STRPS -- Our Fate Has Long Been Cast
Sep. 14th, 2010 11:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
the_deep_magicTitle: Our Fate Has Long Been Cast
Author:![[info]](https://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
the_deep_magic
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4,213
Disclaimer: I don’t own them and I’m not making any money from this.
Summary: This is how Zach decides that Chris is going to leave him.
Warnings: angst, rimming, comma abuse
A/N: Written for this prompt on the kink meme. Title from “Nobody Loves You” by Garbage, which is totally Zach’s emo breakup song for this. My first foray into Pinto angst, y’all (but don’t stress – I don’t do H without the C).
Chris doesn’t own any gay porn.
It shouldn’t be a big deal – after all, no man ought to be judged based on his taste in adult viewing materials, lest the very foundations of Western society crumble. It’s just something Zach noticed one day when he was, honest to god, just looking through Chris’ DVD collection for Before Sunrise and he feels mildly embarrassed to have even noticed it, but there it is.
Then an ex-girlfriend of Chris’ moves back into town. He meets her for dinner and they talk and laugh over old times, which Zach knows because the pictures pop up on the usual websites. It’s not even jealousy, really – Chris had related the whole even to Zach later on that night, complete with high-pitched airhead voice.
“Coincidentally enough, I star in a hit movie and she suddenly decides we have ‘like, totally unresolved feelings,’” Chris had said with a snort. “Honestly, how much more transparent can you get?”
Zach laughed, too, rolling his eyes in sympathy. They’d fallen comfortably into bed after that, Chris apologizing that he was too tired to start anything and mindful that Zach had to be up early the next morning. But as Zach stared at the ceiling, listening to Chris snoring softly beside him, he realized what was bothering him – the fact that Chris could go out and meet this girl for dinner.
He could take her out to any restaurant, any time, no matter how popular or intimate. He could pay the check without wondering what people were going to think. Hell, this girl meant so little to Chris, yet if he wanted to, he could reach across the table and hold her hand and look her in the eyes for more than three seconds without once glancing around to see if anyone was pointing a cell phone camera in their direction.
Zach knows – really, he does – that this isn’t some kind of experiment for Chris, that he’s not just playing at being gay just to see what it’s like. Sure, Chris has never had a boyfriend before, but that doesn’t mean he’s any less serious about Zach than he would be about a girl. He wouldn’t have gotten Zach to open up to him like this if he hadn’t been willing to risk the same – he’s not that cruel. Not intentionally, anyway.
But Zach also knows that the novelty is going to wear off. Maybe it already has. The sex is amazing – better than amazing, sublime – but both of them are old enough to know that that will only go so far, especially since it seems as if the rest of the movie-watching world is dead-set against their relationship. Chris is a tough bastard and he knows how to keep his private life private, but the stakes have never been this high before. And this thing he has with Zach, well, that’s not doing anything but holding him back. And at this point, he could pretty much have anyone he wants – a different girl (or girls, or guy, for that matter) every night. And he doesn’t own any gay porn, dammit.
This is how Zach decides that Chris is going to leave him.
Zach’s never been good with change, so he figures that he’d better wean himself off Chris slowly. It goes terribly at first – whenever he’s actually with Chris, he takes one look into those luminous eyes and can’t imagine a life without him. Doesn’t want to imagine it. It’s only when he’s alone, wishing Chris were with him without even consciously thinking the words, that he can properly hate himself for how far he’s allowed himself to fall.
He starts small – failing to initiate the more comfortable bits of their routine, like the morning kiss goodbye. Not refusing Chris, but not making the first move, either. Chris doesn’t even notice, and the knife twists a little bit deeper every time. Then Zach doesn’t text or call him unless he’s got something necessary to ask him. This nearly kills him the afternoon he’s at home with nothing to do and Smokin’ Aces comes on some cable channel, chopped all to hell by the censors but still featuring one Chris Pine lighting a cigarette in an elevator with a damn road flare and Zach’s itching to interrupt Chris’ day of Very Important Meetings to know just how close he came to burning his eyebrows off. But once Chris is gone, Zach won’t be able to do stupid things like that anymore. So he shuts his phone and sets it back on the coffee table.
After about two weeks, things are going… well. He doesn’t hate himself any less, but he can shrug Chris’ hand off his shoulder without feeling vaguely nauseous and almost actually fall asleep without touching any part of him. He’s thinking about gently suggesting Chris spend the night at his place, trying to find a way to turn it into a joke that won’t make Chris ask questions when he hears the door open. Noah scurries out of the bedroom to greet Chris at the door, and the knife is back in Zach’s heart. It’s hard enough for him – what’s Noah going to do without the second pair of hands to pet him? He’s an affectionate dog, and he’s going to drive Zach absolutely mental when Chris isn’t here all the time.
He’s thinking so hard about the dog that Zach’s totally unprepared for the sight of Chris, looking tired and rumpled and completely gorgeous. His tousled hair practically begs to be smoothed, and Zach has to actually ball his hands into fists at his sides to keep from doing just that.
Chris tosses his messenger bag down on the table and groans, “Remind me why I got into this acting thing again?”
“Beats the hell out getting of a real job,” Zach quips, leaning against the wall instead of pulling Chris into his arms and kissing him until neither one of them can think.
Chris grins weakly. “That it does. If I had to wear one of these every day,” he says, yanking his tie loose, “I’d hang myself with it.”
“You don’t really have to wear one now.” Zach is not watching Chris run the tie through his strong, nimble fingers. “You could show up wearing nothing but your King Kong boxers and a bowler hat and they’d still want to work with you.” Now Zach is not thinking about Chris in nothing but his underwear.
“I’m actually trying to avoid the whole ‘entitled diva’ vibe right now,” Chris chuckles, sauntering over to Zach. “Now kiss me already. I’ve been thinking about your mouth all day.”
Chris is too close to avoid physical contact and Zach doesn’t really have an excuse to slip away anyway, so now he’s just trying as hard as he can to keep from melting into Chris’ arms. He kisses back, of course – if he didn’t, there’d be awkwardness – but he doesn’t let himself really get into, relax under the warm pressure of Chris’ lips against his, comforting even as he seeks comfort. If Zach does, he won’t be able to stop his hands from sliding around Chris’ body, working their way under his shirt to feel the softness of his skin. From there it’s mere minutes before they’ll both be naked, and Zach will have to feel Chris against him, under him, around him, all while knowing that it could be the last time, and even if it’s not, it’s one number lower on the countdown that will eventually leave Zach alone, hand drifting to Chris’ side of the bed to feel the warmth that isn’t—
Without any warning, Chris pulls abruptly away from Zach and takes a full step back. “Fucking hell, man. I give up. What is it?”
Zach is genuinely stunned. “What is what?”
“This!” Chris exclaims with a dramatic gesture that Zach is apparently supposed to understand. “You… being somewhere that is very much not here! Is it something I did?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“You haven’t kissed me for days!”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Zach says, sounding weak even in his own ears. “I kissed you just now.”
“No, I kissed you. And you were doing a shitty job of kissing back.”
“Oh, excellent way to start an argument, Christopher. Telling me I’m a shitty kisser.”
Chris looks so genuinely flabbergasted that Zach hates him. Hates him so much he wants to rush over to him and kiss the horrible expression off his face. “That’s not even close to what I said. What’s going on with you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t treat me like a child, Zach! Look, I have no idea how this works with guys, but we’ve got to talk about this. I gave you time to get whatever it is out of your system, but obviously I’ve fucked up somehow, so tell me what’s going on!”
“Nothing,” Zach spits out.
“Christ, you want me to say it? I’ll say it. Not only haven’t you kissed me or touched me of your own volition, you’ve barely let me touch you. I feel like I’ve been fucking a stranger.”
“What, just because I don’t want to cuddle all the time there’s suddenly something wrong with me? Maybe I was just putting up with your neediness and I finally got sick of it.”
That hit the mark – Chris’ expression doesn’t change, but his entire body goes stiff. “My neediness. My neediness? Fuck, Quinto, your dog gets sick and I have to hold you and listen to you bitch for days. And the second, the second I want my boyfriend to actually act like my boyfriend, you tell me you’re sick of me being needy?”
“If you don’t like it, get yourself a girlfriend and leave me the hell alone.”
Chris freezes. The silence stretches out for agonizing seconds as he studies Zach’s face. Then: “Is that what this is about?”
“What?”
“Cara?”
“Who?” As he says it, Zach remembers: the ex-girlfriend.
“You think I’m going to get back together with Cara? After everything I told you?”
“Not Cara, but someone.” Zach knows he’s letting his hand show, but he can’t help it. “Someone who’s all tits and no brain.”
“A girl, in other words.” Chris gapes. “You… you actually believe that.”
Zach’s lost his momentum. He tries to backpedal, but it’s too late, so he aims the blow as low as he can. “Don’t dick me around, Chris. We both know that eventually you’ll get tired of your little gay fling and go back to being a good little breeder, just like your agent wants.”
All the fight drains out of Chris at once and he looks utterly exhausted. “Is there anything I can say right now?”
“Well, you aren’t denying it. That says enough right there. Just go now and save us both the trouble.”
Chris takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, puts his hand over his eyes, and for a brief and terrible moment Zach thinks he’s crying. Then the hand turns into a fist and Chris smashes it into the wall, rattling the picture frames and making Noah bark in alarm. His eyes are cold, his expression furious. “Go get in the shower.”
It’s a bizarre request, but Zach’s never seen him like this. He manages a weak laugh. “Are you insane? No.”
“Zach, get naked, get in the fucking shower, and turn the water on now, or I swear to god I will walk right out that door. And no matter what you say, I know for a fact that you don’t want that to happen. Go!”
He’d mostly felt exasperation when they’d started this, but now Zach is legitimately angry. He’s just spilled his guts in front of Chris only to be ordered around like his own dog, and he’s livid. But even though he’s telling himself that this could be it, that Chris has given him the chance for a clean break and he should take it, his mouth won’t obey, and he turns and heads for the bathroom
Once there, he strips his clothes off angrily, drowning in a fresh wave of self-loathing at his weakness. All he can think as he steps under the punishingly hot spray is that this won’t end tonight; it’ll drag on for days, maybe longer, until he can regain the courage to let Chris go.
With the cacophony in his head and the hot water streaming down his face, it takes Zach several minutes to realize he’s crying.
He hears Chris banging around the bedroom and tries desperately to pull himself back together. The younger man is obviously swearing, and though Zach can’t make out the specifics he thinks he hears something being thrown at the wall. His mind races as he hears the bathroom door creak open and then slam shut, but then the shower curtain is rudely yanked open as Chris, naked and fuming, bursts into the shower and pushes Zach back against the tile wall.
Chris kisses him mercilessly, brutally, and Zach’s brain scrambles to make sense of the onslaught. Chris pulls back with a gasp and groans, “Kiss me back, dammit,” and for the second time that night, Zach obeys without really choosing to.
It’s not a sweet, apologetic kiss; Chris is claiming Zach’s mouth with his own, tongue thrusting deep enough to drag a whimper out of the older man. The force of it snaps Zach’s head back, but somehow Chris’ hand is behind it, receiving the brunt of the blow against the tile. Chris is never this aggressive, and Zach feels utterly helpless – helpless against Chris and helpless against his own body, which is undeniably responding to Chris’ assault.
“Fuck, fuck” Chris keeps muttering against his mouth. “Goddamnit, Zach.” But the tone grows softer as Chris eases up – not much, but enough for Zach to bring his hands up to Chris’ shoulders and steady himself, enough to push back against Chris’ tongue with his own and actually kiss him back properly. But the younger man still has him pinned against the wall with strong hips, and soon his hands move possessively down Zach’s body, sweeping over skin and bone and muscle as if to mark it as his own.
Zach moans softly, unable to resist the press of Chris’ hands, short nails scratching gently against his sides and fingers digging into his hips. He hates how much he needs this, hates how easily Chris can reduce him to—
“No,” Chris says, pulling back suddenly, almost as if he can hear Zach’s thoughts. “Stay here. Stay with me.” He kisses the corners of Zach’s mouth with surprising tenderness. “I can feel it, you know. When you go off in your head.”
Zach didn’t know.
He didn’t know, but he does now, and somehow that makes a difference. He groans into Chris’ mouth, digging his fingers into the younger man’s short hair to kiss him like he’s wanted to for weeks, every pent-up ounce of love and desire and need pouring out of him. Chris stands strong against the tide, accepting everything Zach has to give and reflecting it back at him twofold. Zach has to pull away first, panting and starting to shake in Chris’ arms.
Chris slowly starts to kiss and lick his way across Zach’s jaw, down his neck. “Why, baby?” he whispers, and Zach barely holds back a whimper at the endearment. It’s something that only comes out late in the night, when they’re both too fucked out to care, and hearing it now makes Zach tremble.
“Why do you think I need this any less than you do?” Chris murmurs between soft, sucking kisses against Zach’s throat. “Why do you think you’re not enough for me?”
Zach bites down hard on his lip. Answering those questions would mean dipping into the deep well of insecurities that he’s been trying to hold at bay since he was a teenager, but he’s obviously doing a worse job of it than he thought. It slips out of his mouth before he can stop it, and he hates the breathy, whiny quality of his voice when it does. “You’re going to leave me.”
“No,” Chris moans against his neck, abandoning his previous actions to throw his arms around Zach’s waist and mold their bodies together so tightly that Zach can feel the younger man’s heartbeat against his own. “Never, Zach. I can’t let go of this. If you try to push me away, I’m just going to keep coming back. I swear. You’ll be sick of me long before I ever get tired of you.”
"Show me," Zach whispers, his voice barely audible over the hiss of the shower. "Please, Chris, just show me."
Chris kisses him once more, softly, reassuringly, then whispers, "Turn around."
Zach obeys, pressing his palms against the warm tiles of the wall. Chris moves behind him, blocking the shower spray and wrapping his arms around Zach's chest to hold him tight. Zach feels his lover's erection fitting tight against his ass and rocks his hips back, hoping to press Chris into action.
When Chris loosens his arms and sets his hands on Zach's hips, the older man expects Chris to spread his legs, push his fingers into Zach's body to open him up. Instead, he hears Chris drop down to his knees and feels the spray hit his lower back. Chris licks at the water there like he's searching for Zach's taste, and the older man arches his back and braces himself against his forearms. Chris' mouth is slowly questing lower, and Zach can't hold back a moan when he presses a final kiss to Zach's tailbone and skims his hands down to hold Zach open. Hot water is running down between the cheeks of his ass now, and Zach spreads his legs as best he can to give Chris better access.
The first touch of Chris' tongue to his opening makes Zach's knees weaken and his cock jump. He's never asked Chris for this before, terrified of scaring him off with something this intimate and probably alien to his previous experience. And Chris is hesitant at first, exploring the area gently with lips and tongue. But when Zach relaxes into Chris' grip, the younger man presses in hard with his tongue and Zach opens to him without thinking. Soon Chris is fucking him hard and slow with his tongue, moaning almost as much as Zach is, and Zach should have known that he'd approach this with the same zeal as he approaches everything else. This is what Zach has been frightened of – melting down into nothing but a bundle of nerves and need – but now that he’s here, now that Chris is holding him open and spearing into the core of him and touching him like he’s something infinitely precious, the reality of it isn’t so scary anymore.
When Chris fits his lips over Zach’s skin and sucks, Zach realizes he could come just like this, without a hand on his cock. At the same time, he realizes that’s not what he wants. “More, Chris, please. I need more of you.”
Zach chokes down a whimper when Chris’ filthy, heavenly mouth pulls away from him, but soon he’s standing behind Zach, one hand firm against his belly while the fingers of the other, slick with the lube they keep in the shower, work him open. And Zach’s not ready, not quite, when he squeezes Chris’ hand and asks please, but he’s desperate for the deep, sweet burn of Chris’ cock pushing into him, wants to feel it long after they’ve finished and collapsed into bed, not because he’ll never feel it again but because he never wants to stop feeling it, Chris’ passion and need for him made tangible.
Chris pushes in slowly, letting Zach feel every inch of his length. Zach forces himself to stay still, to let Chris set the pace. Chris groans against Zach’s shoulder, “So fucking good. You feel so good, Zach, so hot and tight, just for me.”
“For you,” Zach repeats mindlessly, muscles aching with the effort of remaining still. “Only for you.”
With a deep sigh, Chris drops his forehead to rest between Zach’s shoulder blades, digs his fingers into the older man’s hips and sets to work fucking Zach within an inch of his life, with slow, brutal thrusts that go so deep Zach sees stars around the edge of his vision. He’s dimly aware of begging for more, faster, but Chris ignores him, apparently intent on wringing every sliver of pleasure from Zach’s sensitized nerve endings.
It goes on for hours – days, maybe – and Zach’s so close but he doesn’t want it to end, wants to spend the rest of his life being slowly taken apart and put back together by Christopher Pine, wants to tell Chris all of this but he can’t, has to trust the arch of his body and the push of his hips to say it for him. And Chris, god bless him, Chris gets it. He pulls one hand from Zach’s hip and falls forward to let his fingers twine with Zach’s against the shower wall, speeds up his thrusts as he sobs, “Love you. God, Zach, love you so fucking much. Gonna tell you every day, every fucking hour, every time you look at me with those gorgeous, lost eyes. Never gonna leave you, you belong to me, love you, I love you, I fucking love you—“
Chris’ hand works hard and fast over Zach’s cock and he’s gone, riding wave after wave of bone-deep bliss and hearing nothing but the steady beat of loveyouloveyouloveyou as Chris pounds into him until his hips stutter and he crushes himself against Zach, crying out his own climax against Zach’s skin.
Eventually, the ache in Zach’s biceps tells him that he’s supporting both their weight against the wall, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Chris starts to shift his weight, but Zach quickly rebalances and wraps his arm around Chris’ back. “Stay,” he says quietly. “Just for a little while.”
Chris lets out a shaky breath and wraps his arms tightly around Zach. “’m sorry,” he mutters, muffled against Zach’s skin.
Zach almost laughs at this. “What do you have to be sorry for?”
Chris squeezes him, nuzzles the nape of his neck. “Thought you knew.” Zach doesn’t have to ask what he’s talking about, but Chris continues anyway. “Thought you knew how crazy I am about you. How absolutely shit-stupid, ass-over-teakettle in love with you I am.”
“Well, now we’ve got a problem.”
“What?” Chris asks, body stiffening a little, and Zach curses himself for maybe ruining the moment.
“I can’t top that. Can’t think of any better metaphors than the relative position of asses and teakettles.”
Chris relaxes, and Zach starts to breathe again. “Just say it,” Chris whispers.
“I love you.” Chris pulls back, separates them, and Zach whimpers a little at the loss until Chris turns him around so Zach can say it to his face in the quick breaths between kisses. Each time Zach says it, his shoulders feel a little lighter and his heart a little fuller until he’s worried he might just float away if Chris ever lets go of him.
A thought occurs to him. “Chris, I gotta ask.”
“Mmm?”
“Why the shower?”
Chris actually giggles a little, blushing to the tips of his ears. “Maybe I’ve been thinking about you all day, naked and wet.” Then his face goes oddly serious. “Maybe I thought you wouldn’t push me away if I fucked you well enough.”
“Jesus, Chris,” Zach sighs, resting their foreheads together. “Our insecurities have insecurities, don’t they?”
Chris tightens his hold around Zach’s waist. “I don’t want to push my luck, but why the hell did you think I was going to leave you for Cara?”
“You don’t. I looked. In your DVD collection. I didn’t mean to look, but I looked.”
“Seriously? All this because of—“
“Look, I know it’s not a big deal, but it got me thinking, and one thing led to another, and—“
Chris rolls his eyes so hard that they threaten to pop out of his head. “It’s called the internet, Zachary. Haven’t you heard? It’s like a series of tubes. Tubes full of gay porn.”
Zach’s jaw drops open. “Okay, I’m going to go stand in the corner and die now like the old man that I am.”
“Don’t you dare,” laughs Chris, kissing him wetly. “I want you to remember this. One day I am going to do something stupid – really monumentally boneheaded – and you are going to think back to the day you tried to dump me because of a perceived deficit in my wank materials, and you are going to forgive me.”
Zach sighs; he deserved that. “Fair enough.”
It shouldn’t be a big deal – after all, no man ought to be judged based on his taste in adult viewing materials, lest the very foundations of Western society crumble. It’s just something Zach noticed one day when he was, honest to god, just looking through Chris’ DVD collection for Before Sunrise and he feels mildly embarrassed to have even noticed it, but there it is.
Then an ex-girlfriend of Chris’ moves back into town. He meets her for dinner and they talk and laugh over old times, which Zach knows because the pictures pop up on the usual websites. It’s not even jealousy, really – Chris had related the whole even to Zach later on that night, complete with high-pitched airhead voice.
“Coincidentally enough, I star in a hit movie and she suddenly decides we have ‘like, totally unresolved feelings,’” Chris had said with a snort. “Honestly, how much more transparent can you get?”
Zach laughed, too, rolling his eyes in sympathy. They’d fallen comfortably into bed after that, Chris apologizing that he was too tired to start anything and mindful that Zach had to be up early the next morning. But as Zach stared at the ceiling, listening to Chris snoring softly beside him, he realized what was bothering him – the fact that Chris could go out and meet this girl for dinner.
He could take her out to any restaurant, any time, no matter how popular or intimate. He could pay the check without wondering what people were going to think. Hell, this girl meant so little to Chris, yet if he wanted to, he could reach across the table and hold her hand and look her in the eyes for more than three seconds without once glancing around to see if anyone was pointing a cell phone camera in their direction.
Zach knows – really, he does – that this isn’t some kind of experiment for Chris, that he’s not just playing at being gay just to see what it’s like. Sure, Chris has never had a boyfriend before, but that doesn’t mean he’s any less serious about Zach than he would be about a girl. He wouldn’t have gotten Zach to open up to him like this if he hadn’t been willing to risk the same – he’s not that cruel. Not intentionally, anyway.
But Zach also knows that the novelty is going to wear off. Maybe it already has. The sex is amazing – better than amazing, sublime – but both of them are old enough to know that that will only go so far, especially since it seems as if the rest of the movie-watching world is dead-set against their relationship. Chris is a tough bastard and he knows how to keep his private life private, but the stakes have never been this high before. And this thing he has with Zach, well, that’s not doing anything but holding him back. And at this point, he could pretty much have anyone he wants – a different girl (or girls, or guy, for that matter) every night. And he doesn’t own any gay porn, dammit.
This is how Zach decides that Chris is going to leave him.
Zach’s never been good with change, so he figures that he’d better wean himself off Chris slowly. It goes terribly at first – whenever he’s actually with Chris, he takes one look into those luminous eyes and can’t imagine a life without him. Doesn’t want to imagine it. It’s only when he’s alone, wishing Chris were with him without even consciously thinking the words, that he can properly hate himself for how far he’s allowed himself to fall.
He starts small – failing to initiate the more comfortable bits of their routine, like the morning kiss goodbye. Not refusing Chris, but not making the first move, either. Chris doesn’t even notice, and the knife twists a little bit deeper every time. Then Zach doesn’t text or call him unless he’s got something necessary to ask him. This nearly kills him the afternoon he’s at home with nothing to do and Smokin’ Aces comes on some cable channel, chopped all to hell by the censors but still featuring one Chris Pine lighting a cigarette in an elevator with a damn road flare and Zach’s itching to interrupt Chris’ day of Very Important Meetings to know just how close he came to burning his eyebrows off. But once Chris is gone, Zach won’t be able to do stupid things like that anymore. So he shuts his phone and sets it back on the coffee table.
After about two weeks, things are going… well. He doesn’t hate himself any less, but he can shrug Chris’ hand off his shoulder without feeling vaguely nauseous and almost actually fall asleep without touching any part of him. He’s thinking about gently suggesting Chris spend the night at his place, trying to find a way to turn it into a joke that won’t make Chris ask questions when he hears the door open. Noah scurries out of the bedroom to greet Chris at the door, and the knife is back in Zach’s heart. It’s hard enough for him – what’s Noah going to do without the second pair of hands to pet him? He’s an affectionate dog, and he’s going to drive Zach absolutely mental when Chris isn’t here all the time.
He’s thinking so hard about the dog that Zach’s totally unprepared for the sight of Chris, looking tired and rumpled and completely gorgeous. His tousled hair practically begs to be smoothed, and Zach has to actually ball his hands into fists at his sides to keep from doing just that.
Chris tosses his messenger bag down on the table and groans, “Remind me why I got into this acting thing again?”
“Beats the hell out getting of a real job,” Zach quips, leaning against the wall instead of pulling Chris into his arms and kissing him until neither one of them can think.
Chris grins weakly. “That it does. If I had to wear one of these every day,” he says, yanking his tie loose, “I’d hang myself with it.”
“You don’t really have to wear one now.” Zach is not watching Chris run the tie through his strong, nimble fingers. “You could show up wearing nothing but your King Kong boxers and a bowler hat and they’d still want to work with you.” Now Zach is not thinking about Chris in nothing but his underwear.
“I’m actually trying to avoid the whole ‘entitled diva’ vibe right now,” Chris chuckles, sauntering over to Zach. “Now kiss me already. I’ve been thinking about your mouth all day.”
Chris is too close to avoid physical contact and Zach doesn’t really have an excuse to slip away anyway, so now he’s just trying as hard as he can to keep from melting into Chris’ arms. He kisses back, of course – if he didn’t, there’d be awkwardness – but he doesn’t let himself really get into, relax under the warm pressure of Chris’ lips against his, comforting even as he seeks comfort. If Zach does, he won’t be able to stop his hands from sliding around Chris’ body, working their way under his shirt to feel the softness of his skin. From there it’s mere minutes before they’ll both be naked, and Zach will have to feel Chris against him, under him, around him, all while knowing that it could be the last time, and even if it’s not, it’s one number lower on the countdown that will eventually leave Zach alone, hand drifting to Chris’ side of the bed to feel the warmth that isn’t—
Without any warning, Chris pulls abruptly away from Zach and takes a full step back. “Fucking hell, man. I give up. What is it?”
Zach is genuinely stunned. “What is what?”
“This!” Chris exclaims with a dramatic gesture that Zach is apparently supposed to understand. “You… being somewhere that is very much not here! Is it something I did?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“You haven’t kissed me for days!”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Zach says, sounding weak even in his own ears. “I kissed you just now.”
“No, I kissed you. And you were doing a shitty job of kissing back.”
“Oh, excellent way to start an argument, Christopher. Telling me I’m a shitty kisser.”
Chris looks so genuinely flabbergasted that Zach hates him. Hates him so much he wants to rush over to him and kiss the horrible expression off his face. “That’s not even close to what I said. What’s going on with you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t treat me like a child, Zach! Look, I have no idea how this works with guys, but we’ve got to talk about this. I gave you time to get whatever it is out of your system, but obviously I’ve fucked up somehow, so tell me what’s going on!”
“Nothing,” Zach spits out.
“Christ, you want me to say it? I’ll say it. Not only haven’t you kissed me or touched me of your own volition, you’ve barely let me touch you. I feel like I’ve been fucking a stranger.”
“What, just because I don’t want to cuddle all the time there’s suddenly something wrong with me? Maybe I was just putting up with your neediness and I finally got sick of it.”
That hit the mark – Chris’ expression doesn’t change, but his entire body goes stiff. “My neediness. My neediness? Fuck, Quinto, your dog gets sick and I have to hold you and listen to you bitch for days. And the second, the second I want my boyfriend to actually act like my boyfriend, you tell me you’re sick of me being needy?”
“If you don’t like it, get yourself a girlfriend and leave me the hell alone.”
Chris freezes. The silence stretches out for agonizing seconds as he studies Zach’s face. Then: “Is that what this is about?”
“What?”
“Cara?”
“Who?” As he says it, Zach remembers: the ex-girlfriend.
“You think I’m going to get back together with Cara? After everything I told you?”
“Not Cara, but someone.” Zach knows he’s letting his hand show, but he can’t help it. “Someone who’s all tits and no brain.”
“A girl, in other words.” Chris gapes. “You… you actually believe that.”
Zach’s lost his momentum. He tries to backpedal, but it’s too late, so he aims the blow as low as he can. “Don’t dick me around, Chris. We both know that eventually you’ll get tired of your little gay fling and go back to being a good little breeder, just like your agent wants.”
All the fight drains out of Chris at once and he looks utterly exhausted. “Is there anything I can say right now?”
“Well, you aren’t denying it. That says enough right there. Just go now and save us both the trouble.”
Chris takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, puts his hand over his eyes, and for a brief and terrible moment Zach thinks he’s crying. Then the hand turns into a fist and Chris smashes it into the wall, rattling the picture frames and making Noah bark in alarm. His eyes are cold, his expression furious. “Go get in the shower.”
It’s a bizarre request, but Zach’s never seen him like this. He manages a weak laugh. “Are you insane? No.”
“Zach, get naked, get in the fucking shower, and turn the water on now, or I swear to god I will walk right out that door. And no matter what you say, I know for a fact that you don’t want that to happen. Go!”
He’d mostly felt exasperation when they’d started this, but now Zach is legitimately angry. He’s just spilled his guts in front of Chris only to be ordered around like his own dog, and he’s livid. But even though he’s telling himself that this could be it, that Chris has given him the chance for a clean break and he should take it, his mouth won’t obey, and he turns and heads for the bathroom
Once there, he strips his clothes off angrily, drowning in a fresh wave of self-loathing at his weakness. All he can think as he steps under the punishingly hot spray is that this won’t end tonight; it’ll drag on for days, maybe longer, until he can regain the courage to let Chris go.
With the cacophony in his head and the hot water streaming down his face, it takes Zach several minutes to realize he’s crying.
He hears Chris banging around the bedroom and tries desperately to pull himself back together. The younger man is obviously swearing, and though Zach can’t make out the specifics he thinks he hears something being thrown at the wall. His mind races as he hears the bathroom door creak open and then slam shut, but then the shower curtain is rudely yanked open as Chris, naked and fuming, bursts into the shower and pushes Zach back against the tile wall.
Chris kisses him mercilessly, brutally, and Zach’s brain scrambles to make sense of the onslaught. Chris pulls back with a gasp and groans, “Kiss me back, dammit,” and for the second time that night, Zach obeys without really choosing to.
It’s not a sweet, apologetic kiss; Chris is claiming Zach’s mouth with his own, tongue thrusting deep enough to drag a whimper out of the older man. The force of it snaps Zach’s head back, but somehow Chris’ hand is behind it, receiving the brunt of the blow against the tile. Chris is never this aggressive, and Zach feels utterly helpless – helpless against Chris and helpless against his own body, which is undeniably responding to Chris’ assault.
“Fuck, fuck” Chris keeps muttering against his mouth. “Goddamnit, Zach.” But the tone grows softer as Chris eases up – not much, but enough for Zach to bring his hands up to Chris’ shoulders and steady himself, enough to push back against Chris’ tongue with his own and actually kiss him back properly. But the younger man still has him pinned against the wall with strong hips, and soon his hands move possessively down Zach’s body, sweeping over skin and bone and muscle as if to mark it as his own.
Zach moans softly, unable to resist the press of Chris’ hands, short nails scratching gently against his sides and fingers digging into his hips. He hates how much he needs this, hates how easily Chris can reduce him to—
“No,” Chris says, pulling back suddenly, almost as if he can hear Zach’s thoughts. “Stay here. Stay with me.” He kisses the corners of Zach’s mouth with surprising tenderness. “I can feel it, you know. When you go off in your head.”
Zach didn’t know.
He didn’t know, but he does now, and somehow that makes a difference. He groans into Chris’ mouth, digging his fingers into the younger man’s short hair to kiss him like he’s wanted to for weeks, every pent-up ounce of love and desire and need pouring out of him. Chris stands strong against the tide, accepting everything Zach has to give and reflecting it back at him twofold. Zach has to pull away first, panting and starting to shake in Chris’ arms.
Chris slowly starts to kiss and lick his way across Zach’s jaw, down his neck. “Why, baby?” he whispers, and Zach barely holds back a whimper at the endearment. It’s something that only comes out late in the night, when they’re both too fucked out to care, and hearing it now makes Zach tremble.
“Why do you think I need this any less than you do?” Chris murmurs between soft, sucking kisses against Zach’s throat. “Why do you think you’re not enough for me?”
Zach bites down hard on his lip. Answering those questions would mean dipping into the deep well of insecurities that he’s been trying to hold at bay since he was a teenager, but he’s obviously doing a worse job of it than he thought. It slips out of his mouth before he can stop it, and he hates the breathy, whiny quality of his voice when it does. “You’re going to leave me.”
“No,” Chris moans against his neck, abandoning his previous actions to throw his arms around Zach’s waist and mold their bodies together so tightly that Zach can feel the younger man’s heartbeat against his own. “Never, Zach. I can’t let go of this. If you try to push me away, I’m just going to keep coming back. I swear. You’ll be sick of me long before I ever get tired of you.”
"Show me," Zach whispers, his voice barely audible over the hiss of the shower. "Please, Chris, just show me."
Chris kisses him once more, softly, reassuringly, then whispers, "Turn around."
Zach obeys, pressing his palms against the warm tiles of the wall. Chris moves behind him, blocking the shower spray and wrapping his arms around Zach's chest to hold him tight. Zach feels his lover's erection fitting tight against his ass and rocks his hips back, hoping to press Chris into action.
When Chris loosens his arms and sets his hands on Zach's hips, the older man expects Chris to spread his legs, push his fingers into Zach's body to open him up. Instead, he hears Chris drop down to his knees and feels the spray hit his lower back. Chris licks at the water there like he's searching for Zach's taste, and the older man arches his back and braces himself against his forearms. Chris' mouth is slowly questing lower, and Zach can't hold back a moan when he presses a final kiss to Zach's tailbone and skims his hands down to hold Zach open. Hot water is running down between the cheeks of his ass now, and Zach spreads his legs as best he can to give Chris better access.
The first touch of Chris' tongue to his opening makes Zach's knees weaken and his cock jump. He's never asked Chris for this before, terrified of scaring him off with something this intimate and probably alien to his previous experience. And Chris is hesitant at first, exploring the area gently with lips and tongue. But when Zach relaxes into Chris' grip, the younger man presses in hard with his tongue and Zach opens to him without thinking. Soon Chris is fucking him hard and slow with his tongue, moaning almost as much as Zach is, and Zach should have known that he'd approach this with the same zeal as he approaches everything else. This is what Zach has been frightened of – melting down into nothing but a bundle of nerves and need – but now that he’s here, now that Chris is holding him open and spearing into the core of him and touching him like he’s something infinitely precious, the reality of it isn’t so scary anymore.
When Chris fits his lips over Zach’s skin and sucks, Zach realizes he could come just like this, without a hand on his cock. At the same time, he realizes that’s not what he wants. “More, Chris, please. I need more of you.”
Zach chokes down a whimper when Chris’ filthy, heavenly mouth pulls away from him, but soon he’s standing behind Zach, one hand firm against his belly while the fingers of the other, slick with the lube they keep in the shower, work him open. And Zach’s not ready, not quite, when he squeezes Chris’ hand and asks please, but he’s desperate for the deep, sweet burn of Chris’ cock pushing into him, wants to feel it long after they’ve finished and collapsed into bed, not because he’ll never feel it again but because he never wants to stop feeling it, Chris’ passion and need for him made tangible.
Chris pushes in slowly, letting Zach feel every inch of his length. Zach forces himself to stay still, to let Chris set the pace. Chris groans against Zach’s shoulder, “So fucking good. You feel so good, Zach, so hot and tight, just for me.”
“For you,” Zach repeats mindlessly, muscles aching with the effort of remaining still. “Only for you.”
With a deep sigh, Chris drops his forehead to rest between Zach’s shoulder blades, digs his fingers into the older man’s hips and sets to work fucking Zach within an inch of his life, with slow, brutal thrusts that go so deep Zach sees stars around the edge of his vision. He’s dimly aware of begging for more, faster, but Chris ignores him, apparently intent on wringing every sliver of pleasure from Zach’s sensitized nerve endings.
It goes on for hours – days, maybe – and Zach’s so close but he doesn’t want it to end, wants to spend the rest of his life being slowly taken apart and put back together by Christopher Pine, wants to tell Chris all of this but he can’t, has to trust the arch of his body and the push of his hips to say it for him. And Chris, god bless him, Chris gets it. He pulls one hand from Zach’s hip and falls forward to let his fingers twine with Zach’s against the shower wall, speeds up his thrusts as he sobs, “Love you. God, Zach, love you so fucking much. Gonna tell you every day, every fucking hour, every time you look at me with those gorgeous, lost eyes. Never gonna leave you, you belong to me, love you, I love you, I fucking love you—“
Chris’ hand works hard and fast over Zach’s cock and he’s gone, riding wave after wave of bone-deep bliss and hearing nothing but the steady beat of loveyouloveyouloveyou as Chris pounds into him until his hips stutter and he crushes himself against Zach, crying out his own climax against Zach’s skin.
Eventually, the ache in Zach’s biceps tells him that he’s supporting both their weight against the wall, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Chris starts to shift his weight, but Zach quickly rebalances and wraps his arm around Chris’ back. “Stay,” he says quietly. “Just for a little while.”
Chris lets out a shaky breath and wraps his arms tightly around Zach. “’m sorry,” he mutters, muffled against Zach’s skin.
Zach almost laughs at this. “What do you have to be sorry for?”
Chris squeezes him, nuzzles the nape of his neck. “Thought you knew.” Zach doesn’t have to ask what he’s talking about, but Chris continues anyway. “Thought you knew how crazy I am about you. How absolutely shit-stupid, ass-over-teakettle in love with you I am.”
“Oh,” Zach says, because his arms still hurt and he’s quickly turning into an emotional wreck and actually tearing up and he doesn’t know what the hell else to say. “Ass over teakettle?
“Well, now we’ve got a problem.”
“What?” Chris asks, body stiffening a little, and Zach curses himself for maybe ruining the moment.
“I can’t top that. Can’t think of any better metaphors than the relative position of asses and teakettles.”
Chris relaxes, and Zach starts to breathe again. “Just say it,” Chris whispers.
“I love you.” Chris pulls back, separates them, and Zach whimpers a little at the loss until Chris turns him around so Zach can say it to his face in the quick breaths between kisses. Each time Zach says it, his shoulders feel a little lighter and his heart a little fuller until he’s worried he might just float away if Chris ever lets go of him.
A thought occurs to him. “Chris, I gotta ask.”
“Mmm?”
“Why the shower?”
Chris actually giggles a little, blushing to the tips of his ears. “Maybe I’ve been thinking about you all day, naked and wet.” Then his face goes oddly serious. “Maybe I thought you wouldn’t push me away if I fucked you well enough.”
“Jesus, Chris,” Zach sighs, resting their foreheads together. “Our insecurities have insecurities, don’t they?”
Chris tightens his hold around Zach’s waist. “I don’t want to push my luck, but why the hell did you think I was going to leave you for Cara?”
“Not Cara. Well, not specifically. It’s just… Chris, you don’t have any gay porn.”
“You don’t. I looked. In your DVD collection. I didn’t mean to look, but I looked.”
“Seriously? All this because of—“
“Look, I know it’s not a big deal, but it got me thinking, and one thing led to another, and—“
Chris rolls his eyes so hard that they threaten to pop out of his head. “It’s called the internet, Zachary. Haven’t you heard? It’s like a series of tubes. Tubes full of gay porn.”
Zach’s jaw drops open. “Okay, I’m going to go stand in the corner and die now like the old man that I am.”
“Don’t you dare,” laughs Chris, kissing him wetly. “I want you to remember this. One day I am going to do something stupid – really monumentally boneheaded – and you are going to think back to the day you tried to dump me because of a perceived deficit in my wank materials, and you are going to forgive me.”
Zach sighs; he deserved that. “Fair enough.”
