Fic: Tequila!
E-mail: violet147@yahoo.com
Rating: R.
Warnings: Boy on boy with alcohol usage. Mmm. Nice.
Feedback: Always appreciated.
Pairing: Bobby/John
Summary: Two pretty mutant boys drink and get it on. Hurrah!


“I need something to drink,” John announces right after Bobby comes on top of him. He pushes Bobby off him and rolls off the bed, stretching his naked legs before walking into the bathroom.

From the floor Bobby snorts and makes a “Harumf.” sound. “You’re such a good boyfriend,” he yells, rubbing his ass to alleviate some of the pain of having fallen on the floor. “What are you doing?”

“Getting something to drink.”

“From the bathroom?”

He hears John rustling around, shutting the cabinets. He returns a few moments later and leans up against the doorframe of the bathroom. He’s quite a stunning vision, completely naked, skin glistening with a slight sheen of sweat, hair hanging in his eyes, lips slightly parted, a devilish gleam in his eyes and a bottle of something in his hand. Bobby has to squint to read the label, and he gasps. “Where did you get that?”

“Seems our English teacher isn’t the tight-ass we thought he was,” John answers, twirling in the bottle with both hands.

“You stole tequila from Mr. Summers?” Bobby is totally gaping.

“It’s not like he can even see to know it’s missing,” John says sarcastically.

“That’s not nice.” Giggle.

“Acknowledging it doesn’t make him any less our tight-ass English teacher.” A small smile plays over his full lips, and he beckons Bobby over with a finger. “Come here.”

Bobby starts to stand up, but John shakes his head. “No.” The smile widens into a smirk. “Crawl.” When Bobby doesn’t get on his knees, John crosses his arms over his chest, and raises an eyebrow. “NOW.”

Bobby merely smiles and crawls over to him, slow, making sure to stretch his limbs just enough to make John’s eyes pop. He looks like a cat, even acts like one as he reaches John and puts his hands on John’s thighs, sitting on his knees like a begging cat. John leans down and holds the bottle right next to Bobby’s face. “Do you want a drink, Bobby?”

“Yes,” Bobby answers, looking up at John adoringly through his eyelashes.

John smiles and leans back, bringing the bottle up and pouring it on himself. The tequila runs down John’s chest, down to his navel, past his belly button and onto his thighs, covering Bobby’s hands. “So drink,” John orders.

Immediately Bobby leans up and his tongue makes a circle around John’s belly button before moving on to John’s chest. His tongue makes one clean swipe up to John’s left nipple, swirling around it then biting down hard. John gasps and grabs Bobby’s head, for support, and Bobby smiles up at him. “More,” he says.

And John gives him more, pours more of the bottle on his body, and Bobby laps the tequila up greedily, seemingly unaware of the burning in his throat and John’s moaning in his ears. “Don’t stop,” John breathlessly orders, bringing the bottle up and taking a huge swig of it. His face immediately screws up and he yells out, “FUCK!” shaking his head wildly. “Keep going.”

Bobby hadn’t stopped in the first place; he’s currently sucking on the back of John’s knees, where stray droplets of tequila had fallen. John’s taking huge drinks, which probably isn’t smart, but Bobby doesn’t notice because John’s got a death grip on his hair. His tongue trails up John’s leg and up his right side, up to his chest, up to his collarbone, and Bobby stands up as he reaches John’s lips and starts sucking on them, wrapping his arm around John’s waist and pulling him tight against him.

Their moans are creating a chorus, and the alcohol is all over them, but neither of them notice, as John’s knees start to buckle, and their cocks rub together to create delicious friction. Bobby pulls his lips back and pushes John onto the floor, sprawling out on top of him and slamming his hips into John’s. John growls like a panther, his hand clenching handfuls of Bobby’s hair, and meets the furious pace in which Bobby’s hips are grinding to. John’s head falls back and hits the floor, and he lets out a curse.

“Are you alright?” Bobby asks.

John wraps his legs around John’s waist, and that must be his answer, so Bobby places one of his hands behind John’s head. He leans down and kisses him, swallowing the tequila on John’s tongue, and when they pull away, Bobby grins. “We’re only going to be even thirstier.”

“’Sokay,” John pants. “I think Mr. Summers has got some JD and vodka left.”


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