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 awoke that morning to the feeling of latex around her body. It was a slight feeling, but a feeling nevertheless, especially when she reached down to touch her crotch and the insides of her legs, and her skin had an extra layer on top. She had never taken it off by the time she and Alex had stepped back inside of the cabin; but when she raised her head, she noticed that Alex had taken off the jacket and slung it over the bedpost. If she didn’t know better, she swore that they had partied all night long until they passed out from drinking too much inebriated eggnog.
She rolled over onto her side for a better view of him there next to her in the bed: it looked as though he was about to take off his pants and yet he never did. He instead left the button of his pants wide open, so she had a nice little view of the skin under his belly button. He had a very gentle curve under his navel, complete with a few fledgling dark sprigs of hair for his happy trail.
She nibbled on her bottom lip and placed her fingertips onto that soft skin. His hair there was coarse; his belly button meanwhile felt so delicate, especially around the rim. He was soft and gentle, so boyish and sweet, such that she coaxed him awake with a little kiss on the side of the neck. He cracked her a little smile, and he buried his face deeper into the top of the pillow.
“Good morning, my darling boy,” she greeted him in a near whisper.
“Mmm…” He raised a hand and rubbed his eyes. Even from the side, his lips looked soft and smooth, like little cherries. Christine brought her face closer to his for a kiss there and he treated her to a little giggle inside of his throat. Her hand pressed onto his chest, and he showed her more of a smile.
She then pressed her lips to his cheekbone for a little peck. Little peck after little peck after little peck after little peck there on his skin, until he finally burst out laughing from the feeling.
“You like that, don’t ya?” she teased him.
“Indeed, I do!”
He rolled over onto his back for a better look at her: he stopped when he recognized the latex around her body.
“Oh, shit, you didn’t take that off?” he asked her, and she shook her head. His smile then warped into a little smirk.
“What’re you thinking about?” She propped up her head on the back of her free hand; she then stroked his chest with her right index finger.
“Well, since you’re still wearing the latex, may I suggest that we have breakfast together?”
“You want me to wear this while we eat breakfast?” she asked him, slightly taken aback.
“Yes! I’ll wear these pants and put on that jacket again. We’ll make ourselves a nice warm breakfast.”
Christine treated him to another kiss on the lips before she climbed off the bed. Alex sat up and he put the jacket back over his bare body; he then held the door for her, and she led him out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.
Outside, the clouds remained over the sky overhead, but the snow had stopped. Christine could hardly shake the image of the orchestra outside of the door there, courtesy of the snow drifts, and she wondered if he would make them return once again for another round before their visit there in the cabin was done.
The two of them began on the pot of hot coffee for themselves, followed by some pancakes on the long flat silver griddle for the two of them: she was able to make a series of six small medallions, one batch after the other. Though the kitchen was warm, and the smell of the pancakes cooking on the hot metal comforted the two of them, Christine still shivered whenever she neared the windowpane, and her nipples poked out from underneath the layer of latex. At one point, Alex shuddered, and he closed his coat all the way.
“I dunno, Alex, this isn’t very comfortable,” she told him as she plated three of the pancakes onto a plate for him, followed by three for herself. She tucked the plates into the oven to maintain the heat before she moved onto the second batch. She tugged at the latex all the while, and then she rubbed her hands on her upper arms to keep the heat inside of her body.
“Yeah, I got one of those deep chills,” he added with another shudder to his body. “You know, the one where once you get it, the less likely it is you’ll shake it away.”
“Ooh, those are awful,” she remarked. “Well, let’s finish this batch of pancakes here and then we’ll change our clothes…” Her voice trailed off, and she turned to the pancakes before her, partially done but on their way in a minute.
But with the cold settled into their bodies, those sixty seconds felt like sixty minutes in and of themselves.
“I can’t take this, Chris,” Alex groaned, and he bowed out of the kitchen. Christine shuddered and she shook her head at the gesture. A delicate boy, indeed.
She continued with the pancakes for another minute, and then she served them onto the plates tucked away there in the oven. She doubled back to the room for a change of her clothes, that is until she noticed that Alex had taken off the jacket and the leather pants, but he had taken one of her camisoles out of the suitcase, specifically the gray one with thick, heathered fabric.
“What the hell?” she demanded right as Alex stood upright and put the camisole over his head. He turned his head towards her, baffled. She burst out laughing.
“What’re you doing?” she asked him in between chuckles.
“Your clothes look warmer,” he confessed to her.
“Well, if you’re going to wear that cami, you ought to wear a bra with it,” she told him; he let the camisole fall down his body. Though he was taller than her, the fabric still dangled down over his body as if he wore a potato sack instead.
“Meant for a curvy girl,” he replied with a slight raise of his eyebrows. He then nodded at her. “By the way, would you like some help with that?”
She peeled the latex off her body and let it fall off her curves and down onto the floor below her. He raised his eyebrows at her.
“I take that back,” he muttered in a low voice. She stepped out of the latex, and she stooped down over his travel bag: all the while, she exposed her naked ass to him. “May I ask what you’re doing, my little snow bunny?”
“If you’re going to wear my clothes, it’s only fair that I wear yours,” she teased him with a glimpse back at him and a mischievous smile on her face all the while.
“Oh, I see.” He treated her to a soft little chuckle; she returned to his clothes for a fresh pair of jeans and one of his shirts. She took the jeans out and she slipped her left foot in first, followed by her right foot. She tugged the jeans up her legs and they barely squeezed over her thighs and her hips: the denim strained against her flesh, and she swore that they would tear apart at the seams.
“You ripping up my jeans?” he demanded. Christine tugged on the button and the waist band refused to move any further. Her bare belly hung out in the open, and Alex lunged for a poke there. She lunged back away from him, and she brought her hands up to her bare breasts.
She then looked up at him, at one of her bras rested upon his chest and her jeans on his legs. He had buttoned them up just fine, but the waist slacked so much that they looked as though they were ready to fall right off his hips.
“You want one of my belts?” she asked him.
“You’ve got more than one?” He was stunned by that.
“Yeah, I’ve got two.” And he laughed out loud at that. Indeed, when he delved through the bag, he spotted two stud belts, one black and one white, and silvery pointed studs that adorned both surfaces. He took the black one for himself, and he slipped it into the belt loops, all the way around his slender little body. Though he was taller than her, he was far more slender in comparison, such that she wondered how such a slender boy like him had such a deep attraction to her.
The loosened waistband of the jeans hugged his hips and the lower part of his waist just right. His hipbones had this soft, gentle curve to them.
Meanwhile, she stood there with her arms over her chest and with his jeans practically stuck onto her hips and her legs with nothing more than mere friction.
“You got any bigger shirts in there for me?” she asked him.
“Bigger shirts? I think so. The biggest shirt I have in there is a plain white T-shirt that’s like loose on me, but I don’t know how it would fit on you, though.”
Christine delved through his travel bag yet again, and she found that shirt in question. With no bra on over her chest, she slipped it on over her body. Like his jeans, which somehow managed to stay intact as she crouched down to the floor, the shirt barely fit her: in fact, she could barely bring the bottom hem over her belly button. He was the bigger of the two and yet his clothes were incredibly tight on her.
Alex, meanwhile, tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, and then he turned to his coat slung over the foot of the bed.
“Here—” he offered her.
He put his coat around her shoulders before he did anything else for himself. She held onto the coat, and she brought the edges to her exposed belly.
“You tie up your hair, you could sneak into a thrash show willy-nilly,” he told her.
“You think so? Even with my muffin top?”
“Especially with the muffin top,” he assured her.
He then held back, still with her jeans around his legs and her bra on over his chest. He showed her a little smile. The tight clothes. The dark leather. Christine could feel something there with him.
“I like this,” he told her in a low voice and with a gesture to her body. “I like this a lot. This—little thing about you wearing my coat as well as my clothes. You look extra curvy with everything popping out…” His voice trailed off at that. Christine squinted her eyes at him, and then she doubled back out to the kitchen.
With everything tight, she could feel everything as she made her way in there for the pancakes and the coffee. She poured herself a mug and then she served her pancakes with butter, powdered sugar, and a little caress of grape jelly.
She hung out even more as she took a seat there at the kitchen table. Alex then followed suit, complete with a little sashay of his hips. She snickered at him, and he peeked over his shoulder at her with a little smile on his face.
“So cute,” she remarked, as she brought her cup of coffee up to her lips for a hearty sip; but once she set it down on the table before her, she glanced over to the left side of the room.
“What’cha looking at?” he asked her as he took his spot at the table.
“Oh, I just got a crazy idea for you to—” She stopped, complete with a pursing of her lips.
“Don’t do this to me,” he teased her.
“I have a very sexy bra at the very bottom of my bag,” she told him. “It’s bright red and kind of skimpy: I don’t really wear it anymore because it very barely fits my boobs.”
He squinted his eyes at her.
“Why do you still have it?” he asked her.
“There’s a part of me that thinks that I can still wear it,” she told him. He drummed his fingers a bit on the table, and then he stood to his feet, and he padded out of there and back into the bedroom for the bra in question. Christine, meanwhile, dug into her pancakes as well as her coffee.
He resurfaced from the bedroom within a minute and with that particular bra cradled in his hands and that heathered camisole slung over his shoulder. She picked up bites of pancake as she watched him change into that little bra.
The tight pants on her legs were only going to feel even tighter as she ate up six whole pancakes with lots of butter and sugar on top.
“Damn, Chris, how do you wear this?” he sputtered out, and she raised her attention to him. The bra had stretched around his chest, to the point where the cups pressed firm against his nipples.
“I wear it well, Alex.”
“No, I mean—how do you—” He slipped the camisole over his chest: the cups of the bra pressed harder against his chest, and yet it accentuated his chest in the oddest way possible.
“How do you feel?” she asked him. He glanced down at his body, at the camisole as it hugged the shape of his body, at the cups of the bra as they rested upon his chest. The hem of the camisole rested right above his belly button: the hem of his underwear remained below meanwhile, and thus; she was met with a healthy stripe of beautiful soft skin. His belly was almost perfectly flat, aside from a gentle little curve under his belly button and in between his hips.
“This is weirdly comfortable,” he replied. “It’s like—being inside of a perfume bottle from the most girly store in the mall.”
He tugged down the bottom hem of the camisole, but it was futile as the hem pressed against the middle of his slender belly. When paired with her jeans, he could carry that look rather well, much like how his tight clothes on her only accentuated her body.
“You look… kinda sexy,” she admitted with her eyes fixed on the middle of his body.
“You think so?” he asked her with a slight little smile.
“Yeah. You look—hot. Boyish. Girlish. Androgynous. Like… everything has been lined up in perfect succession here.”
She picked up a big bite of a pancake and she leaned back in the chair for a fuller view of him, and to let her muffin top hang out without an iota of shame. He took his seat next to her and he proceeded on his pancakes as well. They ate their breakfast in silence: every so often, she took a glimpse up at him, and he returned the favor. The two of them, in each other’s clothes, and there was something oddly romantic about it as well.
She finished her pancakes first and then she leaned back again, that time for a fuller view of him, especially when he stood at his feet before her. The belt hung down low, right over the spot of his crotch; his long black hair sprawled over his shoulders and his collar bones. The slight curve of the bra cups added a peculiar little curvature to his chest and the upper part of his body. But she lowered her gaze down to his waist, that full exposure and her knowing that he had eaten well just then. She imagined him feeling rather warm there.
“I like this,” she said with a gesture to the stripe of skin around his middle. She picked up her plate and she rounded the table: the waistband of his jeans felt as though it was ready to give way under her muffin top. “I like this a lot. It’s so cute. I want to kiss it.”
“Go ahead and touch me,” he encouraged her in a near whisper. With her free hand, she caressed her fingers over his waist. Indeed, he was warm. As warm as a girl next to him on the bed on the snowy morning.
“You’re so skinny, my goodness…”
“As thin as a rail.” She brought her fingers to the spot of skin under his belly button, right upon his happy trail. The feel of those sprigs on her fingertips made her toes curl: the tight pants on her legs made her more aware of the blood flowing in between her legs. The blood flowing to the little bundle of nerves right down in front.
“You’re skinny but your tummy is so soft, though. I feel like I’m touching a little pillow.”
She set the plate down on the table and she moved in closer to him for a better feeling of his skin. Though she wore nothing but his T-shirt, and she had no way of showing her cleavage to him, she still poked her chest out to him just enough for him to have a clue.
“How do I look?” she asked him.
“Cozy,” he said. “Cuddly. I want to put my arms around you—like, put my hands and arms under your shirt to feel your skin. Wouldn’t it be something if you could stand up on the stage and sing while I play guitar.”
“Play guitar while we’re both dressed like this?” she offered him with a gesture between the two of them.
“Yes! You’re girlish and boyish, too. Totally androgynous. We’re both lined up together, like the sun and the moon.”
She moved in closer to him again, her muffin top brushed against his slender belly: the meeting of two feelings of warmth as she put her arms around his neck.
“Let me touch you…” she whispered to him as she planted her lips onto his for a soft little kiss. He put his hands upon her back, right underneath the jacket.
“This is so weird and so hot at the same time,” he breathed into her lips.
“Together as one under the light of the snow,” she whispered into his face. “Let me caress you down.”
“Christmas sweaters,” he blurted out as his hands caressed the seat of her pants.
“Christmas sweaters?” she asked him with a chuckle. She dropped her hands down to his waist: even with the belt around his waist, she stuck a hand down those pants for a fondling.
“Christmas sweaters,” he repeated, and he gasped at the feeling of her hand there. “Christmas sweaters!”
“The Christmas sweater that is my pussy?” she sweetly asked him.
“The Christmas sweater that’s on my pussy—” he blurted out.
“If you’re wearing a Christmas sweater there, what am I wearing?”
“A… A wreath?” he replied as she squeezed harder. She could feel him coming in his pants.
“A wreath on both tits?”
“Around your—waist—”
“Around my waist? What else?”
“Lights—over your tits and your curves—big girl—big girl—brick house—” He parted his lips and treated her to a soft moan from the back of his throat. She pressed her lips onto his to seal it for the time being.
“Ugly Christmas sweaters,” he declared. “Ho boy.”
She took her hand out of the jeans and she gave his exposed skin a gentle pat.
“I have an idea,” he told her right then. “It’s a stupid idea. But when I think about it, the more that I feel tickled by it. It’s such a snuggly, giggly feeling in my stomach when I think about it.”
She squinted her eyes at him, and she knew what was happening there.
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As the Seasons Grey