RP: ...Your Destination, You Don't Know It Who: Jon Snow and Robb McLellan When: Very wee hours of 10 August 2013 Where: Avalon Suite at Hotel Vista Del Mar, Santa Catalina Island, Ca. Status: Complete Word Count: 4,145
True to form Robb had let his boyfriend win the merry footrace back up the beach and to the threshold of luxury suite. He could've beaten him by a mile; Jon might be bigger, stronger but leggy Scotsman had the overall advantage. Instead he'd gone down in a theatrical heap, laughing and cursing bawdily in equal measure. Placing the blame solely on random obstruction - a dip in the dunes he couldn't possibly see given the waning light, you know. Dratted things. Getting in the way of being on the receiving end of better half's sinful, cocksucking mouth.
But that was alright, for tonight he would give Jon all the attention he craved, including victory oral sex under rainfall showerhead as clock dutifully welcomed the witching hour. Jon had loved bracing big hands against the sides of walk-in shower during, and he reckoned the imprints left on glass and marbled tile a testament to a job very and thoroughly well done.
It was more fun that way.
Thoroughly shagged and scrubbed squeaky clean now, the two snuggled dead center of king size bed. Lulled by flickering firelight and a full day previous yet Robb wasn't quite ready to let go. Wasn't quite ready to call it quits nor give up the curly head resting against his shoulder or lover's hardly subtle search for body heat.
Sighing, completely happy with his lot in life, he squirmed some more into the great mass of pillows and contemplated the remainder of their holiday. They'd booked an open-air Jeep tour of the island for tomorrow (well, later today), their guidebook promising "breathtaking views of exotic scenery and wildlife" and Robb was rather excited. Could hardly wait to begin the next leg of latest adventure.
Couldn't wait to see the look of wonderment on Jon's face when they spotted an eagle winging its way across bottle blue skies or hulking American bison calmly munching on indigenous sage grass.
"So did I make you feel all squidgy inside like our first time, love?" Mouthed against damp ringlets, Robb punctuated the query with a possessive "Mine! All mine!" squeeze to gold medal backside.