[Army of Two] Vodka Dreams

I'm terrible at writing fanfiction, but there needed to be some Army of Two slash. I may add a follow-up chapter, so please review and offer tips/critisim. Thanks and enjoy!

Summary: Elliot buys vodka. Inebriation leads to gay shit.
Story notes are at the end in case you're confused about anything.

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"Can you fucking believe it? A two hundred fucking G bonus for one little hit. That Murray, she ain't a bad negotiator." Elliot Salem called to his partner. He grinned as he scrolled through the list of incoming transfers to his account. Mercenary work was so worth it.

"Yeah, just don't blow it all on shit like sports bets and gold plating your desert eagle," Tyson Rios, his business partner, replied from the couch, his eyes on the TV.

"Nah, tonight I was planning on blowing it on some vodka. You in?"

"So you're gonna blow a hundred thou on vodka?" Tyson quipped sarcastically before taking a swig of his beer.

"Aw come on, Tys, you know what I mean. I'll buy us some fancy shit. Armadale or somethin'."

"What, Red Tassel's not good enough for you these days?"

"Heh, don't we stock that shit in our med kits? Cheaper than rubbing alcohol."

"Whatever, go buy your top shelf shit, you little fucker." Elliot rolled his eyes. "You should be using that money to pay off your god damn credit cards. I'm fuckin tired of scaring off the creditors."


***********


"Yeah, no, my vote goes for the RZA," Elliot concluded. He leaned his head back, taking a long drink straight from his near empty bottle of vodka.

Having finished his own bottle, Tyson reached for his partner's. "Mmn, fuck you. Method Man."

"Method Man? He's a fuckin sellout!" Elliot looked down at his empty hand and paused. "Hey, my vodka, you dick!" He smacked Tyson in the back of the head and reached for the last of his precious Armadale.

Tyson grabbed Elliot's wrist and yanked him forward. "Don't take your alcohol well, do you?"

"Fuck you, I've had a lot, I'm allowed to be a retard."

"So what's your excuse for the rest of the time?" Tyson raised his eyebrow, still holding Elliot's wrist.

"Haha, hi-fucking-larious," Elliot replied, his voice a little slurred. He took a swing at his partner with his free hand.

Tyson dropped his liquor and grabbed the brunette's wrist, now rendering his poor drunken friend practically defenseless. He forced Elliot's arms up, causing the smaller man to squirm, and in an effort to wrench his hands free, fall into his partner's lap.
"Dumbass," Tyson mumbled, grinning at Elliot's frustrated expression.

"Let me go, Tys, you ass."

"I kinda like you like this. All you need is duct tape over your damn mouth."

"That's kinda kinky. You gonna spank me and make me call you daddy too?" Elliot grinned playfully.

In response Tyson looked a little flustered and shoved his partner onto the coffee table. Elliot tumbled down, knocking the table over and smacking his head against the TV.

"Christ, what's your fucking problem? You can't throw me around when I'm not wearing armor, bro!" Elliot got up onto his knees and found himself face to face with his partner's crotch. And Tyson's loose fitting jeans ... were undeniably tented. Elliot began laughing uncontrollably. "Oh my god ... you seriously need to get laid, dude."

Tyson stared down at the man kneeling before him, and couldn't help but think he looked pretty damn good like that. He chocked it up to the unhealthy amount of vodka in his system. "Like any woman would sleep with an ugly fucker like me."

"Hey, scars are sexy," Elliot defended. He put his hands on Tyson's knees to help himself up and flashed his friend a drunken smile. "Want me to help you with that?" He nodded toward the large man's crotch.

Tyson's eyes widened. He wasn't even sure he'd heard that correctly. "... What ....?"

Elliot heaved himself up onto the couch beside his friend. "S'okay, bro, it's not gay or nothing." He put his hand on Tyson's thigh and rubbed slowly, moving his hand dangerously close to the still present bulge.

Tyson grit his teeth, his mind battling between whether he should slug Elliot in the face or let him do this. His inebriated side told him it seemed like a good idea to go with it. He had an erection, why not let a friend take care of it? Made sense.
"Yeah ..." He shifted his hips a little, and Elliot's hand practically dove between his legs. He groaned and sucked in a breath.

Elliot undid his partner's jeans with enthusiasm and reached inside. "Damn, you got a fuckin monster in here. Why're you so hard?"

"I'm drunk," Tyson replied quickly, breathing in sharply again as his tattooed friend's warm hand pulled his boxers down and grabbed his bare erection. "Why am I letting you do this?"

Elliot grinned like an idiot and leaned close so his mouth was almost touching Tyson's face. "Cause I made you hard."

"Fuck off, you didn't."

"It's okay, I've gotten hard from guys too." Elliot kept his face close, watching his friend's expressions. "I wanna kiss you."

"Fuck off," Tyson repeated, half heartedly. His brain was slow and it just didn't seem to fucking matter if this was his best friend. If he wasn't into guys. He just needed this, the contact. He grunted a little as Elliot climbed over him, straddled him. He looked up and met his partner's eyes. Pure drunken lust. He didn't give Elliot a chance to kiss him first. He grabbed a handful of fine brown hair and smashed their mouths together in a bruising kiss, teeth grinding, tongues pushing, biting lips.

Elliot finally wrenched away to breathe deeply. "Fuckin hell, Tys, easy!" He leaned back, resting his ass on his partner's thighs, and started undoing his pants. He pulled down the stretchy waistband of his flame print boxer briefs and freed his own erection.

Tyson stared down at it, almost dumbfounded.

"Come on, bro," Elliot encouraged, licking his hand for lubricant, "you do me and I'll do you. It's fun." He chuckled drunkenly and leaned forward to kiss his partner, this time it was all tongues and heat, no pain.

Tyson sucked in a breath through his nose as he felt Elliot start stroking him again. Reluctantly, he grasped the other man's erection and stroked it a couple times, earning a deep groan against his mouth from Elliot. Unlike himself, the tattooed man was uncut, making the handjob easier. Their kiss quickly grew more fevered, neither man thinking about what they were really doing, just knowing it felt good.
Elliot breathed rapidly through his nose, then finally pulled away from the kiss to gasp for air. Tyson looked down at him. Elliot was rolling his hips upwards in time with his strokes, lifting his rear right off his muscled friend's lap.

"Oh fuck yeah ... fuck yeah, Tys, fuck!" Elliot leaned forward, pressing his forehead against his lover's shoulder. "Fuck yeah, don't stop, kay?" he groaned, continuing to jerk his friend off mutually, faster now. He could feel Tyson's chest heaving as he continued faster; he could hear his partner's repressed groans. Every sound sent tingles down his spine. He could feel his orgasm rising and rocked his hips faster into Tyson’s calloused hand. He tensed a little as Tyson’s free hand grabbed his ass, hard. “Yeah, ah, little faster now, I’m close …”

Every noise Elliot made went straight to Tyson’s crotch; the pleas, the moans, the gasps, everything. He squeezed the firm ass under his hand, forcing his partner’s hips closer to him until their chests were touching. He pulled Elliot’s hand off his dick and took his erection in his own hand along with his partner’s. He groaned, going still for a second to enjoy at the feel of their firm, hot flesh pressed together. He then started jerking them both off together. Precum was seeping profusely from Elliot’s cock, and from his own. The warm fluid made it more slippery, Tyson’s hand moving easier.

Elliot resigned his hands to the back of the couch. If Tys wanted to do all the work, that was just fine with him. And what a fucking good job he was doing. “Fuck Tys, I’m coming, don’t stop babe, I’m cah-ahh-nngh!” Elliot pressed his forehead hard against his partner’s shoulder, his hips jerking as he came, spurting cum all over Tyson’s hand.

Tyson reveled Elliot’s cry, hearing his partner as he never had. He used the brunette’s spent cum as lubricant to jerk himself off quickly until he came himself with a deep groan. He took a second to recover before shrugging the shoulder Elliot was leaning on. “Y’alright, Ellie?”

He was met with silence, followed by a loud snore.

“Son of a bitch …” Tyson muttered to himself. He shoved Elliot off him and stood up, struggling a bit with his inebriated body. He felt woozy, but he had the presence of mind to do up his pants and stumble towards his room. He collapsed onto his bed, not bothering to move the Kevlar jacket or empty clip he’d left on it. He passed out almost instantly.

They’d probably both regret everything in the morning, if they remembered any of it.

Story notes:
The RZA and Method Man are members of the Wu Tang clan, an alliance of rappers.
Armadale is a more expensive vodka, while Red Tassel is pretty much one of the cheapest you can buy.