Remix by edie
Same old story, same old club. Different girl, different night, but mostly the same, really. This girl standing next to me, with her high-pitched giggle and panted fingernails that keep touching me, is about five seconds from making me stab myself in the eye with my own drink stirrer.
Instead of that, I smile at her and subtly—I hope—look over to where I left my boyfriend and make sure he's still there. I know he hates this. I hate this, so his animosity must be sky-high now.
It's kind of funny really, how I can practically feel the jealousy coming off of him in waves, considering that I had to practically beg him to go out with me in the first place.
I wasn't scheduled to go to that photo shoot that day—the one where we met, at least not in advance. One of the girls from my production company called at the last minute to ask me to go and see the photographer's work— she wanted to use one of his pictures for a movie poster or something and maybe again in the future—and since there was no one else, I went.
I had no idea what I'd find when I got there. When I walked in, all work stopped and everyone came over to fawn all over me. PAs, lighting people, even the photographer himself came over to greet me.
I saw that I'd interrupted a shoot of a half naked guy and it was turning out to be my lucky day, because he was hot, too. I tried to get everyone back to their jobs—I always hated that kind of attention and when I was having photos taken all the time, I hated it when someone came in and distracted everyone—plus, I wanted a better look at the guy under the lights.
After a few seconds, everyone went back to holding lights and loading cameras and I took a spot mostly out of the way, next to the main soft box so I could get a clear view.
God, he was beautiful. He didn't look like some of the vacant, drug-addled models that there were just too many of in my world. He looked bored, but who wouldn't be? I've been on that side of the camera too many times and I know the boredom.
At some point, I know he was aware of me. He still looked like he didn't care though, and I have to admit that was a huge turn on for me. I could get someone who wanted Lance Bass From NSync any day of the week, but someone that wanted Lance was a little harder to find. I wanted him to want just me.
After the photographer finally decided that he was done, I watched the guy look for his shirt. I picked the one up that I could see and offered it to him. He looked like he didn't want to take it from me but finally did, muttering a thank you.
My mouth went dry when he used the cotton shirt to wipe the sweat from his face and chest. He even smelled amazing. I knew that I had to do everything I could to get him to go out with me that night.
I couldn't help it when my eyes traveled down his body and back up—like I hadn't just seen plenty—but that was apparently too much for this guy. He made some sarcastic comment about how he'd give me the numbers for his trainer and body-waxer. That might have been the moment I fell for him.
The snark on my lips back about having my own sadist-turned-waxer did nothing to impress him because when I asked him for his number instead, he shot me down.
I really wasn't used to being turned down like that, but I wasn't giving up that easily. I think I covered my disappointment well and instead of backing off, I tried guilting him into it. Hey, I really wanted to go out with him.
That didn't work either. He didn't want a hook-up, he said, and then he called me trouble. The wounds to my ego were deep, but my publicist was so getting fired if this guy didn't go out with me. I whipped out my cell phone to do just that and I finally got a grin from him. His eyes lit up, and if it were possible, looked even more gorgeous.
He tried to explain that it wasn't me, it was my teenaged fans he was scared of. I closed my cell and looked up. I think calling him a pussy was what did it. He looked about two seconds from saying no and leaving, but then his lips pursed and he finally agreed on the condition that he wasn't posing as a breeder.
I had to grin at that. There are people out there that think I still am, and it's always funny to encounter one. "Who says I am?" I asked.
He apparently thought that was way funnier than I did, and after he stopped laughing, I almost said 'fuck it' and left. I rolled my eyes when he was done and finally got his number and address so I could pick him up.
He should have agreed to go out with me, just for putting up with his mood.
I was so nervous before I showed up at his place that I almost bailed. But I got there on time and he looked amazing. I wanted to cancel the date part of the date and just push him against his door and fuck him right there, but his words from the shoot about not wanting a hook-up held me back.
I took him to a restaurant that I liked and a bar after that that had a good mix of both gay and straight people. I didn't want him to be uncomfortable, but a gay bar just out of the question. I tried to show him out funny I could be, and just hoped I didn't come off as a moron.
I thought it was all good until I stopped at his place to drop him off and he turned me down again. Not one single fan had even asked for an autograph, let alone torn him to pieces, and when I pointed that out, he called me closeted.
I didn't mean to laugh, but I think I was shaking I was laughing so hard. When I was done, he asked me about the hands thing. It's a thing. A habit. For as long as I can remember, I've had to keep track of everything I touched. It certainly didn't mean I didn't want to touch him. It was actually the opposite. I had to think harder about them, lest I forget and never stop touching him.
I still wanted to date him, and told him so. I mean, I'm not calling a press conference and announcing my sexuality, but anyone that matters knows that I'm gay.
I knew I was in the clear when he asked me if I'd beg him to go out with me if he held out any longer.
I thought about dropping to my knees right there and showing him how much I wanted to go on another date, but I just laughed instead and asked if it would help him say yes. He finally agreed to another date, but only somewhere that I wasn't so self-conscious. It was just about the sweetest thing ever.
After that, we were dating, I guess.
I wanted him to set the pace after that. We did all kind of things— museums, Disneyland, dance clubs—I wanted him everywhere with me.
But his words of not wanting a hook-up were always in my head and even if I couldn't think of anything I wanted more, he was going to have to be the one to change things. I mean, there were many times after a heated good-night kiss that I barely made it home in time to jerk off, but I really didn't want to scare him off.
Which was why I was so nervous that night. I wanted him to come to Challenge with me, but it'd be all the things he said he didn't want—crazy fans, an atmosphere where I had to watch my every move, and, maybe worst of all, the guys.
I know I was pretty obviously nervous, but then he kissed me with more intent than he had before and I almost forgot about the trip, especially when he started talking about sex. I had to stop him and ask him though, so I did and he blinked at me for a few seconds before he just agreed.
I tried to warn him—about the fans, about Joey—but then I babbled something about him being my boyfriend in my nervousness and he interrupted me to ask me if that was what we were. It was what I called him in my head, and out loud to the people around me so I think I blushed when I said that was what I wanted.
He agreed. To what, I wasn't sure, but when I asked him to clarify—trip to Florida or boyfriends—he said both.
I'm pretty sure the goofy smile on my face was a good indication of how happy that made me and Jesse did make me happy. I'd been waiting weeks to ask him both questions.
As things go, I tend to over think them. I made reservations for separate rooms, just in case. But when we checked in, the look on Jesse's face was all that I needed to tell me that I'd fucked up again.
He didn't say much in the elevator, just questioning if I really meant it when I'd asked him to be my boyfriend, but his words tore at my heart a little bit and the wounded look on his face was almost enough to make me apologize with more than words, right there in the elevator car.
I mean, I didn't want to assume anything, but of course I wanted him to stay with me. I stumbled through something about not being sure, but it didn't matter because when we got into my room—the one I was hoping he'd stay with me in—he shoved me up against the door and kissed me like he had something to prove.
I really hadn't done the whole boyfriend thing much. It was kind of difficult, all things considering. And technically, I'd only had one official boyfriend before him. I tried to explain, but he didn't move. His body was still pressed up against mine and I could barely think, but it didn't matter because whatever I said must have worked. He kissed me again until I was moaning softly.
He pulled away, to breathe I think, and brushed his lips across my cheek to my ear, his hot breath across my skin making me shudder when he asked me if I wanted him to stay in his own room.
"God, no," I moaned.
He kissed me again, grinding against me and it took everything in me not to throw him down right then and fuck him until we were both sated. I almost lost control when he moaned into my mouth that he wanted me.
I took a deep breath and explained that he had to meet the guys. I had to introduce him to them now or else they'd interrupt us. If I pre-empted that, we'd probably have the whole night alone, but I knew Joey and Chris, and there was no way I they'd let me get laid if they weren't.
He stepped back from me reluctantly and tried to calm down. I could see the outline of his dick through his jeans and I thought about blowing him so that he wasn't so excited when he met them, but I closed my eyes and started in on what he had to expect from the guys.
Joey, the over-protective freak, was probably going to threaten him with bodily harm, but Justin would be the good-cop to Joey's bad-cop. I warned him about getting into a discussion about music with JC and told him that Chris would be bitchy, but easily subdued with beer.
He asked if he couldn't meet my parents first. I had to laugh because my mom was going to love him. I mean, I already did. I almost slipped and told him that too, but I think I covered myself pretty well.
The meeting with the guys went pretty well, I think. I'm pretty sure Joey changed his speech a little, if the hand gestures meant anything, but I tried to pay attention to JC when they were talking. I heard Chris make some comments about models, but when he handed Jesse a beer, I knew everything was okay. I didn't hear what JC said, but the look on Jesse's face made me think it was serious.
After we got back to our room, he asked about JC. I tried to explain that JC was straight and Jesse just got that look on his face like he understood all too well. My crush on JC was over, not that it had gone anywhere. But the nod from him made me think that he knew what I meant.
I didn't know what else to say, and I'd have probably started babbling, but he started kissing me and that was way better than talking about the sexuality of my band mates because he didn't stop for a long time.
I maneuvered us to the bed and we made out for what felt like hours. No clothes came off though and I didn't touch him below the waist even though I desperately wanted to. I moved to his throat, kissing him there, when he asked me if I was a top or a bottom. I had no idea what the right answer was to that. I could do both, but mostly preferred top, so I decided on the truth with the option of flexibility.
That seemed like the right answer because his fingertips were skating up my back and I was helpless to not push into them.
"I want you to—" he started. "I want to sleep with you," he said instead.
"Tonight?" I blurted out.
He nodded and asked if I had supplies. I'm not stupid. I brought the stuff we'd need just in case. He was off the bed so fast digging in my suitcase looking for my shaving kit that I had to laugh.
He looked a little embarrassed, but honestly, it was kind of flattering to know he wanted me that much.
I hadn't been positive that he did. I mean, he never made a move and I thought he was sticking to the 'no hook-up' thing he'd said weeks ago. I could have lived without having sex with him. I wanted to fuck him, I wanted him so much that I could barely think about anything else sometimes, but if I wanted just sex, I could get that anywhere.
But none of those people would date me for two months without trying to fuck me.
Sometimes it sucked to be me. Most of the time, though, it didn't. Especially when I ended up with a lap full of a hot boy trying to remove my shirt with his teeth.
Nakedness wasn't far off and I couldn't help licking his chest and touching his cock with my fingertips. God, I wanted him.
When I stopped, just for a second to make sure, he whined at me asking me why. I kissed him again with everything I had. I was cursing the shaving kit in my head while our lips stayed together as I searched for the lube I had packed until I finally found it.
I slid my fingers down past his balls to his entrance and hesitantly pushed a finger inside. His body and mouth begged for more. He was so bossy, I loved it.
I pushed my finger inside him, twisting it slightly and was rewarded with a moan. I groaned back. I'd been so hard so long I couldn't remember wanting anyone else more. I kissed him again, pushing my tongue in his mouth as I moved my finger in his ass. I added a second finger and his hips jerked against mine.
He demanded that I fuck him, and there was no way I could resist. I fumbled for a condom from my shaving kit before getting it on myself and settling into position between his thighs with his legs on my shoulders.
I looked down at him and I wanted him so much at that moment that I needed him to open his eyes and see what I couldn't say. It looked like it was an effort for him, but I'm glad he did. I think I fell for him a little bit more in that moment. I tried to show all my desire, and everything else I was feeling.
He finally nodded that he was ready and then my eyes closed and I let out the breath I was holding as I pushed inside. He took over at that point, the bossy bitch that he was, and he started grinding his hips up to meet mine, bucking against me almost desperately.
I wasn't going to last very long, but he probably wasn't going to either, so I just let him go for it, let him set the most grueling pace he could stand. I think I kept my eyes closed the whole time. I wanted to open my eyes and see his face, but I knew that the second I did it would be all over.
When I started shaking, I knew it was close. I reached for his cock, stroking him quickly and he reached for my shoulders, trying to pull me deeper. I couldn't help digging my fingernails into his arm.
I finally opened my eyes and moaned his name… I was probably going to tell him that I loved him, but he swallowed the words with a kiss before I could say them. We both shuddered and came, and it was a good thing because I wasn't quite ready to say them.
Which makes this whole club thing more ironic. I'm standing here, talking to some moronic girl about stupid things and I can see my boyfriend standing over by the bar about three seconds from coming over here and scratching her eyes out. I was ready to blow this girl off when I saw Joey start talking to Jesse and I knew everything was okay.
I watched as Joey led Jesse over to the table of guys and then looked back at the girl that was still babbling about how she'd been a fan since I was sixteen and that always creeped me out. I got out of the conversation with her, how, I'm still not sure, but when I could, I made my way over to the VIP section, where I knew the guys were.
Chris looked like he'd had about five shots of something and everyone was cheering him on when I finally got there, slipping my arms around Jesse. I felt him relax against me and I had to get him out of there. I nuzzled my lips against the back of his ear and whispered, "I missed you. Let's go home."