Rappelling without the harness, free-falling with the barest of anchors. It starts with the helicopter ride, anticipation building to a fever pitch that hums along your skin, rippling, challenging you with its intensity. Then the drop -- just you and your gloves and the rope and the fast descent to Earth, rapid and heart-stopping. Have to make sure you set your pace correctly, have to make sure your hold is tight 'cause you're anchored by nothing except your hands on the rope, and the ground's just a few heartbeats away. Fast, glorious, breath-taking and over much too goddamn soon. Harry loved fast roping. Almost as much as he loved kissing Orlando. "I wonder if I'm ever going to get tired of kissing you." Harry shook his head a bit to get the water out of his eyes, licked his tongue across the seam of Orlando's mouth, tasted water, tasted Orlando, loved the taste, couldn't get enough. Impossibly beautiful eyes framed by wet lashes opened, slowly focused on him. "God, I hope not," Orlando answered, backed Harry under the spray, opened his mouth to Harry's questing tongue, melted into him, into his embrace. It was Orlando's kiss, hot, carnal, sinking Harry deeper into its vortex, leaving him dizzy, leaving him weak. It was Orlando's mouth, so open, so generous, molded to his, pliant under his, moving with him, becoming a part of him. It was Orlando's tongue, so shy, yet bold, glancing out for quick forays across Harry's tongue, lazily tracing his teeth, his lips, rolling around in his mouth until it filled Harry with the full flavor of Orlando and only Orlando, forever a part of him. Harry slid his hands down to Orlando's ass, pulled that lithe body closer, fused them together, slid his hands up a wet, supple back, took Orlando's mouth again and again as water flowed on, around, over them in a gentle, warm spray. There was only this kiss, these willowy arms wrapped around him, running fingers through his hair, pulling him down for more. More of that mouth, so hot, so yielding to the thrusts of his tongue. More of those small, even teeth teasing his lower lip, driving him crazy. More of those full lips conforming to his, allowing him access to anything and everything. More of that body, damp from the water, draped on his, thigh to thigh, chest to chest, as much a part of the kiss as the mouths and lips and tongues. Full on, hard-core, hot as hell and sweet as white chocolate. "You know, the water is going to get cold if we stay under here much longer," Harry commented, rubbing the water into Orlando's back with his hands. Orlando smiled, slow, playful, ran his hands down Harry's shoulders to his biceps. "We could always go back to bed." Bed was a good idea. Harry looked down at Orlando, all big, beautiful eyes and pouty, swollen lips. And groaned. "In a minute." "That's good, too." Harry's mouth was back on Orlando's before he finished the sentence. And was immediately sucked back under by soft lips opening to his thrusts and sweet hands driving him mad with want. Sliding to reality was worth it to have Orlando's lips as an anchor. Onto Slope
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