Original Fiction - Pillowtalk, 1/1
Summary: Getting to know each other over pillowtalk.
Pairing: Vincent/omc, Vincent/Evan/Matthew
Rating: NC-17
Author's Notes: For the epitaph prompt on Love for Every Holiday, which included the words "any grave inspired fic".
Pillowtalk
"-- and that's when my mother walked in," Evan finished, and Vincent howled.
"Alright, alright, enough about us -- your turn, V," Matt interrupted at last. "What's the worst place you ever had sex?"
The vampire's snickers trailed off into a broad grin.
"As a vampire, or as a human?"
"Ooh, human-you stories, let's go with that," Evan instructed.
Vincent settled back with an expansive gesture, inviting his companions to make themselves comfortable. They obligingly resorted themselves, then stared at him expectantly.
"Very well, the worst place I ever had sex -- in my mortal life, so discounting the time we were trying to hide in the ceiling while a Romanian mob planned our deaths in the room below us, etcetera." Matt stuck his tongue out, and Evan made a hurrying-up gesture.
"Graveyard sex," he intoned solemnly. "I had sex, in the middle of the day, on top of a newly covered grave."
"Oh, good grief," Evan interrupted. "A graveyard? In daylight? Why?"
"Were you drunk?"
"Very.
"I was about seventeen years old, I think -- it was a year or two before I met Christopher, and I was a lawyer's clerk, working in a town so small there were only three lawyers to it. Buggery was illegal, but as far as my set was concerned, that just meant we shouldn't get caught. My friend Thomas especially -- you'd have liked him, he was the friendliest letch I ever met. But he could carry a grudge over anything.
"The week before, his uncle had died and been buried in the local yard. Tom had loathed him ever since the old man had him strapped for pinching treats as a boy, and he figured if there was one thing the old bigot would hate, it would be for one of his kin to be buggered over his grave.
"Being Tom's best friend, I was the one he came to with the idea. He was considerate enough to get me roaringly pissed first.
"So there we were, staggering over the wall into the graveyard, and there's our first problem, because Tom's so turned round he can't find the right grave. Eventually, we decided it was the principle of the attempt that counted, so we gave up on finding his uncle's grave, and Tom just threw me over the closest.
"Poor boy lost all technique when he was drunk -- you're much more self-controlled, Matt. But sex is sex, so I let him stuck his tongue round my mouth and gave it a go. I loved kissing him. Even three sheets to the wind, he was was hot as hell, and he licked and bit and just went wild with it. I was laying there, draped over a tombstone, kissing back for all I'm worth because dumb idea or not, I'll be damned before I let him stop.
"I worked my way under his trousers, finding his prick already half-hard. He wasn't all that big, but he was enthusiastic, and he thrust into my hand on instinct. I think we both moaned, and then he was tearing off my clothes. Normally, he'd have taken his time, slipped every button gently through its hole and kissed his way down, but the middle of a graveyard in broad daylight lent a certain urgency to it all.
"I scrambled out of my clothes as fast as I could, and set to work on his. He shoved into me, hard, and I shoved back, sending us down to roll around in the muck.
"Neither one of us had actually brought anything to ease the way, but we had desperation, so I finally pinned him down and had him suck my fingers. He looked up at me through his lashes, eyes sparkling, and bit. I forced my tongue into his mouth to keep him distracted while I slowly worked him open, saliva and precum barely slicking his ass. And all the while we were grinding against each other, pushing and humping, our pricks trapped between us, until he clenched down on my fingers and came with a yell."
Matt and Evan blinked at him. He offered a smug smile.
"Right, you're a writer," Evan muttered. "It doesn't sound all that bad."
"Well, I didn't mention all the bruises those bloody tomstones left. Or the fact that there were newish graves about us, and it had rained the night before, so we were covered in gravemud, and may I say that that is one of the most disturbing things I've ever had to wash off my balls?"
"Ew," Matt agreed.
"Also, Tom yelling like that brought the vicar running, so we got caught, just before I had the chance to come myself."
The humans considered this.
"Yeah, horrible place to have sex."
"So what's this stuff about sex in a ceiling?"