FIC: Radio Friendly Missing Scene 2-Chris and Blake (NC-17)
Author: Clio
Title: Radio Friendly: Missing Scene 2-Chris and Blake
Pairing: Chris/Blake (American Idol)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: In which Blake and Chris exorcise some demons.
Length: 2000 words
Disclaimer: People sort of own themselves, don't they? Which means this is a work of fiction.
Notes: Putting this part of the story in the middle of chapter 8 would have thrown the whole thing out of balance: dance, sex, read, sex. But what they did that first night they were staying at Ryan's beach house wouldn't leave my head. So here it is: the night Blake set loose the beast within Chris. Full story of Radio Friendly here
Thanks to lillijulianne and allysonsedai!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
May 1, 1963
"Dum, dum-de-doo," Blake hummed to himself as he wiped his hands. Dinner had been good: fish and salad and pie, and he wasn't as tired as he had been so that must have been hunger. He'd settled up the bill and run to the can, and now he took a moment, staring at himself in the mirror. They had just quit their jobs, and yet he wasn't scared at all. Something or other would work itself out; the music was too good. And knowing that, these last ten weeks finishing up at Syco, he also realized that Chris wasn't just moving in for now, but that this was it, permanent, and that didn't scare him either. Which was odd, because he'd always thought it would.
Still, there were some things they'd put in a box, that first night all those months ago, that needed to be taken out and looked at again before Blake, anyway, could say the forever stuff that he knew Chris wanted to hear, knew that Chris was keeping himself from saying. That was fine, too, because pushing the relationship forward had never been the job of one or the other of them, but flowed back and forth, the way the writing did. People would ask, who writes the words and who the music, but they both did both, really, sort of on top of each other, refining the other's work until they weren't really sure who had done what. Today was his turn.
He went outside and saw that Chris had walked down near the ferry dock and was standing in the wind, looking out at the water. He'd read in a book somewhere about wanting a hopeless passion-there is the back of his adorable head-and he'd thought it was silly at the time, but it was true: there was the back of Chris's adorable head, the broad set of his shoulders, the narrow waist under the boxy jacket, the round ass and powerful thighs encased in denim, sneakered feet crossed at the ankles. Manly, yet there always was a boyishness about him. The idea that he was Blake's, and would be, if asked, for the rest of their lives washed over Blake like a wave, and he couldn't work out whether to laugh or cry.
Instead he said, "Miss the navy?"
Chris turned around and smiled. "Nah. Miss Chesapeake, I guess." Chris watched as Blake walked down to him, waiting until he was at the rails, and as usual Blake pulled himself up, standing on the lower railing and hanging onto the top one, which brought his head up level with Chris's. Not that this was why; he was just a climber by nature.
"Yeah?"
Chris turned back to the water. "Something about being in a beach town in the off-season, reminds me of being a kid. The summer's fine, that's when the people come and everyone makes all their money off 'em, and sure it's hard to get around town but you know that you won't get sweet rolls in December if Mrs. Bailey can't sell 'em by the dozen in July. But being on a beach in the winter, or the spring, or the fall? That's just for us locals, that's our reward for selling the summer to the tourists. The sand is cold under your feet and the ocean is stormy and the wind is blowing saltwater in your face and a buncha birds are flying around squawking. I guess that's why I went into the navy; couldn't imagine being away from it." He looked at Blake. "Ready to go back?"
Blake nodded, hopping down from his perch, and they walked up to the boardwalk that lead back to Ryan's house. "I'd like to see Chesapeake in the winter. You know, if it wouldn't upset your folks too much."
Chris shrugged. "Gotta tell 'em sometime I guess." He kicked a rock off into the brush. "But you know what else I like about this place?"
"What?"
"I can walk around holding your hand," he said, pulling it up to kiss the back of it.
"Would you look at that."
Chris grinned. "You still want that big strong man tonight?"
"Yep, so you'd better get all the poetry out on the walk home." Blake cocked his head just a little, even though he knew that his charm didn't work on Chris, not one little bit, but it amused him, which was almost as good.
When they got back Chris asked, "If I'm the strong man, who will you be? Just you? Because that's kinda weird."
"No, fair's fair. I'll be that little slut you thought you were getting."
"Oh, I never thought I'd be getting him. But I'll take a kiss now, just you and me."
Blake gave, and Chris took, and then Blake walked ahead of Chris into the bedroom, thinking about the slut he had been, the persona he wore like a suit of clothes for reasons he didn't like to examine but which Chris could probably guess.
Chris sat down in the chair near the door, his body language already changed into something a little less George Peppard and a little more John Wayne, and god but it was amazing the way Chris always seemed to know where Blake was at without his saying a word. Chris lit a Marlboro, squinting in the smoke, then propped his bare feet up on the low bureau near him. "So whaddya got?" he asked, and even his accent had thickened in the last twenty seconds.
Blake slipped out of his loafers, smiling seductively. "What do you want, baby?" he asked, his voice dropping in pitch. He turned down the bed, then started unbuttoning his shirt, slowly, his eyes locked on Chris's. "I can be soft and screaming, or I can take it and like it." He tossed the shirt aside and unbuckled his belt. "I can beg you, or make you work for it a little, make you feel like a real man." He pulled his belt through the loops, setting it on the bureau, and it was all he could do not to blush hot under Chris's cold stare. "You're not saying much but it looks like your dick is listening," he continued, dropping his eyes down to Chris's crotch as he unfastened his trousers and slipped them off. "Ooh, looks like my dick has been listening, too." He winked at Chris, then sat down on the bed. He swept a hand across his chest, tweaking a hard nipple between forefinger and thumb.
Chris had barely moved, just sat smoking and watching, but there wasn't much cigarette left, and Blake understood that he only had until it was gone to slut it up. He leaned over, reaching into the small toiletry bag that sat next to the bed and pulling out the jar of Vaseline. He popped the square top with his thumb. "I'll even get myself ready for you, baby," he said, scooping out slick jelly with two fingers, then tossing the jar to Chris, who caught it easily with one strong hand, like catching a ball. He bent his knees up to his chin, placing his feet flat on the mattress on either side of his hips, and reached his hand down past his hard cock, past his balls, to the little hole so lewdly displayed, framed between his thighs and the bed. "I don't care what I have to do," he said, sliding his goo-coated fingers into his ass and working them in and out, back and forth. "I just want that pretty cock in me. I'll do anything if you'll fuck me, baby."
Chris stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray, then kicked his legs off the bureau and stood up in one fluid motion. He was moving slowly, but Blake could just see the tension in his shoulders, not to mention the bulge in his jeans. He walked up to Blake, still finger fucking himself on the bed, and ran a thumb across Blake's slightly parted lips. "You got no shame at all, do yah," he asked. "Not a shred of dignity."
Blake replied by sucking Chris's thumb into his mouth, grazing his teeth across the pad, and was gratified to see Chris's eyes flare.
"All right," Chris said, taking his hand away and backing up slightly. He shucked his clothes quickly, and Blake hissed a little, seeing Chris's cock so hard just from his little show. "This is what you want?"
"Oh god, yes." Blake watched while Chris coated his cock thickly with Vaseline.
"Good, because I'm not stopping." Chris grabbed Blake's legs, using his thighs to slide him backwards until he was in the center of the bed. Then he pounced, pushing Blake's head down to the mattress with the force of his kiss.
Chris's cock sat right at Blake's entrance, teasing him, and he tried to move his hips, as if to pull it in.
"Eager thing, aren't you?" Chris said, grinning, and Blake could swear he suddenly had more teeth than usual.
"Please."
Chris sat up just enough to slip the head of his slippery cock in the right spot, then slammed into Blake, hard, and Blake cried out. Chris didn't stop, grabbing Blake's wrists and holding his hands over his head, fucking him hard and staring him right in the eye, and Blake lifted up his hips to meet him, wrapping his thighs around Chris's waist. Blake had pushed Chris before, but he could always feel Chris holding back a little, feel it in his arms and shoulders. But tonight he was giving Blake the full force of it, and it was amazing, to be the focus of all of that power. The bed was creaking like crazy and he couldn't stop whimpering, even when Chris was kissing him again, or really, plundering Blake's mouth with his tongue. His body was nothing but a few holes Chris was using for his pleasure and it was fantastic.
"What did you think you were doing, whoring around like that?"
"Looking for you." The words spilled out without Blake really thinking. "I was looking for you."
Chris stopped, just for a half second, staring at Blake. "Well you found me. Happy now?" he asked, and started thrusting again.
"So much," Blake said, and then Chris was kissing him again.
Blake's cock was between their stomachs, but he was pretty sure it wasn't the rubbing that made him come, but the whole thing, all of it, swooping in and overwhelming him, and he screamed out, but Chris barely noticed. He just kept pumping Blake, fucking him harder and deeper and Blake rose up to meet him, as much as he could, until finally Chris was coming, shouting once before collapsing on top of him.
They lay there, catching their breath, until Chris rolled over, slipping out of Blake and letting go of his wrists. Blake pulled his arms back down, then looked at Chris, who was carding one hand through Blake's hair.
"That was really hot," Blake said, smiling.
"It was, wasn't it?" He bit his lip, then asked, "Did you mean that, what you said?"
"About looking for you?"
Chris nodded.
"You know, I never thought about it that way, but I guess I was. And then when I found you, I didn't have to act like that any more. But, I dunno, I guess I wanted you to see. I didn't want there to be a part of me I was ashamed to show you, or you were to show me."
"No, the slut is pretty sexy, you know, so long as he's my slut."
Blake smiled. "Yeah, I'm only slutty for you."
"Good. But the next time we do that?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm saying your name, and I'm saying I love you."
"You are just too good to live, you know that?"
"Well, I love my little, slutty, woodland creature gay boyfriend."
"And I love my big, strong, not so silent gay boyfriend." Blake yawned. "Who just wore me out, man."
"Sleep, then," Chris said, grabbing pillows for them, since they never had made it past the middle of the bed. He kissed Blake's temple, then wrapped himself around Blake, curving his body, and Blake nestled into him. "Happy now?" Chris whispered.
"So much," Blake replied.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 9: Instead of a Sweet
Title: Radio Friendly: Missing Scene 2-Chris and Blake
Pairing: Chris/Blake (American Idol)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: In which Blake and Chris exorcise some demons.
Length: 2000 words
Disclaimer: People sort of own themselves, don't they? Which means this is a work of fiction.
Notes: Putting this part of the story in the middle of chapter 8 would have thrown the whole thing out of balance: dance, sex, read, sex. But what they did that first night they were staying at Ryan's beach house wouldn't leave my head. So here it is: the night Blake set loose the beast within Chris. Full story of Radio Friendly here
Thanks to lillijulianne and allysonsedai!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
May 1, 1963
"Dum, dum-de-doo," Blake hummed to himself as he wiped his hands. Dinner had been good: fish and salad and pie, and he wasn't as tired as he had been so that must have been hunger. He'd settled up the bill and run to the can, and now he took a moment, staring at himself in the mirror. They had just quit their jobs, and yet he wasn't scared at all. Something or other would work itself out; the music was too good. And knowing that, these last ten weeks finishing up at Syco, he also realized that Chris wasn't just moving in for now, but that this was it, permanent, and that didn't scare him either. Which was odd, because he'd always thought it would.
Still, there were some things they'd put in a box, that first night all those months ago, that needed to be taken out and looked at again before Blake, anyway, could say the forever stuff that he knew Chris wanted to hear, knew that Chris was keeping himself from saying. That was fine, too, because pushing the relationship forward had never been the job of one or the other of them, but flowed back and forth, the way the writing did. People would ask, who writes the words and who the music, but they both did both, really, sort of on top of each other, refining the other's work until they weren't really sure who had done what. Today was his turn.
He went outside and saw that Chris had walked down near the ferry dock and was standing in the wind, looking out at the water. He'd read in a book somewhere about wanting a hopeless passion-there is the back of his adorable head-and he'd thought it was silly at the time, but it was true: there was the back of Chris's adorable head, the broad set of his shoulders, the narrow waist under the boxy jacket, the round ass and powerful thighs encased in denim, sneakered feet crossed at the ankles. Manly, yet there always was a boyishness about him. The idea that he was Blake's, and would be, if asked, for the rest of their lives washed over Blake like a wave, and he couldn't work out whether to laugh or cry.
Instead he said, "Miss the navy?"
Chris turned around and smiled. "Nah. Miss Chesapeake, I guess." Chris watched as Blake walked down to him, waiting until he was at the rails, and as usual Blake pulled himself up, standing on the lower railing and hanging onto the top one, which brought his head up level with Chris's. Not that this was why; he was just a climber by nature.
"Yeah?"
Chris turned back to the water. "Something about being in a beach town in the off-season, reminds me of being a kid. The summer's fine, that's when the people come and everyone makes all their money off 'em, and sure it's hard to get around town but you know that you won't get sweet rolls in December if Mrs. Bailey can't sell 'em by the dozen in July. But being on a beach in the winter, or the spring, or the fall? That's just for us locals, that's our reward for selling the summer to the tourists. The sand is cold under your feet and the ocean is stormy and the wind is blowing saltwater in your face and a buncha birds are flying around squawking. I guess that's why I went into the navy; couldn't imagine being away from it." He looked at Blake. "Ready to go back?"
Blake nodded, hopping down from his perch, and they walked up to the boardwalk that lead back to Ryan's house. "I'd like to see Chesapeake in the winter. You know, if it wouldn't upset your folks too much."
Chris shrugged. "Gotta tell 'em sometime I guess." He kicked a rock off into the brush. "But you know what else I like about this place?"
"What?"
"I can walk around holding your hand," he said, pulling it up to kiss the back of it.
"Would you look at that."
Chris grinned. "You still want that big strong man tonight?"
"Yep, so you'd better get all the poetry out on the walk home." Blake cocked his head just a little, even though he knew that his charm didn't work on Chris, not one little bit, but it amused him, which was almost as good.
When they got back Chris asked, "If I'm the strong man, who will you be? Just you? Because that's kinda weird."
"No, fair's fair. I'll be that little slut you thought you were getting."
"Oh, I never thought I'd be getting him. But I'll take a kiss now, just you and me."
Blake gave, and Chris took, and then Blake walked ahead of Chris into the bedroom, thinking about the slut he had been, the persona he wore like a suit of clothes for reasons he didn't like to examine but which Chris could probably guess.
Chris sat down in the chair near the door, his body language already changed into something a little less George Peppard and a little more John Wayne, and god but it was amazing the way Chris always seemed to know where Blake was at without his saying a word. Chris lit a Marlboro, squinting in the smoke, then propped his bare feet up on the low bureau near him. "So whaddya got?" he asked, and even his accent had thickened in the last twenty seconds.
Blake slipped out of his loafers, smiling seductively. "What do you want, baby?" he asked, his voice dropping in pitch. He turned down the bed, then started unbuttoning his shirt, slowly, his eyes locked on Chris's. "I can be soft and screaming, or I can take it and like it." He tossed the shirt aside and unbuckled his belt. "I can beg you, or make you work for it a little, make you feel like a real man." He pulled his belt through the loops, setting it on the bureau, and it was all he could do not to blush hot under Chris's cold stare. "You're not saying much but it looks like your dick is listening," he continued, dropping his eyes down to Chris's crotch as he unfastened his trousers and slipped them off. "Ooh, looks like my dick has been listening, too." He winked at Chris, then sat down on the bed. He swept a hand across his chest, tweaking a hard nipple between forefinger and thumb.
Chris had barely moved, just sat smoking and watching, but there wasn't much cigarette left, and Blake understood that he only had until it was gone to slut it up. He leaned over, reaching into the small toiletry bag that sat next to the bed and pulling out the jar of Vaseline. He popped the square top with his thumb. "I'll even get myself ready for you, baby," he said, scooping out slick jelly with two fingers, then tossing the jar to Chris, who caught it easily with one strong hand, like catching a ball. He bent his knees up to his chin, placing his feet flat on the mattress on either side of his hips, and reached his hand down past his hard cock, past his balls, to the little hole so lewdly displayed, framed between his thighs and the bed. "I don't care what I have to do," he said, sliding his goo-coated fingers into his ass and working them in and out, back and forth. "I just want that pretty cock in me. I'll do anything if you'll fuck me, baby."
Chris stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray, then kicked his legs off the bureau and stood up in one fluid motion. He was moving slowly, but Blake could just see the tension in his shoulders, not to mention the bulge in his jeans. He walked up to Blake, still finger fucking himself on the bed, and ran a thumb across Blake's slightly parted lips. "You got no shame at all, do yah," he asked. "Not a shred of dignity."
Blake replied by sucking Chris's thumb into his mouth, grazing his teeth across the pad, and was gratified to see Chris's eyes flare.
"All right," Chris said, taking his hand away and backing up slightly. He shucked his clothes quickly, and Blake hissed a little, seeing Chris's cock so hard just from his little show. "This is what you want?"
"Oh god, yes." Blake watched while Chris coated his cock thickly with Vaseline.
"Good, because I'm not stopping." Chris grabbed Blake's legs, using his thighs to slide him backwards until he was in the center of the bed. Then he pounced, pushing Blake's head down to the mattress with the force of his kiss.
Chris's cock sat right at Blake's entrance, teasing him, and he tried to move his hips, as if to pull it in.
"Eager thing, aren't you?" Chris said, grinning, and Blake could swear he suddenly had more teeth than usual.
"Please."
Chris sat up just enough to slip the head of his slippery cock in the right spot, then slammed into Blake, hard, and Blake cried out. Chris didn't stop, grabbing Blake's wrists and holding his hands over his head, fucking him hard and staring him right in the eye, and Blake lifted up his hips to meet him, wrapping his thighs around Chris's waist. Blake had pushed Chris before, but he could always feel Chris holding back a little, feel it in his arms and shoulders. But tonight he was giving Blake the full force of it, and it was amazing, to be the focus of all of that power. The bed was creaking like crazy and he couldn't stop whimpering, even when Chris was kissing him again, or really, plundering Blake's mouth with his tongue. His body was nothing but a few holes Chris was using for his pleasure and it was fantastic.
"What did you think you were doing, whoring around like that?"
"Looking for you." The words spilled out without Blake really thinking. "I was looking for you."
Chris stopped, just for a half second, staring at Blake. "Well you found me. Happy now?" he asked, and started thrusting again.
"So much," Blake said, and then Chris was kissing him again.
Blake's cock was between their stomachs, but he was pretty sure it wasn't the rubbing that made him come, but the whole thing, all of it, swooping in and overwhelming him, and he screamed out, but Chris barely noticed. He just kept pumping Blake, fucking him harder and deeper and Blake rose up to meet him, as much as he could, until finally Chris was coming, shouting once before collapsing on top of him.
They lay there, catching their breath, until Chris rolled over, slipping out of Blake and letting go of his wrists. Blake pulled his arms back down, then looked at Chris, who was carding one hand through Blake's hair.
"That was really hot," Blake said, smiling.
"It was, wasn't it?" He bit his lip, then asked, "Did you mean that, what you said?"
"About looking for you?"
Chris nodded.
"You know, I never thought about it that way, but I guess I was. And then when I found you, I didn't have to act like that any more. But, I dunno, I guess I wanted you to see. I didn't want there to be a part of me I was ashamed to show you, or you were to show me."
"No, the slut is pretty sexy, you know, so long as he's my slut."
Blake smiled. "Yeah, I'm only slutty for you."
"Good. But the next time we do that?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm saying your name, and I'm saying I love you."
"You are just too good to live, you know that?"
"Well, I love my little, slutty, woodland creature gay boyfriend."
"And I love my big, strong, not so silent gay boyfriend." Blake yawned. "Who just wore me out, man."
"Sleep, then," Chris said, grabbing pillows for them, since they never had made it past the middle of the bed. He kissed Blake's temple, then wrapped himself around Blake, curving his body, and Blake nestled into him. "Happy now?" Chris whispered.
"So much," Blake replied.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 9: Instead of a Sweet