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One Hundred Ways to Photograph Your Lover	By : minikitkatgirl Category: Individual Celebrities > Stephen Colbert Views: 1266 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the celebrity I am writing about. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-One Hundred Ways to Photograph Your Lover
- 1
Title: One Hundred Ways to Photograph Your Lover
Author: Minikitkatgirl
Pairing: Stephen Colbert/Paul Dinello
Rating: R/NC-17, for sexual situations and language
Disclaimer the First: This is slash fiction; that is, it contains sexual/romantic situations between two members of the same sex. If such material is not to your liking, then do not proceed past this point. Otherwise, happy reading, and please do leave feedback!
Disclaimer the Second: Not real, never happened (to my knowledge), no defamation of character intended whatsoever. In conclusion, please don't sue me, because I am a writer and therefore have no money. Thank you. =)

Author's Note #1: This story is based on the following photograph: http://images.wikia.com/wikiality/images/Deargod.jpg (look at it before you read the story).

~*~

"One more."

"I've been sitting like this for two hours. My ass hurts."

"Come on. This is a good shot. I want to get every possible angle."

"Your perfectionism is making me want to strangle you with piano wire."

"I already told you, I'm not into autoerotic asphyxiation."

Stephen laughed loudly. Reaching down to grab a pillow, he hurled it at Paul, who ducked just as it sailed past his head.

"Your aim sucks."

"Shut up, Dinello."

Paul grinned and crouched down to take more pictures. Click, click. "Okay, just one more angle, and we'll call it a day."

Stephen threw his head back and groaned in protest. "Slave-driver!"

"Yeah, yeah. Pipe down."

Paul walked over to Stephen, fiddling with and adjusting the camera settings for his final shot. He climbed up onto the chair, placing one foot on the armrest by Stephen's elbow, and the other on the small area of cushion between Stephen's legs.

"What the hell are you doing?" said Stephen, eyeing Paul curiously.

"Satanic macramé. What do you think I'm doing?"

"All right, well be careful, would you? One false move and I'll be singing soprano."

Paul grinned as he adjusted the camera lens. Anyone else acting like this would automatically be labeled a brat, or at least a grade A pain-in-the-ass. Stephen was behaving like a diva, but he was Paul's diva, and that was all that mattered. He raised the camera. "This is it. Here we go."

Click.

"Perfect."

He paused for a moment to gaze down at Stephen. The black sweater and dark jeans were quite flattering on him, Paul thought. Amy Sedaris had picked the clothes out when the two of them went shopping earlier that week. He'd told her that he was planning to photograph Stephen, but had no clue what he should wear.

"He offered to bring his own clothes," Paul had told Amy, who grimaced woefully.

"Well, that could work, if you want him to model the latest in middle-aged man-wear. If not, then you'll need to go in another direction. He could even end up looking--I can't believe I'm saying this--sexy. I'm not promising anything, but we can try."

Once they were in the store, Amy walked from rack to rack pointing at various items and saying, "Buy that. And that. Buy that, too."

"Ooh, buy that. Oh, wait, that wouldn't work on Stephen, would it?" Paul realized she was gesturing to a purple nightie with feather boa-like trim. "Probably not. Too small in the hips."

The black sweater fit perfectly, as it turned out. It hugged Stephen's torso in all the right places. Paul had been afraid the jeans might be too tight, but standing there looking down at Stephen's spread legs, he was definitely glad that he'd let Amy pick out the clothes.

Paul moved to get down from the chair. He slipped as he lowered his left leg to the ground, his right still up on the chair. "Shit!" Stephen grabbed Paul's arm to keep him from falling, and Paul grabbed onto Stephen.

Stephen let out a small chuckle. A confused "What?" expression crossed Paul's face, until he looked down and saw just exactly what he'd grabbed onto: Stephen's thigh. Stephen said nothing, nor did he make any effort to move Paul's hand away. Paul let it rest there for a moment, placidly stroking the denim-covered muscle. He felt a hand reach up and fingers threading through his hair. He sighed and closed his eyes, basking in the tactile stimulation. The hand moved to the back of his head and gently drew it forward. Stephen's lips pressed against Paul's in a kiss both tender and rough. Paul sighed; this brief opening gave Stephen an opportunity to slide his tongue into Paul's mouth, which he did. The man with the camera moaned now, gripping the other man's thigh harder, which forced a low growl of pleasure from Stephen. He took Paul's lower lip between his teeth and tugged on it. Again Paul moaned, and now he slid his hands under Stephen's sweater, dragging his nails down Stephen's chest. After a few more minutes of intense kissing and heavy petting, they pulled apart, faces still touching, except for at the lips.

"See, I told you that was the last shot.”

Stephen smirked and kissed Paul’s forehead. “Help me out of this chair, Dinello. My back’s aching, my sides hurt, and my ass feels as heavy as an anvil."

Paul chuckled as he pulled Stephen onto his feet. "Why don't you go get changed? There's something I need to do. Oh, and don't come out of the bedroom until I say so."

"All righty."

~*~

Stephen had quickly gotten changed and put on a bathrobe, and now he sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for Paul to finish whatever it was he was doing. He tapped his foot impatiently.

"Dinello, you've been in the bathroom for twenty minutes already! Just hold onto the sides of the toilet, open wide, and give it hell!"

The bathroom door opened just then. A perturbed-yet-amused Paul looked over at Stephen. He folded his arms across his chest and stuck his tongue out at him. "You're really disgusting, do you know that?"

"You're the one who was taking forever in there. Hey, I didn't hear the toilet flush. Is there something you want to show me? Did the face of Jesus appear on one of your feces?"

"Okay, you're a freak, and that's gross. Now get in here."

Paul opened the door all the way so Stephen could see what he'd done. The lights were turned off, and instead the room was bathed in candlelight from several strategically placed dark red candles: one on the sink, two on two different shelves of the open linen closet in the corner, and two on the outer edge of the white bathtub, near the end where the knobs and faucet were located. The bathtub itself was filled with hot water and vanilla-scented bath oil.

"Damn. This is...Wow."

For once, Stephen was speechless. Paul slid his arms between Stephen's and wrapped them around his waist. Stephen leaned his head back into the crook of Paul's neck.

"Thanks, Paul."

Paul leaned down and gave Stephen a quick kiss on the lips while his hands got to work untying the bathrobe. He slid the garment off of Stephen's shoulders and draped it over the towel rack. He let out a sharp breath at the sight of Stephen's naked form. Paul could feel his skin tingle and warm just from looking at the man.

"All right, get in."

Stephen gripped Paul's hand as he climbed into the tub and gingerly settled himself in. Scooping the water in his hands, he tilted back his head and slowly poured it over his face. Some of the water slid onto his chest, and the droplets glistened in the candlelight. He craned his neck to the left and to the right, and then turned to look at Paul. "What, no rubber duckie?"

Paul chuckled. "Sorry, no. I've got a loofah, though."

"Ooh. Bring it."

"Hang on a second."

His eyes never leaving Stephen's, Paul began to take his clothes off. First the shirt, then pants and underwear. The lean, muscled torso that Paul always kept hidden was now in full view, its contours smooth and defined in the flickering light. Placing his hands on Stephen's shoulders, Paul stepped into the tub behind him, spreading his legs wide so as to bring the other man between them. He grabbed the loofah, along with a bar of soap. After working up a good lather, he began to slowly wash Stephen's back with one hand, while the other slid around to the front and caressed his chest.

"Mmm, that feels so good. You've got magic fingers, Paul."

Paul smirked. You have no idea, he thought. But you'll find out.

He felt a surge of desirous energy rush through him then, and slid the arm on Stephen's chest up to his neck. Paul grasped Stephen's throat, pushed his head back until it was resting on his shoulder, and crushed their lips together in a furious kiss. He forced open Stephen's mouth and shoved his tongue inside. Stephen moaned and struggled to breathe as the air rushed from his lungs. Waves of arousal were flooding his entire body, and he could feel his cock hardening beneath the water.

"God, Paul--" he managed to get out, before Paul kissed him again.

He pulled their lips apart a moment later. Moving his hand to the back of Stephen's head, Paul grabbed a fist of the man's hair and pulled his head back. "You were a real pain-in-the-ass today, do you know that?" Paul whispered, his voice low and raspy.

"I--"

"All that whining and complaining. I definitely think you could've been better behaved." Paul pressed his lips against the base of Stephen's throat. He took notice of Stephen's now-prominent erection, but said nothing. He nibbled on Stephen's collarbone, and then slowly slid his tongue all the way up his neck.

"Unghh..." Stephen groaned. His cock was throbbing now, and he wanted relief. He moved his hand down to touch himself. Paul saw this and immediately yanked Stephen's arm behind his back.

"I don't think so. You don't come until I make you come. Understand?"

"Y-yeah."

Paul's own erection was now making its presence known. Not that it mattered much. This was all about torturing Stephen for as long as possible.

He grabbed the loofah again and put it in Stephen's hand. "Wash me."

"W-what?"

"I said turn around and wash me."

Fighting the urge to complain some more, Stephen did as he was told. He slid out from between Paul's legs and turned his body around so that he was facing him. What he saw made him even more aroused and his mouth hang open: Paul had one leg bent at the knee and pulled up to his chest, and was resting his arm on it. The other leg was outstretched, and right in between was his cock--thick, erect, and resting against his bellybutton.

"Make it nice and soapy. And sit between my legs." Stephen swallowed hard. Paul smiled. "Come on. Don't be shy." He scooted up close and began to wash Paul's chest with the loofah.

Paul, meanwhile, slid his hand beneath the water and wrapped it around Stephen's cock. Stephen gasped and froze mid-wash.

"Keep. Washing." Paul ordered. Stephen started to move the loofah again, and at the same time Paul slowly moved his hand up and down on Stephen's cock.

The blood boiling inside of him now, Stephen stared at Paul's chest, fixated on it, to keep his mind off of what Paul was doing. He washed and washed as Paul--who had picked up the pace--continued to stroke him.

"You know, they say that once you've drawn blood, you've washed enough."

What? thought Stephen. He looked down and saw that he'd been washing the same spot over and over again, and now Paul's skin was bright red. "Oh, shit. Sor--Fuck!" he threw his head back and moaned loudly. Paul had leaned over and wrapped his lips--those pillowy lips!--around Stephen's cock. His head bobbed up and down rapidly as he sucked hard. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Arousal raced through him like a lit match on a trail of gasoline. Ohshitohshitohshit, Godyesalmostthere, fuucckkk...

As quickly as he'd started, Paul stopped. He sat back up.

"GOD DAMN IT! What the hell?! You're such an ASSHOLE, Dinello!" Stephen crossed his arms across his chest, snapped his head to the right, and pouted.

Paul grinned. "Are you done yet?"

"I hate you."

"No, you don't. Come here."

"I don't wanna." Still pouting.

"Stephen. Do you remember that night a few weeks ago?"

"What night?"

"With the vibrator. And Jon. In the hot tub."

Stephen whimpered. "Yes."

"If you ever want anything like that to happen again, you'll stop acting like a baby and kiss me."

Defeated, Stephen sighed. "Fine."

Paul grinned and pulled Stephen into his arms, kissing him. "I'm sorry. I had to do it. Forgive me?"

"Yeah, yeah, I forgive you."

"Good. Now let's have some fun."

Paul started to stroke Stephen's cock again, and Stephen was soon doing the same to Paul.

"Ohh, that feels good," Paul hissed.

"Shut up, Dinello," Stephen growled. He kissed Paul hard and pulled him into his lap. Paul wrapped his legs around Stephen's back and locked his ankles together. They continued kissing passionately, hands jerking each other's cocks roughly. Paul's free hand was in Stephen's hair, and Stephen's was on Paul's chest. He pinched one of Paul's nipples and clawed his nails on the man's skin. Paul's hand was on Stephen's back, doing the same. Their breaths began to grow ragged with every stroke, every touch.

"I'm getting close." Stephen groaned.

"Me, too."

Harder, faster. Both men were quickly losing control.

"Look at me." Stephen did as Paul asked. He could see the fire in the man's eyes. "Gonna...cum..." the words came out as a strangled moan.

"Do you remember...earlier...you said your ass was hurting...from sitting?" Stephen nodded.

Paul leaned in closer, placing his lips right next to Stephen's ear. "Think how it would feel...after I got done fucking you into the ground."

"Pauuul! Fuuuucckkk!" The words went straight to Stephen's cock, sending him over the edge. His back arched as he came hard, moaning uncontrollably. Watching Stephen climax was all it took for Paul. He threw his head back and groaned Stephen's name loudly as he came.

It took several more minutes for them to wind back down to normal. Stephen's breathing was still slightly shallow.

"Jesus, Paul, I think that might've given me a mild heart attack."

Paul laughed loudly. "I think you'll be all right. Come here, lie on my chest."

Stephen was all too happy to comply. He turned on his side and snuggled up against Paul, resting his head just below Paul's chin.

"I bet those photos are going to turn out great."

"Yeah, they should. Lord knows you took enough of them."

"You can never stop complaining, can you?"

"Sure I can. I just don't feel like it. So...how much are you getting paid for them, anyway?"

"Not as much as I am for selling the pictures of you and Jon in the hot tub to the Colbert Nation."

"PAUL!!"

~*~The End~*~
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One Hundred Ways to Photograph Your Lover