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unplanned
I really never planned on writing more of this, but then somebody went snowboarding in Scotland, and it all just came together in my brain.
unplanned
Follows plan b
Nope, didn't happen. Don't know them, made it all up. Thanks to C for the read-through and the title.
Scotland, Chris decided, wasn't so bad after all. In fact, it was rapidly becoming one of his favorite countries in the world, even though it was inconveniently located on the wrong side of the Atlantic, and had a winter that didn't bear thinking about. Edinburgh, despite sharing a latitude with fucking St. Petersburg, had set new records for insanely good sex. The Nevis Range might be even further north, but if the mouth and hands that had woken Chris up this morning were indicative of the future, the sex wasn't looking to slack off anytime soon.
Chris hadn't ever thought about spending time this close to the Arctic Circle, and even if he had, the plan would have been to not ever do it, but that was what The Hiatus was supposed to be about. Trying new things, ignoring schedules and plans and the old way of thinking, and yeah, he thought he was finally hitting his stride on that. Things were looking pretty damn good.
Even the fact that he had voluntarily taken a chairlift--in the open, without any sort of harness--to the top of the highest mountain range in the UK, all so that he could throw himself back down the slopes on a flimsy piece of fiberglass with which he'd had less than an hour's worth of experience wasn't bothering him. Chris strongly suspected that had something to do with the fact that Justin was crowded close beside him on the lift, murmuring astonishingly filthy things in Chris' ear. Chris was shocked, truly, he was. Also, really, really turned on, but still. Shocked. And in a weird way, proud. He couldn't wait to see how hard JC was going to pout when Chris told him that the infant could out-dirty the porn-master himself.
As for Chris, he was definitely looking forward to trying out this newly discovered skill of Justin's when he was warm, naked, and someplace where he didn't feel a biological imperative to keep his hands locked hard on the bar in front of him; but for now, he was just going to concentrate on getting off the lift and not embarrassing himself in front of his much younger boyfriend--Chris winced a little mentally, but then deliberately thought it again, boyfriend, boyfriendboyfriendboyfriend--and his friends.
---
Chris had started the day with modest goals: stay alive, keep all limbs intact, and hopefully not end the careers of his four best friends through his sudden inability to say no to one of them. The morning progressed reasonably well. Justin was--unsurprisingly--pretty decent on a board, but he had the natural-athlete thing going, so he couldn't ever explain how to do anything physical worth shit. Trace was clearly on the mountain to meet girls. The other two in the group, a couple of the crew off J's UK tour, grew up in the Highlands and had been able to give Chris some good pointers, but mostly he was just trusting his body to get it right.
At no time had his goals ever included biting through his lip to keep from making noise as his boyfriend--there was that word again--jerked him off, fast and rough and absofuckinglutely perfectly, against the door in an unlocked public bathroom at twenty-one hundred feet above sea level. Chris wondered if he could blame the altitude for his sudden lack of oxygen.
Justin finished Chris off with a wicked twist of his wrist and a bruising kiss that swallowed Chris' moans, and then left with a smirk. Chris smacked his head against the wall, trying to clear the post-orgasmic fog. If he'd known lunch breaks were going to be this exciting, he would have taken up snowboarding years ago, but now he wasn't sure he could trust his body to stand up, much less get him down the mountain alive.
---
Somehow, Chris ended the day on a high note, making it down an expert slope with only one fall, and he accepted the congratulations of the group with a deep sense of satisfaction. He felt like he should give his body a rest, in celebration of what it had managed to do, but sitting down once they got back to the condo Justin had rented proved to be his undoing.
"Dude." Justin shut the door firmly behind Trace and turned back to look at Chris sprawled out on the floor in front of the fireplace. "That was a fucking awesome display of insanity on a snowboard today."
"Respect your elders, infant."
"I'm serious, man." Justin crossed the room. "Warren Miller would have been impressed."
Chris waved his hand. "Flattery will get you--well, you've already gotten everything, so. It'll get you more of everything?"
Justin looked down at him and laughed. "You can't move, can you?"
"Not without great pain," Chris admitted.
"C'mon, old man," Justin said. "Let's get you into the hot tub."
It was, Chris thought, the best idea Justin had had all day, and given some of the ideas Justin had had, it was just sad that Chris had even thought that.
---
Getting from the living room to the master bathroom, out of his clothes, and into the spa tub was something Chris would have been just as happy to have been unconscious for. He knew he had to have felt as sore once or twice at the beginning of PopOd rehearsals, but he wouldn't swear to it. But finally, he was shoulder-deep in hot water, with jets pointing right at the worst muscles, and things would have been pretty decent except that he was all alone.
Justin was running around the spa room, fully engaged in his little OC-end-of-the-day routine. Clothes were neatly folded, the blinds lowered, the gas fire was set just so, Chris got a waterproof pillow to lean his head against. And then the endless fiddling with the stereo system started. It was enough to wear Chris out, so he just closed his eyes and let the water loosen his muscles.
Finally, though, Justin slid into the water next to Chris. Without opening his eyes, Chris said, "Dude, very nice, but I know you of all people didn't forget the bubbly." He laughed a little. "You know I'm just a champagne and roses kind of guy."
When Justin didn't answer, Chris lazily opened one eye, and called himself every name in the book. Justin's face was red, and Chris didn't think it had much to do with the heat of the spa. He sat up and opened both eyes, and no, the blush probably had more to do with the ice bucket and bottle on the floor and his own absolute unfitness at the whole interpersonal relationship thing.
"It's, uh, kind of a dumb idea," said Justin. "I just. I'm trying too hard. I know. Fuck. I want this to work so bad, and there's like this checklist in my head, and--"
Chris rolled to his right, ignoring how every muscle in his body protested, and kissed Justin, slow and lazy, until he relaxed against Chris. "No, man, you're just being you," Chris said, and kissed Justin again.
"The wake-up call this morning didn't suck," Chris murmured, licking his way down Justin's neck. "Except of course, for the part with all the sucking." Justin laughed a little, then hissed when Chris bit lightly at his collarbone.
"And you can talk dirty to me any time," Chris continued, sucking gently. Justin had an array of small noises that Chris delighted in coaxing out of him, and working over his collarbone was a win-win situation in Chris' opinion.
"Also? Hand jobs in public places generally rate high on the Kirkpatrick Sex Meter." Chris bit down hard on the spot, and Justin exhaled on a long low moan. "Who knew you had such an exhibitionist kink?"
Justin whimpered something that sounded like shared a bus--perverts--warped for life, but Chris was far too focused on the taste and texture of the skin under his mouth to pay much attention.
He had the perfect spot--just low enough to be covered by a t-shirt, but not so low a wife-beater would cover it--and he wanted the perfect mark to go along with it, something that was going to last for a long time, something that Justin could see every morning when he brushed his teeth, something that would remind him of Chris even if he was on a different continent.
By the time Chris finally pulled away, Justin was sprawled bonelessly in the water, and Chris was hard pressed to remember that sex in a hot tub would not help his over-used muscles at all.
"Chriiiissss..."
"You're whining..."
"You're stopping!"
"Lack of available skin, infant. Unlike JC, I have no freakish breath holding capabilities, and the rest of you is under wat--"
Chris choked as Justin came up out of the water fast, nearly swamping him.
"Oh, look there," Chris said when he got the water out of his lungs. "Available skin." He pushed Justin back gently until he was sitting on the edge of the hot tub, and then kept pushing until Justin was leaning back on his elbows, with lots of skin, acres and acres of it, available for Chris.
Chris had covered maybe a quarter of it, and was carefully determining which patch along the bottom of Justin's ribcage was the most ticklish when Justin asked breathlessly, "So, you were good with everything else, but what about the champagne?"
Chris had actually forgotten the champagne, and wasn't inclined to stop his investigations, but it was only polite to respond. He considered his options carefully before sliding the bottle out of the ice bucket and holding it over Justin's body. "Right. About the champagne..."
Justin narrowed his eyes. "Oh, I know you're not gonna do that, Chris, wait, don't--" Twisting and turning to avoid Justin's grabbing hands, Chris tilted the bottle and watched the pale liquid explode into bubbles all up and down Justin's body.
"Holy shit, that's cold, goddamn it, Kirkpatrick, did anyone ever tell you that you're a freak? It was sitting in ice, yo, it's fucking freezing, I am so gonna kick your ass..."
Chris grinned down at Justin and made sure the bottle was empty before he started licking.
---
"Fuck," groaned Justin. "My back."
"Your back? What the hell did your back do but lay there?" Chris answered. "My knees are the injured party here."
"Oh, enough with the stressed out knees, man. That shit was old before I was even legal. They weren't bothering you when you were trying to kill yourself on the mountain today."
Chris didn't bother to dignify the last comment with an answer because it would just disintegrate into one of their normal squabbles. Plus, the excitement of Justin covered in champagne had dissipated, and he could feel every damn muscle in his body pointing out his stupidity in not moving the fun and games to a bed. He thought about staying on top of Justin, but the God's honest truth was that the infant was too damn bony, so he told his body that if they'd moved, they'd be on soggy sheets right about now, and edged backward to let himself slide down into the hot tub, tugging at Justin's hand to bring him along.
They hit the water with a splash, and Chris batted the empty champagne bottle out of the way. He glanced at Justin, "Did we finish our discussion about the champagne?" Justin rolled his eyes. "I have to say that, now that I've had time to think about it, a little of the bubbly never hurt anyone."
Justin snorted. "Remind me to buy something that's not $450 a bottle the next time."
"Uh uh," Chris said. "You've spoiled me now. I demand that any substance that I lick off of you must cost at least--dude, really? You paid four-hundred and fifty bucks for that?"
"Yeah, and the guy who sold it to me at the store? It was like I was buying his first-born. Kept going on and on about how I had to make sure I uncorked it gently, and how a wine that exceptional deserved only the finest crystal, and how I had to treat it with reverence."
"Well," said Chris. "It's a good thing I did then."
"Did what?"
"Treat it with reverence."
Justin laughed. "Come again?"
"J, no amount of sand and lead could possibly create anything as fine as what I drank from." Chris stroked his hand slowly along Justin side, and turned his head to meet Justin's eyes, willing Justin to understand how very serious he was. "And with every drop, I tasted respect, and awe, and admiration."
"I." Justin swallowed hard. "You. Fuck, man, you can't say shit like that," he said, blushing. "What can I--How am I supposed to answer that?"
Chris thought that maybe, just maybe, his karma was back to neutral, that this blush canceled out the embarrassed one he'd caused earlier. He leaned back and bumped Justin's shoulder with his own. "However you want, J. However you want."
Justin inhaled shakily, then slid down a little, and kissed him, long and slow and--Chris thanked whatever deities were appropriate, because no way could he go a fourth time in one day, but he wouldn't have been able to not try--sweet.
---
"So, um, the romantic thing to do would be to lean back and ... be romantic, right?" Chris asked.
"You really are a freak, you know that, right?"
Chris had a new plan, and had years of practice ignoring Justin's insults. He poked Justin until he moved around so that he was facing the fire and rearranged limbs until he had them sitting side-by-side, with Justin's arm along the edge of the tub in just the right spot to act as a pillow for Chris' head, just in case the romantic stuff put him to sleep.
"Really, man, you don't have to do this just for--"
"Shut up, infant. Can't you see I'm watching the fire here?"
Justin's arm tightened around his shoulder, and no, Chris thought, even if he never did figure out what might happen next, Scotland wasn't a bad place at all.
Continued in il progetto c...
unplanned
Follows plan b
Nope, didn't happen. Don't know them, made it all up. Thanks to C for the read-through and the title.
Scotland, Chris decided, wasn't so bad after all. In fact, it was rapidly becoming one of his favorite countries in the world, even though it was inconveniently located on the wrong side of the Atlantic, and had a winter that didn't bear thinking about. Edinburgh, despite sharing a latitude with fucking St. Petersburg, had set new records for insanely good sex. The Nevis Range might be even further north, but if the mouth and hands that had woken Chris up this morning were indicative of the future, the sex wasn't looking to slack off anytime soon.
Chris hadn't ever thought about spending time this close to the Arctic Circle, and even if he had, the plan would have been to not ever do it, but that was what The Hiatus was supposed to be about. Trying new things, ignoring schedules and plans and the old way of thinking, and yeah, he thought he was finally hitting his stride on that. Things were looking pretty damn good.
Even the fact that he had voluntarily taken a chairlift--in the open, without any sort of harness--to the top of the highest mountain range in the UK, all so that he could throw himself back down the slopes on a flimsy piece of fiberglass with which he'd had less than an hour's worth of experience wasn't bothering him. Chris strongly suspected that had something to do with the fact that Justin was crowded close beside him on the lift, murmuring astonishingly filthy things in Chris' ear. Chris was shocked, truly, he was. Also, really, really turned on, but still. Shocked. And in a weird way, proud. He couldn't wait to see how hard JC was going to pout when Chris told him that the infant could out-dirty the porn-master himself.
As for Chris, he was definitely looking forward to trying out this newly discovered skill of Justin's when he was warm, naked, and someplace where he didn't feel a biological imperative to keep his hands locked hard on the bar in front of him; but for now, he was just going to concentrate on getting off the lift and not embarrassing himself in front of his much younger boyfriend--Chris winced a little mentally, but then deliberately thought it again, boyfriend, boyfriendboyfriendboyfriend--and his friends.
---
Chris had started the day with modest goals: stay alive, keep all limbs intact, and hopefully not end the careers of his four best friends through his sudden inability to say no to one of them. The morning progressed reasonably well. Justin was--unsurprisingly--pretty decent on a board, but he had the natural-athlete thing going, so he couldn't ever explain how to do anything physical worth shit. Trace was clearly on the mountain to meet girls. The other two in the group, a couple of the crew off J's UK tour, grew up in the Highlands and had been able to give Chris some good pointers, but mostly he was just trusting his body to get it right.
At no time had his goals ever included biting through his lip to keep from making noise as his boyfriend--there was that word again--jerked him off, fast and rough and absofuckinglutely perfectly, against the door in an unlocked public bathroom at twenty-one hundred feet above sea level. Chris wondered if he could blame the altitude for his sudden lack of oxygen.
Justin finished Chris off with a wicked twist of his wrist and a bruising kiss that swallowed Chris' moans, and then left with a smirk. Chris smacked his head against the wall, trying to clear the post-orgasmic fog. If he'd known lunch breaks were going to be this exciting, he would have taken up snowboarding years ago, but now he wasn't sure he could trust his body to stand up, much less get him down the mountain alive.
---
Somehow, Chris ended the day on a high note, making it down an expert slope with only one fall, and he accepted the congratulations of the group with a deep sense of satisfaction. He felt like he should give his body a rest, in celebration of what it had managed to do, but sitting down once they got back to the condo Justin had rented proved to be his undoing.
"Dude." Justin shut the door firmly behind Trace and turned back to look at Chris sprawled out on the floor in front of the fireplace. "That was a fucking awesome display of insanity on a snowboard today."
"Respect your elders, infant."
"I'm serious, man." Justin crossed the room. "Warren Miller would have been impressed."
Chris waved his hand. "Flattery will get you--well, you've already gotten everything, so. It'll get you more of everything?"
Justin looked down at him and laughed. "You can't move, can you?"
"Not without great pain," Chris admitted.
"C'mon, old man," Justin said. "Let's get you into the hot tub."
It was, Chris thought, the best idea Justin had had all day, and given some of the ideas Justin had had, it was just sad that Chris had even thought that.
---
Getting from the living room to the master bathroom, out of his clothes, and into the spa tub was something Chris would have been just as happy to have been unconscious for. He knew he had to have felt as sore once or twice at the beginning of PopOd rehearsals, but he wouldn't swear to it. But finally, he was shoulder-deep in hot water, with jets pointing right at the worst muscles, and things would have been pretty decent except that he was all alone.
Justin was running around the spa room, fully engaged in his little OC-end-of-the-day routine. Clothes were neatly folded, the blinds lowered, the gas fire was set just so, Chris got a waterproof pillow to lean his head against. And then the endless fiddling with the stereo system started. It was enough to wear Chris out, so he just closed his eyes and let the water loosen his muscles.
Finally, though, Justin slid into the water next to Chris. Without opening his eyes, Chris said, "Dude, very nice, but I know you of all people didn't forget the bubbly." He laughed a little. "You know I'm just a champagne and roses kind of guy."
When Justin didn't answer, Chris lazily opened one eye, and called himself every name in the book. Justin's face was red, and Chris didn't think it had much to do with the heat of the spa. He sat up and opened both eyes, and no, the blush probably had more to do with the ice bucket and bottle on the floor and his own absolute unfitness at the whole interpersonal relationship thing.
"It's, uh, kind of a dumb idea," said Justin. "I just. I'm trying too hard. I know. Fuck. I want this to work so bad, and there's like this checklist in my head, and--"
Chris rolled to his right, ignoring how every muscle in his body protested, and kissed Justin, slow and lazy, until he relaxed against Chris. "No, man, you're just being you," Chris said, and kissed Justin again.
"The wake-up call this morning didn't suck," Chris murmured, licking his way down Justin's neck. "Except of course, for the part with all the sucking." Justin laughed a little, then hissed when Chris bit lightly at his collarbone.
"And you can talk dirty to me any time," Chris continued, sucking gently. Justin had an array of small noises that Chris delighted in coaxing out of him, and working over his collarbone was a win-win situation in Chris' opinion.
"Also? Hand jobs in public places generally rate high on the Kirkpatrick Sex Meter." Chris bit down hard on the spot, and Justin exhaled on a long low moan. "Who knew you had such an exhibitionist kink?"
Justin whimpered something that sounded like shared a bus--perverts--warped for life, but Chris was far too focused on the taste and texture of the skin under his mouth to pay much attention.
He had the perfect spot--just low enough to be covered by a t-shirt, but not so low a wife-beater would cover it--and he wanted the perfect mark to go along with it, something that was going to last for a long time, something that Justin could see every morning when he brushed his teeth, something that would remind him of Chris even if he was on a different continent.
By the time Chris finally pulled away, Justin was sprawled bonelessly in the water, and Chris was hard pressed to remember that sex in a hot tub would not help his over-used muscles at all.
"Chriiiissss..."
"You're whining..."
"You're stopping!"
"Lack of available skin, infant. Unlike JC, I have no freakish breath holding capabilities, and the rest of you is under wat--"
Chris choked as Justin came up out of the water fast, nearly swamping him.
"Oh, look there," Chris said when he got the water out of his lungs. "Available skin." He pushed Justin back gently until he was sitting on the edge of the hot tub, and then kept pushing until Justin was leaning back on his elbows, with lots of skin, acres and acres of it, available for Chris.
Chris had covered maybe a quarter of it, and was carefully determining which patch along the bottom of Justin's ribcage was the most ticklish when Justin asked breathlessly, "So, you were good with everything else, but what about the champagne?"
Chris had actually forgotten the champagne, and wasn't inclined to stop his investigations, but it was only polite to respond. He considered his options carefully before sliding the bottle out of the ice bucket and holding it over Justin's body. "Right. About the champagne..."
Justin narrowed his eyes. "Oh, I know you're not gonna do that, Chris, wait, don't--" Twisting and turning to avoid Justin's grabbing hands, Chris tilted the bottle and watched the pale liquid explode into bubbles all up and down Justin's body.
"Holy shit, that's cold, goddamn it, Kirkpatrick, did anyone ever tell you that you're a freak? It was sitting in ice, yo, it's fucking freezing, I am so gonna kick your ass..."
Chris grinned down at Justin and made sure the bottle was empty before he started licking.
---
"Fuck," groaned Justin. "My back."
"Your back? What the hell did your back do but lay there?" Chris answered. "My knees are the injured party here."
"Oh, enough with the stressed out knees, man. That shit was old before I was even legal. They weren't bothering you when you were trying to kill yourself on the mountain today."
Chris didn't bother to dignify the last comment with an answer because it would just disintegrate into one of their normal squabbles. Plus, the excitement of Justin covered in champagne had dissipated, and he could feel every damn muscle in his body pointing out his stupidity in not moving the fun and games to a bed. He thought about staying on top of Justin, but the God's honest truth was that the infant was too damn bony, so he told his body that if they'd moved, they'd be on soggy sheets right about now, and edged backward to let himself slide down into the hot tub, tugging at Justin's hand to bring him along.
They hit the water with a splash, and Chris batted the empty champagne bottle out of the way. He glanced at Justin, "Did we finish our discussion about the champagne?" Justin rolled his eyes. "I have to say that, now that I've had time to think about it, a little of the bubbly never hurt anyone."
Justin snorted. "Remind me to buy something that's not $450 a bottle the next time."
"Uh uh," Chris said. "You've spoiled me now. I demand that any substance that I lick off of you must cost at least--dude, really? You paid four-hundred and fifty bucks for that?"
"Yeah, and the guy who sold it to me at the store? It was like I was buying his first-born. Kept going on and on about how I had to make sure I uncorked it gently, and how a wine that exceptional deserved only the finest crystal, and how I had to treat it with reverence."
"Well," said Chris. "It's a good thing I did then."
"Did what?"
"Treat it with reverence."
Justin laughed. "Come again?"
"J, no amount of sand and lead could possibly create anything as fine as what I drank from." Chris stroked his hand slowly along Justin side, and turned his head to meet Justin's eyes, willing Justin to understand how very serious he was. "And with every drop, I tasted respect, and awe, and admiration."
"I." Justin swallowed hard. "You. Fuck, man, you can't say shit like that," he said, blushing. "What can I--How am I supposed to answer that?"
Chris thought that maybe, just maybe, his karma was back to neutral, that this blush canceled out the embarrassed one he'd caused earlier. He leaned back and bumped Justin's shoulder with his own. "However you want, J. However you want."
Justin inhaled shakily, then slid down a little, and kissed him, long and slow and--Chris thanked whatever deities were appropriate, because no way could he go a fourth time in one day, but he wouldn't have been able to not try--sweet.
---
"So, um, the romantic thing to do would be to lean back and ... be romantic, right?" Chris asked.
"You really are a freak, you know that, right?"
Chris had a new plan, and had years of practice ignoring Justin's insults. He poked Justin until he moved around so that he was facing the fire and rearranged limbs until he had them sitting side-by-side, with Justin's arm along the edge of the tub in just the right spot to act as a pillow for Chris' head, just in case the romantic stuff put him to sleep.
"Really, man, you don't have to do this just for--"
"Shut up, infant. Can't you see I'm watching the fire here?"
Justin's arm tightened around his shoulder, and no, Chris thought, even if he never did figure out what might happen next, Scotland wasn't a bad place at all.
Continued in il progetto c...
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