Straight Boys | By : icesk8ergrrl86 Category: Individual Celebrities > Criss Angel Views: 1699 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the celebrity I am writing about. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Title: Straight Boys
Author: Allison Wonderland
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Criss Angel/Jeffree Star
Summary: Oh, hell. Who knows where this is going?
Warning(s): Jeffree Star. That pretty much covers it but for anyone who doesn’t know who I’m talking about, I should probably explain. Language, homosexuality, consensual sex between two adults of the same gender.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Never will be. I’m making no money and this never happened.
Note(s): None.
~*~
I wanna boy with juicy lips.
Who doesn't care I don't have tits.
I wanna boy like me but hotter.
To eat me out like Jeffrey Dahmer.
Straight Boys I must confess.
Wanna get under my dress.
Give me a kiss kiss...
Give me a fist fist...
-Straight Boys by Jeffree Star
~*~
His back arches. His head presses hard against the pillow and a lock of jet black hair falls across one eye. Both of his eyes are squeezed tightly shut. His fingers are tangled in long, hot pink hair that never seems to fall out of place. The head attached to the unique colored hair is currently bobbing up and down somewhere just below his waist.
Criss never in a million years thought to find himself in bed with another man. Or maybe boy would be a better term since Jeffree is barely old enough to drink. Legally that is. Or maybe neither term applies at all because everything about Jeffree – except his genitalia – is more female than male. Which would imply that Criss is not gay, not bi, and still very much heterosexual. He just happens to like Jeffree because the younger man (boy? girl? transsexual? transvestite? trans-something?) is everything he likes in a girl – taller than Criss himself is, especially in those hot pink stiletto heels, thin to the point of emaciation, the tiniest bit controlling, and a whole lot of bitchy.
Oh, and Jeffree apparently has the ability to suck a Hummer through a bendy straw.
Which, come to think of it, would be a totally awesome illusion to have on his show now that he has promised his mother no more death defying stunts.
Jeffree’s long, sharp pink nails dig into Criss’s skin and slide down his stomach. Criss is forcefully reminded of exactly what and whom he is doing and knows he’s going to have bloody scratches from those nails in the morning. That’s another of the good things about sex with Jeffree versus sex with a girl. Jeffree has seen his show. He knows Criss likes pain and he isn’t afraid to dish it out. The not quite anorexic models Criss usually goes for are rarely ever into that sort of thing and even when they are they’re intimidated by the fact that he’s Criss Angel, yes, that Criss Angel. Jeffree knew from the moment they met that he’s Criss Angel, yes, that Criss Angel. But unlike Criss’s usual brand of girl, Jeffree doesn’t give a fuck how famous he is, something he informed Criss of approximately two seconds after they were introduced.
Jeffree swirls his tongue around the portion of Criss’s anatomy currently in his mouth before he scrapes his teeth against the sensitive flesh. The pain is nothing compared to the fingernails creating shallow scratches down his chest and stomach but the extra little bit is enough to send Criss over the edge and he comes, screaming his lover’s name.
Jeffree rests his head on Criss’s stomach until he can feel the older man’s breathing even out. Then he sits up to look at the illusionist. He knows Criss watches him lick his lips. It isn’t even midnight yet and Jeffree has plenty of plans for what to do with the straight boy he has managed to get into his bed tonight.
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