It's not Zach's fault that he's a little drunk by the time he gets to the hotel. He ran into Simon down on the convention floor and before he knew it, he was being talked into some kind of "Happier Hour" drink special at a nearby pub, which involved beers and accompanying whiskey shots. He stayed for two rounds before he excused himself with his regrets, much to Simon and company's despair.
On any other occasion, Zach would have stayed for hours. As for tonight, Karl was waiting for him.
Karl said he'd leave a room key at the front desk for him but they don't seem to have one, so he goes upstairs without it. Most of the initial buzz is gone by the time Zach finds the right door—on the twelfth floor, so it probably has a great view that Zach hopefully won't get the chance to see. He knocks three times and smiles guiltily when he hears Karl's mumbled 'Bout time already on the other side of the door. Zach only arrived in town this afternoon and he's been buzzing with anticipation about seeing Karl ever since he stepped foot off the plane. Simon was a pleasant surprise, though, and Zach couldn't turn down the opportunity to have one drink with him. Okay, two. Four, if he counts the shots.
The door swings open and Karl stands there, his eyes immediately shifting from narrow and annoyed to wide and surprised. Zach can't help but look the other man up and down hungrily. Fuck if Karl doesn't keep getting better-looking as he grows older. Christ, he's all tan and slim—yet still broad, always broad and utterly masculine—and his short haircut is fucking hot and he's wearing a dainty little silver chain that's already glinting invitingly at Zach from the exposed triangle of skin on his chest—the man can't button up a shirt to save his life—and he's barefoot and licking his lips, and, uh...oh, saying something.
Zach blinks and looks up, slightly dazed. "Uh...what? Sorry, I ran into Simon and he practically dragged me to this place for a drink. I'm, like, halfway tipsy right now. Three-quarters. So...sorry. Go on?"
Karl takes a moment to assess. He offers a hint of a tolerant smirk before speaking lowly. "Your hair, I said." He motions to Zach's freshly shorn head. "When did you get that done?"
"Oh. Few days ago?" Zach self-consciously touches his scalp, running his palm over the fuzzy layer of hair that remains. "I thought it'd be a good look for Angels, you know? Plus, the humidity in New York has been kicking my ass."
"Right." Karl nods slowly. "It looks..."
"Go on, let me have it," Zach says. He already got an earful from Simon about it earlier, paired with lots of curious touching and rubbing from practically everyone at the bar. Plus, since the first photos hit the Internet, he's fielded all sorts of texts from Chris and John along the lines of Did the gay mafia put you up to this? and What, you got tired of being attractive? and I thought they only sold Chia Pets during the holidays. He'll let Karl have a laugh at his expense if he needs it, to get Zach back for being late. "I can take it."
"...butch," Karl finishes. He's a little breathless as he stares, and if Zach didn't know him so well, he might miss the telltale bob of Karl's throat as he swallows or the way Karl's fingers flex at his sides, as if he's holding back from something.
Zach doesn't miss any of it, though. He doesn't miss a thing when it comes to Karl.
"Let's go inside," he murmurs.
Not ten seconds later, the front door is shut with a bang and Zach's shoulders are pinned to a beige and white striped wall. Karl's mouth descends on his, hot and sharp with teeth. Zach fists his hands in Karl's shirt and pulls him closer, tugs on the luscious swell of Karl's bottom lip that he's been dreaming of for months. Karl tastes exactly the same as Zach remembers. It's comforting, yet it makes his heart race.
"You've lost weight," Zach says between kisses. He runs his hands down Karl's sides, over his shirt.
"You too," Karl counters. His big hands find Zach's hips and hold them still as Karl grinds forward. Zach gasps against Karl's cheek and Karl growls. "All lean and tight...so fucking butch, so hot."
Zach tilts his head back with a breathy laugh. "Is it still butch if I paid three hundred dollars for the cut?"
Karl groans. "Don't tell me that. I'll lose all respect for you."
"Okay, never mind, then."
"You could have done it yourself with a fucking Lady Bic."
"Lady Bic? Seriously, no."
Zach pushes away from the wall and steers Karl toward the armchair in the corner of the room. It's upholstered in a bland olive green fabric that pales in comparison to the color of Karl's eyes. Karl drops down onto the chair with a grunt and exhales heavily when Zach pulls Karl's knees apart, sinking to the carpet between them. Zach busies himself with undoing the two or three buttons that are actually fastened on Karl's shirt, latching onto one of his nipples once he gets the pesky fabric out of the day. It's been far too fucking long since they've done this, and Karl's kind of sweaty from running around the convention floor all day, being a badass blockbuster movie star, and man, Zach wants to suck his cock down his throat like a goddamn Hoover.
So he gets Karl's jeans open and does exactly that. Karl nearly jumps out of the chair but Zach holds him down, pulling back just enough so he doesn't gag. Zach pushes back Karl's foreskin and tongues his slit, teasing him for a few moments because he knows Karl likes it. He also knows that Karl is the type to make his feelings well known when he determines that teasing time is over. But for now, Karl likes it.
"Shit," Karl whispers when Zach's tongue starts tracing slow, excruciating lines along the pronounced vein of his length. Zach feels Karl's fingers slide over his scalp, then, feeling the prickly hairs there. The shudder that runs through Zach pairs nicely with the loud moan from Karl's mouth. "Shit, that feels nice," Karl hisses.
"Yeah?" Zach draws back long enough to tug Karl's jeans down further. "How's this feel?"
He bows his head and gently brushes the side of his scalp along Karl's inner thigh. Karl's legs jerk at the sensation and close in on Zach's head. It should feel constricting, like he's trapped in some sort of sweaty, man-scented vice, but it's actually sexy. The air is thick and hot between Karl's thighs and Zach feels a little light-headed between the drinks and the sudden decrease in oxygen.
"That's right, baby, hold me in place," Zach says. Karl nods with a groan and splays both of his palms over Zach's head, his thighs shifting further to keep Zach from moving away. Zach reaches down to press the heel of his hand against his groin, his own cock pulsing in his tight, expensive jeans as he takes Karl between his lips again. Karl holds Zach's head still and works his abs and hips, fucking into Zach's mouth, using him like a goddamn blow-up doll. A stream of filthy, unmentionable curses comes pouring out of Karl's mouth, and all the while, his fingers roam the terrain of Zach's buzzed hair, back and forth, caressing and rubbing.
"Fuck, just—" Karl forces his hips still and releases Zach's head. The sudden rush of fresh air to Zach's nostrils dizzies him for a moment and he has to blink to adjust to the light again when he looks up. Karl reaches down and traces Zach's swollen lips with his thumb. "Okay," he says, catching his breath, his eyes dilated and his tone no-nonsense as he gestures to the bed. "Time to fuck."
"Yeah," Zach agrees. He gets to his feet with Karl's help, and then lifts his arms for Karl to pull off his T-shirt. "As the butch guy, will I be doing the fucking or taking it?"
"Oh, you'll be doing it," Karl says. His eyes are sharp as he rolls Zach's nipples between his fingers, reaches down to lightly squeeze Zach's straining erection. "You're going to hang me from your cock like a curtain on a rod."
"Hngh," Zach says in response, which he's positive Karl can translate as, Oh, yes, absolutely. They tend to switch it up, he and Karl, but usually Karl chooses to be the one on the receiving end, most likely because it's not something he often gets to do. It's all for fun and they're not exclusive—they couldn't be, what with Karl being married, albeit to a mutually open and understanding woman—but Zach often gets the feeling that Karl doesn't go searching this out with anyone else. In fact, that suspicion is reinforced tenfold when Karl shucks off his jeans completely, bends over the side of the bed, and presents his bare ass to Zach like they're at a dog show.
"Come on," Karl goads him. "Been waiting all bloody night for you. Now come on and fuck me hard, Quinto."
"If I'm so butch," Zach says, pulling off his shoes and jeans as fast as he can without falling over, "shouldn't I be the one giving the orders?"
Karl looks back at him and grins in a way that makes Zach's heart stutter in his chest. "You're not the type," he says. He's still wearing his shirt, unbuttoned and hanging from his torso as he props himself up on his elbows. Zach itches to pull the shirt off Karl's body and expose all that gorgeous, solid muscle underneath it, but this is hot in its own way. Karl nods toward the bedside table. "Lube and condoms. Over there, stud."
"I get the feeling you're making fun of me," Zach says wryly. He grabs one of the ten or twenty condoms in the pile on the table and opens it, rolls it on. "Jesus, Karl. The con's only, like, three days."
"I over packed. And I'm not—taking the piss, that is. I mean it; you look fucking hot."
Karl lifts his ass higher when he feels the first touch of Zach's lubed fingers and moans loudly when the first one slides in, slow and steady. Zach loves how responsive Karl is. He's tight, but not too tight. Zach can't help but wonder if Karl prepared himself in advance.
"Sure, sure," Zach teases, adding a second finger after a short while. "You're not so talkative with my fingers up your ass anyway, are you? Did you fuck yourself before you got here, Karl? Get yourself ready for me? Did you think of me?"
"Fuck yes, I did," Karl says, panting into the duvet. "It's been so long, Zach, too fucking long..."
Zach licks his lips, flexing his fingers inside Karl. "I know." He twists his hand, crooks his fingers sharply, and relishes in the answering gurgle from Karl, how his hips buck wildly. "You use the purple one?" Zach asks. Karl will know what he means—the purple dildo, the one Zach bought in Sydney that he let Karl keep when he went back to New Zealand, on the condition that he would always use it with Zach in mind.
"Yeah, 'course," Karl grits out. He's fucking back on Zach's fingers now, a flush creeping across his cheeks. Zach glances down and sees Karl's cock, rock hard and dripping onto the otherwise pristine duvet. "Come on."
"Look at you," Zach murmurs. He fists the base of his cock with his free hand. If Karl really loses it, Zach thinks, he won't be held responsible for his actions. "You're like a cat in heat, desperate for it."
All right, Zach thinks, removing his fingers. He isn't a cruel man. And since he also wants nothing more than to sink inch by inch into that exposed, slick asshole, he takes pity on them both and does exactly that. They both seem to hold their breath as Zach makes that first push inside Karl. When he's balls-deep, Karl drops his forehead to the bed with a lusty groan that zips through Zach's system like a string of lit firecrackers. Zach grabs Karl's hips and begins a fast rhythm, an oh, god, it's been way too fucking long and you feel amazing rhythm, and Karl takes it as well as he always does, moving in time with Zach and moaning lowly.
"Harder," Karl orders. "Fuck me senseless, you bloody—"
"God, you're bossy," Zach says, between grunts. "Always forget...how fucking bossy..."
"Stop fucking chatting, Quinto; I want to gag on your cock!"
"Jesus," Zach huffs. He's certainly not going to deny Karl. He couldn't even if he tried. Zach reaches forward and grabs the short hairs at the back of Karl's head, fisting them between clenched fingers and tugging. He angles his hips and thrusts harder, deeper, and the answering yell is enough to tell him that he's done well. "Fuck, yeah, take it," he mutters. Karl reaches down to jack himself and Zach doesn't dare stop him. The sight is enough to render Zach dizzy, his muscles already tensing with a hint of what's to come. He wants to see more.
"Wait," Zach says. He pulls out and flips Karl around quickly, guiding him further back along the bed. Karl looks confused, about to complain, but then he nods, raising his legs and holding them apart.
"Yeah, yeah," he says, breathless.
Zach hooks Karl's legs over his shoulder and slides into him again easily, picking up where he left off. It takes a few moments, but then he hits that perfect angle again and Karl's body seems to sing, back arching and hips pushing back, a soft keen emitting from somewhere in the back of his throat. Karl's hand moves quickly on his cock, a blur at the corner of Zach's eye as he watches his cock disappear into Karl's ass over and over again. Zach is so distracted by the sight that he almost misses it when Karl comes. He looks up just as Karl first clenches around him, whispering, "Fuck me, coming," and shit, the man looks like sin personified when he bucks and shoots ribbons between their chests, his eyes shut and head tilted back. Zach groans and grabs at Karl, overwhelmed with it all, and bends to lick the exposed length of Karl's throat. His brain goes on auto-pilot when the familiar taste of Karl's spunk hits his tongue—just knowing that he shot that far is enough to tip all the dominoes. Zach comes with a shout, buried deep inside Karl, his face buried against Karl's neck and hands clenched tight around his wrists.
He didn't even know he was holding Karl's wrists.
Karl is always pliable and cuddly after sex. Once Zach pulls out, he's immediately pulled against Karl's body, wrapped snugly in his embrace. He can't say he minds. Karl presses a kiss to the top of his head and Zach sighs, feeling the imprint of Karl's lips upon his scalp.
"Hope you don't mind if I pass the fuck out," Zach slurs. Karl's chest rumbles with low laughter.
"Honestly, Quinto. Buggering off to have a drink with Pegg when you knew I was here waiting for you? I expect better of you."
"He makes me laugh!"
Zach pouts and Karl smirks, nuzzling the top of his head. "All right, sweetheart. The pouting doesn't look as good on you with the short hair," Karl says. But he keeps nuzzling, rubbing his cheeks and nose against Zach's dark, bristly hair. Zach closes his eyes, enjoying the feel of it.
"You like it, don't you?" he murmurs.
"I told you. It's very butch."
Zach yawns and quirks a smile. "And that's a good thing."
"Yeah," Karl admits, his voice growing distant as Zach drifts to sleep. "As far as I'm concerned? It's a good thing."