Fic: Triple Word Porn
Apr. 8th, 2010 01:03 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
withthepilotTitle: Triple Word Porn
Rating: Hard R
Pairing: Chris/Zach
Word count: 1,137
Notes: Just a silly little cracky thing, inspired by a particularly dreadful moment during an online Scrabble game today when I realized I could make "frotting" but that it's not considered a real word! And I was OFFENDED because frotting is basically my LIFE. And I thought one of our word-loving boys might feel the same way. Also includes some glasses!porn and italics abuse.
Summary: Chris never usually got this upset about invalid Scrabble words.
"This is bullshit."
"You're being melodramatic."
"I am not!" Chris threw the Scrabble dictionary across the room with a huff. "I just can't believe it's not in here!"
"Hey, be careful with that!" Zach gave his boyfriend a filthy look before he rose from his bizarre pretzel-like sitting position and took three long strides across the room to retrieve the text. He picked it up with an audible gasp. "You bent the cover!"
"I don't—oh, Webster's! Webster's will have it!"
Zach groaned and tried to bend the worn paper cover of the Scrabble dictionary back into a flat surface as Chris darted to the bookcase and retrieved the dictionary. They'd had plenty of spats during past Scrabble games over what was a viable word and what wasn't, but Chris had never thrown his dictionary across the room. Zach stalked over and waved the book in his face, not caring that Chris was too engrossed in Merriam-Webster to even care about the damage he'd done.
"You bent the cover of the book. Apologize."
"Sorry. Jeez." Chris wrinkled his nose and flipped pages. "Why are you so bent out of shape about it, anyway?" He looked up and grinned. "Okay, now, that? Was awesome."
Zach grimaced at the horrible pun. "God. Just—I like to keep my books in pristine condition, okay?" He clutched the Scrabble dictionary to his chest and pouted. Sure, he was a little crazed about his books, but at least he didn't make protective sleeves for them out of recycled paper grocery bags, the way he used to do. He grew out of that phase long ago, like...right after college. Fairly soon after.
"Nutjob," Chris sing-songed. Then he flipped to the page he needed and tapped it with his finger, triumphantly. "Here! It's here, see? Frottage."
"Yes, dear," Zach replied slowly, blinking. "But you tried to use frotting."
Chris shrugged. "So? It's the verb form."
"Yes, but the verb frot, as in to frot, isn't in here, and therefore, your word is..." And he tucked the smaller book under one arm before snatching Merriam-Webster's Eleventh Edition from Chris' hands, closing it with a loud snap. "Invalid."
At that, Chris stomped his foot like an angry child. "It's a fucking word!"
"Okay, stop. Tantrum much? This?" Zach said, wriggling his fingers in Chris' direction. "Is no good." He turned and put both of the dictionaries back in their reserved spots in the bookcase. "You've never gotten this pissy over a stupid word before. Why is this one such a big deal?"
Chris adjusted his glasses and folded his arms over his chest. "Well, for starters, with the triple word score and these other letters, it would have been eighty-nine fucking points." Zach just smirked at him, going back to the board and sitting on the floor again.
"And?"
"And..." Chris gestured with a wave of his hand, going back to the board as well. "It offends me a little."
Zach's eyebrows shot way up over the tops of his thick frames. "It offends you. That something you think is a word isn't a word. Reality offends you."
"It offends me because it's one of my favorite things to do. Zach."
"...Oh." Zach paused and then let out a laugh, unable to help himself. "Frottage, you mean?"
"Yes. I love not only frottage, but I also love frotting and to frot." Chris gave him a snide look. "You would know."
"Yes, I would." Zach grinned and shrugged, laughing again. "Well, I'm sorry, Christopher. But it's not in there, so...I guess you'll just have to live with the sad fact that one of your favorite activities technically doesn't exist in the active form."
Chris narrowed his eyes, then, and Zach felt a little tremor at the sight.
"Oh, it doesn't, does it?" Chris drawled. Zach splayed his hands in mock sympathy.
"'Fraid not."
And weirdly, Chris could sometimes be as quick as a damn cat when he wanted to be, calling up reflexes that seemed to spring out of nowhere. Zach barely blinked before Chris had him shoved down to the carpet on his back, a gust of air leaving his lungs and dizzying him before he could get it back. His lunatic boyfriend's glasses were skewed on his face as he straddled Zach and then started working his hips, grinding down firmly. Zach's own glasses jostled down the bridge of his nose as he dropped his head back to the floor, letting out a loud and surprised moan.
"Fuck," he cursed, clutching at Chris' thighs and gasping. "Must you—must you be so...demonstrative?"
"You fucking love it," Chris purred, calling up that damn feline nature again. He gripped Zach's sides hard enough that his fingertips felt like claws, too. He was hot and solid inside his jeans and Zach's own erection was getting larger by the second as he blindly bucked his hips up into the glorious friction of denim on denim. "God, yeah... Tell me you don't love this, I dare you."
"'Course I do, fucking love it—fucking love you," Zach moaned. His glasses slipped further down his nose and the lenses started to cloud with his erratic breaths.
"I..." Chris stuttered, his eyelashes fluttering as his hips starting moving faster, his heat thrusting harder against Zach's. "I'll b-buy you a new Scrabble dictionary."
"S'okay," Zach whispered, shaking his head. "I don't care. I don't fucking care, throw it off a cliff if you want to, just come on, come on, god..."
"Yeah, fuck..."
Chris sighed, throwing his head back and riding Zach's hips for all he was worth, his throat shiny and slick with sweat as he approached the edge. He issued a warning groan that quickly rose in pitch as it left his mouth, sending a surge of desperation through Zach's writhing body, which was still mostly pinned to the floor. After a few blistering seconds, Chris let out a shaky cry and a warm, wet rush between their bodies overwhelmed Zach's senses; then he was coming, too, still holding Chris steady by his thighs so he didn't accidentally throw him off.
Zach grunted when Chris collapsed on top of him, shifting under his weight and touching an exposed strip of sweaty skin on his lower back. They exchanged a few kisses between heaving breaths.
"Still think...it doesn't exist?" Chris whispered, his gaze tired but challenging. Zach laughed and shook his head.
"I think I owe Hasbro a letter of complaint," he said.
"Damn right. Get Webster on the phone while you're at it."
"Dear Webster," Zach murmured, running his fingers through Chris' bristly hair. "Frotting is real and it's awesome, aside from the sticky jeans."
"Recognize."
"And P.S., Go fuck yourself."
"Mmm." Chris yawned, tucking his face against Zach's shoulder. "Go frot yourself."
Zach nodded sagely and shut his eyes. "That'll show 'em," he said.
Rating: Hard R
Pairing: Chris/Zach
Word count: 1,137
Notes: Just a silly little cracky thing, inspired by a particularly dreadful moment during an online Scrabble game today when I realized I could make "frotting" but that it's not considered a real word! And I was OFFENDED because frotting is basically my LIFE. And I thought one of our word-loving boys might feel the same way. Also includes some glasses!porn and italics abuse.
Summary: Chris never usually got this upset about invalid Scrabble words.
"This is bullshit."
"You're being melodramatic."
"I am not!" Chris threw the Scrabble dictionary across the room with a huff. "I just can't believe it's not in here!"
"Hey, be careful with that!" Zach gave his boyfriend a filthy look before he rose from his bizarre pretzel-like sitting position and took three long strides across the room to retrieve the text. He picked it up with an audible gasp. "You bent the cover!"
"I don't—oh, Webster's! Webster's will have it!"
Zach groaned and tried to bend the worn paper cover of the Scrabble dictionary back into a flat surface as Chris darted to the bookcase and retrieved the dictionary. They'd had plenty of spats during past Scrabble games over what was a viable word and what wasn't, but Chris had never thrown his dictionary across the room. Zach stalked over and waved the book in his face, not caring that Chris was too engrossed in Merriam-Webster to even care about the damage he'd done.
"You bent the cover of the book. Apologize."
"Sorry. Jeez." Chris wrinkled his nose and flipped pages. "Why are you so bent out of shape about it, anyway?" He looked up and grinned. "Okay, now, that? Was awesome."
Zach grimaced at the horrible pun. "God. Just—I like to keep my books in pristine condition, okay?" He clutched the Scrabble dictionary to his chest and pouted. Sure, he was a little crazed about his books, but at least he didn't make protective sleeves for them out of recycled paper grocery bags, the way he used to do. He grew out of that phase long ago, like...right after college. Fairly soon after.
"Nutjob," Chris sing-songed. Then he flipped to the page he needed and tapped it with his finger, triumphantly. "Here! It's here, see? Frottage."
"Yes, dear," Zach replied slowly, blinking. "But you tried to use frotting."
Chris shrugged. "So? It's the verb form."
"Yes, but the verb frot, as in to frot, isn't in here, and therefore, your word is..." And he tucked the smaller book under one arm before snatching Merriam-Webster's Eleventh Edition from Chris' hands, closing it with a loud snap. "Invalid."
At that, Chris stomped his foot like an angry child. "It's a fucking word!"
"Okay, stop. Tantrum much? This?" Zach said, wriggling his fingers in Chris' direction. "Is no good." He turned and put both of the dictionaries back in their reserved spots in the bookcase. "You've never gotten this pissy over a stupid word before. Why is this one such a big deal?"
Chris adjusted his glasses and folded his arms over his chest. "Well, for starters, with the triple word score and these other letters, it would have been eighty-nine fucking points." Zach just smirked at him, going back to the board and sitting on the floor again.
"And?"
"And..." Chris gestured with a wave of his hand, going back to the board as well. "It offends me a little."
Zach's eyebrows shot way up over the tops of his thick frames. "It offends you. That something you think is a word isn't a word. Reality offends you."
"It offends me because it's one of my favorite things to do. Zach."
"...Oh." Zach paused and then let out a laugh, unable to help himself. "Frottage, you mean?"
"Yes. I love not only frottage, but I also love frotting and to frot." Chris gave him a snide look. "You would know."
"Yes, I would." Zach grinned and shrugged, laughing again. "Well, I'm sorry, Christopher. But it's not in there, so...I guess you'll just have to live with the sad fact that one of your favorite activities technically doesn't exist in the active form."
Chris narrowed his eyes, then, and Zach felt a little tremor at the sight.
"Oh, it doesn't, does it?" Chris drawled. Zach splayed his hands in mock sympathy.
"'Fraid not."
And weirdly, Chris could sometimes be as quick as a damn cat when he wanted to be, calling up reflexes that seemed to spring out of nowhere. Zach barely blinked before Chris had him shoved down to the carpet on his back, a gust of air leaving his lungs and dizzying him before he could get it back. His lunatic boyfriend's glasses were skewed on his face as he straddled Zach and then started working his hips, grinding down firmly. Zach's own glasses jostled down the bridge of his nose as he dropped his head back to the floor, letting out a loud and surprised moan.
"Fuck," he cursed, clutching at Chris' thighs and gasping. "Must you—must you be so...demonstrative?"
"You fucking love it," Chris purred, calling up that damn feline nature again. He gripped Zach's sides hard enough that his fingertips felt like claws, too. He was hot and solid inside his jeans and Zach's own erection was getting larger by the second as he blindly bucked his hips up into the glorious friction of denim on denim. "God, yeah... Tell me you don't love this, I dare you."
"'Course I do, fucking love it—fucking love you," Zach moaned. His glasses slipped further down his nose and the lenses started to cloud with his erratic breaths.
"I..." Chris stuttered, his eyelashes fluttering as his hips starting moving faster, his heat thrusting harder against Zach's. "I'll b-buy you a new Scrabble dictionary."
"S'okay," Zach whispered, shaking his head. "I don't care. I don't fucking care, throw it off a cliff if you want to, just come on, come on, god..."
"Yeah, fuck..."
Chris sighed, throwing his head back and riding Zach's hips for all he was worth, his throat shiny and slick with sweat as he approached the edge. He issued a warning groan that quickly rose in pitch as it left his mouth, sending a surge of desperation through Zach's writhing body, which was still mostly pinned to the floor. After a few blistering seconds, Chris let out a shaky cry and a warm, wet rush between their bodies overwhelmed Zach's senses; then he was coming, too, still holding Chris steady by his thighs so he didn't accidentally throw him off.
Zach grunted when Chris collapsed on top of him, shifting under his weight and touching an exposed strip of sweaty skin on his lower back. They exchanged a few kisses between heaving breaths.
"Still think...it doesn't exist?" Chris whispered, his gaze tired but challenging. Zach laughed and shook his head.
"I think I owe Hasbro a letter of complaint," he said.
"Damn right. Get Webster on the phone while you're at it."
"Dear Webster," Zach murmured, running his fingers through Chris' bristly hair. "Frotting is real and it's awesome, aside from the sticky jeans."
"Recognize."
"And P.S., Go fuck yourself."
"Mmm." Chris yawned, tucking his face against Zach's shoulder. "Go frot yourself."
Zach nodded sagely and shut his eyes. "That'll show 'em," he said.
