by M Dauphin
Holy shit, I can’t believe this is actually happening. Naturally, I want to hoot and holler, but I can’t do that because I feel the need to stay professional with this man in the room with us.
Holy hell.
“So, I’ll be in contact with you all this week with paperwork. I’d like to set up a meeting and press conference. I think you guys are going places.” He shakes all of our hands and leaves us to a stunned room.
We’re all just standing here, nobody saying a word or focused on anything. Not until Teg speaks up, do we look up from the door.
“Guys! We fucking did it!” he yells, making us all start laughing and smiling.
“We did, dude! Get out there, and get us some drinks!” Gabe pats him on the back, and comes over to me, putting his hand around my shoulder as we walk out to the crowd. There are the typical groupies waiting next to the door, and a few of the band mates swoop in and grab some girls before heading to the bar, but I pass. Just like the last few shows we’ve done, I’m more interested in getting back to Al.
She’s waiting at a table across the room and, when she sees the commotion at the backstage door, she looks up and smiles. Brightly. Insanely brightly.
She’s damn drunk… but, hell, if she isn’t beautiful.
“Hey, man, thanks for taking care of our girl,” I half man hug Mark, who sees me and stands to leave. He turns his back to Alexis, and looks at me, shaking his head and grinning.
“She’s something else tonight, Braydon. Take care of her. I cut her off about ten minutes ago because she was at the point of swallowing without even tasting. I figure she’s going to already regret this in the morning.”
Shit, she has an interview tomorrow, too.
“Thank you, Mark. Go on and grab a drink before it’s all gone.” Smiling, he nods and heads to the bar.
“He won’t let me drink,” she says, looking so damn cute, pouting at the table.
“Come on, petunia, let’s head home.” The laugh that comes out of her, after calling her Petunia, is fucking hilarious, making me stop in my tracks pulling her to stand. She presses against me, and I immediately regret getting this close to her in public. Even incredibly intoxicated, and smelling like very fine whiskey, she’s hot as sin.
“Mmm,” she murmurs. “I like a big strong man.” I can tell she’s off balance because, the second I go to back away from her, she wobbles a bit. I take her arm more firmly, and slowly start walking her out of the bar. She’s smiling and talking to people, surprisingly holding her liquor very well. She had to have drunk a shit ton to get her to this point of intoxication. Her words are coming out half slurred, and she’s so handy with me on the walk to the car I think if she could she’d drop right here and suck me off.
Fuck me. Not that I can’t wait to get that far with her, but this isn’t the place nor the time. I want her sober for this shit. I don’t want her forgetting or regretting our first time.
“Let’s go, Al.” Pulling open the door, we walk outside and make out way to my car.
“I love you, Braydon,” she mumbles while clutching on to my arm. My heart speeds up, and I want to scream because I know this is just overly friendly Al talking, but I can’t because then I’d probably let go of her and hurt her and I promised to keep her safe.
“Yeah, Al. Love you too.”
When she steps in a hole, and almost takes us both down, I have to practically pull her up straight to start walking again. Laughing hysterically by the time she gets to the car, she pins me to it and snakes her hand down to my crotch.
Fuck. Her hand feels so good, but I can’t let her do this! Rolling my eyes, I gently push her hands down and hold on to them, staring into her beautifully drunk shiny eyes.
“Home, Al.”
“Kiss me, Bray.”
“Get in the car, Al.”
“One. Kiss. Braydon.”
She bats her eyes at me, and I break. Twisting her around, and using the car to brace her, my hand slides into her hair and I slam my lips to hers. Moaning into my kiss, she quickly ups the pace, letting me trail kisses down her neck. My hands slide down her back, and cup her perfect ass, her arms wrapping around my neck as she pushes her body to mine. It’s not until a bar patron walks outside and whistles at us that the spell is broken and I realize I shouldn’t be taking advantage of her like this out in public.
Stopping everything, and catching my breath, I click open the handle and smile at her.
“In the car, Alexis.” She pouts but gives in, getting in to the car with help from me and a lot less carefully than she typically does.
“Will you stay with me tonight, Braydon?” Her head’s resting on the headrest of the passenger seat as I back out of my spot at the bar, and she purrs when the engine revs from pulling out into public. “God, I love this car.” Her hand takes mine, and she closes her eyes. “So, you’ll stay with me?” Opening her eyes, she turns her head and smiles at me, those damn beautiful eyes toying with my emotions.
What would sleeping in her bed hurt? Nothing. It would hurt nothing.
“Yeah, Al. I’ll stay at your place tonight.”
No words, but a small sigh come out of her as she returns her head to the headrest and closes her eyes again. The full-blooded male in me wants to reach over and grab her tits that have been asking for it all night. The dick in me wants to take her home and fuck her senseless. Thank God my mom didn’t raise an asshole. I might have come across as one in the past to other girls, but Alexis isn’t any other girl. She’s not asking for a quick fuck, or just an orgasm. She’s looking for love, and I want to give it to her as much as I can, but not when she’s drunk. I can’t do that to either of us.
When we make it home, I have to practically carry her inside because she’s half passed out, half mumbling, and completely unaware of her surroundings. I take her to her room because I’m not certain I’d be able to get her up the stairs in this condition, plus I don’t want her thinking I took advantage of her tonight. I’ll just sleep on the couch, and head upstairs in the morning after I’m positive she’s not going to drown in her own vomit. Just inside her apartment, she pushes me to a wall, suddenly gaining massive hulk strength and kisses me harder and more forcefully than she’s ever done… and it’s fucking hot as hell. I want so badly just to take her right here in the hallway, but I can’t do that. Tonight’s not the night for it.
“Fuck me, Braydon.” Her hand gropes the hard length in my jeans, and she moans. “I see some part of you at least is a little bit attracted to me.” She purrs and strokes me through my pants, and I have to pry her hands away from me with what little self-control I have anymore.
Fuck me, I’ll be jerking off to that little maneuver for a week at least.
“Okay,” I drawl out, softly guiding her to the bedroom. “Let’s get you comfy.” She plops on the bed, pouting, and starts humming to herself while her fingers trace the hem of her jeans. It takes everything I have not to follow the trail of her fingers with my tongue. Instead, I head to her dresser and find a t-shirt and shorts that I think she’ll be okay in, then head back over to the bed.
Here comes the hard part. Al’s never really been too open about her prosthetic, and I know it bothers her still, so I know she isn’t going to want to keep it on now that she’s home. Usually, when we get home from something, she’ll go into the room to take it off, without me watching, and then use crutches to get around the apartment. She’s still super self-conscious about it, but she has no reason to be. I don’t think it’s weird, morbid, or creepy. I don’t care about that stuff with her. I just want her happy and healthy.
“Let’s get these clothes off you, Al.” She giggles when I start to undress her, but she barely helps out when I have to peel her skintight jeans off her. There’s no resistance when I get down to her knee, where the prosthetic starts, and I have to fight the urge to lean down and kiss right above it. I’ll never forget that night for the rest of my life, but, Jesus, I’m happy she made it through and is here with me
now.
This is the closest I’ve been to her when she’s wearing such little clothes, and I’m damn proud of my self-control. Her tanned skin is way smoother than I thought it’d be, and the curve of her hips and the way she wiggles it as I take off her pants is going to be burned into my memory. Her hips buck when my fingers graze her skin as I lift her shirt up. Goddamnit.
“Al, can you just help me here. A little. Please?” She moans and sits up, looking me straight in the eyes as she strips off her shirt, revealing the black and red lace bra underneath. Biting her lip, she reaches between her breasts and unsnaps her bra, letting it fall down her arms and land on the bed next to her.
Fucking sexy is one way to put it, but I know this isn’t the Al that I know. This isn’t the Al that I love. This is the alcohol acting, even if it is tempting as fuck to lean in and finally get to taste her I can’t.
She takes my shirt and pulls me towards her, pushing her lips to mine and arching up to me. It takes everything I have not to just push her down on the bed and take her without wasting another second. I haven’t been with a woman in months, ever since Alexis and I started seeing each other more seriously, and my dick is really starting to need more than my hand to keep it happy. The way she’s kissing me, and grinding on me, is maddening. I need to end this before my resolve snaps.
“Stop, Alexis.” I hate saying it because she immediately pulls away, and I feel cold from where we were pushed against each other. She looks at me with sadness in her eyes. I hate this feeling like I’ve let her down. Fucking hate it.
“I’m sorry I’m not… whole… enough for you, Braydon.” With a huff, she pulls the blanket around her and lies down.
Stunned, I don’t move. I can’t. She’s drunk, and has gone from loopy drunk to horny drunk, and now I guess we’re at the sad drunk stage. I don’t want her ever thinking she’s not enough for me, and hearing those words come out of her mouth break my heart.
I lie down next to her, and take her in my arms, because I can’t fathom leaving this room right now with her thinking that. Her eyes are barely closed, and I’m not sure if she’s asleep or awake but I tell her anyway the words I’ve always wanted to tell her.
“You’re enough for me, Al. Always. You’ll always be enough for me. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met, inside and out.” I place a kiss on her head, and pull her closer to me. “I love you, Alexis.”
The whispered truth feels so good to get out. To finally be able to say it without feeling guilt feels even more fantastic. When I hear her soft snore, I know she didn’t hear any of it, and know if I want her to ever know the truth I’m going to have to get her more used to being around me, flaws and all.
I fall asleep on top of the covers, listening to the soft rhythmic snore coming from her. She’s comfortable in my arms. She’s warm. She’s the best fucking sleep aid I’ve ever experienced.
Alexis
I wake up in my bed, snuggled under the covers, and a thousand degrees. It’s dark, but I can see the sun peeking in through the blinds. Thankfully that’s the case, because if it were blaring in like it does on a typical morning, I might vomit from the pain in my eyes. As it is, I already want to claw them out with an ice pick just to get them out of my face.
God, everything hurts.
Searching the room for a clock, I find my alarm clock on the nightstand and sigh with relief that I made it back to my own bed last night. Seven am. I remember pretty much the most part of the night. I’ll never be able to forget the song. I’ll never forget watching Mark try to hit on some college kids to scare them out. I’ll also never forget the headache I have this morning.
Oh, my god. I groan and rub my eyes, trying to get the horrible pain to subside.
“How ya feelin’?” Braydon’s voice cuts through the silence, and I flip immediately, seeing him lying next to me.
“Oh, god,” I gasp. “You scared the shit out of me!” The yelling has my head pounding and my stomach rolling. “Fuck, why did I drink that much?” Sitting up, I look down, see I’m not wearing a top, and immediately pull the blanket over me.
Then, I realize three’s no pants on me either.
“Oh my god, Braydon, did we…” Frantically, my eyes look to my clothes on the floor and start searching for a condom. He’s silent, and I feel like a complete bitch for having to ask this. “Did we do it?” I can’t help but hide my face… and my body… as I whisper the most embarrassing question I’ve ever had to ask him.
He smiles, places his hands behind his head, and stretches out his glorious body.
His clothed, glorious body.
“You tell me, Al. Did we?” The smirk on his lips is taunting me to kiss it, but my head hurts, and I feel like any sudden movement is going to make me throw up.
I like my bed too much to throw up in it.
“I really hope we didn’t. I’d rather not be a forgettable lay.” He winks at me, and rolls out of bed. Completely, fully dressed.
“We didn’t,” I state, crossing my arms over my chest, and trying to save some modesty. He chuckles, and pulls on his shoes.
“I’m glad you realized I wouldn’t take advantage of a plastered sexy female.” He smiles, sliding his jacket over his arms, and winks at me when I huff. “No matter how much she begs me.” He raises his eyebrows, and laughs, when I chuck the pillow at him before he slips out the door. On his way out, he yells, “Grabbing breakfast! Don’t move!”
When the door closes, I’m left alone with my thoughts, and a pounding headache. So, if we didn’t do it last night, that means he helped strip me down and slept next to me fully clothed. I was begging him for it? I definitely don’t remember that. I remember the drive home, and how peaceful I felt. I remember watching him on stage during that song he wrote, and how he looked sad and scared all at the same time. I remember those moments, but I don’t remember what happened once we got back here.
I hope I didn’t make a complete tool of myself. Being drunk was never my strong suit, which is why I didn’t do it that often, and, when I did, I didn’t get smashed. I guess I was so nervous about last night, and the free drinks tasted too good, that all rationale went out the window.
Shit, I have an interview today! I need to shower, and take something for this headache. Thank God, I’m not throwing up because that’d make for a miserable lunch with Alden. It’s already going to be awkward as hell because, from what I can remember, he always was little too touchy feely. God, I hope Braydon doesn’t freak about it.
Pulling the covers back, I finally notice what should’ve been blatantly obvious from the moment I woke up. My leg. He took my prosthetic off last night, and placed it on the chair next to my bed. He was so close to me that he was able to take it off, and I was so drunk that I don’t remember him being that close.
Shit.
I’ve never let him that close before, well, because it’s embarrassing. It’s not a pretty sight, seeing my… stump. Shit, I even hate calling it that. He shouldn’t have had to been subject to doing that last night. I shouldn’t have gotten that drunk.
Leaning over, and grabbing the crutches, I make my way to the bathroom sans leg. It doesn’t come in the shower with me anyway, and it’ll just be in the way in this small bathroom. Starting the water, I make sure everything is in place and start the water. Baths are easier now that I only have one leg to stand on, so I slide into the warm soapy water and close my eyes. The past few months have been stressful, but I like to think I’ve adjusted well to being back in LA. I’ve made amends with the fact that I’m living in Lane’s apartment, and I’ve done my best to take it and make it my own. There’s still work to be done, but I’m on my way. Having Braydon upstairs helps out a ton, too. Anytime I need anything moved, he’s right here, able to help without any complaints.
I hear him come back through the door, as I’m getting out of the bathtub, and shake my head. Perfect damn timing, Bray.
“Al?” He’s in the bedroom, and I can see, through the cracked door,
that he’s holding my breakfast from Sam’s, the best bagel place around. Oh, god, that sounds perfect right about now.
“In here, I’ll be out in a minute.” Rummaging through the cabinets and drawers, I realize I didn’t bring any clothes in here with me, and I’m not about to go out there ass naked while he’s standing there with my breakfast. “Hey, Bray, can you take it in the kitchen? I need to uh… I have to get dressed.”
“Sure thing, Al.” He chuckles, and shuts the door behind him.
Tossing back some ibuprofen, I make my way into the bedroom, and stare at my leg sitting on the chair. I really hate wearing it when I don’t have to… it’s not the most comfortable of things. I have half a mind just to put it on and deal with it, but it’s just Braydon. He of all people shouldn’t mind me not wearing it, mostly because he knows what I went through to get to where I am now. Plus, he’s already seen what I have to offer last night, apparently, and he’s still here so that says something about him.
Taking a deep breath, I throw on some yoga shorts that end just above my knee and an oversized tank top. I’ll get ready to go to lunch later, but, for now, all I want to do is eat.
“You doin’ okay, champ?” He’s sitting at the table, drinking his coffee and playing on his phone, when I hobble in on the crutches. His eyes flick down ever so quickly, but I still catch it.
“Yeah. I needed to get clean, and get rid of the massive headache.” Groaning, I sit at the table next to my food and grab my coffee… made exactly how I like it.
“I hope it’s all okay. I threatened them that, if this grease ball of a meal didn’t cure your hangover, I’d be back for my money.”
He’s dead serious, too. It is a grease ball of a meal, but it’s the best grease ball meal I’ve ever had, and makes me feel ten times better than anything else I’ve eaten after a hangover.
“I guess I never pegged you for the southern comfort type of food girl.” He chuckles when I pause the fork coming to my mouth, and look across the table at him.
“Uh… “ I smile and shove the biscuits and gravy into my mouth, savoring in the grease filled carbs. “Mhmm.” He smiles at me and shakes his head.