#olderfics

"Taking a picture might last you longer," he said with a hint of annoyance.

"My bad. I - um..." you turned around at your words, trying to hide the blush that painted you cheeks. "I'll just leave." As you placed the first step, his hand gripped your elbow.

"Please, I'm sorry," he added. "It's been a long night. I could use the company."

You could tell by the empty glass bottles in the corner that he had probably been hiding out here for a while.

The clouds suddenly cleared and the moon light allowed you to see his features, his eyes looked rather dull, tired, and he simply half smiled at you. His hand fell from your arm and went back to his pocket, the cold air slowly getting the best of him.

"I'm Y/N" you said.

"I'm Chris," the smile grew a bit wider. "You're the new girl on the costumes, right?"

"I am. And I'm sorry for staring, but it's the first time I get to actually see you and not just the pieces of clothing on hangers..." you stopped as you realized how fast you said that sentence.

He chuckled when the words failed you.

"Don't worry. You can't stay shy around me though. You know you /will/ have to put those pieces of clothing on me someday." His brow rose, as did your heartbeat.

"I guess, yeah," you let out a soft laugh, looking at the ground in embarrassment.

He stepped a foot towards you, offering his hand. "Come here."

He pulled you to his side and reached down to a pack of beer, and opened one for you. He set it on the ledge and then proceeded to do the same for himself. He shot you a clumsy wink, and you clung your bottles together before taking a sip, your eyes locked on each other. As if the alcohol wasn’t enough, you accepted his own body heat gladly, wondering how you had not already fallen to the ground with your jell-o legs.

"Wow, I needed that," you said finally.

"Yeah, I can't deal with the expensive wine either," he went on.

“One could only think that enjoying fancy things was a basic trait that Hollywood stars needed.” You mocked the words ‘Hollywood stars’, your tone giving off your position on the matter.

“Oh don’t get me wrong,” he continued the sarcasm, “I sure love those high class cars and cocktail parties.”

“But?” you said, tilting your head, trying to get him to admit otherwise.

He closed his eyes before answering. “Well I wasn’t raised like that.” He scratched the back of his neck as he downed the rest of his beer. “The fancy thing I like is craft beer and I’d rather wear jeans and t-shirts, you know.” He admitted, showing himself off in his current attire, proving his point. “I didn’t want to be here in the first place.”

“I couldn’t tell,” you joked, earning yourself a bright smile.

 ____

You chatted for a bit about why you moved in town, and he gave you some insight on the city. Considering that you shared a rather similar opinion on it, he let you in on the best places to be when you needed to be alone, to grab a beer and obviously the best diners in town. As you talked you swore that he kept inching closer, his already friendly nature amplified by the alcohol, and you weren’t sure whether to let him, or keep a distance, knowing that you had to keep this a professional relationship.

The night was getting colder by the second, so you headed back inside after what felt like a really short time, only to find out it was actually around 1AM. He followed right behind with the two beers left in hand and waited for you to put your shoes back on before closing the door. He politely greeted some of the guests, his friends and co-stars, before disappearing. You looked around, feeling a small pinch in your gut as you had just lost the only person who seemed to get you in here. It was your turn to finish the drink in your hand before you headed to the bedroom where all the coats and purses were set. You shuffled through your stuff, trying to find your phone so you could call yourself a cab when you heard the door squeak behind you. Startled, you turned around, holding your phone close to your chest as if you had just been caught stealing it.

“Oh, hi again stranger,” he was really tipsy by now, “lost ya for a minute.” He leaned into the door frame, crossing his arms over his chest. His head then rested onto the hard surface, his gaze scanning you up and down.

“Taking a picture might last longer.” You saw the amusement in his face at your statement. He chuckled before taking in a deep breath.

“This dress is probably the second fanciest thing I like.” He bit his bottom lip.

“Don’t get used to it,” you affirmed, “plus, I was just about to take it off. And leave, actually.”

“Oh…what a shame.” He trailed his words for emphasis, and even as he rested against something his body seemed to have a hard time standing up.

“Well, I think you should do the same, handsome. I’ll call you a cab too?”

He lifted himself off and walked over to you, his shoulders slumped as he tried to have his face closest to yours. You could hear just how wasted he was by the amount of air he needed to breathe in. He rested his forehead on yours and rubbed the side of your arms.

“We could share.” He seemed to press closer to you, and now you were the one having trouble breathing.

“Chris, please,” you warned, “you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“What do you mean, I don’t know…”

“I mean you’re way too drunk, and this isn’t fair to you.” You cut him off mid sentence as you heard the genuine questioning in his voice.

“So you do want it.” His lips ghosted over yours, making your head spin with bad intentions, until the last bit of sense came back to you.

You set your hands on his chest and lingered a few seconds on the hard muscles before pushing him back softly. He stumbled into the pile of bags on the ground and the only thing he could reach for support was your arm, which caused you to fall down with him, your reflexes rather affected too.

“Talk about that,” he whispered, “look at you all over me.”

“Talk about cliché,” you teased back.

“Cliché would be that we end up falling in love,” he laughed at his own joke, his grip tightening involuntarily around you.

You kneeled on top of him, trying to steady yourself without breaking anything around you. Gripping the top of a dresser, you began to pull yourself up, but were cut short by two strong arms beneath you, who had other plans in mind.

“I want…” he took a deep breath, “Let me be serious okay?” He had a childish tone to him, with made it hard to do as he requested, but you knew that this was probably what drunk Chris called ‘serious’. “You look really nice. No lies.” One of his hands ran up your lower back. “And, I know what I do to you.” His voice was really low and deep, tripling the effect of his last words. You relaxed, deciding that it was better to appreciate the moment rather than try and fight this big child, which was physically impossible.

“And what exactly is that?” you challenged, pressing your weight on his hips.

He hissed. “M’not drunk enough not to see your eyes staring at my lips. Or the way you brushed your finger against my hand any chance you got,” he said as he grabbed your hand in his, bringing it to his lips to give it a small peck.

“Or the way you shivered when your hands where on my chest.”

And another.

“Or the way your left hand is gripping at my t-shirt right now.”

Another. He had almost reached your shoulder by now. The air of his affirmations tickling your skin.

“Oh, and how your hips are grinding on me.”

You gasped, you hadn’t even realized this. Biting your bottom lip and closing your eyes, you brought your free hand to cup your face in hopes of covering your change in colour, but he pulled it back, now kissing his way up that arm.

“Chris,” you whispered.

He looked up at you with his mouth on a delicate nerve, and as he saw the Y/E/C in your eyes darken, he brought his face up to crash his lips to your awaiting ones. With both his hands now on your face and neck, you regained yours and impatiently ran your fingers along his biceps. You felt his muscles twitch under your touch. He pulled back for some air and ran his thumb over you bottom lip, which slowly began to swell from all the attention. You ground your hips involuntarily when he locked lips again, being conscious that he was, too, getting swollen.

You were broken apart by the sudden knock and someone then cleared their throat. Unable to turn back and deal with the embarrassment, you buried your face into Chris’ shoulder, only to find him laughing.

“Boy, this is probably the funniest way I’ve walked in on you. Ever.” The voice was familiar but you couldn’t quite get who it was. As long as it wasn’t your boss, you thought.

“Fuck off, Scott. Don’t have anywhere t’be?” Oh. Oh that was way worse.

“All I’m saying is, get a room. You know I don’t judge. Just thought I’d let you know that the door was wide open and this place is crowded.” His brother teased. You could finally take a glimpse of his face as you looked at him over your shoulder. He nodded his head your way, pointing at you. “Hi…”

“Y/N” you answered. He winked at Chris, and shrugged his shoulders before exiting the room.

“Well, where were we?” He said nonchalantly.

“No, no. Chris, your brother is right.” You shook your head before he could catch your mouth again. You finally managed to stand up, reaching down to him with both hands, and helped him get onto his feet as well. You picked up your phone from the floor and motioned it towards him. “I’m calling,” you said.

You decided to head to his place, agreeing that this was probably the safest option. The taxi ride took what seemed like hours. Both of you were able to keep your hands to yourselves, although your thoughts filled the cabin with powerful tension. The driver dropped you off a block down as the gated community didn’t allow for it.

 ____

Chris managed to unlock his door rather quickly, the commute and short walk apparently enough to help dissipate the effects of alcohol. As soon as you were inside, your back was pressed against the nearest wall, and Chris picked you up, allowing you to circle your legs around his hips. You heard the silky fabric of your dress rip, knowing that it clearly wasn’t meant for any kind of physical activity. You kissed passionately, his expert lips caressing your own as if his life depended on it.

He walked you down a long hallway and brought you into a very dark room. Slowing his pace, he walked until his knees met with the mattress, and then your back. He climbed over you and you let your hands wander on his abdomen, feeling him shudder with anticipation. He pulled at each side of your dress until the seam was ripped even higher and granted him access to his prize. You felt his hands swirl around as he searched for your thighs, and you giggled softly.

“Needs a little light I think” you hinted.

Breaking the kiss with a grunt, he reached over to the window, pulling the curtain just enough for a ray of blue light to flood the room. He stayed by it for a minute, taking in how beautiful you looked waiting for him on his bed. You saw him palm himself, and then his t-shirt was off.

“What are we gonna say tomorrow at work?” he said with a hint of arrogance, knowing damn well that he didn’t care.

“Come here before I regret this.” You patted on the bed.

“Oh, I promise you won’t”