alphabet chris [christopher smith x chase!reader]
read on ao3
synopsis: A night in with your brother, Gut Chase, and your best friend, Christopher Smith, brings back a plethora of high school memories. There's one memory in particular, however, that you and Chris remember a little differently.
pairing: christopher smith x gender neutral reader
word count: 3k
warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, unsafe sex, slight size kink
a/n: hoo boy i need a glass of water. i have no idea where this came from so dont ask me <3 anyway i’d give my life savings and sell my soul to have chris yell at me, anyways....
✦ ₊ ˚ ♡ . ₊ ✦ .˚ ♡ . ₊ ✦ . ₊ ˚ ♡ . ₊ ✦ . ˚ ♡ . ₊ ✦
“Fuck you dude,” Gut laughed as he stood up from his seat opposite you and Chris, “I just chugged mine, so now you have to as well!”
Your brother finished his fourth can of beer, crushed it in his hand and hurled it towards the two of you. Together, you and your twin brother had always spelled trouble. People knew to run when the Chase twins rolled around.
“OW! Fuck you man!” Chris laughed back, throwing his own empty beer can back at your brother and hitting him square in the back as he entered the kitchen of Chris’ trailer. Whenever Chris was thrown in the mix, the chaos only worsened.
Gus sauntered back into the room and slammed another cold 6 pack down on the table as his phone started ringing. You rolled your eyes and looked back at Chris as Gus answered the call, the three of you cracking open your drinks in near perfect sync.
“What’s up? Yeah and Chris… No, at his… You what?... Hang tight baby, I’ll be over soon.”
You knew exactly what your brother was going to say the second he turned back around after hanging up the phone.
“Just go.” you sighed, your disappointed tone laced with amusement. You watched as his hand reached out for the last beer on the table, but he stepped back and hissed as you slapped it away.
“If you’re ditching us to go get laid, you’re ditching the beer. Now go, before she starts calling me too.” you laughed, shaking your head in lighthearted disapproval. Gus was quick to say his good nights and file out, leaving you and Chris to finish the beers alone.
“They’ve been seeing each other for three years, and they still treat each other like booty calls.” you tattled. As far as his love life went, Gus was still stuck in high school, unable to break out of the immature lifestyle of sneaky links and late night ’u up?’ texts. Admittedly, you weren’t too far ahead of him in terms of mature romantic endeavours, still appreciably favouring a hit-it-and-quit-it over meeting the parents and leaving a toothbrush at their house.
Chris laughed, both at his friend’s willingness to ditch a night in with his friends for a hook up across town, and at the concept of him managing to keep the same girl around for over a week.
“What’s so funny?” you squinted over your can before taking another swig.
“Nothing, I just feel so bad for her, man. Three years of being stuck fucking that guy.” he chuckled, sipping his own beer.
“Oh gross, don’t remind me,” you rolled your eyes, “it’s bad enough being reminded that your brother even does that, let alone sitting through all four years of high school hanging out with ‘tootsie pop Gus’ and ‘alphabet Chris’.” you grumbled, picking at the loose stitching of Chris’ old couch.
“Alphabet Chris?”
You looked up to see him looking back at you with a completely puzzled expression.
“Oh come on, you know about those nicknames.” you shrugged, a teasing smile tugging at the corner of your lips.
“Yeah, well I started ‘tootsie pop Gus’, but why ‘Alphabet Chris’?” he shook his head.
“You never heard that?” you questioned with a raised brow.
“No? And what do they mean by alphabet?” Chris snapped, punctuating his question with another, more pugnacious sip of beer. You shook your head in gleeful bewilderment, thoroughly entertained at the notion of explaining to him his own, unfortunate moniker. You leant forward and spoke to him in the same, condescending tone one would use to explain something to a small child,
“Because when people are shit at giving head, they always end up picking the low hanging fruit and going back to the alphabet trick, which, literally nobody actually enjoys.”
“What the FUCK? I never did that!” Chris scoffed, appalled that he’d been dubbed with such a nickname, “And I’m fucking great at giving head!”
Immediately, your shoulders began to bounce with laughter, thoroughly amused at Chris’ rude awakening.
“That’s not what the reviews said…” you guffawed, your body convulsing with laughter as you watched his exasperation grow.
“Excuse me, I’m great at eating pussy.” he deadpanned, seriously committing to defending his honour. You snorted in response to his comical frown.
“Oh yeah, okay, sure, Sesame Street…”
“Shut the fuck up, I eat pussy all the time! And I’m really fucking good at it!” Chris protested, astounded at the inaccuracy of the nickname, and your willingness to believe it. Though what was he to expect? For as long as he’d known you, all you ever did was rile him up any chance you got.
“And I don’t spell the fucking alphabet.”
“What, you spell your own name then?” you snickered, “Jesus Christ, that might almost be worse”
“Eat shit! I’ve made heaps of people cum giving them head!”
“Or they all just felt too guilty to not fake an orgasm…” you pouted maliciously, completely unable to stop yourself from winding him up as far as you could.
“FUCK YOU! I bet that I could make you cum in less than a fucking minute!” Chris declared, his voice getting louder as his annoyance bloomed.
“Oh yeah? Really? Well I bet that you’re full of shit, Alphabet boy!” you quarrelled back, trying your hardest to mask your enjoyment of the situation so you could continue on for as long as his fuse would allow.
You’d never entirely figured out why you liked riling Chris up so much. Sure, it was partially the pure ease of it - it’s like he handed you the opportunities on a silver platter. Hell, you’d always loved getting under anyone’s skin since the second you learned how to. But riling up Chris in particular always bore the sweetest reward. Deep down, your insides knew exactly why, as they churned and ached at the sight of his muscles tensing with frustration.
“You know what?” he spat, slamming his beer down on the coffee table, “You’re just jealous cause I never went down on you in high school!”
Your lips parted in surprise, still amused but slightly embarrassed by his claim, and the knowledge that a smidgeon of a fraction of it wasn’t entirely false. Still, you pressed on with an unbothered exterior, scoffing in astonishment.
“Oh that’s what you think, huh?” you nodded patronisingly, your brows raised high on your face, “You think I wanted you to go down on me? You really wanna bet on that?”
“Yeah!” he exclaimed, nodding back just as disdainfully, “Maybe I do wanna bet on that!”
“Okay, fine! I fucking dare you!”
Chris’ large hands instantly latched onto your ankles, yanking you towards him as your back left the back of the couch to land on the seat with an astonished shriek. Once you’d caught up to the reality of what was happening, your hands quickly accompanied his in hastily removing your pants, scrambling to unhook the button as he unzipped your fly. Chris found no struggle in tugging them off or bringing your underwear down with them, his taut muscles putting themselves to use by swiftly getting you naked, and by getting you hot under the collar as you watched them work.
You observed with a slack jaw and a heaving chest as his ridiculously broad shoulders nestled themselves under your thighs, though his desperate actions ceased abruptly as he came face to face with your wet cunt, already pathetically dripping from the fragment of manhandling you’d endured. Impatiently, you sat up on your elbows to get a better view. Chris was just frozen there. Leering at you with that smarmy grin from between your legs.
“What, you too scared now?” you ridiculed, hoping that the resurgence of your nagging would egg him on to do something. You held in a shudder as Chris laughed inches away from you, the heat going straight to your head.
“Maybe I just like to take my time…” he taunted, “Wait for you to beg…”
You rolled your eyes, refusing to give in to his pipe dream as you clapped right back,
“Okay, Mr-I-Could-Make-You-Cum-In-Less-Than-A-Minu-”
You were cut off by your own gasp as you felt Chris’ tongue slowly flatten itself against your pussy, starting just above your clit and creeping all the way down until it’s tip poked at your entrance. It raced back up to your clit at double-time and pulled itself back inside Chris’ smug grin with one last flick.
“Hm? What was that?” he implored, quirking his brow in false confusion. You quickly regained composure, denying him of your surrender. You flicked up your bare wrist to dramatically observe your nonexistent watch, then flicked your head back to him with a slight scowl, your knees rocking back and forth with false apathy.
“You got a lot of ground to cover in 30 seconds if you think you can ma-”
This time, both your words and your gasp got caught in your throat as you watched him deliver a nauseatingly glib kitten lick to the hood of your clit. You were incredibly shocked and infuriatingly turned on to discover that he knew exactly where the clit was. It’s the bare minimum that every man should already know, but be realistic, this was Chris.
“I’m sorry, I just keep on missing what you’re saying!” he professed, his tone sickeningly sarcastic. Your jaw shifted in fury as you felt yourself begin to drip down your legs, knowing that all Chris had to do to see your arousal was look down. It was growing increasingly harder to give in, to give up your mocking in return for his tongue. But you couldn’t. Not just yet.
“Now, was that an ‘i’, or an ‘L’?” you pondered aloud, cocking your head to the side to sell your irksome angle, “Or maybe it was a j-”
Chris had had enough of your tormenting for the moment, deciding to shut you up for a little longer as the tip of his tongue traced spry, vexing circles around your clit. You could feel him brush past each and every nerve sitting around it, though he purposefully neglected the very centre of it, driving you absolutely insane with need.
“Actually, I was spelling ‘Fuck you’.” Chris swore.
“Oh, eat my shorts, asshole.” you spat right back.
“I knew I could make you beg.”
Finally, Chris relinquished, flattening his tongue down to brush past your bundle of nerves, curling his tongue back up to flick it again, and continuing the rhythm until he watched your head fly back to hit the couch below you, sputtering out a consistent murmur of mewls. Your arms stretched back out to lay by your side, slightly aching at the elbows after holding yourself up, your hands curling into fists to grip at the cushion as you refused to grab onto his hair.
His tongue eased up on the flicking motion as he felt your legs begin to twitch in response, opting for a more orbicular pattern as he gently began to suck on your clit and the surrounding area. His large hands gripped your thighs to hold you steady, kneading at the flesh as you arched your back, your body involuntarily beginning to grind your pelvis in search of more pressure with another lewd whine.
You were shocked and impressed when he tugged you closer to him, nuzzling his face into your cunt to satisfy your craving for friction. Everything Chris did was in response to your reactions. A pleasured howl slipped from your lips as his tongue prodded at your entrance and his nose caressed your clit, so he continued to do so regularly. His own growls were contended with a pornographic wail coming from above him, so he continued to grumble every time he shifted.
Chris’ hands snaked up past your hips to wrap around your waist and pull you closer once again, his hulking strength meant he could tug you around like a ragdoll. Your eyes rolled back from the top of their sockets to look down and see him devouring you like a primitive beast. You were unable to hold back your lamentation as you felt his dimples oscillate against the inside of your thighs, which were slowly clamping down harder and harder around his head as your legs remained draped over his massive shoulders.
You ogled the way his perfect, taut skin rippled with the movement of each muscle in his back and you were no longer able to resist the urge to knot one hand in his hair to grind yourself against him. Chris growled as you began to ride his face, his tongue languidly darting from your clit, to your entrance in perfect sync with your hips.
Your head flew back to let out an obscene cry as he returned to sucking your clit, the blood flow making each and every lap of his tongue more and more gratifying. You could feel yourself involuntarily clenching around nothing with every pull, and eventually, you couldn’t take it anymore. You needed to fuck him.
The hand in his hair tugged harshly to try and pull him away, unable to think clearly through his unwavering hedonism, though his sheer strength made it impossible for you to dethrone him, meaning you had to resort to the one thing you once forbid - begging
“Chris,” you babbled, your voice emerging hoarsely through your dry throat, “I need you,” you paused, letting out a gasp as you struggled to put more than a few words together at a time, “To fuck me, right now.”
Chris wasted no time in lifting his head to reply.
“What happened to me making you cum with nothing but my tongue then, huh?”
You had no more patience for playful back and forth.
“I don’t give a fuck, I need your cock inside me right fucking now.” you demanded. Chris took a short second to admire his handiwork - your eyes were hazy under heavy eyelids, your lips were swollen from biting, your chest heaving with carnal desperation.
“You don’t have to tell me twice.” he quipped excitedly, quickly sitting up, your legs now curled up to sit either side of his hips. Chris took far too long in taking off his jeans, and he laughed as you sat up to claw at the nape of his t-shirt and pull it off over his head, your hands sliding over his smooth, broad shoulders to unashamedly grope at his extrusive pecs, stopping only for a moment, when he removed your own shirt.
Once the rest of your clothes found their home on the floor, Chris noticed you gawking at his impressive cock with a slack jaw and glassy eyes. Your cunt clenched at the sight, partially in desperation, partially in fear as you tried to figure out how the fuck you were going to take it.
“Looks like the rumours are true on that one then, huh?” Chris chortled. Your eyes darted up to meet his with a glower.
“Shut the fuck up and fuck me right now.” you demanded, slowly going mad with hunger. Despite your puddle of arousal, Chris proudly spat into his hand and took his time to coat his erection with it.
“Don’t be a fucking show off.” you spat, your tone much more serious and harsh than at the start of the night. Chris quickly dropped his show-pony act and you gasped as he pounced on you until his broad chest pinned you against the couch and you writhed under the contact.
Your jaw nearly unhinged as you felt him start to shove his cock into your pulsating hole, tears wasting no time to form and run down your cheeks as you felt him stretch you out more than you’d ever been before. Chris never completely halted his movements, though he took his time to make sure pain never outweighed your pleasure.
You let out an animalistic grunt as his hips finally met the back of your thighs, your legs were curled up, almost pressed against your stomach as they wrapped around his waist. Chris let out one, final chuckle as he watched you adjust to him,
“I think I’m entitled to be a little bit of a show off, don’t you?”
You had no thoughts left, only able to babble out a ravenous, pathetic ‘fuck me’ in hopes he’d understand what you needed.
You held on for dear life as Chris slowly began to fuck you, the veins of his cock dragging against your walls every time he pulled it out, and another wail tumbling from your lips as he shoved it back in. One of Chris’ hands enveloped your face as he pressed his face against your cheek, sinful grunts accompanying each of his thrusts as they grew in severity.
You were completely on auto-pilot driven by pleasure, hence the stark lack of shame you felt when clawing at his hand and dragging it to rest on your throat, so large it wrapped almost completely around it.
You clung onto him, your nails digging into his back as you clenched your thighs to keep your clit pressed against his body, bringing you quickly to the edge. You had no words left, hardly able to stammer out the first syllable of ‘I’m cumming’ without having to start all over again.
Your legs untangled themselves from the knot around his waist so you could dig your heels into the couch and lift your pelvis up, selfishly clawing at his ass to keep him ’oh god, right there’ as your orgasm came crashing down on top of you. Chris rolled his hips as not to break contact as you enjoyed your high, though his motions started to stutter as he felt your cunt clenching around him, over and over and over again; the only thing he needed to ensure that moments later, he was quickly drawing his cock from you and coating your stomach with his cum.
Chris held himself above you as you came-to, trying and failing to hold in a proud smirk as he admired the sight below him. Not twenty minutes ago you were chastising him for his lack of skill when it came to cunnilingus, and now there you were, wrecked, tear stained and covered in his spend. He opened his mouth to say something, presumably to gloat, but by then, you’d regained enough thought to shut him down once and for all.
“Shut the fuck up, Chris.”