Adult-FanFiction.org : Celebrity

On Hotel Rooms and Their Deleterious Effects	By : beautifulliar Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Nine Inch Nails Views: 1266 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Nine Inch Nails. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-On Hotel Rooms and Their Deleterious Effects
- 2-Part 2 of 2
- 1
- 2
On Hotel Rooms and Their Deleterious Effects
Part 1 of 2

Sprawled on his bed in the two-bed room, Aaron tapped the laptop’s touchpad and said, without turning his head, “No, that’s okay. I’m cool right here.” Tap tap tap.

There was a pause, then female laughter, cascading on currents of air somewhere behind him.

“He’s not serious,” he heard Jeordie say.

Serious as a heart attack, brah. He furrowed his brow and worked the keys that moved his character in the video game around and then—die die die!—he fired his submachine gun, annihilating the creature that had just poked its head around a corner.

“Go on over,’ Jeordie said.

He felt the words from the other bed trying to pull his attention away from the game. Die! die! d—motherfucker! His health plunged down to five. What the fuck could he do with five? Fuck.

“Go on,” Jeordie said, and Aaron knew he was nudging her—which her he didn’t know yet, didn’t care, but one or the other of the two chicks.

“Go on, Dee.” That sounded like the one with the thick, straight, reddish-brown hair and not, he thought, the one who’d laughed a moment ago. “Go on.”

“Go on. He’ll appreciate it.”

The screen—the play area of the screen—was black, broken here and there with quick, random bursts of light. He shifted closer to the laptop, bringing his knee up, almost like he was curling himself around it on the bed, one elbow propping him up. Wait for it…wait for it… If he could just get past the monsters up ahead he might be able to tank his health back up. Wait…. Yes! He fired away at the keys. Die, fuckers, die!

“Bring him a beer. Here.”

Die die die—Noooo!

The mattress dipped almost hesitantly behind him. He tried not to notice—he wanted to fucking not notice—shit, and just play the—“Fuck! Fucking—argh.”

“Get dead?” Jeordie asked.

“Fuck you very much.” He flipped Jeordie the bird without looking up and moved through the game’s menu, heading back to his last saved point.

“D’you want a beer?” asked the chick who’d perched herself on the bed, a foot or two behind his back. Dee. That’s right. Dee.

“No thanks.”

It was a sucky point in the game to go back to. While the game loaded, he was stuck feeling Dee’s ‘vibe’ crawl like a timid kitten up the back of his shirt.

“He’ll need some cheering up,” Jeordie said.

“Mmm, Dee’s just the thing for that, then,” the other chick said. Stacey? Sarah? Whatever. He was back in action, tapping at the keys.

Something—someone was feeling his hair, softly. He frowned again, shifted a shoulder, and tried to concentrate on the--whoa! Shit. He’d forgotten about the dude that dropped down from the ceiling. Fuh-uck.

Long fingernails skittered over the back of his neck, under his hair. Gooseflesh rose on his arms. He shivered a little and—“Shit!” He beat on the keys with his fingers and breathed, “shitshitshitshitshitdon’tdon’t—”

The girl’s thumb pushed up the back of his neck.

Shit.

Dead.

God-damnit.

He twisted his shoulder and ducked his head. “Look, uh, I’m sure you’re great and all, but like right now? I’m kinda wanting to just chill and play this game. All right?” He glanced over his shoulder.

“Aaron, quit being an antisocial dick. You’ve got how many fucking hours on the bus to—”

“Yeah, yeah. You have your party, I’ll have mine.” He restarted at the last save point.

“Forget him, then,” Jeordie said. “Come back over here.”

‘Forget him then’--like Jeordie had never his head sucked so far into a game that he didn’t hear a word you yelled in his ear.

The bed bobbed up, then stilled. Good. He tapped his keys, tuning the party on the other bed out. Good. Good!

Well, nearly tuning them out. One second he'd be immersed in the dark, industrial wasteland of the game, and the next he’d be jarred away by some very…uh, non-industrial…noises. Not quite sex noises, not yet, but definitely fucking foreplay noises. And giggles.

If he hadn’t stepped on his fucking headphones….

A screech dragged him out of the world of the game again. There were giggles and a sharp, “No!” More giggles. “No stop—stop—stop! That tickles.” Cascades of laughter and then “mmmm.”

And: “You two should kiss.” Jeordie telling them.

“What?” Dee.

“You’d like that, huh?” Whatshername.

“Come on—you’re both hot…. You have no idea how hot it would be to see….”

“Yeah, well, that’s all you get. Between Dee and me, at least, but now if you want—”

ARGH.

He slapped the laptop closed and dropped onto his back, his arm across his face.

“Have enough monster killing?” Jeordie asked.

Aaron raised his middle finger.

“Look,” Jeordie said. “Look at this. Are they not unbelievably hot. They’re making out.”

Aaron squeezed his eyes shut behind his arm. “I’m sure they are, dude.”

“He’s afraid to look.”

“What’s there to be afraid of?” Whatshername again.

“I know. Nothing scary here—”

Another cascade of girly glee.

“Come on, Aaron, have a little fun.”

“I don’t want to. Thanks.” There were, anymore, always chicks. Not that that was fundamentally a bad thing, but it did strip some of the fun out of it when all you had to do was blow your nose and panties started flying off—if they were wearing panties in the first place, that is.

“Aaron,” Jeordie said, “is there something you’re not telling us?”

“I can’t think of anything offhand.”

“Maybe he’s gay,” whatshername said.

“That’s it.” His eyelashes fluttered against the sleeve of his shirt. “You hit the nail.” Jesus Christ go back to what you were doing.

“I read somewhere,” Dee said, “him joking about being gay, but I thought it was just that, you know? A joke.”

“I like dudes,” Aaron said from under his arm, where it was dark and almost relaxing.

“That’s a shame,” Dee said.

And then it sounded like they turned their attention back to each other, which was super fucking cool with him. He let his arm slip away. He had to whiz. It was late, but not ridiculously late—but he was done with any sort of gaming mood for the night. As he came back out of the bathroom, he started stripping out of his clothes—shirt up and off, undo the belt and fly, pull off one sock, flip off the extra lights in the room, pluck the other sock off, grab the TV remote, drop trou—to the sound of a cat call; he ignored it—step out of the jeans, kick his shorts off, climb between the sheets, point the remote and click the power button, all without anything more than a glance at the other bed.

He did hear, just before he pulled the sheets over his lower half, “Such a shame.”

Flattery will get you everywhere—but only when he was in the mood. Oh my fucking god—I have to be in the 'mood' now. He adjusted his head against the headboard and clicked through the channels: infomercial, Late Late Show, Space Ghost….

Something—some force—was focused on him, from the other bed. He tried to ignore it. Click. Click. Family Feud, M*A*S*H Click.

Jesus Christ what? He looked over.

Dee was watching him, her elbow propped on the side of Jeordie’s hip, her chin propped in her hand. She smiled.

Aaron rolled his eyes back toward the TV.

“He’s not gay,” he heard Jeordie saying.

“He’s just a wet blanket then, huh?”

“He’s playing hard to get.”

“I’m playing ‘don’t bother trying’.”

“Don’t be so stiff,” Jeordie said, “—and I mean that in its most ironic sense.”

“Not interested, but thanks, brah.” He glanced toward the girls. “No offense.” He met Jeordie’s eyes. Fucker. And if they weren’t going to fucking leave him alone—“It’s just that I prefer cock. You know?” He set his head against the headboard again and notched the television’s volume up.

“He doesn’t like cock,” Jeordie said.

“I love cock.”

“He’s just being a loser tonight.”

“You’re just not getting the message.” He shot a look over—and then as he turned his attention back to the TV, his gaze caught on something on the floor, a corduroy purse that had tipped over. Girly things—a cell phone with plastic leopard skin cover, what was possibly a Tampon, something sparkly, maybe a bracelet—had spilled onto the carpet. Had it been two feet to the left or right, it would have been lost in shadows, but the light by Jeordie’s bed—the only light still on in the room—spotlighted it softly.

A silver tube was caught in the light.

“Aaron, come here for a sec,” Jeordie was saying. “Seriously.”

The light glinted right off the edge of the tube. It called to him.

“Come on,” Jeordie said, “don’t be a loser.”

He flipped the covers away, his attention on the tube. He got up from the bed.

“What—” Jeordie again. “Hey, come on, just get over here.”

“Just a sec.” He scooped the tube up, turned. Perfect. He took a high step, right up onto Jeordie’s crowded bed.

“Yay!” Dee clapped.

“That’s more like it,” the other girl said. Purred. Whatever.

Jeordie said, “‘Bout the fuck time.”

He stepped over and between body parts on his way up the bed. Fingernails and fingertips lightly raked at his legs. He was the only member of the party whose member, so far, was dangling in the wind—and he truly appreciated that Jeordie didn’t reach up and flick his sac as he made his way to the head of the bed.

“What are you doing?” Jeordie asked.

He nearly lost his balance stepping onto a pillow, but he caught the wall with one hand. He pulled the cap off the tube with his teeth.

Above each bed hung an unimpressive landscape, each one a study of mustard yellows, lentil greens and hospital-blue skies. The lipstick that rose up when he twisted the base of the tube was a shade of red that went really well with the mustards and lentils and old-hospital-gown canvas.

I, he scrawled.

“Whoops!” said one of the girls.

Giggles.

Jeordie goosed his ass. Aaron swatted him with his free hand, without looking back or down, and moved to the next line, where he wrote, LIKE.

“Come on, Picasso.”

“Aaaaaaaron.”

“What’s he doing?”

C

O

C

K

He capped the lipstick and took half a step back to regard his work. Good enough. He stepped over Jeordie, off the bed, dropped the lipstick on a nightstand, and got back into his own bed, covers up to his belly. He felt around for the remote, found it, and used it to put the television’s volume up another two bars.

“Wait. Shit—was that my lipstick?”

“Was it?”

“It looks like my shade?”

“Did he ruin it?”

“Better not have.”

He could sense movement and was pretty sure one of the girls was reaching over Jeordie to grab the tube.

“Is it bad?”

“He’ll buy you a new one,” Jeordie said. Aaron felt Jeordie look his way, and then Jeordie added, “He’ll buy you two new ones.”

Whatever.

“Yeah, well, this one’s his now.” A second later the metal tube bounced off his upper arm. He made a face at the TV—and that was the last of their trying to drag him into their party.

He tuned them out. Maybe 30, maybe 40 minutes later, his eyes had trouble staying open, and his attention was less and less into the TV. He blinked his eyes open, rousing himself from a five-second doze, and felt around for the remote again.

With the TV off, Jeordie’s light was the only thing illuminating the room. He turned his back to Jeordie’s light and settled in.

The noises behind him were no worse than having a TV on. In fact, the panting and heavy breathing were in some ways easier to relax to than some infomercial. He drifted into a fragment of a dream where some bathroom was flooded with water up to his ankles, then he bobbed to consciousness and the sounds of wet lapping and smacking. Just as he started to sink back into half sleep, a high squeak dragged him back, but not for long. Soon everything was dark.

He realized he was awake again, maybe ten minutes, maybe forty minutes later. Slowly he opened his eyes. Darkness. Behind him: silence. Nice. He made himself comfortable. Smiling, he made himself ready once again for sleep….

Except….

Now his cock was hard. Now he could go for having Dee in his bed. Didn’t it just figure?

He closed his eyes. Let it go. He’d be asleep soon enough.

A soft rustle of blankets came from across the way. Another rustle. Then the sound of a foot on the carpet—someone, surely, needing to empty his or her bladder.

Aaron thought that if it was one of the girls, especially if it was Dee, who’d been staring at him with that little smile on her face not so long ago, maybe when she was on her way back to Jeordie’s bed he’d go, “Pssst,” and hold the sheets up for her to climb in with him.

But there was just two soft steps, and then a pause.

Aaron felt like he was holding his breath.

The sheet lying across his arm moved. The mattress dipped. He didn’t move. He’d worked out his whole plan—“Psst,” lift sheets—and here she was throwing him off track right away. And watch it be the other chick. Sandy? Not that Sandy was hard to look at …. At all. So. Well, no need to make it easy on her, whichever her it was. He lay there, his back to whoever it was, and waited.

A body stretched out somewhere behind him. The sheets shifted again, covering them both.

If she went for his hair first, it was probably the Dee chick, with the heart-shaped face, dark blonde hair that curved in toward her jawline, and a slightly crooked smile that looked sort of cute. Plus, her ass was pretty bitchin’.

The first touch, silent and stealthy and soft, was under the sheet, on his hip. Two fingertips skimmed along his skin. This was kind of nice, this tentativeness on Stacey’s (Sandy’s?) part, or Dee’s—whichever. Her thumb touched him, testing, waiting—then her fingers started to move again, dipping inward, slowly, following the bone of his hip.

He watched the darkness in front of him, enjoying the touches. Waiting.

Behind him, she shifted. Her knee bumped the back of his leg. Her hand flattened on his skin as she moved closer and—

And.

Uh.

He could hear the beat of his heart, suddenly, steady and sure and loud and--and--that wasn’t Sarah or Stacey or Dee moving her fingers up his ribs. He pressed his eyes closed. His lips formed ‘oh shit’ but nothing came out.

And another guy’s hand moved across his chest.

Another guy’s palm felt the beat of his heart.

He couldn’t move.

Another guy’s dick twitched against the back of his thigh.

The interest that had stirred down below at the idea of being silently seduced by one of the girls flagged. He had his hand resting on the sheet, on the mattress, not far from his chest. Two of his fingers jerked, ready to stop feigning sleep, grasp Jeordie’s fingers, and twist his hand backward.

It’s payback.

It has to be payback.

He’s just waiting for me to flip out.

(Though how on earth Jeordie could have a problem after winding up with both chicks Aaron couldn’t figure.)

Another soft, gentle shift behind him and he felt a warm exhale of breath against his hair at the back of his ear, and then—what the fuck? A kiss? He’d just been kissed on his hair? Jeordie’s mouth moved lower. His lips brushed mostly hair, lower on his neck, but skin, too--just a little skin.

There was another twitch against Aaron’s thigh. His eyes snapped open again, like venetian blinds. Duuuude, he wanted to say. Two chicks and you’ve still got some left over? What the fuck are you drinking, and who do I have to blow to get some?

Jeordie’s fingertips ghosted up his neck. They bumped lightly against the underside of his jaw.

His eyelids fluttered, and he put a stop to that by squeezing them closed again. Some neighbor’s mother’s voice came to him from years ago: “Better watch out or your face will freeze like that.” Better watch out, or your friends will start to think you mean that shit you say.

What if jumping on his bed and flapping my willie in his face caused some sort of unfortunate conversion or something?

He chewed his lip, thinking, Oh shit oh shit.

With a little more of a pronounced shift behind him, Jeordie moved upward, against him but not too against him. He bent his head and kissed--kissed; kay eye ess ess ee deed—the top of his shoulder, softly, his lips hardly more a touch on his skin than his breath.

Ahhhhhh fuck. His sexual interest indicator was, irrationally, starting to point northward again. It brushed the bottom sheet as it straightened. He dragged his lip under his teeth again. Fuck fuck fuck. Jeordie’s hand was moving, slowly, back down his chest. His touch was firmer now, gaining confidence? Gotta do something—quick. Jeordie’s hand turned. One of his fingertips found Aaron’s belly button. Shit shit shit--his dick knew full fucking well that that hand was headed in its direction, and it kept sending up sly signals to his brain: relax, relax—let’s just wait and see, okay? Wait and see my ass.

Ohmygoddead. The side of Jeordie’s hand bumped the head of his dick. He pressed his eyes more tightly closed. His lip pulled free from his teeth. Jeordie curled his arm around his belly, tucked his hand under Aaron’s side, and licked--licked; ell eye…fuck it: he licked his shoulder.

His teeth nipped.

Aaron let out a slow, quiet lungful of air. His eyes kept popping open without checking with him first. He closed them again and licked his dry lips. And down below…that good for nothing traitor.

Jeordie breathed against him. It was less quiet than his own exhales. At least—he hoped his exhales were quiet.

Jeordie moved, and his dick moved, too. Cock. Aaron squeezed his eyes shut. It was warm, rounded at the top, almost sort of…friendly. Jeordie tightened his arm, hugging Aaron against him. Then he shifted, holding on, chest to back, but pulling his lower body away. He let go of Aaron to reach down and do God knew what with himself—and then the rounded part, pointing straight out instead of up, bumped Aaron’s thigh. Jeordie pulled himself close again, cock between Aaron’s thighs. It felt like it wanted to stand up, but Aaron’s nuts were in the way. It twitched, and he felt it, for the love of all that is holy, against his fucking sac.

And there was, a voice narrated in his head, just a little bit of confusion going on.

Jeordie’s hand moved down from his hip again and closed over the head of Aaron’s cock, loosely, twisting just a little, causing the thought he’d been in the middle of (“the man…with two heads!”) to vanish in a strangled squeak.

His throat nearly made a sound. Rational thought processes blew out in his head like a lightning-struck transformer. He shoved his tongue against the roof of his mouth and pressed his fingers against the mattress. God, as long as you’re going to do that while you grind up against me….

Jeordie’s other hand cupped his shoulder; his forearm pressed across his chest. Just behind his ear, Jeordie whispered—soft enough that the words couldn’t possibly carry back to the other bed—“Is this okay?”

Jesus—how long had he known he’d been awake? Or had he?

He didn’t want to say anything—what the fuck did you say? The back of his throat was too thick with tension to make a whisper like Jeordie’s possible. Slowly he lifted his hand from the mattress. He could feel Jeordie waiting—Jeordie probably didn’t even know yet that he was moving his hand. Maybe Jeordie would think he was, in fact, asleep. Time seemed thick. The air seemed thick, beneath the sheets. His knuckles scraped the underside of the sheet as he moved his hand over his own side and back, slowly, tentatively, until his fingers grazed skin that wasn’t his.

Jeordie let out a slow, soft breath—relief?

It felt weird…because…it felt…familiar. Skin felt like skin, at least there, where there was no hair and the skin wasn’t as coarse as it might be in more exposed areas.

Aaron let his hand rest on Jeordie’s hip, behind him—not the way he’d hold someone if they were behind him; his hand strictly rested there, without suggestion. Or at least without obvious suggestion.

Jeordie’s hand made its way down Aaron’s chest again. He swallowed. He realized he was breathing with his mouth open, drying it out. He closed his mouth and worked up some saliva, and swallowed again.

Jeordie’s fingers were in his pubic hair; his knuckles touched Aaron’s cock.

He breathed out, and breathed out. His fingertips twitched on Jeordie’s hip.

Why not, why not—why not?, with Jeordie’s soft belly against his backside. Why not? Jeordie’s arm tightened against his belly again, holding him. He felt Jeordie’s lips at his shoulder again, at the back of his head, and Jeordie’s hand was sliding up and away, then down the outside of his thigh. Back up, with a nudge against his hip.

Another nudge.

Aaron let his hip tip slowly forward. He pulled his knee up, put some of his weight against it. Jeordie’s fingers were light over his skin, raising gooseflesh low on his back, making his skin tighten. He couldn’t convince his eyes to close. He was breathing quickly—shallowly—and trying to keep that to himself. He stared and breathed and swallowed and breathed, and the breath rushed out of him at the soft touch of Jeordie’s fingers moving deeper between them. Jeordie’s hips pulled back. His forehead pushed against the back of Aaron’s head.

shit shit shit shit Okay. Okay. Maybe this wasn’t…entirely…the worst thing in the world. I mean, how often did you get the opportunity to try out something you’ve never tried? And what did you get out of life if you turned all of those opportunities down? Maybe it would totally--totally--fucking suck, but you never knew if you didn’t give it a shot. On the other hand—he could just get his next girlfriend a strap-on and let her go to work; wouldn’t that be the same thing?

On the other other hand, half the fun—now that he wasn’t nineteen anymore—of sex was in how crazy the other person was being driven, and what was gonna drive the other person crazy, really? Having a rubber cock strapped to their pelvis…or feeling it all go down with their own cock?

He squeezed his eyes closed against the fingers that were going where no fingers but his own had ever gone—not even a doctor’s, knock on wood. When they touched…the spot, his muscles tightened, holding back a flinch, and he thought maybe after all this wasn’t something to try, but he held on—holding his breath—waiting for a push…but none came.

The fingers stroked lightly, all the way to his balls, over his balls, making his skin tighten, making him relax into the feeling. Relieved, he let himself enjoy the petting, even as Jeordie’s fingers teased the spot again—no pressure, no force.

He rubbed his forehead against his pillow. His fingers slipped from Jeordie’s hip. He braced his palm against the mattress and let himself fall further open to Jeordie behind him. This really wasn’t so bad.

Jeordie’s breath stopped, and then Aaron heard, “Is it okay?” at his ear again, closer to his ear. Like bees’ wings.

He gave a curt nod, then pressed his forehead against the pillow again. There was pressure, then, just a little bit. Aaron’s cock twitched so hard he imagined he heard it thump the mattress softly.

Then Jeordie’s fingers slipped away.

Aaron pushed his hand up the mattress till he could grasp the corner of the pillow in his fist. what comes next, what comes next…? He licked the roof of his mouth. Behind him, Jeordie moved. An elbow jostled him. A moment later, Jeordie’s hand slipped down between them again, and two wet fingers touched him softly.

Ohhh, he said in his head; it came out as only breath. Jeordie pressed upward. Aaron scrunched his face up against the pillow. His mouth widened. For half a second, every thing, every atom in the room, seemed to teeter on the edge of anticipation—and then someone, someone who was not him, was inside him, even if just by a little bit.

He clutched the pillow. He couldn’t otherwise move. He couldn’t breathe. Holding his air in, he stared into the dark pillowcase. Tiny stars began to swarm at the edges of his vision. They started to spin. He had the illusion of falling down a tunnel of space.

Jeordie’s teeth caught his neck. His tongue was wet, warm—fluttering, despite the hair in the way.

He came to himself and realized that the feeling of not being able to move had been an illusion, up in his head—he was actually moving his hips: a slow, slight rocking against Jeordie’s knuckles.

Jeordie worked his other arm under the pillow, under Aaron’s head. He wrapped his arm around Aaron’s chest as he pressed his head against Aaron’s head and fucked him, very slowly, with the first inch or so of two fingers.

He could feel Jeordie’s hips moving, following the motion of his fingers. He knew what the inevitable was, from here, what foregone conclusion they were moving toward.

Jeordie’s fingers slipped free.

now is the time that tries men’s souls

Jeordie shifted behind him. Again an elbow bumped him. Jeordie rolled onto his back, reaching for something (oh god), then rolled back. His knuckles brushed Aaron’s shoulder blade. Something tore. Aaron’s face was simultaneously clammy and overheated. He shifted to get more air.

He didn’t have to do this.

He had a voice. He could use it any time.

Jeordie spat, twice, as quietly as was possible, considering. Another elbow jostle. He could feel that Jeordie wasn’t quite facing him anymore. His attention was on his cock, on the condom—(he had brought a fucking condom with him?—what was he, a boy scout?) Then his hips shifted forward; he bumped against him. And there was a moment when Aaron nearly shot to the edge of the bed and said, no, no, this is a little too far the fuck out for me, okay?

But…

He wanted to know. Wanted…. Just wanted to know. Now. Now that he was all…riled up.

Jeordie pushed against him.

Aaron’s throat muscles opened. His knuckles moved toward his mouth. They pressed hard against his bottom lip.

Jeordie started to push inside.

A short, shocked noise came up out of him, and he bit down on one of his knuckles. There was another push, another strangled, cut off sound from Aaron’s chest, and the hand on his chest clamped over his mouth, pushing his own hand out of the way. “Shhhh.”

They lay still for a few seconds, Jeordie’s chest grazing his back. Both of them breathing a little hard.

Jeordie shifted closer and whispered—hot little bees inside his ear—“Do you want me to stop?”

He sucked air in through his nose. Jeordie was already in--halfway, at least. (it had damned well better be halfway at least). He felt like he was being pried open by the jaws of life. And: Someone, some person was inside him. Short breaths from his nose sounded against the side of Jeordie’s hand.

Jeordie whispered again: “Do you want me to stop?” His hand loosened a bit on Aaron’s mouth.

Aaron’s breaths went hhh hhh hhh against Jeordie’s hand.

He shook his head, once.

Neither of them moved.

He closed his eyes and tried to relax his shoulders—they’d pulled up tight, toward his ears, in the last few minutes. His breaths still hit the side of Jeordie’s hand. Slowly, Jeordie’s hand his slipped back down to Aaron’s chest. His other hand squeezed Aaron’s hip.

Aaron counted his breaths—and stopped halfway through three with a “hhh!” as Jeordie pushed forward again. He shoved his mouth and nose against the pillow and let the sound of what it felt like to have something bigger than the tips of two fingers push its way inside you loose. He could feel it inside him, up in there, where he kept his internal organs and other private shit.

He huffed against the pillow. Jeordie had started to draw back. He huffed again, then again, quickly. He gripped the corner of the pillow so hard he could feel his fingernails digging into his palm through the cloth. He let out a stream of air and forced his hand open. re-fucking-lax

Jeordie pulled at his hip, gently, encouraging him to lie more on his side—and when he shifted back, guided by Jeordie’s hand, Jeordie reached around.

Jeordie’s taking hold of him, firmly, broke a low sound loose from deep in his throat. He pulled the pillow against his face. oh god oh shit The last thing he fucking wanted, the very last thing, was for the chicks to sit up and ask sleepily, “Hey, what’s going on over there?” Half a groan escaped into the pillow; he cut it short, his fingers slipping off the pillowcase and reaching back, slowly, his hand nearly fisted, reaching back toward Jeordie’s hip. oh god oh shit

Jeordie’s laugh was a whisper at his neck. “Shh.”

He swallowed. He felt his eyes starting to roll upward. He tried collect himself. When he thought he could do it without creating a scene, he moved his mouth off the pillow and whispered back, “Trying. I’m fucking tr—” He shoved his face against the pillow again as Jeordie went deep and squeezed him, hard, at the same time. His fist, behind him, grazing Jeordie’s hip with his knuckles, snapped back to his pillow. Clutching. ohmygodohmygod.

Jeordie’s forehead bumped the back of his head, lightly, and then again. Aaron reached over his own shoulder, fingers loose and unsteady. He felt hair against his fingertips, not his hair. He hooked some with his finger and it slid, soft and cool, over his skin and away.

Jeordie’s hand let go of him, moving to his hip instead, his fingers gripping hard enough to leave dents as he fucked Aaron from behind.

Aaron pushed his own hand down the sheet till he reached his cock. Grasping it, he began pumping, harder and faster than Jeordie’d been doing it, but then Jeordie was going pretty hard and fast himself--considering. please do not wake the chicks—

wake—

…wake…

oh god oh fucking yes! He came, shuddering, squeezing as much as he could out of himself, biting down on his lower lip to keep from losing himself. oh fuck oh fuck yes…. His body went slack against the mattress. His hand slid off his cock. His knuckles landed in a puddle of slick on the sheets. He was breathing hard, and hair clung to his face with sweat.

Behind him, Jeordie pushed at him and held on to him at the same time. He had just enough time to get his hand out of the way—and save himself from getting a broken wrist his weight landing it the wrong way—before Jeordie pushed him over, piling on top, humped him a few more times, and then came with a bitten-off sound against him.

After a few seconds, Jeordie curved an arm up around Aaron’s shoulder and fell back onto his side, pulling Aaron onto his side, too. He pressed his forehead against the back of Aaron’s head, hard. That close, with all the hair and pillows hemming them in, all Aaron could hear was labored breathing, from both of them.

Sweat and hair from Jeordie’s chest made his back itch.

Jeordie let go of him and rolled onto his back.

Aaron dropped forward, onto his belly. Into his jizz. “Shit,” he whispered.

Behind him, Jeordie sat up, got up, padded off toward the bathroom, probably slipping the condom off as he walked. Aaron picked himself up and moved a foot to the left, then dropped back down on drier sheets.

The toilet flushed.

He had his eyes closed again, but he knew Jeordie had opened the bathroom door before turning off the light by the brief change in color of the insides of his eyelids. Then they went dark.

He heard Jeordie walk past his bed and start to climb into the other one. Sounds of sheets and blankets and limbs moving, and even quick, almost wordless whispers. An “ow.” A “whuh?”

“Go over there,” he heard Jeordie whisper more loudly.

One of the girls mumbled.

“It’s okay. He’s not gonna bite you.”

Another mumble. More shifting of sheets and bodies.

“There’s not enough room. Ow—get off—. Go. Over. There.” More softly, he said, “It’ll be fine. Really. I promise. Please.”

Aaron heard feet on the carpet.

The sheets moved against his skin.

Exhausted, he pulled himself onto the wet spot.

Whichever chick had been sent over here got herself settled on the far side of the bed and stayed there.

The room quieted.

Aaron thought, That didn’t really happen. He thought, What the fuck just happened? He thought, Shouldn’t I feel different-er? …maybe I’m in shock.

Aside from the quickly warming wet spot against his hip and a little bit of a…feeling…back there, he didn’t feel…different. He didn’t feel gayer, or straighter, or more confused about himself…or…. Anything.

Mostly, he felt like it very believably could have not happened at all. Just a strange dream….

The AC clicked on, lessening the silence that pressed against him.
- 1
- 2
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

On Hotel Rooms and Their Deleterious Effects