Up Close and Personal

UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL by Jayson Leigh

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or locations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent.

Author's Note: Thoughts, questions or comments? This way please- jmleighwrites@gmail.com

CHAPTER 5

Breakdown

The man behind the desk stroked his beard lovingly as he stared through tortoise-shell glasses taking notes on Leo's life. Leo would've killed to see what was in the notebook; stick figure drawings? A shopping list...? Excruciating details of everything he'd told the psychiatrist during their sessions together? Minutes passed and Dr. Stein continued to write, slowly and thoughtfully.

Leo glanced at his watch. They were only 13 minutes into the 45 minute session.

"Would you be more comfortable on the couch?" Dr. Stein asked, motioning to the overstuffed burgundy chaise lounge behind them.

"I'm good here," Leo said, with a nod at the wide windows overlooking Central Park. A light but steady drizzle rained down on the lush grove of trees and greenery. People with umbrellas and raincoats made their way through the park steadily, and Leo realized how calming it was to see the rest of the world carry on while time seemed to stand still for him. His doctor, with a little nudging from Paul, had released him early from the hospital and he'd boarded a one way flight for New York immediately. There was a psychiatrist who Perry Ford, Atlantis Records boss, had claimed would give Leo a clean bill of health for the tour. He was discreet and trust-worthy but wouldn't make house calls so Leo had to go to him.

So here he was, in New York, having done nothing for the past two weeks except attend bi-weekly sessions with his new shrink. The next tour date had temporarily been rescheduled for a date three weeks for now. "No pressure," Paul had said, "we can always reschedule if we have to."

Reschedule my ass. He had the entire burden of his band, concert sponsors, Atlantis records, and myriad fans on his shoulders. The tour had to go on. He had to get cleared by Dr. Stein as soon as possible and the man appeared in no hurry to let him go.

"Were you trying to harm yourself," the doctor asked.

He didn't blink. "No. I just wanted to get some sleep."

"Tell me how you were feeling that day?"

He sighed inwardly. He'd answered this question before. "I told you already."

"Did you?" the doctor said, flipping pages until he found something and hummed. "Oh, here we are. `You were feeling lousy?' Is that right?"

Leo shrugged.

"Define lousy?"

"I hadn't slept."

Dr. Stein hummed again.

Leo wasn't sure what to make of the doctor. Most therapists had a warm empathetic nature about them. Some were insincere about their interest, but they always feigned interest. Dr. Stein appeared to... quite simply... not give a shit. He hadn't asked any introductory questions about Leo; hadn't tried to set an agenda for their sessions; hadn't pushed him to answer questions about the day he'd overdosed. He hadn't done much of anything really other than asking Leo odd questions that seemed more interrogatory than therapeutic.

Were you aware of the effects of the medication you took? Was that why you took so many?"

Leo tried to hide a smirk. No, sir, I thought them roofies were like vitamin C, he thought. Instead he said out loud, "I didn't know what they were. Someone said they'd help me sleep... that's all I knew."

The doctor nodded. Glasses perched on the edge of his nose as he dutifully recorded Leo's answers or perhaps, added another item to his shopping list. Leo resisted the urge to grab the leather bound notebook.

So it continued; a back and forth volleying of questions from Dr. Stein about Leo's motives that day, and Leo's blatant lies and tongue in cheek denials. The end of the session couldn't come quick enough.

The bedroom window overlooked the front entrance to their building allowing Shane to catch watch Drew's departing figure. The sky was as grey as the cobblestone pavement below; Shane thought it quite appropriate to the mood in his apartment these days. They hadn't talked much since the incident, as he'd taken to calling it in his head. A smile tugged his lips when he remembered Drew's extremely surprised expression at rebuffed. He was sure no one had ever interrupted a blow job from him before.

His thoughts travelled back to that night two weeks ago. By the time he was done talking to Paul, he'd discovered that Drew had gone to sleep in the guest bedroom. Since then, he'd been getting the cold shoulder from his lover. He'd tried to apologize for the incident but Drew had told him to save it.

Drew really wasn't the easiest person to talk to. He favored giving the cold shoulder over talking through issues. Sometimes, he'd come through on his own, acting like nothing had happened between them some other times, he simply walked away. They didn't have passionate, explosive fights like some couples. Drew didn't slam doors or throwing objects or get in Shane's face just to make a point. He'd liked that in the early days, happy to be with a guy who dealt with issues in a mature way. In time, he realized that the silent treatment stung just as much, perhaps even more. He hated Drew freezing him out yet Drew persisted in spite of, or perhaps because of, this.

Jasmine was desperately trying to get his attention by pawing at his leg so he patted her nose absent mindedly and headed to kitchen where he programmed the coffee machine because Drew wasn't making him coffee these days. As he waited for the coffee, he ate the last cup of Greek yogurt, hoping he'd remember to buy more on his way home because the last thing he wanted to do was deprive Drew of his breakfast the following morning. Sweet domesticity, he thought wryly.

He returned to the room, steaming cup of coffee in hand and humming to himself when he noticed the folded note on the nightstand with his name in it. His mood plummeted.

What was it with people and notes? Didn't anyone talk anymore? What was it about him that made men write notes to him when he was right there? From recent experience, he knew this could be no good.

He stared at the note from a distance, debating whether or not to read it. His name was scrawled and he suddenly began reading meaning into that. Drew's writing was usually very neat and legible. Scrawling usually meant he was angry... or did it? Forget it. He was no writing expert. With bated breath, he reached for it.

`We need to talk tonight. Drew.'

He let out a soft breath and let the note flutter to the floor before heading to the bathroom. He couldn't help but wonder how close he'd come to ruining the relationship with a man who wanted to be with him, for another man who hadn't given a thought to him since once torrid night in a hotel room.

He closed his eyes under the warm spray of water, feeling guilty about how much time he continued to devote to Leo when Drew was all he should be thinking about. He'd made a panicked decision that night and ruined the fragile bonds he and Drew were just beginning to build again. Leo was clearly a very troubled man; an alcoholic, a druggie, unreliable, selfish, and unhappy. The sort of man he ought to stay clear off.

Still, there was no harm in being concerned about Leo's wellbeing, was there? A phone call or two, well maybe three, to Paul had assured him that Leo was recovering. Paul also mentioned that despite media reports, Leo hadn't attempted suicide. Shane was relieved, although a part of him wondered if Paul, spin maker that he was, was being less than truthful. Leo had gotten under his skin and he wanted desperately to believe that the confident, charming and fascinating man he'd spent the night with was the real Leo, not the mentally unstable mess the media was portraying.

He'd forced himself to stop calling Paul. He had no stake in Leo's future. The man should be a distant memory to him by now, his only interest in his well-being should be strictly professional... Only it wasn't. It was exactly why he didn't do hook-ups. He was emotionally connected to the man because he'd never learned to separate sex from emotions. Jenny teased all the time, no one makes love anymore. It's too time consuming, she'd said, these days, we just fuck and move on.

He considered it a weakness, knew it was incredibly foolish to think that everyone who had sex with him wanted something more. Leo had made it very clear, and Shane realized without a doubt that he had to make this work with Drew. He dreaded the thought of dating someone new, of putting his heart out there and being rejected. At least with Drew, he knew what to expect... he'd freeze him out or walk out on him but he'd always come back.

Maybe he should tell Drew about Leo. He hadn't cheated on him, technically...? Huh, so maybe that was a grey area. They'd never discussed their time apart, but Shane knew that Drew, stickler to rules that he was, probably wouldn't out on him. It was an unspoken thing between them, that despite being apart, they were committed, and Shane had a feeling that Drew would consider his one night with Leo, cheating.

He indulged himself in one last thought about the rock star then stopped himself. For good this time. It was all over. Time to focus on the sure thing; Drew. Leo Malone was his past. It was time to move on.

"Trey says hi. Ray's got a box of cigars with your name on it and Dave says to hurry up and get the show on road."

Leo nodded, a hint of a smile curving his lips at the mention of his boys.

"So what's this look Amish you've got going?"

Leo was barely recognizable with the beginning of a full beard forming on his cheeks. He hadn't cared to shave in weeks. "What's it to you?" he asked Paul. "I've got no place to be." After a few moments he asked, "Am I still on lock-down? I'm sick of this place."

Paul queried, "Got some place to be?"

At Leo's glare, he added carefully. "You know, this isn't a vacation or prison. You're free to leave if want to, but do you really want to put yourself out there like nothing happened? The media's speculating that you tried to do yourself in you weren't ready to get back to work."

"That's bullshit," Leo muttered, self-consciously.

"Look, you ought to be in detox right now. Your doctor released only released you under the stipulation that you'd take it easy and get some rest."

"I'm going stir-crazy in here."

Paul looked around the small studio apartment he'd ensconced Leo in. It was a monthly rental he used whenever he came down to New York for meetings and it was a far cry from the sort of luxury Leo was used to. It'd been the best he could come up with when they realized Leo couldn't stay in a hotel for fear of being hounded by the press. He didn't trust any of Leo's friends to keep him away from bad habits and frankly, he thought Leo needed some peace and quiet to stay clean.

"I think the Xbox is around somewhere-"

Leo didn't speak, just grabbed a cushion, covered his face with it and let out a muffled yell. He heard Paul moving around the room and then the weight of another person sitting down next to him. When he let go of the pillow, he saw that Paul was next to him cracking open a can of soda.

"Feel better now?" Paul asked.

"Not really."

Leo muted the television while hoping he'd remember to tune back in when Maury finally revealed the results of the DNA test. He was strangely concerned about Connie and the fate of her cute twin girls. A moment later, he cringed at how pathetic his life had become. If he carried on like this any longer, daytime television just might succeed where the roofies failed.

"How's it going with Stein?"

Leo made a face. His therapy sessions were the last thing he wasn't to talk about now. "Is he a real shrink?"

"How do you mean? He's licensed. Perry says he got him through a bad patch once or twice."

"He's kind of weird."

"Perry says to give it time."

Leo rolled his eyes, thinking, "Well if Perry says..." It'd take a hell of a shrink to help his record label boss get through anything. The man, in his opinion, had more than a few issues to work through.

He watched Paul take a long sip of cola then asked something that'd been weighing on his mind. "So what do you know about Shane Roderick?"

Paul let out a loud burp. "He's a talk show host, 29, from Boston, graduated summa cum laude from-"

"You know what I mean. In the hospital, you said you knew some things... about Shane and me..."

"So is that a thing, now? Shane and you?"

Leo stopped breathing.

Paul rolled his eyes after a few moments. "Come on. I just put two and two together..."

"No, you didn't."

"Fine, I had Jake tell me exactly what you'd been up to recently. He mentioned your overnight stay in Shane's hotel room after the interview."

Leo remembered how he'd charmed the pretty front desk clerk, in Jake's presence, into revealing Shane's room number. Then he'd had him wait in the lobby while he'd gone up. When he'd returned, hours later, he guessed it was pretty obvious what he'd been up to with the other man.

Paul shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't normally go prying into your personal affairs, but when you suddenly go off the deep end I think I've got a right to check up on you."

Leo watched Connie leap off the couch in joy. He guessed she'd found the father.

"So what happened?" Paul asked.

Leo looked at his manager and wondered how to begin. It wasn't that talking about it was hard, rather, Leo was confronted with the stark reality that admitting to this dalliance meant he wasn't as straight as he'd assumed himself to be. He hated labels, but the possibility of losing one he'd identified with and taking for granted all his life struck him cold.

He threw a look at Paul and considered how one of the less known problems of being a star was that there were very few people he could speak with frankly. With most people, he was either failing to live up to their expectations or putting on a façade just to keep up. He always felt judged. Everyone had their idea of who Leo Malone was, and he very rarely measured up. Recently, the only other person who'd managed to strip him bare, who'd motivated him to give in to his most basic, primal instincts, had been Shane Roderick.

He knew his reputation as a difficult interview subject, but he'd ended up being a lot more candid with Shane than he'd ever allowed himself to be. The other man had had him expressing some of his insecurities and worries about his music and critics. He'd had to have him that night. He'd wanted more and he wasn't going to deny himself.

In retrospect, he had to wonder what the hell he'd been thinking. It'd never crossed his mind that Shane would turn him down. He'd known he was going for an easy target, that there would be no hesitation on the other man's part. Not with the lingering looks Shane had thrown him on his way out of the studio, or the way he'd looked at Leo like he knew all of his darkest secrets and didn't give a damn about any of them. Not when his lips were made for fucking and his eyes, fuck, his bright blue eyes promised Leo such things that even his black heart had believed that maybe he really did deserve something good

"Leo...?"

He blinked. "I just wanted something different."

"What?"

"You wouldn't understand. He was like a blast of fresh air, you know? From the moment he met me, he didn't give a fuck who I was. He was pissed that I came in late, and it showed. Then you sprang that contract on him and he got really tough in the interview, but he got me, you know? He knew what buttons to push and somewhere along the way... it became a fucking turn, you know?"

Paul squinted at him thoughtfully "I don't think he's the first reporter to turn on you on. Remember that one from Rolling Stone magazine? You fucked her in the bathroom midway through the interview."

Leo smirked. "She kept uncrossing her legs and she wasn't wearing underwear... very distracting."

Paul drained the rest of the can. "So that's what got you all twisted up? That you fucked a guy?"

The room was silent save for the whirring sound of air flowing from the air conditioner. Leo rubbed his eyes tiredly. He noticed Paul hadn't used a specific three-letter word to describe him. He didn't think he was ready for that word quite yet.

"I bailed on him later that night. Left a note saying I was sorry."

His manager arched a brow. "What's the big deal? I'm not sure he expected a lifetime of commitment just cause of one screw?"

That was the million dollar question, Leo thought. Something about Shane's demeanor that night, how open, gentle and guileless he'd been had Leo thinking he'd pegged him wrong. That Shane letting him in his room that night had been the exception, rather than the rule. He couldn't help feeling that he'd messed up; that he'd wrecked the man in more ways than one.

Paul surmised, "So you creep out in the middle of the night and decide to drag Joni to Tokyo to prove to yourself that you're still straight as an arrow, right? Only you got there and... you weren't over him?"

Leo swallowed hard. Paul's succinct version of events had him feeling like even more an asshole than usual.

"So what went wrong?"

Leo remained silent.

"I don't mean to sound insensitive here, but you're free to stick your dick in whomever you want. It's nobody's fucking business. You don't have to tell the world who you did last night and even if you did, the industry might give a shit for maybe two days, but they've got the attention span of a goldfish. Your fans, you'd lose, what, 20 percent but I assure you record sales and concert tickets will shoot through the roof because you'd have yourself a whole new following. You'd lose some, win some... either ways, you'll come out on top."

Trust Paul to think it was the business end of things that had got him stressed.

"Your first is always different, trust me."

Leo spun quickly to look at Paul. "Have you ever...?"

"Me? With a man...? Nah. Never been tempted..."

"So what d'you mean-"

"Your first anything sticks. Gets under your skin and kinda has you thinking its more than it really it is."

Leo recalled Olivia Dorsey, 10th grade in her parents' room during a party. She'd said she loved him after; he'd smiled and asked for another condom.

He's never lost his head, not over a woman, and there've been many. He's liked most of them, maybe even thought he'd felt a bit more for one or two but he's heart has always firmly stayed out of the picture. It feels like from the moment he met Shane Roderick, the man slipped an invisible fist into around heart and hasn't let go since.

"This isn't about firsts... I've had lots of firsts... and it's been nothing like this."

"So what you're in love with him?"

Leo's eyes narrowed. "It's not that either." He was no fool in love. He didn't believe for one second that he was in love with Shane Roderick. What he felt was a deep, pining hunger that refused to abate.

Paul recognized the look on Leo's face. It was the one he'd gotten when they'd learned a Jimi Hendrix Stratocaster was going on the auction block. It was the one he'd had when he told Paul to acquire it at any cost and it was the one he'd lost a month later, when Paul placed the guitar in his hands and he'd looked at it reverently, strummed a few chords before pushing it back to Paul, disinterestedly. "Store that in a safe place, will you?"

"You can't always get what you want," Paul said aloud. He knew Leo craved, obsessed, plundered, and then promptly lost interest. It was what made him a talented musician, crafting perfection from songs and lyrics where others would have long given up. It was also what made him an addict, desiring yet another high, because what he had was never enough.

Leo rolled his eyes at the very irony of Paul quoting the lyrics of his favorite songs. He decided that if Paul said anything about getting what he needed, he'd fling the can of soda in his stupid, frowning face.

Paul felt a pang of sympathy for the absent Shane Roderick. Leo had set him in his sights and he had no clue what was coming. He didn't even know the man, yet something had him wanting to protect him from Leo. "You should stay away from him."

When Leo said nothing, he added, "He's in a long term relationship; been with the person over three years now?"

Nothing Paul did surprised Leo anymore. "You had him investigated?"

"Just doing my job."

Leo snorted. "I take it he's no axe murderer?"

"Stay away from him," Paul repeated firmly.

"Thought you didn't care about who I fuck?"

Paul sighed inwardly and reached for the remote. He only cared about who Leo hurt because he'd have to fix it.

Shane was surprised to find Jenny's door closed. He knocked politely anyway and when he heard no answer, he knocked one more time and then pushed the door open.

Jenny was sitting astride someone on the couch. Her T-shirt rolled up to reveal a lacy bra while she was hastily tried to unbutton the shirt of the man beneath her.

Shane's eyes widened in surprise then he cleared his throat noisily to reveal his presence.

"Oh my God!" she yelped, leaping off the man in a surprisingly athletic move that had Shane reconsidering her level of fitness. She pulled down her shirt just as the man on the couch sat up and stared sheepishly at Shane.

"Good morning, Mark," Shane said, acknowledging the tall, handsome sound engineer. He turned to his friend, grinning "Jenny."

"What the hell are you doing here?" she muttered angrily.

"You didn't show up for coffee," Shane said offering her the rapidly cooling cup.

"You didn't even knock!"

"I did. I guess you guys were too busy-"

"Oh, shut up!" said Jenny, her face turning red with embarrassment. She turned to Mark, "You were supposed to lock the door! What if Bill walked in...?"

"I thought I did," he replied awkwardly, doing up his shirt quickly. "I, umm, I've got to go." He moved in close, as if to kiss her, but her glare stopped him short. He threw a glance at Shane then muttered quietly to Jen, "I'm sorry. I guess I'll, uh, see you later."

He made for the door when Shane stopped him, barely able to contain his laughter. "Your shirt's buttoned up wrong."

Mark blushed even deeper. "Thanks," he mumbled before stumbling out.

Shane watched his departure before declaring to his best friend with barely concealed glee, "So this is where the magic happens!"

He felt quite pleased that he'd caught her in the act. It was rare that he got a chance to tease her about her missteps. The jokes were usually on him.

"I hope you're happy now," she said resentfully as she made for her desk.

"Not just happy," Shane replied with a wide grin. "Ecstatic. You should have seen yourselves in the throes of passion... and that move you pulled when I spoke up? You should seriously consider trying out for the Olympics high jump team."

Jenny rolled her eyes dismissively. "We were very dignified, and we hadn't even reached the `throes of passion' yet."

"You ought to be careful, though," he added on a more serious note. "It could've been anyone..."

She glared at him and pronounced crossly. "Oh, you're such a prude! What do you want with me, anyway?"

"Do I need a reason to see my best friend?"

"Well you just interrupted the best part of my day, so you'd better have a damn good reason."

"Fine. I need your advice on something."

"Shoot."

"It's Drew."

"Shoot him."

"Funny. I'm serious."

Her expression morphed into one of pure evil. "Trouble in paradise?" she asked mockingly.

He ignored her sarcasm. "I did something over the weekend. I don't regret it, not really, but he's angry."

"What did you do?"

"That's not important," he said cryptically.

She narrowed her gaze on him for a moment then began checking emails on her computer.

"Well?"

"Are you really asking me for advice to fix your relationship with Drew? I'd rather stick a hot poker in my eye."

Shane realized that she did have a point. Still, it was her obligation as his best friend to help him out, and he told her so.

She rolled her eyes and muttered, "Sex."

"What?"

"Fuck him. Fuck him silly. Fuck him till he can't remember his name, your name or whatever the hell got him so angry in the first place."

Shane gave her a skeptical look. "I must say, a lot of your advice has to do with sex."

She shrugged. "It's what makes the world go round, my dear."

He continued looking at her doubtfully and she said finally, "Look, you want to say sorry without actually admitting anything, right? Trust me. Guys like Drew, who think they're all that, their egos are very tightly connected to their dicks. Screw with one and you screw with the other..." She paused at this point and tilted her head thoughtfully. "Come to think of it, that applies to all guys..."

Shane thought about the incident and wondered if he hadn't just bruised Drew's ego, but also made him feel less than adequate in the sack. Shit. "You might have a point," he admitted to Jen.

She flashed him a brief smile, "Worked for me and Alex all the time."

"Now I see why that ended in a divorce."

"Screw you," she retorted.

Shane smiled at her pleasantly as he began making his way out of her office.

"Do the world a favor tonight," she said as he opened the door, "before you seduce Drew, try pulling out that stick shoved up his ass first."

Shane extended his right hand and offered her a crude one fingered salute before exiting.

The whipped cream was beginning to melt and Shane wondered why he'd set it out so early. With so many candles in the bedroom, the temperature was considerably warmer than he liked. He picked out another strawberry, dabbed it in cream and took a bite while considering the sweaty bottle of Dom Perignon on his side. The ice in the bucket had mostly melted, leaving the bottle immersed in cold water.

With a sigh, he wiped away a dollop of whipped cream that had landed on his bare chest and considered his choice of apparel; nothing but a pair of briefs, if you wanted to be generous. He recalled how earlier that afternoon in the department store, he'd hidden the tiny slip of black silk in between a stack of clothes, hoping that the old lady, who rang him up and reminded him of his grandma, wouldn't take note of it.

He bit his lip and decided that if Drew didn't show up soon, he'd pop open the bottle and drown himself in champagne fueled misery. The only thing worse than a half-assed seduction, he decided, was a seduction that never even happened.

As luck would have it, he heard a sound outside the bedroom door and surmised that Drew had returned. He sat up, trying to prop himself in a more appealing manner on the bed. He gave up after trying out three poses, each one felt more ridiculous than the last.

He was trying to seduce his boyfriend for Christ's sake. So why did it feel so wrong, like he was forcing himself into someone else's shoes? He felt uncomfortable and unappealing... far from the sexy and self-assured figure he was trying to project.

The door handle turned slowly and he got up anxiously.

He watched Drew appear in the doorway. "Hey, are you okay?" Drew asked.

Shane said nothing, allowing the other man take note of the obviously romantic mood he'd created in their bedroom. He watched Drew's gaze circle around the room then come back to land on him. His eyes widened as he finally took in the pair of very low cut briefs that Shane had on. Shane had shaved himself clean and he knew how prominent and appealing his cock looked within the constraints of his tight underwear.

Drew let a smile creep on to his features. "What's this, then?"

Shane put on what he hoped was a smile and moved in closer. He reached for Drew and thought to himself, here goes nothing.

He brushed his lips firmly against Drew's and pulled him to the bed. The bed dipped under their combined weight as he reached for his lover's shirt, fumbling with the buttons and pulling him closer.

"Hey, let's talk first..." Drew began.

"Shhh..." Shane whispered. It was easier to keep up this charade if Drew stayed silent. He had to focus if he was going to make this work.

His hands were clumsy as he tried to undo the buttons on Drew's shirt. Finally in a fit of frustration, he yanked the front of the shirt hard. Several buttons popped off and hit the floor. They both paused and watched the buttons bounce onto the rug then roll to the hardwood floor.

Drew smiled. "Well, this was never my favorite shirt," he said, pushing away Shane's hands and rapidly pulling the shirt and a wife-beater underneath off.

In the meantime, Shane made quick work of his tight briefs and settled back next to Drew, helping him undo his lover's pants and pushing them off him. He leaned up and covered Drew's mouth once more with his; threading his hands through his long hair and swirling their tongues together.

Everything was happening quickly, and he didn't want Drew to think too hard about it, or else he might notice that Shane wasn't quite himself. He pushed his hands down Drew's firmly muscled back onto his hips, grinding their cocks together. Drew was hard already. Good. He was getting there too.

He grasped his lover's cock with a firm hand and stroked him through the cotton fabric of his boxers. He looked down to see the head of Drew's cock poking out of his underwear.

Capturing his lover's mouth in a kiss once again, he whispered urgently, "How do you want me?"

He tried to part his legs but Drew stopped his movements with a firm hand to his hip. He was watching Shane closely, his eyes narrowed almost suspiciously.

"What's wrong?" Shane asked. When Drew didn't answer, he tried to move again, but Drew moved over him to press a hard kiss to his lips, and then peered into his eyes, as if pondering something. Shane tried to lean up to kiss him again but Drew pulled back and continued watching him.

"Drew?" he asked worriedly, wondering when this had gone south. He frowned and bucked his hips, trying to keep their cocks in contact.

Drew let him, allowing Shane grind against him almost wantonly, then he placed a hand on the juncture of Shane's neck and shoulder and pressed down slightly on his throat for a moment. "You think you're so fucking smart," he whispered to Shane.

Shane blinked, suddenly uncomfortable at the turn their lovemaking had taken. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he had a feeling he wasn't running this show anymore.

With a satisfied expression at Shane's stillness, Drew reached between their heated bodies to push Shane's legs apart. "So you want me now?" he sneered to Shane, his voice rough with lust and just a tinge of anger.

Shane breathed in deeply, saying nothing. Drew was still applying a slight pressure to his throat, so he turned his head to the side and dropped a kiss on Drew's wrist with the corner of his lips, hoping to pacify him.

"Get on your knees," Drew growled.

Shane hoped he didn't flinch. He shrugged out of Drew's loose grip on his throat and turned around on the bed. He folded his arms on a pillow and laid his head to rest there. It was better this way, so he wouldn't have to look at Drew. He felt Drew's hand parting his cheeks and digging into his hole with little no finesse once he realized that Shane was already slick with lube. He plunged in two fingers at first, thrusting in and out rapidly before adding a third.

Shane hid his winces, leaning back on the pillow and looking up at the ceiling as Drew fingered him. He lay there quietly; allowing his body lay pliant and moving only slightly with Drew's back and forth thrusts into him. Finally, Drew withdrew and moments later, he heard the tube of lube opening then closing. He didn't look back, just braced himself for the penetration. It came harder than he would've liked and he let out a soft, protesting sound. He realized that Drew had simply pulled out his dick, pushing the front of his boxers down just an inch or two to ensure that the elastic was clear of his balls.

If there was ever a time Jenny got it absolutely right, it was when she'd noted the connection between Drew's ego and his cock. He understood what Drew was trying to do to him, assert dominance after the way he'd humiliated him that night. He wanted Shane silent and doing exactly what he wanted.

He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes, waiting for the pain to give way to a hint of pleasure. He felt Drew pull out completely then pause for a moment to smear the head of his cock with lube coating the puckered skin of his hole before pushing back deeper with a firm thrust.

To be honest, he had no wish to fight Drew for the upper hand. He'd been the one to plan this silly seduction, anyway and no matter what Drew thought, he decided that he was the one in control here. He was here by choice, and was only giving to Drew what he was willing to give up.

He opened his eyes when he felt Drew pressed in to the hilt, his wiry pubic hairs brushing against Shane's smooth skin. Drew stayed fully sheathed, beginning a steady shallow thrust. He gripped Shane's hip, fingers digging in tightly as he moved inside him. His other hand crept back up to the juncture of Shane's neck and shoulder, squeezing tightly, momentarily, and then maintaining a loose grasp as he pushed and pulled Shane onto his cock.

Shane let himself be guided, allowing Drew pump him with rapid, grunting motions. He felt like one of those FleshLights he'd seen advertised on the internet; he was effective a receptacle for Drew's cock and come. He almost heaved a sigh of relief when Drew began moaning as his orgasm approached. He doubted the other man even noticed he wasn't participating in this fuck.

He felt Drew slow down suddenly, his hand moving up from Shane's shoulder, up his neck to palm his face tightly against the pillow. He drove into Shane with one deep thrust, pushing him so he collapsed on the pillow underneath Drew's heavier weight and damn it, if Shane's prostate didn't betray him then. He decided that he might as well get something out of this. He pushed his hand beneath himself and began palming his own dick roughly, rolling his hips to encourage Drew to keep on going. Drew pressed in, coming inside of him with hard, deep thrusts and grunts.

Shane simultaneously brought himself off quickly, exhaling loudly in relief at his release. As soon as he felt the last trickle of come released in him, he heaved Drew roughly off him, wincing slightly when the other man's cock pulled out of him.

It was over.

Drew groaned loudly, wiping sweat off his brow before asking, "You okay?"

Shane froze. He wasn't even going to dignify that question with words. He turned his face away on the pillow and closed his eyes. He finally got himself motivated enough to head to the bathroom when the other man's arms came around his midsection in a tight embrace.

"Wait," he whispered in Shane's ear. "I know you're mad, and now we're even."

Shane stayed still.

"I shouldn't have been so rough. I was still pissed about what you did."

Wiping away at his sweaty forehead, Shane felt come running out of his ass. He felt used and incredibly dirty. Drew hadn't been rough. He honestly didn't mind a little manhandling in bed. The problem was he'd been treated like a ragdoll, worse still, a blow-up doll.

A part of him couldn't help but feel like this was his own fault, anyway. He'd planned this sham of a seduction and look where it'd got him. He glanced back to look into Drew's hazel eyes. He could see regret in them, but a part of him wondered if that was enough. He turned away before saying quietly, "It's okay."

He knew he was lying. He should speak up and tell Drew how he'd made him feel, but then again, Drew wasn't one for talking or apologies.

Drew sighed and dropped his forehead against Shane's neck. "Please don't ever do that to me again. You've got to understand; I can't stand to be humiliated."

Shane leaned back against Drew. It occurred to him then, that he understood exactly how Drew had felt that night. The other man had certainly shown him.

A few minutes later, a chastened Drew ran a bath for Shane. He came back to find Drew digging into the long forgotten strawberries and drippy whipped cream.

"Yum," he said with feigned delight to Drew when the other man offered him a bite of fruit. Despite having no appetite, he settled down on the bed and forced a few bites down his throat which Drew fed him. The champagne went untouched. Neither of them was up to celebrating. Then in no time at all, they were settled into bed and Drew inched closer to him until his hands were settled around Shane's waist.

Shane could've done with a little distance tonight considering all that happened, but he stayed civil and sullenly allowed his lover's embrace. He was tired; felt wrung out and exhausted, like he'd been on a rollercoaster all day. He was glad that sleep was rapidly approaching and he gladly began succumbing to it.

He felt Drew press a kiss to his back then whisper faintly, "I love you, Shane."

His eyes were heavy and his mind, groggy. He didn't even think twice before replying, "I love you." He suddenly recalled going to bed in much better spirits with another man and he breathed out without another thought. "Leo."

There was complete silence in the room, making him wonder why Drew's heart, pressed so close to his back, had skipped a beat. It took a few more seconds for his words to echo back to him, "I love you Leo."

His eyes flew open and he felt Drew pull back from him roughly.

Shit. He sat up slowly, trying to compose himself and prepare for the onslaught that was sure to come. With a reluctant glance at Drew, he noted that the other man had been shocked, quite literally, into silence.

Drew's mouth opened and closed several times before he was able to form the words. "Leo?"

In that moment, at the center of a shit storm, Shane truly believed himself cursed. This no-good, terribly, bad day would never end and things would go from bad to worse.

Drew leaned over to the nightstand and flicked on the lamp, as if to fully illuminate the horror that Shane felt emanating from him in droves.

He noticed that Drew's eyes which had been formerly narrowed in confusion were now wide with anger. He braced himself.

"Who the fuck is Leo?"