This is a print version of story Bathwater by ChubbyPrincess from


Carl wandered into the living room of the house that they’d been asked to look after for the weekend. Pretty dumb idea really, he thought. They couldn't keep their own flat clean for half a minute, nevermind someone else's for a whole weekend. It would probably be tidier, the plants better watered and the cat more well fed if they weren't there at all. It was a lovely house too, big and full of nice décor and whatnot, and Carl thought that really them just being there spoiled it in some way.

He'd stripped down to his boxers in preparation for having the bath he’d just run (the joy! a real bath! They only had a smelly moldy shower in their flat, baths were luxury), and was now in the process of attempting to sneak the bottle of Jamesons from beside Peter, who was on the sofa, reading, with the CD player blasting out Suede at some kind of unnatural volume.

"Going for a bath," he announced loudly, after he'd successfully removed the whiskey and was walking briskly towards the bathroom. Not briskly enough however, because he heard running behind him, followed by

"Ey! You can't get away with that Barat, we've only got one bottle!" From Pete, who had now grabbed him around the waist. They fought for a bit, Carl trying to move into the bathroom because he still wanted his bath, and ending up kind of dragging Pete with him. He was cheekily taking swigs from the bottle as he used his other hand to keep Pete away from it.

"I jus' want a bit of whiskey in the bath..." he began, grinning and taking another swig, as they stopped moving, now inside the bathroom and stood next to the bath. He had his eyes closed, so didn’t notice Pete's hand, which now knocked the bottle hard, pushing it away from Carl's mouth, towards the bath. Which then turned an unhealthy colour of yellow as a good quantity of Jamesons splashed into it.

"There ya go, whiskey in the bath!" Pete retorted, giggling and looking smug. Carl had managed to rescue most of the rest of the bottle quite fast, and as soon as he was sure he had a hold of it again properly, he shoved Pete backwards violently.

"Stop wasting it, you bugger," he half-snapped, annoyed that Pete had got the better of him.

Pete looked even more smug then.

"Awww, little Carlos, all pouty," he giggled, then pushed Carl back.

But he pushed too hard, far harder than he'd meant to Carl guessed, or maybe he’d expected a bit more resistance than he’d actually got, catching Carl somehow slightly off balance…well whatever, the fact was that now Carl found himself falling backwards into the bath and automatically grabbed Pete for support: Who clearly wasn't expecting that kind of reaction, and flew forwards; the combined f***e landing Carl in the bath full of water first, followed by Pete landing, fully-clothed, on top of him. Water flew all over the bathroom, leaving puddles on the floor.

"You fucker! I'm soaked!" Carl complained from under Pete, his arms and legs sticking out of the bath at outlandish angles, bottle of Jamesons still somehow in hand.

"You're soaked?" Pete raged back, "Which one of us is fully clothed here? Why'd you have to pull me in with you, you twat?"

They resumed fighting, which of course made Pete even wetter (Carl thought this very ironic) and somehow both ended up fully in the bath, sat opposite each other and scowling. Carl decided to have another drink. But as soon as he lifted the bottle to his lips Pete was on top of him again, trying to grab it from him, pushing his mouth next to Carl's to try and somehow knock the bottle over to his lips instead. They both struggled and splashed, and in the end Carl gave up trying to drink and simply pulled the bottle away from both of their mouths, hanging it back over the side of the bath, slouched then with his head back and his eyes half-closed.

Pete sat back too, and Carl could see he was contemplating taking a different tack. He could read Pete like a book really, all his emotions and thoughts were always so obvious, always so much on the surface.

"Please can I have some Jamesons Biggles?" He asked, pouting and staring at him with what Carl presumed were meant to be endearing puppy dog eyes.

Carl laughed, "Nope. You pushed me in a bath."

"Please?" Came the little boy voice again, followed by Pete leaning forwards and planting a kiss on Carl's cheek.

Pete was always doing this when he wanted something. Carl had no idea why he thought that kisses would work; it's not like they affected Carl in any way. Except to annoy him that is. He thought Pete was a bit weird in a way, always being so touchy-feely. Always getting in his personal space. It was a bit frustrating really, when he was a bit more of a loner, and would prefer it if people kept their distance.

When he had got no response from that, Pete moved further forward, and began interspersing pleases with little kisses on Carl's lips. He was kneeling in-between Carl’s legs, which were stretched out down either side of the bath, and his hand kept touching Carl’s cheek, almost involuntarily. Carl was just wondering what the point of this was, rolling his eyes for about the 15th time, when suddenly something changed inside him. Pete's kisses somehow seemed softer, somehow made Carl inclined to close his eyes, want more...the little touches on his face seemed more delicate, more tender, and all of a sudden he was dropping the bottle on the floor and using his hand to grab the back of Pete's head instead, and his mouth was no longer closed and unyielding; he had opened it and his tongue was pushing past Pete's completely unresisting lips. Pete fell forwards onto him completely then, his hands on the back of the bath; either side of Carl's head, his knees moving to either side of the blue-eyed boy's hips as Carl for some reason felt himself moving his legs together. Carl could feel Pete’s chest on his, pressed as he was between Pete and the back of the bath, the wet material of his t-shirt seeming flimsy and inconsequential, the feeling of Pete so close to him for once filled him with desire and want. The chaste kisses of before, the friendly little pecks were replaced by a kind of passion Carl would have thought himself totally incapable of. Until now, that is. His hands raked through Pete's hair, and slid down his back, over that soaking wet t-shirt. Seconds later he found his hands were underneath it and he was pushing it upwards from the sides, trying to roll it off Pete's wet skin. Which was fine until he got up to Pete's arms, and then somehow he got himself into a terrible tangled mess and had to stop and wait for help.

So Pete pulled himself into an upright position, and now kneeling pulled the t-shirt off his arms and over his head, discarding it on the bathroom floor. He’d paused then; staring down at Carl with big eyes; the pupils enlarged with lust (Carl had had all the alcohol and d**gs this evening, so that's all he decided it really could have been). Carl sat up properly too. He moved his legs from where Pete was almost sitting on them, and then he was kneeling too, realising all of a sudden that somewhere along the lines he'd got hard, feeling slightly surprised but then deciding not to dwell on it...the Jamesons and the coke he'd had earlier were making him braver than he should have been, and he was leaning forwards to carry on kissing Pete, who had, however, clearly also noticed Carl's erection; and halfway through the kiss Carl pulled away and gasped at Pete's hand; now squeezing him through his boxers. The pause was only momentary though, because now Carl realised Pete was hard too, and somehow they began kissing again; with even more fervour as Carl's fingers fumbled with Pete's belt; eventually undoing it and unzipping his jeans, trying to f***e them down though it was far harder than it should have been, what with them being soaking wet and all. He felt Pete's fingers come to assist him, even though he never broke the kiss that they seemed to be locked in, Carl's tongue pushing further down Pete's throat, wanting to take him all in, as much as possible, more than possible...somehow the jeans were pushed over Pete's hips, and Carl's hand moved inside Pete's boxers...what in the hell was he doing? Why did he have his hand inside some other bloke's underwear? But the thoughts didn't stop him, couldn't even slow him down as he wrapped his hand around Pete's cock and started moving on it rapidly, causing Pete to pull his boxers down too so Carl had more room. And then Carl's boxers were gone too, and Pete's hand was on Carl's cock; and he couldn't help gasping at the contact, somehow they were gasping and kissing almost at the same time, hands on each other's backs for balance, Carl feeling his knees slipping and quickly moving the hand to the side of the bath to support himself...

At some point it became too much for him, and he broke the almost suffocating kiss to throw his head back, groaning loudly in pleasure. He felt Pete’s mouth kissing his neck from his shoulder up to his ear; slowly and sensuously, only adding to the feeling that he was tipping over the edge, that at any moment he would come everywhere, and he was just wondering how the hell this had all happened, when he felt Pete’s mouth at his ear, and heard

“Can I fuck you?”

The words startled him into reality; his eyes flipped open and his head tipped back down again so he was looking at Pete. He could feel the bl**d rushing to it; speeding around the backs of his eyes, making him feel dizzy, and he couldn’t tell if it was the d**gs or the orgasm which was still building; blurring at the edge of his consciousness, even though Pete’s hand was only holding him, not moving anymore.

He mumbled incoherently for a few seconds, his mind not able to find real words yet, before finally managing, “Got a condom?”

Pete looked back at him, seeming infinitely calmer and less on edge about the whole thing, replying, “Well, no…”

Carl swallowed. His hand let go of Pete and placed itself on the other side of the bath, as he was beginning to feel distinctly wobbly, and worried he was going to fall. This lack of reply caused Pete to kiss his neck again, then murmur in his ear, “we can do without?”

Carl groaned. He knew this was going to hurt. And hurt even more without something to help. And it was all very well for Pete to be all enthusiastic about it when he wasn’t going to be the one who wouldn’t be able to sit down tomorrow.

“No…” he mumbled back, “we can’t.”

Pete carried on kissing, clearly in the vain hope Carl would change his mind. When this made no difference, Carl heard more murmurings in his ear, “I’ll go to the shop then.”

Carl moved his head back to look at Pete, eyes wide with anxiety.

“I can’t…you…please don’t leave,” was about all he could manage in response.

“Turn around then,” came the response, Pete’s big brown eyes staring at him fixatedly.

When Carl continued to view him with the same look of fear/worry, his mouth was at Carl’s ear again, whispering, “I’ll stop if you want me to. Just say. I promise.”

Carl took this in, sitting back down on the bottom of the bath. This was frankly ridiculous he thought, as he pulled his boxers off properly, discarding them over the side. He looked up at Pete…soaking wet as he was; his hair plastered to the side of his face, droplets of water running down his smooth chest, his jeans and boxers around his knees, his cock hard and his eyes big and full of lust. Slowly and determinedly Carl got back up again, and turned around so he had his back to him, on his knees with his hands gripping the sides of the bath so hard his knuckles were turning white already.

He felt Pete’s fingers slowly running their way down his back, his body leaning into Carl’s as he kissed him impossibly softly across the back of his neck, pausing to whisper

“Relax Carl. It’s okay.”

And Carl tried to breathe slower, tried to relax all his muscles at once, closing his eyes and sighing as he felt Pete’s kisses spreading down his back, one of his hands slipping down to his arse…suddenly one of Pete’s fingers was pushing inside him and his muscles contracted around it and he gasped, eyes flying open, shocked at how good it actually felt. Finding himself pushing back as one finger became two, and they moved faster and harder…then Pete pulled them out completely, making Carl gasp and his legs tremble, feeling them replaced by Pete’s cock, pushing inside slowly…and at first he thought it really wasn’t so bad, and he hadn’t had any need to be so tetchy and so unsure about it, and he began to push back until he felt pain searing through him, found himself crying out, eyes screwed shut. Pete stopped and Carl felt a hand gently stroking the inside of his thigh. Then kisses on his back again, and a muffled


Carl’s eyes were still closed. It still seriously hurt. But he was also still stupidly hard and positively aching for release, and to be brutally honest about it, right now, he wanted Pete to fuck him.

Wanted it badly.

He swallowed. “Yeah,” he just about managed in reply.

“Sure?” Pete asked.


And so slowly Pete was pushing inside him again, and he tried so hard to relax, really hard because he knew that once this initial bit was over it wouldn’t be so bad. But somehow his muscles were still clenching, his hands were still grabbing furiously at the sides of the bath, and his teeth were still biting hell out of his lower lip.

“Carl, relax,” he heard from behind him again, then felt Pete’s hand on his cock, trying to get him off and somehow distract him in the process. He tried to concentrate on that rhythm, on the pleasure, and block out the pain. Then almost without him realising Pete was pulling out of him then pushing inside again, and he could feel his hips against him, his belly, and could hear the groans from behind him as Pete began to move faster and suddenly the pain had paled into insignificance and Carl was pushing back, just as hard, and they were losing control of their movements, Carl could feel his knees slipping on the bottom of the bath, and Pete’s must have been as well, the two of them struggling to keep the rhythm going as well as stay upright, grabbing the sides of the bath and each other, finally losing it completely, Carl yelling

“Fuck me oh Pete fuck…”

as he came, falling forwards, his legs totally giving way underneath him, and feeling Pete come inside him too only prolonged his orgasm, as he heard the groans and gasps from the boy who was above him and now falling on top of him again, the two of them breathing heavily together, Pete murmuring

“Oh Carl oh….”

as the water splashed around them, and they both lay there, completely still, everything silent except for the sound of their own deep sighs.

Finally Carl opened his eyes and turned over, Pete moving slightly with him and then laying his head down on Carl’s chest, eyes closed again. Carl looked down at him; smile all blissful, cheeks a little flushed…then turned his head to look at the bathroom…water everywhere; soaking in puddles into the carpet (who had carpet in a bathroom anyway?) the bottle of Jamesons slowly leaking onto the carpet where it had been dropped (okay, well at least carpeted bathrooms meant no broken bottles Carl conceded) earlier. It really looked pretty much like a bomb had hit it.

“Fuck, Pete, we better do something about this mess…” He mumbled at the dark mass of hair still lying there immobile.

Pete looked up, big brown eyes gazing at him, a dazzling smile accompanying them.

“Oh there’s plenty of time for that my boy…” came the sultry reply, accompanied by a warm kiss on Carl’s lips.

Carl grumbled, pushing him away gently. “Let’s at least get out of the bath, it’s getting cold…” he smirked a little at the end of the sentence, leading Pete to smirk back and help him out, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around him cheekily, giggling. Used it to pull Carl towards him, kissing him and murmuring,

“C’mon, lets go and see if the bed’s as nice as the bath….”

Story URL: