Adult-FanFiction.org : Celebrity

As the Seasons Grey	By : christinecornell Category: Celebrities - Misc > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 150 -:- 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 woke up on a strange couch in a warm living room, one that didn’t belong to her. She opened her eyes and recognized the baby piano on the other side of the room, as well as the coffee table right before her. The warm aroma of fresh coffee wafted into the room and she knew that he was awake.
She shifted her legs about upon the tops of the cushions, and she realized that she had a blanket over her body. She rolled over a bit for a better look into the rest of the apartment. She could hear him humming in the next room, a soft little melody that she didn’t recognize.
Christine reached her arms up over her head and fetched up a yawn, and then she slithered off the couch. His hard wood floor sent chills up her legs to her hips and the small of her back, but she shook herself down before she headed into the tiny kitchen to find him. He stood before the counter next to the sink with a black coffee mug in one hand and the carafe filled with the freshly brewed coffee inside, but it wasn’t those long and lanky guitarist fingers that captured her attention. He wore soft-looking flannel pajama pants of rich dark red plaid and nothing more: his belly hung out in round bare fashion and his deep chest seemed so much deeper out in the open like that.
Alex tucked the carafe back into the coffee maker, and he turned towards her: when he saw her, he brought his free hand up to the lower part of his prominent, chubby belly and bowed his head.
“There you are—‘morning, Christine!” he declared. She lowered her gaze to the spot under his hand, to that line of dark hair down his belly to the top of the waistband of his pants.
“This is different,” she remarked with a gesture to his body: her eyes made their way up to his bare nipples, his black hair, and the soft-looking skin all about his body.
“You weren’t up yet,” he told her with a shrug, and he held his coffee mug closer to his body as if to hide from her. “I just decided to… you know. Let everything hang out in the open.” Christine brought her gaze back down to the middle of his body and the full shape of his belly and his hips. The skin on his chest was smooth while his lanky, muscular arms were lightly kissed by the sun, but she ran here gaze all up and down the entire shape of his body.
“No need to cover up for me,” she assured him with a little shake of her head. “None whatsoever.”
He straightened his spine, but he never moved his left hand from the full, round shape of his waist. Christine rubbed her eyes and sauntered over to him as if to touch him, but she never did: she instead stood there before him with her hands rested on her hips as if to show off the shape of her body, still wrapped in yesterday’s clothes.
“And there’s no need to cover up for me,” he retorted back to her. “Would you like some coffee?”
“You know I would, pretty please.” She breezed past him to the cupboard with the glasses, and she spotted a second coffee mug on the bottom shelf: a small narrow white cup with autumn leaves on the side. She picked it off the shelf, but it wasn’t until she held onto the handle when she felt a slight tingling sensation in her fingertips.
The mug didn’t belong to her: she flashed on the coffee mug she was making in ceramics, and she thought of making one for herself, one with a black exterior and a bright, blood red base to contrast with her long green coat. But she gazed on at the mug in her hand and something told her that she was crossing some sort of line. Christine poured herself a cup full, and then she made her way over to his little white fridge.
“Are you looking for creamer?” he asked her, and she turned around to see him there in the next room over, complete with those glasses on over his handsome face.
“Yeah. I can’t really drink coffee without some.”
“Right next to your head,” he told her with a crooked little smile on his face. Christine took the little bottle of creamer out of the fridge door, and she poured some into her coffee, just enough for that creamy blonde look on a chilly morning. She then made her way back over to the living room.
Alex took his spot there on the couch with a slouch to his back, and all the while, he kept his arms on either side of his belly as if to hide from her. Christine sipped on her coffee in all its warmth: the cream made her feel as though she was being hugged from the inside. As she took her spot next to him and his bare body, she showed him a smile.
“Come on, lean back,” she insisted. “It’s just you and me here after all.”
He sighed through his nose and gingerly leaned back against the couch cushions. Indeed, his bare belly hung out over the band of his pajama pants, a soft pale round roll all around his waist, and his hair hung down over his collar bones and his shoulders, a fine dark mane that made her think of the hair on a stuffed animal. Her eyes wandered down to his full, round waist, and she couldn’t help but think of a little teddy bear, especially when she brought her gaze up to his face again for a second look at his glasses.
“That’s a really cute look, actually,” she confessed.
“Cute?” He cracked her an unsure smile.
“Yeah, you actually look really cute like this,” she told him with a gesture to his body. “In your jammies and with your tummy bulging out. You look smart and round and very healthy.”
“I am healthy,” he assured her with a lopsided little smile on his face. Her eyes swept over the full curve of his belly, and she could feel her face growing warm at the sight of his dark little belly button. She couldn’t explain what she felt at the sight of his bare skin, especially there on his waist, but she could feel it regardless of anything she did. Alex shifted his weight there on the couch: he looked so soft and round, as if he could lay with her there on the couch again, and again with her arms around him.
“How’s the coffee?” he asked her.
“Delicious.” She dropped her gaze to his waist again. “I guess you could call it ‘belly-warming.’”
“I do not like the way you just looked at me when you said that,” he teased her, and then he treated her to a soft, hearty chuckle. She inched closer to him so her elbow was right above that soft, round potbelly. She had never found extra weight all that attractive on anyone before, but he carried it incredibly well: he looked so nourished.
“That was really sweet of you to put the blanket over me last night,” she told him, to which he shrugged his shoulders.
“You fell asleep there next to me on the couch, and you looked cold, too,” he replied. “I figured there was no way I could pick you up and put you in my bed with me. I would’ve done it no problem, otherwise.”
“This is a comfy couch, though,” she pointed out.
“It really is,” he stated with a small shift to his weight. “I take naps here sometimes.”
He sipped from his black mug with his eyes closed, and then he gave his hair a slight toss with a flick of his head.
“Been meaning to ask you this, but when’s your birthday?” He nudged his glasses up his nose and showed her the pensive look on his face.
“My birthday? April fifteenth. I’ve been told that it’s also Leonardo da Vinci’s birthday.”
Alex raised his eyebrows at that. “Wow! It’s also the Day of Culture, World Art Day, Jackie Robinson Day, and McDonald’s Day, too.”
“Go eat a burger and fries and soft serve ice cream, then to a baseball game, and see some great art,” she suggested, and he chuckled at that. Christine sipped on her coffee again, and her eyes never left that smooth skin at the top of his belly and the base of his chest.
“You look like you have something to tell me,” he said, and he knitted his eyebrows together at that, but he kept the smile on his face.
“You just look… so cute,” was all she could muster to him, albeit in a soft tone of voice, one near to a whisper. She thought of kissing him, but she never could bring herself to that point. There was no way she could do that with him, not without some sort of repercussion on her part. She sipped on her coffee once again, a heartier, bigger sip which she knew would do the trick in waking her up.
Alex leaned forward for his black coffee mug and sipped some down for himself.
“I’m kinda hungry, you want some breakfast?” she asked him.
“I was wondering when you’d ask me that,” he confessed with a gentle scratch of his chest. “You’re going to make me put on a shirt, aren’t you.”
“You don’t have to put on a shirt if you don’t have to,” she assured him with a little shake of her head. She had no idea if it came from the coffee or from the feeling of being next to him, but she could feel her face growing even warmer and rosier.
“Are you okay?” he asked her. “Your face is all pink.”
“I’m just… feeling warm is all,” she sputtered as she took another sip from the mug. Something caught her eye, and she glanced over to the coffee table before them to find a white magazine rested on the base underneath a couple of old books. She scooped it out from under the books to find it was an old issue from years ago, and yet he held onto it all this time: the edges weren’t even frayed very much. But the boy pounced across the cover was tall and thin, donned in black from his head down to his feet, and his long, disheveled black curls sprawled all around his shoulders as if he had been caught in an updraft. She gazed into his oval face, at those bright blue eyes and that aquiline nose, and she glanced over at Alex.
“Is this you?” she asked him.
“That is me. I was… twenty there?”
Christine returned to him there on the cover, and the blush on her face only intensified. “Oh. Oh, my.”
“Quite the looker, wasn’t I?”
“So cute! When did you do this?”
“That was a long time ago. Almost thirty years ago. I was a rockstar back then.”
“What exactly happened?” she asked him.
“Got bored, wanted to try new things outside of it. Plus, the band I was in were stuck between a rock and a hard place. I had to get out of it because it was getting really hard to even so much as walk in and talk to anyone.” His face fell as he said that, and Christine looked on at him with a curious look on her face.
“Do you miss it?” she softly asked him.
“Sometimes I do,” he confessed. “Other times I’m glad that I took the step to leave. I’m glad that I was unafraid to move beyond my horizons.”
“I think everyone should at some point,” she told him. “I used to have a friend who was so liberal that she became so stuck in her ways that you literally couldn’t convince her of anything. She played up this whole progressive agenda but you couldn’t give her a second opinion about things.”
“Wow.” He raised his eyebrows at that. “Wow, that’s brutal. Kind of awful, too.”
“Yeah. It got so hollow after a time. I remember telling her she’s like one of those people who try to shove their religion into your face but from a completely different angle. I remember she got really mean after that, such that I couldn’t talk to her anymore because she was just making me angry.” She shook her head.
“You know, people like to call me a ‘damn liberal,’” he said.
“Yeah, me, too. It’s weird, too, because—aside from all the hysterical propaganda from the other side, there are actually a few things on the other side of the aisle that I do agree with.”
“Oh, me, too. It’s better to seek answers than claim you have all the answers, no matter what side you’re on. It’s better for your brain and your soul, too.”
Christine glanced back down at the magazine, at that young man with his long black hair and slim body. It was right then she felt a lot closer to Alex and his mind. She sighed through her nose once again and she was about to lean back into the couch when he set a hand on his bare belly.
“Okay, I’m officially hungry,” he told her: he pressed his fingers down into the flesh and she could tell that he was soft there, soft and plump like the ripest fruit off the branch.
“There’s a part of me that wants to touch this young version of you,” she confessed to him, and he chuckled at that.
“Oh, come on,” he teased her.
“You come on! You have full hips and nice thighs, and more so now with your extra weight.”
“I was a rascal back then, though,” he quipped. “And I’m fat as a pig now.”
“If you were fat as a pig, do you think I wouldn’t be okay with you being without a shirt?”
“Hard to say,” he chided, and nothing could deny the twinkle in his eye. “I’m a pig. I’m a dog. So excuse me if I want to do this—” He reached for the small of her back, and she lunged away in a fit of giggles. She peered back at him and the befuddled look on his face. “I was just getting the blanket,” he chuckled. “What, d’you think I was about to tickle you?” He squinted his eyes at her, and she shrugged her shoulders.
“Want me to make something or should we go out?” she offered him as she ran her fingers through her hair.
“We can go out. It is Saturday after all. I’m starting to get chilly, anyway.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Christine spent all day Sunday to herself with her small stack of homework, but she was eager to tell Nelly about the day before as well as Friday night. She thought about Eric and those other two boys, and she wondered if they were going to join the two of them. But then there were the four girls, plus her parents. The two of them had to know about him at some point, especially when she had dinner with Wendy over across the hall.
Even in her mother’s cozy apartment that smelled of freshly baked cookies, she still couldn’t hardly shake the smell from his apartment, in particular that blanket over her body. She showed Wendy a couple of rough sketches that she had made for her next ceramics projects, including her own coffee mug. The one she was making for Alex had already been glazed and fired, but she thought of making him something else, something with his name on it.
“When you get into second year, you ought to make little figurines for your father and me,” Wendy suggested.
“It’s a way off, Mom. But I hope Miss Estes can teach us a thing or two about that, though.”
Christine went to school the next day giggling to herself about garden gnomes, when she bumped into Nelly right outside of the cafeteria with a few milk crates in hand.
“Hey, Christine!” She set down the empty milk crates on the concrete and wiped her hands together. “What’s happening? How was your weekend?” Christine padded over to her there in the alleyway so they could have a moment alone before she headed to class.
“Alex and I had dinner together on Friday and I spent the night,” she declared, albeit in a low voice so passersby couldn’t hear her.
“Oh, get outta here!” She gaped at her. “Did you sleep with him?”
“No. I just—had dinner with him. We had Chinese, we watched TV late into the night, and then, the next thing I knew, I fell asleep on his couch and I forgot where I was when I woke up. I was greeted by him in his pajama pants with a cup of coffee in hand.”
“Wow!” Nelly beamed at her with her hands pressed to her hips. Her feathery blonde hair seemed to glow under the hazy gray morning sunlight, and she seemed extra rosy in comparison than she usually had since the start of the school year. “Did you find any secrets?”
“Nothing relationship-wise, but—I did find an old magazine on his coffee table with him on the front cover, though.”
“Really?”
“From thirty years ago, too, so it was a picture of him as a really young man.”
Nelly stepped closer to her to ensure that her secret was safe with her. “Go on,” she coaxed her.
“Oh, my god, Nelly… he has…” Christine could feel her face growing warm again, such that she opened her coat.
“What?” Nelly gaped at her in awe.
“He’s—He’s—”
“Yes?”
Christine pursed her lips together and then she let out a low whistle.
“…he is utterly gorgeous. He has such a beautiful body, and I can’t get it out of my mind. He has this cute little tummy and he just looks so soft with it. Plus, he showed me how he looked as a young man. I wish I could travel back in time. I would make him my boyfriend so fast.”
“Good-looking boy?”
“Gorgeous boy. Hot, actually. Long beautiful, black hair and full lips. His hips were nice and full, too. He was like… shapely, even as a thin boy. I made a joke that I wanted to feel his hips and thighs, and he laughed. But—” She paused and cleared her throat.
“But?”
“I wasn’t joking. I really wish I could feel him.”
“The young version of him or this version of him?”
Christine swallowed and shifted her weight in the chair. It had been so long since she had felt anything for another soul that she had no clue if it was sincere at all. But she thought about his little belly, out in the open like that, and then his lanky beautiful body as a young twenty-something, and her feelings remained the same.
“Both. I wish I could tenderly make out with young Alex and I wish I could have a passionate, sexy kiss with older Alex. I thought he was going to tickle me at one point! I want to touch him, hold him, feel him, love every inch of him… give him the love that he needs and deserves.”
“The love he isn’t getting,” Nelly followed along.
“The love he—” Christine stopped in her tracks. “Wait, what?”
“The love he isn’t getting from his current relationship,” Nelly repeated.
Christine raised her eyebrows at that. “What do you mean? How can you tell?”
“That poor man is unhappy,” Nelly told her in a hushed voice. “You can see it a mile away, Chris. He’s so much better when he’s with you.”
“He called himself fat as a pig at one point, too,” Christine recalled.
“Yeah. He’s unhappy. You have to keep this up with him until he feels the love inside of him.”
The back door to the kitchen swung open and one of the cooks tossed out a bucket full of water into the alleyway next to them. The water splashed away from them, but Nelly turned to her with a disappointed look on her face.
“I have to go,” she said with a shake of her head.
“I do, too,” Christine replied, and she adjusted the strap of her book bag over her shoulder and the surface of her green coat. “Talk more at lunch?”
“You know it, baby doll.” Nelly flashed her a wink, and she took out her hair net from her apron pocket as she headed back into the kitchen. Christine scurried along the sidewalk to Mr. Hansen’s class when she heard someone calling her name. She peered over her shoulder to find a head of long black hair running up to her.
“Chris!” She recognized his round pale face and that prominent nose.
“Oh, hey, Eric!” she greeted him. “I wasn’t expecting to find you out here this late.”
“I woke up late and Greg and I carpooled together and then we got stuck in traffic literally right before we got to the school,” he replied, out of breath. “By the way, when I saw you—” He gasped. “—sorry, I just ran a couple of blocks.”
“It’s okay, take your time,” she told him with a shake of her head.
He gasped again and then he caught up with her.
“How does… Monterey, California sound? For our trip? It’s just south of the Bay Area, too, right on the ocean.”
“It sounds beautiful,” Christine told him.
“We’ll be flying, too. We’re way better off flying out there than driving.”
“I would hope so,” she said with a shrug and a little smile.
“It’ll just be you and me, too,” he told her. “I offered Greg and Lou, but they’re doing something big themselves.”
“When are we going?”
“June. You know. When school’s out.”
“Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah.”
She held the door for him, and then they walked to the classroom together. She recognized that big jovial laughter from Mr. Hansen’s class, and her heart skipped a few beats. Christine stepped into the room first, and she spotted Alex perched upon Mr. Hansen’s desk as if it was his seat and with a big smile on his face. Marlene and one of those brunette girls had already taken their spots, and as far as she knew, they were joking around.
“Mind if I call you ‘Del Mar’?” Alex asked Marlene.
“‘Del Mar’… har har,” the brunette joked, and he burst out laughing at that.
“I always like to call Sabrina here ‘Lady Bird’,” Marlene explained with a big beaming smile on her face.
“Lady Bird… like Lady Bird Johnson,” Alex followed along, and then he turned his attention to Christine and Eric, and his face lit up.
“The green lady and Sluggo,” he quipped.
“Sluggo?” Eric laughed at that.
“That was courtesy of Sabrina right behind you,” Alex explained with a nudge of his glasses up his nose. Eric turned to her, slightly baffled, and Sabrina shrugged.
“It just stuck,” she replied, and she and Marlene giggled at that. Christine took her seat, and all the while, she thought about what Nelly had said, especially once everyone had taken their seats and he climbed off the desk and picked up the nylon guitar in the corner of the room for a jam session.
“Mr. Hansen’s in traffic right now,” he explained with a slowing of his strumming. “He called me and asked to stand in until he gets here. So, only you guys get me.” He flashed Christine a wink, and she huddled down in her chair. Every so often, he would show her a little smile, especially as he picked up a gentle groove every so often. He was happier when she was in the same room with him, but she wanted to know if it was the real thing, however. She had to see him with that woman to see if Nelly’s assumptions were completely right, and not just from a single observation from the counter in the cafeteria. She caught the sight of his phone on Mr. Hansen’s desk as well as his keys.
When class was dismissed, she was the first to leave just so Alex could catch up with her outside of the building. A fine drizzle began to fall over the street, and she tugged her hood over her head. The ring of green surrounded the top of her vision: the only one on campus who wore a long green coat.
She stood at the base of the stairs and peered up to the gray sky overhead, and she closed her eyes. It was right then she heard the door behind her opening, followed by the jingle of car keys.
“Christine!”
She turned around to find him with a halo of rain drops at the crown of his head: the streak of gray seemed to shimmer like genuine silver. The warmth on his face was obvious, but so was the pain in his eyes, even from behind his glasses.
“Stay with me tonight,” she blurted out to him, and he gaped at her, stunned,
“Stay with you?” He knitted his eyebrows together.
“Yes,” she begged. “When I get out of school today, come home with me.”
His face then fell at the sound of that.
“How ‘bout Friday?” she corrected herself. “You know. It being a school night and everything.”
“No, no, it’s not that,” he told her in a low voice. The warmth disappeared from his face.
Christine adjusted her hood over her head. She had to run like Eric to get to ceramics, but she also had to do something for Alex.
“I… I can’t. I—” He closed his eyes and bowed his head: the fine drizzle continued to fall down over the crown of his head to where it looked as though he had little pearls embedded in the strands. The clouds broke open and a patch of blue appeared, as blue as the feeling inside him.
“I have a date with her tonight,” he confessed in a low voice. “I promised her some romance.” He raised his head for a look at her from behind his glasses, and those bright blue eyes were as blue and liquid as the sky above. As blue and liquid as the cold waters beyond Long Island. “I really would love to spend some time with you, though. You know I would. And you’re going to be late, too.”
She swallowed and nodded her head at that. She had to resist the tears from burgeoning, especially since everyone in ceramics would want to know what happened to her. Alex lightly patted her on the shoulder before he bowed away from her. But Christine turned around for a look at him as he headed for his car parked at the curb.
“Alex?” she called after him, and the clouds overhead blanketed over the sole blue patch in the sky: the drizzle picked up to a heartier rain, and she knew she had to run to the safety of the next building over. He turned around to face her, complete with foggy glasses and even more droplets on the crown of his head.
“You know, if you’re happy, then I am, too,” she told him, and she resisted the urge to tell him that she loved him. He showed her a little smile, and then he nudged his glasses further up the bridge of his nose.
“You’re too kind,” he said to her. It was hard to see into his eyes at that point, and thus, she could only make an assumption about him at that point. “Run along, dear Christine. Before you get swept away by the flood.”
She nodded at him, and then she hurried over to the next building over. She peered up to the sky with the hood as her protector: the veil of gray over her as if he was following her, even though she knew that he had ducked into his warm, dry car at that point.
“Everything is going to be totally fine,” she muttered to herself as she ran under the trees. “Everything is going to work out.”
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As the Seasons Grey