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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 awoke in the middle of the night with her face as warm as the fire itself, though it had gone out at that point, and she and Alex had found their way into the bedroom for their place for the night. He had rolled over onto his side and fallen asleep: through the shadows that made up the dark room around them, she could make out the slender shape of his shoulders underneath the blankets. He looked cold, even with the three blankets and the big heavy comforter that swaddled their bodies.
She inched closer to him, and she put a hand upon his hipbone. The way that his body curved out in such ever so slight fashion there brought a smile to her face. So thin and delicate.
Christine moved in closer to his body, to where her chest pressed against the curve of his back. When she laid her head against his shoulders, he shifted his weight right in the spot and yet he never woke up. She moved her hand to his waist, and he shivered in response.
She closed her eyes with the hope of falling asleep again, and yet she never could do that. She instead stroked the soft skin on his stomach with the tips of her fingers all while with her eyes closed. Alex finally stirred all the way and he rolled onto his back a bit for a look back at her.
“What’re you doing?” he asked her in a broken whisper.
“You’re so soft,” she said, and he shifted his weight a bit underneath her.
“It tickles like crazy,” he flatly told her. Christine moved her hand away from him and she rolled over onto her back. She sighed through her nose.
“Is everything okay?” he asked her.
“I can’t sleep,” she confessed to him as he sat upright.
“Aw. I should’ve known.”
She shook her head: through the darkness, she saw him sit up and cross his legs underneath the blankets. “It’s okay, you didn’t know. You’re just so soft—like a little teddy bear. I kind of want to do something, too. You know—a little something fun to help both you and I fall back asleep.”
“Well,” he started again, that time with a slight clearing in his throat. “—what time is it?”
Christine sat up on her side, and she took a glimpse back at the little digital clock on the nightstand, right by the lamp.
“It’s about one o’clock.”
“Jeez,” he remarked, and he cleared his throat again. “Uh, well, now that I’m awake—what would you like to do, Chris?”
She ran her fingers through her hair.
“What do you feel like doing?” she asked him: she glanced over at his dark silhouette there next to her, with the full tip of his nose and the soft point of his chin up against the dark gray ambient lighting courtesy of the snow outside. Through the darkness, he looked so soft and precious to her, as soft as he had ever looked before as well. There had to be something behind those big blue eyes and that calm, cool demeanor: she had witnessed it with her own eyes after all.
“I had the coolest dream just now,” he confessed to her. “I was at the front of the stage of an orchestra, and I was leading them.”
“What kind of an orchestra? Like, a holiday one? A philharmonic one?”
“Holiday,” he replied. “I remember there was a piano and a couple of guitar players next to me—I was playing one of those nylon-string guitars. Behind us stood a whole string section, a brass section, and a woodwind section—the whole nine yards. I remember thinking about it as you and I fell asleep, and it came about especially when I started to think about the sheer number of holidays that take place in December—aside from Christmas, Hanukkah, and Kwanzaa.”
“Oh, yeah, you’ve got the Winter Solstice,” she followed along. “New Year’s, too.”
“Plus, Advent. There’s also a Buddhist holiday, a Hindu one—the Romans had Saturnalia right around the Solstice.”
“I’m sure there are plenty of ceremonies like that in Native American cultures,” she added.
“Oh, absolutely. The earth was precious—from the sun to the soil to the snow that fell outside of the window…” His voice trailed off. Christine kept her gaze fixed on him: not once did he turn his head to face her, as if something was troubling him.
“Alex, is there something you want to tell me?” she asked him, and he swallowed and shifted his weight in the bed. “You look like you want to tell me something.”
He shook his head. She squinted her eyes at him.
“I don’t know if I’m ready to understand you just yet,” she told him with a little shake of her head and a wag of her finger.
“There are so many people who will in fact tell you just that,” he said, and he finally turned his head towards her: the shadows crossed his face and his bare shoulders and chest. “You know, they’ll be like—oh, Alex Skolnick, he’s hard to understand, he’s simple, he’s complicated, he’s straightforward, he’s full of contradictions, he’s a tough nut to crack. He’s obsessed, he’s not obsessed, he’s as hot as the sun, he’s as cold as the Arctic… he’s in love with the world but he wants to stay home.”
“He’s warm and sweet like apple pie,” she added, and he shrugged his shoulders.
“I dunno ‘bout that,” he confessed with a slight snicker. There was a brief pause, and then he reached behind him for something. He clicked on the lamp on his side: bright golden yellow light filled up the room, such that Christine squinted her eyes closed at the sudden sensation.
“Damn,” she blurted out.
“I thought that would help, though,” he confessed. She rubbed her eyes, and she turned her attention to him and those deep-set baby blues of his. The softest, coldest ocean with the deepest, safest spot at the very bottom: the plume of gray at the crown of his head made her think of the highest clouds in the sky over the ocean surface. His skin, as smooth as the cream on the crown of the nearest bank of fog, and his lips, as full and ripe as the apples in the orchard at the base of the hill. He set one hand on top of the blanket before him, and his fingers sprawled out before him like the legs of a spider.
“You have such beautiful hands,” she remarked.
“Guitar player hands,” he said with a shy little smile on his handsome face. “Guitar and piano player hands, I should say.”
“Did you bring your guitar with you?”
“I did! No guitar player should ever be separated from his instrument.”
“Or her.”
“Or her, right!”
Christine turned her attention to the closet on the other side of the room, right before them. She nibbled on her bottom lip, and she climbed out of bed: chills and a slight wave of cold ran up her legs as well as the small of her back.
“What’s in there?” he asked her as she reached the door. She flung it open where she spotted something dark and shiny that hung off the rung before her face. Tucked up against the wall, she noticed something bright and colorful and with an extra shine to it, as well.
Christine nudged the black thing closest to her face, and she recognized the shoulder straps and the low-cut neckline. She smiled to herself, especially as she took notice of the loops and the buckles on the left side.
“Hey, check this out,” she proclaimed as she took the teddy out of the closet. She could hear him swallow hard, as if he had just drunk a big helping of water right then.
“A leather teddy?” he sputtered out, and he raised his little dark eyebrows at the sight of the teddy.
“A leather teddy—like what you’d find in a pain room.” He pursed his lips and shifted his weight there in the bed.
“Want me to try it on?” she offered him, and he shifted his weight again.
“If you’d like,” he declared, to which he cleared his throat.
He bowed his head a bit, which in turn softened his face. He was naturally so stern and put-together but the very second that he lowered his gaze to the bed, he showed her his delicate little face. Those deep eyes never stared back at her for a second, but rather they wandered down around the blankets before they returned to her. He was not exaggerating when he said that he was full of contradictions.
Christine licked her lips and she set the teddy down over the foot of the bed for a second. She peeled off her nightgown, which in turn revealed her dark nipples to him. She tossed her hair back and she looked on at him, complete with her bare breasts out in the open. His chest rose and fell with heavy breathing, but he never said anything to her. She could only assume that he liked what he saw before him, and thus, she kept going.
She picked up the teddy, and she opened it up at the buckles. She slipped it around her thick body, to which the leather hugged her full curves, especially when she closed the teddy and strapped herself into it. The cups hugged her breasts and pressed them tight against each other. The cold air in the room made her nipples erect to a degree, but they never reached a full point.
“How is it?” he asked her with yet another clearing of his throat.
“A little snug,” she replied. “If I lost about ten or fifteen pounds, it might be perfect.”
And he shook his head at that.
“You don’t need to lose weight,” he assured her.
“You sure?”
“Positive. You really don’t need to lose weight. Like, none whatsoever.”
She closed the next buckle, the one right where her hourglass figure pivoted inside. The leather pressed against her belly, and his eyes wandered down to her waist and her hips.
“I have to confess something to you,” he began to her in a soft voice.
“Go right ahead,” she encouraged him.
“I don’t know if this is the right time, though,” he said. “Especially since—you know, we’re about to have a little fun and whatnot.”
“True, true. But surely, it can’t be that bad.”
He nibbled on his bottom lip again.
“I like some leather, big guy,” she told him as she zipped up the little teddy at the back. The top part hugged her breasts to where they looked fuller than normal, such that he shifted his weight at the mere sight of them. She peeled off her panties to where she was close to being naked right there before him. He straightened up his spine a bit, and he set his hands on either side of him. As he was bracing himself for something.
Christine lunged for him, and she brought her face close to his.
“Oh, deary me,” he muttered, and she leaned in closer for a little caress of his chin.
“Yes,” she whispered to him. “I’m the darkest moon that you could ever dream of. I move like a cat. I caress your body down and I tenderly love on you—every inch possible.”
He pursed his lips, and he bowed his head once again.
“Let me feel you,” she begged him.
“As long as I get to feel you,” he retorted back to her: the way in which he said it made her wonder if he had his mouth full of something. Christine closed her eyes, and she breathed in deep to where the teddy fit her like the most perfect glove. She breathed him in for as long as she counted to five inside of her mind, and then she backed away from him and towards the closet for something else. Since she had taken off her panties, she bore her bare ass to him every step of the way.
She reached for one of the bright and colorful things in the back of the closet: when she took it out of hiding, she saw right away that it was a bright yellow latex bodysuit, and one that looked to be designed for a man’s body as well.
“Put that on, big boy,” she told him, and she tossed it over to him. He picked it up by the shoulders, and he raised his eyebrows at the sight and the feel of it.
“You want me to put this on?” he demanded. “With my stomach still full of dinner earlier?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” she insisted.
He parted his lips and let out a low whistle. He then climbed out of bed and stood before her, completely shirtless: he dropped his pajama bottoms, followed by his underwear, and he stood there completely naked before her. Carefully, he picked up the bodysuit and he slipped his feet in through the open back part. He tugged the suit over his legs and his hips.
The latex squeaked and creaked with the shape of his body: he grimaced at the feel of the latex over his dick and his whole crotch area. But she watched him until he brought the latex up to his waist.
“Need some help?” she offered him, and he shook his head.
“Nah, I’ve got it,” he assured her. “Thank you, though.” He glanced down at his waist, slender except for a slight pocket of softness around his belly button. She smiled when she remembered that she had her hands on that softness not long before then. He brought the latex up to his shoulders and his arms, followed by his neck and his chin. He then showed her a little smile.
“Little help?” he grunted out.
“Zip up in the back?” she asked him, and he nodded his head. Christine stood behind him with one hand on the little silver zipper pull and her other hand on the small of his back: he shifted his weight ever so slight, but he never moved a muscle as she brought the zipper up the curvature of his spine until she reached the base of his neck. The collar tightened up around his neck.
He flipped his black hair behind his head, and he adjusted the collar of the suit underneath his chin. With a low whistle, he turned around and he faced her straight on. He kept his hands down by his hips so not a single inch of his body was hidden from her view. The only thing between her and him was a leather teddy and a piece of latex that hugged every inch of his slender, delicate little body. His fingers glided over the latex as it stretched over his soft-looking belly, and he bowed his head to her, so a few little locks of his black hair sprawled down over his shoulder and his collar bones.
“Such a delicate little boy,” she noted.
“I just wanna feel the experience,” he whispered to her. “I want to feel more than what we were feeling on the couch.”
“The experience of being close,” she breathed back to him as she strapped him in. He let out a low whistle. She could sense it: he was nervous. But he was willing, however.
Christine ran her hands down the sides of his arms, all the way down to his hands. Her fingers linked around his own as well as the sides of his hands.
“Your hands are cold,” she told him. “Cold hands mean a warm heart.”
He lowered his gaze once again, that time down towards her feet and ankles.
“The one who dons the latex is the one in charge,” she told him, and he raised his gaze once more.
“Oh, really?”
She showed him a smirk and she leaned in closer to him.
“I’m not wearing panties,” she whispered to him.
“I know you aren’t,” he whispered back.
“I want you to take me over the knee and spank me,” she commanded him, to which he raised his eyebrows at her.
“Spank you. With—my hand?”
“Your hand or something long and flat like a book.”
He swallowed, and she rubbed his shoulders, such that the latex squeaked and tugged underneath her hands.
“Here,” she stated. “Do you want to spank me?”
“I don’t really know how to answer this—”
“Would you like to touch me?”
He ran his tongue along his bottom lip. “Yes.”
“Would you like to touch my ass?”
“Yes.”
“Would you like to raise your hand and spank me?”
“I don’t want to hurt you, though.”
“It’s okay. It’s—kind of the point.”
He swallowed again and he held still. Christine turned around and she showed him her bare ass. She stooped forward so she bore the full curve of smooth flesh to him.
“Go ahead and touch!” she encouraged him. “It’s not like I have cooties.”
Alex sighed through his nose once more and he brought his hands to her ass as if he was cradling a pair of melons. Her skin was warm and smooth; she could feel he was nervous.
“Gimme a squeeze,” she encouraged him, and he pulsed his fingers into her flesh. “You can go harder than that, y’know.”
She felt his fingers squeeze a bit harder against her flesh, and she curled her toes at the sensation.
“I should probably tell you that my ass is quite sensitive,” she told him.
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah, if you tickle me there, it—” He tickled her ass with the tips of his fingers, and she wiggled at him in response, which in turn brought a snicker out of him. “Just like that!”
He tickled her again and she bent further down so her hands dangled down to her feet: the leather crinkled underneath the bend of her body.
“I would think there’s a part of your body that’s sensitive and tender, too,” she noted.
“Yeah, uh… my nuts, believe it or not.” His fingers then slithered along the shape of her cheeks, all the way down to the tops of her thighs, which in turn caught her off guard.
“Oh—?” she gasped. “Where’d that come from?”
“Not too sure,” he confessed: he brought his fingers right to the middle of her ass and down to that sensitive spot between there and her lips.
“You know when you take a shower with a handheld head and you bring it to this whole area here and it feels like bliss?” she asked him. “This is almost like that.”
“Like water—”
She gasped when he caressed the lips there. They were only two steps away from doing it doggy style while standing up, and yet he was reluctant about the gentlest of touches.
“Love like water,” she blurted out.
“Love like ice,” he retorted. How she wished to look into his face while he caressed her down. If there was anything that she loved about the feeling of his hands there, it was the fact that he touched her so gently. She cracked a smile at that realization, that he was more than willing to go at a slow, sensual pace. A slow, sensual, delicate boy.
“Almost,” he echoed her.
“I bring the shower head right in between there for a little cleaning,” she clarified.
“You want me to feel you right in your asshole, don’t you,” he sputtered out.
“I wish I had a plug with us specifically for my ass—it’d add a little more to this.” She peered over her shoulder at him. “You are the one with the latex, after all.”
“I want to feel the pain through the latex,” he confessed.
“A little torture, perhaps?” she suggested with a slight raise of her eyebrow.
“Torture?”
“To the sensitive spot. I’ll gentle, though.” She stood up and turned around to face him. She pressed her hands onto her ass, and she swayed her hips a bit at him. Alex held still with his hands down by his hips so she had a full view of his body.
Without warning, she gripped onto his crotch with both hands. The latex hugged the curvature and the tip of his dick, which in turn brought a gasp out of him.
“A little squeeze—” she said.
“Like a lemon.”
He locked eyes with her so he wouldn’t see what was happening down below his belt. Christine showed him her tongue and she ran her fingertips and the pad of her thumb along the shaft. She could feel him firming up through that thin layer of latex.
Her fingers. His skin. His second skin, like that of a serpent. His body, so slim and elegant, like that of a king cobra.
“We need like toys or something,” he stammered.
“A plug for me and a harness for you,” she replied with a wink and a slight tug to his dick.
“Yeah, of course—oof, Jesus—”
He firmed up inside of there as she tugged on him some more. She was gentle on him but it was obvious that she was stretching his dick through the latex. Alex pinched his eyes shut and let his mouth hang agape at the feeling.
“Is this too much for you?” she kindly asked him.
“Oh, no. It’s just—I’m not used to it.” He let out a hearty little chuckle.
Christine then dug her fingers into the latex and she pushed his shaft back towards his body. She could feel that he was a lot fuller in there from the sensation, and it would be some time before he was fully erect. But she had broken the ice with him a bit.
“You’re so cute,” she told him with a slight brush of the aquiline tip of his nose. He let out a low whistle and tugged at the collar around his neck.
“Is there something leather for me in there?” he asked her, slightly out of breath.
“Indeed, there is,” she replied, and she unhooked the leather teddy, one latch after the other. She let it fall off her body and around her ankles. She stepped out of the leather, and she rounded his body for a hold on the zipper again. Carefully, she tugged the zipper down the curve of his back, all the way to the space over his hips. He let the latex fall off his body, as if he had shed his second skin. Completely naked, he turned his head for a glimpse over his shoulder to her. He gazed down to the floor and he pouted his lips a bit.
Christine slunk over to the closet for the next piece of leather, one that she hoped would be all for him. She unveiled a long jacket of thin black leather as well as a pair of pants: Alex, who had brought his hands down to his bare crotch, tilted his head to the side at the sight of the leather ensemble.
She turned her head into the closet again, and she spotted more colorful latex in there. She handed him the leather and then she took the bright red latex bodysuit out of hiding.
She turned to him as he put the jacket on over his body.
“I want to see you as powerful as me,” she encouraged him as she slipped the latex over her breasts: it was a bit tricky with her erected nipples, but she managed to put her arms into the sleeves.
Alex buttoned up the leather pants, and they hugged his hips as well as the tops of his thighs. His belly button poked out ever so slight over the waistband. Meanwhile, the long black coat hugged the sides of his body, even though he hadn’t closed the belt.
“I ought to call you ‘maestro’,” she remarked.
“’Maestro’?” he echoed her.
“Yeah. Like you could put your hands up and direct the biggest orchestra this side of Siberia.” She snickered at that.
“The only thing that would make that possible is if it was snowing outside, my dear,” he assured her. He nibbled on his bottom lip, and he tucked a little lock of hair behind his ear: it was the first time that she had ever gotten to see his ears as well, and they reminded her of little elf’s ears. A sexy little elf who had found his way down from the rim of the North Pole. He looked ready to tell her something, that little secret that he had promised her before.
But then something caught her eye, something from right behind him no less.
“It is! It’s snowing again, Alex!” She clapped her hands, and he ran his fingers through his dark hair once again as if he was preparing himself for the best thing yet.
Christine extended a hand to him, and she took him by the hand, and she led him out of the room and over to the front door.
“I feel it,” he declared. “I feel the music within me.”
Christine took a glimpse down to his crotch and she could see him rising through the leather. He stepped ahead of her, and he opened the door first.
The biggest orchestra that either of them could ever dream of before, the biggest there on the eve of Christmas and the tale of a thousand seas. The snow drifts and the low-hanging clouds overhead seemed to take the shape of a thousand musicians, all of which ranged from the strings section to the horns and the singers in the front. Christine stood there in the doorway with her hands on the frame and the cold of the winds and the lake-effect snow against her body.
Alex shot his arms into the air as if he was in fact guiding them all in unison. He whirled around and faced her straight on, complete with a big smirk on his face. His chest out in the open, the leather hugged the contours and curves of his body, and she realized that the music was guiding him in utmost euphoria.
He closed his eyes and let them guide him through the snow drifts.
Christine leaned out of the doorway and she let her chest hang down so her breasts seemed fuller than usual. She let him give her such soft touches, but this was something else. This was akin to his mind and the feelings within his flesh: the second skin of leather had coaxed out the powerful feeling within him, she could sense it.
The feel of the music against her body, as if it was enveloping her and sending her: the latex acted as the single protective layer against the power of the music and the roar of the winds.
Where she gave him the power in his body, he gave her power in her mind.
She drifted over the fresh fallen snow all to meet up with him once again: she put her arms around his waist, and he put his arm around her shoulders. The leather protected them both from the snow as it pattered down around them.
“Let’s get out of the wind!” he exclaimed.
Christine rested a hand on his bare waist, and she led him back to the safety of their cabin. Alex closed the door behind him and the rush of the cold winds subsided with haste.
“Phew.” She clasped a hand to her chest, and ran her other hand through her dark hair; and she flashed him a smile.
“That was an adventure,” he remarked.
“An adventure of desire and desire of adventure,” she added.
“Exactly! Now, uh—could you help me out of this, please? It’s kind of—sort of—stuck onto my body.”
Christine burst out laughing.
“Only if you help me out of this little bit of latex here,” she persisted. “By the way, what were you going to tell me?”
“I forgot what it was now,” he admitted, and he shrugged his shoulders. “It might’ve had to do something with the orchestra out there, but I can’t really say, though, to be frank.” He then rubbed his hands together. “Okay! Now onto getting us out of all of this—”
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As the Seasons Grey