Weiss Kreuz (Yohji/Schuldig)
Jul. 28th, 2007 11:44 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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kinkfestTitle: Greek Sex on the Beach
Author/Artist: GuiltyRed
Beta: YohjiDeranged
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Explicit smex
Word count: 1266
Summary: Two men and a beach blanket – they’re not playing bingo.
Prompt: July 28 – #52. Weiss Kreuz, Yohji/Schuldig: Sex on the beach, intoxication
Schuldig fumbled at the cooler, pawing through it until the lid toppled down and rapped him on the knuckles. “Bugger!”
I couldn’t help but laugh. My former enemy reminded me of a landlocked Jack Sparrow at the moment – which would probably make me Will, wouldn’t it?
“All right, what’s so funny?” he asked, swaggering back across the uneven sand and flopping down by my feet. He ran a hand through salt-and-sand laden hair, paused a moment as if trying to remember when or more exactly why he currently sported self-made dreadlocks decorated with wooden beads, then reached for the sunscreen.
“You’re really into this beach thing, aren’t you? Never been before?”
“Are you kidding? Get Mr. Armani out of his suit and into the water? And do you really want to see Farfarello bury someone in sand, never mind the thought of Nagi building sand castles…” His voice trailed off as though the thought actually appealed to him in a sentimental fashion. Then his eyes narrowed and he leaned closer to me, pointing at my face as he said, “What about you? You guys ever play volleyball or just lie around getting sunburned?”
“Are you kidding?” I chuckled, shaking my head. “Nah, never really took the time.”
Schuldig finished spreading sunscreen over his front, covering the pale but ominous pink blush that already marked the futility of his efforts. “You’re taking time now. Do my back, would you?”
I smiled as he moved up to lie beside me on the blanket, his face pillowed on folded arms and his toes hanging off in the sand. Across his shoulders fanned a sprinkling of freckles on a background of red. “You’re going to be hurting tomorrow,” I warned him. “Should have used more sunscreen earlier.”
“Or more booze now.” He raised up a bit, apparently debating whether he could drink in this position.
I pushed him back down. “More booze later,” I told him and set to work with the sunscreen. He had a swimmer’s form, long and lean-muscled – rather like me, in fact. We’d always been neatly matched, first in combat and later in other things. I let my hands explore his bare skin as I smoothed the lotion over him in the hopes it would prevent further burning. White scars peeked from between my fingers: a bullet wound here, a knife cut there, something that looked disturbingly like a cigar burn on one shoulder.
Schuldig murmured softly, nearly purring as I stroked his back. “You can keep doing that all day, you know.”
I caught the waistband of his swim trunks and tugged. “Or we could do other things.”
Schuldig raised up on his knees, encouraging me to follow through while he reached under the edge of the blanket for the lube. “Don’t use sunscreen there,” he teased.
“It’s not exposed to the sun, so you should be all right,” I teased back, sliding his trunks down and nuzzling between his cheeks. Before he could say anything else, I touched my tongue to his rim and pushed.
He groaned and clutched at the blanket, the lube falling forgotten to the sand.
I continued rimming him, one hand wandering around to check his condition. Half-mast and rising quickly. I knew I’d have to stop thinking in ship terms soon or else things could get very silly – but when the breeze caught his hair and those beads rattled, I couldn’t get the image of a red-haired Captain Jack out of my mind. What had possessed him to do the hair thing, anyway? Still, it looked weirdly sexy on him. And if it kept him from trying to grow a beard again, all the better.
Schuldig writhed at my touch, thrusting into my hand as he reached full hardness. Maybe he hadn’t been as drunk as he’d seemed, after all.
I resisted the urge to kiss his back as I moved into position behind him; I’d had a taste of sunscreen before and that stuff can totally kill a mood. Instead, I grabbed his hair in my teeth and tugged lightly while my hands busied themselves with sun-warmed lube. It shot out of the tube in a thin stream, dripping down Schuldig’s buttocks and onto the blanket so suggestively that my cock twitched in sympathy. I smeared some over my fingers, then slid them home.
He cried out in anticipation, hips bucking back toward me.
I didn’t make him wait. I positioned myself and began to push. Slick hands gripped his hips as best they could: all that oiled and slippery skin defied friction in a most delightful manner. It felt so damn good I lost myself for a moment, floating on the sensual tide. Pulled by desire, I reached down and stroked him, letting his pleasure wash over me before doing as he’d taught me and pushing him back out of my mind. “You ready?” I murmured, letting him know I’d regained my own thoughts and waited only for his signal to really begin to move.
Schuldig composed himself, breathing deep and slow, then nodded. It was our version of safe words, and it had prevented no small number of disasters already. “I’m good,” he growled, “just fuck me, already!”
I bit his hair again and started to thrust, slow at first then faster, rough in spite of the abundance of lube. This was how he liked it, hard and demanding; he’d made concessions for my insistence on lube, so long as I managed to deliver.
Muscles tensed under sunburned skin as Schuldig pushed back against me, demanding and hungry. I knew without seeing that his face was a mask of concentration as he fought his own mind to keep it from drowning me.
My fingers wrapped around his cock more firmly, pulling and palming the head in turns. Good thing about being with a telepath, it’s easy to figure out what they like. I ignored the phantom sensations teasing my ass and threw myself into the fuck, pounding into his welcoming body like there was no tomorrow.
When Schuldig started babbling in German, I knew he was close. I let my fingers trail over the tip of his cock, making rapid little circles on the over-sensitized flesh until he stiffened and cried out. Heat flashed over my hand as he came, his entire body tensing with each tremor. His climax triggered my own, and I pressed in as deep as I could, gasping as he clenched down on me over and over.
Schuldig sagged down onto the blanket, bringing me with him to lie full against his back. We stayed that way until I softened and became aware of sensations elsewhere in my body: the sun was now scorching my back, and I’d probably sweated enough to blow out my sunblock. I kissed the nape of his neck, up under the hair where he didn’t have sunscreen, then rolled away from him with a happy sigh.
“We should really do this more often,” Schuldig said with a grin. “Though, now I don’t think I can walk…”
I recalled the way he’d been staggering about earlier, imagined adding a sex-plowed bow-leggedness to it, and busted up laughing. “Maybe that’s the real reason Jack Sparrow walked like that!”
Schuldig frowned thoughtfully, then said, “It would explain much, wouldn’t it?” He finished cleaning off and reached for the nearby thermos. Lifting it, he shook it, listening to the diminished splash with a sad expression before opening it and taking a swig. “But it doesn’t explain why the rum is always gone.”
“You’re impossible.”
“That, Yohji, is why you love me.”
To Make (the drink) Greek Sex on the Beach:
2 parts vodka
1 1/2 parts Bacardi® Limon rum
2 parts grenadine syrup
2 1/2 parts orange juice
1 part gold tequila
1 part Southern Comfort® peach liqueur
Put all ingredients in together, and shake. Serve in a glass filled up to 2/3 with ice.
I couldn’t help but laugh. My former enemy reminded me of a landlocked Jack Sparrow at the moment – which would probably make me Will, wouldn’t it?
“All right, what’s so funny?” he asked, swaggering back across the uneven sand and flopping down by my feet. He ran a hand through salt-and-sand laden hair, paused a moment as if trying to remember when or more exactly why he currently sported self-made dreadlocks decorated with wooden beads, then reached for the sunscreen.
“You’re really into this beach thing, aren’t you? Never been before?”
“Are you kidding? Get Mr. Armani out of his suit and into the water? And do you really want to see Farfarello bury someone in sand, never mind the thought of Nagi building sand castles…” His voice trailed off as though the thought actually appealed to him in a sentimental fashion. Then his eyes narrowed and he leaned closer to me, pointing at my face as he said, “What about you? You guys ever play volleyball or just lie around getting sunburned?”
“Are you kidding?” I chuckled, shaking my head. “Nah, never really took the time.”
Schuldig finished spreading sunscreen over his front, covering the pale but ominous pink blush that already marked the futility of his efforts. “You’re taking time now. Do my back, would you?”
I smiled as he moved up to lie beside me on the blanket, his face pillowed on folded arms and his toes hanging off in the sand. Across his shoulders fanned a sprinkling of freckles on a background of red. “You’re going to be hurting tomorrow,” I warned him. “Should have used more sunscreen earlier.”
“Or more booze now.” He raised up a bit, apparently debating whether he could drink in this position.
I pushed him back down. “More booze later,” I told him and set to work with the sunscreen. He had a swimmer’s form, long and lean-muscled – rather like me, in fact. We’d always been neatly matched, first in combat and later in other things. I let my hands explore his bare skin as I smoothed the lotion over him in the hopes it would prevent further burning. White scars peeked from between my fingers: a bullet wound here, a knife cut there, something that looked disturbingly like a cigar burn on one shoulder.
Schuldig murmured softly, nearly purring as I stroked his back. “You can keep doing that all day, you know.”
I caught the waistband of his swim trunks and tugged. “Or we could do other things.”
Schuldig raised up on his knees, encouraging me to follow through while he reached under the edge of the blanket for the lube. “Don’t use sunscreen there,” he teased.
“It’s not exposed to the sun, so you should be all right,” I teased back, sliding his trunks down and nuzzling between his cheeks. Before he could say anything else, I touched my tongue to his rim and pushed.
He groaned and clutched at the blanket, the lube falling forgotten to the sand.
I continued rimming him, one hand wandering around to check his condition. Half-mast and rising quickly. I knew I’d have to stop thinking in ship terms soon or else things could get very silly – but when the breeze caught his hair and those beads rattled, I couldn’t get the image of a red-haired Captain Jack out of my mind. What had possessed him to do the hair thing, anyway? Still, it looked weirdly sexy on him. And if it kept him from trying to grow a beard again, all the better.
Schuldig writhed at my touch, thrusting into my hand as he reached full hardness. Maybe he hadn’t been as drunk as he’d seemed, after all.
I resisted the urge to kiss his back as I moved into position behind him; I’d had a taste of sunscreen before and that stuff can totally kill a mood. Instead, I grabbed his hair in my teeth and tugged lightly while my hands busied themselves with sun-warmed lube. It shot out of the tube in a thin stream, dripping down Schuldig’s buttocks and onto the blanket so suggestively that my cock twitched in sympathy. I smeared some over my fingers, then slid them home.
He cried out in anticipation, hips bucking back toward me.
I didn’t make him wait. I positioned myself and began to push. Slick hands gripped his hips as best they could: all that oiled and slippery skin defied friction in a most delightful manner. It felt so damn good I lost myself for a moment, floating on the sensual tide. Pulled by desire, I reached down and stroked him, letting his pleasure wash over me before doing as he’d taught me and pushing him back out of my mind. “You ready?” I murmured, letting him know I’d regained my own thoughts and waited only for his signal to really begin to move.
Schuldig composed himself, breathing deep and slow, then nodded. It was our version of safe words, and it had prevented no small number of disasters already. “I’m good,” he growled, “just fuck me, already!”
I bit his hair again and started to thrust, slow at first then faster, rough in spite of the abundance of lube. This was how he liked it, hard and demanding; he’d made concessions for my insistence on lube, so long as I managed to deliver.
Muscles tensed under sunburned skin as Schuldig pushed back against me, demanding and hungry. I knew without seeing that his face was a mask of concentration as he fought his own mind to keep it from drowning me.
My fingers wrapped around his cock more firmly, pulling and palming the head in turns. Good thing about being with a telepath, it’s easy to figure out what they like. I ignored the phantom sensations teasing my ass and threw myself into the fuck, pounding into his welcoming body like there was no tomorrow.
When Schuldig started babbling in German, I knew he was close. I let my fingers trail over the tip of his cock, making rapid little circles on the over-sensitized flesh until he stiffened and cried out. Heat flashed over my hand as he came, his entire body tensing with each tremor. His climax triggered my own, and I pressed in as deep as I could, gasping as he clenched down on me over and over.
Schuldig sagged down onto the blanket, bringing me with him to lie full against his back. We stayed that way until I softened and became aware of sensations elsewhere in my body: the sun was now scorching my back, and I’d probably sweated enough to blow out my sunblock. I kissed the nape of his neck, up under the hair where he didn’t have sunscreen, then rolled away from him with a happy sigh.
“We should really do this more often,” Schuldig said with a grin. “Though, now I don’t think I can walk…”
I recalled the way he’d been staggering about earlier, imagined adding a sex-plowed bow-leggedness to it, and busted up laughing. “Maybe that’s the real reason Jack Sparrow walked like that!”
Schuldig frowned thoughtfully, then said, “It would explain much, wouldn’t it?” He finished cleaning off and reached for the nearby thermos. Lifting it, he shook it, listening to the diminished splash with a sad expression before opening it and taking a swig. “But it doesn’t explain why the rum is always gone.”
“You’re impossible.”
“That, Yohji, is why you love me.”
To Make (the drink) Greek Sex on the Beach:
2 parts vodka
1 1/2 parts Bacardi® Limon rum
2 parts grenadine syrup
2 1/2 parts orange juice
1 part gold tequila
1 part Southern Comfort® peach liqueur
Put all ingredients in together, and shake. Serve in a glass filled up to 2/3 with ice.
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