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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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Christine opened her eyes only to find herself still nestled up close to Alex. The tent was still as cold as ever, and she knew that the rain had fallen all around them, except instead of the cold snowstorm beyond the tent doors, she was met by the continuous wall of sheer white noise from the heart of the ocean.
She glanced up at his placid slumbering face, at those dark eyebrows that seemed blacker than normal in contrast with his soft round face. The plume of gray over the right side of his forehead seemed to have grown overnight as well; and yet his long black curls remained in place all around his head, a thick lush mane of jet-black hair. Christine inched up his side all to plant her lips on the side of his neck: a little round in the morning before he woke up.
She then reached down to right below his waist for a little caress of her fingers. The tent may have been cold and icy all around them, but his skin was as warm and silken as ever, a cozy comfort against the harsh world. Alex had become her comfort, and she had become his in turn. Indeed, as she gently held onto his length with three fingers, he treated her to a soft moan in his throat, followed by a slight grip on her ass with his other hand, and she knew what he was doing.
Christine reached up and kissed the side of his neck yet again, that time a sweet little peck right on the side. The skin on his neck was so smooth, like the finest porcelain she had ever bore witness to in her life.
She then moved her hand up to his stomach for a soft little caress. There was a feeling of deep pleasure inside of there in particular: she could sense it. All it needed was a bit of coaxing.
She kissed him on the neck again and that time, he rolled his head over the top of the pillow, and he opened his eyes for a look at her. Those baby blues, in all their crisp clearness, in all their deep oceanic beauty, gazed back at her.
“Good morning, my love,” he greeted her in a broken voice.
“Good morning, my baby,” she returned the favor in a husky voice. “I don’t want your heart to break anymore.”
“I feel like I'm ready to bleed out some more, though,” he confessed to her.
“Bleed out? Like how?” She ran her fingers down the middle of his stomach, all the way down to his belly button and that little line of scraggly dark hair underneath.
“Let’s be polar bears,” he told her with a smirk.
“Polar bears? Those people who dunk into water when it’s cold out?”
“The same!” As her index and middle fingers stroked over the hair there, he raised an eyebrow at her.
“Is that your hand?” he asked her.
“What do you think?” she retorted to him. “It could be a starfish as far as you know.”
“A starfish? A fish from the stars up above? I’m kind of surprised that we aren’t in latex spacesuits or some shit.”
“We could be in latex while we’re out in the waves. Have the best of both worlds.”
He cracked her a little smile and pulsated his fingers into her ass again.
“Now is that your hand?” she asked him.
“What do you think?” he retorted back to her with a sly little shake of his head.
She snickered at him, and then she slid her hand back down to his naked crotch for another feel of his skin there.
“Yeah, let’s do that,” she said right then. “A little dip in the water.”
“It’ll wake us up,” he assured her as his eyes drooped closed a bit.
She gently patted his stomach, and then she reached across his chest for a hold on the zipper pull, and she tugged it down the side of his body. Christine crawled across his body: she could feel his flesh underneath her own, a slight little swipe of the front against her crotch. The only thing that kept her from propping herself upright over his body was the sleeping bag over their bodies, as well as the fact that they were inside of a freezing cold tent.
Nevertheless, she slithered over him and back towards the doors of the tent.
“Don’t we want to get dressed first?” he asked her, slightly concerned.
“It’d be kinda silly,” she pointed out as she pressed a forearm across her exposed breasts, mostly those taut, tight nipples; so tight that she believed them to have become needles within mere seconds.
With what little space she had available to her, she turned around, and she unzipped the tent doors for a peek to the beach out there. Alex shuffled out of the sleeping bag right behind her for a look as well.
They couldn’t have been more than a hundred feet away from the water’s edge: the cold, dark sands out there seemed far more drenched than they appeared before them, and the clouds of the marine layer hung down low over their heads. At least the rain had stopped; but the winds were bitter and cold, such that Alex shivered right behind Christine’s nude body. She bowed back and zipped the doors back up again before she faced him again.
“You sure you want to do this?” she asked him with a raise of her eyebrows.
“I do, yes,” he replied as he rubbed his hands up and down his arms to keep in the warmth. “We’ll do this and then we’ll run up to the place with the showers to clean off really quick, and then we’ll run back here with the cold at our backs.” He shuddered and shook, but Christine knew what he wanted, especially since the whole fact of the matter piqued her curiosity as well.
She parted her lips and let out a low whistle. And then she reached out to touch the back of his hand as well as his shoulder out of comfort. He showed her a sweet little smile in response, and she knew that he could finally trust her.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Christine unzipped the front doors of the tent, and she climbed out first. Alex followed suit right behind her: she stood there with her arms pressed to the sides of her body as he zipped up the doors behind them. He then took her by the hand, and he led her across those dark sands to the choppy waves. The smell of the salt washed over them. The wet sand cradled their feet as they ran to the water. Alex dove in first, albeit with a loud yelp from the cold.
“Oh, my god—” Christine breathed out from the sheer extent of the cold upon her skin. It was like swimming in the spring up in the mountains but on steroids. The ocean waters caressed over the curves of her body; the salt and the sand washed over her skin. It really felt as though they were being regenerated by the ocean waves.
“WOO! Oh, my fucking god, that IS COLD!” Alex bowed his head forth, and he soaked his black curls in the dark waters. Christine did the same, and she closed her eyes all the while. Everything old about her washed away by the power of the waves, of Mother Earth, and all the while, her heart pounded inside of her chest. It was the thrill, the power of being jarred awake, the feeling of every inch of her body being jostled alive by the deathly cold. The feeling that she and Alex walked along the fine line of life and death.
She raised her head and let the seawater fall down her face and onto her breasts. She thrashed her dark hair around before she turned to Alex. He took her by the hand again and he led her out of the waves given they hadn’t left the shore; it wasn’t as hard leaving those waters as she might have believed. But the wind sent a wave of furious shivers up and down their bodies, and he broke into a run. She followed suit and they hurried up the black sands to those showers near the beach entrance: they stood in a little square of tiles, tucked away from the beach and the harshness of the ocean, but they still had enough airflow in them to give them a healthy draft.
Nevertheless, Alex led her to the shower away from the winds and he turned the hot dial followed by the cold one so they could ease themselves back into it. She huddled close to him as the water cascaded out of the shower head and onto their heads and shoulders. The lukewarm water contrasted with the cold wind sent even more shivers down her spine at first, but then she adjusted to it. The sand and the salt washed away and down onto the tiles around their bare feet.
Christine put her arms around Alex’s waist, and he set his arm around her upper back.
“As tight as glue,” he remarked over the roar of the winds and the shower.
“What is?” she asked him, and he dropped his gaze for a split second. She looked down at her breasts, and those nipples, still as tight as ever, and then she raised her gaze back up to him and shook her head.
“Hey, you’re tight, too,” she teased him with a point down to his crotch and the slight erection there.
“Not nearly as tight as you, though,” he told her as he reached for the hot dial for some more heat.
They bowed their heads again, and then they turned around in unison for the water to wash it away from their backs and their asses.
“How’s about a little sex on the beach?” she asked him as she stood upright.
“Yes, please!”
Another quick rinse and Alex switched off the water. He bowed forward and shook his soaked black curls around like a dog drying off, and Christine followed suit. She then took him by the hand and guided him back to their tent with the winds at their backs.
And when she opened the door of the tent first, she spotted a pair of fresh clean towels rested upon the sleeping bag. She ducked in first, and Alex followed suit. It was difficult given the shortness of the tent, but they were able to ruffle their hair dry first before they took their seats on the towels, on the sleeping bag.
Alex rubbed his upper arms with his hands.
“Phew,” he breathed out. “That was an adventure.”
“Yeah, I'll say,” she remarked.
He leaned back upon the sleeping bag with his hands planted down on either side of him. The way that he bent his legs before her gave her a full view of his crotch as well as the insides of his thighs. His waist, so slim and delicate, and yet so soft, had this ever so slight roundness to it: she brought her gaze up to his deep chest followed by his shoulders and his tousled black hair over both. He genuinely looked like a merman, a merman who had emerged from the waters during the heart of winter, especially when he parted his lips at her, and his face seemed a lot rounder and softer from the salt and the sand.
“It’s like you want me to have sex with you,” she teased him.
“I do,” he told her with a slight bow of his head.
“C’mere, baby,” she whispered, as she moved in closer to him. Their bodies, still cold and damp from the ocean as well as the showers, lay upon each other in such a small space. The cold and the water had already done half the work, as her nipples were pointed, and he was nearly all the way erect. All he needed to do was give her a gentle caress of those nipples followed by her clit courtesy of his fingers.
Christine treated him to a soft moan, and she climbed on top of him. It was a bit difficult given the hard sand ached her knees, but she managed to give it to him. She gyrated on top of him as if she was churning butter for the best round of latkes on the first night of Hanukkah all for him.
A safe spot away from the harsh cold outside. Their own little safe spot, their own dirty little secret away from the world. The only thing that was missing was falling snow on the black sands out there.
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As the Seasons Grey