Halrloprillalar   prillalar@gmail.com   http://prillalar.com/

April 2, 1999

RATING: NC17 for M/M sexual situations.

FANDOM/SPOILERS: X-Files. No spoilers.

SUMMARY: Pendrell/Courtenay. Pendrell and Courtenay have standard
morning-after shower sex.

DISTRIBUTION: Archive anywhere. Email forwarding allowed.

DISCLAIMER: CC, 1013, Fox, not me.

NOTES: For CiCi's birthday.


SOAP GETS IN YOUR EYES
by Halrloprillalar - prillalar@gmail.com

It took Pendrell a few minutes to get the temperature right. Not
for the first time, he told himself he should look for an apartment
in a newer building, but if there was one thing he had, it was
inertia. A lot of inertia. He dodged the first cool spray, adjusted
the showerhead, winced at sudden heat, tinkered with the taps, and
finally was satisfied.

Closing his eyes, he let the water play on his face. As usual, the
pressure was weak. Probably environmentally sound to use less
water, but it was easier to care about the planet after two cups of
coffee. Mmm, the pot was brewing even now and the water was hot and
it was Saturday morning, just early enough to feel virtuous. His
skin warmed with the shower and the memory of last night, just hot
enough to feel wicked.

The bathroom door opened and cold air blasted in around the edges
of the curtain. Courtenay.

"Morning, Blue Eyes. Starting without me?" No sleepy edges on that
voice, just the chocolate tones of sex, sex, sex. It was
unsettling.

"Morning." Eyes still closed, he listened to the fountain splash of
Courtenay's morning piss, no water pressure problems there, and was
embarrassed to feel embarrassed. Between them, they probably had
the average self-consciousness of two normal people. But there was
something he should...

"Jerry, don't--" Too late. He moved to the far end of the tub, just
catching the near scalding spray on his calves.

"Sorry," Courtenay laughed. The rain of fire ended as quickly as it
began and Pendrell eased back under the water. Then the curtain
pulled back and Courtenay stepped into the tub, the moment Pendrell
had been dreading desiring forgetting anticipating remembering
fearing waiting all his life for. Turning Pendrell to face him,
Courtenay leaned down and kissed him.

Pendrell almost choked on the flood running into his mouth. Strong,
cold, tingling. Cool Mint Listerine. Helps prevent and reduce
plaque, gingivitis, and bad breath. Pulling away, he swished and
spat, watched the blue swirl down the drain, his uncaffeinated
brain flashing briefly on Psycho. But Norman Bates never looked
like Jerry.

They kissed again, hands holding wet skin, bodies still apart.  A
kissably fresh kiss, menthol, eucalyptus, mint -- peppermint or
spearmint? Doublemint, Juicy Fruit, Thrills gum, and Pendrell
really wasn't awake yet and his mind grew duller with every probe
of Courtenay's pointed tongue.

Then his mouth was empty, cold, tasting a few drops of water
dripping down his face. Courtenay turned him around again, hands
kneading the knots in his shoulders for a minute. The escape from
face to face relieved Pendrell. In the harsh fluorescent bathroom
light, he looked smaller, paler, flabbier than he already was. He
knew it. He didn't want to see it in Courtenay's face.

"Close your eyes, Danny Boy." More coolness, now spreading over his
scalp, then the firm warmth of Courtenay's fingertips, working in
the shampoo. Starting at his forehead, slowly massaging to the
crown, thumbs pressing deeply into the back of his neck. Oh God, it
was heaven. Why didn't humans groom more? Evolution had a lot to
answer for. A hand smoothed soap over his face and he screwed his
eyes up tight. Then Courtenay pushed him forward, head down, under
the spray. Pendrell felt himself falling, falling...no, still
standing. Evolution, remember? Fingers combed through his hair,
squeezing out the suds, spiking it up and smoothing it down. He
opened his eyes too soon and they smarted with the last of the
suds. Water ran over his face and off the end of his nose until
Courtenay pulled him back, raised his head, nuzzled the side of his
neck. Pendrell leaned into him, wet shoulder blades against
Courtenay's chest, eyes stinging and tearing a little.

An arm slid around him, a hand and a bar of soap circling in
luxurious caresses, 99 44/100% pure. Courtenay used both hands now,
rubbing down Pendrell's arms and matting lather into his chest
hair. Up his sides, into his armpits, across his back, the hands,
the fingers. Who had hands like this? Sculptors and musicians and
massage therapists. Janitors. He was being buffed and polished,
slowly and with great care. The soap painted stripes across his
belly. One finger pressed into his navel and he had to take a deep
breath. Then he felt the slow drag of Courtenay's lips down his
spine, down, down, and he hoped the tacky rubber flowers on the
bottom of the tub wouldn't hurt Jerry's knees.

The hands were working their way up his legs now, curving over his
calves, stroking inside his thighs and maybe he was still asleep,
drowning in the wettest of wet dreams. A hand gripped his buttock,
a thumb pulled down through his crease, the bar of soap nudged up
against his anus. Awake, definitely awake. He never dreamed things
like this. Awake, but Courtenay's voice still surprised him. "Baby,
are you clean?" The soap swirled nearly into him, then fingers
replaced it, spreading the lather around the ridged opening.

"What?" As Pendrell spoke, tendrils of meaning spread out through
his brain and the thought of what might happen raced painfully
under his skin.

"Did you take a shit? Are you clean?" Only Jerry could make those
words sound like creme de cacao pouring into a glass.

"Uh...yeah. But..." The hands were manoeuvring him, turning him to
brace himself on the wall. There wasn't much room and he found
himself up against the tile, his hard hard harder cock trapped
against his belly, soap scum sticky under his cheek. Have to scrub
the bathroom soon. The hands were pushing his legs apart, wider
than was easy to balance on. Fingers pulled open his buttocks, a
stubbled chin brushed against his balls, hot breath tantalised him,
teased him, tortured him.

Fuck you, Jerry. "Jer--"

"Do you want it, baby?" Moving lips barely, barely touched him.
Fuck.

"I..." Don't make me.

"Do you?" More contact. More.

Fuck. "Please." The tongue stroked against him and he shuddered. It
licked roughly around the opening, then pushed inside, probing the
muscle, igniting nerve endings that evolution probably had meant
for something else but fuck that. Pendrell bit his lip and leaned
as much weight as he could on his throbbing cock, breathing in
shallow gasps as Courtenay began to tongue-fuck him. That tongue.
Who had a tongue like that? Angels and demons and lawyers. Glass
blowers. The relentless piston was a sensation so intense, Pendrell
wondered if he could stand it, if he'd be sick before he came.
Everything was red behind his eyes, his fingernails clawed for
purchase on the slippery tiles.

Then, mercifully, Courtenay released him. Turned him. Sucked in his
cock. Mercy. Hands steadied his hips, thumbs pressing hard on the
bones. Pendrell raised his arms above his head, watched the lights
flare up again under his closed eyelids, felt that mouth sliding on
him, sucking him, drawing him, unravelling him. Who had a mouth
like that? God and the Devil and Daniel Webster. Clarence Darrow
and the Scopes Monkey trial. Homo erectus, homo sapiens, homo
superior. Cocksucker.

The quicksilver tongues of men and angels brought him close and
closer to the moment of conversion, as he panted out the name of
God, not Darwin. No atheists in foxholes. Heavy, he felt so heavy
and so tight. Courtenay's mouth on his cock was the centre of the
universe. Let there be light and there was light and Pendrell dug
his fingernails deep into his palms as he came.

When he opened his eyes, he saw the soap melting in the drain.
Courtenay slid up his still-tingling body, bent down and kissed
him. The warm, bitter mouthful surprised Pendrell and he almost
choked again, wanting to pull back and spit, watch his semen wash
down the drain. He swallowed instead.

Jerry released him. "I think you're done." He smiled and Pendrell
shivered a little.

"Should I...I mean, do you...?" The water temperature had changed,
cooler now, and gooseflesh puckered Pendrell's skin.

"No, not right now. You go on."

Pendrell took a few seconds to wildly admire Jerry's slick
nakedness: toned, tanned, and altogether lovely. "Thank you."
Blushing, he pulled open the curtain and stepped out onto the mat.

Grabbing a towel, he rubbed himself briskly, trying to get warm.
The universe tilted dizzily for a moment, then righted itself,
spinning the centre far, far away, back to where it belonged. E pur
se muove and it was Saturday morning, with coffee waiting in the
kitchen.

Wrapping the towel around his hips, he smeared a clear patch in the
mirror, grimacing at his red-rimmed eyes. Part late night, part
soap burn.

Courtenay sang tunelessly in the shower. Pendrell brushed his
teeth.

F I N I S

And the evening and the morning were the first day.

Halrloprillalar   prillalar@gmail.com   http://prillalar.com/