This is a random story that floated around in my head for days and I just had to write it down ^_^

I don't own Linkin Park, this is all from my imagination.

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At the time, it was like, Great, of course the fans who are waiting around to give you chocolate bars and like, are those Skittles?, and a whole fucking shitload of candy, of course they show up when you're in the middle of rushing back to the hotel because Brad and Joe and Phoenix and Rob all have food poisoning.

Chester and Mike were really sorry to rush off after, like, one autograph apiece and one camera phone picture. Chester hugged the tall goth dude with the purple hair and the short chick and Mike hugged the third one, and then they basically cut and ran with the loot.

"I feel like a rude trick-or-treater," Chester was saying, which made sense because they'd put all the candy in, like, one of those plastic jack-o-lantern buckets and just handed it over to them. "I wonder if it's safe to put candles in these things? Do you think we'll make it?"

"They didn't say they were going to the hospital or anything," said Mike. "They'll call us if they do, let's just, like, hurry." For once Mike didn't want to stay and talk with the fans.

And, yeah, it was because Brad and Phoenix and Rob and Joe had food poisoning, but later he wondered if he, like, picked up on something from those fans. The purple hair guy, he was giving them a weird look - weirder than usual, like, because of course, weird was kind of normal for their fans, but... weird.

When they knocked on the other guys' doors, they were greeted by silence from Rob's room, a muffled shout of "Go away!" from Joe's, and Rob in Brad and Phoenix's, opening the door with a wet towel in one hand. Behind him they could just see Phoenix's long, skinny black feet sticking out on the floor past the end of the bed.

"Is that a Halloween bucket?" said Rob.

Chester shrugged. "Some fans, man. I dunno."

Mike was sitting on the floor by Phoenix, poking him in the middle of his sweaty back. "Fuck off," said Phoenix.

Mike sounded more worried than offended: "I just wanted to see how you were."

"Sorry," Phoenix mumbled tonelessly. "I'm fine. I have food poisoning."

"There's another bed in here," Chester pointed out.

"I don't want to puke in it," Phoenix told the carpet.

Brad was lying face-down on the other bed. "Shut up," he said wearily.

"So you guys are kind of okay? Do you want anything?"

Phoenix kind of twitched in place, like he was having a leg spasm or something, but Chester knew the twitch of irritation. "Hey, call us if we can do anything," Chester yelled at them from his position in the entry, hopefully out of the way of any stray germs. Or, like, airborne molecules of spoiled food.

"Call me if you need any more help dragging Phoenix places," Rob added. "I'm going to my room."

Chester started to leave, went back to grab Mike, and then got out of there.

"Well, that was, like, a whole lot of hurry up for nothing," said Mike. "Wanna watch a movie?"

"Hurry up and wait," said Chester absently. "Okay, sure."

When they were actually sitting on the foot of the bed in Mike's hotel room, though, flipping channels, Mike didn't really feel like pigging out on candy any more. Call it a sensitive stomach like Mike's mom, "being a pussy" like Chester, or just a totally reasonable loss of appetite, he never really wanted to eat after smelling puke. Chester had never had that probem. He'd probably gotten desensitized from being up close and personal with so much different puke back when he was a party animal.

So Chester dug into the candy by himself, and Mike just focused on Zoolander.

But not for long.

Chester put the bucket of candy aside after a while and then a while after that he started twitching. Twitching wasn't really weird for Chester; it was the volume of twitching that Mike noticed. Chester was shifting and rubbing his hands together and kind of acting like a little kid who doesn't want to tell you he has to go to the bathroom.

Mike asked him if he was okay a couple of times and got a standard "yeah" or distracted frown, typical Chester responses, before the party at Owen Wilson's place, when suddenly Chester was like, "No."

Jackpot, thought Mike. "What's wrong?" he joked, "Do you have to go to the bathroom? We can pause it."

Chester didn't even say that they couldn't pause it because it was the TV. He just crossed his legs, then uncrossed them and crossed them Indian-style and turned to face Mike, staring intently the whole time, with that frowny little line between his eyebrows that Mike knew wouldn't smooth away if you touched it, but he still liked to try from time to time.

If he had to say, Mike would probably have described Chester's expression as 90% concerned parent trying to have, like, The Talk with a difficult teenager, a good dollop of "You have broccoli in your teeth," and just a smidge of confusion.

"I don't. No," said Chester, and bit his lip. "Mike, I don't feel so good."

"Shit," said Mike. "I thought it was the chicken - you didn't eat anything from catering today, did you? I thought - "

Chester shook his head, scowling now with a little irritation. "What?" he said, like Mike had tried to change the subject.

"Dude," said Mike. "If you're sick too..."

Chester totally looked, and sounded, like he was apologizing. "I'm not sick," he said sadly.

Mike blinked. "Um... good?" He reached out to touch Chester's arm soothingly, and Chester jumped about a foot. His arm felt tense like rock - kind of flabby rock, but still. Next Mike felt Chester's forehead, and it didn't really seem like a fever or anything, so...

"I'm really sorry about this," said Chester miserably.

"What?" said Mike.

Chester grabbed Mike by the front of the shirt with both fists and jerked so hard Mike almost fell off the bed, and the only reason he didn't was because he fell on Chester instead, half in and half out of his lap, with his face squished into Chester's neck.

Before he could even sort out the 'What the hell's and the 'Chester smells nice's inside his own head, Chester hauled him up like an inch, mumbling "Sorry, sorry, so sorry," the whole time, and unzipped Mike's jeans.

"Gnuh?" said Mike, because he couldn't make a complete word while people were groping around in his pants, and having Chester all up in his face, however weird, was also kind of special and distracting.

Chester said apologetically, "I know," in a voice like he was about to become truly stressed out, and stuck his tongue in Mike's mouth as well. Then he shoved both hands into Mike's underwear, and one was shaking until it wrapped around Mike's cock, and then Chester shuddered like a dog being scratched in just the right spot. Chester's hands actually did feel hotter than usual through the shaking, but, thought Mike, trying to drag his face far enough out of Chester's reach to get out a whole question, the more important factor was that his hands were a lot more personal with Mike's dick than usual, too.

This was really, really not normal behavior for Chester - not for real, normal Chester, and it was even a little abrupt for the imaginary Chester who lived in Mike's head and came out during his Special Alone Times with his dick. Chester had been a handsy drunk once upon a time, but it was never like this, either. Something was going on, and it was important to remember that and find out what it was and not just sit there in Chester's lap getting a handjob.

"Chester?" said Mike, when he managed to rip his mouth away.

Chester wasn't really trying to make him come, he was more like... trying to feel Mike up, groping blindly around in his pants for a handful of hair and balls and cock and kind of rubbing his hand on everything. And that was probably good, because God knew if Mike would have been able to think if Chester was actually jerking him - if his fantasy life was anything to go by he might have already come by now - but on the other hand it was just another crazy cherry on the fucking crazy ice cream sundae.

"Mmmm," Chester panted, and moved his mouth down to Mike's neck. He licked a little and Mike tried to jerk away, but they were still near the edge of the bed and Chester was kind of holding him up, and also had Mike's balls in his hand. It wasn't the time for sudden violent movements.

"Chester! Chester, stop," Mike said a little desperately.

"Mm," said Chester again. "Sorry, Mikey." The licking stopped, and now Chester was just kind of... nuzzling. Mike could probably cope with nuzzling.

Now what? "Could you please let go of my balls?" said Mike. First things first.

Chester shook his head against Mike's neck and kind of whimpered. "Just let me touch your cock," he whispered. Great, now the other hand was worming in between them, trying to get in on the action.

"No, wait," said Mike, which was not an answer he'd ever thought he would be giving to 'just let me touch your cock' (definitely a line straight out of Fantasy Special Alone Times Chester's arsenal).

Chester made a sad little gasping noise and, Mike realized, stopped reaching for Mike's cock. "Please, God, please, Mikey, I need," he muttered, and he was shaking again, a long shiver that Mike could feel moving through his whole body as if he was naked and freezing cold.

He hadn't even taken his hand away, completely - Mike could still feel it in his underwear, and Chester was nestling closer, burying his face in Mike's neck and breathing moist open-mouthed breaths under his ear and oh, man, on that spot on the tendon on the side of his neck that made Mike shiver too. His other hand was on Mike's thigh, digging in so hard through his jeans it was going to leave a mark.

"Okay!" said Mike, "just let go of my balls so we can move - I'm about to fall off the bed."

Chester just shuddered again and burrowed closer for a second. "I need to touch," he whispered, miserably, and then, even quieter, "I'm sorry," and Mike totally threw 'what's going on' and all his morals or ethics or whatever the fuck it was out the window and kissed his hair, his ear, his forehead, and stopped trying to push him away entirely.

"Okay," said Mike, "okay, shhh, it's all right, whatever you want," until Chester looked up, his eyes wide and wet, he was about to fucking cry, and Mike said "It's okay, let's get in the bed," and kissed him.

He wasn't even sure if Chester could hear him, he was acting so weird - until their mouths connected again, Chester's sour and sugary and tasting of candy, hot and wet and when Mike pulled him closer, instead of pushing him away, he could feel all that tension, all the surprising strength that Chester actually did have and usually didn't use for anything, melting right out of him.

He almost suspected Chester of somehow melting his own bones to liquid to make it easier to wrap himself around Mike, because he was trying to eliminate all the air between their bodies while simultaneously removing Mike's clothes, and somehow he'd already completely gotten rid of both of their pants by the time Mike managed to get him up to the top of the bed and sort of under the covers, and Chester was still attached to him. Mike didn't even know how it happened; he just knew that it made it a lot easier for Chester to reach his dick, and Chester was taking full advantage of that - with both hands, this time, while he ground his cock into Mike's thigh.

Mike had never actually had the chance to get up close and personal with Chester's cock before, and now that it was happening, he couldn't even appreciate it because, thanks to Chester's two-handed handjob, he was kind of about to come already, and fuck, fuck, fuck, he was such a bad person, he was totally going to hell, because he was enjoying this - he couldn't really help it - while Chester was apparently dying of some kind of alien sex disease or something.

"But okay, seriously," Mike said, "Ches - Chester? Listen - are you listening?"

Chester swung his leg over Mike's thighs and slid up until Mike could feel Chester's ass on his cock, and then he said, while the sparkly white fireworks were going off behind Mike's eyes, all deep and raw and gravelly, "Yeah?" - and fucking undulated. It was slithery and sneaky and breathtaking and kind of inhumanly hot, and ended up with Mike's feet braced on the bed and Chester propped up on his arms, worrying his lip with his teeth, his eyelids fluttering as he slowly rubbed his cock on Mike's belly.

"Yeah - Holy mother of cocksucking Christ, fuck, can you please hold still so I can - um - thanks - think." Chester wasn't really holding still, but at least he wasn't rubbing his ass on Mike's cock for the moment. "You realize this isn't normal for you, right?"

"I'm sorry," said Chester again, kind of breathless, and rubbed his cheek on Mike's shoulder. "I know. I can't help it - " and he really couldn't, because he was already nipping Mike's collarbone and kissing it better.

Fuck. "Okay, okay - what's - ugh -" Mike wrapped his arms around Chester, which was kind of bad because it pulled him closer, but he stopped another undulation before it started, so it was worth it. "Do I need to call 911 or - fuck - just - what's the matter with you? Are you dying? Are you - mmmph," he finished, when Chester squirmed up and stuck his tongue in his mouth again.

It's not possible to talk with a tongue in your mouth. Mike tried really, really hard to hang on to his question while he was being kissed, and also kissing back - he was used to that part, and it wasn't like it could make it any worse, right, and it was Chester and it seemed to make him happier, and also, it was fucking Chester, snuggling into him and kissing him so hard their noses kept bumping and he was probably going to get a tongue cramp, but God, it was good. Nothing else on Earth could possibly, thought Mike, taste like Chester's mouth.

"Pon farr," was the explanation Chester came up with, when he came up for air.

"Seriously? Star Trek is all you've got?" Mike said.

"I fucking don't know," said Chester, and rubbed himself on Mike some more. "But I don't have a fever and nothing hurts and I'm not even drunk, I just really - really - really - REALLY - need to fuck."

Chester had this not-so-secret ability to make people do what he wanted, and he could make his voice do all kind of hypnotic things, and right now it was still deep and breathy and it sounded like coffee poured over cigarettes poured over rough, pounding sex. If you could pour cigarettes.

The point was, Chester's voice was the sexiest thing Mike had ever heard in his life, and it was also the second and third sexiest thing and Mike was screwed.

And Chester was still talking. "What I really need," he whispered, sliding up, up to nose around Mike's ear like he had some kind of deliciously lewd secret, "is for you to fuck me." He squirmed a little when he said that, the insides of his thighs tightening on Mike's hips, not a choreographed perfect fucking wet dream like before, more like he just couldn't help it, like he couldn't stand to stay still, couldn't get enough skin. "Can you do that?"

Mike choked. He could've never come up with a setup this twisted for his fantasies, but that was fucking classic Fantasy Special Times Chester, there - it was Mike's favorite mental bookmark in the sexual fantasy book, even ahead of the one where Chester went down on him onstage and the one with the entire troop of Suicide Girls.

"Please?"

Well, Mike wasn't stupid enough to say no to that.

Besides, Chester had a pretty good grip on him, and he wasn't sure how he would get out from under him if he did the clinging and shaking thing again.

"Yeah," said Mike, and if he was a little too quick or a little too happy about it, or his voice was unsteady, well, Chester was too tripped-out to notice and there was no one else there. Then he opened his mouth to say "Lube?", but Chester slithered down and sucked Mike's entire cock into his mouth - well, technically, part of it was in his throat, and wow.

He choked right away and pulled off a little - he wasn't really a champion deep-throater - but the tight squeeze of throat around the head of Mike's cock had already felt pretty awesome. Chester's head bobbed back down, and he was swirling his tongue wetly around the shaft and blinking up at Mike and moaning, "God, yeah, that's it - I fucking love that taste of cock, fuck my mouth, Mike - fuck, do it," and Mike let his hips jerk, thrusting up into Chester's mouth.

When Chester pulled off, his mouth was red and wet and hanging open and Mike's cock was shiny with spit. It was fucking dirty, especially with Chester fisting his cock, slippery-wet, spreading the spit around.

"Lube?" Mike tried again, but Chester just gazed back at him blankly with his eyes wide and his pupils huge and black and knelt up above Mike's cock and guided the wet tip to his ass with one hand.

Mike wasn't exactly firing on all cylinders by that point, and God, Chester might be on sex drugs or in Vulcan heat and completely out of his mind, but he was enjoying himself and he was hot as fuck, and even normally, like when he wasn't so hard he was about to explode, Mike would've needed a couple of seconds to talk himself into pulling a flushed and panting, sweaty cock-hungry Chester off his cock.

So he didn't. Chester positioned himself, pushed back until Mike felt the head of his cock pop in, and then just stopped holding himself up and let gravity do the work, sinking down so fast Mike barely had time to feel it until he was buried to the balls and Chester was sitting in his lap, tense and arched back and clawing at Mike's sides with his fingernails and gasping like he was about to drown.

Chester was tight like it'd been a little while and he hadn't been stretched and they hadn't used lube, and it almost hurt, but it was a hurt that felt amazing - friction burn and Chester's ass squeezing around him when Chester shuddered and shifted, squeezing Mike's hips with his thighs, and groaned.

"Are you all right?" Mike asked, finally.

Chester sort of rolled his head around like his neck was too tired to lift it up and move it around like a normal person's, and stared down his nose at Mike, frowning hard. "More," he said, "I need more, just let me -" and he moved, Mike could feel him squirming around and then he bounced in place, just a little, just enough to let Mike feel the drag all over his cock when he pulled back and then slam back into him, and he arched up off the bed, it was so good, grabbing for Chester's hips but he was too late - Chester was moving and he wasn't going to stop riding Mike's cock until he honestly did fuck their brains out.

It was just - fuck - his face twisted up, grimacing with every stroke, and every flicker of pleasure showed in his expression, every rock of his hips and every time Mike managed to thrust up exactly at the down stroke and drive a little deeper.

"Fuck," Chester was chanting, "fuck, fuck, fuck," and that was the most surreal thing about it, because that was Chester's single most fucking favorite word, and of all the times Mike had heard him chanting it like this when he burned his finger on coffee or the top button burst off his jeans and went flying or he couldn't find his cell phone, he'd never imagined it like this, sounding so normal while Chester was screwing himself down on Mike's cock, practically doing a fucking back bend.

The back bend finally did it for Mike - it just felt too good, and Chester was too hot - fucking Chester. "Fuck, I'm about to - Chester," he gasped.

"Fuck," Chester said again, and grabbed his own cock and came like two milliseconds afterward and then flopped forwards and bent down to kiss Mike again before Mike could even catch his breath.

Mike let him knock himself out with kissing, slid his arms around Chester's shoulders and stroked his sweaty hair, along his naked back, between the sharp points of his shoulder blades, trying to soothe. He seemed a little less tense than before, not trembling but still not relaxed.

When he looked up at Mike there was more recognition in his eyes - an expression Mike knew on his face, instead of that blank, glazed, drugged look that was somehow different from the way Chester had looked when he got high back in the day.

"Okay?" said Mike.

"Thank you," Chester said, hoarsely, and let Mike pull him down in the crook of his arm. Mike could probably have gone to sleep then, if Chester hadn't rolled over against him - and he felt it, incredibly. Chester was still hard.

"You're - " Mike slid his hand down Chester's back carefully and stuck it between them to check, like maybe he'd been fooled by something else that just felt exactly like sticky cock against his thigh. It wasn't the easiest feeling to mistake, but on the other hand, both of them were still covered in his come. It was kind of hard to believe.

Chester made a moaning, gasping little noise and thrust up into Mike's fist.

"You're hard again?" said Mike.

Chester shook his head and looked up at Mike with his sad face, sweaty and already sinking back under that haze of drugged desperation. "Still," said Chester. "It's not enough, I need - fuck, touch me," he said, and his whole back was a mass of tense knots again and he ducked his head down in embarrassment and Mike petted his hair and squeezed his cock and started jerking, careful and gentle at first until Chester started cursing, then rough and hard.

"This kind of sucks for you," Mike said breathlessly, around the time Chester started humping his leg, because wow, it really did, and that sucked for Mike, because a night of non-stop private time with Chester's magically-hard dick was totally better than anything he'd managed to fantasize before, and now he just felt lame that he hadn't come up with it on his own, but he couldn't even enjoy it right because he felt guilty.

"Sorry," Chester said between moans, and seriously, that was ridiculous.

"If you're apologizing during a handjob, I must not be as good at this as I thought I was," said Mike, firmly, and flipped him over on his back and finally, fucking finally, for the first time in ever, got a mouthful of Chester's dick. Halle-fucking-lujah.

It tasted like come and sweat and funk and Chester, that sharp sexy smell that you got a whiff of just every now and then under the whole I-Need-A-Shower odor, only concentrated to the nth degree and turned into the most tongue-tingling flavor of come Mike had ever put in his mouth. It even had a little bit of chocolate to it, he thought, as he sucked the head in and slid his head down a little, and an undertone that was either pon farr hormones or some kind of nasty sex drugs.

"Mike, Mike, oh fuck!" Chester said, and that was more like it.

Mike licked a stripe up the shaft and under the head and said, "I don't want to hear another fucking apology out of you while you're in bed with me, Bennington," and then slid down until his nose was practically in Chester's pubic hair.

A few more minutes of that and Chester was thrashing and gasping and had lost every word in his vocabulary but "fuck", and then he was coming down Mike's throat, a salty wash of that spunky, chocolaty Chester flavor.

Mike definitely hadn't lost his touch.

That didn't make Chester's never ending erection go down, though. Mike sprawled over Chester's chest, watching the red numbers on the hotel-provided alarm clock change and feeling the sweat cool as he gradually got colder. Chester, underneath him, was like a furnace, though.

One of the reasons Mike liked to cuddle Chester the best was that he was always like a furnace, despite his insane desire to wear layers all the time (the other reasons were less socially acceptable and ranged from slightly dirty groping-related reasons to the fact that Chester was pretty much the easiest to kick around if Mike was bored and looking for someone to irritate, so the body heat reason was the one Mike kept on top, like).

So Mike knew Chester's regular body temperature and he knew this wasn't quite it. It felt good, okay, but it was a little disturbing. The fever wasn't exactly the first clue that Chester was on some kind of drugs, but at least it proved someone hadn't just slipped him some triple-strength Viagra or something.

Mike didn't think so, anyway. He'd never heard of a Viagra fever. He kind of had the opposite problem anyway, though, so he honestly didn't know that much about Viagra.

Chester's torso was pretty motionless, just lying there emitting heat with his cock jabbing into Mike's belly, and Chester was breathing pretty slowly and occasionally petting Mike's neck or playing with his fingers. When Chester stopped playing with Mike's fingers and pulled his hand up and started sucking on them instead and swirling his tongue around the knuckles like a porn star, Mike picked his head up warily and looked into Chester's face.

It was hard to know what to say - they hadn't exactly devoted a chapter in the etiquette books to this, and Mike wouldn't have read them even if they had, so that was no help. His mama definitely hadn't drilled it into his head. He settled for, "How you feel?"

Chester opened his mouth and then looked guilty and closed it again. He'd probably been about to say sorry, the fuckwad. Instead he said, "Horny," and wrinkled his nose thoughtfully. Apparently he was just searching for the right adjectives, because then he added honestly, "Simultaneously kind of fucked-out and really turned on. How long has it been?"

"The TV's still on and Zoolander's over," Mike pointed out.

"Maybe we should turn that off," Chester said, but he was already looking a little unfocused, and after he said it he started sucking on Mike's neck.

Fuck, that felt really fucking good. Another ten minutes of that and Mike would be able to get it up again.

Chester was a little more optimistic than that, though. He felt between Mike's legs and made a disappointed sound, which made Mike crack up laughing - that was another thing he never imagined happening during sex, at least, not unless he was having a nightmare - and Chester jerked back because Mike sort of accidentally bit his lip.

"It's gonna take me a while, man," said Mike. "I'm not sixteen anymore. Look, why don't you just fuck me?"

Chester looked disappointed. "What if I blow you? I really need some cock, Mike."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a seriously pissy diva fucktard?"

Chester didn't even laugh, just wiggled in place and wrapped one of his legs around Mike's. "Probably."

"Are you sure we shouldn't be going to the emergency room?" Mike asked him, and began the painful process of peeling apart all the parts of their bodies that were glued together with come.

"No!" said Chester. "Where are you going?"

Mike ducked out of his grip and slid out of the bed in one fast, sneaky move. "To get lube, asshole, relax."

Mike dug the lube out of his suitcase and made a side trip to the bathroom to piss and wash himself, and he brought a wet washcloth out and washed Chester, too, even though Chester wasn't in favor of the idea. Chester was never really in favor of washing, but there were limits to how many times you should have sex without washing, and Chester's magic erection was still going strong.

Mike tried to be gentle with the washcloth, because it was probably pretty painful, right, to have, like, a mystical never ending erection that doesn't go down for hours. How many times could Chester actually come without getting completely dehydrated, anyway? Mike tried to ask him, but Chester was throwing the washcloth on the floor and sticking his face in Mike's armpit.

"You're a freak!" Mike yelped. "And that tickles, stop it! Are you going to fuck me or not?"

"Sorry," Chester muttered, and nuzzled Mike's armpit again and then dragged his face sideways and stopped to lick his nipple. Mike was going to remind him about the no-apologies rule, but then he felt teeth on his nipple and forgot all about it.

Chester dragged Mike into the middle of the bed and pushed him over on his back and started licking his other nipple next, and then moved down to his belly button.

He couldn't get a hard-on, but Mike wasn't made of stone. There couldn't possibly be anyone who wouldn't be turned on by Chester licking them all over and rubbing himself on the sheets like he just couldn't wait. He stroked Mike's thighs and carefully pushed them apart and licked around the base of Mike's cock and back behind his balls and, yeah, Mike was glad he'd just washed when Chester licked around his ass and then stuck his tongue in it, but he'd kind of been expecting it by now.

"Fuck, you taste good," Chester moaned, and dived back in. Mike was moaning too after a few seconds, spreading his legs apart and twitching at that teasing slippery penetration. "I'm gonna fuck you so hard," Chester said then, breathing kind of hard, and scraped his teeth against the back of Mike's thigh.

"Uh," Mike panted. This was like buy-one-get-twenty-free night on his favorite fantasies. "Okay?"

Chester sat up between his legs and said, "I'll be careful, Mikey."

"Lube," said Mike, and handed it to him.

Chester's approach to lube was generous but kind of fast. He used a lot, but he didn't waste a lot of time on it or anything - just stretched Mike open with a finger, then rubbed it in with two more and slathered it on his cock until it dripped, and by the time he finally bent Mike's legs back and pressed his cock against Mike's ass, Mike was just about ready to beg for it.

Luckily he didn't have to - Chester was dying for it too. Watching his face, his lopsided mouth hanging open like he'd forgotten how to use his muscles, his long eyelashes fluttering, was a million times hotter than porn. Watching that while Chester's cock slowly split him open and slid into his ass, slow and slippery-slick and hard and almost, almost too big, was so hot Mike's brain fizzed and died out before he even felt Chester's balls on his ass.

Mike wasn't a size queen, not really, he didn't care - but he liked it just a little bit rough, and Chester was too far gone, too sex-drugged or too turned on or maybe just too much of an asshole, to be anything but a little bit rough. He was careful, God, he was steady about it as he withdrew and thrust back in, sliding all the way inside with one hard push, but he wasn't gentle, and he was big enough that Mike was feeling the burn all the way out to his toes.

"Fuck," Mike choked, and Chester bent over and licked a long, slow line up his neck, pushing his hips again and again with these short, sharp, rocking thrusts while he licked his way into Mike's mouth and kissed him like he was underwater and Mike's mouth was his only source of oxygen.

Mike could come, if he hadn't already come his brains out, from thinking about Chester kissing him like this. Chester's fucking crooked mouth and his fucking tongue and his sloppy, hungry kissing turned up to ten now, kissing like there was no one watching and Chester didn't care, kissing like Mike only let himself dream about when he really, really needed it.

Chester could come from it too, or maybe it was the angle or something, but suddenly he was switching it up, short hard thrusts turning into long ones, and then he was coming, his cock throbbing deep inside Mike, and then he bent over and kissed Mike's cheek beside his eye.

"Okay?" he mumbled.

"Fuck, yeah," Mike said, with the few brain cells that were still firing and not focused on Chester's perfect, beautiful, fucking weirdo face up close. He could see right up Chester's nostrils and count his eyelashes.

"Okay," Chester whispered, and slumped down on top of Mike. He didn't pull out, but it wasn't actually that weird, because he was still totally hard - it mainly felt weird that he'd stopped moving for a minute. He put his head down next to Mike's and started nibbling on Mike's earlobe.

"That tickles," Mike said, but he felt too good to move away.

"Mmm?" said Chester, and buried his face in Mike's hair. "I still need to be fucked," he said, in a small voice.

Mike sighed. "Man, if I could get hard right now, it would've happened when you were fucking me into the mattress a minute ago. You've gotta wait a few more minutes."

Chester pushed himself up on his hands apparently just so Mike could see the disappointed face he made. He was such a bitch. But oh, he was a bitch who was starting to fuck Mike again, just rocking his hips slightly like he was maybe dancing without even pulling out, and fuck, that was good, he could be as bitchy as he wanted.

"Wanna go again? Sure, Chester, go ahead," Mike murmured, but the joking tone kind of fell flat because he was distracted by the tiny, uneven sparks of pleasure/pain from his ass. Chester had been fucking him just long enough, now, that he was a little sensitive - it was probably nothing to how Chester's cock felt, though, Mike reminded himself of that, and thank God he didn't have to come right now, either, because he was still fucking tired, and Chester was doing the work.

And he was working at it, too. The short, easy rocking thrusts were building up into a rhythm that was slowly tuning Mike's entire body tighter and tighter until the least little shift in angle, just the prickle of Chester's short torn fingernails scraping on his hips, was amplified and vibrated through every nerve in his body.

Chester was sweating, and he was moving a little harder now, too, and sometime he'd spread Mike's legs a little further apart and now he was sitting up further, dragging Mike by the hips, closer to his body, until suddenly a thrust brushed against Mike's prostate and fuck, he still couldn't get it up, just physically couldn't, but it made this jaw-dropping echo of the last time he came, like just to remind him that it was still there and Chester's cock was the hottest and most fucking amazing thing to ever stretch him open and fuck him until he could barely move.

Not that Mike needed reminding. He'd known how good it would be, if he ever fucked Chester for real - he could practically taste it in the air between them, sometimes, that fizzy charge when Chester touched him and it sent Mike spinning out of his own head.

He'd kind of thought he'd be the one begging for more and climbing on Chester and fucking himself senseless after Chester's legs were tired, but there was probably still fucking time for that, after all.

It wasn't bad having Chester do the work, though, Chester the one grunting in frustration and tipping Mike back on the bed, climbing on top of him and twisting his hips down in a slow incredible grind, making this impatient noise that would've been hilarious if it wasn't so goddamned hot, pulling out and flipping Mike over on his face all frantic before he shoved Mike's thighs apart and slid back into him with one smooth, deep stroke.

Mike wasn't opposed to this and he wasn't opposed to topping either, but he couldn't help wondering, as Chester slid out and thrust back in again, if he was even going to get to come with a cock in his ass at all before Chester's pon farr was over. His fantasy book would be totally incomplete without that one, and fuck, that would be sad, because it would be incredible.

Chester getting impatient and fussy and growling "Up, up on your knees" was pretty fucking incredible, too, and Mike pushed up on his hands and knees, with his ass in the air, and Chester barely waited for him to get his balance before he was pushing back inside, shoving Mike's knees apart with his own knees and lifting his ass up until Mike was arching his back so hard it almost hurt, and still Chester was grunting with dissatisfaction, thrusting quick and hot and uneven.

"Ugh," Chester said, "Fuck, Mike, Mike, fuck - you've gotta - "

Mike was kind of busy being fucked, now, with those fast hard thrusts rocking his body back and forth, and it was hard to form words. "What'sit?"

"I can't -" Chester panted, and thrust a little deeper, "I can't get the right -" and he broke off in frustration and just draped himself over Mike front-to-back, hot and sweaty and sticky, still humping him with sharp little movements, God, and his arms were snaking around Mike's waist and chest.

Then the next thing Mike knew he was jerked off his hands and knees, still tight in Chester's arms, and then he was sitting in Chester's lap and staring at the wall over the hotel headboard, blinking dumbly, and Chester moved under him, and in him, and Mike didn't realize until Chester wrapped his hand around his dick that he was half hard again.

He laid his head back on Chester's shoulder and squirmed around, trying to find where to put his legs.

"Wait, Mike, wait," Chester whispered thickly somewhere just behind him. Mike wasn't really listening, though, because it felt even better when he leaned forward, just a little, and lifted up his hips and -

Chester hissed, and then he was coming again. Mike could feel his cock jerking, although there wasn't that much come that time, and while he was coming down a little Chester squeezed him so tight he could barely breathe. Mike was cool with that. He twisted his head around until he could kiss Chester's jaw, and then Chester looked down and kissed him back, slow and lazy and sweet.

"How was that?" Mike asked him a long minute later, a little calmer now but still feeling giddy.

"Good," Chester said dazedly. "I feel - it's like - I think I haven't really come that hard for, like, years. I should be fucked out for days but I'm still hard, but I'm practically too tired to - fuck, can we just lie down?"

Mike was yawning as he groped on the floor beside the bed for that wet washcloth. "Think it'll go away if you go to sleep?"

"I can't sleep like this," Chester said sadly.

Mike looked down. He had a point. "Hm. You want, like, some Advil?"

Chester rolled his eyes, which was pretty funny to see while he was snuggling up to Mike's side again. "They don't prescribe Advil for hard-ons. They prescribe sex."

"Dude, look," said Mike, taking pity on Chester and grabbing his cock loosely in the fist with the washcloth.

Chester made a face like he was trying to pay attention and had accidentally swallowed his tongue from arousal instead.

...Good enough.

"I mean, maybe you've just been given one of those poppers you hear about at parties and shit, that make you Mr. Porn Star monster cock, whatever, for like, five or six hours. Okay, I mean, if that's the case, that's fine. But we don't know what those freaks slipped you, it could be some kind of... I don't know... arsenic mixed with steroids mixed with crack -"

"Ugh, harder," said Chester, thrusting into Mike's hand. "No, I mean - tighter. Arsenic and steroids and crack wouldn't give you a hard-on."

"No, I know," said Mike. "That was just an example."

Chester grabbed Mike's hand, wrapped his own hand around outside it, and forced him to hold on tighter. Then he turned his face and licked Mike's shoulder while he humped Mike's hand. "I think your hand is better than mine," he said hoarsely.

"Thanks. I think," said Mike. "Even if you're just using my hand as a freaky flesh-and-towel glove."

Chester moaned approvingly. "Fuck, I don't care if it's your hand or your foot or your mouth, just-" but he wouldn't let Mike do much of anything; he was squeezing the hand too hard and nuzzling Mike's shoulder.

"Are you about to come?" said Mike. "Cause if you're not too busy, I could probably keep it up for long enough to fuck you again now."

He'd never seen anyone throw a washcloth out of a bed that fast. Or anywhere. Or throw any fabric at all that fast. He didn't even see it move, really. It was just like one second Chester was humping his hand and the next Chester was sitting up, leaning over and staring at Mike's cock and testing it with his finger, like he had to make sure it was really real.

Mike lay there and enjoyed it while he could. Chester wrapped his hand around his cock and jerked it a little, and Mike could feel himself getting harder in Chester's hand. He was already a little over sensitized, either from Chester's hardcore riding before or else because his dick wasn't used to being hardness-checked that often.

"Lube," he gritted out, and Chester immediately got the lube from somewhere and slicked his hand up and then came back, rubbing it slowly onto Mike's cock like he wanted to make sure it was all absorbed.

"How do you want me?" Mike asked.

"Mm," said Chester, "I want you to fuck me this time. Let me get on my back - no, what about doggy style?"

Um. It was a toss-up between two equally beloved fantasies now. Seriously, Mike sometimes liked to switch back and forth between those two without even taking his hand off his cock.

"Whatever," said Mike.

"Okay," Chester said, eagerly.

Mike was starting to expect instantaneous movement - he kind of thought by the time he sat up Chester would have assumed the position already and shit, but instead he came nose-to-nose with Chester sitting there with his hair sticking up at twenty-nine different angles and his face still pink and looking sunburned, all naked and sticky and awkward, suddenly, in the wreckage of the sheets and blankets.

"Thanks," Chester said shyly.

"It's nothing you wouldn't do for me," said Mike. He thought it would be insensitive to say something like You're thanking ME?

Besides, he was probably going to be really sore in the morning.

The fact that Mike got to touch Chester's arms first, and sneak in a little caress to his face, and that he got to push Chester back into the pillows and open his legs up himself, made it feel less surreal, more like real sex somehow. Chester was licking his already-swollen lips, gazing up at Mike intently, and he was really on a hair-trigger. The first touch behind his balls had him pulling his legs apart and lifting his ass and moaning.

"Do you have to?" said Chester, when Mike pressed a lubed fingertip inside him, but in the next second he was gasping, "Yeah, God, yes, more."

There were no more complaints even though Mike was careful, and used a lot of lube, and came back with two and then three fingers. Chester wasn't patient - he kept saying "Fuck, Mike, fuuuck" and "More, more" and "I can feel your fingers sliding around down there, Mike, and God, it's so good, I can just imagine when it's your cock - so good, fuck, yeah - I need it, touch me, touch my cock, I'm ready, do it, come on - fucking fuck me - yeah, oh - fuck, Mike."

When Mike finally knelt up between Chester's legs and put his cock into place, Chester was so slick and ready, even as tight as he still was - and he was, fuck, he was tight and perfect - that Mike slid all the way in with one smooth thrust.

Chester still wouldn't fucking shut up. It was like getting what he wanted - or what the stupid sex drug wanted - had reminded him that he liked to talk, or taken the lid off some bottomless jar of profanity, non sequiturs, digressions, dirty talk, and bossiness.

First it was "Oh, that was good, smooth like water - fuck, water, maybe we can do it in the shower." Then it was "I wonder if Vulcans do it in the shower." Then it was "If you're from the desert, does that make water extra sexy?"

Then it was back to the porn star channel with "Hold it, fuck, slow down a little, nice and easy, yeah, oh, fuck, deeper" and "Mike, fuck, you feel even better than you taste. And let me fucking tell you, it fucking tastes sexy as hell right now. They should sell this fucking pon farr shit for teaching blowjobs."

"If you'd rather use your mouth on my cock I can stop," Mike suggested. He only said it because he knew Chester wouldn't go for it though.

"Fuck, no," Chester said, and sort of laughed, even. "Mmm, that's good. Oh, that's almost the spot - why can't you just fucking - deeper, cocksucker."

"I'm sorry if my cock isn't big enough for you, asshole," Mike snapped.

Chester was wriggling around on the bed, squirming up on the pillows, propping himself on his elbows so Mike was stuck on top of him and couldn't move without sliding out. "Oh, it's big enough," he said, licking his lips like he was on stage performing for an audience, "you just have to know how to use it," and Mike was so annoyed at getting that fake stage act that he resisted at first when Chester tugged him up by the shoulders, and before he knew it Chester was gripping so hard he scratched.

"Okay, okay," said Mike.

Chester just grunted, and rolled Mike over on his back, and then mounted back up. Talk about porn star - he hovered over Mike's cock, rubbing it behind his balls, guiding it into place and then sinking down so slowly, inch by inch, his neck limp and his head fallen back, moaning the whole time.

Mike was beyond moaning. He just wanted Chester to fucking sit on his cock and ride him already, if he was going to, or else get the fuck off and let Mike fuck him.

"Shit, shit, fuck, fucking cocksucking hell, motherfucker," Mike chanted, and Chester pinned him to the bed so he could barely move his hips and twisted on him with these sexy smooth little grinding motions, down into his lap. Every inch of his cock was over sensitized and all he wanted to do was to pull out and slam back in.

Chester, the fucking tease, was just whispering "Oh, oh, baby, yeah, fuck, that's good, that feels so fucking good, it's like the first cigarette after a whole fucking day - oh, fuck, it's better than sex, it's like - it should be fucking illegal, fuck, it probably is."

"I hope so," Mike said. "Can I please - "

"Shut up!" said Chester. Okay. Wow. "Sorry, just - you know that feeling like you're just dying for a drink, and you keep drinking bottle after bottle of fucking water and Coke and Sprite and none of it fucking hits the spot cause it's all just fucking sugar water, you don't want that shit, you just want - oh - this isn't working," he said suddenly, and rolled right off of Mike in mid-grind.

Mike put his hands over his eyes. "Fuck." It would be kind of a dick move to complain about wanting to come to Chester right now, so he just breathed and counted slowly to ten.

Except he only got to two before Chester was up in his face, pushing his hand out of the way, blinking worriedly and going, "Mike?"

"Huh?" said Mike.

"You okay? Sit up for me," said Chester. Mike let himself be propped up against the headboard with a pillow, and then Chester climbed into his lap and slid back until his back was pressed against Mike's chest. Then it was just a matter of leaning forward a little, lifting up, and Mike put his hands on Chester's hips and guided him back down onto his cock again, and Chester shivered and sighed as he sank down all the way and sat there for a second, getting comfortable.

"How's that?" said Mike tightly, flexing his hips.

"Do that again," Chester ordered. "We'll see - if I can just," and he lifted up a little and bounced back down when Mike thrust up, and okay, fuck.

It was starting to really do it for Mike after three thrusts, but then Chester said "Ugh" and pulled off again.

That was probably a good thing if he was supposed to not come, like, right away, anyway.

"Maybe if we do it standing up," said Chester desperately, red-faced and a little hoarse. He was already out of the bed when Mike managed to sit up, dragging Mike with him with an awkward grip on his shoulder that didn't make it any easier to get up.

"Okay, I'm coming," said Mike, finally shaking loose of a determined piece of the sheet.

"Thank God," Chester moaned, and latched onto his face like he was trying to suck it off - not that Mike wanted to complain, but he was kissing frantically, distracted and sloppier than usual, and he had both of Mike's wrists in his hands, squeezing, squeezing, and backed Mike across the room in a crazy, drunken stumble until his back hit the wall.

Mike stood there and let himself be kissed until Chester had to stop and gasp for air, humping Mike's leg accusingly, and that was kind of enough. "You have to be the one on the wall," said Mike sharply, shaking his hands free, and flipped them around quickly.

Chester got with the program then, wrapped his arms around Mike's neck and tried to climb him like a tree, legs around his waist, and he was heavy, but they were both determined, and finally Mike's short, jabbing little thrusts paid off; he hit the right angle and felt the sweet resistance, and then his cock sliding inside.

Chester's ass felt just as good as ever - Mike wasn't picky, okay? But the position wasn't fabulous. Gravity dragged Chester down, and that just led to him wriggling and scratching Mike's back and trying to slide down and get his feet on the floor, for some reason.

Mike shifted for leverage and pulled out a little, and pushed back in. The angle wasn't great, and there wasn't anything to prop Chester's ass on; his thighs were slipping and sliding around Mike's hips and he was getting more and more frustrated, trying to lean back: "Would you just back up and give me some fucking air, I can't fucking breathe in here and I'm trying to lean back if I could just... fuck, right there," he babbled, "that's almost it, fuck, fuck, again."

"I can't," said Mike, "I can't move without dropping you!"

Chester growled and unhooked one leg from Mike's waist so fast he started sliding down the wall and Mike stumbled forward and caught him, pressing him up against the wall and kissing him firmly to make him be quiet. Mike had thought about doing that often enough, too.

Actually, he'd done it before, but it wasn't really the same, and he figured after Chester had come twice in his ass without even pulling out he was past the point where he had to worry about getting too into it or kissing too hard or too long or biting, and he knew Chester didn't usually like having his lip bitten, but he didn't say anything this time, just moaned into Mike's mouth.

"Okay," said Mike, "now we're going back to the fucking bed and you're going to pick one position and I'm going to fuck you until I come, and you'd better fucking come too, okay?"

"I want to," Chester said earnestly. "I really, really want to, Mike."

So try number - fuck, what was this? Four? Sixteen? - anyway, so this time Chester crawled onto the bed and folded his arms up on a pillow, ass in the air. Mike didn't have to be told twice. His cock was fucking throbbing by now, and he spread Chester open with his hands and lined up and shoved it in, hard and deliberate, until he was up against Chester's ass.

"Try something slow and easy," Chester was saying, "but not too easy, not like, school slut, more like, cheerleader on prom night easy."

Mike ignored him and thrust again, just as firmly as before.

"Oh, fuck, okay," said Chester, "that was good, hard works - faster, come on, Mike." By that time he was kind of whining, but Mike didn't point it out because... sex drugs.

He still ignored him, though. Mike was after one thing - Chester's prostate. He switched angles again and tried another couple of thrusts, and no - that wasn't it - he pulled Chester's hips up and drove back in again, fuck, that was good, that was just how he liked it, deep and hard and fuck, there it was - the angle that made Chester clench around him and shudder and come, made him buck in Mike's grasp and jerk back into each and every thrust, and Mike kept at it, the same steady speed, even when Chester called him a motherfucking cocksucking pussy and told him to fucking fuck his brains out already.

He just kept going, fucking him until Chester begged him to never, ever stop, and dropped his head down, finally, too tired to hold it up, chanting "Fuck, fuck, fuck," and then he was coming again. Mike reached around for Chester's cock; there were only a couple of pulses, and hardly any come, but he could feel it in Chester's ass for sure, and that was pretty much all he could take before he was coming too.

Mike pulled out and let himself collapse heavily on the bed, still buzzing from his head to his toes with orgasm.

"Fuck, where are you going?" said Chester. "Keep fucking fucking me!"

"Man, I sympathize," Mike mumbled into the mattress, "but I'm seriously fucked out."

The mattress dipped and Chester touched his back, then straddled him and settled across his thighs and leaned forward until he was blanketing Mike with his body, licking and sucking at the back of his neck and following the outlines of his tattoos with little bites which fucking hurt, and his hard-on was still burning against Mike's ass, and... what the hell, right?

Mike spread his thighs apart and said, "Come on, it's okay, just - don't expect me to move much."

Chester even remembered the lube, that time. Mike heard the cap snap open and the wet noise of Chester slicking up his cock, and then Chester's hands were digging into his shoulders and his cock was sliding into Mike's ass, and it'd only been gone for like half an hour, but Mike had kind of missed it, and oh, he was sensitive and it hurt just right. Chester was trying to hold himself back, gentle and careful, but he was out of it, and finally he just thrust the rest of the way inside.

"God, yes," Mike choked.

Never having been fucked three times in a row before (well, not this close together), Mike hadn't really known how good it would feel. Like, everyone has fantasies that end with things like "and then he would fuck me all night long," but in reality Mike usually was wild and crazy - and this wasn't just in bed - until he got tired, and then he lost consciousness.

Chester was almost relaxed now, kind of out of breath up there, and too lazy to jerk Mike around the bed like a sex doll anymore. He let his cock come to Mike instead - he was practically lying on top of him, fucking him in a rhythm like a slow drum beat, slower than the tick of Mike's watch, easy to keep up with or get lost in.

Because he was just sort of floating there, like in this amazing sex zone, warm and relaxed and like his body was melted into the bed and being fucked so carefully, his cock chafing on the bed, Chester's cock filling and stretching him so completely single-mindedly like all he wanted was to be inside Mike.

And Chester was petting his sides now, rubbing slow circles over Mike's hips and then leaning forward to lick the back of his neck. "Mm," he sighed. "I could do this all night," and Mike groaned his encouragement and pushed half-heartedly into that thrust.

At first he didn't know why Chester stopped moving, made a satisfied noise and lay down on top of Mike's back. His weight was gradually pressing the air out of Mike's lungs, but Chester was oblivious, rubbing his cheek on the back of Mike's head and going "Mike? Hey Mike-Mike?" and apparently getting worried that Mike wasn't answering when he couldn't even talk.

"Yeah," Mike managed to croak, shifting in place a little, and that's when he felt Chester coming already.

"Oh good," said Chester, "you still okay?" His hands were sliding down Mike's sides from armpits to hips, fingers wrapping around, and he lingered at Mike's waist, squeezing the love handles, and mumbled, "Fuck."

It took a second to realize exactly what Chester meant - oh, he was maybe worried about the fucking, yeah? "Yeah, it feels fantastic," Mike said, wiggling his ass just a little.

Chester was moving again before he even remembered to talk. "Okay. That's good, that's really good. Tell me if you need anything, okay?"

"I need you to move," Mike mumbled. "Yeah, and touch me?"

He didn't have to tell Chester that. Chester was already touching him, petting Mike's back in time to his strokes.

It was bliss, lying in his post-orgasm haze being fucked so - yeah, kind of tenderly, and definitely sweet. Mike arched his back, stretched minutely to feel his tired muscles flex and twinge under Chester's hands, and Chester slid his hands up under Mike's chest and over his nipples. Mike practically fucking purred, twisting up into that touch and lifting his ass, and then Chester pushed gently in and fucking stopped, that motherfucker, and Mike thought he would cry.

"What?" he said, confused, and got a mouthful of pillow. He had to turn his head to say "Hey, don't, don't stop - What are you doing?"

"Angle," said Chester, and Mike could feel him stretching out along Mike's back again, which was obviously the wrong fucking angle, but Chester knew that. "Come here," he said, and then he rolled off and his cock slid all the way out unexpectedly, a fast stroke that maybe had Mike whimpering or making other extremely undignified sounds.

"Up here," Chester was saying urgently, rolling Mike up on his side, "Come here, lean on me, like this," and he slid his arms around Mike's waist and snuggled up against his back, warm sticky skin all the way down, until Chester's lips were on his shoulder.

"Fuck," Mike said, when Chester thrust back into him from behind, dragging him back into his arms and yeah, it was better this way - being touched like this, with Chester's hands on his belly and Chester's chest on his back and knees on his knees, it was like fucking with their whole bodies, lazy and slow and so fucking raw, Mike's heart started beating faster even though Chester's slow, lazy fucking felt so good he could have just gone to sleep.

The sex was amazing. This was, like, heart-pounding, sweat-pouring, world-rocking, life-changing, cancer-curing sex. It was like magic, like alchemy. Chester had the fucking golden touch. The orgasm touch. And it was all in his cock. Actually, no, it was everywhere, it was just twenty million times more amazing in his cock.

Chester could do no wrong. He touched Mike's hip and Mike's toes curled, he drooled in Mike's hair and Mike developed a drool fetish, he touched Mike's cock and Mike was babbling and begging, he touched Mike's elbow and it became an erogenous zone.

"You're like a sex god, seriously," said Mike, when Chester started rubbing his belly and kissing the back of his neck at the same time, setting up this huge feedback loop of... goodness that was slowly dissolving Mike's brain.

"Thanks," said Chester, nuzzling under his ear, "but it's the drugs," and Mike tilted his head back desperate for more of Chester's fucking mouth, and like he was psychic, Chester dragged a wet kiss down the side of his neck. Mike shivered with pure fucking joy, like an espresso shot of sunshine and rainbows.

This wasn't even fucking. This sex was so slow and careful and so fucking good, which was ridiculous because how can sex be any fun when it's not at least a little bit dirty, right? Mike was a die-hard romantic, but there's romance and then there's romance, but this was not like romance, okay, this was like, pure fucking soul.

Mike's heart swelled three sizes, and he was talking, too, just random nonsense, just "Come on please, Chester, do it, come for me, fuck, Chester, come on, baby," and oh - yeah - that was fucking it, like the whole room held its breath and then Chester was coming, curling tight, tight into Mike's back, making a tight fist around Mike's hand that was grabbing uncoordinatedly for his, his cock pulsing so deep inside... God. He was a stud.

He was a stud who was just lying there even though Mike was squeezing his hand and trying to look over his shoulder at him, and he finally had to be like, "Kiss me" and pull away and turn over himself. Chester made a disappointed noise when his cock slid out, but then he was kissing Mike, finally.

Chester was kind of out of it, still, just kind of putting his tongue slowly in Mike's mouth, and Mike took it upon himself to suck on it and lick it and practically fellate it.

Neither one of them asked how they were feeling. It was pretty obvious that they were okay when they couldn't keep their hands off each other. Chester was dazed, his eyelids halfway closed, and he pressed his forehead into Mike's shoulder while Mike gently took his cock in his hand and started jerking it again, just to tide him over.

Mike actually dozed off for a while sometime after Chester came, and he woke up, hazy and disoriented, half an hour later to the sound of Chester's panting breaths. He turned his head away from the alarm and wow, fuck, it was fantasy number three in the flesh, Chester naked in a hotel bed, jerking himself off while he fingered himself open.

"Mmm," said Mike, still sleepy, "need some help?"

Chester just shook his head kind of frantically and knocked his head on the wall. He didn't seem to notice or care about that, either, though, just kept going until he came and then slumped over on the pillow next to Mike's head.

Mike reached up, yawning, and pushed the sweaty hair off Chester's forehead. "Is there anything I can do for you now? I hear I have a tight ass if you wanna try."

Chester made a hocking, squawky noise because he tried to moan and laugh at the same time. "Fuck, you do," he agreed. "No, not yet."

Mike touched the smooth, white skin of Chester's belly. It was covered in what was probably like five layers of evil pon farr/ drug-infested come, sticky and flaking. "If you can take it, man, I can take it," he said, trying not to sound like a chick in some gang-bang porno (I like it rough! Fuck me all night long until I bleed!).

"I just really," said Chester, blinking at Mike and mumbling like he was too tired to move his mouth carefully, "Really need something in my ass right now." (And Chester takes the prize for Sounding Like A Slutty Chick in a Porno!)

Mike smiled, slowly. "Why didn't you say so?"

"I thought you were fucked out," Chester said doubtfully.

"Shut up," said Mike. "Anyway, I am. Turn over."

Chester turned over grumpily. "Why isn't it morning yet?" he said. "Shouldn't this be over?"

"What, like it magically ends at dawn?" Mike asked, spreading his ass apart carefully and leaning down for a first taste.

"I don't know, but it can't last for more than, fuck, twelve hours or something, oh fuck, can it?"

Mike laughed a little. "Stop trying to talk to me, because I can't answer with my tongue in your ass anyway." Then he bent down and went to work knocking another fantasy off the list.

The rimming fantasy was kind of sketchy, actually, so Mike had to make up a lot of details as he went along, like the finger-fucking and the slow teasing. For a while Chester was actually talking - "I think a real pon farr can last for days - fuck, what was that, do that again. The Enterprise took days to get to Vulcan... but this is a drug, right, Mike? It's gotta be a drug... fucking shit, those motherfucking sons of bitches" - but then he lost the power of speech when Mike reached around and started jerking him off at the same time.

Also, Mike's fantasy generally ended with Chester begging to be fucked, not with him saying "Okay, okay, I can fuck you now, get the fuck off me - but you've gotta tell me, okay? You can't let me fucking hurt you."

Mike rolled his eyes and pulled Chester on top of him. "I promise, Chester."

Mike already knew the face Chester made when he was first pushing in, the concentrating frown, the little hint of smugness - the tension slowly melting away as he got into it, until Mike wrapped his legs around Chester's waist and his arms around his back and let his head fall back on the pillow, feeling his whole body move with Chester's short, rolling thrusts until he suddenly realized that he was hard again.

"Chester, Chester, hold on, wait."

"Uhhh," said Chester, "what?"

"Got a hard-on," said Mike. Chester looked down and his eyes got sort of buggy, and then he was pulling out and lying down next to Mike.

"Fuck," he sighed. "It doesn't even hurt that much anymore."

"No?" said Mike. "Well, it's almost four, man. You might make it by dawn after all."

"Did you notice?" Chester said, frowning. "I didn't come."

"You didn't?" said Mike, and hell, Chester was right, he hadn't come that time in Mike, and - "what about before?"

"Before, the other eighty times I came?"

"No, wiseass, before when my tongue was in your ass," said Mike.

Chester laughed a little tiredly, and then yawned. "No, I don't know. I mean... I didn't, actually. Felt like it a couple of times, though. Almost." His eyes were all the way closed.

"Are you even awake? Maybe we should..."

Chester's eyes shot open. "And waste that hard-on? Fuck, no. Come here and give me that cock."

Mike giggled and sat up, woozy with sleeplessness and wiping tears of tired hysteria from his eyes, and he was still giggling tiredly when he finished with the lube and started pushing his cock into Chester's ass.

"Very flattering," Chester muttered, but Mike had already stopped laughing before he slid all the way in - it felt too good, turned off the laugh circuits and turned on all the sex ones all at once, too much friction on every inch of his overworked cock.

"You are so hot," Mike breathed. He didn't mean to change the subject, exactly. It was just Chester's stupid black eyelashes and his swollen, reddened, lopsided mouth and the way he was so relaxed, loose and slick from Mike's fucking before. It just slipped out.

Chester's eyes flew open and he blinked up at Mike in confusion, like he didn't know that he was hot, or didn't know what they were talking about.

"Hot," Mike said firmly, tilting Chester's ass and sliding back inside. "So fucking hot."

"Says the guy with his dick in my ass," Chester gasped, finally.

"Yes," Mike agreed, "yeah, I'm the guy with my dick in your ass," and he pulled out and thrust again and moaned, "and it's a fucking sweet ass."

"Come on," Chester whispered, all hoarse and raw and fucked-sounding, and Mike did, really going for it, because he wasn't going to last all that long - if he didn't come soon he was just going to pass out, and he didn't want to miss coming in Chester's incredible hot ass again.

"You are hot," Mike said determinedly, when he figured out how to talk again, "fucking amazing, you're the hottest I've ever had."

Chester's head was turned to the side and his eyes were closed, and he was in the fucking zone, gasping with every thrust and then suddenly he was coming again, coming and coming, with these jerky, slow, almost-dry pulses while Mike held his cock and milked it, carefully.

He probably hadn't even heard. His eyes fluttered and started to open, and he whispered, "'S matter? You didn't..."

That was all the invitation Mike needed to bend him in half and fuck him again, quick and sloppy - just to come, just needing to come. He could feel the orgasm coming like a headache between the eyes, squeezing the breath out of him until finally it washed over him. He was coming in Chester again, and when he opened his eyes Chester was looking at him, his eyes wide and curious and wondering.

He looked sad.

When Mike pulled out again, really, really carefully, he really thought Chester was going to apologize again, but he hadn't forgotten their rule; he just bit his lip and sighed, loudly.

"I'm about to fall into a coma," Mike yawned, rolling back over and snuggling up to Chester's side. "Kick me really hard if you need to wake me up, but I really seriously can't fuck anymore."

"That's okay," Chester murmured. "It's dawn."

And then Mike was asleep.

So Mike woke up in the best mood ever hours and hours later. By the time he was all the way awake, he'd taken a whole little tour of memory through last night's never ending interactive porn movie and moved all the way through into wondering how Chester was doing.

And it was only then that his body woke up and started screaming bloody murder.

Well, it wasn't bloody murder, exactly. Mike had woken up feeling like he wanted to kill himself to make it stop before, and this wasn't that. He wasn't nauseated, he wasn't bleeding, and he hadn't broken anything. Well, actually, he might be bleeding - he wasn't sure. And he didn't think he could stand up and go check his ass for blood without a lot of pain, so that was just going to have to stay up in the air.

Mike had muscle aches in stupid places, like the tops of his feet and his calves and his pecs, where he should really be able to feel safe from muscle strain. He hadn't exactly been keeping in shape with an eye to being ready for an all-nighter of athletic sex. Big mistake.

He also had muscle aches in his ass, but that was kinda what he expected. He'd do it again for Chester. If he got really drunk he'd probably do it even if Chester wasn't dying of the pon farr.

And speaking of Chester: Chester was probably the reason Mike had slept like a baby, full of joy and rainbows and fucking butterflies, because Chester was right there, under Mike's arm and leg, naked and sticky and smelly and Mike's favorite thing in the world.

Mike wanted to wake up like this all the time, with less drugs and scary alien diseases and less ass pain. (Waking up sort of on Chester wasn't completely unique, of course, but the important new element was the naked and sticky part.)

He pried his eyes open - it felt like his eyelashes were loaded with glue and his mouth was stuffed with cotton. Fucking like a porn star until dawn would take a lot out of you.

Chester was lax under his arm and his leg, but he wasn't sleeping like a baby anymore. He was staring at the ceiling with his eyes wide open like the ceiling had pissed in his Cheerios and stomped on his sunglasses.

He didn't have a hard-on anymore. (Mike checked.)

"You cured?" said Mike.

Chester jerked like Mike had poked him in the side and turned to look at him. "You're awake! Yeah - yeah, thanks." He still wasn't moving anything except his head.

"Did it hurt a lot?" Mike asked. "I'm sorry I wimped out on you. I feel bad about that."

"No!" said Chester anxiously. "No, I mean, that would be completely okay, and I completely understand, I mean, I just thought you'd have fallen asleep way before that, Robly. But no, no, you didn't wimp out on me anyway, because that was it."

"That was it?" said Mike.

"Yeah, that was it. I mean, you saw the last of it. My dick had already stopped hurting before you gave me that rimjob, I guess. I mean, for the most part, and I didn't have that feverish need to be fucked through the door anymore -"

"I think you mean the floor," said Mike.

"We didn't do it on the floor," said Chester, annoyed. "And yeah, after you fucked me the last time that really did it. I had actually softened up by the time you went to sleep. I tried to tell you but you were pretty much out of it."

"We didn't do it on the door either," Mike pointed out.

"So, yeah," said Chester. "Thanks. God, thanks are so inadequate."

Mike shifted a little and immediately regretted it, but he felt the need to bury his face in Chester's neck and he was fucking going to. He nuzzled a little and sighed when another little burst of contentment happened in his chest. "Don't mention it. Don't even worry about it. Any time, seriously." No, thought Mike, really any time.

"I thought you really were going to be in a coma for a minute there," said Chester.

"Even you aren't that good," said Mike.

Chester scrunched his nose up at Mike, but he didn't really say anything. Mike could hear his guilty thoughts running around, though, and he knew letting Chester listen to his own crazy for too long was a bad thing.

"Well," he said cheerfully, "it's too bad this had to happen yesterday and not some time when I was already being a total hyper little shithead and needed to be tired out."

Chester frowned, then looked amused momentarily. "What, like... 'Shut up or I'll shut you up! With my cock!'"

"Mmm," said Mike, "cock." Of course, Mike wasn't the one who usually needed to be shut up.

"Hmm," said Chester, and moved his arm, which was the first time he'd moved anything except his head since Mike woke up. Mike snuggled closer, and Chester wrapped the arm around his waist.

Mike was so happy he almost felt guilty. It wasn't like he wanted Chester to have been dosed with sex drugs. It was just... well. And meanwhile, Chester was frowning again and when he forgot and tried to move his leg, too, he stopped immediately with an "Ow, motherfucker."

"You must be really sore, huh," said Mike sympathetically. "Hey, you know, my ass has definitely never been this sore after fucking before. And if you ever heard me say that size doesn't matter, I was lying. Like a rug."

"Mine hasn't either," said Chester unhappily. "I can't fucking move. I wish you didn't have to feel it too, Mike."

Mike shrugged. "It wasn't your fault, man." Chester's arm tightened unhappily around him, and he gave a troubled sigh. "Look," said Mike, "are you guilt-tripping? Fucking stop it, all right? I wasn't kidding about size, man, I don't mind a little soreness. I like to be sore. Sex-sore is good."

Chester made an annoyed noise, and said kind of pissily, "I appreciate that, honestly, that you mean that, but even if you meant that I don't think that like fucking losing it, going out of control and and date-raping someone is okay."

If he really had felt date-raped, Mike thought Chester's attitude would make him want to punch him in the nose. Except Chester, of course, was looking at him soulfully with those big hazel eyes, earnest and still worried, and he couldn't really stay mad. "Look, come here," said Mike. "Or, don't move, hold on."

He scooted closer to Chester, moving as little of his body as possible, but when he gave up and collapsed on Chester's chest he was still sore and ready to curse his mother for giving birth to such an ungrateful cock-hungry pon-farr-helping dumbass. He didn't, though, not out loud - years of training. He snuggled down onto Chester's chest instead.

"See?" said Mike. "I honestly mean it. I'm honestly not mad. If anyone was date-raped it was you, man. Nobody slipped me a roofie."

Chester cuddled him anxiously for a while. "I couldn't help it."

"I know," said Mike. Boy, did he know. He had a whole series of mini porn movies to illustrate his fucking fantasy book but all of them were tainted with this fucking date rape stuff.

"That's what's so fucking bad about it, finding out that I could do that, that I'd just - fuck."

"But you couldn't help it, like you said," said Mike carefully. Sue him if "sleep with Mike" didn't really seem like the worst thing to do under the influence, either. Even if it was "sleep with Mike like ten times in a row."

"I know," said Chester, "That's what's so - it was like - I knew what I was doing, I mean, it wasn't like being high, I felt everything, I wasn't - I was there for all of it. But I just couldn't - that's why I used to do that shit, you know, the booze, and pills? To forget. I didn't want to know what I was doing."

Mike hugged him tighter. "I'm sorry," he said thickly, feeling like the biggest tool in the universe. Great, his sexual fantasies had been acted out by slave labor.

"I could really use a fucking cigarette," said Chester sadly.

"Me too," said Mike. "Can you reach them?"

"Not without getting up."

"Fuck." It definitely wasn't worth getting up.

"You're being really good about this," Chester said, trying to sound casual and missing it by about four thousand miles.

Mike turned his head to look up at Chester. "Well, I'm a little sore, yeah, but it's not exactly a chore, Chester."

Chester rolled his eyes. "Sex is good, I know."

"No, really," said Mike. "I mean, I'm not saying I'd want to dose you with like, cock of steel pills or whatever, but I'm not, like, opposed to cock rings."

Chester clearly didn't know what to do with that. "Hmm," he said. There was a little silence. "I've never had a cock ring."

"I haven't worn one," said Mike, "but I've used one, if you get what I mean."

Chester rolled his eyes. "Yeah." Mike was wondering if he needed to say something else or maybe if they could call someone to bring them painkillers when Chester said again, "I want a cigarette."

"Yeah," said Mike. "You know I would get a you a cigarette if I could move."

"Same," said Chester. "I would totally get you a whole pack of cigarettes if I could move."

"Thanks," said Mike, bizarrely touched by Chester's random but completely earnest gestures.

"You deserve it," said Chester, and actually tried to move. That ended in tears. "Auuuugrrrrh," he said, and subsided back into the bed. "Thanks, for, you know. Putting your ass out there. I really do - I know you don't want me to feel guilty, so I just want to thank you, for all the things you do, and the things you would do too, you know? Thank you for the fucking hypothetical cigarette. I don't deserve you."

He made no sense, and Mike was still feeling choked up. "Shut up, you totally deserve me, asshole."

He couldn't believe he'd been feeling good about this when he woke up, which basically made him the date rapist in the scenario even if he hadn't fed Chester the poisoned candy himself. He wasn't about to totally come out about that, but Chester was right: he didn't deserve a friend like Mike, a friend who was acting off of a secret agenda that he didn't even give him the courtesy of notifying him about and looking at every porn scene through the creepy goggles of an obsessing stalker with a crush.

"Look," said Mike uncomfortably, "I'm not gonna lie, it wasn't a hardship for me to sleep with you, Chester, and that's. Wow, that's actually kind of an understatement. I had a choice about everything I did last night, and you didn't, you didn't have a choice about any of it. So stop making it sound like it was some big sacrifice."

Chester was off and babbling before Mike could even finish. "You know," he said, "even though I didn't, in a way, have a choice, that choice, the choice that I didn't actually make was you, and I'm glad about that. I mean, like, it's true I didn't actually have a choice, and would in no way have chosen this to happen - but - well, really at all ..."

Mike was starting to feel pretty shitty by now. Obviously Chester liked him well enough to get it up, and okay, well enough to cuddle with, but there it was: one of them had chosen last night and that one was Mike. Way to make the most amazing night of his life look pathetic, not just because he was an obsessive stalking creep, but because his fantasies were laughable next to the reality of Chester wrapped around him, smelly and sticky and sore, stupid and perfect and now he could never go back.

"No, of course not, no, I know that. You weren't in your right mind," said Mike. It was probably time to be pulling away but he couldn't move. Also, he was a selfish asshole. "I'm sorry if anything I, you know... did, or - or said - was over the line in any way at all."

"Wait," said Chester, pulling away enough that they both winced. "What are you talking about?"

"You know," said Mike.

"You mean," said Chester slowly, "the line when I went out of control and fucked your ass until you couldn't stand? Or do you mean the line when I acted like a hormone-crazed porn star and begged you to fuck me?"

Mike couldn't even really laugh at that. The best he made was a dry little chuckle, like the laughter equivalent of Chester's over-tired cock and its practically-nonexistent come. "You didn't go out of control. You got drugged and lost control and begged for sex."

"Go out of control, lose control, whatever!" snapped Chester. "However you want to fucking say it, I was high last night, and I was doing things that -"

"That you weren't responsible for!"

"I don't want to fucking not be responsible for them!" Chester said desperately. "I have to fucking own this shit, I did it and I fucking wanted it! Sometimes, sometimes there's shit you really don't want to fucking know about yourself, how far you'd go -"

"Like fucking me," said Mike, quietly.

"I crossed the line," Chester said. "I fucking obliterated that motherfucker going a hundred and fucking twenty miles an hour and didn't fucking look back!"

"There's no line," Mike said, "with me. Not for you." That seemed like a really awkward thing to say and he knew he was just going to make it worse, but he had to keep going now. "Really, don't worry about it. Not only has it not been crossed, but it doesn't even exist. My ass is probably the least of my worries right now, seriously."

Chester made a seriously doubtful face there, but Mike shushed him and kept right on going.

"You didn't do anything. I mean, yeah, you had sex with me, and we both liked it, but come on, you aren't even kinky - all you wanted was some cock, I've seen worse than that on prime time television! If those were, like, your darkest and basest desires when you're completely operating under instinct and can't help yourself then you've fucking got nothing to be ashamed of. I mean, my biggest problem with your porn star act was trying not to come too soon."

Silence. It's not like Mike could have shocked him, was it? Besides, if they were going for shocking, Chester had definitely won the contest fair and square.

Finally Chester said quietly, "Do you think so?"

"Yes," said Mike immediately. "Nobody wants to be roofied - or even worse given some kind of crazy sex roofie that leaves their mind intact and makes them uninhibited, or you know, unable to act on their inhibitions - God, that sucks, if I could find that purple haired guy I'd string him up. But if anything this has shown that you've got nothing to be ashamed of, Chester." Chester shuddered a little under Mike's arm and leg. "You're a good guy. You're good all the way down." Okay, kind of bitchy, maybe, but not scary or anything.

Chester thought about that for a minute, but then he said encouragingly, "Maybe you've got a point."

"Look, when you did lose it all you wanted to do was fuck me through the floor," said Mike. "And it was mind-blowing and amazing."

Chester said, with a hint of sarcasm, "Wow, I never knew that having a sore ass was one of your hobbies. You make it sound like a fucking pastime."

Mike felt a crazy impulse to laugh, because yeah, a fucking pastime. "It's more like a sexual preference," he said out loud, because a joke wasn't really the way to lighten the mood now. "The way I prefer to get fucked when I'm on the bottom, which you'll have noticed hasn't been for a while. But no - I was talking about anything I might have said that made you uncomfortable."

Chester sighed. "You keep saying that, but what could you possibly have said that could make anything worse -"

Then he stopped, just fucking stopped talking, no trailing away, no babbling, and even though it should have been the end of the sentence, Mike knew the sound of that cutoff. That was the silence of Chester thinking something he'd never thought before.

Mike wished he'd rolled out of bed and crawled into the bathroom to take a shower.

"Wait," said Chester, slowly. "Wait, what?"

Mike hated Chester and his stupid figuring things out and his stupid amazing cock. He wished he could teleport. He wished he'd called room service, or that someone next door had ordered it and they'd knock on his door by mistake. No such luck.

"Mike!" said Chester, but Mike just bit his lip and tried, desperately, to figure out how to answer without sounding like a moron. Or a creepy date-raping stalker. "Mike?" said Chester again, uncertainly.

Mike felt his heart - do something, at that quiet, hopeful 'Mike'. It wasn't like butterflies and rainbows, it was like - it felt like it cracked right open in his chest. His stomach was in knots from one-eightying so fast from dread to - to -

"Fine," he said, "but I feel like such a follower. The whole world is in love with you."

Chester was staring at him with his stupid mouth hanging open, his eyes wide and shocked. "But I'm not in love with the entire world, though," he said in a small, bewildered voice. "At least, not like this." And then he smiled, slow and gorgeous and lopsided.

The rest of Mike's heart melted and oozed out the crack.

He put his head down on Chester's shoulder and held on tight.

"Hey," said Chester, "where are you going?" He tipped Mike's head back up and kissed him sloppily.

His mouth tasted like sulfur and three-day-old gym shorts, but that was okay with Mike. He said hi to Chester's tongue and all his teeth again, and he kissed hard, happy - hi, teeth, you love me! Tongue, you totally love me, and we are going to have lots of time to get better acquainted.

"You also don't fuck the whole world until its ass is sore seven times in one night. Although if you hadn't been alone up here with me when it happened..." said Mike, once they pulled apart.

Chester shuddered. "God, do you think it was those fans who gave us the candy? What were they going to do?"

"It was the purple-haired skeeze," said Mike. "At least, I mean, it's not like I have any evidence, but I didn't like the way he was looking at us."

"But you know, if I was fucking the whole world I wouldn't be in love with all of it," said Chester. "And I guess I would prefer to be, because I don't really believe in meaningless sex, you know? I think there should be some kind of a connection there. And I mean, the ideal situation is if that connection is already there in advance as opposed to something that came along into being afterwards.

"So the ideal would be that I was in love with the whole world already, assuming that that was who I was having sex with. So really, I guess I should just be thankful that I'm totally in love with you. I mean, I should, definitely, I am. Before I was tending to be more like a little nervous about it."

Mike put his head back down on Chester's shoulder. "Me too," he said happily, and kissed Chester's nipple. "And I felt like such a pathetic creepy loser when you were all drugged and needing me and I was sitting there like, secretly boning for you."

"It didn't feel like a secret," said Chester in a campy, lascivious voice, and licked his lips.

"Yeah, well, I didn't have a lot of time for guilt either," said Mike. "But that was your fault. You were kind of demanding."

"Sorry," said Chester.

"That's okay. I squeezed it in the cracks."

"It's good that we were both guilty when we were fucking," Chester said doubtfully. "...I guess. For equality."

"Yeah," said Mike. "I think I had about all the equality I could stand last night."

"You know," said Chester, "we can't stay here forever. Eventually we're going to have to get some smokes and coffee."

"Yeah," said Mike. "And showers."

"Ugh," said Chester. Showers always seemed grosser than being gross to him.

"Do we have to call anybody and let them know we're alive?"

"Brad called while you were asleep," Chester said. "We're taking the day for recovery. We can see the guys at supper time."

"Good. That should give us just about enough time to get to the bathroom and back," said Mike.

"Haha."

It wasn't actually much of an exaggeration. Okay, it was, but it still took like an hour for them to hobble over there.

He felt like an old man, trying to move his body around without moving the individual parts, wobbling and collapsing in Chester's arms.

"Whoa, there," said Chester, like Mike was a horse who was way too eager to gallop into the floor.

"Fucking whoa there yourself," said Mike, clinging to Chester's shoulder and taking like two hobbly little steps to keep up with him.

"Fuck you," Chester said, smiling at Mike so his eyes crinkled up in the corners.

Chester tried to bend over to turn the shower on, but then he winced and stood back up again really fast, and Mike had to do it with his foot.

"After this shower, let's go by a pharmacy," said Chester.

"Definitely," said Mike. "I want one with lots of skulls and crossbones. No Nyquil."

"Fuck no," said Chester indignantly. "No fucking Nyquil."

It was weird to be standing in the shower, kissing in the water, touching each other slowly under the pounding spray and wreathed in clouds of steam, and not having sex. They touched each other's cocks, carefully, but they'd probably had enough sex for a week. Mike's ass was really hurting too much for him to get very turned on, anyway.

"It's too bad we had to wind up in the shower instead of the bath," Chester mused. "I was kinda looking forward to taking a bath with you."

"You?" said Mike. "A bath? Wow, I am sorry to miss that."

"Oh," said Chester airily, "not that kind of bath. This is just so much like I imagined it, and all. The steamy hotel bathroom... the morning after the night before... the tub full of hot water, and me washing your hair."

"Oh yeah?" said Mike. "What then?"

"Then I fuck you," said Chester matter-of-factly. "Usually in the water, sometimes against the edge of the tub."

Fuck, yeah, Mike could see it right away. It wasn't like he hadn't thought of it, either. He loved sitting in Chester's lap for a reason, and it was a reason that looked really good in tight jeans.

It wasn't exactly Mike's favorite bathtub fantasy from the fantasy book - his favorite had been the one in the shower, his legs around Chester's waist, Chester fucking him against the wall, or else Chester facing the wall, leaning on his forearms while Mike took him from behind.

When he thought about them now, they didn't seem right anymore. Mike buried his face in Chester's soapy neck and kissed up to his ear, where the wet hair was plastered to the curves.

"We'll still have time to do that later," said Mike. "I wouldn't want you to be disappointed."

"Mm," said Chester. "Nah. I already got plenty of wishes fulfilled last night." Then he looked at Mike under his eyelashes, and said, "Or this morning," and looked embarrassed, and Mike didn't need the fucking fantasy book anymore, he could make a whole new book, a book of 100% real fucking Chester, and Mike didn't want any imaginary Chester who couldn't possibly measure up.

"God, I'm like fucked out for the next week." Mike slumped into Chester, pushing him into the shower wall.

"Oof," Chester huffed, wrapping his arms around Mike's slick shoulders, "I certainly hope that's not true."

"Well, okay. The next few days atleast." Mike sighed and kissed the side of Chester's neck.

"That's still a long time." Chester said and pouted.

"Dude, you're not the one that got your ass fucked inside out."

"Yeah, dude, I'm the one that had the never-disapearing hard-on that had to fuck your ass inside out."

"True that." Mike mumbled, suddenly exhausted.

"Awh, Mikey wanna go to bed?"

"You know what I just realized?" said Mike tredly, ignoring the question.

"What?" Chester asked, pressing a kiss to Mike's temple.

"You brought your nickname to a... whole new level."

"Which one?" He ran over all of his nicknames in his head, and couldn't figure out what Mike was talking about.

"Chester...."

"Chester what? C'mon Mikey don't leave me hangin'."

"Chester....the....Chester the Molester..."

That made Chester smile, "Nice, Mike. Nice."

Mike nodded against Chester's neck, his eyes slipping closed.

"As nice as this is, my legs are cramping up, and that water's probably gonna go cold.... Now."

On cue, that water started cooling and they both shivered.

"Okay..." Mike mumbled, pulling himself off Chester and climbing-carefully because ow-over the side of the tub/shower. Chester followed behind and they stumbled awkwardly-and still fucking ow-and collapsed onto the bed, Chaz on top of Mike. Still soaking wet, by the way, causing the sheets to absorb the water and become wet and clingy and cold.

Not that they minded, cold sheets were probably good for over-heated, over-sexed, over-used bodies.

"Tired..." Mike moaned out, pressing his face up into Chester's neck.

"Then go to sleep, baby."

His suggestion was on deaf ears.The moment Mike had uttered the word, he'd fallen victim to it's meaning. Chester smiled and kissed Mike's forehead. Then he pulled the damp covers up around their shoulders and rolled on to his side, pulling Mike with him. Mike grunted, but didn't show any signs of waking up. Chester nuzzled his face into Mike's chest and half-huffed, half-sighed in content.

Yeah, he could get used to that.

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