It takes a bit of awkward shuffling (something that they’re used to, considering the two years packed into a muddy trench with, like, thousands of other men) for them to get into position but eventually they manage it – Ernie kneeling naked on the bed with his arms braced, him swaying nakedly behind Ernie and attempting to slick up his cock.
“Harry,” Ernie grumbles, more to fill the brief silence than out of any actual worry (they know each other so well after all this time squashed together), “are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Of course I do!” He chirps brightly, finishing slicking himself up with one hand while bracing against the wall with the other (so he doesn’t fall over, because then they’d only start cackling, and nothing would get done).
“Are you absolutely-?”
“Yes!” He grins, brightly – examines dear Ernie spread out underneath him with slightly narrowed eyes “…Could you spread your legs a little, perhaps?”
Ernie does, with a low sigh but that’s really to be expected!
“Excellent!” And forgiven, easily – as he dips his fingers into the pot of oil and comes out with them slick, slowly slides one into Ernie’s entrance in a testing, careful sort of way “…Is that alright?”
Ernie is gasping.
“…Is that-?”
“Harry,” Ernie is gasping, gasping and arching and shaking so sweetly that he’s already rock hard at the sight of it, “unless you add another finger now I may actually throw you out into the snow as you are.”
…He beams, “that’s murder!”
“Justified murder.”
And he laughs… And slides another finger in, delighting in the gasp and arch and even the little whines pulled from between Ernie’s teeth as his fingers clench in the blankets.
“Harry!” Ernie cries, when he adds a third finger as gently as he can.
“Christ!” Ernie yells, when he twists all the fingers and gets an actual hiss and buck, “holy fucking Christ, Harry, now!”
“Are you-?” He asks hurriedly, already drawing back and bracing himself a little higher against the wall.
“Now!”
…And he does.
He slowly thrusts in, right into Ernie’s tight and whimpering heat, until he’s fully buried – trembling with pure sensation over Ernie’s back as the man pants and whimpers and desperately tries to catch his breath.
He digs his fingers into the wall, when Ernie’s hands start to clench in the blankets again, starts to move with a chorus of whimpers and whines and near incoherent curses urging him on from below, practically dragging him into that tight heat that makes his eyes fall shut and his mouth drop open and incoherent mumbles of his own start falling out.
It doesn’t take long with all of that, he will admit.
He comes first, drawn on by Ernie’s barely muffled cries beneath him, slumps over that warm back and has just enough time to return from a whole world of white and think of apologizing before…
Ernie is following after him, bucking up and swearing into his hastily provided hand and shuddering back down into the bed like any heaviness or crushing or risk of breaking bits of furniture is far from his first concern (or even his second concern, or his third – as he thinks in the happy post sex haze).
They pant together on the bed for a second, happily.
“…Hey, Ernie?” He asks, after a long moment of figuring out how exactly to work his tongue.
“Harry?”
“…Are you warm now?”
He receives only a laugh in reply. A happy, spluttering thing as Ernie pillows his head in his arms and the cold presumably sulks miserably outside.
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timeasmymeasure
FILL: The Warmest Act, FreezingWWISoldier!Mat/FreezingWWISoldier!Larry, NC-17 [3/3]
Date: 2011-12-13 11:47 pm (UTC)“Harry,” Ernie grumbles, more to fill the brief silence than out of any actual worry (they know each other so well after all this time squashed together), “are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Of course I do!” He chirps brightly, finishing slicking himself up with one hand while bracing against the wall with the other (so he doesn’t fall over, because then they’d only start cackling, and nothing would get done).
“Are you absolutely-?”
“Yes!” He grins, brightly – examines dear Ernie spread out underneath him with slightly narrowed eyes “…Could you spread your legs a little, perhaps?”
Ernie does, with a low sigh but that’s really to be expected!
“Excellent!” And forgiven, easily – as he dips his fingers into the pot of oil and comes out with them slick, slowly slides one into Ernie’s entrance in a testing, careful sort of way “…Is that alright?”
Ernie is gasping.
“…Is that-?”
“Harry,” Ernie is gasping, gasping and arching and shaking so sweetly that he’s already rock hard at the sight of it, “unless you add another finger now I may actually throw you out into the snow as you are.”
…He beams, “that’s murder!”
“Justified murder.”
And he laughs… And slides another finger in, delighting in the gasp and arch and even the little whines pulled from between Ernie’s teeth as his fingers clench in the blankets.
“Harry!” Ernie cries, when he adds a third finger as gently as he can.
“Christ!” Ernie yells, when he twists all the fingers and gets an actual hiss and buck, “holy fucking Christ, Harry, now!”
“Are you-?” He asks hurriedly, already drawing back and bracing himself a little higher against the wall.
“Now!”
…And he does.
He slowly thrusts in, right into Ernie’s tight and whimpering heat, until he’s fully buried – trembling with pure sensation over Ernie’s back as the man pants and whimpers and desperately tries to catch his breath.
He digs his fingers into the wall, when Ernie’s hands start to clench in the blankets again, starts to move with a chorus of whimpers and whines and near incoherent curses urging him on from below, practically dragging him into that tight heat that makes his eyes fall shut and his mouth drop open and incoherent mumbles of his own start falling out.
It doesn’t take long with all of that, he will admit.
He comes first, drawn on by Ernie’s barely muffled cries beneath him, slumps over that warm back and has just enough time to return from a whole world of white and think of apologizing before…
Ernie is following after him, bucking up and swearing into his hastily provided hand and shuddering back down into the bed like any heaviness or crushing or risk of breaking bits of furniture is far from his first concern (or even his second concern, or his third – as he thinks in the happy post sex haze).
They pant together on the bed for a second, happily.
“…Hey, Ernie?” He asks, after a long moment of figuring out how exactly to work his tongue.
“Harry?”
“…Are you warm now?”
He receives only a laugh in reply. A happy, spluttering thing as Ernie pillows his head in his arms and the cold presumably sulks miserably outside.