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Entry tags:
take the bitter with the sweet
take the bitter with the sweet
CWrpf
Pairing: Christian Kane/Chad Michael Murray
Rating: Adult. Very, very adult. Total PWP.
Disclaimer: I know nothing and no one and really, I'm pretty damn sure this isn't happening at CW parties.
One thing about the CW that Chris doesn't guess is ever going to change is how fucking incestuous the network parties are. Dave's about the only guy Chris doesn't see, and Marsters said he'll be around later, after the Fox thing wraps, just for old times' sake. Well, that and Rosey's home-grown party favors--another thing that hasn't changed and please God never will.
The music's one crap emo band mash-up after another, but the bartender's hitting him with a shot of Jack every time he walks by so Chris figures he can hang here for however long Jensen needs to show his face and be the golden boy. Then there's a pool table with their names on it and some schooling in the fine art of nine-ball to be dished out. Working steady's good, but it's hell on seeing people you actually give a shit about and it's about damn time he and Jensen get drunk and rowdy.
"Kane," a voice yells over the music. "You put a down payment on that guy's ass or can he serve somebody other than you?" The smirk that goes along with the words looks more like a permanent fixture than a facial expression.
"Well, if it isn't little Tristan Dugray," Chris drawls, lets his grin sharpen a little at the annoyance that narrows the blue eyes trying real hard for jaded and blasé. "Back for another year of high school, Murray?"
Chad shrugs. "I figure I got at least another couple years on that gravy train before I need to start working the zombie flicks."
Chris stomps down hard on the urge to slap that smirk into next week, nodding at the bartender for another shot instead. He's drunk enough that he's not quite quick enough controlling his face though; Chad leans in close to order and then looks sidelong at Chris, eyes shadowed by stupidly long lashes. "Anything you want to throw at me, I can handle."
The Jack burns quick and hot down Chris's throat and there's an answering heat low in his belly, one that settles in and flares hotter when Chad takes the shot the bartender slides towards him and slams it back without taking his eyes off Chris.
"You planning on walking that walk, boy?" The words are out before Chris can think to censor them, but hell, it's not his network anymore and he doubts the record company gives enough of a shit about anything to care what he does on his down-time.
Chad sweeps his tongue along his lower lip. "Anytime, anywhere, old man. Anytime, anywhere."
Chris tears his eyes off that obscene mouth, wet and shiny, just long enough to find Jensen in the crowd, laughing and deep in conversation with Jeff Morgan, no signs of being ready to take off that Chris can see. Good enough; Chris isn't going to need much time to fuck the smirk off Murray's pretty little face.
He throws a fifty on the bar for a tip--good karma against ever needing to be back on the other side of the equation--and heads out toward the back, not needing to look to know he's being followed.
The back hall's cleaner than Chris expects, but he's done his fair share of time in county lock-ups, so that's not saying much. It doesn't matter; Chad's dropping to his knees before Chris even gets turned around, their hands tangling at the waistband to Chris's jeans before Chris backs off and lets him deal with it. Chad's hair is spiky and stiff with whatever shit he uses in it, but it's long enough for Chris to knot his fingers in, pull tight and laugh at the way Chad's breath hisses.
He'd say something about how much Chad likes it, but then Chad's licking up his dick, balls to slit, and Chris stops thinking about talking and starts working on fucking.
Chad half-gags at the first deep thrust, but doesn't fight, just shudders under Chris and braces himself, fingers digging into Chris's hips, eyes flickering a challenge up, one that Chris is goddamned happy to accept.
He'd blame the heat in his blood on the whiskey he's been drinking, but he'd be lying to himself. It's not the Jack, it's the mouth that's wrapped around his dick, red and swollen and spit-slick; the throat that's opening a little bit further every time he fucks in; the low, choked-off noises he can just barely hear over the muffled thump of music from the other room.
Chad lets go of Chris's hips to fumble at his own belt, grinding up into his hand, and Chris jerks Chad's head back, until his cock slides out of Chad's mouth, until he can see the pulse under Chad's jaw beating strong and wild.
"Hands," Chris says, *snarls*, whatever's raging inside him finding its voice. He yanks one hand free, snapping his fingers and holding it out. For an endless few seconds, Chad stays still, frozen, and Chris lets him think about it, but then he twists his other hand tighter in Chad's hair and Chad moans and lays his wrists in Chris's palm.
It's Chris's turn to still; the shitty hall, the noise from the party, everything irising down to the man on his knees in front of him, the faint tremor under the skin warm against his hand. Chris takes it in, feeds on it, savors it before closing his fingers, tightening his grip until he can feel the bones in Chad's wrists grind together and the world comes crashing back around him.
Chad shifts, settles his knees wider apart, leans into the tension's Chris has got on his hair and it doesn't take any thought at all for Chris to push the wrists he's holding behind Chad's head, pin them there and force his dick back into Chad's mouth.
He could drag it out, make Chad take it until he doesn't know how to breathe without Chris telling him to, but right here is all Chris needs, Chad's mouth open and helpless and gagging around him, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, no trace of the smirk at all now. Chris takes everything he wants, everything Chad's giving, no control at all, until he's slamming in one final time, grinding deep and rough into Chad's throat, riding out the spasms as Chad chokes on his come.
Chad folds down on himself as soon as Chris lets him go, head bowed and arms shaking while Chris steps back and puts himself back together, and it's not until later that Chris admits he never even thought of leaving Chad there, that there's no fucking way Chris isn't going to be the one who gets Chad off, especially not when Chad tips his head back and looks up at Chris, eyes blown, mouth bruised, Chris's come drying on his skin.
Chris's hand is tangled back into his hair before Chris even thinks about it, pulling sharply once, twice, before Chad starts trying to move. He stumbles a little as Chris hauls him to his feet, hissing as he crashes into the wall Chris shoves him toward.
"A cock down your throat, that's all it takes to get you hard, isn't it?" Chris crowds close, scrubbing the heel of his palm down the length of Chad's cock, thick and hot under the soft cotton of his faded jeans. Chad moans, his hips bucking up, and Chris's laugh sounds mean even to himself. "Such a pretty little bitch, Murray, on your knees like a whore, bet you bend over for it up your ass just as sweet, don't you?"
"Fuck," Chad gasps, pushing and twisting against where Chris's hand is grinding into the base of his cock. "Fuck, Kane, fucking touch me--"
"Quiet," Chris growls, sliding three fingers past those swollen lips while he's pinching hard at the head of Chad's cock. "Just like this, boy, you and me, not stopping until you scream." He fucks his hand in and out of Chad's mouth, matches the rhythm with his other hand, rubbing hard and nasty along and over the zipper until Chad's arched up taut and tight, his teeth biting deep at Chris's fingers and his eyes locked on Chris's.
Chris looks right back, smiling as he eases off a little and lets Chad know they can play this game all night if Chris wants. It's fucking addictive, watching the flash of wantneedlust that Chad doesn't want him to see, enough that Chris stops teasing and grinds down with his whole hand, short and choppy but not stopping, still moving even when Chad comes with a desperate groan, when he sags back against the wall.
"Anytime, anywhere, boy," Chris says, stepping away from the wall. As he turns to go find Jensen and see how much hell they can raise, he's pretty sure he gets a ghost of a smirk for an answer.
***
***
Continued in Double Trouble
Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
without_me for fixing things, even when she's not sure what the hell I'm doing.
CWrpf
Pairing: Christian Kane/Chad Michael Murray
Rating: Adult. Very, very adult. Total PWP.
Disclaimer: I know nothing and no one and really, I'm pretty damn sure this isn't happening at CW parties.
One thing about the CW that Chris doesn't guess is ever going to change is how fucking incestuous the network parties are. Dave's about the only guy Chris doesn't see, and Marsters said he'll be around later, after the Fox thing wraps, just for old times' sake. Well, that and Rosey's home-grown party favors--another thing that hasn't changed and please God never will.
The music's one crap emo band mash-up after another, but the bartender's hitting him with a shot of Jack every time he walks by so Chris figures he can hang here for however long Jensen needs to show his face and be the golden boy. Then there's a pool table with their names on it and some schooling in the fine art of nine-ball to be dished out. Working steady's good, but it's hell on seeing people you actually give a shit about and it's about damn time he and Jensen get drunk and rowdy.
"Kane," a voice yells over the music. "You put a down payment on that guy's ass or can he serve somebody other than you?" The smirk that goes along with the words looks more like a permanent fixture than a facial expression.
"Well, if it isn't little Tristan Dugray," Chris drawls, lets his grin sharpen a little at the annoyance that narrows the blue eyes trying real hard for jaded and blasé. "Back for another year of high school, Murray?"
Chad shrugs. "I figure I got at least another couple years on that gravy train before I need to start working the zombie flicks."
Chris stomps down hard on the urge to slap that smirk into next week, nodding at the bartender for another shot instead. He's drunk enough that he's not quite quick enough controlling his face though; Chad leans in close to order and then looks sidelong at Chris, eyes shadowed by stupidly long lashes. "Anything you want to throw at me, I can handle."
The Jack burns quick and hot down Chris's throat and there's an answering heat low in his belly, one that settles in and flares hotter when Chad takes the shot the bartender slides towards him and slams it back without taking his eyes off Chris.
"You planning on walking that walk, boy?" The words are out before Chris can think to censor them, but hell, it's not his network anymore and he doubts the record company gives enough of a shit about anything to care what he does on his down-time.
Chad sweeps his tongue along his lower lip. "Anytime, anywhere, old man. Anytime, anywhere."
Chris tears his eyes off that obscene mouth, wet and shiny, just long enough to find Jensen in the crowd, laughing and deep in conversation with Jeff Morgan, no signs of being ready to take off that Chris can see. Good enough; Chris isn't going to need much time to fuck the smirk off Murray's pretty little face.
He throws a fifty on the bar for a tip--good karma against ever needing to be back on the other side of the equation--and heads out toward the back, not needing to look to know he's being followed.
The back hall's cleaner than Chris expects, but he's done his fair share of time in county lock-ups, so that's not saying much. It doesn't matter; Chad's dropping to his knees before Chris even gets turned around, their hands tangling at the waistband to Chris's jeans before Chris backs off and lets him deal with it. Chad's hair is spiky and stiff with whatever shit he uses in it, but it's long enough for Chris to knot his fingers in, pull tight and laugh at the way Chad's breath hisses.
He'd say something about how much Chad likes it, but then Chad's licking up his dick, balls to slit, and Chris stops thinking about talking and starts working on fucking.
Chad half-gags at the first deep thrust, but doesn't fight, just shudders under Chris and braces himself, fingers digging into Chris's hips, eyes flickering a challenge up, one that Chris is goddamned happy to accept.
He'd blame the heat in his blood on the whiskey he's been drinking, but he'd be lying to himself. It's not the Jack, it's the mouth that's wrapped around his dick, red and swollen and spit-slick; the throat that's opening a little bit further every time he fucks in; the low, choked-off noises he can just barely hear over the muffled thump of music from the other room.
Chad lets go of Chris's hips to fumble at his own belt, grinding up into his hand, and Chris jerks Chad's head back, until his cock slides out of Chad's mouth, until he can see the pulse under Chad's jaw beating strong and wild.
"Hands," Chris says, *snarls*, whatever's raging inside him finding its voice. He yanks one hand free, snapping his fingers and holding it out. For an endless few seconds, Chad stays still, frozen, and Chris lets him think about it, but then he twists his other hand tighter in Chad's hair and Chad moans and lays his wrists in Chris's palm.
It's Chris's turn to still; the shitty hall, the noise from the party, everything irising down to the man on his knees in front of him, the faint tremor under the skin warm against his hand. Chris takes it in, feeds on it, savors it before closing his fingers, tightening his grip until he can feel the bones in Chad's wrists grind together and the world comes crashing back around him.
Chad shifts, settles his knees wider apart, leans into the tension's Chris has got on his hair and it doesn't take any thought at all for Chris to push the wrists he's holding behind Chad's head, pin them there and force his dick back into Chad's mouth.
He could drag it out, make Chad take it until he doesn't know how to breathe without Chris telling him to, but right here is all Chris needs, Chad's mouth open and helpless and gagging around him, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, no trace of the smirk at all now. Chris takes everything he wants, everything Chad's giving, no control at all, until he's slamming in one final time, grinding deep and rough into Chad's throat, riding out the spasms as Chad chokes on his come.
Chad folds down on himself as soon as Chris lets him go, head bowed and arms shaking while Chris steps back and puts himself back together, and it's not until later that Chris admits he never even thought of leaving Chad there, that there's no fucking way Chris isn't going to be the one who gets Chad off, especially not when Chad tips his head back and looks up at Chris, eyes blown, mouth bruised, Chris's come drying on his skin.
Chris's hand is tangled back into his hair before Chris even thinks about it, pulling sharply once, twice, before Chad starts trying to move. He stumbles a little as Chris hauls him to his feet, hissing as he crashes into the wall Chris shoves him toward.
"A cock down your throat, that's all it takes to get you hard, isn't it?" Chris crowds close, scrubbing the heel of his palm down the length of Chad's cock, thick and hot under the soft cotton of his faded jeans. Chad moans, his hips bucking up, and Chris's laugh sounds mean even to himself. "Such a pretty little bitch, Murray, on your knees like a whore, bet you bend over for it up your ass just as sweet, don't you?"
"Fuck," Chad gasps, pushing and twisting against where Chris's hand is grinding into the base of his cock. "Fuck, Kane, fucking touch me--"
"Quiet," Chris growls, sliding three fingers past those swollen lips while he's pinching hard at the head of Chad's cock. "Just like this, boy, you and me, not stopping until you scream." He fucks his hand in and out of Chad's mouth, matches the rhythm with his other hand, rubbing hard and nasty along and over the zipper until Chad's arched up taut and tight, his teeth biting deep at Chris's fingers and his eyes locked on Chris's.
Chris looks right back, smiling as he eases off a little and lets Chad know they can play this game all night if Chris wants. It's fucking addictive, watching the flash of wantneedlust that Chad doesn't want him to see, enough that Chris stops teasing and grinds down with his whole hand, short and choppy but not stopping, still moving even when Chad comes with a desperate groan, when he sags back against the wall.
"Anytime, anywhere, boy," Chris says, stepping away from the wall. As he turns to go find Jensen and see how much hell they can raise, he's pretty sure he gets a ghost of a smirk for an answer.
***
***
Continued in Double Trouble
Thanks to
without_me for fixing things, even when she's not sure what the hell I'm doing.
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Jesus.
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It's Chris's turn to still; the shitty hall, the noise from the party, everything irising down to the man on his knees in front of him, the faint tremor under the skin warm against his hand. Chris takes it in, feeds on it, savors it before closing his fingers,
Very hot! Of course, I think it shows I *still* think of Chris as Lindsay when reading this part above made me think he was going to actually feed on Chad instead of have sex with him!
(which will make no sense at all, probably, if you're not familiar with vampire stuff)
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*breaths hard* Damn woman, you killed me. I need some private time now, excuse me...
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Good shit (and I speak as a het fan).
;)
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gorgeous, babe.
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That is gorgeous and I don't know how you managed it but I actually felt the story go into slow motion and then speed up into normal time again. Freaking incredible.
Is it too early to start begging for more?
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Maybe now
Ace job, baby. I do love me some Chad on his knees.
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Remember when I said I had to work out what Chris got out of this deal? Yeah, I think I got it, and there's more, when I find the time, so I'll be interested in seeing if we still mesh as I work through it all...
And don't tell anyone, but Chad on his knees, looking up at Chris was the entire reason for the whole damn thing. =)
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I REALLY have to stop reading these at work!
*fans self*
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And thank you!
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Now that my disclaimers are over. Jesus Christ, woman. HOT. I maintain that you are the best porn writer I know. You should write erotica and sell it. You would make buckets of money. Just so good!
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And really, thank you--I know of your dislike for the Chad; it's awesome that you still think this is hot.
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*gulps*
Uh huh - just like that - right there.
*nods*
*G*
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Kane and Mayham you have perverted me HOT DAMN!
Re: Kane and Mayham you have perverted me HOT DAMN!
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damn good fic
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Favorite Fucking line................EVER
I love Chris.....fucking HOT :D
Chad is a skanky slut
I LOVE IT :D
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Steamy hot, all of it, but OMG the thing with the hands. Yes, please.
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Thanks! I'm glad you liked it!
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Holy fucking shit, dude.
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