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ksclaw asked: For the fic meme thing, if you're still up for them o3o Pairing: NDU Pitch and Pitchiner, 5 and shag o3o

Behind a cut as nsfw <3. Also, both of them are pretty drunk in this. And terrible at drunk sex.



[5 - sleepy]

Attempting to have sex when they were both drunk was always a messy affair, and given how he and Pitchiner had downed a bottle of wine each during the launch party for Piki’s play, it was safe to say they were both somewhere between “drunk” and “completely wasted”. They could still talk though, even if Pitchiner’s drawl was now so thick as to be almost indecipherable, and Pitch had slipped into his drinking habit of over-enunciating every syllable for clarity.

The ability to talk wasn’t necessarily a good thing though, because Pitch wasn’t interested in conversation, he was interested in Pitchiner’s hands and cock and the things he could do with his mouth that didn’t involve speech. Pitchiner, on the other hand, was in an affectionate mood and in between wrestling out of his clothes, he kept taking time to kiss Pitch and call him gorgeous, hot, sexy, a whole range of simple cliches that would normally be seasoned with insults when they were sober.

Pitch wasn’t entirely sure that he liked it, mostly because he didn’t know what Pitchiner wanted as a reply, but Pitchiner didn’t seem to be upset or angry at Pitch’s lack of response. Once they had both finished stripping down Pitch stretched out on the bed, waiting for Pitchiner to fetch lube or start jerking him off, or something, but Pitchiner seemed to have other plans in mind.

If he had any plans at all. More than anything, he seemed to be preoccupied with staring at Pitch, looking him up and down.

“Well?” Pitch asked, sharply, and Pitchiner didn’t quite snap out of it, taking his time walking over to the bedside table and digging out a lube sachet - no point using the bottle while they were still working through the freebies from Pride - and still looking over Pitch as if he were admiring a painting. “Stop staring.”

Pitchiner shrugged, climbing onto the bed and manhandling Pitch onto his stomach. “‘S’not my fault you’re hot,” Pitchiner said, before Pitch felt the cold slick of lube against his ass and upper thigh, Pitchiner getting lube practically everywhere except inside him at first. “Really, really hot.”

Pitch rolled his eyes and propped himself up on knees and elbows, a little reluctant to do so when the bed itself was so inviting and soft, but still aroused enough to want Pitchiner’s fingers in deeper than lying down allowed.

Pitchiner grumbled something behind him, and Pitch looked over his shoulder, found Pitchiner was still limp and glaring at his cock as if he could intimidate it into showing interest. It wasn’t the first time Pitchiner had struggled while drunk, and Pitch was a little too drunk himself to feel sympathetic. “Oh for - let me do this,” Pitch growled, rolling over enough to let himself reach under the bed, groping blindly with his hands until he found the box he was interested in, and pulling it up, tossing it to Pitchiner. “Fuck me with that, at least.”

Pitchiner paused for a moment, giving his cock one last glare before shrugging in defeat and taking the dildo out of its box, weighing it in his hand.

Pitch wasn’t sure why that particular image was funny, but as Pitchiner crawled up the bed to lie down next to him and gestured for Pitch to sit on his lap, he started to laugh, and when Pitchiner started clumsily trying to shove the dildo into place, his laughter only increased.

“What’s so funny?” Pitchiner asked, which didn’t help matters, and Pitch graciously helped Pitchiner position the dildo in a way he actually liked before pushing himself back against it, seating himself so he could ride it as long as Pitchiner kept a firm grip.

“This is terrible,” Pitch said, and when Pitchiner looked offended, he bent over to give him a quick bite on the chin. “Don’t look like that,” he said, somewhere between affectionate and cautioning, and Pitchiner frowned at him, honest to god pouting.

“‘S’not fair though, you bein’ all gorgeous and me being shit in bed,” Pitchiner said, huffy, and Pitch raised an eyebrow. Possibly both eyebrows given that he wasn’t entirely in control of his muscles, but he was trying for one.

“You can be -” Pitch hesitated, thinking, and annoyed that thinking wasn’t helping him to sustain his own erection. He wanted to fuck and be fucked, but his cock seemed to be thinking of falling asleep along with the rest of Pitch’s limbs. “You’re good when you’re sober. Okay?” Pitch conceded, not wanting to go overboard with the compliments in case Pitchiner started getting smug. He still looked a little sore though, and Pitch patted him gently on the cheek. “I wouldn’t have terrible sex with anyone else.”

“Thanks, babe,” Pitchiner said, and Pitch couldn’t entirely determine if he was being sincere or sarcastic, looked down between his legs to see that his cock had apparently given up the battle entirely, even if he was still generally aroused.

Pitch didn’t always give up on a lost cause, but he was too tired to be invested in it this time, eased himself back off the dildo and took it from Pitchiner’s hands, tossing it off the bed with a loud thump before sprawling over Pitchiner’s chest.

”You owe me in the morning,” Pitch muttered against Pitchiner’s neck, and Pitchiner stroked a hand through Pitch’s hair that Pitch realised a little too late was still sticky with lube.

”Sure thing,” Pitchiner said, wrapping both arms heavily around Pitch’s back and holding him close, Pitch feeling the rise and fall of his deepening breaths. At least Pitchiner hadn’t fallen asleep on him while they were trying to fuck. It was a small mercy.

The weight tugging on Pitch’s eyelids suggested he hadn’t been far off the same fate either.

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