Surf's Up, by MissMishka
DISCLAIMER: The usual warnings, I claim no ownership of these characters, they are simply borrowed with love and adoration from the original creators to have their stories, thoughts or circumstances embellished on a little more than the original format has done. Not for any profit.
Eric knows his lover to be an intelligent and articulate man.
That aspect of Aaron's nature had been the very reason why Douglas had chosen the man to go out finding and recruiting survivors in the madness outside the gates of their community.
Over a year ago, he himself had been saved and recruited by the man.
His first thought having laid eyes upon the blonde had been that the zombies had killed him and the sight he beheld was that of the angel Gabriel come to take him to Heaven. In hindsight, that thought had likely been the concussion he'd suffered when he'd scrambled over a bar in attempt to escape a roamer and fallen on his ass, knocking his head hard against the liquor filled shelving behind the counter.
But Aaron had swooped into that bar, killed the zombie and stood over a prone Eric with hand extended in aid and golden hair shining like a halo in the sun that had streamed through the window on them.
His second thought, days after that momentous first encounter, had been to wonder what a surfer was doing on the outskirts of DC. They'd all been chipping in to work on a new portion of wall to extend the perimeter of the community. It had been hot with mid-summer sun glaring down on them all. Aaron had been wearing an over-sized white tank top, khaki cargo shorts tied loosely at the waist and a pair of sandals. Eric had joined them in the task at a moment when the blonde had been holding a large plank of wood up against his chest and it had been all too easy to mentally replace the panel with a colorful surfboard.
He's never told the man either impression and Aaron has proven himself more angel than surf dude in the time passed, but Eric remains drawn to both ideas. He hasn't had the surfer fantasy for months; not with the change in weather driving Aaron to warmer, more flesh concealing clothes than his summer tank and shorts.
Then Aaron goes and says a word straight out of those old daydreams.
"Bummer."
The word stops Eric in his tracks as he quietly follows behind Aaron and Abraham away from the main gate. He's sure he, like his lover, should be giving a hoot about the breakup of Abraham and Rosita, but Eric can only hear Aaron saying that word.
"You did not just say 'bummer,'" he says, striving for humor in his tone as he grips Aaron's shoulder.
"Oh shut up," his lover retorts, offering a half-grin to soften the words before he shrugs off the touch and moves on with his questioning of their friend.
Eric hangs back, looking at the shaggy gold locks of hair that brush his lover's shoulders and mentally stripping away the layers of clothing that the other man wore. He hurries to their home, knowing Aaron will arrive there shortly as it had been their intention to go home before his lover grew interested in Abraham's drama of the affair with Rosita ending.
With no real interest in such things himself, Eric sheds thoughts of the others as quickly as he tears off his own layers of winter clothing.
He picks up each garment as it's discarded on the way to their bedroom, not wanting Aaron to be distracted by a trail of clothing when he wanders in. He throws the bundle aside to a corner of the room and moves to snag a robe from the back of the bathroom door before rushing back down the stairs.
If he could be certain that Aaron wouldn't be bringing Abraham home in some misguided overture of friendship and community, Eric wouldn't bother with the robe. While Eric had enjoyed surprising his lover with a nude reception in their home once before, he had no desire to risk an outcome like the second time he had made such an overture. The first time had gone as planned with them going at it like rabbits right there on the staircase. The second time Aaron had brought Douglas and Regina over for dinner.
Eric no longer dares to wander around the house in anything less than a robe or his boxer shorts; for everyone's sake. The boxers were out for this scene because it is too cold for them and the thin cotton would too easily reveal the direction of his thoughts should Aaron not be alone upon arrival.
He checks the side table beside the front door and finds their provisions gone from the drawer.
A quick rewind of recent events locates the blood heating memory of their return home the prior Friday and being too impatient for one another to try for their bedroom. Aaron had fucked him right up against the door, using the last of the downstairs lube to ensure the experience left Eric aching in only the best possible ways.
Stifling a curse, he bolts back up to the bedroom to get supplies from the bathroom.
"Eric?"
His heart jolts and pulse quickens at the sudden call of his lover followed by the shutting of the front door.
"You alone?" he sticks his head out of the room to ask.
"Of course I am," Aaron replies, his booted feet thudding their way up the stairs with each word. "What'd you take off like that for?"
As explanation, Eric simply waits for the other man to cross the threshold into their room before grabbing the collar of his shirt to yank his mouth forward. His free hand moves to tangle in Aaron blonde fucking hair and he moans against his lover's lips at the slide of those silky strands through his fingers.
"Whoa," the man pulls back with a familiar chuckle to pant for breath. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"
Eric isn't about to give any real answer to that question and he knows none is expected. In other circumstances it may have been amusing to say something along the lines of the truth, like "You said bummer, dude" just to see if his lover got any measure of his thoughts.
Instead he focuses on peeling the clothes from Aaron's body with a lascivious intent until the other man catches on and forgoes any more attempts at conversation to get to the sex that his partner so evidently wants.
With his mouth deliberately latching upon the spot on Aaron's neck that makes the man's jaw drop in mindless lustful reaction, Eric steers the blonde to their bed and pushes him back upon it. He sheds the robe, dons a condom and uncaps the K-Y before his lover even has time to stop bouncing on the mattress from the force of his landing.
"Why-" Aaron begins to ask with a frown of distaste at the sight of the condom, but Eric's slickened fingers quickly silence the man.
They had not fixed roles in their bedroom, but Eric had been quite happily taking Aaron's dick for the better part of two months; if not longer.
He wants the blonde to ride him tonight, though. Wants to lay back and watch his lover's body writhe and twist over him, seeking to find just the right position to bring him release; much as a surfer undulates to guide their board through a breaking wave to get the best possible ride.
Aaron arches on the bed before him as Eric's probing fingers find prostate and stroke to drive the man to distraction. Grinning his satisfaction at the keening sound of pleasure that pours from his lover's lips, he bends forward to bite playfully at a nipple before putting his mouth over those lips.
The man grabs at his head with one hand, fingers tangling in the shorter, darker strands while his other hand goes to Eric's hip. Those fingers dig into the soft curve of what little ass he has to him in place while Aaron grinds upward for some friction to provide both relief and stimulation for their hardened cocks.
He withdraws his fingers from the other man's body, slicks some extra lubricant over his own dick then flips them over to put the blonde on top. With little urging Aaron pushes upright to sit upon Eric's thighs, deliberately butting their dicks together as he rocks over him.
"And so your dastardly plan is revealed," the man husks, finding apparent humor in the moment. "Is this what you were thinking off while poor Abraham gawked after the lush ass of the formerly 'his' Rosita?"
Eric rolls his eyes at the introduction of that topic in their bedroom and resists the urge to topple his lover back to the bottom position.
"Or were you too busy staring at my ass to think beyond this?"
This is a shift of lean hips to position them over the rigid length of Eric's dick.
This is a firm hand holding his shaft steady while Aaron slowly works his way downward to Eric inside him.
This is the flush of pleasure that reddens the blonde's fair skin as his ass rests again for a moment against Eric's thighs; head dropping backward as he takes a moment to adjust to the shaft now pushed to the root inside him.
"God, Eric," he moans, head tipping forward for his blazing blue eyes to lock with Eric's brown ones, "why haven't we done this lately?"
This starts as a gentle rocking of their hips that turns quickly to Aaron rising and falling over him in the way a cowboy rides a bucking bronc.
And Eric bucks as if driven on by spurs; thrusting for deeper, faster penetration until the friction and tightness on his cock proves too much and he spasms to release.
The orgasm is fan-fucking-tastic and he all but twitches in the aftermath until he realizes that Aaron is still hard and has gone still above him. He cracks open an eye he'd unconsciously closed in climax and finds his lover staring down at him.
"Did you just say cowabunga?"
Eric knows his lover to be a funny, gentle, caring, compassionate and often perverted man.
He still has no intention of Aaron a single surfer fantasy that he has had in the time they've known one another.
In a calculated move, he recovers enough strength in his sated limbs to flip the blonde over to his back on the bed. With practiced ease, Eric peels off his condom, drops it over the beside in the general area of a wastebasket then moves downward until his mouth is able to suck in Aaron's still hard dick.
The blonde is a sucker for getting sucked off and the potential faux pas of Eric's climactic utterance is forgotten in Aaron's own mindless babble. Within moments he's lost to the pleasure of slick tongue and suctioning mouth around his shaft. An additional stimulus of Eric's index finger slipping inside to push against the prostate gland jolts Aaron to his own release.
"Surf's up, dude!"
Eric chokes at the words his partners chose to shout with his orgasm and the resulting mess will require a stripping and replacing of the bedclothes, but Aaron seems damned proud of himself for so flustering his lover.
Someday, Eric promises himself as they take some time to recover breath and energy, if we should ever grow old enough to tire of one another, I'll kill him for that.