Title: The Getaway
Fandom/Pairing: Glee RPS, Chris Colfer/Darren Criss
Rating: NC-17 for m/m sex and mild kink
Word Count: 8,597
Summary: Marathon sex, that’s about it.
Author’s Notes: written to fill this prompt on the GKM.
Gratitudes: to the prompt poster, of course (oh my word was this story fun to write!), and also to AubreyLi for audiencing, and affirming me in these hugely enjoyable pathways of vice.
“You can’t.” Darren had that look on his face—not the sad-puppy look, but rather the puppy-teetering-on-the-edge-of-sadness look, which Chris had decided was actually somehow worse.
“You can’t go to breakfast with Ash on Saturday.”
Chris blinked. “Of course I can.” Waves of sadness were… emanating at him. It was awful. “Why can’t I?”
Chris waited. And waited. And cleared his throat. “I see. Well, it’s a persuasive argument, but I really don’t think—”
“Surprise dirty weekend!” Darren blurted suddenly, both fists in his hair.
Chris peered at him. “Is that your new favorite band or something?”
“I got you… us… a surprise dirty weekend. Away from everything. Except… you know, us.” Darren sighed, dejected. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”
Chris raised an eyebrow. “And apparently, dirty.”
Darren’s sad eyes glinted. “Well, you know. Us.”
“Your point, Sir,” Chris said dryly, tapping through his phone screens. “Ash will be vastly displeased—”
Darren snorted faintly. “Ash will want pictures.”
Chris fluttered his lashes and let his voice drop to a low drawl. “Can you blame her?”
“Why Santa Barbara?” He had to yell—Darren had the windows rolled all the way down and the music cranked all the way up.
Darren changed lanes without signaling, got honked at, and responded with a cheery wave, as if the other person had just honked at him out of sheer joy and he wholeheartedly shared the sentiment. “One—it’s beautiful,” Darren said, holding up one finger.
“It’s beachy,” Chris muttered, but not loudly enough to be heard.
“Two—they have that whole thing going on where approaching celebrities is like, gauche or something—like, a serious violation of their whole vibe—”
“They’re fucking hippies,” he mumbled grumpily, but—yes, it made sense. If it was true.
“And three,” Three fingers waved in front of his face, and Chris guided Darren’s hand gently back towards the steering wheel. “I really didn’t want to stay in town. I wanted to get away. I wanted to get you away. From… everything. No distractions.” The hands on the steering wheel tapped out a backbeat to the music. “I want you all to myself.”
“You forgot to add ‘mua-ha-ha’.”
“No I didn’t—I’m saving it for a moment when you’re particularly vulnerable.”
Chris laughed despite himself. “Dork.”
The place was completely ridiculous as well as utterly gorgeous—huge and sprawling with gardens and pools and spectacular views everywhere you looked. Not that he saw much other than a flash of the main lobby and one long, winding path before Darren unlocked a door and dragged him through it, sending their luggage skittering across a very nice, tiled floor before shoving him up against the door he’d barely had time to shut.
“You smell amazing,” Darren told him, mashing him back against the door and going for his belt.
“I’m not… wearing… any cologne,” Chris managed, pressing his head back into the hard wood as his neck was ravished.
“I know.” There went his belt, and the button of his jeans didn’t put up much of a fight. “You smell like you—it’s fucking fantastic.”
Chris’ eyelids drooped and his head went a little woozy when Darren flipped him around, shoving him back up against the door and reaching around to finish the job on his fly. “Jesus, Darren—are you planning to fuck me right here?”
“Right here,” Darren confirmed in a low, purring voice. “And over there, and there, and also there, and hither as well as yon. Everywhere.” Chris gasped a little when his pants and boxer-briefs were yanked unceremoniously down, shivering when Darren worked his sneaker, then the bundled clothing off one of his feet, stroking his calves and thighs on the way back up. “I plan to fuck your fine ass on every viable surface this room has to offer—”
“Only the viable ones?” he managed, hearing his own heartbeat in his voice.
Darren chuckled darkly in his ear. “Getting greedy already?” Chris closed his eyes, breathing deeply, letting his head hang back. He made a soft, helpless noise when Darren kicked his feet wider apart. “Okay—perfect. That’s perfect. Stay just like that.”
Easier said than done. Much. The fact that his shirt and vest and scarf were still on, plus one shoe, just made him more keenly aware of his waist-to-ankle exposure, the way his cock was filling and stretching without even having been touched, the way his bare ass jutted out to keep his erection away from the door, and the way he ached, caressed only by the warm air of the room.
“You are so fucking pretty,” Darren said softly, almost conversationally. With his eyes closed there was no way for Chris to know what to expect, but despite that the sudden intrusion of warm, slippery fingers caught him by surprise, and he pressed up against the door, scratching a little at the wood. “Don’t move.”
Chris froze, his breath caught high in his throat as Darren stroked him open, faster and deeper and wetter than he usually did. There were cool trickles of lube down his thighs, and his ass felt super-sensitive without any of the usual preliminaries they went through—vulnerable and tender flesh that nevertheless yielded, relaxing and clasping over and over until his cock was fully hard and it was impossible to keep his hips entirely still, rocking back in tiny increments for a little more, and then a little more.
“Mmm… You want it?”
Chris tried to lift his head, and failed—too heavy. “I… Darren. Yes.” His face was hot, his skin hot, and it was so hard to get the words out.
“You want me to fuck you?”
He choked a little, then, “Yes.” Saying it was like breaking free, and he took three quick, deep breaths of air while he rocked himself back, and back again, on those maddening, teasing fingers that were just. Not. Enough.
“I could give you just the tip of my cock, and you’d fuck yourself stupid on it, wouldn’t you?”
“Oh, yes.” That was practically a sob, but he just couldn’t bring himself to care—Darren’s fingers were so good in him, but he needed, needed—
He cried out much louder than he’d intended to when Darren grabbed his hips and drove into him—hard and hot and huge and his spine buckled and his knees pretty much gave up but between Darren and the door he stayed right where he was, groaning softly and tingling down to his toes while Darren drove into him.
“You’re such a hot little slut,” Darren breathed in his ear, low enough to be almost a growl. “With your tight ass and your mouth that just doesn’t want to say all the things you want done to you… you want… fuck.” Darren squeezed him tighter, pressed him harder, teeth settling gently into the curve at the back of his neck, above his collar.
Darren’s hand moved from his hip to his cock, squeezing tight and stroking with enough lube left to be sticky and half-slippery and completely, deliciously irresistible. Chris moaned and fucked into Darren’s fist with all the strength he could manage, his thighs shaking and his hips circling helplessly, working between two equally devastating sources of pleasure.
“You can come anytime,” Darren told him. “I’m just gonna keep fucking you.”
He managed one breath, then two, before his hips went crazy and he rode hard and came, throbbing and aching and feeling like he’d been pitched off a cliff from how fast it had all happened. Darren groaned in his ear and shoved him against the door and fucked him harder, then let go of his cock and wrapped one arm around his waist to pull him back, tilt him at a better angle to stroke into him.
“You feel so good,” Chris mumbled, tingling everywhere with his eyes half-closed and his still-throbbing ass so full, so very full. “You feel so good in me.”
His head whirled again, everything whirled, when Darren turned him away from the door and folded right down with him, right down onto the throw-rug that covered the tile in the entryway. He didn’t pull out, didn’t even miss a stroke, just reared up behind Chris and took his hips again, fucking him deep and fast, groaning softly.
Chris’ arms were shaking too badly to keep him upright, so he let himself slide down until his wet forehead rested on the backs of his hands, his body jerking and twisting when the angle changed. “Oh, fuck—Darren, right there, it’s too much, but—oh, God—”
“You can take it,” Darren panted behind him, his fingers sinking into cramped muscles. “You gonna come again?”
Yes. “No… mmm…”
“Open up.” A tiny sting on his knees as he spread, and he was bucking now, working back to take as much of Darren’s cock as he could, the angle too good to resist. “You want to come?”
“No, I… please…”
“Let me—make me—come…”
Darren held him still, fucking him slow and hard and luxuriously, ignoring the way he shivered and slid and tried to move. “Do it—come for me. Just like this.”
That was impossible, then it was impossible not to, lust sparking through him and waiting for him to let go, to give in to it, to give himself up. He let himself gasp and shake and moan, let everything and anything wash through him until he went over the edge, and it was too fast and too soon but it was so, so good—one throb after another while Darren gasped and then groaned and then came in him, deep inside him while they rocked together on the floor.
He didn’t remember Darren pulling out of him, or turning him over, but the next thing he knew they were kissing, soft and sloppy-wet and close, one kiss after another between gasps for breath. When Darren finally pulled back from him, his eyes were shining.
Chris broke down into helpless giggles.
“This tub is… well, ‘obscene’ is the word that springs to mind. Although ‘ostentatious’ would work as well.”
“Rococo. Excessive. Brazen. I asked for that.”
Chris grinned. “You asked for a room with a tub that was brazen?”
“No.” Darren splashed him a little. “I asked for a room with a tub that was big enough to fuck my boyfriend in.”
Chris turned his head back over his shoulder, and nearly slipped under the water. “You did not.”
“Of course I did—what’s the point of making a reservation at a place that’s hoity-toity enough to never bat an eye at anything if you don’t put their hoity-toityness to the test?”
Chris hummed lightly. “Did they pass?”
Darren’s hands skimmed softly down his chest, rippling the steaming water. “Sadly, yes. All I got for my trouble was a ‘very good, sir’ and a polite inquiry as to whether I would like them to make sure the bathroom was stocked with the very finest silicone-based lube available.”
Chris started snickering.
“It was tragic!” Darren insisted, stroking from his chest to his thighs and back up again. “There I was, hoisted on my own… petard… hey, speaking of which…”
It was fast, so fast it was dizzying, the shift from lazy, indulgent lounging to the kind of want that made the breath catch in his throat, that made him flush hot everywhere. “Darren.”
“I’ve never fucked you in the tub before.” Strong arms slid around his waist, and he was so warm, so warm and heavy.
“I’m going to.”
He had to kneel up for a bit while Darren lubed him with slow, patient strokes, teasing him until he put his head down on his folded arms and moaned, pushing himself back for more. The silicone was different—frictionless, limiting sensation to stretching and pressure. He wasn’t really sure if he liked it until he found his eyes rolling back in his head and his thighs flexing, arching for more. That was kind of a clue.
Darren’s lubed cock slid into him effortlessly—all Chris could do was gasp and shiver, suddenly and abruptly so full he ached. Darren collected him up and drew him back, reclining in the hot water with Chris spread out on top of him, and just like that Chris was weightless and hot and almost painfully hard, his flushed-red cock pushing up out of the water. “Fuck,” he said softly, turning his cheek to rub against Darren’s stubble. “That feels amazing.”
His hips started moving on their own until Darren held him, kept him still. “Slow,” Darren breathed in his ear. “I want to stay here a while.”
He didn’t even realize exactly when he started moaning, but he was—floating in Darren’s strong arms and moaning, full and slick and so hard and so hot, his thigh muscles shaking, rippling the water. When Darren took his cock in hand he cried out softly, helplessly, pushing into his grip—
“You can,” teasing him, reassuring him. “Just… let me.”
Chris locked down on himself, every muscle quivering and he almost—almost—came, but he gulped a breath and hung on and didn’t, then fell away from himself and into some strange other space where he was just… open, open and waiting, his eyes closed but his mouth open, panting softly.
“That’s so good—you feel so good. So hot. So tight. I love fucking you.” Darren was moving in him now, slow and gentle and sweetly torturous, lifting and sliding him, hands on his thighs, his cock, his chest, his balls—hands everywhere, he could feel Darren everywhere.
“I need—Darren, please—I need to come.”
“Nope,” Darren said in his ear—quite cheerfully for someone who was being a total dick. “We’re not there yet.” Another lift, slide, push, lighting him up from inside. “We just got started.”
He made a noise that made him make a mental note to never, ever admit to making. Darren chuckled and kept fucking him, light touches and teases and moving in him so deeply. His nipples hardened when Darren brushed over them, and when Darren’s fingers returned to twist lightly, slick and spiky pleasure-pain, he whimpered and thrashed a little.
“No, you don’t,” Darren was breathing fast, at least, and the hands that clamped down on his hips were shaking. “I could come in you—get you off—in about three seconds, but. Not. Yet.” A gasp in his ear. “I just want to stay here… fill you up… fuck your sweet ass until I can’t stand it any more.”
Time kind of fell apart after that. There was just want, and heat, and the deep, twisting ache in his balls, his cock, his ass while he hung, suspended, on the edge. He was pretty sure he was begging. He was also pretty sure that Darren was laughing at him, but as long as Darren kept fucking him and touching him and gently biting his neck, he just didn’t care.
“Okay,” Darren said behind him, his voice so low and husky it was hard to understand him. “Don’t come ‘till I tell you.”
That was… monstrously unfair, completely unfair when Darren was obviously going for it, moving him and pumping into him and—groaning, right in his ear, low, lush, pleasured groans that made him bite his lip and whimper. Darren’s hands on his hips squeezed so tight it hurt, so tight it made his cock throb and his nipples tingle, and he was spread and fucked and used and he could feel Darren getting ready to come, pulling him and thrusting into him until water sloshed over the edge of the tub. He was on the edge, his hands curled to fists to keep them away from himself while Darren fucked him hard and fast and came, gasping, shaking, shooting hot and heavy inside him, one sharp pulse after another while he burned.
“So good—fuck—you’re so good—come, you can… come for me now.” Chris braced himself and hung on and came so hard his vision whited out, riding Darren’s still-throbbing cock without even touching his own, crying out high and helpless over and over, getting off until he could no longer move, until he was just a limp, floating pile of bliss.
“I… kind of hate you,” he said through numb lips when he could, still slutting himself on Darren’s cock while aftershocks washed through him. “You’re terrible.”
Darren laughed, touching him everywhere all over again. “You love the fuck out of me. And you think I’m awesome.”
Chris snorted. “And so modest.”
Darren cupped his face and turned it, kissing him deeply. “Oh yeah? You try fucking someone as fantastically sexy and amazing as you are, and see how modest you feel afterwards.”
He had to duck under the water to hide his blush.
“We need room service.”
Chris peeked out from under the towel he was using to dry his hair, squinting through dense post-shower steam. Darren was wearing one of the super-fluffy robes that the resort had so thoughtfully provided, with a spa-sized towel wrapped around his head. Standing there with his fists on his hips and a vague frown on his face, he looked like a slightly-camp-but-hypermasculine version of a 1950’s housewife. Chris would have told him so, except he was fairly sure that Darren would have been gratified by the compliment. He cleared his throat. “There’s a whole… bar-thing out there, fridge and all. I saw it briefly as you were dragging me into the bathroom to have your wicked way with me.”
Darren gave him a look, and just like that, 1950’s housewife morphed into sexy-turban-wearing-pirate. It was unnerving. “That’s for water and vodka and pretzels and stuff. Snacks.”
“Do you want lunch?”
“No. I…” Darren left the bathroom and headed to the bedroom. Chris followed him, still scrubbing his damp hair. Darren picked up the hospitality phone. “Hi,” he said brightly after a brief pause. “We’re having sex, and we need food.”
Chris choked on nothing. “Darren!”
“Yes,” Darren said, ignoring him, twisting the phone cord around his finger. “We’ve been having rigorous sex for a couple hours now, but I have plans for a lot more. Please send some form of sustenance suited to the occasion—yes, yes, thank you.” He hung up, smiling as broadly as if all the world’s problems had just been solved. “I love this place.”
Chris sighed. “You’re a fucking maniac.”
Darren’s smile shaded to a grin as he looked Chris over. “Ideally, you should be naked in this bed, all rumpled and flushed, when the food gets here. Think we have time to get you all worked up?”
“Oh, no you don’t—” Chris was halfway back to the bathroom when Darren caught him around the waist, tossing him on the bed like he weighed nothing. His howls of outrage were somewhat undermined by the fact that he couldn’t stop laughing.
They had time. Just.
They got wine and bottled water. Four kinds of cheese. Grapes. Strawberries. Three kinds of pate. Pears. Some kind of salmon spread. Miniature bread loaves—white and honey-wheat. Crackers. Chocolate. And coffee. Chris hid under the sheets and tried not to giggle while the food was brought in.
Darren sighed as he came back into the bedroom after letting the waiter out. “Seriously. Not one flicker. It’s almost disappointing.”
“Oh, the pain of failing to scandalize,” Chris drawled, wiggling his toes under the covers. “If it helps, I can tell you that that’s the very first time I’ve ever had to hide from a waiter while naked and aroused, and I’m extremely mortified.”
Darren gloomily stripped the top off of one of the bottles of water, and drank. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”
Chris sniffed, and sat halfway up. “Actually, I was just saying that to remind you that I’m naked and aroused, but now that I’m being overwhelmed with what smells like freshly-baked bread, I think I’m more hungry than horny.”
Chris sampled everything, drank a full bottle of water, snagged a diet coke from the mini-fridge and downed it, then picked at a CaliBressan chocolate until he saw Darren watching him with dark, hungry eyes, licking strawberry juice off his fingers before tossing his napkin carelessly over his shoulder. The pirate look was back in full force. Chris snickered. “Oh, God—you’re not going to make an ‘avast and prepare to be boarded’ joke, are you?”
Darren dug under the covers until he had Chris by both ankles, then pulled, leaving him breathless and flat on his back, giggling like a loon. Darren scowled down at him. “You have ruined my joke. Now you must pay.”
Chris stuffed the rest of his chocolate into Darren’s mouth, then yanked him down into a giddy, chocolatey kiss.
Darren was apparently serious about the whole ‘making him pay’ thing. He pushed Chris’ knees back into his chest, lying on top of him and kissing him breathless, then left him like that and went to work driving him crazy, his hot-wet mouth moving from Chris’ throat to his chest, then from his cock to his balls and on down to his ass, teasing and circling and tongue-fucking him until he was completely out of control.
“You should fuck me now,” Chris said, then bit his lip because, damn it, that wasn’t supposed to be out loud.
“Mmm… no, but it’s nice to be wanted.”
“God.” He closed his eyes and worked his hips, riding Darren’s soft-hot-wicked tongue, squeezing his knees to his chest until it was hard to breathe. “How long… do I have to… pay?”
Darren bit the tendon of his thigh gently, and Chris shivered. “You’re not paying yet.”
“No, I am, I really—really am, Darren; fuck—” the world swooped around him and he gasped, dragged up out of the sheets and kissed hard, fiercely, before being shoved back into them, face-down and spread across Darren’s muscular thighs. “Hey, you’re not going to—”
Oh, but he was—one hot, hard, solid wallop just at the bottom curve of his ass, and Chris arched until his leg cramped up, and then went limp. “Oh, my…”
“This would be the paying part,” Darren said helpfully. Chris made a soft noise and let his head drop into the rucked sheets, burying his hot face in the coolness there. Darren had strong, callused hands, and powerful arms, and deliciously warm thighs that clasped his wet cock and held him there, immobile.
Light smacks, soft touches, then more solid blows and a trace of nails across his tender skin. He was hissing and moaning a little, grunting softly, and his ass was tight-stretched and swollen, feeling like it was glowing. His cock had leaked enough that Darren’s thighs were slippery-rough, perfect and tantalizing and he was so stuck, rocking back and forth and arching up before every slap, each sweet sting something he couldn’t resist.
“Darren—” the rest caught in his throat.
“Go for it.”
“I… oh, God.” He let it take him, let himself twist and shudder and rut until sweat glowed on his skin. Everything was sparkling and breathless and bright until one last solid smack tipped him over the edge and let him fall, coming hard and fast, falling deliriously with strong arms around him, falling into quiet darkness with his brain amazingly, blissfully silent.
He didn’t remember Darren laying him down, but that must have happened because Darren was on top of him, kissing him, petting him everywhere. Chris felt heavy and sleepy and absolutely amazingly wonderful, and even though he didn’t say any of that, Darren looked fairly smug when he finally pulled back. “Okay—now I’m gonna fuck you.”
Chris tried to reach up to touch Darren’s face, but his arm was far too heavy. He yawned instead. “No, now you’re going to snuggle me while I take a nap.” He let his eyes float closed.
He dimly heard Darren chuckle. “It counts as snuggling if my dick is in your ass when I do it, right?”
He opened one eye, just a crack. It took an unbelievable amount of effort. “Go for it,” he echoed, and melted into the next kiss, floating away on the sweetness of it.
He woke up—barely—when Darren slid into him, gently easing into him in small, slippery increments, and maybe he should’ve tried to stay awake, but he just couldn’t: Darren was tangled with him, holding him and inside him and all around him, softly sucking his neck and moaning, and it felt so good all he could do was breathe deep and close his eyes and let himself fall all over again.
He was hard. Hot. Full. And moving—even asleep he was spreading, pushing up, trying to get closer. Darren fucked him slowly, rocking in him with languorous rhythm, so soft and quiet except for the harsh, agonized gasps for breath he could hear from where Darren had his face buried in the pillows. “…you should come.”
Darren squeezed his thighs, shuddering. “Nnnn…”
Chris closed his eyes again.
He woke himself up moaning, spread wide and slowly thrashing, surfacing from a deep dream of something amorphous but indescribably pleasurable. He latched on before he knew he meant to, pulled Darren out of the pillows by his hair and into a wet, wanting kiss—and that was all it took for him to come, for Darren to come, long, slow, excruciating pulses of ecstasy that went on and on while he wrapped his arms around Darren, gasping, feeling him shake, feeling him come so sweetly undone.
Darren was heavy afterwards, limp and boneless and slick with sweat, his face pressed close into the curve of Chris’ neck, his cock slipping slowly away. Chris swallowed. “Wow.”
Darren grazed his neck with soft lips. “Don’t let go, okay?”
He blinked, and tangled his fingers in silky curls before letting his eyes drift closed again. “Okay.”
They woke up just in time to catch the sunset, an orange-pink-peach-gold conflagration off the coast. Darren lured him out onto the balcony, and Chris relished the cooling air on his sleep-hot, sticky skin as he reclined back between Darren’s legs on the long chaise they shared.
It was quiet. Darren was quiet. Which was… almost unheard-of. “You okay?”
Darren’s hands slid around his chest, pulling him closer. “I’m… wonderful, actually; just… fuck, I think I have three working brain cells left, and two of them are too busy celebrating to do any actual work.”
Chris slid his own hands over Darren’s, smiling a little. “Come-dumb.”
“That’s okay—you can just sit there and look pretty; I don’t mind.”
Darren’s furred calf slid over his own, and a light kiss at the back of his neck made him shiver. “I’m stupid in love with you, you know.”
Chris squeezed Darren’s fingers, glad for the wash of sunset light that hid his blush. “I should probably exploit the hell out of that.”