UNBETA'D PINTO FIC
Title: Nothing to See Here
Summary: Zach's on a trampoline. Chris is a lonely puppy.
Warnings: Unbeta'd, Mild angst, Abused pillow
An insistent buzz-buzz startles Chris out of a fretful doze. He'd returned home from his nightly turn as Padraic thoroughly worn out. Two performances on Saturdays were taking their toll. Not that he was going out much anyway, the plus side of that being fewer paparazzi encounters. He runs a hand over his face before fumbling with his vibrating phone to blink at the display. One hand rubbing at his left eye, he presses at the screen with his thumb until a message with an attachment displays. Another tweet from Zach with a link and he clicks through.
Chris rubs his head, pulling at his hair, then tugs his t-shirt down. He stares at the trampoline and Corey's smile, the pink awning behind stirring an instant craving for cupcakes. Throwing his head back, he yawns with a crack in his jaw that makes him wince and groan. He makes one pass over the outfit Zach is wearing while making his way to the kitchen.
He tosses the phone on his unmade bed, takes a swig from his bottle of beer, then strips out of his clothes. Every picture is different, at least in how he appreciates them. He's done his part, tapping at the phone, he listens to the ringing and stretches his legs across the tangled sheets.
"Tell me."
Chris swallows, squirming and reaching behind him to fuss with the pillows.
"Bed, naked, beer."
"Put on your glasses."
Chris slips them on and confirms that he's wearing them.
"Have you started?"
"No," he admits, pulling at his lower lip with his teeth.
"Good, very good. You may begin."
Chris sighs, his hand gripping his cock tightly.
"Are you taking it slow?"
He can hear a door close in the background, shutting out the giggling and voices that were bleeding through. He groans, eyes shut, head back against the wall, hand massaging his erection. The thought of Zach's bare feet, in his favorite flipflops, cause his breath to hitch. It's been so long since they've touched each other, he'd give anything to...
"Christopher?"
Chris stills.
"I... your... your feet."
"Hand off."
He groans, but obeys, his palm flat against dark blue cotton sheets.
"What do you want Christopher?"
"You." He blurts it out while staring at his erection and whispers it again.
"We're wrapping in a few hours."
Chris clenches his fist around the sheets, pulling them up to his chest. He swallows his pleas for Zach to return, his cries of how lonely he is, how it's been months and visits just aren't enough.
"Chris?"
"Come home." He curses himself as soon as the words leave his lips.
"I will. I'll visit again."
Chris hangs his head, tongue licking at his lips and he snags up the warming beer.
"I didn't say you could have a drink."
Chris slams the bottle back onto the nightstand, the tone of the voice traveling through his phone sending shudders through his body.
"Come for me."
Chris pushes his glasses back up his nose, yanks a pillow from behind him and with only a bit of flailing, gets into position. If Zach was here, he'd be standing, circling the bed slowly to watch from all possible angles.
"The blue sheets?"
He bites back a moan at the breathy sounds Zach is not even trying to hide.
"Yes." He bends one knee up and ruts between the mattress and the pillow.
"Where are you?"
"Feet at the head, pillow on... on your side."
Zach groans and Chris answers with a grunt, his hips frantically driving his leaking cock. He arches his back, the image of Zach poised in mid air, tight jeans hugging slender, muscled thighs. Short sleeves hugging soft skin, that tattoo that he's traced so many times with just the tip of his tongue. Dark hair hidden, just to tease him.
Zach breaks first.
"Oh God, Chris."
Chris squeezes his eyes shut, so close and wanting to follow.
"Please. Zach."
"Not until I say," Zach huffs out.
"Please," he whines, desperate.
"Yes," Zach sighs.
Ass in the air, one hand pushing roughly down on the abused pillow, Chris' hips stutter as he climaxes. He collapses on his side almost dropping the phone, his hands shaking.
"Zach."
"We're wrapping in a few hours."
"Already said that," Chris grins, stretching his arm out to reach his beer. "Good thing you have me around as your old age sets in."
Zach's laughter is warm and comforting and Chris curls his toes in response.
"Come visit."
Chris tucks his legs up to his chest, back resting against the wall and waits.
"Yes."
Summary: Zach's on a trampoline. Chris is a lonely puppy.
Warnings: Unbeta'd, Mild angst, Abused pillow
An insistent buzz-buzz startles Chris out of a fretful doze. He'd returned home from his nightly turn as Padraic thoroughly worn out. Two performances on Saturdays were taking their toll. Not that he was going out much anyway, the plus side of that being fewer paparazzi encounters. He runs a hand over his face before fumbling with his vibrating phone to blink at the display. One hand rubbing at his left eye, he presses at the screen with his thumb until a message with an attachment displays. Another tweet from Zach with a link and he clicks through.
Chris rubs his head, pulling at his hair, then tugs his t-shirt down. He stares at the trampoline and Corey's smile, the pink awning behind stirring an instant craving for cupcakes. Throwing his head back, he yawns with a crack in his jaw that makes him wince and groan. He makes one pass over the outfit Zach is wearing while making his way to the kitchen.
He tosses the phone on his unmade bed, takes a swig from his bottle of beer, then strips out of his clothes. Every picture is different, at least in how he appreciates them. He's done his part, tapping at the phone, he listens to the ringing and stretches his legs across the tangled sheets.
"Tell me."
Chris swallows, squirming and reaching behind him to fuss with the pillows.
"Bed, naked, beer."
"Put on your glasses."
Chris slips them on and confirms that he's wearing them.
"Have you started?"
"No," he admits, pulling at his lower lip with his teeth.
"Good, very good. You may begin."
Chris sighs, his hand gripping his cock tightly.
"Are you taking it slow?"
He can hear a door close in the background, shutting out the giggling and voices that were bleeding through. He groans, eyes shut, head back against the wall, hand massaging his erection. The thought of Zach's bare feet, in his favorite flipflops, cause his breath to hitch. It's been so long since they've touched each other, he'd give anything to...
"Christopher?"
Chris stills.
"I... your... your feet."
"Hand off."
He groans, but obeys, his palm flat against dark blue cotton sheets.
"What do you want Christopher?"
"You." He blurts it out while staring at his erection and whispers it again.
"We're wrapping in a few hours."
Chris clenches his fist around the sheets, pulling them up to his chest. He swallows his pleas for Zach to return, his cries of how lonely he is, how it's been months and visits just aren't enough.
"Chris?"
"Come home." He curses himself as soon as the words leave his lips.
"I will. I'll visit again."
Chris hangs his head, tongue licking at his lips and he snags up the warming beer.
"I didn't say you could have a drink."
Chris slams the bottle back onto the nightstand, the tone of the voice traveling through his phone sending shudders through his body.
"Come for me."
Chris pushes his glasses back up his nose, yanks a pillow from behind him and with only a bit of flailing, gets into position. If Zach was here, he'd be standing, circling the bed slowly to watch from all possible angles.
"The blue sheets?"
He bites back a moan at the breathy sounds Zach is not even trying to hide.
"Yes." He bends one knee up and ruts between the mattress and the pillow.
"Where are you?"
"Feet at the head, pillow on... on your side."
Zach groans and Chris answers with a grunt, his hips frantically driving his leaking cock. He arches his back, the image of Zach poised in mid air, tight jeans hugging slender, muscled thighs. Short sleeves hugging soft skin, that tattoo that he's traced so many times with just the tip of his tongue. Dark hair hidden, just to tease him.
Zach breaks first.
"Oh God, Chris."
Chris squeezes his eyes shut, so close and wanting to follow.
"Please. Zach."
"Not until I say," Zach huffs out.
"Please," he whines, desperate.
"Yes," Zach sighs.
Ass in the air, one hand pushing roughly down on the abused pillow, Chris' hips stutter as he climaxes. He collapses on his side almost dropping the phone, his hands shaking.
"Zach."
"We're wrapping in a few hours."
"Already said that," Chris grins, stretching his arm out to reach his beer. "Good thing you have me around as your old age sets in."
Zach's laughter is warm and comforting and Chris curls his toes in response.
"Come visit."
Chris tucks his legs up to his chest, back resting against the wall and waits.
"Yes."