Stop Thinking With Your...
Gregstophe, mwahaha!
A/N: Sorry this isn't as innocent as my other fics. But as soon as I think 'Gregstophe' I think 'Sex'

It was hard to entertain females when your flatmate was an utter slob. This was something Gregory knew, but could not accept.

As usual, here was a lovely girl, all dressed up, sitting on the couch, and Gregory could not invite her into his room, because Christophe was holed up in there, curtains drawn, probably beneath his blankets, or, even more embarrassingly, in a tent on the floor, telling himself ghost stories because Gregory refused to join him.

"I had a lovely time." Gregory assured his lady friend. She nodded and smiled and pecked his cheek. But it was obvious he'd lost another one.

Their room door opened onto Christophe's side, which was littered with discarded clothes and papers. The usual trail of muddy footprints led to the boots strung by their laces over his bedpost. The tent was pitched beside the bed, and Christophe's voice could be heard inside. He muttered in his sleep, and so Gregory could not, as of yet, be sure if his companion was awake. He didn't care to find out yet, instead picking his way gingerly across the floor to his side of the room, which was of course spotless. His papers were arranged neatly and in alphabetical order in his desk drawers, his shirts washed and ironed in his wardrobe. His bed was made, sheets pressed into the corners with almost military precision. Just the way he liked it.

He took off his shirt and pants. The shirt he discarded into the washbasket, which he noted to empty in the morning. His pants he folded and placed on his bedside table to wear again in the morning, as he had nothing planned for the following day. He would have remained in his pyjamas, but he, unlike Christophe, couldn't abide wallowing in his own filth all day.

"Where's your friend?" Came a gravelly voice from behind him. A small cry escaped Gregory's lips as he turned on his heel to find Christophe peeking out of his tent, and grinning madly.

"She left." Gregory replied tartly. Christophe began to chuckle, eyes running up and down Gregory's form. It was then that Gregory realized he had neglected to put on his pyjamas as of yet. He ducked his head and opened the top drawer of his bedside table.

Empty. Christophe's laughter increased. "You won't find them." He told him matter-of-factly.

"Christophe." Gregory warned. He held his hands over his chest, flesh raising in little bumps. The room was cold and dark, and Christophe's smirk was a menacing one. "Where are my clothes?"

"I 'id them."

"Where?"

"Eef I told you, that would ruin the surprise."

"Why would you hide my clothes?" Gregory held out his hands.

"Eet's fun."

Gregory sighed and moved to stand in front of Christophe. He wasn't embarrassed at his near nakedness, more the fact that Christophe knew just how to push his buttons. He held out an expectant hand. "Give them to me."

Christophe shook his head. "You 'ave to play with me."

"Ugh..." Gregory sighed, wiping a hand down his face. He didn't need this. "What do I have to play, exactly?"

"Slave."

Perfect.

"Fine."

"Get in the tent."

Gregory pushed his hand into Christophe's face and moved him out of the way of the entrance. He clambered in beside him, hating the fact that he was sitting in Christophe's usual filth. The blankets were covered in crumbs and sticky substances he didn't want to think about. Christophe's old teddy bear sat in a corner, one ear and an arm missing, patched up with huge, wobbly stitches Christophe must have executed himself.

"Now..." Christophe sighed, zipping the tent closed. The moonlight filtering through the curtains did not penetrate the thick walls of the tent, and Gregory was completely blind. When a warm, calloused hand landed on his thigh, he jumped away from it. Christophe chuckled softly and moved foreward. Gregory moved away, meeting with the corner of the tent all too soon. Christophe had him cornered. If Gregory could see him, he was sure his companion would be grinning like a fool.

"What are you doing?" Gregory spat out. He was becoming increasingly annoyed, but that's just because this was Christophe. He often played cruel games with him. He insulted him, he rearranged things Gregory had just set right. It seemed his sole purpose in life was to irritate his friend.

And Gregory loved it, though he would never acknowledge it, even in his own mind.

"I'm playing." Christophe breathed. His hand came down on Gregory's thigh once more, and Gregory attempted to remove it. "Ah ah ah!" Christophe whispered, stroking Gregory's face. Gregory froze up. Things like this happened often. After they had a playful argument, Christophe would lightly slap Gregory's cheek, and it would pause him for just a second. It wasn't the contact that was an issue. There was many a night you could find them rolling around, playfighting (Or just fighting) on the carpet. But it was this soft touch, this loving gesture, that made Gregory's heart freeze.

"Do me a favour?" Christophe asked, and Gregory nodded. He could see only Christophe's silhouette, his face barely inches from his own. "Put these on."

Christophe moved away, and Gregory felt several items fall into his lap. The first were his leather gloves, and he slipped them on. Second were some boots. On closer inspection, Gregory found they weren't his own, but boots with two inch heels and thick laces. He looked up at Christophe, waiting for explanation, but none came. He slipped the boots on. It wasn't like Christophe could see anyway.

The third item was small, like a band girls put in their hair. Gregory held it up, and Christophe cleared his throat. "It's a garter." He informed him, and Gregory felt himself redden. What was this? "For me?" Christophe pleaded.

Gregory assessed his situation. Here he was, in a tent with Christophe, who seemed to be playing some strange game with him. He was already wearing his gloves, and women's shoes. He was expected to put on a black lacy garter. What did Christophe intend to do with him then?

Suddenly, a firm hand gripped a hank of his hair and pulled. Gregory whistled in pain, pushing back to try and relieve himself of the uncomfortable sensation. "Do. Eet." Christophe ordered.

"Fine!" Gregory growled, wrenching Chrstophe's hand away and beginning to manouvre the garter over his new shoes. Christophe gave a grunt to show his pleasure, and sat back into the darkness.

Gregory sat back, the garter itchy on his thigh. He resisted the urge to run, held his ground. Christophe began moving foreward once more. But instead of coming to Gregory's face, he stopped halfway and leaned down. Gregory's breath hitched when Christophe laid his cheek against his shorts.

"So your friend left, did she?" Christophe asked conversationally, as if he were not nuzzling through Gregory's shorts. There was a shifting in his pants that Gregory did not like one bit. He could feel Christophe smiling.

"Yes." Gregory replied curtly, trying hard not to concentrate on what his friend was doing. This became even harder to do when Christophe slid his thumbs between Gregory's shorts and his skin. He shivered involuntarily.

"You were going to bring her in 'ere?" He drawled, tugging Gregory's shorts over his hips. Gregory reached down in a bid to stop him, but he slapped his hands away.

"Perhaps." Gregory admitted through gritted teeth. "If you hadn't have been here."

Christophe laughed. Gregory hated it when he laughed. His laughter meant someone else's misfortune. Usually his own. "Why do you think I stayed 'ome?"

Gregory frowned. Christophe finally managed to disentangle his shorts from the heels and grinned, though Gregory of course couldn't see. "Excuse me?" He asked, as if he weren't suddenly naked apart from gloves, boots and a whispy garter.

"Figure eet out." Christophe growled, before kneeling before him once more and bringing his head down against Gregory's lower belly. He felt the rise and fall of his stomach, remaining still for the shortest of whiles, before taking Gregory's penis in his hand, and stroking the tip softly. Gregory moaned, despite himself.

"I can fix this for you?" Christophe offered, referring to Gregory's undeniable erection.

"I'm-I'm quite al-alright." Gregory replied weakly, voice shaking.

"I don't think you are, my friend." He smiled, and began pumping his fist. Gregory shot forewards. Their heads knocked together. For a moment, both stilled.

Their mouths met.

Gregory had smooth skin, soft lips and a quick tongue. Christophe's lips were chapped, his skin bruised and scarred, and his kisses were rough and thoughtless. They were complete opposites, and it seemed impossible they would fit so perfectly as they did now.

Christophe continued his work on Gregory, and Gregory kissed him hungrily, gloved hands either side of his face. Eventually, Christophe placed a large hand aganst Gregory's chest and pushed him down into the blankets. He tore their lips apart and removed his hands from Gregory. Gregory let out a small whine in protest, but Christophe shushed him, and proceeded to remove his shirt.

Neither boy could see the other. The darkness blinded them. Gregory could not see Christophe's tanned, toned body, nor could Christophe see how small, pale and vulnerable Gregory looked in that moment. Just as well. Gregory liked to think of himself as strong, but compared to Christophe he looked positively weedy. The jealousy may have killed the romance of the situation.

Christophe removed his pants and disposed of them in the darkness. Gregory had an inkling of an idea of what was going on, and before Christophe could advance further, he held up a booted foot.

"Hold on." He muttered quickly. "You want me?"

Christophe whined. "Yes, now let me 'ave you!"

"Lick my boot."

"What?"

"I said lick it."

"You won't get your clothes."

"I can sleep without them. You, however, can't fuck me without my permission. Now lick."

Christophe sighed in frustration and stuck out his tongue, giving the boot a few tentative licks, though he knew it was clean. Gregory brought his foot up, forcing Christophe to take the heel into his mouth. Christophe smiled past the heel, and, knowing Gregory could see his outline, began sucking the heel, bringing it in and out of his mouth. Gregory appreciated this immensely, and took the heel away, reaching out to grab Christophe's hips and pull him down on top of him.

They kissed for a further few minutes, their hormones filling the tent and heating up the enclosed space. Within minutes the two were sweaty and sticky, but Gregory only minded the smallest amount. Usually he would be begging for a bath by now.

Christophe pulled back once more, throwing Gregory's legs over his shoulders. He gave Gregory a look. He didn't ask if he was ready, instead slowly sliding a single finger into him. Gregory stilled, though he felt the need to squirm. While Christophe waited for Gregory to be good and ready, he toyed with himself. Gregory felt this close to him and wished he could enjoy the view. But otherwise he was glad for the darkness, as he was sure the pure ecstacy on his face as Christophe explored his insides would make his friend laugh out loud.

Christophe teased in another finger. He seemed to be searching for something. Gregory, not being practised in the ways of gay sex, was not aware what it was he was looking for until something zinged inside of him, making him buck up and into Christophe's hand. Christophe smiled, running his fingers over Gregory's sweet spot again, getting off on the little sounds Gregory emitted when he did so. Eventually pushing in a third finger, Christophe desisted, just in case it was too much for Gregory, and simply set about stretching the smaller boy. Gregory had become a little uncomfortable when the third finger was introduced, and when Christophe next moved his hand back he protested any more. Christophe shrugged and pulled his hand out. Dispite feeling more comfortable, Gregory also felt empty. He wanted it back, that feeling of being full.

Luckily for him, he didn't have to wait long before Christophe was placing himself at his entrance. "Are you ready for me?" He asked sarcastically, and Gregory managed to find his arm to give a playful slap. Christophe began working himself inside of Gregory, and Gregory's back arched. It did hurt a little, but it was a good pain, and he could deal with it until the going got better.

When he was fully taken up by Gregory, Christophe paused. He held his pose for around thirty seconds, wanting Gregory to get used to having him inside him, before he began thrusting slowly, moving in and out of Gregory. It wasn't graceful, and it wasn't pretty, but Gregory seemed to appreciate it, if the way he clutched at Christophe's waist was any indication.

Christophe was not one for being loud during what he preferred to call 'love-making'. Occassionally, if it was very good, he would let out a grunt of appreciation. Gregory was the one providing the soundtrack. He moaned, he whined, he keened out Christophe's name on several occasions. Christophe enjoyed this thouroughly, and showed it by taking Gregory's dick in his hand once more, and pumping ferociously. Gregory's back arched once more, his fingernails digging into Christophe's skin. Christophe groaned a little as he climaxed, but continued pumping through the blind pleasure he was experiencing until Gregory came also, onto both his stomach and Christophe's hand. Christophe grinned and licked his thumb experimentally. His satisfied 'Mmm...' cut through Gregory's daze, and brought him back long enough to watch Christophe lick up the rest of his come. Gregory smiled and stroked the other boy's dark hair.

Christophe came to lay beside him in the darkness, crushing his back to his chest and nuzzling his neck.

"I must admit." Christophe whispered into Gregory's ear. Gregory shivered in pleasure at the feeling of his warm breath. "I 'ave been wanting to do zat for a while."

"I'm...Glad you did." Gregory replied, panting a little. Christophe chuckled a final time before lapsing into silence, kissing Gregory's neck, collarbone, jawline. Anywhere his lips could reach, he kissed, and Gregory lay back and enjoyed the sensation.

Eventually, Christophe drifted to sleep, still spooning Gregory, but not quite as tightly. Gregory took the chance to extract himself from Christophe's arms. He kissed his cheek lovingly before exiting the tent and throwing off the boots and the garter. He placed his gloves on top of his pants on the bedside table.

Gregory felt horribly sticky, sweaty, and particularly dirty. He decided a good shower was in order, even though it was somewhere around the middle of the night. He spent a long time under the steady stream of water, thinking back over the nights events with longing. He definately wanted more of this.

When he returned to their room, Gregory opened his top drawer once more and realized he still had no idea where his pyjamas were. He sighed and tugged the next drawer down. He would sleep in his underwear for tonight.

Upon opening the drawer, he discovered his pyjamas, stuffed roughly in there along with his neatly folded undergarments, as if a last minute decision on Christophe's part.

"Son of a bitch." Gregory cursed. "I truly hate you, Christophe DeLorne."

"I love you too." Came a snickering voice from the tent.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Hope you enjoyed reading that as much as I did writing it. Apparently Christophe likes to laugh during sex...