Lights, Camera, Action! - Chapter 9
Author:
honey_mellon
Title: Lights, Camera, Action!
Rating: R
Pairing: Kurosaki Ichigo, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques
Warnings: Nothing you wouldn't expect from an R-rated yaoi fiction
Summary: I am Grimmjow Jaegepprjaques, the highest-paid actor in whole of North America. The moment I lay my eyes on him, I know I have to have him. Oh, he can scowl and glare at me all he wants, but he can't fool me. His ass is MINE.
COMMUNITY DISCLAIMER: All characters depicted in sexual situations in this post/fanfiction/fanart (including material in the comments) are fictional and are intended to be and considered to be by the author of said material of the legal age of consent in the United States state of California, regardless of what age these characters may be in the material they are derived from.
Here I am with another update! Thanks for being so patient...I love you all!
Once I got started, I can't seem to stop. Everything that have been bothering me - things about Jaegerjaques that I don't understand, that infuriates me - flow freely out of me in a torrential stream.
Even the part about how worried I've been about him. And how he makes me feel confused and flustered even though I try so hard not to care.
Jaegerjaques' expression turns from one of hurt to one of bewilderment, and I freeze mid-sentence, my brain finally catching up with my traitorous mouth. My cheeks - which have just returned to their normal temperature barely a minute ago - burns anew.
"Shit, Kurosaki. You're making me really confused," he mutters, his anger suddenly extinguished. Frowning with a genuinely troubled expression, he rakes his fingers through his hair and lets out a sigh.
I clam my mouth shut even though I really want to say the same. More than confused. I'm furious - at him for making me feel this way and at myself for letting him. I should be happy, glad that I don't have to put up with him anymore; yet, the taste of freedom hasn't been as sweet as it should. The nagging feeling of disappointment that has plagued me for weeks; both from the loss of Jaegerjaques' vibrant presence by my side - vulgar as may be - and from the disappearance of the fire that has always defined him.
Have Shinji and Ishida seriously been right all along?
Weren't Jaegerjaques' ridiculous demands and lecherous advances nothing but an effort to torture me, to bully me - the hapless intern that I am? This version of Jaegerjaques, currently sitting in front of me looking almost defeated, tells me that maybe...just maybe it's not. I ponder the possibility that this is all an act. He is, after all, a highly accomplished actor. But his eyes, for once, are not filled with smugness or his usual dose of over-confidence. I don't see Grimmjow Jaegerjaques. Instead, I see a man who's brimming with as many questions as I am.
"If you keep looking at me like that, I can't promise I won't do anything stupid," he murmurs suddenly, his voice ringing so close to me that it's practically right in my ear.
That's when I realize just how much - or how little, rather - distance there is between us. Mere inches. I've somehow drifted towards him, and him towards me. He's so near that I can see every individual strand of his eyelashes. His eyes are slowly sliding half-mast, his cheeks flushed pink. I can hear my own heartbeat in my ears, going thump, thump, thump so loudly that I'm certain he can hear it too. My eyes travel from his straight, perfectly shaped nose down to his lips; they're slightly parted as though he's breathing through his mouth. With this proximity I should be able to feel his breath on my face if he's breathing, but he's not. He's holding it in, much like I am.
I will myself to say something - anything - remotely intelligent, but what comes out instead is something that sounds horrifyingly like a whimper. His eyes, dark and dilated, burn into mine like twin flames, drawing more and more heat to my face. My brain goes blissfully blank. I honestly don't know what to think anymore.
And so I don't. In a moment of pure impulse - borne from the need to just fucking do something - I clench my eyes shut and close the distance between us. He gasps, the sound oddly satisfying, and I press my lips harder, firmer on his. His hesitation lasts only for a split second, and then he's pushing back with all the fire and strength that feels almost nostalgic. Familiar. Right.
This is the Jaegerjaques I know. The one who has somehow managed to get under my skin despite everything. Somewhere in the back of my head, I hear Shinji and Ishida snickering, but they fade immediately when a wet, slithering tongue probes between my lips. I try to swallow the groan that bubbles up my throat, but it still manages to escape as a muffled moan. I feel my face grow even hotter, my tendency to blush easily rearing its head. This time, though, the indignation and stab of irritation that usually accompanies it does not appear. What I feel instead is a rush of warmth pooling somewhere southward.
We separate finally, and this time I feel puffs of air against my mouth. We're both breathing heavily, lips apart and faces close but not quite touching. I can still taste him; a mixture of tea and mint-flavored chewing gum. Strange, but not unpleasant.
And then it hits me that I've just kissed Grimmjow Jaegerjaques.
Kurosaki is panting, his eyes barely open beneath his thick lashes. His cheeks are tinted a shade of red brighter than I've ever seen on him. I don't know if he's even aware of what we've just done. What he actually initiated.
For my part, I'm in shock, and not to mention confused as hell. He had been rambling on and on, about how much of a heartless jerk and arrogant bastard I am, how stupid I was to rush to Nel's rescue - something about not using my brain and not thinking about how other people would feel. How he would feel if I got hurt.
I have no idea what he's trying to say anymore. If he really thinks that I'm such a pain in the ass, why would he care?
And then, just when I thought things couldn't get any weirder, he fucking kisses me, right in the mouth. I seriously thought I was hallucinating. But of course, confused or not, I'm not one to turn down a kiss - from him, especially - so I just returned it with all the passion that I've been bottling up inside of me. All that obsession, the longing, that I've been harboring for the past few months poured out unbidden, much like his rant about me. He may have started it, but I'm determined to make it last. Take what I can before he realizes his mistake. Not the most noble of me, but I've wanted this for so long.
Sure enough, when we draw apart, his eyes suddenly widen. I steel myself for the look of utmost horror that will surely grace his face. Maybe he'll even give me another one of his killer punches, probably one that will break my nose for real this time.
"Ah, shit," I hear him mumble under his breath
It's not like he hasn't rejected me before, but it still stings. How I wish I could've gone back to the day we met and fix things. If I hadn't thrown my stupid weight around like some big-headed jerk, if I had just been a little less blind, perhaps we wouldn't be in this situation right now.
I risk another glance at him and feel my stomach clench at the look on his face. He looks absolutely stricken, his eyes blinking rapidly, brows pinched into a frown. Even so, he's turned on, I can tell that much, and it reminds me of what I had seen in the restroom. The look of desire, the heavy breathing, it brings me a pang of deja vu.
Damn, what I would give to have him look at me like that one more time.
So this is how it feels to kiss a movie star.
I lick my lips, the memory of Jaegerjaques' soft, pliant lips on mine fresh in my mind. I wonder why I haven't freaked out yet, but a part of me already knows. It's suddenly crystal clear why I've been feeling so agitated, so conflicted, why I absolutely can't stand Jaegerjaques yet secretly long for his attention. I recognize all the signs now - the suffocating awkwardness between us whenever we're alone, the inexplicable moments of speechlessness - they're all pointing to one conclusion.
Despite what I've been telling myself, I am attracted to this man. Despite my stance to not become smitten just because he's rich, famous and sinfully good-looking, I am undeniably, hopelessly, hooked.
And the most mind-blowing part of it all? I'm not alone. Jaegerjaques feels the same way, perhaps even more than I do. I think I understand now, why he behaved the way he did.
Any doubt that I had, had evaporated the moment we connected. I can't explain why I'm so certain of it, but sometimes, for things like this, you just have to feel it to know it. And felt it, I did. The way his breath had hitched, the way he daren't even breathe, the way he's now sneaking glances at me...no, not even the greatest actor in the world can fake this.
It is that thought that spurs me to lean towards him and press my lips against his again. He doesn't move away, but his eyes fly open, the look of surprise on his face almost comical. This time, being completely conscious of my decision, I leave no room for him to seize control of the kiss. My heart rate, which has already been going wild, shoots right through the roof; especially when he groans softly into my mouth. His hand finds my arm and touches me tentatively, probably afraid that I'll suddenly come to my senses and bolt.
I don't blame him. I'd do the same if I were him.
When I finally pull away again, Jaegerjaques gives me a heated look. I can almost feel his arousal and want in the air, and I figure I'm not that far off myself. My cheeks have never felt so hot before. They're practically throbbing in sync with my pulse, and with every passing second, the burning ache in my stomach becomes worse. I don't think it has anything to do with indigestion.
A part of me - the logical, analytical part of my brain - screams at me to run before I make a fool of myself, but a bigger part keeps me rooted in place. I've seriously had enough with denial, now that the proverbial light bulb has turned on. I'm in no mood to deprive myself of this now that I've gotten a taste of it. I know it's crazy, and if Shinji and Ishida were here they'd either be laughing their asses off or heaving a collective, long-suffering sigh of relief. I'm leaning towards the latter.
Before I know it, we're kissing again, this time initiated by Jaegerjaques, who seems to be less confused now. He scoots closer to me and I feel his hand snake into my hair. His scent - a soothing mix of mint and tea and the hotel shower gel - surrounds me like a cloak, and I can't help but reach out to touch him. I clutch the front of his shirt and hold my fist there, feeling his rapid heartbeat and hot, firm chest beneath my hand.
I don't know who stood first, but the next time I become aware of my surroundings again, I'm stumbling over my own feet down the same narrow path that I've come from, my wrist held firmly by Jaegerjaques. He barels through the lobby, blatantly ignoring the curious stares of the few people still milling about at this late hour. I take one look at the red-faced receptionist and immediately wish I hadn't. But I can't bring myself to protest, so I let him lead me on.
We practically fall into the elevator, and without missing a beat, he shoves me against the wall and blindly hits the buttons. After several tries, he finally breaks away from my mouth with a low growl and hits the right one. The elevator starts up with a gentle jolt, and I find myself wedged between him and the mirrored wall. He has grown bolder, and he's no longer hesitating as he gropes me through my clothes. Not the teasing, playful slaps on the butt like he used to harrass me with; these are needy and punctuated with harsh pants and soft moans as he tilts my head back to plant kisses on my neck.
The journey from the elevator to his room flies by in a blur, and the next thing I know, we're inside his suite, leaning heavily against the door. Jaegerjaques slides one hand beneath my shirt and strokes my back, pulling me flush against his front. The bulge in his pants is unmistakable, and I let out a ragged moan when it presses against my own. I buck shamelessly into his crotch, hissing when he returns the gesture with just as much enthusiasm. In the back of my mind, I know we're moving too quickly, but there's no way I can stop. Right now, my other head is ruling my body, and I'm more than happy to surrender to the mindless frenzy.
Amidst groans and mumbled swearing, we eventually find our way to the couch, knocking over a chair and stubbing my toe in the process. He sinks into it, and I fall into his lap, our heads nearly colliding in our haste to keep on going. I dive down to catch his lips again, my fingers digging into his shoulders to steady myself. It's not till he lets out a grunt of pain do I realize that I'm crushing him with all my weight. Suddenly remembering that his back is probably killing him, I try to move away, but he only tightens his grip on my hips and pulls me even closer. The hands that are snaking beneath the waistband of my jeans are shaking - whether from pain or excitement I'll never know - and so damn warm that it almost feels like they're burning.
My fingers slip and slide over seemingly endless buttons, but after a struggle that feels entirely too long, we finally manage to shove aside enough constricting fabric for us to reach each other. Jaegerjaques feels hot and needy in my fist, and I can't even begin to describe the toe-curling sensation of having his hand wrapped firmly around me. The swirling heat and pulsing tension that has been pooling in my stomach surges at an alarming rate. I can almost taste it already, the sweet release that's hurling towards us, and that only makes me pick up my pace. Our rhythm, which is already unsteady to begin with, becomes even more erratic. All I hear is Jaegerjaques panting hoarsely in my ear, the minty puffs of his breath slightly ticklish against my neck. I know that I'm moaning continuously - something that I will probably regret later - but I can't help it. This feels too good, Jaegerjaques feels too good, and I simply can't hold back any longer.
I feel him throb once, twice, and then he lets out a deep, shuddering groan and thrusts roughly into my fist. His seed splatters hot and wet between us, joining the mess that I've just made. I continue to move my hand until he stops shaking, then I let my forehead fall on his shoulder, my body molding against his as I feel my muscles relax. We both wheeze like old men, struggling to regain control over our heaving chests. It takes an embarrassingly long time, but we finally do.
And then, my dear friends, comes the moment of truth.
To be continued...