on the use of proper terminology
Imagine your OTP having sex, but making a game out of using every horrible synonym for "penis", "vagina", and "breasts" that they can.
Prompt courtesy of the OTP Prompts tumblr.
The game was always a favorite for them when they'd been fighting - makeup sex was always great, that was certain, but somehow, using the worst of the euphemisms they'd heard for body parts made it... better, somehow.
Simply put, it made the sex incredibly hot.
"I am going to call this one Moe," Alejandro murmured as he cupped one of Heather's breasts in his hand, dragging his thumb across the nipple to elicit a breathy moan from her, "and that one Larry."
Heather narrowed her eyes and rolled her hips, effectively grinding against Alejandro's erection through his jeans, and smirked when he let out a strangled gasp. "And what about your little flip-flap there, buddy?"
Alejandro kissed her collarbone softly before replying. "A gentleman always sees to a lady's needs first, mí amor," he said. "The dribbling drop of love can wait - right now, I am much more interested in your sweater meat."
"Wait." Heather pushed Alejandro away from her and sat up, lips pursed into a decisive frown. "Sweater meat? Seriously?" She crossed her arms over her chest, effectively hiding her breasts from Alejandro's gaze. "And I thought gazongas was bad."
He smirked at her and leaned forward. "If was deciding between that, dirigibles, bongos, and piñatas, if you must know - that last one is my personal favorite," he murmured in her ear. Alejandro brushed his lips across her earlobe before grazing it with his teeth and nibbling on it softly, feeling a rush of decidedly smug satisfaction and personal achievement as Heather shuddered against him.
"You," she panted as his mouth left her ear and began following a path along the column of her neck, "are awful."
Pushing Heather back so that she was now leaning against the headboard, Alejandro resumed his ministrations on her breasts with one hand as the other rubbed her hip lightly before tugging down the waistband of her shorts. "Something tells me you won't be saying that once I get to your bald taco." He bit the juncture of her neck and shoulder for good measure, and this time, Heather made a sound that Alejandro knew she would deny making for the rest of... Well, knowing her, most likely eternity.
"I hate you," she whispered, even as she reached up and tangled her fingers in his hair to hold in place in an attempt to exert some amount of control over the situation. "Don't stop."