Cupidity - chapter three
Nov. 7th, 2007 09:36 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
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Chapter one
Chapter two
Cupidity
Chapter three
The early morning blowjob went pretty fast. Goodfellow fucked his throat, washed up, and left him in the shower. Angel was nothing like awake. He nearly curled up on the shower floor and closed his eyes again, but his fingers were already getting pruny.
Goodfellow was gone by the time he got out. He wandered around in Goodfellow's robe, poking his head into every room he could find. Goodfellow's suite included bedroom, bathroom, and a library entirely lined with books, from leatherbound to ratty paperbacks. Back in the main area, there was a painfully modern kitchen and a round table with breakfast on it. He picked up a waffle and nibbled it as he kept wandering.
The TV was--was-- It was a minor deity in Angel's personal pantheon. Plasma, eighty inches, high def. Too bad there was fuck all to watch on it. Angel got the feeling Goodfellow wasn't a big TV fan. He had next to no DVDs, and what he did have was boring as shit, black and white stuff and nature documentaries.
There was a little gym with freeweights and some machines. There was a balcony outside the wall of windows that also ran the whole length of the apartment. A small waterfall that sheeted down over a slab of black granite and vanished into the floor. The exotic plantlife from the foyer had formed an outpost here, too. Glossy green leaves spilled down, catching the morning sun.
Angel finished his waffle on the balcony and went back to grab bacon, coffee, and a chocolate doughnut. He wondered if the breakfast spread was there every morning or if Goodfellow just didn't know what he liked and was trying to be polite. Trying to give him what he wanted. That was the deal, after all.
When he was done with breakfast, Angel picked out clothes pretty much at random from his magical mystery closet. Jeans, boots, V-neck sweater. He looked kind of preppy, he thought, but he left it. Mom would like the outfit as long as she didn't know how he'd gotten it.
He found a note tucked under his Pez dispenser. It gave him Marco's number, and the cook's, who apparently lived downstairs somewhere. There was a wad of cash, too, and another key card, for the pool upstairs, it said. Roof pool? That he had to see. He wondered if he had swim trunks in one of these drawers.
There were three pairs, all low-cut hot little shorts that didn't look so great for actual swimming, but were good for showing of his ass and his crotch. They barely covered his pubes. Goodfellow must go for shit like that, he thought. Hot guys in tiny swimsuits, for his eyes only.
The pool was beautiful, faced with glossy black stone. It was surrounded by wooden decking and more plantlife. It was heated. He splashed about, trying to imagine Robin Goodfellow in here, doing backflips and handstands. He really couldn't.
Marco drove him down to Starbucks when he wanted more coffee. There was a machine in the kitchen but he couldn't figure out how to use it. He rang the cook, Mrs Bennett, but she told him she was scared of it.
"Mr Goodfellow never uses it," she said.
"What's the point of owning shit-- um, things-- you don't use?"
"Mr Goodfellow owns a lot of things, dear. I'm sure he has a use for them all."
He scowled at her down the phone, and then sighed. "Yeah, I guess he does."
He did nothing but wait for Goodfellow to get home that evening, ignoring the tension that made him pace up and down and pick leaves off the plants. He spent a long time watching the traffic in the street far below. Tiny people moved in patterns, swarming around each other on the sidewalk and flowing across the road in between the lines of cabs.
Goodfellow didn't come back. It wasn't like he should even care. He didn't care. The deal was just sex, wasn't it? He lay in bed and jerked off, trapping his moans in the pillow.
The next morning Goodfellow was sitting at the breakfast table, tapping messages into his BlackBerry. Had he even come back last night?
"Hi," Angel said, padding across in his pajamas. He wasn't going to ask where he'd been.
Goodfellow smoothed a hand over Angel's ass, sort of idly. "Wear less in the mornings, please."
"Uh, sure. Oh, I liked the pool, thanks."
"Good." Goodfellow slid his hand up under the pajama top and laid his hand on bare skin. Angel shivered. "Take these off."
He stripped, and stood naked. Goodfellow reached out and trailed his fingers over Angel's skin, just lightly, like he was reassuring himself Angel still existed, or something. He looked kind of tired.
"You weren't around last night."
"No," was all Goodfellow said.
"Do you want me to blow you?"
Goodfellow frowned very faintly and met his eyes. "I'll tell you when I want you."
"Okay. Sorry."
Goodfellow wanted him next morning, enough to moan faintly and come in Angel's mouth about three minutes after Angel first touched him. He washed and dressed and left without a word.
Angel's mom used to tell him there was something wrong with him. She was probably right, he thought, lying in bed after he'd gone. Goodfellow was calling all the shots. He squeezed his eyes closed. Maybe that was why he'd answered that stupid ad in the first place, to have someone to run his life for him. He wasn't doing that great on his own.
There was more to it than that though, and he knew it. He knew it from the way Goodfellow touched him and talked to him. He had power, and a lot of it. He looked out at the world like he owned it. He looked at Angel the same way, and Angel thought maybe he was a little messed up to like that as much as he did. He touched himself, thinking about being on his knees and that cool voice above him, thinking about Goodfellow looking at him like a possession, but at least a possession he wanted to keep. It was wrong, surely. Had to be.
The day stretched out and he still didn't know what the fuck to do with himself. This should be simpler, he thought. Clothes, parties, good times. He dug his phone out of his kit bag in the closet where it'd been living and stabbed at some numbers. He had to convince a couple people that he didn't want to stay with them or borrow cash, but they all agreed to come. Andy actually sounded like he'd been worried. That was kind of nice.
Andy and Beth and Hiro and Lindsey showed up about twenty minutes later. He met them in the lobby and brought them up, watched as they oohed and ahhed. He showed them the pool, and everyone was up for skinny dipping.
"Amazing," Hiro said. Lindsay's mouth was hanging open. "This is all yours?"
"Yeah," Angel said, grinning. "All mine."
"Awesome! It's a black pool."
"So, okay, I can see why you blew off the job," Andy said, peering out over the balcony.
He watched them all wander about, cooing with excitement. He'd done pretty much the same thing. It seemed like a lot longer ago than it actually was.
"So, what's he like, your sugar daddy?" Beth said.
They had champagne that Angel had found stacked in the huge refrigerator. Chocolates too, and bags of the sort of chips that were hand-made by Belgian monks or whatever.
"He's not my sugar daddy." There was nothing even slightly sugary about Robin Goodfellow.
Beth laughed. "Oh, yeah? You let him fuck you, he lets you play with his money? What the fuck else is he?"
It was easy to laugh it off, even if it stung. He watched Hiro and Lindsay making out at the far end of the pool.
"It's more like a-- " Business arrangement, he was going to say, but that sounded bad, even though it was completely accurate. Money for sex, and he'd entered into it with his eyes open. It wasn't like he was being duped.
"Yeah, well. It's a nice set up, Angel," said Andy, and the worst thing was he sounded so serious, and like he was pleased. "I mean, I guess it can't last long, right? Get it while you can."
"Yeah, fill up my glass, will you?" Beth said.
Lindsay got hungry, so they ordered from Per Se. Beth found the number on a pad in one of the kitchen drawers, just like it was some cheap takeaway.
"You wanna make out?" she said, as the lay sprawled on the sun loungers afterwards. Lindsay and Hiro had discovered the gym and were busy dropping weights on the floor, from the sound of it. Andy had his eyes closed. "You're looking so hot, Angel."
"Thanks. Umm."
Beth leaned up on one elbow, eyebrows raising almost to her hairline. "You mean, no? You?"
"I dunno."
"What, he's got you on some exclusive contract?"
"No," he said, slowly. "We haven't talked about it."
He tried to imagine casually telling Goodfellow he'd fucked someone else, and the reaction. He put his champagne glass down too hard and it slopped everywhere.
"So, you wanna screw?"
"Okay," he said, "Yeah. Now."
She bounced along beside him wearing nothing but a towel. The champagne bottle dangled from one hand, and she held his hand with the other. Angel found himself looking at Goodfellow's door.
"Hey. You wanna see his room?"
Beth lost the towel as she jumped onto the bed. It was bigger than Angel's and dressed in brown silk today. She looked gorgeous on it, and Angel concentrated hard on her gold curls and her curves, because otherwise he started remembering what Goodfellow looked like here, cool and pale and unsmiling. Beth laughed and yanked him down against her.
"God, you don't look real happy for a guy who just made his fortune. Cheer up. Is he horrible in the sack or something?"
"No. He-- He's really good. I mean. Really. Just sort of...not there."
He was on the edge of spilling his guts, but instead of asking what he meant, she just said, "Well, I'm here." Thank god. Because he really didn't want to talk about it.
He went down on her first. It kept his mouth occupied, and it was so vastly different from sucking off Goodfellow. She yanked his hair and moaned out loud and pretty near suffocated him once or twice, but even so, he wouldn't have said it was different in a bad way.
Moving over her, inside her, afterwards, he could feel her nails on his back. He wondered if he should tell her to stop--but Goodfellow hadn't said anything about being exclusive.
Except that body and soul thing.
Angel shook his head and kissed her and fucked into her warm body and refused to think about it.
Later, when they were all gone, he showered for a long time. He could feel the nail marks on his back. There were stains on Goodfellow's bed that he hadn't even tried to get off. And he'd been told not to even go in there without an invitation.
He dragged himself out of the shower and counted his five grand again. He wondered if he'd get to keep any of the clothes when Goodfellow kicked him to the curb. He went back in and straightened the sheets and flipped the comforter over and patted down the pillows, checked for any blonde hairs, then closed the door and stared around the silent polished apartment. He didn't feel any better.
Chapter one
Chapter two
Cupidity
Chapter three
The early morning blowjob went pretty fast. Goodfellow fucked his throat, washed up, and left him in the shower. Angel was nothing like awake. He nearly curled up on the shower floor and closed his eyes again, but his fingers were already getting pruny.
Goodfellow was gone by the time he got out. He wandered around in Goodfellow's robe, poking his head into every room he could find. Goodfellow's suite included bedroom, bathroom, and a library entirely lined with books, from leatherbound to ratty paperbacks. Back in the main area, there was a painfully modern kitchen and a round table with breakfast on it. He picked up a waffle and nibbled it as he kept wandering.
The TV was--was-- It was a minor deity in Angel's personal pantheon. Plasma, eighty inches, high def. Too bad there was fuck all to watch on it. Angel got the feeling Goodfellow wasn't a big TV fan. He had next to no DVDs, and what he did have was boring as shit, black and white stuff and nature documentaries.
There was a little gym with freeweights and some machines. There was a balcony outside the wall of windows that also ran the whole length of the apartment. A small waterfall that sheeted down over a slab of black granite and vanished into the floor. The exotic plantlife from the foyer had formed an outpost here, too. Glossy green leaves spilled down, catching the morning sun.
Angel finished his waffle on the balcony and went back to grab bacon, coffee, and a chocolate doughnut. He wondered if the breakfast spread was there every morning or if Goodfellow just didn't know what he liked and was trying to be polite. Trying to give him what he wanted. That was the deal, after all.
When he was done with breakfast, Angel picked out clothes pretty much at random from his magical mystery closet. Jeans, boots, V-neck sweater. He looked kind of preppy, he thought, but he left it. Mom would like the outfit as long as she didn't know how he'd gotten it.
He found a note tucked under his Pez dispenser. It gave him Marco's number, and the cook's, who apparently lived downstairs somewhere. There was a wad of cash, too, and another key card, for the pool upstairs, it said. Roof pool? That he had to see. He wondered if he had swim trunks in one of these drawers.
There were three pairs, all low-cut hot little shorts that didn't look so great for actual swimming, but were good for showing of his ass and his crotch. They barely covered his pubes. Goodfellow must go for shit like that, he thought. Hot guys in tiny swimsuits, for his eyes only.
The pool was beautiful, faced with glossy black stone. It was surrounded by wooden decking and more plantlife. It was heated. He splashed about, trying to imagine Robin Goodfellow in here, doing backflips and handstands. He really couldn't.
Marco drove him down to Starbucks when he wanted more coffee. There was a machine in the kitchen but he couldn't figure out how to use it. He rang the cook, Mrs Bennett, but she told him she was scared of it.
"Mr Goodfellow never uses it," she said.
"What's the point of owning shit-- um, things-- you don't use?"
"Mr Goodfellow owns a lot of things, dear. I'm sure he has a use for them all."
He scowled at her down the phone, and then sighed. "Yeah, I guess he does."
He did nothing but wait for Goodfellow to get home that evening, ignoring the tension that made him pace up and down and pick leaves off the plants. He spent a long time watching the traffic in the street far below. Tiny people moved in patterns, swarming around each other on the sidewalk and flowing across the road in between the lines of cabs.
Goodfellow didn't come back. It wasn't like he should even care. He didn't care. The deal was just sex, wasn't it? He lay in bed and jerked off, trapping his moans in the pillow.
The next morning Goodfellow was sitting at the breakfast table, tapping messages into his BlackBerry. Had he even come back last night?
"Hi," Angel said, padding across in his pajamas. He wasn't going to ask where he'd been.
Goodfellow smoothed a hand over Angel's ass, sort of idly. "Wear less in the mornings, please."
"Uh, sure. Oh, I liked the pool, thanks."
"Good." Goodfellow slid his hand up under the pajama top and laid his hand on bare skin. Angel shivered. "Take these off."
He stripped, and stood naked. Goodfellow reached out and trailed his fingers over Angel's skin, just lightly, like he was reassuring himself Angel still existed, or something. He looked kind of tired.
"You weren't around last night."
"No," was all Goodfellow said.
"Do you want me to blow you?"
Goodfellow frowned very faintly and met his eyes. "I'll tell you when I want you."
"Okay. Sorry."
Goodfellow wanted him next morning, enough to moan faintly and come in Angel's mouth about three minutes after Angel first touched him. He washed and dressed and left without a word.
Angel's mom used to tell him there was something wrong with him. She was probably right, he thought, lying in bed after he'd gone. Goodfellow was calling all the shots. He squeezed his eyes closed. Maybe that was why he'd answered that stupid ad in the first place, to have someone to run his life for him. He wasn't doing that great on his own.
There was more to it than that though, and he knew it. He knew it from the way Goodfellow touched him and talked to him. He had power, and a lot of it. He looked out at the world like he owned it. He looked at Angel the same way, and Angel thought maybe he was a little messed up to like that as much as he did. He touched himself, thinking about being on his knees and that cool voice above him, thinking about Goodfellow looking at him like a possession, but at least a possession he wanted to keep. It was wrong, surely. Had to be.
The day stretched out and he still didn't know what the fuck to do with himself. This should be simpler, he thought. Clothes, parties, good times. He dug his phone out of his kit bag in the closet where it'd been living and stabbed at some numbers. He had to convince a couple people that he didn't want to stay with them or borrow cash, but they all agreed to come. Andy actually sounded like he'd been worried. That was kind of nice.
Andy and Beth and Hiro and Lindsey showed up about twenty minutes later. He met them in the lobby and brought them up, watched as they oohed and ahhed. He showed them the pool, and everyone was up for skinny dipping.
"Amazing," Hiro said. Lindsay's mouth was hanging open. "This is all yours?"
"Yeah," Angel said, grinning. "All mine."
"Awesome! It's a black pool."
"So, okay, I can see why you blew off the job," Andy said, peering out over the balcony.
He watched them all wander about, cooing with excitement. He'd done pretty much the same thing. It seemed like a lot longer ago than it actually was.
"So, what's he like, your sugar daddy?" Beth said.
They had champagne that Angel had found stacked in the huge refrigerator. Chocolates too, and bags of the sort of chips that were hand-made by Belgian monks or whatever.
"He's not my sugar daddy." There was nothing even slightly sugary about Robin Goodfellow.
Beth laughed. "Oh, yeah? You let him fuck you, he lets you play with his money? What the fuck else is he?"
It was easy to laugh it off, even if it stung. He watched Hiro and Lindsay making out at the far end of the pool.
"It's more like a-- " Business arrangement, he was going to say, but that sounded bad, even though it was completely accurate. Money for sex, and he'd entered into it with his eyes open. It wasn't like he was being duped.
"Yeah, well. It's a nice set up, Angel," said Andy, and the worst thing was he sounded so serious, and like he was pleased. "I mean, I guess it can't last long, right? Get it while you can."
"Yeah, fill up my glass, will you?" Beth said.
Lindsay got hungry, so they ordered from Per Se. Beth found the number on a pad in one of the kitchen drawers, just like it was some cheap takeaway.
"You wanna make out?" she said, as the lay sprawled on the sun loungers afterwards. Lindsay and Hiro had discovered the gym and were busy dropping weights on the floor, from the sound of it. Andy had his eyes closed. "You're looking so hot, Angel."
"Thanks. Umm."
Beth leaned up on one elbow, eyebrows raising almost to her hairline. "You mean, no? You?"
"I dunno."
"What, he's got you on some exclusive contract?"
"No," he said, slowly. "We haven't talked about it."
He tried to imagine casually telling Goodfellow he'd fucked someone else, and the reaction. He put his champagne glass down too hard and it slopped everywhere.
"So, you wanna screw?"
"Okay," he said, "Yeah. Now."
She bounced along beside him wearing nothing but a towel. The champagne bottle dangled from one hand, and she held his hand with the other. Angel found himself looking at Goodfellow's door.
"Hey. You wanna see his room?"
Beth lost the towel as she jumped onto the bed. It was bigger than Angel's and dressed in brown silk today. She looked gorgeous on it, and Angel concentrated hard on her gold curls and her curves, because otherwise he started remembering what Goodfellow looked like here, cool and pale and unsmiling. Beth laughed and yanked him down against her.
"God, you don't look real happy for a guy who just made his fortune. Cheer up. Is he horrible in the sack or something?"
"No. He-- He's really good. I mean. Really. Just sort of...not there."
He was on the edge of spilling his guts, but instead of asking what he meant, she just said, "Well, I'm here." Thank god. Because he really didn't want to talk about it.
He went down on her first. It kept his mouth occupied, and it was so vastly different from sucking off Goodfellow. She yanked his hair and moaned out loud and pretty near suffocated him once or twice, but even so, he wouldn't have said it was different in a bad way.
Moving over her, inside her, afterwards, he could feel her nails on his back. He wondered if he should tell her to stop--but Goodfellow hadn't said anything about being exclusive.
Except that body and soul thing.
Angel shook his head and kissed her and fucked into her warm body and refused to think about it.
Later, when they were all gone, he showered for a long time. He could feel the nail marks on his back. There were stains on Goodfellow's bed that he hadn't even tried to get off. And he'd been told not to even go in there without an invitation.
He dragged himself out of the shower and counted his five grand again. He wondered if he'd get to keep any of the clothes when Goodfellow kicked him to the curb. He went back in and straightened the sheets and flipped the comforter over and patted down the pillows, checked for any blonde hairs, then closed the door and stared around the silent polished apartment. He didn't feel any better.
no subject
Date: 2007-11-07 09:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-07 10:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-07 10:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-07 10:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-07 10:17 pm (UTC)This just keeps on being totally awesome. I love love love that he takes a limo to Starbucks and stares aimlessly out of the window. Perfect.
no subject
Date: 2007-11-07 11:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-08 12:03 am (UTC)Oh I really liked this chapter! I really like how you map Angel's casual acquaintance with those others - he calls them to fill in a space, made gaping and obvious by his arrangement with his new 'employer' but in his way, he's exactly as unreachable and isolated as Goodfellow is. These are people he knows, not people who really mean that much to him, otherwise he probably would have confessed, and in fact if that were the case, he probably wouldn't be in this predicament at all.
Oh the thorny, repressed angst of it all! It is Joy!
no subject
Date: 2007-11-08 12:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-08 01:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-08 01:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-08 01:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-08 02:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-08 03:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-08 05:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-08 08:49 am (UTC)Oh, poor Gojyo. He's all confused; he doesn't know what he wants XD
no subject
Date: 2007-11-08 04:25 pm (UTC)Are you guys seriously doing a part of this every day? Because, I'm not sure I could survive the wait for the next part if it wasn't coming sooooon.
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Date: 2007-11-08 05:21 pm (UTC)I think I love you.
Great idea creating a comm, it's easier to comment and think that the comment will reach both of you. Coming across talented people like you two makes me keep my faith in the world.
no subject
Date: 2007-11-09 11:12 am (UTC)That all sounds pretty negative, doesn't it? I wouldn't be this invested if it weren't so well written.
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Date: 2007-11-09 12:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-10 04:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-09 06:59 am (UTC)