Just you and the snow, you and nature, bound together in an elemental dance, dominance over the ground in lightning fast movements. Feel the cold air steal your breath, the velocity snatch your heart, the glorious slide down the hill scramble your brain. Blinding, fast, dizzying, constant motion over curves and slopes. Just a thin board and a thread of control between you and tumbling head over heels in the snow, just cold seeping into your very pores, finding every crevasse, every corner, every weakness, just the thrill of whipping along without destination or a course...but knowing that wherever you slide to a halt is right where you want to be. Orlando loved snowboarding. But he loved Harry's touch more. "You know, I think I could just run my hands right here on your chest and never get tired of it," Harry commented, brushing his thumb over a tight nipple. "Whole body to explore, love," Orlando managed to pant, twisting his body to follow the movements of Harry's hands. The counter dug into his hip, so he shifted, leaned into Harry. Better...yes, hard, bare chest now pressing into his. Much fucking better. "So there is. Well, best get to it, shouldn't I?" The question was punctuated by a slow, achingly hot kiss that curled Orlando's toes, melted his bones. Callused, gentle hands raced down Orlando's sides, traced his hips, delved into the waistband of Orlando's jeans briefly before sliding up his stomach. It was Harry's touch, all experienced, knowing every tiny spot on Orlando's body, what made him writhe, what made him scream. It was Harry's hands, arrogant and slow, drawing out every ounce of pleasure in fingers that rubbed, palms that lingered. It was Harry's lips, teasing over every area left aching by burning touches. "More." It was a plea ripped from Orlando's throat as he gripped Harry's arms, allowed his head to fall back against the kitchen cabinet in supplication. "Please, stop teasing, just..." "I could never say no to you." Harry's lips were right against the flutter of Orlando's pulse in his neck. Adroit fingers unzipped Orlando's jeans, delving, seeking, finding...yes, yes, right fucking there. "Better?" "Yes," Orlando hissed, cock jumping in Harry's hand, under those clever, clever fingers. "So beautiful like this," Harry murmured, eyes dark with passion, with love. Full lips claimed his, tongue moving, lips slanting, as Harry's hand sped up fractionally, drawing another moan from Orlando's mouth. Harry changed the angle, changed the speed, fast, slow, a blur one moment, tantalizingly lazy the next. It was insane and overwhelming...just Harry's thighs rubbing against his, Harry's chest touching his, Harry's hand driving him straight into an eclipse of now and want. Another sharp kiss, tasting of coffee and Harry, another deft wrist flick...right there keep moving fuck Harry God... Orlando groaned his release in the crook of Harry's neck, held up by strong arms as he went pliant in a steady embrace. "Jesus," he breathed, sighed the word along Harry's shoulder. "I could honestly watch you come all day." Harry gave him another slow kiss before reaching around him to wash his hands off in the sink, and Orlando breathed in Harry's scent, rubbed his chest against Harry's, practically purring in his arms. "Yes, but we'd never get breakfast finished if you did that." Harry's grin was slow and wicked as he glided wet hands up Orlando's back. "Who needs breakfast when I can just eat you?" "I love the way you think..." The rest of Orlando's reply was cut off by Harry's mouth, firm and sweet, on his, and by Harry's fingers trailing down his spine. The thrill of the slopes had nothing on Harry's touch. Onto Curve
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