A movie played on the television. It was an old Hollywood number and Piers recognised the stars but couldn't put a name to any of them. Dubbed into a language he didn't understand, he amused himself by turning down the volume and attempting to lip read. The silence also served to let Chris sleep. Although they were both exhausted after yet another long, sleepless night, Piers remained awake, watching over his captain.
On the screen, a man in a cowboy was celebrating because he'd just struck oil and in the bed beside Piers', Chris snored. Just an average night at Hotel Floare. They'd had to move hotels a few nights ago, thanks to an incident involving a chamber maid and a particularly cantankerous Chris. The woman on the reception desk in their other hotel was kind enough to recommend somewhere else and as it turned out, it was a good deal better. The beds were bigger, as was the room and although there was no minibar in this one - not a bad thing, not at all - there was twenty-four hour room service, of which Piers availed himself.
"'s that food?" From his pit of a bed, Chris lifted his head and sniffed the air.
"Fried chicken, mamaliga and sour cream sauce. You want some?" Despite how it might have sounded, it was actually pretty good. "Or if you want something a little plainer, they sent up some pretzel-type things."
"Any beer?" When Piers glanced over sharply, Chris held up a hand and added, "I'm joking, Piers. I'll try one of the pretzels." Sitting up and swinging his legs off the bed, Chris rubbed at his face and Piers could hear the scratch of his hands on stubble.
"Sure. Help yourself," Piers said, reaching for the plate and passing it across the gap to Chris. "How're you feeling?"
"Rough," came the reply between mouthfuls. "But okay, I think. Might go and get some fresh air later."
"Great!" Genuinely pleased to hear Chris say that, Piers gave him a wide smile. "I'll come with. It'll do us both some good to get out for a while."
Ignoring the sour expression that crossed Chris' face, Piers carried on eating and turned his attention back to the screen. It was obvious that Chris would far prefer to be out on his own, but they both knew that wouldn't happen.
"I wish I knew what the hell this movie was about," Piers murmured and gestured towards the muted television. "That guy there, he just struck oil then got into a fight with another guy."
"Giant."
"Huh?"
"The movie is called Giant. That guy there? That's James Dean. He strikes oil, gets rich, but he's not happy. Not really. He's in love with Liz Taylor's character, but she's already married to Rock Hudson. There's an ongoing theme of rivalry between Dean and Hudson."
Throughout Chris' explanation of the film, Piers gaped at him, open-mouthed. It was the most lucid he'd heard Chris in a while, which was a fantastic breakthrough in his opinion. To draw attention to that fact would only embarrass the man, however, so instead, Piers just chuckled and shook his head.
"Figures you'd know all about an old movie," he said, flashing a playful grin which turned into laughter when a piece of pretzel bounced off his forehead.
"You're lucky I'm in a good mood," Chris chided, and nodded thoughtfully. "I actually do feel pretty good right now. And I have you to thank for it."
"Just doing what I can."
"I'm lucky to have you."
"Yes you are, sir. Yes you are."
"And I know that it's not just a sense of duty that keeps you here," Chris said quietly, absently brushing crumbs from his lap. "I owe you."
"Oh, no. You don't owe me anything, sir. All I want is for you to feel well again." That was all anyone wanted for Chris.
"I know, but I also know it goes deeper than that." Popping the last of his pretzel into his mouth, Chris chewed slowly and regarded Piers. After a few moments of silence, he spoke again, saying, "I've seen how you look at me, Piers."
Almost choking on his mouthful of food, Piers had to swallow quickly before responding, "What?"
"I'm a drunk, Piers, but I'm not blind. You eyes give you away. Even when you're being stern with me, your eyes are still soft. Dreamy. You care."
Care was an understatement, but Piers didn't bother to correct it. He could feel his cheeks heat up and that alone was a sign of his guilt. No point in denying it, so he nodded.
"Yeah, I care." Care was a restrained way of saying love, but if Chris knew that Piers' feelings ran that deep, he gave no indication. Care worked for now. It would probably work forever since an admission of anything more profound was out of the question. Embarrassed, Piers' appetite suddenly faded and he put his plate down on the room service tray, cutlery clattering together against the ceramic.
"Anyone else would have given up on me by now," Chris went on to say, vision still focussed on the man sitting across from him. "But not you. You're dedicated, Piers, and I value that. You've come a long way since I first met you and I'm proud of you."
The praise was beginning to fluster Piers now, modesty as well as embarrassment colouring his already hot cheeks. Chris didn't toss out compliments for no good reason so if he said these things, then he meant them. It was encouraging to Piers, because it meant that the sleepless nights, the tantrums, the tears and the agony of withdrawal were finally paying off.
"I'm proud of you too, sir. You're doing great. At this rate, we'll be able to go home sooner rather than later." Home was something they both desired and needed. For Chris, more six months had come and gone since he was last on American soil and Piers imagined he'd be eager to get back into a known and steady routine.
"I'd like that," Chris replied, standing up and stretching his arms above his head to crack the kinks out of his spine. "We should do something. Enjoy ourselves for once."
"Sounds good to me, sir!" Following suit and standing as well, Piers moved the tray off the bed and carried it to the door to leave it outside the room for collection. "Anything in mind?" As he closed the door and turned back, Piers was treated to the sight of Chris peeling off his shirt and hastily looked away again.
"Think I might start with a shower," the other man replied, his words accompanied by the sound of his zip being drawn down. "Want to join me?"
Unsure if he'd heard correctly, Piers tilted his head and asked, "Excuse me?"
"Shower, Piers. Would you like to join me?" Pushing the bathroom door open, Chris poked his head inside. "Looks big enough to me. Come on. Don't be shy."
It was a marked change from the man who, only a few nights before, had accused Piers of trying to kill him but between allegations of attempted murder and apparent seduction, Piers knew which he preferred. Still, it was a little too strange for him and his first instinct was that Chris was joking, so with a small laugh, he shook his head.
"No, I'm fine, thanks. You go ahead, though. Enjoy."
Shrugging, Chris stepped into the bathroom but left the door ajar. From inside, Piers heard the hiss of the spray come to life and tried to not imagine what was going on in the other room, settling back down on the bed to give his attention to the television once more.
It was hard to concentrate on the trials and tribulations of the movie's characters, however, since he couldn't stop puzzling over Chris' invitation.
It was out of the blue. Piers couldn't help but think he'd misinterpreted it, though how he could possibly mistake an overt invitation to share a shower with Chris, he wasn't sure. But everything he knew of the man told him this was exceptionally out of character. The fact that Chris even noticed the way Piers looked at him was a big surprise because, on the whole, Chris didn't do subtle and Piers thought he was decent, if not great, at masking his emotions.
"You sure I can't get you to change your mind, Piers?" Chris called to him from the shower, his voice reverberating around the tiled walls.
Oh, it was tempting. Partly out of that temptation and partly out of sheer curiosity, Piers rose and approached the open door.
"How come you're so eager for me to join you, sir? It's an unusual request."
"It's not like we've never showered at the same time before, Piers. I just thought some company would be nice. But I'm just about done here anyway, so it doesn't matter."
Sharing the communal showers in the locker room was hardly the same thing, Piers mused. When he heard the water shutting off, he hurried back to the bed and tried to appear casual as Chris appeared in the doorway, towelling himself. Out of the corner of his eye, Piers saw strong, taut muscles, glistening with droplets of water clinging to Chris' body hair. It was like a photo shoot in one of those magazines he hid under his mattress when he was seventeen years old.
"Jesus. Put some pants on, Chris." Never in a million years would Piers have imagined himself saying something like that but there he was, demurely shading his eyes and desperately trying to not look.
"Something wrong, Nivans?" In his gruff, baritone voice, Chris asked, apparently oblivious to the strangeness of the whole scene. "I thought this was the kind of thing you liked. You're a man's man aren't you? I don't mind you having a look. In fact, get as close as you like."
"That's it!" They had reached breaking point and Piers threw up his hands. "What's going on, sir? Is this some kind of game that you're playing? Because if it is, let me tell you that I do not appreciate it in the least." As he spoke, one hand came up and he wagged a pointed finger at Chris in admonishment.
"Game?" Looking at Piers with an expression of bewilderment, Chris shook his head. "I'm not playing a game, Piers. I thought you-" Sighing, he gestured to himself. "I thought you wanted this. You're attracted to me, aren't you? You'll have to forgive me. I'm not very good at reading signals at times. If I'm mistaken, I'm sorry, but..." A coy smirk appeared on his lips, looking almost out of place on a face far more used to frowning. "I don't think I am mistaken, am I?"
Piers was caught between a rock and a hard place. To confess that yes, he was very interested in whatever Chris had to offer or to flat out deny it. For a few seconds, he floundered, mouth opening and closing but without any sound coming out.
Oh god, what do I do?
As it happened, his silence was enough of an indication of his culpability for Chris to take action and before Piers knew what was happening, rough fingers seized his chin and lips descended. It wasn't the greatest kiss Piers ever received. It didn't knock him off his feet or rock his world. Kind of clumsy, somewhat wet, it was amateurish, as though he hadn't had much practice. It occurred to Piers that maybe he really hadn't, particularly with kissing other men. Nevertheless, Chris' enthusiasm more than made up for his lack of expertise and, despite his misgivings, Piers was swept along.
"See?" Pulling back a fraction, Chris murmured against Piers lips. "You're interested."
Like Piers could refute it now. Not when his fingers were digging into Chris' shoulders and their bodies were close enough that the moisture on Chris' skin dampened Piers' shirt. It still had an air of unreality to it but Piers was hastening to the point of not caring any more. Far to often, he'd imagined such a thing happening, with Chris behaving much the way he was. Perhaps this was his imagination and he was actually asleep in front of the movie.
"Heh, well, yeah..." All semblance of his usual articulate self evaded him and Piers breathed out a small, nervous laugh. "I guess I am."
"Uh-huh." Chris' reply was another kiss, gentler and slower this time. Better. He was getting the hang of it.
What the hell. Piers threw caution to the wind and surrendered to the moment. He'd deal with the consequences later and, after all, he and Chris had agreed to have some fun. After all they'd gone through in recent months, this felt like a reward. What was the worst that could happen? Chris appeared to be compos mentis and fairly certain of what he wanted, so why not?
When they parted again, Piers licked his lips and gave a soft, contented sigh. He could easily overlook Chris' unpractised technique because it was Chris and really, Piers had been waiting for this for a very long time. All good things come to those who wait, he told himself in an effort to whittle away his worry about it all.
"Like I said, I'm not to good at this, so you may have to lead me along a little," Chris said, fingers pulling at Piers' shirt. Taking the hint, Piers' lent a hand, his own, trembling, fingers working the buttons through their holes. "In fact, I think I'd like it if you did take charge, so to say."
"Take charge?"
"Yes. Take the more dominant role. You know what I mean, don't you?" The towel, which had remained around Chris' shoulders until this point, was tossed to the bed, leaving the man without any means of covering up and by now, Piers had decided that was okay with him.
"You want me to... Top?" Shirt coming off and discarded like Chris' towel, Piers was well on his way towards catching up with the nudity. His hands went to his belt next, working it through the buckle then out of its loops.
"If that's what the kids are calling it these days, then yes, that's what I want." Stepping back from Piers, Chris took a seat on the edge of his bed, legs splayed. "We can be frank here, can't we?"
As he dropped down onto his own bed to tug his pants off his legs and remove his socks, Piers nodded. "Of course we can." He was curious to see where this went.
"Good. Then what I want is for you to fuck me, Piers."
Couldn't get much franker than that and the bluntness of the statement rendered Piers speechless. Tongue suddenly feeling foreign in his mouth, Piers wasn't sure he could speak, let alone know what to say, but Chris looked at him with unabashed anticipation and he found his head bobbing up and down in agreement.
"Sure."
Like they'd just agreed to go shopping. Or go out for dinner, maybe. Nothing at all out of the ordinary except that Piers had just agreed to have sex with his captain. There were surely protocols in place to forbid this kind of thing happening, but for all his usual adherence to the rules, Piers couldn't find it in himself to care. The notion was in his head now and all he wanted was Chris. He was hardly a martyr to his hormones and sex drive, but put a plate of meat in front of a starving man and he will gorge himself.
"Great! Whenever you're ready, soldier." Chris was smiling and that was unusual enough to give Piers reason to pause for a moment's consideration. Perhaps wondering why, Chris raised a brow and asked, "Everything okay?"
"Yeah! Yeah, just thinking about how to proceed. I'll uh, need some stuff," Piers replied and went looking for his wallet. In a way, it was testament to his preparedness for any eventuality that Piers always carried condoms. He might not have used them in quite some time, but they were still well within date, he was relieved to find.
"Stuff," Chris echoed with a low, rumbling laugh. "Mustn't forget stuff. Take all the time you need. I'm not going anywhere. Glad to see you're ready for anything."
"Not quite anything." Holding up the condom, Piers gave an apologetic grimace. "It's uh, it's extra lubricated but I'll have to.." Unsure of how to explain, Piers gestured towards Chris and motioned pointing fingers. For a moment, Chris just stared at him blankly, then realisation dawned.
"Be gentle with me," he muttered, feigning bashfulness, prompting a snort from Piers. As poor as the joke was, it lightened the atmosphere a little. A very good thing because an intimate moment shouldn't be tense.
"You're absolutely sure about this?" Piers asked, approaching Chris' bed. Better to be safe than sorry and if he was going to pull out, change his mind, have second thoughts or whatever, then now was the time for it.
"Seems to me that you're the uncertain one, Piers," came the reply as Chris got himself comfortable on the bed. "I'm surprised. I thought you'd be eager."
"Oh, I am! I definitely am." To show just how eager he was, he settled his body over Chris' and went in for another kiss. This time, Piers took charge, leading Chris' lips and tongue in a passionate dance. Having Chris acquiesce to him felt good, a hint of things to come, and while their mouths moved together, Piers allowed his hands to wander over the body beneath him.
Each and every scar Chris had gave Piers' fingers something to run over. He could map out a history of battle with naught more than his fingertips and each ridge of hardened skin was evidence that Chris was a survivor. If this was how he wanted to celebrate his sobriety, then who was Piers to deny it?
While Piers explored by touch, Chris didn't remain passive and returned the caresses with his own hands gliding over Piers' shoulders and back. When large hands squeezed his rump, Piers let out a surprised squeak, muffled by the kiss. Due to lack of experience - as Chris had put it - Piers expected his lover to by shy of taking matters further, but he was proven wrong when Chris slipped a groping hand between their bodies. Clearly this was something in which he had a great deal of familiarity, as did most men.
Breathing heavily, Piers drew back from the kiss and swallowed down a groan, for which Chris immediately chastised him.
"You don't have to hold back. I'd like to hear that you're enjoying yourself," he said softly before applying his lips and teeth to the underside of Piers jaw. Doing as bidden, Piers let out a more audible noise of pleasure. Head tipped back and with Chris nipping at his throat while his hand stroked, Piers reminded himself that he was meant to be in charge - at Chris' behest, no less - so took some decisive action. Withdrawing completely, he gently wrested himself free of Chris' mouth and hand, then began his own descent, trailing fevered kisses over broad, shaggy chest.
Pausing once he reached Chris' navel and glancing up, Piers very nearly asked again if it was really okay to proceed, but managed to catch himself, just in time, and instead asked Chris to spread his legs a little. If they were going to do this, then he needed to quit being so hesitant. Once Chris did as asked, Piers wetted his fingers, swirling his tongue around them.
"I'm going to..." How to put it? Well, Chris had set the mood with his earlier bluntness. "Stretch you. It might be a little uncomfortable, so if you feel any pain or-"
"Piers," Chris said, interrupting the other mid-flow. "I've been shot, I've been stabbed, I've been thrown by BOWs. Your fingers in my ass aren't going to be a problem. Trust me."
"Oh." There wasn't very much which could be said to that so rather than fumble with a comeback, witty or otherwise, Piers got on with the task in hand. In spite of his assurances, a hiss escaped Chris, though he did his best to hide it and Piers had the good grace to pretend to not notice. Distraction, he had found, worked best in these situations and so while his fingers toiled, his mouth gave Chris something else to think about.
"You're pretty good at this." Above the sound of Piers' sucking, Chris spoke and lowered a hand to ruffle the other's hair. It was a bad habit, one Piers had always bemoaned, but in recent times it was sadly absent. This time, he wouldn't complain. He couldn't because it was a sign of the old Chris, the man he adored. There was a lot to be said for this new Chris too, however. Hips rolled and fingers threaded through short hair; Piers knew that he was doing something right from his lover's reactions and kept on at it.
"Am I ready yet?" Chris' question took Piers by surprise and he drew back, letting Chris slip from between his lips.
"Impatient?"
"Mh-hm. You know it, big boy."
Big boy? What? With all the best will in the world, Piers couldn't not laugh though he did strive valiantly to constraint his amusement.
"What the hell, Chris?" Feeling that a little payback was necessary, he twisted his wrist and curled his fingers just so. It was a good trick for wringing a little extra pleasure out of a partner and from the look of surprise on Chris' face, he'd met his mark. Piers firmly believed that, in most cases, once was never enough and so repeated the motion. This time, Chris' hips rose off the bed causing Piers to smirk in smug satisfaction.
"Correction: you're really good at this."
High praise indeed. Piers feared he'd be a little rusty but apparently this was something once learned, never forgotten. Sliding his fingers free, he reached for the condom resting on the bed beside Chris' shoulder. Very carefully, Piers opened it, threw the packet on the floor and then rolled it on. Flushing a little when he realised that Chris was watching his every move, he cleared his throat self consciously. This was it. If he did as expected, there would be no going back. Their relationship would be forever changed.
No pressure, then.
"Ready?" Once more lowering his body over Chris' Piers waited for the nod then went in for a kiss. Almost desperately, he lapped at Chris' lips and when the other opened his mouth, Piers darted his tongue inside. Pelvises coming together, the rub of skin on skin sent a delightful shiver down his spine and Chris must have felt something similar, to judge from the sounds emanating from him.
"It's probably easier if you turn over," Piers muttered between fervent kisses, then leaned back to give Chris enough room to manoeuvre himself. Tugging Chris' hips, Piers got the man to raise them just enough to give better access, then positioned himself. With the extra slickness of the condom, and the preparation he'd done, Piers encountered little resistance. Nevertheless, he took it slowly.
"How's this," he whispered, not daring to speak too loudly and spoil the moment.
"Better than I thought it'd be." At least Chris was honest, but he did add, "It's good."
Good was encouraging and Piers experimented a little, changing the angle and depth of his stroke and judging by Chris' responses. Piers took in everything, a habit of finely tuned awareness to surroundings and situations. The arch of Chris' back, the hitching of his breath, the way he pushed back or gripped the sheets tighter in his fists. Clues to the level of his enjoyment and gratification, signals for Piers to act upon.
"We could change positions, if you want?" Piers suggested in between laboured breaths. "Try something different, maybe."
Glancing over his shoulder, Chris shot Piers a smirk and replied, "You're the boss, remember?" The way Chris said it, voice thick and hoarse with desire, a slight drawl to the words, provoked a spike of arousal in Piers and he momentarily faltered in his rhythm.
"I'd like if we did," he said, every bit as husky as Chris, and pulled out carefully, then sat back on his knees. "Turn over, onto your back." A commanding tone crept into Piers' voice; a first in any of his dealings with Chris.
"As you wish." If Piers' dominant inflection was unusual, then Chris' subservience was doubly so. More than surprising; it was indescribably arousing. Unable to keep his hands to himself, Piers ran the tips of his fingers down Chris' side, letting them rest at the waist. In a moment of pure tenderness, their eyes met and while this hadn't exactly been a romance to end all romances, in those few seconds of looking at each other, Piers felt truly happy. Even if this was a fleeting liaison, never to be repeated or spoken of, then Piers would cherish it.
But lest he allow himself to get carried away in emotions that really had no proper place in such a functional arrangement, he lifted his hand and used it to guide himself inside once more. At the back of his mind, Piers was certain that this was a one night only sort of deal and he was amazingly okay with that. His task here was to satisfy Chris, to give the captain even a modicum of pleasurable indulgence.
Seeing his lover's face was far more preferable to Piers than staring at the back of his head. To see the play of sensation over features he knew so well but was seeing in an entirely new light was quite the heady experience. A flush of red had taken over Chris' chest, dappling up over his throat. It was a lure to Piers' mouth which descended hungrily, lips rasping against stubble and teeth seizing skin. With a loud gasp, Chris tipped his head back in silent permission for Piers to do his worst. There would be marks left behind, lasting until morning and perhaps beyond. Near ferocious in his attention, the enthusiasm of his nips and bites was surpassed only by the rhythmic snapping forwards and drawing back of his hips.
"Piers." It was the first time Chris had spoken his name since they began and if not for the breathy, protracted way in which it was said, Piers might have taken it as something other than an entreaty. He could stand to hear his name repeated like that again. Fortune smiled upon him, because he did, repeated in a litany until it tailed off in a throaty moan.
From firsthand experience, Piers knew that a bit of extra stimulation would go a long way and so, one hand on the pillow to push himself up, he levered his body away from Chris' and dropped a hand between. Eyes that had been half-closed in sensual bliss widened which earned him a small squeeze and that, in turn, elicited a heavy, lust-laced sigh.
The synchronicity they shared in battle was also present in this intimate act. They worked in tandem, each anticipating the others' next move and their unity on the field carried over to the bedroom. If Piers possessed a more fanciful nature, he'd probably call it fate or destiny that they ended up together like this. Whatever the reason, bizarre as it was, it was also wonderful.
The room grew darker. Outside, the sun was setting and the only illumination to wash over them was the flickering light of the television. Eyelids drooping, Piers gazed down at Chris, at the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips, the way his brow furrowed in concentration as his hips rose off the bed then fell again. Every second of it would be indelibly marked upon the young man's mind; he didn't want to miss a thing.
Piers could keep up his slow, steady pace for only so long before the demands of his body - and of his lover's - called for more. Harder. Faster. Skin meeting skin and harsh breaths punctuated the silence. There was scant will to draw it out any longer. The flow of his stroking hand quickened and with it, noises of approval from Chris. Further incentive came in the form of Chris' legs locking around Piers' body, which hampered his ability to withdraw too much and kept him close, hips moving in shorter, shallower thrusts.
The backs of Piers' legs ached in a wholly pleasant manner. It was like the burn of a workout, but coupled with the approach of orgasm. With a slight shift, he once again changed the angle of his approach, rolling his hips fluidly. Each drive forwards provoked a gasp and every flick of his wrist earned a groan. It was getting harder to tell where one voice ended and the other began and Piers didn't care to try. When his mouth descended upon Chris' one more time and their breaths mingled, so too did the sounds they made.
Piers knew the signs. The tensing, the grip, the swell. All signals that Chris was close to climax and a good thing too, because Piers was also rapidly approaching that point. He was determined that Chris would fall first, and this impetus led to a redoubling of his efforts. Matching pace for pace between hand and hips, he pushed his own burgeoning sensations aside and focussed solely on his lover. Teeth clamped down on plump lower lip and subsequently earned him a rake of blunt fingernails down his spine.
Chris jerked upwards as if trying to impale himself further onto Piers, and the action didn't go unrewarded. With long, smooth strokes from root to tip and back again, Piers maintained his depth and rocked his hips instead of bucking. He could imagine just what Chris felt right then: a sense of being filled and the dual assault of manual stimulation. It would be nice to try this again, he mused, but with the roles reversed next time.
Not that there would be a next time, so he'd better make this one count.
Piers was sure he felt it before Chris. There was a second or two when muscled gripped him tight and then came the release. Through clenched teeth, Chris almost roared, and over his torso, and Piers' hand, he emptied himself. There was no holding back in this, an entirely natural concluding act, and any semblance of control Chris had tried to retain was gone. He trembled, he panted and by the time his climax ebbed and waned, Chris had made a thorough mess of his belly and chest.
It was through that mess that Piers skimmed his fingers, smearing it over hair-flecked flesh. Chris watched in bemusement as Piers lifted sticky fingers to his lips and licked them clean before repeating the action. He must have looked like the cat that got the cream and in a sense he was. But he wasn't yet done. There was the unfinished business of his own needs to take care of. With Chris lying there, looking wholly spent, and Piers still feeling the full force of his arousal, restraint was difficult.
"What're you waiting for?" Curiosity lit up Chris' face and he glanced pointedly down the length of his body. Gyrating hips accompanied his question and a jolt of unadulterated lust shot through Piers. Hands clamping down on Chris' waist, fingers digging in, Piers reared back as much as he could, then propelled himself forwards. He did it again, then again, short, stabbing motions, a grunt of exertion coming each time. In mimicry of what Piers had done earlier, Chris swiped his fingers through his discharge and raised them for Piers' attention. Obediently, he opened his mouth and accepted the offering, eyes falling shut as his tongue lapped them clean.
It wasn't long before Piers felt the familiar tingle of his own orgasm dawning, starting at the base of his spine and spreading outwards. His thrusts became erratic, fast paced, intense, deep. Letting Chris' fingers slip free of his mouth, he tipped his head back and closed his eyes. Throat undulating, he swallowed hard and clinched his bottom lip between his teeth. This was it, this was the moment, the sweet bliss of abandon and passion coursing through his veins like fire. With a cry of sheer euphoria, he came undone.
The magnitude of his orgasm was overwhelming. Whether it was because this was the culmination of desires he'd harboured for so long, relief that it had finally happened, excitement of being with Chris or a combination of all those factors he neither knew nor cared. It felt as though his very essence was being torn asunder, separated from his body and transferred to Chris in the pinnacle of their carnality. Exaggeration of a fevered mind, no doubt.
It took all of Piers' self-control to not collapse onto Chris in a boneless heap. He felt like all of his energy had been sapped out of him, leaving him lethargic and dreamy. Very deliberately, he lowered himself slowly and sank his head down onto Chris' shoulder, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. Not for a moment did Piers expect there to be much in the way of post-orgasm snuggling, but he hoped he'd be allowed a pause to regain his breath and wits.
"Wow." Halfway between a breath and a sigh, nothing else would suffice to convey Piers' thoughts. Wow summed it up perfectly, equal parts disbelief at what had just occurred and joy that it happened at all. The deep rumble of Chris' laughter reverberated between their bodies, prompting a similar reaction from Piers. At least things weren't awkward.
With a deep, regretful sigh at having to withdraw, Piers shifted and carefully divested himself of the used condom. Padding into the bathroom to dispose of it in the bin, he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror and winked at it. Good job, he told himself, then shook his head in amusement. Getting a little cocky there. Back in the bedroom, he found Chris sitting up in bed, looking, for once, relaxed and content with the covers over him.
"Coming back to bed?" He asked and patted the mattress beside him. Piers didn't have to be asked twice and eagerly slipped under the sheets and blanket. When Chris wrapped an arm around his shoulders, Piers leaned in to rest against the larger body.
Was it something they should talk about? Like a mission de-briefing, where they discussed what went well, what went wrong and what they should do differently in the future. As it happened, he needn't have fretted because Chris spoke first.
"That was really good. Thank you, Piers." It wasn't really customary to thank someone for sex, was it? But if Chris wanted to show a little gratitude, Piers wouldn't stop him.
"You're welcome. It was..." Fantastic. Amazing. The coming together of all his hopes and dream. "Awesome!"
"Yeah, awesome. That's a good way of describing it. I'm pretty beat. You want to grab a nap to refresh ourselves and then we could go out, get something to eat, take in some fresh air?"
Sleep sounded wonderful and Piers nodded, reply, "Great idea! Kind of hungry after expending all that energy, but yeah, a nap first." Hesitantly, he gave Chris a peck on the cheek, which seemed a little weak after all they'd just done, so amended it with another kiss, laid at the corner of Chris' mouth, before shimmying down under the covers.
"An hour? How's that?" Lifting his head from the pillow, Piers saw Chris, phone in hand and attempting to set the alarm on it.
"I'll do it," he said, relieving the man of his gadget and setting the timer for sixty minutes. "We can always snooze it if an hour isn't long enough." The position he was in, it was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes open and with a stifled yawn, he gave up trying and let them fall closed. Piers was asleep within moments, dead to the world and snoozing happily.
When the alarm sounded, precisely an hour later, Chris' phone bleeping and vibrating on the bedside table, Piers awoke with a start. After fumbling for the phone and turning off the racket, he rolled over to cuddle up to his bedmate. Except that Chris wasn't there. His side of the bed wasn't even warm, so he must have got up a little while ago. Probably in the shower, Piers reasoned, and forced himself to sit up. But the bathroom door was open and there was darkness within.
"Chris?" The illumination coming in from the streetlamps outside wasn't enough to have a good look around the room, so Piers reached for the switch to turn on the overhead light. As it flickered on and brightness flared, he squinted to see and discovered that he was completely alone in the room. Throwing back the covers, he dashed into the bathroom and flicked on the light. Chris' clothes were gone from the floor, where he'd discarded them earlier when he took his shower.
"Oh, you have got to be kidding..." Slamming his fist against the door frame, Piers bit back a curse. Chris was gone, to goodness only knew where, though Piers could hazard a few guesses. As much as he would like to believe otherwise, he felt duped. As if everything that transpired was a means to an end for Chris, that end being a bar somewhere in the city. He could be wrong. Chris might have decided he was too hungry to wait and so had gone out to find some food to bring back to the room. It was a futile hope, however. By now, he knew Chris' modus operandi all too well to expect anything else.
Despondent, and above all disappointed, Piers sank to the floor. He'd been so willing to play along that he hadn't spent nearly enough time questioning Chris' motives. Not for a moment would Piers have expected his captain to be so manipulative, not normally anyway, but over recent weeks, Chris had shown an entirely different side to himself, using any and all means at his disposal to try and wheedle just one little drink out of Piers. This was the worst, though. This hurt and what was worse was that he'd allowed it to happen. Piers was just as angry with himself as he was with Chris.
Shaking himself from introspection, Piers stood up to find his clothes and dress. If Chris thought he was getting away with this, he had another think coming. Piers would search each and every bar in the city until he found the man and then... Well, he wasn't yet sure of what he'd do, but there would be consequences and they wouldn't be pleasant. It would serve Chris right if Piers dragged him back to America and let the BSAA deal with him because their methods of drying Chris out wouldn't be nearly so kind nor indulgent.
There was only so far someone could be pushed before they pushed back.