[fic] Steamy
Title:Steamy
Characters: Chris/Zach
Genre: Romance, PWP
Rating: NC-17
Length: ~1000
Summary: Zach likes the slow, steamy sex Chris gives him at the end of the weekend.
Warnings: Wordiness, cryptic imagery
AN: This was originally a bit of a slow-building bout of heated sex, then it evolved into an exercise in visual imagery and symbolism, then it devolved into a camptastic bodice ripper. *sigh* whatever, enjoy XD
PS. if anyone has a better idea for the title, PLEASE lend a hand
It's always best at the end of the weekend. At the beginning they're too desperate for each other. The long week that kept them too busy for sex makes way for their time. They make use of it, and it's too short. The frantic heat breaking over them in rapid swarms of pleasure. Again and again they crash together. That first night is it's own kind of fantastic, but this is when the real fun is.
The tension between them is loose. They're able to take their time, winding tighter and tighter in a slow coil towards completion. Teasing that, at the turn of the weekend, makes Zach explode in moments now simmers low in his gut. The brush of thick fingers against his neck. The deep swallow of water in Chris' throat. The long expanse of Chris' legs spread out across the couch. The curve of Chris' hips as he slinks from the front room towards their bedroom, pants slung so low that Zach can do more than imagine where that dark line goes.
Zach follows him into the bedroom, eyes riveted to where Chris has decided to drape himself across the arms of the plush chair in one corner. He's lost his shirt somewhere; the expanse of pale skin glows under the orange light of Zach's reading lamp. The dark red fabric of the chair highlighting the blush creeping up Chris' neck. The bright red blooms of marks Zach has painted on him during the weekend cry to him, beg him to come and make more. To suck there, to grab here until there is no inch of Chris unmarred by biting teeth or hand prints.
Chris looks up at him, eyes open. A blue flame of lust beckoning from his gaze. He sits up, straddling one of the arms of the chair and rocks his hips, subtle as his eyes coax Zach closer. A short glance orders him into the chair.
Zach allows himself to be directed. Silent between them, the heavy scent of sex is like a third lover. Chris drops from the chair, kneeling between Zach's open thighs, and Zach can almost feel the curling heat wrapping around the back of the chair, pulling his shoulders back as Chris tugs his hips forward. His ass rests against the edge of the chair, Chris' eyes caressing the vast distance from his groin to chin, touching every curve of muscle in between.
The growling tines of Zach's zipper are the rumbling purr of a tiger, promising a dangerous pleasure if he just follows the sound. Deep into the woods beyond any hope of god's salvation. Only Lady Lust, that temptress of all things nasty and delicious will find him here.
Zach sighs. Chris' hands, fleeting and gentle, peel away the barriers. Only his cock is exposed, but Zach can feel Chris drawing out his soul. The steady thrum of his heart makes his dick dance under Chris' attention. A fluid beat that pulses through his balls and into the shaft, making him moan.
Chris smirks at him, uttering dirty phrases that wrap themselves about Zach's chest, sweltering and broiling, until he is melting into the auburn fabric of the chair. Chris' lips brushing the sides of his cock as his breath deepens and slows. Seeping in and out of his lungs in great gusts as his hardened dick is tended with due care.
Zach curls his fingers into Chris' hair, pulling him in. Chris' lips parted against the bulb head of Zach's length. Zach eases his hips up as Chris opens his jaw to accept. The wet, heated sigh of breath sweating along Zach's dick as Chris works his way down.
Every inch is encased in the sauna before Chris allows Zach to feel the length of his tongue. Lapping and slurping lazy suction into Zach's groin. Drool slithers through the groove between his balls, soaking his underwear in a growing pool. The salt and sweat making their way towards his hole.
Chris' thumbs push aside his briefs, parting the cheeks of his ass and pressing into him. The scent of their sex grips Zach, released from where it had been, slickly remembered in his ass.
Zach hums, carding his fingers through Chris' hair, urging him to take things a little faster. The simmer of want in his gut beginning to steam with need. The bobbing slurp of Chris' mouth sucks Zach's cock. Each surging swallow pulling Zach's balls into him. The groaning maw of orgasm hangs before him, waiting for him to let go, to relax and fall into Chris' mouth. Thick blurring pleasure hazes his thoughts, until he is completely overcome with the high of their combined essence.
The spring trips, squeezing out of him in burbling waves. The tide breaking and receding in repetition as Chris leads him into damnation. A road he will tread as many times Chris will show him. The furrow of their repeated travel making familiarity welcome, not dull.
Zach nudges his eyes open to see Chris pulling his hips up, tugging his pants down to his knees and lifting his legs. His knees greeting his ears as Chris dives into him. The splash of Chris' hips meeting his ass, the incoming tide rushing to fill eddies and crevices. The landscape of their lovemaking arching across oceans and timezones, ripping lightening through his nerves. The clap of thunder exploding from Chris' lips as he plants his seed inside Zach. The birth of completion on Chris' face bends a second climax out of Zach.
They float away together, steam and rumbles. Purring contentment lacing their praise for each other. A short move to the bed where they collapse, together and spent and gloriously bare. The naked pleasure of unity bridging the gaps between them as they lie flush, side by side. The end of the weekend is near, bitter in the approach of a new week apart, but sweet in this aching togetherness they are able to share.
Characters: Chris/Zach
Genre: Romance, PWP
Rating: NC-17
Length: ~1000
Summary: Zach likes the slow, steamy sex Chris gives him at the end of the weekend.
Warnings: Wordiness, cryptic imagery
AN: This was originally a bit of a slow-building bout of heated sex, then it evolved into an exercise in visual imagery and symbolism, then it devolved into a camptastic bodice ripper. *sigh* whatever, enjoy XD
PS. if anyone has a better idea for the title, PLEASE lend a hand
It's always best at the end of the weekend. At the beginning they're too desperate for each other. The long week that kept them too busy for sex makes way for their time. They make use of it, and it's too short. The frantic heat breaking over them in rapid swarms of pleasure. Again and again they crash together. That first night is it's own kind of fantastic, but this is when the real fun is.
The tension between them is loose. They're able to take their time, winding tighter and tighter in a slow coil towards completion. Teasing that, at the turn of the weekend, makes Zach explode in moments now simmers low in his gut. The brush of thick fingers against his neck. The deep swallow of water in Chris' throat. The long expanse of Chris' legs spread out across the couch. The curve of Chris' hips as he slinks from the front room towards their bedroom, pants slung so low that Zach can do more than imagine where that dark line goes.
Zach follows him into the bedroom, eyes riveted to where Chris has decided to drape himself across the arms of the plush chair in one corner. He's lost his shirt somewhere; the expanse of pale skin glows under the orange light of Zach's reading lamp. The dark red fabric of the chair highlighting the blush creeping up Chris' neck. The bright red blooms of marks Zach has painted on him during the weekend cry to him, beg him to come and make more. To suck there, to grab here until there is no inch of Chris unmarred by biting teeth or hand prints.
Chris looks up at him, eyes open. A blue flame of lust beckoning from his gaze. He sits up, straddling one of the arms of the chair and rocks his hips, subtle as his eyes coax Zach closer. A short glance orders him into the chair.
Zach allows himself to be directed. Silent between them, the heavy scent of sex is like a third lover. Chris drops from the chair, kneeling between Zach's open thighs, and Zach can almost feel the curling heat wrapping around the back of the chair, pulling his shoulders back as Chris tugs his hips forward. His ass rests against the edge of the chair, Chris' eyes caressing the vast distance from his groin to chin, touching every curve of muscle in between.
The growling tines of Zach's zipper are the rumbling purr of a tiger, promising a dangerous pleasure if he just follows the sound. Deep into the woods beyond any hope of god's salvation. Only Lady Lust, that temptress of all things nasty and delicious will find him here.
Zach sighs. Chris' hands, fleeting and gentle, peel away the barriers. Only his cock is exposed, but Zach can feel Chris drawing out his soul. The steady thrum of his heart makes his dick dance under Chris' attention. A fluid beat that pulses through his balls and into the shaft, making him moan.
Chris smirks at him, uttering dirty phrases that wrap themselves about Zach's chest, sweltering and broiling, until he is melting into the auburn fabric of the chair. Chris' lips brushing the sides of his cock as his breath deepens and slows. Seeping in and out of his lungs in great gusts as his hardened dick is tended with due care.
Zach curls his fingers into Chris' hair, pulling him in. Chris' lips parted against the bulb head of Zach's length. Zach eases his hips up as Chris opens his jaw to accept. The wet, heated sigh of breath sweating along Zach's dick as Chris works his way down.
Every inch is encased in the sauna before Chris allows Zach to feel the length of his tongue. Lapping and slurping lazy suction into Zach's groin. Drool slithers through the groove between his balls, soaking his underwear in a growing pool. The salt and sweat making their way towards his hole.
Chris' thumbs push aside his briefs, parting the cheeks of his ass and pressing into him. The scent of their sex grips Zach, released from where it had been, slickly remembered in his ass.
Zach hums, carding his fingers through Chris' hair, urging him to take things a little faster. The simmer of want in his gut beginning to steam with need. The bobbing slurp of Chris' mouth sucks Zach's cock. Each surging swallow pulling Zach's balls into him. The groaning maw of orgasm hangs before him, waiting for him to let go, to relax and fall into Chris' mouth. Thick blurring pleasure hazes his thoughts, until he is completely overcome with the high of their combined essence.
The spring trips, squeezing out of him in burbling waves. The tide breaking and receding in repetition as Chris leads him into damnation. A road he will tread as many times Chris will show him. The furrow of their repeated travel making familiarity welcome, not dull.
Zach nudges his eyes open to see Chris pulling his hips up, tugging his pants down to his knees and lifting his legs. His knees greeting his ears as Chris dives into him. The splash of Chris' hips meeting his ass, the incoming tide rushing to fill eddies and crevices. The landscape of their lovemaking arching across oceans and timezones, ripping lightening through his nerves. The clap of thunder exploding from Chris' lips as he plants his seed inside Zach. The birth of completion on Chris' face bends a second climax out of Zach.
They float away together, steam and rumbles. Purring contentment lacing their praise for each other. A short move to the bed where they collapse, together and spent and gloriously bare. The naked pleasure of unity bridging the gaps between them as they lie flush, side by side. The end of the weekend is near, bitter in the approach of a new week apart, but sweet in this aching togetherness they are able to share.