That Chris is a blanket hog because he gets cold easily is something Zach already knew about Chris from the press tours of the two previous movies. Not because they ever shared a bed or anything like that. Just because of living in each other’s pockets for weeks, and because of the times when Zach had the seat next to Chris on the plane, which usually ended with Chris wrapped into both their blankets, fast asleep, and Zach watching him with some bemusement. Because look, it is kind of weird that a guy who runs around barefoot and in T-shirts even when he's in the worst climate for such outfits morphs into a teddy bear who needs to be bundled up and snuggled as soon as there’s a blanket involved. It’s... cute. Also sort of intimate to know that kind of thing about Chris. Just as Chris knows how to wake Zach from a nightmare (with a warm, calm hand on his back or neck), even though they never slept together in a bed for a whole night. Filming the third Star Trek movie together, they know such things about each other. It’s weird, Zach sometimes thinks. They know each other almost too well to be friends. But they don’t feel like brothers; Zach has one of those, and that’s not the kind of relationship he has with Chris. Brothers-in-arms, maybe. And no, contrary to the hopes of fans, paparazzi, and the owners of gossip sites, there’s never been more intimacy between them than that – a flirtation in the form of vocabulary battles and a plethora of random details they know about each other. Like the fact that Chris is, indeed, a blanket hog, and you don’t even have to be his girlfriend for him to steal your covers.
But this – this weird intimacy between them – is why Zach thinks nothing of it when he invites Chris over for a night of Thai take-away and TV on the couch in the cabin Paramount has rented for him while they are filming in Canada. Spring in Vancouver is cold, and Chris is tired and frozen and grumpy after a long week of filming the anniversary movie. Therefore, Zach fully expects Chris turn himself into a blanket burrito at the first opportunity and perhaps even cuddle up against him for extra warmth. He’s a tactile guy with the people he trusts, and Zach happily counts himself amongst them. Plus, they are both single; there’s no significant other to worry about who will suspect romance where there’s nothing but a friendship that’s good enough to extend to blanket sharing on the couch and playing “veto” on whatever the satellite dish of Zach’s cabin has to offer in terms of TV. There’s nothing to it. Right? Damn right. This is just how they roll. That’s all there is to it.
At least that’s all there is to it until Zach feels something through three layers of blankets against his ass that seems quite out of character for Chris. At first he’s not quite sure. Chris has pretty effectively turned himself into a post-modern pseudo-Canadian mummy. But there are some kinds of pressure that are unmistakable. Especially when you haven’t been getting any for a while.
A sudden wave of heat followed by an icy shudder washes over him. Zach freezes. He doesn’t move, he barely breathes. He stares at the screen and tries to think. With his blood reacting to the nudge against his ass by rushing straight for his dick that’s more difficult than you’d think.
This is impossible, is the first coherent thought Zach manages to form. Chris is straight. His pronoun game is just that. At worst a game to keep him amused during boring interviews, at best a show of support for his LGBT friends. Because after so many years, Zach would know if Chris swung that way. He knows that Chris is a blanket hog. He should know what Chris is after under those blankets.
But the thing is, he’s not sure. One of the most compelling things about Chris is how complex he is. No, Chris is not just your average dumb blond, thank you very much. Yes, Zach still remembers that particular interview and Chris’s reaction. It’s one of those things that will forever bug him at four am when he can’t sleep. That he could, even for a moment think that Chris is not— Well.
Whatever. The hardness he feels at his back – he could explain it away, of course he could – and he’s pretty sure that Chris doesn’t realize that Zach can feel it, what with all the blankets between them – but he can, and it’s real, it’s very definitely real and poking his ass, too. His good – apparently and quite shockingly not straight – or at least not quite straight – friend Chris is having a massive hard-on, and either it’s the movie they are watching that’s responsible for his erection, or it’s...
And the movie they are watching, that’s a problem, too.
Zach vetoed “Message in a Bottle”, so now he has to endure half an hour of Chris’s choice of televised entertainment before he gets to pick a movie again. And Chris’s choice just happens to be “Margin Call”. There’s really not enough Demi Moore in that movie to explain Chris’s current physical condition. So unless he’s got the hots for Jeremy Irons – which is not outside the realm of possibility, considering Chris’s self-proclaimed man crushes – and which should not, definitely should not make Zach’s insides twist with jealousy, but totally does – and that, that does give Zach a pause. Because that means he must have thought of this, must have thought of Chris as... as something else than a friend.
Also, vain as he is, Zach can’t help hoping that Chris’s erection while lying snuggled against his back and watching him make serious faces in a smart suit on TV, well, he can’t suppress the sudden swell of hope that it’s him and not Jeremy Irons or Paul Bettany who’s affecting Chris like that.
But if that’s the case, if Chris gets hard for him, if Zach acknowledges Chris’s arousal, if he accepts that he wants Chris to get hard for him, that he wants Chris, then everything changes.
There’s not enough blood left in his brain to define what “everything” might be. But all of a sudden Zach feels breathless the way he did before he jumped from that very high building in Australia, the way he did the one time when he woke in the jungle from a dream of Chris, and not of— Well.
Jesus fucking Christ. Chris.
Only Chris would decide to change their lives on a random Saturday night while playing blanket burrito in front of the TV.
Gradually, Zach’s apprehension fades and exhilaration floods him. And Chris? Chris hasn’t moved an inch. As if he’s waiting. Simply waiting. Waiting for Zach to get over his big gay freak-out.
At long last, Zach mans up, switches off the TV, and turns around.
Chris still doesn't move, not even when Zach's dick is pressed against his. Not hard, as if he’s about to start humping Chris. Just in a way that leaves no doubt to the state of him in spite of the layers of blankets between them. Chris stares at him. He just keeps staring at Zach, with his eyes so wide and so blue and so bright, and his smile so brave and so fragile, that Zach feels he could shatter it with a frown. His heart is beating faster, and his stomach is fluttering. An incredible tenderness for Chris wells up inside of him, for this man who is his friend and who will be his lover.
They lie there, wrapped into their blankets and just look at each other. They look and look and look, as if they've never seen each other before, as if they can read each other's minds, as if mind-melds are a thing now...
Chris licks his lips and attempts a smile, a smile that’s all of a sudden so... so... wobbly that Zach can't help himself. He kind of exhales, sort of sighs, and that's enough movement to bring his lips in contact with Chris's.
So this is their first kiss, wrapped up like mummies on the sofa on a cold Saturday night. Chris's idea of springtime in Canada.
And they kiss and kiss and kiss, soft and astonished at first, then a little more forcefully, until they are firmly mapping each other's mouth, as if they are making sure that this is real, really truly real, teasing, testing, tasting, until Zach draws back and gasps for breath, because he wants to ask “how long” and “are you sure”. But when he looks at Chris again, he doesn’t have to ask. Chris's eyes answer his questions. Forever and always. Cerulean blue and Bombay Sapphire.
Plunging into the deep end of the pool means wrestling with blankets and unwrapping Chris as if he’s a late Christmas or very early birthday gift for Zach. That’s very much how Zach feels, astonished and delighted. They wriggle and they giggle as they fight against the warm constraints of their covers.
Finally, there's Chris, lying naked in his nest of blankets. His nipples are so round and red, it's amazing. And oh yes, he's hard, painfully so, flushed almost crimson, and leaking pre-come.
Zach loves cocks that flush so strongly. His own, already a little darker than the rest of his skin, doesn’t change color like that. He can't decide what to do first – play with those nipples, the dictionary definition of pert – lavish attention on that gorgeous cock – lick Chris’s belly button and stomach just because he can? In the end he more or less rips off his own clothes and just rolls on top of Chris because he wants to feel his body, all of his body, under his body. Wants to feel him squirm and wriggle and arch up against him. Chris clings to him and gasps, and oh, yes, he is squirming, straining against Zach’s body, and he whimpers when their cocks rub against each other, hard and tender, soft and hot. Zach frames Chris’s head with both hands and kisses him again, with all the gentleness he’s capable of.
“What do you want?” he whispers. His voice sounds strange, hoarse, almost foreign after the intense moments they just shared in complete silence. But he needs to know how far Chris wants to go right now. He could jerk them off, and he almost moans at the thought of his cock and Chris’s cock pressed together in his fist, at the mixture of friction and frustration. He should suck Chris off, go easy on him – a blowjob is a blowjob and not so very gay after all. He really wants to fuck Chris, though.
Chris arches up against him, hands reaching, stroking, clinging. Clearly, he, too, wants more, more pressure, more skin, more Zach. He’s almost feverish in his need, and Jesus Christ, that’s hot, so fucking hot. Zach groans at the silky pressure of Chris’s cock against his stomach.
“You,” Chris cries, the first thing he’s said since he cackled and told Zach that yes, indeed, he wants to watch “Margin Call” now. (“Suit porn, Zach. It’s a thing.”)
“You,” Chris gasps.
Of course; the deep end of the pool is not just the perfect way to describe Chris’s eyes when he’s drowning in desire, but also for how he plunges into passion. Generous, gorgeous. Reckless.
Zach uses the full weight of his body to keep Chris still and grips his shoulders for good measure. “You know how that works?”
Chris whimpers and turns almost limp underneath him. Lust hits Zach like lightning, a white-hot flare that surges through his body. If Zach had thought of Chris in terms of gay sex, he would have assumed him to top. Had he ever imagined him as a bottom, he would have expected him to turn out to be the typical bossy bottom, gleefully riding his dick off into the sunset. Definitely not like this, intense, passionate, and almost... submissive. He grinds a kiss into Chris’s shoulder, sucking and biting until Chris gasps and moans and gives himself up to Zach. When Zach pulls away, he’s breathing hard, and sweat is forming on his forehead.
“Well?” he asks, forcing himself to wait for Chris to answer his question.
Chris has the nerve to roll his eyes at him. “I’m a virgin, not an ignoramus.” He squirms to lift his head and nip at Zach’s lower lip. “My ass is yours.”
“All right.” Zach gets up. In comparison to their nest of blankets and duvets, the rest of the cabin is cold, and he shivers. He feels strangely unsteady on his feet and more than a little giddy as he makes his way to the bathroom, his hard dick bobbing unceremoniously with each step. He grabs the package of wet wipes and the bottle of lube, grateful that he just bought a new one. In a surge of hopefully not unwarranted optimism, he plucks not just one or two, but three condoms from the box – it’s still early in the evening, after all. They have all night, and a late call in the morning.
Back on the sofa, Chris has turned himself into a blanket burrito once more. He does get cold easily, a typical Cali boy that way. Zach smiles. And in spite of his bravado and obvious desire, Chris is bound to be nervous. Zach slides back under the blanket next to him. For a long moment, they stare at each other again. Zach trails his thumb over Chris’s bottom lip and tenderly cups Chris’s cheek. “It’s okay if you’d rather stick to a handjob or a blowjob tonight.”
Chris shakes his head. “I want it. I want you. That way.”
Chris’s eyes are dark, pupils still blown wide. Perhaps it’s just the dim light, perhaps it’s lust, but Zach thinks that Chris is scared. Though perhaps not of the act as such, but of the consequences. As much as he’s been going on about living in the moment, Chris still tends to overthink. Zach knows that. He pulls Chris into his arms. He knows how to hold Chris, too. Countless hugs over the years have left him familiar with the weight and shape of Chris’s body in his arms. But he doesn’t know him like this, all hot naked skin and shivery sighs and utterly vulnerable in his embrace.
“This is not a one night stand for me,” Zach says softly. “Unless you want it to be.” To add that costs him, but he accepts that this may be the limit of what they can have together.
Chris’s breath bursts out of him in a rush of relief, and for a second Zach can’t breathe. “No, no, no. Not a one night stand,” Chris babbles, clinging even more tightly to Zach than before. “I want, I want—”
“Shhh.” Zach soothes Chris with soft, comforting kisses. “Not a one night stand; that’s enough for now.”
For a while they keep holding each other, stroking each other. Arms and shoulders are familiar territory, the waist already less so, never mind the ass, and that’s where their hands end up, as if they have a mind of their own, grabbing and kneading and discovering what has been off limits before. Zach’s heart is pounding. His whole body is beginning to throb. Chris is perking up, too, his dick included, rubbing against Zach, hot and hard.
“Sex,” Chris reminds him. “Of the anal kind. There was mention of sex, I’m sure of it.”
Zach laughs. “Indeed, there was.”
He pulls away and pushes Chris onto his back. Chris doesn’t resist and spreads his thighs invitingly; wide enough to expose the delicious swell of his taint and below that, his asshole. The rosebud simile fits perfectly. Chris is waxed all over, his ass hairless, the skin smooth and rosy like a baby’s butt, without any discoloration or blemishes. The only mark is a mole on the inside of his right ass cheek. It looks a little like a flower, and Zach can’t help himself, he has to kiss it. Softly, almost chastely, barely sucking on the firm flesh. At Chris’s choked moan, he draws back and crawls upwards, pushes his knees under Chris’s thighs and drapes himself over his body to kiss him. He almost expects Chris to shy away, considering where his lips were just a moment ago, but Chris kisses back eagerly, like a puppy, wet and warm and full of love.
“You’re beautiful, Chris,” Zach murmurs. When he props himself up on his hands, he notices how bad Chris is blushing. His face is bright red. Maybe, Zach thinks, this position is not ideal. He’d prefer to see Chris’s face, of course. That makes it easier to tell if he needs to slow down, if he’s got the angle right. But it could be too much for a first time. “You can turn around, lie on your stomach, if you want.”
Chris blushes even more, if that’s at all possible. At the same time, he reaches for his cock and wraps his hand around it suggestively. “You worried that I’ll feel what, emasculated?”
Zach has to bite his lip to keep from laughing in exasperation. Trust Chris to bring out the big words even in this particular situation. He reaches for Chris’s hand and removes it from his dick. That Chris lets him, sends a sizzling shudder down his spine. He swallows hard. “Maybe.” Yes, actually. So he draws Chris’s hand up to his lips, holds it there for a minute before he kisses is softly. “I’m such a cliché. If you go gay for me, I want your first time to be special.”
Chris huffs a laugh and pushes himself up on his elbows to return the kiss more forcefully. “Pretty sure I’m technically bisexual, but hey, knock yourself out. I’m not opposed to being spoiled for my first time.” He licks his lips and blinks. “But I kinda like it this way, so I can see you. I, uh... I really like your face.” Then he frowns and orders briskly, “Now get on with it, will you?”
“Aye, aye, captain.” Zach smirks and turns his attention back to Chris’s ass, this time with lots of lube and plenty of patience.
Zach has always loved preparing a lover like that, his favorite part of foreplay, and knowing that Chris has never done this before only heightens the experience. To feel so intimately how much Chris trusts him is amazing. Because Chris takes his fingers with ease. Soon Chris is sighing with pleasure. He lets himself go completely, gives himself to Zach without reservation, and Zach can’t remember when sex was so good before there was any actual fucking.
“Your prostate would have been wasted on a straight dude,” Zach mutters, incredulous and even a little jealous. His own is definitely not as sensitive as Chris’s sweet spot.
“Good thing I’m not, then.” Chris laughs. He sounds just as giddy as Zach feels, and impatiently tugs at his hand, pushing it back down to his ass. “Come on, don’t stop!”
When Chris is nearly incoherent, whining and whimpering instead of begging for more, and helplessly pushing down against Zach’s hand, he pulls away. He sits back and wipes his fingers clean before he fumbles for one of the condoms. Ripping open the envelope of the condom seems to take ages, especially with Chris staring up at him like that, flushed, with a feverish gaze, with his mouth open and his lips forming a silent ohhh...
Zach rolls on the condom. Then he needs a moment. He grabs himself at the base and squeezes tightly, until it actually hurts, willing himself away from the edge. You’re almost forty, he thinks at this cock. You can last long enough.
Long enough for Chris to have the first time Zach wants him to have. It’s a matter of pride. Zach’s good at what he does, and that includes gay sex. And if he’s a perfectionist, well, at least his lovers have never complained about that particular personality trait so far.
He lines himself up and leans forward, crouching over Chris for more control, so he can go slow. Slow, but not too slow. Even willing and yes, wanton, definitely wanton, as Chris is right now, it is his first time. Predictably, his erection flags upon penetration, and he screws up his face in crinkles of intense concentration.
“Like your – ah! – fucking Instagram.” Chris groans. “Pushinslow—”
“Yesss,” Zach hisses. He squeezes his eyes shut to focus, because Chris is clenching around him, and every instinct urges him to thrust, to shove himself as deeply into Chris’s welcoming body as he can. His heartbeat is thrumming in his ears, his blood throbbing is in his balls. His arms are shaking with the effort to be careful with Chris, as careful as he can be. “Slow... and... steady-as-she-goes.”
Smooth and steady, that’s the best way to make it easier for a newbie. Finally – after a fucking eternity, and much too soon – he’s completely inside Chris. Propped up on his forearms, he’s pressed close to Chris’s body, so close that he feels the tender weight of his balls and the silky hardness of his dick against his stomach. He keeps as still as possible, giving Chris time to adjust, and himself the opportunity to kiss Chris again, on his mouth and jaw and throat, on his shoulder, at the center of his collarbone.
At last a deep sigh spills from Chris’s lips, and Zach feels him relax under him and around him. He pushes himself up a little and lays his hand on Chris’s stomach. To feel Chris like this, from the outside and the inside at once, almost makes him come there and then.
“Yes, like this, just like this,” he murmurs. “You’re doing so well, Chris.”
Chris blinks up at him and licks his lips, beyond glib retorts for the moment.
“I’m going to start moving now, okay?” Sweat is running down his temples from the effort to keep still until Chris is ready. Chris smiles, that fragile, translucent smile that Zach’s never noticed before, and reaches up to brush the terrible Spock bangs away from his forehead. Zach leans into the caress. That small movement is enough.
“AH! FUCK!” Chris throws back his head and bucks up under Zach.
“Indeed.” Zach can’t suppress a smug grin at getting the angle right so soon. Of course it helps that Chris is so damn sensitive.
Zach starts moving now, careful to keep his thrusts shallow, not to pull out too far or push in too hard, going easy on Chris’s ass this first time. His consideration pays off. Within minutes, Chris is hard again, the head of his cock flushed almost purple, straining against Chris’s stomach for more stimulation. So fucking beautiful. Zach grabs Chris’s right hand and pushes it downwards.
“Touch yourself,” he orders. “Go on. But tell me when you’re getting close.”
Timing is a thing, and now that he’s found a good rhythm, Zach doesn’t want to spoil the encounter by coming too late, either, because Chris mentioned once that he’s painfully sensitive after his climax. Chris’s reply is incomprehensible. It might be Klingon, or just “unf”. But his hand slows down, matching his jerks to Zach’s thrusts.
They enter that stage of fucking when time loses all meaning, and sex turns into eternity. The push and pull of cock and ass feel inescapable like gravity, and glorious.
“Zach!” Chris gasps and abruptly lets go of his cock. He flails and blindly grabs for Zach, clearly on the brink.
Somehow Zach manages to wrap his left hand around Chris’s dick even as he pulls almost all the way out. For a heartbeat, he marvels at the way Chris’s asshole grips his cock, the tender rim swollen and red from the unusual exertion.
Chris, Zach thinks. Oh fuck, Chris.
And with that thought, Zach reaches the point of no return himself. His balls draw up tight, he slams himself into Chris’s ass, and then he’s shooting, filling the tip of the condom with spurt after spurt, until the warm spill of jizz seeps around the head of his dick.
He tightens his grip around Chris’s cock, but never gets around to jerking him off even once, because with shout Chris is coming now, too, thick, white streaks measuring the distance from his belly button to his Adam’s apple.
Afterwards they cling together for long moments, ignoring the sticky mess they are smearing all over each other in the process. They’re surveying this new dimension of their relationship in shared body heat and sighs.
Finally Zach forces himself to get moving. “This will hurt,” he warns and briefly squeezes Chris’s hands. He pulls out as quickly as he can, but Chris can’t suppress a sharp hiss of pain.
When Zach has tied off and tossed the condom, Chris still hasn’t stirred. He’s squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his lips together.
“I’m sorry, baby,” Zach whispers. He pulls a wet wipe from the package and gently cleans Chris up. He wishes he had a salve around for Chris’s sore ass, but at the same time, he’s not quite sure yet how welcome such ministrations would be. He makes do with fluffing up their pillows and spreading blankets over both of them. Now that the heat of sex is dissipating, the warmth of duvets will be welcome.
Under the pile of covers Chris wraps himself around Zach, legs and arms, and buries his face against his chest with such a heartfelt sigh that Zach can relax again.
“That was fucking awesome,” Chris proclaims at last. “Or awesome fucking. Or both.”
Then he disentangles himself enough to lean back and get a good look at Zach. Chris is glowing, sapphire eyes and golden smile. He’s never been more beautiful. Zach can’t keep his hands to himself. He has to outline Chris’s lips with his fingertips, has to trail his precious crinkles, and cup his cheeks in his palms.
“Stay?” Zach asks, and he doesn’t mean this night or this cabin, but his heart and his life, though he’ll settle for either as a start.
“Of course,” Chris replies. “But I have to warn you. Just in case you don’t know. I hog the covers. And I cuddle.”
“A blanket hog and a cuddle slut?” Zach pretends to be thinking hard. “Truly shocking revelations.” Chris’s face is crinkling into one of his big, goofy grins, so he’s probably not very convincing. Zach gives up on his post-climactic attempts at comedy. He smiles back and pulls Chris into his arms, looking forward to a long night of snuggling and more. “As long as the blankets in question belong to me, I have no objections.”