100 Ways Story
May. 4th, 2004 09:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
turpsWooHoo! 100 Ways has gone live!
So I'm going to post my story here, take Corey to bed then wallow in kinky sex. What a night!
First up I want to thank![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jewelianna and madame_d for all their work doing this. Also my betas, the awesome kifty who beta read for me, satsuma77 who looked over the story, and interlock who made this story a hell of a lot better than it was. You all rock, thank you!
My choice was sex in a chair, and it's Chris/all. But not GSF.
Read it here or at my site here
Eyes half closed, Chris stumbles into his kitchen. Bright sunlight fills the room and he winces, screwing shut his eyes. Ten steps and he’s at the coffee machine, body on auto pilot as he switches it on, then reaches for the bread; dropping two slices into the toaster. He leans against the counter, scratching at his belly and yawning. Longing for the coffee to brew, needing that first hit of caffeine.
Chris feels rough. His head throbs, his tongue feels coated and when he sluggishly moves to gather butter and jelly he almost recoils from his reflection in the shining surface of his fridge. Sleep crusted eyes, creased face and hair that sticks up in all directions is not a good look. But all Chris does is grab the food and shut the door. He’s still not awake enough yet to care that much about his appearance.
The toaster pops, so Chris grabs the slices. He hisses as his fingers burn, then haphazardly smears his toast with spread. Reaching for a plate, he puts the toast on it and sits at the kitchen table. Eyes closed, he takes a bite, listening to the gurgle of the coffee machine. Chris lets his mind wander as he eats, the sweet jelly causing thoughts that make him smile through a mouthful of toast.
~*~*~*~
“Mmmm. Raspberry,” Chris says with a laugh. Standing at his kitchen door, he licks his lips, still tasting Joey’s kiss.
“I’ve just dropped Bri off at Kelly’s. We had jelly sandwiches at the park.” Joey grins and pulls him close, one arm casually wrapped around Chris’ waist. “You should have come. We had our picnic and fed the ducks.”
“Another time maybe, there was no way I could blow off that meeting.”
“It went, okay?” Joey questions, then starts to steer them away from the door.
“I guess.” Chris frowns, he hates business meetings but at least it’s over with now, for good or bad. “Anyway, it’s done now. Do you want something to eat, or were the sandwiches enough?” Chris thinks about what’s in his fridge, mentally putting together a simple meal.
“I’m good, not hungry at all, at least not for food.” Joey leers and Chris can’t help laughing.
“You’re as cheesy as hell, Fatone. Don’t tell me that line works for you.”
“Okay, I won’t.” Joey says, bending his head slightly so he’s whispering in Chris’ ear. “But it does work, it got you didn’t it?”
Chris shivers at the feel of Joey’s breath across his ear, then gasps as Joey moves quickly, twisting so Chris is pressed against him and can hear Joey’s heartbeat before he tilts back his head so Joey can kiss him again.
“I’ve missed this,” Joey says, with a kiss. Joey kisses hard and long, one of his hands cradling Chris’ neck, while he pushes up Chris’ t-shirt with the other.
Eyes closed, hands holding Joey’s hips, Chris allows Joey to set the pace like always. When he’s with Joey he likes to give up control, let Joey surround him, blanket him with his body. Chris isn’t small, never feels small and certainly doesn’t live small, but when he’s with Joey in this way he feels loved and protected, as he’s pressed against Joey’s chest, or held up against a wall with strong arms.
Chris wants to tell Joey that he missed him too, but any sound he makes is muffled in Joey’s mouth. So he shows him instead, kissing back passionately with wet hard kisses. They break apart briefly as Joey pulls Chris’ t-shirt over his head with one sure movement, then pushes down his pants and boxers. The movements are so swift and smooth that Chris is stripped naked in seconds, and stands, feeling self conscious as Joey stares at him in open admiration.
“You’re so beautiful,” Joey almost whispers, and Chris has to bite back the urge to make a wise crack. He knows he isn’t beautiful, but looking at Joey’s face as he stares in approval, Chris knows what it’s like to feel beautiful and he smiles, loving Joey for giving him that.
"God I want you – need you." There's almost desperation in Joey's voice and apparently Chris's stunned reaction is enough, because Joey is kicking his shoes off and shedding his own clothes without ever letting Chris go. All Chris can do is allow himself to be swept along as Joey reaches for him, kissing with an urgency that he can’t deny. Joey’s hands are on Chris’ hips, pulling them close together as Joey looks over his shoulder and starts to move backward.
Chris has no option but to follow, matching his steps to Joey’s as they walk toward the kitchen table. Imagining that Joey wants to take him across it, Chris is surprised when instead he pulls out a chair, and sits down, one hand warm against Chris’ hip.
“You okay to do it this way?” Chris feels a jolt of excitement when he realises what Joey wants him to do. Nodding, he takes a second to look at Joey, who sits on the chair lewd and sensuous with his legs slightly open and cock hard. He looks magnificent, all hard muscles and tanned skin and all Chris wants to do is stand and stare, while thanking every deity possible that he’s prepared for Joey coming over and is lubed up and ready to go, but Joey reaches for him, and Chris shakes his head slightly and moves so he’s straddling his own personal sex god.
Joey leans forward, licking at Chris’ stomach and Chris holds onto broad shoulders, before slowly letting himself down, trusting Joey to guide him. Gasping at the sensation, Chris lets his head rest against Joey’s, panting softly as he adjusts to being filled so deep. He knows Joey is fighting to remain in control by the way he breathes, so deep and slow that Chris can feel it in his skin.
Finally, Chris moves, pushing down slightly, causing Joey to moan and push up. It feels amazing, and Chris can’t help moaning too as Joey bites at his neck then whispers fuck yourself on me. It’s all the encouragement Chris needs, and he holds Joey’s shoulders as he moves, using his legs to push himself up and drop back down over and over.
Joey holds himself still, nipping and biting as Chris continues to fuck himself, then Joey reaches between their bodies until he holds Chris’ dick, fisting it loosely as Chris uses the friction of his own body against Joey’s to bring himself off. As Joey yells his climax, his fingers leaving small bruises on Chris’ arm.
After, Chris remains in Joey’s lap, heads close together, utterly content. His arms are wrapped around Joey’s back and Joey gently rubs a hand over his knees and thighs. Chris knows he must be heavy, and the chair will be digging into Joey’s legs, but Joey doesn’t say a word, just sits and holds Chris, making him feel safe and secure for as long as he needs it.
~*~*~*~
Toast eaten, Chris stands carefully adjusting himself through his sweats. Lingering feelings of happiness and desire cause the first smile of the day as he reaches for his favourite mug. Holding almost as much as two regular mugs it has pictures of fat pugs around the rim, a gift from his sisters, who bought it years before. It’s been packed with every house move since, and Chris treasures it more than the any platinum record.
At last the machine is done, and Chris sniffs, almost drooling at the rich welcome scent. He’s feeling more awake now, but sleep still hovers and Chris knows he needs his caffeine fix before he can even think of doing anything productive. Filling the mug he takes a quick drink, scalding his mouth like he does every morning. Sticking out his tongue, Chris sits back down, taking a bite from his other slice of toast and waits for the coffee to cool slightly.
After two bites Chris can’t wait anymore, and he takes a long gulp, savouring the taste as he lets his mind wander once again.
~*~*~*~
“I’m horny,”
To Chris, JC means coffee flavoured kisses and dirty casual sex. He knew JC would make a move; it was just a case of when. JC shifts in his chair and uses the cookie he’s holding to emphasise his point when Chris doesn’t reply.
“I said, I’m horny.”
JC's sitting opposite Chris at the kitchen table, hands curled around his mug of coffee. They've been talking about anything and everything, from politics to favourite TV shows to music and back again. Chris enjoys how caught up JC gets in what he’s saying, even if it’s something as trivial as Tom versus Jerry.
“I know. You’re always horny. It’d be a bigger announcement if you weren’t.” Chris grins as JC glares before shifting in place again, obviously adjusting himself under the table.
“Can you blame me? Sitting there sucking on that thing like that. What do you expect me to feel?”
Chris stops and looks up at JC’s words. He isn’t teasing on purpose; he’s just decided he likes biscottii, but now that he knows, he has to use the knowledge. Watching JC, he brings it to his mouth and starts to suck
JC reacts instantly, eyes widening as he watches. Chris knows he won’t stay still for long, and is proven right when JC stands, erection clearly visible in his tight pants.
“That’s not fair, man. Now I’m really horny. You’ll have to help me out.”
“Says who?” Chris teases, laughing until JC’s only inches away.
“Says me. Now are you going to fuck me or just sit there all day?” JC looks Chris in the eye, then deliberately lowers his gaze, licking across his bottom lip once as he reaches crotch level. Seeming to like what he sees, JC fumbles with his clothes, fingers unusually clumsy. Chris sits back in his chair and enjoys the show, hiding his laughter when buttons and zipper seem to conspire against JC, who keeps struggling until his pants are kicked across the floor and his shirt flies through the air, landing in the sink.
JC finishes stripping and stands unashamedly naked, slowly stroking across his nipple with one hand. Chris’ head is on a level with JC’s stomach so he leans forward and leisurely licks down to the dip of JC’s hip then back again, smiling as JC reacts by swearing under his breath.
“Fuck me, Chris. Fuck me,” JC sounds desperate now, begging over and over as Chris starts to pull off his clothes. JC tries to help, but their hands tangle so Chris gently pushes them aside and quickly strips.
This close Chris has to look up at JC and he crosses his arms defensively. He likes how he looks, but when he’s next to JC who’s all lithe grace, long limbs and hard muscles Chris feels awkward, but only for a moment.
“You’re so beautiful,” JC says as he looks down. He’s still breathing hard but he stands perfectly still looking from Chris’ toes to his head. “So gorgeous.”
Chris accepts the compliment with a small smile, laying his hand on JC’s chest and stroking the soft hair as he looks up. “Now Chris, please.” JC remains still, and Chris looks at him before nodding his head.
The spell is broken and JC turns and bends over the back of the chair. Chris gulps. JC looks perfect, ass up, legs spread, his hair falling forward as he braces himself on the seat of the chair. Chris runs a finger across JC’s ass then up the visible bumps of his spine until he can twist his fingers in hair. Bending, Chris pulls back a curtain of hair and looks at JC, who has his eyes closed and is murmuring fuckmefuckmefuckme.
“I’d love to, but unless I can find a box I’m not going to be able to reach.” Chris says. He wants to laugh but JC curses before standing and bending over the chair seat.
“Do it already,” JC sounds frantic, and Chris knows neither of them can wait any longer. JC is hot and slick and Chris rests his hands on those narrow hips as he slides in deep with one thrust. This is something they’ve done a thousand times, only the position is different and Chris soon adjusts, twisting his hips as JC yells for him to go harder and faster. They know each other perfectly, and Chris feels a flash of familiar love as JC reaches for his own dick, body contorted in a position that can’t be comfortable.
Chris knows when JC’s close, so he speeds up, until JC’s orgasm pushes him over the edge. They come almost together then pull apart with satisfied smiles as Chris ties up the condom and throws it in the trash. When Chris looks back JC is bent over, mopping his come from the floor with Chris’ shirt. Chris thinks about protesting, but JC looks so happy when he looks up with a huge smile that he lets it go this once.
Later, they sit at the kitchen table again, still naked as they drink coffee and eat left over takeout. They talk well into the night until JC decides he needs sleep. He says goodnight with a kiss, and Chris smiles. He’s always loved coffee kisses.
~*~*~*~
Thoughts of JC make Chris squirm in place and if he was more awake he’d beat off. As it is, all he does is give himself one cursorily stroke through his pants, keeping the thoughts for later. He has drained the mug of coffee so stands to fill it again.
Chris is starting to feel almost human as he stands newly filled mug in hand. He’s also still hungry, so opens the fridge door, looking at the contents. He needs something simple so grabs the box of eggs and some cheese. Breaking the eggs in the bowl he whisks quickly while whistling under his breath then puts the bowl in the microwave. After he’ll put in cheese and butter, mixing it up. It’s quick and easy, just how Chris likes food to be. Sitting down, Chris watches the vague blob that’s the bowl turn in the microwave and lets his mind wander again.
~*~*~*~
“It’s wrong, that’s why. Eggs need to be slowly stirred in a pan on a gentle heat. Not put in a microwave,” Lance explains. Chris just looks at him and shakes his head. It’s not that he’s bothered about the right way to make scrambled eggs; he’s only disagreeing to see how far he can push.
“That takes too long and makes too much washing up.”
“That’s why you have a dishwasher. You know that thing in the corner. You do know how to use it don’t you?”
“You still have to scrape the pan clean,” Chris smiles when Lance doesn’t reply. They’ve been bickering like this for almost an hour now, enjoying the verbal sparring and the chance to gossip without interruption. Open documents they’re supposed to be looking at litter the table in front of them, but they’d been abandoned in favour of iced tea and talk.
Lance is still looking at Chris with no outward sign of irritation, until suddenly his whole expression changes. He morphs from something usual to something hot and dangerous as he half smiles and inclines his head. “Come here.”
“You come here,” Chris replies, and he feels his arousal surge as Lance narrows his eyes.
“Okay,” Lance stands, and almost prowls toward Chris, each step slow and deliberate. Chris holds up a hand when Lance gets close but he’s not even sure if he’s warding Lance off or wanting to bring him closer. Lance stops in place and grabs Chris’ wrist and brings the hand to his lips, kissing the palm gently.
“Hey, beautiful,”
Chris relaxes at the intimate endearment – the one Lance only uses when they're alone – then gasps when his hand is released and Lance drops to his knees.
Once there Lance puts both hands on Chris’ face, then pulls slightly until they can kiss easily. They kiss long and hard, both wanting dominance, Lance holds Chris tight, invading his mouth with his tongue. But Chris fights back, fisting his hands in Lance’s shirt, pushing against Lance’s tongue with his own.
Chris keeps his eyes open, and his view is filled with Lance, huge, green and challenging. So he shuts his eyes, and uses touch to explore, one hand under Lance’s shirt, the other against his neck as they writhe in place, neither giving an inch in the battle for dominance. The chair is hard against Chris’ back and ass and he shifts uncomfortably before Lance suddenly stands, trying to pull him to his feet with a tug.
“Not going anywhere, Bass,” Chris pulls back his hand, digging his feet into the floor as Lance keeps tugging. It’s a battle of wills Chris doesn’t intent to lose and he tenses his body.
“Come on,” Lance says impatiently, and tugs again.
“Give it up, I’m going nowhere, and neither are you,” Chris uses his free hand to hook Lance’s belt, and with a sudden jerk, pulls hard. Lance stumbles forward a little, so Chris reacts with lightening speed, standing and twisting so he’s standing while Lance is in the chair.
Taking advantage of the new position, Chris scatters kisses on Lance’s face, marking a trail from ear to ear. The atmosphere is still charged, but now it’s encircled by love so Chris kisses Lance once more on the tip of his nose, then whispers. “Last one on a bed bottoms,” before running for the stairs.
As Lance yells then takes the stairs three at a time Chris yells too, knowing racing is the perfect foreplay.
~*~*~*~
Plate empty, Chris opens his legs a little and cups himself with one hand. He’s tempted to stick his hand inside his pants and take care of his erection, but decides he should probably wait for his shower. He rubs himself gently, imagining Lance’s hand instead of his own. That thought’s almost too much, and he stands, needing distraction.
Another coffee will do, so Chris starts to fill his mug again then curses when he notices the sugar bowl is almost empty. Hoping there’s more; Chris tries to peer up at the contents of the cupboard. Everything is blurry because it’s too early for contacts and his glasses are upstairs so he stretches up, groping blindly.
At last he touches something that feels right and starts to lift it down, but his movement are clumsy and he knocks down a box that spills cereal all over the counter and floor. Resisting the urge to throw the packet of sugar through the window, Chris goes to fetch a broom, grimacing as he steps on bits of cereal that crunch under his feet.
It takes a long time to sweep up the mess, and with each sweep of the broom Chris curses Justin. It’s his cereal, Chris never touches the stuff. But he can’t stay angry at Justin for long, he never can.
~*~*~*~
“You want one?”
Justin stands at the fridge, head tipped back as he drinks a bottle of water with two long gulps. He’s sodden with sweat, t-shirt clinging to him and Chris swallows as when Justin uses a dry part of the t-shirt to wipe at his face, revealing a strip of stomach.
Justin grabs another bottle and throws it over when Chris nods. Chris catches the bottle and presses it against his cheek, enjoying the cold on his flushed skin. He’s sun baked after an afternoon playing hoops with Justin and his knees ache, the result of jumping and running on hard asphalt. Leaning against the kitchen table, he twists the cap from the bottle and drinks the water in almost one go, before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
When Chris looks up Justin is staring at him, expression serious as he taps his fingers against his own empty bottle. Chris glares back at him and expects Justin to look away or smile, but he does neither, just keeps looking as his fingers tap out a rhythm. Chris is hot and tired, but he’s not about to let Justin win a staring contest, so he keeps looking, even when Justin closes the fridge door and starts to walk across the room.
Three steps and he’s standing in front of Chris, a side step and he’s sitting on one of the chairs as Chris watches in bemusement. Then two strong arms encircle Chris’ waist and he’s pulled up and over until he’s sitting face to face, straddling Justin’s lap, as they keep on staring at one another.
Chris looks away at last and tries to stand. He’s a grown man and he grew out of sitting on laps years ago, but Justin still has his hands looped around Chris’ waist, and he holds on tight despite the attempts to escape.
“Wait, sit still a minute,” Justin says, and he starts to rub Chris’ back, tiny circles against damp skin that make Chris shiver.
“This is stupid,” Chris wiggles again to make his point, but Justin keeps rubbing. “I’m gross and I need a shower.”
“No you’re not; you’re fine as you are; you’re beautiful.” Justin says, and he looks at Chris, smiling as he stops rubbing and pushes back a piece of hair plastered to Chris’ forehead. “I just want to hold you, reconnect you know?”
Chris’ first instinct is to make a cutting comment. He even opens his mouth to do so, but closes it again when he sees how content Justin looks as he hugs, his body wrapped around Chris’. With an indulgent sigh, he stops wiggling and leans in close, resting his cheek against Justin’s chest, hands resting on the chair back. Chris is torn between feeling ridiculous and feeling loved. He decides on loved when Justin starts to rub his back again.
“I love you. Love you so much,” Justin says, so quietly that Chris almost doesn’t hear. “Let me make you feel good.”
Justin dips his other hand lower, pushing past the damp waistband of Chris’ shorts until his hand wraps around Chris’ dick. Gasping at the contact, Chris sucks in a deep breath then starts to mouth at Justin’s neck, licking at the sweat that still remains. Justin tips back his head to give Chris more access and his hand speeds up as he runs his fingers down Chris’ dick, across his balls and back again in a perfect rhythm that has Chris gasping curses against Justin’s skin.
“I love you, love you, love you,” Justin repeats softly, and the words surround Chris, the world reduced to Justin’s voice and the feel of his hands. When Chris comes it’s with Justin’s name on his lips and his words of love in his ears.
~*~*~*~
Thinking of Justin makes Chris feel loved and he grins happily. Bending to scoop up the cereal, he dumps it in the trashcan then puts the broom away neatly. Chris is almost ready for the world now, and picks up his coffee, deciding to drink it without sugar this time, then sighs when he hears movement from upstairs.
Chris can feel the happiness drain from him with each approaching footstep, and plasters a smile on his face, ready to face reality.
“I hope you left coffee for me,” Dani says. She doesn’t even look at Chris, and holds out a hand when he starts to come close. “No kisses. You’re still gross; you haven’t even brushed your teeth or showered yet.”
Chris steps back. He knows better than to approach Dani in the morning, but forgets sometimes when he’s desperate for a real touch, even if it’s one based on convenience not love. As usual Dani looks perfect, and Chris feels coarse standing next to her. So he fixes her coffee and walks from the room, knowing there’ll be no kisses or touching until he’s showered and dressed.
Their relationship is based on image, Chris knows that. But it doesn’t make it any easier to take. He has what he doesn’t want, and can’t have what he desperately desires. At least in his mind Chris is loved, and always beautiful. He knows that, because he has four men that tell him all the time.
So I'm going to post my story here, take Corey to bed then wallow in kinky sex. What a night!
First up I want to thank
jewelianna and madame_d for all their work doing this. Also my betas, the awesome kifty who beta read for me, satsuma77 who looked over the story, and interlock who made this story a hell of a lot better than it was. You all rock, thank you!My choice was sex in a chair, and it's Chris/all. But not GSF.
Read it here or at my site here
Eyes half closed, Chris stumbles into his kitchen. Bright sunlight fills the room and he winces, screwing shut his eyes. Ten steps and he’s at the coffee machine, body on auto pilot as he switches it on, then reaches for the bread; dropping two slices into the toaster. He leans against the counter, scratching at his belly and yawning. Longing for the coffee to brew, needing that first hit of caffeine.
Chris feels rough. His head throbs, his tongue feels coated and when he sluggishly moves to gather butter and jelly he almost recoils from his reflection in the shining surface of his fridge. Sleep crusted eyes, creased face and hair that sticks up in all directions is not a good look. But all Chris does is grab the food and shut the door. He’s still not awake enough yet to care that much about his appearance.
The toaster pops, so Chris grabs the slices. He hisses as his fingers burn, then haphazardly smears his toast with spread. Reaching for a plate, he puts the toast on it and sits at the kitchen table. Eyes closed, he takes a bite, listening to the gurgle of the coffee machine. Chris lets his mind wander as he eats, the sweet jelly causing thoughts that make him smile through a mouthful of toast.
~*~*~*~
“Mmmm. Raspberry,” Chris says with a laugh. Standing at his kitchen door, he licks his lips, still tasting Joey’s kiss.
“I’ve just dropped Bri off at Kelly’s. We had jelly sandwiches at the park.” Joey grins and pulls him close, one arm casually wrapped around Chris’ waist. “You should have come. We had our picnic and fed the ducks.”
“Another time maybe, there was no way I could blow off that meeting.”
“It went, okay?” Joey questions, then starts to steer them away from the door.
“I guess.” Chris frowns, he hates business meetings but at least it’s over with now, for good or bad. “Anyway, it’s done now. Do you want something to eat, or were the sandwiches enough?” Chris thinks about what’s in his fridge, mentally putting together a simple meal.
“I’m good, not hungry at all, at least not for food.” Joey leers and Chris can’t help laughing.
“You’re as cheesy as hell, Fatone. Don’t tell me that line works for you.”
“Okay, I won’t.” Joey says, bending his head slightly so he’s whispering in Chris’ ear. “But it does work, it got you didn’t it?”
Chris shivers at the feel of Joey’s breath across his ear, then gasps as Joey moves quickly, twisting so Chris is pressed against him and can hear Joey’s heartbeat before he tilts back his head so Joey can kiss him again.
“I’ve missed this,” Joey says, with a kiss. Joey kisses hard and long, one of his hands cradling Chris’ neck, while he pushes up Chris’ t-shirt with the other.
Eyes closed, hands holding Joey’s hips, Chris allows Joey to set the pace like always. When he’s with Joey he likes to give up control, let Joey surround him, blanket him with his body. Chris isn’t small, never feels small and certainly doesn’t live small, but when he’s with Joey in this way he feels loved and protected, as he’s pressed against Joey’s chest, or held up against a wall with strong arms.
Chris wants to tell Joey that he missed him too, but any sound he makes is muffled in Joey’s mouth. So he shows him instead, kissing back passionately with wet hard kisses. They break apart briefly as Joey pulls Chris’ t-shirt over his head with one sure movement, then pushes down his pants and boxers. The movements are so swift and smooth that Chris is stripped naked in seconds, and stands, feeling self conscious as Joey stares at him in open admiration.
“You’re so beautiful,” Joey almost whispers, and Chris has to bite back the urge to make a wise crack. He knows he isn’t beautiful, but looking at Joey’s face as he stares in approval, Chris knows what it’s like to feel beautiful and he smiles, loving Joey for giving him that.
"God I want you – need you." There's almost desperation in Joey's voice and apparently Chris's stunned reaction is enough, because Joey is kicking his shoes off and shedding his own clothes without ever letting Chris go. All Chris can do is allow himself to be swept along as Joey reaches for him, kissing with an urgency that he can’t deny. Joey’s hands are on Chris’ hips, pulling them close together as Joey looks over his shoulder and starts to move backward.
Chris has no option but to follow, matching his steps to Joey’s as they walk toward the kitchen table. Imagining that Joey wants to take him across it, Chris is surprised when instead he pulls out a chair, and sits down, one hand warm against Chris’ hip.
“You okay to do it this way?” Chris feels a jolt of excitement when he realises what Joey wants him to do. Nodding, he takes a second to look at Joey, who sits on the chair lewd and sensuous with his legs slightly open and cock hard. He looks magnificent, all hard muscles and tanned skin and all Chris wants to do is stand and stare, while thanking every deity possible that he’s prepared for Joey coming over and is lubed up and ready to go, but Joey reaches for him, and Chris shakes his head slightly and moves so he’s straddling his own personal sex god.
Joey leans forward, licking at Chris’ stomach and Chris holds onto broad shoulders, before slowly letting himself down, trusting Joey to guide him. Gasping at the sensation, Chris lets his head rest against Joey’s, panting softly as he adjusts to being filled so deep. He knows Joey is fighting to remain in control by the way he breathes, so deep and slow that Chris can feel it in his skin.
Finally, Chris moves, pushing down slightly, causing Joey to moan and push up. It feels amazing, and Chris can’t help moaning too as Joey bites at his neck then whispers fuck yourself on me. It’s all the encouragement Chris needs, and he holds Joey’s shoulders as he moves, using his legs to push himself up and drop back down over and over.
Joey holds himself still, nipping and biting as Chris continues to fuck himself, then Joey reaches between their bodies until he holds Chris’ dick, fisting it loosely as Chris uses the friction of his own body against Joey’s to bring himself off. As Joey yells his climax, his fingers leaving small bruises on Chris’ arm.
After, Chris remains in Joey’s lap, heads close together, utterly content. His arms are wrapped around Joey’s back and Joey gently rubs a hand over his knees and thighs. Chris knows he must be heavy, and the chair will be digging into Joey’s legs, but Joey doesn’t say a word, just sits and holds Chris, making him feel safe and secure for as long as he needs it.
~*~*~*~
Toast eaten, Chris stands carefully adjusting himself through his sweats. Lingering feelings of happiness and desire cause the first smile of the day as he reaches for his favourite mug. Holding almost as much as two regular mugs it has pictures of fat pugs around the rim, a gift from his sisters, who bought it years before. It’s been packed with every house move since, and Chris treasures it more than the any platinum record.
At last the machine is done, and Chris sniffs, almost drooling at the rich welcome scent. He’s feeling more awake now, but sleep still hovers and Chris knows he needs his caffeine fix before he can even think of doing anything productive. Filling the mug he takes a quick drink, scalding his mouth like he does every morning. Sticking out his tongue, Chris sits back down, taking a bite from his other slice of toast and waits for the coffee to cool slightly.
After two bites Chris can’t wait anymore, and he takes a long gulp, savouring the taste as he lets his mind wander once again.
~*~*~*~
“I’m horny,”
To Chris, JC means coffee flavoured kisses and dirty casual sex. He knew JC would make a move; it was just a case of when. JC shifts in his chair and uses the cookie he’s holding to emphasise his point when Chris doesn’t reply.
“I said, I’m horny.”
JC's sitting opposite Chris at the kitchen table, hands curled around his mug of coffee. They've been talking about anything and everything, from politics to favourite TV shows to music and back again. Chris enjoys how caught up JC gets in what he’s saying, even if it’s something as trivial as Tom versus Jerry.
“I know. You’re always horny. It’d be a bigger announcement if you weren’t.” Chris grins as JC glares before shifting in place again, obviously adjusting himself under the table.
“Can you blame me? Sitting there sucking on that thing like that. What do you expect me to feel?”
Chris stops and looks up at JC’s words. He isn’t teasing on purpose; he’s just decided he likes biscottii, but now that he knows, he has to use the knowledge. Watching JC, he brings it to his mouth and starts to suck
JC reacts instantly, eyes widening as he watches. Chris knows he won’t stay still for long, and is proven right when JC stands, erection clearly visible in his tight pants.
“That’s not fair, man. Now I’m really horny. You’ll have to help me out.”
“Says who?” Chris teases, laughing until JC’s only inches away.
“Says me. Now are you going to fuck me or just sit there all day?” JC looks Chris in the eye, then deliberately lowers his gaze, licking across his bottom lip once as he reaches crotch level. Seeming to like what he sees, JC fumbles with his clothes, fingers unusually clumsy. Chris sits back in his chair and enjoys the show, hiding his laughter when buttons and zipper seem to conspire against JC, who keeps struggling until his pants are kicked across the floor and his shirt flies through the air, landing in the sink.
JC finishes stripping and stands unashamedly naked, slowly stroking across his nipple with one hand. Chris’ head is on a level with JC’s stomach so he leans forward and leisurely licks down to the dip of JC’s hip then back again, smiling as JC reacts by swearing under his breath.
“Fuck me, Chris. Fuck me,” JC sounds desperate now, begging over and over as Chris starts to pull off his clothes. JC tries to help, but their hands tangle so Chris gently pushes them aside and quickly strips.
This close Chris has to look up at JC and he crosses his arms defensively. He likes how he looks, but when he’s next to JC who’s all lithe grace, long limbs and hard muscles Chris feels awkward, but only for a moment.
“You’re so beautiful,” JC says as he looks down. He’s still breathing hard but he stands perfectly still looking from Chris’ toes to his head. “So gorgeous.”
Chris accepts the compliment with a small smile, laying his hand on JC’s chest and stroking the soft hair as he looks up. “Now Chris, please.” JC remains still, and Chris looks at him before nodding his head.
The spell is broken and JC turns and bends over the back of the chair. Chris gulps. JC looks perfect, ass up, legs spread, his hair falling forward as he braces himself on the seat of the chair. Chris runs a finger across JC’s ass then up the visible bumps of his spine until he can twist his fingers in hair. Bending, Chris pulls back a curtain of hair and looks at JC, who has his eyes closed and is murmuring fuckmefuckmefuckme.
“I’d love to, but unless I can find a box I’m not going to be able to reach.” Chris says. He wants to laugh but JC curses before standing and bending over the chair seat.
“Do it already,” JC sounds frantic, and Chris knows neither of them can wait any longer. JC is hot and slick and Chris rests his hands on those narrow hips as he slides in deep with one thrust. This is something they’ve done a thousand times, only the position is different and Chris soon adjusts, twisting his hips as JC yells for him to go harder and faster. They know each other perfectly, and Chris feels a flash of familiar love as JC reaches for his own dick, body contorted in a position that can’t be comfortable.
Chris knows when JC’s close, so he speeds up, until JC’s orgasm pushes him over the edge. They come almost together then pull apart with satisfied smiles as Chris ties up the condom and throws it in the trash. When Chris looks back JC is bent over, mopping his come from the floor with Chris’ shirt. Chris thinks about protesting, but JC looks so happy when he looks up with a huge smile that he lets it go this once.
Later, they sit at the kitchen table again, still naked as they drink coffee and eat left over takeout. They talk well into the night until JC decides he needs sleep. He says goodnight with a kiss, and Chris smiles. He’s always loved coffee kisses.
~*~*~*~
Thoughts of JC make Chris squirm in place and if he was more awake he’d beat off. As it is, all he does is give himself one cursorily stroke through his pants, keeping the thoughts for later. He has drained the mug of coffee so stands to fill it again.
Chris is starting to feel almost human as he stands newly filled mug in hand. He’s also still hungry, so opens the fridge door, looking at the contents. He needs something simple so grabs the box of eggs and some cheese. Breaking the eggs in the bowl he whisks quickly while whistling under his breath then puts the bowl in the microwave. After he’ll put in cheese and butter, mixing it up. It’s quick and easy, just how Chris likes food to be. Sitting down, Chris watches the vague blob that’s the bowl turn in the microwave and lets his mind wander again.
~*~*~*~
“It’s wrong, that’s why. Eggs need to be slowly stirred in a pan on a gentle heat. Not put in a microwave,” Lance explains. Chris just looks at him and shakes his head. It’s not that he’s bothered about the right way to make scrambled eggs; he’s only disagreeing to see how far he can push.
“That takes too long and makes too much washing up.”
“That’s why you have a dishwasher. You know that thing in the corner. You do know how to use it don’t you?”
“You still have to scrape the pan clean,” Chris smiles when Lance doesn’t reply. They’ve been bickering like this for almost an hour now, enjoying the verbal sparring and the chance to gossip without interruption. Open documents they’re supposed to be looking at litter the table in front of them, but they’d been abandoned in favour of iced tea and talk.
Lance is still looking at Chris with no outward sign of irritation, until suddenly his whole expression changes. He morphs from something usual to something hot and dangerous as he half smiles and inclines his head. “Come here.”
“You come here,” Chris replies, and he feels his arousal surge as Lance narrows his eyes.
“Okay,” Lance stands, and almost prowls toward Chris, each step slow and deliberate. Chris holds up a hand when Lance gets close but he’s not even sure if he’s warding Lance off or wanting to bring him closer. Lance stops in place and grabs Chris’ wrist and brings the hand to his lips, kissing the palm gently.
“Hey, beautiful,”
Chris relaxes at the intimate endearment – the one Lance only uses when they're alone – then gasps when his hand is released and Lance drops to his knees.
Once there Lance puts both hands on Chris’ face, then pulls slightly until they can kiss easily. They kiss long and hard, both wanting dominance, Lance holds Chris tight, invading his mouth with his tongue. But Chris fights back, fisting his hands in Lance’s shirt, pushing against Lance’s tongue with his own.
Chris keeps his eyes open, and his view is filled with Lance, huge, green and challenging. So he shuts his eyes, and uses touch to explore, one hand under Lance’s shirt, the other against his neck as they writhe in place, neither giving an inch in the battle for dominance. The chair is hard against Chris’ back and ass and he shifts uncomfortably before Lance suddenly stands, trying to pull him to his feet with a tug.
“Not going anywhere, Bass,” Chris pulls back his hand, digging his feet into the floor as Lance keeps tugging. It’s a battle of wills Chris doesn’t intent to lose and he tenses his body.
“Come on,” Lance says impatiently, and tugs again.
“Give it up, I’m going nowhere, and neither are you,” Chris uses his free hand to hook Lance’s belt, and with a sudden jerk, pulls hard. Lance stumbles forward a little, so Chris reacts with lightening speed, standing and twisting so he’s standing while Lance is in the chair.
Taking advantage of the new position, Chris scatters kisses on Lance’s face, marking a trail from ear to ear. The atmosphere is still charged, but now it’s encircled by love so Chris kisses Lance once more on the tip of his nose, then whispers. “Last one on a bed bottoms,” before running for the stairs.
As Lance yells then takes the stairs three at a time Chris yells too, knowing racing is the perfect foreplay.
~*~*~*~
Plate empty, Chris opens his legs a little and cups himself with one hand. He’s tempted to stick his hand inside his pants and take care of his erection, but decides he should probably wait for his shower. He rubs himself gently, imagining Lance’s hand instead of his own. That thought’s almost too much, and he stands, needing distraction.
Another coffee will do, so Chris starts to fill his mug again then curses when he notices the sugar bowl is almost empty. Hoping there’s more; Chris tries to peer up at the contents of the cupboard. Everything is blurry because it’s too early for contacts and his glasses are upstairs so he stretches up, groping blindly.
At last he touches something that feels right and starts to lift it down, but his movement are clumsy and he knocks down a box that spills cereal all over the counter and floor. Resisting the urge to throw the packet of sugar through the window, Chris goes to fetch a broom, grimacing as he steps on bits of cereal that crunch under his feet.
It takes a long time to sweep up the mess, and with each sweep of the broom Chris curses Justin. It’s his cereal, Chris never touches the stuff. But he can’t stay angry at Justin for long, he never can.
~*~*~*~
“You want one?”
Justin stands at the fridge, head tipped back as he drinks a bottle of water with two long gulps. He’s sodden with sweat, t-shirt clinging to him and Chris swallows as when Justin uses a dry part of the t-shirt to wipe at his face, revealing a strip of stomach.
Justin grabs another bottle and throws it over when Chris nods. Chris catches the bottle and presses it against his cheek, enjoying the cold on his flushed skin. He’s sun baked after an afternoon playing hoops with Justin and his knees ache, the result of jumping and running on hard asphalt. Leaning against the kitchen table, he twists the cap from the bottle and drinks the water in almost one go, before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
When Chris looks up Justin is staring at him, expression serious as he taps his fingers against his own empty bottle. Chris glares back at him and expects Justin to look away or smile, but he does neither, just keeps looking as his fingers tap out a rhythm. Chris is hot and tired, but he’s not about to let Justin win a staring contest, so he keeps looking, even when Justin closes the fridge door and starts to walk across the room.
Three steps and he’s standing in front of Chris, a side step and he’s sitting on one of the chairs as Chris watches in bemusement. Then two strong arms encircle Chris’ waist and he’s pulled up and over until he’s sitting face to face, straddling Justin’s lap, as they keep on staring at one another.
Chris looks away at last and tries to stand. He’s a grown man and he grew out of sitting on laps years ago, but Justin still has his hands looped around Chris’ waist, and he holds on tight despite the attempts to escape.
“Wait, sit still a minute,” Justin says, and he starts to rub Chris’ back, tiny circles against damp skin that make Chris shiver.
“This is stupid,” Chris wiggles again to make his point, but Justin keeps rubbing. “I’m gross and I need a shower.”
“No you’re not; you’re fine as you are; you’re beautiful.” Justin says, and he looks at Chris, smiling as he stops rubbing and pushes back a piece of hair plastered to Chris’ forehead. “I just want to hold you, reconnect you know?”
Chris’ first instinct is to make a cutting comment. He even opens his mouth to do so, but closes it again when he sees how content Justin looks as he hugs, his body wrapped around Chris’. With an indulgent sigh, he stops wiggling and leans in close, resting his cheek against Justin’s chest, hands resting on the chair back. Chris is torn between feeling ridiculous and feeling loved. He decides on loved when Justin starts to rub his back again.
“I love you. Love you so much,” Justin says, so quietly that Chris almost doesn’t hear. “Let me make you feel good.”
Justin dips his other hand lower, pushing past the damp waistband of Chris’ shorts until his hand wraps around Chris’ dick. Gasping at the contact, Chris sucks in a deep breath then starts to mouth at Justin’s neck, licking at the sweat that still remains. Justin tips back his head to give Chris more access and his hand speeds up as he runs his fingers down Chris’ dick, across his balls and back again in a perfect rhythm that has Chris gasping curses against Justin’s skin.
“I love you, love you, love you,” Justin repeats softly, and the words surround Chris, the world reduced to Justin’s voice and the feel of his hands. When Chris comes it’s with Justin’s name on his lips and his words of love in his ears.
~*~*~*~
Thinking of Justin makes Chris feel loved and he grins happily. Bending to scoop up the cereal, he dumps it in the trashcan then puts the broom away neatly. Chris is almost ready for the world now, and picks up his coffee, deciding to drink it without sugar this time, then sighs when he hears movement from upstairs.
Chris can feel the happiness drain from him with each approaching footstep, and plasters a smile on his face, ready to face reality.
“I hope you left coffee for me,” Dani says. She doesn’t even look at Chris, and holds out a hand when he starts to come close. “No kisses. You’re still gross; you haven’t even brushed your teeth or showered yet.”
Chris steps back. He knows better than to approach Dani in the morning, but forgets sometimes when he’s desperate for a real touch, even if it’s one based on convenience not love. As usual Dani looks perfect, and Chris feels coarse standing next to her. So he fixes her coffee and walks from the room, knowing there’ll be no kisses or touching until he’s showered and dressed.
Their relationship is based on image, Chris knows that. But it doesn’t make it any easier to take. He has what he doesn’t want, and can’t have what he desperately desires. At least in his mind Chris is loved, and always beautiful. He knows that, because he has four men that tell him all the time.
