crack_van | The Pool by ewinfic (NC-17)

Fandom: STAR TREK RPF
Pairing: Zach Quinto/Chris Pine
Length: 4802
Author on LJ: ewinfic
Author Website: Masterlist
Why this must be read:

Chris and Zach take a late night swim, play tag, talk about death, and have fun with the water jets. This fic is by one of my favorite authors. (Please note the lack of qualifiers- i.e. favorite ‘fanfic’ author, or ‘RPF’ author. No, simply put, ewinfic is one of my favorite authors period.) I love how she writes. She makes me slow down my frantic 'hurry, hurry to the end; on with my life' reading habits because I just want to surround myself with her words. You know how the best fiction transports you to another world, place, and time? Well, she does that, and she does it beautifully. I could have chosen from any of her quality fic, (*cough* like this one) but I chose The Pool because the transportation feels so complete. I am at a pool on a summer evening. I can hear the crickets and feel the water against my skin. I am there.

Read this fic now. When you are done, read everything else she’s written.

Zach turned his head slightly, his temple touching Chris's wrist. He let himself rest there, looking down the expanse of arm, not letting himself see what Chris's face might tell him. "When you were a kid... did you ever play with the pump jets?"

Chris chuckled. "We invoking the 2am rule again?"

Zach felt his face redden, a hint of a smile playing around his mouth. Chris laughing this close to him sent a curl of tension right down his chest and into his belly, which filled with heat. "Perhaps."

"Yeah, I used to like fooling around with them. I think everybody has at least one happy water jet experience." Chris coughed significantly.

The silence stretched out again, and something about the mild bobbing in the water and the proximity made Zach feel dizzy. He broke from the wall, taking the opportunity to let one hand casually grope Chris as he shoved him out of the way, squeezing the side of his neck and shoulder. "Tag." He launched himself toward the shallows, taking his time, timing the breaths with difficulty in his abruptly giddy throat. The water grasped him silkily as he moved through it, all of that soft liquid mortality surrounding and seeking to pull him down and in, as though death were a quiet dark hollow at the center of existence, something sensuous and fetal. By the time he reached the shallows, he was fighting a semi-hard. Zach could hear Chris plunging after him, and cast him a disparaging look. "Jesus, you swim like a fucking rhinoceros."

Chris broke even with Zach and slapped his ass under the water. Zach jumped. "Tag! Do rhinos even swim?" He slowly backed away, smiling, inviting Zach to chase him.

"I'm not sure if rhinos can swim. Hence my comparison stands." Zach circled around Chris slowly, and then suddenly went for him, cutting the water easily as an eel and catching Chris by the wrist. "Gotcha."

Chris caught Zach's ankle and locked their wrists together. "Bad move, Quinto." Before Zach could properly catch his breath, Chris upended him and pushed them both underwater. Zach came up sputtering and they tussled, Chris using his weight advantage. Zach squirmed out of his grip finally and escaped, Chris chasing after him back to the deep end... when Chris reached him, Zach ducked below and swam beneath him, quickly, popping up on the other side and laughing. "Okay, I'm positive we're eleven now, and possibly high from huffing old paint in dad's garage." He could feel every place on his skin where Chris had touched him as though it were alight, tiny burning fingerprints on his arms, handprints around his wrist and ankle, and he could still feel a hot spot on his ass where Chris had landed that one underwater smack.

Chris dunked Zach for good measure, smearing his hair over his face as he came up. "Spray cans was thirteen for me. You must have been a prodigy."

Zach shook his head, water flying. "I was precocious in most facets of my development." He moved to the wall, clearing the water from his eyes and blinking. The water was changing the texture of his skin, cleansing the oils from it and drying it out while paradoxically keeping it wet. His fingertips felt tender, and his lips.

The Pool