Ficlet: One More Shot. RPS. David/Chris.
A little something I wrote for sweptawaybayou and thought I'd share with you guys too. Written inn a hurry last night so bear that in mind.
Title: One More Shot
Author: felisblanco
Pairing: Chris Kane/David Boreanaz RPS
Rating: NC-17? I never know how to rate these things
Word Count: 1000
Summary: It's a Kane concert and who shows up but a certain tall, dark and broody sexy.
One More Shot
Chris is heading into the second verse, sweat running down his neck, lips dry and cracked from the heavy air and bullshit lyrics, when he sees him. Leaning against the bar as casual as anything. Beer in one hand, cigarette between his lips, and nothing but fifty fangirls and a stare between them.
He fucks up the lyrics, fucks up the playing, fucks up the whole goddamn song and he couldn’t care less.
“I need a piss,” he declares into the mike and the girls howl like he just announced he’s going to jerk off, which frankly isn’t far from the truth. Steve gives Chris a death glare as he unhooks the guitar, mouthing ‘What the fuck?’ but Chris just throws him the mike with a strained smile and snakes his way past him before ducking behind the flimsy curtains closing off the stage.
Back stage it’s still hot but minus the lights and there’s a stream of fresh air coming from an open door in the back. Chris grabs a couple of beers from the small table and makes his way to the door and out to the small, dark alley. He can hear the band starting in on Sweet Carolina Rain and grins. Fucking tired of singing that thing anyway.
He’s leaning against the wall - one beer at his lips, the other cooling his warm neck - when he hears the approaching steps and he closes his eyes. The steps come closer and then they stop, bringing with them a heat burning his skin and warm breath brushing his face. The extra bottle is taken from his hand and he keeps his eyes closed as the sound of the golden liquid being swallowed down makes his mouth water. His palm is cool and wet now, resting against his throat, and he drags it down his chest, wiping the condensation into his skin.
“You left in an awful hurry there, cowboy.”
“Thirsty. Hard work being this damn sexy.”
A low chuckle breathes into his ear and he can’t help the shiver running down his spine. He’s suddenly grabbed by the neck and this time he does open his eyes, if only to catch a glimpse of the heat in David’s own eyes before they slip close and he pulls Chris in for a kiss.
It’s brutal and demanding and he’s achingly hard in a matter of seconds. He hears the sound of glass breaking and realizes he’s dropped the bottle, his hands already clutching at Dave’s shirt, pulling him closer. Been too long. Been too fucking long.
David has him up against the wall, the cool brick pressing into his sweat soaked shirt, sticking it to his back. A warm thigh is pressing between his own and he feels like he’s totally surrounded, wrapped up in David and heat and fucking memories that make his breath hitch.
“Fuck, Dave.”
“Yeah.” The word is hardly more than a growl.
Chris swallows and shakes his head. “I gotta go back in there. We can’t…”
“I’ll be quick.”
Before he can argue, David’s pulled him away and shoved him up against the opposite wall, then he’s dropping to his knees and nimbly undoing the big American Eagle buckle on Chris’ belt.
Ok, not like he was gonna argue anyway, he’s not stupid enough to turn down a blowjob from Hollywood’s hottest FBI agent. Who’s right now tugging at his pants, popping the button and ripping down the zipper hard enough that he thinks it might break.
“Christ, you’re gonna kill me. Fuck, Dave!”
“I will. Soon as you’ve finished mindfucking those girls in there. But for now…”
Chris bucks as strong fingers pull him out and it’s a miracle he doesn’t come right there and then because seriously? David has a way with his mouth that makes the most experienced hooker look like a fucking amateur. He’s sucking Chris in, no hesitation, tongue circling the head and licking at his slit before laying flat as he swallows Chris' cock down. David’s got Chris’ balls in the palm of one hand, juggling them gently between his fingers, while the other is splayed over Chris taunt stomach, holding him up.
Christ, it’s so good. So fucking good and there’s no chance in hell he’s gonna last. Not when it’s been three fucking months and he’s got fucking David on his fucking knees in this piss smelling alley and Jesus H. Christ, if he brings those damn fingers even close to his ass he’s gonna… Oh God!
He’s not even aware he’s got his fingers fisted in David’s hair until they’re gently pried away and he looks down to find David gazing up at him, laughter and lust in his eyes.
“That was quick. Miss me that much, baby?”
He can feel himself blushing and it pisses him off that Dave can have that effect on him after all this time.
“Shut up, bitch,” he growls as he fumbles with his button and zipper. “Ain’t got time for fucking slow-dancing. Gotta get back in there before Steve throws a hissy fit.”
David gets up, slowly, eyes never leaving him. The smile is still there but it’s darker somehow, the small light above the door throwing strange shadows into his eyes. He brushes dust and a few stray splinters of glass off the knees of his jeans before stepping back, eyes locked with Chris’.
“I’m gonna be in there, watching you. You think about that, Kane. You think about how fucking hard I am for you when you’re on that stage, singing into that damn microphone like you’re making love to it. Me. Watching you.”
He turns around and all that’s missing is that damn leather coat billowing in the wind as he walks out the alley, disappearing into the dark. Dave might be no Angel anymore and this is far from LA but as alley sex goes… Well, Chris is sure Lindsey would have no complaints.
Wiping the sweat off his palms on the back of his thighs he takes a deep breath and heads back inside. This is gonna be a long night.
Title: One More Shot
Author: felisblanco
Pairing: Chris Kane/David Boreanaz RPS
Rating: NC-17? I never know how to rate these things
Word Count: 1000
Summary: It's a Kane concert and who shows up but a certain tall, dark and broody sexy.
One More Shot
Chris is heading into the second verse, sweat running down his neck, lips dry and cracked from the heavy air and bullshit lyrics, when he sees him. Leaning against the bar as casual as anything. Beer in one hand, cigarette between his lips, and nothing but fifty fangirls and a stare between them.
He fucks up the lyrics, fucks up the playing, fucks up the whole goddamn song and he couldn’t care less.
“I need a piss,” he declares into the mike and the girls howl like he just announced he’s going to jerk off, which frankly isn’t far from the truth. Steve gives Chris a death glare as he unhooks the guitar, mouthing ‘What the fuck?’ but Chris just throws him the mike with a strained smile and snakes his way past him before ducking behind the flimsy curtains closing off the stage.
Back stage it’s still hot but minus the lights and there’s a stream of fresh air coming from an open door in the back. Chris grabs a couple of beers from the small table and makes his way to the door and out to the small, dark alley. He can hear the band starting in on Sweet Carolina Rain and grins. Fucking tired of singing that thing anyway.
He’s leaning against the wall - one beer at his lips, the other cooling his warm neck - when he hears the approaching steps and he closes his eyes. The steps come closer and then they stop, bringing with them a heat burning his skin and warm breath brushing his face. The extra bottle is taken from his hand and he keeps his eyes closed as the sound of the golden liquid being swallowed down makes his mouth water. His palm is cool and wet now, resting against his throat, and he drags it down his chest, wiping the condensation into his skin.
“You left in an awful hurry there, cowboy.”
“Thirsty. Hard work being this damn sexy.”
A low chuckle breathes into his ear and he can’t help the shiver running down his spine. He’s suddenly grabbed by the neck and this time he does open his eyes, if only to catch a glimpse of the heat in David’s own eyes before they slip close and he pulls Chris in for a kiss.
It’s brutal and demanding and he’s achingly hard in a matter of seconds. He hears the sound of glass breaking and realizes he’s dropped the bottle, his hands already clutching at Dave’s shirt, pulling him closer. Been too long. Been too fucking long.
David has him up against the wall, the cool brick pressing into his sweat soaked shirt, sticking it to his back. A warm thigh is pressing between his own and he feels like he’s totally surrounded, wrapped up in David and heat and fucking memories that make his breath hitch.
“Fuck, Dave.”
“Yeah.” The word is hardly more than a growl.
Chris swallows and shakes his head. “I gotta go back in there. We can’t…”
“I’ll be quick.”
Before he can argue, David’s pulled him away and shoved him up against the opposite wall, then he’s dropping to his knees and nimbly undoing the big American Eagle buckle on Chris’ belt.
Ok, not like he was gonna argue anyway, he’s not stupid enough to turn down a blowjob from Hollywood’s hottest FBI agent. Who’s right now tugging at his pants, popping the button and ripping down the zipper hard enough that he thinks it might break.
“Christ, you’re gonna kill me. Fuck, Dave!”
“I will. Soon as you’ve finished mindfucking those girls in there. But for now…”
Chris bucks as strong fingers pull him out and it’s a miracle he doesn’t come right there and then because seriously? David has a way with his mouth that makes the most experienced hooker look like a fucking amateur. He’s sucking Chris in, no hesitation, tongue circling the head and licking at his slit before laying flat as he swallows Chris' cock down. David’s got Chris’ balls in the palm of one hand, juggling them gently between his fingers, while the other is splayed over Chris taunt stomach, holding him up.
Christ, it’s so good. So fucking good and there’s no chance in hell he’s gonna last. Not when it’s been three fucking months and he’s got fucking David on his fucking knees in this piss smelling alley and Jesus H. Christ, if he brings those damn fingers even close to his ass he’s gonna… Oh God!
He’s not even aware he’s got his fingers fisted in David’s hair until they’re gently pried away and he looks down to find David gazing up at him, laughter and lust in his eyes.
“That was quick. Miss me that much, baby?”
He can feel himself blushing and it pisses him off that Dave can have that effect on him after all this time.
“Shut up, bitch,” he growls as he fumbles with his button and zipper. “Ain’t got time for fucking slow-dancing. Gotta get back in there before Steve throws a hissy fit.”
David gets up, slowly, eyes never leaving him. The smile is still there but it’s darker somehow, the small light above the door throwing strange shadows into his eyes. He brushes dust and a few stray splinters of glass off the knees of his jeans before stepping back, eyes locked with Chris’.
“I’m gonna be in there, watching you. You think about that, Kane. You think about how fucking hard I am for you when you’re on that stage, singing into that damn microphone like you’re making love to it. Me. Watching you.”
He turns around and all that’s missing is that damn leather coat billowing in the wind as he walks out the alley, disappearing into the dark. Dave might be no Angel anymore and this is far from LA but as alley sex goes… Well, Chris is sure Lindsey would have no complaints.
Wiping the sweat off his palms on the back of his thighs he takes a deep breath and heads back inside. This is gonna be a long night.