Rating/Warning: PG-13, slash
Word Count: 530
Summary: Name that tune.
Notes: Thanks to iuliamentis for getting me to actually write this after talking about it for days, and to julad for keeping a straight face long enough to beta. There is really no good explanation for this, I just... got it stuck in my head and had to write it. Sorry. *g*
David stared at the ceiling for a while, his panting syncopated with Colby's quick breath against his thigh, letting his brain reassemble itself. "Hey," he said after a minute, looking down at the top of Colby's head. "You were humming again. What is that?"
Colby tipped his head up, giving David a slow green-eyed blink and then smiling, licking his reddened lips so close to David's dick he could almost feel the slide of tongue. "A blowjob?"
David snorted, reached down and ran his thumb across the shiny-wet corner of Colby's mouth. The tip of Colby's tongue flicked out against his skin, but David refused to be distracted. "What were you humming? I'm starting to recognize it. I'm gonna hear it on the radio one of these days and drive right off the road."
Colby said, "No, you won't," but he turned his face down against David's thigh as he said it, the tips of his ears going pink and his shoulders twitching tight before he forced them to relax again.
David laughed. "Granger, you gotta remember I can tell when you're blushing. Come on, what the hell are you humming?"
Colby heaved a sigh against David's skin and then moved, lifting himself up over David and crawling up until they were eye to eye. Softly, voice rasping like he'd just had a cock down his throat, cheeks brightening from pink to flaming red, Colby sang. "Sodomy, Fellatio, Cunnilingus, Pederasty, Father, why do these words sound so nasty? Masturbation can be fun, join the holy orgy, Kama Sutra everyone!"
Colby closed his eyes and unlocked his elbows, lowering himself down on top of David. He was heavy and sweaty and limp, making David work to breathe, and his face was fever-hot against David's throat. "It's from Hair," Colby muttered, and the words were a ticklish movement of lips and breath on David's skin.
"Hair," David repeated, running one hand over Colby's. It was short-clipped and dirty blond (unsat, Colby had told him with weirdly defiant satisfaction, meaning it wouldn't pass an Army inspection, but he still freaked out if he didn't get a haircut every sixteen to twenty days--and David couldn't really argue when he was shaving his own head every two or three). "Hair. Like the musical with the hippies."
"Yeah," Colby muttered. His face was cooling down, or David's skin was getting acclimated to the slow dull burn of it. "It, uh--" Colby's left hand rose and waved vaguely through David's field of vision. "When I, um--" Colby put his hand back down, heavy on David's arm, admitting defeat. "Yeah. With the hippies."
David grinned and shook his head. The back of Colby's neck actually literally was kind of red, between the remnants of his dark desert tan and the fading hot flush, and here he was in bed with David, singing a song from Hair. "How did you ever make it out of Idaho alive?"
Colby lifted his head up, grinning, and finally gave a low, gravelly little laugh. He pressed a kiss to David's mouth and whispered, "Man, believe me, I would tell you if I knew."