push my buttons, make me feel alive Who: Chris and Daniel What: The boys still have things to learn about one another, apparently. Where: 308 When: Friday, July 14th, 8:07 p.m.
It had taken Daniel three tries to get the perfect winged line above his ink-black eyes. It had taken five to get the wine-red lipliner just right. He told himself his hands were not shaking, his eyes not squinting overmuch in the bathroom's too-bright lights. It was only that he was out of practice. It was absolutely not his nerves. It was not uncertainty.
He repeated this to himself as he secured his only wig. It was a tousled thing, but thanks to Aurora it had been well packed following its last outing, and remained in relatively good care. He brushed thick white locks down around his clean-shaven chin. The dress was black, of course, a vintage wiggle dress his ex had stolen for him from the vast wardrobe of her theater troupe. Its tailored waist and careful folds over the chest gave the illusion of curves. The shoes were black, too, and precisely as he had described the day before: needlessly tall, particularly given his already substantial height, their heels thin and sharp enough to qualify as a weapon. He stepped into them carefully, moving slowly, his legs constrained by the tight skirt drawn around them.
He stood for a moment, praying to whatever god presided over such things that he would not fall and snap an ankle or reinjure his barely-healed leg. Someone appeared to hear him; his first steps were small, but only slightly wobbly. After three passes across the length of his apartment, his strut was good enough to have even made Aurora proud. So with one final glance in the mirror, one flick of a fingertip over his false lashes, he drew in as deep a breath as the dress would allow and set off for Chris' apartment.
He passed no-one in the halls, and the elevator stood empty. In spite of his rapidly hammering heart and the slight churning in his stomach, Daniel almost felt disappointed. But as the elevator doors opened and Chris' door came into view, he was more glad than ever that not a soul was in sight. He hitched at the hem of his dress, riding high on his thighs and backside. He shook his carefully mussed hair. Straightened his shoulders. Then he raised one hand, fingers curled to hide red painted nails, and rapped softly at the door.
Light, Spanish music wafted from the crevices around the door's frame; at Daniel's knock, there was a long pause before footsteps carefully headed in his direction, closing the distance between the kitchen and the front door. Upon opening it, Chris was revealed to be just as well tailored for his boyfriend's visit: a freshly laundered, ironed button-up black shirt, the collar starched around his throat; pressed, khaki pants, one leg bulging slightly because of his brace; and polished shoes completing the ensemble, accessorized with a carefully trimmed beard and slicked hair. Upon seeing Daniel, Chris' jaw didn't exactly hit the floor; though it was one thing to see a picture, it was quite another to, at first, be met at chest level only to drag his eyes up and down everything standing in front of him. Instead, one side of Chris' mouth canted up in a smirk, his eyes glittering mischievously.
He stepped back enough to allow Daniel entry, curious to see how well the man could handle himself in those shoes he would've called death traps. He said nothing, waiting to be ensconced in the privacy of his apartment before he drew further attention to a subject that he himself wasn't fully sure that Daniel was comfortable with. The smell of cooked beef, vegetables, and more echoed around the apartment; two uncapped bottles of beer sat on the round dining room table that was also set up with two place settings for dinner.
That off-kilter smirk nearly undid him, though Daniel was careful not to show it. Instead he tossed his head in near perfect imitation of what he had often seen Aurora do, and strode across the threshold as if all of this was entirely normal. The heels helped. There was a roll to his hips not ordinarily present, a more pronounced curve to his ass than was typical. Pleased with himself, he could not resist sliding one finger across Chris' chest as he passed.
Once inside, he turned on one heel—a daring move, he knew, and one he was grateful he pulled off—and smiled at his host. "Well don't you look nice," he quipped.
Chris made sure the door was closed and locked once his mind had stopped spiralling and he'd regained control over his body even after that brief touch Daniel had thrown in his direction. He turned toward his boyfriend -- or should he say girlfriend, in this scenario? -- tucking his hands into his pockets before pulling them free again. He couldn't stop his eyes from jumping to one area of Daniel's outfit to another, looking pulled between hungry and worried.
"Well, I figured, since it's the occasion," he said, shrugging. He took three careful steps forward, his slow gait hiding his usual limp, and reached out a hand that grasped Daniel's right wrist. He had to tilt his head back to look up into Daniel's face -- even more so than usual -- but he didn't mind it. "You look good. Really good." He tugged on the limb he'd taken ownership of.
Daniel's answering smile betrayed more than a little of his relief. He composed himself quickly enough, though, and leaned down as Chris guided him. He let his free hand settle at Chris' waist, more gingerly than he ordinarily would. Then he kissed him, tentative and testing, the tip of his tongue sliding soft over the seam of his lips. When he drew away his eyes traced the path his mouth had made. He smiled at the subtle streak of red on his partner's mouth.
"Thank you." As he straightened to stand, his thumb traced the waistband of Chris' khakis. He fought the urge to make some joke, to break the tension coiling tight in his belly. It wasn't an entirely unpleasant feeling, after all. "So… what have you got planned for us?"
Chris' arms were settled decidedly more tight around Daniel's waist, his gaze drinking in the makeup on his boyfriend's face. He glanced up, eyesight following the lines of the wig; one hand detached itself from its spot on Daniel's waist, reaching, but he stopped himself mid-motion to leave a palm resting on the small of Daniel's back.
"Dinner, to start, and then..." He shrugged. "I thought we could just take it a step at a time. Here," he pulled back, his hand catching Daniel's again as his lips rolled over the lipstick his beau had left behind. It had a waxy feel, his tongue searching the corners of his mouth to get the last of it. He led Daniel to one of the chairs at the table, and pulled it back so he could sit.
"Who knew you'd be such a gentleman," Daniel teased. He lowered himself to the chair, breathing an audible sigh as he slid his feet beneath the table. Again he fussed with the hem of the dress, pulling it as far down over his thighs as he could. He crossed his legs neatly at the ankles; rested one elbow on the table, propping up his chin as he observed his host. His gaze lingered a little too long, seemed a little too intense beneath those thick, lowered lashes.
"You know," he said, "I think this is the most effort either of us has put into any of our dates."
The smirk was back as Chris made sure the chair was pushed in sufficiently, then rounded it to head to the kitchen for their meal. He cast a look in Daniel's direction, shaking his head. "Hah, I guess. If I was really trying, I would've made something other than burritos..." He shrugged, disappearing into the kitchen to re-emerge with oven mitts and a semi-large tray lined with the aforementioned food. A red sauce navigated its way across the white-skinned hills of tortilla. Gingerly, he set it down on a hot pad between the two place settings, the gentle landing making the cuapá beer jolt a little in their bottles.
"It's a mild sauce," he said, slipping the mitts off. "Unless you want me to get something spicier out of the fridge."
Daniel grinned against the lip of the beer bottle. "Save the spicy stuff for later, guapo." After a sip, he nodded to the empty seat. "Just sit down and let's play a little footsie under the table, hm?" He set his beer aside and carefully picked up his plate, red nails flashing under the light. He held the plate out to Chris. "Just one for me," he said, the most overt concession he would make to admitting his still jangling nerves.
Chris rolled his eyes, but busied himself grabbing serving utensils and giving Daniel the requested single burrito. Then he plopped two down on his plate and set the serving forks down, seating himself. His hands quickly replaced them with a knife and fork of his own, glancing down at the good-smelling food and then to Daniel's face. Without the usual smattering of facial hair, the other man looked so much younger, almost babyish; an issue he himself combated with his beard. Dark lines made Daniel's black eyes even more exotic, and his lips looked fuller for the lipstick.
"So," he finally tried, stepping lightly to find the right wording, "this was your ex's idea? You two get, I dunno, drunk one night and you agreed to let her play dress up with you?"
Daniel toyed with his utensils, glancing down at the burrito he was fairly certain he wouldn't finish. He cut into it, shrugging one bare shoulder. "Not exactly," he said. "I'd worn makeup before, every now and then. Just eyeliner and eye shadow 'til I met her. She practiced on me every now and then, she was always on about my cheekbones or whatever. Then there was this drag night off campus at one of the clubs we always went to. It looked like it'd be fun. And it really was. We didn't pay for a drink all night."
He twitched a little smile. His tongue traced the painted swell of his lower lip, made all the more full by a lip plumper that had left his mouth stinging. He thought back over the expression on Chris' face when he had first opened the door. Worth it, he thought.
"I did it a couple other times. This is the only outfit I kept. This one… got the best response, let's say."
Chris' brows rose and fell, his head nodding as his gaze raked over Daniel's outfit once more. As requested, one of his feet shifted forward, gently kicking against his beau's sharply-heeled shoe.
"That," he replied, "I can definitely believe. I might have to send Aurora a thank-you." One hand moved to cut a piece of his burrito, but it was nothing more than a gesture. Chris put his fork down, reaching instead for his beer. "So is this... are you..." The hand holding the bottle swirled in the air, reaching for words. "You're still... a guy, right?" He winced, in completely unfamiliar territory. His knife joined the fork, abandoning his meal almost as fully as Daniel had in favor of other things.
"Yep." Beneath the table, Daniel slid his black-clad instep over Chris' calf. His subtle blush had not faded, but he no longer appeared ashamed of that fact, or at least not quite so intent upon hiding it. His hand wrapped around his beer, a short thumbnail picking idly at the label. "Still a plain ol' cisgender dude. Whose ass looks amazing in this dress." He smiled, his gaze darting briefly downward. "But that's all. Really. So… don't be too worried, or whatever you are right now. Please."
The caress paired with Daniel's reassuring words were enough to deflate what idle worry lingered beneath Chris' not-so-calm demeanor; he pushed his calf forward into that touch. He shook his head, one side of his mouth canting up in a half smile.
"I'm not, seriously," he replied, lifting his beer before putting it down again. "I was just... I mean, if this is what you're into, that's fine. I just want to say I'm really into the guy version of you, which means I still want the dick attached, is all. Whatever packaging you wanna dress it up in, I'm fine with." Tilting his beer into his mouth, Chris took a long drink. "Sorry if I'm... if I'm not exactly being p.c. with any of this. In my extremely limited dating experience, I've never dealt with anything like this before."
Daniel couldn't help but laugh. His black-limned eyes traced the curve of Chris' mouth, pleased to see his expression soften so. "You're doin' fine," he said. His foot slid back down Chris' leg. He set down his beer and speared a portion of the now cooling burrito. The bite he took was more than a little suggestive, a slide of full red lips over the tines of his fork. He flicked his tongue over its end, swiping up a lingering bit of cheese.
"There's still a very pretty cock in these very slutty panties. Always will be."
Chris' half smile widened into a large, pleased grin; his hands paused on the utensils and the drink before him. He grabbed his napkin and wiped off imaginary stains, along with the small remnants of the lipstick Daniel had left behind. Then he scooted out from his spot at the table, his gaze fixated on Daniel's face and eyes. He sat back, leaning comfortably against the backrest of his seat. He patted his legs.
"I think maybe you should let me have a closer look. I'll be the judge of how slutty they are."
One dark brow arched in answer; one corner of Daniel's mouth twitched upward. "Is that right?" he mused. He pushed away from the table, gathering his precipitous heels beneath him. Dark and glittering, his gaze flicked over his boyfriend, as though he might read in the lines of his body those things Chris had not yet put to words. Hunger and need both shone in his eyes, but he distracted from both with the sway in his hips, the touch of his tongue to that smirking edge of his lips.
He paused in front of Chris. He pressed a hand to the hem of his dress, raising that edge with a plucking of deep red nails. A plane of taut, tawny thigh came into view, and above, a flash of a neatly trimmed thatch of dark hair and flushed skin barely hidden behind black lace. His burgeoning arousal strained against the thin material.
Chris motioned him closer, just barely keeping himself from grabbing at Daniel's hips. They came to rest lightly against the other man, gathering him a little closer as thumbs ran over bony hills of flesh, down toward the lacy band just barely keeping Daniel contained. His eyes tracked up, brows rising with no small amount of impressed judgement.
"OK," he finally acceded, grinning, his hands gently massaging Daniel's skin, "those are pretty slutty." He kept eye contact with Daniel for one long moment as he tipped forward in his seat, pressing his mouth to rough cloth and flesh and the partially engorged member beneath. His tongue worked at it, hands gripping tighter, pressing indentations of red into tan skin.
Daniel sucked in a small breath. His hips pressed forward; one hand hitched his dress still higher. The other moved to Chris' hair, slim fingers threading through dark locks. A soft little sound escaped him at the next slide of his partner's tongue. He muttered a curse, peering down at Chris with a heavy-lidded gaze.
Every touch, every look sent a new thrill racing through him. His body stirred beneath the cloth. His hand tightened in Chris' hair, guiding his mouth harder against him. Keenly he felt every point where Chris touched him. Each little red mark faded too quickly; he wanted more, something to remember this by. His fingers twisted, grasping, short nails scratching at Chris' scalp.
Chris pressed his mouth harder against the fabric, his mouth outlining Daniel's member as it stretched the cloth taut. He worked his way down, between Daniel's legs, one hand sliding free to encourage their parting with some gentle pushes. It was quickly becoming apparent that the underwear wasn't going to last much longer in its simple job of holding everything together. Chris pulled back, his tongue swiping his lips and the edges of his mouth as his fingers slid inside the waistband of the panties, teasingly moving horizontally around Daniel's frame instead of straight down to the floor.
"You really look like you're about to pop, papi," he teased, looking up again. "You sure you wouldn't rather take a seat?"
Daniel's voice was low and rough with lust. "I would rather do whatever will keep your mouth right there," he said, laughing quietly. "But I'm pretty open to suggestions." He bent down, pressing red lips to Chris' forehead, soft and light enough to leave no mark behind. He kept close enough to feel Chris' hands still against him, his grip firm and full of promise. His own fell to Chris' shoulders, slim hands curved to fit them and pull him nearer still. Black eyes met his partner's, searching their depths with naked hunger.
"If you want me to sit," he said, "you'd better clear off a spot for me." One hand drifted down from Chris' shoulder; his index finger traced the lines of his pressed shirt and the warm, hard muscle beneath. It drifted over his belt and came to rest in his lap, loosely cupping Chris' length. Chris' breath caught in his throat, his face still upturned toward Daniel. One hand moved from Daniel's hip to his face, pressing against the line of his jaw to pull his mouth down to his own. One long, drawn out liplock later and he felt his head still spinning.
"There's plenty of room on the couch," he finally mumbled, rising from his spot to force Daniel back a step in those ridiculous heels; Chris caught Daniel's hand in his own, all but bodily dragging the man toward the piece of furniture he'd named. He paused in the middle of the room, one hand reaching up to tug at Daniel's wig, tilting his head down; but before he could wait long enough to taste the other man again, Chris found himself doing his best to stand on tiptoe and reach Daniel's neck, delivering a semi-hard bite where Daniel's pulse beat through the skin. Daniel groaned in answer, a shiver racing through his body as he leaned down to allow more of that kiss.
Daniel's skirt was still hiked up around his belly, and Chris used the opportunity to slide his hands around under the other man's waistband once more, pushing the underwear down enough that Daniel's throbbing member was loose from its lacey cage, hanging to one side. Rather than tend to that, though, Chris' hands were pulling at Daniel's ass, fingers teasing around the tight hole he found therein.
He arched his throat toward lips and teeth and tongue. His hands fell to Chris' waist, clutching him more tightly than at first he realized. He loosened his grip only slowly, distracted by every touch. Whatever tension he had still held began to melt away beneath Chris' hands. He started to spread his legs, but the tight line of lace kept them precisely where they were. So his nails bit into warm skin beneath thin cloth. His hips pressed forward, his arousal flush against Chris' belly. Then his fingers were drifting upward, dragging over every hard plane of Chris' back and shoulders; he pulled him closer, forever wanting more.
Chris' mouth wandered upward, teeth marking every inch of skin they came across. His hands finally felt sympathetic enough to move back to Daniel's front, one wrapping around the width of Daniel's member, pulling it completely free and above the now much-disliked waistband. One stroke, two, enough to be teasing, never enough to fully satisfy as Chris tilted his head back to look Daniel in the face before eating off even more of the remnants of Daniel's now abused lipstick. His other hand reached around, one finger pressing to Daniel's hole, feeling it grasp back at him as much as Daniel's hands were on him.
Slowly, he turned them about, sliding Daniel back to bump against the couch. He pushed him down, just barely keeping himself standing as both hands went to pull off the underwear entirely. Shoulders lifted Daniel's legs as his hands slid the lacy panties upward, then over one leg, and then the other, getting caught on the edge of one heel. Chris kept hold of Daniel's right leg, turning his head to the side to sink teeth slightly into the other man's calf, all the while keeping his gaze locked with his lover's.
Want glittered darkly in that sloe-eyed gaze. Lipstick was smeared like old blood on Daniel's subtly open mouth. Though he could never have put it to words, there was something unexpectedly appealing in his illicit play. For someone ordinarily so comfortable in his own skin, it was a strange rush to be in what felt like someone else's. He moved one hand between his legs, picking up the torturously slow strokes his partner had abandoned. He gave a soft sigh as Chris' teeth found his flesh again. His hips rolled, a silent plea that betrayed his impatience. The need to enjoy this moment, to draw it out as long as he could, became more pressing; again he moved his hands, one circling Chris' upper arm, the other sliding over the taut fabric that concealed his arousal.
Chris felt himself pulled forward as Daniel's legs dropped away from him; his mouth on his lover's pressed Daniel's face back, the white wig's length shivering with each movement. He pressed himself into each touch, his own hand wandering back down to Daniel's exposed member, grasping and pulling it into his palm. He stroked him, pressing the other man back into the couch, sliding into an almost kneeling position if it simply weren't for his bad leg; he groaned, a mixture between his annoyance and Daniel's caresses, and maneuvered to push his lover in a different direction; down flat on the couch.
Daniel wanted to ask how to help, how to ease the discomfort he could read on Chris' face, but he knew well the response that would garner. So he moved as Chris bid, still stroking him softly as he settled into place. Long legs drew around Chris' waist; one taut calf slid alongside Chris' thigh, drifting up toward his ribs. With Chris' hand on him and his body so close above, Daniel was driven to utter distraction. He leaned up to catch Chris' mouth once more, taking his lower lip between sharply biting teeth. Between them his own fingers worked, quickly unzipping Chris' pants and freeing him from his clothes. Every breath came ragged and warm against Chris' lips; every touch grew increasingly hungry.
Chris groaned again into that touch, his hips angled down to press against the tight circle of Daniel's hand. His brace, inflexible as ever, was forgotten momentarily as he leaned into his lover's kiss again, and again, his mouth working to bruise familiar lips. The thing he liked most about Daniel's drag outfit, dress and wig aside, was the makeup -- moreso, getting to mess it up, getting to mess all of it up, crack open that carefully created facade to find the person he'd come to care deeply about underneath, but the kohl around Daniel's eyes and the smear of lipstick across his lower face pulled sensations out of his groin that he didn't know was possible. One hand stabilized itself on the edge of the couch while the other gripped Daniel's shoulder, his brace twitching again and making him pull back, settling his forehead against the other man's.
"Fuck, sorry," he muttered, rising up on the one knee between Daniel's spread legs (another image he liked very much, and was sorry to have to extract himself from) as he continued to try and find a more comfortable position. One hand wiped at his mouth, removing waxy remnants of lipstick and saliva, his teeth chewing on his lower lip. He glanced back toward the arm of the couch, an idea forming in his mind.
Daniel's eyes tracked his, and he arched a brow as he saw where his partner's thoughts had gone. The soft quirk of his smile followed soon after. His grip turned on Chris' cock, stroking him one last time as he began to pull away; Chris moaned again, more quietly. "Is that what you want, papi? You wanna bend me over?" With gentle, coaxing touches he moved his hands steadily upward, tracing lines from Chris' belly to the hollow of his throat. His hand fitted to the hard line of Chris' jaw, the pad of his thumb sliding over the rough plane of his beard. Daniel shifted beneath him, a small slide down toward the armrest, encouraging. "Do it."
Chris grinned as he turned back toward Daniel, his lips and teeth biting at that thumb tracing along his jaw.
"And miss out on that pretty face you worked so hard on? Naw, I just need..." some help, he almost said, but he quickly avoided the words. Instead, he scooted backward, finding his footing on the floor beside the couch. His arms curled around Daniel's thighs, doing his best to drag the slightly larger man toward the couch's armrest.
Daniel moved along with him, lightening the burden of his weight without calling attention to his doing so. His hands slid beneath him, lifting himself above the cushions. His heavy-lidded gaze was fixed on Chris as he raised himself up against the armrest, his hips hitched upward, the black folds of his dress pooling soft around his waist. His leg wrapped around Chris, drawing him close. His hands moved to the buttons on Chris' shirt, tugging at them and releasing the lowest of them.
"I need you to take some clothes off."
His grin widening in reply, Chris' hands moved from Daniel's thighs to his shirt, undoing them one at a time in a teasing motion until he revealed the undershirt he wore underneath. "Yeah? How's that?"
"Better," Daniel said.
The top layer stripped away, down to the floor; the wifebeater underneath was removed just as quickly, until he was nude from top to waist. Then his hands came back down, grabbing at Daniel's shins, calves, knees, thighs, sliding down toward more sensitive regions. He grasped Daniel's member in one hand, a dab of spit making the motions easier as he began to stroke him again. His other hand went to the pants Daniel had already loosened to push them down just enough more to give himself room. Then, fingers found their way between Daniel's ass cheeks, pressing a ring finger into the tight fissure therein. "And that?"
Daniel sucked in a sharp breath. He squirmed against that touch, his hips canting upward, pushing him hard against Chris' hand. "Much better," he said. The sharp point of one heel scratched against Chris' thigh. Daniel reached up, his greedy hands passing over every inch of bared skin. His nails scratched over Chris' stomach, reached up to pinch one pebbled nipple; Chris sucked in a breath, leaning forward into that cruel touch. Daniel's head tipped back against the cushions, and a soft moan fell from his smudged lips as his lover's touch slid simultaneously over and into him again. "Jesus, you feel good."
"It's Chris, but I know it's easy to get us confused," Chris replied, a grin stark on his face as he touched and teased his partner. A laugh died in Daniel's throat. Teeth slid over his lower lip as his hand moved over Daniel's member, the fingers of his other hand sinking deeper. His eyes were half-lidded, watching Daniel squirm in front of him; leaning a little to the side took weight off of his bad leg, but between the sensation of Daniel's legs around him and his hands on him, what pain there was evoked by his age-old injury was just as quickly forgotten. "Tell me what you want, papi," he added, pressing deeper, sliding up to one knuckle's depth inside of the other man.
He answered first with a long, low groan. His hips rolled against Chris' hands. For a brief time he was silent, content with Chris' touch and the feel of warm skin beneath his grasping hands. "You," he breathed. He moaned again, his right leg sliding downward until one sharp heel dangled over the couch's armrest. A deep flush had begun to stir on his cheeks, creeping ever farther down his throat. His eyes found Chris', all sense of shame disappearing beneath his increasing want.
"I want your mouth on me," he said, breathless. "Fuck me with your tongue."
A smirk answered the reply, and Chris wasted little time complying. He gave Daniel's shaft one more loving pump before his hands moved to curl around Daniel's backside, his legs, hips, thighs, lifting him enough with the help of the couch's arm to keep him aloft. His lips settled around Daniel's sac, his tongue tracing the skin's outline, before he abandoned it to move down, down, down, fingers and thumbs pulling his lover wide. His tongue followed a swirling line around Daniel's asshole, dipping in and out, before pressing his mouth tight to the skin to suck, salty sweat filling his tongue. The bent position was difficult to manage, and between that and his own swelling erection, his mind was pulled in too many different directions; but his focus was wholly on Daniel, and the enthusiasm he applied toward his appointed task.
Daniel, thoroughly distracted by the careful ministrations of Chris' hands and tongue, did not immediately consider his partner's discomfort. He writhed beneath his mouth, thoughtlessly hooking one leg over Chris' shoulder, steadying himself even as he pulled Chris closer. "Jesus," he moaned again, quickly punctuated with a shaky laugh. "Chris," he corrected. He gasped at the next touch of Chris' tongue. His hips twisted, his legs subtly trembling as he held himself up to his partner's mouth. His fingers curled into the upholstery beneath him.
Only then, when his eyes rolled open and he looked to the face poised perfectly between his legs, did Daniel realize it was probably time to move. He leaned up, wrapping one hand in Chris' hair, pulling his mouth away from his well-slicked skin.
"Fuck me," he whispered.
Chris sighed against Daniel's skin, allowing his partner to move him where he wanted him; his thighs pressed between Daniel's legs, his hard member sliding between his cheeks. He groaned with the feeling, his hips jerking without reasoned thought against the feeling of Daniel's form. He spit into his hand, moistening his cock, and then pressed the tip to Daniel's entrance.
"How badly do you want it?" He teased, rubbing his member where his tongue had been, even when his own breath was a shaky step away from a simple moan that defined how much he wanted it himself.
Daniel noticed that hitch in his voice. He savored it even as he moaned, himself, and drew his legs more tightly around Chris' waist. His fist clenched in Chris' hair, Daniel dragged his mouth to Chris' ear. He bit sharply at his lobe, his breath hot against his lover's skin. His hips rocked, pushing Chris' length more roughly against him. "Please, baby." His free hand wrapped around Chris' bare arms. Painted nails dug deep into sweat-slick skin. Another groan; another small, hard nip on tender flesh. He shifted again, pressing one sharp heel into Chris' backside. "Give me your cock."
Chris' resolve to taunt Daniel broke, his face pressing into Daniel's as he came closer. With one thrust, he pressed deep into his lover, a moan following the motion as the sensation of being squeezed hard enveloped his whole form, leaving his nerve endings tingling. Hands slid up, around Daniel's waist, to his backside, grasping and gripping him tight as he began to rock to and fro, pulling himself in and out of his lover. His head turned, mouth seeking out Daniel's, catching his lips in a bruising kiss.
Daniel moaned against his mouth. His legs drew tight, pulling Chris deep within him. A shiver raced down his spine; he tilted his hips upward, ever giving more of himself to his partner. His hand curled at the nape of Chris' neck, holding their bodies against one another for every slow, deep thrust. He lapsed into an easy rhythm of quiet moans and indrawn breaths, interspersed with whispered curses. After one sharp bite at the swell of Chris' lower lip, Daniel's greedy kisses moved downward, coming to rest at the hollow of his throat and tracing over the lines of his clavicle. Every nip and clutching caress was meant to goad him on, a silent plea for more.
His partner was in no mood to deny; Chris' hips thrust forward, withdrawing only enough to buck again, slamming himself home harder and harder into his lover. As Daniel traced a path downward, his head tilted back, eyes fluttering open just so to watch as his body shivered with the feeling of being squeezed over and over and over again. Hands drew a tighter grip around Daniel's backside; one unlatched enough to trail up Daniel's back, over the black cloth covering that familiar, tawny skin, up toward the nape of Daniel's neck. Chris held him there, and pulled him back, despite wanting that mouth on his skin; he shoved Daniel back down to the couch, and focused solely on ramming him, one hand grasping his partner's member.
"I want you to come," he said, roughly, the words barely human as he thrust again inside of Daniel, feeling himself close to the edge.
That tone and touch combined set Daniel's every nerve ending aflame. He cried out, so unreserved that had they been in his apartment, BB would have certainly been beating down the walls in response. But his thoughts were not with her, and at the sound of his own voice echoing off the walls, Daniel clenched his hands around Chris' forearms and bucked his hips up toward Chris' hand. In that bowed position, almost painfully draped over the armrest and held firmly in place, Daniel could do little more than grasp at his lover's body with his own. He clenched tight around Chris, and he bit back a whimper by sinking his teeth into his own lower lip.
Each breath he took was quicker and shallower than the last. His eyes found Chris'; his legs trembled. And then he was coming, spilling himself over slick fingers and his own sweat-damp belly. Chris kept his grasp, pumping Daniel until he felt the shudders slow and stop. Then he came himself, his thrusts pushing himself deep inside the other man, his cum slicking his passage. He groaned, eyes half-lidded as pleasure blossomed throughout his form. He kept moving, sliding in and out of his lover; then he pressed himself deep once more, leaning forward to catch Daniel's mouth with his own, their bodies nearly conjoined.
In some numb section of his brain, he could feel his leg complaining, but Chris ignored it; his tongue pushed past Daniel's lips, hands removing themselves to clutch at Daniel's chest and stomach, leaving imprints of cum and sweat in their wake. Daniel arched himself up to meet each touch, and parted his lips to the press of his partner's tongue.
"We are definitely," Chris mumbled against Daniel's mouth, "doing this again. Scoot back." He pulled himself free, still leaning against the couch for a moment, before he carefully navigated himself around it and onto the furniture, landing atop the other man with as much care and precision as he had in moving himself. With a breathless laugh Daniel shifted accordingly. His dress bunched up between them in damp, sticky folds, but he cared very little.
He wrapped his arms around Chris and shifted backward again, pulling them both up toward the opposite armrest. He kissed his partner once more. "I better figure out how to wash this dress, then," he said at last, chuckling quietly. "Or you have to buy me a new one. Either way."
"I can pay for dry cleaning, unless it's the judgemental looks you're worried about," Chris replied, a slim grin cutting his face as he snuggled into Daniel's form. He pressed his face into his partner's, completely and utterly content with the world in that moment. His eyes closed, a soft breath leaving his throat, his body released from all possible tension.
"I stopped bein' bothered by those a long time," Daniel laughed. He stroked soft fingers over Chris' naked back, his own eyes falling shut as they settled down into the cushions together.
"Thank you," he whispered.
The gratitude caught Chris off guard; his eyes opened, a hand rising to hover just over the side of Daniel's face. "I should be the one thanking you," he said after a moment, his words unusually stoic, at least for right then. "Actually," he quickly amended, "you can thank me after you eat my burrito, and no, that's not innuendo." The hand came down, a thumb tracing the outline of Daniel's jaw. "Besides, you're gonna want to keep your strength, because I'm not done with you yet."
Daniel made a small, pleased noise in the back of his throat. He tipped his head down to kiss Chris' hand. Smiling, he wriggled beneath Chris, inching toward the edge of the couch.
"Let's get to work on that burrito, then," Daniel said, though where his hand soon moved gave a very different impression of his true intentions.