៹Something new. rapper!chris.
smut, fingering, handjob, protected sex, soft dom!chris, switchy!chris if you squint.
must read "Somewhere else." for context.
Chris watched her settle into the passenger seat, quiet at first. The click of the seatbelt, the hum of the engine, then the stereo—those were the first sounds between them.
There was something about the way she moved—composed, but not completely at ease—that Chris liked more than he’d admit.
She tucked her hair behind her ear, looked out the window. Every now and then, her eyes drifted to Chris’s hands, the way he held the wheel—loose and easy.
Low R&B still played from earlier. He didn’t change it. No need.
Chris exhaled and cracked the window just enough to let the cool night air cut through the heat between them—without wiping it out completely.
The drive moved slow. City lights slid across the windshield while he tried not to overthink what came next.
There was pressure. He wasn’t the type to bring girls back to his place. He usually ended up in theirs.
He parked outside the building and cut the engine. The street was quiet. When they got out, she tilted her head back to look up at the tall building, eyes scanning all the way up.
He unlocked the front door and held it open for her. In the elevator, they stood side by side—close but not touching, like the tension between them was its own person.
Chris swallowed hard. His reflection in the elevator mirror looked calmer than he felt.
He nudged the apartment door open with his hip and gave her a quick nod to go ahead. She stepped inside quietly. The silence felt loud.
The apartment was dim. The only light came from the windows, city lights outlining the furniture in silhouette. Chris flipped on the ceiling light. Too bright. They both squinted, laughed. Turned it off.
He locked the door behind her, dropped his keys into a ceramic bowl on the shelf, and crossed the room to switch on a warm floor lamp instead.
The light cast long shadows across the pale floors, and the space—clean lines, neutral tones, low furniture, quiet order—didn’t scream for attention, but it had a vibe. Not what you’d expect from someone like him. No flexing. No trying too hard. Just cool. Pulled together. Like he gave a fuck, but not too much.
There was a quiet kind of intimacy in the air. Like not just anyone got to be in there. Like crossing that door meant something.
Chris moved carefully. The way he looked at her was a little more vulnerable than before. Not because he feels less confident about himself—but because he knew what it meant, letting someone in.
He wasn’t worried about how his place looked. He usually kept it clean. He spent most of his time in his studio—that room he slowly put together over time with the setup he built for recording and producing music. He turned on the TV, volume already low, enough to fill the silence. Opened Spotify. Hit shuffle on his likes. Should work.
It’d been a long time since anyone had been inside his home. Longer than he liked to admit. But now she was there. Standing in the middle of his living room, looking at the framed photos on the wall like she was trying to decode him.
"That one’s from my brother Nick," he said, dropping onto the couch. She looked over at him with a slight furrow in her brow. He motioned for her to sit beside him. "He’s a photographer."
"It’s nice," she said, settling beside him but leaving a bit of space. "The apartment’s nice. It’s got a vibe."
“Thank you. Is that a good thing, right?” Chris turned slightly to face her, elbow propped on the back of the couch, his head resting on his hand.
“Sure. I mean, I didn’t really have any expectations so...” she shrugged. "But it's pretty cool."
Chris let out a low chuckle, almost relieved. His eyes dropped to her legs, then back up.
"Do you want something to drink?" He got up from the couch. "No alcohol, I know. But can I give something else?"
"Whatever you’ve got is fine."
Chris rolled his shoulders back, stretched his neck, walked into the kitchen and grabbed a lemonade, pouring two glasses. He came back and sat a little closer this time, testing the space between them.
She kept looking around. Not surprised, just quietly curious—like she wanted to understand who he was without asking.
From close up, Chris could see how the light softened her skin. He liked seeing her like that—comfortable but aware. Like she knew something was coming, even if she didn’t know what exacly.
They talked a little, just enough to be polite. She leaned forward to set her glass down on the coffee table. When she leaned back, her knee brushed his. She didn’t pull away.
Chris glanced at the spot where they touched. Then up at her.
"This happen to you a lot?" he asked, voice low.
"This," he gestured around. "Ending up at some guy’s place you barely know."
She shrugged "Not really. You?"
Chris smirked, tilting his head.
"I’m not usually the one inviting, if I’m honest."
She glanced at him, amused. One brow slightly raised. "So why me?"
He held her gaze, like he was figuring it out in real time. Like he wasn’t totally sure either.
“Something about the way you look at me" he said, finally. Like he was admitting it to himself too. "I like it."
She didn’t answer right away. Just smiled a little, looking down.
Chris leaned in—slow. Not too much. Just enough for the air between them to shift.
"And," he added, barely above a whisper, "I don’t know... I kinda don’t want tonight to be over yet."
She looked back at him. And this time, she didn’t look away. Silence hung there, heavy but not awkward.
Chris reached out, hand hovering near her leg. Not touching yet. Just waiting.
She held his gaze. Didn’t move, lips curled into a secret smile.
He leaned in more, letting his hand climb gently up her thigh. His fingers warm against her skin and his mouth moved closer. Close enough to feel her breath.
"You good with this?" he murmured. “Can I?"
"I’ve been waiting for you to kiss me since I saw you."
Chris’s grin was soft and crooked as he kissed her.
The kiss wasn’t rushed or hesitan. Is was confident, shared. Her hand moved instinctively to the back of his neck, fingers sliding into his hair, pulling slightly.
He smiled against her mouth.
His hands found her waist, traced her shape. He helped her move to straddle him, steadying her by the hips. She leaned into his shoulders. His hands stayed on her thighs. They pulled apart just enough to breathe.
"Do you always kiss like that?" she asked, her voice teasing, charged.
Chris chuckled, still close. "Only when I want it to happen again."
She bit his bottom lip, a playful answer.
He pulled her in again. This time, deeper. More certain. His hands slid under her shirt, found heat.
She sighed into him. Her hips shifted, instinctive. It earned a groan from him.
The way they moved got smoother. His touch moved lower. Her legs stayed around him, hands exploring—neck, jaw, chest. He paused just long enough to look her in the eyes. Saw no hesitation.
"Come on." he murmured, standing and guiding her by the waist.
No questions. She followed.
The vibe matched the rest of the apartment—clean, chill, nothing crazy. Big bed. Crumpled comforter. Framed records on the wall. Soft lamp on the nightstand. Smelled like him.
He turned to her. Looked at her like he was still catching up to this. Then stepped closer. Less patience this time.
Their mouths met again, harder now. Hands urgent. Shirts came off. Kisses deeper. Slower.
She hit the bed first, falling back slow with a smile. Chris crawled over her, kissing his way from her stomach to her mouth.
"Can I take this off?" he asked, fingers brushing over her bra.
She arched her back slightly—answer enough.
Their bodies met again, clothes hit the floor. Skin on skin. Heat rising fast. Touches rougher, mouths hungrier.
Chris took care of filling her body with kisses and marks that would go away in a few minutes. He found the middle of her thighs unusually comfortable. He liked the way she pulled his hair and grinded against his face.
He wanted to give her some time to recover after making her cum. But she didn't waste time and kissed his lips again desperately. Chris thanked her internally, his cock starting to ache. She relieved his pain a little with her hand, playing with his tip and making Chris—almost—lose control of himself.
Chris saw the smirk on her face while she was doing it. Missing out was never an option for him, so he also brought his hand to her center, taking her to the limit until she had to let go of his dick to cling to the sheets.
Once he made sure she was wet enough for him, he slid the condom down his length easily. He made her lie on her back, making sure she was comfortable on the mattress and settled between her legs, lined up his tip with her entrance and with ease and a moan from both of them, he was already halfway inside.
The room filled with breathy sounds, low moans. The soft lamp lit her face just enough. Chris didn’t want to miss a single reaction. The first movements were slow, both were getting used to the overwhelming pleasure they felt. Once they were both used to each other, Chris gently went a little deeper and his movements began to be rhythmic.
Her nails dragged down his back, leaving faint lines. His chain swung from his neck, brushing against her collarbone. She kissed every part of him she could reach.
After a few minutes they exchanged positions. He leaned against the back of the bed and sat her on top of him. At first they were gentle, both trying to regulate themselves but the need grew and Chris applied a little force to her hips, moving her to his liking.
His dominance didn't last long, she took control of her own movements without Chris realizing it. He only noticed it when he felt he was dangerously close and had to ask her to please stop.
He moved her onto her stomach. One hand in her hair, pulling gently so he could trail his mouth down her neck, while the other gripped the flesh of her thigh—taking the lead again.
When he finally let his weight rest on her, breath still shaky, he whispered something low—sweet, a little breathless—before rolling off.
They lay there for a moment, catching their breath, laughing quietly. No rush to move. No awkwardness. Just calm.
Chris stood first. Found her clothes and passed them over. They dressed slow. Like neither of them wanted the moment to end.
She sat at the edge of the bed, hooking her bra back on. Chris tossed the condom and pulled on his boxers, then lay back, watching the shape of her back in the low light. He reached for her waist, gently.
"You don’t have to leave, y'know?" he said softly. His brow furrowed, almost involuntarily. That’s what guys are supposed to say, right? Girls usually say it to him.
She glanced over her shoulder, smiling—not out of politeness, but because it was sweet.
"I sleep better at home" she said, with a shrug and a little laugh. "Thanks though."
“Yeah, I get it.” He nodded, sitting up, slipping into his jeans. “I’ll drive you.”
She tried to say he didn’t have to. But he insisted.
The drive back was easy. Fifteen minutes, maybe. They laughed about the night, threw a few jokes back and forth.
At her building, Chris leaned a bit toward her. Not quite done.
“Can I get your number?” he asked, low. Like it wasn’t something he said often. Because it wasn’t.
She looked at him for a moment, amused.
"You gonna use it? Or are you just asking?”
Chris laughed quietly, sounding almost defeated.
"Pretty sure I’m gonna use it."
He handed her his phone without another word. She smiled, saved her contact, and stepped out of the car.
Chris stayed parked for a bit longer, watching her walk into her building. And then he felt it, something new settling in his chest.
He frowned. That was weird. He needs some sleep.
