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"Fuck."
Chris froze. Someone had spoken, seemingly right from the bottom of the stairs. He shook his head a little, mouth agape, trying to make sense of it; he hadn't had anyone stay the night in weeks, and his sister wasn't crashing, so who was in his apartment?
His gym bag was lying in the corner. Chris crept over and sifted through until he found a bat. The faint sound of a sigh came from downstairs, and Chris descended quietly, one step at a time, until he was just a few steps from the ground floor. He peeked his head around the wall, one hand clutching the bat, and saw an honest-to-god burglar in his living room.
The burglar had on tight dark jeans, a black knit cap, striped socks, and nothing else. He was leaning over the island of Chris's kitchen, scrubbing away at the black shirt he'd laid out on the counter. Chris stared at his long, lithe back, glistening after the effort of getting in. It was probably, Chris thought, cursing himself, the tiny open window above the washer at the back of the apartment. It was the only thing he ever left unlocked at night, assuming it was too narrow for anyone to fit through. This dude would have to be pretty damn limber to stretch through -- he had those wide shoulders, and that ass…
Chris shook his head, gripped the bat a little tighter, and said, "Who the ever-loving fuck are you?"
The burglar spun around, gripping the countertop with one hand. Chris almost fell down the last two steps at the sight of the guy -- he had to be a model, sharp features and shapely lips arranged in almost comical open-mouthed surprise.
"Oh! I, uh, I guess you live here, then."
Chris gripped the bat so hard he could feel his pulse in his fingers. "Yeah, and you have ten seconds to get the fuck out of here before I call the cops."
The burglar held up his hands. He held his shirt in one, and a sponge in the other. "Sorry! Okay, no problem."
"What are you doing with my sponge?"
"There was a plate on the counter and I brushed past it, and now there's ketchup or sauce or something all over my shirt."
Chris rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm so sorry. Send me the cleaning bill."
"No need to get snappy, Chris."
"How the hell do you know my name?" Chris advanced a step, and saw the man pale.
"I saw the mail on the counter. Look, I'm sorry, I didn't take anything, I'll just go."
"What's your name?" The guy didn't answer right away, obviously struggling over whether to tell Chris. "You know mine."
"It's Zach."
"Okay. Well, Zach, now that you've disrupted my night and scared the living shit out of me -- "
"Look, I really didn't mean to. My shirt is ruined, too. My luck. How can you go to bed at night with dirty dishes everywhere, anyway?"
Chris almost laughed despite himself. "What are you, Martha Stewart? I do the dishes when there aren't any left!"
"They can stain, and half of these scrapes and chips are probably from you stepping on them, not to mention the very fertile conditions for mold growth you're cultivating over on that -- what is that, a plywood coffee table?"
"It's rustic!"
Zach snorted, and Chris tightened his fingers in his hair. "Leave my decor out of this. Why don't we return to the fact that you are breaking into my fucking house."
"You left a very nice window open, so no breaking, actually. I am doing the entering bit, yes, but you will notice that there's no stealing going on."
"I -- what?"
"I am entering. No thievery."
Chris pinched the bridge of his nose, trying very hard to stay on task with a half-dressed, eloquent, apparently delusional quasi-burglar fondling his flatware. "Then why did you break in?" Irritation flashed across the burglar's face, so Chris hastily amended, "Enter! Whatever."
"This is a practice run, if you must know."
"For what, captain verbose?"
Zach gave a quick smile, and though he caught himself and returned to that defensive mask, it lasted just long enough for Chris to be struck again by how handsome he was. "Well, sergeant querulous, I am preparing for a role. I was just walking around, getting a feel for the nighttime and the stealth and all of that. Then I saw your window, and I wondered if I could actually make it. I need to test myself, so I figure if I don't break or take anything, nobody will know I used their doors or windows or cat flaps to get a little practice."
"Cat flaps? Seriously?" Chris went a little dry-mouthed at the stretching and bending and acrobatics that brought to mind.
"Not relevant, but yes."
"So you're some intense Method actor, then?"
"I really didn't mean for it to go this way. I just saw the opportunity and took it, I guess. Ow." Zach looked down, and saw that his step forward had brought his foot down on a stray fork. "Really? On the floor?"
Chris felt his ears redden, and laid the bat down on the steps as he finally descended fully into the living room. "Here, sit up on the counter. I've got antiseptic in the bathroom."
Zach paused. "Seriously?"
"Don't want you to walk off with my carefully cultivated mold colonies. Trade secrets, you know."
Zach's huff of laughter followed Chris as he walked past Zach toward the back of the apartment, where a small bathroom was tucked under the stairs, opposite the washing machine and its ill-fated window. He took a piss, finally, then grabbed antiseptic, a cotton ball, and a bandaid. He didn't think too hard about why exactly he was playing nurse to a man he was ready to knock unconscious minutes ago.
Zach had taken off one of his neon striped socks, which Chris forced himself not to comment upon, and sat on the counter with one leg hanging off the side, and the injured one bent on the counter. Chris braced one hip against the counter and efficiently swabbed the punctures on the ball of Zach's foot, applied the band-aid, and gave Zach's ankle a little tap when he was done.
Zach giggled.
"What was that?" Chris said, grinning.
"Nothing!"
"Ticklish?"
Zach leaned forward, making a little 'I'm watching you' gesture. "You tickle me, you die."
"Okay, okay." It was then that Chris realized how very close he was to Zach, effectively between his legs, the smell and sight of his bare skin making Chris a little dizzy. He felt his mouth go dry, and his eyes flicked down to Zach's groin before Chris forcibly turned his head to the side. When he looked back up, Zach's lips were wet, and he gave a soft, slow, genuine smile before leaning in for a kiss.
Fine stubble that Chris hadn't noticed brushed against his nose and lips, standing out from Zach's soft mouth and tongue and sending gooseflesh rippling down Chris's arms. After a few moments Zach licked into Chris's mouth, and while Chris was absolutely certain that that embarrassing (manly) sigh did not come from him, damn if it wasn't a sigh-inducing, joint-melting move.
Chris shivered again when Zach raked blunt nails over Chris's biceps, toying with the sleeves of his undershirt. Chris had one hand in Zach's hair, having already thrown the hat to the side, the other on Zach's knee for balance. His leg was flat against the counter with no resistance, even as Zach leaned forward to make a better angle. Chris groaned, running a thumb along the inseam of Zach's jeans. Zach responded immediately, his hands moving down Chris's sides. Chris was yea close to thrusting against the counter when he pulled back, stripping off his tee shirt before trying the button on Zach's jeans.
"Mmph, no, they're too tight. Also, I have no objections to this detour from my evening, but there's no way my ass is touching this counter."
"Burglars these days," Chris mock-lamented, and nearly yanked Zach off the counter, "so needy. Kindly get that ass upstairs."
Zach hopped down and they moved to Chris's bedroom, Zach favoring his other foot and working his jeans down as they went. Thankfully there wasn't much space in Chris's bedroom for anything besides a bed, a desk wedged under the window, and shelves against the wall, because they were both tumbling onto the bed as soon as they cleared the doorway. Chris, still in his boxers, urged Zach up the bed so that he was splayed out on his back, Chris looming over him. After another deep kiss, Chris sucked and bit his way down Zach's neck and chest, tonguing Zach's nipples and nosing into his chest hair. Zach groaned, his fingers already kneading into Chris's shoulders.
Chris appreciated a nice set of abs when he saw them, and scraped his teeth over the ridges of Zach's stomach and the thin skin over his hipbones, stopping just above the waistband of his briefs. Zach groaned as Chris licked over the swell of his erection, sucking at the head and using his tongue to rough the damp fabric against Zach's slit. Chris liked the whimper that elicited, so he did it again before mouthing across the hard line of Zach's dick, kissing the musky crease of his thigh, taking his clothed balls into his mouth and sucking gently.
"Oh god, Chris, take them off," Zach panted, his hands gripping the sheets as he craned his neck to see.
Chris ran one hooked finger just under the waistband, dipping under the elastic to brush at Zach's hair, not touching his dick. Zach groaned again, and, grinning, Chris finally peeled down his briefs, working them down Zach's legs until they dropped off the foot of the bed. Zach grabbed his dick, giving it a few hard strokes as Chris watched, kneeling between his knees.
"Can I suck you?" he asked, fingers splayed over Zach's hips.
"Fuck yeah," Zach breathed, and Chris grinned and braced his forearms on either side of Zach's thighs before going to town. He took Zach in, eager if a little sloppy. He relished the hot slide of Zach's smooth, thick dick over his tongue, shifting his weight so he could pump the base as his mouth worked at the head. He pulled off to lick up Zach's dick in wide stripes, to mouth at his balls, to bury his nose in Zach's curls. Zach was restless under him, squirming his hips and fisting his hands in the sheets. Chris tried to take all of him, but could only swallow around him once before pulling back to lave at Zach's head. His tongue pressed over Zach's slit, remembering his reaction earlier, and Chris's eyes crinkled into a smile as Zach keened.
"All right, all right," Zach gasped, and tugged at Chris's arm. Chris let Zach go with a little pop, grinning as he drew the back of his hand over his mouth. He dragged his chest, belly, then groin over Zach's dick as he slid up his body, watching the pleasure of that friction play out across Zach's face. Their mouths met and both of them groaned; Zach slowed Chris down, stroking his arms and sides, his kiss deliberate and open.
"You're so fucking hot," Chris whispered, and Zach laughed, taking that moment to tug at Chris's arm until they flipped over.
"Ugh, I've gotta fuck you, Chris," he said between nips at Chris's jaw. Chris raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah? Well, who am I to deny this big, sexy, menacing -- "
"Shut up," Zach laughed, and snapped the waistband of Chris's boxers against his belly. "Get these off."
Chris raised his hips and slid the boxers down. Zach rolled his eyes as Chris kicked them off.
"You're hung like a horse and you have Thoreau on your nightstand," he sighed, grabbing at the lube behind the stack of books beside Chris's bed. Chris snorted and rolled over, hugging a pillow beneath him. Zach knelt above his prone form, running the backs of his fingers over Chris's ass.
"Come on," Chris urged, wiggling his hips back at Zach. With a private, wolfish smile, Zach spread Chris's cheeks and licked up his crease, firm pressure over his balls, taint and hole. Chris craned his neck back to watch, but collapsed his head back on the pillow when Zach's tongue pressed in. Zach laved his hole, undulating the surface of his tongue over Chris's sensitive flesh, spreading him with his thumbs to get ever deeper. Chris shuddered when Zach grazed his stubble over Chris's wispy fuzz, and after a few more deep pushes in, Zach uncapped the lube to stretch Chris with his fingers.
"C'mon, I don't need that much," Chris panted, pushing back into Zach's hand where it gripped Chris's hip, his thumb digging into the swell of Chris's ass. Chris extricated one arm from beneath him to grope at the bedside drawer, drawing out a condom with two fingers.
"All right, I get the message," Zach said, and Chris gave his dick a needed squeeze as Zach fumbled with the condom and lube.
"Turn over."
Chris did, propping his shoulders up with a pillow and drawing his knees to his chest. Zach ran one hand up the soft underside of Chris's solid thigh, the other lining himself up. He leaned down to capture Chris's mouth as he pushed in.
Chris cried out, unused to the burn, and Zach mollified him with grunting kisses as he slowly buried himself to the hilt. Chris scrabbled at Zach's arms, nails digging into his biceps, and licked his lips over and over as he acclimated to the stretch.
Zach ran a thumb over Chris's cheekbone, eyes warm but concerned. "Good?"
Chris waited a few moments, breath shallow, and flexed experimentally. Zach's eyes fluttered closed, and Chris said, "Okay. Go."
Then Zach was easing back, slow, dragging himself inch by swollen inch out of Chris, until just the fat head remained, then snapping back. Chris welcomed each thrust, rocking into the motion of it and relishing in the sudden fullness. His legs were threatening to kick out at Zach with each windup, so Chris looped them over Zach's shoulders. He almost slipped out when he did, but soon Chris's calves were draped over Zach's broad, lean shoulders.
"I'm close. You gotta give it to me. Fill me, oh, oh god, Zach, make me feel it," Chris moaned, damp hair sending sweat flying as his head lashed around. Zach grunted, holding down on Chris's hips as he drove in and out of Chris's tight channel. He must have changed his angle a little, because with one thrust Chris shouted out, his sweet spot finally nailed. Zach let out a pleased huff. He slammed Chris's prostate over and over, until Chris let his hand fly over his dick, finally, all the way from his root up to his head, twisting a little, squeezing. Zach urged him on as he shuddered out an orgasm, spurting over his already glistening chest and rosy, hardened nipples.
Zach brought down a thumb to smear in Chris's come, massaging it over a nipple before bringing it up to smear on his own lips. He licked them once, savoring it, then leaned down to kiss Chris. There was no stopping him, no choice but to lie there and take it, and Chris savored the jolts of pleasure-pain up his spine. He couldn't tell if it hurt, really, but he knew he wanted it.
Finally Zach gave two, three erratic thrusts, throwing off his rhythm enough that Chris had to whimper a little, and came with a rush into Chris. Chris felt the pulsing deep in his spine, and ran the back of his fingers over Zach's arms, pressing kisses to his shoulder. After a moment Zach pulled out, followed Chris's limp gesture to toss the condom into the trashcan, then collapsed beside Chris on the bed.
"Mmph."
"No talking," Zach moaned back, but he threw a leg over Chris's and nuzzled his nose into his shoulder. Chris turned his head, watching Zach's hair as it settled on the pillow, his eyebrows drawing together then relaxing as his expression settled.
"Hey Zach," he whispered, and Zach's face barely even twitched.
"Mhhhm."
"You're a terrible burglar."
Zach said something that got lost in the pillow.
"Hmm?"
Zach raised his head. "Lock your fucking windows."
Chris cackled, jabbing Zach's side with his elbow. Zach retaliated with a kick, both of them laughing. After a little maneuvering, they rearranged themselves into one pile of limbs and worn-out bodies, legs intertwined and heads close, before slipping into sleep.