2minsforslashing | Moan and Groan: NC-17, Humor/PWP, CBJ (Reply)

I don’t know if anyone else here’s been feeling the effects of the heat wave, but here in SoCal it’s gotten to a disgustingly high 106 degrees; and it’s HUMID, too. Blegh.
So while I’m miserable, I figured someone (someones?) should have fun...

Pure PWP. And cliché as all hell. No redeeming qualities whatsoever. Hastily written, so please excuse my dear aunt sally. I mean, please excuse any typos.

Title: Moan and Groan
Genre: ~~porn~~ Uhh, humor. PWP-Humor.
Rating: NC-17 (sex and swearing…though more for the sex than the swearing)
Pairing: Rick Nash/Rostislav Klesla
Summary: On a hot day with no air conditioning, what are two poor hockey players to do? (Written from Rusty’s rather droll POV. Hey, don’t look at me, I just write ‘em..)

Disclaimer: I don’t control Rostislav Klesla, Rick Nash or the weather, which is a crying shame on all accounts.

No Canadians were harmed in the making of this fic.

“It’s hot.”

I didn’t bother to reply. I was sprawled in Rick’s recliner chair, in Rick’s backyard, with a bag of ice (also Rick’s) on my forehead. The ice had already melted a fourth of the way in the five minutes I’d had it on, and water was trickling down my neck. At least, I think it was water. It might have been sweat, but I wasn’t going to put any effort into finding out. Actually, I wasn’t feeling like putting effort into much of anything except, say, breathing.

“Really fucking hot.”

Rick apparently didn’t agree with my policy of lethargy, because his mouth was certainly remaining active. Sometimes I enjoy Rick’s mouth. Sometimes I really enjoy Rick’s mouth.

Sometimes I want to staple it shut.

“Ruuuussttyyy…”

Do you think anyone would notice if I killed him? I mean, I know there are laws against killing people and all, but he’s Canadian. Surely one of them wouldn’t be missed. And, you know, here in America they have the death penalty to get rid of people on the basis it’s for the good of humanity. I think getting rid of a whining left-winger would make the world a better place. At least, it would make my world a better place…

The sudden swipe of a tongue across my knee made me jerk upright, yelping. My bag of half-melted ice fell with a ‘plop’ onto my stomach, splashing its contents everywhere and losing quite a few pieces in the process. I glared at the cause of this disturbance.

Rick was on his hands and knees at my feet, looking up at me pitifully. Like me, he had stripped down to a pair of loose shorts. His hair was a damp mess and his face and chest glistened with sweat, doleful eyes fixed on me. It would have been pretty damn sexy if I’d had enough energy to work up a libido, but the heat seemed to have withered that away as well.

I growled at him.

He rested his cheek on my knee.

“Rusty, it’s hot.”

I closed my eyes briefly, fighting for patience. The cold wetness of the spilt ice-bag was slowly seeping into my shorts, and I plucked it delicately from my lap. Now half-empty, it nevertheless returned to its rightful place atop my head as I leaned back again.

“Rusty!” Rick yelped, smacking my thigh in a bid to get my attention. I sighed.

“Rick, the A/C is down. All the electricity in the neighborhood is down. There is nothing I can do to fix that.”

“I never said you had to fix anything,” he grumbled.

“So you go fix it.”

“But I can’t fix it either!”

“Then what do you want?” I demanded in exasperation, tilting my head to look down at him. The bag slid off again, but I didn’t care because it was all water now anyway. Rick grinned up at me.

It took me a few seconds to realize what that familiar little smirk meant.

“You want to have sex?” I said incredulously. “Now? In this weather?”

He pouted and rubbed his nose against my knee. “Aw, c’mon, Rusty. It’s not like there’s anything better to do.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m glad you feel that way about me. It’s sweet, really. Very touching.”

Rick snorted and crawled his way up onto the recliner, straddling my hips. I groaned and covered my eyes with my forearm in a feeble attempt to block him out. Maybe then he would go away?

A low whine and lips pressed against my wrist erased that happy notion from my mind. I removed my arm to have a piercing green gaze greet me from only a foot away.

“I love you, you know?” Rick said quietly, all traces of humor abruptly gone. “More than anything, I love just being with you.”

My heart melted a little at that. (And no, it wasn’t from the weather.) I reached up, running my fingers through sweat-slicked, tangled hair.

“You’re just saying that so I’ll have sex with you,” I murmured. I thumbed the line of his cheekbone, feeling muscles shift under his skin as he smiled.

“That’s true,” he admitted. But his eyes shone with a tenderness that belied the words, and I leaned up to catch his lips with mine.

“Well, it worked,” I muttered, nipping at his bottom lip.

Rick snickered. He brought his hands up, cupping my face as I leaned back on the recliner. His fingers trailed their way down my chest, using sweat like an oil to massage and caress my skin. I wrapped my arms around his neck and clasped my hands together behind his head as he worked at removing my shorts. It took a bit of squirming—the material stuck uncomfortably to my drenched skin, and he had to fairly peel me out of them, only pausing briefly to strip himself.

Not that I minded. It was still blazing hot; I was happy to let him do all the work.

And work he did. One thing you can always count on Rick to do is work. He’ll work in the front of the net, work on the house, work on theholyfuckingshit was that ME making those noises?

A loud moan filled the air, and as Rick’s mouth was currently, ah, shall we say, otherwise occupied, it had to have been me. I bit my lip, watching him, mesmerized by the sight of pastel-pink lips working around my shaft. His cheeks were hollowed, eyes half-lidded with pleasure as he contributed to my own.

As I watched, his tongue flicked out, contorting in an almost impossible curl, and just knowing how adroit that tongue was had my head falling back in pure bliss. A gasping moan was torn from my lips as my orgasm shuddered through me in a rolling wave. Muscles became liquid, bones became string and Rick worked me to the very last drop, coaxing a keening mewl from my already overly-noisy throat.

As I lay there limply, spent and panting, Rick’s head popped back into my hazy field of view, a smug grin plastered on his face. Christ, I could see myself still on the corners of his mouth. I reached up and curled my fingers behind his neck, yanking him down to engage in a brutal, tongue-sucking kiss. I tasted myself on his lips and I tasted him on his lips (they were his lips, after all), and the blend was a salty-sweet ambrosia.

With a low growl I fisted my hands in Rick’s hair, holding him in place at my mouth as I shifted position, sliding my legs around his waist and hooking my ankles at the small of his back. His skin was slick, glistening with sweat, but I wasn’t about to let a little thing like slipperiness stop me. I pulled him away from my lips long enough to give him a burning look, and he moved his hips without ever breaking eye contact, positioning himself by feel and memory alone. And as he sank into my body I was able to watch as his pupils dilated in ecstasy; watch as his mouth fell open and he made little gasps for air, his wide-eyed gaze never leaving mine.

Rick was fucking beautiful, he was fucking me and he was fucking mine.

He also looked like his eyes were about to roll into the back of his head, staying poised on the brink of movement. I leaned back and pulled him with me, pressing his forehead against my shoulder. He let out a quivering breath as I slowly lowered my hips, until he was just barely inside of me.

And then I shoved back upward.

Rick muffled his scream in my skin, teeth scraping across my collarbone, the reverberations of sound echoed in the tingle of my bones. I grinned into his hair and pulled back again, but this time he took the hint, shakily thrusting his hips forward. It touched off a spot inside me that set off little tremors of pleasure and I moaned, arching against him encouragingly. I rubbed his back with one hand while the other cupped his neck, keeping him close.

After the first few thrusts and a whole lot of gasping, Rick apparently decided that he wasn’t going to die from euphoria and finally settled into a deep, even rhythm. I hissed encouragement into his ear, bringing my hands to his face, tilting it up. I wanted to see him. His eyes were glazed, overloaded with pleasure, and I drank in that look as he rocked in and out of me. I could get intoxicated on Rick’s gaze: caught up in the heat of lust and love, almost wholly concentrated on those two things at that moment. It was a heartbreakingly simple emotional expression, and despite being in the midst of our heated coupling, I leaned up and placed a soft, chaste kiss on his lips.

Rick shivered and threw his back with a guttural moan, every muscle in his body locking up as he came. I ran my hands down the taut curve of his back, fingers curling against his skin, growling my own satisfaction against his throat. It had been a while since I’d come without being touched, and I wholly attributed this time to the gorgeous, gasping man atop me.

I grinned and licked the fluttering skin of said beauty’s throat. Rick looked down at me with hazy eyes, just barely coming down from his high. He mechanically pulled out of me, still insensible, and collapsed in a mumbling heap on my chest, eyes closed. I snickered and petted his hair.

“Now I’m hot, wet, and sticky. I hope you’re happy.”

“V’ry,” he mumbled. “V’ry v’ry.”

I laughed, planting a kiss on his temple. He turned his head into it, blinking up at me with those boundless green eyes. He let out a happy little sigh against my chest.

“Lucky walls’re so high.”

I traced a nonsensical pattern in the sweat on his shoulder, allowing a mischievous smile to cross my lips. “I don’t think they mattered much. I’ll bet they heard your moaning all the way in Pittsburgh.”

Rick cast me a look, raising his head a little to squint at me. “Is that smugness I hear in your voice, Mr. Klesla?”

I grinned widely.

“Why yes, Mr. Nash. Yes, yes it is.”