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Wrapt	By : beautifulliar Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Nine Inch Nails Views: 1949 -:- 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
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Wrapt - Part Three

After twenty, twenty-five minutes of lying on the bed with his arm over his face, exploring his memories of the kiss—the kissing--and the slow, dry humping against the stall wall, Jeordie let his arm slip onto the pillow and opened his eyes. He blinked a few times. With his lower lip under his teeth, he sat up and swung his legs off the bed, reached for his cell phone.

Trent’s number rang. And rang. The fifth ring cut off midway through, and Trent’s voice mail picked up.

Jeordie flipped his phone shut, then sat pushing the phone’s antenna in and out with his teeth. On the one hand, Trent might just be taking a shit—or he could have put it on silent and gone to sleep. On the other hand, he might have just checked the caller ID and decided to let Jeordie go to voice mail.

So much for “Hey…doing anything right now?” Jeordie grabbed a Coke from the mini bar, started to walk away, then went back for a single serving bottle of rum. He watched TV awhile, drinking from one of the short glasses upended on a tray on top of the mini bar. After the second rum and Coke—which had to be his last because the fridge was now out of rum—he clicked off the TV, tossed the remote on the other bed, and got up to grab a few tissues, after which he lay on his back with them, in the dark, chewing his lip.

One hand lay on his chest, and his awareness shifted to its weight there. As he straightened his fingers, the bulk of the weight shifted to his collarbone. He slipped his fingers up to his neck, then from his neck to his jaw, to his chin. The side of his thumb met the corner of his lower lip. He pressed his tongue against it, then felt it against his tooth. Then it was in his mouth and he was running his tongue along the underside of his thumb, slowly. Self-consciously. He closed his mouth around it and drew it slowly out, with his eyes closed….

He sat up and swung his feet to the floor again. One more time, right? It couldn’t hurt, right? He pressed the cell phone against his ear.

After five rings: “Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice messaging—”

He folded the phone and lay back, the phone still in his hand, the arm of that hand across his face, his other arm lying again on his chest.

Eventually he set the phone on the nightstand, kicked back the sheets, stripped down to nothing, and got himself quickly, and not all that spectacularly, off. The used tissues he pushed off the bed, between it and the wall.

When Aaron stumbled in, banging against the wall just inside the door, knocking shit over in the bathroom, taking a piss with the door open and the bright bathroom lights shining, Jeordie was still lying awake in bed, thinking about how he’d been left hanging, how Trent had gotten what he wanted, and then see ya. What was that about?

Aaron stumbled into a wall again, and then seemed to trip on his own jeans which, as far as Jeordie could tell through half-open eyes, were around his shins. All of this came with louder-than-whispers interjections: “Fuck.” “Whoops.” “Ow. Shit.”

The sun was starting to come up, judging by the vaguely brightening strip at the far end of the window curtains.

“Motherfucker.”

Jeordie feigned sleep with a vengeance.

Aaron finally found his way to his bed, got his boots and jeans off, and threw himself down on his stomach with his arms spread wide. After a few minutes, his breathing deepened.

Jeordie rolled over and waited for it to be time to get up. When he couldn’t lie around any longer, he pushed himself up and headed for the bathroom. Aaron was snoring softly when Jeordie let himself out the door.

He grabbed breakfast downstairs in a restaurant adjoining the hotel’s lobby—coffee, orange juice, scrambled eggs that he just pushed around the plate, and two link sausages. His eyes glanced up every time he caught movement near the door. It was always another businessman, or businesswoman—and one family of five with cranky kids.

He returned to the room, where Aaron was still passed out on the bed.

“Hey, sleeping ugly.” He prodded Aaron’s hip with his foot. “Time to rise and shine.”

Aaron grumbled and shifted, burrowing his face under his arm.

Jeordie ignored him and turned on the TV. Then he turned up the volume, till Katie Couric’s voice was like the edge of a machete cutting through the room.

“I’m up! I’m up!” Aaron yelled without lifting his head. He rolled his body, though, and dropped it back on the bed. “Fuck, turn it the fuck off!”

Smiling a little, Jeordie sat on his own bed, his back against the pillows, one leg stretched in front of him, the other hanging off the bed.

“Here, give me the fucking remote and I’ll do it,” Aaron said. He’d rolled onto his back. His arm was stretched out between the beds, but his eyes were still squeezed shut.

“You want the remote? Come get it.” He nudged the volume up another bar.

“Fuck! Okay! You win!” Aaron tumbled out of bed, landing on the floor on his hip. “Ugh,” he said, and let his cheek drop against the carpet. His arm stretched out again. His fingers closed over Jeordie’s sneaker. “Please turn it the fuck off.” He squeezed. “Please.”

Jeordie cranked the volume down to thirteen.

“Thank you so much.”

Aaron seemed content to lie there with the side of his face mashed on the floor and his hand stretched out to hold onto the toe of Jeordie’s sneaker.

“I’m not throwing you over my shoulder and carrying you out to the bus,” Jeordie said. “Again.”

“Ha again. Fuck you, too. How much time have I got?”

“Fifteen minutes or so.”

“Fifteen! Shit.” Aaron let go of Jeordie’s sneaker to reach back and scratch his ass. “You could have let me sleep another eleven minutes.”

The Today Show cut to commercial. Some Mitsubishi thing. Jeordie looked down at Aaron, who still lay in just his underwear on the carpet.

His gaze moved from the tendrils of dark hair curled and messy against pale shoulders down the planes of his back to where it just started to curve upward before it hit the waistband of his shorts. As his eyes rested on that brief curve, he made up his mind about something he’d considered most of his wakeful night. Yeah, he thought, his gaze traveling down the back of Aaron’s right leg (thinking, at the same time, that Aaron’s build wasn’t all that far off from what Trent’s was ten years ago)—if the opportunity presents itself….

With a groan, Aaron pushed himself onto his hands and knees. “Well, shit, since I’m up, I might a well shit and shave.”

As Aaron, scratching his belly, got up and headed into the bathroom, Jeordie shifted down onto his back. He laced his fingers over his stomach. If the opportunity presents itself.

He was still lying like that when Aaron re-emerged.

“You know how you usually have, like, bags under your eyes?” Aaron asked as he stuffed dirty clothes into his bag.

“Thanks.”

“They’re like Hefty lawn and leaf bags this morning.”

“Thanks.”

“As bad as you look—” He zipped up his bag. “—you might as well have gone to the par-tay last night.”

“I don’t think I can handle another compliment.”

Aaron swung his bag over his shoulder and stood looking down at him.

Squinting, Jeordie studied his face a moment. “I seriously can’t look as bad as you right now.”

“Aw, fuck off. Let’s go.”

“You’re just trashing me,” Jeordie said as he got up and grabbed his own bag, “to make yourself feel better.”

Aaron flipped him the bird on his way out the door.

On the way down in the elevator, Aaron leaned his head back against the wall and took a twelve-second cat nap. Jeordie, leaning against one of the side walls, chewed his lip as he stared at the floor in front of Aaron’s feet.

Off the elevator, they turned away from the lobby and headed down another long corridor—dim, again, but with the sun so bright through the glass of the exit at the far end that Jeordie found himself squinting against it. Outside, they headed right, getting the sun out of their faces, and Jeordie lifted his eyes to the buses.

And his open door of opportunity.

“Hey, do me a favor and take this on the bus for me.” He shoved bag into Aaron’s arm, heedless of any rejoinder Aaron might have, and then he took off toward Trent’s bus, its door wide open.

The AC hit him as soon as he jumped up the steps. He looked left—and nodded at their tour manager, who was wetting his thumb in order to peel up a page from a pile he held on his arm. Waiting to take the page from him was the lighting guy. Beyond them, no one. “Trent around?” he asked.

“Back there.”

Jeordie excused his way by them—they were on their way off the bus anyhow—and headed past the traveling recording studio Trent had sent up in the lounge, past the mini kitchen and the bathroom, its door ajar, and stopped into the shadows just in front of the closed door to the bedroom.

He listened at the door for a few seconds. Nothing. After a deep breath, he rapped lightly.

Nothing.

He glanced quickly around, then talked himself into trying again. He knocked a little louder.

Waited.

Still nothing.

Two choices: turn around and get on your own bus—or push opportunity as far as you can.

He pressed his fingers against the door and slid it, slowly, along its tracks, moving his head to the side so that he could peer through the widening opening: floor, end of the bed, middle of the bed—and Trent standing next to it, angled away from the door—but not so angled that Jeordie couldn’t see he had a notepad in one hand and was tapping it with the other—probably a pen in that hand. Ear bud wires ran from the iPOD on his belt up to his ears. He wore a slightly too tight t-shirt and baggy shorts.

Jeordie pushed the door fully open and took a step just into the room.

The movement caught Trent’s attention. He turned, reaching down to cut off the sound from the iPOD. He raised his eyebrows.

Jeordie, his mouth open and ready to say something, shot his gaze quickly back toward the front of the bus. The driver was just climbing aboard, a paper cup of hotel coffee in one hand, a bagel in the other. He stepped further into the room and moved the door closed.

“Everything all right?” Trent asked, the ear buds still embedded.

“Oh, yeah. Everything’s—” His phone chirped. He pulled it out and frowned down at it. “Just a minute. Yeah?”

“Are…you thinking of getting on the bus sometime this morning?” Josh’s voice asked.

“Uh…. No, it’s all right. I’ll…” He paced toward the side of the room, to the farthest point away from Trent. “It’s cool, okay?” he said into the phone, trying to make his voice sound both normal and quiet.

“Uh…is that a yeah or a no?”

“It’s a ‘no, don’t worry about it’.”

“Gotcha. Okay. See ya at the next stop. Don’t get lost.”

“See ya.”

When Jeordie folded his phone and slipped it back into his pocket, Trent, having turned away to tap on his notepad some more, turned back and pulled an ear bud out. “So, I’ve got a passenger, huh?”

“If I’m just gonna be in the way, you know, I—”

“Don’t worry about it.” He dropped the ear bud and turned his attention back to the notebook.

From where he stood, Jeordie could just detect a thin squawk of noise coming from the ear bud hanging by Trent’s side. He glanced around. He pushed his fingers into his pockets to see how that worked for him. Then he cleared his throat.

Trent looked up.

“I think we, uh, have some unfinished business.” There. Out. He let himself fall back slightly, against a narrow strip of wall.

A stretch of silence filled the air between them. He’d have said more if his brain could think of anything to say, but it focused wholly and in growing alarm at the words he’d already said, as though they hung large in the air between them. He imagined Trent watching him through the letters, his unreadable eyes stark and plain between the lines of “I think we” and “have some”, his mouth a line between that and “unfinished business.” Jeordie’s lips parted softly. His trepidation was palpable; there was a stirring of something else, too, the fragile awakening of an interest in Trent, in this conversation, in this moment—and what the next moment would be—that was more than cerebral.

Trent nodded, once, not much of a nod at all, and said, “Maybe we do.” He distributed his weight across both feet. “So, what are you going to do about that?”

“Well, to tell you the truth, I hadn’t really thought it out this far. Or, well—I mean, I jump to the good stuff when I do think about it….”

Trent’s eyes sparked. The corner of his mouth twitched. “You mean good stuff like my cock in your ass….”

“Ha. You wish.” He pushed off the wall. “I said we weren’t finished, not that I wanted a redo.”

Trent’s eyebrow lifted a little.

It actually sent a little thrill through Jeordie. He started across the narrow room. “Put the book and pen down.”

“Are you gonna make me?”

Jeordie stopped within reaching distance of him. Self-consciousness rose, but he fought it down. “Nope.” He said, “You’ll just do it if you’re curious enough about finding out what comes next. And next. And next….”

Trent held out his arms and dropped the notebook, then the pen, onto the bed.

“iPOD, too.”

He unclipped it and wrapped the ear bud wires around it. Held it up for Jeordie to see before dropping it on the bed. He lifted his arms out at his sides to show he had nothing else on him. “So. What is next?”

Yeah, what was next…. He cocked his head and took a step and a half back, trying to cover for himself—make it look like he was checking Trent out, considering him—while he scrambled to think.

His heart was beating a little fast, partly from being put on the spot, but moreso, maybe—just a little—from being in charge. “Turn around,” he said, twirling two fingers slowly.

With his palms open and turned up, Trent turned in place. When he faced Jeordie again, both of his eyebrows were up.

A little bit of a smile played at the corners of Jeordie’s mouth.

“Well, what’s next?” Trent asked. “You want me to yank down my shorts and bend over?” As he said this, his fingers went to the button on his shorts and he turned toward the bed, bending, just a little. His eyebrows were up again.

“Nah, leave ‘em on for now.” Jeordie stepped forward again. “But get on the bed, on your hands and knees.”

Trent’s laugh was short and noiseless. He didn’t bother straightening from his slightly bent position; he just crawled up onto the bed, letting toes hang over the edge. When Jeordie neared, he pushed his ass back toward him, waving it a little. “Like this?” Smirking, he looked over his arm at Jeordie.

“Like that.” Jeordie gave his ass a light smack, then stepped behind him, grabbed his hips, and yanked him back until he was seated against his crotch.

Trent dropped his head.

Jeordie wondered what was going through his mind.

He put his right hand on Trent’s lower back, flat, and pushed the heel of his hand upward. Trent’s shirt rucked up against it, exposing a patch of skin that felt warm against the side of Jeordie’s thumb. He paused, both enjoying the moment and gathering courage to go further—then twisted the back of Trent’s shirt in his fist and pulled it.

Trent’s head came up again, the shirt collar tight against his neck. He said, looking straight ahead, “You think you’re man enough to pull this off?”

“I did all the pulling I’m gonna do last night.”

Trent laughed again.

Jeordie slipped his hand under Trent’s shirt, fingers sliding over stomach, ribs…. He was doing this. A hot pang drove through his guts. His fingertips dug in. He was really doing this.

Trent pressed against him with a little grind. “Feels like you’re ready to do this already.” There was a quiet laugh in his voice.

“This isn’t a public restroom—” Jeordie cleared his throat; his voice didn’t sound right. It didn’t feel right, either. “—and we’re not due on stage in twenty minutes. I think I can take my time.” The not-right feel of his voice in his throat didn’t go away. In fact, it was getting thicker. He moved his hand over Trent’s ass, then turned his hand and pushed it down between the two of them, thinking about Trent’s walking off on him in the restroom.

Thinking about his lack of sexual etiquette.

He pushed his fingers pushed between Trent’s legs, from the back.

Trent made a noise—almost a laugh, but too low to be a laugh. His right shoulder dipped. He reached below himself. Jeordie thought he was unbuttoning his shorts—until a hand closed roughly around two of his fingers, trapping them between Trent’s legs.

They squeezed hard; Jeordie’s knuckles grinded together. He winced and stopped himself from saying something about it.

“This isn’t going to be as easy as you think,” Trent said without looking back—and then, he swung his leg up and around, holding tight to Jeordie’s fingers. Jeordie bobbed his head back to avoid getting cuffed by his heel.

And then Trent lay face-up on the bed, both feet on the floor, his knees splayed.

Grinning.

Jeordie twisted his fingers free.

“What are you gonna do?” Trent asked. He stretched his arms over his head, still grinning.

“I think that’s for me to know,” Jeordie said, climbing onto the bed to straddle his thighs. He put his hands on his hips and looked down at him.

Trent, the grin closer to a small, satisfied smile now, touched Jeordie’s thighs, started to slide his hands slowly up them.

Oh no—Jeordie twisted Trent’s wrists off of him.

Trent’s eyebrow bobbed up again.

Jeordie bent forward to pin Trent’s wrists to the bed. “You touch me when and where I tell you to.”

“Is that an order?” Trent shifted a little underneath him, just enough to press solid evidence of his willingness to play along against Jeordie’s crotch.

Jeordie risked letting go of a wrist so that he could trace Trent’s lower lip with his thumb. Whiskers scratched his skin, feeling a lot like the itch that had plagued him between his shoulder blades. It took him a second to realize Trent was opening his mouth, slowly—and then he became mesmerized by the pink tip of Trent’s tongue reaching out for his thumb. He could sense Trent watching him as his tongue explored the sworls of his thumbprint, the ridge of his thumbnail, but he couldn’t pull his gaze from Trent’s mouth. It opened wider, and Jeordie found his thumb following Trent’s mouth back inside, Trent’s lips closing around it. Heat and wetness engulfed his thumb—and Trent, his eyes half closed (Jeordie risked a quick glance), started to suck. And lick. And suck.

Jeordie splayed his fingers against Trent’s cheek. He had to let go of Trent’s wrist so he could brace his hand against Trent’s chest, for better support. Beguiled, he watched as Trent put on a dirty, dirty show with his mouth.

When Jeordie started to withdraw his thumb—feeling, suddenly, a bit more urgency about this whole thing—Trent tilted his chin up, then lifted his head, trying to stay with it. Jeordie put his weight on the hand on Trent’s chest, and Trent, giving up, his head back on the bed.

Jeordie’s head felt like a swirl of colors running down a drain. He sat back on Trent’s legs and said thickly, “Take off your shirt.” He put his hands on his own thighs, for someplace to put them. He dug his fingers in as Trent crossed his arms and curled up in a crunch movement to get the shirt off with Jeordie sitting on him.

Lying back again, Trent held his t-shirt up, dangling from his thumb.

Jeordie took it. It was warm. He tossed it on the floor beyond the bed. And then he looked down.

Trent’s hands crept up Jeordie’s thighs again, cutting into Jeordie’s thoughts about how he’d seen Trent shirtless—even naked—how many times? but not—

He closed his hands around Trent’s wrists. “Don’t make me have to tell you again.” He returned Trent’s hands, palms up, to the bed.

“Yeah? What are you gonna do?”

“Get up and walk away—see how you like that.”

Trent laughed. “And what, radio the other bus driver to pull up alongside so you can jump from this roof to that one?”

Jeordie leaned forward again, his hands braced on either side of Trent’s face, his hair hanging down. “No, I’ll just go watch TV and ignore you till the ride’s over.”

“Yeah, that’ll work.”

Raising his eyebrows, Jeordie gave it half a moment’s consideration. “Right. Why punish myself for your inability to do what I tell you to?”

“That’s right!”

“I’ll just have to come up with some other means of correction.” He shifted his hips a little; just enough to send a warm, gooey reminder to his gut of what they were playing at here.

“That’s just…” Trent’s hands came up off the bed. “…what…” His fingers closed around Jeordie’s upper arms. He was smirking as he spoke. “…you should—”

—Jeordie smacked him across the left cheek with his open hand.

Immediately, his gut clenched; he’d gone too far.

Trent’s face stayed turned away. A red blotch surfaced against his cheek.

The palm of Jeordie’s hand still tingled. He started to open his mouth to launch into a hundred apologies, but he barely got “I” out before Trent—not looking too pissed at least—sat up and grabbed him by the shoulders.

He was still prepared to say “I’m sorry”, but the room spun over him as Trent flipped him. The both of them fell half off the bed.

With his teeth clenched, Trent put a hand against Jeordie’s neck. He said, lowly, “You wanna play rough?”

“I—”

“Come on.” Trent’s fingers and thumb pressed against the sides of his throat. With his other hand, he twisted Jeordie’s hand off his forearm and shoved it away. “Come on, you wanna play it that way, let’s go.”

He had no immediate response.

Trent pushed his hand between them, and after half a second, Jeordie realized he was fumbling for the button on his jeans.

He wasn’t being choked, just held down, and not all that effectively at that, so while he did find the feel of Trent’s fingers pressed against his throat a little, yeah, hot, staying under him and letting him do whatever he wanted would only—

He felt the button give.

—wind up with things turning out a lot like they had the other day. And that wasn’t how this was gonna go down.

He came to life. His right hip knocked against Trent’s left. He planted his sneaker on the edge of the bed. Pushed his hand against Trent’s face, his palm flat against Trent’s chin and mouth, his fingers going up one side of Trent’s face, his thumb the other. With his foot for leverage, he kept pushing up and to his left, trying to knock or spill or move Trent off of him. He felt Trent’s teeth against his hand—not biting, smiling. Jeordie edged his hand over, getting his fingers around the side of Trent’s head, pushing Trent to the left while he tried to climb out from under Trent to the right.

Trent’s hand, squeezing on the outside of his jeans, made his head warm and swimmy, and he wanted to lie back down and let Trent at it—but he’d probably end up flipped over thirty seconds later, his jeans around his knees.

With his other hand, Trent grabbed a handful of Jeordie’s hair.

“Pulling hair like a girl now, huh?” Jeordie grimaced and rolled Trent off him. As soon as he won the top, he covered Trent’s mouth with his hand again—and then he felt teeth, and this time they were biting, but not to hurt. There was tongue involved, too, and Trent’s hand was still grabbing at his crotch, alternating between squeezing and rubbing…and tugging at his fly.

Trent’s nipples were hard. Jeordie used his free hand to pull at them. He felt a rush of breath against the heel of his other hand.

And then Trent grabbed his arm and pulled his hand off his mouth. He lifted his head, his gaze flickering between Jeordie’s mouth and Jeordie’s eyes.

Jeordie let him come up, closer…closer…close…. Close enough that he started to feel like a tractor beam was engaging, making him want to lean toward Trent, just the slightest—and then he pulled back, both of his hands shoving Trent back down.

Trent held onto his upper arms, smiling a little, his lip sneering. He was breathing heavy, too.

With one hand still pressed firmly against Trent’s chest, Jeordie pulled the button on Trent’s shorts free. Then he grasped the zipper pull between his thumb and finger and drew it up and over the bulge in Trent’s shorts, while Trent, his chin pressed against his chest, watched.

Backing up, Jeordie started pulling the shorts off. Trent lifted his hips till his shorts came down off his ass, then he dropped back on the bed. He kicked off the shorts when Jeordie dropped them around his ankles.

Jeordie stood.

Trent didn’t move to get up; he put his foot on the bed, though, and lifted his hips an inch or so. Without taking his eyes off Jeordie, he pushed himself backward, so that more of him was actually on the bed.

Jeordie grabbed the waistband of Trent’s underwear and pulled them off.

And then Trent lay naked on the bed, his tumescent cock lying against him.

Jeordie found himself standing next to the bed, feeling slightly dazed. And horny.

“You want me to suck it?” Trent asked, lifting one shoulder just slightly off the bed, reaching a hand in Jeordie’s direction.

Jeordie’s mouth was dry. He was breathing in short, shallow bursts.

“Come on,” Trent said, his fingers reaching for Jeordie’s crotch but not quite making it. “Come on.”

Jeordie started unzipping his fly even as he dropped a knee on the bed. He was in reach of Trent’s hand now, and that hand pushed right inside his jeans and felt oh so good. He dropped his other knee on the other side of Trent and walked his way up as Trent, with both hands now, tried to get Jeordie’s jeans and underwear off his hips, and his cock out.

By the time his ass was over Trent’s stomach, Trent’s head was up off the mattress, his mouth open and soft. Jeordie pushed his hand over Trent’s shorn head, his fingertips curling, pressing against Trent’s skull as Trent’s hot, wet tongue swirled, finally, around the head of his cock.

He let Trent take the head of it into his mouth and lick and suck and even kiss it and lick some more. His body just want to fall over to its side and maybe roll on its back and just lie there and enjoy this, and as if he’d given some subtle signal, Trent starting nudging him over, and so he went, stretching out on the bed, Trent pulling at his jeans and underwear, yanking his sneakers off without untying them. Jeordie, somewhat listlessly, pulled his shirt over his head and let it drop wherever it did. He still had jeans around his ankles when Trent climbed back on the bed and laid an arm across Jeordie’s thighs. He started sucking Jeordie off even as Jeordie tried to kick his jeans off his feet.

It felt…great.

Super great.

Super fantastic unbelievably great.

And it wasn’t—he thought—it wasn’t like it had to be tit for tat, ass for ass, right? He dropped an arm over his head. His eyes were open. His head was tilted back. He could nearly see the wall behind him. It felt fucking fabulous.

He lifted his head suddenly and pushed Trent—who didn’t comply immediately or willingly—off his cock.

“What’s up?”

Jeordie just watched him, his face, his eyes—evaluating. Thinking.

Trent’s hands roamed his stomach, his thighs, his cock, slowly, sensually—the whole time he held Jeordie’s gaze, waiting.

“Fuck me” nearly came out of Jeordie’s mouth; he was turned on, he was nearly at the point where he’d start grabbing things—fistsful of blanket, his own hair, anything he could reach…. But.

“I’m gonna fuck you,” he said instead, his voice sounding unexpectedly clear.

Trent’s hands moved up Jeordie’s chest to his shoulders, and Trent lowered his face. He gave Jeordie’s cock another flick of his tongue. And then, with his head still bent, he said, “Okay.”

Heat rushed through Jeordie, right up to his burning earlobes. He sat up, and Trent moved back, which put him on the floor. On his knees on the floor, between Jeordie’s knees, his forehead pressing against Jeordie’s sternum, his hands on Jeordie’s back. Jeordie came this close to nudging Trent’s mouth toward his cock again--this close…. But instead he said, “Get up on the bed. Like you were before.”

“Let me get a condom first.”

“What?” Jeordie pulled back

Trent had already turned away to head, on his knees, toward a low cabinet.

“You didn’t use one in the—”

“I didn’t have one. Hold on, there should be some in here—”

“You didn’t ‘have’ one?”

Trent sat back, his back to Jeordie. Jeordie couldn’t see his face. He watched Trent’s hand, which hung from the top of the open cabinet door.

“I didn’t have one,” Trent said. “And—I realize I sound like a total shit—but I didn’t think it was much of a risk. I’m clean.”

“And I’m not?”

Trent pressed his forehead against the knuckles of the hand that held the door.

Fuck.

Trent said, without lifting his head, “It’s not that. It’s just that I know I’m clean, you know? And I don’t know you’re clean. Because I’m not you. I’m not walking around with you 24 hours a day in your life.” He turned his face toward Jeordie.

Jeordie’s thoughts spooled away…. He hadn’t been upset about the lack of a condom the other day. He’d trusted Trent. Whether he should have or not was an issue to be taken up with himself, and he was fairly sure that if he lay awake thinking about it all night, he’d come to the conclusion that he did trust Trent. Because—whoa—never mind the condom. Think about what they’d done!

When he looked up, Trent hadn’t moved—his hand was still holding on to the top of the cabinet door, his temple was still against his knuckles, his eyes were still watching him.

Jeordie rubbed his hands over his face. “All right.” He lay back on the bed, his arms spread, and said, while looking up at the ceiling, “You’re gonna have to get it hard again, though.”

There was another second or three of silence, during which Jeordie thought he could feel his heart beating slowly in his chest.

Then: “Is that an order?”

His smile came out of nowhere. “Damn fucking straight.”

He closed his eyes and listened to Trent root through the cabinet. Listened to the door shut. Heard something land on the bed. Opening his eyes, he saw it was a jar of petroleum jelly and a condom packet.

Trent stood looking down at him, his legs on either side of Jeordie’s knee.

It seemed like there was still a slight red tinge on his left cheek.

Trent put his knee on the bed.

Jeordie sat up on his elbows. “I changed my mind.”

Trent looked up. “What?”

“Don’t worry.” He pushed up from his elbows. “I’m still gonna have your ass. But first—” He grabbed hold of Trent and started to pull him across him. “—I’m going to get myself hard.”

“What?”

“Lie down.” He shoved and pulled Trent till Trent was lying across his lap with one foot on the bed, the other on the floor.

“What are you doing?”

He shoved and pulled until Trent’s ass was across his lap. Trent twisted his head around to watch—not smiling, definitely not smirking. There was something else on his face, something that softened his features. Made him look young.

Jeordie rubbed his hand over Trent’s skin. Then he leaned to his left and squeezed the back of Trent’s neck with his fingers. “So, was that the whole of your plan the other day? Fuck Jeordie, walk away, don’t worry about it?”

Trent just watched him.

When Jeordie’s fingers rubbed over Trent’s lips, Trent’s tongue licked them. And Trent’s eyes watched him.

Jeordie straightened. He rubbed his palm over Trent’s ass again. He flashed a smile Trent’s way—then he pulled back, maybe a foot, and smacked him.

Trent didn’t flinch; he grinded. He put his head down. He grinded again, when Jeordie didn’t immediately give him another smack—he was too busy watching the pink rise against Trent’s pale skin.

“You’re a shit, aren’t you?” Jeordie asked, eyes on the pink.

“Yes.” Squirm. Grind.

“And what’d you do recently that made you such a shit?” Jeordie asked.

“Ahhhh….”

Jeordie pulled his hand back again—farther. He smacked Trent’s ass twice as hard as before, then clutched it.

“Unh….” Grind. Grind. Trent’s fingers dug into the bedding.

Thwack. Twack.

“Fuck….”

Thwack!

“Ah!”

Thwack! Jeordie watched the muscles in Trent’s back bunch and release, bunch and release. Finally he leaned over again. Instead of grabbing Trent’s neck, he grabbed his ear, sharply.

Trent let out a hiss of air, and his eyes squeezed closed. His hand came off the bed a little, like he wanted to pull Jeordie’s fingers away—but wouldn’t.

“Tell me in what ways you’ve been such a shit since you walked into that restroom.” Twist.

“Ah! I—” He caught his breath. His hand still hovered in the air. His shoulder bunched up toward his ear. “I—ran out on you.” In almost a whisper, he said, “I didn’t think I’d get as far as I did….”

Jeordie gave another short twist before releasing Trent’s ear and pushing his head away.

Trent grinded, just a little.

…tried…tried…wanted…tried… whispered at the base of Jeordie’s skull, tickling him. He pushed Trent off his lap, onto the floor. Trent rolled onto his back, one knee cocked, one arm over his eyes. The head of his cock was an angry purple. It seemed to throb—or Jeordie’s eyes were throbbing.

He ripped at the condom packet open with his teeth.

tried…tried…always wanted ….

Trent’s fingers closed around Jeordie’s ankle like a clamp. Jeordie could hear him breathing heavy. The packet tore, but not so he could get the condom out. He tried again.

Trent’s hand moved up his leg. Then the other hand. The hands pulled at him. One grabbed his knee and pulled.

The condom packet opened.

Trent sat up, quickly, and caught Jeordie’s wrist—then lay back down, yanking Jeordie with him.

He dropped the condom packet on the bed with the condom still in it and arranged himself on his hands and knees in the narrow space between bed and wall, looking down at Trent, one of Trent’s legs against the wall, the other extended between Jeordie’s knees. Trent still had a hold of his wrist, and with his other arm he caught Jeordie by the back of his neck and pulled him down. Jeordie’s knees slipped backward; his elbows and forearms came to rest on the floor. Trent’s mouth reached for him—and then they were kissing with great noisy breaths. Jeordie pushed Trent’s head back down to the floor, using his chin, his lips, his teeth. He stretched out his arms so that he lay, chest-against-chest, on top of Trent. His bare right foot wedged itself in the corner created by wall and cabinet. His left knee pinned itself just under the jutting platform of the bed. These were minor concerns as Trent’s hands roamed down his back to his ass and their cocks dug against each other’s bellies—and Trent’s head lifted just an inch or so off the floor so he could push his tongue farther into Jeordie’s mouth.

A minute passed, then another. They shifted, their knees starting to complain. Jeordie rolled a little against the wall; Trent rolled a little against Jeordie. His fingers walked up Jeordie’s thigh, his hip, then stole between them to hold Jeordie’s cock loosely. His tongue slowed down; his lips softened. The kissing became less heated, more luxurious. Trent’s fingers opened. He flattened his hand against Jeordie’s stomach, moved slowly up to his chest. He brought his leg over Jeordie’s, knee against the wall. Backing his hips up, he reached down again, this time to push Jeordie’s cock down until, when he pulled his hips close again, Jeordie’s cock was pushed straight out and Trent’s sac lay warm against its shaft.

Trent stopped kissing him. He pulled his face away a bit, watching Jeordie’s mouth. His head moved forward again, just a bit, like he wanted, really, really wanted to kiss Jeordie again, but he caught himself, pulled in a breath, and traced his fingers down Jeordie’s right-bending nose. Then he fluttered them up Jeordie’s cheek—then brought them down over Jeordie’s left eye, Jeordie’s eye fluttering closed. Trent’s fingertips were nothing more than the caress of a breeze. When he opened his eye, his lashes brushed the pad of Trent’s finger, and then he looked beyond the finger, into the eyes that were looking into his.

“Let’s get on the bed,” Trent said in almost a whisper.

Without taking his eyes from Trent’s, Jeordie nodded.

Trent touched Jeordie’s mouth with the tips of his fingers, then pulled away, as much as he could pull away in that narrow space between bed and wall, and they became a clumsy tangle of limbs until they could extract themselves from the space and lie, side by side, on the bed. Trent, on his side, traced his fingers down the center of Jeordie’s chest. His hand spread out and flattened just below Jeordie’s sternum.

Jeordie turned toward Trent’s eyes again. He wondered where they were right now, what highway they were motoring down. Or up. He thought of cars pulling into the left lane, speeding by, not having a clue what was going on in the bus chugging along the interstate.

Trent leaned over and kissed him again, softly—and his arm reached out, patting the bed for the condom packet. Then he took his lips away. Jeordie tipped his chin up, sucking in a deep breath, the anticipation killing him.

He felt Trent’s lips on his neck, soft and warm where they touched, and scratchy like the itch on his back where his chin skated along his skin.

He felt Trent’s lips next on one of his nipples. The condom packet rustled, and he kissed just above Jeordie’s navel. His hand, with the packet in it, came to rest on Jeordie’s stomach, and he kissed the head of Jeordie’s cock. His tongue licked it slowly, creating a sensation a lot like warm, rich cream being drizzled over it.

Jeordie, letting his breath out, looked down at the feel of Trent’s fingers lifting his cock. He watched Trent draw the condom out of its packet using his teeth and tongue. The packet he crumpled and tossed against the wall. His tongue ran like rich cream over the head of Jeordie’s cock again, and then he placed the condom over it and unrolled it, slowly—sensually—down his shaft.

Jeordie’s toes curled.

He kissed Jeordie’s balls, then the inside of one thigh, the inside of the other. Back up to his navel again. His sternum. A spot on his right clavicle. His cheek. His eyelid. The side of his nose.

His lips, again, finally: a soft, warm kiss with no tongue, not until just before he pulled away, teasing Jeordie’s lips with just the tip of it, gone in an instant. He sat up, straddling Jeordie, reaching for the jar of petroleum jelly.

Jeordie watched through half-lidded eyes as Trent, the fingers of one hand shiny with Vaseline, lifted up and forward, off Jeordie’s thighs. He reached behind him to grab and coat Jeordie’s cock with the Vaseline in one motion. Jeordie’s eyelids started to close; his eyes started to roll upward as Trent’s fist worked the Vaseline up and down. He allowed himself a slow, sighing breath before he turned his eyes back to Trent—Trent’s bent head, Trent’s bobbing cock, Trent’s other hand, its fingertips tented on Jeordie’s stomach. And then Trent lifted up and back again and guided Jeordie’s cock behind him.

Trent’s features tightened; his eyes pressed closed. He pushed himself downward, against Jeordie’s cock, and then there was an opening— It spread around Jeordie’s cock, engulfing it, swallowing it tightly.

Inch by inch he felt heat and muscle close around him until Trent was seated, fully, against him, ass on Jeordie’s upper thighs. Trent relaxed, then, sitting for a moment as though there were nothing going on—and to Jeordie’s mind came the words “fully engaged”, for that was what it felt like, his cock as deep up Trent’s ass as it was ever going to get.

Trent braced a hand on Jeordie’s chest, leaned forward a little, and began to fuck himself, slowly and with his face drawn in concentration, on Jeordie’s cock.

His eyes flicked up toward Jeordie’s then—their gazes met, held…and broke away with Jeordie pushing his head back, closing his eyes, reaching for Trent’s back, his thighs. He closed a hand around Trent’s cock and felt around on the bed for the tub of Vaseline. He found it, its lid still off, and scooped his fingers through the finger tracks Trent had made. Applying it to Trent’s cock brought a soft groan out of him.

Trent sat up, then back a little, bracing himself with a hand behind him on Jeordie’s thighs. Fucking himself, still, on Jeordie, his lips parted; his eyelashes fluttered as he moved between concentration and taking in glimpses of Jeordie.

What Trent was doing to him was almost torturous, moving up and down him as slow as a dirge. Jeordie’s fist tightened on Trent’s cock, and then sped up, and so did Trent—and then again, Trent moving faster to beat Jeordie’s new speed. There was slapping and huffing and fuck and oh god—

Oh fuck, fuck me Trent was whispering. Whining. Keening. Fuck me--. Slap. Slap. Slap. Fffffugh SlapslapslapslapslapslapslapNowslapslapoh god nowslapslapslapslsapslapslapSlapSlapSlapSLAPSLAPSLAPSLAPSL—

“UNGH! Un—”

Heat spilled over Jeordie’s hand. He kept pumping; more heat spurted out and ran down his wrist. He pumped until Trent closed his fist, hard, around his wrist, stilling it—and Trent’s thighs kept going, fucking him, harder and faster, fucking him like mad until Jeordie’s fingernails dug into Trent’s side and his toes tried to grab the bed and his head rocked back, his chin and neck coming up high and exposed and the life felt like it was coursing right through his groin and out of him, wracking him with shudders—leaving him, finally, supersensitive to touch. Each soft caress of Trent’s fingers on his skin—chest, sides, neck—made his muscles jerk. And Trent was still sitting on him. He was still inside Trent.

He reached up and put his hands on Trent’s shoulders.

Trent touched the tips of his fingers to Jeordie’s lips.

And then Trent, sweaty and breathing hard, rolled off him, onto his back, onto the bed. He crooked a knee. He dropped the back of his hand against the bridge of his nose. He swallowed, licked his lips, and swallowed again.

Jeordie, dazed and spent, sat up with a tired grunt.

He reached over his shoulder to scratch an itch between his shoulder blades.

He was as sweaty as Trent was. He wiped his forehead with his arm and pushed a long stream of air between his lips.

Trent tapped his knuckles against the side of Jeordie’s leg. “I’m dying of thirst. Get me a bottle of water? They’re in the fridge over there.” He pointed toward a built-in mini fridge.

“Yeah.” He moved slowly toward the end of the bed.

“Get yourself one, too.”

“’Kay.” He padded across the floor, crouched down and opened it—sighed contentedly as cool air settled across his face. He picked up a bottle by its neck. “Catch.” He tossed it toward the bed, heard the slap of Trent catching it. Pulled out a cold bottle for himself and, still hunkered down in front of the open door, he ran the side of the bottle across his forehead, over each cheek and down his chest. Finally he shut the door and stood, cranking the bottle open. He turned and leaned against the cabinets the fridge was built into.

Trent lay on the bed, his chest rising and falling, his bottle—half empty already—loosely held in one outstretched hand.

Jeordie drank. He stopped to breathe—he still hadn’t properly caught his breath—and then he drank some more.

While he twisted the cap back on the bottle, Trent spoke without moving.

“She’s meeting up with the tour tomorrow.”

The first response to come to mind—‘cool’, a mere acknowledgement of the statement—didn’t seem appropriate. Nothing else came to mind, though a sinking feeling did come to his stomach. He tightened the cap till it would tighten no more.

And the silence seemed like it was going to go on forever.

Jeordie screwed up his courage and said, “Are you gonna to mention this to her?”

It was good that he was looking at Trent because Trent’s only answer was to shake his head.

Trent reached over and set the bottle down beside the bed. Rubbing his face with his hands, he sat up.

Then he dropped his hands to his lap.

Jeordie concentrated on working the cap of his bottle loose again.

Trent said, “I don’t know what the fuck I’m gonna do.” And he sat there, his hands in his lap.

Whatever town they were passing through passed by them unnoticed. Jeordie took a sip off his bottle. He fingered the ridges on the cap, where the plastic seal had broken.

He felt Trent looking at him. He looked up.

Trent said, “I’m too fucking old to become the LAMBDA poster child.”

Jeordie furrowed his brow, then he shrugged. His focused on the bottle cap again. He wasn’t out to be anybody’s poster child either. He took a quick pull off the bottle without raising his eyes. Without looking at Trent.

“Would you do this again?” Trent asked, “Or is your curiosity sated?”

“Well, my curiosity is sated,” Jeordie said. And then he said, “You know, for now.”

Trent watched him. He could feel him watching him. He shrugged—more of a tic than an answer. “It was pretty hot, I’ll admit.” He still felt Trent watching him.

Finally, he looked up and met Trent’s eye.

A smile cracked on Trent’s face. He laughed. When he was through, he said, “You’re not fucking kidding about that.”

Jeordie, smiling a little himself, shrugged again. “Yeah, well. Whatever. No one has to make any big, life-changing decisions today. Or tomorrow. Or next year even.” He threw another swallow of water back. To be honest, he wasn’t sure he could make a life-changing decision—a decision about what, exactly? The leap from a hot fuck to discussing what color they should paint their bedroom was a chasm he couldn’t imagine, never mind cross.

After another moment, Trent said, “Is it going to be really awkward? When she gets here?”

Another shrug. A grin. “I’ll just hole up with Aaron.”

Trent chuckled. “Yeah.”

“I’ve gotta put my energies toward beating God of War anyway.” He chucked his bottle cap toward the trash bin. Then he reached back and scratched between his shoulder blades. “Plus, I think I’m allergic to you.”

“I get under your skin?”

“Riiiiiight.”

“I’m fucking starving.”

Jeordie’s stomach rumbled, but another feeling was stronger—it was pulling his shoulder’s down and making his eyelids droop. “I’m fucking exhausted.” As he said it, he felt it keenly, that dreary tiredness that only gets worse with each yawn.

Trent flipped back a corner of the bedcovers and patted the bed. As Jeordie dropped onto it, Trent got up. “You want anything to eat?”

He pushed his legs under the sheets, warmed still from their lying on top of them. He settled his head on a pillow. “Nah. Maybe later.”

“I’m gonna work on some stuff out there a bit.” He was buttoning his shorts already.

“’Kay.” He closed his eyes.

He felt Trent pause at the door.

His eyes opened.

“I’ll wake you up when we pull into town,” Trent said.

“Thanks.”

Trent nodded a little. And still it seemed like he wasn’t ready to leave.

Adjusting the sheets around his waist, not even looking at Trent, Jeordie said, “I’d probably do it again.”

A second or three passed. Then: “Me, too.”

The door slid open, then shut.

And Jeordie fell asleep to the soft shshshsh of the road passing beneath them.

~fin~
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