Author: an-alternate-world PM
Chris is watching the Big Brother episode and there's a certain scene and he has a certain reaction and then gets a phone call. Basically PWP RPF because I'm spewing ideas about that episode.Rated: Fiction M - English - Romance - Kurt H. & Blaine A. - Words: 3,169 - Reviews: 23 - Favs: 79 - Follows: 9 - Published: 04-10-12 - Status: Complete - id: 8013015
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Rating: M+. Plus. Plusplusplus.
Characters/Pairings: Chris + Darren
Word count: 2,754
Summary: Chris is watching the Big Brother episode and there's a certain scene and he has a certain reaction and then gets a phone call. Basically PWP RPF because I'm spewing ideas about that episode.
Warnings/Spoilers: No more than the usual. Obvious references to a certain scene in 3x15 that I can't help but drool over. Mutual masturbation. They aren't in an established relationship like I'd usually do either. Don't like RPF, don't read it.
Disclaimer: I am in no way associated with Glee, FOX, Ryan Murphy or anything else related to the Glee universe. Nor do I know Chris or Darren and so I hope to God they never see this..
Chris has a problem.
And no, that's not a euphemism for the half-hard cock in his jeans.
He has a problem because Darren and his fucking body with his fucking back and his shoulder blades and biceps and everything just bulging and rippling like that under the shower…
He crosses his legs with a bit more determination, trying to focus on the performance, trying to be proud of his on-screen boyfriend but it was hard.
No, not that. It was hard staying focused is what he meant.
But really, the rest of the episode is a blur. His mouth is dry and pressing the heel of his palm into his crotch is just not working like it usually is. Thank God he didn't pre-screen this episode with the rest of the cast because this would be really, really embarrassing.
The dorky scene towards the end comes on where he had played with the stuffed dog. With a snort of disgust at how stupid he looks on the screen, he grabs at the remote and rewinds back to 'Fighter'. He can't decide whether to mute it or increase the volume, warring back and forth because the music is both a distraction and a turn on. He'd heard Darren humming it around the place but actually hearing it all put together…
He finally pauses it on the slow zoom in on Darren's back and exhales shakily. He could barely, barely see the splotchy birthmark at the base of Darren's neck but he knows it's there because he's seen Darren in shirts that show it off and he honestly struggles not to shove Darren up into a wall and start biting at it because there are always people around. Why is a tiny patch of discoloured skin like that so hot anyways? God.
But it's not even about the birthmark. The giant X of the muscles in his shoulder blades is what grabbed his attention (and made arousal shoot through his body) and pretty much all he can continue to focus on now.
His fingers scrape over the fabric of his jeans, knowing it was so, so wrong to be doing this but he was only human and could you really blame him when his co-star was so freaking hot?
But his thoughts shatter when his phone vibrates beside his thigh. He feels like his face is on fire as he rips his hand away from the fly of his jeans and grabs at his phone.
"What?" he snaps, glaring at the frozen picture on his screen like it's offended him in some way.
"Whoa! I'm sorry! Are you having problems writing or something? Should I call back?"
It's like he just knew when Chris was thinking about him or something and decided that it was a fucking brilliant time to call.
He breathes in through his teeth slowly and lets it out just as slowly. "No, I just finished watching the episode. Sorry."
"That's not really the sort of awesome reaction I was hoping for," Darren muses over the phone and Chris rolls his eyes. "Although I'm gunning for a Finn and Rachel break up and I want Kurt to yell at her because isn't it their dream, not Finn-and-Rachel?"
He's still trying to calm the hormones in his body but his screen is still frozen on that damn picture and Darren's voice in his ear is really not helping matters.
"You already know what's going to happen anyway," Chris points out, and realises with a start that his free left hand has trailed back down to his groin. He stares at it and feels betrayed, like the stupid thing has a mind of its own. Maybe it does.
"Shhh," Darren murmurs, and okay, that really shouldn't make another shiver of arousal go down his spine, but it does, because Darren's trying to make him hush, and now he's thinking of what Darren would sound like if Chris just let go and made all the whimpers and pleas while Darren fucked into him and-
"Is everything okay?"
He barely stifles a groan as he struggles to move his hand away from where it's slowly rubbing back and forth against his hardening cock, knowing he's going to need to get Darren off the phone and however wrong it might be, he doesn't care because he's too hard to not get off now. He can't calm himself down from this.
Darren hums in disbelief. "You don't sound it. Are you sick? Do you need me to come over?"
He nearly topples off the couch. "No!" He gasps in a breath of air to try and not scream at Darren because he really, really needs to not come over right now. Or saycome again. "No. No, I'm fine."
There's a pause that stretches a little too long to be comfortable between them. Usually they can't stop the tumble of words. Chris is still trying to move his hand away from his cock, even going so far as to bite his bicep and try and remove it, but even that doesn't work. His arm has seriously become a foreign thing that doesn't belong to him anymore. He feels betrayed by his own body.
"-thing wrong? I mean, I thought most of the songs were good and-"
"What?" He hadn't even realised Darren was talking and has no idea what he's talking about.
"You're not usually like this." Thanks Darren. Stellar. "I must have done something you didn't like beca-"
"Something I didn't like?" His laugh is way too high-pitched and strangled in an attempt to cover how much he wants to moan and just unzip his fly. "God Dare, no, nothing like that."
What the fuck did he say that for?
There's another long, long pause. Chris is scrunching his eyes closed and trying to think of something, anything else, than the image of Darren's back which is apparently seared into his retinas for the rest of eternity or something.
"So…there was something you liked?" And oh, oh, Darren's voice just dropped an octave and fuck that's not even fair.
He gives another nervous laugh. "You had some g-great songs and you worked really well with Matt. It was a great performance. You should be proud."
"Something something I want you to be, right?" Darren teases, but his voice is still low and Chris crushes his cell between his ear and shoulder so he can bite down on his hand. "Chris? Are you sure you're okay?"
He can't say yes because he's not, but he can't say no because Darren will panic and probably insist on coming over if he thinks Chris is having some sort of breakdown. He's not coherent enough to lie and make excuses that would sound convincing and admitting the truth is completely out of the question.
There's a noise somewhere between a gurgle and a whine and he bites down harder on his fingers to try and stifle it.
"Chris? I'm really worried. Please just… You're not having a panic attack or something, are you?"
His laugh is even more shrill at the idea, because a panic attack would be preferable right now. "I'm fine. Stop worrying."
"I worry about my friends though." His voice sounds so sad, like some of those scenes tonight and Chris is hit by the desire to wrap Darren up in his arms and kiss away the sadness on his face and okay no, he can't think about kissing Darren because that leads to bad, bad thoughts. His eyes fall on where the show is still paused.
"You can't just…you can't just look like that," he snaps out suddenly. "You can't just have scenes where you're so blatantly showing your muscles and shirtless and having water run all over you and-"
Shit. What the fuck is he saying?
Darren's laughing, the prick. When Chris can think clearer, he'll come up with something to get Darren back. Like swapping vodka for water or leaving a giant spider on his trailer door or something.
"It's not like I work out that much! You know what the scheduling is like!"
Chris grunts because he knows, but even still, it's not an excuse.
"And hey, I saw you looking pretty fine tonight as well. That mesh shirt you wore during Jane's Booty Camp scene? Yeah. That showed off your muscles pretty nice, man."
The compliment goes straight to his cock. Everything is betraying him tonight. Darren and the episode and his hand.
He manages to tear away his left hand to grab at the phone before it slips from between his face and shoulder, but his right hand decides it would be an excellent time to replace it. And his right hand is more deft and skilled, flicking the button of his jeans undone and easing his fly down until he can breathe a little easier without the restrictions of his goddamn pants.
There's a sharp breath and he realises with a start that it's not his.
"Chris, y-you're not…?"
Thank God Darren isn't here right now because he's pretty sure he's as red as the Cheerio outfit.
"U-uh…" At least try and deny it, his brain screams. But it's too late. His lack of proper response is a dead giveaway.
"Well then…" He can hear Darren's noisy swallow and even that does things to him, because now he's imagining Darren on his knees and sucking him off and no no no, those thoughts need to go away. "Do you need some, um, help?"
Chris squeaks, the cotton of his briefs becoming much too rough. "I- I think I'm quite f-fine, thank you."
Darren hums again and Chris lets his head fall back, his eyes drifting shut as he imagines what it would feel like to have Darren's mouth, Darren's little hums, on skin so sensitive. "So I'm going to go out on a limb here and make a guess at something, and you don't have to respond except your silence would probably be answer enough."
He feels horrendously guilty because Darren is still on the damn phone but he's been so hard so long that it hurts.But he's practically powerless to the way his hand is brushing along the skin of his stomach before stealing under his underwear and goddammit, will nothing about his body behave itself tonight?
"Was it the episode?" Darren asks, and he sounds so…shy almost that something in Chris' stomach twists. Or maybe that's just because he finally has a firm grip on his cock. "Was it…um, was it me?"
He'd love to deny it, he really would, but he simply can't. Rather than silence, there's a quiet groan as his thumb slips over the head of his cock and smears some of the precome.
"Fuck," Darren grunts, and it's so deep and breathless that Chris arches into the tight fist of his hand. "Fuck, Chris. You really…? It really…? I really…?"
"One of these days, y-you'll finally realise just how -shit- attractive you are," Chris mutters, his hand not necessarily enough, but doing enough to feel better than trying not to touch himself. He raises his hips just enough to wiggle his pants and briefs down so he can move his hand faster, giving up on the pretences because Darren knows now and he'll just have to face him tomorrow at work, embarrassment be damned.
"I wish I could see you right now," Darren murmurs, and it's so soft Chris almost thinks he's imagining it. "You sound incredible."
Chris whimpers, biting at his lip to try and stifle more of the sounds that are threatening to break free. He can feel the pleasure starting to run through him, his heart pounding as he gets closer towards climaxing, but he's not there, not yet.
"Whatever you're doing, don't stop," Darren says, his voice catching as a hint of nerves bleed into his words. "And stop biting your lip. I w-want to hear you. God, Chris, I'm so hard just from listening to you."
An unwanted tear streaks down his face as he bucks up into his fist, because Jesus Christ he just needs to come before he positively dies.
"I-is this wrong?" Darren whispers. "Because I…I can't…I can't stop touching myself just listening to you. And I…I think…I need to come. Chris, please…please keep going, don't stop, let go, lemme hear you."
Any control, however small it might have been, breaks apart at those words. The sounds that bubble out of his mouth are atrocious and desperate but he can hear them echoed in his ear by Darren and Jesus, is Darren getting off on this too?
"D-Dare, are you…?"
"Oh God, baby, yes," Darren says, his voice breaking, and hearing that snaps him in half and half again until he can't remember his own name as the sensations roll through him. He can hear the rough sounds of Darren, the quiet grunts and growls, and his fucking dick twitches with interest even though it hurts. He cringes down at where he's covered his t-shirt and stomach but he's too caught on the noises Darren's making, little hitches and mewls and fuck if it isn't the hottest thing he's ever heard.
"C'mon Dare, let go," he encourages, and he can tell when Darren comes because there's a soft thud and what sounds like a muffled groan. He squeezes his eyes shut because that's just taken over as the hottest sound he's ever heard.
There's a bit of rustling in the background and then Darren's panting, hard and heavy in his ear. "Sorry, I…I dropped the phone. Had to try and cover my mouth or something so I didn't wake the neighbours."
"It's not even ten!"
"The neighbours in London then," Darren replies and a giggle bursts from Chris' lips before he can catch it.
There's a silence after that but it's not so charged with Chris' need to touch, although he's getting increasingly grossed out and needy for a shower now that the come is starting to dry and go tacky.
"I think I need to clean up," Darren mutters. "My sheets are wrecked now. Thanks."
"I wish I could say I'm sorry but I don't think I am."
Darren laughs quietly. "So uh, work tomorrow, huh?"
"Y-yeah. I'll um…I'll see you there then?"
The awkwardness is creeping in much too fast and he just wants to get away from it, put as much distance between them. How is he going to look Darren in the eyes ever again?
They say quick goodbyes and Chris wobbles to the bathroom to have a shower. It's so hot it nearly scalds him and he's immediately brought back to the images of Darren in the shower and no, no. It's too late though, the sounds of Darren over the phone and the image of him in the shower flooding his mind until he's quickly jerking himself off again.
He stumbles out of the shower, still damp, towel wrapped around his waist and phone clutched in his hand, as he he flops onto his bed and starfishes against the sheets. The best part about living alone was knowing he could have his ass to the elements and no one would find him and scream in horror.
His phone vibrates with a message and when he glances at the screen, it's filled with notifications of Darren's tweets. When he scrolls through them, he finds a text at the bottom from Darren, just after he must have gotten in the shower.
'I enjoyed that far too much. I think I'm sorry.'
His mouth feels dry as he looks over the tweets, shaking his head at the dorkiness of Darren on Twitter. Just as he gets to the top of them, his phone vibrates again.
'I needed to Tweet to try and distract myself from thinking about you again. I can only change my sheets so many times before I have to crawl into bed with Joey because we're out of clean linen.'
He snorts but can't even bring himself to respond, exhaustion creeping into his limbs as the effects of two orgasms begins to wash over him. He quickly flicks on the alarm, knowing he'll be dead if he's late in the morning, and tugs a sheet over his body as his eyes flutter shut. There's a warmth, an excitement, that he wouldn't admit was there, but he had a funny feeling that episode might just replace some of the porn he had carefully hidden away on his laptop.
A/N: I JUST HAVE A LOT OF FEELS ABOUT THIS EPISODE OKAY. LIKE A LOT. A CRAZY AMOUNT. And I need to have my hands taken away so I can do Uni work or work on my WIPs but sometimes things like this happen, and other stuff that I've drabbled all over my Tumblr with, and I need help, HELP, so please like, find me a therapist who can deal in freaking out over a fictional show and a combination of fictional and real people because I keep crossing lines between what I should and shouldn't write and I'm losing my mind.
Okay. Babble over.
Thanks for reading and indulging my smutty, smutty mind :D