The Tomorrow Trilogy Fanfiction - Out of Control: Chapter 7
If you're reading this particular fanfic for the first time, it's the sequel to n3m3sis43's Control. The previous chapters can be found here:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6
Not long after Jazz leaves, I find myself back down at the bar again. Ordering another scotch and knocking it back quickly, just to feel it burn the back of my throat. As much as I want to cry, I can’t. The general public might not be able to recognize Jazz, but they sure do recognize me. Last thing I fucking need is my face splattered all over the tabloids.
When my phone begins to vibrate in my pocket, I almost ignore it. Like hell is Jazz gonna be calling me now after I told him about Mitchel. And he’d the only who would be --
Mitchel! I slam my glass back onto the counter and fish out my phone. My breath catches in my throat and I put the phone to my ear. “Yes, Councilman?” I mutter into the phone, glancing around the bar.
“You’ve been ignoring my calls, Emperor,” Mitchel’s voice states on the other end. I can almost hear him leaning back in his seat -- can almost see him examine his totally perfect nails in annoyance.
“I’ve been busy,” I tell him, smirking to myself. I can hear the way his breath catches in his throat. “First the meeting with Ameos’s leaders, then having to talk with Jazz?” Thankfully, my voice doesn’t shake or crack when I mention Jazz’s name. I push myself away from the bar, tucking my hair behind my ear as I start heading back to my hotel room. “I haven’t had a whole lot of time to return your numerous phone calls.”
I must have drunk more than I thought -- I’m a little unsteady on my feet as I walk down the hall. Not having had anything to eat for at least twelve hours certainly doesn’t help. “Oh?” Mitchel asks, his voice light. Controlled. “How did your discussion with Callahan go?”
I wince, thankful that Mitchel can’t see that, either. Makes it easier to pretend like things went well. That things went too well. The bastard’s totally jealous that I’m even here with Jazz and not him. “Much better than expected,” I answer, pulling out my hotel key from my pocket. It takes a few swipes for me to get it open. I try and sound casual, even pleased with this. I want to give him the impression that things went too well. Just to tease him.
“How so?” he responds curtly. Bastard totally bought it. I grin to myself, shutting the door behind me quietly.
“We’re sharing a room,” I lie -- at least it’s not a total lie? Jazz would have shared a room with me, if I hadn’t told him about me and Mitchel. Mitchel doesn’t need to know that, though. And the way I hear him breathe in sharply on the other end, I know I’ve gone and pissed him off.
“Is he in the room with you now?” How does the bastard do that? He sounds completely and utterly in control right now, doesn’t sound upset at all. But I know he is. He has to be.
“No,” I answer honestly. “He went out for a run.”
“I see...” Mitchel drawls. I hear him sigh into the phone. “Do you know when he’ll be back, Emperor? I’m sure once he returns he’s going to want your ah, undivided attention.”
“Maybe,” I murmur, kicking off my shoes. I start undressing myself, stripping down to my undershirt and boxers. “I’ve already given him all that I could,” I continue stretching myself out onto the empty hotel room bed. As I sink into it, I let my hand trail down my stomach. Mitchel hasn’t said a word, but I can hear how he’s struggling for control. Can imagine just how hard he’s gripping his phone -- how he’d have me pressed up against a wall right now, if he were here.
“Have you, now?” he manages after a while, and this time the bastard sounds totally jealous. Maybe even hurt. “I told you, Emperor. You lack control,” he grunts into the phone.
His tone is all it takes for me to get hard and I close my eyes, teasing my fingers along my length slowly. “Is that so, Councilman?” I return, keeping my tone even. “Did I say I lost control?”
That seems to throw him off his guard. I hear him sputter into the phone, which just urges my hand to move faster along my cock. I’d give anything to have his hand pleasuring me instead of mine. They’re so much smoother than mine, perfect in just about every way --
“Are you -- are you pleasuring yourself right now, Bates?” Mitchel asks, his composure utterly broken.
Instead of answering him directly, I let out a showy moan into the phone. I hear him breathe in sharply again, a strangled noise escaping his throat. “Are you?” I question, slowing down my pace.
There’s a quiet chuckle on the other end, then an even quieter moan following behind it. “And if I am?” he counters.
“You know the rules, Councilman,” I gasp. I’m nearly rubbing myself raw. “No coming unless I say so.”
“Any other --” He cuts himself with another moan, this time louder than before. “Any other requests, Emperor?”
I stop stroking myself for a moment and close my eyes, taking a moment to just listen to how his breathing grows increasingly uneven. “Go get -- get one of your toys -- I wanna hear you fuck yourself with it.”
His breathing changes. “Do you want me to take myself dry with it?” he asks, completely unruffled once more. Fucking Christ, how does he do that?
Then his words truly sink in, and I find myself groaning loudly into the phone. “Fuck yes, I want you to hurt yourself with it, since I’m not there to do it myself.”
Totally don’t have any control over myself, now. Not as I hear him whimper, his breathing growing ragged with pain and pleasure. The bastard really will do anything I tell him to, won’t he? What else can I get him to do?
Except I don’t even get to give Mitchel anymore orders as there’s a rapid knocking on the door to my hotel room. “Shit,” I hiss, scrambling off of the bed. I tuck myself back into my boxers and try to will my erection away. “Mitchel, I gotta go. I’ll call you back, okay?”
There’s a disappointed sigh on the other end. “You better, Savin,” he murmurs. There’s a pause. “Am I allowed to come?”
I smirk to myself. “No,” I answer simply. “Bye, Mitchel.”
My smirk fades as I open the door. Jazz stands in front of me, his eyes growing hard when he notices the phone in my hand. “Oh,” he mutters, pursing his lips together. “I take it you were talking to him?” he snaps, gesturing to my crotch as he walks into my hotel room.
I don’t need to glance down to know I’m still painfully hard. Instead, I look away from Jazz, shutting the door quietly behind me. “I was,” I whisper, holding my phone tightly.
Jazz just shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair. “I just -- I don’t understand what it is you even see in him.”
“The same thing you saw in him once, apparently,” I mutter, crossing my arms over my chest. “Hell, you crushed on him for the longest fucking time.”
“Yeah, and you were so jealous of him it nearly split us up!” Jazz exclaims, throwing his arms up in the air. “You absolutely hated him.”
“Not without good fucking reason, apparently,” I spit, shaking my head. “You slept with him while we were together, didn’t you?”
“Does it really matter if I did or not?” Jazz growls, this time looking away from me. That flush spreading across his face? It’s totally fucking guilty. “That was years ago, Savin. I haven’t so much as wanted anything to do with him since before our wedding.”
My stomach is down at my feet one moment and trying to escape through my throat the next. Swallowing thickly, I ignore the stinging in my eyes. “You slept with him before we got married?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. Jazz sighs and nods his head slowly. “So -- when Mitchel wanted to speak at our wedding --”
“He wanted to tell you that I had cheated on you with him, yes,” Jazz admits, his eyes filling with tears. “But he manipulated me, convinced me that sleeping with him was something I really wanted, and --” He pauses, biting his lip and collapsing onto the provided couch. “I just -- I never felt so guilty about something in my fucking life, and I never wanted to tell you, and -- I’m sorry.”
I nod my head slowly, sitting down beside him. “Manipulated you, how?” I dare to ask, locking my eyes with his.
“He just -- he really had me convinced he cared, y’know?” Jazz says, sighing. He wipes his eyes and sniffs. “Had me convinced you were this awful person, used my own emotions against me to get me to give in to him. I mean, it didn’t help that we had slept together before you and I started dating, but -- he just seemed to really care about me and he didn’t. He just -- wanted me all to himself.”
Jazz turns to me, then, his eyes wide and sad. He reaches for my hand, interlocking our fingers together. “Look,” he starts, his voice shaking. “We both need to work things out for ourselves. If that --” He pauses, clearing his throat and closing his eyes as if to steel himself. “If that means you need to -- to be with Mitchel, for the time being, fine. Just -- just be careful, okay?” He squeezes my fingers and leans forward, brushing his lips against mine. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
And just like that, he’s getting up from the couch and letting go of me entirely. I’m totally fucking speechless, only managing a stiff nod as I watch him leave my hotel room.
Did he really just let me go that easily?
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Not long after Jazz leaves, I find myself back down at the bar again. Ordering another scotch and knocking it back quickly, just to feel it burn the back of my throat. As much as I want to cry, I can’t. The general public might not be able to recognize Jazz, but they sure do recognize me. Last thing I fucking need is my face splattered all over the tabloids.
When my phone begins to vibrate in my pocket, I almost ignore it. Like hell is Jazz gonna be calling me now after I told him about Mitchel. And he’d the only who would be --
Mitchel! I slam my glass back onto the counter and fish out my phone. My breath catches in my throat and I put the phone to my ear. “Yes, Councilman?” I mutter into the phone, glancing around the bar.
“You’ve been ignoring my calls, Emperor,” Mitchel’s voice states on the other end. I can almost hear him leaning back in his seat -- can almost see him examine his totally perfect nails in annoyance.
“I’ve been busy,” I tell him, smirking to myself. I can hear the way his breath catches in his throat. “First the meeting with Ameos’s leaders, then having to talk with Jazz?” Thankfully, my voice doesn’t shake or crack when I mention Jazz’s name. I push myself away from the bar, tucking my hair behind my ear as I start heading back to my hotel room. “I haven’t had a whole lot of time to return your numerous phone calls.”
I must have drunk more than I thought -- I’m a little unsteady on my feet as I walk down the hall. Not having had anything to eat for at least twelve hours certainly doesn’t help. “Oh?” Mitchel asks, his voice light. Controlled. “How did your discussion with Callahan go?”
I wince, thankful that Mitchel can’t see that, either. Makes it easier to pretend like things went well. That things went too well. The bastard’s totally jealous that I’m even here with Jazz and not him. “Much better than expected,” I answer, pulling out my hotel key from my pocket. It takes a few swipes for me to get it open. I try and sound casual, even pleased with this. I want to give him the impression that things went too well. Just to tease him.
“How so?” he responds curtly. Bastard totally bought it. I grin to myself, shutting the door behind me quietly.
“We’re sharing a room,” I lie -- at least it’s not a total lie? Jazz would have shared a room with me, if I hadn’t told him about me and Mitchel. Mitchel doesn’t need to know that, though. And the way I hear him breathe in sharply on the other end, I know I’ve gone and pissed him off.
“Is he in the room with you now?” How does the bastard do that? He sounds completely and utterly in control right now, doesn’t sound upset at all. But I know he is. He has to be.
“No,” I answer honestly. “He went out for a run.”
“I see...” Mitchel drawls. I hear him sigh into the phone. “Do you know when he’ll be back, Emperor? I’m sure once he returns he’s going to want your ah, undivided attention.”
“Maybe,” I murmur, kicking off my shoes. I start undressing myself, stripping down to my undershirt and boxers. “I’ve already given him all that I could,” I continue stretching myself out onto the empty hotel room bed. As I sink into it, I let my hand trail down my stomach. Mitchel hasn’t said a word, but I can hear how he’s struggling for control. Can imagine just how hard he’s gripping his phone -- how he’d have me pressed up against a wall right now, if he were here.
“Have you, now?” he manages after a while, and this time the bastard sounds totally jealous. Maybe even hurt. “I told you, Emperor. You lack control,” he grunts into the phone.
His tone is all it takes for me to get hard and I close my eyes, teasing my fingers along my length slowly. “Is that so, Councilman?” I return, keeping my tone even. “Did I say I lost control?”
That seems to throw him off his guard. I hear him sputter into the phone, which just urges my hand to move faster along my cock. I’d give anything to have his hand pleasuring me instead of mine. They’re so much smoother than mine, perfect in just about every way --
“Are you -- are you pleasuring yourself right now, Bates?” Mitchel asks, his composure utterly broken.
Instead of answering him directly, I let out a showy moan into the phone. I hear him breathe in sharply again, a strangled noise escaping his throat. “Are you?” I question, slowing down my pace.
There’s a quiet chuckle on the other end, then an even quieter moan following behind it. “And if I am?” he counters.
“You know the rules, Councilman,” I gasp. I’m nearly rubbing myself raw. “No coming unless I say so.”
“Any other --” He cuts himself with another moan, this time louder than before. “Any other requests, Emperor?”
I stop stroking myself for a moment and close my eyes, taking a moment to just listen to how his breathing grows increasingly uneven. “Go get -- get one of your toys -- I wanna hear you fuck yourself with it.”
His breathing changes. “Do you want me to take myself dry with it?” he asks, completely unruffled once more. Fucking Christ, how does he do that?
Then his words truly sink in, and I find myself groaning loudly into the phone. “Fuck yes, I want you to hurt yourself with it, since I’m not there to do it myself.”
Totally don’t have any control over myself, now. Not as I hear him whimper, his breathing growing ragged with pain and pleasure. The bastard really will do anything I tell him to, won’t he? What else can I get him to do?
Except I don’t even get to give Mitchel anymore orders as there’s a rapid knocking on the door to my hotel room. “Shit,” I hiss, scrambling off of the bed. I tuck myself back into my boxers and try to will my erection away. “Mitchel, I gotta go. I’ll call you back, okay?”
There’s a disappointed sigh on the other end. “You better, Savin,” he murmurs. There’s a pause. “Am I allowed to come?”
I smirk to myself. “No,” I answer simply. “Bye, Mitchel.”
My smirk fades as I open the door. Jazz stands in front of me, his eyes growing hard when he notices the phone in my hand. “Oh,” he mutters, pursing his lips together. “I take it you were talking to him?” he snaps, gesturing to my crotch as he walks into my hotel room.
I don’t need to glance down to know I’m still painfully hard. Instead, I look away from Jazz, shutting the door quietly behind me. “I was,” I whisper, holding my phone tightly.
Jazz just shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair. “I just -- I don’t understand what it is you even see in him.”
“The same thing you saw in him once, apparently,” I mutter, crossing my arms over my chest. “Hell, you crushed on him for the longest fucking time.”
“Yeah, and you were so jealous of him it nearly split us up!” Jazz exclaims, throwing his arms up in the air. “You absolutely hated him.”
“Not without good fucking reason, apparently,” I spit, shaking my head. “You slept with him while we were together, didn’t you?”
“Does it really matter if I did or not?” Jazz growls, this time looking away from me. That flush spreading across his face? It’s totally fucking guilty. “That was years ago, Savin. I haven’t so much as wanted anything to do with him since before our wedding.”
My stomach is down at my feet one moment and trying to escape through my throat the next. Swallowing thickly, I ignore the stinging in my eyes. “You slept with him before we got married?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. Jazz sighs and nods his head slowly. “So -- when Mitchel wanted to speak at our wedding --”
“He wanted to tell you that I had cheated on you with him, yes,” Jazz admits, his eyes filling with tears. “But he manipulated me, convinced me that sleeping with him was something I really wanted, and --” He pauses, biting his lip and collapsing onto the provided couch. “I just -- I never felt so guilty about something in my fucking life, and I never wanted to tell you, and -- I’m sorry.”
I nod my head slowly, sitting down beside him. “Manipulated you, how?” I dare to ask, locking my eyes with his.
“He just -- he really had me convinced he cared, y’know?” Jazz says, sighing. He wipes his eyes and sniffs. “Had me convinced you were this awful person, used my own emotions against me to get me to give in to him. I mean, it didn’t help that we had slept together before you and I started dating, but -- he just seemed to really care about me and he didn’t. He just -- wanted me all to himself.”
Jazz turns to me, then, his eyes wide and sad. He reaches for my hand, interlocking our fingers together. “Look,” he starts, his voice shaking. “We both need to work things out for ourselves. If that --” He pauses, clearing his throat and closing his eyes as if to steel himself. “If that means you need to -- to be with Mitchel, for the time being, fine. Just -- just be careful, okay?” He squeezes my fingers and leans forward, brushing his lips against mine. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
And just like that, he’s getting up from the couch and letting go of me entirely. I’m totally fucking speechless, only managing a stiff nod as I watch him leave my hotel room.
Did he really just let me go that easily?
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