imagineyuorotp:

Imagine Person A of your OTP nyehing sensually in Person B’s ear.

When Ellis had been a boy, he’d wanted a horse of his own to ride to school on instead of the bus.

His grandfather had owned a horse ranch before he was born, and pictures of his mother on various mounts lingered in the photo albums his grandmother had let him pour over in his grandparents’ living room. The ranch had fallen through after a tourist had snapped his neck, and Ellis come into the world with a grandpa who dabbled in banking instead of majestic beasts. The boy’s disappointment was profound.

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[Been out of the writing loop for a lil bit, here’s some wee drabbles for warm-up practice I did.]

Doing something domestic.

Ellis was once more apt to leave his clean clothes piled somewhere than put forth the effort of folding or hanging them up, but this poor habit was assuaged by Keith’s presence after the redhead moved in. The pair would make an afternoon every other week of going through the wash and sorting and folding it all to be halved between their houses. Tedious though the task was, splitting the effort and chatting their way through made the act tolerable, if not enjoyable, and Ellis rapidly abandoned former distaste for folding to instead enjoy the chore with Keith beside him, elbows-deep in dryer-heated fabrics and hangers.

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Y’know yew got uh awful lottuh questions about mah breakfast drinks, miss.

Anyhow, Ah got loads of experience with m’KAWC, so Ah don’t choke none. Who th’heck chokes awn orange juice? An’ Ah ain’t much fer sharin’ drinks with anybody but Keith cus, c’mon man, cooties. An’ Ah don’t reckon he cares much, we don’t always check up awn eachothers’ blogs so he prolly ain’t even seen.

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Keith had been amicable in his agreement, in part because it seemed to have taken Ellis weeks – if not months – to gather the gumption to ask for it, his bashfulness and lowered eyes stoking the predator in Keith’s slow smirk and subsequent chuckle. He drank through a bottle of water before their shower, the urge to piss building quickly as they soaped up and kissed beneath the spray, Ellis dutiful in rinsing Keith off before sliding to his knees, the showerhead averted to avoid splattering him. There was still a trickle of suds on Ellis’s chest when Keith angled his dick to Ellis’s parted lips, dripping slowly down to his rigidly stiff dick, encircling the base with soap froth. “In yer mouth?” Keith asked curiously, watching Ellis’s eyes drift half-lidded over glossed gray, the younger mechanic keeping his splayed hands on the bottom of the tub as he inched closer to Keith.

“Awn mah face, too,” Ellis mumbled thickly, his voice an aroused rasp, “In mah hair –”

The first of the gold-tinged splatter caught Ellis across his plush lower lip, piss dribbling down his chin and subsequently in his open mouth as he tipped his head up; the heat poured across his face, running in rivets across his features and – ask requested – soaking some of his hair. The scent was strong and immediate, sharp like butter and salt and stinging like ammonia, and Ellis shuddered softly as he fisted his cock. Keith pressed the head of his flaccid dick to El’s mouth as the drizzle lessened, allowing the brunette to swallow down his piss with noisy, reverent gulps, his tongue chasing the very last pungent drop from the slit with a whimper for the loss.

“Fuck,” Ellis gasped with feeling, writhing into his fingers as he panted, still licking at Keith’s dick as piss rolled down the sides of his face from his hair, “Fuck, Christ, yeah. Fuck mah mouth.”

Intrigued by the loss of coherent sentences so quickly from his partner, Keith allowed Ellis to swallow him down again, the redhead curling his fingers in El’s curls to hold him in place as he fucked his slack lips. Ellis gulped and choked and looked absolutely wrecked for it, wrists coming up to cross behind his back to show his submission as Keith’s thickening dick hit the back of his throat and Ellis’s eyes teared where they lifted to watch him in awe.

Piss rolled down the younger Georgian’s temple, and impulsively, Keith reached down and smeared it over his fingers, tucking the digits into El’s mouth alongside his cock. Ellis whined loudly for it, shuddering as his now untouched cock spattered precum on the bottom of the tub, and sucked at the wide wedge of his mouthful with nothing but red-faced eagerness and worship. 

[This ended up more blowjob appetite than centering on cum, oops]

Though Ellis had never been with another man before Keith and had no intention of experimenting with others now – and thus had nothing to compare to – he felt that Keith had not only a fantastic dick but rather tasty cum.

His dick didn’t curve much when erect, and its only blemish was the thick patch of a circumcision scar beneath the head, branching out into a series of fine veins that pulsed along the underside. He was just pale enough naturally that his dick took on a ruddy hue when erect, based by a thatch of dark red pubic hair that Ellis often nuzzled into when deep-throating his length. Because of the redhead’s meat and potatoes styled diet, his cum was thick and salty, dense enough to choke Ellis if he didn’t swallow his load quickly. Its bitter aftertaste was a lot like the soy sauce they often doused their sushi with.

Impromptu blowjobs were frequent in their household, particularly during long movies or video game sessions involving single player mechanics. Ellis seemed to enjoy perching himself between Keith’s knees and sucking him down noisily, content in being of service while Keith gripped his hair and either ignored the movie or struggled through to the next level on his game. His plush lips were something of a nirvana for Keith, a heaven he indulged in with groaned reverence and growled orders for more, faster, harder, helplessly in need of the velvet heat of his tongue and the trembling clutch of the top of his throat.

They were a surprise good morning, a soothing it will be okay after a difficult day, a spontaneous I love you in public; but the brunette also treated them like a meal, often following up with a beer and a contented sigh of satisfaction as he rolled his tongue along the roof of his mouth to relive the bitter tang. His appetite had not dwindled after nine long months of frequent fellatio, and as he sat on the couch afternoon after afternoon with his knees open, enjoying a post-blowjob beer, Keith marveled at the luck he had in having a boyfriend with a love of licking up every last marbled drip of cum with nothing but a smile for it. 

“Holiday Insights”

Pardon Day is today. Its an opportunity to seek forgiveness where needed. Today is also a day to say “Pardon Me”, or Excuse Me” as appropriate. In today’s busy society, too many people race about their lives, forgetting the small courtesies.

“Go give it tuh daddy, go awn!” encouraged Ellis in a slightly higher pitch, his border collie mix giving him a thoughtful look before trotting over to the couch where his older master lay pouting. He placed the basket from his jaw onto the floor, giving its handle a nudge with his nose to draw attention to it, tail wagging hopefully.

He had chewed through another pair of boots and assembled their ruins at the door, tripping Keith up and pissing the man off so thoroughly even Ellis – who noted the dog had assumed it was okay since Keith left the shoes out – was in trouble. The redhead glanced at the basket and – in seeing the freshly baked and only slightly burnt muffins inside – smiled.

“Tell daddy how sorry we are,” Ellis said firmly, and Riggs dropped into a crouch, rolling over onto his back and playing dead with his tongue protruding just slightly from his mouth. His tail wagged. “We’re real’ sorry,” Ellis confirmed bashfully, one hand behind his head as he grinned crookedly at his lover.

“C’mere, shortcake,” Keith murmured, arm lifting in offer of cuddles on the couch, and Ellis accepted with Riggs at their feet. 

“Holiday Insights”

Fight Procrastination Day is today. It’s a day to get things done, a call to action.

“Tuhday’s Fight Procrastination Day,” Ellis noted during their lunch hour, perched in Keith’s lap as they enjoyed sandwiches to the chorus of rain on the garage’s roof. “Yer s’posed tuh do summin tuh celebrate.” He munched cheerfully, leaning back into his boyfriend’s chest. “Like shit we been puttin’ off.”

“We’ll do it later,” said Keith, and that was the end of that. 

He’s uh real’ good dog s’long as yuh keep’im busy.

Riggs’s got more toys than mah lil’ bros do now. Cus Ah git ‘im uh couple thangs erry time Ah go tuh th’grocery store cus they got like uh whole aisle fer pets, an’ we take trips up tuh th’pet store since they le’chuh bring yer dogs in. He still ain’t too good at fetch, cus he’ll bring th’ball back, but he ain’t gonnuh let yew take it ‘less yuh snag it while he’s jumpin’ away from yuh. He’s real’ good with tug toys like them braided ropes, an’ he’ll git right up in Keith’s lap with one if he wants Keith tuh yank awn it. *Smiles, scuffing his heel on the floor* He likes th’lil’ treat balls yuh can git stuffed with snacks thah he’s gottuh break open ‘er wiggle ‘round ‘til th’food falls out, cus it gives ‘im summin tuh do. 

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“Holiday Insights”

Be Late For Something Day is a great day to be a procrastinator. If you are among the millions of us who never seem to be able to stay on schedule, then you will certainly enjoy today.

“Oh, lord,” Ellis groaned throatily, still perched in Keith’s lap as they both drifted back down to earth and the sweat and heavy breathing that they sported there, his body swaying briefly before he managed to untangle himself from the cobwebs of pleasure and ease over onto his side beside his lover. “Best way tuh wake up,” he cooed comfortably, rolling onto his stomach and stretching in an arch like a cat, ass damp with a trickle of cum.

“Or go back tuh sleep fer uh bit,” mumbled Keith, his baby blues half-lidded as he opened an arm in invitation; when Ellis obediently snuggled into his embrace, Keith kicked the blanket back up around them. Too much warmth from their mutually exhausted bodies toasted away what little wakefulness he’d acquired, and he was asleep again in minutes.

Ellis – his cheek pillowed on Keith’s chest, stubble scratching the slightest prickle of chest hair – smiled to himself, whispering in a rasp, “In th’spirit uh th’day, sh’ore thang.”

They slept until Dave’s ringtone jarred them awake both fifty minutes later. 

[Throughout the day, hell-of-a-con/hell-of-a-hick and myself will be posting drabbles describing the Labor Day celebrations of Keith, Ellis, Nick, and Overalls.]

Ellis had pleaded for an outdoor set and thus one stood in Keith’s back yard, the table now sprawled with cold dishes wrapped in tinfoil and plates and cutlery posed for impending guests. The redhead took the dog out into the fenced grass, wisely working out some of the pup’s energy with a game of fetch that was more Riggs running back and forth and refusing to return the bone than anything else. Ellis brought out two stabs of ribs and all the sauces and seasoning Keith had suggested, and the older male jogged back over to relieve him of the burden and start grilling.

“How’s yer back?” Keith asked lightly as he doused the charcoal with a somewhat excessive amount of gasoline, “Still sore?”

“Not s’bad tuhday,” Ellis confessed amicably, taking a slow sip of beer that he’d snagged from the cooler. The humidity was steadily crawling, the promise of thunderstorms on the horizon despite the persistent sunshine. “Damn, Ah love th’smell uh gasoline!” he crowed, inhaling softly when Keith lit it up.

“Yer weird, shortcake,” Keith chuckled, but he gave his boyfriend a peck on the cheek regardless. “Grab me th’tongs from th’kitchen?”

Ellis tromped inside to do as he was told, Riggs at his heels as the brunette held the sliding glass door open for him. 

Oh, y’all mean mah KAWC? 

When Ah firs’ moved out uh mah mom’s, Ah wus workin’ th’real’ early shifts at th’garage… M’friends usetuh have me up mostuh th’nigh’, man, jus’ bein’ out ‘er playin’ videogames ‘er shit like that, cus they didn’t go in til hours later. *Snorts* Ah usetuh be real’ tired sumtimes from not goin’ tuh bed at awl, an’ mah buddy Dave caught awn an’ gave me one uh them Five Hour Energy drinks an’ ho’lee shit, man, Ah drank like five more an’ Ah wus doin’ Irish jigs awn folks’s cars n’shit! *Laughs and grins*

Paul got me started awn them lil coffee can thangs from Starbucks, th’doubleshots? An’ then Ah always loved orange juice, an’ when Ah cud afford them individual bottles Ah started gittin’ them too.

It awl kinduh jus’ came tuhgether after thah an’ Ah been doin’ it ever since. 

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“Holiday Insights”

National Beheading Day is today. Throughout history, beheadings have occurred. The list is long, including commoners and Kings. The most notable king to be beheaded was Charles I of England in 1645.

They toppled across the carpeted floor, wrestling with grunted laughter and breathless chuckles that hiccupped on growls; Keith’s shoulder hit the wall with a thump and Ellis could only giggle and snort as the redhead retaliated by grabbing him in a headlock. “Fucker!” Ellis said joyously, squirming in a futile attempt to escape the hold, the inside of Keith’s elbow holding fast to his throat.

“Say I kicked yer ass, shortcake,” jeered Keith delightedly, “An’ I migh’ show mercy.”

“Take off mah head then,” Ellis chorused, choking himself to roll them over in a tangle of limbs, “Ah shall go from uh corruptible to uh incorruptible crown, where no…” his voice broke off into a laughing fit as Keith abandoned the headlock to attack his ribs with skittering fingers instead.

“History won’t save yew now, darlin’!”  

Riggs began barking in excitement, bouncing around his masters in a four-legged war dance before diving into the fold. 

Ellis lay on his stomach with his chin resting on his folded arms, occasionally squinting a grimace at the persistent burning scratching sensation the tattoo needle induced. “Damn, that smarts,” he mumbled, tongue protruding briefly as another line was etched. Keith had drawn up a chair and was petting El’s curly head, blue eyes rapt on the stamp in progress as his name was inked permanently in a bed of tribal thorns.

He had to lean forward on the drive home – seat belt drawn taut – with his shirt drawn up to prevent irritating the marking further. Sleeping on his stomach was harder, the urge to roll over persistent despite the soreness and burning beneath the cool glide of cream Keith had liberally applied.

It would take two weeks to heal, and forever to fade.

So me an’ Keith had uh real’ good talk awn summin Ah been wantin’ tuh do fer uhwhile now, an’ he agreed when he seen how serious Ah wus. Got his name tattooed right awn mah back now an’ it burns like hell, man. But it’s cool as shit. 

Mostuh th’wrestlin’ we do is actually cus Ah’m rollin’ around with Keith an’ Riggs jumps in. *Snorts* He’s usually awn Keith’s side, tuh be honest, an’ he’ll still play bite if we don’t cut it out after uh couple-few minutes, cus he don’t always know we’re jus’ playin’. We been workin’ awn thah stuff… 

We been workin’ awn tricks, too - jus’ me an’ Riggs, mostly, but Keith’ll come help if Ah ask ‘im. He can do awl th’easy shit now, like sit, stay, dance, belly crawls, roll over; we’re makin’ loads uh progress awn play dead, open th’door, catch th’robber, an’ mah favorite - steal Nick’s paper. *Snickers* Ah been readin’ online, an there’s awl kindsuh shit he can learn, cus he’s real’ smart an’ he likes real’ specific instructions. 

Man, even when we’re tired after work ‘er from bein’ out awl day, Keith’ll always git up an’ take uh walk ‘er uh jog wit’ Riggs. Sumtimes Ah don’t even go.

Real’ cool uh him, since he’s always goin’ awn ‘bout how th’dog wudn’t his idea… 

 Buhtween yew an’ me, Ah think Keith’s real’ glad we got ‘im. Whenever Ah see ‘em playin’ tuhgether Ah git them butterflies.

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