Work Text:
The second tour came by like a whirlwind, and Chris wondered to himself as they boarded the plane where, exactly, the year had gone. It was a blur of camera left and camera right, for the most part, and now there were so many rehearsals, so many stages and dances and songs to know by heart – but all of that was easy.
Somewhere along the way, the days had begun to bleed together, and then he was twenty-one. A few more shows, a few more flights, and finally another day off rolled around. The girls had bombarded him that morning, chattering excitedly about shopping in the city. He’d declined the invitation with a sleepy hand-wave and excuses about going to the gym, catching up on his reading. Needing something quiet, just for one day.
When he made it back to his hotel room, he tossed his gym shoes and socks on his suitcase and belly-flopped unceremoniously on the bed. He groaned as he stretched his arms up, trying to keep the muscles from locking and leaving him sore for tomorrow’s show.
There was a rap on his door, like some erratic bohemian drumbeat made with practiced palms. He smiled into the duvet. “Hey,” he called out.
“Hey, Chris, it’s Darren,” the voice came through the door.
No, really? Chris thought to himself sarcastically. “Come in.”
“So,” Darren started before he was even in the room, “I heard from Ryan, he says thumbs up on the kiss, but we gotta keep it PG.”
Chris nodded comically, still face down on the bed and unwilling to move.
He’d expected as much. The first time they performed Candles on tour, the kiss that followed had been a surprise to both of them. Chris couldn’t remember how or why, whether he’d reached out for Darren or the other way around, but in that one breathless fraction of a second, it was right. The roar of the crowd wasn’t so much a surprise, but what else was new?
“Uh, Chris?” Darren tilted his head to try and see his face. “You okay?”
“Gym,” Chris mumbled into the bedspread. “Urgh.”
Darren chuckled, plonking himself on the end of the bed with entirely too much energy for Chris’s liking. “Dude, you look like someone ran you over.”
“I feel like I just got bitchslapped by gravity,” Chris concurred, rolling over onto his side and rubbing at his face. “But it’s good. About the kiss, I mean. The fans will be happy.”
Darren beamed for a moment before his eyes trailed up and down Chris quickly, and his worried expression took over. “I have no idea why you kill yourself this much,” he said.
Chris hauled himself into a sitting position, hand now working at the muscles in his neck. “Have you seen the clothes they put me in? Dalton Uniforms are one thing, but skinny jeans can be cruel.”
Laughing under his breath, Darren shifted a little. He watched carefully as Chris closed his eyes and rolled his shoulders gingerly.
“You were pressing?” Darren asked, moving around behind him.
“Yeah,” Chris confirmed a little shyly, but it was Darren’s hands, warm and familiar on his back, that stopped him from clarifying any further.
“Here,” Darren said, and Chris felt the sharp edge of a hand pressing rough up between his shoulder blades. It hurt, but in that truly, absurdly good way that only painful massages could. He groaned, leaning back into the hands behind him without realizing. Something in his back felt like it was unlocking, and suddenly the relief reverberated down his spine.
“Where on earth did you learn to do that?” he asked, incredulous.
Darren patted his shoulders affectionately before sitting back. “Old musicians trick. You spend twelve hours hunched over a guitar, your back can get pretty screwed up.”
Chris nodded, grateful the ache was dissipating. He smiled over his shoulder. “Hopefully I’ll get used to it.”
“They tell you to put on muscle, or what?” Darren asked suddenly, his brow furrowing. “Cause normally you stick with the treadmill.”
Unable to stop the surprise from registering on his face, Chris attempted a smooth transition into casual. “Not so much, but you know what Ryan said about the physical stuff coming up next season,” he shrugged. “I’d rather not go into a shirtless scene looking like an eight year old girl.”
“Shut up,” Darren rolled his eyes, amused. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, man. Seriously, you’re fucking beautiful.”
Chris flinched, feeling the heat rise in his face. It wasn’t the compliment, it was just the way he’d said it. Casual, like they were talking about the weather. Like he’d say the sky was blue.
Rubbing at the back of his neck, Chris tried his best not to look uncomfortable. “Sweet,” he scrunched his nose up. “But the camera is pretty unforgiving.”
Darren’s brow shot up, astonished, like he felt challenged. “You don’t believe me?”
Chris opened his mouth to rebut, but the words wouldn’t come. What could he say to that?
With a determined look, Darren reached out and took a hold of his arm, drawing him backwards off the bed. Chris barely found his feet in time to keep from falling on his face.
“Come with me,” Darren insisted in a sing-song voice. Chris was still stuck on the ‘what’ in his ‘what the hell are you doing?’ response by the time they reached the bathroom.
With hands clamped firmly on Chris’s shoulders, Darren positioned him in front of the mirror, standing behind and looking over his shoulder into their reflection. “Shirt off,” he said simply.
Chris’s eyes went wide. “What?”
“Come on,” Darren nodded to him in the mirror. “Seriously, it’s just me.”
Scrambling for a reason, any valid reason, not to do this, Chris searched the counter-top and found nothing. Fuck you, complimentary soap, he thought. Fuck you and your lack of snappy rebuttal.
“Look, man,” Darren said, his hands shifting down to find Chris’s waist. “You don’t have to. But if you’re right, you’ll be doing this in front of a whole lot more than just me. And then you’ll probably have to lie on top of me.”
Chris shivered involuntarily.
“So, really? This is nothing.”
It was a solid argument.
It was a solid argument, and Darren was selling it with every ounce of charm he could muster, Chris knew that much.
Kicking the counter lightly in surrender, he glared at Darren in the mirror and found the hem of his shirt. “Fine,” he grumbled.
He barely caught Darren’s slightly smug expression before the fabric passed over his head, and he cast the shirt as casually as he could into the next room. Everything in his body was screaming at him not to look in the mirror, and he jolted when he felt Darren’s hands at his waist again, fingers curled warm and strong against his bare skin.
“I’m sorry,” Darren said in a slightly mocking tone, leaning in over his shoulder and making his inflection very clear. “What exactly are you worried about again?”
With that encouragement, Chris let his eyes drift back to the reflection. He was still as pale and porcelain as he’d always been, still less defined than he’d like. Maybe a little too thin, now he thought about it. It took him a moment to realize his whole body had tensed. Darren sensed it, and fixed him with a reassuring smile.
“I see you, you know,” he said very softly. “You’re probably the smartest person I know. One of the funniest people I’ve ever met. But that’s a shield.”
Chris swallowed nervously, still watching him in the mirror as he spoke.
“Don’t get me wrong, it’s a fucking solid piece of work. You’ve been working on it for a long time. But you gotta know, man, I mean. You have to know that under that,” he huffed out a breath, like he couldn’t get the words out. His eyes shifted to the ceiling. “Under that, you’re so much more than you think you are. And you leave so many people, me included, just…” – their eyes met in the mirror – “breathless.”
Chris let go of the air he’d been holding in, shaky and uncontrolled. He felt a low ache as Darren’s fingers gripped a little tighter than before, and after a pause, Darren’s thumb stroked his side. A long shiver rolled down him, curling his toes.
“Sorry,” he said quietly, trying to laugh it off. “This is just, new for me. I’ve never been – like this. Around someone else.”
“Like this?” Darren asked, his gaze narrowing. “What, shirtless?”
Chris’s eyes dropped immediately, embarrassed. It wasn’t like it was news, but saying it still got really awkward, really fast.
Darren considered him for a moment, and he felt the hands disappear from his waist as he watched Darren lean back and peel his own shirt off, dropping it on the floor. Fascinated, he watched as the other man moved slowly in and up against him, coiling strong arms around his waist. Chris’s mouth fell open, and any coherent thoughts dribbled away.
“Even ground,” Darren chuckled, trying to relieve the tension.
There was a pause, and Darren watched him carefully. “You okay?” the question was barely audible, but Chris nodded, his eyes fluttering closed.
The warmth that flooded him, the trembling nervousness deep in his gut that made him feel like he was standing on his toes somehow – the sensation was overwhelming, and heady, and just too much.
“I,” he said brokenly, trying to compose himself. “We should probably – I can’t.”
The slightly stung expression on Darren’s face tore at him a little, but that defiant part of him rose up in frustration. Because this wasn’t fair, it was too much, and it wasn’t fair. “You know, sometimes, I wish you’d get a girlfriend, or something,” Chris said angrily. “At least then it’d feel like we’re acting.”
Darren saw clean through the anger in Chris’s voice instantly. He always would. “Well maybe, that’s not what I want,” he said calmly.
Chris met his eyes, darkly, in the mirror, and before he could stop himself he asked, “Then what do you want?”
Those eyes held his for one tiny moment before they traveled down his body, and Chris couldn’t look away. He felt warm hands open against him, pressing into his belly possessively as Darren’s breath ghosted across his shoulder, and his lips found the top of Chris’s spine in an open, slow kiss. Chris felt his body spasm under Darren’s hands and mouth, and groaned brokenly, trying to find air.
“You.” Darren replied softly against his neck.
Chris couldn’t open his eyes, his body still trembling. “You’re not,” he tried. “You don’t–”
“I do, actually,” Darren’s gaze was locked on the red patch of skin where he’d grazed his teeth. “It’s not … fuck, it’s not about that. It’s just you.”
“Jesus,” Chris glanced up to the ceiling desperately, battling the coiled heat that spread down through his hips from Darren’s hands. He closed his eyes, rocking back into the body behind him, trying to breathe. Darren’s mouth found his jaw, tracing it gently and slowly, begging for permission to do more.
Chris’s breath came in tiny gasps as Darren’s fingers pressed lower, sliding under the fabric of his pants, and any will he had left fell and shattered across the tile.
He turned in Darren’s arms, hand snaking up to cup the back of his neck as he pulled him in and kissed him deeply. They crashed into the wall, hands pressing and scrambling against any surface they could find to keep from falling, hips pressed tight together and shifting desperately for friction. He felt Darren’s thigh, solid and warm, pressing between his legs and his hips jolted violently in response as he sucked hard on Darren’s lower lip.
Chris didn’t know when he’d managed to lead them back towards the bed, but as Darren slipped away from him, falling back onto the mattress, he was grateful for the subconscious directions.
He raked his eyes slowly over Darren’s body, his open mouth and the pulse of his chest as he tried to catch his breath. With deliberate and slow movements, Darren sat up and pressed a hand into Chris’s abdomen, leaning in and drawing skin into his mouth as he kissed across the path his hand mapped out. Chris felt his eyes slam shut, and barely registered those hands coaxing him down before he was straddling Darren’s lap, trembling under Darren’s mouth as it worked its way across his body. He felt hands shift past his waist and reach the small of his back before pushing firmly up the length of his spine in one long, perfect stroke. Chris’s hips jerked forward involuntarily as he let out a soft moan and wound his hands into Darren’s hair, his body shuddering with a low, delicious spark as Darren’s teeth grazed a nipple.
He felt a hand at his neck, drawing him down into another long kiss – teeth and tongue, aching and begging for more contact, more of anything. They rolled back, and Darren shifted slowly, carefully, to position himself on top, his mouth dropping to Chris’s jaw and tracing gentle lines to his pulse.
“Oh,” Chris breathed, eyes fluttering open and closed again as Darren’s hand found his thigh, squeezing gently. The hand moved slowly, thumb and palm pressing firmly up the hard length of him through his pants. Chris sucked in a gasp. “Darren. Jesus.”
Darren’s hands found the waist of Chris’s pants and boxers quickly, dragging them down past his hips to his knees as Chris wriggled for leeway, kicking them off. With practiced movements, Darren toed off his shoes and flicked at his belt buckle, pushing down his jeans and stepping out of them to crawl up the length of Chris’s body, his hand pressed flat against the bare chest below him.
Their mouths came together again, Darren grinding down against him with everything he had. Chris could feel the deep, rolling heat in his hips expanding to every inch of his body as Darren shifted above him, moving lower and lower still. Chris tipped his head back in breathless wonder as everything inside him curled and writhed deliciously. It was only the brush of Darren’s hands against his thighs, and the burning, wet kiss he planted there that made Chris jerk up again, letting out a tiny, broken sound. A strong hand planted itself roughly on his hip, pressing it back down to the bed as Darren’s mouth found its mark and took all of him at once.
He barely heard the moan that punched out of his own mouth, the desperate gravelling sound he made as the intensity of it washed over him in waves. Hands entwined in Darren’s hair, he whimpered gently as his body begged him to roll his hips up into the movement – but Darren’s hand was firm and unrelenting, pushing him down into the mattress as he slid his lips and tongue repeatedly over the head. Chris threw his arms out, fisting handfuls of the quilt desperately. “Please, Darren, god.”
Darren’s eyes shot up, and he lifted himself up onto his elbows, releasing Chris’s hips from where they were pinned. “Do you want me to?” he said gently, unsurely.
“Yes,” Chris breathed. “Please, just.”
He panted softly, feeling the cool air wash over him in Darren’s absence as he heard him retrieve what he needed. Moments ticked by in agonizing slow motion, and finally he felt a warm hand on his hip again, this time caressing instead of holding him down.
Chris let out a tiny sound as Darren captured his mouth in a slow kiss, much softer this time than before. As he pulled away, Darren rested their foreheads together, his hand gently cupping Chris’s cheek. “I’ve never done this before,” he confessed breathlessly. “I need you to tell me if you want me to stop.”
With a tiny nod, Chris met his eyes and felt the trace of a finger up his thigh, cool and wet. His breath hitched, but he couldn’t look away from Darren’s face as he felt the press inside, altogether strange and utterly familiar at the same time. He tried desperately not to close his eyes to the burn as Darren moved a second finger with the first, scissoring gently. Desperate and trembling, he pressed their mouths together, and Darren added a third finger, crooking them slightly for a better angle. A lick of hot, perfect pleasure shot through Chris’s system, and he threw his head back, breaking the kiss with a startled groan. He writhed against the pressure, the burn and the blissful electric heat of it coursing through him, and above him Darren shifted, drawing his fingers away.
The sudden emptiness caught Chris by surprise, and he lost his breathing before he realized Darren had moved above him. His hands reached out instinctively, gripping at Darren’s sides, and he felt the press of him against the back of his thighs. His head fell back as he looked up and found Darren staring down at him, eyes dark, breaths coming slow and rough. Gently, longingly, Darren stroked his open palm down Chris’s chest, and shifted on his knees.
Chris hissed quietly as Darren pushed into him. He was careful and slow, but it still felt like so much more, almost too much, the sensation making him draw shaky and uneven breaths. Darren’s movement slowed to stillness, and he leaned in, worried and trembling himself. He pressed their mouths together in short and needy bursts, and Chris shifted, letting him move deeper, closing his eyes to the pain.
Darren pressed their temples together, eyes closed, breathing in the smell of him and still shivering from the will it took to keep still. He moaned softly, desperate to move, to lose himself there over and over.
Chris let out the breath he was holding slowly, sliding his hands up Darren’s body and drawing him down as he kissed him, sucking the very taste of him from his tongue. Darren groaned into his mouth, hips shifting involuntarily, building a slow rhythm.
The rocking of Darren’s hips sent shocks up his body with every press, the twinge and the pleasure slowly blurring together. But it was Darren’s moan, low and keening, and the snap of his hips that struck that place inside of Chris, and his hips jerked up to meet each thrust desperately.
“Oh, fuck, Chris,” Darren’s hand curled around him, stroking hard in time with each thrust, and he felt his entire body shake with violent pleasure as Darren reached that perfect, hot place he needed him to with every stroke.
With a long, shattered moan Chris threw his head back and let the deafening wave wash over his body, shuddering and twitching from the rush. He felt the strength go out of him, felt a sensation like falling as the blood rushed past his ears. His chest pulsed as he drew in air rapidly, eyes lost and unfocused, mouth hanging open and trembling.
Darren watched him, eyes dark and pupils blown, letting out gentle, throaty, breathless stuttering noises as his hips bucked hard and he came, clutching desperately to Chris’s body.
After a moment of simply breathing, Darren slipped gently out of him, rolling to lie by his side in a boneless, sweat-damp heap. Chris’s eyes fluttered for a moment, and he listened to the low whine of the noiselessness in his ears.
“I – I can’t hear anything,” he managed softly, his voice sounding like it was at the end of a long tunnel. “Is that normal?”
Darren laughed softly, inching closer and pressing a kiss to the side of his head. “When it’s that good? Yes.”
Chris tipped his head to the side, eying the man beside him. With a small, knowing smile, Darren reached his hand out, tracing the line of Chris’s cheekbone before teasing Chris’s mouth with a slow, adoring kiss.
Eyes closed as they parted, Chris drew and released a slow breath. “Was this about you or me?” he asked. “Or – what was it?”
Darren watched him closely, carefully considering before he answered.
“It was about us,” he said, drawing himself up to get the rest out. “I … need you. I wish I had a more eloquent way to say it.”
“You’re straight,” Chris countered carefully.
As if he were waiting for that exact answer, Darren smiled and rolled over, sliding an arm across Chris’s chest and propping himself up on his elbow. “And you’re gay,” he said. “And the sky is blue. And you’re beautiful, and warm, and you take the breath out of my lungs and I have no idea what I’m doing. All I know is, this is what I want. You,” he looked at Chris down long, dark lashes, desperate for him to understand, “are what I want.”
Chris trembled under the intensity, hands tracing lines down the arm across his chest. Something inside him let go, somewhere in his chest, the fear fell away. “I told myself I could never have you,” he smiled sadly. “But here you are.”
“Here I am,” Darren grinned, that same grin Chris knew so well, had seen so many times before. “And I’ll stay. As long as you want me.”
The honesty in his face made Chris’s heart pound, and with both hands he cupped Darren’s jaw and pressed their mouths together, kissing him slowly with that same needy, aching want he had to push down every time a camera was on them.
“Stay,” he said gently as they parted.
“God, just. Please. Stay.”