Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories:

M/M, Multi

Fandom:

Heated Rivalry (TV)

Relationships:

Troy Barrett/Harris Drover, Jean-Jacques Boiziau | J. J. Dagenais/Carter Vaughn, Hayden Pike/Jackie Pike/Original Character(s), Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Troy Barrett, Harris Drover, Jean-Jacques Boiziau | J. J. Dagenais, Carter Vaughn, Hayden Pike, Jackie Pike, Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov

Additional Tags:

Actirasty, Silk - Freeform, Double Penetration, Sounding

Language:

English

Series:

Part 12 of win conditions

Stats:

Published: 2026-08-17 Updated: 2026-08-26 Words: 7,300 Chapters: 2/4

Fruits of a Specific Labor

Summary

The summer swells with a bountiful harvest and four households reap what they sow.

Notes

These vignettes will all be smutty, including two scenes implied in earlier works. They all take place the same summer as the Hollander-Rozanov wedding. They will be posted irregularly as I finish them around my other WIPs.

I started writing the first chapter the day before the casting announcements started, but I find my visual of them shifting to the new faces already as I was writing so take Harris and Troy whichever way you'd like here.

Chapter 1: Harris Drover - Actirasty

Layering in the peach slices, Harris sang along with the music in his earbuds under his breath.

"Call me when you want, call me when you need, call me in the morning, I'll be on the way...."

Despite the early hour, he could already feel the heat of the day building. Sunlight streamed through the window over his sink painting a bright rectangle on the linoleum that Chiron had spread himself to bask in.

Harris danced a little in place, each thin slice of peach glimmering with juice. Halfway through the first layer, warm pressed up along his back. Strong arms wrapped around his waist and one broad hand crept up under his t-shirt, fingers spreading wide over his stomach. Troy's chin landed on Harris' shoulder, his stubble brushing a little against Harris' neck.

"Good morning, buddy," Harris said with a grin, pulling out his earbuds with his least sticky fingers and setting them aside.

"Morning," Troy said, mostly into Harris' neck.

Used to this by now, Harris nuzzled his nose through Troy's hair then went back to what he was doing while Troy clung to him like a very adorable barnacle. During the season, Troy was up well before Harris and already halfway through his first workout when Harris stumbled out of bed. It was cruel and unusual punishment to be deprived of his very hot boyfriend most mornings. At least Troy always started the coffee.

In the off season, Troy's body seemed to give in all at once to more human needs. He routinely slept late and didn't fully wake up for long lovely minutes after his body made it out of bed. Eventually, he would go be an attractive weightlifting machine, but Harris got to indulge in as much snuggling as he could want before that.

Harris loved that he got to know all that. This was their second off season together. For eighteen months, Harris' life had gained this entire other person. His gorgeous, stoic and secretly tender boyfriend, who kissed like a dream and looked at Harris like he'd hung the stars.

Overwhelmed with affection for Troy, Harris picked up one of the best looking peach slices and held it up to him.

"You want?"

"Mhm," Troy breathed out.

Harris slid it between Troy's teeth, mostly by feel. The warm wet surface of Troy's tongue lapped over his fingertips. There was a brief chewing sound and then a very soft nip at his neck.

"Those the ones from your sister's yard?"

"Yeah," Harris said, a soft haze of arousal settling over him.

He turned in Troy's arms leaning against the counter so he could take on more of his weight as he leaned in to kiss him. Troy kissed him back, slow and sweet. They traded the taste of peaches back and forth between them.

"Did you come out here to get me back to bed?" Harris asked.

"Mm, maybe," Troy said. His hands were still under Harris's shirt, settling on his waist now. "Missed you last night."

"Missed you too, but I know you had fun at Shane's party. I saw all the pics of you guys covered in paint," Harris said, running his hands over the hard planes of Troy's back. "I was going to make this crumble for Bood's tonight."

"Does it take long to make?" Troy asked plaintively.

Harris studied Troy's face. Objectively, Troy was gorgeous. The internet said so and Harris would know. High cheekbones, intense eyes, kissable lips and the kind of jawline that could cut glass. Subjectively, Harris thought it was the only face he wanted to see when he woke up. There were things that the internet would never see that were all for Harris: the stubble that was always a little darker over his mouth, the tiny birthmark by his left eye, and the puppy dog look that he only got when Harris was about to give him something he desperately wanted. The look he had on right now as it happened. 

Taking a hand off Troy reluctantly, Harris reached behind him and turned off the oven. Then he reached for another slice of peach and offered it to him. Troy lit up and took the slice, this time making a show of licking the juice from Harris' hand.

"I can finish it later," Harris said. "It's hours away."

Beaming Troy reached out and got a slice of his own, offering it to Harris in turn. Harris ate it and then sucked once at Troy's thumb with a grin.

Hand-in-hand, they went back to their sleep-rumpled bed. Troy fell backwards, taking Harris with him, both of them laughing as Harris narrowly avoided kneeing Troy in crotch.

"That worked out better in my head," Troy admitted.

"I liked it," Harris assured him, then kissed him.

Harris had always liked kissing and Troy was very good at it. Their legs stayed tangled together and partially hanging off the end of the bed. The sun rose a little further and slanted over the bed, a big patch of light drawn over the center. Troy tilted his head back with a hungry look. Before Harris could figure out where that was headed, Troy put his arm around Harris' waist, planted his feet against the mattress and heaved them both into the light.

"Woah!" Harris said with a laugh. "Warn a guy."

"No," Troy said and kissed him again. "Wanna fuck you in the sunlight."

The sun was warm on Harris' back and Troy's summer-warmed skin practically glowed in it. It wasn't that Harris made them fuck in the dark usually. He knew Troy found him attractive, it was hard to miss. But this had been Harris' bedroom alone first. The lighting was to his taste: dim lamps that gave everything a gauzy romantic feel. It was something else to make love in the stark light of day. Surely they had done it before, but never with such a point to it.

"Yeah, okay," Harris said. "Why not?"

"I keep thinking about sucking you off in the orchard," Troy said.

That jolted through Harris like a lightening strike. "What?"

"Keep you mostly dressed and back you up against a tree so you don't get scratched up," Troy said as he tugged Harris' shirt up and off. "Get down on my knees in the dirt. The sun, the trees…dunno. I think it'd be hot."

Harris stared down at him, the visual so striking that he can taste it. 

"Yeah," Harris said roughly. "We can do that."

"We can?" Troy asked like a kid given a bike on his birthday.

"Yeah, buddy. Let's just make sure no one is home, okay? I do not need that kind of psychic damage."

Troy laughed and reached up to pull Harris back down into a kiss.

It took weeks to actually happen. Harris had half-forgotten about it, if he was honest. Unlike Troy, Harris worked through the off season. It was a staging time, getting everything ready for the flurry of publicity that would begin with the new season. Especially once the trade deadlines were hit and they had to scramble to find out everything they could about their new players. Still, without active games, things were a little more relaxed. 

On Fridays, Harris even took a half day. It felt a little scandalous, but considering he let his whole department flee early, absolutely no one questioned him about it. A little summer indulgence could certainly be allowed. Off season was starting to wane and reality rushed towards them. Troy's conditioning with a private trainer was segueing back to the Cenplex with the rest of the team. Which meant that sometimes, Troy would stroll into Harris' office at noon on a Friday flushed from a hot shower and exertion to pick him up. 

"Hey," Troy said, sticking his head around Harris' door.

"Hello, Barrett," Ilya said, feet up on the edge of Harris' desk. He had brought Harris lunch and gossip with a wicked smirk and who was Harris to turn away either?

"Hi, coach," Troy said. "Did you hear about the rookie's shitty luck already?"

"First thing this morning," Ilya confirmed. "Does he look like a pirate?"

"It's a white bandage, so not so much," Troy said. He always took Ilya's questions at face value and what had started as misinterpretation had become some kind of endearing game between the two of them.

"It is a vibe, Barrett," Ilya clucked.

"His vibe was moping," Troy said with a shrug. "He thinks he's going to lose his spot."

"Yes, we will definitely send him back down for needing a minor medical procedure," Ilya said dryly. "I will talk to him."

Troy gave a small nod and Harris hadn't even realized that's what his boyfriend had been angling for.

"Cool. We tried to tell him, but, you know."

"Yes," Ilya sighed and pushed out of his chair. "Barrett, treat Harris nice this weekend, he is doing a whole highlight reel just for you."

"I'm doing one for everyone," Harris said with an eye roll. "From the cup run. And I'm not actually doing them. I have staff for that now."

Ilya whistled. "Yes, big Boss Man."

"That's Mr. Big Boss Man to you," Harris chided.

"No, I have only one mister," Ilya said and sauntered away. He always did have to have the last word.

"What's that even mean?" Troy asked.

"I think he's bragging about getting married again. Hard to tell," Harris said. "Want to head out?"

"Yeah," Troy said, then rocked back on his heels a little. "You know."

"I know what?" Harris asked distractedly as he finished the email he'd been writing when Ilya came in.

"Your parents are in the Bahamas."

"I am well aware," Harris said with a small smile. "Considering you sent them there for their anniversary, you big show off. Made the rest of us look bad."

"I wasn't trying to. They've been really nice to me," Troy protested, just like he had the first time Harris had razzed him about it.

"I know, buddy. Only teasing."

"I'm saying that no one's there. Even the dogs are all being kenneled. Your sisters both work until five and the orchard guys will be done for the day by the time we get there."

Harris' hands froze on the keyboard. Oh. OH.

"I will be done in thirty seconds and then we can go," Harris said.

"Awesome," Troy said, practically under his breath.

The drive was so familiar that Harris could make it in near white out snow storms. On this very lovely August afternoon, he almost missed a turn twice. Troy had his hand resting on Harris' knee, a point of contact that seemed to spread through the rest of Harris' body like roots diving through soil.

Pulling into the driveway was a little strange, knowing they weren't even going to go say hi to anyone. There was no cacophony of dogs or overlap of voices. Harris had grown up with the noise of this house and wasn't sure what to make of it in the sudden silence. Luckily, he had no time to wax philosophically about it as Troy took his hand and led him deep into the orchard.

The first green apples were turning out already and with the heat of the day beating down, they perfumed the air with sweetness. Most of the trees had low branches, bred to be easy pickings. Troy wound around them with intent. Had he scouted this out on another visit? The thought made Harris' skin tingle with anticipation.

With a grunt of satisfaction, Troy pulled Harris under the sheltering branches that would eventually yield Cortlands. The trunk was sturdy and when Troy backed Harris against it, it only shivered a little with their combined weight.

"Did you test this one ahead of time?" Harris asked.

Troy leaned in and kissed Harris slow and deep. When he pulled away he said with a hint of a flush, "Might've."

"God, that's so hot."

The smile on Troy's face was gold. Harris kissed the corner of it just to taste his happiness at the tiny bit of praise. Then Troy was disappearing, sinking slowly down Harris' body, both hands dragging over his shirt to snag on Harris' belt. Nimble fingers opened the buckle and popped the button on Harris' sensible work trousers. The small sound of the zipper, nearly lost as a breeze rustled through leaves, sent a pleasant shiver over Harris.

Pinned to the tree, Harris' pants didn't fall, but they did sag open. Troy leaned in to nuzzle his face against Harris' boxers. It was almost innocent, an act of intimacy with only the lightest implication of sex. For a moment, this could be something else altogether if they let it. Then Troy was rearranging cloth and revealing Harris' cock to the open air. He wasn't hard yet, still rising to the unusual  occasion.

It was exposing to be like this out here. Harris had walked this ground so many times in company that it was difficult to tell himself that they were truly alone. Then Troy was taking him into his mouth and Harris started caring significantly less about their location.

Troy was lethally good at blowing Harris these days. He'd always had an amazing mouth, but time an experience had honed him into an expert in Harris in particular. It wasn't a fast experience. Harris had always liked a lingering blowjob. Troy's knees seemingly never ached and he was thrilled if Harris threaded a hand into his thick hair, pulling a little when something felt particularly good.

Birds cried and sunlight filtered down through the leaves to dapple over both of them. Harris was surrounded by all the sensory confirmation that he was safe and at home while also being at his most vulnerable. No part of him wanted to get caught, but it was magical to be outside for this usually indoor private act.

Troy's mouth was a perfect embrace. Harris' hips threatened to stutter and the steel bar of Troy's forearm went across them with a cheeky look up from under sooty lashes.

"I wasn't going to choke you," Harris grumbled, but he couldn't hide a grin. He did like feeling Troy's strength like that.

The wet sounds of suction joined the chorus of nature. Harris made the mistake of looking down, getting the perfect view of sun on Troy's blissed out face, his lips rosy pink around Harris' dick.

"Gonna come," Harris warned, brought to the precipice all at once by the vision.

Troy pulled off, lips shining and eyes bright. "Fuck you're so gorgeous."

He stood, moving a little to one side, before kissing Harris and jerking him off with just the right amount of grip. He came gasping against Troy's mouth, grasping at the tree with one hand and Troy's shirt with the other so he didn't topple over.

"Got you," Troy assured him, trailing kisses over his jaw. "Was it good?"

"So good," Harris said breathlessly. "Always so good with you."

Troy kissed him for that. Then he produced a little baggie and opened it.

"So you don't have to be sticky," he explained, tugging out a wipe and handing it over. He took one for himself, cleaning off his hand as Harris gave himself a quick once over, before tucking himself back away and setting his clothing to rights.

"You planned this really well," Harris said. "But don't you want me to touch you, buddy?"

"Don't laugh," Troy muttered.

"At what?" Harris asked, trying to catch his eyes.

"I did. Already. I was grinding against my other hand a little."

That was new. Harris blinked then reached out and pulled Troy into a hard hug. "You came from blowing me out here?"

"I was excited the whole day about it," Troy whispered, dropping his forehead to Harris' shoulder. "Guess I worked myself up a lot."

"I love you so much," Harris said.

"Because I came in my pants like a teenager?" Troy groaned.

"Because you were that turned on from giving me a blowjob against a tree, buddy. That's so sexy. Do you want to get cleaned up?"

"In a second," Troy said and shuffled even closer.

Harris rubbed a hand over Troy's back. In the far distance, a motor to some large machine started up. A flock of sparrows called to each other. Harris closed his eyes and inhaled the salt-sweet smell of Troy and the orchard mixing together.

"I have something else," Troy said. "If you hate it, it's cool."

"Great start," Harris said with a grin. "What will I hate?"

"Maybe you won't. I just- fuck," Troy pulled away only enough to get something out of his pocket. He held it in his fist, nothing visible to Harris. "Marriage almost killed my mom and I know you're not super into it either, but all this talk about it this summer made me think about things."

Harris froze, mindracing. If there was a ring in Troy's hand, what would Harris do about it? Could he say no? That seemed cruel and not even fully true to himself. He'd marry Troy if Troy wanted it. He would. It'd be a little weird since he'd never envisioned that for himself, but that was okay. Troy made him want to do a lot of things he hadn't thought he'd ever do.

"Okay," he said faintly.

Troy opened his hand. In his palm was a chain. Not long enough for a necklace, so it must be a bracelet. It was thick and when Harris picked it up with a slightly shaky hand, he found it was heavy too. The color was lovely, a pinkish gold. Each link was shaped like a small pair of leaves.

"Not a ring," Troy said, his voice a little shaky. "I just thought….I don't know. So you have something from me to wear sometimes. It's not question. Just a...dunno. A reminder. That I love you."

"Oh," Harris said, watching the stones catch the sun. "Do I want to know how much you spent on this?"

Troy paused and then said a little robotically, "Not as much as you're worth."

"Wow," Harris laughed, "Tell me you talked to Ilya about this without telling me."

"I showed it to him because he has good taste in this shit," Troy groaned. "Don't tease."

"Sorry, buddy, sorry," he said and kissed him gently. "I love it. Of course I'll wear it."

Harris had always liked bracelets. He wore one from time to time, braided leather, nothing nearly this fancy. It settled around his wrist still warm from Troy's body heat.

"Cool," Troy said, his smile dawning radiantly on his face.

"Can I get you something too?"

"Yeah," Troy said. "Of course. I'd love that."

It took time to find what he was looking for, but Harris found it after some serious deep trawling online. It was a serious piece. It looked like it was a piece of a machine polished up and solemn black finish. It was inset with tiny black diamonds. Definitely more than Harris had ever spent on a single accessory, but he was pretty sure it was an order of magnitude cheaper than what Troy had gotten him.

Yet, it could've been priceless from the way Troy lit up when Harris clasped it around his wrist. All at once, Harris understood the appeal of it. Every time Troy idly fidgeted with his bracelet, Harris had to duck his head to hide how wide his grin got. A reminder of a day in the sun that they could carry with them into colder days. 

Chapter 2: Jean-Jacques Boiziau - Silk

Chapter Notes

"I'm back!" J.J. called out.

It was a relief to let the Carter's front door close behind him, sealing the world off on the other side. On the whole, it would've made a lot more sense for J.J. to stay in Montreal another few days, then drive down to Ottawa for the wedding festivities, but the idea of going straight from his parents' house to the Centaurs' territory had been deeply unappealing.

Not to mention doing things this way meant J.J. got three days without interruption with his boyfriend.

"In here!" Carter called back from the bedroom.

J.J. kicked off his shoes, ambling in that direction, ditching his bag by the door. "Did you find your cherries?"

"I did! You were right, they ones at United Brothers were better," Carter's voice floated out from his en suite.

"I'm always right!" J.J. said, pleased the recommendation had been taken.

The cherries had been Carter's mission for the last few days. Apparently he ate them by the pound in the summer, a habit that J.J. had missed when they had still been only friends (and barely that) last year. They had spent a happy half hour on the phone midway through J.J.'s visit home discussing who might have better ones that the lousy bag Carter had gotten at Whole Foods.

'Les cerises' J.J had said to Carter and Carter had said it back 'mes cerises, je ne les partage pas'. Apparently, Carter wouldn't be sharing. His French was still unimpressive if measured against a native speaker, but pretty amazing for a guy who had only been hacking at it for 11 months.

Carter's bedroom was nice. J.J. liked the bed particularly, currently neatly made. It had several fat pillows and instead of one thick comforter, several thin blankets that Carter layered according to his own arcane decisions about the weather and air conditioning. The walls were unadorned, but the headboard was tall, deep brown leather punctuated with burnished bronze studs that were more than eye-catching enough. The curtains were open, letting the summer brightness in.

J.J. skimmed out of his airport contaminated clothes, before sitting on the edge of the bed in his boxers. The air was steaming with a recent shower and he heard Carter humming a little the way he did when he was shaving.

"How was your flight?" Carter asked through the cracked door.

"Loud. Bunch of teenagers going to a dance competition. Fun though. They were talking about music and I made a playlist with all their songs because I didn't recognize any of them. I'm old now."

"Ancient!" Carter agreed with a cackle. "Welcome to this side of hell!"

Considering Carter was all of fifteen months older than him, J.J. only made a scoffing noise and fell backwards on the bed, stretching his hands toward the headboard until he arched a little off the mattress, then fell back down. Loose-limbed and comfortable, he let his eyes fall half-closed.

"Did I miss anything else here?"

"Not really," Carter said. The sink ran and J.J. could easily imagine Carter splashing water on his face, clearing off the last of the shaving cream. Next would be a little aftershave, a gel not a liquid. It has a sharp green smell that J.J. now associated with kissing Carter's neck. "Gym, training, meals. Met Scott and Eric for lunch yesterday and we spent the whole time talking about potential draft picks. Usual bullshit."

"You didn't do anything fun without me?"

The sink turned off and then the distinctly flirtatious version of Carter's voice oozed around the door.

"Maybe one thing."

It would be nice to say that J.J.'s affection for Carter was pure and almost spiritual. That somehow J.J. had worked through his internalized bullshit because Carter was just that good a person, so inherently loveable, that J.J. had to find his way to him. That wasn't even entirely untrue.

But J.J. also thought Carter was hot as any woman he'd ever dated and the sex they had might have slightly rewritten what J.J. considered good sex in the first place. So anything Carter said in that tone of voice made the far less spiritual parts of J.J. sit up and beg.

"Oh yes?" He asked, trying to be casual. "And what would that be?"

"Found an interesting new clothing store when I was wasting time before lunch in Scott's neighborhood."

The bathroom door opened and more steam wafted out. More importantly, Carter stepped out with it.

There were no words in French or English that J.J. could conjure. All he could do was whistle, a descending three-tone one that made Carter throw back his head and laugh. That only made him hotter.

"You like it?"

"You look incredible."

The robe was a deep red an even darker red embroidered pattern. It hung open, framing Carter's strong chest and stomach. The underwear were phenomenal: black lace with fat roses blossoming all over, sheer as any lingerie J.J. had ever seen. Carter's muscular thighs strained the material, showing him off. His cock was only barely concealed by a strategic second layer of lace.

"You know when we were talking about if we missed women and you said all you missed was the lingerie?"

"Yes," J.J. said a little roughly.

"Ta-da," Carter said and waved his hands around a little. He gave him a slightly self-conscious smile. "It's really okay?"

J.J. surged to his feet and closed the distance between them. He slid his hands around Carter's waist. The robe fell around them a little like that, a silky whisper over J.J.'s skin. He palmed Carter's ass, expecting scratchiness from the lace, but instead it was like Carter had been dipped in luxurious moisturizer, somehow even softer ot the touch.

"Fuck me with the robe on," J.J. said, his breath ghosting over Carter's lips as he leaned in. "Keep the underwear on too as much as you can."

"Really?" Carter asked, eyes going wide and wanting.

J.J. said yes with a filthy kiss.

Knowledge of sex had come to J.J. by way of locker rooms. Starting from when he was twelve and boys started making crude jokes about things none of them had experienced all the way to his twenties when the Metros would talk about women much the same way they discussed cars. Maybe a little less respectfully if J.J. were honest about it. When Shane became captain, some of it had stopped or at least slowed, but by then J.J. had heard anything useful he was going to hear. The rest of it, he figured out himself.

Which was great until you switched teams unexpectedly in more ways than one. Maybe his current captain was gay, but the idea of asking Scott for sex tips felt like asking for both of them to die of embarrassment. Instead, he kept his ears open when he drank at the Kingfisher and had maybe once or twice asked Kyle a very careful question. Kyle was a sharer as it turned out and once the faucet had been turned on, it was almost impossible to get it to stop flowing.

So J.J. learned that maybe it wasn't that weird that he and Carter mostly stuck to blowjobs.

"Blowjobs rock," Kyle had said with a sharp grin. "I love anal, but it's a whole production."

"It's different with women," J.J. had explained. "It's expected, you know?"

"Okay, and?" Kyle could lift one eyebrow independent of another, a skill he used regularly. "Do you always do what people expect? Oh wait, no you fucking don't because we're having this conversation in the first place."

Which was a good point.

So J.J. had, with a little relief, gone back to his boyfriend's condo and sucked Carter's dick without further guilt.

The thing was that J.J. did really like anal, but it really was a production, including their opening act of figuring out who was doing the fucking. It wasn't that J.J. didn't like bottoming, it just took some mental gymnastics sometimes to get there. Carter was possibly some kind of prodigy at gay sex and always made it feel amazing, but J.J. had been told his entire life that taking it up the ass was worse than murder, so sometimes it took a few minutes to relax.

Unfortunately, Carter was actually a little worse. Sure on the outside he was more chill about it because it was virtually impossible for Carter to seem like anything less than chill at all times. The reality was that opening Carter up was marginally less difficult than breaking into a bank vault. Once they got there, it was the best penetrative sex of J.J.'s life and Carter was happily useless for at least a half hour afterwards, languidly petting any part of J.J. like he'd seen the face of God. So, well worth the effort. But it was an effort.

As a couple, they never spontaneously decided to do anal. Someone asked or suggested it at least a few hours in advance, sometimes 1-3 business days ahead of time to allow for shipping and anxiety.

Until today, apparently. Because J.J. had taken one look at his boyfriend in a red silk robe and lost his fucking mind.

"I missed you," Carter said and walked J.J. back towards the bed. "We got spoiled this summer with how much time we had together."

"Missed you too," J.J. said and sat down on the edge of the bed.

That put Carter's lace covered crotch right where J.J. wanted it. He ran one finger over the waistband.

"I jerked off three times yesterday thinking about you seeing these," Carter admitted.

"You need a hobby," J.J. teased, but the thought was electric. He pulled the underwear down just enough to free Carter's gorgeous cock, already twitching with interest.

J.J. had always enjoyed licking pussy and to his delight sucking cock gave him the same heated joy. Right now, freshly showered, Carter tasted of almost nothing, a warm solid heat in J.J.'s mouth. Every time J.J. did this for him, Carter's hand slid around the back of J.J.'s neck, his thumb rubbing circles over J.J.'s shoulder. J.J. loved it. It was like if coming home could be sexy.

Normally, J.J. would ride that high until Carter came, but right now, J.J. had other endings in mind. He did get a little lost in the sauce and groped at Carter's ass a little as he attempted to bury his nose in Carter's curly black pubes.

Plan. There was a plan. To get fucked. J.J. pulled off reluctantly, though he kept a hand on Carter's ass out of principle. He cast his gaze up to Carter's face. A lust-dumb look was lodged there and it made J.J. grin.

"You can keep doing that if you want," Carter told him, dazed.

"I want," J.J. said. "But I want other things more. Get the lube."

"Yeah, okay," Carter said, shaking his head as if to clear it.

He should look ridiculous, leaning over to root through the bedside drawer with his erection hanging out, shoved up a little by the waistband of lacy boxers. Instead, he looked like a decadent god. A foil package caught the light between Carter's fingers.

"Non."

"Non?" Carter repeated.

"Not today."

"You don't like how it feels after," Carter reminded him.

J.J. shrugged. "I like how it feels during and I need a shower anyway."

The condom dropped back into the drawer. J.J. forcibly fell against the mattress a second later, flattened under Carter's exuberance and considerable bulk. Summer was proving good for that with both of them building muscle and enjoying testing it out on each other.

They kissed and J.J. melted under Carter's attention and the humidity building between their bodies caught in the soft folds of Carter's robe. He could almost forgot what they set out to do if it wasn't for the brand of Carter's cock against his thigh and his own rapidly growing interest.

"You want to roll over?" Carter asked eventually.

"Mhm."

He rolled up onto his elbows and knees. It was vulnerable and strange still, but Carter liked to kiss each vertebrae like this which was a good trade off. A slick finger found his hole and started the slow process of massaging it open. Or at least, usually slow.

"Oh, fuck yeah," Carter murmured as his finger slid in to the second knuckle and J.J. only let out a long ragged exhalation. "Good?"

J.J. couldn't summon words, so he nodded, but that was enough to keep things going. It was strange to open up so easily to this. It was as if Carter had accidently turned a key in a lock in J.J.'s head and now all his tumblers were falling open. Was all it took a little bit of lace and silk? Was J.J. that easy?

The thought didn't trouble him enough to do anything about it. He reveled in the press of Carter's lips to his back and those long clever fingers drawing pleasure out of him even as they carved passage for what came next.

"Ready?" Carter asked, the word formed over the small of J.J.'s back.

He took stock of himself then nodded again. Shifting his knees further apart, J.J. turned his head to pillow his cheek against his forearm. Maroon silk fluttered into his vision as Carter's hand planted down beside him. There was a brief pause, a slick sound and then the head of Carter's cock notched right where it was most wanted.

They had learned the dance of this. You couldn't shove or rush. There was only the slightly held breath of the moment, one body giving way as the other moved forward. J.J. pictured it now as the hesitation of his brush over the canvas, the moment before paint forever altered a field of white. He hadn't articulated that to Carter, wasn't sure he ever would. It was a ridiculous thought and yet it came to him every time.

"Feels so good," Carter murmured. His hips finally came flush with J.J's ass and he could feel that slight scratch of lace against the back of his thighs. It sent tiny pings of pleasure through him. "God, what you do to me."

J.J. barely heard him. He was concentrating on the fullness of sensation. Conquering pain was part of his job. Turning bruises into motivation and aches into other people's problems. It never overwhelmed him the way pleasure could.

With a small movement that sent shivers over J.J.'s body, Carter adjusted his position. The robe fluttered over J.J. on both sides. Silk slid over him, alighting on his already singing nerve endings from flank to ribs. He rolled his hips a little, inviting more.

"I've got you," Carter said.

Keeping one hand planted beside on the mattress and the other curved over J.J.'s shoulder, Carter anchored them both before he started moving. Waves of pleasure beat over J.J. from the obvious prostate stimulation to the arcane new sensations of body-warm cloth caressing him.

Usually they put on music to fuck, but J.J. didn't miss it now. It was filthy in the best way to only hear the slap of their bodies together, the squelch of lube doing it's work, and Carter's breath catching as he got particularly deep.

The blanket pinned below J.J.'s elbows was a cheerful green. It matched a sliver of paint caught in the knuckle of his pointer finger. A groan punched out of him as Carter picked up his pace a little. J.J. reached across the blankets to press his hand beside Carter's in invitation. Immediately, Carter covered it with own. The cuff of the robe brushed over J.J.'s wrist. He made a grunt of intense satisfaction.

"One of us needs a spare hand to jerk you off," Carter pointed out with a hint of amusement.

"Don't care," J.J. decided, his voice returning to do important work. "Get me after."

That spurred Carter on and J.J.'s world narrowed to the glorious pounding of Carter's body into his, the blur of silk and the press of Carter's hand over his. Without a condom, everything was a little slicker, a little more immediate. J.J. could feel Carter coming, buried in him, a last swelling twitch. Carter groaned, gut deep. It spiked triumph through J.J. as good as a goal. He'd done that. He made Carter feel that good.

"Hold on," Carter said and then arms were crisscrossing over J.J.'s chest, hauling him up to press against Carter entirely. He let his head tip back onto Carter's shoulder, getting a messy kiss for his trouble. "Love you, Jean-Jacques. So fucking much. Jesus, that was so hot."

"It was," J.J. said. "Could be hotter for some of us."

"Shut up," Carter laughed and nipped at his neck. "You wanted to wait."

Which was true and a little annoying now. Luckily, Carter didn't believe in teasing. His hand slid down and grasped J.J.'s cock with authority. His own softening dick slid out of J.J. after a few strokes and for some fucked up reason that last sensation was enough to make J.J. come with a punched out gasp. Carter went on holding him, a light grip around his still twitching cock as they kissed at the shitty angle riding the hormonal high.

"Je t'aime," Carter whispered.

"Je t'aime," J.J. fed back to him with a smile that was likely very stupid. "Come home with me next time. I will tell them you are my very good friend and they will treat you like a king."

"You're sure?" Carter checked, all eager willingness.

"Very. We'll get a hotel room. I hate staying there anyway. If I have a friend, I have an excuse. There's no room for a guest and all of us home at once."

"Do you want to meet my sister?" Carter blurted, the words tumbling over each other. "Fiona. Fi. She's visiting in a few weeks and she wants to meet you and I thought. She knows. It'd be..yeah. Do you want to?"

"I want to," J.J. said. The thought of Carter's beloved older sister was a little intimidating, but it would be much worse if she visited and J.J. had to make himself scarce.

"Okay," Carter said. He finally got his hand off J.J.'s dick to slide his arms across J.J's chest again into a very sweet, if slightly sticky, backwards hug. "I already talked you up to her, so she's already in favor of you."

"I can charm a smart woman," J.J. said.

"Do not hit on my sister," Carter said with a laugh.

"I would never," J.J. snorted. "I need to shower, mon amour."

"You hungry?" Carter released him with a last kiss to his shoulder.

"A little."

"Mm, I can handle a little."

Carter's shower was good and it was nice to sluice away the travel and the rapidly drying bodily fluids. Everything still smelled like Carter's body wash. J.J.'s soap had a neutral scent. He liked his colognes and he didn't want too many competing notes on his skin. As he debated washing his hair, the bathroom door opened. He and Carter were pretty casual about bathrooms, their career pretty much killing any mystique around it. If one of them needed to piss while the other was in the shower, it wasn't worth discussing. Privacy could be obtained by locking the door when needed. So J.J. went back to his internal debate, decided against and just stood under the pounding hot water for another minute. The toilet never flushed, so maybe Carter had only needed to grab something.

When J.J. stepped out of the shower, towel already around his waist, he found that Carter had not taken anything at all. Instead, he'd left something behind. Hanging from the hook on the back of the door was the same robe Carter had been wearing, but in black. The meaning seemed clear enough.

They hadn't done gifts yet. Carter was a winter baby, born in clear cold days of early January. J.J.'s birthday was in September. If they counted from Paris, they'd only been together two and a half months. J.J. wasn't sure he wanted to count from Paris. He thought maybe they'd begun as soon as Carter had said he'd wait for him. What had come after that had been a lot like dating, even if they hadn't been kissing yet. That would have to be decided at some point. J.J. would bet that Carter liked anniversaries.

Obviously, J.J. had given girlfriends lingerie. There was a reason he'd said he missed it. The silky little panties and the panels of lace, teeny tiny teasing things that lived in a single room or maybe, daringly, under a dress for an evening. They had never given lingerie back to him. Why would they? Why would he even know to want it?

Carefully, J.J. unhooked the robe off the back of the door. Dangling from the hook beneath the robe were a pair of nondescript black boxer briefs hung. They weren't lacy like Carter's, but as J.J, picked them off the door, they caught the light a little. Satin.

Without anymore hesitation, J.J. dried himself off thoroughly and pulled them on. They were ludicrously comfortable. The robe settled around him decadently. J.J. debated leaving it open then tied it closed. He inspected himself in the mirror and approved of the sight. It wasn't blatantly sexual, only reeking of implication.

When he emerged in a puff of steam, it was to find Carter back on the bed. He'd tied his robe closed too, but reclining against the headboard had pulled it open a little. Not to mention the one leg bent at the knee, escaping coverage entirely. Sitting at Carter's hip was a bowl full of dark red cherries.

"Are you eating in bed?" J.J. asked, bemused.

He watched Carter's eyes catch on his chest, then slide down and back up again. A wide pleased smile broke over Carter's face.

"We are eating in bed."

"I thought those were not for sharing?"

Planting one knee on the bed, J.J. waited for further invitation.

"I'll make an exception. Come here."

Carter held out a single perfect cherry to him. The stem was gone, the plump little fruit pinched between Carter's fingertips. J.J. leaned in, wrapping his lips around the cherry and Carter's fingers, tongue lapping between them to steal it. J.J.'s teeth sank into crisp flesh, tart sweet juice spreading through his mouth.

There was a seed in the middle that he sucked clean. Carter held a second smaller bowl up to him and J.J. spat it out with a tiny 'clink'. He reached into the first bowl and scooped a cherry out himself, holding it to Carter's lips.

It wasn't a thing that should be sexy. J.J. had never really considered food in bed appealing, especially something this messy and the complication of seeds. This was something else though, almost mediative as they fed each other. The whole afternoon took on a promising thickness between the humidity of the air, their breath, and their desire pressed between layers of expensive cloth.

J.J. sucked cherry juice off Carter's tongue and reveled in silk with him. Tonight, he'd paint in a dozen shades of red. Threaded through them would be the three very particular warm browns that he'd mix himself. How else could he capture the perfect pink stain on Carter's lips?

Chapter End Notes

A link to the inspiration for Carter's outfit (NSFW image, no genitals on display, but a naked chest and lacy thighs etc)