Intoxication (A Star Trek RPF Fanfic)
Title: Intoxication
Fandom: Star Trek RPF
Pairing: Chris/Zach
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,750
Summary: A wine-tasting is the perfect excuse for Chris and Zach to get drunk and…do what Chris and Zach do when they get drunk.
A/N: Written for aliassmith because LJ said it was her birthday like a million days ago. HAPPY (BELATED) BIRTHDAY ALIASSMITH!!
A/N2: ashleyj28, I know it's your birthday TODAY! But I have something else coming just for you (I'm just slow...). BUT YOU CAN READ THIS, TOO! SO IT'S LIKE A DOUBLE BIRTHDAY!!!
A/N3: If people want me to finish my RPF Big Bang fic, y'all better stop having birthdays. I'm just sayin'....
Zach’s heart was still beating normally when he saw Chris’s name flash across the screen of his phone. The pounding didn’t start until he heard Chris’s voice in his ear, saying “Hey, I heard about this winery nearby that has vineyard tours and wine tastings. You wanna go?” Then suddenly his blood was racing and a not-unpleasant heat was creeping up the back of his neck, because Chris was using that voice.
The first time Chris had used that voice, he’d been goading Zach into ordering a third Long Island Ice Tea. Then he’d been squeezing Zach’s thigh under the table, yanking him into a cab, and sucking Zach’s tongue into his mouth. Zach had stumbled up his walkway half an hour later, drunk, happy, and a little concerned that he wouldn’t be able to get the jizz off his suit jacket. He fell into bed wondering if that would ever happen again.
As it happened, the suit jacket cleaned up just fine. He knew this because he was wearing it the next time Chris used that voice. Chris was throwing a party, and he’d asked Zach to come down to the basement with him to help bring up another case of champagne. Zach had raised an eyebrow and followed, and they’d opened a bottle right there in the basement, and the next thing Zach knew, Chris was shoving his tongue into Zach’s mouth and his hand down Zach’s pants, and Zach wasn’t complaining one bit.
Then there’d been the bar they’d wandered past during happy hour one day, the one with the “create-your-own-martini” sign outside. Chris had suggested going in to check it out, the tone of his words tingling across Zach’s skin, and an hour later Zach was on his knees in the bathroom, hoping the fist wrapped in his hair and the gasping moans above him meant that he hadn't taken things too far.
And he hadn't, apparently, because a week later Chris had shown up on his doorstep with a smile, a fancy bottle of scotch that he’d gotten for Christmas, and that voice. That time, Zach had made the first move, climbing onto Chris’s lap halfway through the bottle, grinding into him and plundering his mouth, pulling away only so he could listen to Chris moan wantonly in his ear. He’d known that they were drunk, of course, but had no idea that he was drunk enough to mumble “I want to fuck you” into Chris’s hair, or that Chris was drunk enough to murmur “fuck, yes” back against his shoulder. A few more swigs from the bottle, a few more messy kisses, and Chris was dragging them shakily from the couch to the bedroom, where Zach had fucked Chris, hard and without finesse and for as long as it took until Chris was spurting streaks of come across his sheets. Zach had pulled out and slurred something about having another drink, but before he could get up to grab the bottle, they’d passed out in a sloppy, hot tangle of limbs.
That had been two weeks ago, and although Zach had seen Chris a few times since they’d woken up sticky and hungover the next morning, he couldn't help but wonder if maybe that had been the end of it. But now here was Chris on the phone, asking him if he wanted to go to a wine tasting and using that voice, and Zach was half-hard and buzzed already.
“And dress nice,” Chris added, after Zach had tripped over his words in his haste to say yes. “It’s supposed to be a classy place.”
“Sure, sure,” Zach agreed, wondering if he was the only one thinking about just how classy it would be when they tore each others’ clothes off at the end of the day.
Chris was quiet on the other end of the line, then he cleared his throat and said, “Anyway, I’ll, uh...I’ll pick you up at 4:00.”
Yeah, Zach thought with a smug smile. He hadn’t been the only one.
**
Zach practically jogged down the driveway when Chris pulled up outside.
“Hey,” he panted, sliding into the passenger seat.
Chris looked him over and nodded approvingly. “Nice suit.”
“Thanks,” Zach said, glancing down at his own suit, then over at Chris. “You look nice, too.” He had a sudden, unexpected urge to kiss him, and he had to remind himself that he was supposed to get drunk first. Instead, he fiddled with the radio until Chris slapped his hand away.
“Settle down, man,” Chris laughed.
“I can’t. I’ve had four cups of coffee.”
“You need some wine.”
Zach nodded. “And a bathroom break.”
**
Zach’s fingers twitched impatiently as he stared at the bottles of wine lined up on the bar. He thought they could have set this tasting up a little better - for instance, letting them drink the wine before the thirty minute lecture on fucking aeration techniques. It didn’t help that Chris was all interested in what this guy was going on about, “mmming” and “ahhing” and elbowing him in the arm whenever he found something particularly fascinating. Zach was sorry if he couldn’t find it in him to fake an interest in the age of various oak barrels when all he could think about was bending Chris over one of them, ripping his pants off, and-.
Chris nudged him again, startling him out of his little daydream.
“Mm-hmm, yes, very interesting,” Zach murmured, assuming Chris was drawing his attention to an obscure and boring-ass wine factoid. Chris rolled his eyes and pointed at the other end of the semi-circular bar, where the vintner had blessedly begun pouring the first wine.
“Fucking finally,” Zach said, under his breath. He bounced a little on the balls of his feet as he waited impatiently for the wine to get to them, and he managed to wait until the vintner had stepped back and said, “Now, as you taste this pinot, remember to think about-“ before he tossed back the mouthful of wine.
“Zach!” Chris hissed. He put a hand over his eyes and shook his head, chagrined.
“What?! I’m thirsty!”
“You have to swirl it,” Chris said, lifting his wine glass to demonstrate. “Then you have to sniff it to get the full bouquet…”
“If you don’t drink that in the next second, I’m going to rip it out of your hand,” Zach muttered, glancing down the bar to see if they’d started pouring the next bottle yet.
The next wine was a shiraz, characterized by a dark berry flavor typical of grapes grown on north facing hills or some bullshit. Zach wasn’t paying attention, really, because he was eyeing the stingy portion in his glass and wondering how the hell he was supposed to get drunk on one sip of wine every fifteen minutes.
But by the time they’d had a few more samples and moved on to the whites, Zach was feeling hazy and loose and spending far too much time watching Chris as he closed his eyes and savored the aroma, as he tipped his head back and swallowed and opened his eyes to smile at Zach with wine-stained lips.
Zach tore his gaze away and resisted the urge to adjust himself. Then the vintner described the next wine as warm and buttery, with hints of passionfruit, and Zach found himself wondering where the nearest broom closet was. Then there was something about filtration techniques, and Chris nodded thoughtfully and nudged him. “Isn’t that interesting, Zach?” he asked, as he raised the glass to his lips.
“It would be interesting,” Zach murmured in his ear, “if I weren't so eager to get drunk and fuck you." Chris’s eyes widened as he gulped down half of his wine, swallowing hard.
“Chris, Chris, Chris,” Zach said reproachfully. “You have to savor the aromas.” He slid his fingertips up under Chris’s suit jacket, resting his hand against Chris’s lower back and stroking him with his thumb as he leaned against the bar.
“Zach, stop it,” Chris hissed.
Zach waited until Chris turned to look at him, then he mouthed “Why?” and smiled slyly.
Chris shook his head and pressed back slightly against Zach’s hand as he lifted his wine glass. Zach lifted his and tapped it against Chris’s, then he swirled it, sniffed, and sipped with perfect wine-tasting technique.
“How would you describe this one?” the vintner asked.
“Creamy,” Zach whispered.
“Tight,” Chris whispered back. “Slick.”
Zach bit his lip and slid his hand around Chris’s waist, pulling him close enough to feel Zach’s straining bulge against his hip. Zach touched his lips to Chris’s ear. “I think I’m a little drunk.”
“I think-“ Chris started, but he was interrupted by the vintner clapping his hands and announcing that it was time for the tour.
Chris stepped away from the bar, and Zach let a quiet groan escape his lips. Before he could suggest something like a tour of his pants, Chris reached for his hand, threading their fingers together and pulling Zach along with him. As they passed the end of the bar, Zach spotted an open bottle of a robust cabernet, just sitting there, ripe for the taking. He reached out with his free hand and grabbed the wine, grinning when he realized it was at least half full. He tucked the bottle subtly beneath his suit jacket as they followed the group through the air conditioned warehouse and out the back door.
They shivered as they stepped into the warm air, squinting against the glare of the setting sun. The last rays of light illuminated the valley and the fields spread out in front of them, and a collective murmur of awe rippled through the group as they took in the sight. The vintner was droning on about humidity and soil conditions, but Zach still wasn’t listening. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, breathed in the smell of earth and basked in the golden glow of the evening. He remembered that he was holding Chris’s hand and squeezed it, warm and strong, and he smiled when Chris squeezed back. When he opened his eyes, the group was moving on, around the side of the warehouse toward the bottling workshop. Zach planted his feet and gripped Chris’s hand a little harder to keep him from following.
Chris gave him a curious look, but didn’t resist as Zach tugged him forward, down a slight incline and in between the rows of vines. Zach was giddy as he pulled Chris into a jog, and they laughed and ran until they reached a post marking the end of the row, out of sight of everything but the tangled grape vines surrounding them. Zach came to a halt, dropping Chris’s hand and turning around to produce the wine bottle that he’d procured. Chris laughed and Zach took a long swig, wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and handed Chris the bottle. Chris’s laughter trailed off, and Zach watched in confusion as Chris set the bottle down in the dirt. He took a step forward and reached out to pull Zach towards him.
Zach went easily, sliding his hands into Chris’s hair and pressing soft kisses against his mouth. “Are you drunk?” he breathed, wondering if it even mattered anymore. He didn’t find out, because then Chris was kissing him, open-mouthed and desperate. Zach dragged his tongue along Chris’s, licked deep into his mouth, tasting - oaky, complex flavors, with a good body - god, that body. He ran his hands down Chris’s sides, yanked at his belt. He slid his lips away from Chris’s mouth to kiss a path down his throat and into his open collar, as Chris slipped his hands between them to loosen Zach’s tie. They were panting, smiling, liberally tasting each other’s skin, salty sweat and stubble underneath their tongues, and Zach was sure the world was tilting on its axis as he fell to his knees in the dirt. He pressed his face into Chris’s open fly, breathed in his scent, musky and familiar. Chris tugged at a handful of his hair and he looked up into dark blue eyes and a half-smile. “Thought you wanted to fuck me,” Chris said, that voice again, deep and fond. Zach leaned back on his heels, planted a hand in the dirt as he reached with the other for the bottle. He watched Chris watching him as he wrapped his lips around the mouth of the bottle and tipped his head back to drink, letting his eyes flutter shut. Then Chris was on his knees, pulling the bottle out of his hand, replacing it with his lips and chasing the wine with his tongue.
“Your suit’s getting dirty,” Zach murmured against his mouth.
“Fuck me, Zach” Chris mumbled back, and Zach nodded, sitting up to pull off his jacket as Chris turned over, hands and knees pressing into the damp soil.
Zach tugged Chris’s pants down over his hips with one hand while he undid his belt with the other. He let his hand linger on Chris’s ass, caressing, exploring, running a dry finger over his entrance, pressing in with a knuckle, biting his lip as Chris dropped his head and moaned.
Zach pulled his hand away, shaking with desire, and he fumbled in his pocket with the condom and a packet of lube. He tore the wrapper open with his teeth, moaned as he slid the condom on and coated two of his fingers in lube. He pressed a finger into Chris without ceremony, wondering if he should be taking this a little slower. But Chris turned around to look at him, said “Zach, god, I’m drunk, I want to feel you,” and there was no decision to be made, he was already sliding his finger out and pressing the head of his cock against Chris’s tight entrance. He dug his fingers into Chris’s hips and grunted as he pushed inside, swallowing hard as he slid slowly into that dark, gripping heat. He sucked in a breath as he felt Chris pressing back against him, saw Chris’s fingers digging into the dirt beneath his hands, his elbows straightening as he fucked back onto Zach’s cock. Chris gasped as Zach filled him, and Zach squeezed his eyes shut, tipped his head back as he felt Chris clenching around his length. It was almost more than he could take, so he pulled out a little and thrust in hard. Chris dropped his head, and Zach heard him curse under his breath, “fuck” but then “yeah, Zach, like that,” so Zach did it again. Chris pressed the heels of his hands against the ground so Zach could slam into him as hard as he wanted, so Zach could take one hand off his hip and reach for the wine. He didn’t break his rhythm, pumping into Chris, meeting his thrusts as he took a long swig from the bottle, and when he pulled it away from his mouth he saw Chris looking back at him, grinning, and he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, set the bottle down, and leaned in to cover Chris’s laughing mouth in a wet, intoxicating kiss.
“Touch me,” Chris said against his lips. Zach nodded, bit at Chris’s bottom lip as he pulled away, and reached down to wrap his hand around Chris’s cock, hard and leaking in his boxers. Zach squeezed, and Chris thrust into his fist as Zach rocked into him again, still so hot and tight, and Chris grit his teeth to muffle his cries as Zach brought him closer to the edge. Zach felt his balls tighten, wondered how much longer he could last, but then a splash of Chris’s come coated his hand and he was there, pulsing hotly into Chris. He heard himself shout as he rode out his orgasm, thrusting slickly until he shuddered through the last weak spurt. He pulled out slowly and slid the condom off as Chris yanked his pants up and rolled onto his back, his chest heaving with exertion and ecstasy.
Zach knelt beside him, fastening his zipper as Chris reached for him, tugged at his sleeves, saying “C’mere, Zach, god, that was fucking amazing,” and Zach let himself be pulled to the ground, lay along Chris’s side and looked down into his twinkling eyes. He traced a finger along Chris’s cheek, then reached across his chest, feeling for something in the darkness. Came back with his fist around the wine bottle and tipped it down to Chris’s lips. Chris opened his mouth willingly, swallowing what he could and smiling as the rest dripped down his jaw, pooled against his collarbone. They finished the bottle, then Zach licked the remnants from Chris’s cheeks and neck, tried to suck the remaining drops from his tongue as they held each other and laughed quietly.
“Fuck, I’m drunk” Zach murmured, burrowing his face into Chris’s chest. He felt Chris’s hand come up to play with his hair and he shut his eyes, dizzy with lust and wine and the sweet, earthy scent that seemed to be everywhere, everywhere, but mostly here, and he breathed in deeply and let the world fade into the background. Chris’s hand stilled in his hair, and they fell into a deep and sated sleep.
***
Zach awoke with a start, pushed himself up on an elbow before he remembered where he was. Where they were, he amended, as he noticed Chris lying beside him, watching him. Chris’s tongue flicked out to lick at his purple lips and Zach couldn’t help himself, he moved in to cover them with a wine-stained kiss, dipping his tongue into Chris’s mouth, relief flowing through him as Chris met it with his own. Zach closed his eyes as they kissed, and when he opened them again the sky had lightened to the dim gray of early morning, the grape vines hazy shadows looming above them. Zach’s hand had strayed down to rest on Chris’s hip, and he would have been more than happy to linger there until the harvest, but Chris pushed himself up on his elbows and eyed the lightening sky.
“We should probably get out of here.”
“Right,” Zach said, and Chris must have seen his reluctance, because he wrapped a hand around the back of Zach’s neck and pulled him down for another kiss.
Zach was sure they weren’t drunk anymore, but he didn't exactly know what that meant, and he didn’t dwell on it. Instead, he got slowly to his feet and offered Chris a hand, and they wandered back up the sloping vineyard to the parking lot. Zach slid into the passenger seat and finally got a good look at their suits, dirty, rumpled, and stained with streaks of deep purple. He laughed and ran a hand through his hair and tried desperately to think of another excuse to fuck Chris into the ground. He thought idly that he should suggest a shower, or at least tell Chris he didn’t have to go out of his way to drop him off at home. But Chris’s smooth driving over the curving roads of the valley quickly lulled him into a deep slumber, and the next thing he knew Chris was shaking him awake outside his house. Zach frowned and rubbed a hand over his eyes, but he opened the door and climbed out, only looking back to say, “Thanks” and “See you around” before he shut the door and headed up the walkway toward his bed.
***
Three days later, Zach hadn’t heard a word from Chris, and the withdrawal was hitting him hard. He tried drinking a bottle of wine over the course of an evening, but he was hungover before he even felt the pleasant warmth of a buzz. When his phone vibrated on the table on Wednesday night, he was almost too nervous to look at it - what if it was Chris? What if it wasn’t? He finally grabbed for it just before the call went to voicemail, breathless as he slammed the phone to his ear.
“Hello?”
Chris seemed surprised that he’d answered, a few seconds of silence before he said, “Hey. Are you, uh, doing anything tonight?”
“Nope,” Zach said quickly, waiting, hoping…
“I heard about this whiskey tasting thing in Los Feliz…” and yes, there it was, that voice, and something in Zach’s chest unclenched. And suddenly, whiskey was the last thing he wanted to taste.
“Chris. Chris,” Zach said, cutting him off.
“Yeah?”
“Do you want to just come over?”
“What?” Chris sounded confused.
“I mean, do you want to just come over and, like…make out?”
Silence on the other end of the phone. Zach could picture Chris opening and closing his mouth in surprise. Finally, Chris laughed. “Wow. Uh. Yeah. Yeah, okay.”
Zach smiled, his relief quickly supplanted by excitement. “Awesome.”
“Um…should I, like, bring beer or something?”
“If you want to.” If you need to, he meant.
“Right. Okay. Well, I’ll just…come over, then.”
“Great. See you soon.”
Zach hung up, dropped the phone on the couch, and pushed both hands into his hair as a ridiculous grin spread across his face. Then he frowned and glanced down at his yoga pants and ratty t-shirt. Shit. What the fuck was he going to wear?
He’d gone from a blazer to a button-down to a pair of loose jeans and a slightly less ratty t-shirt by the time he heard Chris knock. When he opened the front door, he met Chris’s hungry gaze, and he tried not to let his smile falter as Chris thrust a six-pack into his hand. He glanced down quickly, and did a double-take. “You brought…Red Bull?”
Chris nodded and stepped towards him, pulling him into a hard kiss. Zach tangled his free hand in Chris’s hair and kissed him back until Chris slid his lips away, mouthing along Zach’s stubbled jaw. “I thought we might need to keep our energy up,” he breathed, and Zach felt his cock twitch against the denim of his jeans.
“Yeah,” Zach panted, “fuck, yeah.”
“Fuck,” Chris muttered, clinging to Zach, pressing his face into his shoulder.
“What is it?” Zach asked, suddenly concerned.
Chris shook his head. “Just…I swore I was going to stay sober,” he said. He looked up to meet Zach’s eyes. “But the room’s already spinning.”
Zach smiled and tightened his arms around Chris, kissed him gently on the temple, and whispered in his ear. “Maybe we should go lie down.”
Fandom: Star Trek RPF
Pairing: Chris/Zach
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,750
Summary: A wine-tasting is the perfect excuse for Chris and Zach to get drunk and…do what Chris and Zach do when they get drunk.
A/N: Written for aliassmith because LJ said it was her birthday like a million days ago. HAPPY (BELATED) BIRTHDAY ALIASSMITH!!
A/N2: ashleyj28, I know it's your birthday TODAY! But I have something else coming just for you (I'm just slow...). BUT YOU CAN READ THIS, TOO! SO IT'S LIKE A DOUBLE BIRTHDAY!!!
A/N3: If people want me to finish my RPF Big Bang fic, y'all better stop having birthdays. I'm just sayin'....
Zach’s heart was still beating normally when he saw Chris’s name flash across the screen of his phone. The pounding didn’t start until he heard Chris’s voice in his ear, saying “Hey, I heard about this winery nearby that has vineyard tours and wine tastings. You wanna go?” Then suddenly his blood was racing and a not-unpleasant heat was creeping up the back of his neck, because Chris was using that voice.
The first time Chris had used that voice, he’d been goading Zach into ordering a third Long Island Ice Tea. Then he’d been squeezing Zach’s thigh under the table, yanking him into a cab, and sucking Zach’s tongue into his mouth. Zach had stumbled up his walkway half an hour later, drunk, happy, and a little concerned that he wouldn’t be able to get the jizz off his suit jacket. He fell into bed wondering if that would ever happen again.
As it happened, the suit jacket cleaned up just fine. He knew this because he was wearing it the next time Chris used that voice. Chris was throwing a party, and he’d asked Zach to come down to the basement with him to help bring up another case of champagne. Zach had raised an eyebrow and followed, and they’d opened a bottle right there in the basement, and the next thing Zach knew, Chris was shoving his tongue into Zach’s mouth and his hand down Zach’s pants, and Zach wasn’t complaining one bit.
Then there’d been the bar they’d wandered past during happy hour one day, the one with the “create-your-own-martini” sign outside. Chris had suggested going in to check it out, the tone of his words tingling across Zach’s skin, and an hour later Zach was on his knees in the bathroom, hoping the fist wrapped in his hair and the gasping moans above him meant that he hadn't taken things too far.
And he hadn't, apparently, because a week later Chris had shown up on his doorstep with a smile, a fancy bottle of scotch that he’d gotten for Christmas, and that voice. That time, Zach had made the first move, climbing onto Chris’s lap halfway through the bottle, grinding into him and plundering his mouth, pulling away only so he could listen to Chris moan wantonly in his ear. He’d known that they were drunk, of course, but had no idea that he was drunk enough to mumble “I want to fuck you” into Chris’s hair, or that Chris was drunk enough to murmur “fuck, yes” back against his shoulder. A few more swigs from the bottle, a few more messy kisses, and Chris was dragging them shakily from the couch to the bedroom, where Zach had fucked Chris, hard and without finesse and for as long as it took until Chris was spurting streaks of come across his sheets. Zach had pulled out and slurred something about having another drink, but before he could get up to grab the bottle, they’d passed out in a sloppy, hot tangle of limbs.
That had been two weeks ago, and although Zach had seen Chris a few times since they’d woken up sticky and hungover the next morning, he couldn't help but wonder if maybe that had been the end of it. But now here was Chris on the phone, asking him if he wanted to go to a wine tasting and using that voice, and Zach was half-hard and buzzed already.
“And dress nice,” Chris added, after Zach had tripped over his words in his haste to say yes. “It’s supposed to be a classy place.”
“Sure, sure,” Zach agreed, wondering if he was the only one thinking about just how classy it would be when they tore each others’ clothes off at the end of the day.
Chris was quiet on the other end of the line, then he cleared his throat and said, “Anyway, I’ll, uh...I’ll pick you up at 4:00.”
Yeah, Zach thought with a smug smile. He hadn’t been the only one.
**
Zach practically jogged down the driveway when Chris pulled up outside.
“Hey,” he panted, sliding into the passenger seat.
Chris looked him over and nodded approvingly. “Nice suit.”
“Thanks,” Zach said, glancing down at his own suit, then over at Chris. “You look nice, too.” He had a sudden, unexpected urge to kiss him, and he had to remind himself that he was supposed to get drunk first. Instead, he fiddled with the radio until Chris slapped his hand away.
“Settle down, man,” Chris laughed.
“I can’t. I’ve had four cups of coffee.”
“You need some wine.”
Zach nodded. “And a bathroom break.”
**
Zach’s fingers twitched impatiently as he stared at the bottles of wine lined up on the bar. He thought they could have set this tasting up a little better - for instance, letting them drink the wine before the thirty minute lecture on fucking aeration techniques. It didn’t help that Chris was all interested in what this guy was going on about, “mmming” and “ahhing” and elbowing him in the arm whenever he found something particularly fascinating. Zach was sorry if he couldn’t find it in him to fake an interest in the age of various oak barrels when all he could think about was bending Chris over one of them, ripping his pants off, and-.
Chris nudged him again, startling him out of his little daydream.
“Mm-hmm, yes, very interesting,” Zach murmured, assuming Chris was drawing his attention to an obscure and boring-ass wine factoid. Chris rolled his eyes and pointed at the other end of the semi-circular bar, where the vintner had blessedly begun pouring the first wine.
“Fucking finally,” Zach said, under his breath. He bounced a little on the balls of his feet as he waited impatiently for the wine to get to them, and he managed to wait until the vintner had stepped back and said, “Now, as you taste this pinot, remember to think about-“ before he tossed back the mouthful of wine.
“Zach!” Chris hissed. He put a hand over his eyes and shook his head, chagrined.
“What?! I’m thirsty!”
“You have to swirl it,” Chris said, lifting his wine glass to demonstrate. “Then you have to sniff it to get the full bouquet…”
“If you don’t drink that in the next second, I’m going to rip it out of your hand,” Zach muttered, glancing down the bar to see if they’d started pouring the next bottle yet.
The next wine was a shiraz, characterized by a dark berry flavor typical of grapes grown on north facing hills or some bullshit. Zach wasn’t paying attention, really, because he was eyeing the stingy portion in his glass and wondering how the hell he was supposed to get drunk on one sip of wine every fifteen minutes.
But by the time they’d had a few more samples and moved on to the whites, Zach was feeling hazy and loose and spending far too much time watching Chris as he closed his eyes and savored the aroma, as he tipped his head back and swallowed and opened his eyes to smile at Zach with wine-stained lips.
Zach tore his gaze away and resisted the urge to adjust himself. Then the vintner described the next wine as warm and buttery, with hints of passionfruit, and Zach found himself wondering where the nearest broom closet was. Then there was something about filtration techniques, and Chris nodded thoughtfully and nudged him. “Isn’t that interesting, Zach?” he asked, as he raised the glass to his lips.
“It would be interesting,” Zach murmured in his ear, “if I weren't so eager to get drunk and fuck you." Chris’s eyes widened as he gulped down half of his wine, swallowing hard.
“Chris, Chris, Chris,” Zach said reproachfully. “You have to savor the aromas.” He slid his fingertips up under Chris’s suit jacket, resting his hand against Chris’s lower back and stroking him with his thumb as he leaned against the bar.
“Zach, stop it,” Chris hissed.
Zach waited until Chris turned to look at him, then he mouthed “Why?” and smiled slyly.
Chris shook his head and pressed back slightly against Zach’s hand as he lifted his wine glass. Zach lifted his and tapped it against Chris’s, then he swirled it, sniffed, and sipped with perfect wine-tasting technique.
“How would you describe this one?” the vintner asked.
“Creamy,” Zach whispered.
“Tight,” Chris whispered back. “Slick.”
Zach bit his lip and slid his hand around Chris’s waist, pulling him close enough to feel Zach’s straining bulge against his hip. Zach touched his lips to Chris’s ear. “I think I’m a little drunk.”
“I think-“ Chris started, but he was interrupted by the vintner clapping his hands and announcing that it was time for the tour.
Chris stepped away from the bar, and Zach let a quiet groan escape his lips. Before he could suggest something like a tour of his pants, Chris reached for his hand, threading their fingers together and pulling Zach along with him. As they passed the end of the bar, Zach spotted an open bottle of a robust cabernet, just sitting there, ripe for the taking. He reached out with his free hand and grabbed the wine, grinning when he realized it was at least half full. He tucked the bottle subtly beneath his suit jacket as they followed the group through the air conditioned warehouse and out the back door.
They shivered as they stepped into the warm air, squinting against the glare of the setting sun. The last rays of light illuminated the valley and the fields spread out in front of them, and a collective murmur of awe rippled through the group as they took in the sight. The vintner was droning on about humidity and soil conditions, but Zach still wasn’t listening. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, breathed in the smell of earth and basked in the golden glow of the evening. He remembered that he was holding Chris’s hand and squeezed it, warm and strong, and he smiled when Chris squeezed back. When he opened his eyes, the group was moving on, around the side of the warehouse toward the bottling workshop. Zach planted his feet and gripped Chris’s hand a little harder to keep him from following.
Chris gave him a curious look, but didn’t resist as Zach tugged him forward, down a slight incline and in between the rows of vines. Zach was giddy as he pulled Chris into a jog, and they laughed and ran until they reached a post marking the end of the row, out of sight of everything but the tangled grape vines surrounding them. Zach came to a halt, dropping Chris’s hand and turning around to produce the wine bottle that he’d procured. Chris laughed and Zach took a long swig, wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and handed Chris the bottle. Chris’s laughter trailed off, and Zach watched in confusion as Chris set the bottle down in the dirt. He took a step forward and reached out to pull Zach towards him.
Zach went easily, sliding his hands into Chris’s hair and pressing soft kisses against his mouth. “Are you drunk?” he breathed, wondering if it even mattered anymore. He didn’t find out, because then Chris was kissing him, open-mouthed and desperate. Zach dragged his tongue along Chris’s, licked deep into his mouth, tasting - oaky, complex flavors, with a good body - god, that body. He ran his hands down Chris’s sides, yanked at his belt. He slid his lips away from Chris’s mouth to kiss a path down his throat and into his open collar, as Chris slipped his hands between them to loosen Zach’s tie. They were panting, smiling, liberally tasting each other’s skin, salty sweat and stubble underneath their tongues, and Zach was sure the world was tilting on its axis as he fell to his knees in the dirt. He pressed his face into Chris’s open fly, breathed in his scent, musky and familiar. Chris tugged at a handful of his hair and he looked up into dark blue eyes and a half-smile. “Thought you wanted to fuck me,” Chris said, that voice again, deep and fond. Zach leaned back on his heels, planted a hand in the dirt as he reached with the other for the bottle. He watched Chris watching him as he wrapped his lips around the mouth of the bottle and tipped his head back to drink, letting his eyes flutter shut. Then Chris was on his knees, pulling the bottle out of his hand, replacing it with his lips and chasing the wine with his tongue.
“Your suit’s getting dirty,” Zach murmured against his mouth.
“Fuck me, Zach” Chris mumbled back, and Zach nodded, sitting up to pull off his jacket as Chris turned over, hands and knees pressing into the damp soil.
Zach tugged Chris’s pants down over his hips with one hand while he undid his belt with the other. He let his hand linger on Chris’s ass, caressing, exploring, running a dry finger over his entrance, pressing in with a knuckle, biting his lip as Chris dropped his head and moaned.
Zach pulled his hand away, shaking with desire, and he fumbled in his pocket with the condom and a packet of lube. He tore the wrapper open with his teeth, moaned as he slid the condom on and coated two of his fingers in lube. He pressed a finger into Chris without ceremony, wondering if he should be taking this a little slower. But Chris turned around to look at him, said “Zach, god, I’m drunk, I want to feel you,” and there was no decision to be made, he was already sliding his finger out and pressing the head of his cock against Chris’s tight entrance. He dug his fingers into Chris’s hips and grunted as he pushed inside, swallowing hard as he slid slowly into that dark, gripping heat. He sucked in a breath as he felt Chris pressing back against him, saw Chris’s fingers digging into the dirt beneath his hands, his elbows straightening as he fucked back onto Zach’s cock. Chris gasped as Zach filled him, and Zach squeezed his eyes shut, tipped his head back as he felt Chris clenching around his length. It was almost more than he could take, so he pulled out a little and thrust in hard. Chris dropped his head, and Zach heard him curse under his breath, “fuck” but then “yeah, Zach, like that,” so Zach did it again. Chris pressed the heels of his hands against the ground so Zach could slam into him as hard as he wanted, so Zach could take one hand off his hip and reach for the wine. He didn’t break his rhythm, pumping into Chris, meeting his thrusts as he took a long swig from the bottle, and when he pulled it away from his mouth he saw Chris looking back at him, grinning, and he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, set the bottle down, and leaned in to cover Chris’s laughing mouth in a wet, intoxicating kiss.
“Touch me,” Chris said against his lips. Zach nodded, bit at Chris’s bottom lip as he pulled away, and reached down to wrap his hand around Chris’s cock, hard and leaking in his boxers. Zach squeezed, and Chris thrust into his fist as Zach rocked into him again, still so hot and tight, and Chris grit his teeth to muffle his cries as Zach brought him closer to the edge. Zach felt his balls tighten, wondered how much longer he could last, but then a splash of Chris’s come coated his hand and he was there, pulsing hotly into Chris. He heard himself shout as he rode out his orgasm, thrusting slickly until he shuddered through the last weak spurt. He pulled out slowly and slid the condom off as Chris yanked his pants up and rolled onto his back, his chest heaving with exertion and ecstasy.
Zach knelt beside him, fastening his zipper as Chris reached for him, tugged at his sleeves, saying “C’mere, Zach, god, that was fucking amazing,” and Zach let himself be pulled to the ground, lay along Chris’s side and looked down into his twinkling eyes. He traced a finger along Chris’s cheek, then reached across his chest, feeling for something in the darkness. Came back with his fist around the wine bottle and tipped it down to Chris’s lips. Chris opened his mouth willingly, swallowing what he could and smiling as the rest dripped down his jaw, pooled against his collarbone. They finished the bottle, then Zach licked the remnants from Chris’s cheeks and neck, tried to suck the remaining drops from his tongue as they held each other and laughed quietly.
“Fuck, I’m drunk” Zach murmured, burrowing his face into Chris’s chest. He felt Chris’s hand come up to play with his hair and he shut his eyes, dizzy with lust and wine and the sweet, earthy scent that seemed to be everywhere, everywhere, but mostly here, and he breathed in deeply and let the world fade into the background. Chris’s hand stilled in his hair, and they fell into a deep and sated sleep.
***
Zach awoke with a start, pushed himself up on an elbow before he remembered where he was. Where they were, he amended, as he noticed Chris lying beside him, watching him. Chris’s tongue flicked out to lick at his purple lips and Zach couldn’t help himself, he moved in to cover them with a wine-stained kiss, dipping his tongue into Chris’s mouth, relief flowing through him as Chris met it with his own. Zach closed his eyes as they kissed, and when he opened them again the sky had lightened to the dim gray of early morning, the grape vines hazy shadows looming above them. Zach’s hand had strayed down to rest on Chris’s hip, and he would have been more than happy to linger there until the harvest, but Chris pushed himself up on his elbows and eyed the lightening sky.
“We should probably get out of here.”
“Right,” Zach said, and Chris must have seen his reluctance, because he wrapped a hand around the back of Zach’s neck and pulled him down for another kiss.
Zach was sure they weren’t drunk anymore, but he didn't exactly know what that meant, and he didn’t dwell on it. Instead, he got slowly to his feet and offered Chris a hand, and they wandered back up the sloping vineyard to the parking lot. Zach slid into the passenger seat and finally got a good look at their suits, dirty, rumpled, and stained with streaks of deep purple. He laughed and ran a hand through his hair and tried desperately to think of another excuse to fuck Chris into the ground. He thought idly that he should suggest a shower, or at least tell Chris he didn’t have to go out of his way to drop him off at home. But Chris’s smooth driving over the curving roads of the valley quickly lulled him into a deep slumber, and the next thing he knew Chris was shaking him awake outside his house. Zach frowned and rubbed a hand over his eyes, but he opened the door and climbed out, only looking back to say, “Thanks” and “See you around” before he shut the door and headed up the walkway toward his bed.
***
Three days later, Zach hadn’t heard a word from Chris, and the withdrawal was hitting him hard. He tried drinking a bottle of wine over the course of an evening, but he was hungover before he even felt the pleasant warmth of a buzz. When his phone vibrated on the table on Wednesday night, he was almost too nervous to look at it - what if it was Chris? What if it wasn’t? He finally grabbed for it just before the call went to voicemail, breathless as he slammed the phone to his ear.
“Hello?”
Chris seemed surprised that he’d answered, a few seconds of silence before he said, “Hey. Are you, uh, doing anything tonight?”
“Nope,” Zach said quickly, waiting, hoping…
“I heard about this whiskey tasting thing in Los Feliz…” and yes, there it was, that voice, and something in Zach’s chest unclenched. And suddenly, whiskey was the last thing he wanted to taste.
“Chris. Chris,” Zach said, cutting him off.
“Yeah?”
“Do you want to just come over?”
“What?” Chris sounded confused.
“I mean, do you want to just come over and, like…make out?”
Silence on the other end of the phone. Zach could picture Chris opening and closing his mouth in surprise. Finally, Chris laughed. “Wow. Uh. Yeah. Yeah, okay.”
Zach smiled, his relief quickly supplanted by excitement. “Awesome.”
“Um…should I, like, bring beer or something?”
“If you want to.” If you need to, he meant.
“Right. Okay. Well, I’ll just…come over, then.”
“Great. See you soon.”
Zach hung up, dropped the phone on the couch, and pushed both hands into his hair as a ridiculous grin spread across his face. Then he frowned and glanced down at his yoga pants and ratty t-shirt. Shit. What the fuck was he going to wear?
He’d gone from a blazer to a button-down to a pair of loose jeans and a slightly less ratty t-shirt by the time he heard Chris knock. When he opened the front door, he met Chris’s hungry gaze, and he tried not to let his smile falter as Chris thrust a six-pack into his hand. He glanced down quickly, and did a double-take. “You brought…Red Bull?”
Chris nodded and stepped towards him, pulling him into a hard kiss. Zach tangled his free hand in Chris’s hair and kissed him back until Chris slid his lips away, mouthing along Zach’s stubbled jaw. “I thought we might need to keep our energy up,” he breathed, and Zach felt his cock twitch against the denim of his jeans.
“Yeah,” Zach panted, “fuck, yeah.”
“Fuck,” Chris muttered, clinging to Zach, pressing his face into his shoulder.
“What is it?” Zach asked, suddenly concerned.
Chris shook his head. “Just…I swore I was going to stay sober,” he said. He looked up to meet Zach’s eyes. “But the room’s already spinning.”
Zach smiled and tightened his arms around Chris, kissed him gently on the temple, and whispered in his ear. “Maybe we should go lie down.”