Fic: Sweet and Slow, Chris/ Steve
Aug. 9th, 2008 06:27 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
under_hatchesTitle: Sweet and Slow
Pairing: Chris/ Steve
Rating/ Warnings: R
Words: 968
He isn’t prepared for something like this, so the only thing Steve has around is baby oil. He doesn’t want to explain to Chris why he uses baby oil on his own skin, worse yet, why it is the kind that smells of camomile, so he closes the bottle again quickly, tossing it hard enough to the side that it bounces of the mattress, rolls off and lands with a dull sound.
Chris doesn’t even seem to notice, just moans when Steve touches him again, fingers slick. Steve thinks he hardly ever got to see Chris this far gone, this needy, hips pushing back into the touch, face hid in the pillow. It’s as if he wants to hide the blush of arousal creeping along his face up to his cheekbones and all the way down to his collarbones, even though Steve knows it’s there.
And Steve wishes they’d talk more about this, dirty talk or serious talk, he doesn’t care, as long as it’s talk. Anything that leads to more information than he has now, because Steve hates flying blind. It’s working well as long as they are on this stage, Steve’s slick hands on Chris’ back, his backside and then trailing deeper, teasing. And Chris pushes back a little, doing the best version of leaning into the touch as he can while lying prone. They always played well off each other, so when Steve rubs his dick against Chris and then pushes one finger into him and Chris tenses, Steve stops. He doesn’t know how to ask, so he just does.
“You did this before, right?”
But Chris shakes his head and Steve almost misses it because Chris wants him to miss the tiny movement against the pillow.
“What,” Steve says but Chris makes a whimpering sound and Steve knows damn well that Chris doesn’t whimper, never fucking whimpers, not even when he’s with Steve and letting go. So Steve stops thinking for a moment and gently pushes his finger in further and then twists, being rewarded with another whimpermoan. And he wishes again they’d talk more because then he could tell Chris how fucking hot that sound is, edgy and unfamiliar and driving him crazy. Steve also wishes he hadn’t thrown the bottle quite as hard, wanting it next to him now, because if this is true he could use more oil and why should Chris lie? Chris never lied to Steve, except that one time about the blonde and, boy, had he given Chris hell for that. So yes, this was the truth and Steve’s breathing hitches a little and he wonders how he could have missed this. Guy knew how to fuck too, and was quite comfortable with almost anything Steve could come up with so it just seemed… Steve stops himself, because does it matter? Does it fuck. And if Chris is making those sounds now already, Steve could not wait to hear the sounds he would be making with more.
Truth about Chris is that behind all that tough guy gig he was romantic as fuck so he probably fucking waited for the right guy or something. And Steve had caught Chris making moony eyes at him several times already. They give each other shit for it, but Chris could never quite hide it.
So sometimes they end up making love, with Chris being slow and sweet and whenever they do, Steve catches himself waiting for those three words.
He looks at Chris now, the sweat on the skin of his back, glistening between his shoulder blades, the way his hair curls at the nape of his neck where it sticks to the skin. Steve loves moments like this, where nothing else matters and he can pretend that they have all the time in the world. He wants to take this slow, savour it, but Chris pushes back, insistent, impatient fuck that he is, and Steve grins. Maybe they will do slow and sweet later when Chris is too fucked out to push, too boneless. But now Steve is torn between retrieving the bottle of oil or just going with this. He decides to wing it, like so often with Chris, because they never did wrong before. And Steve’s question wasn’t about teasing anyway, not about fingers, it was about something else and Chris knows that. And there is pushing and pushing back and holding against and Steve will be damned if he can think.
Chris turns, trying to catch a glimpse of Steve, throwing his hair back just a little and like that Steve is breathless up to the point where he feels actually dizzy.
He hadn’t seen their first time together coming at all, and he didn’t anticipate the fluttering feeling he now gets. It still amazes him, mostly that it actually works nine times of ten. He thought he had known Chris before but suddenly he had to learn pretty quickly that it was girls Chris would not stay with despite the obvious heartbreak when it was over. Chris still would make the odd appreciative comment about some girl or other to Steve, but he doesn’t go over to chat or have a drink anymore. He had his drinks with Steve ever from that first night they kissed after they were back in their shared hotel room. He had fucked Steve then, fingers digging hard into Steve’s hips as if bruising on purpose, and when Steve woke up, head still foggy from the night before, Chris still lay curled against his side, naked and one hand still resting on Steve’s hip. They just went from there.
Steve thinks he quite enjoys where it had led them as he finally pushes into Chris. And by the way Chris sounds, slow and sweet really had to wait.
Pairing: Chris/ Steve
Rating/ Warnings: R
Words: 968
He isn’t prepared for something like this, so the only thing Steve has around is baby oil. He doesn’t want to explain to Chris why he uses baby oil on his own skin, worse yet, why it is the kind that smells of camomile, so he closes the bottle again quickly, tossing it hard enough to the side that it bounces of the mattress, rolls off and lands with a dull sound.
Chris doesn’t even seem to notice, just moans when Steve touches him again, fingers slick. Steve thinks he hardly ever got to see Chris this far gone, this needy, hips pushing back into the touch, face hid in the pillow. It’s as if he wants to hide the blush of arousal creeping along his face up to his cheekbones and all the way down to his collarbones, even though Steve knows it’s there.
And Steve wishes they’d talk more about this, dirty talk or serious talk, he doesn’t care, as long as it’s talk. Anything that leads to more information than he has now, because Steve hates flying blind. It’s working well as long as they are on this stage, Steve’s slick hands on Chris’ back, his backside and then trailing deeper, teasing. And Chris pushes back a little, doing the best version of leaning into the touch as he can while lying prone. They always played well off each other, so when Steve rubs his dick against Chris and then pushes one finger into him and Chris tenses, Steve stops. He doesn’t know how to ask, so he just does.
“You did this before, right?”
But Chris shakes his head and Steve almost misses it because Chris wants him to miss the tiny movement against the pillow.
“What,” Steve says but Chris makes a whimpering sound and Steve knows damn well that Chris doesn’t whimper, never fucking whimpers, not even when he’s with Steve and letting go. So Steve stops thinking for a moment and gently pushes his finger in further and then twists, being rewarded with another whimpermoan. And he wishes again they’d talk more because then he could tell Chris how fucking hot that sound is, edgy and unfamiliar and driving him crazy. Steve also wishes he hadn’t thrown the bottle quite as hard, wanting it next to him now, because if this is true he could use more oil and why should Chris lie? Chris never lied to Steve, except that one time about the blonde and, boy, had he given Chris hell for that. So yes, this was the truth and Steve’s breathing hitches a little and he wonders how he could have missed this. Guy knew how to fuck too, and was quite comfortable with almost anything Steve could come up with so it just seemed… Steve stops himself, because does it matter? Does it fuck. And if Chris is making those sounds now already, Steve could not wait to hear the sounds he would be making with more.
Truth about Chris is that behind all that tough guy gig he was romantic as fuck so he probably fucking waited for the right guy or something. And Steve had caught Chris making moony eyes at him several times already. They give each other shit for it, but Chris could never quite hide it.
So sometimes they end up making love, with Chris being slow and sweet and whenever they do, Steve catches himself waiting for those three words.
He looks at Chris now, the sweat on the skin of his back, glistening between his shoulder blades, the way his hair curls at the nape of his neck where it sticks to the skin. Steve loves moments like this, where nothing else matters and he can pretend that they have all the time in the world. He wants to take this slow, savour it, but Chris pushes back, insistent, impatient fuck that he is, and Steve grins. Maybe they will do slow and sweet later when Chris is too fucked out to push, too boneless. But now Steve is torn between retrieving the bottle of oil or just going with this. He decides to wing it, like so often with Chris, because they never did wrong before. And Steve’s question wasn’t about teasing anyway, not about fingers, it was about something else and Chris knows that. And there is pushing and pushing back and holding against and Steve will be damned if he can think.
Chris turns, trying to catch a glimpse of Steve, throwing his hair back just a little and like that Steve is breathless up to the point where he feels actually dizzy.
He hadn’t seen their first time together coming at all, and he didn’t anticipate the fluttering feeling he now gets. It still amazes him, mostly that it actually works nine times of ten. He thought he had known Chris before but suddenly he had to learn pretty quickly that it was girls Chris would not stay with despite the obvious heartbreak when it was over. Chris still would make the odd appreciative comment about some girl or other to Steve, but he doesn’t go over to chat or have a drink anymore. He had his drinks with Steve ever from that first night they kissed after they were back in their shared hotel room. He had fucked Steve then, fingers digging hard into Steve’s hips as if bruising on purpose, and when Steve woke up, head still foggy from the night before, Chris still lay curled against his side, naked and one hand still resting on Steve’s hip. They just went from there.
Steve thinks he quite enjoys where it had led them as he finally pushes into Chris. And by the way Chris sounds, slow and sweet really had to wait.
