Title: Feels Like The First Time
Genre: RPS, romance, schmoop. Sex.
Spoilers: Not unless you've managed to miss the whole Gabriel thing
Warnings: RPS, people. And seeexin. Yis.
Disclaimer: Don't know 'em, never met 'em, not a word of it is true.
Word Count: ~1480
Summary: Making love by the sea.
Note: For my schmoop_bingo, for the square "sunscreen." Next story in the Incremental Movement 'verse, and follows pretty closely on the heels of "Sunlit". This one makes more sense if you've read that one first. Blame morganoconner and cageyklio for this, because they said there should be sexytimes now. Title borrowed utterly without shame from the Foreigner song of the same name.
"Lay down, and I'll get your back."
Richard's breath goes in a little as Jared squeezes the sunscreen liberally along his spine. Probably because it's a little cold, but that's fixed soon enough.
Jared lays the tube down next to his calf and puts his hand down between Richard's shoulderblades. His own fingers look enormous there, tanned and strong against Richard's skin. His coworker is pretty darn pale for somebody who lives at least part-time in SoCal, but maybe this vacation will fix that.
It will if Jared has anything to say about it.
"Does more good if you actually spread it around."
Richard's voice is low and lazy and a little muffled by the lounger cushion he's currently face-down in, and it puts a smile on Jared's face and a little zing in his belly. "Everybody's a critic." But he bows to suggestion, gathering a palmful of crème and smearing it around.
Richard's got broad shoulders for his height, and muscle to back them up, but generally he's built more like Misha, slender rather than bulky like Jensen and Jared himself. And Jared's had his hands on those shoulders before, but this? This is different. Now, there is nothing in between them. Now he can touch.
And he does, running his palms up and over and around, spreading crème, digging in a little. Richard grunts when he does that, but it's not actually an unhappy sound. "'S just sunscreen, guy."
"Two for one, dude. Deal with it." Even with where they are and what they've done – especially with what they've done – Richard's still way too tense, with probably a year's worth of stress locked up beneath his skin.
Jared's going to fix that, too.
He applies another big squirt of sunscreen and digs in again, working at Richard's shoulders for a few minutes until the worst of the knots break up and Richard sighs into the cushion. Jared eases back then and slides his hands over the sharp jut of shoulderblades, working his way back and forth.
The thought of wings there makes him smile.
His hands are big enough that when he reaches his thumbs into the small of Richard's back, his fingers curve a good part of the way around Richard's waist. He lingers there, enjoying the way Richard's breath catches when Jared brushes lightly, repeatedly, over that spot he'd discovered earlier, just below Richard's ribs. "Jared."
It's not a complaint, though, and Jared ignores it in favor of changing the angle, dipping lower, until the tips of his fingers slip beneath the loose waistband of Richard's shorts.
The catch of breath is sharper this time, and Richard's hip shifts against Jared's hand. "Jay."
And damned if Jared's already half-hard dick doesn't twitch like Pavlov's damn dog at the mention of fucking, but they are nowhere near ready for that. Might not ever be. Not that it matters. Jared leans in until his lips are a bare few inches from the nape of Richard's neck. Richard smells like sun block, sweat, and bay rum, and Jared's mouth waters. "Ain't teasing if you back it up," he says, his breath stirring the hair that curls damply there, and palms the front of Richard's hip.
Richard moves beneath him, and a moment later Jared's staring down into hot, narrowed amber eyes. "So back it up," Richard growls, and drags Jared's head down.
Jared has about point-oh-two seconds to wonder if the sunscreen will trash the cushions before Richard's tongue in his mouth drives that, and every other thought, completely out of his head. The fingers that aren't tangled in Jared's hair dig into his shoulder and pull, and there's no part of Jared that thinks of resisting. He plants his hands on either side of Richard and swings his leg up and over.
Richard's eager and demanding, arching up as Jared settles down, and he groans happily into Jared's mouth as they touch, hip to hip and cock to cock, with only two light layers of cotton between them. Jared swallows the sound and gives it back with interest as he lies down along Richard's body and grinds them together. The simple friction is a hundred times better than it should be. The height difference means Jared's got to curl in a touch to stay with Richard's mouth, but it's so worth it. "God, Rich," he mutters when he breaks away for a side trip alone the sharp line of Richard's jaw. "So good."
"Oh, Gabriel's fine," Richard says, airy and hoarse, and Jared snickers and bites him. "No, really."
"Hmm, character bleed, anybody?" And okay, those two layers of cotton are rapidly becoming annoying. And damp. "Shit, why did we get dressed, again?"
"Because we're public, here, and I'm not Misha 'No-Shame' Collins."
"Not public. We're a good quarter-mile from the next place, I made sure."
Richard yanks at Jared's hair and it's raise his head or lose follicles. But it's worth missing the taste of Richard's skin for a few moments because Richard looks amazing like this, color high and eyes bright, lips pink and wet. The man is fucking gorgeous.
"You planned this, all of it," Richard accuses, but Jared's pretty sure the glint in those tiger eyes isn't anger.
"I set it up, and I hoped," he corrects softly. It's a really fine line, he knows, but an important one. Because he'd said he wouldn't push, and he hasn't.
Okay, maybe just a smidge.
Something shifts in Richard's eyes but before Jared can catch it he's dragged in close again and his mouth ravaged until he's dizzy. Damn, but the guy can kiss, and Jared's torn between wanting to send candy and beer to whoever it'd been who'd taught Richard so well, and a green, creeping jealousy of every single person who'd been there before Jared.
So dizzy, in fact, that it takes a few seconds after Richard pulls away again for the words to penetrate. "Lift up."
Jared blinks at him, mouth forming a question but not managing the breath to ask it.
Richard's hands splay across the front of Jared's shoulders. "Push up some, Jay." There's a little
Huh? Uhm, okay?
Jared gets his palms flat on either side of Richard's head, digs his toes into the cushion and pushes up, clearing Richard's body completely and trying to ignore his unhappy dick's complaints about it. Richard shifts beneath him, twisting around in ways that probably only really limber short people could manage, and it all ends up with Richard's shorts vanished and Jared's underwear pulled and tucked under his balls and ass, as far down as it can go with him still straddling Richard's legs.
Richard is obviously a genius.
Jared wastes no time plastering himself back down over Richard, moaning in delight as their cocks line up next to each other, hard and damp. The friction is purely fucking amazing now and it only gets better as Richard slides his hands down Jared's back and over Jared's ass and grabs, pulling them somehow impossibly closer.
Jared's legs clench around Richard's thighs and he shoves down hard. Richard groans, arching his head back into the cushion and Jared buries his face in the curve of Richard's neck. The man smells good enough to eat and Jared does, biting and licking at sweaty skin and taut tendons as Richard shudders. They move and rub and thrust together, Richard's panting loud in Jared's ear, hard and hot and harder still and Jared can't catch his breath for how insanely good it is. It's never been like this before, not with either sex, and he wants to make it last but ain't no stopping this train now. His thighs are already starting to shake, the familiar pressure gathering at the base of his spine.
Richard gasps and then cries out, something wordless and high-pitched that breaks in the middle, the sound escaping from behind clenched teeth. He freezes, jerks hard and freezes again, fingers digging too sharp into Jared's ass as he comes, pulsing wetness between their stomachs, and that's all Jared can take. The pressure breaks and slams his climax into him like being broadsided by a bus, and he bites down on Richard's shoulder to keep from screaming.
He manages to collapse only halfway onto Richard as his arms give out, and then it's all he can do to breathe as he lies there and shakes, aftershocks rolling through him like the ocean so close by. Richard's hot and sweaty and shaking, too, but his arms are solid around Jared's shoulders.
They stay there, right there, for what feels like a long time. The breeze cools them, drying the sweat from their bodies.
"Oh my God," Richard says eventually, soft and wrecked. "Oh my God."
Yeah, Jared thinks, still a little dazed. Yeah, that sounds about right.