twilightspeaks (twilightspeaks) wrote in dethslash, @ 2009-03-17 00:33:00 |
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There wasn’t really anything different about this day. They’d both started drinking at breakfast, both been violently sick, had a shower together and were now snuggled up together in Toki’s bed, surrounded by empty whiskey bottles and working their way through another. Toki had shucked his pants and Pickles had decided clothes were for the weak some time ago.
They shared a comfortable silence for a while – but with these two it wasn’t destined to last very long. “Dood? Dood, dood, yanno waht we ain’t dun yit?”
“Mmm?” Toki had been starting to doze off.
“Yanno waht we ain’t dun yit?” Pickles took a swig from the bottle with one hand and clumsily groped his boyfriend with the other. “Yer, ya, yer gaht no Irish in ya dood, gahtta fix thet.” They struggled together to get Toki out his clothes and, once they accomplished this, snuggled back up.
The gentle groping and soft, chaste kisses turned to grinding and nibbling which turned to dry-humping and biting. Toki wailed and made a great show of not wanting this kind of attention but still rubbed back, still fought to dominate his lover’s mouth with his own.
Pickles knew Toki well enough to know that he was faking his reluctance, was just as desperately horny as he was. “Little fuckin’ slut,” he hissed in his ear, “ya fuckin’ wahnt dis...” the younger man moaned a positive response. “Ya wahnt me ta... ta... ya little...” he put a hand between Toki’s legs and watched him rub against his arm. “yeah, ya wahnt thet.”
“No I doesn’t.” Toki moaned and put an arm around Pickles. “I doesn’t want sex, I’s too drunks...” he rolled onto his back, forcing his lover on top of him. “I wants to sleep.” He pulled the sheets over his face and spread his legs. “Tooo drunk...”
“Nah.” Pickles pulled the sheets away and leaned down for a sloppy, drunken kiss which was gratefully received. “Yah wahnted thet tho’.”
“Is a kiss, is not sex.” Toki was slowly warming to the idea, letting Pickles slide a bony hand between his thighs and rubbing on his arm. “Doesn’t want sex!” he gasped as he wrapped a hand around his shaft. “Wants to sleep!”
Pickles clung to him, messily forcing gratefully received kisses onto him. It didn’t matter that the sheets were as alcohol-soaked as their innards, that their mouths still burned and the taste of vomit lingered. Toki still threw himself onto Pickles wildly, screaming like he never wanted it to stop.
“Yah dun’t.” Toki whined his agreement, crossed his legs behind Pickles’ back. “Such a slut when yer drunk...” Pickles whispered in his ear before sliding down him, ending with them draped lazily over his shoulders.
“I’s not.” He was dozing off again but jerked awake when he felt Pickles slobbering on his dick. “Forgottens how to give blowjobs, Pickle?” he yawned. “I’ll shows you if you likes.” A muffled sound of assent came from him. “Okays, when you done trying to lick my dick.”
“Yanno what’s be bettah?” Pickles slid off the bed taking the sheets with him. “Dood, dis’ll be way bettah.” He dug through his drawers, looking for the lube he vaguely remembered being there... Toki poked him in the back of the head with the tube.
“You after dis?”
“How’d yer guess?” he took it from Toki but instead of slicking himself as the younger man expected, he rubbed an excessively generous amount between his hands and over the brunette’s cock. He didn’t just coat it – he massaged it with the single-minded fascination only drunkenness can cause. Just when Toki felt he was going to come he impaled himself a little too violently on it, balls deep on the first thrust. Pickles yowled but eagerly rode his lover, muscles spasming around him. “Too fuckin’ sexy,” he slurred, leaning to kiss him and whimpering as he moved.
Toki held onto him, clawing and biting frantically. His pleas of being too tired were forgotten as he violently fucked the older man. It was taking everything he had to keep up the pace he was setting himself.
Even when he came he kept going, holding his hips and pumping into him. Pickles came just from rubbing against the brunette’s ribbed stomach. He was reluctant for it to stop as well, wanted to keep going. When he finally admitted defeat he slid off but still lay on top of him, gently nibbling at his ear as they fell asleep.
It had been a very happy St. Patrick’s Day.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~