Spin The Bottle Verse (RPS)
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Title: Spin The Bottle Verse (4/8)
Author: mands_angelfox
Pairing/Characters: Chris/Steve
Genre: RPS, Romance, Angst
Word Count: 2, 241
Rating: Hard R
Feedback: Feedback? Is love. No. Seriously, it is.
Summary: One drunken night of fun turns things on their head and all Chris and Steve can do is hang on.
Links: The Verse Prologue-to-Epilogue
Author's Note: I just want to say a couple thanks. First of all to estel_willow for being my muse and holding my hand throughout the entirety of this 'verse, I wouldn't have been able to do it without her. And secondly to charlies_dragon for beta'ing this monster and for being an encouraging voice via email. And last but not at all least to my girl dea_liberty for my new gorgeous banner.
Disclaimer: Isn't real, I know that and you know that, we just wish that it was.
Spin The Bottle (4/8)
Chris wakes up to a pounding head and he wonders why that feels familiar but fuck if his brain can actually construct thoughts that actually make sense right now. It takes him a couple minutes to register the sound of movement from the other room and then he realises he’s not alone and for a moment there’s a sense of panic and dread, memory desperately scrambling to remember if he took anyone home with him last night.
Then it hits him and all Chris can do is crawl under his covers and bury his head under his pillow, maybe if he pretends to be asleep Steve might go away? But Steve is Steve and soon the covers are off just like that and Steve’s just looking at him.
“We have to talk.”
Chris groans, reaching and fumbling for the pillow. “Do we hafta?”
“Yes.”
“What about?” Because, really, denial is everything.
Steve just rolls his eyes, confiscating the pillow Chris is so desperate to hide under. Not happening. “About what the hell happened last night.”
Chris grits his teeth; he is not having this conversation. “Nothin’ happened last night.” Even though he knows that’s a lie but he never claimed to be an honest man. “You’re fuckin’ imagining things.”
“So you telling Jensen to get his hand off me and to stay away from me if he knows what’s good for him is somethin’ that happens every day?” Steve is very clearly not backing down, not after he’s spent weeks of wondering and weeks of aching because he was so goddamn sure that Chris never wanted him.
Okay he has Chris there but Chris has been denying a lot of things to himself for many years and he’s become an expert at it. “I was drunk. Didn’t know what I was doing.”
Steve snorts and shakes his head. “Not good enough, Christian. Try again.” Chris winces because it’s rare for Steve to call him by his full name and when he has in the past, it’s always meant that Chris was in a world of trouble.
“What do you want from me, Steve?” He looks up, locking his jaw and trying for what he hopes is an intimidating glare but he’s hung-over and he’s been hit out of nowhere by this suddenly intense far too emotional conversation.
“How about the truth?” Steve throws at him, taking a couple steps closer until Chris can’t look at anything other than him. “You’ve been avoiding me for weeks and if that night didn’t mean anything, then you and me? We’d still be friends. So how about you cut out the bullshit and tell me what the hell is going on with you?”
“You don’t need to shout,” Chris mutters as he sniffs and gets to his feet slowly, needing the movement and definitely craving the space that Steve has just crowded. He’s stalling for time, trying to will his brain to wake up and get with the program. There are a million things he can say but he won’t, won’t because they could mean the end of something great and he doesn’t think he’s willing to lose Steve like that but the really fucked up thing is what he does say hurts like a sonofabitch.
“And what happened between us was a mistake, Steve.”
Steve blinks kind of like you do after somebody’s just slapped you and there’s this look in his eyes that’s eating Chris alive from the inside out. But oddly enough he’s not backing down.
“It was huh? Then why the fuck won’t you look me in the eye or even spend more than a couple seconds alone with me? If it was a mistake then it shouldn’t affect you or us.”
“Maybe ‘cause I don’t need to spend every goddamn second of every goddamn day with you, Steve. Jesus, we’re not attached at the hip.” Chris knows he’s being unusually cruel and he never thought he’d see the day when he had to do this with Steve but it’s better this way, so much better. He can’t be what Steve needs him to be - what Steve deserves him to be, it just isn’t in him.
Steve shakes his head, willing it not to hurt and willing himself not to listen.
“Don’t give me that.” He steps closer, not caring that he’s crowding Chris because dammit all he’s done is give the other man space, for weeks. “That isn’t what this is about.”
Chris scoffs and affects his best smirk.
“Yeah, I’d forgotten, you always thought you were an expert on me. Surprised you don’t know me as well as you thought you did?”
“I fuckin’ know you,” Steve argues and it isn’t long until he has Chris backed up against the wall.
There’s this fight or flee mechanism that kicks in round about the time Steve’s got him up against the wall, Steve’s too close - too warm - too Steve, he’s got to get away, he has to before something they both regret happens.
“Tell me you don’t want me,” Steve challenges Chris quietly. “And I won’t ever talk about it again and we’ll never have to mention what happened between us.” He looks Chris in the eye and waits. “Tell me you don’t want me.”
It’s never been a matter of that, never. Chris has always wanted Steve, from the second he laid his eyes on him to right now, but it can’t happen; it just can’t. Chris reaches up with all the intentions of pushing Steve away but his hands have minds of their own and they’re in Steve’s hair, pulling him down until Chris is able to hungrily seek out the taste he’s so addicted to.
Steve makes this sound, it kind of twists Chris’ inside and out and he leans up to see if he can get that same sound out of Steve, and he can. Fuck. Steve cups Chris’ face with his hand, brushing the callused edge of his thumb over his cheek before sinking his fingers in Chris’ hair and surrendering to the intensity of that kiss.
They’re not even consciously aware of how it happens but somehow Chris has Steve back on the bed and he’s straddled his hips, kiss deepening and hands tugging at Steve’s shirt impatiently. Steve doesn’t fight him, lets it be pulled off and then groans as Chris ducks his head and runs his mouth over Steve’s throat nipping and sucking small marks into the tanned skin.
Not to be outdone or anything, Steve runs both hands down Chris’ chest to open up the shirt, relishing the touch of skin to skin. His fingers fist into the material when Chris’ mouth catches on his ear and his tongue curls around one of his piercings. “Fuck.”
Chris smiles before doing it again but leans back to kiss Steve because as long as he keeps kissing him then he doesn’t need to think and Chris is all for the not thinking. Especially if it means Steve keeps touching him like that.
This is such a bad idea in oh so many ways but it’s getting harder to think. Everything’s becoming a blur of tastes and skin and the further they go the easier it becomes to get lost in the sensations.
Chris fists his hand in Steve’s hair and pulls him close enough until he can feel every muscle and every reaction from what his hands are doing, fumbling at the fastenings of Steve’s jeans because he’s that desperate that he can’t make his fingers work right.
“Too many fuckin’ clothes.”
Steve chuckles all low and huskily and Chris groans, leaning up to kiss him again because holy fuck that sound is sexy. Steve doesn’t resist him and just opens up to Chris like he has before, sucking Chris’ lower lip into his mouth and running both hands down Chris’ back and around the front of his jeans.
They work in unison, the same way they do when they’re making music together, and it isn’t long until they’re naked and in each other’s arms. Mouths and hands exploring skin and Chris knows he’ll never know anything else like this and it frightens him a hell of a lot but he just needs to kiss Steve again and it feels like he can do anything he puts his mind to.
Chris finds that he’s has this strange obsession with Steve’s neck and his hands because that’s where his mouth seems to be going, seeking out the taste and curling his tongue around the calluses worn into Steve’s skin from years of guitar playing.
Steve murmurs his name in a way that has him hard in under a second, not that it’s difficult because Steve is there and he’s spread out underneath him all golden skin and fucking perfection itself.
Soon there’s a hand in his hair, pulling him up and demanding all the attention of his mouth and Steve’s kissing Chris like he’s a drowning man. He mutters some of the dirtiest things Chris has ever heard against his mouth and Steve licks the shock from his lips, pulling Chris close enough until he can’t remember what it feels like to be just one person.
There isn’t even a question of how it’s going to happen - Steve just pulls Chris down and mouths at his pulse and reaches down to palm at Chris, and after that it’s easy to fall into whatever else is going to happen. It’s all too easy and that’s what scares Chris the most but he can’t stop now, not when they’ve gone this far.
Steve watches as Chris’ hands fumble, grabbing a hold of the nearest thing to hand and thank fuck Chris is always prepared and the lube's easy enough to grab. How the fuck he manages to uncap it and drizzle it over his fingers is something best left up to the brilliant minds of the twentieth century.
“Chris,” Steve groans, sliding closer and pushing back against the tips he can feel teasing him. “Just do it, don’t fuckin’ tease me.” Not now, he can’t take it. Chris smirks against Steve’s mouth before giving the other man what he wants, sinking a finger inside him and letting it settle before just moving it.
He’s not a patient man and he needs to be inside of Steve like yesterday but he doesn’t want to hurt him, doesn’t want the first and hopefully the last time to be remembered like that.
Chris steadily works Steve open, adding another finger when he feels it’s the right time and soaks up every sound and every look like it’s the last time. Steve gives as good as he gets, rolling his hips and letting his stomach muscles work to slide that much closer and pull Chris’ fingers in deeper until they’re brushing across his prostate. “Oh, fuck. Right there.”
Steve drags his fingers down Chris’ back before they’re wrapping his side and hip, gripping there tightly as he rides Chris’ fingers and he doesn’t know what it is but he has never felt like this, never with anyone.
It’s watching Steve like this - all open and wanton - that has Chris on the verge of climax and he can’t do it any more, he has to be inside Steve. “Fuck,” he grunts as he spreads Steve’s thighs, sinks into him, and after that thinking becomes impossible. Steve’s so hot and tight around him and Chris has to bury his face in Steve’s neck just to catch his breath.
Steve’s breathing hard, clutching at Chris’ skin and feeling his legs tighten around the other man as he settles before he gives a slow roll of his hips. “Oh...” Jesus. Steve groans and tips his head back, baring the length of his throat and Chris takes advantage of that, biting and licking his way up it to Steve’s mouth.
They lose themselves in the kiss that the movements become background, secondary to the sensation of drowning in each other. But it feels really good and Chris is unable keep up a steady pace and soon everything becomes frantic and desperate, every thrust harder and deeper than the last and it won’t be long until they’re both lost to climax.
Steve runs a hand up and curls his fingers in Chris’ hair and Chris does the same, only his hand slips lower and cups the back of Steve’s neck and the kiss deepens until they’re both breathless and dying for air that neither one of them wants to take.
There’s muted words, hushed confessions and groans shortly muffled by more kissing. It won’t be long, for either of them. All it takes is a roll of Steve’s hips and more deep thrust by Chris and that’s it, both broken and left trembling in the wake of their orgasms.
Chris’ arms give out and the irony isn’t lost on him that it’s Steve that supports him and eases him back from blissed out euphoria. They both settle and it’s a mixture of dread and relief that settles in Chris’ stomach but he ignores it, allowing himself to relax into Steve’s arms. Not that he can do anything else seeing as he can’t even feel his legs.
They shouldn’t but they fall asleep and the rest of everything that they should have said but didn’t is lost to the black. Consequences and repercussions can wait until they’ve both recovered enough to deal with them.
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