Cinco De Mayo
Title: Cinco De Mayo
Author: chelseaadd
Paring: Steve/Chris
Rating: NC 17
Warning: Porn
Summary: Just a drabble that popped into my head... with porn
Steve stared bitterly at the microwave as it turned the plate around and around, reheating a two day old slice of pizza. This just wasn’t right.
No, no, not the pizza. Every one knows that’s good for six days if you leave it on the counter, that was fine. The problem was the date. It was May 5th. Cinco De Mayo. He always cooked for friends and family. He would throw a party, have fun, beat the shit out of a piñata until it spilled candy everywhere - and none of that hard shit that no one really likes. No. These were good times with little mini chocolate bars, miniature bags of sour gummi worms, Sweet Tarts, and the big prize. He always forced in the half pound Hershey bar, even if it meant cutting the hole open wider then taping it closed.
Now all he had was a slice of cold pizza, and a cold lonely hotel room.
They hadn’t split up or anything. Kane… or… Christian Kane as the record label insisted. They’d finished recording, ignored everything that Steve said, and manipulated Christian until he didn’t know left from right, up from down, right from wrong, cock from ass… alright so that last one doesn’t exactly fit in, but still. Steve hadn’t gotten any in the last three months. The vibrator that he would never admit he had stashed under his bed for the calls that Chris would place every so often in the middle of the night, got boring, and his hands were EXTREMELY boring after a while.
They’d had phone sex, sure, but Christian hadn’t touched him in forever. Now he wasn’t one of those typical guys looking to guilt a chick into fucking him, but after a while, blue balls really did hurt. Then the calls had stopped and the blue balls got worse.
Steve was to the point of PORN being boring. Even the cracked out things that the fangirls wrote on LiveJournal didn’t stack up to Christian Kane. There wasn’t Christian’s actual VOICE, stroking a shiver up his spine, or his actual HANDS skimming teasingly along his body, or Christian’s actual COCK slowly working it’s way up his ass with soft soothing words helping him to relax because in all reality, Christian Kane had every reason to be… Cocky.
Steve nibbled his inner lip and looked down at the bulge slowly growing in the front of his jeans. Great. Just great. It was Cinco De Mayo, and here he was, with just a cold slice of pizza, a cold hotel room, a muggy rainy day, balls that looked like extremely enlarged blueberries, and an entire ocean separating him from his lover.
He decided to ignore the beeping of the microwave in favor for palming at himself through his jeans, humming softly at the small spark of pleasure that emanated from just the simple circular motion of his hand.
While in the process of palming himself, he failed to notice the door to his hotel room slowly creep open. He was too busy thrusting his hips into the pressure and friction his hand offered to notice the person slowly slipping inside.
“House keeping?”
Steve was pretty sure he had a heart attack. He leapt a few feet in the air and spun around, face flushed and eyes wide.
Much to his surprise, however, there was no hotel maid. Just Christian Kane, damp from the rain outside, standing in the middle of the kitchenette looking smug as hell.
“Someone’s a little jumpy.”
“Maybe because someone was just touching himself inappropriately while he THOUGHT he was alone in his hotel room?”
“Nah.” Chris said after a few seconds of mock thought. “Someone was raised by hippies, and startles everyone when he DOESN’T jack off in public.”
“That’s because someone was raised by modest hippies.” Steve grumbled with a pout, crossing his arms and leaning back against the counter.
Ever since Christian had read a story online about Steve’s parents being hippies, he’d decided that the cracked out fangirl was right, and Steve had indeed been raised by hippies.
Now just because someone LOOKS like a hippie, and has shared the fact with complete strangers that he does indeed get high, and also writes songs about getting stoned, doesn’t mean he’s a hippie.
He can also be Steve Carlson.
Christian smiled warmly at Steve’s pout and stepped forward, resting his hands on Steve’s hips and pulling him close, grinding his crotch against Steve’s so Steve could tell that the little show he’d put on turned Christian on to no end.
Steve purred softly in Christian’s ear and wrapped his arms around Christian’s neck, pulling him in for a rough and well over due kiss.
Christian growled softly when his dominance was questioned by Steve initiating the kiss. He grabbed Steve by the ass and lifted him up onto the counter, nudging his knees apart and moving between them.
Steve took slow breaths as he watched Christian slowly unbutton his shirt, pushing it open and down off Steve’s shoulders. He leaned in and wrapped his lips around his left nipple, his right hand slowly trailing down his chest and stomach, tickling at his happy trail in a way he knew made Steve’s cock jump in excitement.
“Fuck.” Steve breathed, closing his eyes and placing a hand on the back of Christian’s head, wrapping his legs around Chris’s waist and pulling him closer, trying to silently communicate the fact that he was in desperate need of affection of the sexual nature.
Chris grabbed Steve by the ass again and lifted him up, carrying him back to the bed and dropping him on the bed. He crawled up over Steve and kissed him roughly, quickly working on Steve’s jeans, pushing them open and greedily grasping at his fully erect cock, squeezing ever so subtly as he slowly inched his hand up and down the shift, twisting around the head ten back down the length.
Steve tensed up and whimpered softly when Chris’s hand ventured down to his balls, giving him a small squeeze.
Normally, this squeeze would have been well appreciated, but right now, it just hurt.
“Chris-Chris, no, don’t.” Steve whimpered, reaching down and pulling Chris’s hand away from his balls. “Don’t squeeze. Too tender. Been too long.”
Chris gave Steve a sympathetic look and kissed him gently hands taking a firm grip on Steve’s dick and pumping him with firm, knowing strokes, twisting at the head in the way that made Steve whine in the back of his throat and buck up into the touch.
“More.. please more.” Steve breathed, hands darting up and pulling Christian’s shirt over his head, causing Chris to stop his ministrations for only a moment to get it off his arms.
Chris let his left hand stray back to Steve’s happy trail and skimmed his fingers over the slightly coarser hair, making Steve’s belly skip in some parts arousal, and some parts laughter at the ticklish feeling. His dick jumped again when Chris leaned down and sucked on one of his nipples.
“Fuck.” He breathed, his own hands blindly groping Christian until they found the hard lump of his cock. He started kneading and groping at his crotch, doing his level best to keep his hips from sputtering up into the touch he’d missed for so long.
Then Chris did this thing that he does with his thumbs that always made Steve go insane with need and pleasure, and Steve simply lost it. He came over Christian’s hands his own hands shakily grasping at Christian’s crotch through the entire, extremely relieving, ordeal.
Steve really didn’t remember blacking out, but he did remember waking up, curled on his side, one leg thrown over Christian’s hips, and an arm slung across his chest.
“Mornin’ sunshine.” Christian drawled, kissing him gently. “And Happy Cinco De Mayo.”
Steve chuckled softly and peeled himself off of Chris, propping his body up on his elbows and looking down into Christian’s pure blue eye.
“You forgot the piñata.”
I don't know if I spelled Cinco De Mayo right... I slept through Spanish... IT WAS AT EIGHT IN THE MORNING OKAY?!