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Climate change was a bitch, Eric thought, but fuck, if it meant that he got to spend time at the pool with Assad then he'd take a bit of climate change.
"Hey, babe." Eric looked over his sunglasses as Assad climbed outta said pool, glistening in the sun like some sort of adonis. "Come to grace the elderly with your presence, huh?"
He nudged the tray with his elbow, and the array of plastic shot glasses clinked.
Assad grinned, blinding and gorgeous. "Shots? Don't know that many elderly guys doing that."
"Guess I'm doing something right." He reached out and pulled Assad down into his lap, leaning back on the sunbed and getting comfy, one hand on Assad's waist and the other tracing droplets of water clinging to his tit. "You ever done body shots?"
"Hah! Bit cold at home for that."
"In Summer. Don't you have Spring Break, though?"
Assad hummed, leaning into his touch, eyes flickering as Eric thumbed his nipple. "Definitely not hot enough in Spring. Wet t-shirt contests abroad, probably the closest thing."
"Not even remotely the same."
"Eric," drawled Assad, stretching his name like something rich and delicious in his mouth, "do you wanna do body shots?"
"You go around looking like that and yeah, I wanna do body shots." Eric tugged Assad in closer and kissed his neck, brushing wet curls aside and really breathing him in. Bit of teeth too, because obviously.
"Chlorinated body shots." Assad pressed into him, tilting his chin to give Eric more access.
"I'd drink chlorine from a shot glass if it came between your tits," Eric said into his neck. Talking pure bullshit, but somehow it always got Assad going.
"New kinda shot, that— mm, Eric—"
"Yeah." Eric pulled himself away, taking a moment to admire the pretty toothmarks he'd left behind, then the old undignified scramble to reverse their positions, to lay Assad down on the lounger in his place, all long legs and little waist and yeah. Those tits. Christ, they'd be the death of him.
Assad put an arm up behind his head, getting himself comfy. "So what shots did you get? Any Baby Guinness in there?"
Eric snorted. He pulled Assad's legs around him so he was sat nice and neat between them, enough room to bend over and arrange shot glasses. "No Baby Guinness, sorry. What I do have, though," he picked up a wedge of lime, "is tequila." He wiggled the wedge. "Traditional. So I hear."
"God, tell me why it's so hot that you've put this much thought into it." Assad lifted the leg draped in his lap, resting the arch of his foot on top of Eric's thigh.
"'Cos it means I've been thinking about licking salt off your body, yeah?" Bit of Daniel in that one, but he knew Assad of all people wouldn't be complaining.
Assad squeezed his thigh with that foot, then let his leg drape down again, arching as Eric followed the movement down to brush a teasing kiss against the inside of his leg. The chlorine was strong smelling in his nose but that didn't deter him. Hell, he'd fucked in pools before, the smell was actually kinda nostalgic in a way.
But there wasn't anything nostalgic about the way Assad squirmed, or the way a little moan slipped out as Eric kissed his inner thigh, further up this time and close enough to brush his nose against the line of his swim shorts.
He leaned his chin on Assad's leg, just looking up at him for a moment. Drinking him in. What a fucking sight.
"You alright down there?"
"Just deciding where to start. Pass me a shot?"
Assad hummed as he passed one of the shot glasses down, neatly snagging the lime in return. "What's the options? You'll have to talk me through them." He fluttered his eyelashes, looking down at Eric with lidded eyes. He knew exactly what he was doing, the little shit.
Well, never let it be said Eric Michael Bogosian wouldn't rise to a challenge. Even if he couldn't physically rise and all that bullshit, he still had hands, didn't he? And an equally talented mouth by all accounts.
Shot in hand, he trailed his fingers down Assad's thigh, pointedly avoiding the bulge in his swim shorts. "Well, all sorts of options. I could pour this down your thigh here," he pressed a little with his fingertips against the downy softness of Assad's inner thigh, "lap it up like a good dog." And wasn't that an interesting thought. He'd seen a whole bunch of people horny posting online about Daniel being a submissive dog — although they were probably mostly referring to Luke — and honestly the idea was tempting. One to bring up later.
"Or," he continued, sliding his hand higher, palm flat against Assad's belly, "I could pour it here. Feel you squirming under me. Get my face all wet."
Assad groaned, his belly fluttering under Eric's palm. "Go on," he said, all breathy and panting a bit. "Any more ideas?"
"Oh yeah, tons," Eric drawled, lingering on the words. Letting his hand wander upwards to cup Assad's tit, give it a good squeeze. "This is tempting. Squeeze 'em together, tequila, get my face all up in there like my cock."
He moved further up, caressing Assad's collarbone and neck. "Or even here, I dunno, what do you think, babe? Should I flip you over and pour it in your ass?"
Assad's eyes widened and he stifled a laugh. "I do not want a tequila enema!"
"Not even if you get my tongue in there as well? Well, that's no fun." Eric smirked, thumb brushing across Assad's throat as he laughed properly this time.
"No! Salt and lime in my arse does not sound like a good time, even if your tongue's involved!" He took hold of Eric's wandering hand and brought it to his mouth, sucking on the pad of his thumb and yeah, okay that did it, no more talking bullshit.
Eric caught Assad's eye and then slowly tipped the shot of tequila down over his tits. Before it could trickle away, he grabbed a pinch of salt from the little bowl and sprinkled it without a bit of finesse.
He ducked his head and lapped at the tequila, mouthing against Assad's skin as he squirmed, his moan vibrating against Eric's thumb still in his mouth. Next up: the salt, and he squashed the momentary twinge of guilt about blood pressure and all that bullshit. Easily done when Assad arched up against him, when his skin tasted so fucking good.
He came up, lips wet and messy, just in time for Assad to press the wedge of lime into his mouth; the acid juice of it sharp and setting off all his saliva glands as he sucked it down.
"Fuck," Assad moaned, "that was so bloody hot."
Eric sucked the lime dry then tossed it away with a grin. "You're telling me."
"Another?" A hint of pleading in that single word.
All Eric had to do was reach out and grab another shot. Tip the glass, more salt. Glistening droplets of tequila all over, running down Assad's tits then against his lips, and shit, he could do this all night, especially since he didn't have the energy of youth any more so didn't have to worry about keeping it up all night or even at all, really.
And speaking of which, he could feel Assad's boner against him, insistent and obvious in his swim shorts.
He took the lime wedge Assad offered him, eyes closing as he swallowed the juice, only having a moment to do so before Assad threw the lime away and lunged, twining both arms around Eric's shoulders and kissing him like a man drowning.
"You taste like lime," he said with a breathless giggle against Eric's lips.
"Think it'll sting when I go down on you?"
A flash of white teeth, dark eyes meeting his. "Something tells me you're gonna test that out." Assad laid back down on the lounger and Eric followed, kissing down his neck, sucking a mark into it with a little teeth chaser.
"Mmm... no salt though, yeah?"
Eric laughed into his neck, bit him again for good measure, shaking his head and growling under his breath before letting go. "No promises, babe."
Assad's long, gorgeous fingers twined through his curls and he tugged gently. "No salt! And definitely no lime. Be a good boy."
Even though the hand was gentle, there was a hint of iron in Assad's voice and Eric shivered. Couldn't help himself. But fuck it, he was a good dog.
"Tequila," he said, a little hoarse, then buried his face in Assad's belly, nuzzling into it before he slipped the swim shorts down, letting Assad's rock hard cock free for him to nuzzle too.
Before he could get too carried away, Assad took his hand and pressed another shot into it. Let their fingers linger together for a moment and then straight back into Eric's hair, the other caressing his face in that way he had that made a guy feel like a million bucks. Like he was the most beautiful thing on Earth and not a seventy three year old geezer who could only get it up once in a blue moon.
He closed his eyes for a moment, savouring the warmth of Assad's palm, then moved back enough that he could see what the hell he was doing.
He felt Assad's eyes on him, the tightening of his fingers as he poured the tequila in a neat stream up and down his pretty cock then tossed the glass and went for it, licking from the base up, chasing every drop.
"Ah fuck, Eric—" Assad's fingers tightened, enough to make Eric groan against his cock even as he dipped the tip of his tongue into the slit, salt mixed with the forty-proof spiced burn of the booze and yeah, fuck was the right word, wasn't it?
Eric buried his nose in Assad's dark bush, chasing droplets of tequila and then, with a glance up at his gorgeous boy, cradled his cock and sucked the head into his mouth, tongue flat against the glans and dragging another filthy moan from Assad's lips.
No more words from him, just a whole bunch of delicious noises that made Eric smile as he sunk down to the base again, letting his tongue relax and breathing through his nose to just hold him there, so so close to breaching his throat and fuck if that didn't get him going. Assad's hand — both hands now — in his hair, holding him right where he was and he could feel the ache in his jaw, the lightheadedness, the tequila burning and the clean, chloriney coarseness of pubes in his nose and Assad's hips jerking as he fucked Eric's face 'til he came, thick and dirty and right down his throat so he couldn't even taste it, right up until Eric pulled off just enough that he got some on the back of his tongue, bitter and delicious, and then—
oh, air.
Yeah. That was a thing.
Assad's hands slipping down his cheeks, pulling him off and up to drape on top of him like a big old rag, emphasis on the old.
Catch his breath, come back down. Swallow, the aftertaste of spunk mixing with tequila and the memory of lime and salt, and a dopey fucking grin on his face like he was the one who just came down his scandalously older boyfriend's throat.
Assad's chest rose and fell as he caught his breath too, hands moving lazily up and down Eric's bare back, the nape of his neck, into his hair.
"So," Eric said, eventually, "did it sting?"
He heard Assad's delighted laugh through his chest, felt the way he always laughed with his entire fucking body. "Nah." He scrubbed his fingers harder against Eric's scalp. "Even if it did, bit hard to give a shit when your tongue's getting involved, like."
Hah. "Mm, good to know it's doing the job." He rested his chin on Assad's tit, peering up at him with a dopey fucking smile all over his face. "Still can't believe you've never done body shots before. What do they even teach you guys over there?"
"Complaining and queueing, mostly."
"Hah! Figures."
"If it helps, I'm well converted."
"Yeah?"
"Yup. But you know I'll be doing them off you next time. You'll see."
Assad's big smile was as contagious as ever, that look in his eye that always spelled trouble, and shit, it really was disgusting how much he loved the guy.
"Oh really? Giving me something to look forward to, huh?"
"Damn right."
