Title: An Every Night Affair
Rating: NC-17 because of buttsex and drug use and references to it.
Word count: ~4,600
Author's note: Ooh, it's my first time posting here. Hope you like it.
Disclaimer: Everybody knows this didn't happen. If you take this as fact, I'm going to laugh at you.
Remind me never to get drunk with Julian Casablancas ever again. Tell me that everyday because it seems like I can never avoid it. Somehow, I always end up drinking myself to death beside him. Pausing every now and then to smoke the cigarette in my left hand. Looking at all the moving people and the flashing lights in the bar. Stealing quick glances at him, seeing him steal quick glances at me. Smirking because I know what he wants. And getting agitated because he gets it everyday. Getting drunk and subsequently doing something of a sexual sort with Julian Casablancas was an everyday - okay, every night affair, and I don't really know if it's just the alcohol talking and acting or if it's something else.
It's so much of an every night affair that in fact, right in this very moment, I am sitting with the Mister Julian Casablancas himself in a circular booth far from the things that make our heads hurt. The rest of the gang's somewhere in the crowd, dancing, making out, pissing, oh I don't know. I don't care very much right now because I'm in a booth with Julian fucking Casablancas, and we're both drunk (well, he is considerably drunker than I am), and if I'm not careful then I'll either fuck him for the third time this week or be fucked by him for the fourth time this week. Christ, how did that happen again?
It's not that I don't want it or that Julian's really bad at sex. I mean, Julian's really good. Excellent, even. I knew from the very start of our everyday affair that he'd been with men because no one is born with that level of skill in blowjobs. Or in handjobs. Or in just fucking. He'll blow all your previous fucks out of the water, I swear he will. And I want it too, you know, and I'm pretty sure he does as well. The problem is I don't know why. Julian's supposed to be my best friend. Just my best friend. Not my best friends with benefits. Not something I either do or get done by everyday.
The bottle in my right hand's empty because I've steadily drained it for the past couple of minutes. I don't really like smoking or drinking; I like blow better, so I drink and smoke less than Jules does. I take the last drag out of the cigarette in my left hand and throw it on the floor, squash the tiny ember with my beat-up red chuck. My lips are drier than the Sahara and they're cracked rather painfully. I lick at them in an attempt to moisturize them and I know that doesn't work but shit, at least I tried. I notice the light reflected in Julian's chocolate brown eyes as he's staring at me intently. I raise an eyebrow at him, my own silent way of saying, "What the fuck?"
"You are so fucking beautiful, Nicky," he slurs, grinning to himself like an idiot. "You know that, right?" He inches closer to me and I can just smell the smoke and the alcohol in his breath. It's so weird because if anyone breathed smoke into my face, I'd probably punch them, but when it's Julian, it's hot and it turns me on. His brown eyes burn into mine, filled with an emotion I can't put a finger on. I don't really know if it's longing, or sadness, or hunger, all I know is that those stupid brown eyes are making thinking rationally hard.
You see, Julian's eyes really are the window to his soul. They're dark and rimmed with dark gray circles brought about by insomnia and countless bottles of alcohol whose target audience ranged from minimum-wage pissheads to hipster boozers to millionaire alcohol connoisseurs. His eyelashes are so thick and pretty that they cast shadows on his blemished cheeks. They're brown and soft and they've got this light to them and they burn brighter when he's happy. He's got magic in his eyes, I'll tell you. People just swear they hate him, the self-absorbed asshole they say he is, but once he's talking and his eyes are gazing into theirs, blinking every ten seconds or so like some flirty little teenage girl, and they change sides quicker than Julian can chug beer. I've seen it happen many times. It's happened to me many times and right now, it's happening all over again. For the eighth fucking time this week. I think I have more self-control when I'm around coke than when I'm around him.
"I love you, haha, yes, I do." His laughter and his words are tickling my lips and filling my nose with his breath. And I'm just going like this, stating the all-too-obvious, "Julian, you're drunk."
He laughs and looks me in the eyes again, damn those stupid fucking brown eyes of his. "And so what if I am?" he slurs and brings our lips closer and now they're just separated by an inch. An inch and it's getting smaller. "It makes it more true, the fact that I love you."
"Oh, do you really love me now, Julian?" I breathe into his mouth, my words sardonic and heavy. He throws 'I love you's around when he's drunk as though it was fucking confetti. You've got to read between the lines when it's Julian you're dealing with. An 'I love you' never means 'I love you', at least to him. It means things like 'I want to fuck you', or 'I want to be fucked by you', or 'My dealer is gone, so let's do coke after this'. And then the day after that he goes sleeping around, or snorting lines with people he barely even knows, or kissing other girls and boys with that hungry mouth of his, and you'll be left wondering why and how you fell for his tricks.
"Yeah, I do. For realsies." I roll my eyes, purse my lips slightly. That love will be gone by next morning - oh wait, it probably won't even last that long, I think but don't say out loud.
"I sound like a fucking teenager right now, but who gives a shit, right?" He looks me in the eye again, desire plainly scrawled in his irises. And that's when he kisses me and I don't even try to stop him. I'm frozen in place but not for long, because now I'm kissing back and I don't think I should be doing this, not at all. But I'm powerless under his supple and heavenly lips and I can't stop myself. Or that's what I'll tell myself later, or tomorrow morning, or even a day or a week after this, to justify my idiotic behavior.
Both our lips are cracked and dry but as Julian said, who gives a shit. Not me and not him, either. Our kiss is rough but passionate and tastes of vodka, beer, and cigarette smoke. In short, it is delicious. I suck and bite at his full bottom lip and he sighs and moves closer, swings a leg over me until he's straddling me. He buries his hand in my hair and I reach down to cup his sweet round ass. Now it's my time to moan as he dips his head to suck and bite at my throat, licking at my jutting Adam's apple. He slowly grinds his hips into mine and I can feel his hard-on brushing mine slowly and tantalizingly. "You fucking tease," I can feel Julian's smirk against my neck and he does it again, that slow torturous grind. I kiss his ear, lick the shell of it, and bite the lobe roughly because I know he loves that and he lets out a groan. We join our lips again my hands are traveling under his shirt, feeling the soft and creamy skin of his stomach, thumbing and flicking gently at his hard nipples. I just love the sounds coming out of him because they sound so soft, so desperate, and so un-Julian. He's still continuing that slow pumping of his hips into mine and I'm bucking against him too and every time he hits that spot I make a sound that doesn't sound like me at all.
"Can we get out of here - oh shit, Jules - right fucking now?" I whisper into his lips as he grinds a bit faster against me. "Sure, love," he smiles at me again and his eyes are warm and cozy as the fire in a hearth. Innocent and debauched at the same time. Does he realize how much of a turn-on every aspect of him is?
We struggle not to kiss on our way to the cab but once we're in and I've already said the address we're all over the place again. I press him against the glass window, his hair flattening out and forming a circle around his perfect face and kiss him hard and he kisses me back with strength to match me. My forearms are on the glass and I am pinning him down by my mouth. Julian's hands are on my bony chest, feeling up my ribs and rubbing my sensitive nubs. I pant into his mouth and he takes this opportunity to thrust his tongue into my mouth, to lick at my teeth and tongue, and I love the taste of it as it wraps around mine. He kisses my mouth with a certain tenacity that makes it hard for me to kiss back because his lips are firm and soft at the same time. I could probably get drunk on them because of how much he's already drank but it tastes, feels, sounds, smells, and looks so good that really, I couldn't give less of a shit.
He removes my shirt, a white Mickey Mouse tee from Fab, and throws it down on the floor and I feel cold as he pins me down on the old and cracked leather seat. Goosebumps appear on my arms and I shiver a bit. I always feel cold because I'm so fucking thin. And I'm thin because honestly, eating's not my thing. And Julian, warm, toasty, and eternally hungry motherfucker that he is, swoops down on my lips and kisses his way down from there. When he sucks on a spot, he draws blood and warmth to the surface and elicits an animal groan from me. He slurps and sucks and pecks his way to my navel, just as the cab halts all of a sudden and I'm almost thrown down but Jules grabs me at the last second. The cab driver grins in the mirror and I just throw a hundred at him. I grab my shirt and Julian's hand and we run out of the cab and I, not thinking because of the heat of the moment, didn't even put my shirt on. It's cold outside and the goosebumps on my arms just raise even more. I just ran out of a cab, shirtless and drunk, with Julian Casablancas, who is now kissing me furiously. Now what will my neighbors think?
The lights inside the flat are still turned off and I really can't be assed to find the light switch in the living room and anyway, we aren't scared of the dark or some shit like that, so we're stumbling around like the smart drunk men we are. Well, I guess I'm doing fine enough but Jules is staggering a bit, an arm slung over my shoulders and his weight pulling me down. We try to make out but think better of it, because what little we see with our alcohol-fogged eyes can mean the difference between getting a concussion and getting laid. So we try not to on our way to my room and when we reach it, the first thing I do is slap the light switch on.
"You're not naked enough," I tell Jules impatiently, my eyes hurting because of the sudden brightness in the room. It's unfair that I am shirtless and he's not. I squint at him, shield my eyes until they aren't aching anymore. He takes his shoes off first, a nondescript pair of dirty chucks. Next up is his hot leather jacket, then the striped tank top, and finally his skinny jeans are off and I smirk at him because he isn't wearing anything underneath it.
He's never been the type to wear boxers or briefs. Says it's just another obstacle.
"Now you," he looks at my jeans and I shrug them off, exposing my long and skeletal legs. I'm not wearing anything underneath it either and I guess Jules likes it because he licks his lips hungrily. My cock is hard and getting harder by the second as he lets his eyes roam over my pitifully thin body and I over his thick and sculpted one. I look at him in the eyes again for confirmation. Honestly, I don't know why I'm doing this. We both want this pretty fucking bad. If he doesn't want this, he's done a bang up job of letting me know otherwise. Maybe I just like to err on the side of caution, because you can never be too careful with Julian Casablancas. Anyway, his eyes are, I guess, saying yes, so I close the gap between us with my lips and he leads me to the bed.
Julian's got me pressed down again, and his hands are on either side of my head. He dives into my lips for what may be the hundredth time and my lips are throbbing a little bit in pain but who gives a shit if it is. If anything, it just adds to the whole experience. My hands are on his head, massaging circles into his scalp, pulling at his messy and stiff brown hair. Did he wake up with his head in a puddle of beer again? I think to myself distractedly. I strain my bony hips up, desperate for friction against his hard cock and he chuckles into the kiss and avoids it. I break the kiss to rasp urgently, "Quit fucking around, Casablancas. Just suck me, fuck me, whatever. Just do it."
He laughs again and he kisses the tops of my fluttering eyelids and dips back at my mouth. "What's the hurry about, Nicky? Fine, fine, if you really want it that much..." His mouth dips and pecks at my defined chin before moving downwards to lick and suck all over my bobbing Adam's apple, making sure to leave a mark somewhere on my neck. He tongues at my collarbone, protruding and hard against my pale flesh and I groan, move my hips up, try to touch his cock with mine... but he deftly manoeuvres his to avoid it. "I'm getting there, Nicky, just wait a bit."
Oh but he's taking too fucking long, at least in my opinion. He's massaging the skin over my ribcage and every time I breathe out, the bones poke out even more than they did before.
"I fucking love you, Nick." he breathes against my skin and I'm inclined to believe him, even for just this night. Maybe for once he means it.
Now he's taken a detour to my hard left nipple and he's sucking and licking on it while twisting the other and God, it's almost enough to send me falling down right then and there. "Oh, oh shit, Jules, please just-" my words are interrupted by my own groan as he swaps the nipple he's licking with the one he's thumbing and twisting. I grip his hair, try to push him further down because I just want his beautiful lips on my cock but he's not budging.
"Asshole." He laughs against my skin again, his hands sliding over the taut skin over my ribs.
"You're cute when you're angry." I'm about five seconds from losing my mind here and that's all he has to say. God, he can be such a prick sometimes.
"Get on with it, Jules, please just blow me already, for crying out loud." I've given up trying to be tough. I'm tired of the teasing which he definitely gets off to. My cock, which is now hard, erect, veiny, and very much in need of Julian's attention, is twitching a little bit and precome is dribbling off its tip. I thrust my hips upwards again and I'm as impatient as a child in amusement park.
"Eager. I like that." I'm eager because I want to get off right now.
"Fucking get on with it." My voice sounds way past exasperation here.
"Say please." What's with him tonight?
"Please." And that's probably the sincerest thing I've said all week.
He moves to my cock and the expression on his face is that of hunger. The lights in his eyes have grown brighter and his lips are curled in a winning smile. Julian kisses the tip with his full lips and wiggles his tongue at the slit, licking at the precome oozing out of it. He licks and kisses down the shaft, sucking at the fat vein running down its side. I groan because I already feel the familiar tightness in my crotch and he hasn't even put it in his fucking mouth yet. He cups my balls with his left hand, gently rubbing and squeezing them while his right hand grips the base of my cock.
"Fuck." He looks up at me, his lips now starting to swallow my length while his hand pumps whatever he hasn't reached yet. Pale eyelids over brown eyes flutter shut in concentration as he finally descends on me. My hands are fisting my sheets and I have to stop myself from bucking into his mouth because Christ, this feels too good. Julian's mouth is soft, wet, and narrowed because he's sucked in his lips. His tongue is firm and smooth against the underside of my length. Now he's bobbing up and down and I have to shut my eyes because it's too much, everything is too much, and I'm biting too damn hard down my bottom lip to keep myself from crying too loud so yes, it's bleeding. My hands have left the sheets and now they're in his hair, pushing him down me and he goes down, further than he's ever went before.
I'm fucking Julian's mouth now and his nose is buried into that little patch of hair whenever I thrust upward, so we kind of meet halfway. I have to grab his hair harder and I'm sure I'm hurting him but I have to hold on or else I'll fall, fall forever and maybe that's not too bad. My teeth are no longer biting down my lip, I let my mouth run and now I'm moaning and crying his name in a tone that's only getting more desperate. With his hands playfully squeezing and fondling my balls and his mouth and tongue working magic on my cock, I'm just three seconds from losing my mind.
Julian's bobbing his head faster, faster than I think I can take, and when the head of my cock hits the back of his throat and he hums with my cock buried deep, I'm gone, I'm falling. I'm shooting thick ribbons of spunk deep into his throat and he accepts gladly, apparently loving the taste of it, licking up and down the shaft to savor every drop of it.
He crawls back on top of me and we kiss. The taste has changed and instead of tasting like Julian's old addictions, it tastes like me and a bit of my blood. The taste is salty and tangy and bitter with a hints of metal and alcohol thrown in for good measure. He licks at my bottom lip and it stings a bit because of the cuts.
"You okay?" Julian asks me, his eyes back to their original soft brown state. He kisses my bottom lip, catches it between his and sucks at it to draw blood, a tiny bit of it.
"Yeah... too good, y'know?" I tell him stupidly and the corners of his eyes crinkle in a smile. I'm still in a daze and I'm breathless as though I've run a fucking mile because that was the hardest I've come in a long fucking time. My breaths are hard and sharp turning slower and more relaxed and even though my throat hurts because I've strained my vocal cords (again), I'm feeling alright.
"Sure?" he kisses me with a newfound gentleness, parting my lips with a soft and pliant tongue, sharing my taste to me.
"'M okay, Jules." My voice is too soft and too weak but he still hears it. He fits his hips into mine, a jigsaw puzzle of dark and fair pieces, and he jerks his hips into mine and our cocks - mine half-hard and his completely hard - rub against each other. His cock is already slick, gleaming with precome under the bright white light of the room. Julian's always been so fucking wet. Wetter than me, at least. At this time I'm past half-hard and his fingers are already pinching my nipples and mine are squeezing his soft round ass. I once told him while we were stoned out of our minds that he had a woman's curves, with hips wider than what's allowed and with an ass that's round and pert and lovely and he rolled his eyes before kissing me deeply. That was the first night.
Jules is kissing my neck, biting and sucking and making sure that he makes marks there. I push my hips upward into his and he groans, long and low and he stops moving and I do too, before he goes insane.
"Want to fuck you, Nicky. Please."
His pleading voice is the sexiest thing ever and I'd have to be fifty times as callous as I am now to refuse him. I raise my legs and place them on Julian's shoulder as he aligns himself with my tight puckered hole and finally, fucking finally, he slips into my heat and he moans even though he hasn't gone that deep into me yet. Two forearms rest on either side of my head and he kisses me as he pushes further into me and I'm whimpering softly because he feels so thick and warm inside me.
I'm rocking against him with every one of his thrusts and a slow pace is established. I move closer and he kisses me on my ready and open mouth as he thrusts deeper and harder into me. My moans get lost in the depths of his throat as he reaches that spot inside me, oh my fucking God. I'm writhing underneath him because it feels too good.
Julian is slamming deeper and faster into me and my head hurts because of all, of everything I'm feeling - my tongue in his mouth, sliding and licking against his tongue, his dick buried in me, hitting that spot, and all I can say is his name and nothing exists except for us; we're all alone and that's fucking marvelous. He's so deep that he's touching places inside me that I didn't even know existed and I wrap my shaking hand around my hard and wet dick, pumping it up and down swiftly.
The sound of sharp breaths and high moans and the slapping of his wide hips against my narrow ass fills the air and it's so hot in this moment that I break the kiss for a moment, draw in a deep breath, deep enough to hurt. My hand is still around my cock, relentlessly moving up and down. Julian's pulling out every time before he drives back into me and I love how the head of his dick feels when it enters. His thrusts are getting faster now and now he doesn't about either of us getting hurt, just focusing on the pleasure that can be achieved right here, right now. I'm pumping my hand faster and I'm crying his name as I come, thick strings of my fluid hitting his body and mine. I'm blind for a second but now I feel Jules come with a shout, releasing his salty seed inside of my tightness.
He descends to kiss me again and this might be the thousandth time, but of course I'm still drunk and dazed from two mindblowing orgasms so don't count on my word. Now is the time for gentleness and love and post-orgasm sweet nothings, so he pulls out of me and lies down next me. I snuggle closer into his thick and hot body and he's giving off heat like a fucking furnace. I'm grateful for that because the heat of the moment is quickly fading like a high from powder. Sex with Jules has always been like that. The crash, the comedown, the finding out he's left before you've fucking woken up is always there, waiting for the buzz to die off completely before it hits you.
The morning after this is going to be terrible and I can even hear my internal monologue some seven hours from now: how did this happen and why did expect more from Julian "I break hearts on a daily basis" Casablancas? But for now, I just enjoy being here with him, lying on his sculpted chest, as I tip my head back massage his cheek with my slender fingers. Jules is rubbing circles on my flat stomach, tracing the edges of my ribcage delicately. I want to be in this moment forever just chilling out and being in bed with someone you love. My life would be so much simpler and so much more beautiful.
"Are you okay, Nicky?" he asks me softly, rubbing circles on my flat stomach. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" His eyes are warm and brown again, as they were before we left the bar, and I'm smiling up at him but my brows are raised, skeptical and surprised by his concern. Maybe he does love me. Just maybe. And for once my inner cynicism and pessimism don't flare up at once, raise my turrets, and make a wall to shield me from everything, so I can be the cold Nick Valensi everyone knows and hates. I'm telling you, it's not that I really am standoffish by nature, it's just that I've been hurt too many times and I've seen too many people get hurt and that just makes you critical of everything, of everyone.
I am at peace for the time being so I tell him, "I'm alright, Jules." I move closer to him and he wraps his body around me. "I'm alright now that I have you." And it's sappy and stupid but that's how I feel and being honest had always - and is still, by the way - one of my trademarks. The truth is the truth, no matter how bitter or sweet it is.
"Are you sure?" And now I have to laugh because this is ridiculous and not the Julian Casablancas I know. The Julian Casablancas I know grabs a cigarette or a bottle right after he's come and throws the ones he's slept with away like they're plastic spoons and forks because he knows for every one he throws away, there's bound to be at least a dozen spoons and forks just itching to be used. But when he laughs and kisses my forehead lightly all my doubts disappear. Now he's running his hands through my hair and I am playing with the tips of his.
"Love you, Nicky." I know that he means it.
"Love you, Jules." I know that I mean it, too.
It's so gay but it's okay.
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