Another Not for Profit Venture by Snow
Not real people, nothing like this has ever happened.
Except in my brain.
David Boreanaz/Christian Kane
Beta by stir_of_echoes
The constant ring of the slot machines and the canned generic music of the casino faded behind Chris as the elevator doors shut. He stood alone in the small space, leaning against the wooden handrails and watched the digital readout of the floor numbers change as the elevator climbed upwards. He felt his eyes closing with fatigue. It had been a long, busy day, loose ends to tie up before catching the equally long flight to Las Vegas from New York, an uncomfortable wait at the airport for his luggage, and another long, seemingly endless taxi ride through stop and go traffic to the hotel.
Now he was here, finally, and knew that he should be looking forward to seeing David but all his body cried out for was rest. Sleep. A hot shower, a bed and a pillow.
He opened his eyes at the soft chime and watched as the doors slid open. Shouldered his backpack and stepped out into a small waiting area. Chris looked around for signs, trying to remember the room number. He ended up having to pull the map they’d given him at the front desk out of his back pocket, and then check the signs again. He followed an arrow down a long hallway, turning into another and then another. He backtracked; found he’d missed a turn, then finally, the correct door number. He slid in his key card, waited for the green light and opened the latch. The smell of stale and fresh cigarette smoke hit him first as he walked into the small room, letting the door shut behind him, looked around. Two double beds, a tiny table with two chairs crammed in the corner and a bureau holding a small TV. Chris saw David stretched out on one of the beds wearing a polo shirt and jeans, boots kicked off and left, abandoned in the middle of the room. His profile lit only by the moving gray shadows and glow of the TV.
Chris dropped his backpack.
“Tell me again why we’re staying in this shit hole and not the Luxor?”
David got up off the bed, walked to him, pressed him back against the wall, all in one fluid motion. His huge hands on Chris’ shoulders, his mouth just inches away from Chris’ face.
“Because here no one knows us. Here we don’t have to worry about being recognized, or chased or asked for autographs. This hotel is full of old people and gamblers.” David dipped his head down, kissed Chris hard. “And don’t you just taste good?”
Chris looked up into unreadable brown eyes, felt the heat of David’s body through his t shirt and jeans.
“I need a shower. And a beer.”
David didn’t move.
“No, first you need to kiss me. Damn. I’ve missed you.”
David’s mouth worried the rough stubble along Chris’ jaw, his cheeks, then, there, on his soft lips. Chris let David melt into him and returned the kisses. Sucked at his tongue, his bottom lip, nipped at it gentle with his teeth and tasted smoke and beer and lust. It was always like this with David. There was no half way with him. Ever. He made Chris feel like he was something special, that he was needed and wanted and desired. Whether they were alone, in a room full of people, or on a stage at a convention. David was constantly touching his arms, his neck or his back. It had been overwhelming at first, then Chris was surprised at how quickly he had gotten used to it and how much he missed the intense level of attention when David wasn’t around.
“I really need a shower.”
Chris managed to speak around David’s persistent mouth. He could feel the sigh on his face.
David stepped back, moved across the room to where a small styro-foam cooler sat on the table and pulled out a bottle of beer.
Chris set his backpack on the bed and rummaged in it for a change of clothes.
“Have you been here long?”
David shrugged. “Couple of hours. Long enough to know that there are no good TV stations. Considered buying some porn, decided to wait for you.”
Chris was caught for a moment, just staring at David as he stood in the wavering shadows of the television. The small smile that played around his lips, his dark eyes. The casual strength in his hands and arms as he popped the top off the bottle and drank half of it down, his throat muscles working in the dim light.
“Thought you had to shower?”
Chris shook his head and bit his bottom lip, hard. How that man made it so difficult, when all he wanted to do was stare at him, be swept up in his natural beauty, his charisma. How was he supposed to do anything with David this close, when they were alone. Together. Like this.
“I’m going, I’m going.”
Chris grabbed his clean clothes and went into the small bathroom. Shit, he hadn’t stayed in a hotel room this cramped since he was, well, since he was nobody. Even when he took his band on the road nowadays, they stayed in penthouse suites or rented condos. He pulled his jeans and shirt off, fumbled with the towels and started the water, grabbed the tiny bottle of shampoo off the sink and unwrapped the soap. So the man wanted anonymity did he? Well this hotel had to be the castle in the land of anonymous. Christ, not even a fucking toilet lid.
Chris stepped into the spray of the hot water, let it sluice through his hair, and wash away the sweat of the day. He closed his eyes, tried to force some lather from the pathetic bar of soap, determined to ignore his semi-hard dick. How long had it been since he’d been alone with David? Too long. Since Chicago. And then they’d been drinking so much. Too much. Drunk for three days straight. David’s wife had insisted on coming along, forced the two of them to do the best buddy act even out of the public eye. It had gotten old really fast. Although it hadn’t stopped David from touching him. Constantly. Nor had it stopped him from coming to Chris’ rooms. A soft tap on the door, then hot, dry lips on his neck, his face, his mouth, his cock. David’s huge hands pulling at his clothes, tearing at stubborn buttons.
Chris shook his head, rinsed out the last of the shampoo. What the fuck was he doing in the shower when David was right out there? Waiting for him. Alone. Chris shut the water off. Towel dried himself quickly, pulled on some old, soft sweat pants and opened the door.
The television was still on, gray shadows barely lighting the room. David lay on his back, pillows stacked behind his head, a half empty beer balanced on his now bare chest. His eyes closed, mouth open. Soft snores competing with the bland dry voice that came from the hotel’s black jack lesson. Chris smiled. Ran a hand through his long, still dripping hair, laughing quietly.
“Shit,” he whispered. Then he turned off the TV, took the beer from David’s loose grip, set it on the nightstand next to other empty bottles and the over flowing ashtray. He got into the bed next to David and grabbed some pillows out from behind the bigger man’s head. David slid down beside him, reached for Chris, David’s hands seeking out skin still hot from the shower as he pulled Chris close. Wrapped in each other’s arms, they both fell into a deep, comfortable sleep.
Chris heard himself moaning before he was completely awake. Pulled from a dreamless sleep by the hot, wet feel of lips wrapped around his cock. He shook his head, almost swooning from the hard suction at his groin and tried to move his arms down to his waist. He couldn’t. Chris opened his eyes; the room was still dark, heavy curtains closed against daylight? Moonlight? He didn’t know, didn’t care. He attempted to move his arms again and realized that his wrists were held fast above his head. He felt around with his fingers and recognized the metal of handcuffs, a rope slipped between the small chain that held them together, probably looped back around the headboard of the bed. After all, that's what he'd have done.
“Dave? What are you doing?”
Chris tried to keep the quiver out of his voice as he felt teeth nip at the head of his cock and the lick of a warm tongue. He heard David’s soft laugh and felt the mattress dip as David slowly crawled up, pausing at Chris’ nipples to bite and suck. Chris arched his back up to that mouth.
“Dave, what the fuck are you doing?” Chris asked again, this time through gritted teeth.
David finally moved into Chris’ limited view, his face hidden by the shadows. Chris could hardly make out the white of his teeth as he smiled.
“This is my weekend. I called you.”
Chris nodded, then rattled the handcuffs. “And I’m here. So why the ‘cuffs?”
David laughed again. “What? You don’t remember Austin? This is payback, baby.”
Then David slid back down to Chris’ hard cock, pulling him sharply into his mouth.
Chris groaned and bit his bottom lip.
Fuck, yes, he remembered Austin. His band on a four-week road trip. A steamy August night, and Chris, already drunk on Shinerbock and Tequila, had called David on his cell phone earlier in the day. When David had finally shown up, the concert was over and Chris dragged him straight to his hotel room. Slammed David up against the wall, rattling cheap pictures in their plastic frames. Unbuttoned his jeans and sucked him off before saying hello.
Chris remembered how David had freely given him control for the entire weekend. From choosing where and what they ate for breakfast, to how tight he tied David to the bed and how many times he made him come before finally, finally setting him free. Buying him shot after shot of Habenero Vodka and kissing him, feeling the fire from the pepper soaked alcohol burn his own tongue and lips. Country music, tight jeans, cowboy boots and homemade salsa with chips. Two days of drunken fucking and bar hopping and quick, sweaty moments stolen in dark alleys.
Yeah. He remembered Austin.
There had, of course, been times in between, some conventions, working on the show in LA until that was over, catching an afternoon or night at each other’s houses, fighting each other to be on top, arguing over football teams and discussing film deals while they blew each other’s minds. But when they specifically called for one another? A get out of whatever town you are in and come here right the fuck now call. Only three. This was the fourth. And whoever made the phone call was in charge. Made the plans, booked the hotel and provided the entertainment. Chris didn’t know how it had started, didn’t care, and David was right, he’d made this call.
So Chris tried to stop struggling against the metal handcuffs and let David go. Closed his eyes and saw shooting stars behind his lids as David kept teasing him with his mouth, scraping tender flesh with his teeth, refusing to set a rhythm and holding Chris’ hips down and still against the mattress with his hands. Swirling his tongue and taking Chris in deep, only to let him out again, let his rock hard cock bob back against his skin and Chris moaned. Torn between wanting this torment to end and wanting to be held in this space forever, his blood thrumming in his veins and his mind blank.
“Something you want, Kane?” David whispered.
“Hell, yes. I want you.” Chris heard him laugh, felt the bed shift again as David moved.
Chris gasped as fingers, cold with lube, wrapped hard around his cock and slid behind his balls.
“Want you to fuck me. Now.”
“I think that might be arranged.”
Chris felt David move up beside him, his lips hot and dry as they kissed. Chris lifted his head, and David filled his mouth with his tongue as he pushed one slick finger inside, then two, then three. And Chris couldn’t breath, couldn’t think, couldn’t concentrate on anything but the feeling of David inside him and the mouth that was sealed on his own.
David pulled his hand away, moved Chris’ legs up and apart. Slid his cock deep into Chris while still still kissing him. Swallowing down the low sounds that Chris made as David pumped in and out, holding Chris’ head in his palms, then licking his eyelids, his cheeks, his temples, tasting the clean sweat and soap flavored skin at his hair line.
The tempo increased, David’s head fell to Chris’ neck and Chris moved his hips in time with David’s thrusts, trying to keep up, straining to catch some friction against David’s smooth abdomen with his cock, something, anything. David’s palms slipped down Chris’ face and Chris grabbed at a thumb with his lips, pulled it into his mouth, sucking hard on it as he felt David shudder and slow and call his name, fill him as he came.
Chris strained against the handcuffs, momentarily regretting tying up David in Austin. God, how he wanted to be touching him right now. David rested on top of him, catching his breath, and then pulled out and away. He rolled on his side and ran a finger down Chris’ chest, stopping just before he reached Chris’ wet, aching cock. Chris swiveled his hips and tried to meet David’s hand.
“Sing for me, Chris.” David whispered and rubbed the callused pad of his thumb across the end of Chris’ dick and listened to him groan. “Give me a reason to let you come.”
Chris was drowning in the heat that David had created inside him. David’s touch rough, pulling his foreskin back and forth, his tight grip, relentless, almost to the point of pain and then he’d stop. Lean down and circle Chris’ swollen cock with his tongue, warm, gentle, lapping, barely there. Chris was gasping, pulling so hard at the cuffs that restrained his wrists that the headboard creaked ominously.
“Goddamn, Dave, please. Fuck.”
Chris felt David run his hand down, squeeze his taught, tense thigh muscle and back up, circle around balls that were drawn up tight. He held the base of Chris’ cock, pulled the silken skin down and clamped his mouth tight around the tip, no teasing this time. Deep throated Chris, sucking hard and fast and wet and Chris was coming, his body exploding, eyes rolling back in his head as he shook, his entire body clenching and releasing.
David rested his head on Chris chest. Listened to Chris’ heart beat strong and fast and his breath slow and shallow.
Chris rattled the cuffs, his shoulders beginning to ache, even as the rest of his body felt warm and loose. He felt David move, the smooth of his chest as he reached over Chris to the nightstand to get the key. David kissed him and laughed.
“Payback’s a bitch, huh?”
And he unlocked the handcuffs. Chris rubbed his wrists with his fingers, idly considered throwing David off the bed, decided it would be too much trouble. And David had only given back as good as he’d gotten in Texas. He felt big, warm hands start massaging his shoulders, his biceps, working the last of the soreness out of his muscles.
“I really don’t deserve this.” Chris mumbled, referring to the handcuffs and closing his eyes.
“Damn straight you don’t.” David growled back, referring to the massage.
But he kept it up until Chris was falling back into the deep, dreamless sleep that David had brought him out of earlier.
::shags you all senseless and steals your poker chips::