Adult-FanFiction.org : Celebrity

As the Seasons Grey	By : christinecornell Category: Celebrities - Misc > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 46 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Started life as kinky Christmas-related short stories in 2022 and took on a life of its own shortly thereafter. 100 fiction, none of this is real, and I own nothing except for the character of Christine.

Chapter List
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Leaves crunched underneath Christine’s boot-clad feet. The redwoods loomed strong and high over her head, a series of towering skyscrapers courtesy of Mother Nature herself, all around her and every which way. She was somewhat familiar with that part of California; granted, it had been some time since she had last visited the park itself, but she knew about pathways and little avenues around those tall, towering trees to the little campground at the heart of the trees.
She shivered at the feel of a cold wind at her back: the forest stood within range of the ocean, and thus, a strange amalgam of those redwood trees, leaves from the trees that lined the shoreline itself, pine needles from up above, and pale white and beige sand at the center of it all. Christine glanced up to the canopy which loomed high over her head, as well as the darkening sky: she knew she had to be close, otherwise there was no way that she could venture through that forest with nothing more than her naked eye.
She reached a small clearing and stopped for a better view of those tall trees which loomed high over her. A cluster of giants which met up under the light of the moon before it rose for the evening.
A whiff of smoke caught her attention, and she turned her attention to right across the clearing.
He awaited her there.
Christine made her way across the pale sand to the other side of the clearing, and there was Alex, wrapped in all black from his head down to his feet, and right before a fire pit with a large roaring campfire inside of it. He turned his head for a glance up at her, and he showed her a little smile.
“Hey, there’s my girl,” he greeted her once she came within earshot. She stared straight ahead for a moment, and she beheld the little tent nestled in the trees, and she knew that belonged to them.
“There’s my baby,” she returned the favor, and she gently caressed his shoulder before she took her seat next to him. “Good call with the redwoods.”
He shrugged. “I had a feeling you’d been up here before,” he confessed to her in a low voice. “Shall we make s’mores?”
“Yes, please.”
He reached behind him for a pair of metal spits and some of those large marshmallows. Christine roasted two at a time while Alex risked it with four, two on each tine. Moreover, he was eager to set each marshmallow on top of the graham cracker once they were crispy enough.
Christine blew on the two that she had roasted to the point of blackening, and then she tucked the chocolate bar underneath, followed by the graham.
“I vote we eat s’mores every night,” she told him.
“Eh, eating too many of them will make you gain weight,” he muttered to himself. “Says the guy who just made four.” Indeed, he had four fresh, almost picture-perfect s’mores upon his lap, with the grahams firmly intact, the chocolate barely melted, and the marshmallows golden on two sides each.
“Better eat ‘em up,” Christine teased him, and then she took a bite of her second one. She nestled closer to him once she felt another gust of cold wind behind her.
As they continued to make up more s’mores, the darkness fell over them, and she knew that the rain was upon them as well. When Alex downed his eighth s’more, and he leaned back against the tree trunk right behind him with his hands on his flat but full stomach, Christine could smell the rain around them.
She turned for a look over at him and the faraway look upon his face. He had leaned back so far that he almost lay flat on his back, but nevertheless, she could take a full look into those deep-set eyes.
The pain was still very fresh with him, such that she wondered if kissing his wounds would do anything to alleviate the pain, if at all.
He glanced up at her, and the flames from the campfire illuminated his deep blue eyes.
“Penny for your thoughts, my snow bunny?” he asked her in a soft voice. She took the final bite of her sixth s’more, and then, once she licked the residual chocolate and marshmallow off her fingers, she leaned back towards him, right into his face.
“I want to help you,” she told him, and she rested her free hand on the back of his hand, which he kept upon his stomach. He showed her a little smile, and then he raised his gaze at her: his prominent brow accentuated the shape of his eyes; the reflection of the flames danced over the rounded side of his face and the corner of his lips. She had never seen a boy so handsome.
“The same way I want to help you, Chris,” he said in a soft voice.
He closed his eyes, and she held his face in her hands. She pressed her lips onto his for the softest kiss so far, complete with the sweet and warm flavors of all the delicious s’mores he had eaten, such that it sent a shiver down her spine, and all the way down to her toes.
The feeling of ice underneath that warm sweetness. The cold kiss of a deep pain in junction with the fire behind them.
“Let me touch you,” she whispered into his face. “Let me touch you and feel you.”
He lingered back towards the tree stump right behind him. Christine reached for his chest, for the softest caress that he could ever ask for. She rested her hands on either side of her face, and that time around, she slid her tongue right into his mouth for a full taste of him. Alex closed his eyes as she relished the feeling of his teeth upon the pad of her tongue.
His whole body relaxed, and he set his arms around her. Though he had nothing more than the trunk of the tree right behind him, he still leaned back: and Christine pressed her chest against his, and she could feel him shift his weight underneath her body.
His fingers slithered up onto the back of her head, and his middle and ring fingers coiled around the roots of her hair to where he had a full grip on her, and a chill ran down her spine as a result. She slid her hands down the sides of his neck, down onto his chest and then his sides. Though she lay on top of him, she wanted to feel the warm skin underneath his sweatshirt. His skin was soft: an abused boy had to have the softest skin in the world given he felt so vulnerable.
No way that she could feel him out there, however: they needed a safe place. A safe zone, like the safety of the cabin in the hills.
A quiet place.
“Let’s go into our sleeping bag,” she whispered right into his ear.
“Yeah, let’s,” he quipped with a twinkle in his eye.
She climbed off his body, and she stood up to her feet, and she extended a hand to him. With a smile on his face, he took her by the hand, and she led him away from that big hot fire there in the pit. She led him through the clearing, across the fallen leaves and pine needles, and with the wind at their backs; she could feel him shiver through her hand as the sight of their little tent entered her view. She glimpsed back at him over her shoulder, only to see his smile growing bigger and bigger.
Christine reached the doors of the tent first, and she unzipped it in one fell swoop. Before she climbed in, however, she kicked off her boots and then took off her jeans: Alex followed suit right behind her with his boots and his sweatshirt, followed by his pants. As he stood there with his shirt off and slung over his hands and wrists, complete with his black curls tousled over his shoulder, Christine looked on at him against the glow of the campfire behind them as well as the cold sky overhead.
“You look like a lumberjack,” she told him, and he pressed his hand onto his hip at the sound of that. But then a rush of cold wind made him recoil at the feeling, and he tossed his shirt into the tent. Once they both had stripped off their clothes and bowed into the tent, and Christine had done the honor of switching on the hurricane lantern nestled there in the far right-hand corner, the winds picked up some more, and they both knew that the rain was upon them.
Alex peeled back the top of the sleeping bag while Christine closed the doors of the tent.
He lay down on his back with his arms tucked in from the small width of the tent, but then something left him reeling.
“Ouch!”
“What?”
“I’m lying on a pinecone,” he groaned. He lay down flat on the floor of the tent without anything other than that little blow-up mattress in there, but she wondered as to how a pinecone beneath the tent would fare with that mattress in question. Nevertheless, he writhed and lifted his body up a bit, so his waist and his hipbones rose before her. He grimaced from the feeling, and yet, Christine had a full view of his hipbones as well as his belly button.
“What?” he asked her as she let the smile creep across her face.
“I kind of like you all risen up like this,” she confessed as she ran her finger down his hip. His waist was slender and flat, except for the little soft spot around his belly button. The light from the lantern washed over his bare skin, which in turn made it seem much softer. “This is a beautiful part of your body, Alex. Absolutely gorgeous. It's a very sexy part, I should say.”
“Oh, yeah, sexy bellies, of course,” he quipped with a playful little roll of his eyes.
“No, I mean, I kind of want to—” She leaned down and gently kissed him right on the edge of the hipbone. His skin was very soft there, almost like silk; when she moved in closer to his belly button, his skin only felt softer and smoother. He treated her to a gentle groan from the back of his throat.
“Ooh, yeah, that is sexy,” he said in a low, husky voice. “Mainly because you’re about three inches from giving me a beej.”
“Mmm, beautiful,” she whispered in between kisses there. She raised her head for a look down at his lower belly, at the soft smooth skin there and the delicate shape of his hips. They were ever so slightly wide, as if to balance out the wide shape of his shoulders and his upper body: with wide hips meant that he could carry his weight rather well should he grow heavier. He carried the softness to his waist, and thus, he could have an even nicer shape to his body.
“You have such gorgeous hips,” she told him with a little smile and a gentle caress there.
“Nah, you’re the one with gorgeous hips,” he retorted back to her. “Gorgeous, womanly hips.” And yet, as the words left those soft little lips, she could see the pain in his eyes. The pain in his eyes to bleed in with the pain in his heart.
Christine rested her hands on either side of his body, and she pushed herself up so she could lock eyes with him. His baby blues locked with hers and he parted his lips at the sight of her; his dark eyebrows raised up ever so slightly, and his face softened. Her eyes caressed down the sinewy, smooth shape of his neck and his collar bones, all the way down to his chest and his stomach. Not a blemish one, but he had scars invisible to the naked eye.
She nudged a lock of black hair from the side of his face, and he closed his eyes at the feel of her fingers on his skin. She ran her fingers down the side of his neck and his collar bones: his skin there resembled porcelain in terms of feeling.
“You have such a beautiful body,” she whispered to him. “Absolutely beautiful, delicate almost. I cannot believe that woman abused you.”
“She abused me for so long,” he told her. “It was one of those things—I just didn’t want to believe it but over time, I figured it out. I figured out that she was fucking with my head, and she acted in such a way that made me hate myself. It was true. It was all so true...” His voice trailed off, and Christine could feel the pain in his chest, the pain in his body. She rested her hands on his chest, and she gently kissed the side of his neck. He let out a soft groan at the feel of her lips there.
She ran her hand down his stomach once again, that time for a feel of the smooth silken skin below his waist. Just a gentle round of pleasuring below the belt, the softest touches there, the softest caresses that she could ever give for him, lest she awaken something that she needn’t open for him.
Every gentle whimper, every soft groan, every caress on her part, every kiss on his neck, and Christine knew that she could make some progress from there on out. It wasn’t her who needed the uncovering, but him. They could meet up in the middle somewhere along the way and they could walk each other home as a result.
“So soft,” she whispered. “So soft, and so sweet.”
“I’ve been tenderized...” His voice slithered out in a wispy, broken wave of a pain she wished to feel.
“Mmm...” She could feel his pain and the hole in the form of that thing that he was looking for this whole entire time. She could feel the blues in his heart and soul. Underneath that collected demeanor and those stern eyebrows was a boy in great pain. Christine lay her head right next to his, and she put her arm around his bare chest.
“I’m in love with this body,” she whispered to him; she whispered even though the winds began to pick up and the storm was coming into the forest. “It’s just you and me out here. I want the earth to take us both in her arms and hold us—the same way I'm holding you right now.”
He slithered his arm down her back, all the way down to the top of her ass as if he was about to hold her there. But his fingers never made past the top of her ass: instead, he held onto her naked hip, as if to take in the full shape of her body all for him. Their nude bodies against one another, and she could feel every inch of his skin and the tender, sinewy shape of his body. She was all for him, and he was all for her as well.
“Sweet baby...” she whispered right into his face, and he cracked her a little smile, albeit a pained smile. She brought her hand over to his stomach to better feel his warmth there, and she swore that he felt a lot softer there than before. She took a glimpse up to his face and the tears that brimmed in his eyes: they looked to be sitting there on the edges of his eyelids as if they wanted to bleed forth, but they never did.
If only she could make him see the beauty in himself. If only she could make this boy love himself.
She would have to love him until he loved himself.
“We oughta go to a beach next,” he told her.
“Another place to love you,” she replied as she ran her finger down his chest. “Another place for us to feel each other and for me to love you.”
“Hang on a second,” he quipped right then, and Christine lifted herself up over him. Alex sat up and he reached down for the top of the sleeping bag. He tugged it up over their bodies, to which she burrowed down next to him. He then reached down for the zipper, and he tugged it up his left side: before he tugged the zipper pull up to the side of his chest, he reached up and switched off the lantern. Darkness, darkness except for the glow of the campfire out there, swept over them.
Alex let out a low whistle, and he laid his head down onto the soft pillow. Christine cuddled up close to him, and she rested her hand upon his warm chest once again, but that time to feel the beating of his heart. The two of them in a soft little cocoon away from the cold harsh world outside. The two of them nestled down in a safe place.
“Something about being outside,” he remarked as he tucked his hands underneath his head. “Being outside, out in the wilderness... it’s kind of sexy, if I'm honest.”
Christine propped her chin up in her hands. “I thought you were a city person,” she recalled.
“Ah, but I am,” he assured her. “It’s just—when I'm out in nature, I'm very appreciative. I must be. It's our last refuge as humans.”
The darkness swelled up around the two of them, and Christine could feel her eyelids growing heavier and heavier. Indeed, Alex shifted his weight underneath her, and he rolled over onto his side part of the way so she could nestle in even closer to him. Rain drops pattered on the roof of the tent, but she knew that they and their clothes were safe from it all.
He bowed his head closer to her, and she drifted off to sleep right next to him, engulfed in his warmth.
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As the Seasons Grey