Work Text:
“I thought you said you knew how to start a fire?” Ezreal snickers as Kayn struggles with the box of matches and pile of weird logs and stuff in the fireplace of their cabin. “You've gone through like half the box already”
“I'm gonna light you on fire first if you don't stop the commentary,” Kayn grumbles, cursing as yet another match flares into life – sputtering and dying before he can even get it over to the newspaper stuffed in there as kindling. “I hear hair burns real well.”
Empty threats, as usual – Kayn would never light his hair on fire, he likes pulling it too much.
“Why don't you just use the lighter?” Ezreal asks for the fifth time, biting his lip to stifle his grin as Kayn's shoulders hike at the question. “Oh wait, sorry, I forgot... that's cheating.”
Kayn pauses his efforts long enough to plant an elbow and twist around to aim a scowl backwards. “Has anyone ever told you you're just about the right size to shove up a chimney?”
“No, but if you keep bending over like that in front of me I'm gonna shove something up your chimney,” Ezreal teases with an over the top leer. “Look at that ass wiggling for me.”
Kayn's cheeks turn the cutest shade of pink when he's embarrassed – and when he's mad. Ezreal is lucky that it's so easy to rile him up in either direction.
The cutie pie in question turns back around with a huff, still ass-out for Ezreal to enjoy, and goes back to his grumbling, “Nobody is getting anything shoved anywhere if we don't get this fire started.”
Which seems a little arbitrary to Ezreal, honestly. It's not like the cabin is freezing or anything – especially not compared to the bench they'd been on. Sure there's the whole ambiance of fucking in front of the fireplace that they'd been planning, but they've got days to make that a reality.
Right now he just wants to get Kayn's clothes off.
“I think I saw a nice space heater at the end of the bed,” he purrs, shuffling forward enough to walk his fingers up Kayn's calf. “Maybe we could see how warm we can get the bedroom...”
“Quit that.” He's nudged with a sock-clad toe as Kayn throws another scowl over his shoulder. “Don't poke me when I'm trying to light matches.”
Hmph.
“'Trying' being the operative word,” Ezreal grumbles, but keeps his fingers to himself. “What if you let me give it a shot?”
“The only shot I'm gonna give you is a back shot.”
It takes a second to register – then Ezreal can't help but bark out a laugh, giggling while Kayn waggles his eyebrows.
“You're on fire today with the bad jokes,” Ezreal tells him with a smirk, “too bad it's the only thing on fire around here.”
Kayn gapes at him, betrayed, and it is beautiful.
“Maybe I actually will light you on fire-”
“As if I'm not hot enough already?” Ezreal winks at him, finally crawling forward enough to pluck the matches from Kayn's hands. “How about we give it a break and you practice your magic finger skills on something other than a matchstick.”
“Magic finger skills, huh?” Kayn laughs, letting Ezreal roll him until he's on his back, propped on his elbows. “Trying to butter me up?”
“No, I'm trying to get you to butter me up – now hop to it before I change my mind and we die of old age waiting for you to light this damn fireplace.”
“Romance is dead,” Kayn sighs, letting his knees draw up as Ezreal crawls over top and cages him in. “You just want me for my cock and not my survival skills.”
Ezreal offers a sweet smile as he leans to kiss him.
“That's because you have more cock than survival skills.”
Kayn sighs into the kiss and brings his hands to cup Ezreal's hips, a wry grin on his face as they pull apart.
“Why do I feel like that's going in my obituary?”
It probably will be, if Ezreal has a say in it. For now he'll be doing his best to get several little deaths out of the man beneath him instead – and then once Kayn takes his post nut nap, he'll be free to light the fireplace himself.
This is why they work so well, a perfect division of labor: Kayn has the cock and Ezreal has the survival skills. Together they make the perfect team... and a very sticky rug.