Oi, but he shouldn't drink. Ever. Damn Harry for getting him into this mess. A dim, tiny, sober part of his brain argued that it wasn't precisely Harry's fault, but he kicked it into submission. 'Cause, yeah. He wasn't too concerned with practical right now. But, uh, Harry. All his fault. It was. Okay, okay, and the numerous cans of beer he'd ingested. Numerous. Huh. Good word. Karl tested the weight of it on his tongue, sank a bit deeper into the icy water, sloshed around bobbing beer cans. He was past cold now -- had reached a very pleasant sort of Zen-like numb. Perhaps he'd take up T'ai Chi next. Except. Oh yeah. He was trying to drown himself here. He sank fully under the surface of the tub, and the noises and shrieks of laughter took on a weird, muddy quality. Dark hair drifted out in a wet halo and bubbles rose to the surface of the water as he breathed out. Bet he looked like something from a cheesy horror flick. Hopefully he was one of the last to die. Fuck, he was a floating non-sequiter. He opened his eyes -- the sting of the water was sharp until he adjusted to it. Everything looked blurry, muted. Like looking through a very opaque sort of glass. He saw a slender figure that looked like -- um, Orlando? maybe? -- round the corner of the veranda and stop in front of the tub. "Akrl, raeyoukay?" Karl slid up, t-shirt clinging to his shoulders and chest, denim a second skin on his legs. "What?" he asked, tilting his head, trying to get the water out of his ears. A few blinks revealed that, yep, sure enough, it was Orlando. Even blurry, some things -- such as mohawks and lean, graceful hips -- were unmistakable. "I said, are you okay?" Orlando repeated, fishing around in the water. Karl jumped a bit when slender fingers brushed against his knee -- tickled like a son of a bitch. "Sorry," Orlando mumbled, finally pulling out two cans of beer. "Eh." Karl waved him off, shoved wet hair off his forehead. "And yeah, I'm fine. Trying to drown myself." "As long as you're not naked," Orlando replied, grinning as he kissed Karl's forehead. "Nite, mate." "Nite," Karl called after him before sinking back into the water. Fuck and double fuck. Clearly he was going to have to rethink this whole drowning thing if he sat up at the first sign of human contact. Hmmm. Eh. Just as well, since his jeans were uncomfortably clammy and he couldn't feel his toes. "Do I want to know why you're lounging about in my bathtub?" Harry's amused voice drifted in the night air, and Karl lifted his head, trying not to scowl. Figures Harry would ruin a perfectly good pseudo-suicide/pity party. "Well, the sofa was full." "Of course," Harry nodded, as if Karl made perfect sense. That was the thing about Harry -- he made the non-sensical logical. He walked forward, lean hips framed perfectly in faded to hell jeans. It was the jeans that had gotten Karl into trouble in the first place. Fucker. "Planning on staying the night?" "No, not as such." Fuck it. No more staring at the hips. Or legs. Or the chest in the too-tight t-shirt. If he wasn't going to off himself, he could have another beer. "Join me?" Karl asked, holding up a can. "Yeah, okay." Harry dropped down, sat Indian-style next to the tub, and accepted the beer with a nod. "Bit cold in there, innit?'' he asked, peering over the rim at the ice chunks still floating on the surface of the water. "Yeah, I guess. Got used to it." Would probably die of hypothermia or whatever. "It's not, y'know, uncomfortable?" "I hate wet denim, and I can't feel my toes, but that's it, yeah," Karl replied, wondering why Harry cared. Hell, after the mess he'd made of things, he was surprised Harry was even speaking to him. "Alright." Harry seemed to consider his beer for a long minute -- looked pretty fascinated by it, although Karl couldn't figure out why -- before glancing back up. "Alright," he said again, knocking his beer back in one long swallow, throat working in slow-motion. He set his can down with a thud, then just as abruptly heaved himself over the edge of the tub and splashed on top of Karl. "Fuck, but this is cold!" "Eh?" Because...um. Why the fuck was Harry in the bathtub? With him? On him? On top of him, chest and thighs pressed against him, sinking them both deeper under the frigid water. "Um...Harry?" "Yeah?" Harry's teeth chattered a bit, and he shifted. Um...whoa. Shouldn't be going there -- don't think about the...erm, yeah...pressing against...Jesus. Harry settled more firmly on top of Karl and gave a satisfied sigh. "Did you need something?" Karl just resisted the urge to brush Harry's hair out of his face, to arch into the muscle and skin plastered on top of him. "Um...yeah. I need to know what you're doing in the bathtub with me. Um, I mean, it's your tub and all, but..." He was vaguely aware he was babbling, but couldn't stop. "I mean...I thought you weren't speaking to me. After." Yeah, you know...after. Harry winked, long lashes fluttering against soft skin. "And who says I am still speaking to you?" he asked. Karl opened his mouth to answer. And was cut off by Harry's lips on his, tongue stealing inside, grazing his teeth...and. Um. Yeah. Harry. Lips. Sliding over his. Soft and warm and yeah, do that right there again, please. Karl slid his fingers along Harry's scalp, feasted on that clever tongue, those sinful lips. He wondered if the formerly frigid water was really boiling or if that was just his blood. Decided he didn't give a flying fuck as long as Harry continued to press against him and rub and twist and, yeah, Karl would be content to lie in this bathtub all night. He whimpered in protest when Harry lifted his head, a look of immense satisfaction in lovely, dark eyes. "Much better than talking, wouldn't you agree?" he asked, thumbs pushing Karl's wet shirt up his chest. Chill water hit bare skin, but all Karl could feel was heat. "Um." Best his frazzled brain could come up with. "Yeah, I thought so," Harry murmured, and once again, Karl was sucked under by masterful lips and a darting, wicked tongue that managed to find every sensitive spot in Karl's mouth and exploit it. Jesus. They were both breathless, and Karl's shirt had been tossed to a sodden heap on the wooden floor when Harry finally lifted his head again. "Fuck, but you're sweet," he breathed. And yeah, oh yeah. Karl could definitely get used to the predatory gleam in Harry's eyes. "Um." Yeah, coherency and Karl weren't getting along too well at the moment. He gasped, groaned when Harry sank deeper in the water, slithered down to lap at Karl's collarbone. Heat, slick, fuckinghellyes, and what the hell was he trying to remember to say, anyway? He must've made some small sound of protest -- something -- 'cause Harry lifted his head, fixed those unforgettable eyes on him. "You seem a bit tense." Tense? Try horny as fuck and confused. Confused...right. "Harry, why are you doing...um...?" Karl glanced down at Harry's hands resting on Karl's hips, legs tangled together under the water, Harry's lips moving in lazy spirals on Karl's upper chest. Karl's head hit the marbled edge of the tub with a soft thud, and he struggled to remember to breathe, words forgotten. "Because I wanted to," Harry replied, the words a low hum against Karl's very needy skin. "Didn't seem to, y'know, want to --" Jesus, yeah, fingers struggling with clammy denim, and Karl lost his train of thought again. Hell, he couldn't even remember where the fuck the station was at this point. Finally, Harry succeeded in peeling apart Karl's jeans, nimble fingers closing around Karl's deprived, starved-for-attention cock. "Caught me off-guard is all." Right, okay. Good answer, Karl could accept it. Although, at this point, he'd accept any answer at all as long as Harry continued to move just there and do that... "Oh," he breathed, lips forming a perfect 'o' of surprise. Harry took the obvious invitation; slipped his tongue inside Karl's mouth, fist lazily stroking heated, hard flesh. Karl clutched Harry's slippery shoulders, dimly registered that Harry still had his shirt on -- and who the hell gave him permission to be clothed, anyway -- before he sank deeper into the water, arched up into the hot fist on him, tilted and turned his head, wanting to drown in Harry, in this kiss, those lips, that clever, clever hand. His whimper was desperate, twitchy when Harry stopped. Um, hey, who the hell told him he could do that? Karl's eyelashes fluttered when he opened cloudy eyes, blearily focusing on Harry. "Wha--?" "Too fucking cold for what I really want to do," Harry explained, shrugging, lips curving into an apologetic smile. "What you really...?" Oh. Oh...yes, yes, want, that's lovely. Pleaseplease, even. Take. I'm yours. "I'm sorry. For, you know, earlier." And Harry's kiss was soft, brief. "Already forgotten," Karl smiled, finally brushing Harry's hair off his damp forehead. In truth, he'd pretty much forgotten his entire life until Harry had climbed into the tub. "You wanna?" Karl responded to the sexy wink with one of his own. "Oh yeah," he murmured, dragging Harry's head back down for another slow, thorough kiss.
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