|Cristobal Rodriguez ♦ Coyote (coyoti) wrote in paxletalelogs,|
@ 2017-03-19 11:19:00
|Entry tags:||ares, coyote|
I had it all planned out before you met me
Who: Chris & Daniel.
What: Daniel takes a very drunk Chris home.
Where: Last Stop, briefly, then Pax Letale.
When: Directly after the St. Paddy's Day thread, then Saturday morning.
Rating: NC-17 for M/M. SOOO much M/M.
Disentangling Chris from the bar and his tea-spilling companion had been no small feat, but Daniel had managed all the same. Ten minutes into the conversation he had known that in another ten -- perhaps less -- it would be nigh impossible to keep his promises. Hands off, he had said; going as friends, he had agreed. Even now, with the cool outside air on his skin and the sobering sounds of the city all around him, he could still feel Chris's hands on his waist and the heat that lingered on his cheeks from it. He tried to focus on the task at hand: half leading, half carrying Chris to his car -- a late-model Subaru WRX STI, its bright blue coat gleaming like it had just rolled off a showroom floor -- helping him into the passenger's seat and ensuring his seatbelt was fastened. This done, he circled the sedan, giving the spoiler a little loving tap with his fingertips as he passed. Then he slid into the driver's seat and set off for home.
"Well?" Daniel asked, a grin playing on his lips. He changed lanes, cutting a look over at Chris even as he downshifted. "How'd I do?"
Chris was equally hardpressed in keeping his hands off of Daniel; one had slipped, moving down the man's backside as they'd made their way from barstool to passenger seat; music poured out of the speakers, making Chris have to raise his voice to be heard. Even now, his left hand was on Daniel's upper arm, the rest of him pressed back against the seat, head against the headrest as his eyes raked over Daniel's form.
"Pretty good," he replied, his expression mirroring Daniel's. "Dressed like that, and you behaved, so... Maybe 4.5/5." The only reason why Daniel wasn't getting 5/5 was simply because Chris knew it would chafe the other man to have scored anything below perfect.
True to form, Daniel reacted immediately. "You serious right now?" He laughed, shaking his head as he blew through a caution light just as it changed over to red. "I behaved in spite of you putting your hands on my ass and the two of you talkin' about who's a screamer. I deserve six outta five for that shit and you know it." He flashed a grin, feeling Chris's eyes on him. "A lesser man would'a had you up against a bathroom stall, talkin' like that. But I'm a gentleman."
"Starting to think I might not've said no," Chris replied, his hand squeezing the other man's tricep. Daniel arched a brow. "Rules are a little overrated, and bathroom sex is fun." He glanced only momentarily out the windshield, shaking his head. "Why the fuck are you driving like a maniac? You wanna get pulled over?"
His brows bobbed up and down, a smile creasing his face. "Oh, that gives me a fun idea for some role play. But still, I guess those manners only extended to the party's front door, huh? You need to slow down, chico, my dick's not going anywhere."
"You are unreal," Daniel laughed. "And at least four sheets to the wind. You don't get to comment on my driving when everything is probably a blur to you right now." He nodded down toward the radio. "Why don't you occupy yourself with findin' us some music? Give those hands somethin' to do."
Daniel prayed that brief distraction would buy him time to get his low key date home without further incident. If this was a test, he was sure he was failing. Every careless touch and suggestive comment made him shift uncomfortably in his seat. In spite of his snark he did slow down, knowing well what a handful Chris would be in this state, should they be unlucky enough to attract a cop's attention. He was unspeakably grateful that Pax loomed closer by the minute.
Chris was mostly amenable to Daniel's suggestion, parting his hand from Daniel's upper arm with one last squeeze. He turned his attention to the radio, flipping through channels until a familiar beat poured from the speakers.
"God, this one is getting played to death but it's easy to see why," Chris said, turning up the volume and starting to sing along, the Spanish clear and crisp and flowing as easily as water over stone. "I made this one for him, When he hears it, I want to be there to see it, When he finds out and knows that you I own you," he said as he leaned over to poke Daniel in the side again, getting emphatic with his mouth and his hands, dancing in his seat a little against the confining embrace of his seatbelt and his brace's complaints against the tight pull of the cloth of his pants. "Maybe it sounds a little bad, I know, and it does not look right, Everything is for you."
He leaned closer over to Daniel as the other man struggled to concentrate on driving, switching to English for Daniel's benefit. "Baby, I feel you," his hand straying along the edge of Daniel's pants. "I know you feel you're mine..."
Daniel swatted at Chris's hand, but it was only a half-hearted motion. His brow seemed shaped into a permanent arch, as sharp as the quirk of his smile. His dark eyes shone with an impish light as he looked to Chris, as though he was seeing him for the very first time. Alcohol, Daniel thought, had a way of revealing hidden facets; he wondered how much of this side of his companion he would have cause to see again.
"God I wish I had a hand free right now," Daniel teased. His fingers tightened on the gearshift, reminding him of his work at hand. "I'd film this so fast, you don't even know. St. Patrick's Day 2017, when the guy who wouldn't be seen with me in public serenaded me and copped a feel."
"Mhm," Chris hummed back at him, frowning. "Well, I've got two free hands, and I'm gonna do way more than cop a feel..." He made the seatbelt strain as he leaned further forward, one hand diving for under Daniel's waistline.
"Boy, I will hit these brakes so quick..." Daniel squirmed in his seat, pressing himself against the driver's side door. His attempt at appearing serious failed dramatically; he could barely suppress his laughter, or his relief at seeing their building looming ahead of them. He downshifted and pulled into the parking deck, making only the barest effort to avoid Chris's pawing as he did. A quiet, frustrated growl reverberated low in his throat.
Once they were parked, Daniel could not but admit to himself he did not actually want to leave. He was having fun, and sobriety and somber Chris would return soon enough. But he sighed, and lifted himself from the driver's seat, circling the car to retrieve his passenger.
"Out you get," he said, helping Chris out of the deep seats. "Let's try to make it to the elevator without makin' Stephan think I roofied you, okay?" Chris wrapped his hands with Daniel's, pulling himself to his feet; those same hands quickly released Daniel's and moved to his waist. He pressed his body flush to Daniel's, hands sliding down the back of Daniel's pants.
"Why? You think he'd wanna join us?" His profile leaned into Daniel's, mouth nibbling on the corner of the other man's lips. "Maybe the second time, I'm not up for sharing right now."
Daniel laughed. "You're not up for a lot of things right now," he said.
He led Chris through the lobby. Stephen greeted them with upraised, perfectly penciled brows, eyeshadow glittering green beneath them. Daniel nodded, his face apologetic as they shuffled over to the elevator; Chris waved a hand, waggling fingers in the concierge's direction, which Stephan returned. Daniel was grateful when the doors closed on them, though it seemed he could still sense Stephan's appraising gaze on them both. He quickly thumbed the button for the second floor, and the car jerked quickly to life.
"All right. Couple more steps and we're good to go." Daniel's keys jingled in his hand. He got the door open on the second try, then kicked it open with his foot; Chris was not much help getting inside, though he did mostly follow Daniel's direction. Inside, the apartment was quiet and dim, illuminated only by a single light in the kitchen. He flipped on another that lit up the living room, and the little hall that led into the single bedroom.
Chris started tugging him in that direction, hands back in Daniel's pants. "Oh I'm pretty sure you've been good to go for awhile now," he murmured, pressing a kiss on the slightly taller man. One hand slid over the front of Daniel's pants, groping his member with an audacity he normally would not have shown. "Bedroom? We could still have a bathroom fuck, though not as fun as a dirty stall in a dive bar."
Daniel groaned aloud, frustration and intense, long put-off need bringing color to his cheeks. He reached down, gripping Chris's wrist in a loose but unyielding circle. "Yes," he said, lifting Chris's hand from his pants. "You are definitely going to the bedroom. But only after we take care of a few other things." He lifted one finger in front of Chris's face. "You wait right here."
He tugged at his jeans, trying and largely failing to pull clinging denim away from his burgeoning arousal. Muttering to himself, he made his way to the bathroom, returning with three ibuprofen cupped in his palm. He handed these and a bottle of water, fresh from the chilly crisper drawer in his fridge, to Chris.
Chris glanced down at the offerings, taking them with a hesitant touch. He laughed, softly, a little confused. "You trying to be my mom? Because I thought we were gonna have a good time. You're kinda killing my buzz, right now."
"Good, cos I don't want you pukin' on my sheets." Daniel smiled down at him. "Trust me. We are gonna have a good time. I already have, to be honest with you." He moved closer to Chris, his hands coming to rest on his hips. Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss to his lips, tasting sweetness and liquor layered over the other man's already familiar flavor. Straightening up, he sighed at his own utterly reasonable, completely unwanted behavior. He took Chris's free hand and led him toward the couch. "C'mon," he said. "Finish up that water an' we'll see what's on TV."
Chris followed, a pace or two behind as the excitement in his chest dulled. He was seriously beginning to wonder if he'd done something wrong. Taking one quick swig of the water bottle, he let it sit on Daniel's worn coffee table, the condensation from around the bottle already creating a ring of moisture on the tabletop. He let Daniel settle into the couch first, following closely behind; he was genuinely surprised when Daniel clicked the TV remote and turned the box on, filling the otherwise quiet apartment with the sound of commercials and network drama.
"Is this you trying to play hard to get?" He leaned over Daniel's shoulder, one hand running over the other man's chest, one last ploy to see if he could crack Daniel's suddenly steely resolve. Daniel sighed, content, and shifted a bit closer to his guest. "I guess I kinda deserve that, but I'm seriously saying you don't have to, not right this second..." That hand moved down to Daniel's pants again, this time popping the button of his fly loose.
"Hey." Daniel's grip was gentle but firm when he grasped Chris's fingers. The pad of his thumb brushed soft over his skin. "It's not like that. Okay?"
Chris sat up, as well as he could manage with his leg, brushing off Daniel's hand, his face a red, angry scowl of frustration. "So what is it, then? Why the fuck am I here if you're not gonna let me fuck you? You wanna go the other way around? Because that's fine, I don't care, you're just seriously fucking confusing me right now. All those fucking dates where you acted like you wanted to drill me into the furniture and now all of a sudden you're not interested? What the fuck?"
Daniel's brow furrowed, fresh color blooming in his cheeks. Though he would never have admitted it aloud, he looked -- and felt -- painfully embarrassed. "Jesus, dude. No. It's…" He pulled a hand through his hair. One thick black lock swept over his eyes, pushed away as quickly as it had fallen.
"You're drunk. And that's cool, whatever, that's what this dumb holiday is for. But I'm not gonna jump you when you're not thinkin' straight." He buttoned his jeans, then spread his hands wide, something akin to an apology written beneath every word. "If you sober up and you still wanna fuck me, believe me, I'll have your clothes off before you can finish askin' the question. But this isn't how it's gonna happen."
Chris blinked, offense and disbelief clear in his expression. "Seriously? This is gonna be some moral thing? You finally get a taste of who I really am, yeah, I kinda figured that'd turn you off." He shook his head, turning away from the other man. "Couldn't even keep it fucking together for one evening, you know, that's your fault for even wanting to go out. I was nervous, OK? I haven't done stuff like this, really, ever, sorry that I don't live up to your expectations of how shit is supposed to be. Fuck."
He struggled up off the couch, though where he was headed was not clear as he wobbled on his brace, trying to make his feet function despite contradictory messages from his brain.
Daniel rose with him, reaching out to grab Chris's arm. "Man it's not about expectations, and I'm damn straight not turned off. I've spent the last hour thinkin' every boner-killing thought I can come up with and it's still not really workin'." He let go of Chris, but stepped closer all the same. He tried for a smile. "I've had a great time tonight. You're funny as hell, you look fine as fuck, and it's nice to see you relax a little. I just… I need to know it's you talkin' and not the booze. Be mad at me if you want, but I mean that."
He gestured down to the sofa. "C'mon, man. Just stay here for a while. Let's chill out and watch some TV and just enjoy the night. Okay?"
Chris regarded Daniel for a moment, blinking as he seemed to wait for the joke to reveal itself. His hands made loose fists at his sides, pulsing open and closed as his mind oscillated between desires and emotions. Finally, he sniffled, wiping his nose and his face with the back of one hand.
"Okay, one, you're making it really hard for me to not want to jump you even more, and two, why are you trying so fucking hard with this? With me?" He stared at Daniel in confusion. "I swear, I'm not worth all this trouble. Everything I touch turns to fucking shit. I guarantee I'll do something to fuck up your life, too." The alcohol in his system was now making him veer in the other direction, his emotions continuing to boil over as his eyes stung with hot tears.
Daniel's smile turned sad, muted with emotion he did not dare attempt to name. He reached out again, and this time his hand was gentle where it curved around Chris's arm. "Look. You want the truth? I like you. And I like a challenge. And I think you are worth it, so." He shrugged. "I'm a pain in the ass, too. I make things difficult, too. That doesn't mean I want people to give up on me. So why would I do that to you?" He tugged at Chris's arm, pulling him closer.
Chris stopped himself for a moment, regarding Daniel anew. Then he let the other man's tug pull him into his orbit, arms easily finding their way around Daniel's torso. He smelled good; liquor and cigarette smoke from the bar, but other things, too. Aftershave, soap, the musky scent that was all his own as Chris aligned his profile with Daniel's.
"Sometimes I think you're not fucking real. You're so fucking pretty, it hurts to look at you," he muttered, his eyes closed. Daniel smiled, but kept his silence. "And now you're fucking nice on top of that. Okay, let's sit. TV. Whatever. I just wanna stay here; I don't wanna go." The last words were almost pleading, as though Daniel had made some unspoken ultimatum that only he had heard. He stumbled back toward the couch, pushing Daniel with him as much as he could until they were seated on its cushions again. He tucked his face into the hollow of Daniel's throat, more content to be there than watching the boob tube a short stone's throw across the living room.
Daniel never registered what he had turned on. The television droned on, flicking from commercial to show and back again. All the while he was content to simply hold Chris against him, breathing him in, reassuring himself that he had made the right choice. His right hand stroked lazy patterns down Chris's back; his left rested on the arm of the couch, propping them both up as one mindless program bled into another.
After the second round of nodding off and starting uncomfortably awake, Daniel tapped Chris on the shoulder. "Let's go lay down," he said, flipping off the television. "This couch is good, but it isn't this good."
Chris had already been half asleep; he started, pulling back from Daniel as he nodded. He let the other man guide him toward the bedroom, easily and sleepily stripping himself of his clothing down to his underwear; the green shirt and jeans went to the floor, along with his shoes and socks. He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, thick and unwieldy fingers undoing his brace. Once the straps were off and he was free of it, he scooted backward into the bed, all but falling on top of Daniel amid the comforter and sheets. His arms went back around the other man, pulling him close, his mouth nuzzling at Daniel's for the reassurance of his lips and his teeth and his tongue. Daniel returned his gesture in kind, kissing him gently, each soft motion slowing, then fading to nothing as they drifted off to sleep.