Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Heated Rivalry (TV)

Relationship:

Kip Grady/Scott Hunter

Characters:

Kip Grady, Scott Hunter (Game Changers)

Additional Tags:

Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-02-22 Words: 2,314 Chapters: 1/1

take a picture, it’ll last longer

Summary

“Would you let me?” His heart flutters with the thought, “Not with my phone. The Polaroid. Just for me. For when you’re on the road.”

—

Kip takes some photos.

Notes

this, uh, tonally different from everything else i’ve posted here; behold, a 2300 word blowjob. but with photography.

They were watching a movie, but distraction wins every time. Kip is on the couch, Scott between his knees. Kip was wearing an old t-shirt of Scott’s and boxers. The shirt has been pushed up to his armpits by Scott’s needy hands. His boxers are… wherever Scott threw them. Ten minutes into the movie, and Scott had slid across the couch, and now here they are: Scott face-first on Kip’s cock in the soft grey light of a cloudy Sunday afternoon. 

Scott has one hand pinning Kip’s wrist to the couch, his knees on the floor, and his mouth wide. Over the last two years, Kip has learned how Scott likes to give head: trying to lead from the bottom, wanting to be told how good he is, no hands on his head or hair. Safe to give, to relish. Scott moves to work just the head of his cock, lips mouthing over it, tongue firm on the underside, and Kip moans, “God, baby, the way you look.”

Scott murmurs a moan of affirmation, vibrating against skin. Kip takes his free hand and runs his fingers along Scott’s jaw, pressing just slightly into the hinge of it as Scott takes him deeply, as much as he can. Working Kip like this, Scott looks up, seeking his eyes. They maintain eye contact, Scott pleading but pleased. Scott drops the hand holding Kip’s cock and instead squeezes Kip’s thigh right at the crease, almost a pinch. Playful as he deep throats him. A bratty little demand for attention, as if Kip is looking anywhere else.  

“You’re so beautiful like this, god, your mouth is so perfect, I,” he chokes on his words, overwhelmed as Scott reacts to the praise and the attention. He picks up, going for it: suction with his cheeks, mouth tight as he lets Kip fuck his mouth, intense and definitive. He is still holding one of Kip’s hands down, with enough force that the two sensations float together in Kip’s body, the force holding his wrist, and the wet heat of Scott’s mouth. Kip is on the brink, intensity building, his body trembling and twitching with how close he is, mind tunneling to one end only, he’s almost there—and then Scott pulls off entirely. 

“Fuck,” Kip gasps, rushing back to earth. Scott is mouthing at his thighs, self-satisfied huffs of air into skin, pleased to have gotten Kip so close and to stop; pleased that Kip doesn’t push further. Kip runs a hand through Scott’s hair, not pulling, just ruffling it to make it stand on end. “You tease,” he groans. 

Scott responds with another affirmative noise, a hum of mmmm from closed lips as he runs his mouth up and down the length of Kip’s cock, not enough. 

“God,” Kip shifts his hips, flexes the fingers under Scott’s firm hand, recenters himself, “I could watch you forever.”

“Oh yeah?” Scott says, speaking for the first time in ages, his voice low and croaking. He opens his mouth wide, top lip stretched as he presses the wide flat of his tongue lazily against the head of Kip’s cock. He’s performing for attention again, the coy, satisfied look in his eyes as he enjoys being watched. He takes just the top of Kip’s dick in his mouth and licks around it, a slow circle until Kip is whining.

Scott comes off Kip’s dick entirely again. He says, staring over the head of Kip’s saliva-wet dick, so close his lips brush against it when he speaks, “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Kip drags a nail slowly behind Scott’s ear, “Yeah? Would you let me?” His heart flutters with the thought, “Not with my phone. The Polaroid. Just for me. For when you’re on the road.”

They FaceTime sometimes, but Scott does not trust digital storage. Too risky. But. Kip knows the expression on Scott’s face: lust mixed with the desire to please, show off. Scott lets go of Kip’s wrist and runs both of his hands along Kip’s thighs. He’s thinking about it. Scott leans forward, kissing the lowest part of Kip’s stomach and burying his nose in Kip’s trimmed hair, face right next to Kip’s aching dick, and then, “Okay. Yeah.”

“It’s on the shelf,” Kip nods backwards. 

“Oh, do I have to do everything?” Scott says with a laugh. He puts his hands on either side of Kip’s thighs for leverage and pushes himself to stand, a slow arch of his back so he can kiss Kip as he does so. Scott walks around the couch, pulling his t-shirt over his head in a single motion and dropping it, childishly, on Kip’s head from the other side of the couch. Kip laughs and throws it to the side. 

Kip had a half-broken Instax when they met. Scott had complimented the photo lodged in his phone case, taken a note. For their first Christmas together, just a few months after meeting, Scott gifted him a much nicer Polaroid with a manual shutter and better features. Scott said he’d spotted it while walking by a used camera store in LA. Kip had used it a handful of times until a friend had asked where he’d gotten it from, informing Kip that it was in fact a custom modded vintage Polaroid that cost over a thousand dollars, sold though a specialty Hong Kong based company. When Kip had pressed Scott on it, Scott had pointed out that the return window was over so Kip had to keep using it. The box of film that came with it has mysteriously replenished over time. A photo of Scott on vacation in Italy is in Kip’s wallet right now. 

Kip watches Scott scanning the shelves, while he sits bare and waiting. His heart is banging in his chest, the nervous lust making him feel dizzy, aware of every inch of his exposed skin. He strokes himself lazily, unable to remain untouched for long when he’s this far gone. Scott returns a moment later, standing over him in nothing but his boxers, his hard on creating a visible shadow. Scott puts the camera to his eye, and Kip poses, arching his back to flatten his stomach, one hand gripping his dick. He has no idea what his face is doing, probably something embarrassing. 

Scott clicks the shutter and the light flashes; the whirring noise of the photo printing breaks the silence. Scott delicately plucks the photo and puts it on the coffee table. 

Scott hands the camera to Kip and says, “How do you want me?”

Kip looks up at his boyfriend: eyes dark, chest and neck flushed red, hair a mess. He could take a photo of just his face, and it would be enough: enough for Kip to get off to, enough even from the collar bones up that the photo would be unmistakably Scott Hunter in the middle of sex, drunk with it. Kip says, “Get on your knees. Like before.”

Scott obliges, and Kip pauses, “Scoot back.”

Scott crawls backwards and Kip leans forward, angles himself to make sure the lighting is right, not backlit. He needs to capture Scott’s face like this. “Look at me. Part your lips a little again.”

Scott is good at following commands. He looks at Kip with the full intensity of desire that makes Kip feel his heartbeat everywhere, his pulse in his lips, his ankles. Snap.

The photo: Scott, face framed perfectly in the centre, a flush across his collar bones, the hollow of his throat. Heavy lidded, staring up into the lens, head slightly turned so one side is in a slight shadow, dramatic. The flash of the camera catching the light on his wet lower lip, a perfect gleaming dot. 

Kip plucks the photo out and puts it at arm's length, next to the one Scott took.

“Come back here,” Kip beckons. Scott crawls forward on his knees and settles again between Kip’s thighs. On high knees, leaning over Kip, Scott runs his hands up Kip’s body, pressing firmly into the muscles of Kip’s chest, stomach, and then he settles back to where he was before. Kip is still hard, aching, savouring it. Scott circles his fist around Kip’s cock, loops the other behind Kip’s bent knee. He stares up at Kip, eager, and opens his mouth to lick at Kip slowly and showily. 

“Yes, like that, pose for me,” Kip groans, catches his breath and composes the shot: mostly Scott, as little of his own stomach and chest as possible. Scott curls his tongue just slightly, the hand in the ticklish spot behind Kip’s knee grips tighter and Snap. 

The photo: Scott in focus, too close to the camera and slightly over-exposed so the details of his face are blown out, flattened. Kip’s dick foregrounded and slightly out of focus. The main subject of the photo: Scott’s mouth open, tongue wide behind the top of Kip’s dick, eyes in a complicit, wanton stare. 

Scott adjusts, tilts his head so he’s in profile and takes Kip in his mouth again. Kip has to take a breath, steady himself to take a photo. Snap. 

The photo: Scott in profile, cheeks sucked in, most of Kip’s dick in his mouth, eyes looking to the side up at the camera. 

The flash of the camera makes Scott laugh right onto Kip: the moment has caught up with him and he’s suddenly bashful. Scott leans back, uses the back of his hand to wipe spit from the corner of his mouth, and composes himself. Kip leans forward, camera still up and Snap. 

The photo: Close up of just Scott’s face taking up most of the frame, head tilted back in a laugh, tongue caught between his teeth, shy smile on his face, eyes closed in laughter, the shadow of his eyelashes contrasting against his cheeks. 

Later, when it has developed, Kip will feel like his heart is outside his body when he sees this photo. 

For now, Kip places the camera to the side. “Come here,” he says, hands free to pull at Scott’s arms. “Take those off,” he adds, snapping at the band of Scott’s boxers. Kip takes the opportunity to pull his own shirt off. 

Scott straddles him, and Kip kisses him deep and slow, trying to communicate the full depth of his approval. Kip grins into it, moves himself back into the cushions and leverages Scott away to make space between them. Kip takes Scott in hand; Scott is achingly hard already, leaking precum. 

“Did you like that?” Kip asks, stroking him slowly, “Did you like posing for me? Being good for me?”

Scott groans as Kip picks up his pace, whines a noise that sounds like yeah into Kip’s ear. 

“Tell me. Is that a yes? Did you like being my muse?”

Scott’s voice catches as Kip picks up his space. Scott clear his throat and says, clearly, “Yes.”

“You look so good on your knees for me. Your mouth on my cock,” Kip praises. “Those pictures, I’m going to keep them here. Just for me. When you’re on the road I’ll be here, looking at them, jerking myself off like this—just like this.”

Scott groans as Kip jerks him off hard and fast, still talking, a continuous stream of words, low and breathy: “I’ll be in your bed, waiting for you, thinking about you, needing you. Fucking myself in your sheets to the memory of your mouth. I’m gonna look at those pictures and remember how good you are to me when you’re right where you’re supposed to be on your knees.”

Scott wraps his arms around Kip’s neck and leans close, hips rolling as he comes. Scott throws his head back, presses his chest against Kip’s face, spilling hot across Kip’s chest and stomach. He remains there as he trembles with the after shocks, making the noises that drive Kip insane: mumbles of pleasure, totally undone. Kip’s untouched dick twitches in response against his stomach, Scott hovering above him. 

Finally Scott’s breath slows and he shimmies free of Kip’s grip. He sits back on Kip’s thighs and says, in his deep Captain voice: “You distracted me.” 

“Couldn’t help it,” Kip counters. 

Scott clambers off, a little inelegantly with shaky knees, and says, back in control, “Don’t move.” 

He takes Kip’s hand again, this time lacing their fingers together, twisting a little. He places one hand flat at the base of Kip’s dick and swallows him almost to the base and sucks in his cheeks, bobbing his head slowly. Kip is lost in the feeling—Scott’s hand and mouth, tongue, the heat of it, overwhelming—and his own hand, held in place just enough to ground him, connect him, the slight twist a manageable ache. He’s close; he won’t last long, the ache building and setting him aflame. 

He tells Scott he’s going to come, moaning the words and Scott takes it, eager, eyes closed. 

Kip is still gasping when Scott pulls back and opens his mouth to show Kip the cum on his tongue. He brings Kip’s interlaced hand to his throat so Kip can feel the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallows it down. 

Kip frees his hand and flexes his fingers, still returning to earth, brain catching up to his body. 

Scott gets up and sits next to him on the couch, they turn and look at each other. 

“Those photos. Uh,” Scott says. 

“They won’t leave this apartment,” Kip promises. He reaches a hand up and pushes his fingers into the hair at the nape of Scott’s neck. “You’re so beautiful. That’s just for me.”

The photos are at his side and have flowered into full colour. He picks up the first one of Scott, just the portrait, and sees the vulnerability, the desire to please, written across Scott’s face. A gift more precious than anything.