Maybe
Title: Maybe
Author: wishof_wings
Rating: R
Pairing: CrissColfer
Word Count: 2300
Summary: Chris really just wants to see the fireworks, and Darren is going to make it happen.
Warnings: Frottage, RPF
Author Notes: I opened my ask up for prompts over on tumblr, and my friend Cass was the first one to prompt me: Fireworks, field, frottage, crisscolfer. It's my first soiree into any type of smut writing that I've published and so hopefully it's not like... Laughable. Everyone's got to start somewhere, right? I originally had it rated as NC-17, but I don't think it's graphic enough for that.
“Darren. Darren. They’re-would you-Stop. They’re starting.”
Chris gives a shove at Darren’s shoulder and he folds off of Chris and onto the blanket, breathing heavily.
“You are the biggest cockblock. Did you know that?” Still, Darren cuddles close to Chris’s side, accepting the arm that slips beneath his neck as he noses at Chris’s jawline again.
“You tell me pretty often, actually.” Chris glances at him, smirking slightly, before looking upwards again. “We didn’t come out to the middle of nowhere to make-out, Dare. We both-I have a more-than-decent couch for that.” A huff of air from Darren tickles Chris's neck, and his shoulder jerks at the sensation.
“My couch is plenty decent,” Darren mumbles, moving in closer so he can run his lips across what would have made a very nice hickey if Chris hadn’t stopped him. “But I do prefer the bed.” His mouth opens slightly, tongue soothing over the reddish skin of Chris’s neck, and Chris shudders, his breathing staccato as it escapes him.
“Da-” A boom sounds above them and the touch of Darren’s lips is gone, something that makes Chris want to whine and feel relieved about simultaneously.
For a second, they’re lit by more than the camping lantern Darren thought to bring with them, the sparks of the firework dying them red before they fade into the night. There’s a click and suddenly it’s dark, really dark, and Chris glances over to see that Darren has shut off their light source.
A series of booms and cracks sound above them, lighting the sky in red and blue and white. Chris smiles.
“I never thought we’d get to see this,” he admits quietly. There’s movement beside him, Darren shifting in the darkness, until Chris feels fingers groping blindly across his stomach to find his fingers. They lace together silently.
“It’s amazing what you can do if you put some thought into it.” There’s a pressure against his shoulder-Darren’s lips-and Chris smiles. “Totally worth you thinking I was taking you out to a field to murder you.”
“I never know with you,” Chris says back, but there’s a softness to his voice and they both hear it there. “…thanks, Darren, for all of this.” More fireworks, and Chris wonders vaguely what sort of soundtrack they’re exploding to. They’re too far away, just them and their blanket, hidden in a sea of overgrown grass, to hear or even see where the fireworks are coming from. But that was the point.
It’s not as if they can go to a festival or a park or a mall to see fireworks. It’s the Fourth of July and places are packed with people, which should be a perk. With crowds of people they should blend in, but there’s always that doubt and still they’re afraid to be recognized. Chris had sighed several times at the prospect of not seeing the fireworks or, somehow worse, going to see them by himself. After all, there was something romantic about them in a totally cliché way that he found he could get behind.
And Darren, Darren is so, so good. Chris doesn’t let himself think perfect, because that’s still too dangerous, too soon. But from the old truck that Chris had never seen before (“Borrowed,” Darren had said) to the seemingly long and pointless drive down old roads devoid of anyone else to the blanket and the picnic and “there will be fireworks,” everything just showed Chris how good Darren is. Sweet, charming, goofy Darren, who looks at Chris like no one ever dares to look at him.
“Thank you,” Darren whispers back, and another kiss is dropped to his shoulder. Chris would question it, he normally does, but he lets it go this time. He just stares up at the blooms of light in the sky, grossly patriotic except for the random smiley face or planet-and really, what would a fireworks display be without those?
Out of the silence, and out of nowhere in particular, Darren starts to sing.
“If tomorrow all the things were gone, I’d worked for all my life.”
Chris turns to Darren, eyes wide and incredulous. “You are not singing that song.” Darren just grins cheekily at him, shuffling around until he’s propped up by his elbows and not Chris’s upper arm.
“And I had to start again with just my children and my-” Chris elbows him and Darren laughs.
“You can stop, anytime now.” But Darren just gets louder.
“I’d thank my lucky stars to be living here today. ‘Cause the flag still stands for freedom, and they can’t take that away!” He’s getting into it now, has moved to his knees and is being lit on random occurrences by the fireworks above them.
“And I’m proud to be an American, where at least I know I’m free! And I won’t forget the men who died, who gave that right to me! And I’d gladly stand-”
Chris tackles Darren around the middle before he can stand and then they’re sprawling on the blanket, Chris half on top of him and laughing, going “shut up, shut up, please shut up” with whatever breath he has to spare. When he quiets, they’re both silent for a few moments, and he lifts his head to watch the fireworks dye Darren’s face green and then blue.
“’Cause there ain’t no doubt, I love this land…” His voice is softer and Chris almost wants to smack him at this point, but just looks at Darren while Darren looks back.
“God bless the USA,” they sing together, both of them smiling, and then they’re laughing again.
“I can’t believe you.”
“It’s not the Fourth of July without a little patriotic music, Christopher.”
“You are ridiculous.”
“You love me.”
Chris stills and the playful grin slips off of Darren’s face. Suddenly the moment is less about fireworks and singing cheesy patriotic songs and all about them and this. It’s quiet for a few moments too long and Chris watches as Darren’s mouth begins to move, trying to work a way out of this corner. But Chris doesn’t want him to apologize, doesn’t want them to run away from this the way they have been.
He uses his position to his advantage, shifting until he’s completely on top of Darren and then kissing him. Darren makes a sound of surprise from the back of his throat, lips still working for words until they end up moving along with the kiss instead. It’s not dirty, but it’s not exactly chaste, lips sliding along lips for a long time, Darren’s teeth catching at Chris’s bottom lip teasingly, too much and never enough.
When Chris pulls back, Darren’s mouth follows him, and a chuckle shakes up Chris’s chest.
“Maybe,” he says, in a small whisper, and Darren stares at him questioningly before his eyes soften in understanding. He’s red and purple and blue.
“Maybe, too,” he whispers back, before catching Chris’s lower lip again and pulling him back into the kiss, swallowing Chris’s gasp with his mouth. There are still fireworks, but they’ve fallen into the background, a distant bass line beneath the rhythm of Chris’s blood in his ears.
Darren’s fingers have been sitting idle at his hips, but they curl and twist in the hem of Chris’s t-shirt suddenly, causing Chris to arch into Darren’s body. The warm summer air is refreshing against the strip of flesh now bared just above his jeans and Chris shudders as Darren’s fingertips flit against the revealed skin.
Chris shifts, letting Darren’s body support him as he twists fingers into Darren’s curls and pulls their mouths together more tightly. Darren’s lips part in surprise, gasps of hot air exchanged between them before Chris is taking advantage of the opening, licking his way slowly into Darren’s mouth despite the thrum-thrum-thrum of energy pulsing through him. Maybe Darren senses it, or maybe he’s impatient, his tongue wrapping around Chris’s and sucking until Chris is moaning into the kiss. He wants to do more with his hands, to touch, but their bodies are practically sealed together, crashing against one another through their labored breathing.
Darren’s hands work along that small sliver of skin before disappearing beneath Chris’s t-shirt, dragging up his back and hiking his shirt along the way. Chris’s attention is divided between the way Darren’s fingers are digging in just bellow his shoulders and Darren’s tongue in his mouth, licking over teeth and tongue and exploring every inch of him.
He breaks back, both of them gasping for air, and before Darren can claim his mouth again, Chris is kissing down his neck in quick succession. As the kisses turn from pecks to wet, open mouthed drags, Darren’s fingers tighten their grip on Chris’s back as he bucks up against him.
He’s hard. Chris gasps slightly, sucking the skin of Darren’s neck slightly into his mouth and eliciting a groan from Darren. The sound sparks down Chris’s spine, and he forgets everything he said about public places and indecencies as he runs the flat of his tongue up the column of Darren’s neck.
“Chris,” Darren moans, lifting his hips and searching for friction, but Chris lifts his hips away, attention focused on grazing teeth over the juncture between Darren’s neck and shoulder. He’s attaching his mouth to that same skin, sucking it harshly between his teeth before running his tongue agonizingly slow over the same spot, when Darren’s leg curls around Chris’s own and jerks him down until they’re slotted together completely.
Chris bites down on Darren’s neck more harshly than he’d intended as he feels Darren begin to rut against him, and the heavy breathing that had been coming from Darren turns to guttural nonsense from deep in his throat.
Darren is saying something, but it takes a few moments for Chris to register the words “kiss me, kiss me” before he’s crashing their mouths together again. This time there’s no waiting, Darren’s tongue thrusting hungrily into his mouth in a way that has Chris grinding down against him in slow rolls of his hips.
More shifting, and Chris moans out a breathy “uh” as their cocks slide together. There’s too much clothing, and it’s too hot, but neither of them moves to undress the other. Darren’s fingers claw down Chris’s back, just the blunt tips sliding on sweaty skin, but Chris is keening at the feel of it, his hips working faster as they fall into rhythm with Darren’s.
Their mouths are parted, panting against each other, just their lips touching without any real kissing. For a second Chris is seeing Darren, his eyes closed and his hair almost wet with sweat as his face turns red and green and blue. The fireworks. But then Darren’s hands find Chris’s ass and his eyes roll back into his head as Darren works them into a faster and faster pace.
Darren is gasping his name into Chris’s mouth, a string of “god-fuck-yes-fuck-Chris-Chris-Chris” as his hips begin to thrust erratically against Chris’s and he pushes Chris down, harder, as their cocks rut together through jeans and khaki shorts. Darren is verbal when he comes, nonsensical babble that Chris would shush him for if they weren’t in an empty, open field. The cracks and whizzes of the fireworks above them almost drown him out as he arches against Chris, body stilling as he comes before slumping down against the blanket.
It’s like a dance, a routine, as Chris rolls slightly to the side so that he’s rutting against Darren’s hip instead of his oversensitive cock. Darren keeps hold of his ass with one hand, pressing Chris firmly into him, as the other grazes up the small gap between them to tease one of Chris’s nipples through his shirt.
Chris is less verbal, moaning more and more loudly as his breathing gets harder and harder. Darren catches Chris’s mouth in a kiss as he comes, muffling him for the most part as his body wilts and curls and shakes against Darren’s.
His hand strokes Chris’s arm where it’s gone dead across Darren’s chest, his head resting not far away on Darren’s shoulder. His other arm wraps around Chris, tugging him closer until their pressed shoulder-to-toe, making Darren sigh in contentment.
“We missed the fireworks,” Chris says groggily when he realizes that it’s quiet again. Darren just makes a sound of confirmation, hand sweeping Chris’s hair off of his forehead so Darren can kiss it.
“Your fault.” Chris tries to sound reprimanding, but his voice is thick with how sated he feels and he curls closer to Darren anyhow.
“Didn’t hear you complaining at the time,” Darren muses quietly, staring down at Chris and the way his eyelashes are spread against his cheeks. “And, if I recall, you started it.”
Chris smirks slightly, opening his eyes to peer up at Darren. “Maybe,” he says, and Darren smiles, leaning down to kiss Chris sweetly.
“Maybe,” he echoes, and it resonates differently in Chris now. But Chris stops smiling and sighs, instead, beginning to make as if he’s getting up. Darren quickly latches on, whining out a weak no. “Why are you trying to move?”
“Because we should leave,” Chris points out, even if he’d love to stay wrapped up in Darren at that moment.
“Right now?”
Chris is already up on his elbows, using Darren’s chest for leverage, so he can see the pout (even if he could have heard it anyways).
“Yes, right now. Because I just came in my pants, Dare, and as much as I love cuddling you, I already have to look forward to a two hour drive where I feel like my junk is congealing to my underwear.”
Darren seems to have not thought of this, and they both clumsily help one another up, limbs still loose from their orgasms.
“Cuddling later, right?”
Chris swoops down and kisses Darren until they’re both a little breathless and Darren is grinning like an idiot. Chris smiles and pecks his cheek one more time.
“Maybe.”
Author: wishof_wings
Rating: R
Pairing: CrissColfer
Word Count: 2300
Summary: Chris really just wants to see the fireworks, and Darren is going to make it happen.
Warnings: Frottage, RPF
Author Notes: I opened my ask up for prompts over on tumblr, and my friend Cass was the first one to prompt me: Fireworks, field, frottage, crisscolfer. It's my first soiree into any type of smut writing that I've published and so hopefully it's not like... Laughable. Everyone's got to start somewhere, right? I originally had it rated as NC-17, but I don't think it's graphic enough for that.
“Darren. Darren. They’re-would you-Stop. They’re starting.”
Chris gives a shove at Darren’s shoulder and he folds off of Chris and onto the blanket, breathing heavily.
“You are the biggest cockblock. Did you know that?” Still, Darren cuddles close to Chris’s side, accepting the arm that slips beneath his neck as he noses at Chris’s jawline again.
“You tell me pretty often, actually.” Chris glances at him, smirking slightly, before looking upwards again. “We didn’t come out to the middle of nowhere to make-out, Dare. We both-I have a more-than-decent couch for that.” A huff of air from Darren tickles Chris's neck, and his shoulder jerks at the sensation.
“My couch is plenty decent,” Darren mumbles, moving in closer so he can run his lips across what would have made a very nice hickey if Chris hadn’t stopped him. “But I do prefer the bed.” His mouth opens slightly, tongue soothing over the reddish skin of Chris’s neck, and Chris shudders, his breathing staccato as it escapes him.
“Da-” A boom sounds above them and the touch of Darren’s lips is gone, something that makes Chris want to whine and feel relieved about simultaneously.
For a second, they’re lit by more than the camping lantern Darren thought to bring with them, the sparks of the firework dying them red before they fade into the night. There’s a click and suddenly it’s dark, really dark, and Chris glances over to see that Darren has shut off their light source.
A series of booms and cracks sound above them, lighting the sky in red and blue and white. Chris smiles.
“I never thought we’d get to see this,” he admits quietly. There’s movement beside him, Darren shifting in the darkness, until Chris feels fingers groping blindly across his stomach to find his fingers. They lace together silently.
“It’s amazing what you can do if you put some thought into it.” There’s a pressure against his shoulder-Darren’s lips-and Chris smiles. “Totally worth you thinking I was taking you out to a field to murder you.”
“I never know with you,” Chris says back, but there’s a softness to his voice and they both hear it there. “…thanks, Darren, for all of this.” More fireworks, and Chris wonders vaguely what sort of soundtrack they’re exploding to. They’re too far away, just them and their blanket, hidden in a sea of overgrown grass, to hear or even see where the fireworks are coming from. But that was the point.
It’s not as if they can go to a festival or a park or a mall to see fireworks. It’s the Fourth of July and places are packed with people, which should be a perk. With crowds of people they should blend in, but there’s always that doubt and still they’re afraid to be recognized. Chris had sighed several times at the prospect of not seeing the fireworks or, somehow worse, going to see them by himself. After all, there was something romantic about them in a totally cliché way that he found he could get behind.
And Darren, Darren is so, so good. Chris doesn’t let himself think perfect, because that’s still too dangerous, too soon. But from the old truck that Chris had never seen before (“Borrowed,” Darren had said) to the seemingly long and pointless drive down old roads devoid of anyone else to the blanket and the picnic and “there will be fireworks,” everything just showed Chris how good Darren is. Sweet, charming, goofy Darren, who looks at Chris like no one ever dares to look at him.
“Thank you,” Darren whispers back, and another kiss is dropped to his shoulder. Chris would question it, he normally does, but he lets it go this time. He just stares up at the blooms of light in the sky, grossly patriotic except for the random smiley face or planet-and really, what would a fireworks display be without those?
Out of the silence, and out of nowhere in particular, Darren starts to sing.
“If tomorrow all the things were gone, I’d worked for all my life.”
Chris turns to Darren, eyes wide and incredulous. “You are not singing that song.” Darren just grins cheekily at him, shuffling around until he’s propped up by his elbows and not Chris’s upper arm.
“And I had to start again with just my children and my-” Chris elbows him and Darren laughs.
“You can stop, anytime now.” But Darren just gets louder.
“I’d thank my lucky stars to be living here today. ‘Cause the flag still stands for freedom, and they can’t take that away!” He’s getting into it now, has moved to his knees and is being lit on random occurrences by the fireworks above them.
“And I’m proud to be an American, where at least I know I’m free! And I won’t forget the men who died, who gave that right to me! And I’d gladly stand-”
Chris tackles Darren around the middle before he can stand and then they’re sprawling on the blanket, Chris half on top of him and laughing, going “shut up, shut up, please shut up” with whatever breath he has to spare. When he quiets, they’re both silent for a few moments, and he lifts his head to watch the fireworks dye Darren’s face green and then blue.
“’Cause there ain’t no doubt, I love this land…” His voice is softer and Chris almost wants to smack him at this point, but just looks at Darren while Darren looks back.
“God bless the USA,” they sing together, both of them smiling, and then they’re laughing again.
“I can’t believe you.”
“It’s not the Fourth of July without a little patriotic music, Christopher.”
“You are ridiculous.”
“You love me.”
Chris stills and the playful grin slips off of Darren’s face. Suddenly the moment is less about fireworks and singing cheesy patriotic songs and all about them and this. It’s quiet for a few moments too long and Chris watches as Darren’s mouth begins to move, trying to work a way out of this corner. But Chris doesn’t want him to apologize, doesn’t want them to run away from this the way they have been.
He uses his position to his advantage, shifting until he’s completely on top of Darren and then kissing him. Darren makes a sound of surprise from the back of his throat, lips still working for words until they end up moving along with the kiss instead. It’s not dirty, but it’s not exactly chaste, lips sliding along lips for a long time, Darren’s teeth catching at Chris’s bottom lip teasingly, too much and never enough.
When Chris pulls back, Darren’s mouth follows him, and a chuckle shakes up Chris’s chest.
“Maybe,” he says, in a small whisper, and Darren stares at him questioningly before his eyes soften in understanding. He’s red and purple and blue.
“Maybe, too,” he whispers back, before catching Chris’s lower lip again and pulling him back into the kiss, swallowing Chris’s gasp with his mouth. There are still fireworks, but they’ve fallen into the background, a distant bass line beneath the rhythm of Chris’s blood in his ears.
Darren’s fingers have been sitting idle at his hips, but they curl and twist in the hem of Chris’s t-shirt suddenly, causing Chris to arch into Darren’s body. The warm summer air is refreshing against the strip of flesh now bared just above his jeans and Chris shudders as Darren’s fingertips flit against the revealed skin.
Chris shifts, letting Darren’s body support him as he twists fingers into Darren’s curls and pulls their mouths together more tightly. Darren’s lips part in surprise, gasps of hot air exchanged between them before Chris is taking advantage of the opening, licking his way slowly into Darren’s mouth despite the thrum-thrum-thrum of energy pulsing through him. Maybe Darren senses it, or maybe he’s impatient, his tongue wrapping around Chris’s and sucking until Chris is moaning into the kiss. He wants to do more with his hands, to touch, but their bodies are practically sealed together, crashing against one another through their labored breathing.
Darren’s hands work along that small sliver of skin before disappearing beneath Chris’s t-shirt, dragging up his back and hiking his shirt along the way. Chris’s attention is divided between the way Darren’s fingers are digging in just bellow his shoulders and Darren’s tongue in his mouth, licking over teeth and tongue and exploring every inch of him.
He breaks back, both of them gasping for air, and before Darren can claim his mouth again, Chris is kissing down his neck in quick succession. As the kisses turn from pecks to wet, open mouthed drags, Darren’s fingers tighten their grip on Chris’s back as he bucks up against him.
He’s hard. Chris gasps slightly, sucking the skin of Darren’s neck slightly into his mouth and eliciting a groan from Darren. The sound sparks down Chris’s spine, and he forgets everything he said about public places and indecencies as he runs the flat of his tongue up the column of Darren’s neck.
“Chris,” Darren moans, lifting his hips and searching for friction, but Chris lifts his hips away, attention focused on grazing teeth over the juncture between Darren’s neck and shoulder. He’s attaching his mouth to that same skin, sucking it harshly between his teeth before running his tongue agonizingly slow over the same spot, when Darren’s leg curls around Chris’s own and jerks him down until they’re slotted together completely.
Chris bites down on Darren’s neck more harshly than he’d intended as he feels Darren begin to rut against him, and the heavy breathing that had been coming from Darren turns to guttural nonsense from deep in his throat.
Darren is saying something, but it takes a few moments for Chris to register the words “kiss me, kiss me” before he’s crashing their mouths together again. This time there’s no waiting, Darren’s tongue thrusting hungrily into his mouth in a way that has Chris grinding down against him in slow rolls of his hips.
More shifting, and Chris moans out a breathy “uh” as their cocks slide together. There’s too much clothing, and it’s too hot, but neither of them moves to undress the other. Darren’s fingers claw down Chris’s back, just the blunt tips sliding on sweaty skin, but Chris is keening at the feel of it, his hips working faster as they fall into rhythm with Darren’s.
Their mouths are parted, panting against each other, just their lips touching without any real kissing. For a second Chris is seeing Darren, his eyes closed and his hair almost wet with sweat as his face turns red and green and blue. The fireworks. But then Darren’s hands find Chris’s ass and his eyes roll back into his head as Darren works them into a faster and faster pace.
Darren is gasping his name into Chris’s mouth, a string of “god-fuck-yes-fuck-Chris-Chris-Chris” as his hips begin to thrust erratically against Chris’s and he pushes Chris down, harder, as their cocks rut together through jeans and khaki shorts. Darren is verbal when he comes, nonsensical babble that Chris would shush him for if they weren’t in an empty, open field. The cracks and whizzes of the fireworks above them almost drown him out as he arches against Chris, body stilling as he comes before slumping down against the blanket.
It’s like a dance, a routine, as Chris rolls slightly to the side so that he’s rutting against Darren’s hip instead of his oversensitive cock. Darren keeps hold of his ass with one hand, pressing Chris firmly into him, as the other grazes up the small gap between them to tease one of Chris’s nipples through his shirt.
Chris is less verbal, moaning more and more loudly as his breathing gets harder and harder. Darren catches Chris’s mouth in a kiss as he comes, muffling him for the most part as his body wilts and curls and shakes against Darren’s.
His hand strokes Chris’s arm where it’s gone dead across Darren’s chest, his head resting not far away on Darren’s shoulder. His other arm wraps around Chris, tugging him closer until their pressed shoulder-to-toe, making Darren sigh in contentment.
“We missed the fireworks,” Chris says groggily when he realizes that it’s quiet again. Darren just makes a sound of confirmation, hand sweeping Chris’s hair off of his forehead so Darren can kiss it.
“Your fault.” Chris tries to sound reprimanding, but his voice is thick with how sated he feels and he curls closer to Darren anyhow.
“Didn’t hear you complaining at the time,” Darren muses quietly, staring down at Chris and the way his eyelashes are spread against his cheeks. “And, if I recall, you started it.”
Chris smirks slightly, opening his eyes to peer up at Darren. “Maybe,” he says, and Darren smiles, leaning down to kiss Chris sweetly.
“Maybe,” he echoes, and it resonates differently in Chris now. But Chris stops smiling and sighs, instead, beginning to make as if he’s getting up. Darren quickly latches on, whining out a weak no. “Why are you trying to move?”
“Because we should leave,” Chris points out, even if he’d love to stay wrapped up in Darren at that moment.
“Right now?”
Chris is already up on his elbows, using Darren’s chest for leverage, so he can see the pout (even if he could have heard it anyways).
“Yes, right now. Because I just came in my pants, Dare, and as much as I love cuddling you, I already have to look forward to a two hour drive where I feel like my junk is congealing to my underwear.”
Darren seems to have not thought of this, and they both clumsily help one another up, limbs still loose from their orgasms.
“Cuddling later, right?”
Chris swoops down and kisses Darren until they’re both a little breathless and Darren is grinning like an idiot. Chris smiles and pecks his cheek one more time.
“Maybe.”