Title: Sex to Go
Fandom: Blades of Glory
Genre: Humor, slash
A/N: This is my new crack fandom! I saw the movie on Sunday and two days later I'm writing fic. What can I say? I'm in love.
Kissing Chazz was nothing like kissing Katie, who tasted of blueberry snow-cones and cotton candy, whose lips were fleshy and soft. Chazz's lips were rough, dry and chapped, burnt by ice overexposure, but he refused to wear the strawberry-flavored lip balm that Jimmy always carried in his backpack.
"There's no way I'm gonna wear lip gloss!" Chazz had growled as he walked out of the ice and sat on a bench to remove his skates. "That stuff's made to give pretty girls their pouty lips."
"Lip balm," Jimmy corrected. "Not gloss. It's made of cocoa butter, tangerine oil, and vitamin E." Jimmy applied the balm, dipping his pinky finger in the tiny metal tin, and then rubbing it along length of his lips. "This is miraculous. I've been wearing it since I was seven, and my lips have never been chapped."
"Whatever. I'm not putting that shit on my lips."
Contrasting the softness of Katie's peach-colored cheeks, Chazz's face looked grimy and coarse with stubble. Even when he'd just shaved, his beard sprouted like chia seeds. And really, when it came down to it, it wasn't just his beard, but every single keratinous filament in his body. Maybe it was the result of the horse shampoo, but he was covered in wiry, dark hair from the tip of his fat big toe, to his back and abdomen, to his luscious head of hair, which he kept shiny with a brush - a replacement of the original, which had been lost thanks to Stranz! - that was ridiculously expensive, even by Jimmy's former-rich-boy standards.
Jimmy couldn't keep his hands off that hair, just the way he couldn't keep his skates off the ice. It was a force of nature, a primal need, something that felt comfortable and right, and simply perfect. He touched Chazz's hair, curling his fingers through the thick strands, pulling Chazz close as they kissed and kissed, so rough that it made Jimmy whimper.
"Ouch," he complained, and pushed Chazz away to avoid being squashed under his bulky body. "You'll break my ribs!"
"You're such a girl," Chazz drawled, shifting a little and bracing his weight on his elbows so that he could continue kissing Jimmy.
"Am not." Jimmy huffed, placing his palm on Chazz's flabby stomach, and pushing it in. "More like you need to go on a diet again."
"You love my body," Chazz said, licking the tip of Jimmy's nose, then tonguing his cheek, his earlobe, his neck.
In the past, Jimmy might have found this display quite disgusting. Saliva was full of pathogens and germs, and only dogs licked people like that! But Chazz had disabused him of that idea, showing him just how much fun it could be to taste people like this. "This, young man," Chazz had said, giving Jimmy's face a tongue bath, "is certainly not how babies are made, since we're both men. But it's provocative, and lots of fun anyway."
Huh. Provocative... what?
Jimmy shivered, fingernails digging in Chazz's taut back. His stomach might be flabby, but the rest of his body retained the firmness of an athlete. His arms were strong, his legs were thick and powerful, all hard muscle under layers of warm skin and mossy hair. And his glutes were certainly nothing to be ashamed of, Jimmy thought, as his hands slid down to the curve of Chazz's ass.
The first time, they'd been drunk, celebrating their gold medal with a few cases of beer and a bottle of champagne or two. So completely sloshed on alcohol and happiness that Jimmy hadn't even paused to rationalize on the fact that he was going to bed with Chazz Michael Michaels.
Chazz would recount a completely different version of events. Something along the lines of Jimmy surrendering to the raw sex appeal that was Chazz, succumbing to the smoldering good looks that even alcohol wouldn't undermine. Sober or drunk, Jimmy obviously had good taste, and he shouldn't blame himself. Few were able to resist THE Chazz.
Whatever Chazz said, Jimmy had been pissed drunk the first time. That was his story, and he was sticking to it. He had no excuse for the second time though. Or the third. Or any of the times that followed. Like tonight. Chazz jerked his hips, and Jimmy moaned and wrapped his legs around Chazz who was deep inside of him, and they needed no excuse for that. Chazz smelled like beer; and thanks to the Chinese take-out they'd just eaten, he tasted like shrimp and garlic sauce, and Jimmy sucked on Chazz's lips until the garlic was gone and there were only red teeth marks and smeared lip balm.
Some people said that Chazz Michael Michaels was sex on ice, but he was really more than that. He was sex in the back seat of a car, sex in the shower, and sex under the coffee table, next to the discarded chopsticks and dowdy boxes of Chinese take-out. He was sex on everything. And Jimmy MacElroy couldn't get enough of it.
- Fin -