“Come on,” I said, turning further until I was facing him and tugging playfully at his grey t-shirt. “Fair’s fair.”
“My shirt’s not wet.” He was smiling, but… still. Part of me wanted to take that motherfucker and slap him right upside his fucking head for making this so difficult.
“Well,” I said, “there’s a shower nearby. We can always change that.”
My tone was flirtatious, but damn, it was on. I was going to get that guy out of his clothes and if I had to tie him up to do it.
“Oh, no.” he was saying. “No fucking way.” He laughed again, which was pretty cute, actually, and one of his saving graces right now.
“Well then, be nice, and we won’t have to go there.” I closed the gap between us a little and looked up at him, the first time I’d actually looked him in the eyes. He had nice eyes, dark and with thick lashes, framed by moderately heavy brows.
“Oh, fine,” he finally gave in, and I stepped back just in time to avoid his elbow as he shed his shirt.
Then he came towards me again and put his hands on me once more.
A couple of rather odd thoughts ran through my head at this point. I wondered whether it was actually possible that he was self-conscious. I had always though guys who attracted fans by the thousands immune to such emotions, even if they were less than physically perfect. I had already known Rhys had scars – he'd spoken openly about his abusive childhood in several interviews, some years ago. They didn’t bother me in the slightest, but I wondered whether he was actually bothered by them. I’d always assumed the lead singers of just about any band out there had confidence enough for twenty.
“I like your tattoos,” I told him, once more for lack of anything better to say. His hands were still on my nipples, though as I spoke, he suddenly dropped them lower and reached for my belt.
“Thank you,” he said, sounding surprisingly sincere. He looked up at me quickly, then frowned in the general direction of my pants, and, resigned, I allowed him to open my belt and took over after that, unbuttoning my jeans and slipping out of them as elegantly as possible. It wasn’t easy, and to be honest, I’m pretty sure I failed. Taking off tight pants without looking like an idiot was a trick I had never mastered. My sneakers came off along with them, as they’d only been loose on my feet to begin with, and then I felt suddenly very exposed, wearing only a pair of black briefs and a smile. Flustered, I sat down at the edge of the bed.
Rhys was apparently done taking his time with things and fiddling around. He leaned forward, placing his hands on my waist, his fingers grasping the the last piece of clothing I was wearing and waiting for what I was pretty sure was supposed to be me raising my hips to help him along. There was little else I could have done without everything getting all awkward again, so I did him the favor and found myself stark naked just a second later.
It occurred to me to be glad that at least I was clean and groomed and, well, ready. To be honest, I’d expected to end up in Zach’s bed tonight, and since I had made the mistake of stumbling drunk sex with him before and knew he was likely to forget about having to prep me, I'd stretched and lubed beforehand.
Rhys busied himself with unbuckling his own belt, then dug in the pocket of his pants before producing a condom, and I realized very suddenly that he really was intending to fuck me right then and there.
I swallowed hard. Fine. Best get it over with.
I barely managed to catch a glimpse of what he looked like without clothes on before he leaned forward, hands on either side of my body, and I felt his cock first rubbing against my thigh, then pressing against my own length. Once more for lack of any other options, I leaned back and raised my hips. Three fingers thrust into me, creating a stretching, burning sensation despite my foresight. Then, apparently satisfied, he replaced them with his cock
He was a nice size, almost the perfect size, actually, just big enough to feel really, really good without hurting like hell once the in initial discomfort wore off. Even though a very noticeable burn remained, he was consistently hitting the right spot, and I wanted to thank god for small mercies. A gasp escaped me purely because I hadn’t actually expected it to feel so good.
I wasn’t sure where to rest my eyes. He was far enough above me that I could have looked at him, but I wasn’t getting the feeling that he liked me doing that. I couldn’t even kiss him, because he appeared to have an aversion to that as well. To be perfectly honest, I was starting to feel kind of like a hooker purely because of it. It had all gotten so goddamn awkward again, so I settled my eyes on one of his tattoos, trying to enjoy myself as he thrust into my ass, with the lights far too bright and the heater still blaring, and holy shit it stung and I was too intimidated to say anything. And along with all of this, I was so close to the edge of the bed that I was trying desperately not to slip off every time he drew back, because there was little but air beneath my ass.
Yeah, it wasn’t the best sex of my life, exactly.
It didn’t take too terribly long for him to come. We never changed positions, and I just kind of lay there letting him do his thing, trying to move under him a little and at least to look like I might be sort of enjoying myself. Once he was close to finishing, he leaned forward further, until his head was next to my own and his chest touched mine, and I felt his movement become more frantic, his hips thrusting harder, losing their rhythm. It was kind of arousing, feeling him lose control like that, though at the same time it freaked me out a little. Even though I wasn’t anywhere close to coming, I managed to enjoy myself at least a little bit as I felt him climax inside me.
Then I lay there and waited. It was some time until Rhys finally moved from his position on top of me, dragging himself sluggishly off to the side. It didn’t exactly make him look more attractive. I didn’t want to move just yet, so I waited some more and watched him walking to the bathroom to clean himself, then stretching out on the bed and reaching for something.
The room darkened, then suddenly lit up in tones of blue, someone’s speaking voice assaulting my ears, and I realized with complete exasperation that Rhys had just turned on the TV.
Really? Of all the things to do immediately afterwards?
Rhys acted as though I didn’t even exist. He flipped through channels until he found an episode of Law & Order and then lay there watching it as though trying to show me that it was far more interesting than me.
I sat up and drew up my knees, wrapping my arms around them and feeling lost. I had no idea what to do just now. He obviously wasn’t fond of having me around after he’d gotten what he wanted, but to be honest, I wasn’t about to do him the favor and flee the room. For one, I didn’t much fancy getting back into the cold and the rain and trying to find Zach with absolutely nothing but the clothes on my back. I didn’t even have my phone on me, and I certainly didn’t fancy running all around town in the middle of the night. Also, I was being stubborn. After all this, if Rhys wanted me out of his room, he could damn well make the effort and tell me so. He hadn’t exactly made things easy for me, so I didn’t see why I should do so for him.
But that decision left me sitting on the bed, trying way too hard to look like I did this all the time and trying to ignore the throbbing pain in my ass.
I thought about bluntly asking – Do you mind if I lay down? But I didn’t want the answer to be no. My back started to hurt after a while, and I was cold and really wanted under the blankets. But I was afraid to even move. I knew I was being ridiculous, but unfortunately that didn't mean I could stop doing it.
I think I sat there for over an hour. The Law & Order episode ended and another started, and I watched if only to distract myself. I wasn’t sure how late it was, somewhere around two in the morning was my best guess. Maybe three.
At some point, I felt the bed move, and when I turned my head I realized that Rhys had gotten beneath the blankets. Fucker.
When the second Law & Order episode ended as well, I glanced at him again and realized that he looked to have fal
len asleep. I waited until the next commercial break to be sure before I carefully stretched out from my uncomfortable position. My muscles had gotten quite stiff just sitting there. Thankfully, the blankets weren’t tucked in too tightly, and I managed to slip beneath them without rocking the bed too much.
Then I tried to catch some sleep. It wasn’t easy.
I’d been struggling along in some half-sleep state for some time when I was jolted back to consciousness by three short, loud knocks. Raising my head, I found Rhys doing the same.
“What the fuck?” he muttered, sounding sleep-drunk, and laid one hand on the wall above the headboard as though that might calm it.
Three more knocks reverberated through the wall. Rhys frowned. I tried to look invisible. Eventually, he reached for the TV remote and turned the volume to zero, leaving the screen to flimmer in silence.
The television noise didn’t appear to be the problem of whoever was doing the hammering against the wall though, because shortly afterwards, four more knocks were sent.
Rhys muttered something I couldn’t quite catch except for the word “Bullshit”, which came last. He dropped back down onto his pillow, looking frustrated.
I couldn’t help it. The situation could barely get any more goddamn stupid, so I raised my hand and rapped my knuckles against the wall just above the headboard. The answer was one thunderous boom, the vibrations of which shook the mattress.
“Well I think they’re mad about something,” I told Rhys diplomatically.
“Don’t piss them off,” he instructed me, wearing a singularly disapproving expression.
Hell, like this was my fault.
“You know, I think they’re managing to be pissed off completely without my help.” I pointed out.
There were three more knocks, back to being a little quieter.
Rhys threw one arm across his face, covering his eyes, and gave a sigh of frustration.
Things were quiet for a moment, and I’d almost started thinking that the incident was over when a different sort of knocking started. This one sounded hollower, though no less annoying, and its rhythm didn’t stop after a few seconds but kept going.
“Well I think now they’re having sex just to piss us off. Or at least they’re pretending really really well,” I informed Rhys. I wasn’t under any delusions that he was actually interested in my opinion, but by this point, I didn’t think it fucking mattered. So I talked just to keep myself in good spirits, because laying next to Rhys and frantically questioning my every move certainly wasn’t doing the job.
The knocking continued. Soon, I heard somewhat exaggerated moans, both male and female sounding, followed by more rhythmic pounding.
This was all so bizarre. I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Yep, definitely hotel-neighbor-spite-sex,” I said, not even talking to Rhys any longer, but just trying to amuse myself. “All you can do is hope they fall asleep right afterwards and then attempt to wake them up by doing the same thing they did, just louder.”
I glanced down at him, just to make sure he wasn’t glaring at me. The arm was still across his face, quivering slightly, and it took me a moment to realize that he was laughing. I wasn’t sure how he kept managing to surprise me like this.
“Oh man,” he said, finally dropping the arm. “Fuck it. What do you wanna do?”
He reached for the remote once more, and I watched with fascination as he turned the TV volume up as far as it would go. Law & Order was still on, and as its music blared through the room, I covered my ears.
“That’s fucking loud,” I complained. Rhys shrugged, but obediently turned it down a few bars, and just as he did that, something hit the wall from the other side and audibly shattered.
I lost it. “What the fuck?” I gasped, threw myself back down onto my pillow and laughed.
“I think that was a bottle or something.” Rhys was laughing as well. “Man that really must have pissed them off.”
“Who does that? I mean, who gets mad enough about hotel noise to fling breakable shit around?” I sat up, and just for good measure knocked tentatively at the wall. Rhys joined me, rapping his knuckles lightly, and together we established the world’s most annoying rhythm.
The loudest boom yet echoed through the room in reply.
“I think they drop-kicked it,” Rhys guessed.
That got me laughing again, and before I knew it, I’d forgotten all about being irritated by him and thrown caution to the wind.
“Wanna fuck?” I asked.
Then I held my breath and wished I could take it all back, because it had all just gotten to the point of not being utterly awkward, but Rhys, still smiling, just shrugged.
“Sure,” he said.
Oh brilliant.
I supposed part of me just wanted to prove to him that I could to better things in bed than lay there and let someone else do all the work. So I didn’t wait for my doubts and nervousness to grab a hold of me again and cause me to freeze, and instead turned and straddled him atop his blanket. Looking down at him, I saw him raising his eyebrows. The crippling nervousness was creeping up on me again.
“So, what do you like?” I demanded to know.
“Hm?” he asked.
“Well, ah…” I found myself unable to rephrase the question. “What do you like?” I asked again with a smile, placing my hands on his bare chest and admiring the dark trail of hair leading down his belly for a moment before I looked him in the eyes again.
“I don’t know,” he replied, predictably, I thought, and then frowned at me. “Do you have your tongue pierced?”
Hey, maybe we were getting somewhere after all.
“Yeah,” I replied, and ran the top of the barbell across my upper lip.
“Sweet,” he said approvingly, and went back to grinning at me. “I like that.”
Jesus fucking Christ, finally the guy was talking sense, and it had only taken half the night and someone flinging bottles at the wall to make it happen.
“You do, huh?” I asked, more to prevent yet another awkward silence, and started to push the blanket out of the way that was still between us.
“Oh yeah,” he confirmed, and gave me a look. “You know how to use it?”
I gave him my most confident grin yet and slid down to kneel between his legs. Finally, finally here I had something I knew exactly how to handle. I wrapped my hands around his cock, as pale as the rest of him in a nest of dark hair, and begun the task of sucking him off.
I’d always been good at it. I also usually had fun sucking cock, and it was one thing I was pretty confident I could do well. So I wasn’t surprised in the slightest to hear the moan from Rhys' mouth only seconds after I’d started working on him with my tongue. Satisfied as hell, yes. Surprised, not so much.
I took my time as well. If he wanted it hard and fast, he could tell me so, but he didn’t, so I started slow. I glanced up at him once and saw that he had his eyes closed, arms crossed leisurely behind his head, and appeared to be enjoying himself immensely. Every once in a while he’d make a little sound, usually when I managed a particularly skillful flick of my tongue, or deep-throated him for a couple of seconds before going back to sucking and playing. One of my hands rested on his thigh for balance, allowing me to feel as his muscles tensed.
At least, I thought, come morning he hopefully wouldn’t think of me as the worst fuck he’d ever had.
Eventually I did pick up the pace, moving my head faster, taking him deeper for longer. I listened to his labored breathing to try and figure out when to push his buttons, and finally, when he actually started to groan loudly, I tightened my mouth around him and sucked long and hard, feeling him twitch and shudder and finally tasting his seed in the back of my mouth.
I waited for a moment before I drew back and swallowed. From what I could see, he looked content, if not utterly blissful, and as I watched his flushed face and half-open mouth, I couldn’t stop the feeling of smug satisfaction from rising within me. It was a small bu
t badly needed surge of confidence.
As I extracted myself from between his legs and lay down beside him again, he flung his hand out blindly to grope for something on the nightstand. For a moment, I thought he was going to turn the volume on the TV up again.
“I need a cigarette,” he said then, voice weak, finally lifting his head to see what he was doing, and I watched him with a smirk on my face until he finally found his pack and promptly leaned over and offered it to me.
I’d never actually smoked an after-sex cigarette. I supposed this was an appropriate occasion though, and accepted his offer with a nod, letting him give me a light and then laying back on my pillow just like he was doing. For several minutes, I just stared at the dark ceiling, illuminated infrequently by the changing lights from the TV screen, and pulled on my cigarette. While the smoke stung its way down my already sore throat, I allowed myself a moment to take inventory of the situation. Yep, still bizarre.
“You wanna come along for a few days?” he asked then, shattering the glass ceiling of bizarre pretty thoroughly with one innocent-sounding question.
I turned my head to the side and stared at him. He was still looking at the ceiling, but turned his head as well once I’d done so.
“Are you being serious right now?” I asked, not really expecting the answer to be yes.
His facial expression was smugly casual.
“Yeah, no big deal,” he said, as though unaware that it would most certainly be a big deal to me. “Just jump on the bus, we’ll get you home whenever.”
I was still pretty certain he was just fucking with me, so I decided to play it casual and forced a laugh.
“Fuck, don’t tempt me,” I said. “I’d give a lot to get away from here for a while.”
He shrugged lying down, which looked a little odd.
“So just do it.”
I scrutinized his face, just for good measure, finding little but a mischievous look in his eyes and a grin on his face that tried and failed to be innocent.
“You really are being serious,” I said blankly, my mind racing when he nodded.
Collision Course Page 3