The morning sun was fucking bright as Adam wandered out into the kitchen, hitching up his oldest pair of jeans and blinking against the sunshine. They were soft. Which was good, considering that he was a little hung over and everything ached, and he couldn't find his best pair of sweats.
Of course, that could be because someone else was wearing them. Someone who looked a hell of a lot like Zach, who was standing in front of the fridge, drinking milk out of the carton. Adam squinted, wishing he knew where the fuck he'd left his little, wire-framed glasses. Contacts were Hell on hung over eyes.
"Are those my sweats?"
"Not any more." Zach's voice was just a rumble, damn near a growl.
Fuckhead. Adam went over and took the milk, wiping off the carton and putting it away. "Get a damned glass. Nothin' worse than backwash in the milk."
"Bitch." Zach moved over to the coffee maker, started the water running. "You're such a girl."
Adam looked at Zach. Maybe did a little growling of his own. "I am not. I just like the milk to stay fresh a bit, and lord knows with you in it, it will sour." This kind of sparring was the best hangover remedy ever.
"Not like I jacked off in it, asshole." Zach grinned over, tongue stuck out. Adam moved fast, reaching for Zach's tongue and just missing. He landed hard against Zach's side, mashing him against the counter. Zach's hands landed on his hips, squeezing. "Watch it, now. I need that asscheek."
"Yeah, I'm kinda fond." Still, he wrestled Zach back and forth a bit, feeling the last of his hangover slide away.
Zach chuckled, pushing right back. One hand covered his ass, fingers playing with the edge of a little hole at the corner of his pocket.
"Don't you ruin my good jeans, asshole." He twisted at the waist, turned Zach hard, trying to take him down.
The motion made Zach grab tighter, the denim of his jeans ripping a little. "Careful, pretty boy. Your butt's gonna show."
"Pretty boy." Adam snorted. Yeah, it took one to know one. He grunted, really putting effort into it now, calling on the old wrestling and football training and heaving.
Lucky for him he knew the secret to Zach's trick knee. Nothing like a line drive into a man's kneecap to fuck up the world. Zach started to go down, and Adam managed not to go down too, losing only his good pair of jeans, that hole getting pretty damned big.
"Goddamn." Zach hit the floor, sliding down his body to slow the fall. "You need to learn new tricks, man."
"Why the Hell should I when the old ones work like a charm?" He grinned down, rubbing his knuckles over Zach's head.
"No noogies, butthead." Zach chuckled, leaned in and bit his belly, teeth stinging.
"Behave." Not that he really wanted good behavior. That bite zinged right to his cock, making it fill and lift.
"Make me." Zach nuzzled in, stubble scratching at his skin.
Oh, shit. That felt good. His hands tickled Zach's chin as he undid the button and zipper on the hanging jeans, pulling his cock out. It rubbed against Zach's cheek, little shivers of sensation rocking him as that morning beard growth scraped him. His hands slid up to cup Zach's cheeks, fingers pressing at the edges of Zach's mouth to open it.