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
- 4
- 5
- 6
In an utter euphoric daze, following the encounter there in the kitchen, Alex put on his coat over the camisole over his body while Christine slipped her boots on, even with the tight jeans over her legs. He took her by the hand at one point, and he kept her steady as she slipped the black leather boots over her feet and the legs of the pants themselves. At one point, she staggered back a bit and then she caught herself with her hands on her hips: Alex cracked her a playful little smile as he hitched up those loose jeans that rode around his hips and thighs.
“You look really cute,” she told him.
“As do you,” he said with a nod of his head. “I want to poke that muffin top.”
“As long as I get to touch your skin again,” she insisted.
“Of course!”
He led her out of the cabin into the bright white snowy morning: Christine closed her jacket around her body as that breeze lapped at her exposed waist; Alex bowed his head and closed his eyes part of the way, even though the glare upon the snow remained at a level tolerable enough for Christine to walk along just fine.
The trail from the cabin front door wound its way towards the sparse line of evergreen trees off to the side: all the while, Christine kept close to Alex’s body. She even set her hand upon the small of his back as if she was beckoning him closer to her with each and every step along the trail. He cracked her a little smile at one point and more so as they reached a narrow street on the other side of the trees.
“This looks like it’s made of gingerbread,” she noted, and he looked down at the sepia cobblestone pavement before them, sepia despite the freshly fallen snow.
“Gingerbread and chocolate,” Alex added. He shivered and he lingered closer to Christine as they walked together along the side of the street closest to the trees. Christine raised her attention to the far end of the street, the site of some long low buildings and things that resembled those of a village. Although as they pressed on closer, she recognized the small colorful orbs of light along the outer edges of the buildings as well as the trees.
“It really is like gingerbread,” Alex chuckled as they reached the outer edge of the village. He tucked his hands deeper into his pockets while Christine huddled closer to him as if she was about to cuddle with him right then and there. He reached behind the seat of those tight jeans for a touch there. She flinched forward: she turned her attention to him, and the nonchalant look plastered upon his face.
“What’s the matter?” he teased her.
“Did you touch my butt?”
“Now, why would I do that?
“Because I’m in your pants,” she retorted.
“You’re in my pants? No, no, no, no. You were in my pants a few minutes ago, but you’re not in my pants right now.”
“But I am in your pants right now,” she insisted. “You’re also in my pants!”
A few passersby glanced over at them, and Alex clasped a hand onto her left shoulder as if he guided her away from a scene on the street.
“Nothing to see, just a couple of cross-dressers showing off their bellies to the cold morning,” he declared through gritted teeth, to which Christine giggled.
He then stopped right in his tracks, and he backed up a bit for a better look at something behind them.
“What’s up?” she asked him.
He gestured to the poster on the glass display right behind them. She made out the sight of the string section as well as the woodwinds.
“Hey, it’s that orchestra we saw last night,” he told her, and he turned his attention to her with a little twinkle in his eye. “They’re going to be playing tonight at the theater down the street over here.”
“Really?” Christine doubled back for a second glimpse at the poster there before him, and she followed it up with a look down the block: indeed, the theater stood upon the corner across the street. Next door was a bookstore: Alex then turned towards her, excited.
“Let me guess,” she started. “You found someplace to go.” Nothing could deny the eager expression in his eyes as he took Christine by the hand, and once he had taken glimpses off to either side of the cobblestones, he led her across to the other sidewalk there.
He held the door for her, and she made her way inside of there first. Indeed, she was met with a series of rickety, ramshackle bookshelves about the heavy wooden floor before them. The shelves formed long low corridors that stretched back into the shadows at the back of the shop, as if they were about to run off into the fullest lengths of infinity.
To indulge in one another and to indulge in each other’s minds.
“Oh, this is cute!” she exclaimed, and Alex brought a finger to her lips, even though they seemed to be all alone there at the front of the shop. “This is cute!” she repeated, that time in a whisper.
Indeed, it was a cozy little bookstore, one filled to the brim with shelves up to the ceiling and with a series of small tables on the far-right side of the room. The whole room smelled of freshly pressed paper and dusty old wood, all so wistful and abandoned, and alive even with the silence that resided in the town following the snowstorm outside of there.
Eager, Alex made his way to the series of shelves right in front of them and his long and lanky fingers grazed over the spines as they hovered above the edge of the shelf. Christine glanced about the tables for anything that tickled her fancy. Her hand grazed over the covers of the books, to which they all ranged from smooth and fresh, as if the owners had just bought them, and rough and crackly, as if they had been crafted out of straight, rugged corduroy. She held still at one point, albeit with her eyes closed, and she took in that smell of old paper as well as the faint essence of lemons from the cleaning.
“Chris,” Alex called out to her, and she opened her eyes for a glance across the room to him. He gestured for her to follow him behind the bookshelf closest to him. Christine sauntered her way over to him and she nearly tripped over the leg of the chair closest to her.
“Easy now,” he beckoned her.
She pushed the chair back under the table behind her, but she nailed the support beam of the table itself instead, and she moved it forth a bit.
“Kinda—kvetch it, as my grandpa used to say,” he said. She moved it to the right, and she nudged it underneath all the way.
“There you go!” he declared; when she turned around all the way, she noticed that he was right there right behind her. He clasped his hands onto her shoulders all the while and she flashed him a smile once she was face to face with him again.
“Hi,” she greeted him.
“Hi,” he returned the favor in a low voice.
“Hey,” she continued it.
“Hey, hey, hey,” he declared, and he nudged her dark hair over her shoulders. He bowed his head a bit so she could have a better look at his full cherry lips. He ran his hands down her upper arms, down to her elbows and her forearms, followed by her wrists and her hands.
“So, what’d you want me to see?” she asked him.
He hesitated for a second, and then he turned his head a bit so she could only see the side of his face.
“I forget now,” he confessed, and she giggled. And then his face lit up. “Oh! I remember what it was now.”
He took her by the hand, and he led her to the other side of the bookshelf. He took the one from the very top shelf, high out of her reach and barely within his: the camisole and the pants gave way for a fuller view of his bare belly, and she was inclined to touch him there as he reached up to the top shelf. The black leather binding shimmered under the dim light as it cascaded down from the ceiling over their heads. It looked brand-new, as if the shop had just bought the thing not even a few days before then.
“What’s this?” she asked him.
“I recognized the title,” he began as he turned the book over onto its side for a glimpse down at the spine. “’Venus in Furs’. It’s, uh—erotica.”
“Ooh,” she cooed to him, and he chuckled at that.
“Not just regular ol’ cheap erotica—like a grocery store book or anything like that. This book changed all the rules, dare I say. It stirred up a slight fascination with all things leather and—dare I say—off-kilter.”
“Oh, so—a little leather kink, dare I say?” she teased him.
“Exactly, yeah! I saw the title from down here and I thought about the leather jacket that I wore last night.” He showed her a playful little smile at that. “Shall I delve into it for the both of us?”
“Please,” she insisted with a gesture out to him, and he led her to the narrow tables on the side of the room, and especially the one right behind him. He took his seat first, and before she could follow his way, he turned his head to the wall to his left, where a filmy tapestry hung down from a silvery rack right over his head.
“What you got there?” she asked him in a near whisper, and he nudged the tapestry out of the way for her to see for herself.
“Hey, Chris, check this out—”
He showed her the little hole drilled into the drywall, right next to his shoulder. He peeked through it, and she followed suit. It didn’t seem to go anywhere, other than with a view of the narrow, dimly lit hallway on the other side there.
“Looks like a glory hole,” she remarked.
“A glory hole?”
She gaped at him. “Oh, no, don’t tell me you haven’t seen a glory hole!”
He paused, complete with a slight raise of his eyebrows to her. “I see them in like—the men’s room,” he told her. “And I get the assumption, too. But I never thought I would see one in the back room of a bookstore, though.”
He stopped, and he gaped at her.
“Oh, no,” he groaned. “Christine, don’t—don’t tell me you’re thinking about it.”
“If it’s not too much to ask,” she confessed to him in a low voice and with a modest shrug of her shoulders.
“God, you’re like a dude,” he teased her. “First you dress me in leather and latex in the middle of the night, then you feel me up while I’m wearing your clothes, now you want me to shove my dick through a glory hole?”
She shrugged her shoulders yet again. “I want to take you through a little trip of sorts,” she told him as she rounded the side of the table to the other chair there across from him. “We’re here in the snowy corner of the world and I was hoping that you and I could perhaps have a little fun in the meantime. I want to release you, too.”
“Release me? Like… what do you mean?”
“You’re so sweet and so humble, and a part of me wonders about you, too. I’m curious about you, Alex. I want to know more about the man who has brought me here, who seduced me through the apple orchard before the rain came down and before the rain transformed into snow. I want—” She reached out for his left hand to give him a gentle caress down. “I want to feel closer to you. I want to be sexy for you—and I want you to feel sexy.”
His face then fell.
“But I’m not, though,” he confessed. “I’m not sexy at all. I feel so alone so much.”
She then brought her other hand forth onto his.
“You aren’t alone, though,” she pointed out. “Especially with me here with you.” She leaned over the top of the table, and she pressed her lips onto those smooth cherry lips that had seduced her from before, a pair of lush ripe little cherries ready for the picking off the branch. She pulled back for a look into those deep crystalline eyes, and he raised an eyebrow at her.
“So soft,” she said, and that sweet little smile returned to his face once again, albeit at bit of an angle, as if he wanted to play right then and there.
“I can think of about fifty things you can do with that tongue and I ain’t saying half of them,” she told him in a single breath. He raised his eyebrows at that.
“Fifty?”
“Fifty. I ain’t telling you half of them.”
“Could you tell me the other half?” he asked her, timidly. She nibbled on her bottom lip and she glanced over to the tapestry next to him.
“You want to play with that little hole there right next to you?” she offered him in a near whisper, a low soft tone of voice even though there didn’t seem to be anyone else in there with them.
“Did you see another door in here?” he recalled with a glimpse back over his shoulder to the rest of the room there.
“I don’t think I did,” she answered. “It’s worth an investigation, though, I would say.” He peered back at her and she flashed him a wink. He showed her a smile as a result.
“I already feel a bit odd being in here, to be honest,” he said with an adjustment of the lapels on the jacket.
“Why is that?” she asked him, and then his face fell again. “Oh, no, don’t tell me it’s the clothes.”
“It is.”
“I feel quite comfortable, actually,” she confessed. “Well, I’m kind of used to it at this point.” She leaned back in the chair, and she ran her fingers down the exposed skin on her waist: he lowered his gaze there and he maintained the small smile on his face. “It’s okay—I’ll go around the other side and I’ll show you the way.”
“I dunno—what if I get caught?”
“You won’t. If anything, I’m more worried about being caught.”
“You? You’ll be on the other side of the wall. I doubt anyone’s back there.” He then paused and nibbled on his bottom lip at that. “How ‘bout I go back there and you use the tapestry to hide your head?”
“Deal. I didn’t see a door in here but I’m sure you will, though.”
He then drummed his hands on the edge of the table before him, and he kept the black leather-bound book right there on the spot of the table, right before her face all the while. The plain black leather on the front cover made her think of his jacket, as well as those pants that he had had on before. She watched him run over to the far side of the room, and indeed, behind the bookshelf, stood a door to the hallway on the other side of the wall there: she could hear the door closing through an echo on the other side of the hole.
With a quick glimpse about the room to ensure no one was watching her, she stood up and switched spots to his chair. She nudged the tapestry back from the hole for a peek into the shadowy corridor there: she noticed a series of bookshelves back there as well.
“Alex?” Christine called through the hole, and she spotted him there at the end of the hallway on the other side of the wall. He ran his hand down his bare belly to the belt that held up her jeans on his hips.
“Okay, so I just stick my dick in like this?” he asked her in a low enough voice for her to hear.
“Exactly,” she replied, and he slipped his dick right through that large hole. He was slender in comparison to the hole, which looked as though it could fit his erection plus that of another man in there.
“Jesus,” he muttered.
“I know, the hole’s huge!” she decreed, and he burst out laughing at that. “It’s like a porn star-shaped hole.” He clasped a hand to his mouth to keep the laughter at bay, but Christine took a glimpse over her shoulder for one last look at the bookstore before she returned to that length before her face.
“Hold still—” she coaxed him in a low voice. He set the head upon the bottom of the hole, and he nearly pressed his body against the wall as he stuck his dick through the hole. Christine ran her fingers along that smooth skin: she momentarily raised her gaze to that belt which held up her pants on his body, and she knew that she would have to do something about it once all was said and done after the fact. She licked her lips and she brought her mouth down to the head of his dick to begin the job.
Alex held still for her as she suckled on him: she began from the head, and then she moved in closer to him. It was difficult given the wall between them, but she set one hand on the wall, right under the tapestry, to steady herself, and she moved in closer to him. He pressed himself as far as he could go against the wall on the other side, and he steadied himself all the while.
“Sweet merciful crap—” he blurted out, and Christine nearly gagged on him from laughter at the mere sound of that. She closed her eyes and she kept her forehead pressed up to the wall. The tapestry protected her from any wandering eyes. The wall and the coziness of the hallway on the other side protected him from any wandering eyes. They were alone, even though she couldn’t look right into his eyes.
“Something about—having a wall here—” he grunted, which he followed up with a thud. He slammed his hands to the wall. Even though they couldn’t look into each other’s eyes, Christine could feel him rising in her mouth. If only there was a way for him to do the same unto her—
“Hey! What’re you doing?”
She let go of him and Alex jerked back. She turned her head to find the shopkeeper, red-faced and furious, right there behind her.
“Get out of here, you little pervert!”
“Oh, god, I’m so sorry—” Her face flushed with embarrassment: she could taste the fine trail of cum on her lip as well as her tongue, but she brought a hand to her mouth just in case of him seeing her. She scrambled to her feet and scurried away from there: Alex skidded up right behind her with his hands over his crotch to keep the pants up.
“Get out! Both of you!” the shopkeeper yelled after them.
“So much for getting a book,” Alex grumbled as they ducked back outside to the overcast morning.
- 4
- 5
- 6
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

As the Seasons Grey