twentysomething (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
twentysomething) wrote2011-07-26 12:06 am
twentysomething) wrote2011-07-26 12:06 am
You Make Me Feel... Like Raising My Glass, 1/1
Title: You Make Me Feel... Like Raising My Glass
Fandom: Bandom, P!ATD, Glee RPSSTILL? ALWAYS.
Pairing: Ian Crawford/Chris Colfer, Ian Crawford/Chris Colfer/Darren CrissI've crossed all my lines, k?
Summary: "There's a picture attached and Chris can't really open his eyes more than an angry slit but he's 94% certain that's Darren in the midst of a label cuddle puddle. Only his dumb, troublesome curly head is sticking out beneath Brendon's torso, next to Vicky-T's tits and Chris is certain however Darren ended up there, he really doesn't deserve to be saved."
Length: 3200 wordsishno really fuck everything
Warnings: NO. NO. NO. NO. I'VE ENTERED INTO THE VALLEY OF THE WORST. THREESOME.
Notes: So, you have to read I Constantly Thank God For George Lucas for this to pretend to make sense, but it's not like it makes a lot of sense, anyway. Basically,fifteendozentimes kindly mailed me a signed Panic poster FOR FREE and I was like I'll write whatever you like, at least, in return! And then I was like, "Sorry... it's this," but since my bro is a gentleman and scholar, it was accepted as payment, anyway. The title is 10000000% amazonziti's fault. And like all the things I do, merelyn aided and abetted this.
The craziest party Chris has ever been to was at Lea and Dianna's apartment, back when they were shooting season one- he'd woken up the next day wearing most of the contents of a Sephora and with three phone numbers written on his stomach in bright green sharpie. Nobody else really remembers it and that's for the best, Chris thinks, but that looks like a DAR luncheon compared to the flat out nightmare glitter orgy he just walked into.
"I don't think I've seen this much neon, ever," Chris mutters and Ian just laughs.
"Occupational hazard," he chirps remorselessly, slipping an arm around Chris's waist- which is still new and exciting and great and Chris tries not to expire from the sugar high he's been cruising on all through July. And because he can, Chris pushes his fingers into Ian's perfect red curls and kisses him for as long as he can manage in public without being utterly embarrassed.
They're at a pre-release party for Cobra Starship- or maybe it's not an official party, or maybe it is, no one had been really clear, but Ian had said that the guys wanted to see him and Chris would do a lot more than go to a party for Ian, so. Ian drags them toward the bar but Brendon finds them between the door and the bar and then it's a whirlwind of introductions- what he's not prepared for is that everyone seems to already know who he is. And not in the way that's weirdly becoming regular, where people know Chris from the show, but he's slowly getting the idea that Ian has told everyone about him, which is ten times more flattering. Chris likes getting introduced as Ian's boyfriend.
He's guessing he passed muster, because the next thing he knows, he's wearing someone's neon wayfarers and doing shots out of electric blue test tubes- or maybe the stuff in the tubes is blue, not the tubes themselves.
Which is pretty much the last thing he remembers when he wakes up at 5 am to the insistent beeping of his phone- thankfully in his apartment, Ian sprawled over his back. He doesn't really feel like checking his phone, but thankfully, there are only three texts, all from a number he has saved as YOUR SNAKE OVRLORD:
yo bro you might wanna come get your buddy
rys turned into guy and he's gonna keep him
he's fun tho we could keep him
There's a picture attached and Chris can't really open his eyes more than an angry slit but he's 94% certain that's Darren in the midst of a label cuddle puddle. Only his dumb, troublesome curly head is sticking out beneath Brendon's torso, next to Vicky-T's tits and Chris is certain however Darren ended up there, he really doesn't deserve to be saved.
Although, checking his outgoing texts, Chris apparently invited Darren and Lea because they're the partiiiiii freaaaaaks come herrreeee to the clurbbbb and Chris is never drinking with Cobra again.
Because Chris is the best boyfriend, he just closes the curtains, pulls the blankets up over Ian, puts on his sunglasses preemptively and goes to get Darren.
When he gets back to the club, Darren and Gabe are sitting on the curb- of course it was Gabe, "YOUR SNAKE OVRLORD", indeed- Darren talking loudly and sincerely about how he thinks his spirit animal is "whatever fucking likes to snuggle the most. Maybe that's dogs, but I don't think so."
Gabe grins at him.
"Hey, Colfer, you had about another twenty minutes and I was going to put him in the band. We'd let him play tambourine." Gabe tells him. Darren beams sweetly at Gabe.
"I would totally play your tambourine," Darren insists and Gabe just laughs as Chris manhandles Darren into the car before he gets any sluttier.
"Lea didn't actually come, did she?" he asks Darren. "She texted me back that I was her favorite drunk texter, but that wasn't a yes or no."
"She did not," Darren hisses, like he forgot all about it and is only now remembering he's irritated about it. "Biiiiiiiitch." It's an affectionate croon as Darren falls into the passenger seat.
"You are a mess," Chris tells him solemnly, even as he waves out the driver's side window and thanks Gabe. Chris is way too lazy to remember how to get to Darren's ridiculous hipster apartment and Darren is in no condition to give Chris directions anyway.
"Are you taking me home?" Darren asks, batting his eyelashes at Chris.
"You are also a shameless flirt," Chris reminds him, because Chris had had an extremely short lived and pointless crush on Darren once upon a time, all upon the strength of some extremely suggestive milkshake drinking.
"Mmm, just saying, you guys are cute. I would be the frosting in that oreo." Darren mumbles, curling up around his seatbelt.
Chris nearly drives them into a tree.
He literally cannot say a single thing, which is apparently irrelevant, since Darren has fallen asleep in the passenger seat and is snoring softly- and Chris actually fucking finds it endearing, which... Jesus Christ Superstar, protect us. Chris is still mulling it over when his phone starts buzzing.
"Did you fuck and run in your own apartment?" Ian asks off the bat, but he sounds amused and still mostly sleepy.
"I had to go pick up Darren before he got made into a woman of easy virtue," Chris says, mostly on autopilot. "Gabe seemed really fond of him."
"I guess we were too drunk for no man left behind. You've done a good thing, Young Christopher," Ian tells him, mock-solemn.
"Just remember that you said that when I make you help me get him up to the apartment," Chris sighs, even as Darren mumbles something about Tin-Tin in his sleep.
Ian does meet Chris in the parking lot, wearing Chris's way-too long sweatpants and a pair of flip flops someone left in his apartment- probably Ashley, judging from the rhinestones. Chris also finds this endearing and worries a lot about himself.
"He's like dead weight," Chris grouses, but Ian just shrugs philosophically with Darren's other arm draped over his shoulders.
"You've been spoiled by film," Ian teases. "I had to help lug everything around when I was getting started out."
"Oh, yeah, because you're so ripped," Chris teases back.
"Your mom hasn't been complaining," Darren says and promptly goes right back to being barely conscious as they drag him into the elevator.
"Wow, I don't think he was even awake," Ian finally says, impressed. Chris sighs, but he can't help it, it comes out fond instead of annoyed.
"He's a serial sleep-trash talker," Chris admits. "One time, totally asleep on a plane from London to Ireland, he told Cory he had a fat ass." Ian laughs and Darren flops his head up to squint at Chris.
"Oreeeeeeos." Darren reiterates and Chris's entire face turns bright red. Ian raises an eyebrow and Chris just shakes his head, although now they definitely have to talk about it, sometime after Chris has had a lot more to drink than is currently lingering in his system and manifesting as an ugly hangover.
They get Darren more or less situated on the couch before Chris lets Ian tug him back to bed, Ian thoughtfully divesting Chris of his jeans. Chris is about to fall asleep, Ian tangling their feet together, already comfortable and familiar, when he finds himself possessed.
"Darren hit on us," Chris blurts out. Ian blinks his way back to awareness.
"Darren hit on you?" he tries. Chris shakes his head.
"No, he hit on us," Chris insists, willing Ian to understand without Chris having to explain further and thus probably die of mortification. It takes Ian another solid fifteen seconds of staring before he gets it and his face morphs into an "o" that would be comical if Chris didn't feel exactly the same way about it.
"Wow," Ian eventually says and it's about seven syllables long and Chris has no idea what it means.
"Yeah," Chris tries, as noncommittally as he can manage.
"Did you think he was serious about it?" Ian asks, after a long moment of thoughtful silence. Chris shrugs.
"Drunk Darren is notoriously honest," Chris replies, thinking of truths from inebriated games of "Never Have I Ever" that Darren sheepishly owned to in the morning, sober as a pin.
"Huh," is all Ian says before he shrugs and kisses Chris sweetly on the tip of his nose. "C'mon, let's sleep for at least another 6 hours."
Chris doesn't manage to fall asleep for another half an hour.
When he wakes up for the second time, it's to quiet conversation in the kitchen and the sound of pans gently scraping against the burners.
Ian is still wearing Chris's too-big sweats and Darren's shirt is half-unbuttoned, Ian poking at a pan of scrambled-ish eggs, Darren slicing up strawberries.
"Morning, sleepyhead," Darren says, before sneaking a piece of strawberry. It really just calls attention to the fact that his fingers are stained pink and if he was kissed, it would taste like fruity- fruity bad thoughts!
"We went to the store," Ian adds virtuously. "All you had in your fridge were leftover containers of takeout rice and Diet Cokes."
"Much to our surprise," Darren snorts, shooting an overly affectionate glance at Chris, before turning it on Ian.
Chris is suspicious. He doesn't know why, but he feels like the other shoe is going to drop, any time now.
Breakfast is almost too intimate, the three of them crowded around the counter, picking up strawberries with their bare fingers, folding the toast around the eggs and laughing stupidly when they ooze out the side, not bothering with utensils. Chris's mug of coffee is perfect- Splenda and skim milk- and Ian's fingers linger on his when he passes it over. Darren is appropriately appreciative of their efforts on his behalf, even.
"I paid at Whole Foods. This is my apology breakfast," Darren explains, nudging another perfectly ripe strawberry at Chris, before passing one to Ian, who wraps his lips around it in a near pornographic display of fruit-eating and seriously, something is up.
It's about this point that Chris realizes exactly how long Darren and Ian have been alone, and alone- when it's Darren and Ian- means plotting.
"Oh my god, I slept in this morning and you guys decided we should have a threesome," Chris says and, with only a little satisfaction, pats Darren's back when he chokes and splutters through his coffee.
"And we didn't even need to go through with the sexy oreo eating part of the plan," Ian sighs and Chris just buries his beet-red face in his hands.
"Okay, you guys are not allowed to make plans without me again, ever," Chris groans, but Ian just tugs his hands away and kisses Chris. He tastes like coffee and strawberries and Chris has about two seconds before Darren is kissing him, still coffee and strawberries, but different and new and Chris doesn't have time to catalog all the ways it's different from Ian before Ian is kissing him again.
"We think this is a pretty great idea," Darren says, even as he's tugging Chris close enough to kiss- again.
"But you could still say no," Ian tells him, and the if you were fucking crazy is left politely silent.
"Yeah, I'm not gonna say no," Chris says, because he's not fucking crazy- or well, he is fucking crazy, because he watched that episode of Gossip Girl, Chuck Bass told him never to have a threeway with someone you know, but he doesn't care. Darren grins and Ian's mouth curls up in a smirk Chris associates with pretty phenomenal sex and he's in way over his head.
"Hey," Darren says, tugging at the hem of Ian's t-shirt and holy shit. Watching Darren and Ian kiss is like the best porn ever, rolled up in birthdays with Christmas sauce- it's all stubbly jaws and wet, biting kisses and curly hair and okay, yeah, Chris really has a type.
Any hope Chris had that the really embarrassing noise he made was in his head goes out the window when Ian and Darren break off, looking smug and full of themselves.
"Okay, shut up," Chris says preemptively. "Just get naked, both of you." They're probably also the only two guys that would actually work on, which, believe him, Chris has no problem with. There's an overwhelming amount of skin on display, and ugh, apparently that Out spread wasn't kidding, Darren- tragically- is that good looking.
Apparently, they're both pretty handsy, because before Chris can even attempt to either get to the bedroom or get his clothes off, there are two sets of guitar-calloused hands pushing him around and unbuttoning his shirt. It's pretty much like a whirlwind of sex- he wonders how people manage threesomes, because there are just so many limbs- Darren's hands are tugging down Chris's pants insistently, mouthing aimlessly along the rise of Chris's hip bone while Ian is cupping Chris's face, kissing him deeply and Chris's brain is on overload.
And holy fuck, Darren is slipping off Chris's boxers and laying hot, wet kisses along the crease of his thigh and Chris's knees actually wobble.
"Well, that got a response," Ian tells Darren, who just grins up at them, licking his lips and Chris doesn't know when they made it to the bed, but Darren is sliding down it to suck Chris's dick like a pro and Chris's head thunks against the pillows.
"Not to brag, but I have gold star head reviews," Darren says, his mouth obscenely red already, and Ian just laughs as Chris babbles something inarticulate as Darren goes back to work, lazily jacking himself a few times, his eyes dark and heavy.
"You like watching this?" Chris manages, breathy, and Ian smirks.
"You liked watching me kiss him," he points out. Ian bends to kiss Chris's neck where's it's guaranteed to make him shiver and his blood run five degrees hotter.
"Not fair," Chris grits out.
"I want to watch you come in Darren's mouth," Ian says simply and Chris has to bite back a string of curses when he can feel Darren fucking purr around his cock.
"That's gonna happen, you don't have to speed it up," Chris moans, because Darren is insane and Chris will totally join the gold star club. When Chris does come- a completely embarrassing amount of time later- he feels like all the bones in his body have been melted. Darren swallows, showily.
"What'd you think?" he asks Ian, cocky as fuck, and Ian just grabs him, and Chris can see the tongue from his boneless slump, which- fuck- means that Ian is tasting Chris in Darren's mouth and Chris cannot get hard again yet, but his body tries valiantly.
"I liked it," Ian says and Chris doesn't think he's ever heard that tone from Ian before and it makes him shiver, even as Ian reaches for Darren. "Chris, I think you should hold him still while I do this." Chris obligingly drapes his heavy limbs all over Darren, leaving Ian free to run his hands all over Darren's body, Darren trying to squirm, but Chris just holds him tighter.
"I'm ticklish," Darren protests, but not very hard or believably, as he arches up where Ian is scraping his teeth over Darren's stomach.
"I'll keep that in mind," Ian is smiling mischievously, even as he reaches for the lube on the bedside table. "Fingers okay?" Darren half-laughs an okay, but Chris can feel Darren's heart beating faster against his chest.
Watching Ian finger Darren while he jacks him off is... indescribable. Chris has been waiting to feel weird about this, or jealous, but all he can think is that he wants more, more of how easy, how casual Ian and Darren are with each other- it's something completely different than when Ian and Chris are alone, which is probably why Chris can just feel heat catching in the pit of his stomach, content to watch, for now.
The curve of Darren's body against his is delicious and Chris can't resist running teasing hands where he knows Darren is most ticklish- but hard enough to tease, not tickle, and Darren groans. Ian grins up at Chris.
"Let's see if we can get a gold star review, too," Ian says, crooking his fingers suddenly and Chris kisses Darren through his orgasm, leaving them both gasping.
"Totally gold star, A plus plus, would go again," Darren eventually mumbles into Chris's collarbone.
"You've been extremely patient," Chris tells Ian sweetly. "I feel bad about it." Ian raises his eyebrows.
"How bad?" he asks, amused. Chris smirks.
"Bad enough," Chris answers. "Whatever you want."
"Hmm," Ian hums thoughtfully, before reaching for the lube again. Chris is fully hard again by the time Ian's got three fingers in him, slipping a condom on with his free hand.
"Fuck, you should see how you look," Darren mutters, and Chris isn't sure which of them he's talking to, but it doesn't really matter. "So goddamn fucking hot."
"Ian," Chris whines, because he's ready and Darren's got his hand on his own dick, just barely stroking, which, fuck, is distracting.
"Are you-" Ian says before Chris practically growls at him.
"Now," Chris hisses, and Ian obliges, sliding in slow and fuck, the stretch of it is perfect, just enough to stop him from coming immediately when Ian's dick grazes his prostate, white-hot pleasure sparking up his spine.
"Oh, did you see that," Darren sighs, his hand moving faster, now. "Right there." Darren has a hand on Ian's hip, and the whole thing devolves into fast, messy fucking- Chris is barely hanging on, like standing on the edge of a cliff, and then Darren's hand is on his cock, and Chris is gone. His orgasm blindsides him completely and he barely notices Ian thrusting erratically, three more times before collapsing on top of both of them.
"Holy shit," Darren breathes out finally, partially sandwiched between him and Ian. Chris grunts his agreement and Ian just laughs softly.
"Yeah," he says. Darren- arguing that as the guest, it's only polite- gets a damp washcloth and wipes them all off carefully- before flinging the washcloth in the direction of the bathroom and falling far short.
"I tried," Darren insists, before arranging himself around and on top of Ian and Chris as suits him best. "Fuck yeah, cuddling."
Chris wants to shake his head, but really, he knew what Darren was like before he let him and his stupidly great boyfriend trick him into what was probably the best threesome ever. Chris tries to summon up at least a little awkwardness about it, and fails pretty spectacularly. They lay in a heap for a while before- according to some probably arcane measurement of time- Darren extricates himself gently from the pile of limbs.
"I should probably go," he says, and Chris really tries for it, but there's still no hint of weirdness to ruin it.
"You could stay if you wanted," Chris finds himself saying, even as Ian starts to say something to the same point. Darren looks up from doing his fly.
"Thanks, guys, but I gotta go see a man about a tambourine gig," Darren says and like that, he's gone.
"Well, I feel cheap," Chris jokes. Ian laughs and pulls Chris closer to him.
"We can be easy together," he promises.
Fandom: Bandom, P!ATD, Glee RPS
Pairing: Ian Crawford/Chris Colfer, Ian Crawford/Chris Colfer/Darren Criss
Summary: "There's a picture attached and Chris can't really open his eyes more than an angry slit but he's 94% certain that's Darren in the midst of a label cuddle puddle. Only his dumb, troublesome curly head is sticking out beneath Brendon's torso, next to Vicky-T's tits and Chris is certain however Darren ended up there, he really doesn't deserve to be saved."
Length: 3200 wordsish
Warnings: NO. NO. NO. NO. I'VE ENTERED INTO THE VALLEY OF THE WORST. THREESOME.
Notes: So, you have to read I Constantly Thank God For George Lucas for this to pretend to make sense, but it's not like it makes a lot of sense, anyway. Basically,
fifteendozentimes kindly mailed me a signed Panic poster FOR FREE and I was like I'll write whatever you like, at least, in return! And then I was like, "Sorry... it's this," but since my bro is a gentleman and scholar, it was accepted as payment, anyway. The title is 10000000% amazonziti's fault. And like all the things I do, merelyn aided and abetted this.The craziest party Chris has ever been to was at Lea and Dianna's apartment, back when they were shooting season one- he'd woken up the next day wearing most of the contents of a Sephora and with three phone numbers written on his stomach in bright green sharpie. Nobody else really remembers it and that's for the best, Chris thinks, but that looks like a DAR luncheon compared to the flat out nightmare glitter orgy he just walked into.
"I don't think I've seen this much neon, ever," Chris mutters and Ian just laughs.
"Occupational hazard," he chirps remorselessly, slipping an arm around Chris's waist- which is still new and exciting and great and Chris tries not to expire from the sugar high he's been cruising on all through July. And because he can, Chris pushes his fingers into Ian's perfect red curls and kisses him for as long as he can manage in public without being utterly embarrassed.
They're at a pre-release party for Cobra Starship- or maybe it's not an official party, or maybe it is, no one had been really clear, but Ian had said that the guys wanted to see him and Chris would do a lot more than go to a party for Ian, so. Ian drags them toward the bar but Brendon finds them between the door and the bar and then it's a whirlwind of introductions- what he's not prepared for is that everyone seems to already know who he is. And not in the way that's weirdly becoming regular, where people know Chris from the show, but he's slowly getting the idea that Ian has told everyone about him, which is ten times more flattering. Chris likes getting introduced as Ian's boyfriend.
He's guessing he passed muster, because the next thing he knows, he's wearing someone's neon wayfarers and doing shots out of electric blue test tubes- or maybe the stuff in the tubes is blue, not the tubes themselves.
Which is pretty much the last thing he remembers when he wakes up at 5 am to the insistent beeping of his phone- thankfully in his apartment, Ian sprawled over his back. He doesn't really feel like checking his phone, but thankfully, there are only three texts, all from a number he has saved as YOUR SNAKE OVRLORD:
yo bro you might wanna come get your buddy
rys turned into guy and he's gonna keep him
he's fun tho we could keep him
There's a picture attached and Chris can't really open his eyes more than an angry slit but he's 94% certain that's Darren in the midst of a label cuddle puddle. Only his dumb, troublesome curly head is sticking out beneath Brendon's torso, next to Vicky-T's tits and Chris is certain however Darren ended up there, he really doesn't deserve to be saved.
Although, checking his outgoing texts, Chris apparently invited Darren and Lea because they're the partiiiiii freaaaaaks come herrreeee to the clurbbbb and Chris is never drinking with Cobra again.
Because Chris is the best boyfriend, he just closes the curtains, pulls the blankets up over Ian, puts on his sunglasses preemptively and goes to get Darren.
When he gets back to the club, Darren and Gabe are sitting on the curb- of course it was Gabe, "YOUR SNAKE OVRLORD", indeed- Darren talking loudly and sincerely about how he thinks his spirit animal is "whatever fucking likes to snuggle the most. Maybe that's dogs, but I don't think so."
Gabe grins at him.
"Hey, Colfer, you had about another twenty minutes and I was going to put him in the band. We'd let him play tambourine." Gabe tells him. Darren beams sweetly at Gabe.
"I would totally play your tambourine," Darren insists and Gabe just laughs as Chris manhandles Darren into the car before he gets any sluttier.
"Lea didn't actually come, did she?" he asks Darren. "She texted me back that I was her favorite drunk texter, but that wasn't a yes or no."
"She did not," Darren hisses, like he forgot all about it and is only now remembering he's irritated about it. "Biiiiiiiitch." It's an affectionate croon as Darren falls into the passenger seat.
"You are a mess," Chris tells him solemnly, even as he waves out the driver's side window and thanks Gabe. Chris is way too lazy to remember how to get to Darren's ridiculous hipster apartment and Darren is in no condition to give Chris directions anyway.
"Are you taking me home?" Darren asks, batting his eyelashes at Chris.
"You are also a shameless flirt," Chris reminds him, because Chris had had an extremely short lived and pointless crush on Darren once upon a time, all upon the strength of some extremely suggestive milkshake drinking.
"Mmm, just saying, you guys are cute. I would be the frosting in that oreo." Darren mumbles, curling up around his seatbelt.
Chris nearly drives them into a tree.
He literally cannot say a single thing, which is apparently irrelevant, since Darren has fallen asleep in the passenger seat and is snoring softly- and Chris actually fucking finds it endearing, which... Jesus Christ Superstar, protect us. Chris is still mulling it over when his phone starts buzzing.
"Did you fuck and run in your own apartment?" Ian asks off the bat, but he sounds amused and still mostly sleepy.
"I had to go pick up Darren before he got made into a woman of easy virtue," Chris says, mostly on autopilot. "Gabe seemed really fond of him."
"I guess we were too drunk for no man left behind. You've done a good thing, Young Christopher," Ian tells him, mock-solemn.
"Just remember that you said that when I make you help me get him up to the apartment," Chris sighs, even as Darren mumbles something about Tin-Tin in his sleep.
Ian does meet Chris in the parking lot, wearing Chris's way-too long sweatpants and a pair of flip flops someone left in his apartment- probably Ashley, judging from the rhinestones. Chris also finds this endearing and worries a lot about himself.
"He's like dead weight," Chris grouses, but Ian just shrugs philosophically with Darren's other arm draped over his shoulders.
"You've been spoiled by film," Ian teases. "I had to help lug everything around when I was getting started out."
"Oh, yeah, because you're so ripped," Chris teases back.
"Your mom hasn't been complaining," Darren says and promptly goes right back to being barely conscious as they drag him into the elevator.
"Wow, I don't think he was even awake," Ian finally says, impressed. Chris sighs, but he can't help it, it comes out fond instead of annoyed.
"He's a serial sleep-trash talker," Chris admits. "One time, totally asleep on a plane from London to Ireland, he told Cory he had a fat ass." Ian laughs and Darren flops his head up to squint at Chris.
"Oreeeeeeos." Darren reiterates and Chris's entire face turns bright red. Ian raises an eyebrow and Chris just shakes his head, although now they definitely have to talk about it, sometime after Chris has had a lot more to drink than is currently lingering in his system and manifesting as an ugly hangover.
They get Darren more or less situated on the couch before Chris lets Ian tug him back to bed, Ian thoughtfully divesting Chris of his jeans. Chris is about to fall asleep, Ian tangling their feet together, already comfortable and familiar, when he finds himself possessed.
"Darren hit on us," Chris blurts out. Ian blinks his way back to awareness.
"Darren hit on you?" he tries. Chris shakes his head.
"No, he hit on us," Chris insists, willing Ian to understand without Chris having to explain further and thus probably die of mortification. It takes Ian another solid fifteen seconds of staring before he gets it and his face morphs into an "o" that would be comical if Chris didn't feel exactly the same way about it.
"Wow," Ian eventually says and it's about seven syllables long and Chris has no idea what it means.
"Yeah," Chris tries, as noncommittally as he can manage.
"Did you think he was serious about it?" Ian asks, after a long moment of thoughtful silence. Chris shrugs.
"Drunk Darren is notoriously honest," Chris replies, thinking of truths from inebriated games of "Never Have I Ever" that Darren sheepishly owned to in the morning, sober as a pin.
"Huh," is all Ian says before he shrugs and kisses Chris sweetly on the tip of his nose. "C'mon, let's sleep for at least another 6 hours."
Chris doesn't manage to fall asleep for another half an hour.
When he wakes up for the second time, it's to quiet conversation in the kitchen and the sound of pans gently scraping against the burners.
Ian is still wearing Chris's too-big sweats and Darren's shirt is half-unbuttoned, Ian poking at a pan of scrambled-ish eggs, Darren slicing up strawberries.
"Morning, sleepyhead," Darren says, before sneaking a piece of strawberry. It really just calls attention to the fact that his fingers are stained pink and if he was kissed, it would taste like fruity- fruity bad thoughts!
"We went to the store," Ian adds virtuously. "All you had in your fridge were leftover containers of takeout rice and Diet Cokes."
"Much to our surprise," Darren snorts, shooting an overly affectionate glance at Chris, before turning it on Ian.
Chris is suspicious. He doesn't know why, but he feels like the other shoe is going to drop, any time now.
Breakfast is almost too intimate, the three of them crowded around the counter, picking up strawberries with their bare fingers, folding the toast around the eggs and laughing stupidly when they ooze out the side, not bothering with utensils. Chris's mug of coffee is perfect- Splenda and skim milk- and Ian's fingers linger on his when he passes it over. Darren is appropriately appreciative of their efforts on his behalf, even.
"I paid at Whole Foods. This is my apology breakfast," Darren explains, nudging another perfectly ripe strawberry at Chris, before passing one to Ian, who wraps his lips around it in a near pornographic display of fruit-eating and seriously, something is up.
It's about this point that Chris realizes exactly how long Darren and Ian have been alone, and alone- when it's Darren and Ian- means plotting.
"Oh my god, I slept in this morning and you guys decided we should have a threesome," Chris says and, with only a little satisfaction, pats Darren's back when he chokes and splutters through his coffee.
"And we didn't even need to go through with the sexy oreo eating part of the plan," Ian sighs and Chris just buries his beet-red face in his hands.
"Okay, you guys are not allowed to make plans without me again, ever," Chris groans, but Ian just tugs his hands away and kisses Chris. He tastes like coffee and strawberries and Chris has about two seconds before Darren is kissing him, still coffee and strawberries, but different and new and Chris doesn't have time to catalog all the ways it's different from Ian before Ian is kissing him again.
"We think this is a pretty great idea," Darren says, even as he's tugging Chris close enough to kiss- again.
"But you could still say no," Ian tells him, and the if you were fucking crazy is left politely silent.
"Yeah, I'm not gonna say no," Chris says, because he's not fucking crazy- or well, he is fucking crazy, because he watched that episode of Gossip Girl, Chuck Bass told him never to have a threeway with someone you know, but he doesn't care. Darren grins and Ian's mouth curls up in a smirk Chris associates with pretty phenomenal sex and he's in way over his head.
"Hey," Darren says, tugging at the hem of Ian's t-shirt and holy shit. Watching Darren and Ian kiss is like the best porn ever, rolled up in birthdays with Christmas sauce- it's all stubbly jaws and wet, biting kisses and curly hair and okay, yeah, Chris really has a type.
Any hope Chris had that the really embarrassing noise he made was in his head goes out the window when Ian and Darren break off, looking smug and full of themselves.
"Okay, shut up," Chris says preemptively. "Just get naked, both of you." They're probably also the only two guys that would actually work on, which, believe him, Chris has no problem with. There's an overwhelming amount of skin on display, and ugh, apparently that Out spread wasn't kidding, Darren- tragically- is that good looking.
Apparently, they're both pretty handsy, because before Chris can even attempt to either get to the bedroom or get his clothes off, there are two sets of guitar-calloused hands pushing him around and unbuttoning his shirt. It's pretty much like a whirlwind of sex- he wonders how people manage threesomes, because there are just so many limbs- Darren's hands are tugging down Chris's pants insistently, mouthing aimlessly along the rise of Chris's hip bone while Ian is cupping Chris's face, kissing him deeply and Chris's brain is on overload.
And holy fuck, Darren is slipping off Chris's boxers and laying hot, wet kisses along the crease of his thigh and Chris's knees actually wobble.
"Well, that got a response," Ian tells Darren, who just grins up at them, licking his lips and Chris doesn't know when they made it to the bed, but Darren is sliding down it to suck Chris's dick like a pro and Chris's head thunks against the pillows.
"Not to brag, but I have gold star head reviews," Darren says, his mouth obscenely red already, and Ian just laughs as Chris babbles something inarticulate as Darren goes back to work, lazily jacking himself a few times, his eyes dark and heavy.
"You like watching this?" Chris manages, breathy, and Ian smirks.
"You liked watching me kiss him," he points out. Ian bends to kiss Chris's neck where's it's guaranteed to make him shiver and his blood run five degrees hotter.
"Not fair," Chris grits out.
"I want to watch you come in Darren's mouth," Ian says simply and Chris has to bite back a string of curses when he can feel Darren fucking purr around his cock.
"That's gonna happen, you don't have to speed it up," Chris moans, because Darren is insane and Chris will totally join the gold star club. When Chris does come- a completely embarrassing amount of time later- he feels like all the bones in his body have been melted. Darren swallows, showily.
"What'd you think?" he asks Ian, cocky as fuck, and Ian just grabs him, and Chris can see the tongue from his boneless slump, which- fuck- means that Ian is tasting Chris in Darren's mouth and Chris cannot get hard again yet, but his body tries valiantly.
"I liked it," Ian says and Chris doesn't think he's ever heard that tone from Ian before and it makes him shiver, even as Ian reaches for Darren. "Chris, I think you should hold him still while I do this." Chris obligingly drapes his heavy limbs all over Darren, leaving Ian free to run his hands all over Darren's body, Darren trying to squirm, but Chris just holds him tighter.
"I'm ticklish," Darren protests, but not very hard or believably, as he arches up where Ian is scraping his teeth over Darren's stomach.
"I'll keep that in mind," Ian is smiling mischievously, even as he reaches for the lube on the bedside table. "Fingers okay?" Darren half-laughs an okay, but Chris can feel Darren's heart beating faster against his chest.
Watching Ian finger Darren while he jacks him off is... indescribable. Chris has been waiting to feel weird about this, or jealous, but all he can think is that he wants more, more of how easy, how casual Ian and Darren are with each other- it's something completely different than when Ian and Chris are alone, which is probably why Chris can just feel heat catching in the pit of his stomach, content to watch, for now.
The curve of Darren's body against his is delicious and Chris can't resist running teasing hands where he knows Darren is most ticklish- but hard enough to tease, not tickle, and Darren groans. Ian grins up at Chris.
"Let's see if we can get a gold star review, too," Ian says, crooking his fingers suddenly and Chris kisses Darren through his orgasm, leaving them both gasping.
"Totally gold star, A plus plus, would go again," Darren eventually mumbles into Chris's collarbone.
"You've been extremely patient," Chris tells Ian sweetly. "I feel bad about it." Ian raises his eyebrows.
"How bad?" he asks, amused. Chris smirks.
"Bad enough," Chris answers. "Whatever you want."
"Hmm," Ian hums thoughtfully, before reaching for the lube again. Chris is fully hard again by the time Ian's got three fingers in him, slipping a condom on with his free hand.
"Fuck, you should see how you look," Darren mutters, and Chris isn't sure which of them he's talking to, but it doesn't really matter. "So goddamn fucking hot."
"Ian," Chris whines, because he's ready and Darren's got his hand on his own dick, just barely stroking, which, fuck, is distracting.
"Are you-" Ian says before Chris practically growls at him.
"Now," Chris hisses, and Ian obliges, sliding in slow and fuck, the stretch of it is perfect, just enough to stop him from coming immediately when Ian's dick grazes his prostate, white-hot pleasure sparking up his spine.
"Oh, did you see that," Darren sighs, his hand moving faster, now. "Right there." Darren has a hand on Ian's hip, and the whole thing devolves into fast, messy fucking- Chris is barely hanging on, like standing on the edge of a cliff, and then Darren's hand is on his cock, and Chris is gone. His orgasm blindsides him completely and he barely notices Ian thrusting erratically, three more times before collapsing on top of both of them.
"Holy shit," Darren breathes out finally, partially sandwiched between him and Ian. Chris grunts his agreement and Ian just laughs softly.
"Yeah," he says. Darren- arguing that as the guest, it's only polite- gets a damp washcloth and wipes them all off carefully- before flinging the washcloth in the direction of the bathroom and falling far short.
"I tried," Darren insists, before arranging himself around and on top of Ian and Chris as suits him best. "Fuck yeah, cuddling."
Chris wants to shake his head, but really, he knew what Darren was like before he let him and his stupidly great boyfriend trick him into what was probably the best threesome ever. Chris tries to summon up at least a little awkwardness about it, and fails pretty spectacularly. They lay in a heap for a while before- according to some probably arcane measurement of time- Darren extricates himself gently from the pile of limbs.
"I should probably go," he says, and Chris really tries for it, but there's still no hint of weirdness to ruin it.
"You could stay if you wanted," Chris finds himself saying, even as Ian starts to say something to the same point. Darren looks up from doing his fly.
"Thanks, guys, but I gotta go see a man about a tambourine gig," Darren says and like that, he's gone.
"Well, I feel cheap," Chris jokes. Ian laughs and pulls Chris closer to him.
"We can be easy together," he promises.
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Here is a mash-up to express my extreme appreciation for who you choose to be:
(NA NA NA NA NA, NA NA NA NA NA)
RIGHT, RIGHT TURN OUT THE LIGHTS, WE'RE GONNA LOSE OUR MINDS TONIGHT, WHAT'S THE DEALIO
I'M KNOWN FOR TAKING WHAT I THINK I DESERVE AND YOU'RE OVERDUE
PARTY-CRASHER, PANTY-SNATCHER / IN THAT BRIGHT WHITE NOISE
WHAT I'VE BEEN MISSING IN MY LIFE WHAT I'VE BEEN DREAMING OF / WHY SO SERIOUS
EVERYTHING YOU WANT SO LET ME GET UP THERE, I'M THE BADDEST BABY IN THE ATMOSPHERE
WE WILL NEVER BE, NEVER BE ANYTHING BUT LOUD AND NITTY-GRITTY DIRTY LITTLE FREAKS
SO COME ON AND COME ON AND RAISE YOUR GLASS / TAKE ME 'ROUND THE WORLD YOU KNOW I LIKE IT LOUD, TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT SO WE CAN DO JUST WHAT YOU LIKE
♥
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BRB HAVING APOPLEXY
LOST ALL CONTROL OF MY LIMBS
I THINK THEY'RE... DANCING
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IN RE: FIFTEENDOZENTIMES
ALSO WHY DID YOU EVER THINK YOU HAD STANDARDS. BECAUSE OH HONEY, NO.
Re: IN RE: FIFTEENDOZENTIMES
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WHAT AM I DOING THIS WHAT AUGH
BUT THEN I KEPT WRITING PORN
KeBKCRGqOXUkg
(Anonymous) 2012-01-26 10:50 pm (UTC)(link)no subject
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Wow, that's a terrible au in the making.
STOP ME SOMEONEno subject
Please, never stop.
What can I do to help that AU come to life?
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Definitely not worst threesome. *GRIN*
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krwtQFFRlDvnriNQJVs
(Anonymous) 2011-09-09 02:34 pm (UTC)(link)no subject