mickeym | ficlet: [ New Beginnings Chris/JC ]

New Beginnings. Chris/JC. AU. Rish.

I thought I'd start with something small and work up to this whole writing thing. This is a scene I originally cut from Never Go Back because it didn't work for where they were at, in that story. However, it works well as a stand-alone, picking up a few days after where the other leaves off.

Enjoy :)

*goes to bite nails nervously*

It's been over ten years, and you feel every day of that in the moment when you walk back into Chris' apartment. Yes, you were just here a couple of days ago. The two of you talked and laughed and glossed over uncomfortable subjects, and kissed, and you decided maybe you'd been an idiot all those years ago. You still want him; he seems to still want you, want you again, whichever it is.

"Second thoughts?" He leans against the door and studies you, eyes dark, hooded, mysterious. You shake your head, thinking of the hours – literally – the two of you spent on the phone in the last couple of days. You've had plenty of time for those already; there is no room for them now.

"Not—no."

"Nervous?"

You lick your lips and nod. "Kinda, yeah. You?"

Chris grins at you. "Like a virgin on her wedding night."

You can't help but laugh; the visual is just right there, flouncing in front of your eyes in white satin and lace. "Nice. Thanks for that."

He snorts at your expression, then steps closer, hands coming up to rest on your shoulders. It's easy to forget how small Chris really is, because his presence always fills any room he's in. But he's inches shorter than you; has been since your last big growth spurt the summer between your junior and senior years.

Conversation would probably be good, but you feel talked out after all the time on the phone. Years have been spanned, conquered, and there's just this left now; one last step to finding out if there's something there worth working for. You think you might be talking anyway; 'nervous' seems like such a tame, timid word for the churning in your stomach. Chris touches your mouth, fingers warm where they press lightly, stilling the flow of words.

"JC." He's so close you can smell his aftershave, and the butterscotch candy he ate earlier. His eyes are a dark, rich brown melting into endless black, the pupil widening as he leaned in.

"Mmm?"

"Shh." It's less a word than a sound; a faint vibration buzzing gently against your lips. He tastes like butterscotch, sweet and heady, and you lick at his lips before opening to him.

A kiss, but so much more than a kiss. It feels like you've come home for real; like every trip you made back here before now was incomplete. Chris' mouth is warm and gentle against yours at first, tongue teasing in and out in quick motions, light nips to your lips as he tastes you. You return the gentle kisses, but want more; hunger blazes through you hot and sharp and you swallow down the grunt he makes when you push until you're turned and walking toward the couch.

It's your turn to grunt when you slide – fall? – onto the soft surface with Chris settling hot and heavy on top of you. Then he bites at your throat, little nips that move back up to your mouth, and you don't care about weight or breathing, or anything but the feeling of drowning in his kisses, his caresses, in him.

You discover he's still a little ticklish along his ribs when you trail your fingers up and down his back and over his sides. He flinches against you, convulsing, and bites at your lips, tongue soothing the sting after.

He learns your neck is still your greatest erogenous zone, aside from the obvious ones. Just the gentle scrape of his teeth over the tendons makes you shiver. When he bites, then sucks, you groan. He licks and blows, drops soft kisses in random places until you're hard and aching, writhing up against him. It's been a long time – since you two were together, you think – that you've come in your pants, but if this keeps up you may. You will. It's not even just that it feels so good; it's Chris.

"Not here," he mutters into your mouth, against your skin. You nod but you're not sure you'll be able to stand. You feel hot inside and out, and so shaky. You're not even sure you remember getting up, or the stumbling, fumbling trip down the hall to his bedroom. You're only aware of hands, and skin, and how hot he is, how his body feels against yours. The way his hands tremble when he undoes his belt buckle. Your hands tremble as well when you reach to help him.

Naked, it's like no time at all has passed. Any awkwardness and discomfort earlier fades away. You fit against Chris for more kisses, and it's perfect. More than perfect when he pulls you down onto his bed, tangling your legs together. His skin isn't smooth like you remember; he has chest hair, and a trail down his stomach and under his navel. He's winter pale, dark hair marking him boldly. You follow the path with your tongue, wetting him down, feel him jerk and shake when you touch him. He's beautiful, stretched out on his bed, cock arcing up from his body, hard and swollen, tip wet with pre-come. He comes apart beautifully deep in your throat and he's still panting when he rolls you over and kisses you deeply before sliding down your body and going down on you.

Chris holds your hands against your sides while he sucks you and you struggle, a little, wanting to touch him, pull his hair, feel his head move. But it's exciting to be held like this, and you give yourself over to it, to the heat and ice slipping and crashing through you. Hunger coils hot and tight in your belly then unwinds, spiraling through you until it's all you feel, until the heat overwhelms you and you have to just go with it. You call his name when you come, twisting beneath him desperately.

It seems to take forever until you can breathe right again. Or think. Or even consider coaxing your vocal chords to make some noise other than a ragged groan or growl. Chris looks—amused. And sleepy. And really, really comfortable even considering he has half of your weight on him. He strokes your hair and brushes the occasional soft kiss over your throat and hums very quietly.

"Wow," is all you manage at first. "Chris. Um."

"'Wow' works," he says softly, the words muted against your skin. You shift, curling closer to his warmth as your skin cools. He presses another kiss to the base of your throat before pulling back just enough to look at you. "Don't go."

"I wasn't—" You frown, considering what he said versus what he means. "Now? Or ever?"

"Either? Both?" He kisses you again and you see your frown reflected in his eyes, in the furrows between his eyes.

You touch his mouth with your thumb, smoothing it over his lips. They're darker red now, and swollen a little, from kisses and more. He looks soft and a little out of focus, but that could be you and not him. "I can't – won't – make promises, Chris. But maybe it's something we could—talk about?"

"In the morning?"

"I'm not going anywhere tonight."

He relaxes against you, lets out a breath you echo; not quite a sigh, but close. You think for all the talking the two of you have done in the last couple of days, the biggest – and possibly best – is yet to come. Maybe it'll be a happy new year, yet.

~fin~