life's hard when you're ridiculously nancy. (midnightsausage) wrote,
life's hard when you're ridiculously nancy.

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OMG who forgot about this?

And who didn't see it on albion_fic?

Here's the deal, in case you missed it. I finished it up. As in, no more. And, because it's about 5 in the morning, and I've had no sleep whatsoever, the end is somewhat crappy. I might go back and fix it another time. For now...

don't own, ddidn't happen, blah blah blah, don't sue me, all that.

Courtney sits in yet another sumptuous hotel bar, clicking his lighter aimlessly, anything to keep his hands busy and his mind empty. Hands are busy, but his mind is still racing.

Click. [it was just a fuck]

Click. [stress relief]

Click. […so why can’t I just let it go?]


“For fuck’s sake, will you stop it?!”

Courtney is snapped out of his reverie by Pete’s exasperated outburst, jumping like a guilty school kid caught not listening in class. It becomes clear Pete’s been watching Courtney’s brooding fascination with flickering flames, and Courtney curses himself for not trying a bit harder to hide the fact he’s obviously rattled today. Of course Pete would notice, he spends more him with Pete than almost anyone else he knows, making him the person who knows Courtney the best, or at least would assume to. Unbeknownst to Courtney, Pete often wonders if he really does know what’s going on in that messily coiffured head, or whether he just tells himself he does because he doesn’t want to know the truth in there.

This, however, is not one of those times.

“Ok, spill it.”

Courtney arranges his face into what e hopes is an expression of mild surprise.

“Spill what?”
“You know what. Whatever it is that’s eating you, tell me now, or else you know I’ll get it out somehow.”

Courtney sighs. He knows this isn’t an idle threat on Pete’s behalf; he’s experienced Pete in his super sleuth meets gossip mag columnist mode before, and it isn’t pretty.

“If I tell you, will you promise not to mindfuck me over it?”
Pete smirks. “I’ll try.”
Courtney lets out yet another sigh. “Where can I start?”
Pete raises an eyebrow. “That hard, huh? How ‘bout I give you a jumping point? Last night’s party. You disappeared, and we were all, y’know, kinda worried…And then Zia came down this morning making some sort of lame ass excuse for you to Chris – who, by the way, didn’t buy it, as much as he acted like he did with you – but no one really knows the middle bit.”
“So? Who was it?”
“Who was what?”
“Oh, come on Court. Dumb is not this season’s new black. You cannot tell me you weren’t off screwing someone. As bendy as Sarah is, we all know there’s always someone better.”

Courtney grimaces. The jokes about him dating a yoga instructor had been going on for the whole tour. He hadn’t told them all that they’d hit the nail right on the head; Sarah did manage to bend herself in an unheard of fashion. However, he had no intention of telling Pete that he’d also hit the proverbial nail…at least not in any great detail. So he just smirks secretively, hoping Pete would give up on trying to squeeze every detail out of him or, even better, that the journalist they weren’t currently waiting on would turn up. Courtney suddenly realises he just wished an interview on himself. Huh. Julian must have screwed him around more than he’d first thought.

“Oh no, you’re not getting away with it that easy, Taylor. You can’t just give me a shifty grin when you’re this worked up about it.”

Courtney remains silent, drumming his fingers on his leg in another futile attempt to expel some nervous energy.

Pete rolls his eyes. “Do I have to guess?”
“Was it that blonde chick that seemed so intent on sticking her tongue down your throat the second you walked in the door?”
Courtney frowns. “Eww. No.”
“The one with the blue hair and all the piercings?”
“No, I think Brent ended up with her.”
“That brunette you spent most the night talking to on the couch?”

Courtney jumps. “What?”
Pete bursts out laughing. “I was joking man, joking.”
“Oh. Right.” Courtney can’t cover the relief that his secret is safe, at least for now.
“You two did seem to be getting pretty close though…”
“Umm, yeah…he’s great to talk to.”
Pete freezes and claps a hand over his mouth. “You’re screwing him, aren’t you?!”

Oh shit.

“You so are! Jeeze…you and Julian Casablancas…but yeah, if you think about it, it fits…”
“Pete, what the hell are you on about?”
Pete tilts his head and gives Courtney a scrutinizing look.
“Yeah, I can definitely see you two together.”
Courtney rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”
“Oh, you so can’t leave it there! This wasn’t just another one of those groupie fucks, was it?”
Courtney sits back in his chair, raising his gaze to the ceiling and touching his fingers together, contemplating this statement. He can just hear Pete counting under his breath: “One…Two…Three… Four…Fi-”

“No, it wasn’t, ok?!”

Pete smirks, satisfied with his probing. “So what was it then?”
Courtney groans, grabs one of the oh-so-elegantly tassel-trimmed cushions from the lounge they’re sitting on and buries his face in it. “I don’t know. Something felt different, y’know?”
“Really good sex, maybe?”
“No! Well…yes, but…argh, that wasn’t it!”

Courtney is thankfully saved from further deconstruction of his feelings by the arrival of their interrogator for this moment. He gives Pete a sharp “later, ok?” look, and greets the journalist with what he hopes is his usual trip happy smirk. In return, the interviewer mumbles nervously about how sorry he is that he’s late, and fumbles to set up his tape recorder on the coffee table between them.

“So, um, Courtney…how’s your girlfriend?”

“Stupid…fuck…what kind of a question is that anyway?”

Courtney storms down the corridors of Posh Hotel #3000, back to his room where he can sulk about what he just said to that idiot journalist…or rather, what he didn’t say.

“My girlfriend…ummm…yeah.”

“Smooth, Court, smooth,” he tells himself as he stomps towards the room which will now always be apart from the many other hotel rooms he’s resided in (and had sex in) previously. Caught up in his own frustration and confusion, he doesn’t hear the footsteps behind him, and he jumps when someone puts a hand on his shoulder and pulls him back to speak into his ear.


Courtney spins around to see the object of his thoughts standing behind him, not looking much different to the way he looked when he left Courtney’s room this morning.

“Shit, you scared me.”
“Sorry. How’d your interview go?”

Courtney groans and shakes his head. “Don’t ask.”
Julian chuckles. “That bad, huh?”
“You have no idea.” That settled, Courtney can’t help but wonder why Julian stopped him in the first place. Maybe…Courtney didn’t want to hope, but his conversation with Pete this morning had forced him to be honest with himself – probably a good thing in the long run, he reasons – and he’s realised that Pete was right; this is different, this is special…this is a fireworks display affair.

“You’d be surprised.”

Courtney decides now is the time to cut through this bizarre game of “let’s make like we didn’t have mad sex last night after knowing each other for one night”.

“I think we need to talk.”
“Yeah, I’d say so.”
“D’you wanna come in?”
“Why not.”

Courtney digs that annoying excuse for a key out of his pocket, and prepares for another struggle with the door that seems to find something about him not to its liking.

“Here. There’s a trick to it.”

Julian takes the card off him, swipes it halfway down the slot then pulls it back up and quickly shoves it back down through the opening while turning the knob and kicking the door with a sneaker clad foot.

The door opens without any argument at all.

Courtney blinks for a second, then follows Julian in through the door. “Got that all sorted, dontcha?”

Julian laughs. “Yeah, I get bored pretty easily. And I figured, why not do something useful with my time? If nothing else, I can become a burglar once our band’s old news.”

Courtney considers this for a minute, and then decides he’ll leave it. Too many snappy comebacks for that one; he’s a little overwhelmed. And not just by that, but by the whole situation. All day he’s been planning what he’ll say to Julian if he gets the chance, and suddenly it has been rudely thrust upon him, without giving him time to compose himself from that last little road bump of an interview. If he weren’t so cynical about fate and destiny type things, he’d probably curse one or either of them for doing this to him. As it is, he accepts that it was just crappy timing on both their parts, but they might as well get it over with.

Julian has seated himself in the expanse of tapestry style fabric that is the armchair on one side of the room, so Courtney grabs one of the chairs from the table next to it, turns it around and sprawls his lanky frame over it so he can rest his chin on the top rung on the back of the chair, fixing his gaze on the floor as opposed to the deep brown eyes he feels fixing themselves on the top of his head, the only part they can see.

“Look, I’m just gonna come out and ask. Seriously, what did this mean to you?”

Courtney’s head snaps up, slightly shocked by this blunt demand, but also by the fact that what just spilled out of Julian’s mouth is what has been going round and round in his head all day. This is so startling that he can’t think of a response for it straight away, and just sits there with his mouth open for a moment.

“Cause, y’know, I’ve been tying myself up in knots over it, and I just wanna know where we stand with everything, y’know?”

Courtney swallows nervously. Watching Julian gesticulate and fiddle with his fingers whilst knowing what said fingers could do to him has caused his mind to reach a solid decision on the next course of action. After a moment he looks up from his consideration of this realisation to realise that Julian is looking at him slightly expectantly. So he does the only thing he can possibly consider doing right now.

He leans forward over the back of the chair, pulls Julian closer to him and covers those soft, perfectly formed lips with his own.

Julian seems a little startled by this turn of events, and Courtney suddenly panics; what if this wasn’t in the script Julian had in front of him for how this scene should go? But then he feels Julian’s tongue slip into his mouth, and he realises that they are, thankfully, reading the same page. Great.

Finally, they both pull back a little for air, and Courtney can’t help but ask the stupidest question he can think of,

“Does that answer your question?”
“Oh yeah.”

Before he can pull the “oh good” lurking somewhere at the back of his mouth out, Courtney is silenced by Julian pulling him back in for another deep, lingering kiss, knocking Courtney’s hat off in his haste to pull Courtney closer. This movement to get him closer has the desired effect, in that Julian pulls him so forcefully it knocks Courtney’s chair over, with Courtney tumbling ungainly over the forward facing back into Julian’s lap. Julian pulls back slightly, looking concerned that he might have done some sort of damage, but the only damage Courtney can feel is his bruised pride over such an embarrassingly clumsy accident. However, a moment later he concedes that Julian’s lap isn’t exactly the worst place he could have fallen, and that he wouldn’t mind staying like this for a while.

Trying to regain some semblance of control over the situation, Courtney adjusts himself so he’s straddling Julian’s lap, gripping his shoulders for balance, and so he can keep Julian close enough to keep kissing him, because he fears something dreadful will happen if he does.

“I thought,” Julian begins breathlessly, as Courtney breaks off in order to get Julian’s shirt off, “that you said we…needed…to talk.”

“We did,” Courtney tells him, equally breathless as he caresses Julian’s vaguely sweat-slicked chest gently. “It seemed like we agreed this was the next advisable course of action.”
“Yeah, but maybe we should…oh…oh…”

He trails off mid-sentence as Courtney’s lips trace an invisible trail down his collar bone, biting and sucking with differing intensity as he goes, leaving brilliantly red marks on Julian’s caramel skin. He makes his way down further, pausing to lick at a nipple, which elicits a loud gasp from Julian, before running his tongue down towards Julian’s stomach. Courtney’s torso is bent almost double now, still positioned on Julian’s lap. It occurs to him that although Sarah might have been able to take a situation like this further from the position he’s found himself in, he really hasn’t picked up on much of her human pretzel abilities. So he carefully slides himself back until he slips onto the floor in front of the chair on his knees, and he’s able to get at Julian’s pants; more importantly, the zip on them that looks as though it’s painfully containing Julian’s erection.

Having pulled the offensive pants down to Julian’s ankles, Courtney boosts himself up enough so he can position himself between Julian’s spread thighs. The thought that he hasn’t ever done this before, and therefore might not be able to give Julian such a stellar performance as he himself received last night crosses his mind, but he brushes it off, because it can’t be too hard, just think of what you like having done to you, relax, all that.

Courtney takes a deep breath and runs a finger gently down the length of Julian’s cock. This draws a long moan from Julian; encouraged, he decides not to pussy foot around this any longer, and takes the head of Julian’s cock into his mouth, sucking his cheeks in around it. This earns him a groan from Julian, squirming slightly as Courtney slides his lips slowly further down it.

“Oh fuck…shit Court, I…”

Courtney surmises he’s not doing too badly, an assumption further heightened by Julian’s hands grasping in his hair, and the way he can feel Julian’s thighs starting to tense where he’s gripping them to hold Julian down somewhat as much as by the noises he’s making. An incoherent smearing together of obscenities, prayers to various deities and variations on Courtney’s name is spilling out of Julian’s mouth as Courtney takes him as deeply in as he can, one of his hands straying off Julian’s thigh to stroke lightly over his balls.

Julian’s nearly there, Courtney can literally taste the tension spilling out of him, a tangible force besides the slightly bitter precum joining his saliva in slicking Julian’s cock. You could cut it with the proverbial knife, Courtney thinks, as Julian’s breaths and cries get more erratic and desperate. He swipes his tongue around Julian’s cock swiftly once, and that’s all it takes to chop the tension in half, releasing itself into Courtney’s mouth and he doesn’t think, just swallows. He now understands how Julian did it with the ease he did last night; by this point, Courtney was feeling as though he’d had an orgasm himself, such was the lethargy sweeping through his limbs. He wouldn’t have cared if Julian had released himself in his hair, all over his face, wherever. He just wanted to know if he could curl up next to Julian on that huge, remade hotel bed (thank you room service, Courtney thinks with a grin), and have Julian hold him in the same way he had been holding him this morning.

This morning seemed an eternity ago, like a perfect, untouched age away from Zia waking him up with awkward questions about why he had a guy putting his clothes back on in his room, from the interview, telling Pete…the second meeting with Julian…

Courtney shakes himself back to the present to see that Julian seems to have come down off his orgasm high somewhat; enough to pull Courtney back into his lap and start pulling at the zipper on his jeans.

“You don’t have to-“

He is silenced by a finger to his lips.

“I know. But I need to, yeah?”

Julian eases Courtney’s uncomfortably hard cock out of his jeans and begins jerking him rapidly, closing the gap between their lips without removing the finger he’d placed on Courtney’s. Slowly sliding his finger out, Julian replaces it with his tongue, kissing him deeply. Courtney feels, at this moment, with his impending orgasm almost upon him and those fireworks kisses raining down on his lips like sparkling, cigarette flavoured Catherine wheels, igniting his mouth and sending him flying like a freedom-filled spark, like he’s immortal. Nothing can touch him, and as he comes with a cry into Julian’s hand, as Julian gently sucks on Courtney’s lower lip as a sort of comforting, come-down gesture, Courtney really really doesn’t want anything to. Except Julian. He can touch him any time he likes. In fact, as far as Courtney’s concerned, he already has, in a way Julian will probably never fathom, because Courtney barely understands the strange depth they’re now sharing.

They lock the door, and spend the remainder of the day lying in bed smoking and talking, getting to know each other better as a storm blows up outside, all percussive thunder crashes and rave-party lightning. When the tension of being so close with so little clothes on finally gets to them and they have sex again, it’s like the storm’s been brought inside, it’s so electric. Courtney thinks, lying in bed later when Julian is asleep in a similar position to the one he’d been in that morning – holding Courtney – that he’s going to have to invent some new words to start describing sex with Julian, because every time will be different, and eventually, he’ll run out of descriptors to put what he feels into coherent, manageable thoughts.

But that’s okay. He can deal with that.

Love me, hate me, etc. Right now, I'm not in a position to care. xx
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