wants. And sometimes Zach says no, and instead he wraps his mouth around Chris and sucks, hard, and swallows and hums and lets Chris’s cock bump against the back of his throat until Chris is moaning incoherently, hips twitching as he tugs at Zach’s hair and explodes into his mouth in sudden, rapturous convulsions. Then Zach will roll onto his back and Chris will follow, looking into his flushed face and watering eyes, listening to his rasping breaths, and shake his head and say, incredulous, “I don’t get how you like that, but not…” Zach will smirk and shrug, not knowing either, and Chris will lean down to lick into his hot, slack mouth for minutes and minutes on end.
But sometimes, when he wants to see that wide, delighted smile… Sometimes, like tonight, Zach says yes.
Chris’s index finger is coated in lube as he rubs over Zach’s clenched hole. It feels…good, almost. His dick throbs, and he humps into the pillow beneath him, wondering, hoping, that maybe this time he’ll stay hard. Then Chris pushes the tip of his finger in and Zach tenses, going still, and he hears Chris’s breath hitch as his ass tightens up even more. Chris slides in a little further, out and in, before he pauses. He presses a dry kiss against Zach’s side and asks. “Is it okay?”
Zach nods. He means it, it is okay. It doesn’t hurt, not yet. It’s just…intrusive, and weird. He grinds down a little on his softening cock and tries not to wish that Chris’s lubed up fingers were being put to better use. Chris moves closer, plastered against his side, and Zach can feel his restraint, the way he’s quivering with an impatience he’s trying so hard not to show. Zach gives another little nod, and he can feel Chris relax infinitesimally as he presses a second finger inside.
The second finger hurts a little, more of an ache than a sting. Zach buries his face in his pillow, detached, and yet uncomfortably aware of Chris pumping and twisting and scissoring away at his asshole. Zach has a decision to make. Should he let Chris fuck him now, get it over with? Chris’s cock is thick, way bigger than two fingers, but the alternative is to let him try to jam yet another finger inside, more agonizing minutes of that burning stretch. He knows it makes Chris feel better about the whole thing, makes him feel like he’s being considerate, waiting until Zach is “ready” - fuck it. He doesn’t want to wait, he just wants this to be finished, so he can turn around and pull Chris into his arms and kiss until the pain wears off, until he’s hard again, pressed against Chris’s abs.
“You want more?” Chris whispers, and Zach shakes his head.
“Just go.”
“You sure?” Chris sounds concerned.
“Just do it.” He can feel his muscles tensing up again, his neck tight as he nods. He clutches at the sheets as he hears Chris lubing up behind him.
Chris murmurs soft words of encouragement and strokes along his sides and ass as he lines up, and Zach knows it’s supposed to be soothing, but it doesn’t help, and he can’t stop the prolonged grunt of pain that escapes as Chris shoves the thick head of his cock into his unyielding hole.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Chris gasps. “Do you want me to stop? Do you want me to wait?”
His asshole’s clamped down around the tip of Chris’s dick, and he can only imagine how good it feels, all tight and slick like when he fucks into Chris’s squeezed up fist. His own cock is completely flaccid now, but he won’t ask Chris to stop.
He breathes in deep and feels Chris push in a little farther as he exhales. “Yeah baby, just relax,” Chris urges, and Zach tries, closing his eyes and letting his body sag into the mattress. Chris’s cock is huge, thick in that way that Zach loves when it’s filling his mouth, resting heavily against his tongue, but right now he feels as though he’s being cleaved in two.
Chris slides out a little and pushes back in, and Zach knows why, knows that he’s trying to do it fast, to make it feel as good as he can so he’ll come quickly, without prolonging Zach’s discomfort. Zach knows this, and he appreciates it, so he presses his face into the pillow to muffle the chanted “ow ow ow” that echoes in his throat with every thrust.
“You okay?” Chris pants, but Zach’s pretty sure it’s just words at this point. Chris is well past coherent thought and into the grunting and thrusting portion of the evening.
“Ungh, Zach, fuck, oh fuck, feels so good -“ If Zach likes anything about this, it’s the stream of profanity that falls from Chris’s lips, betraying the building climax that’s edging out all of his self-control. Chris is lost in the friction, in the heat that pulses in his belly and curls his toes and leaves him shuddering, shaking, when he finally empties into Zach. He’s buried as deep as he can go, their bodies pressed together as Zach waits and tries to ignore the pain, the aching sting of skin stretched beyond its limit to accommodate Chris’s throbbing girth. Long seconds pass as Chris rides his wave of ecstasy, and Zach would almost smile if his face weren’t still twisted up in an involuntary grimace. When Chris is finished whiting out, he pulls out quickly, leans down to press a kiss to Zach’s lower back. Zach shifts onto his side as Chris scrambles up next to him. They hold onto each other like it’s been a while.
Zach slides back a little and reaches up to touch Chris’s cheek. Chris’s face is flushed and open and his eyes are a glittering, tender blue.
“I love you, Chris. So much.”
He always says it first after they do this, so he doesn’t have to wonder whether Chris is just saying it because of the sex. Which is silly, he knows, because Chris also says it after blowjobs and handjobs and particularly delicious sandwiches and at weird times, like when Zach is perched awkwardly on the side of the bed clipping his toenails over the trashcan.
Chris grins at him, because Zach told him the reason once, because Zach tells him everything. “I love you, too. You know.”
“I know.”
Chris brushes the tips of his fingers against Zach’s cock. Usually, Zach would have gotten up by this point to go to the bathroom, or Chris would have gone and brought him back a warm washcloth to clean up, but right now Zach doesn’t mind the change in routine. He can feel Chris’s still-warm spunk dripping down along his crack and is surprised to find himself a little turned on by the sensation, his dick swelling in response. Chris gives him a little tug and a wink.
“Now roll over, so I can get started on the 10,000 blowjobs I plan to give you.”
Zach rolls onto his back and runs a hand fondly through Chris’s mussed up hair. He smiles at the ceiling and thinks that maybe soon, maybe even tomorrow night, he’ll introduce Chris to the dirty, seductive world of armpit sex.