Title: The Disadvantages of Hardwood Floors
Fandom & Pairing: Chris Pine/Karl Urban RPS (a.k.a. Urbine)
Word Count: around 1400.
Summary: Fluffy PWP set, oh, a couple years in the future. Ingredients: a blow job, the boys being silly.
Disclaimer: Any resemblance to anything whatsoever is purely coincidental.
A/N : Thanks to my beloved ennui_blue_lite for the readthrough, and happy happy birthday to royal_chandler!
"Oh, yeah, just like that. You're so good, Karl-Heinz."
Karl stopped what he was doing and glared up at Chris, who was grinning wickedly. "Hey, Christopher Whitelaw, you want this blowjob or not?"
The grin didn't diminish, but Chris didn't make any further smart remarks, so Karl grumbled and got back to work. Clearly he wasn't trying hard enough if Chris was not only coherent, but had enough presence of mind to make fun of Karl's name.
Performing sex acts while on his knees wasn't really his favorite - he was far too old for that shit, and the wooden floor of their apartment was fucking hard. Karl already had creaky joints from all the abuse he'd heaped on them through a lifetime of pushing his physical limits. Christ, he was pathetic. Still, this was fucking uncomfortable, and he'd only done it 'cause Chris had asked him so sweetly - well, okay, Chris had flashed those ridiculous baby blues at him and said "Hey Urban, wanna get on your knees and suck my dick?" but the point stood, he'd only done it for Chris. And now Chris was making fun of him? That was just not on.
One advantage of being the old fart in the relationship was that he had more experience at this than Pine, by far. Hell, he'd been sucking knob while Chris was still in primary school, and wasn't that a disturbing thought. He redoubled his efforts, deep-throating Chris, opening up to allow Chris's cock in as far as he could and then swallowing around it while letting out a low hum. Chris made a high-pitched squeaking noise that he'd never admit to later, but at least he wasn't cracking wise.
Karl looked up at Chris, met his eyes. He knew what a picture he made, on his knees with his mouth stretched wide around Chris's dick, a line of drool escaping out of one side of his mouth. Chris whimpered. That was more like it. One of his hands was cupping Chris's impressively large balls, tugging and rubbing just a little harder than he'd have been comfortable doing, but he knew from extensive prior experience that Chris liked it that way.
His other hand was braced on Chris's hip, for balance, but now Chris was reaching for that hand, threading their fingers together despite the awkward angle. His other hand came up to cradle the back of Karl's head, not pushing. Almost... tentatively petting, or touching just to make sure Karl was really there. There was no trace of mockery in his eyes, now, just tenderness and sheer wonder, and that was what really did Karl in, Chris's genuine awe that Karl would be here, with him. As if Karl wasn't the one who ought to be thanking every deity known to man that Chris would want him, a middle-aged divorcé who regularly made an utter fool of himself in public by doing shit like shoving microphones into his mouth.
Okay, he was getting maudlin and now his knees were really starting to hurt - time to wrap this up. He took his hand off Chris's balls, flicked open his own jeans and tugged his cock out, all the while maintaining eye contact. Chris sucked in a breath. It really was kind of endearing, the way that watching Karl jerk himself got Chris even hotter than having his sac fondled. But hey, it worked out for both of them, so he wasn't complaining.
There was a bit too much friction - he hadn't thought to get the lube before getting on his knees - but that was okay. He'd come under far more adverse conditions than this, and besides, just doing this, servicing Chris, was practically enough to set him off by itself. His hand worked his dick, not teasing, just going for it, hard and fast, pushing himself toward orgasm.
He tightened his fingers where they were threaded through Chris's, moaned a bit at all the sensations coming at him at once. Chris was right on the edge now, and Karl wasn't far behind. He eased Chris's cock out of his throat. Never breaking eye contact, he swiped his tongue around the head of Chris's dick and sucked hard once, then twice. That did it, and Chris gave a final whimper before he squeezed his eyes shut and pulsed into Karl's mouth. Chris's come - hell, any guy's come - was kind of bitter and nasty, but it was Chris's, and so Karl swallowed it down as if it were fine wine.
The sight of Chris's flushed face, his slack jaw, and the feel of his fingers clutching tight at Karl's were the last bits of stimulation Karl needed to push him over the edge and he spurted over his fist, his hips rocking forward helplessly. He fought to keep his eyes open through it all, to memorize every detail so he could replay this as long as he lived.
They were coming down from the high, Karl milking the last drops from himself as well as Chris, squeezing himself gently and sucking the last bit of come from Chris's rapidly deflating cock, when Chris let out a shuddering sigh and spoke.
"What if they hate me, man?" He sounded vulnerable, almost scared. This was the other side of the self-assured persona that Chris projected, and Jesus, was he selfishly glad that he was one of the few who got to see it.
Karl let Chris's cock slip out of his mouth. He looked up at him, put on a look of mock horror. "Fucking hell, Pine, please don't ever mention my children again while I've got your dick in my mouth."
Chris giggled - outright giggled, which was just infeasibly adorable - and the tension was broken. Karl smiled in response, the big one that he knew caused his dimples to show. "Chris, they already love you. You've talked to them on the phone dozens of times now. You might not've met them in person yet, but you already know them and they know you. Relax, it's going to be fine."
Chris took a deep breath and nodded his head, as if he were gearing up for battle. Karl fished a tissue out of his pocket, cleaned himself up as best he could before tucking himself back into his jeans. Then he groaned. Shit, his knees were killing him.
"Need a hand, old man?" Chris asked, his eyes glittering with amusement. Fucking brat. Still, if poking fun at him would relax Chris, he wasn't going to complain. Much. He took the offered hand up, straightening with some difficulty and shaking out his legs while muttering about the ingratitude of boyfriends who'd just had their brains sucked out through their dicks.
Chris, naturally, took the further opportunity to tease him. "Did you just call me your boyfriend?"
Karl glared. "Yeah, I did. You got a problem with that?"
"No, dude, no problem." Chris raised his hands in mock surrender, looking ridiculous with his jeans still around his ankles. Karl chuckled at him and Chris flushed before hastily pulling them up and making himself presentable again. Chris was such a peacock - he couldn't stand looking silly. Karl was working on that. A man had to have a goal, after all.
He pulled Chris into his arms and kissed him thoroughly. Still couldn't quite believe that this was his - that Chris was his. Chris responded enthusiastically, wrapping his arms around Karl's neck, and for a while there were just the quiet wet sounds of two mouths coming together, breaking apart, and then starting over again.
Eventually they wound down and Chris pressed his forehead against Karl's, humming in satisfaction. "That was awesome. Thanks, man."
"You're welcome. Oh, and Pine?"
"If you ever call me Karl-Heinz again, I'm gonna spank your arse."
Chris's eyes sparked. "That a promise?" Then he pushed out of Karl's arms, backed away teasingly. "Catch me if you can, Karl-Heinz." He turned and sprinted for the door, laughing wickedly, and Karl was right behind him, as he always would be.