James tapped his fingers incessantly on the steering wheel then shifted lower in the seat. He didn’t want to be out, he sure as hell didn’t want to go to work, all he wanted was to hide in his apartment, away from the prying eyes and gossiping tongues. But no, here he was parked up at the studio acting all Mr Fucking Indispensable. Of course Spike was as indispensable as the rest of the cast which, according to Warner Bastards, didn’t mean a whole fucking lot.
He sighed and shunted down even lower until he was practically lying down. He must look pretty fucking stupid, though not as stupid as he had done last night. He shuddered.
Sighing once more, he picked up a packet of cigarettes from the seat next to him and toyed with them, glaring as he ripped away the plastic ‘pull me’ tag. It broke, of course, and James scrabbled at the wrapper and tore open the paper, spilling the fuckshit bastard smokes all over the place.
Bastard smokes were the reason he was in this mess in the first place. He lit one and felt a small shred of satisfaction ripple through him as he watched the thing incinerate itself to ash. Justice prevailed.
Bastard fucking cigarettes.
Chat-rooms had seemed an innocent enough thing. Anonymous cruising of the scene. No names, no repercussions. He’d been talking to a few guys for a couple of months, nothing dirty, just a way of being able to express who he really was. It always seemed like such a joke that he was constantly on the run from hordes of screaming women when his tastes lay in a very different direction. Not that he didn’t sleep with girls, he just preferred a few less curves.
And a dick.
There was this one guy. He’d talked to him a lot. They seemed to have stuff in common, both locked as tightly in the back of that closet as possible. He wasn’t sure what the sitch was with the guy, whether he was hiding away 'cause of family or what the fuck else, but he knew that they both had a real life which was the total opposite of what was going on in their heads.
He had some stupid handle, called himself Jealousguy, made James snort so much with laughter that it took him a while to start chatting with him. Mind you, James’s nick wasn’t much better. He'd spent hours fretting over what to call himself; a name that meant something to him but not to the rest of the world. He’d tried for hours to avoid using the word Spike but then it dawned on him that it was the perfect double bluff so, he became Spikeme and Spikeme had a lot more fun than James ever did. Even if his life was only virtual.
One more cigarette and he’d leave the sanctuary of his car and face the real world.
He couldn’t stop thinking about last night and the events that had led up to it. He and J had talked about all sorts of shit when they were in the chat-room, laughed about life, how screwed up everything was and then somehow they’d ended up private messaging each other – all the time.
It took a while for things to progress. Moving one tiny baby step at a time they skirted around sex, bringing innuendo to the conversation and starting to share experiences in a casual way. At first it felt very uncomfortable to James; he was a private man and to sit at the computer and feel his cock stiffen up just from typing messages to a stranger was weird.
But, however much his dick asked him to, he never allowed himself the pleasure of getting it out and giving it a gentle rub. Until the night that they started pissing around swapping porn site urls and J asked him if he was hard.
He’d looked at the message for a while, wondering what to do.
“Yeah,” he’d replied eventually.
It wasn’t really cybering, just a load of one finger typos and a mutual jerk off session. They never talked about actually wanting to touch each other but as James leant back and groaned, directing his come away from the computer, he felt more satisfied than he had done from screwing that whole string of girls in his past. It was the closest he’d got to fucking another guy for years.
It didn’t take long to get hooked. As soon as James got back from work, he’d boot up the computer and wait anxiously to see if J was online. He wasn’t there often enough for James’s liking. The guy had family commitments and didn’t get much privacy at home. Sometimes he was only able to chat and that made things even more frustrating. The handle Jealousguy was a joke… James was the jealous one. He wanted to be able to see him, run his hands over him, suck that cock, swallowing it deep into his throat.
Fuck, he was retarded; he didn’t know the guy, didn’t even have an idea what he looked like. It didn’t feel like that though. He felt closer to J than anyone else in his pathetic little world.
They’d shared one blissful week where they both had time on their hands and J’s wife was away. Things had got pretty intimate. No talk of sharing names or hooking up on audio, thank Christ. They’d done every kind of virtual sex act to each other that week, ending up laughing about how sore and tired they were. James’s cock had never had such a work out, even when he was a teenager.
The funny thing was that the laughing had been the best part of it -- the part where James felt like he was wanted and in a proper relationship. What a joke. The only relationship he had was with his hand and a PC monitor, sad bastard that he was.
So, harmless fun. Up until the last few nights, when things had gotten way out of control. He'd lost his perspective, lost his senses, lost his freaking mind! Somewhere along the line stupidity had entered the building and rational took one look and legged it.
Bastard fucking cigarettes!
They’d jerked off for longer, getting heated up just to the point of no return then easing themselves back down. It was a new game. But the game had gone too far. Arousal had pushed him over the limit of good sense and when J had suggested that they use webcams to watch each other play, it had seemed like a great idea. Cams pointed down; more anonymous fun, a new thrill. This way he was a little bit closer to seeing his mystery guy – the guy who haunted his dreams.
It had been good; no, more than good. Good to the point of fucking fantastic. No need for words, just old fashioned masturbatory fun. Sit back, watch the action, lube yourself up and orgasm here we come. He’d always like to smoke while he jacked off. It was a thing.
James knew he should have kept with the program, covered himself from head to toe in Nicorette patches. Cigarettes should carry more than a health warning; they needed a ‘Smoking can seriously damage your reputation’ label also.
He’d dropped the pack.
He’d picked it up.
Right in view of the fucking cam.
He was totally screwed. J must have recognised him because he signed off immediately.
James had cried. For the first time since he was a kid, he’d broken his fucking heart. He’d not given in to tears even when that bitch of an ex-wife of his had dumped him and walked out. But last night he’d sobbed himself to sleep and had woken up intermittently through the night, the nightmares building and building until he was screaming with terror.
He could just see it in all the gossip columns. ‘Queer cam for the vamp guy’.
After stubbing out his cigarette, he climbed out of the car. There was no point in putting it off any longer, he had to get out and face the music. He’d been a fucking idiot but life went on – and so fucking what if he was gay. Could gossip leak through to the press that quickly? Of course it fucking could. A nice juicy story could make it to print in hours. He certainly wasn’t an A-class celebrity, but with dirt like that sticking to him his status would suddenly gain a pair of wings.
Oh well, he’d be away from all these people soon, back to where he belonged – in the freaking gutter.
Oh, man, why was he born so stupid?
~~****~~
Work was shitty. James couldn’t remember many of his lines and if he did they were in the wrong places. He hadn’t noticed any funny looks from the cast or crew. They were surprised at him for making so many fuck ups, but that was to be expected seeing as he was normally the consummate professional actor -- a thespian who prided himself on never setting a foot wrong.
But then there was Boreanaz.
The prick seemed to have gone out of his way to make life difficult for James ever since he’d first met him. For that short time he’d worked with him on Buffy he’d run a gauntlet of snide remarks every single day. It had got to the point where he dreaded going in to film, which was bizarre because there was nothing James loved more in the whole world than acting – except for his son.
He’d refused to go out drinking with everyone if Boreanaz was going to be there. This had inevitably led to more barbed remarks and in the end James had felt less than happy working with all the other actors. They thought he was an arrogant jerk and he couldn’t be bothered to try and prove them wrong. It was only the ever-increasing salary that kept him there.
He’d thought twice about switching to Angel when Buffy was laid to rest. He was fucking proud when Joss had told him that they wanted Spike to cross over, but at the same time he was terrified – how would the eponymous hero react to having him thrown into the mix? It really didn’t bear thinking about, but, yet again, money was a great persuader and James wasn’t in a position to refuse. The pay was big, big bucks. The kind that made your eyes roll round and round in your head and end up in dollar signs. He could deal with a little verbal abuse with a nice healthy bank balance like that as an antidote to the venom.
But today was bad. Mr ‘I’m the fucking star of this show and don’t you forget it’ was up to his usual shit. Remarks about how fucking tired he looked, digs about his performance being off; James had to put up with the lot. He bit his tongue and swallowed down the retorts, trying to let it all wash over him. Only a couple more hours and he’d be free of this place. He could go back home and log on and… fuck, no he couldn’t. He didn’t even have his virtual life to look forward to anymore. He’d deleted all his accounts last night after the... um… incident.
Now all he had was his PS2 and the occasional rehearsal with the boys from the band. He still had the ‘every other weekend’ trip down to Modesto to see his kid -- that was something good. Fuck though, suppose all this went public and Liane found out. She’d use it to stop visitation rights, he knew she would; she was evil that way. Why was he such an idiot?
Bastard fucking cigarettes.
“You gonna smoke one of them or just keep glaring at the pack?”
James looked up. Great, just what he wanted. Mr Boreanaz, right in his face. He tipped out a cigarette and lit it nonchalantly, hoping that his hands weren’t shaking too visibly.
“Only you better smoke it fast 'cause they’ve been calling you on set for ten minutes.”
To his utter chagrin, James felt the sting of tears and he stared at the wall willing them away. He was too tired, too traumatised and too pissed to deal with this. He sank back in his seat and wished for it all to go away.
“Look, they really need you on set now, James. Every minute wasted costs a lot of money.”
James couldn’t even bear to look up at the towering figure. “And what the fuck does it matter? All of us are out of a job in a couple of weeks. Show’s over, remember?” He ventured a glance at the man staring down at him. That was strange, David looked almost compassionate.
“Sooner we can get this over with, the sooner we’re out of here.”
David sounded as tired as he did. Don’t say the big guy was human after all and he’d been hiding it so well for so long.
“I’ll be with you in a minute, okay? I just need to get my head together.”
“And try reading the script. This new improv method of yours really sucks.” David grinned and walked off.
Fuck, Boreanaz had a cute grin and a sense of humour. Who’d have thought that? Jesus, he’d been hiding those attributes well.
James almost smiled, forgetting the crap situation he was in for a moment. He rubbed his eyes then took David’s advice and looked over his lines. Of course it would help if he could remember which scene they were shooting.
~~****~~
Four hours later they were finally finished for the night. James hid away in his trailer, ashamed of his crap performance and even crappier judgement. Hopefully everyone would be gone soon and he could slink away.
There was a knock at the door.
No. Fuck off, fuck off whoever you are.
“James.”
Damn fuck shit bastard. Why wouldn’t the motherfucking whore leave him alone?
“Come in, David.”
James lit one of his traitorous bastard fucking cigarettes and continued to pack away his things. He heard the trailer door open but didn’t look up.
“Man, you were off today.”
If James was a girl he’d have rolled his eyes at the stupidity of that comment. “Thanks for telling me, I hadn’t noticed.”
“I know why you were off.”
Bug eyes, hackles rising, wind tunnel effect -- it was like he was thrown back against the wall during an apocalyptic explosion with full surround sound despair echoing inside his head.
The story must have made it to press. Mr Jealous Guy must be laughing all the way to the bank right now. What to do? What to do? First instinct was to run, but the incredible hulking form of Boreanaz was standing in the way of the door. He could try and climb out the window, but that would really put him up as contender for most pathetic wuss in the world.
Crying, begging and pleading all lowered the odds and made him out and out favourite for the aforementioned title.
“What the fuck is it to do with you? What the fuck right have you got to question what I do in my private life?”
That was way over the top. Boreanaz hadn’t even said anything. Still, hopefully it would stun him into silence long enough for James to squeeze his way out of the door. This trailer was getting smaller by the second.
He tried to push past the younger man but David wasn’t shifting an inch.
“Let me out of here and you can go back to reading your fucking gossip columns and go throw some shit at other people.”
Boreanaz still wouldn’t let him get past.
“What the fuck do you want from me?”
He pushed hard at the solid broad chest and the man stumbled back slightly, grabbing hold of James to right his balance. It didn’t work. They ended up on the floor, squashed against the side of a cupboard with James spread-eagled on top of his arch nemesis.
“Maybe this,” said David, pulling James’s face unceremoniously towards him and smashing their noses together as he attempted to kiss him.
“What the fuck was that?” James struggled to get away, he hadn’t got a clue what was happening now. Everything was surreal and swirly and he hoped just for a second that someone had slipped him some acid and the last few days had just been a really bad trip.
“That was me, really embarrassing myself trying to kiss you.”
“Wh…Wha… Wh… Why?” Stammering was good. He needed to perfect that. He might be up for a stammering role one day.
“Because I thought it might feel good and we might like it. I think I was wrong. Can I try again?”
“No. Just tell me what this is about. You see some shit in a newspaper about me and think I might be up for some action?”
David laughed, still holding onto James, preventing his escape.
“It was me, you prick.”
What was him? Who was him? Brain turned to mush, lips approaching… James closed his eyes and went with the flow. To be honest, he was too confused to do anything else. He didn’t feel a sudden out-of-the-blue desire to have the infamous Boreanaz tongue explore his…
Holy fuck, this man knew how to kiss. James melted slightly and gave in to the pleasure, just letting that tongue stab in and out of his mouth, sliding over his own. If he just kissed him back a little that wouldn’t be construed as going along with this ... would it?
“So fucking happy it was you.”
James still didn’t have the faintest idea what was going on but David’s hand was deftly undoing his belt, unzipping his fly and--oh yeah--was squeezing his cock. The details didn’t seem to be so important anymore. He lifted up slightly, giving David nice easy access, and delved inside the big guy’s pants on an exploratory mission.
Big guy was appropriate.
The Boreanaz cock was huge, solid and, by the way it was leaking, very pleased to meet him. He let it slide between his fingers, all slippery wet with pre-come.
“Wanted to do this so bad all those times we were chatting.”
David’s voice was throaty and it made James want to kiss him some more – so he did, all the while trying to work out what was happening here. What did the hell did the guy mean by ‘when they were chatting’? The one thing he and David had never done was chat.
James repositioned himself and ground his cock against David’s. Fuck, this was good; he hadn’t frotted for a long, long time.
Chatting!
“It was you.” James was aghast – not aghast enough to stop the slow slide over David’s erection and the occasional tongue heavy kiss, but pretty aghast all the same.
“I told you it was me, dumbass.”
“How could it be you?”
David canted his hips, rocking into James, just giving a gentle bit of encouragement. “I don’t know, guess it was the talking, all the things we had in common.”
Fuck, how could David manage to string a sentence together? James was on fire, crushed into a corner, grinding himself against that gorgeous fat cock, working them, driving them closer, about to go off like a freaking rocket. He sucked on David’s tongue, wanting it back in his mouth, needing that connection.
The whole world went black, white, multi-fucking-colour and he stopped thinking and just let it all happen. He could hear the slapping, sucking, low throaty moaning sounds and it dragged him further and further into the whirlpool. His muscles clenched and his nerves tingled and he knew he cried out as he came, hot wet glorious spurts of semen spilling over this man who he… really hated.
This man who hated him back.
This man who was coming all over his cock.
The aftermath was weird, to say the least. They kissed for a while, because it seemed easier than talking. Then they unfurled themselves from the corner and stood up. James wiped himself down with some tissues and handed David the box of Kleenex.
“If you saw it was me, why the fuck did you log off?” James heard himself ask.
David looked embarrassed. “I kind of had an accident. Came unexpectedly, tried to, you know, redirect then fell off the chair and knocked the power switch. By the time I’d sorted myself out you were gone.”
James couldn’t stop the laughter. It was such a release – more so than the orgasm. He ended up doubled over, holding onto his stomach, he hurt so much.
“Shut the fuck up, it’s not that funny.” David frowned.
James managed to catch his breath and collapsed onto the couch.
“It is,” he gasped, closing his eyes and allowing himself the luxury of letting all that relief and happiness flow through him. No need to worry. No dirty stories leaked to the press. Just him being swallowed up in a pair of strong arms. All safe and …
“I still don’t get it.” He wriggled closer to David, who sighed dramatically. “I thought you hated me.”
“Hated you?” The younger man grinned. “Hated you? That was the patented Boreanaz flirting technique.”
“Well I have to tell you, man, you suck.”
“I do.” David leaned over and kissed him. “Wanna find out
how good I am?”
DONE