Song of Pebble Lake

[Edel Ziegler]

"I'M NOT LOSING!" Kylar screamed as he raced down to the water. Edel grinned from where he was treading water, watching as the last person to hit the water was none other than Cris. His grin only grew, devious and mischievous. Kylar laughed in triumph once he burst back up, pumping a fist into the air before putting an arm around his maybe-boyfriend.

Edel splashed Cris with water when he came at him.

"Oh? You didn't understand?" He tread water backward, away from Cris, anticipating retaliation when he revealed what Cris had to do for losing. "I said last one in the water has to let the rest of take body shots off him." His foot brushed Cris' ankle under the water. "And that... seems to be you, Cris."

[Cristoval de Azcarate]

"YOU WHAT!" Cris threw himself bodily at Edel again with an outraged cry. In his indignation he barely felt the cold of the lake water and when he did, his body had already mostly acclimatized to it. "How could you—glub glub glub—you asshole! You didn't even—" He flailed around in a most uncoordinated manner because on top of being a horrible English speaker, he was also a horrible swimmer. Cris didn't take well to water despite how much he loved to be in it. He could do things on water like sail or water-ski but swimming somehow eluded him.

Making a lot more noise and splashes than actual revenge, eventually he gave up. But he didn't give up glaring, not even when Hanale pulled the giant float over and scrambled up onto it—with a gentlemanly hand to his maybe-boyfriend. Cris kicked water at Edel as he got on too but he made it wobble so hard that Hanale yelped and almost fell back into the lake. Cris refused to lend a hand to Edel—but he probably didn't need one.

"Shots?" Hanale's grin was evil. He held up a bottle. Where the fuck did he get that bottle? It felt like he'd already prepared it—ah, maybe he stowed it here, intending to use it when he and Kylar came out to enjoy the lake. "Who's up first? And where, oh where, would we do it?" He laughed as he poked Cris' belly button meaningfully.

[Edel Ziegler]

Edel laughed even as Cris threw himself at him again. Honestly, he just assumed that English or Spanish, Cris would understand a race was happening. Wasn't it universal, when somebody shouted something and took off running that there was a race in progress? He was still grinning when he made it onto the humorously giant rainbow float. It seemed like Hanale and Kylar were having fun with it, too. Especially Hanale, who somehow produced a bottle of alcohol from seemingly nowhere.

"I've never done a body shot before," Kylar said. "Show me."

But he seemed delighted to even be trying, for whatever it was worth. Edel shoved Cris playfully onto his back. Thank goodness the float was so huge. He kept his hand on Edel's chest, where he'd pushed him, as if Cris was going to pop right back up. Edel winked at Hanale.

"Show him how it's done."

[Cristoval de Azcarate]

"Where did that even come from?!" Cris shouted indignantly as he fell over backwards. Taking advantage of a drunk man, Edel was a jerk! But he laid there anyway, glaring up at them—mock-glaring, though. If he let on that he was enjoying this a liiiittle too much, it wouldn't be fun for them. He even half-struggled, though not very vigorously.

"I prepared a little thing for Kylar and me earlier," Hanale laughed as he broke the seal on the bottle, which fizzed and bubbled immediately. Ah—champagne. And there was a basket of cheeses and grapes and dried fruit off to the very end of the float that Cris only just noticed. A picnic basket... for two people. With champagne flutes and everything. How romantic! "We can have that later, honey," Hanale said to Kylar with a wink. "When we're alone. But! For now!"

He edged over and poured a little of the fizzy drink onto Cris' stomach, then bent and licked it off of him in a distinctly sexual way. His tongue even dipped into Cris' navel... which did nothing for the heat building in his groin. Cris struggled again, this time to get his mind off of that tongue...

"Just do that." Hanale handed the bottle over to Kylar. "But less sexy because you're my maybe-boyfriend, not his!"

And for some reason, Cris' eyes couldn't leave Edel's. He gazed up at him with anticipation boiling over and darkening his gaze, knowing that after Kylar... it was his turn... and they were both so naked... and drunk... God, they were so drunk...

[Edel Ziegler]

Haha! The way that Kylar watched Hanale was distinctly wistful. Obviously, he wanted Cris to be him. Or maybe he wanted to be licking up alcohol off Hanale... Either way, they would have plenty of time to revisit this later if they wanted. And Hanale didn't pull any punches, either. There was definitely something distinctly sexual in the way he took that shot. Dude had done it before. That was okay; so had Edel.

"Okay. I can do this," Kylar said, as if he had to pep talk himself into doing it. He poured a little too much and made a little eep sound but the rest of them were waiting for him to go ahead and do it. And he did; alcohol made even the shyest amongst them bolder. It wasn't nearly as sexual as Hanale's turn but... Edel looked down at Cris, eyes on him. Didn't matter. It was still a tongue on his naked body.

Taking the bottle next, Edel poured the alcohol over Cris' stomach, then handed the bottle back to Kylar, who held it in both hands and glanced over at Hanale. But Edel wasn't paying them any attention anymore. He leaned down, hand sliding down, over Cris' thigh. His tongue slid down over Cris' taut stomach and down to the navel with a swirl and a suck before his hand move to Cris' hip bone. When he raised his head and looked down, he wasn't even slightly surprised to see that Cris was... growing excited.

He gave Cris' chest a nice smack and a knowing Look. "Next time, don't be last, tonto."

[Cristoval de Azcarate]

Cris squirmed when his midsection was drenched but he didn't mind. It was kind of nice because of the shy tongue that lapped it up afterwards. While it wasn't nearly as suggestive as Hanale, it was still a warm tongue on him and he smiled down at Kylar, enjoying the sensations. For some reason before Kylar lifted his head, Cris stroked the back of his head like... like he was petting a cat. Or petting a little brother for doing a good job in math. Except—body shot. No offense to Kylar but he was really just too adorable for Cris to view in any sexual way.

Almost as soon as Kylar was up though, Hanale was pulling at him, pulling him down slightly to kiss him. Somebody evidently wanted attention back onto himself—which was fine by Cris, as Edel was up and all of him tensed the second that champagne touched his body. His fingers curled against the rubber float when Edel's hand slid up his thigh. Bastard. He didn't have to do that—he did that to rile Cris up, didn't he?

God.

Damnit.

He was feeling it. Really feeling it, in a way he hadn't felt in so long, not with Jen, not with anyone, not even the guys they shared. Those guys were always more interested in Jen and Cris was there for the ride. He watched them though, with hungry eyes—the same hungry eyes he applied to Edel when he bent to suck up the champagne and to do that thing to his navel that made him twitch and twist. "Bastard," he hiss-whispered afterwards. Now everybody could see his cock at half-mast. Not... that the other two mattered, and Hanale was already edging to the other end of the float and taking Kylar with him, plying him with deep kisses.

But Edel.

Drunk Cris thought it was a smart idea to yank Edel back down though. He didn't know where he was going with it until he rolled himself over, trying to get on top of him as the float wobbled and squeaked.

[Edel Ziegler]

The other two were kissing. They didn't even seem to care or notice what the pair of them were doing. Which was just as well; they were all a little drunk, on alcohol, on something... else. Edel didn't really care to think about what that something else was. A part of him already knew and the alcohol, it always seemed to unlock everything that was kept so neatly locked away the rest of the time.

So when Cris pulled him in, he sort of expected it. A kiss. But instead, he was being rolled over onto his back as Cris insinuated himself atop him. Not the most ideal position right now but he only laughed softly because his head spun pleasantly and his hand was sliding up a broad chest and around the back of Cris' head. He could feel the heat of Cris' body against him, still slick with lake water. And he could feel Cris' growing erection against his thigh as he moved against him. Edel didn't know what possessed him to reach down, to slide a palm over him, to wrap his fingers around him.

The hand at the back of Cris' head pulled him in for a kiss. Not a brotherly kiss to the temple, not a friendly peck. The kind of kiss reserved for bedrooms, behind closed doors.

[Cristoval de Azcarate]

Fuuuuck he was so drunk it wasn't even funny! He was the kind of drunk that led to every bad decision in the book—the kind of drunk that turned bad decisions into good decisions, like pushing his best friend down and straddling him and rubbing up against him to relieve the growing tightness in his groin. The tension was getting to be a bit much and with all that alcohol and loneliness under his metaphorical belt, his frustrations were boiling over.

And Edel wasn't helping either. He was warm and slick too, his mop of curls damp as Cris' hand slid through them affectionately. Everything with affection, even shoving him onto his back. God, his laugh, his voice, it did something to Cris' insides and melted them. The way he smiled drove him crazy on a good day. Cris didn't know how it was possible to be this desirable—and this much of a bastard. Seriously.

The moan he let out when Edel began to touch him was half-absorbed into their kiss. It was fierce and intense, every bit as familiar as the warmth in his chest and in his groin. Every time they kissed, Cris remembered it. He could be blitzed and remember nothing of the entire evening, but he remembered their kisses. Kisses on the deck of the lake house, in a club, in the back seat of a taxi—drunk kisses everywhere.

And now here, on a pool float. Cris ground into his hand, riding it gently as one kiss melted into the next. He barely remembered Kylar and Hanale; nobody was saying anything. There were just sounds, the waves lapping against the pool float, tongues lapping against tongues, hands on bodies, soft, pleasured moans. Cris' head spun so fast it made him dizzy. Or was that the kiss?

His hand slipped between them too, to feel Edel. This was new territory for them; they always stuck to kissing before. But then again they had never been naked together before...

[Edel Ziegler]

Why oh why did he throw the body shot challenge out there? Why oh why did he decide to get naked? Because he was called a chicken? It didn't much matter. They were already here, somehow. Naked and together and kissing. And he could feel how much Cris was into this. Why was that so encouraging? Why was it such a turn on?

Fuck but he was good at this. Cris made the most beautiful sounds that seemed to strike Edel just right. He moved his body like a work of art, only instead of just being a beautiful model, he was in motion, a dancer, somehow graceful even after that ungainly swimming earlier and the fact that they were drunk as fuck on a blown up raft.

A tight little moan escaped Edel as Cris returned his touch, grasping him. The way it sent an electric thrill all the way up his spine and the back of his head was not expected. His lower body bucked into his touch, greedy for more. His fingers ran through soft, short dark hair while the other hand explored the length of Cris' cock. It felt forbidden. It felt wrong. It felt right.

Another series of kisses and then he turned his head slightly, biting his lower lip as another small sound escaped the back of his throat. His nose brushed against Cris' cheek, he nuzzled his jaw, his throat. After a moment, his tongue ran down the hollow of his throat. Cris smelled of cologne, of clean soap, of lake water, of something masculine and dark. Edel's eyes half opened as he tilted his head back and regarded Cris through drunk and ardent eyes.

[Cristoval de Azcarate]

Before there was Jen, there were Edel and Jaime. They were the Unholy Trio, everyone acknowledged it, but mostly that was Jaime. As individuals, Cris didn't think that he and Edel were all that wild. Cris went along with Jaime's schemes to belong, because at heart he was quite a sensitive person and he wanted intensely to be liked and admired. Edel, he knew, followed along to make sure no one died—he was sort of the calm and responsible one.

After Jen, it was Cris and Jen. Jen was popular and well-liked and for some reason she took a liking to Cris. He reveled in his popularity at first because for once, he wasn't in the shadows. He was the guy all the other guys wanted to be; he was Cris, not 'Jaime's and Edel's friend.' And truly and deeply, he loved Jen. She was the one he always counted on to stand up for him, to look after him, to love him unconditionally.

But he couldn't love her with all of his heart. He loved her with as much of it as he could but a part of it belonged here, with Edel. A part of him always knew that the way he felt about Edel wasn't the same way he felt about Jaime. A part of him always denied that, even when they couldn't get enough of one another during those drunken spells when they kissed like the world was ending. And then Edel found Rey and he was so... happy. And Cris went back to that guy in the shadows, because it was Edel and Rey now, not Edel and Cris.

He gave Rey a harder time than he should have out of jealousy—of course. And while he should have felt bad that he was doing this to Rey, he... didn't. Edel wanted it too, he could tell. The proof was in his hand. The proof was looking up at him, those beautiful brown eyes filled with love and adoration for him. Did Edel look at Rey that way? Maybe... in the beginning. Maybe then. But now he was looking at Cris.

Slowly, Cris leaned down to kiss him again, as he reached blindly for the bottle. He found it on its side—the other two were off in their own little world too. Cris breathed in shakily as he tipped the bottle over Edel's chest... like he needed an excuse to taste him. Like he needed to hide behind a game to let his tongue wander, to let his lips and teeth explore as he slowly slid down on Edel, so sweet from the champagne, so tender and sweet and unrequited and forbidden. For so long Cris denied what he knew to be true, what Rey kept seeing and what Jen kept nudging him towards.

Everyone else saw it.

[Edel Ziegler]

Once upon a time, Edel had a crush on Cris. It was sort of his sexual awakening, not that he ever said anything. Cris was staunchly straight, so he said. Edel wasn't really a glutton for punishment. Logically, if his best friend was straight, then he would never feel the same way about Edel. And that was why when he tried to take the heat off his best friend because of Rey's insistent and persistent jealousy, he told him what he knew to be true.

It was his own fault. Edel didn't drink on purpose to kiss Cris but when it happened, he didn't mind it. And he felt something, when they kissed. But he thought Cris didn't remember most of it--except for how Edel puked on him afterward and such. The negative parts. The parts where he could tease him and make fun of him. They kissed, big deal. They were drunk and it could have been anyone.

Except not really, because nobody had stories of getting drunk and kissing Jaime. Edel didn't. And he didn't think Cris did, unless he just didn't share those stories with him.

The point was, when he was drunk and uninhibited, he kissed his best friend because of that old schoolboy crush. It was never Cris' fault that it happened, he told Rey. And Rey's feathers remained ruffled about the fact because... because maybe all this time he had a reason to be worried.

His gaze remained on Cris after the kiss, as champagne was poured across his chest and Cris followed the trail of sweet liquid. After a moment, Edel closed his eyes, feeling warm tongue over what felt like every inch of his chest. He could hardly breathe; he felt like he was holding his breath, as if he would wake from a dream if he took in a real and proper breath.

Without even really thinking, his hand was over Cris' head, nudging him downward.

[Cristoval de Azcarate]

The champagne cut rivulets all down Edel's chest and Cris was meticulous about following each one up and down, tasting everything between that soft area just at the base of his graceful throat to the firm planes of his chest, down to the pert dark nipples and of course—the abs. The pride and joy of any man with a decent body. Abs were abs, really, but being Edel's abs, Cris paid them due attention. He worshipped Edel's body even after the champagne was all gone, and there was nothing left to hide behind. No excuses. No games.

The day before when he joked about wanting to suck one dick, he was also telling a half-truth. In those tortured moments when he laid in bed touching himself to relieve the ache, he thought about one person—one dick. Of course he memorized Edel's body, since he had so many opportunities to do it. They used to be naked all the damn time together, it was hard not to notice a freckle here, a mole there, a beauty mark, a bruise, a scar.

Cris' tongue laved across the funny little tattoos that dotted Edel's body. Connect the dots. He played a game as he criss-crossed Edel's chest, heeding that push down but taking it at his own pace. If this was the one time he got to suck a dick, he wanted to make it count. Briefly he went back up to kiss Edel again, uncontrollably fond of him, helplessly in love with him. He kissed that beauty mark under Edel's eye with a soft smile, then slid all the way down.

But once he got there... the reality of the moment sank in. His mouth went suddenly dry but he wanted it too. He wanted it more than he thought he would. Slowly he opened his mouth and at first, maybe stupidly, he licked it. Just the tip. Salty, sweet. Something in-between, a different taste and texture. Then, more boldly, he took it in and let his head sink down as far as it would go before his gag reflex kicked in and he had to lift his head again.

Too drunk to be ashamed of his lack of experience—and enthusiasm making up for some of that inexperience hopefully—he grasped Edel with one hand and stroked. How did Jen do it? There were things she did that he liked, so he tried to replicate them with Edel, swirling his tongue over the head, then taking him in in shorter bursts so as not to get overwhelmed. Deep throating was out though. Definitely, definitely out.

[Edel Ziegler]

Shit. Cris was really spoiling him with attention. Champagne slithered over his skin and following it came Cris' tongue, lips, teeth. God, he could really use everything at his disposal, couldn't he? His skin felt like it was on fire, like every nerve reacted to the smallest ministrations. Being drunk helped, too. He was in that state where everything floated and he felt good and mindless and even content.

His gaze flicked up, past the funny rainbow--which he smiled at--and up at the sky above. Puffy white clouds in a beautiful blue sky seemed to move, blown away on the gentle breeze that ruffled his hair and tickled his nose and cooled the places where warm tongue had once been.

Attention was once more on Cris as he kissed him and he stroked the back of his head, his neck, down his shoulder. Briefly, his eyes closed as Cris kissed somewhere by his eye. He let out a soft laugh. But when their eyes met and Cris smiled at him, he smiled back. Wrong, a part of him screamed. Right, whispered the rest of him, lulled by the sounds of the peaceful lake around the, and that smile. It had devastated so many people, he knew. So many people fell victim to that smile and that charm. Cris could really turn it on when he chose to.

And all this time, Edel said he was immune to it. Hah...

His gaze dropped down, eyes widening slightly. Oh? Oh... he was... he was really doing it. Edel sucked in a breath, eyes closing as he bit his lip to keep from making any embarrassing sounds. Usually, when somebody went down on him, they didn't... do... that. Lick like that. Edel shivered and his knees rose up slightly as his legs parted for him, toes curling in. Nobody could have called Cris an expert. But he was definitely making up for it in... something. A for effort. Did it even matter if it wasn't expert? Because it was doing what it was meant to; it was turning him on.

Edel stroked Cris' hair. One dick, Cris said. Edel almost laughed at it now but he was too breathless to laugh. Who knew that one dick would end up being his?

[Cristoval de Azcarate]

At some point in his enthusiastic blow job, Cris heard a distant, low splash. He wasn't actually paying attention to anything or anybody aside from Edel and from the job before him, so his brain registered it as an interesting but irrelevant noise. Maybe Hanale and Kylar had slipped off the float at that point to give them privacy. Or maybe they were still there watching; Cris didn't care. The drunk part of his brain told him he didn't care and he believed it.

Was it telling that he was enjoying himself a little more than he ought to have? Some guys claimed up, down, left, right and sideways that they would never be caught dead sucking dicks but... it was only one dick. Cris wasn't much interested in sucking other dicks, truth be told; he also wasn't swimming in so many of them that he felt like he could have his pick of them. One was enough for a first-time test run.

Briefly he glanced up, both to catch his breath and to see how Edel was doing. He grinned and slipped a hand up over Edel's stomach, stroking firm lines up and down. What now? Did he keep blowing him? Cris didn't mind. He felt like he was doing pretty damn good for his first time. Not that he had anyone he could brag about this to, but... Edel was hard. That meant he did well.

Cris' head dipped again and he bobbed it around Edel a few more times, humming softly to himself. Thinking. Thinking. What next? His hand slid down over the jut of a hip, over Edel's thighs. Now he was just playing, exploring with his tongue and lips. There was a terrible pressure building that had to go somewhere though, and eventually he had to reach down with that hand to touch himself. Before he exploded.

[Edel Ziegler]

Edel heard the splash, too. He turned his head to see Kylar in the water and laughing but he was definitely turning away from the two of them, saying something to Hanale that Edel didn't hear. Should he be more embarrassed? Edel felt slightly... yes, slightly embarrassed. But not enough to tell Cris to stop. It was worse to stop in the middle than to just... finish.

And he was so close. So close. It was all pent up. That energy, that feeling, that pressure. Eventually, it had to go somewhere. Close as he was, it didn't even take all that much. Just that--that humming. The sensation, the vibration, the velvet heat of his mouth, the swirl of that tongue... Edel raised a hand to his own chest, twisting and toying with a pert nipple. Then he arched his back and his ass clenched hard. The hand that was in Cris' hair, grasped at it but his hair wasn't long enough to properly get a hold of.

Closing his eyes, he let the ecstasy wash over him. And when he opened his eyes, he could see Cris had reached down to grasp himself. Edel shifted slightly then slid his hand over Cris' hand.

"...let me."

And then his hand was on him, palm and fingers, thumb over the tip to tease and toy with him before he stroked him. He'd never been with Cris before, not like this. But he did what he liked; not too hard, not too gentle, with a deft hand and a twist of the wrist.