Snow (sweptawaybayou) wrote,

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By Snow

Christian Kane/Jason Behr
Christian Kane/David Boreanaz (implied)
For tabaqui *smooches*
beta by menomegirl

Another (omg I have gone to hell) of the Austin Stories
Harder To Breathe

Yeah, we're gonna fight
We do it every night
Baby, when you scratch
You know I'm gonna bite
You can make me die
I can make you cry
Opposites attract
That's the reason why
No one else could make you feel
Like I do,
No one ever gets as deep inside you
As I do, baby
Our love is a bed of nails

Chris felt his body doing a slow burn. His vision narrowing, his muscles tightening, his fingers clenching into fists. He stood in the corner of the huge living room, watching David through people that moved and talked, stood and drank, smoked and laughed and he ignored them all. He tried to take a deep breath, tried to calm down and completely forgot that he was holding a bottle of beer until his hand came up to push hair out of his eyes and he almost hit himself in the head with it.


What was he doing?

They had cleared the air. Gotten past the hurt, moved on. Chris had liked to think that he chased Vince out of town, but he knew better. The boy never stayed in one city for long, but at least Chris had made it clear that David was off limits. Chris didn’t know if David had actually talked to Crowe or simply made his presence in Chris’s life more visible. Whatever he’d done, Russell hadn’t called Chris for weeks. Almost two months now and that was fine with Chris. He had what he wanted. He had David to drink with, David to watch sports on his 64 inch hi-def television with, he had David in his bed, on his porch, in his kitchen, in his shower whenever they could find the time and life was good. Everything was as it should be … right?

They’d both received the invitation on the same day. A party at Joss’s to celebrate the success of the Serenity screenings. Everyone was invited and everyone that was on this side of the continent came, if they knew what was good for them. Joss was not a man you dissed and he was a man that would remember who showed up and who didn’t to any party he threw. Everyone but Sarah, and that was not a surprise. She’d distanced herself from absolutely everyone the instant the final shot was filmed on Buffy. A hug, a kiss and not a See you later. Her loss, Chris thought, some people never get over themselves.

Chris came alone and David brought three people from his new show. His co-star, Emily and the ‘Bones’ author Kathy, and didn’t those two seem cozy. Chris hadn’t seen two pretty women who couldn’t stop touching each other so much since the last strip club he’d gone to with Steve. And the kid, Eric, who probably had gotten his own invitation. Chris remembered seeing him on Angel’s Wolfram and Hart sets a few times. Joss never forgot a face, never forgot someone that showed up on time and always remembered someone that didn’t have to be told where to stand and how to act and react more than twice.

Chris had stood back as David took the two women up to Joss and laughed to himself at the fawning and squealing. Joss was big in Hollywood. He was a ‘name’ and if Serenity paid off for him like everyone was sure it was about to, he was someone that everyone wanted to know and to make sure that Joss knew them.

Chris had grabbed a beer from a passing waiter and leaned against the wall, waiting patiently for David to make his rounds. Watching him move through the packed house, smiling and hugging and joking. His dark eyes flashing over to meet Chris’s often enough that Chris knew he would be in his bed tonight. He knew that it was only a matter of time before David would have him up against the wall in a dim hallway, or be pulling him in the bathroom and those long fingers would be reaching in his jeans, rough around his cock. That low voice would be whispering in his ear, asking Chris didn’t he think it was time to go home? Make some polite excuses and get the fuck out of here? He was as sure of it as he was his own eye color and the knowledge that David would never leave his wife and son.

Chris was used to seeing David touch other women, other men. As used to it as he was David’s habit of constantly touching him. But there were levels of intimacy that even a dumbass hick like Chris could pick up on. There was simple touching, something that David did every day, with every person in his life. And then there was this.

He didn’t know the man that David was talking to, their heads leaning together in a conversation that couldn’t be overheard by the people next to them. A conversation that was meant to be private. David’s palm resting on the stranger’s back, his fingers pressing into the cotton of his white shirt. Someone else’s, not Chris’s, hand on David’s arm, a cigarette perched in his lips as he smiled and whispered and stood way too close. His hips facing David’s, a curve in his back and a offer in his eyes.

Chris stalked across the room, a stiff-legged gait. His Banty rooster, pit-bull, don’t fuck with me walk. A bottle of beer clenched in his hand. Stupid, yeah. He knew that already. Could he stop? Not even if he tried.

He ended up beside David, a smile on his lips that didn’t even attempt to reach his eyes.

“Kane.” David nodded at him and dropped his hand from the other man’s shirt.


“Do you know Jason?” David tilted his head to the man who seemed to be watching the sparks move between them with amusement on his face.


“Chris, Jason. Jason, Chris.” David took a long drink of his beer and lit a cigarette. “Jason was on Buffy for, like, a half a second.”

Chris nodded, not caring in the least who the fuck this was or why he was here. He did look up though, when he heard Jason laugh out loud.

“Just long enough to realize that was not a good place to be.” He smiled at Chris, his eyes laughing and Chris could feel the attraction. Suddenly, absolutely understanding.

Jason was one of those rare men that didn’t give a shit about anything. He’d fuck you for the pleasure and walk away without asking for your phone number. And if you asked for his, he’d have to think about it, because he didn’t even remember his own. He was in this for the moment. For the feel. For the sex. For the fun.

And Chris knew that he had slept with David. There was not a doubt in his head when he looked at them. Standing together, not touching, Chris could feel the heat that moved between them. Short dark hair and dark eyes, shoulder-length dark hair and light eyes. A wide, constant smile and a look that said, yeah, I know how to fuck you until you’re weeping. They were bookends. A matched set.

Chris felt as though he couldn’t breathe. As though all the air around him had suddenly turned liquid and he was drowning. Would there ever be a moment, a night, a time that he and David could spend together without this? Without former lovers, without current lovers, without wives and groupies and girlfriends and Jesus god fuck. When would it finally be enough for him and he would simply let go and move on?

Jason wandered off and Chris and David stood alone, drinking their beers and ignoring the tension that filled the air around them. The fact that each of them thought they knew what the other was thinking. Chris arched one eyebrow when David turned to him, opening his mouth and started to speak only to be cut off by Eliza dragging her current boy toy around the room. Both of them drunk and high, alternating between giggling and incoherent, unfinished sentences.

Chris left David to them, his beer empty and his temper riding the sharp edge of a razor blade. He walked to the open bar and ordered a whiskey straight up. Two fingers, no ice. He drank it quickly, biting back the burn and getting another before he was done with the first. He pulled a cigarette out of his pack and reached for his lighter only to find a flame dancing in front of him. Chris looked up and found Jason there, watching him. Holding out his Zippo, his lips curved in that ever-present smile.

Chris leaned his cigarette into the light and inhaled. Waiting until the end was a bright cherry red to pull away and exhale.

What the fuck was this?

“You with David?” Jason asked and Chris had to clamp down on the filter of his Marlboro with his teeth to keep his jaw from dropping to his chest. So fucking much for small talk.



Fifteen minutes, another two fingers of whiskey and Chris had Jason pushed up against the wall in one of Joss' spare bedrooms. Teeth and tongues, kissing that had nothing to do with tenderness and everything to do with desperation. His hands pulling Jason’s white cotton shirt out of his pants and sliding up that smooth chest to pinch and twist at his nipples. Gasping breath and Jason was laughing between moaning.

“Jesus Christ. You are a little firecracker, aren’t you?”

“You have no fucking idea.” Chris ripped open Jason’s black slacks and reached inside. No underwear, of course. Was that a requirement for all of David’s lovers? His fingers clamping around Jason’s cock and tightening until he heard what he wanted. The exhale and whine, the high pitched sound of desire. The smile finally slipped off Jason’s face and his pupils dilated.

“Felt that, didn’t you?”

Another quick yank and pull and Jason’s pants were down around his ankles. Precome on Chris’s hand, wetting his jeans as he opened them. Bites and kisses that hurt as he pushed Jason to the floor spreading Jason’s legs with his knees. Teeth on Jason’s shoulder blade, fingers digging into the soft skin just on the inside of Jason’s sharp hip bones and his cock shoving in dry. Past that tight ring of muscle and into the heat that although they tried and tried, all his soft, pretty fan girls just couldn’t recreate with their mouths.

“Fuck … fuck … yes… goddamn … yes …”

Chris heard the string of profanity slipping from Jason in low, throaty whispers, saw his fists clench and knuckles whiten against the dark green of the carpet. Felt Jason’s hips rise to meet him, his back arching in practiced and perfect and movements. Somewhere off in the distance his mind registered the sound of skin meeting skin. The slap of flesh wet with sweat and people talking in the hallway as they searched for an empty bathroom to snort their coke or shoot up or even just piss in private. Music from the band out by the pool, laughter and joking and flirting.

White lights behind his tightly closed eyes and come leaking out around his cock and down Jason’s thighs and Chris shuddered. Jason moved like a cat from underneath him, rolling to his back on the carpet, his own hand stroking his spent dick and fuck if the boy was not smiling again.

“Nice.” Jason said and Chris tasted bile in the back of his throat.

This was not what he wanted. This was not who he needed. Why fuck Jason just because David had/was/is? What purpose did this serve? Where was his brain? What the hell was he doing?

Chris flinched when Jason reached over, running his thumb over Chris’s bottom lip and into his thick hair.

“I’ve never fucked him, you know.” Jason said quietly as if Chris had asked the question. Chris realized not only was he hearing the truth, he was, for the first time, seeing the real Jason. Somber eyes, clear and white around sea green, a face that angel’s could envy in its purity. A spirit that refused to be caged and contained and a body made to be fucked for eternity.

“I’ve asked. I’ve offered. Again tonight and he always turns me down. He thanks me for the compliment and then he steps back. At first I thought it was his wife.” Jason laughed. “I couldn’t figure out why.

“Now I know.”

Sudden light on them both from the open door and Chris blinked and looked up. His jeans around his ankles, Jason’s hand on his face.

Ah, fuck. Of course. Eyes that were darker than Oklahoma mud in a riverbed, skin smoother than a baby’s butt and what? Did God really have that big of a hard-on for him?

“What the fuck are you doing, Kane?”

Tags: christian/jason, dave/chris, fic, rps
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