Just a Little Bet
Title: Just a Little Bet
Rating: NC-17
Genre: PWP
Warnings: porn. cock rings. foolish betting.
Pairing: pinto
Summary: fills the kink!bingo prompt "sex toys (worn under clothing)", and also greenteaduck 's pintofest! luau prompt for "smut"
Disclaimer: FICTION. MADE UP. NO BASIS IN REALITY WHATSOEVER.
A/N: ohhhh yeah, there's no reason for this.
Chris shifts again, squirming in a vain attempt to escape the hard plastic ring that is currently affecting his sitting position.
Goddammit. This is absolutely the last time he ever bets against Quinto in anything. Ever.
Across the room, Zach’s smile is nonchalant, easy. A few teeth peeking out where he nibbles thoughtfully on his pen. Predatory, Chris thinks, and wonders how no one else can see it.
He’s safe as long as he stays sitting. Well, safe being a relative term, anyway. He doesn’t think that Zach would be quite so cruel as to make him stand up with a rock hard boner in front of everyone at this awards ceremony.
He really hopes Zach wouldn’t be that cruel.
Really hopes.
Why the hell had he taken that dumb bet in the first place? He can’t even remember. He was drunk, they were all drunk. How was he supposed to know that Zoe was a goddamn pool shark? Now, admittedly, it is always unwise to bet against Zoe, and he knows this, he does, but he’d also seen Karl play, and he honestly didn’t think anyone else stood a chance against him. And Zoe was so trashed, stumbling around in her high heels like a baby giraffe.
Or at least she had acted so trashed.
His eyes narrow.
He looks across the table to Zach, sitting dapper and distinguished in his skinny tie and suitcoat. His hair is slicked back in that sort of twenties thing he’s got going right now, and he looks like a veritable angel sitting there, all his attention on the speaker at the front.
Butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.
Chris snorts quietly, then claps a hand to his mouth as Zach’s head swivels slowly to face him. The smile, the smile is sweet and innocent, but his eyes- Chris groans silently. His eyes are pure evil…
Chris nearly jumps a foot, gripping the table and shaking his water glass as the ring around his cock begins to vibrate. Oh, god. What fresh hell is this? He panics, his heart jumping, his breath stuttering, as he struggles to close his mouth. He knows he is gaping at Zach, his eyes wide and lips forming a delicate ‘o’ of shock. Zach merely smiles wider, and clicks something faintly under the table. The vibrations go up.
Oh. God.
Chris did not know that this was a vibrating cock ring.
He is harder than he’s been in years, he can almost hear his zipper creaking with the pressure. The rush of blood away from his head is so fast, and so thorough, he sees stars, colored orbs around the edge of his field of vision. He can feel himself begin to sway in his seat, and it must be obvious, because the vibrations stop as suddenly as they started.
His eyes meet Zach’s through a haze, and he feels himself break out in a cold sweat.
This dinner is going to go for hours.
--
By the time the last speaker has finished. Chris can barely see. He has managed to cobble together enough forethought to remove his suit jacket and hold it discreetly over his lap, but the thought of the energy required to stand up and get himself safely out of this room is overwhelming. His legs are shaky from pressing against each other, his pulse is racing, and his cock, he swears, is going to fall off if he doesn’t get this thing off soon.
“Here, Chris, let me give you a hand. You look like you’re not feeling well.”
Zach. It’s Zach at his elbow, all brown eyes and solicitous tongue.
He summons his best glare, directs it at the man standing beside him.
Zach smiles sweetly.
“Here, let’s just get you out of here, shall we?”
Zach takes his elbow and hauls him to his feet, allowing him a second to situate his jacket, then steers him easily out to the double doors, sliding through the crowd like a shark through minnows. He turns people away as graciously as only he can do, giving a casual brush-off that still makes them feel as though he could someday be their best friend. Chris staggers mindlessly along beside, his entire being focused on remaining upright.
It takes a minute, but Zach pulls him to the elevator, manhandling him inside, then pushing the button. Chris slumps against the cool metal wall. His shirt is soaked through with sweat, sticking him messily to the shiny brass; he feels like he has a fever. He is determinedly not panting as he glances over to his companion.
Zach just crosses his arms and smiles.
When the floor dings ready, Chris manages to force his eyes open enough to be dragged out the door and down the hall. He can’t even remember his own room number at this point, nor does he care- all he can think about is getting some relief for his poor, aching dick.
Zach props him carefully against the wall, stay here, fishes in his pocket for a key card, waits for the light to turn green, then hauls them both through the door.
Three big steps, and Chris is pushed unceremoniously backwards onto a bed, bouncing once on the mattress as he comes to rest. He whimpers low in his throat, and feels hands at his belt, his fly. He can hear Zach murmuring something, but he’s so far gone he can’t follow the words.
He absently notices when his pants are pulled off his ankles, and can feel the relief of the cool air on his swollen cock when his briefs are pulled away, but it’s not till he feels the hot/wet/slick of a tongue on his nuts that he sits up with a shout, eyes wild and fists clenched.
Zach, damn him, is on his knees, tie straight and hair impeccable, laughing. Laughing.
He’s gathering himself to yell, pulling air into his lungs, but Zach heads him off at the pass by sucking the tip of his dick into his mouth and running his tongue around the head, tracing his flesh with dedication determination that speaks of a plan. He murmurs, fluttering his tongue, and Chris practically convulses, falling back on the bed as spots once again fill the edges of his vision.
He can hear Zach chuckling over the sound of his moans.
“Oh, poor Chris. Has it been a hard day?” he snickers again. “Are you feeling…tense? Stiff?” He pauses. “Did the conversation seem a little…wooden to you tonight?”
Chris desperately wants to smack him, but he can’t seem to muster the coordination to do so, especially not when Zach is doing such delightfully unspeakable things to his balls with his long, thin, fingers. The build is transcendant, pain beginning to fade into sharp-edged pleasure, and he moans again, past the point of self-consciousness, shouting aloud as he feels the sudden release of the ring. He gasps, panting, and Zach fastens his mouth on Chris in earnest now, sucking hard and moving up and down, his elegant hands bracing on the smooth warm inside of Chris’ thighs.
Perhaps there is something to be said for anticipation, Chris thinks later, because when he comes, he comes harder than he ever has in his life, every muscle tensing involuntarily as the electric shockwave of pleasure rips through his body, grasping him in the fierce grip of inevitable paroxysm. He shoots and shoots, his stomach clenching and his mouth gaping until he is all at once utterly limp, completely wrung out and abandoned to the aftermath there on the hotel comforter.
--
By the time he comes to and opens his eyes, Zach has crawled up the bed and is lying beside him, watching him with his head propped on a hand.
“Ok?”
“Nnnrgh.”
Zach laughs, throwing his head back and wrinkling his eyes.
“Ok then.” He purses his lips. “Now, next time you’ll know that it vibrates, but…” he waves a hand, “it’ll still be fun.”
Chris can feel his mouth open.
“Ne… next time?”
Zach shrugs. “Sure. Why not?”
Chris squints, sudden suspicions falling into place.
He licks his lip.
“So. Tell me, O connoisseur of illicit delights, was this a set up? Did you and Zoe plan this whole sordid escapade?” he pokes a finger into Zach’s chest.
Zach shrugs again. “Eh. Maybe.” His eyes twinkle.
“I knew it! You just wanted an excuse to get into my pants!” Chris waves a fist in jubilation.
Zach smiles briefly, then leans forward and presses a warm kiss to his lips.
Chris sighs, and closes his eyes, parting his mouth and kissing back.
Zach chuckles softly, sliding a warm arm under him where he lays.
“Maybe.”