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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Christine pushed open the bedroom door, only to reveal the small but cozy art studio in lieu of the front part of the cabin. The whole entire room smelled of freshly furbished wood with a faint lick of turpentine: whoever used the room before must have used it for oil painting, she figured.
She took a step inside of the room, and she took a glimpse up to the angular ceiling as well as the witching window high up above her head. To her right stood a chaise lounge with crushed dark red velvet, the color of red wine, as well as a couple of accompanying black velvet pillows with red and gold trimming along the sides. To the left stood a big wooden table with a large sheet of paper plastered across the surface.
The door behind her swung open once more: she stepped forth and turned around, and there was Alex wrapped in a soft, plush bright blue bathrobe. The crown of his black hair dripped soaking wet, and he smelled clean and fresh, as if he had just stepped out of the shower.
“Hey,” he greeted her.
“Hi,” she returned the favor, and she showed him a smile. “You ready?”
“Ready when you are, my little snow bunny.” He flashed her a wink before he stepped on over to the chaise, albeit with a bit of a sashay to his hips. Christine snickered at the sight of him.
“Is that my robe?” she asked him.
“You tell me,” he teased her as he stopped before the chaise with both hands on the tie belt. Christine made her way over to the table, and she felt those tight jeans on her thighs and her waist once more.
“I see you’re wearing my pants again,” he quipped to her: she took a glimpse down and, besides the white smock wrapped around her body, she was in fact wearing his jeans, and they were as tight as ever around the lower part of her body. She raised her gaze right as he stuck his tongue out at her. She cracked him a sweet little smile, and she stepped behind the far edge of the table only to find boxes of pencils, pens, erasers, and all manner of supplies underneath the tabletop.
She raised her gaze for a moment for a look out the window off to her left: the sun had already risen over the shortest day of the year, and yet there was something else out there that she couldn’t quite understand. She stepped on over to the windowpane for a look out to the snowpack out there on the pavement and the hillsides, but beyond the hillsides, rather than see the apple orchard or anything else like it out there, stood a vast field of rich royal blue. They had moved over to the side of the ocean within a manner of seconds: she took a second look out there only to find that the snow had in fact reached the beaches down below.
A little touch of inspiration before she doubled back to the table for a pencil and a fresh white eraser. Alex stood at the foot of the chaise with his hands still on the belt of the robe and his hair still dripping wet and tightly curled all around the crown of his head.
“Let’s make hay while the sun shines,” she told him. “It’s the solstice after all.”
He closed his eyes and sighed through his nose. She could feel his tension.
“Alex, it’s okay,” she assured him as she leaned over the sheet of paper stretched across the table before her. “It’s me. No one else here but you and me.”
He opened his eyes again, those deep peacock blues as deep and voluminous as the mother ocean out there beyond the snowpack and the hillsides, as cold and crisp as the kiss of winter, as soulful and beautiful as the winter sky after a hearty snowfall. He untied his belt, and he opened his robe to show off his naked body. Those few extra pounds from the eight nights of Hanukkah made the whole world of difference for her as they added a slight curve to his middle: not a prominent curve, but one that accentuated the shape of his hips as well as the sinewy nature of his thighs. His legs were long and shapely but rather spindly: she would rather his legs stayed long and slender, however. Her eyes moved up to his waist, still very slender but with that delicate little curve around his belly button and his hipbones. He had a deep, slightly broad chest and light little nipples that, upon her looking, she thought about running her fingers around the rims: he had done the exact same to her, after all.
As he slung the robe over the far side of the chaise, she eyed his arms: like his legs, they were long and lanky and with the right amount of tone to them. His slender shoulders and shapely neck sealed the deal for her with his body, while his slightly bowed head and little round face gave her that extra dose of comfort in there.
“Have a seat,” she told him with a gesture to the cushions behind him.
“How do you want me to lay—with my feet up?” he asked her as he took his spot there before her.
“Yeah, put your left leg up so—”
“You just want a good view of the family jewels, don’t you,” he teased her.
“Something a little—you know, dynamic, sensual—something to stimulate the mind’s eye once it lays upon you.” She showed him a little smile as she leaned over the far edge of the table and held onto the edge with her free hand.
Reluctantly, Alex stretched out his left leg over the cushions, and he leaned back against the arm of the chaise: his wet black curls sprawled over his left shoulder as if to add a bit of an accent to his otherwise milky skin.
“Give me some more hair,” she told him with a gesture to his right shoulder: he moved a few curls to the top of his right shoulder to contrast with his skin.
“How’s that?”
“Are you leaning on the pillows?”
“Yeah.”
“Take one out and kind of put it under your right arm for some support—I see your arms getting tired.”
“These arms are a lot stronger than they look, Chris,” he assured her as he held his lanky arms up on either side of him as if he was showing off his muscles to her.
“I can still see them getting tired, though,” she insisted. He squinted his eyes at her, and then he leaned forward to take one of those pillows out from underneath him. He curled his arm around the head of the pillow, and he leaned back onto his side.
“There you go! Okay—we probably the perfect amount of natural light in here right now.”
Christine reached for her hard pencil, and she almost immediately got to work on drawing Alex’s body. He looked as though he had crashed out on the couch with his one leg extended out before him there on the cushions, and his other leg dangled down to the floor. He was wide open as well: the sunlight reflected on the snow outside which in turn filtered through the window, which in turn bathed his body in soft white light. He had rather soft shadows around the middle of his body as well as his face: those deep eyes softened a great deal, and Christine made out the shape of a slight cleft in his chin. Indeed, she noticed some things about him that she had never noticed before like the way that his gray streak seemed to poke out in the opposite direction with the rest of his hair like a cowlick, the almond shape of his eyes, the small mole on the side of his neck about the size of a pencil eraser, the tender, soft appearance of his belly especially around the lower part, the thickness of his knees in contrast with his long, lanky legs, and the fine bone structure of his feet.
All the while, he held perfectly still for her, complete with a slight pout to his lips as if to accentuate them a bit more all for her. Christine kept the hard pencil in hand as she moved from sketching the basic shape of his body to shading in what she knew to be the right shadows for that time of the morning. But she could sense that something was amiss, especially when the light began to shift a bit.
“Man, you were right,” he said.
“About what?”
“My arms are getting tired,” he noted. “My neck is, too.”
“Well, it’s okay—I'm almost done with the rough shading here. I’ll go back over it with a harder pencil afterwards. How are you feeling, too?”
“Not so nervous, actually,” he assured her. “If anything, I feel a lot more comfortable with myself.”
“Oh, good!”
“I am kinda cold, though. My nose itches like crazy, too.”
“Again, I am almost done here with the basics,” she assured him with a quick glimpse down to the paper: she began to think about which of the darkest spots were and she ran the side of the pencil over those spots once again from his feet up to the arm of the couch.
“I never realized how beautiful of a dick you have,” she remarked as she reached his thighs and his hips, and he shrugged his shoulders.
“It’s not that beautiful. It's a smooth, circumcised dick—what is there to it?”
“It’s so smooth, though,” she said with a quick glimpse up to him again. “It’s like a torpedo.”
“It’s not like your lips, that’s for sure,” he said. She snickered at that, and she moved to the middle of his body.
“It’s only a few pounds,” she assured him.
“A few pounds around the waist,” he grumbled. “It doesn’t feel good, though.”
“I think it’s cute, actually,” she confessed to him as she shaded in his belly button. “I barely notice it, too, such that you have the slightest, most tiniest curve there—like you really have to look at it just to see it.”
“You do feel it, though,” he pointed out.
“I do, yes,” she promised him with a sweet smile on her face. “And it’s quite soft and sweet to feel in my hands.”
She swirled the pencil around the curls over his shoulders some more, and then she held back for one final look before she moved to the darker pencil.
“Okay?” he asked her.
“Yeah. Yeah, you can scratch now.”
“Oh, good!” he groaned out, and he moved his arm out from under the pillow and shook his hand about. She watched him rub his nose and then reach down for a scratch there. She burst out laughing at that in particular.
“I’m a dude, what do you want,” he teased her as he sat up on the chaise and rested his elbows on his bare knees for a second. Christine wasted no time in taking out the soft graphite for a more streamlined look to the drawing as well as the darkest shadows over his body. Alex put the robe back on over his body and he made his way over to the table to watch her.
“Oh, marvelous!” he exclaimed as he held out his hands to the drawing before her.
“You should draw me next,” she suggested, to which he raised his eyebrows at her.
“Oh, I could never do that to you,” he insisted.
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, come on, Alex. It's just drawing.”
“But I can’t do it like you can, though,” he insisted. “I mean, you even got my arm veins near my wrists here.” He raised his arms to show off the webs of veins all around his wrists and down his forearms. Christine stepped on over to him for a closer look at his arms, and ultimately, his body. He kept the robe open so she could continue to look on at his body even if he wasn’t technically naked anymore.
“You can at least try,” she pointed out, and then she pressed her hands to her hips, and she treated him to a little sway. “I have nice curves.”
“Indeed, you do,” he told her, and that little smirk returned to his handsome face once more.
“Apparently, you do, too,” she said as she ran her finger down the shape of his hip.
“They’re not yours, but they are—you know, there.” She giggled at him, and he flashed her a wink once more. Christine returned to the drawing once again with that dark pencil still tucked in her fingers.
Alex kept on watching her until the midday sun found its way to spread the low light over the floor before him.
“You know what I could do for you next?” he asked her.
“What’s that?”
“Seeing as we still have a few hours of daylight left and everything—as I made my way in here, I spotted a camera out there in the hallway.”
“Oh, really?” Christine signed her name and added the date along the curve of his right leg, and she held back for him to see for himself.
“You have a beautiful body,” she told him. “Absolutely gorgeous. Creamy and soft like fresh fallen snow. Crisp and decadent like the freshest apple off the tree. Ebbs and flows like the ocean.”
“You know it takes beauty to see it,” he said to her in a low voice.
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As the Seasons Grey