therumjournals | Playin' With the Boys (A Star Trek RPF Fanfic)

Title: Playin’ With the Boys
Author:

therumjournals
Pairing: Chris/Zach
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4,950
Summary: Chris finds himself in the middle of a volleyball rivalry on Santa Risa beach. (Prompts: "Playing on opposing sports teams" and "Sunburn h/c.")
Written for

trekrpfexchange for

lousy_science. Thanks to everyone who read and commented on the original post!
Disclaimer: I don’t know Zach, Chris, or any beach volleyball players, sadly.
A/N: Santa Risa is a made up beach. Title is a reference to the iconic volleyball scene from Top Gun.

A spray of sand flew into the air as Chris dove for the volleyball, missing it by inches and landing hard, knocking the air from his lungs. He rolled onto his back, squinting into the blazing sun until John appeared above him, offering a hand.

"Sorry, man," he said, shaking the sand from his sun-bleached hair as he stood. "My bad."

"No worries, dude. That was a sweet lay-out."

"Thanks." Chris grinned, pleased to get John's approval. He'd arrived in Santa Risa just a week earlier and by some stroke of luck had managed to get himself a job behind the bar at Max’s, one of the most popular beachfront hangouts. He’d quickly learned that most of the staff there had been working together in various capacities since they were 18, and he was determined to charm his way into their circle as quickly as possible. So when John had extended the invitation to join them for an afternoon of beach volleyball, he'd accepted eagerly, and desperately hoped that he didn't suck.

Considering they'd won their first three games, he was feeling pretty good about the way the afternoon was going. He was, however, ready for a break. The sun beat down on them mercilessly, and he was drenched in sweat, his t-shirt long discarded, sand sticking to his skin.

He told John he was going to go cool off and headed for the ocean. A few yards out, he dove into the waves and came up laughing, refreshed. The water felt amazing as it washed the sweat and grit from his sun-warmed skin. Impulsively, he ducked back under the water and pushed himself up into a handstand, kicking his feet toward the sky as he curled his fingers against the smooth sea floor. When he came up for air, he glanced toward the beach with a flicker of embarrassment, hoping no one had seen him frolicking alone out in the water. He let the waves nudge him toward the shore until he had to stand, the weight of the water pulling his swim trunks down another inch, revealing an even paler strip of skin across his hips.

John met him halfway back to the volleyball court, gripping his arm and walking backwards, his tone serious. "One more game."

Chris gave him what he hoped was an apologetic look. "Sorry man, I think I'm done. I got up early and I was hoping to grab a nap before we go out tonight."

"Fuck your nap. Listen to me, Chris. It's Zach and Zoe. You can't leave me hanging here."

"It's who?"

John gestured down the beach to where two people were striding across the sand toward the volleyball court. All heads on the beach were turned toward them, and if it were a scene in a movie, Chris had no doubt that it would be in slow motion, heat waves rising off the sand as a thumping beat played in the background. John’s face was a mixture of awe and loathing, his eyes narrowing as he watched them approach.

"Lifeguards,” he said, curling his lip in disgust. He caught Chris’s confused expression. “Bartenders and lifeguards do not get along. It’s a carefully honed rivalry with years of tradition behind it. And those two are the fucking king and queen of Santa Risa beach.”

Chris turned his head to examine the duo as they got closer. The girl’s dark skin contrasted with the bright red of her bikini – highly practical for saving lives, Chris was sure. Long hair fell straight down her back, and her body was exquisite. She looked like she wouldn’t be out of place on the cover of the swimsuit issue.

“She’s hot.”

“No shit. That’s Zoe Saldana, and she’s fucking untouchable, on and off the volleyball court. I’ve seen more than one guy icing a body part after trying to put the moves on her.”

“Got it. And the guy?” Chris’s eyes shifted to the man walking beside Zoe, taking in the sight of long legs clad in bright red trunks, sharp hipbones leading Chris’s gaze up over the flat lines of his stomach. Dog tags hung from a silver chain around his neck, contrasting with the dark thatch of hair on his chest. A pair of aviator sunglasses obscured his eyes. His dark hair looked remarkably good for a day spent in salt water and sand. Chris took it all in with interest as he listened to John’s answer.

“That’s Zach Quinto. He’s an aloof asshole with sick volleyball skills, and I am fucking dying to kick his ass.”

Coincidentally, Chris had just been thinking about that ass. He decided not to mention this to John.
“Are they together?”

John shrugged. “Everyone assumes so, but no one really knows. Like I said, our circles don’t really mix.”

Chris raised an eyebrow. “Don’t they drink?”

“Lifeguards drink at the Beach Club. Bars that don’t require a membership are beneath them. Sometimes a few of the newer guys will show up at Max’s, trying to get some ass. That doesn’t always end well. But the volleyball court’s the real battleground.”

“Sounds fun. You ever win?”

“Uh, no.”

Chris laughed and John gave him a look. “Come on, Chris, we can’t walk away. Plus, they’ve never seen you play. Fresh blood. Maybe we can at least make them work for it.”

Chris considered it, watching as Zach and Zoe arrived at the net. Zach leaned down to pluck the volleyball from the sand, tossing it up with one hand, catching it lightly and sending it into a spin on the tip of his index finger.

“Is he serious?” Chris murmured. “He does know we’re not actually in Top Gun, right?”

John was already striding toward the net, so Chris took a few quick steps to catch up with him. Zach stepped forward as they approached.

“Quinto.”

“Cho.”

John crossed his arms. Chris assumed they were attempting to stare each other down beneath the dark lenses of their sunglasses.

“Who’s this?” He jerked his head toward Chris.

“I’m Chris.” Out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed the set of John’s jaw. He decided to take the opposite tack. “I’m new here? John tells me you’re some kind of hot shot on the volleyball court.”

He could practically feel Zach looking him up and down, judging him. “You could say that, yeah,” Zach said, his lip curling into a smirk.

Chris looked deliberately at Zoe and gave her his most winning smile. “Hi.” She rolled her eyes and shot Zach an impatient glare.

Zach took a step back, holding the ball with both hands. He looked at John. “We going to play, or do you guys need a few more weeks of practice?”

“Fuck you, Quinto. Let’s go.”

Chris barely had time to take three steps back onto the court before Zach was tossing the ball into the air, stretching himself up in a graceful line to hit the ball over the net in a powerful serve. Chris was still staring, wondering how it was possible for anyone’s legs to be that long, when the ball thudded dully into the sand at his feet.

“What the hell, Chris,” John hissed, moving toward him to scoop the ball out of the sand. “Don’t fuck this up, man.”

“Sorry,” Chris said, wrenching his focus back to their side of the court, suddenly overwhelmed with a burning determination to play hard. He wanted to make this guy sweat.

The next serve was off to the side and Chris moved for it, dropping to his knees to for the scoop and placing it at the perfect height for John to spike it over the net, just out of Zoe’s reach.

“Yeah!” Chris pumped his fist and he and gave John a high-five. Zoe served and Chris dove for it, scrambling to his feet just in time to reach John’s perfectly placed set-up shot, tipping it over the net. Zach managed to get his hands under the ball, but Zoe slammed it into the net, and suddenly they were up two points. Chris rubbed his hands together gleefully as Zach glared at him across the court. He kept his eyes on Zach as he reached down to grab the ball.

“I hope you’re hungry, Quinto. ‘Cause you’re about to eat sand!” His serve went straight into the net, and he muttered a curse as Zach and Zoe exchanged an amused glance.

“Why don’t you hold off on the trash talk until you win us a few more points,” John muttered.

“Yeah, okay.” Chris shut his mouth and focused on the game as his next serve sailed neatly over the net, directly to where Zoe was poised to receive.

The rest of the game was played out in intense concentration, the only sounds the slap of wrists against the ball and the occasional grunt. A small crowd had gathered on the sidelines to watch and shout sporadic encouragement, but even they had picked up on the tone of intensity pervading what was supposed to be a simple pick-up game.

Chris could feel Zach’s eyes on him, watching every move he made. His skin felt hot under the scrutiny, and he found himself standing a little taller, diving a little harder for shots he wouldn’t even have tried to make earlier in the day.

They lost by a point, and Chris was just glad it was John who’d missed the last shot. He slapped his friend on the shoulder and told him it was cool. John shook his head angrily and stormed toward the net to toss the ball to Quinto, signaling for another game.

They were playing harder than they had all afternoon, and Chris could feel it in his legs and back, his muscles beginning to protest, sweat stinging in his eyes. At one point he and Zach went up in the air, chest-to-chest on either side of the net as Zach tipped the ball. Chris blocked it, barely, sending it into the sand behind Zach as they crashed together. Chris’s legs gave way as he landed, and he fell onto the sand, but not before registering an impression of Zach’s taut body stretched against his own, a whiff of musky sweat beneath the smell of sunscreen. Chris stayed on the ground for another second, catching his breath and composing himself. Zach was still standing over him, and he wondered for a hopeful second whether he might reach down to offer Chris a hand. But he turned around without a word, leaving Chris to scramble to his feet, even more determined to win.

They lost the second game by nine points.

Chris rested his hands on his thighs and spat into the sand. He could feel the sun baking him, and the ground seemed to spin beneath his feet. Sweat dripped from his hair and soaked his shorts and his lungs burned with each breath. He held up a finger as John approached.

“One more game,” he wheezed.

“Hell no. Let’s cut our losses and get the hell out of here.”

Chris stood up a little straighter. “No way. I’m not giving them the satisfaction. We’ll win this one, I swear.”

“You have heard the definition of insanity, have you not?” John asked, raising an eyebrow. “Also, you look like death. Pink death.”

Chris waved him off. “I’m fine. Better than ever. Come on, I really want to beat these guys.”

John cracked a smile. “Now you understand, right?”

Chris nodded. “Oh yeah. Come on. Let’s do this.”

Zach and Zoe had been watching them, waiting for their decision, and Zach nodded his approval when John told him they’d play one more game. The first volley lasted so long that Chris wondered if this had been a mistake, not sure his body could handle another hour of this. But the second point lasted all of two seconds, as Chris spiked the ball into the sand just out of Zach’s reach. Chris grinned, exhilarated, and knew the adrenaline would carry him through.

Twenty minutes later, John and Chris were fighting hard to fend off game point. They’d kept the score close throughout the game, and Chris could tell that it was wearing on the other team. He’d been watching Zach and could see that he was getting slower, sloppier, more desperate, smacking wildly at the ball without any of the finesse and strategy that he’d been employing so artfully throughout the earlier games. As he watched, Zach dove hard for the ball, which just made it over the net. John set the shot beautifully, and Chris couldn’t have asked for a better position as he leapt high into the air to send the ball hard and fast toward the back of the court. Zoe spun to make the shot, but it was just out of reach, and Chris pumped a fist in the air as the ball thudded into the sand. He was turning to grin at John when he heard Zach’s voice.

“It was out.”

“What?” Chris turned back toward him in disbelief.

“It was out, it was over the line,” Zach continued as he scrambled to his feet. “Fault. Our ball.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.” He turned back to look at John. “Is he kidding?” They hadn’t been playing by any kind of strict rules, and Chris had seen numerous faults on either side go ignored.

Zach was looking at him from across the court, the ball held loosely at his side. “Sorry if you don’t like the rules.”

“Your rules are pretty convenient. You guys have had like three hits over the line back here and we haven’t called it.”

Zach shrugged. “Your loss.”

Chris stared at him, aghast, as John looked on uncomfortably. Seeing that Zach wasn’t about to budge, Chris threw up his hands in frustration. “This is ridiculous. This is so not worth it. I’m out of here.”

“Chris-“ John started, but Chris shoved past him, leaning down to pick up his shirt from the sand on the sidelines.

“Sorry, man. I’ll make it up to you next time. I need to go cool off, but I’ll catch you later at Max’s, alright?” He jogged off without waiting for John to answer. He could feel Zach’s eyes following him as he left the beach.

**

Luckily, the apartment Chris was sharing for the summer was only a few blocks walk from Max’s, because the parking lot was overflowing by the time he got there. Music blared loudly over the babble of voices as he made his way around the side to the outdoor bar.

“Chris, you made it!” John smacked him on the shoulder in greeting and Chris jerked in pain.

“Ow fucking fuck!” he yelped, pulling away.

“Oooh, sounds like someone forgot to reapply,” John teased, giving him a sympathetic look.

Chris gave him the finger and readjusted his shirt so it was touching the least amount of skin possible.

He’d gotten home from the afternoon’s grudge match drenched in sweat and a little turned on, and he’d gone immediately into the shower to take care of both of those issues. The first blast of hot water against his skin had been one of the most painful experiences of his young life, and he’d slammed the water off so hard that the faucet broke. He cursed loudly and stumbled out of the shower to twist around in front of the mirror, whimpering when he caught sight of his bright red shoulders and upper back. The next hour had been spent gently sponging himself off, grinding his teeth in pain every time sand scraped over the sensitive skin. The shower faucet was totally fucked up, so he stuck his head under the sink to scrub the grit from his reddened scalp. He’d waited as long as possible before putting on any clothes, but finally bit the bullet and pulled on a pair of board shorts and his lightest short sleeve button down, which he left undone and hanging as loosely as possible over his frame.

On his walk over, a cool breeze had been blowing in from the ocean, but now the heat of the crowd had him sweating again, his shirt sticking uncomfortably to his skin. Still, he was determined to enjoy himself, so he sucked in a breath and smiled as he accepted the Corona that John handed him.

“Thanks, man.” He took a long, refreshing sip, then looked curiously at John, who was staring angrily toward the beach entrance to the bar.

“What the fuck are they doing here?”

Chris followed his gaze and his eyebrows shot up as he saw Zach and Zoe enter, along with a couple other lifeguard types. Based on what John had said earlier, this was the last thing that he’d expected to see, although he couldn’t quite deny the small thrill that shot through him at the sight of Zach, his sunglasses now perched in his hair. Chris took an unconscious step forward to get a better look, just as Zach glanced his way. Their eyes met, and Chris felt a swooping sensation in his stomach, not unlike when he'd ridden the Hurricane Coaster over at the Santa Risa pier.

Zach changed course away from the bar and headed toward them. Chris’s eyes flicked down, taking in Zach’s outfit - long shorts with some kind of preppy pink and blue plaid pattern, but at least he wasn’t wearing a polo shirt, instead opting for a tight white tee that stretched over his pecs, with tiny sleeves that were no match for his tanned biceps. Chris’s mouth had gone dry and he snuck a quick sip of his beer as Zach approached.

“Cho,” Zach greeted, nodding curtly at John.

“Quinto.”

Zach turned his head slightly in Chris’s direction and hesitated. Chris realized that he’d never given Zach his last name. “Chris.”

Chris’s heart jumped wildly in his chest and he bit back a grin. “Zach.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” John asked angrily. Chris noted with some satisfaction that it took Zach an extra second to tear his gaze away and look back at John.

“It’s a free country.”

Chris couldn’t stop the grin that time, so he turned away and coughed into his hand. This conversation sounded disturbingly similar to one that he’d had on the playground in fifth grade.

“What happened? Did the Beach Club run out of bitters?”

Chris snorted, choking in the attempt to stifle an outright laugh.

“Nah, we just had a craving for watered-down margaritas, and we knew just where to find them.”

Chris’s eyes widened and he looked back at John, eagerly awaiting his next comeback.

“You should try our newest special. We named it after you. The doucheburger.”

Zach smirked. Out of loyalty to John, Chris refused to find it devilishly attractive. “Does that come with a free side of food poisoning like the rest of your menu?”

John clenched his fists, but Zach didn’t give him a chance to respond, turning away to put a hand on Zoe’s shoulder as they headed for the bar.

“Charming,” Chris observed.

“I fucking hate that guy.”

Chris spent the next thirty minutes by John’s side, talking and drinking and glancing surreptitiously across the bar to catch glimpses of Zach in the flickering light of the tiki torches. He wasn’t sure whether Zach had been doing the same until he made his way to the bar for another drink. A second after he got there, Zach was by his side, leaning casually against the bar.

“You look like you got some sun,” he said, his voice low, casual.

Chris shrugged, trying not to wince as his shirt brushed against his skin with the motion.

“I have some aloe in my jeep.” The statement hung in the air, charging the space between them.

“Healing thine enemy?” Chris asked, but he was already stepping away from the bar without having ordered a drink.

Zach held his gaze. “Cho’s going to want a rematch. It won’t be as satisfying to kick your ass if you’re in too much pain to bring your A-game.”

The corner of Chris’s lips quirked up in a smile. “How benevolent of you.” He moved his gaze toward the door and Zach took the hint, leading the way through the crowd. Chris risked a glance at John, who was staring at them with a comical expression on his face, his eyes bugging out and his mouth hanging open a little. He hoped someone would buy that guy a drink.

Chris followed Zach down the street a little, to where he’d parked his jeep just beyond the reach of the streetlight. When they got there, Zach leaned in over the passenger side door to open the glove box and pull out a tube of aloe lotion. Chris was already easing his shirt off of his shoulders when Zach turned around, holding out the tube for him to take. Chris glanced down at it, then back up at Zach. “Get my back?” he said, stepping forward to rest his hands on the side of the jeep.

He thought he heard a hitch in Zach’s breath just before the snick of the cap and a wet sound as Zach squeezed the aloe into his palm. He tensed for a moment as he felt Zach take a step closer, then his muscles relaxed at the first touch of cool lotion against his burning skin.

“You’re hot.”

“Thanks.”

“No, I mean your skin is fucking burning.” Zach was touching him lightly, fingertips moving haltingly between his shoulderblades.

“Yeah, no shit. This stuff work?”

“It’s the only thing that does.”

Chris nodded and pressed back a little. Zach brought a second hand up to smooth the lotion across his upper back, and Chris could feel the heat of his palms as his touch grew less hesitant.

"Is this weird?" Zach asked, running his hands down the length of Chris's back. Chris thought he felt the gentle press of Zach’s thumbs along his spine.

"Is what weird?" Chris could hear the roughness in his own voice as he struggled not to press back harder into Zach’s hands, because fuck that felt good.

"You know...one guy rubbing lotion on another guy..."

Chris gave a breathless laugh. "Oh please. Drop the bullshit. I had you pegged the moment I laid eyes on you."

Zach's hands stilled for a moment, then slid up his back to his shoulders as Zach took a step closer. "Yeah?" he murmured, his voice low. Chris could feel the heat radiating off of him, chest hairs tickling his sunburnt skin.

"Yeah," Chris breathed, his head dropping forward as Zach's fingertips worked their way up his neck.

"Most people think Zoe and I are an item."

"Then most people didn't notice the way your eyes were glued to my ass all afternoon."

“Mmm,” Zach hummed, not sounding happy about it. “That obvious?”

“Only because I was watching.”

Zach’s hands slid down from Chris shoulders, fingertips just brushing the top of his waist band before they moved around to rest on his hips. Chris had been half-hard since they’d left the bar, his dick in limbo as he waited, wondering what Zach would do next.

Warm, dry lips brushed his neck in a tentative kiss, and yeah, that would do it – he was instantly rock hard, aching in his shorts. He tipped his head to the side as Zach kissed him again, a little more sure. Teeth tugged gently at his earlobe. Chris let his eyes flutter closed.

“John says you’re an asshole.”

“He doesn’t know me,” Zach murmured, nuzzling the back of Chris’s neck.

“Does anyone?”

“Only if I let them.”

Chris turned around quickly, taking Zach by surprise. His hands dropped from Chris’s waist, then quickly found their purchase again as Chris pulled him in for a bruising kiss. Their mouths met, hot and demanding, tongues twisting together as they battled for control, just as focused, as intent as they’d been on the volleyball court. Chris could sense that Zach wanted to pull away, to breathe, to get his bearings, but he tightened his hand on the back of Zach’s head and held him there, unwilling to give way while he held the advantage. Zach slid his hands up Chris’s back, pulling him closer, pressing his fingertips into Chris’s skin.

Chris broke the kiss, gasping in pain. “Ahhh, watch the sunburn!”

“Sorry, sorry!” Zach chuckled and moved his hands, bringing them up to cup Chris’s face as he touched a light kiss to his lips. The tenderness of the gesture caught Chris off guard, made his stomach clench and his groin throb. He pressed his tongue into Zach’s mouth, thrilling at the enthusiasm of the response, greedy lips moving over his own. It wasn’t long before he pulled away with a gasp.

“Can we…go somewhere?” Chris panted.

Zach barely moved his lips away from Chris’s skin to answer. “Get in the backseat.”

Chris had been thinking of something a little more discreet than the back of Zach’s open-top Jeep, but he wasn’t about to complain. He scrambled over the door into the back and Zach followed, moving to press Chris against the seat then backing off quickly as he remembered the sunburn. They locked eyes for a second, then Chris broke into a grin as he gave Zach’s shoulders a shove, pushing him down onto the seat. His lust was contagious, and Zach went with minimal protest, moaning under his breath as Chris pressed into him, shamelessly rubbing their fabric-covered erections together. Zach arched up off the seat to bite at Chris’s lips and suck at his tongue. He tugged roughly at Chris’s hair with one hand, snaking the other down between them to unzip his fly and yank at the laces of Chris’s board shorts. The sound of the Velcro unfastening was startlingly loud in the night air, but Chris’s chuckle was reduced to a moan as their bare cocks slid together. He thrust down hard, the force of his hips pressing Zach deeper into the seat. Zach bucked up, the slick friction of the contact so intense that Chris reached for his dick, squeezing hard to keep from coming then and there.

“Fuck, Zach,” he breathed, still not quite believing how amazingly hot this was – and he didn’t mean the sunburn, long forgotten even as Zach’s hand slid across the cooling skin of his lower back.

Zach bumped Chris’s hand, nudging his fingers from where they were still wrapped around his own cock. Chris let go with some reluctance, but Zach was quick to replace it with his own. Somehow, it hadn’t occurred to Chris that Zach’s ease with a volleyball might translate into superior handjob skills, but Zach’s wide, aloe-slick palm and long fingers wrapped expertly around them both, and he quickly found a rhythm that had Chris shaking and grinding above him. In an embarrassingly few strokes, Chris felt his toes curl and his body go still, and he came with a muffled grunt, coating Zach’s fist and cock with his spunk. Zach leaned up, keeping his mouth plastered against Chris’s, as he thrust once more into his fist and shuddered through his release.

Chris slumped on top of Zach, too shaky to hold himself up any longer. He tasted blood on his lip, and wasn’t sure whose teeth had caused it. For a moment he wondered if things were about to get awkward, if it was too soon to be mashing his face against Zach’s chest like this, if there was some kind of etiquette he was supposed to observe for beach hookups that he hadn’t yet learned. But Zach’s hand lingered on his ass, and he didn’t act like he wanted to get up any time soon.

“You know, I’m not usually this gentle,” Zach said, his voice low and playful.

Chris chuckled. “In that case, I appreciate your restraint.” He swallowed, debating, then – “Maybe you can make it up to me sometime.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“So…is this gonna be weird?”

Zach cocked his head curiously. “Is what?”

“You know…when John and I are making you cry on the volleyball court, are you gonna feel weird that we hooked up?”

Zach smiled. "Any chance you’d consider playing for my team?"

“I think I already do.”

Zach gave his shoulder a gentle shove and Chris scrambled up off of him. Zach pushed himself up on his elbows, looking intently at Chris.

“I’m serious. Listen, I can get you a job at the Beach Club-“

“No.”

“No? You’d prefer to work in a place that cleans their bathroom once a summer, if that?”

“Hey, watch it, asshole. You’re forgetting, it’s only my first week there - I’m that one that’s been cleaning the bathrooms!”

Zach made a frustrated sound and glanced away. “This will never work.”

“What won’t?” Chris asked. He slid a hand up Zach’s thigh and grinned as Zach sat up further, automatically leaning forward to let Chris brush a dry kiss against his lips. “Just picture it,” Chris whispered. “We’ll battle it out on the volleyball court, no holds barred. We’ll talk shit and sneer at each other in front of our friends, then we’ll meet up later for a steamy, antagonistic make-out session in the back of your jeep.”

“Oooh, or hate-sex on the chaise longue in some C-list celebrity’s cabana,” Zach murmured.

“Fuck yeah. Or sloppy, desperate blowjobs in the immaculately clean bathroom at Max’s.”

“Mmmm…” Chris felt Zach smile.

“Zach?”

“Mmm-hmm?”

“This summer’s gonna fucking rock.”