Semi Precious Weapons (3 page)

The Jason that Chris met in the club was a far cry from this vulnerable boy, trembling but determined. That didn't mean that Jason didn't lead people on, but, for whatever reason, it wasn't how he was with Chris.

Chris pulled his fingers from the tight opening, smeared lube over them, and slid them in again. When Chris rubbed the prostate, Jason's eyes fluttered shut, his expression reflecting utter bliss. Then Jason wrapped a hand around his own cock and rocked his hips shallowly.

Jason didn't object when Chris undid the corset bow and tugged at the laces. Chris took up stroking Jason's cock, allowing him to pull the loosened corset over his head and drop it beside the bed.

Jason’s make-up had smeared all over his face. He looked so young now, not like a hard New York cross-dresser so much as an experimental college boy. For the first time since Chris had been here, he felt like the one who knew what he was doing.

"Hold on." Chris pulled his fingers from him, and Jason looked hurt.

Chris kissed Jason's brow. "I'll be right back. I just want to clean you up a little."

He went to the bathroom and wet a washcloth. When he returned, he tenderly wiped the make-up from Jason's face. Jason closed his eyes, letting him do it. Once finished, Jason avoided Chris's gaze.

Placing his index finger under Jason's chin, Chris lifted his head and kissed him. They sank onto the bed, facing each other. Jason grabbed Chris's cock so confidently there was no doubt Jason had gone this far before. Jason pulled like an expert, as rough as Chris liked, without manhandling it. Chris grabbed the lube from the end of the bed and spread it on Jason's hand. Jason kissed him again and wiggled closer.

Chris took Jason's cock, holding it as he had before, hand still slick from fingering him.

"I must look terrible," Jason whispered against Chris's lips. "Without my makeup and clothes."

"Not to me. I like you better like this."

Jason looked into Chris's eyes, scanning them. "Do you still want to fuck me?"

Chris nodded. "Yes." The word came out breathy as he thought of what fucking him would be like. "But you don't have to…"

"I want to."

Chris rolled on top of Jason and felt around his discarded clothes for a condom. He peeled open the package and rolled it on. Jason looked so vulnerable with his body sprawled out, legs wide open. His body was beautiful, and Chris took care to slide his fingers over the newly exposed abdomen.

"You're beautiful just as you are. Not like everyone else. Not at all."

Jason turned his head against the pillow, cheeks rosy.

Chris lined himself up with Jason's opening and then crawled up his body so they were face-to-face when he moved.

"Ready?"

Jason nodded.

"Remember to relax."

Chris thrust inside and Jason seized up, his back arching and shoulders stiffening. He breathed through his mouth, panting, face glistening with sweat.

Pulling back a couple of inches, Chris thrust again, feeling more than the tip sliding in this time. "Breathe, Jason." He blew softly over Jason's face and pressed kisses around his mouth.

Jason's eyes were squeezed shut, lips parted for air. He slowed his breathing and nodded.

Chris moved again, this time all the way in. Jason's insides clutched Chris's cock so hard that he almost couldn't breathe. He blew cool air over Jason's face again, and this time Jason opened his eyes.

"You okay?" Chris asked.

"Yeah, of course. I mean, I've done this before."

Chris tried not to smile. "Right, of course."

Jason wrapped his arms and legs around him tightly. "We should probably be kind of quick. This um… isn't exactly my room."

"What?" Chris didn't have the opportunity to question him further, because Jason started moving against him, moaning loudly as he did. It was impossible to keep from coming with that much pressure and movement around his cock. He fisted Jason's cock, surprised to find how hard the blond was after the pain of his first time. Chris's cum spilled out in long, luxuriant waves of release. He bit Jason's shoulder, wanting to leave one more mark.

Once Chris had come, he rested his head on Jason's chest and jacked Jason off. Chris pulled faster, whispering terse encouragement.

Jason exclaimed, "Oh shit, oh God, oh shit," until the dark slit of his cock gave way to pearly spunk, shooting to Chris's face. The spunk striped his abdomen and belly in slippery clear-white fluid. Chris milked the tip with his thumb until Jason could give no more. Then he watched Jason's erection slowly ebb.

There was a knock at the door.

"Shit!" Chris dove for his clothes.

Jason rolled out of the bed, looking rankled. "I'll handle it."

Chris grinned at Jason limp as he walked to the bathroom, where when he found a robe. He vanished from sight again to answer the door.

There was a back and forth of hushed voices, and then Chris heard Jason say in his annoyed voice, "Oh, I suppose."

Then Chris heard wheels squeak and something bumped the door. A man in a uniform came in wheeling a cart with a large silver platter and a bucket of ice with champagne.

"Again, we do apologize for any inconvenience."

The uniformed man stood with his brows raised.

"Chris, would you tip the man?" Jason said with his arms folded. He leaned against the wall with a sly grin. "Honestly, I don't know where he was brought up."

Frowning, Chris held one of the multitudes of pillows over his crotch and fished in his jeans for his wallet. He handed the man a twenty, which seemed satisfactory. The man left.

"What was that all about?" Chris asked. Jason popped open the champagne.

"No clue, but I think it's about time they brought us some champagne, don't you?"

"You said this wasn't your room?"

Jason poured and handed Chris a flute. "Oh no. I don't have a room here." He laughed. "Or anywhere."

"You're homeless?" Chris blinked. Maybe this was the horrible part about Jason at which Sebastian had hinted.

"You make it sound so movie of the week. I'm not homeless; I prefer to maintain many homes of varying consistency based on whose hotel keys I can get. If all else fails, I have space at the club where I keep my stuff."

"Hotel keys you can get?" Chris set down his champagne flute.

"Well sure. Tourists are so inattentive. And look at it this way: without money or a place to stay, I'm giving them a real New York experience. I should charge for it."

Chris didn't know what to say at all. "But how do you eat?"

Jason lifted the silver dome to reveal lobster. "Voila!"

"People were showering you with money earlier!" Chris's stomach growled at the smell of the lobster.

"What, you think my fabulous couture comes for free? Well, I mean, sometimes it does when I'm doing runway and no one's watching." Jason cracked open the lobster with expert ease. "Though it's been hard since I was busted at the
Gaultier
show in Paris snagging that corset."

"The one you were wearing?" Chris looked at the lobster meat. It begged to be eaten.

Jason took a fork and dipped some lobster in the butter. "That's the one."

"He let you keep it?"

"Well of course. You saw how I look in it."

Chris gave in to hunger, though he wasn't sure he could adapt to this lifestyle. Still, membership had its privileges. If he were with the other models, he'd probably be eating canned meatballs right now.

"And people still hire you?"

"Some do. Sometimes. So let's talk about you. I understand you're going to walk Prada?"

Chris stopped mid-bite, feeling wary. "Yes?"

"Steal me something."

It took a moment for Jason to crack a smile, but when he did, Chris was relieved.

"Why don't you get a job and buy something?"

"Because shit's expensive. I don't qualify for the kind of jobs that would keep me in the lifestyle I've become accustomed to. I love this room. It has a park view, did you notice?" Jason indicated the window.

The lights of Central Park twinkled below, and Chris stood to take in the city. He had to admit, the view was to die--or steal--for.

"Why do you carry a gun? Do you mug people?"

Jason laughed. "Mugging is so crude. Come on, you're a Texan. You tell me why I carry a gun."

Chris turned. "How do you know that? How did you know I was walking Prada?"

"You're in the fashion world, baby. Everyone gossips about everything. You'll see." Jason grinned and winked. The vulnerable boy had left the building. Jason was back.

"For however long that lasts." Chris sat down on the bed.

"You have a lot more going for you than looks." Jason swallowed the last of his champagne. "Must be nice."

"Oh come on. You’re a lot more than a sexy face. And a hot body. And a tight hole."

Jason twisted a lock of hair coyly. "Yeah?"

Chris patted the spot next to him and Jason joined him. "Yeah. You're very flexible, hilarious, sweet, and possess fabulous taste in clothes."

Wrapping his arms tightly around Chris, Jason kissed him deeply. He followed up with soft lips at the corners of Chris's mouth. Then he pressed their foreheads together. "You're sweet to say so."

"I'm not trying to be sweet, Jason. It's the truth. Everyone can see that."

"Hah." The mirthless laugh surprised Chris, but now that Jason had let down his guard, his insecurities became obvious.

Chris outlined Jason's lips with his finger. "I can see it, at least."

Jason kissed his finger and closed his eyes. For a moment, Chris thought he would cry, but then Jason sat up and said, "Unfortunately, I wasn't kidding earlier. This isn't my room. I should get you home. Sebastian is probably going to ground you and put out a hit on me."

Standing, Chris found his clothes and pulled them on. He wanted to ask about the full story with Sebastian, but he had the feeling that story would take a long time to tell.

"What about you? Where are you going to stay?"

"Somewhere a lot nicer than the rat hotel they're putting you up in." Jason darted around the room to collect his clothes. He left his corset off, which made his middle look exposed.

Chris gave in to the temptation to bite the slight indentation at his waist. "You're so tasty."

Jason play swatted him. "Incorrigible. I love that." He looked like he wanted to say something more but waved it off.

They slipped through the hall, passing a pair of weary-looking tourists. Whatever style the woman's hair had been earlier in the evening, dancing and humidity had made it frizzy. She leaned on a man -- likely her husband -- who held her shoes. Tourists.

They looked like they'd been out all night. The man grumbled loudly about having to get a new key. "If those bastards think we can be bought off with some cheap champagne and lobster, they've got another thing coming." The man cited other injuries, including how long it took to get a replacement key.