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
- 6
- 7
- 8
“Alex, I’m cold,” Christine decreed.
“Yeah, I am, too—I think it’s going to snow again.”
He put his arm around her all so he could lead her to the back room of the bistro. It had been some time since they had been at the cabin and all Christine wanted was to curl up before the fireplace with him on the couch and fall asleep in that warm cozy bed before the next round of snow entered their mysterious area. She shivered and she tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear: Alex, meanwhile, huddled closer to her so his body protected her from the bitter cold wind, which flooded in from the mountainsides off in the distance on the backs of wispy gray clouds. There was a small part of her that remained curious about those mountainsides, and especially the cavernous glaciers in between the finest crevices up there as well.
So much to do in that area and yet, she felt the clock ticking. The fantasy would be done before she knew it, and thus, she knew that she had to seize every moment she had with Alex.
“Let’s get out of the wind!” he exclaimed over the next big gust of cold alpine wind. Indeed, she could feel the snow in the air as he led her over to what looked like a narrow alleyway off to the left side of the street. Christine moved a lock of hair out of her eyes for a better look at the narrow spot before them and she realized it was like a closet, a safe space away from the world with a little Christmas tree in one corner and a lush shag rug that was the color of red wine.
“Ooh, this is lovely,” she remarked: a door behind them closed and they were cozy and warm in this small room.
“A nice little nook for us to spend some time in until the weather clears up,” he declared: he strode past her to a small white bone china plate on a stand up against the wall.
“What you got there, baby?” she asked him.
“Cookies!” He picked one up and showed her the shape of the gingerbread man, complete with gum drops for the buttons and royal icing for the eyes and the mouth. He handed her the cookie and she nibbled on the top of the head.
“Of course you eat his head first,” he teased her as he picked up a cookie for himself, to which he bit off the arm from the shoulder.
“Yeah, but you’re eating his arm, though!” she insisted, and he flashed her a wink.
“Mmm, gingerbread,” he said in a low voice. “Delicious.” He picked up a piece of paper from the edge of the platter and nodded his head. “These are from Chuck and Tiffany, Chris.”
“Far too kind,” she said as she took a larger bite out of the head, and he snickered at that.
Alex ran his fingers through his jet-black hair and he turned towards the big lush red recliner chair up against the right wall.
“There should be another chair in here,” she quipped, and she opened the coat a little bit more. She then spotted something out of the corner of her eye: when she turned her head for a look, there stood a series of milky white candles on the shelf next to the top of the recliner. A little something intimate for the two of them in there.
“Some gingerbread and a bit of relaxation, too—mmm.” He leaned back in the recliner, as far back as it could go so the tip of his nose pointed up towards the ceiling. Christine showed him a smile even though he had closed his eyes and rolled his head away from her. He nibbled on the cookie and he tucked one hand underneath his head: meanwhile, the bottom hem of the camisole and the edges of the jacket all raised up and he showed her that big patch of skin that was his belly.
But Christine had her attention fixated on the long matches on the floor next to the leg of the table next to her, nestled in the canister that looked to be a part of the table itself. She picked out one of the matches, long and pale with the light balsa wood and with a large pink head capped on top.
“What else we got here?” he wondered aloud.
She turned to see him with a small tin box decorated with snowflakes and a couple of Christmas trees. He set the box down upon his stomach all so he could take off the lid: he lifted his head for a look into the box, and then he took one thing out of there.
“Looks like some sugar cookies,” he said as he took a bite of cookie. He closed his eyes as he relished in the flavor.
“Tasty?” she asked him.
“Quite,” he replied with his mouth full. Christine struck the match head against the abrasive side of the can and a low flame flickered as a result. Alex raised his eyebrows at the sight of it.
“What, you want to light me on fire or something?” he teased her with his mouth full.
“Nah…” She strode over to the candles on the shelf and she lit one wick after the other, until they had a full line of fire right over Alex’s head. She blew out the flame on the match head and she showed him another sweet smile, especially as he swallowed down another bite of sugar cookie.
“Fill your tummy with all the cookies,” she declared with a smile on her face.
“Can’t eat too many of them, though,” he pointed out once he swallowed the rest down and then rubbed his hands together. “Too many cookies and I’ll gain weight.”
“You would look really cute with some extra pounds, though,” she told him, and she cracked him a playful little smile. She pulsated her fingers and lunged for his waist. “Just a little round full tummy—” He brought his arms up to his waist to protect himself from her tickling him: she instead put her hands upon his waist and pressed her lips to the side of his neck.
“Let’s turn the lights off, shall we?” she suggested, and she doubled back to the door frame for the light switch rested upon the wall there: she spotted a dimmer switch, which she took upon herself to push down upon. Darkness swept over the tiny room and the lights from the tree flickered on in response.
“Look at that,” Alex remarked as he tucked the tin in between him and the arm of the couch. The little lights twinkled with crystal white light, especially when she brought the overhead lights to a level of near complete darkness.
She let the candles glide with the low flames and then she switched off the overhead light all the way. The golden glow from the wicks spread over the walls and the ceiling, and she closed the edges of the coat around her to keep in the warmth.
Alex remained reclined back in the chair but he lifted his head for a better look at Christine through the soft light from the tree and the candles. The way the light caressed over his skin and the edges of his hipbones and blanketed him as if he was meant to do just that: she never realized as to how beautiful of a body he had before, that is until she examined him from his feet all the way up to his bare waist and his entire upper body.
“You look so cute, baby,” she told him in a near whisper.
“So cute?” he echoed her, baffled.
“So very—cute.” She pressed her lips onto his, and she lay a hand on his bare belly for a caress of the soft smooth skin. He then brought a finger to her lips to hold her steady.
“I have an idea,” he quipped right then.
“What’s that?”
He nibbled on his bottom lip.
“It’s crazy, though,” he said. “Crazy but risky as holy fuck.”
“What is it?”
“You see that candle closest to us?”
She gasped.
“Alex—where are you going with this?”
“A little bit of hot wax and fire to warm us up?” he suggested.
Christine pursed her lips at that. She had never thought of playing with hot wax or the temperature or anything of that nature but through the darkness, she noticed this look in his eyes as if she could trust him on it.
“As long as it gets the both of us out of these ill-fitting clothes,” she remarked.
“I guarantee you that it will.” He flashed her a wink, and then she reached for the candle closest to him. The base of the outside glass was warm, but not warm enough to ache the palm of her hand.
“So my gut has been out in the open this whole entire time,” he started with a running of his fingers through his jet-black hair: through the dim intimate light of the Christmas tree and the candles on the shelf, the gray sliver poked out like a bunny rabbit poking its head out of the safety of the hole. “Because I’ve been so exposed this whole entire time, my skin feels like porcelain left out in the cold.”
Christine held the candle in one hand so she could run her fingers over his bare skin again.
“Yeah, it is cool to the touch,” she noted. Her fingertips caressed over the rim of his belly button. She almost didn’t want to do it given he was so soft and gentle there but it would give him what he wanted.
She rested the base of the candle on his skin.
“Ooh, that’s nice and warm,” he told her. “Tip it over.”
Gingerly, she tipped the candle onto the edge of the base so the side inclined closer to his bare skin. He let out a low whistle as the warmer part of the glass loomed closer to him.
“Are you feeling okay?” she asked him.
“Never better.” The tip of the flame kissed the rim of the candle and the hot melted wax puddled against the inside glass.
“Lift it off of me,” he encouraged her. She lifted the candle off his skin but she let the wax drip out of there and onto his skin. He gasped at the feeling and he let out a low euphoric moan in response to her.
“Is that good?”
“Utterly perfect,” he assured her in between grunts and soft moans from the back of his throat. The wax pooled around his hipbone, a long thin puddle with a slight streak on one side as if it resembled a broomstick. “More.”
“More?”
“Gimme more. I'm begging you, my dear. Give me more of that hot wax. I need it. I need the feeling against my skin.”
Another drizzle of wax on his bare skin and he gasped again from the sensation. That piece of wax took the shape of a Christmas tree that time. Alex brought his hands to his face all to obscure her view into his eyes.
More wax on his bare skin and that time, Christine was sure that it took the shape of a menorah. A little bit of tattooing on her part, all for him.
“Give yourself some of that fire, too,” he whimpered out to her in a broken voice.
“You wanna do it for me or should I do it myself?”
“Whatever you want, my dear little snow bunny.”
She held the candle underneath her hand and Alex raised his head for a better look at her. The tip of the flame licked the base of her skin: she nibbled on her bottom lip as she relished in the pain.
“Put it to your thigh,” he groaned out.
“That means I would have to take off your jeans,” she pointed out.
Without a second thought, he sat up and he reached out for the waistband of the jeans. He then tugged them down as if they were made of latex rather than snug denim.
“To my thigh?” she echoed him, and he nodded at her, excited.
With a low whistle, she brought the flame to the inside of her thigh. The heat lapped at her: she locked eyes with him, those deep eyes that seemed to stare into infinity from the bottom of the ocean. The tip of her tongue slithered out from her mouth and along her bottom lip.
The dance of fire and ice. The meeting of fire and water. The caress of the deep ocean with the kiss of deep space. She waded through the depths of the ocean where he emerged from the darkest corner of outer space: there was in fact something alien about Alex after all, as if he had emerged from another world at some point. So infinite and so infinitesimal at the same time.
She closed her eyes to better take in the heat as well as his spatial depths. As if he had taken her by the hand and kissed her with the sin of the apple and the coziness of the snow.
The hot touch of wax dripped down the inside of her thigh: she opened her eyes and she realized that she not only had let some of the wax go down her skin but he had slipped his fingers in between her lips. The pain of the hot wax fused with the euphoria of his fingers under her hood.
She had reached orgasm without even knowing it, that is until she dripped more wax down the inside of her leg and it reached her knee, and Alex brought his middle finger to her clit, and she watched all the while.
She treated him to a low moan, and she bowed her head forth. Alex then clasped his free hand up to her face and pressed his lips onto hers.
He then reached behind her for something, and he handed her a big bright red apple, as full and round as the apples down in the orchard at the base of the hill.
“What’s this for?” she asked him, and he brought his lips to her forehead, followed by a soft swipe at the side of her neck, which in turn made her toes curl into the soft shag carpet. A second kiss on the neck and then he planted one on her lips, which in turn straightened out her spine as well as her knees.
He kept his eyes closed and she kept both hands on the apple.
“Close your eyes,” he whispered into her ear, “and let the music guide you.”
She closed her eyes, and the warm intimacy of the room fell away as he brought her to another avenue of her mind.
- 6
- 7
- 8
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As the Seasons Grey