FIC: How Beautiful You Are To Me
Title: How Beautiful You Are To Me
Author: Cassie (falconkenobi@hotmail.com)
Fandom: RPS - Kane
Categories: Christian Kane/Steve Carlson, PWP
Rating: NC-17
Thanks to: You, for reading. bellasianna, as ever, for the beta, handholding, encouragement, soul saving and random pr0n writing.
Disclaimer: Christian Kane & Steve Carlson are real people, and the events in this story are just that - fictional, figments of my sick and twisted imagination. Hell, call it a fantasy if it makes you feel better. Whatever. No rumours should be started in regards to any events in these works of fiction. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes and no money is being made out of it.
Summary: A sleepy Christian watches Steve play and needs to show him how beautiful he is.
He doesn't know he's being watched; he's too lost in his music. Bending over his guitar with his eyes closed, fingers pulling pure magic from the strings. So no, he doesn't realise he's not alone, doesn't realise that Christian is in the room with him. Doesn't see the undisguised lust on Christian's face as he watches him.
He's sitting on the edge of the edge of the black leather couch, guitar cradled in his naked arms. His legs are encased in faded, threadbare, light blue denim slung low on his hips, his knees spread and his bare toes digging into the carpet. He's curled over his guitar, but Christian can see how relaxed he is; there's no tension at all in his spine. His limbs and movements are fluid; his posture, his expression, even his aura if such a thing existed… everything about him is just so damn mellow. He's more relaxed than he's been in a long time, a sense of calm and peace surrounding him. His eyes are closed and his lips curve into a languid smile as he finishes the song.
"Beautiful," murmurs Christian.
Steve looks up at the sound of Christian's voice. He leans forward on his guitar, watching him cross the room to perch on the coffee table in front of him. "You liked it?"
"Didn't mean the song," Christian clarifies. "Meant you. Watched you play. Fucking beautiful, Steve."
Steve's eyes twinkle mischievously. "You don't like the song?"
“Shut up,” Christian growls, his lips ghosting over Steve’s, palm sliding to cup his cheek. “Fucking beautiful,” he insists.
A faint blush colours Steve’s cheeks, his tongue flicking out across Christian’s lips, fingers sliding up into his hair. “Didn’t mean to wake you,” he apologises softly, placing his guitar on the floor and pulling Christian onto his lap.
“You didn’t.” Christian kisses Steve again then leans forward, their foreheads resting together. He runs his thumb over Steve’s lower lip. “And I like the song.”
A grin spreads unbidden on Steve’s face at Christian’s words and his eyes light up. He draws Christian’s thumb into his mouth, sucking on it softly, tongue swirling around it. “Thank you.”
“Didn’t do nothing’,” Christian mumbles, burying his face in Steve’s neck to try and stifle a yawn. “You’re the beautiful one.”
“Go back to bed, Chris.” Steve runs his hand through Christian’s hair, an indulgent smile on his face. He chuckles as Christian arches into the touch, an almost-purr rumbling in his chest.
“Not tired,” Christian protests, blindly turning his head for a kiss; a kiss that Steve gladly grants him, cupping his face in his hands, tongue lazily exploring his mouth. Christian moans in response, angling his head to deepen the kiss, tongue flickering against Steve’s then sucking on it lightly until Steve’s groaning. “Told you I wasn’t tired,” he smirks, his voice still rough with sleep. He presses himself tightly against Steve, fingers tangling in his hair, kisses trailing down his jaw and throat.
Steve agrees with a grin, his fingers dipping past the waistband of Christian’s paisley boxers.
Christian sighs, lifting his hips in a silent plea. Steve’s fingers curl around Christian’s stirring cock and he groans, fingers clutching at Steve’s shoulders as he lifts his head, tongue parting Steve’s lips.
Steve groans against Christian’s lips, rocking his hips as Christian’s wraps his legs around him. He lets Christian take control of the kiss, hands fisting in his hair, tongue demanding dominance. He can feel himself grinning even as the kiss grows sloppy, hungry and desperate, fingers tightening around Christian’s cock finding a steady rhythm he knows will drive Christian insane with need: his hips bucking and stuttering; nipping and sucking at Steve’s lips. Another groan is ripped from Steve’s throat and he can hear himself panting, his own hips bucking up as Christian rocks against him.
Christian drags his lips from Steve’s long enough to run his tongue over them. “More,” he gasps, one hand falling to wrap around Steve’s, his hips thrusting into the grip that’s not quite tight enough, the strokes that just aren’t enough. “Steve…” he whines, when Steve stops and pulls his hand from Christian’s boxers to cup his face in his hands, thumbs running over his red, kiss-swollen lips. “Please…” The plea tumbles from Christian as he sucks on one of Steve’s thumbs, dragging his tongue along the length of it, then across the palm of his hand, shuddering as he tastes pre-come.
“You begging me now, Chris?” Steve chuckles, cradling the back of Christian’s head as two of his fingers are sucked into his mouth. “God, I fucking love you when you’re like this,” he moans; rocking his hips, his head falling back against the back of the couch, eyes sliding closed. “All open and honest… so responsive.” He pulls his fingers from Christian’s mouth, dragging him close again and kissing him; another open-mouthed lazy kiss. “Spit,” he instructs, biting down on his own lip as Christian does so, slicking the palm of Steve’s hand with saliva. “You want more?” Steve sucks Christian’s lower lip into his mouth, hand going straight back into his boxers to curl around his erection, thumb brushing teasingly over the head, spreading pre-come before stroking him firmly and knowingly, a rhythm designed purely to bring Christian to orgasm.
Christian cries out wordlessly, his hips bucking and his back arching. He throws his head back but Steve’s free hand is cradling his neck, pulling him forward, rocking against him, kissing him hard and sloppy; open-mouthed desperate kisses, swallowing all of his moans and whimpers. His hands tighten in Steve’s hair, tugging almost painfully as his fingers dig into the scalp. He breaks the kiss, a sob of Steve’s name bubbling from his lips; his body shuddering with orgasm. He slumps forward against Steve, hands dropping from his head to wrap around his shoulders, nuzzling his throat; kissing and licking feebly, panting as he catches his breath. “Steve... “
Steve dips his head and tips Christian’s chin up, kissing him gently on the lips, hand still working his cock until he whimpers and shakes his head, fingers wrapping around Steve’s wrist to still his hand. “Too much?” he asks, wiping his fingers clean on Christian’s boxers.
“Yeah,” Christian breathes, groggy, lips brushing over the pulse point on Steve’s neck.
Steve groans, thrusting up against Christian, hand dropping to palm himself through his jeans. “Fuck, Chris…”
“‘m too tired for that,” Christian protests, knocking Steve’s hand away, stroking and caressing him through the thin denim of his jeans.
“Thought you said you weren’t tired?” Steve gasps, hands gripping Christian’s shoulders. His head falls back against the back of the couch as Christian fumbles with the zip on his jeans. He lifts his hips obediently when instructed to do so; Christian pushing his jeans down to mid-thigh.
“Never too tired for you,” Christian kisses Steve between words, his fingers wrapping loosely around Steve’s cock; slow, sloppy strokes that leave Steve groaning, bucking and begging.
“Make your mind up,” Steve grunts, teasing Christian even as a low, desperate moan of his name is ripped from his throat. He bucks up, whining as Christian’s hand grows even more sluggish, his grip loosening. His hands slide up Christian’s neck to curl around his head, tugging on his hair. “Christian, please…” He trails off, kissing Christian hard, biting down on his lower lips. “I need…”
“You will,” Christian promises, tongue flicking across Steve’s lips.
“Not like that I won’t,” Steve growls. “As much as I love you, and as adorable as you when you’re all sleepy like this…” One of his hands drops from Christian’s head down to his lap, fingers curling around Christian’s, increasing the pressure to the level he needs. He sighs in relief, Christian taking the hint - relaxing and letting Steve guide his hand. Steve’s head falls back, Christian’s lips kissing his neck; Steve’s hand and hips quickly finding their rhythm as he jerks himself off using Christian’s hand coating both of them with come.
Tensing, then relaxing, Steve collapses down on the couch, a lazy smile on his face. His arms fall to his side, his chest heaving as he pants for breath. Christian is still sprawled on top of him, head resting on his shoulder, nuzzling his neck sleepily as Steve wipes their fingers on the hem of Christian’s t-shirt.
“Hey,” Christian mutters around a yawn. “I like that shirt.”
“It’ll wash,” Steve chuckles, pulling it off an un-resisting Christian and using it to clean them both up. “Besides, Jen didn’t mean for you to wear it; it was a gag gift, Chris.”
“Jason wears his,” Christian pointed out, smirking. “Why shouldn’t I wear mine? I like it. You’re the mean one not wearing yours… gonna tell Jen you’re mean.”
“I’m mean?” Steve raises an eyebrow at Christian’s nod. “And you’re falling asleep on me.” He cups Christian’s face with his palm, and kisses him gently before sliding out from under Christian and tugging him to his feet. “This couch is nice but our bed is much nicer…”
~El Fin~
Author: Cassie (falconkenobi@hotmail.com)
Fandom: RPS - Kane
Categories: Christian Kane/Steve Carlson, PWP
Rating: NC-17
Thanks to: You, for reading. bellasianna, as ever, for the beta, handholding, encouragement, soul saving and random pr0n writing.
Disclaimer: Christian Kane & Steve Carlson are real people, and the events in this story are just that - fictional, figments of my sick and twisted imagination. Hell, call it a fantasy if it makes you feel better. Whatever. No rumours should be started in regards to any events in these works of fiction. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes and no money is being made out of it.
Summary: A sleepy Christian watches Steve play and needs to show him how beautiful he is.
He doesn't know he's being watched; he's too lost in his music. Bending over his guitar with his eyes closed, fingers pulling pure magic from the strings. So no, he doesn't realise he's not alone, doesn't realise that Christian is in the room with him. Doesn't see the undisguised lust on Christian's face as he watches him.
He's sitting on the edge of the edge of the black leather couch, guitar cradled in his naked arms. His legs are encased in faded, threadbare, light blue denim slung low on his hips, his knees spread and his bare toes digging into the carpet. He's curled over his guitar, but Christian can see how relaxed he is; there's no tension at all in his spine. His limbs and movements are fluid; his posture, his expression, even his aura if such a thing existed… everything about him is just so damn mellow. He's more relaxed than he's been in a long time, a sense of calm and peace surrounding him. His eyes are closed and his lips curve into a languid smile as he finishes the song.
"Beautiful," murmurs Christian.
Steve looks up at the sound of Christian's voice. He leans forward on his guitar, watching him cross the room to perch on the coffee table in front of him. "You liked it?"
"Didn't mean the song," Christian clarifies. "Meant you. Watched you play. Fucking beautiful, Steve."
Steve's eyes twinkle mischievously. "You don't like the song?"
“Shut up,” Christian growls, his lips ghosting over Steve’s, palm sliding to cup his cheek. “Fucking beautiful,” he insists.
A faint blush colours Steve’s cheeks, his tongue flicking out across Christian’s lips, fingers sliding up into his hair. “Didn’t mean to wake you,” he apologises softly, placing his guitar on the floor and pulling Christian onto his lap.
“You didn’t.” Christian kisses Steve again then leans forward, their foreheads resting together. He runs his thumb over Steve’s lower lip. “And I like the song.”
A grin spreads unbidden on Steve’s face at Christian’s words and his eyes light up. He draws Christian’s thumb into his mouth, sucking on it softly, tongue swirling around it. “Thank you.”
“Didn’t do nothing’,” Christian mumbles, burying his face in Steve’s neck to try and stifle a yawn. “You’re the beautiful one.”
“Go back to bed, Chris.” Steve runs his hand through Christian’s hair, an indulgent smile on his face. He chuckles as Christian arches into the touch, an almost-purr rumbling in his chest.
“Not tired,” Christian protests, blindly turning his head for a kiss; a kiss that Steve gladly grants him, cupping his face in his hands, tongue lazily exploring his mouth. Christian moans in response, angling his head to deepen the kiss, tongue flickering against Steve’s then sucking on it lightly until Steve’s groaning. “Told you I wasn’t tired,” he smirks, his voice still rough with sleep. He presses himself tightly against Steve, fingers tangling in his hair, kisses trailing down his jaw and throat.
Steve agrees with a grin, his fingers dipping past the waistband of Christian’s paisley boxers.
Christian sighs, lifting his hips in a silent plea. Steve’s fingers curl around Christian’s stirring cock and he groans, fingers clutching at Steve’s shoulders as he lifts his head, tongue parting Steve’s lips.
Steve groans against Christian’s lips, rocking his hips as Christian’s wraps his legs around him. He lets Christian take control of the kiss, hands fisting in his hair, tongue demanding dominance. He can feel himself grinning even as the kiss grows sloppy, hungry and desperate, fingers tightening around Christian’s cock finding a steady rhythm he knows will drive Christian insane with need: his hips bucking and stuttering; nipping and sucking at Steve’s lips. Another groan is ripped from Steve’s throat and he can hear himself panting, his own hips bucking up as Christian rocks against him.
Christian drags his lips from Steve’s long enough to run his tongue over them. “More,” he gasps, one hand falling to wrap around Steve’s, his hips thrusting into the grip that’s not quite tight enough, the strokes that just aren’t enough. “Steve…” he whines, when Steve stops and pulls his hand from Christian’s boxers to cup his face in his hands, thumbs running over his red, kiss-swollen lips. “Please…” The plea tumbles from Christian as he sucks on one of Steve’s thumbs, dragging his tongue along the length of it, then across the palm of his hand, shuddering as he tastes pre-come.
“You begging me now, Chris?” Steve chuckles, cradling the back of Christian’s head as two of his fingers are sucked into his mouth. “God, I fucking love you when you’re like this,” he moans; rocking his hips, his head falling back against the back of the couch, eyes sliding closed. “All open and honest… so responsive.” He pulls his fingers from Christian’s mouth, dragging him close again and kissing him; another open-mouthed lazy kiss. “Spit,” he instructs, biting down on his own lip as Christian does so, slicking the palm of Steve’s hand with saliva. “You want more?” Steve sucks Christian’s lower lip into his mouth, hand going straight back into his boxers to curl around his erection, thumb brushing teasingly over the head, spreading pre-come before stroking him firmly and knowingly, a rhythm designed purely to bring Christian to orgasm.
Christian cries out wordlessly, his hips bucking and his back arching. He throws his head back but Steve’s free hand is cradling his neck, pulling him forward, rocking against him, kissing him hard and sloppy; open-mouthed desperate kisses, swallowing all of his moans and whimpers. His hands tighten in Steve’s hair, tugging almost painfully as his fingers dig into the scalp. He breaks the kiss, a sob of Steve’s name bubbling from his lips; his body shuddering with orgasm. He slumps forward against Steve, hands dropping from his head to wrap around his shoulders, nuzzling his throat; kissing and licking feebly, panting as he catches his breath. “Steve... “
Steve dips his head and tips Christian’s chin up, kissing him gently on the lips, hand still working his cock until he whimpers and shakes his head, fingers wrapping around Steve’s wrist to still his hand. “Too much?” he asks, wiping his fingers clean on Christian’s boxers.
“Yeah,” Christian breathes, groggy, lips brushing over the pulse point on Steve’s neck.
Steve groans, thrusting up against Christian, hand dropping to palm himself through his jeans. “Fuck, Chris…”
“‘m too tired for that,” Christian protests, knocking Steve’s hand away, stroking and caressing him through the thin denim of his jeans.
“Thought you said you weren’t tired?” Steve gasps, hands gripping Christian’s shoulders. His head falls back against the back of the couch as Christian fumbles with the zip on his jeans. He lifts his hips obediently when instructed to do so; Christian pushing his jeans down to mid-thigh.
“Never too tired for you,” Christian kisses Steve between words, his fingers wrapping loosely around Steve’s cock; slow, sloppy strokes that leave Steve groaning, bucking and begging.
“Make your mind up,” Steve grunts, teasing Christian even as a low, desperate moan of his name is ripped from his throat. He bucks up, whining as Christian’s hand grows even more sluggish, his grip loosening. His hands slide up Christian’s neck to curl around his head, tugging on his hair. “Christian, please…” He trails off, kissing Christian hard, biting down on his lower lips. “I need…”
“You will,” Christian promises, tongue flicking across Steve’s lips.
“Not like that I won’t,” Steve growls. “As much as I love you, and as adorable as you when you’re all sleepy like this…” One of his hands drops from Christian’s head down to his lap, fingers curling around Christian’s, increasing the pressure to the level he needs. He sighs in relief, Christian taking the hint - relaxing and letting Steve guide his hand. Steve’s head falls back, Christian’s lips kissing his neck; Steve’s hand and hips quickly finding their rhythm as he jerks himself off using Christian’s hand coating both of them with come.
Tensing, then relaxing, Steve collapses down on the couch, a lazy smile on his face. His arms fall to his side, his chest heaving as he pants for breath. Christian is still sprawled on top of him, head resting on his shoulder, nuzzling his neck sleepily as Steve wipes their fingers on the hem of Christian’s t-shirt.
“Hey,” Christian mutters around a yawn. “I like that shirt.”
“It’ll wash,” Steve chuckles, pulling it off an un-resisting Christian and using it to clean them both up. “Besides, Jen didn’t mean for you to wear it; it was a gag gift, Chris.”
“Jason wears his,” Christian pointed out, smirking. “Why shouldn’t I wear mine? I like it. You’re the mean one not wearing yours… gonna tell Jen you’re mean.”
“I’m mean?” Steve raises an eyebrow at Christian’s nod. “And you’re falling asleep on me.” He cups Christian’s face with his palm, and kisses him gently before sliding out from under Christian and tugging him to his feet. “This couch is nice but our bed is much nicer…”
~El Fin~