Snow (sweptawaybayou) wrote,
Snow
sweptawaybayou

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fic post

Reflections

by Snow

RPS
DB/CK
NC/17
Beta by moosesal. Thank you, darlin’

Sometimes the heart sees what is invisible to the eye.
-H. Jackson Brown Jr.





Thanksgiving. Christmas. New Years.

Holidays.

They come and go and time passes too fucking quickly. Chris spends Thanksgiving with his family in Oklahoma, surrounded by cousins and neighbors, has his ego petted and stroked until he’s quite sure he is God. And Chris didn’t think of him at all.

Not even when he noticed the fields had turned a coppery brown color that instantly reminded Chris of his hair, now that it wasn’t dyed dark once a week. The sharp smell of burning wood from nearby farmhouse fireplaces in the cold winter air when he went riding. That was the taste of his skin after a long night spent together, cruising smoke-filled bars.

He spends Christmas in Canada, staying in the condo the studio rented for him. Drinking the night before in a bar with the few members of the crew that didn’t return home, then sleeping most of the day away. Getting up to watch the football games on satellite feed in the afternoon and that only started him drinking again. No distractions and his mind went straight to where it shouldn’t be. To the person that owned him, body, soul and mind.

Two days of work on the set after the 25th and Chris is on a plane, returning to L.A. and his own house, another movie wrapped. Steve standing on his doorstep, telling him the band has a contract offer with a record label. Everything is taken care of; it’s just waiting on his signature.

There are piles of mail to sort, phone messages to listen to and not one fucking thing from him. And Chris hates himself for going back through his caller ID, looking for the number. Hates himself for checking and rechecking his answering machine. Is Goddamn furious at himself for flipping through the stacks of mail three fucking times, just trying to find the distinctive scrawl that is not there. Nothing.

Of course, why would there be? They haven’t seen each other since Halloween, since London. A few hours stolen away from separate conventions. Lucky they were even close enough to make that happen.

Meeting David in the hallway of his hotel, practically running up to the room. Too hyper to take the elevator, climbing the stairs two and three at a time so that he was out of breath when David found him, pulled him into his bedroom and slammed the door. Threw him back against the wall and kissed him so hard Chris’ upper lip was cut on his own teeth. They both tasted of blood and beer and cigarettes and lust and need and a craving that hurt so much they couldn’t speak.

Chris felt David rip his shirt, yank his jeans open and one of those incredible hands wrap around his cock and pull. And all the time David’s mouth was eating at his lips, his face, his jaw. Biting and licking and kissing. David turned them both, pushed Chris back to the bed and pulled his jeans completely off. And David stood there, staring for just a moment, as if he couldn’t believe that Chris was really in the room, let alone in his bed, as if he was testing the reality of this situation. Then his own clothes were torn and dropped and he was on Chris. Skin on skin, their cocks bumping and rubbing and that mouth again, those teeth, that tongue.

Chris remembered crying out. He remembered whimpering and begging. David’s hands hot and rough, his finger’s slick with lube, pushing into Chris, barely stretching him before filling Chris with his cock. Swallowing Chris’ curses and pleas with his mouth while pounding into him with a force that pushed Chris back on the bed until his skull was hitting the wood of the headboard and Chris had to put his hands up and push away, to keep from getting a concussion. David’s fingers digging into his shoulders, his breath hot and fast. Those dark, fathomless brown eyes that never closed, just stared back at Chris, reading him like a book, laying him open and taking his secrets. Chris could never hide anything from David. Even when he tried.

They had been in such a frenzy they both had to orgasm twice before they could even slow down. Chris burnt and ached and his lip hurt like a motherfucker. David laying beside him, tracing the sweat slicked, henna inked convention tattoos with the fingers of one hand, the other on Chris’ head, tangled in his hair.

“David, I-“ Chris started to speak, but David’s fingers on his lips quieted him.

“Shh, no talking.” David whispered and went back to tracing Chris’ tattoos, then his fingers moved further down and Chris forgot what he was going to say.

Well, that’s not exactly true. He never forgot anything about his time with David. Any of the moments they’d shared. On the set, in bars, at David’s house watching a game or cooking BBQ in the back yard. Pretending that they were just pals, good friends, that there was no current of electricity between them so thick Chris was amazed that people standing between them were not seared by the heat of it.

But at the time it hadn’t mattered what he was going to say to David. Or that he didn’t get the chance to say it. Because Chris knew that David could feel it.

Or at least Chris thought David could, but now, three months had passed and Chris hadn’t spoken to him, hadn’t heard from him. No phone calls. No emails. Not even a fucking postcard. And doubts had started to creep into his mind.

No. Fuck that. Doubts had started stampeding into his brain.

It had just been an affair of convenience. It hadn’t meant anything to David. He didn’t mean anything to David.

All that emotion. All that love, yes – - no bullshit here, not in Chris’ own head. He loved David. Loved loving him, needing him, wanting him. That slow, careful way he watched people. His initial shyness around strangers. His goofy sense of humor once he knew it was safe. His smile and laugh and complete ease with his body, whether he was dressed or naked. His ability to work 14, 15, hell, 20 hour days and still want to go out and drink or go home and fuck, like he saved something of himself for Chris. His unreadable eyes and his soft lips and the way he commanded attention where ever he went. Drew it to him, made people want him with just a glance. Chris had seen it all, knew David like the back of his own hand and damn it, he was not ready to let David go. Not now. Not yet.

Please, God, not ever . . .

Chris sat in his living room as the afternoon light began to fade into evening. A glass of whiskey in his hand, still full. He’d poured it, but hadn’t even sipped at it yet. Knowing that once he started, in this mood, he would end up drunk off his ass, calling David and screaming at him. Raging through the phone.

So the whiskey sat untouched, while his mouth watered for the flavor and his mind fought him. He knew what would win in the end. Chris had just started to lift the glass to his mouth when he heard a knock at his door.

“Fuck.” He growled, thinking it was probably Steve again. Wanting those damned contracts to be signed right.fucking.now.

But it wasn’t.

Chris took the envelope from the delivery driver and walked back to his chair, looking at it. It was marked ‘Kane’ on the front, with no return address. Probably some fucking fan, he thought and ripped it open, craving the ego boost, even if it was an outrageous invasion of his privacy to have something sent to his own home and not his management - -

Chris stopped bitching to himself after he unfolded the single sheet of paper inside.

Go to the first place I kissed you.

In David’s handwriting.

Chris grabbed his cigarettes, his lighter and his boots. Put them on at the door, went out, then came back in for his keys to his truck, cursing under his breath.

He drove to the bar at breakneck speed, barely remembering to turn on his lights. He parked in the gravel lot and walked in, trying to slow his heartbeat, his respiration. Not look like he was sweating, panting with anticipation.

It was a pool hall, nothing special, new country and old seventies music playing from the jukebox, none of that pop from the eighties and certainly none of the grunge from the nineties. Chris remembered coming here with David during the first and second seasons of the show. Back when Chris had shorter hair and higher ambitions and was trying so hard to fit in to what he thought Hollywood wanted from him.

Even then he knew there was something between him and David, but he’d ignored it. They were friends, pals, work buddies. If David smiled at him a lot, stared at him, if David touched him too much, well, that was just David and he was the star.

Chris didn’t take the mutual attraction for granted. He couldn’t. Los Angeles was too weird of a place. People didn’t automatically act on what Chris knew was true. Nothing was black and white and just because his cock twitched and hardened when David leaned up close behind him and whispered in his ear, ’Let’s go play some pool tonight,’ didn’t mean anything. Nothing was guaranteed.

They’d shot balls for two hours, drank enough beer that the room was turning slowly. Shots of whiskey and a couple of tequila and finally Chris had to excuse himself.

“Gotta piss. Be right back.”

Walking back to the bathroom, his boots scuffing the floor. Draining his bladder and washing his hands and turning around to see David standing behind him. Being pressed back against the cheap wooden stall and fuck the man was tall. David’s shoulders blocking his view of anything but him. His eyes dark and his mouth, his lips were so soft.

“You’re dangerous.” David had whispered, in between the gentlest of kisses. Chaste kisses, dry kisses, family kisses.

“What?” Chris mumbled. Trying like hell to understand what was going on, when his brain was not functioning at all.

“I could feel something for you.” David kissed him again, harder this time. “And I don’t want to. I can’t afford it.”

“So don’t.” Chris growled, put his hands on David’s hips and pulled him closer.

“Too late.” And then David was kissing him. Really kissing him. Stubble scraping against stubble, teeth banging together, his alcohol soaked tongue invading Chris’ mouth. Sucking on his lips and grinding his groin into Chris’. Promising much more than Chris had hoped, much more than he’d allowed into his dreams.

They necked in the bathroom until the door opening chased them out. They necked in Chris’ truck until it was almost time to go to work again and neither of them were tired all that long, long day. Staring at each other, stealing moments off the set - - hiding in trailers, in dressing rooms, behind fake walls and doors and in closets. Lips swollen and bruised, blood pumping through blushes, hands getting bolder with each time they closed their eyes.

Chris stood in the bar, his eyes adjusting to the dim light as he looked around. Two men played pool at one of the tables, a tall blonde sat at the bar looking out of place and the bartender washed glasses at a small sink.

There was no one else here.

He walked straight to the bathroom, opening the door and finding it just as empty and dirty as the rest of the place. Just like he remembered. He stood there for a moment, looking at himself in the mirror.

What had he expected? What should he expect?

Fuck. Just like David to play a dumbass practical joke on him. Probably laughing his butt off someplace. Probably not even in the state. Goddamn motherfucker. Chris left the bathroom and went back to the bar, slid up on a stool and lit a cigarette.

“Whiskey. Jack. Straight up.” He said before the bartender could ask. The old man nodded and set a glass tumbler on the scarred wood, poured it almost full of whiskey and took Chris’ ten-dollar bill without another word. “Just leave the bottle.” Chris growled and the bartender looked down at the ten in his hand then back at Chris with a scowl. Chris pulled his wallet out and put a fifty on top of the ten. Then the bartender smiled and left him alone.

Chris drank his first glass fast, needing the burn, craving the pain. He poured another and drank half of it, then took a long pull off his cigarette. He could see his reflection in a dusty, smoke clouded mirror behind the bar. Long hair and angry blue eyes in between liquor bottles, a neon light behind him, shadowing his face, making him look scary, even to himself. What have I become? Who am I? Chris had no answers and he kept his eyes down as he took his next drink.

Perfume filled his senses and he turned his head. The tall blonde from the end of the bar had moved down and was sitting beside him, waiting for him to look at her, smiling.

“Evening.” Her voice was butterscotch and smoke. Chris felt his face automatically smiling, his P.R. smile. His fake smile.

“Hey, darlin’” Chris turned back to his drink, feeling his fingers grip the glass too tightly.

“You always this friendly?” She asked, sitting back on the barstool, so that when Chris turned to look again, he got an eyeful of her cleavage, tightly strapped in a black leather corset. Impressive. Too bad he wasn’t even remotely interested tonight.

“Sorry babe, I’m not in a friendly mood right now.”

And she laughed, turned in her stool again, her back against the bar. She leaned over to him and whispered, “He told me that you would act like this.”

That got Chris’ attention.

“Who?”

The blonde laughed again, her lips full and red and her teeth so white Chris knew they had to have been bleached recently. “And he told me you’d call me ‘darlin’.”

“Did he, now? Thinks he knows me pretty well, huh?” Chris wondered where David had caught this one. She was truly gorgeous. Long blonde hair that looked like silk, clear green eyes, and perfect pale skin. If Chris was not so completely fucked up, he’d be chasing her down.

“Gave me a message for you, sweets.” She winked at him and Chris felt his interest perk just a bit. Fuck if he didn’t love a confident woman.

“What if I don’t want it? What if I’d rather sit here and buy you a drink? Maybe take you someplace nicer than this.”

They both turned as the bar’s front door opened and a man with two female companions walked inside. He went straight for the pool tables, one woman in tow. The other came up to the bar and started ordering drinks from the bartender. The blonde turned back to Chris with his smirk on her mouth.

“That would be great baby, if I didn’t pitch for the other team. And that girl?” She looked back to the pretty brunette that smiled at her before taking three long neck beers and going to the pool tables. “She is going to be playing for me. Tonight.” She turned back to Chris, slipping off the stool and adjusting her corset. “ He said for you to go to the first place you told him that you loved him.” Then she leaned in and kissed him, putting her thumb up to his lips to wipe off the lipstick she left. “Too bad, because for him, I’d switch sides. And for both of you? I’d probably start going to church again.”

She gave Chris a stunningly bright smile and he watched her tight round ass twitch as she walked away.

He slammed the rest of the Jack in his glass, grabbed his cigarettes, stuffed his lighter in his jeans and headed out to his truck.

Chris started the engine and sat back. Twilight was covering the city, blanketing the smog and hiding the constant cloud of pollution so that it appeared to be clean air they were all breathing.

The first place you told him that you loved him.

Where the fuck was that? He’d always known he was in love with David. Since the first time they’d met . . . hadn’t he?

No. Chris realized, he hadn’t. It had been lust and heat and want and need, but there hadn’t been love spoken of, not until that night.

Chris pulled out of the parking lot and turned on the street. Driving quickly through the city. He remembered now.

The afternoon that David had wanted to go to the beach and Chris had wanted to go to the mountains and they had fought. Bickering all day like an old married couple, pissing and moaning. Passive aggressive shit that ate up their time together and made everyone around them uncomfortable.

It was near the end of the show. Only two or three more episodes to shoot and nerves were already on edge. It hadn’t helped matters when David and Chris started throwing food at each other at lunch. When they had deliberately kept off marks while filming and purposefully fed each other the wrong lines in quick rehearsal. Chris remembered Marsters and Denisof rolling their eyes and covering smiles, then just smirking and finally joining the rest of the crew in hating David and Chris with a passion.

Yeah. It had been a very bad day.

At the end of it, David had come to his trailer. Not knocking, the man never knocked. Just climbing up and in and standing there, filling the doorway with his shoulders and chest.

“Okay. Mountains.” David had said, his voice low.

“No. Beach.” Chris hadn’t even looked up, just kept digging though his t-shirts for his favorite. He’d just gotten out of the shower and his hair was still wet, dripping down the skin of his back and chest. Drops sliding over the muscles.

“Chris, come on. Let’s go to the mountains. I give, all right?”

“No. Beach.” Chris said again and felt David moving up behind him.

“Listen, you little motherfucker. We are going to the mountains and that is the end of that.” David’s voice was a low growl over Chris’ left shoulder. Chris just kept pawing through his shirts and studiously attempting to ignore David.

“Beach. Bitch.” Chris said and then David was gone. Out of his trailer, the door left hanging open. Chris ended up not finding the shirt he wanted and not caring. He just grabbed one and ran after David. Wondering why the hell they spent so much time fighting, arguing, and bitching at each other when all they, well, Chris knew, all he wanted to do was slide down that man’s big body and suck his dick until David cried.

Chris caught up with David at his own truck, found him standing by the driver’s door.

“Give me the keys.” David held his hand out and Chris laughed,

“Not in a thousand years, city boy. You don’t know how to drive a truck.”

“So I can learn. Now. Give me the keys, Chris.” David’s voice was a quiet whisper and Chris ended up reaching into his pocket and putting his car keys in David’s outstretched palm.

Unfuckingbelievable. Was it the voice? The way David was looking at him with those dark brown eyes? Or the way David said his name? Not Kane, not dumbshit, not boy . . . but Chris. A name that David usually only said during sex. And not always then.

Chris sighed. He was whipped.

David drove them north, out of the city. Doing ninety and a hundred and more on the interstate, passing cars like they were standing still. Chris laughed and turned up the radio, feeling like a kid just let out of school for the year. Ready to embark on the unknown adventures that the summer vacation might contain.

They stopped once for cigarettes and once for beer and whiskey, then David turned off the highway and Chris had no fucking idea where they were anymore. But he didn’t ask and David didn’t offer, so Chris just sat back and enjoyed the views that slid past.

They had ended up here.

Chris pulled his truck into a small dirt parking lot. The tiny motel sat on the edge of the coast, mountains rising behind. It was trashy and in bad repair. The separate weather worn cottages were nothing but single rooms with a double bed, a pressed board dresser and a bathroom. The place was deserted now, being that it was New Year’s. It was so out of season, even the caretaker wasn’t around.

Chris climbed out of his truck and walked to the edge of the cliff. Cold wind whipping through his hair and chilling him. The smell of the ocean rose up and he could taste salt in the air; although it was already to dark to see, he could hear the waves crashing below him and he remembered standing here with David, in the setting sun of that day.

“Ocean.” David pointed down, then put his hands on Chris’ shoulders and turned him in a half circle, “Mountains.” Then smiled at him.

“You’re an asshole.” Chris said.

David held up a single key and looked Chris straight in the eyes, “Bed.”

“Okay, you’re an asshole that has a fucking great way with words.”

They spent the rest of the evening in the tiny, rented room. Drinking beer and whiskey and touching each other in places that made them both gasp and stutter. Ending up sweaty and naked, the covers pushed to the floor, the night breeze blowing through the open window cooling their skin. David leaned back against the headboard smoking, and Chris felt as though he was half on and half off the bed. Split up the middle, his heart torn from his chest.

“Fuck me.” He sighed and took the cigarette from David’s fingers.

“Thought I just did.”

“Was that was that was?” Chris smirked, took a drag and handed the cigarette back to David. “Wasn’t sure. Might need another round to be positive.”

“Fuck you.” David growled, crushing out the lit end in an ashtray and sliding down the bed, kissing Chris as he moved.

“That’s the idea.” Chris groaned as he melted under David’s touch. Under fingers that poked and prodded and slid easily into places that felt so very good. A touch that made him instantly hard, made him want to walk through walls and believe in things he shouldn’t, things he hadn’t for a very long time. Made him feel whole and complete, trustworthy and wanted and needed and perfect.

David made Chris feel love.

Then it all started again as they were dressing to leave - - Chris pissed off because he wanted to stay, David pissed off because he was unable to give Chris what he wanted.

“Just a quick one before you have to head home, huh? That’s fucking all I am. That’s all I will ever fucking be.” Chris snarling and snapping, his temper frayed to a worn edge and David quiet and helpless and unable to do anything to make Chris happy.

“You know that you’re not.” David pulled his shirt over his head, trying as hard as he could to avoid Chris’ eyes.

“Really? I know that? Fucking news to me.” Chris was dressing with fast, jerky movements.

“Why do you have to do this? Every Goddamn time.” David picked up his smokes from the nightstand, put his empty beers in the trash.

Then one of them crashed against the wall beside his head.

“Because I fucking love you.”

David turned to Chris, his jaw tight, lips thin and his fingers clenching into fists. He ignored the broken glass that littered the floor behind him. “Don’t say that.”

“Say what? That I love you?” Chris was furious. Angrier than he’d ever been in his life. Spitting fire as he spoke, “Because I do. I have, for a long time. Five fucking years, Dave. Five long years. Kissing you in closets and bathrooms and behind walls and never once have you ever said anything to me- - “ Chris started to slide down the wall and David moved with unconscious grace and speed, catching Chris before he fell. Gathering Chris in his arms and stepping back to the bed, holding him, surrounding Chris with his arms.

“I know, I know. Just don’t say it, just don’t. Please. Don’t.”

Chris remembered listening to David repeat himself, over and over and over, broken and hoarse. His fingers running through Chris’ hair. His lips moving against Chris’ skin.

Chris shivered. Memories and cold winter wind did not mix well. But Chris had said it. The words. Those words. And since then, since that moment, David had not spoken to him, but for his groans during sex. Brief phone calls, shuttered messages. ’Meet me here’ and ’I’ll see you there.’

Nothing else. Nothing real.

Chris walked across the gravel in the dim light to the room that he and David had shared. Cars passed on the road, their headlights splitting through the gloom around him. A piece of paper fluttered, taped to the door of the tiny cottage and Chris pulled it down.

Come home

So Chris did.

He climbed in his truck, got back on the highway. Smoking in silence as he drove back to his house. He’d turned off his mind. He had to. The memories of the nights spent in David’s arms, laughter and lust and anger and the sweet moments that hurt like ice on teeth. The weeks and months alone, the empty, aching pain that flowed through him like water.

Chris pulled into his driveway and parked beside David’s car. He sat there in the dark for a few moments, finishing his cigarette, finally tossing the butt into the street. Then he got out and walked to the door, his door, and into his house.

Chris found him in the master bedroom. David sat in a chair, drinking whiskey, smoke clouding the air around him. Chris stood still in the middle of the room, waiting.

David got up, his long legs cutting the distance between them quickly. He stopped in front of Chris, only a foot apart. Their eyes eating each other up, burning the air between them as they stared without speaking, without moving.

David broke first. Reaching for Chris, hands pulling him close, his lips hard and dry and possessive. His tongue filling Chris’ mouth. Hot breath that tasted of beer and hurt and smoke and need.

David turned Chris, pulling his shirt off. The nightstand lamp was on, put a soft glow in the room that was reflecting in the full-length mirror that David stood Chris in front of, “Look at yourself,” he said, his lips hot on the back of Chris’ neck as he spoke. “Do you see what I do?”

Chris leaned back into David’s chest, “See what?” he asked, mesmerized by David’s fingers on his body. “Why did you send me to those places? The bar where we kissed, the beach where I - -“ Chris stopped, not knowing how to continue.

David stared back at in the mirror, over Chris’ shoulder. His big hands resting on Chris’ arms and Chris could feel him tremble and sigh and fight for control.

“Since Halloween . . . since London . . . all I’ve done is think about you . . . all the time. Day. Night. At work, at home, on planes, in meetings. Driving my car and reading scripts and thinking that everything is fine and I can’t do it anymore, Chris.” David’s voice was low and quiet and Chris didn’t want hear anymore, didn’t want to be standing here in his bedroom, looking at David through a reflection. He was suddenly sure that David was telling him that this was over.

“I can’t be without you anymore.” David said and Chris felt the fingers on his shoulders tighten.

“I sent you to the bar so that you would remember what I said there . . . that night. That I was scared of you and I still am. You terrify me. You are pain and anger and lust and . . . you are love.” Chris saw David’s eyes slip away from his for a moment, then return.

“I sent you to the beach so that you would remember what you said there. To know if you still felt the same. Because I do.”

He listened to David as he spoke, watching him closely, waiting for him to finish. The moment dragged out and Chris prodded him, “You do what?” Chris started to turn, wanting, needing, to kiss him. But David held him in place with his hands, wouldn’t let Chris move.

“Stay here. Just like this. Look at yourself, see what I see. See the passion. See the love, the beauty. See yourself in my eyes.”

Chris felt David’s hands slip from his arms, down his waist to unbutton his jeans. David’s mouth on his shoulder blade, on the top of his spine.

“Why?” Chris asked, watching his own expression relax with the touches, saw the blush begin to creep up from his neck when David’s fingers slipped into his open pants and grazed his cock.

“We hide so much, Chris. Both of us. Too much. From the world, from each other. We pretend to be open and welcoming, but we’re not.

“And it creeps over into our personal relationships, ’who can you trust? Who really likes me?’ and ’what does this person want from me?’. You know it. I know it. Everyone in this business feels it. The longer we’re in here, the harder it gets to know what’s real and what’s fake and who we truly are inside.”

“I’ve always been straight with you, Dave.” Chris sucked on his bottom lip, trying not to moan out loud when David circled the head of his cock with his fingers and squeezed.

“I know you have, Chris. But I haven’t.

You told me you loved me. That you had loved me for five years. And then you put up with me hiding from you, fucking you and running from you. Avoiding you.”

Chris felt David’s hands move back up his bare chest, over his ribs, thumbs catching on his nipples and pinching, then up to his neck and his jaw. David turned Chris’ head just enough that he could kiss his lips, push his tongue inside Chris’ mouth, then turned him back to look in the mirror. “But I realized that I can’t do that any more, or I’m going to lose you. And it would kill me.” Chris watched David’s eyes fall, his stare broken, “I can’t lose you.” David whispered. “I’m tired of being without you. Holidays, weekends. Days and afternoons and nights in my bed. Alone. I’m tired of waking up from dreams of you with a raging hard on and having to beat off in the shower thinking of your eyes. I’m tired of pretending that it doesn’t matter and that I don’t care.”

“David - -“ Chris started to speak, but David’s head shook in the mirror, stopping him.

“No more talking. Not now. I have to touch you. I have to or I’m going to pass out from wanting you so fucking much, for so long.”

“Okay,” Chris felt David move behind him, slide his jeans down off his hips and stepped out of them, “I’m good with that. I’m - -“

“Shut up, Chris.” Chris looked in the mirror and watched the smile slip from his lips as David pushed his legs apart, pushed him forward so that Chris had to put his hands out on the wall and hold himself up. His vision grew blurry when David’s fingers, slick with lube, wrapped around his cock again and felt his balls rolled. David’s mouth slipping down the crack of his ass, his teeth biting, nibbling on Chris’ tender skin, opening Chris with his tongue, hot and wet, poking inside and making Chris quiver and moan. And only David could take Chris here, only David put him in this space where he felt as though he was free-falling from an airplane without a parachute and somehow he knew that he would land on his feet. That David would be there when he touched ground.

Chris wanted to thrust forward into David’s warm hand, he wanted to push back against David’s face. His thighs shook with tension and his knuckles were white on the drywall and he opened his eyes and finally saw himself as David did. Long hair falling on the sides of his face, the glint of silver earrings and the passion that darkened his blue eyes and the love that filled them. Saw the way his jaw clenches and his lips thinned out over his teeth. Drops of sweat fell from his chin and his breath came faster, his chest expanding with each gasp, each spasm that ripped through him as David’s hand moved over his cock, jerking and pulling and his mouth circled his opening, biting and licking. Heard his own voice calling David’s name and saying please and yes and I love you, I love you, I love you.

And Chris did not care anymore whether it pissed David off if he said it, because he felt it. He couldn’t contain it. It bubbled up out of him like lava and steam, filled his mind and gave his soul wings to fly. Being in love with David made Chris a better person, loving David made him stronger and he wasn’t fucking going to hide it any longer.

David took him to the edge, then stood up, rubbing his face in the sweat that slicked Chris’ back. He looked over Chris’ shoulder and caught his eyes in the mirror. Watched Chris pant and shake and stare back at him.

“Beautiful.”

This time when Chris turned, David didn’t stop him. He let Chris push him until the bed was against the back of his legs. Let Chris pull his shirt over his head and pull his jeans off. Let Chris sink to his knees and suck his cock into his mouth. And Chris felt the shudder run through David when he scraped his teeth up David’s length, felt David’s fingers in his hair as he bit the head, stuck his tongue through the slit and pulled David to him, until his cock bumped at the back of Chris’ throat.

Breathing deeper to get more inside, wanting to swallow David whole. Holding David’s thighs in his hands, digging his fingers into the hard muscle, the smooth skin. Groaning at the salty, familiar flavor that he could not get enough of, ever. Tightening his lips and increasing the suction until David’s hands pressed on his skull, trying to move him faster, wanting more. He heard the low hiss of David’s voice above him, “Chris, Chris, Chris. I want inside of you, please. Now.”

Chris rose and David pulled him close, held him in his arms and kissed him. Chris tasted himself, knew that David tasted himself, their tongues touching and dancing, salt and bitter, sour and hot and sweet and good. David sat back on the bed, bringing Chris with him, never stopping the caressing, fingers pulling on each other. Trying to climb into the other’s skin, get inside where they would both be warm and safe and complete. David finding the lube and sliding into Chris with a quick hard thrust.

Pinned beneath him, under his weight and his strength, feeling David fill him again and again and wrapped his legs around David’s thighs, pulling him deeper, harder, wanting more and more and harder and yes, fuck, don’t ever stop.

David’s hands on either side of his face, holding his head still. David’s mouth on his, sucking on his lips, breathing for him when Chris couldn’t hold out any longer. His eyes closed and his mind expanded and his world shrank to just this man and just this moment and David joined him, biting Chris’ neck and coming inside of him and whispering in his ear . . .

“I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.”


~The end



The scene with the mirror was ripped from an idea from the beautiful brain of menomegirl and is used with her permission. Thanks, Dee.
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