Chris let out a groan, falling back onto his bed. It'd been a long day at work, a day he never wished to relive. His hair was a complete mess, somehow dishevelling itself in the short period of time it took for him to drive home. His t-shirt clung with sweat to his back in the most uncomfortable way while he felt like his legs were both hot and glued to the inside of his jeans.
His shirt had rucked itself up slightly and he was forever thankful for the slight breeze curling its way through his open window. Darren had been a jerk all day, teasing in the worst of ways with that stupid innocent act all the while. His fingers would always brush Chris' thigh, or he'd 'accidentally' touch his ass. He'd bend over in front of Chris in the most non-innocent of gestures and then apologize profusely about cutting Chris off from what he was doing.
He would grin wickedly at him from across the room and quirk a stupid eyebrow -that Chris was beginning to relate to protractors- at him. And Darren knew what he was doing, of course he did. It wasn't the first time he'd purposely teased Chris while they were on set. They usually fucked until they couldn't walk after but now that Darren was working later than Chris, he was alone. Alone in his own stupid bubble of stupid sexually charged hell.
He heaved another sigh, shifting up the bed so that he could lay his head on his pillows. He had stripped his shirt in the process of moving, peeling the damp cotton off his torso and throwing it vaguely in the direction of his laundry hamper. It had been far too hot for an undershirt, leaving Chris sprawled across his bed in nothing but a pair of too-tight jeans.
While he lay there, his mind began to wander. Thinking back to before while they were on set. The way Darren's palm had cupped the swell of Chris' ass in an almost possessive manner while he was passing him, the way the older man's hips seemed to have this new-found twisting motion to them while he walked and therefor broadcasting his pert ass even more so.
His mind drifted to the way that Darren's fingers curled around the mic stand when Blaine was singing. He had always made a show of flicking his wrist around the shining bar whilst twisting the cord -if there was one- around his fingers while looking Chris straight in the face, eyes dancing with unspoken mischief. Remembering the way the muscles in Darren's thighs would flex during that stupid yoga scene that he wasn't able to witness in person but you bet your ass he watched that episode. The way he had practically bent himself in half on the yoga mat gave Chris chills.
And fuck, since when did he grant his hand permission to move? His fingers had made their way between his thighs, palm pressing somewhat insistently against the growing erection behind his zipper. Since when did his body have free rein over his mind?
He let out a hiss as he rolled his hand against the denim, the friction not enough to be able to get any sort of release. He moved his hands to tug open his belt, planting his heels against his mattress in order to lift his hips and tug the leather strap from its loops. Chris dropped the belt to the carpet before working on the button to his jeans that had gone from skinny to skinnier with the heat. Once the button was popped he dragged down his zipper, the sound of metal teeth grinding against each other making him shiver.
Chris pulled the flaps of his jeans apart, folding them open before taking the shape of his erection into his hand once more. He let his fingers roam his length through the thin fibre of his briefs with a content sigh, thoughts drifting back to Darren in those stupid little yoga shorts, folding himself in half with flexibility unfair for Chris to not be able to experience alone with him. He imagined himself folding Darren on the bed, his calves resting on Chris' shoulders, ankles hooked together behind the back of Chris' neck as the younger man fucked him into the mattress. Imagined the way Darren's fingers would desperately grapple at the sheets twisted across the bed, head tipped back in sheer ecstasy. His mouth open slightly, little panting moans slipping between lips. Tongue flicking out to wet too-pink lips abused and a little chapped from harsh kissing with too much teeth.
Chris' fingers had found their way into his briefs and he realized he was fisting himself slowly, almost teasingly. And it was hot. Too hot. He needed to get those stupid pants off. He retracted his hand to push at the denim desperately, willing the material off his body.
Once he was finally rid of his clothes, he went back to the fantasies.
He was so ready to get Darren back for what he'd been doing recently. And he'd only been doing it because he knew Chris was going to snap eventually and even though their work schedules were packed Darren's libido was unhindered.
He twisted his wrist on an upstroke, moaning out Darren's name shamelessly into the empty room.
His thoughts drifted to the way Darren sang -who knew something so innocent could be something so seriously pornographic, the way his lips worked around the words, the way his voice curled around strangled consonants piled with unruly vowels when he sang in a different language. When he was doing a show, all Chris could watch was the beads of sweat tracking their way down the expanse of the olive, sun-warmed skin of Darren's throat. Watch the way that he shimmied his way around the stage like the goof he is. The way he bounced around with his guitar, shirt riding up to show off a quick flash of a v-line and measly trail of dark hair down his navel.
There was no way that Chris was going to last.
His free hand threaded into his chestnut hair, twisting the strands around his fingers and giving a little tug. His head tipped back as his hips jerked upwards, tongue flickering out to wet his lips as he let out another little moan.
A bead of sweat works its way down his brow, catching on that unruly lock of hair that always manages to find its way into Chris' face.
Darren between his legs, sucking on a slightly protruding hip bone that he'll always chide Chris for not eating enough but he secretly loves the way it makes the younger man moan.
Darren's hand around his cock, slowly slipping up and down his length with that stupid pace that he uses to drive Chris insane.
Flick on the pull, twist on the push, thumb tracing veins.
Chris' teeth bite into his lower lip as his hips cant upwards once more before spilling over his stomach with a lewd keen followed by a series syllables and expletives.
Maybe one day Chris will find a way to get Darren back.