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smutcutter.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fellowshippers2006-01-27 07:55 pm
smutcutter.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2006-01-27 07:55 pm
Don't Ask, Don't Tell (8/8)
Title: Don't Ask, Don't Tell (8/8)
Author:![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
smutcutter
Pairing: SB/OC (Harris)
Rating: NC-17 (for this chapter and scattered throughout)
Warning: This contains an original character... don't hate the playa...
Disclaimer: This is totally fake! Beyond fake! Never happened, never will - hell, some of the main characters are out my own demented mind.
Summary: Sean falls for a man, Harris - it was the best of times - it was the worst of times - it's told in many flashbacks - this is not a work in progress, it's done - I will be posting a chapter every few days. I want to thanktiggothy for her super fast and amazing beta work, hippediva for her constant support, and frahulettaes for everything....
And I want to thank everyone that has been reading this - is you are missing any chapters, let me know and I will gladly send you any links - and there is another Sean/Harris story on it's way... with Viggo...
********************
Sean finished the beer and went to grab another when a light caught his eye. One of those damned coins, he though, and scooped it up feeling the coldness in his palm. He stood and held it tight, the pattern etching its way into his skin and he wondered if he could ever really erase it.
Harris turned over in his sleep.
********************
Since, skydiving was right out, he would joke, Harris had gone into consulting full time. He was called away for a James Bond style cat burglar project that would require he be gone for three weeks . Sean found himself alone and was not sure that he liked it. It gave him too much time to think about all the things he didn't care for about Harris' past. He, himself, had spent the last few years being a complete playboy, having as many as three girlfriends at one time. He gained a Don Juan-like reputation with the ladies and seemed to revel in it. Then, he met Harris and it all went to hell. He needed to think, long and hard, whether this was the right thing for him, for the two of them. Hell, his parents were ready for him to settle down and get married again and doubted they would approve of his and his towels for the wedding gifts.
On his fifth night alone, he received a phone call from his friend Richard. Richard's wife, Angela, was in a play, this was the closing night and Sean must come and see it.
"Besides," Richard added. "I know you are alone and brooding and you need to get out - no excuses. See you at 7." The phone went dead. Sean looked at the receiver and laughed to himself.
Richard made it a point to say how happy he was to see him but also how he looked like absolute hell. Sean merely thanked him as they settled in to watch the performance.
Sean had seen the production before but didn't have the heart to tell Richard and his mind wandered to Harris. Had he done the right thing by bringing him to London? Last time I fell in love like this - his mind shut down as he saw the flash of steel and the stretcher carrying Nigel out of his apartment. Nigel had been the sun, the moon and the stars - practically a god in Sean's naive mind. When Nigel changed the script of the seduction scene and held a coin in his teeth, standing inches from Sean's flushed face and wide eyes, Sean hungrily took the coin from his lips and devoured him. He remembered the pool of dried blood and how he wretched into the hall toilet before leaving and never saw Nigel again. Until those damned coins, he thought angrily. Every fucking year.
The applause erupted around him, signaling that the play was over. With a glazed expression, he followed Richard to the backstage area.
The stuffy little area was teeming with the cast, friends, family and some of the press. Richard peered over the tops of heads and around doorways to try and catch of a glimpse of his wife. Someone slipped a cold beer into Sean's hand and he gulped it appreciatively. Richard muttered some hasty words about possibly seeing Angela and he disappeared into the crowd.
The press of bodies closed in on Sean and the heat from his jacket was radiating up, making his neck sweat. He looked around for any familiar faces and his eyes landed on the tallest figure in the room. His body was suddenly drenched in an icy sweat and his hand gripped the bottle to the point of breaking it. Nigel stood hovering over the crowd; his tumbling dark curls, streaked with silver, making him look like an angelic devil more than ever with a bit more grey in his beard.
Sean quickly looked down to get his bearings and tried to find a breath of fresh air as the mass of people suddenly made him feel dizzy and realize there was no exit was in sight. His head was spinning and he'd completely lost track of where he was.
"Hello Sean." The voice caressed him warmly, yet he shuddered, and Sean began to shake inside. He raised his head. Last time I looked into those eyes, he thought. As quickly as the thought had came into his mind, it vanished and his heart beat frantically. Surprisingly, a silly childish grin fell over his face.
"Hello Nigel." He breathed and fell into the man's outstretched arms.
The pair staggered into Nigel's dark, house giggling.
"I'm so glad to be out of there!" Nigel announced to the little black cat, who looked at him and yawned. Nigel chuckled "Devil you care, eh?" And scratched the cats ears until he fell back to sleep. He made his way to the wall and ran his hand along it until he found the light switch.
"Yea, me too. - too many people." Sean tripped over the edge of the rug and nearly toppled over the sofa. Nigel turned on his heel with a straight back and uplifted nose and looked at Sean in the golden light of the Tiffany lamp.
]
"Drink?" He asked as sober as he could. They looked at each other for a moment then both collapsed into fits of giggles.
After many more bottles of red wine, they lay sprawled out on the sofa to stop the room from spinning.
"You know . . . I am sorry. . .about -" Nigel's words trailed off.
"I'm not sorry I tried to kill you." Sean's voice was dark and his accent was thick. "I'm only sorry I didn't actually do it."
"As am I!" Nigel drained his glass and they both fell silent. "You know I deserved to be killed. I'd earned your hatred fair and square and you should have killed me." His head lolled to one side to focus on Sean's face a few inches away.
Sean's hand came up to gently Nigel's graying beard; Nigel took his hand, kissed his palm, closed his eyes and pressed the hand to his face.
"I could never have done it." Sean whispered hoarsely. "I'd sooner have torn out me own heart." Nigel's face broke into a sweet smile.
"I'm so glad to hear you say that."
Sean had regained his youth. The morning sun flowed onto the bed and his hangover barely bothered him. He inhaled deeply and caught Nigel's dark musky scent. He ran his hand along the familiar comforter and nestled his head back into the down pillows.
"Brrrrr." Nigel came into the room quickly, naked, and Sean vaguely heard the toilet flushing. He felt Nigel's cool skin pressed against his own, drew him close and they lay like spoons in a drawer. Sean tried to remember where his clothes were and suddenly didn't care as the long nights wrapped in Nigel's arms, lips, and legs, ran through his mind and he smiled.
"What is that smile for?" Nigel asked, peering over his shoulder and gently kissing his neck.
"Mm - nuthun." Sean rolled over, still smiling. "What day is it anyway?" He stretched.
"Sunday - why? Do you want to go to church?" Nigel sat up and lit a cigarette. Sean laughed.
"God, 2 days with you - in bed."
"Is that a problem?"
Sean smiled sleepily and curled into Nigel's chest, noticing there was more grey hair than he remembered and he sighed heavily.
"Nope - no problem at all."
Nigel kissed the top of his head and lifted his chin, claiming his lips in a kiss that deepened as it went on. Nigel’s body was like coming home. He has been Sean’s first real male lover and he had taught him everything. Nigel lay sprawled out and pulled Sean on top of him, their hardening cocks pressing together. Sean moaned and kissed down Nigel’s chest, lapping at his nipples, noting the grey hair and smiled. He slid down further to capture Nigel’s cock between his lips. He looked up and smiled. Nigel lifted his arms above his head and gripped the pillows. Sean slid his cock further into his mouth, slowly. He knew so well how to please Nigel and his memory did not fail him now. Long slow slurping strokes, one hand toying with Nigel’s nipple, tugging at it playfully. His tongue traveled lower to suckle Nigel’s swelling balls. He listened for the familiar encouraging noise and smiled.
Nigel pulled him up and kissed him, turning him onto his back, lifting his legs high. Lube appeared from nowhere, as was always the way with Nigel - the illusion of it all, and it felt cold and sticky against Sean’s ass. Slowly, he slid inside and filled him. Not since Nigel had Sean been taken this way, or at all, if he remembered right. The action was slow, methodical; Nigel stared at him, hands pinning his wrists to the pillows. Sean’s back arched as Nigel went in deeper, the pace picked up a little. It seemed like forever and it stretched his endurance impossibly thin. He wanted to beg Nigel to do it harder, faster, the way he is with Harris.
He almost went soft and Nigel felt the change in him, but kept up his motion. He reached down and stroked Sean’s cock, and it became very hard again very fast. He picked up the pace another small notch, his breath ragged. Sean moaned louder, almost begged.
“God, yes - don’t stop!”
Soon Nigel was graced with Sean’s release, his muscles tensing then relaxing. Nigel kept up his movement for a while, then came silently, as he always did.
As Sean lay dozing in Nigel’s arms, his chest rose and fell with deep slumber, Sean listened to the growl of a certain blond and he was hard again.
When Nigel suggested Greece for a weekend get away, Sean eagerly canceled all his previous plans, which was highly irregular for him. He had a reputation in the industry as being reliable but as before when he got tangled with Nigel his life tends to go straight to hell with Sean
happily showing it the way.
They had been in Greece for two days; sightseeing, eating, drinking and smoking far too much and constantly in bed. Sean used to blame Harris for being over sexed and it would scare Sean how many times a day Harris was 'on'. Now, Sean could not get enough of Nigel's body and Nigel willingly obliged.
Sean came back from the local market with the feast for the evening. Wine, sweets, regular food and whatever room service would not deliver after midnight, which is when Sean became his hungriest. He floated into the elevator for the ride to the top floor. The old gears ground the cables and carried the car up. Back in London, he thought, I could work in the play Nigel is in, stay at his place in town during the week both of us stay at my place on the weekends. The dinners, the friends, the parties all danced in his drunken selective memory. He took one more healthy swig out of the open wine bottle he carried and got off the elevator as the door opened.
He entered the darkened room and went through to the bedroom with his box of loot. The smell of opium hit him hard and it made him frown. He never really liked the stuff, but for Nigel, what the hell.
"Special Delivery!" Sean pushed open the door with his shoulder and stopped in the doorway, his eyes disbelieving. Nigel was spread out naked on the bed with a dark skinned youth happily curled under each arm. The sickeningly sweet smell of opium, incense and spent sex hung
heavy in the air.
"There you are! I was getting worried." Nigel struggled to sit up, his eyes unfocused. "I'd introduce you but I'm afraid I don't remember their names. Ah well, doesn't really matter." With drowsy, smoky eyes trying to see Sean, he held out his hand. "Come join us."
Sean began to shake and grind his teeth. The box hit the floor and the crash of the bottles made the boys jump and giggle as the red wine pooled around his boots. He stood and stared at the liquid, the acidic smell cut through the haze. He slowly looked up at Nigel, who sat back on his heels and brushed away the caressing hands of the boys. Their eyes locked and Nigel shivered with the hatred emanating from Sean. Nigel did not call out his name as Sean grabbed his things and slammed every door on his way out, leaving a sticky red trail.
Nigel slumped back on the pillows. "I've done it again, it seems." He sighed and lit a cigarette, not realizing the one boy's mouth working over his body.
Harris returned late Monday night, five days earlier than planned. He tiptoed in the house around one in the morning and found Sean fast asleep, his angelic face framed in soft blond hair in need of a cut. He did not want to disturb him and was about to leave the room when his foot caught Sean's new black bag that sat in the middle of the floor. He grabbed it and when he stood the weak strap snapped and half its contents spilled out. Along with them, the pungent odor of incense and opium made Harris draw back. He saw clothes, old plane tickets and one of those, all-too-familiar gold coins rolled to a stop at his feet. No, he thought, it can't be, as he looked a the date of the tickets.
He quickly shoved everything back in the bag and put it back where he found it. His breath came in ragged gulps and Sean rolled over in his sleep. Quietly, Harris backed out off the room and closed the door with sweaty hands.
The summer day in Los Angeles was typically smoggy and heavy, the sun melting all it touched. Harris and Stephen had flown back to collect some more of Harris’ things to bring back to London. Since they had already sublet the apartment, they were staying in a hotel and the view from the fifteenth floor of the Hollywood Renaissance let them see how the yellow air had the other high rises in its toxic trap.
Harris stood alone in front of the large window and looked down on his old apartment on the corner of Orchid and Franklin. His mind flashed back to images of his first night with Sean. Sitting him down in the harsh light of the bathroom, Sean balanced on the unstable toilet seat while Harris bent over the wounds on the back of his neck with iodine, cotton balls and Band-Aids. Sean had protested only once. He made the distinct sound of spitting something out of his mouth.
"What is it?" Harris asked and tossed his hair over his shoulder. Sean pointed.
"That." He smiled.
"What?"
"That hair. Nice to look at, but bad for a meal."
"Oh." They both laughed as Harris put it up in a ponytail.
Next time it fell before Sean's face, Harris felt fingers run gently through it.
Harris smiled weakly and shivered as high noon rose over the old place. When Harris learned of Sean being with Nigel recently in Greece, per Sean's sad confession, Harris' first response was to bolt. It was over, like he knew it would be. It had to be. It was never meant to be. Coming to LA seemed the best excuse. His mind ran over Sean's slim body, caressing,
longing - suddenly he saw hands that were not his. He saw Nigel's mouth mauling his lover's lips and watched Sean's body arch in a passionate response. Harris growled to himself and shook the image out of his head. True, he had never seen them together, but his imagination was cruel. He felt a lump come into his throat and tears threatened to wet his cheek, new goatee, and mustache. When the phone rang, he gladly answered it.
"Hello?"
"Hey! It's Steph!" The voice was the cheerfulness Harris needed right now.
"What's up?" Harris stretched out on the bed, one eye on the old apartment Stephen was calling from; the new occupants were old friends.
"We're gonna go do the Venice-rollerblade thing. I’m taking my camera. You up for it?"
Harris did not answer right away; instead his hand gently ran over his left knee.
"Steph, you know I shouldn't."
"C'mon - wouldn't be the first risk you've taken!" Stephen's happy tone was getting on his nerves.
"No, Steph, I'd better not." The images of Nigel and Sean tangled together came up.
"Well, at least come to Venice."
"And watch like an old lady on the sidelines just there to feed the pigeons!?! No thanks! You go. I'll go to the movies or something." Sean kissing Nigel hard, in desperation; Sean losing all abandon to his old lover.
"Pleeeeeease?" Stephen whined jokingly.
"NO STEPH! JUST GO!" Harris slammed the phone down.
Damn knee, he thought and went to the window again. He looked at the ground and thought where the air bag would rest, wind velocity, the stronger brace for his knee. Fucking knee! Now I can't even do something as simple as rollerblading. Hell, walking to the bathroom in the
morning still aches.
It's been fucking six years! He never had gone to the psychotherapist suggested by the doctors who reconstructed him. Why?, Harris thought, so I can learn the joys of being a cripple and be 'okay' with this - having to toss my entire career out the fucking window?!?
"WELL IT'S NOT OKAY!!" He bellowed as he pulled the phone from the wall with all of his strength and hurled it across the room. It crashed into the mirrored closet door. The glass broke into hundreds of spidery lines that never reached the edge.
The pain in his heart and knee were joining forces and making his body shake involuntarily. His hands reached out and found the heavy brass desk lamp and that hit the wall with a crash above the headboard destroying the light bulb and showered the pillows with flakes of white glass. Tears flowed over his face and into his beard making it itch.
He knew Nigel had a beard and more pictures of Sean and Nigel's bodies sweating, grinding into one another, flooded his mind. Yea, Harris yelled at himself, and he can kneel and fuck you from behind, I can't even do that without pain! Jesus, you were a mistake! The biggest! The contents of the desk were wiped clean with both of Harris' arms and they clattered to the carpet.
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Harris began to chant and pound his fist on the desk but there was no release without destruction. He wildly looked around the room, his hair flying over his shoulders, stray strands getting caught in his beard. Before he knew it, his foot was buried in the screen of the television set, his body twisted at an unnatural angle, and a small plume of black smoke was rising above it. Suddenly, he heard the small pop that released waves of mind numbing pain and Harris let out a scream that rattled the windows.
"NO! NO! Not again!!" He yelled and collapsed on the floor clutching his knee which had sprung out of joint. He rolled on the floor as if he was trying to put out a fire feeling the pain shoot through his leg. Suddenly, he sat up and leveled his fist above it.
"NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!" With each yell, he brought his fist down onto his throbbing knee.
"NO!" One final blow and it chunked against the bone and back into its resting place. His long hair was wet with hot tears and somehow his glasses had broken and he hurled them to one side. The image of Sean's arched back came into full view.
"NO!" He hollered one last time. The hotel room door flew open and Stephen rushed in, tossing the room key on the now empty desk.
"Harris?" Stephen rushed to his friend's side.
Harris sobbed like a baby. "Sean - Sean - No - Sean." He mumbled between tight sobs and curled into Stephen's chest, clutching his shirt and let out a strong cry.
Harris cried with the abandon of a lost child in search of his mother. “Christ, I finally did it, ya know? I fucking fall in love and LOOK what it gets me!”
"Shhh." Stephen held him close, Harris' nails dug into his chest, close to drawing blood. With all of his strength, he lifted Harris, pulled away the glass covered comforter and laid him down. Harris immediately curled into the pillows.
"Harris, come on." Stephen spoke quietly and caressed his arm. Harris, still crying in great hiccups, pointed to his knee and rolled onto his back.
"Oh shit." Stephen mumbled and carefully stripped of Harris of his jeans. The knee was already purple and swelling.
He grabbed Harris' carry-on bag, still covered with London tags, and fished out his pain pills, forcing three down his throat without water, at the same time he grabbed the cellular phone to call 911 for an ambulance, and the front desk for a lot of ice.
Harris was trying to breathe slower but was obviously in tremendous pain from more than just his knee, or he would have protested the ambulance, Stephen thought. He sat carefully on the bed and watched the blood build up under the joint.
Harris eyes were closed tight in concentration, but whenever he opened them, tears would slip out. Stephen noticed his glasses were on the other side of the room. He reached into the bag again to pull out the spare pair when something sparkled.
He pulled out the golden coin and held it up to the light. With renewed rage, Harris slapped the coin from his hand and they watched it chink against the window then plop onto the carpet. Stephen turned slowly to look into Harris' wide, pain-ridden, green eyes.
"Why, Steph? Why?" Harris whispered and fell into Stephen's outstretched arms. He rocked him like a baby, Harris' body still convulsed with heavy sobs. Then, thankfully, the sirens reached his ears.
********************
Harris rolled over at the sound of rustling papers and saw Sean reaching into boxes, unpacking. Harris sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
"What's up?" He mumbled through a yawn.
Silence from the blond Englishman. He simply kept unpacking.
"Sean?"
"What's all this for?" Sean did not meet his eyes.
"Well," Harris hung his head. "You took off - I assumed - "
“You didn’t bring anything back from Los Angeles, did you?”
Harris shook his head sadly. Sean fell into the chair, his head in his hands.
“I made a mistake. A huge one.” He lifted his head.
“Look, do you want me here or not. It’s as simple as that.” He looked at Sean, raw emotions plain on his face. ‘You went through a lot to get me here and - “
“I know.”
“ - then you run off with Nigel like it was nothing for me to relocate - “
”I know.”
‘ - I mean I love you - there I said it again. Do you want me to leave? Just say the word, I’m already half packed.”
Sean looked up slowly, then lunged at Harris kissing him brutally. Harris tried to fight him off.
“Hey! This ain’t the make up sex, we’re still talking.”
Sean practically tore off his shirt. “I’m bloody done bloody talking.” He kissed him again, harder, then nipped at his neck to the point that Harris cried out in pain. “Nigel is not you. Nigel was a stupid crush that I guess I had to end my way.” He tugged at Harris’ clothes and his own. “ For the love of God if I don’t fuck you right now, I’ll go mad. And I want to fuck you senseless.”
Harris fought harder, not sure what exactly was going on, but Sean possessed some sort of super human strength and his fight was becoming futile.
“What happened, huh? Nigel too old for you now? Too tame? AAHHH!!”
Sean yanked Harris’ hair and shoved his face down to his hard cock, shoving it into his mouth.
“Stop talking you Yankee bastard.”
Harris choked and dug his fingers into Sean’s thighs; he got some control and sucked like a madman at the hard dick. Sean held his hair back and watched every minute.
“That’s more like it. All of it, c’mon!” He shoved his hips forward and grabbed the back of the blond head and pushed hard. Harris’ eyes watered as he gagged. He came up for air, gasping.
“You fucking asshole.” He tackled Sean and they tumbled to the floor. Harris straddled Sean’s face and forced his cock between his lips.
“Make it up to me, pal. Suck it good.”
Sean gripped Harris hips and sucked hard, pumping him in and out of his mouth, moaning, gagging, tearing, but not stopping.
“That’s better. Now say you’re sorry.” Harris grabbed a handful of Sean’s hair and pulled him off his cock. Sean’s mouth was wide, his tongue reaching out desperately to make contact.
”Sorry.. “ he said, breathless.
“Say it like you mean it.” Harris muttered.
Sean lifted his legs and pushed Harris off over his head. He landed hard face down on the carpet. In a flash, Sean was on top of him and had grabbed his arms to stop them from allowing him to move. He bent down and savagely licked Harris’ hole.
“Holy shit! You are sorry!” Harris gasped and thrashed, trying to get free.
Sean spat and rose up, sliding deep inside without ceremony. His heart beat wildly at Harris’ moans and he fucked him, hard and fast.
“Hey! Wait! NO!” Harris struggled but to no avail. Sean was shoving in deeper and harder than ever before. He took both of Harris’ wrists in one hand and grabbed a handful of hair in the other, yanking his head off the floor.
”Shit! SEAN! STOP!.... Oh dear fucking god.....” Harris was howling now as Sean seemed relentless. All too soon, he arched his back and emptied deep inside him. Harris struggled to free one hand and stroked himself; Sean still had a death grip on his hair and he came hard.
Slick with sweat, they lay on their backs, half naked, trying to catch their breath.
“It’s only like that with you.” Sean panted. “And I can’t live without it.”
“I love it that way. And with you.”
Sean smiled. “I liked when you begged me to stop.”
”I did that for a reason.”
Sean’s smile faded as Harris pulled a wrapped condom out of his jeans pocket and held it up.
“Oops.” Sean muttered.
“Yea, Oops.” He tossed it aside, his arm flopping back to the floor. “I don’t mind rough - and you know I’m clean. But Jesus.”
“Well, from now on then.” Sean nodded.
Harris turned his head. “Who said I forgave you?”
Sean turned sharply to look at his lover.
“Your ass just did.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Harris sighed. “You are going to have to apologize a lot, pal.”
Sean reached over and caressed Harris’ face.
“I got time. Lot’s of it.” He lifted himself up onto his elbows. “One thing first though,” he added.
"What?"
Sean looked over the stacks of boxes.
"Unpack, because you're stayin'."
THE END
Author:
smutcutterPairing: SB/OC (Harris)
Rating: NC-17 (for this chapter and scattered throughout)
Warning: This contains an original character... don't hate the playa...
Disclaimer: This is totally fake! Beyond fake! Never happened, never will - hell, some of the main characters are out my own demented mind.
Summary: Sean falls for a man, Harris - it was the best of times - it was the worst of times - it's told in many flashbacks - this is not a work in progress, it's done - I will be posting a chapter every few days. I want to thank
tiggothy for her super fast and amazing beta work, hippediva for her constant support, and frahulettaes for everything....And I want to thank everyone that has been reading this - is you are missing any chapters, let me know and I will gladly send you any links - and there is another Sean/Harris story on it's way... with Viggo...
********************
Sean finished the beer and went to grab another when a light caught his eye. One of those damned coins, he though, and scooped it up feeling the coldness in his palm. He stood and held it tight, the pattern etching its way into his skin and he wondered if he could ever really erase it.
Harris turned over in his sleep.
********************
Since, skydiving was right out, he would joke, Harris had gone into consulting full time. He was called away for a James Bond style cat burglar project that would require he be gone for three weeks . Sean found himself alone and was not sure that he liked it. It gave him too much time to think about all the things he didn't care for about Harris' past. He, himself, had spent the last few years being a complete playboy, having as many as three girlfriends at one time. He gained a Don Juan-like reputation with the ladies and seemed to revel in it. Then, he met Harris and it all went to hell. He needed to think, long and hard, whether this was the right thing for him, for the two of them. Hell, his parents were ready for him to settle down and get married again and doubted they would approve of his and his towels for the wedding gifts.
On his fifth night alone, he received a phone call from his friend Richard. Richard's wife, Angela, was in a play, this was the closing night and Sean must come and see it.
"Besides," Richard added. "I know you are alone and brooding and you need to get out - no excuses. See you at 7." The phone went dead. Sean looked at the receiver and laughed to himself.
Richard made it a point to say how happy he was to see him but also how he looked like absolute hell. Sean merely thanked him as they settled in to watch the performance.
Sean had seen the production before but didn't have the heart to tell Richard and his mind wandered to Harris. Had he done the right thing by bringing him to London? Last time I fell in love like this - his mind shut down as he saw the flash of steel and the stretcher carrying Nigel out of his apartment. Nigel had been the sun, the moon and the stars - practically a god in Sean's naive mind. When Nigel changed the script of the seduction scene and held a coin in his teeth, standing inches from Sean's flushed face and wide eyes, Sean hungrily took the coin from his lips and devoured him. He remembered the pool of dried blood and how he wretched into the hall toilet before leaving and never saw Nigel again. Until those damned coins, he thought angrily. Every fucking year.
The applause erupted around him, signaling that the play was over. With a glazed expression, he followed Richard to the backstage area.
The stuffy little area was teeming with the cast, friends, family and some of the press. Richard peered over the tops of heads and around doorways to try and catch of a glimpse of his wife. Someone slipped a cold beer into Sean's hand and he gulped it appreciatively. Richard muttered some hasty words about possibly seeing Angela and he disappeared into the crowd.
The press of bodies closed in on Sean and the heat from his jacket was radiating up, making his neck sweat. He looked around for any familiar faces and his eyes landed on the tallest figure in the room. His body was suddenly drenched in an icy sweat and his hand gripped the bottle to the point of breaking it. Nigel stood hovering over the crowd; his tumbling dark curls, streaked with silver, making him look like an angelic devil more than ever with a bit more grey in his beard.
Sean quickly looked down to get his bearings and tried to find a breath of fresh air as the mass of people suddenly made him feel dizzy and realize there was no exit was in sight. His head was spinning and he'd completely lost track of where he was.
"Hello Sean." The voice caressed him warmly, yet he shuddered, and Sean began to shake inside. He raised his head. Last time I looked into those eyes, he thought. As quickly as the thought had came into his mind, it vanished and his heart beat frantically. Surprisingly, a silly childish grin fell over his face.
"Hello Nigel." He breathed and fell into the man's outstretched arms.
The pair staggered into Nigel's dark, house giggling.
"I'm so glad to be out of there!" Nigel announced to the little black cat, who looked at him and yawned. Nigel chuckled "Devil you care, eh?" And scratched the cats ears until he fell back to sleep. He made his way to the wall and ran his hand along it until he found the light switch.
"Yea, me too. - too many people." Sean tripped over the edge of the rug and nearly toppled over the sofa. Nigel turned on his heel with a straight back and uplifted nose and looked at Sean in the golden light of the Tiffany lamp.
]
"Drink?" He asked as sober as he could. They looked at each other for a moment then both collapsed into fits of giggles.
After many more bottles of red wine, they lay sprawled out on the sofa to stop the room from spinning.
"You know . . . I am sorry. . .about -" Nigel's words trailed off.
"I'm not sorry I tried to kill you." Sean's voice was dark and his accent was thick. "I'm only sorry I didn't actually do it."
"As am I!" Nigel drained his glass and they both fell silent. "You know I deserved to be killed. I'd earned your hatred fair and square and you should have killed me." His head lolled to one side to focus on Sean's face a few inches away.
Sean's hand came up to gently Nigel's graying beard; Nigel took his hand, kissed his palm, closed his eyes and pressed the hand to his face.
"I could never have done it." Sean whispered hoarsely. "I'd sooner have torn out me own heart." Nigel's face broke into a sweet smile.
"I'm so glad to hear you say that."
Sean had regained his youth. The morning sun flowed onto the bed and his hangover barely bothered him. He inhaled deeply and caught Nigel's dark musky scent. He ran his hand along the familiar comforter and nestled his head back into the down pillows.
"Brrrrr." Nigel came into the room quickly, naked, and Sean vaguely heard the toilet flushing. He felt Nigel's cool skin pressed against his own, drew him close and they lay like spoons in a drawer. Sean tried to remember where his clothes were and suddenly didn't care as the long nights wrapped in Nigel's arms, lips, and legs, ran through his mind and he smiled.
"What is that smile for?" Nigel asked, peering over his shoulder and gently kissing his neck.
"Mm - nuthun." Sean rolled over, still smiling. "What day is it anyway?" He stretched.
"Sunday - why? Do you want to go to church?" Nigel sat up and lit a cigarette. Sean laughed.
"God, 2 days with you - in bed."
"Is that a problem?"
Sean smiled sleepily and curled into Nigel's chest, noticing there was more grey hair than he remembered and he sighed heavily.
"Nope - no problem at all."
Nigel kissed the top of his head and lifted his chin, claiming his lips in a kiss that deepened as it went on. Nigel’s body was like coming home. He has been Sean’s first real male lover and he had taught him everything. Nigel lay sprawled out and pulled Sean on top of him, their hardening cocks pressing together. Sean moaned and kissed down Nigel’s chest, lapping at his nipples, noting the grey hair and smiled. He slid down further to capture Nigel’s cock between his lips. He looked up and smiled. Nigel lifted his arms above his head and gripped the pillows. Sean slid his cock further into his mouth, slowly. He knew so well how to please Nigel and his memory did not fail him now. Long slow slurping strokes, one hand toying with Nigel’s nipple, tugging at it playfully. His tongue traveled lower to suckle Nigel’s swelling balls. He listened for the familiar encouraging noise and smiled.
Nigel pulled him up and kissed him, turning him onto his back, lifting his legs high. Lube appeared from nowhere, as was always the way with Nigel - the illusion of it all, and it felt cold and sticky against Sean’s ass. Slowly, he slid inside and filled him. Not since Nigel had Sean been taken this way, or at all, if he remembered right. The action was slow, methodical; Nigel stared at him, hands pinning his wrists to the pillows. Sean’s back arched as Nigel went in deeper, the pace picked up a little. It seemed like forever and it stretched his endurance impossibly thin. He wanted to beg Nigel to do it harder, faster, the way he is with Harris.
He almost went soft and Nigel felt the change in him, but kept up his motion. He reached down and stroked Sean’s cock, and it became very hard again very fast. He picked up the pace another small notch, his breath ragged. Sean moaned louder, almost begged.
“God, yes - don’t stop!”
Soon Nigel was graced with Sean’s release, his muscles tensing then relaxing. Nigel kept up his movement for a while, then came silently, as he always did.
As Sean lay dozing in Nigel’s arms, his chest rose and fell with deep slumber, Sean listened to the growl of a certain blond and he was hard again.
When Nigel suggested Greece for a weekend get away, Sean eagerly canceled all his previous plans, which was highly irregular for him. He had a reputation in the industry as being reliable but as before when he got tangled with Nigel his life tends to go straight to hell with Sean
happily showing it the way.
They had been in Greece for two days; sightseeing, eating, drinking and smoking far too much and constantly in bed. Sean used to blame Harris for being over sexed and it would scare Sean how many times a day Harris was 'on'. Now, Sean could not get enough of Nigel's body and Nigel willingly obliged.
Sean came back from the local market with the feast for the evening. Wine, sweets, regular food and whatever room service would not deliver after midnight, which is when Sean became his hungriest. He floated into the elevator for the ride to the top floor. The old gears ground the cables and carried the car up. Back in London, he thought, I could work in the play Nigel is in, stay at his place in town during the week both of us stay at my place on the weekends. The dinners, the friends, the parties all danced in his drunken selective memory. He took one more healthy swig out of the open wine bottle he carried and got off the elevator as the door opened.
He entered the darkened room and went through to the bedroom with his box of loot. The smell of opium hit him hard and it made him frown. He never really liked the stuff, but for Nigel, what the hell.
"Special Delivery!" Sean pushed open the door with his shoulder and stopped in the doorway, his eyes disbelieving. Nigel was spread out naked on the bed with a dark skinned youth happily curled under each arm. The sickeningly sweet smell of opium, incense and spent sex hung
heavy in the air.
"There you are! I was getting worried." Nigel struggled to sit up, his eyes unfocused. "I'd introduce you but I'm afraid I don't remember their names. Ah well, doesn't really matter." With drowsy, smoky eyes trying to see Sean, he held out his hand. "Come join us."
Sean began to shake and grind his teeth. The box hit the floor and the crash of the bottles made the boys jump and giggle as the red wine pooled around his boots. He stood and stared at the liquid, the acidic smell cut through the haze. He slowly looked up at Nigel, who sat back on his heels and brushed away the caressing hands of the boys. Their eyes locked and Nigel shivered with the hatred emanating from Sean. Nigel did not call out his name as Sean grabbed his things and slammed every door on his way out, leaving a sticky red trail.
Nigel slumped back on the pillows. "I've done it again, it seems." He sighed and lit a cigarette, not realizing the one boy's mouth working over his body.
Harris returned late Monday night, five days earlier than planned. He tiptoed in the house around one in the morning and found Sean fast asleep, his angelic face framed in soft blond hair in need of a cut. He did not want to disturb him and was about to leave the room when his foot caught Sean's new black bag that sat in the middle of the floor. He grabbed it and when he stood the weak strap snapped and half its contents spilled out. Along with them, the pungent odor of incense and opium made Harris draw back. He saw clothes, old plane tickets and one of those, all-too-familiar gold coins rolled to a stop at his feet. No, he thought, it can't be, as he looked a the date of the tickets.
He quickly shoved everything back in the bag and put it back where he found it. His breath came in ragged gulps and Sean rolled over in his sleep. Quietly, Harris backed out off the room and closed the door with sweaty hands.
The summer day in Los Angeles was typically smoggy and heavy, the sun melting all it touched. Harris and Stephen had flown back to collect some more of Harris’ things to bring back to London. Since they had already sublet the apartment, they were staying in a hotel and the view from the fifteenth floor of the Hollywood Renaissance let them see how the yellow air had the other high rises in its toxic trap.
Harris stood alone in front of the large window and looked down on his old apartment on the corner of Orchid and Franklin. His mind flashed back to images of his first night with Sean. Sitting him down in the harsh light of the bathroom, Sean balanced on the unstable toilet seat while Harris bent over the wounds on the back of his neck with iodine, cotton balls and Band-Aids. Sean had protested only once. He made the distinct sound of spitting something out of his mouth.
"What is it?" Harris asked and tossed his hair over his shoulder. Sean pointed.
"That." He smiled.
"What?"
"That hair. Nice to look at, but bad for a meal."
"Oh." They both laughed as Harris put it up in a ponytail.
Next time it fell before Sean's face, Harris felt fingers run gently through it.
Harris smiled weakly and shivered as high noon rose over the old place. When Harris learned of Sean being with Nigel recently in Greece, per Sean's sad confession, Harris' first response was to bolt. It was over, like he knew it would be. It had to be. It was never meant to be. Coming to LA seemed the best excuse. His mind ran over Sean's slim body, caressing,
longing - suddenly he saw hands that were not his. He saw Nigel's mouth mauling his lover's lips and watched Sean's body arch in a passionate response. Harris growled to himself and shook the image out of his head. True, he had never seen them together, but his imagination was cruel. He felt a lump come into his throat and tears threatened to wet his cheek, new goatee, and mustache. When the phone rang, he gladly answered it.
"Hello?"
"Hey! It's Steph!" The voice was the cheerfulness Harris needed right now.
"What's up?" Harris stretched out on the bed, one eye on the old apartment Stephen was calling from; the new occupants were old friends.
"We're gonna go do the Venice-rollerblade thing. I’m taking my camera. You up for it?"
Harris did not answer right away; instead his hand gently ran over his left knee.
"Steph, you know I shouldn't."
"C'mon - wouldn't be the first risk you've taken!" Stephen's happy tone was getting on his nerves.
"No, Steph, I'd better not." The images of Nigel and Sean tangled together came up.
"Well, at least come to Venice."
"And watch like an old lady on the sidelines just there to feed the pigeons!?! No thanks! You go. I'll go to the movies or something." Sean kissing Nigel hard, in desperation; Sean losing all abandon to his old lover.
"Pleeeeeease?" Stephen whined jokingly.
"NO STEPH! JUST GO!" Harris slammed the phone down.
Damn knee, he thought and went to the window again. He looked at the ground and thought where the air bag would rest, wind velocity, the stronger brace for his knee. Fucking knee! Now I can't even do something as simple as rollerblading. Hell, walking to the bathroom in the
morning still aches.
It's been fucking six years! He never had gone to the psychotherapist suggested by the doctors who reconstructed him. Why?, Harris thought, so I can learn the joys of being a cripple and be 'okay' with this - having to toss my entire career out the fucking window?!?
"WELL IT'S NOT OKAY!!" He bellowed as he pulled the phone from the wall with all of his strength and hurled it across the room. It crashed into the mirrored closet door. The glass broke into hundreds of spidery lines that never reached the edge.
The pain in his heart and knee were joining forces and making his body shake involuntarily. His hands reached out and found the heavy brass desk lamp and that hit the wall with a crash above the headboard destroying the light bulb and showered the pillows with flakes of white glass. Tears flowed over his face and into his beard making it itch.
He knew Nigel had a beard and more pictures of Sean and Nigel's bodies sweating, grinding into one another, flooded his mind. Yea, Harris yelled at himself, and he can kneel and fuck you from behind, I can't even do that without pain! Jesus, you were a mistake! The biggest! The contents of the desk were wiped clean with both of Harris' arms and they clattered to the carpet.
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Harris began to chant and pound his fist on the desk but there was no release without destruction. He wildly looked around the room, his hair flying over his shoulders, stray strands getting caught in his beard. Before he knew it, his foot was buried in the screen of the television set, his body twisted at an unnatural angle, and a small plume of black smoke was rising above it. Suddenly, he heard the small pop that released waves of mind numbing pain and Harris let out a scream that rattled the windows.
"NO! NO! Not again!!" He yelled and collapsed on the floor clutching his knee which had sprung out of joint. He rolled on the floor as if he was trying to put out a fire feeling the pain shoot through his leg. Suddenly, he sat up and leveled his fist above it.
"NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!" With each yell, he brought his fist down onto his throbbing knee.
"NO!" One final blow and it chunked against the bone and back into its resting place. His long hair was wet with hot tears and somehow his glasses had broken and he hurled them to one side. The image of Sean's arched back came into full view.
"NO!" He hollered one last time. The hotel room door flew open and Stephen rushed in, tossing the room key on the now empty desk.
"Harris?" Stephen rushed to his friend's side.
Harris sobbed like a baby. "Sean - Sean - No - Sean." He mumbled between tight sobs and curled into Stephen's chest, clutching his shirt and let out a strong cry.
Harris cried with the abandon of a lost child in search of his mother. “Christ, I finally did it, ya know? I fucking fall in love and LOOK what it gets me!”
"Shhh." Stephen held him close, Harris' nails dug into his chest, close to drawing blood. With all of his strength, he lifted Harris, pulled away the glass covered comforter and laid him down. Harris immediately curled into the pillows.
"Harris, come on." Stephen spoke quietly and caressed his arm. Harris, still crying in great hiccups, pointed to his knee and rolled onto his back.
"Oh shit." Stephen mumbled and carefully stripped of Harris of his jeans. The knee was already purple and swelling.
He grabbed Harris' carry-on bag, still covered with London tags, and fished out his pain pills, forcing three down his throat without water, at the same time he grabbed the cellular phone to call 911 for an ambulance, and the front desk for a lot of ice.
Harris was trying to breathe slower but was obviously in tremendous pain from more than just his knee, or he would have protested the ambulance, Stephen thought. He sat carefully on the bed and watched the blood build up under the joint.
Harris eyes were closed tight in concentration, but whenever he opened them, tears would slip out. Stephen noticed his glasses were on the other side of the room. He reached into the bag again to pull out the spare pair when something sparkled.
He pulled out the golden coin and held it up to the light. With renewed rage, Harris slapped the coin from his hand and they watched it chink against the window then plop onto the carpet. Stephen turned slowly to look into Harris' wide, pain-ridden, green eyes.
"Why, Steph? Why?" Harris whispered and fell into Stephen's outstretched arms. He rocked him like a baby, Harris' body still convulsed with heavy sobs. Then, thankfully, the sirens reached his ears.
********************
Harris rolled over at the sound of rustling papers and saw Sean reaching into boxes, unpacking. Harris sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
"What's up?" He mumbled through a yawn.
Silence from the blond Englishman. He simply kept unpacking.
"Sean?"
"What's all this for?" Sean did not meet his eyes.
"Well," Harris hung his head. "You took off - I assumed - "
“You didn’t bring anything back from Los Angeles, did you?”
Harris shook his head sadly. Sean fell into the chair, his head in his hands.
“I made a mistake. A huge one.” He lifted his head.
“Look, do you want me here or not. It’s as simple as that.” He looked at Sean, raw emotions plain on his face. ‘You went through a lot to get me here and - “
“I know.”
“ - then you run off with Nigel like it was nothing for me to relocate - “
”I know.”
‘ - I mean I love you - there I said it again. Do you want me to leave? Just say the word, I’m already half packed.”
Sean looked up slowly, then lunged at Harris kissing him brutally. Harris tried to fight him off.
“Hey! This ain’t the make up sex, we’re still talking.”
Sean practically tore off his shirt. “I’m bloody done bloody talking.” He kissed him again, harder, then nipped at his neck to the point that Harris cried out in pain. “Nigel is not you. Nigel was a stupid crush that I guess I had to end my way.” He tugged at Harris’ clothes and his own. “ For the love of God if I don’t fuck you right now, I’ll go mad. And I want to fuck you senseless.”
Harris fought harder, not sure what exactly was going on, but Sean possessed some sort of super human strength and his fight was becoming futile.
“What happened, huh? Nigel too old for you now? Too tame? AAHHH!!”
Sean yanked Harris’ hair and shoved his face down to his hard cock, shoving it into his mouth.
“Stop talking you Yankee bastard.”
Harris choked and dug his fingers into Sean’s thighs; he got some control and sucked like a madman at the hard dick. Sean held his hair back and watched every minute.
“That’s more like it. All of it, c’mon!” He shoved his hips forward and grabbed the back of the blond head and pushed hard. Harris’ eyes watered as he gagged. He came up for air, gasping.
“You fucking asshole.” He tackled Sean and they tumbled to the floor. Harris straddled Sean’s face and forced his cock between his lips.
“Make it up to me, pal. Suck it good.”
Sean gripped Harris hips and sucked hard, pumping him in and out of his mouth, moaning, gagging, tearing, but not stopping.
“That’s better. Now say you’re sorry.” Harris grabbed a handful of Sean’s hair and pulled him off his cock. Sean’s mouth was wide, his tongue reaching out desperately to make contact.
”Sorry.. “ he said, breathless.
“Say it like you mean it.” Harris muttered.
Sean lifted his legs and pushed Harris off over his head. He landed hard face down on the carpet. In a flash, Sean was on top of him and had grabbed his arms to stop them from allowing him to move. He bent down and savagely licked Harris’ hole.
“Holy shit! You are sorry!” Harris gasped and thrashed, trying to get free.
Sean spat and rose up, sliding deep inside without ceremony. His heart beat wildly at Harris’ moans and he fucked him, hard and fast.
“Hey! Wait! NO!” Harris struggled but to no avail. Sean was shoving in deeper and harder than ever before. He took both of Harris’ wrists in one hand and grabbed a handful of hair in the other, yanking his head off the floor.
”Shit! SEAN! STOP!.... Oh dear fucking god.....” Harris was howling now as Sean seemed relentless. All too soon, he arched his back and emptied deep inside him. Harris struggled to free one hand and stroked himself; Sean still had a death grip on his hair and he came hard.
Slick with sweat, they lay on their backs, half naked, trying to catch their breath.
“It’s only like that with you.” Sean panted. “And I can’t live without it.”
“I love it that way. And with you.”
Sean smiled. “I liked when you begged me to stop.”
”I did that for a reason.”
Sean’s smile faded as Harris pulled a wrapped condom out of his jeans pocket and held it up.
“Oops.” Sean muttered.
“Yea, Oops.” He tossed it aside, his arm flopping back to the floor. “I don’t mind rough - and you know I’m clean. But Jesus.”
“Well, from now on then.” Sean nodded.
Harris turned his head. “Who said I forgave you?”
Sean turned sharply to look at his lover.
“Your ass just did.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Harris sighed. “You are going to have to apologize a lot, pal.”
Sean reached over and caressed Harris’ face.
“I got time. Lot’s of it.” He lifted himself up onto his elbows. “One thing first though,” he added.
"What?"
Sean looked over the stacks of boxes.
"Unpack, because you're stayin'."
THE END
no subject
I do have one suggestion and hope you will take it in the spirit of constructive criticism. The flashbacks need to be handled differently. If there was just the one set of flashbacks, then it wouldn't be a problem, but you have so many different timelines that it just became really distracting. I don't know if the scene in the hotel bedroom is the last scene, or if the scene where Sean tells Harris to unpack is the last scene (although I certainly know which scene I want to be the last one!) So consider putting a time stamp at the beginning of each shift, such as: Los Angeles, August 17, 2005. and then for the other part: London, August 28, 2005.
See? just the time and place will really help the reader know how to place things in their heads.
Just a suggestion. Ignore it if you wish. I'll still take more Harris anyway I can!
no subject
And YES! It SO needed the time stamps! The main reason they are not there was that this was originally written about ten years ago - and written in little drabbles and scenes, never meant to be strung together so I never had a true timeline... when I post it to my memories, I will try and do that - I hope it will help.
Thank you again - more Harris anon...