Snow (sweptawaybayou) wrote,

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Fifteen Seconds ~ David/Chris

Fifteen Seconds
the last DB/CK

by Snow

David Boreanaz/Christian Kane
Not mine. Never will be. Never have been.

Just hear me out
If it's not perfect I'll perfect it till my heart explodes.
I highly doubt
I can make it through another of your episodes.
Lashing out
One of the petty moves you pull before you lose control.
You wear me out
But it's all right now.
Lets go home and get stoned.
We could end up makin love instead of misery.
Go home and get stoned.
Cause the sex is so much better when you're mad at me.

Sometimes David measured his life in fifteen second intervals.

Jaden running across the living room. His son’s laughter when he was tickled to the floor. Two puffs of air against David’s cheek as he sat on the edge of Jaden’s bed and leaned in to kiss the sleeping boy’s cheek, an angel in yellow and blue. A Sponge-Bob nightlight glowing from the wall by the door.

Fifteen seconds. A kiss at the door, her luggage already in the taxi that waited in the driveway. Jaden squirmed in her arms.

“I’ll be back in a week or so.”

“Say hi to your mom and dad.”

“You’ll be okay?”

“Yeah, I have that thing Tuesday night and the Fox party Thursday.”

She used to come with him. She used to shop for just the right dress and spend hours deliberating over make-up and matching shoes. How her breasts looked and if her teeth were white enough and whether any producers would be there and if her agent had called anyone and he could still feel her excitement, her hands digging into his biceps through the soft material of his suit jacket.

And now …

“Right. Well, I’ll call you after the plane lands.”

“I love you, Jaime.”

… I miss you. … I …

Lately, she was always leaving, always going home to Utah. Sometimes with Jaden, sometimes without and David would spend the week with his son. Taking him every where he went; golfing, parties, appearances, shopping.

The nanny would get frustrated and pissed and David would find her sleeping on a lounge chair in the sun by the pool or hear her bitching on her cell phone in her room. Her voice carrying down the hallway as she shared her seemingly mindless young adult angst with her friends.

But when Jaime took Jaden with her, the nanny left. And their house was empty and quiet and too big. A perfect sanctuary. A fucking graveyard filled with memories of better times.

Weeks in between work sucked. Locked into a schedule for Fox, no movies to film. No auditions. No new scripts to read. Nothing to do at all. Nothing but sitting and waiting. Playing cards and surfing the ‘net. Golf and a pick-up hockey game here and there, watching sports on ESPN. Talking to anyone that called for too long.

He should’ve gone with her, but … he didn’t.

Fifteen seconds.

The time it took to shoot the intro to a scene. To say a few lines of dialogue. To repeat a joke. To answer the phone and it was never the right call. Not lately. Not for a long time.


The sound of Chris’ voice, hazy and broken as if he was continents away and David heard LAX in the background and nothing else. For a moment Chris was right there standing in front of David. Wearing that smirk, hands on his hips. His head tilted just so and David smiled.

“Meet you at the bar.”

The air was blue with smoke, David started to order a Miller Lite, then switched to Jack. Straight up, no ice. Fuck the calories, there were memories, too many. They clouded his mind and he could feel Chris before he lifted his head and saw him.

They were surrounded by travelers. Men and women in grey and blue and black. Business suits with laptops and cell phones and PDAs. Earplugs and BlueTooths and IPODs and there they stood in their jeans and t-shirts and boots. Leaner and older, David’s hair cut shorter and Chris’ shaggier. Both of them tan and muscular and careful.

“How long have we got?”

He couldn’t remember which one of them had asked. It didn’t matter, at any rate. There was never enough time. Life was doing a damn fine job of pulling them apart and keeping them away from each other.

“Sold my house.”

“Movin’ on up, huh?”

“Fuck you. I’m tired of flying back and forth. Got a great deal on a place in Nashville.”


David couldn’t help himself. Couldn’t stop himself. It had been months since he’d seen Christian, more than that since they’d been alone together and all he wanted to do was piss him off. Make him mad. Make those blue eyes flare up, see his nostrils flare and smell whiskey-soaked breath on his face. Feel it on his neck. On his wrists when he held Chris’ arms down to the mattress and fucked into him. Skin slapping on skin. Sweat stinging his eyes and making the cut on his lip from Chris’ teeth hurt like a motherfucker.

Chris laughed and took a drink of the whiskey that sat in front of him. David felt it when Chris raked his eyes over him. Boots to jeans to belt to T-shirt to face.

“You’re looking good.”

David shrugged, his fingers curled on the varnished wood of the table that stood between them. That kept him from what he wanted. What he thought he needed.

“New show. Different audience. Hired a trainer.”

He wanted to be somewhere alone with this man. He wanted to be standing in a hotel room, the light dimmed from heavy curtains pulled against the sunlight. He wanted to be reaching out and unbuttoning that fucking flannel shirt.

“Yeah, how’s that going?”

“Good. We’ve got some great writers. Think we’re going places this season with our characters that I’ve never gotten to try before.”

He’d start by stripping Christian. Shirt, jeans, socks, boots. There wouldn’t be any underwear. There never was. Leave him standing wearing nothing but those bracelets and earrings. His hair would be falling in his eyes and his cock would be hard. Jutting out from his groin, heavy and thick and his skin would be the temperature of fire.

“I’ve seen those chicks you work with, hot man. Must be nice.”

Fifteen seconds. Walking around Christian without touching him at all. Looking down over his shoulder and inhaling the scent of his body, of his stubborn refusal to bend, of his desire to be held. No smell like that in all the world. No one else that could attract him like this, moth to a flame. Give up everything he had … everything he owned and everything he’d worked so hard for if … only.

“Yeah. They are beautiful ladies. Smart, too. Keep me on my toes.”

David wondered why he was here. What he was doing. Where this was leading.

He didn’t want to know the answer to any of those questions.

“So just music now? No more acting?”

Christian nodded. He dug in the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a crumpled pack of Marlboros. He lit one with a match from the book in the ashtray and a sheepish grin.

“I’m supposed to be quitting.”

David grabbed the pack and knocked one out for himself. He used the same matchbook as Chris had and tossed it on the table. Their fingers close, but not touching as they tapped off ashes and David closed his eyes for a moment.

For less than fifteen seconds.

“I already did.”

The first inhale burnt, the second tasted like heaven and the third made his head foggy. David nodded when the waitress inquired about their empty glasses and Chris checked his watch. Time was, they’d already have been in the nearest bathroom. In a stall. Making out like teenagers. Groping and kissing and laughing. David would have eaten Chris’s whimpers like warm chocolate, licked them from his mouth. Devoured each groan from his lips.

His tongue would slide down the dip of Christian’s spine from between his shoulder blades to the crack of his ass. Christian would gasp out loud and it wouldn’t take but the softest touch of David’s fingers on his thighs for them to slide apart and there he would suck and lick and tease and bite until Christian was begging and swaying and reaching back and rutting forward into nothing at all.

“How’s Steve doing?”

“S’good. He keeps me on schedule and tries to keep me sober. Works, most of the time.”

“Fuck. I need to send that man a card.”

That finally got a rise from Chris and instead of feeling better, the clamp that seemed to be gripping something too-tight in David’s chest only screwed down a little more. He watched as Chris’ teeth bit down on the filter. White and perfect and jesus … how that boy had bit when he came. Drew blood every fucking time.

“Not funny. I’m trying, you know? It’s hard. This is it for me. This is what I’ve always wanted and sometimes I can feel it already slipping through my fingers. Sometimes I look out into the crowd and all I see is damn fan-girls and all I hear is Lindsey … Lindsey … we love you, Lindsey … and then I drink more instead of less, smoke some pot and snort too many lines and figure what the fuck does it matter?”

He’d push Christian to the bed, down on his back. Spread his legs, his fingers running from Christian’s ankles to behind his knees to the dip on the inside of his hips. His thumbs would press into the soft, warm flesh there and while Christian grabbed handfuls of bedspread, David’s mouth would find the head of Christian’s cock and he’d suck the pearls of precome. Roll them on his tongue as if taste-testing a fine wine. As if he was checking the readiness of a gourmet entrée. David would glance up to see Christian’s chin pointing at the ceiling. Stubble shadowing his jaw and neck and tight, clenched muscles rippling from abdomen to shoulders to arms to wrists.

David leveled his gaze at Chris.

“Think I don’t know about that?”

“Yeah, of course you do.” Chris swirled the small ice cubes in his glass. He dipped the tip of his index finger into the alcohol and brought it to his mouth in an unconscious movement that David could have bet his house on happening. Fuck, he could’ve bet his life on it. How many times had he chased that finger up to that mouth to capture the cold before it reached the heat? “I know you do. Fucking sucks, man. Here we are, ready to move on and the world won’t let us.”

“It will. Be patient.”

Chris snorted. He took another drag off his rapidly dwindling cigarette and blew out the smoke around his words.

“You know how good I am at that, Dave.”

Salt and sweat and blood in their kisses. Christian’s legs up over David’s shoulders. David couldn’t get in fast enough and he couldn’t make that first thrust slow enough. He loved watching Christian’s eyes widen, his pupils expand, his lips thin over his teeth because it fucking hurt and it felt so goddamn good.

The condom wrapper would crackle because it always seemed to get caught between Christian’s ass and the bed. Neither of them would hear it or care until afterwards, when David would find the small wrinkle in Christian’s skin and bite at the red with his teeth.

They’d slide together staring in each other’s eyes. Daring the other to come first. The headboard would bang against the wall and the mattress would shift and for a moment … David would be taken beyond his existence. He would be where he knew he belonged.

“How’s the kid?”

David reached for his wallet without hesitation. He flashed pictures of Jaden at Lego Land and Jaden at Disney Land and Jaden on the red carpet and Jaden at Nickelodeon Studios and Chris made all the appropriate comments.

“Gonna have to have one of those of my own someday.”

David laughed, closed up his wallet and tapped out his cigarette.

“Probably already have a few, Chris.”

Chris jerked and David thought he’d hit a nerve, but no. It was simply Chris’ cell phone buzzing in his shirt pocket. David watched as Chris pulled it out and answered. Short, monosyllabic answers in a terse voice. David realized that the sound of that voice used to be his.

“Plane’s leaving.” Chris slammed the last of his Jack. He started to grab the half-empty pack of smokes, then left them on the table with a twenty. David picked it up and tossed it back at him.

“My treat. Thanks for calling, Kane.”

… I’ve missed you. I miss you.

“Fuck you, Dave. Leave it.”

David added a ten on top of Chris’ money and nodded. Their eyes met over the empty glasses as their fingers finally brushed. Touched. Met. Two seconds. Five. Ten.

Not enough.

“I’ll be back. In and out, you know me.”

David felt his lips curve into a smile. He held those blue eyes with his own for as long as he could. His hands itched to reach out and move an errant strand of hair out of Chris’ face almost as much as his body ached for the man. Almost as much as his mind burned and his heart hurt.

Almost as hard as his dick was, trapped down in his jeans.

He’d feel Christian twisting under him. Shaking and shuddering and trembling. His cock caught between them, his balls crushed with every complete, deep thrust. His hands would have abandoned the cheap material of the bedspread and his fingers would be digging into David’s arms. His back would be arched up, tighter than a bow and he’d scream David’s name.

One of them would give in and come and then the other and then they’d do it again and draw it out longer and come together. Tasting and smearing and coating and marking and mixing it until they didn’t know who had come last and who had come first and whose fingers tasted like which body.

David would see the ocean in Christian’s eyes. He’d see the sky. Open and clear and beautiful. He’d hear absolute, unrestrained joy in Christian’s laughter. He’d feel the passion rebounding from every touch of Christian’s fingers, every scratch and bruise and grab. He’d know true desire.

He’d held it in his arms. Once upon a time.

“Keep in touch, cowboy.”


Fifteen seconds.

A wave down a concourse. A smile and a nod. A quick grope in a hallway. A hurried kiss behind the fake walls of a set. Closing his eyes and remembering the lines of the next scene and licking the taste off of his lips.

The time it takes to dial a phone number.

A long breath and a name on the tip of his tongue.

The intro to a song.

The sound of a voice that whispered ‘I want you … I will always want you ...’



Sorry. Been a while, you know?

*la la*

Tags: dave/chris, david/chris, db/ck, fic, rps
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