"Are you insane?"
"Are you using rhetoric or do you honestly want an answer to that? Because insanity is so subjective ..."
"Shut up. I'm trying to think." George Sloan grinned with a cigarette between his teeth, scratching his nose as he seriously considered the task at hand. "This wouldn't cause any testicular damage, would it?"
"I've done it a thousand times," Frostbite replied with a similar
grin but without the cigarette because it was common knowledge that snow
elves reacted badly to nicotine. "You jump out of the hot tub, roll
around in the snow and get back in the water. I don't know how your
testicles would get involved."
"Knowing you, Frost, I can think of a number of ways. Personally, I think you're trying to see the goods before you're due," Off-Ramp said, and Frostbite blinked innocently, his hands clenched into a fist at his shoulder. "Cut it out. This better just be a clever way of getting me naked."
"What do you take me for, a gentleman? You, George, are sadly mistaken. When I want you naked, I promise I will be as barbaric and manly as possible and rip your clothing off with my teeth." Frostbite snapped his jaw to prove his point, and Off-Ramp stood there laughing at him, which was not the result Frostbite had hoped to get. "Are you insulting my manhood?"
"Just let me make my own judgements on your manhood, okay?"
"Why do I get the feeling we aren't talking about my fearsome personality anymore?"
"Do you ever stop?"
"Now this isn't the context in which I thought you'd ask that."
By now, they were separated by less than two inches, probably somewhere in the range of one-point-nine-seven-four inches if specificity was really a concern. Frostbite noticed George had lost the cigarette but hadn't seen it depart. Frostbite grinned. George wanted him.
"Fine, I'll do it, but if my testicles shrivel up and die, I blame you," George said, poking Frostbite square in the chest, holding his finger against the slender swell of flesh four-point-nine-six-five seconds longer than normal. Oh yeah. George was hot for Frost's body. Definitely.
Frostbite grinned and extravagantly whisked off his briefs before slipping into the hot tub, grinning huge as George stripped to the bare essentials, his broad back to the drooling snow elf. "Are you shy, George? Come on, I'll show you mine if you show me yours."
"God, you are the biggest nymphomaniac I've ever met."
"Has someone been showing you pictures of me?"
George grinned evilly but said nothing, entering the water and making damned sure Frostbite couldn't see anything. Frostbite splashed him then moved to rest his arms on the deck of the patio, tapping his long fingers into the water.
"Do I make you horny, baby?"
George rolled his eyes and Frostbite laughed, arching his eyebrow seductively. When that didn't work, his long blue fingers pulled on his nipple rings, the left then the right then both at once. George still didn't seem to see the bigger picture, so Frostbite stretched out his foot and toed the man in a very intimate spot.
"What the hell are you doing?" George asked, grabbing the wayward foot and holding it. Frostbite couldn't stop the look of incredulous confusion from taking control of his face, and Off-Ramp smiled suddenly, running his thumb down the pad of Frostbite's foot.
"Oh, hey, not fair, man! Not fair at all!"
"You dastardly villain!" Frostbite exclaimed weakly, his toes curling in a symphony of distress, and he struggled to get out of the water, using impressive strength to heave himself onto the deck. Frost stood with his hands on his hips, trying look sour and dismayed and aware he was most likely sneering again. "You, George, are not allowed to tickle my feet unless you're prepared to deal with the consequences!"
"Hey, watch where you point that thing," George said with a coy grin, and Frostbite seethed a moment before sticking out his tongue. "Have I unwittingly entered into a snow elf mating pattern? Feet some erogenous zone of yours?"
"Tickling my feet is synonymous with ‘please, Frostbite, oh, please, beat me senseless with a very big stick!'" Frostbite opened his eyes as wide as they would go, and George grinned again, reaching back to grab a cigarette, drawing it slowly from the box. Frostbite paused for a moment. How utterly phallic of George. Frostbite was touched. "Does anything phase you?"
"Hitting me with a very big stick probably would," George offered helpfully, lighting up his addiction then leaning back, exhaling lazily. "Come back into the water, Frost. I apologise," and he overemphasised the word for some missed attempt at sincerity, "for tickling your feet."
"You're just saying that," Frostbite replied, "so you can attack me again."
George looked at him squarely, half because his jaw was shaped like that, half because Frostbite was being a ninny. "I wasn't aware you could be this petty, Frost. Come on, get back in the water. I promise I won't touch your feet."
Frostbite slipped into the tub with a pout. "And the feet are an erogenous zone."
"You aren't allowed to play with them until I say you're allowed to play with them."
"And don't do that thumb thing. I'd like to be semi-aware when you finally break down and take me for all I'm worth." Frostbite grinned suddenly. The sexual predator could only lay dormant for so long before his libido regained control of his body. It was a cruel cycle of constant horniness. "And you will break down, George. Everyone breaks down eventually."
"Do they?" George smirked, and Frostbite nodded sharply. "Tell me, Frost, you ever slept with a man?"
A blue eyebrow arched sharply and the even bluer body sunk into the water, the pointed chin disappearing under the surface. "Well, no. I was sort of, maybe, hoping that, you know, you'd tell me anything I needed to know."
"I've never done this either, Frost," George confessed quietly, his thick hair falling in front of his eyes as he bowed his head, the cigarette pointing towards the water and held tediously between loosely clamped teeth.
"Me being here with you is a huge step for me, too. I've always been attracted to men, but I've never acted out my attraction, not until you came along and forced me to admit that you turned my crank. We're just going to have to make it up as we go along."
Frostbite regarded his gruff companion, blinking compulsively until the true scope of the words sunk in. In fact, the words sunk straight into his groin. "So, you mean, we're both," Frostbite lowered his voice significantly and sneered to himself, though he felt in all fairness he was grinning despite what it looked like, "virgins?"
"In a sense, I guess," Off-Ramp replied with a shrug. "It's no big deal."
"Oh, yes it is! It definitely decreases the pressure on me," Frostbite said, the wide grin back on his face though he fought it valiantly, "because that means the breakdown will come that much sooner. You know you want me, George, come on. Please?"
"Are you begging?"
"Waiting patiently isn't my strong suit, all right?" Frostbite stood in the hot tub, revealing a black tattoo on his hip George had never seen before. "I don't mean to pressure you, I really don't, but you touched my feet, man. *You* touched my *feet.*"
George snuffed his cigarette out on the deck, not caring if it left a mark or not. So there it was. Frostbite wasn't the type who could keep ulterior motives under wraps for long. He liked hearing himself speak way too much to be successfully shrewd. "Then this *was* just a clever way of getting me naked?"
"Unless you really wanted to roll around in the snow, yes."
"Hmm. Okay. Give me a minute or two to freshen up, okay?"
"... uh ... okay ..."
Off-Ramp bleeped out of existence and Frostbite sat back into the water, vainly hoping that hadn't just been an excuse to create the sub-dimensional ramp that would take George far away from him and the Great Canadian North.
"Crap." Frostbite sighed deeply. "Crap. Crap. Crap. Why do I always scare them off? Oh please, take me, ravage my body, please oh please. No wonder snow elves are pretty much extinct. We're pathetically horny!"
"Who you talking to?" George asked quietly, laughing lowly when Frostbite slid under the water, clutching his heart. George grabbed the blue-skinned snow elf under the arms and heaved him through a sub-dimensional ramp, sending him sprawling onto George's bed.
"You stayed." Frostbite narrowed his eyes. "And you shaved."
George chuckled, scratching his smooth chin. "Ever had carpet burn, Frost?"
"Yes." Frostbite's lips broken into a knowing grin. "Oh!"
"Know that I don't shave for just anyone," George replied with a large smile, wanting very much to grab a cigarette and smoke his anxieties away. Frostbite was watching him, the eyes larger than normal and the sneer gone from his face. "So I guess ..."
"Yeah," Frostbite whispered, sitting up and blushing faintly, patting the bed softly for George to sit. Their respective nudity seemed almost inconsequential. Off-Ramp sat down and twiddled him thumbs, letting the awkward silence grow until Frostbite felt he ought to say something. "You know, if you don't want to do this right now, we really don't have to do it. I can just go crawl off by myself. It's all good."
"No," George said quickly, "no, I just need to think here."
Frostbite's face fell. "It's the blue skin, isn't it? You're trying to envision Brad Pitt."
"For the thousandth time, Frost, I like the blue. Really. I just," George coughed, "haven't been with anyone for a very long time, not since I knocked up that chick, and I was very drunk when I did that. Before then,"George coughed again, "I just talked a lot."
"Bonfire was ... not my first, if you want honesty, but not too many people really went for the blue before that, not even when I begged. I like blue. It's a great colour. The sky is the blue, and the ocean is blue, and people pretty much agree those things are neat, you know? Whatever, really, my hand and I, we're really great buds. I won't be offended ---"
Frostbite was overcome with the strong taste of mint as even stronger arms wrapped around his chest and the strongest of lips came down upon his mouth, effectively silencing him. And the incredible *heat* stunned him! Frostbite generally hated heat except in times of passion and then it was the quickest way to his heart. Or my groin, Frostbite thought suddenly, yow!
"Sit back," George said quietly, the voice deep and controlled, and Frostbite looked at him and nodded dumbly, scooting up the bed and laying back, his weight resting on his bent elbows. "Can I touch your feet, Frost?"
Frostbite feared for death when he felt the hot air hit the plane of his foot, convinced that his heart was going to burst out of his chest and run away. As it was, it didn't and it was just as well. George probably wouldn't enjoy sex with a corpse. Or Frostbite hoped he wouldn't. They'd never really talked about kinks.
"Hey, you're not into necrophilia, are you?"
"Of all the asinine questions at bad times ..."
"Uh, just asking, carry on."
"If you say so, Frost."
Shaking off the sudden descent into the bizarre, George ran his thumb through the blue toes and Frostbite shrieked, clamping his hands over his mouth and blushing dreadfully. George laughed and pressed his lips to the cold foot, infusing a warmth that was so strong Frostbite squealed again and sat straight up.
"You don't like that?"
"I do," Frostbite managed to squeak, his voice hitting the highest pitch either of them had ever heard, "but unless you want this night to end before it even begins, you probably want to sto ... oooh!" George licked the instep of the blue foot and Frostbite lurched into his arms, knocking Off-Ramp onto the bed and holding the thick arms over the wavy-haired head. "Stop before I explode! Please!"
George nodded, coughing to clear his throat, and Frostbite pressed his lips to the growling neck, nipping lightly with his incisors. Within seconds, Frostbite was almost overflowing with glee. This was easy! George could hardly lay still! Frostbite sucked on the smooth, clean-smelling flesh with more enthusiasm, squeezing his legs tightly around George's hairy torso.
Their groins touched, well, not so much touched as ground together in a very reactive and amazing way, and something changed, the urgency, the need, the whatever. It just *changed*. Frostbite let go of George's wrists and clung to the stocky man, tightening the vice of his thighs around Off-Ramp's waist. They rolled and switched positions so George was on top with blue legs wrapped around his hips and toes curling as pleasureful sensations coursed through them. George ran one hand through Frostbite's hair, undoing the elastic and letting the long, blue locks fall free on the pillow.
"You have to know you're beautiful," George said quietly, and Frostbite nodded sincerely, leaning up for a kiss. George caught the icy lower lip in his teeth and sucked, his hands moving under Frost's back and lifting him slightly. "I want to make love to you."
Frostbite nodded slowly, not exactly sure what he meant, though he had some very vivid and well thought out ideas, but willing to do just about anything George wanted. He was open to new experiences and, being a snow elf, gender tended to be a minor point in the grand scheme of love-making. Probably another reason we're nearly extinct, Frostbite thought sadly, his eyes dropping slightly as he focussed on the rise of his mate's chest. George touched his face.
"You okay with this?" Off-Ramp asked, and Frostbite nodded again, putting his hands on George's shoulders and smiling warmly at him, or sneering warmly, those expressions were just too similar for Frostbite's own good. George reached into his bag on the floor, lowering their bodies into contact again. They both groaned loudly and they hadn't really done anything yet. Wow.
"I want us to be different," Frostbite said suddenly as George let more of his weight rest on the slender blue frame, George's movements making it incredibly hard for Frostbite to even think about speaking. "Real."
"We will be."
"I know. And this wasn't just a clever way of getting you naked," Frostbite confessed, his pale blue eyes sparkling with unspoken merriment, and George came back to him, fully into his arms and alive between his legs. "It was a clever way of getting me naked, too."
There was a moment held between them where they didn't need words, didn't need to speak and didn't have anything left to say. They both knew it was more than a clever way to come together, far more than clever and only slightly less than perfect.
Someday, it would be far more than perfect, too.