Fic for the_deep_magic - right at the deadline, but here I am!
Title: Systematic || It Starts With, It Ends With.
Author: x_carnivale_x
Written for: the_deep_magic
Word Count: 5570.
Rating: NC17.
Pairing: Chris/Zach.
Prompt: Chris is completely obsessed with Zach's hair. He loves touching it, playing with it, etc., mostly when it hasn't got any mousse/gel/gunk in it. So, naturally, he steals all of Zach's hair products and holds them for ransom. Sexytimes are a bonus, but cuddling is fine, too.
Author's Notes: Goddamnit. I always managed to get assigned to like. my favorite authors for these fic exchanges... So yeah, nervous author is nervous. Where the hell did my confidence go? Oh there it is, out the window. Oh well. I wrote this entirely while listening to Black Hawk Waltz... I feel like a bad person.
It starts with a hug, really. Just a hug - granted, okay, maybe a little too close of a hug, and maybe a hug that lasted just a little too long for two dudes - but hey. It was a hug. [Un?]fortunately, that's where it starts. Chris manages to pull Zach in tight, their heads pressed against each other in the embrace, and he catches a single whiff of Zach's hair. And it's... it's electrifying.
Let's get this straight, we need to put this out there right now. The smell does not send shivers down Chris's spine because it smells like Paul Smith London shampoo, or whatever other fantastically faggy shampoo/conditioner combination Zach uses. No, it's not that; the scent of the shampoo has long since faded over the course of the day. It doesn't smell like Paul Smith London, it doesn't smell like that Bed Head workable wax he uses, and it doesn't smell like the Power Surge hairspray either. No, Chris and Zach have been out all day, goofing off, and all that product is long gone by now. By now it's... it's hair. And it smells like hair, and it smells like scalp, and it smells like Zach. And... And Chris just loves it. He can't get over it.
It only gets worse, really. It starts with a hug, but it continues with a playful gesture. Zach takes meticulously crazy care of his hair. Washes it with ritzy shampoos, conditions it just right, finds all the right products for it. Chris doesn't so much mind the products, doesn't even really mind their smell, despite the fact that they hide the smell of Zach's hair. He can get over that. But it's when Chris goes to playfully ruffle Zach's hair one day that he feels the rigidity it has from gel and spray, and he's floored. That's not hair; at least, that's not what hair is supposed to feel like. And Chris is almost... bitter... because he imagines that Zach's hair probably feels really good, just judging by how careful the older man is with it. But, le sigh, Chris can only base this thought on speculation, and speculation alone, as Zach's hair is rarely ever without product during his waking hours.
So Chris waits, and tries the gesture again. He's smarter this time around; he waits till the end of the day, waits till he can smell Zach's hair rather than Zach's hair products when they hug. He waits until he can see the way Zach's hair starts to wave and loosen and hang over his forehead of its own accord. And he wants to touch it, wants to feel its texture, wants to know if it's as silky as he thinks he's going to be. It's dark, and it reminds him a little bit of the way the ocean looks at midnight on a moonless night. Silly metaphor, but you get the idea. Chris wants to feel it... wants to feel it, smell it - not product or soap... So he waits for a day, a long, full morning and afternoon until they're chilling out at Zach's place after the long day of meeting and pre-production bullshit. They have coffee at first - to keep them awake as the peruse the script idly. They have beer eventually because honestly, scripts get boring. Things get a little heavy after a while - not really drunk heavy, barely even tipsy, just a nice fuzz-buzz. Chris likes the way that sounds, and he notices he's sitting a little closer to Zach and can smell the refreshing, open, full scent of Zach's hair. He doesn't smell the empty odor of shampoo. He smiles and chuckles, and Zach assumes he's laugh at whatever he just said. Chris really hadn't been listening. He just scoots closer on the couch, takes another sip of his beer, laughs at Zach, and before Zach can even react, Chris has mussed his hair all over.
All. Over.
Pieces and strands flopping every which way, and Chris loves it because it's one of the few times he's ever seen Zach so unraveled. Zach just laughs bitterly and knocks his hand away with a chuckle, trying desperately to fix his hair despite being buzzed and despite the strands being unfixable by that point. Chris just laughs and leans heavily on the older man again, inhaling deeply to gather the scent of him.
He leaves the next morning with another man-date set up for them. Coffee, books, script-reading, movies, and beer. A normal night. Chris returns home and showers slowly, carding his fingers through his hair to lather it. As he rinses, he stares at the bottle of shampoo (it's two-in-one shampoo/conditioner, but for the love of god, please don't tell Zach. The last thing Chris needs is to have to sit through another one of Zach's lectures on how to properly lather, rinse and retain moisture and body.) But he stares at it just thinking - thinking about how Zach's bathroom has gel, mousse, hair spray, moisture control, styling wax, and all kinds of other crazy shit that really the only place you'd be able to find would be in a salon or a make up trailer on set. It's ridiculous. Chris can't understand it - Zach has beautiful hair. And don't judge him because he said that, he knows it's stupid and probably the gayest thing he's ever thought, but he supposes it doesn't matter. Because he loves Zach's hair. He loves the way it smells. He loves the way it falls over Zach's forehead. He loves the way that Zach rakes his fingers through it after a long day. And Chris can't help but imagine getting to slip his own fingers into those ebony tresses.
...It's irrelevant that he also thinks about how it would feel to stare down at Zach kneeling in front of him while fisting his fingers tightly in those oh so silky locks.
Okay, okay. So maybe the "Zach has beautiful hair" comment wasn't the gayest thing he's ever said. But whatever; don't judge.
It's only once Chris finishes rinsing his hair that he realizes he's hard. He sighs, leaning back against the wall and rubbing his hands over his face. He stares at his cock incredulously as if to ask himself "...How old are we?" He huffs and looks back down at the shampoo bottle. He's about to look away to turn the water off but he pauses, attention still locked on the hair product and he breathes a little breath of ingenuity and smirks.
He keeps the smile plastered on his face as he flips the water off, wraps himself in a towel, and wills his erection to go away. Seriously, "How old are we, dick?" But it doesn't matter cause Chris's mind is set.
::
The night goes according to plan. He and Zach get coffee, they babble on about script-changes, they wander around, rent a movie or two, and head back to Zach's place with a case of beer waiting in the fridge. But try as he might, Chris can't stop focusing on Zach's hair, and so he plans and plots to take his mind off things. It will be a meticulous, methodical process. Everything properly planned out and put together. It's all so well-laid out in his head that he prides himself on it, and he even debates making blue-prints of Zach's house for his mission despite the fact he already precisely knows the place's layout. Not to mention that his plan really only involves one room and an exit.
It isn't until he leaves Zach's house that evening that the plan really goes into action. He avoids Zach's hair all night, doesn't bother to stare, doesn't bother to try and touch. No, it all comes down to one tiny, minuscule action as their night together draws to a close.
They're sitting on the couch and Chris stretches, lengthening his body backwards into the couch, feeling his back crack once in the process. Feels good. He rubs his eyes and looks at Zach sleepily.
"Mmm well, it's late, I should probably head back to my place."
"Yeah, I should hit the hay too. I'll walk you out."
"Yeah, alright, just gimme one sec, I'm gunna run to the restroom."
Chris bounds up and heads towards Zach's bathroom as Zach mutters a casual okay and stands from the couch with a stretch. Chris returns a moment later, and grabs onto Zach's shoulder and begins wiping his wet hands on Zach's shirt with a frustrated huff.
"God, don't you just hate when you get it on your hands?"
Zach recoils.
"Oh god, ew, dude?"
Chris just laughs, holding up his still wet hands.
"It's water, chill. Should know me better than that."
"You're a freak."
"And you love me for it."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever, get the hell out."
And Zach walks Chris to the door, and with a quick hug (during which Chris catches a whiff of Zach's hair) shoves Chris out the door. Chris just smiles once it's shut behind him.
What Zach hadn't noticed was the small bottle of mousse that Chris had stored in the waist of his jeans, covered ideally by his slightly too large tshirt. Chris just smiles, grabbing it out of his waist band and tosses the bottle up, catching it, and whistling happily to himself as he strolls the couple of blocks back to his house.
When he reaches home, he carries the bottle with him as he migrates towards his bedroom, steadily reading all the ingredients and instructions for the mousse. He reads it all with a chuckle, finding the entire thing hilarious and pointless. Plus, if anyone ever needed absolute proof that Zachary Quinto was gay, all they'd have to do would be to look in Zach's bathroom and peruse the hair care products. Chris enjoys this thought, but it's when his eyes graze over the price sticker that he nearly chokes on his own saliva. Twenty. Fucking. Dollars. for a four inch tall bottle of mousse? If nothing else reaffirms his plan, that fucking price tag does. All other rationale aside, Chris can't just sit back and let Zach waste $20 on a bottle of foamy goo all for the sake of fluffing or caking up his hair. He just won't allow it. So he sighs and goes into his own bathroom, opening up the lowest drawer on the sink and tosses the mousse to the back. Goodbye fluff, hello silk.
He migrates back into his room, stripping his shirt as he goes, and plops down onto his bed, eyes grazing over the ceiling. He lets his hand graze over his bare stomach, toying around the waist band of his jeans. He thinks quietly to himself. He can't take another bottle too quickly, or Zach will think something is up. But he can't wait too long, lest Zach notice and come looking for it. Or worse... buy more. Oh lord. But Chris... He can't stop thinking about that dark, thick hair. Thinking about the way that it's not just black, but sometimes looks like it has tiny silver streaks across it to light it up, make it shine. And that glow is something that no shampoo could've done, honestly, it's just Zach's hair. From the few times Chris has felt it, he knows it feels thick, he knows it's soft, and he knows it's probably strong, so... he doesn't feel that bad when he wonders how tightly he can curl it around his fingers. How hard he can tug on it. How roughly can he fist his hand in it.
He lets out a subconscious sigh, one that's dangerously reminiscent of a whimper. He really can't help himself when the fingers of his right hand shakily undo the buttons of his jeans and slip past the waistband of his boxers to grab hold of himself. He's already hard - he hadn't even thought that much about it, but he can't get the image out of his head now. Zach's hair ruffled, disheveled, his face flushed and his lips reddened and puffy as Chris hangs onto his hair with firm fingers, guiding Zach along the length of his cock. Chris groans and strokes himself more firmly, letting his left hand move up to his own scalp to thread his fingers through his hair. To tug on it. To tug on it and imagine that it's Zach's. It doesn't take him long at all to realize he's coming with a desperate groan and a full-bodied twitch.
::
Chris sees Zach the next day, and must to the younger man's surprise, Zach's hair doesn't look any different than it normally does when styled, and Chris is confused. And he's starting to think that maybe he'd stolen the wrong product - I mean come on, really, what does Chris honestly know about hair care? To him gel and wax are the same thing and Zach would have BOTH of Chris's first born sons for that. But Chris waits a few days before snagging anything else of Zach's beauty products - just to avoid suspicion. Sure, he still goes over to Zach's place, but he also allows others to come over as well - just to serve as a reminder to Zach that isn't the only outsider who's been in Zach's home around the time of the hair products' disappearance.
After a couple of days, right when Chris is worried that Zach might be contemplating buying new mousse, he finds another opportunity. And don't worry, he's planned this out as best he could. Chris goes over to Zach's and they chill and play scrabble and make fun of each other for being huge nerds (while both secretly wishing they could be the biggest nerd - battle of the nerds, who will win? WHOEVER HAS THE LEAST FAGGY HAIR! Beside the point - the question of their hairs' sexuality is irrelevant.) But right when Chris is starting to worry that he might not find a moment to steal something else, as he can't just continually 'use the restroom' right before he leaves, Noah prances in to be his savior. The pup is sweet, he really is, but pampered, and don't for a minute think that Chris has never made fun of Zach for spoiling the dog. However at this moment, Chris has never been so happy to see such a needy dog. For Noah comes bounding in, leash in his mouth and Zach just sighs, glancing at Chris with a look of "I'm sorry, I gotta abandon you for a few minutes. The bitch wants to walk."
Chris just laughs at him and says,
"Well, well, Zach it looks like your owner has decided it's time for your walk."
Zach flips him off, grabbing the leash and clipping it to Noah's collar. He waves haphazardly at Chris as he slips out the front door, saying he'll be back in like five or ten minutes. As soon as the door shuts and the lock clicks, Chris is up, dashing up the stairs and into Zach's bathroom to steal something else. He stares at the counter top.
There's... styling wax.
Or styling... gel.
Fuck it, Chris doesn't know the difference, we've been over this. So he decides to take both. Luckily, since Zach is gone, Chris doesn't have to bother to hide them in his pants (cause trust him, there just isn't enough room in there.... Okay, it was a bad joke, and Chris admits defeat and apologizes for its atrociousness.), but he still has to sneak them out of the house quickly so that Zach doesn't notice. But don't worry, he's got this planned, so long as he can just get out and get the stolen objects into the car he'd be fine - his alibi is already waiting for him if Zach were to return a bit earlier than expected. So he hangs onto them, not daring to look at the prices just knowing that they'll be outrageous and probably distract him from the mission at hand.
So he grabs his keys quickly and heads out the side door, knowing that even if Zach returned, he might walk to the side door but more than likely would walk straight through the front. So he slips out, unlocks the truck and drops them in carelessly. He hears footsteps and the distinct sound of Noah's need-to-be-trimmed-Zach-oh-god-they-could-slice-me-open nails against the sidewalk. Chris panics, closes his truck quickly, and reaches to open the back door and sift around in the back seat. Finally, he hears Zach say his name, and it's just in time, because Chris has got the excuse in hand.
"...Chris? What are you doing?"
And Chris just smiles and stands up straight holding a book in his hand that he'd pulled from the back seat and waves it.
"Nothing, I just remembered I had your book in my car. Figured I'd give it back to you."
Zach smiles and takes the book from him,
"Oh thanks man."
But Chris can't help but notice the wary eye Noah gives him as they walk back inside together.
When Chris gets back home, he wonders to himself where he can put his stolen treasures. If Zach wants them back, this is going to be fucking Indiana Jones, Raiders of the Lost Ark kind of shit, he's going to have to work for them. So he puts one on the very top of his bookcase, just out of sight to the naked eye, and the other gets hidden in a barely used kitchen drawer that's lightly littered with other odds and ends.
::
The next time Chris sees Zach, his hair is falling free, looking a little rough, and it's really all Chris can do to stop himself from just running his fingers through the ebony tresses and using them to anchor his hands to Zach's head - all he can do to stop himself from pulling Zach in to a deep, hair-tugging kiss. Chris swallows thickly and muses about how much he fucking loves his brain for concocting such a fantastic plan.
Zach looks frustrated though, so Chris plays the friend card and asks what's wrong.
"Nothing, man. I just, I don't know I've been so careless lately."
"Hah, you? Mr. Meticulous?"
"I don't even know, dude. It's like. I keep losing shit. I lost my wax and my gel, I lost my keys the other day, I spilled some coffee on a copy of my script and couldn't find my good copy, and what's worse, I couldn't find my mousse, so my hair is just. doing whatever the hell it feels like doing today."
Chris puts a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.
"Ah man, it'll be alright, you're probably just feeling a little frazzled. We're getting close to filming again, once everything actually starts though you'll get back in that rhythm."
Goddamn, he is a good actor.
"Yeah, I guess your right."
"Of course I am. I'm always right, you should know that by now, Mr. Spock."
"Live long and go fuck yourself."
"I'll just pretend you said you loved me."
::
It goes on for only a couple of days longer - Chris has to keep this tightly packed or else he runs the risk of Zach just giving in and finding more. He manages to get the majority of Zach's products and his hidden collection now consists of mousse, styling gel, molding wax, and hair spray. The only thing that's left is Zach's "Healthy Sexy Hair, Soy Renewal, Nourishing Styling Treatment" (whatever the FUCK that means). The bottle is small, and he's worn a decently large shirt again today, he figures he could smuggle it out as he was leaving - like he did the first time. He's been using a number of different theft methods in order to avoid the suspicion of the easy "Hey, gotta use the restroom before I leave. Big surprise, something is missing by the morning." route. So he figures for his last one, he can make it simple. He goes to Zach's, they drink a bit, and Chris makes sure to let Zach drink just a little more than he does, just to loosen him up or make him forget about the way his hair no longer stays where he wants it to during the day, or the way that he has to constantly card his fingers through it to keep it out of the way. And with every passing day, Chris wishes more and more that he could just... be Zach's lucky fingers, who get to bask in the silky, iridescent textures and smells of Zach's hair. But he figures soon - soon enough, someday...
So he pushes himself up from the couch, saying he should head home because it's getting late and he's got meetings all day the next day - it isn't a lie. Zach just nods in agreement, face slightly flushed from a bit of alcohol, and steadily stands up with the younger man. Chris takes a moment to stare at Zach as he stands to his left. With an uneasy hand he lifts up and lets his fingers brush against Zach's hair, the tips barely grazing over the top of Zach's ear. Zach just smiles and Chris mumbles again that he should head out, and says quietly that he needs to run to the restroom then he'll bounce.
So he goes to the restroom and washes his hands, snags the last remaining bottle of false scent and texture and hides it near his hip, covering it with his shirt. He walks out with Zach trailing him, feeling the older man press his hand on his shoulder firmly. As he goes to leave, Zach pulls Chris in tight and Chris can't help but inhale as deeply as possible and smell as much of Zach's hair as he can, pressing his head a little more tightly into Zach's, feeling the tickling texture the individual strands make across the skin of his nose. God, he loves this. They pull away slowly and Zach says goodnight, and Chris strides away to his car, the product still hidden, and he harbors a small sense of victory at sequestering the last of Zach's cakey, overpriced, unnecessary, worthless bottles of hair-bullshit. He hides this last bottle in his sock drawer.
::
Chris knows the day will come when Zach will realize what's been going on - all the "mysterious" disappearances of his hair products? Yeah, okay. How about this? When Zach figures it out, Chris will admit to it fully. But for now... Zach hasn't mentioned it, aside from the fact that he states how unruly his hair is nowadays, and much to Chris's surprise, Zach doesn't buy more. Chris loves that. He'd only been expecting the real Zach hair for a little while, but this has lasted almost two weeks now, and Chris isn't about to complain. Anytime he hears Zach whining about his hair, raking his fingers through it, Chris just shivers and pats Zach's shoulder and tells him that his hair looks just. fine. Because it does.
So one night, after filming begins, Zach offers Chris dinner, saying with tenderness in his voice that just,
"I don't know, you've put up with a lot of my bitching lately, so thanks man. Tonight good? I've already got supplies."
Chris only responds with,
"Oh definitely dude, thanks."
Best friends cook for each other, right? It's still manly? Chris doesn't know, doesn't care. He loves the idea of it despite the fact that it may not be as macho as his image needs to be.
So Zach comes over, proposing some Spanish dish ("traditional", he says, "de España!", he exclaims.) Chris's phone rings randomly, and he tells Zach he's sorry, but it's his mom, so he'll be right back. Zach just smiles and says he's fine. And so Chris migrates to the hallway to talk with his mom, while Zach finishes taking care of cooking the pork just right, and gets out the peppers to be chopped. He glances around the counter top and doesn't find the knife ack, so with a quick yell he shouts,
"Chris! Hey, man, you got a knife for chopping?"
Chris pauses.
"Hang on, Mom." He says into the phone, turning his head away to yell back at Zach. "Yeah, it's in one of the drawers on the right. You'll find it."
"Alright thanks!" Zach shouts back. Chris puts his mouth back to the phone.
"Okay, I'm back, Mom, so what were you-" Chris stops himself dead as he listens to a drawer open, sudden realization flooding over him. And before he can even say "Mom, I'm going to have to call you back." He suddenly hears,
"Christopher Whitelaw Pine!" from the kitchen. His mother even hears it.
"Honey, you okay? Who's with you?"
"Mom, no, sorry, it's just Zach. Um. Let me... Let me call you back."
Chris hangs up the phone as quickly as he can, turning around to face the doorway between the kitchen and the hallway. Zach stands there staring at him, and Chris can't tell if the look says "I'm so mad I could kill you" or "Thank god, I finally have my hair products back!", because honestly, Chris isn't really paying that much attention because all he can focus on is the way that Zach's hair is dangling loosely over his eyes. But if Chris had to guess, he'd probably say that Zach's stare more so resembles "I am going to murder you."
"It's been you." Zach says firmly, voice low. Chris just stutters a response.
"I-well-what?"
"...You... you're the one."
Chris tries to make this light.
"Hah, well I-I'm fl-flaterred."
Okay, the humor plan is obviously NOT working. Time for plan B. Except that Chris doesn't really have a plan B, so he backs away instead.
"Why... pray tell..." Zach begins calmly, but in a way that sends to make Chris just... shiver, and he doesn't know if it's in a good way or a bad way. "Is my styling wax in your far right kitchen drawer with the spoons and knives you never use?"
Chris says nothing, and Zach advances. With a fumble, Chris stumbles back clumsily, but still manages to keep his balancing, sticking his hand out, palm facing Zach to stop him.
"Wait, wait, okay okay, before you kill me, there's reason-"
"Reason?! You're hiding my hair care products!"
Zach advances again, and Chris starts to back away, but stops himself, staying resolved.
"I..." He begins, but makes his face firmer before he continues. "I. Yes. I have them. And you know what? I have every last bottle of that hair-crap, and I've got bottles hidden all over this house!"
"I swear to god -" Chris cuts him off.
"But! ...But... there are two ways you can fix this situation. You can either take the hard route, and I can give you a schematic diagram, clue-based search list so that you can spend a good hour searching for your fantastically faggy hair-care products."
"They are not fantastically faggy!"
"OR! Or you can just... let me touch your hair... and then I'll give them back."
This hits a chord. Zach pauses, his face softens, and he looks almost confused.
"...Touch? Touch my hair? That's all you want?"
"Let me touch it as it is, and I'll give you every bottle of product back."
"Wait, what? Why am I so lost right now?"
"You just... you have nice hair. Really nice hair. So I just want to feel it - without all the gross gels and waxes and all that expensive as fuck shit you put in it - by the way, why do you spend SO much money on hair care products?!"
"Well, I just... Okay... Why do you want to touch my hair?"
"Because it looks nice..."
"I think you're lying."
"...Because it looks like it will feel good. And it's fucking all I've been thinking about man." Chris pauses and leans against the hallway wall, glancing up at Zach. "...Permission to speak freely, Acting Captain?"
"Granted, cadet."
Chris drops his head back down, it's easier to talk this way. He uses his own hair to hide his eyes.
"You have... really gorgeous fucking hair. And I hate seeing it all gelled up, I like it how it is... and filming is about to officially start, and you'll be styling it into that bowl-cut day after day, so this is like. My chance. I just. It's all I've been able to think about, honestly. It smells good too - but I like the smell of you... not nurturing moisture or whatever the fuck-"
"Nourishing Styling Treatment." Zach corrects quietly. Chris ignores the comment and continues.
"And I just want to... I want to rake my fingers through it... I want to tug on it while you kiss me... and I want to... I want to fist my hands in it when I need to."
Chris glances back up - and when did Zach get so... close to him? He's only a couple of inches away, and before Chris can think about it, Zach is grabbing his hand and pulling it up to his hair, molding Chris's fingers so they'll glide through the soft, dark tresses. Chris shivers involuntarily. Zach just looks at him with somewhat hazy eyes.
"Feel like you thought it would?"
"And more..."
"So go for it."
And it's all the instruction Chris needs to twist his fingers tightly into Zach's hair and yank his head forward to press their lips together. The kiss is bruising and sloppy, but the feel of Zach's hair wrapped around his digits is enough for him to forgo any form of technique, as all he can think about is "kiss, kiss, touch, touch, soft, silky, warm, strands, light, thick, firm, strong". And he can hardly think when suddenly Zach has his lips on the side of Chris's neck, tonguing and nipping at the main tendon, pressing his lips into Chris's pulse and moving his shirt down a little to bite on his clavicle. Before he knows it, Zach is migrating downward, further and further, shoving Chris's shirt up to his shoulders with his free hand - too caught up in everything to actually take it off completely - and through blurred vision Chris can see that Zach has gotten to his knees, his teeth grazing over the skin of Chris's hips with his fingers desperately fumbled with the buttons of his jeans.
He gets them undone, and Chris's head slams back into the wall when he feels Zach graze a quick lick along the underside of his dick. He shivers and aches and he can more so feel Zach's words as his lips kiss teasingly along his cock as he says,
"Make me."
And Chris doesn't need to be told twice, his fingers re-tighten their grip and he guides Zach's head along his cock. Shallow at first, Zach's lips firmly sucking on the head, each little hum from the older man's throat and each little flick of his tongue along Chris's slit is enough to cause Chris's knees to almost give out. But Chris needs more, and he pushes further, feeling how not only can he feel Zach's mouth around his length, or his hair around his fingers, but also can feel the press of his hair and scalp against his palm. And god he fucking loves it. The control he has is merely by means of position, only able to control himself so far as he can control the will of his hand, and he guides Zach deeper, feels Zach take him fully, the length of him completely engulfed by Zach's warm mouth, his tongue dancing some fucking magic on him in the process. And Chris knows he isn't going to last. Maybe it's his way of cluing Zach into that, or maybe it's just that it's all he fucking has been wanting, but as he comes, he tightens his fingers incredibly roughly, tugging strongly on Zach's free, soft strands and he mumbles the other man's name, his body quaking with his orgasm. Zach swallows everything Chris gives him and even dares to give Chris's post-orgasm cock one last suck and that does it, Chris's knees give out, his fingers in Zach's hair loosen, and he slides down the wall to sit on the floor, half upright and half lying down and panting heavily.
Zach just kisses him and smiles. Chris does his best to smile back, but at the moment he's a boneless, nerveless wreck and he probably looks like a child with the lovesick, stupid-happy grin that plasters itself onto his face. He reaches up and slips his fingers back in Zach's hair to coax him down for another kiss, tasting the lingering hints of his orgasm still on Zach's lips, and they break apart breathless.
"My god, Zach..." He pants, still smiling stupidly. "That's like... all I could've fucking wanted. Jesus. Love you man."
"Love you too. But really I just want my hair stuff back."
Chris pauses and looks up at Zach - almost... almost hurt. Zach just smiles laughingly and pushes him playfully.
"I'm joking man, I love you, I do." Zach reaches down and pecks his lips lightly before pulling away and suddenly looking at him firmly. "But no, seriously, where's my stuff?"
[fin]
AH! Finished right at the deadline. I'm in the midst of midterms and everything and it makes me want to gouge my eyes out, but here it is! I hope it's good! I hope the_deep_magic likes it, cause god, I adore all of her stuff... and just. Yeah. Nervous author is nervous!
Reviews?! Love them. :) Pretty please. I do kind of like how this came out. Personally, I have a HUGE hair!pulling kink, so this worked well.
[pandora]
Author: x_carnivale_x
Written for: the_deep_magic
Word Count: 5570.
Rating: NC17.
Pairing: Chris/Zach.
Prompt: Chris is completely obsessed with Zach's hair. He loves touching it, playing with it, etc., mostly when it hasn't got any mousse/gel/gunk in it. So, naturally, he steals all of Zach's hair products and holds them for ransom. Sexytimes are a bonus, but cuddling is fine, too.
Author's Notes: Goddamnit. I always managed to get assigned to like. my favorite authors for these fic exchanges... So yeah, nervous author is nervous. Where the hell did my confidence go? Oh there it is, out the window. Oh well. I wrote this entirely while listening to Black Hawk Waltz... I feel like a bad person.
It starts with a hug, really. Just a hug - granted, okay, maybe a little too close of a hug, and maybe a hug that lasted just a little too long for two dudes - but hey. It was a hug. [Un?]fortunately, that's where it starts. Chris manages to pull Zach in tight, their heads pressed against each other in the embrace, and he catches a single whiff of Zach's hair. And it's... it's electrifying.
Let's get this straight, we need to put this out there right now. The smell does not send shivers down Chris's spine because it smells like Paul Smith London shampoo, or whatever other fantastically faggy shampoo/conditioner combination Zach uses. No, it's not that; the scent of the shampoo has long since faded over the course of the day. It doesn't smell like Paul Smith London, it doesn't smell like that Bed Head workable wax he uses, and it doesn't smell like the Power Surge hairspray either. No, Chris and Zach have been out all day, goofing off, and all that product is long gone by now. By now it's... it's hair. And it smells like hair, and it smells like scalp, and it smells like Zach. And... And Chris just loves it. He can't get over it.
It only gets worse, really. It starts with a hug, but it continues with a playful gesture. Zach takes meticulously crazy care of his hair. Washes it with ritzy shampoos, conditions it just right, finds all the right products for it. Chris doesn't so much mind the products, doesn't even really mind their smell, despite the fact that they hide the smell of Zach's hair. He can get over that. But it's when Chris goes to playfully ruffle Zach's hair one day that he feels the rigidity it has from gel and spray, and he's floored. That's not hair; at least, that's not what hair is supposed to feel like. And Chris is almost... bitter... because he imagines that Zach's hair probably feels really good, just judging by how careful the older man is with it. But, le sigh, Chris can only base this thought on speculation, and speculation alone, as Zach's hair is rarely ever without product during his waking hours.
So Chris waits, and tries the gesture again. He's smarter this time around; he waits till the end of the day, waits till he can smell Zach's hair rather than Zach's hair products when they hug. He waits until he can see the way Zach's hair starts to wave and loosen and hang over his forehead of its own accord. And he wants to touch it, wants to feel its texture, wants to know if it's as silky as he thinks he's going to be. It's dark, and it reminds him a little bit of the way the ocean looks at midnight on a moonless night. Silly metaphor, but you get the idea. Chris wants to feel it... wants to feel it, smell it - not product or soap... So he waits for a day, a long, full morning and afternoon until they're chilling out at Zach's place after the long day of meeting and pre-production bullshit. They have coffee at first - to keep them awake as the peruse the script idly. They have beer eventually because honestly, scripts get boring. Things get a little heavy after a while - not really drunk heavy, barely even tipsy, just a nice fuzz-buzz. Chris likes the way that sounds, and he notices he's sitting a little closer to Zach and can smell the refreshing, open, full scent of Zach's hair. He doesn't smell the empty odor of shampoo. He smiles and chuckles, and Zach assumes he's laugh at whatever he just said. Chris really hadn't been listening. He just scoots closer on the couch, takes another sip of his beer, laughs at Zach, and before Zach can even react, Chris has mussed his hair all over.
All. Over.
Pieces and strands flopping every which way, and Chris loves it because it's one of the few times he's ever seen Zach so unraveled. Zach just laughs bitterly and knocks his hand away with a chuckle, trying desperately to fix his hair despite being buzzed and despite the strands being unfixable by that point. Chris just laughs and leans heavily on the older man again, inhaling deeply to gather the scent of him.
He leaves the next morning with another man-date set up for them. Coffee, books, script-reading, movies, and beer. A normal night. Chris returns home and showers slowly, carding his fingers through his hair to lather it. As he rinses, he stares at the bottle of shampoo (it's two-in-one shampoo/conditioner, but for the love of god, please don't tell Zach. The last thing Chris needs is to have to sit through another one of Zach's lectures on how to properly lather, rinse and retain moisture and body.) But he stares at it just thinking - thinking about how Zach's bathroom has gel, mousse, hair spray, moisture control, styling wax, and all kinds of other crazy shit that really the only place you'd be able to find would be in a salon or a make up trailer on set. It's ridiculous. Chris can't understand it - Zach has beautiful hair. And don't judge him because he said that, he knows it's stupid and probably the gayest thing he's ever thought, but he supposes it doesn't matter. Because he loves Zach's hair. He loves the way it smells. He loves the way it falls over Zach's forehead. He loves the way that Zach rakes his fingers through it after a long day. And Chris can't help but imagine getting to slip his own fingers into those ebony tresses.
...It's irrelevant that he also thinks about how it would feel to stare down at Zach kneeling in front of him while fisting his fingers tightly in those oh so silky locks.
Okay, okay. So maybe the "Zach has beautiful hair" comment wasn't the gayest thing he's ever said. But whatever; don't judge.
It's only once Chris finishes rinsing his hair that he realizes he's hard. He sighs, leaning back against the wall and rubbing his hands over his face. He stares at his cock incredulously as if to ask himself "...How old are we?" He huffs and looks back down at the shampoo bottle. He's about to look away to turn the water off but he pauses, attention still locked on the hair product and he breathes a little breath of ingenuity and smirks.
He keeps the smile plastered on his face as he flips the water off, wraps himself in a towel, and wills his erection to go away. Seriously, "How old are we, dick?" But it doesn't matter cause Chris's mind is set.
::
The night goes according to plan. He and Zach get coffee, they babble on about script-changes, they wander around, rent a movie or two, and head back to Zach's place with a case of beer waiting in the fridge. But try as he might, Chris can't stop focusing on Zach's hair, and so he plans and plots to take his mind off things. It will be a meticulous, methodical process. Everything properly planned out and put together. It's all so well-laid out in his head that he prides himself on it, and he even debates making blue-prints of Zach's house for his mission despite the fact he already precisely knows the place's layout. Not to mention that his plan really only involves one room and an exit.
It isn't until he leaves Zach's house that evening that the plan really goes into action. He avoids Zach's hair all night, doesn't bother to stare, doesn't bother to try and touch. No, it all comes down to one tiny, minuscule action as their night together draws to a close.
They're sitting on the couch and Chris stretches, lengthening his body backwards into the couch, feeling his back crack once in the process. Feels good. He rubs his eyes and looks at Zach sleepily.
"Mmm well, it's late, I should probably head back to my place."
"Yeah, I should hit the hay too. I'll walk you out."
"Yeah, alright, just gimme one sec, I'm gunna run to the restroom."
Chris bounds up and heads towards Zach's bathroom as Zach mutters a casual okay and stands from the couch with a stretch. Chris returns a moment later, and grabs onto Zach's shoulder and begins wiping his wet hands on Zach's shirt with a frustrated huff.
"God, don't you just hate when you get it on your hands?"
Zach recoils.
"Oh god, ew, dude?"
Chris just laughs, holding up his still wet hands.
"It's water, chill. Should know me better than that."
"You're a freak."
"And you love me for it."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever, get the hell out."
And Zach walks Chris to the door, and with a quick hug (during which Chris catches a whiff of Zach's hair) shoves Chris out the door. Chris just smiles once it's shut behind him.
What Zach hadn't noticed was the small bottle of mousse that Chris had stored in the waist of his jeans, covered ideally by his slightly too large tshirt. Chris just smiles, grabbing it out of his waist band and tosses the bottle up, catching it, and whistling happily to himself as he strolls the couple of blocks back to his house.
When he reaches home, he carries the bottle with him as he migrates towards his bedroom, steadily reading all the ingredients and instructions for the mousse. He reads it all with a chuckle, finding the entire thing hilarious and pointless. Plus, if anyone ever needed absolute proof that Zachary Quinto was gay, all they'd have to do would be to look in Zach's bathroom and peruse the hair care products. Chris enjoys this thought, but it's when his eyes graze over the price sticker that he nearly chokes on his own saliva. Twenty. Fucking. Dollars. for a four inch tall bottle of mousse? If nothing else reaffirms his plan, that fucking price tag does. All other rationale aside, Chris can't just sit back and let Zach waste $20 on a bottle of foamy goo all for the sake of fluffing or caking up his hair. He just won't allow it. So he sighs and goes into his own bathroom, opening up the lowest drawer on the sink and tosses the mousse to the back. Goodbye fluff, hello silk.
He migrates back into his room, stripping his shirt as he goes, and plops down onto his bed, eyes grazing over the ceiling. He lets his hand graze over his bare stomach, toying around the waist band of his jeans. He thinks quietly to himself. He can't take another bottle too quickly, or Zach will think something is up. But he can't wait too long, lest Zach notice and come looking for it. Or worse... buy more. Oh lord. But Chris... He can't stop thinking about that dark, thick hair. Thinking about the way that it's not just black, but sometimes looks like it has tiny silver streaks across it to light it up, make it shine. And that glow is something that no shampoo could've done, honestly, it's just Zach's hair. From the few times Chris has felt it, he knows it feels thick, he knows it's soft, and he knows it's probably strong, so... he doesn't feel that bad when he wonders how tightly he can curl it around his fingers. How hard he can tug on it. How roughly can he fist his hand in it.
He lets out a subconscious sigh, one that's dangerously reminiscent of a whimper. He really can't help himself when the fingers of his right hand shakily undo the buttons of his jeans and slip past the waistband of his boxers to grab hold of himself. He's already hard - he hadn't even thought that much about it, but he can't get the image out of his head now. Zach's hair ruffled, disheveled, his face flushed and his lips reddened and puffy as Chris hangs onto his hair with firm fingers, guiding Zach along the length of his cock. Chris groans and strokes himself more firmly, letting his left hand move up to his own scalp to thread his fingers through his hair. To tug on it. To tug on it and imagine that it's Zach's. It doesn't take him long at all to realize he's coming with a desperate groan and a full-bodied twitch.
::
Chris sees Zach the next day, and must to the younger man's surprise, Zach's hair doesn't look any different than it normally does when styled, and Chris is confused. And he's starting to think that maybe he'd stolen the wrong product - I mean come on, really, what does Chris honestly know about hair care? To him gel and wax are the same thing and Zach would have BOTH of Chris's first born sons for that. But Chris waits a few days before snagging anything else of Zach's beauty products - just to avoid suspicion. Sure, he still goes over to Zach's place, but he also allows others to come over as well - just to serve as a reminder to Zach that isn't the only outsider who's been in Zach's home around the time of the hair products' disappearance.
After a couple of days, right when Chris is worried that Zach might be contemplating buying new mousse, he finds another opportunity. And don't worry, he's planned this out as best he could. Chris goes over to Zach's and they chill and play scrabble and make fun of each other for being huge nerds (while both secretly wishing they could be the biggest nerd - battle of the nerds, who will win? WHOEVER HAS THE LEAST FAGGY HAIR! Beside the point - the question of their hairs' sexuality is irrelevant.) But right when Chris is starting to worry that he might not find a moment to steal something else, as he can't just continually 'use the restroom' right before he leaves, Noah prances in to be his savior. The pup is sweet, he really is, but pampered, and don't for a minute think that Chris has never made fun of Zach for spoiling the dog. However at this moment, Chris has never been so happy to see such a needy dog. For Noah comes bounding in, leash in his mouth and Zach just sighs, glancing at Chris with a look of "I'm sorry, I gotta abandon you for a few minutes. The bitch wants to walk."
Chris just laughs at him and says,
"Well, well, Zach it looks like your owner has decided it's time for your walk."
Zach flips him off, grabbing the leash and clipping it to Noah's collar. He waves haphazardly at Chris as he slips out the front door, saying he'll be back in like five or ten minutes. As soon as the door shuts and the lock clicks, Chris is up, dashing up the stairs and into Zach's bathroom to steal something else. He stares at the counter top.
There's... styling wax.
Or styling... gel.
Fuck it, Chris doesn't know the difference, we've been over this. So he decides to take both. Luckily, since Zach is gone, Chris doesn't have to bother to hide them in his pants (cause trust him, there just isn't enough room in there.... Okay, it was a bad joke, and Chris admits defeat and apologizes for its atrociousness.), but he still has to sneak them out of the house quickly so that Zach doesn't notice. But don't worry, he's got this planned, so long as he can just get out and get the stolen objects into the car he'd be fine - his alibi is already waiting for him if Zach were to return a bit earlier than expected. So he hangs onto them, not daring to look at the prices just knowing that they'll be outrageous and probably distract him from the mission at hand.
So he grabs his keys quickly and heads out the side door, knowing that even if Zach returned, he might walk to the side door but more than likely would walk straight through the front. So he slips out, unlocks the truck and drops them in carelessly. He hears footsteps and the distinct sound of Noah's need-to-be-trimmed-Zach-oh-god-they-could-slice-me-open nails against the sidewalk. Chris panics, closes his truck quickly, and reaches to open the back door and sift around in the back seat. Finally, he hears Zach say his name, and it's just in time, because Chris has got the excuse in hand.
"...Chris? What are you doing?"
And Chris just smiles and stands up straight holding a book in his hand that he'd pulled from the back seat and waves it.
"Nothing, I just remembered I had your book in my car. Figured I'd give it back to you."
Zach smiles and takes the book from him,
"Oh thanks man."
But Chris can't help but notice the wary eye Noah gives him as they walk back inside together.
When Chris gets back home, he wonders to himself where he can put his stolen treasures. If Zach wants them back, this is going to be fucking Indiana Jones, Raiders of the Lost Ark kind of shit, he's going to have to work for them. So he puts one on the very top of his bookcase, just out of sight to the naked eye, and the other gets hidden in a barely used kitchen drawer that's lightly littered with other odds and ends.
::
The next time Chris sees Zach, his hair is falling free, looking a little rough, and it's really all Chris can do to stop himself from just running his fingers through the ebony tresses and using them to anchor his hands to Zach's head - all he can do to stop himself from pulling Zach in to a deep, hair-tugging kiss. Chris swallows thickly and muses about how much he fucking loves his brain for concocting such a fantastic plan.
Zach looks frustrated though, so Chris plays the friend card and asks what's wrong.
"Nothing, man. I just, I don't know I've been so careless lately."
"Hah, you? Mr. Meticulous?"
"I don't even know, dude. It's like. I keep losing shit. I lost my wax and my gel, I lost my keys the other day, I spilled some coffee on a copy of my script and couldn't find my good copy, and what's worse, I couldn't find my mousse, so my hair is just. doing whatever the hell it feels like doing today."
Chris puts a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.
"Ah man, it'll be alright, you're probably just feeling a little frazzled. We're getting close to filming again, once everything actually starts though you'll get back in that rhythm."
Goddamn, he is a good actor.
"Yeah, I guess your right."
"Of course I am. I'm always right, you should know that by now, Mr. Spock."
"Live long and go fuck yourself."
"I'll just pretend you said you loved me."
::
It goes on for only a couple of days longer - Chris has to keep this tightly packed or else he runs the risk of Zach just giving in and finding more. He manages to get the majority of Zach's products and his hidden collection now consists of mousse, styling gel, molding wax, and hair spray. The only thing that's left is Zach's "Healthy Sexy Hair, Soy Renewal, Nourishing Styling Treatment" (whatever the FUCK that means). The bottle is small, and he's worn a decently large shirt again today, he figures he could smuggle it out as he was leaving - like he did the first time. He's been using a number of different theft methods in order to avoid the suspicion of the easy "Hey, gotta use the restroom before I leave. Big surprise, something is missing by the morning." route. So he figures for his last one, he can make it simple. He goes to Zach's, they drink a bit, and Chris makes sure to let Zach drink just a little more than he does, just to loosen him up or make him forget about the way his hair no longer stays where he wants it to during the day, or the way that he has to constantly card his fingers through it to keep it out of the way. And with every passing day, Chris wishes more and more that he could just... be Zach's lucky fingers, who get to bask in the silky, iridescent textures and smells of Zach's hair. But he figures soon - soon enough, someday...
So he pushes himself up from the couch, saying he should head home because it's getting late and he's got meetings all day the next day - it isn't a lie. Zach just nods in agreement, face slightly flushed from a bit of alcohol, and steadily stands up with the younger man. Chris takes a moment to stare at Zach as he stands to his left. With an uneasy hand he lifts up and lets his fingers brush against Zach's hair, the tips barely grazing over the top of Zach's ear. Zach just smiles and Chris mumbles again that he should head out, and says quietly that he needs to run to the restroom then he'll bounce.
So he goes to the restroom and washes his hands, snags the last remaining bottle of false scent and texture and hides it near his hip, covering it with his shirt. He walks out with Zach trailing him, feeling the older man press his hand on his shoulder firmly. As he goes to leave, Zach pulls Chris in tight and Chris can't help but inhale as deeply as possible and smell as much of Zach's hair as he can, pressing his head a little more tightly into Zach's, feeling the tickling texture the individual strands make across the skin of his nose. God, he loves this. They pull away slowly and Zach says goodnight, and Chris strides away to his car, the product still hidden, and he harbors a small sense of victory at sequestering the last of Zach's cakey, overpriced, unnecessary, worthless bottles of hair-bullshit. He hides this last bottle in his sock drawer.
::
Chris knows the day will come when Zach will realize what's been going on - all the "mysterious" disappearances of his hair products? Yeah, okay. How about this? When Zach figures it out, Chris will admit to it fully. But for now... Zach hasn't mentioned it, aside from the fact that he states how unruly his hair is nowadays, and much to Chris's surprise, Zach doesn't buy more. Chris loves that. He'd only been expecting the real Zach hair for a little while, but this has lasted almost two weeks now, and Chris isn't about to complain. Anytime he hears Zach whining about his hair, raking his fingers through it, Chris just shivers and pats Zach's shoulder and tells him that his hair looks just. fine. Because it does.
So one night, after filming begins, Zach offers Chris dinner, saying with tenderness in his voice that just,
"I don't know, you've put up with a lot of my bitching lately, so thanks man. Tonight good? I've already got supplies."
Chris only responds with,
"Oh definitely dude, thanks."
Best friends cook for each other, right? It's still manly? Chris doesn't know, doesn't care. He loves the idea of it despite the fact that it may not be as macho as his image needs to be.
So Zach comes over, proposing some Spanish dish ("traditional", he says, "de España!", he exclaims.) Chris's phone rings randomly, and he tells Zach he's sorry, but it's his mom, so he'll be right back. Zach just smiles and says he's fine. And so Chris migrates to the hallway to talk with his mom, while Zach finishes taking care of cooking the pork just right, and gets out the peppers to be chopped. He glances around the counter top and doesn't find the knife ack, so with a quick yell he shouts,
"Chris! Hey, man, you got a knife for chopping?"
Chris pauses.
"Hang on, Mom." He says into the phone, turning his head away to yell back at Zach. "Yeah, it's in one of the drawers on the right. You'll find it."
"Alright thanks!" Zach shouts back. Chris puts his mouth back to the phone.
"Okay, I'm back, Mom, so what were you-" Chris stops himself dead as he listens to a drawer open, sudden realization flooding over him. And before he can even say "Mom, I'm going to have to call you back." He suddenly hears,
"Christopher Whitelaw Pine!" from the kitchen. His mother even hears it.
"Honey, you okay? Who's with you?"
"Mom, no, sorry, it's just Zach. Um. Let me... Let me call you back."
Chris hangs up the phone as quickly as he can, turning around to face the doorway between the kitchen and the hallway. Zach stands there staring at him, and Chris can't tell if the look says "I'm so mad I could kill you" or "Thank god, I finally have my hair products back!", because honestly, Chris isn't really paying that much attention because all he can focus on is the way that Zach's hair is dangling loosely over his eyes. But if Chris had to guess, he'd probably say that Zach's stare more so resembles "I am going to murder you."
"It's been you." Zach says firmly, voice low. Chris just stutters a response.
"I-well-what?"
"...You... you're the one."
Chris tries to make this light.
"Hah, well I-I'm fl-flaterred."
Okay, the humor plan is obviously NOT working. Time for plan B. Except that Chris doesn't really have a plan B, so he backs away instead.
"Why... pray tell..." Zach begins calmly, but in a way that sends to make Chris just... shiver, and he doesn't know if it's in a good way or a bad way. "Is my styling wax in your far right kitchen drawer with the spoons and knives you never use?"
Chris says nothing, and Zach advances. With a fumble, Chris stumbles back clumsily, but still manages to keep his balancing, sticking his hand out, palm facing Zach to stop him.
"Wait, wait, okay okay, before you kill me, there's reason-"
"Reason?! You're hiding my hair care products!"
Zach advances again, and Chris starts to back away, but stops himself, staying resolved.
"I..." He begins, but makes his face firmer before he continues. "I. Yes. I have them. And you know what? I have every last bottle of that hair-crap, and I've got bottles hidden all over this house!"
"I swear to god -" Chris cuts him off.
"But! ...But... there are two ways you can fix this situation. You can either take the hard route, and I can give you a schematic diagram, clue-based search list so that you can spend a good hour searching for your fantastically faggy hair-care products."
"They are not fantastically faggy!"
"OR! Or you can just... let me touch your hair... and then I'll give them back."
This hits a chord. Zach pauses, his face softens, and he looks almost confused.
"...Touch? Touch my hair? That's all you want?"
"Let me touch it as it is, and I'll give you every bottle of product back."
"Wait, what? Why am I so lost right now?"
"You just... you have nice hair. Really nice hair. So I just want to feel it - without all the gross gels and waxes and all that expensive as fuck shit you put in it - by the way, why do you spend SO much money on hair care products?!"
"Well, I just... Okay... Why do you want to touch my hair?"
"Because it looks nice..."
"I think you're lying."
"...Because it looks like it will feel good. And it's fucking all I've been thinking about man." Chris pauses and leans against the hallway wall, glancing up at Zach. "...Permission to speak freely, Acting Captain?"
"Granted, cadet."
Chris drops his head back down, it's easier to talk this way. He uses his own hair to hide his eyes.
"You have... really gorgeous fucking hair. And I hate seeing it all gelled up, I like it how it is... and filming is about to officially start, and you'll be styling it into that bowl-cut day after day, so this is like. My chance. I just. It's all I've been able to think about, honestly. It smells good too - but I like the smell of you... not nurturing moisture or whatever the fuck-"
"Nourishing Styling Treatment." Zach corrects quietly. Chris ignores the comment and continues.
"And I just want to... I want to rake my fingers through it... I want to tug on it while you kiss me... and I want to... I want to fist my hands in it when I need to."
Chris glances back up - and when did Zach get so... close to him? He's only a couple of inches away, and before Chris can think about it, Zach is grabbing his hand and pulling it up to his hair, molding Chris's fingers so they'll glide through the soft, dark tresses. Chris shivers involuntarily. Zach just looks at him with somewhat hazy eyes.
"Feel like you thought it would?"
"And more..."
"So go for it."
And it's all the instruction Chris needs to twist his fingers tightly into Zach's hair and yank his head forward to press their lips together. The kiss is bruising and sloppy, but the feel of Zach's hair wrapped around his digits is enough for him to forgo any form of technique, as all he can think about is "kiss, kiss, touch, touch, soft, silky, warm, strands, light, thick, firm, strong". And he can hardly think when suddenly Zach has his lips on the side of Chris's neck, tonguing and nipping at the main tendon, pressing his lips into Chris's pulse and moving his shirt down a little to bite on his clavicle. Before he knows it, Zach is migrating downward, further and further, shoving Chris's shirt up to his shoulders with his free hand - too caught up in everything to actually take it off completely - and through blurred vision Chris can see that Zach has gotten to his knees, his teeth grazing over the skin of Chris's hips with his fingers desperately fumbled with the buttons of his jeans.
He gets them undone, and Chris's head slams back into the wall when he feels Zach graze a quick lick along the underside of his dick. He shivers and aches and he can more so feel Zach's words as his lips kiss teasingly along his cock as he says,
"Make me."
And Chris doesn't need to be told twice, his fingers re-tighten their grip and he guides Zach's head along his cock. Shallow at first, Zach's lips firmly sucking on the head, each little hum from the older man's throat and each little flick of his tongue along Chris's slit is enough to cause Chris's knees to almost give out. But Chris needs more, and he pushes further, feeling how not only can he feel Zach's mouth around his length, or his hair around his fingers, but also can feel the press of his hair and scalp against his palm. And god he fucking loves it. The control he has is merely by means of position, only able to control himself so far as he can control the will of his hand, and he guides Zach deeper, feels Zach take him fully, the length of him completely engulfed by Zach's warm mouth, his tongue dancing some fucking magic on him in the process. And Chris knows he isn't going to last. Maybe it's his way of cluing Zach into that, or maybe it's just that it's all he fucking has been wanting, but as he comes, he tightens his fingers incredibly roughly, tugging strongly on Zach's free, soft strands and he mumbles the other man's name, his body quaking with his orgasm. Zach swallows everything Chris gives him and even dares to give Chris's post-orgasm cock one last suck and that does it, Chris's knees give out, his fingers in Zach's hair loosen, and he slides down the wall to sit on the floor, half upright and half lying down and panting heavily.
Zach just kisses him and smiles. Chris does his best to smile back, but at the moment he's a boneless, nerveless wreck and he probably looks like a child with the lovesick, stupid-happy grin that plasters itself onto his face. He reaches up and slips his fingers back in Zach's hair to coax him down for another kiss, tasting the lingering hints of his orgasm still on Zach's lips, and they break apart breathless.
"My god, Zach..." He pants, still smiling stupidly. "That's like... all I could've fucking wanted. Jesus. Love you man."
"Love you too. But really I just want my hair stuff back."
Chris pauses and looks up at Zach - almost... almost hurt. Zach just smiles laughingly and pushes him playfully.
"I'm joking man, I love you, I do." Zach reaches down and pecks his lips lightly before pulling away and suddenly looking at him firmly. "But no, seriously, where's my stuff?"
[fin]
AH! Finished right at the deadline. I'm in the midst of midterms and everything and it makes me want to gouge my eyes out, but here it is! I hope it's good! I hope the_deep_magic likes it, cause god, I adore all of her stuff... and just. Yeah. Nervous author is nervous!
Reviews?! Love them. :) Pretty please. I do kind of like how this came out. Personally, I have a HUGE hair!pulling kink, so this worked well.
[pandora]