Fic: Illicit Exploits of an LA Rentboy Entry 71-85/151 (Entourage, NC-17, Vince/E, Vince/Others)
Title: Illicit Exploits of an LA Rentboy
Entries: 71-85 of 151
Status: Complete
Fandom: Entourage
Word Count:~7,900
Disclaimer: I don't own Entourage or anyone who has ever appeared on it.
Pairing: Vince/Eric, Vince/Pretty much everyone else except Turtle, Johnny, and the Golds (seriously)
Rating: NC-17 for lots and lots of sex
Warnings: AU, prostitution, mentions of past childhood physical abuse, BDSM, gay sex, straight sex, group sex, rape fantasy, fisting, wax play, a foot fetishist, mentions of daddy-kink, extremely brief mention of watersports. If any of the particular warnings are squicks for you, send me a private message and I'll tell you which entry to avoid!
Betas and helpers: guest_age, justabi, allyndra, ariadne83, pesha and deepad were all completely indispensable. Thank you so much.
Authors Notes: This inspired by Belle Du Jour's blog/books/TV series but doesnt crossover in anyway. But it is a hookerfic so I know there are a lot of warnings but I hope you guys will give it a try anyway. Minor characters from canon have links to their pictures if you need a reminder. This fic is complete and I will, baring any unforeseen circumstances, be posting a segment a day until the end of the entourage_fest.
Summary: Entries from the private journal of Vincent Chase, a high paid male escort living in Los Angeles.
Entry 1-20
Entry 21-40
Entry 41-55
Entry 56-58
Entry 59-70
Entry 71
"What'd you forget?" I ask when E calls me. He's been sleeping at my place for the last three days while I'm on vacation. It's one PM and he should be working.
"Nothing. I've got a lunch meeting that just got cancelled and my broker just called," E says. "You busy?"
E's been living out of his suitcase since he came out to LA. How I've managed to miss him with all the work I do in his hotel I don't know, but it's moot because he's sick of it and if he's going to be staying in California for a few years, he wants something stable.
He claims that he needs a native speaker to come with him to make sure the broker's not fucking with him, but I know that doesn't have to be me. He's got this girl Sloan who, as much as I can tell, is like his version of Turtle and then some. And I know she grew up out here.
But it's time with E when he should be working, so I don't point that out. I just climb into his car when he pulls up outside my building fifteen minutes after hanging up. We drive out into the hills and I want to know what the hell it is that E actually does for Warner's because the last time I was out this far was when I worked that job for M, and he makes twenty-million a picture.
The first house E pulls up to is worth at least that much. The realtor is standing on the sidewalk when we arrive, creaming herself over the commission. I would be, too, if I where her. It's the real estate equivalent of a Saudi prince with oil on family land booking me for a long weekend.
"Jesus, E, did you find a sunken treasure or something?"
He laughs. "What?"
"How can you afford that house?"
He shrugs. "I'm valuable at work."
It's a glittering white monster with a balcony that seems to stretch straight out. The whole building is almost reflective because it's so white, and E leaves his sunglasses on inside. I cannot believe for a second he's just in production. Phil is in production, and his house was smaller than this.
"How valuable?"
He adjusts his tie a little and glances around the iceberg house. "Very. Look, Vince, don't make a thing of it. She's already jacking up the prices."
I don't really have time to react because the realtor is back.
"Tom and Nicole were looking at it before they split," the realtor says.
"Really," E says flatly. I don't see him rolls his eyes behind his sunglasses, but I know he does. And I smile.
She talks about the kitchen and the living room layout for another ten minutes before E cuts her off.
"It's not really what we're looking for."
She scrunches up her face and wow, is that unattractive. "Too much?"
"It's a little cold."
"I know exactly what you mean, Mr. Murphy. I think I have one that will be much more to your tastes. Why don't you two just follow my car?"'
We go to four more houses and E's phone is buzzing off the hook when she hits pay dirt. It's the last house she has for the day because E was supposed to be back at the office where he runs very goddamn valuable to Warner Bros. Studio.
It's a Spanish estate off the Outpost and even from the outside, it looks amazing.
"This was one of Marlon Brando's first homes. He sold it to Johnny Depp in '95. Johnny was living here when he was making Ed Wood. " she says as we stand out on the landing. The yard is tiered into three separate stories and at the bottom is a modest pool. "The owner's asking 4.3 million, so it shouldn't be a problem. It's well within your price range. If you like it, of course. I'll leave you two to talk it over," she says and heads down the steps toward the pool.
E and I walk back inside to the curving spaces and clean lines and he takes off his sunglasses and looks at me. It's been two months since I found him again and I cannot handle him looking at me like that. I shove my hands in my back pockets and pretend to examine the molding.
"What do you think?" he asks, coming up behind me.
"I don't know, E. You'd be the one who has to live here."
"Yeah," E agrees with a sigh. "But let's pretend I care what you think for a second. What do you think?"
I lick my lips and try not to think about what it would be like to fall asleep in this building, what it would be like to have breakfast here with E. I fail and it makes my palms sweat. "I think it's a great house."
"Good," E says, hooking his fingers in my belt loops and tugging me to him. His chest is solid and warm against my back. He kisses my shoulder through my shirt and I force myself to relax into unfamiliar intimacy. It comes so damn easy for him. "Because it's less than I was going to spend and you look fucking amazing in it."
I smile and cover my hand with his. "I look good in Armani too, E. Doesn't mean you should try and buy the exchange."
"I can try," he says and I have to assume he's joking, even though his voice is totally serious. "Come on, Vince, can't you see you and me here?"
"I see you here."
"Well, there you go. That's good enough for me." E goes up a little to kiss my neck then pulls away to go find the realtor. I catch his wrist as he walks away and drop to my knees under a brass chandelier. E laughs. "You are such a horn dog, Vince."
He has no fucking idea. I rub my cheek against his thigh before I look back up at him. "I like seeing you here," I say as I unzip his pants and reach into his Calvin's for his cock. He laughs again and brushes the hair off my forehead.
"I like seeing you period, "he says, brushing his thumb over my lower lip. "Christ, do you have any idea what you do to me?"
I don't answer him with words, sucking his hard cock into my mouth instead. The wood under my knees is a little uncomfortable, but he tastes good and his hands slide back into my hair, running through it smooth and gentle.
He rides my mouth to a relatively quiet orgasm and pulls me up to him with a rough jerk. He kisses me slow and deep, licking what I couldn't swallow out of my mouth, and walks me backwards. My back hits a wall and he only stops when the realtor clears her throat.
"Gentlemen?" She's got a tightlipped expression that could be a suppressed smile, but might just be a result of bad Botox. "What do we think?"
E rubs the back of his neck and takes a step back from me, which sucks. But he's flushed and trying not to smile. It's shy. It's hot. He looks happy. "We'll take it."
I stop myself from pointing out that there's no we here. I like him looking like this and I don't want to ruin it.
~*~*~
Entry 72
Bob calls my cell personally and invites me over for the weekend. E's got to fly to London for something work-related, so I say yes. Then he calls Ari and makes arrangements that way because we don't like to exchange money. It feels like it cheapens a service I'm actually pretty happy to provide him.
He sends a driver and I sleep on the drive into the hills. The chauffer clears his throat and the housekeeper escorts me inside. I leave my shoes by the door and walk into Bob's arms.
Bob pays me for my time, and not much else. He doesn't like to be lonely and he cares about me. So, it's easy. It's pleasant. He rambles on but once you get used to it, you learn to listen and find out he's got some of the most amazing stories anyone's ever heard. My parents weren't big bedtime story people, so I kind of love it.
We go through the motions of the evening. We have dinner together and he shows me projects he's been "working on". I nod and I listen, and then I take him by the hand and lead him to bed. He bought me like six pairs of two thousand dollar pajamas when we first started this and by now I have a favorite, a red pair that are soft on the inside and silk on the outside.
I pull them on and climb into bed with Bob. He takes my hands and cuddles close to me. My heart breaks as it so often does when I'm with Bob, but this time it's because it makes me think of E and how for the last week he's been in my bed like I'm in Bob's.
"You all right, Chase?" Bob asks, his hand stroking over my back. I scoot closer and shrug. "You seem down. More tired than usual."
"You weren't tired when you were my age?" I ask.
"When I was twenty-five, I was too busy to be tired."
"I'm twenty-eight."
"You are? You don't look it."
Bob knows he doesn't have to flatter me, which makes me think that maybe those myths about semen doing good things for the skin are true. Still, I smile at him and scoot my head closer to his on the pillow.
"What were you doing when you were twenty-nine? I bet you owned the town."
"I was on my way up," Bob agrees. "Mostly when I was twenty-eight, I was wondering whether my wife was going to have a boy or a girl."
I push myself up on my elbow and look down at Bob. If he had kids, where were the pictures? Why didn't they come see him? He was a sentimental guy. Evidence of family would be all over the place.
"So, which was it?"
"I don't know." Bob says and God, I have never seen him look that sad. "Alice-" He breaks off with bright eyes.
"That's a nice name."
"She hated it," Bob laughs. "She thought it was plain. I told her, I used to say 'Allie, you're gorgeous, and changing your name isn't going to make you any prettier.' She didn't think Alice Markowitz could be a star, so she went by Alicia Marcus instead."
"I think I saw one of her movies on TV. Brunette right?"
Bob nods. "She had such talent, my Allie. She was going to be a star. I was going to make her a star. I wanted her to be happy."
"How'd you meet her?"
"I was producing a movie. She was an extra. She caught me feeling up one of the dancers and called me out on it."
"And you knew you liked her?"
"No. I thought she was uppity and a troublemaker, so I fired her." Bob smiles and the wrinkles in his face deepen. "But she still came to the studio every day until she got me to rehire her."
I smile back. "How long did that take?"
"We were done with production by then. I didn't hire her back on for the movie I fired her off of. It would've looked bad. She didn't realize and was furious with me when she found out. Her whole face would turn red when she yelled at me. Barged past my secretary into my office, read me the riot act, and then banged me right on my desk. We were married six months later. You know, I think I've still got that desk in storage somewhere."
I can't help but laugh. I've known Bob for years and it still weirds me out a little when he talks like that. "She sounds impressive. How come she wasn't a bigger name?" Bob had made superstars over the years. If he wanted someone to be famous, they would be. "Was the breakup bad?"
He shook his head into the pillow. "I loved her too damn much for a break up. Hell, I was young. I thought I ran the whole damn town and everything in it. I would've done anything to keep her with me. I thought I could do anything, but you can't, Chase. You can't do everything." There are tears in his eyes and they make my own eyes sting.
"There are no pictures," I blurt before I can stop myself.
"I've got our wedding pictures somewhere, I haven't looked at them in twenty years," Bob says. "We were married three years. She was younger than you when she died."
With the baby. He doesn't need to tell me that for me to know. I reach out and cup Bob's papery cheek with my hand. I brush away the tears because seeing them is fucking hurting me and this woman's been dead for more than forty years.
"I'm sorry, Bob."
"Don't be sorry. She was the best thing to ever happen to me. Things end, Chase," Bob says, running a hand gently over my shoulder. His hands are so different from E's, thinner and more delicate, but the tenderness is so similar. It's like my edges are fraying and I shut my eyes against him as he continues. "You can't say when or how, you've just got to enjoy them while you have them."
My throat burns because I'm in bed with a man who is older than my grandfather when I should probably be home. I'm letting him hold me like E does, when less than a week ago he was looking at houses for an us. I scoot my body blindly closer to Bob, looking for protection against the dread and fear I feel pushing their way out of my eyes and my lips.
"If you knew you'd lose her, do you think you'd still do it?"
He pulls my head to his chest and rubs my back like I don't even know what. But it feels good in a way that has nothing to do with sex, and it makes my lips tremble. "The only thing I would change would be how long I spent keeping her off the lot. Most people don't even get to have that once. So if that's what you're so tired about, Chase, I suggest think about if you'll still love them when you're my age."
"Do you still love her?" I ask. My voice cracks and I can feel tears fighting their way out of the corners of my eyes. I usually feel safe doing this with Bob, but now I feel damn exposed and fragile. I know Bob would never purposely break me, but that doesn't make it much better.
Bob's hand pauses on my back. Against my face, I feel his bony chest rise and fall in a heavy sigh. "I've never loved anyone else."
I crack and suddenly I'm crying like I only do with Bob, like I only ever have been able to do with him, and my hands fist in the back of his shirt. "Me either," I whisper and Christ, that's scary. My whole body is shaking and I'm so fucking scared of that.
"I know."
"I'm so fucked," I choke out. "I'm so fucking fucked."
He soothes, "It's all right, Chase. It gets easier. You'll be all right."
He doesn't say it gets better. Because I don't think for people like me and Bob it does. We fixate. We cling. We have one thing that works for us and always has, and when we lose that, what the hell are we?
I don't know about Bob, but I'm a used up, turned out whore. And E deserves better. He won't settle for less than better once he knows what I am, and then he'll disappear again. And then I'll be a used up, turned out whore with a shattered fucking heart.
And I really don't know how I'm going to deal with that. I can't tell him the truth like he deserves because I just don't have the willpower to say or do anything that could end what I've got with E any sooner than it absolutely has to. I barely made it when I lost him the first time.
Now that I've had him with me, holding me, inside me-I don't know how the fuck I'll be able to go back to before once he's gone. And it's definitely not an if, it's just a matter of when.
That's reality. It's what will fucking happen. There's nothing I can do about that. All I can handle in this moment is to twist closer to Bob, press my nose into the fabric of his pajama shirt that's wet with my tears, and try not to think about when.
~*~*~
Entry 73
Client is a regular in his forties who wants someone to talk down to him and humiliate him. He's got lingerie that I force him to wear and a paddle that's bigger than my head. It's a lot of work, physically, but it's a character that's so not me that it feels like an escape. I don't have to try and get off with this one-I tell him he's not worthy of my come and he's so twitchy he's actually enjoying it, which is good. Because E's still stuck in London and I don't feel like having an orgasm with this client.
~*~*~
Entry 74
"Do you want to drive me to the airport?"
"Not even a little. Traffic's a bitch at LAX."
"Turtle," I'm whining. It's pathetic but hey, Turtle's not a potential hookup or a client. I have to take different tactic. "Please? Come on, I'll owe you one."
"You owe me so many ones, Vin, that we're in triple digits."
"So I'll owe you one more. And I'll fill the tank."
There's a long pause. Turtle has said no to me before. It's not like it's unheard of or anything. But I really need him to say yes this time. "I need an oil change, too."
"Done and done."
"What you gotta go to the airport for, anyway?"
I rub the back of my neck even though there's no way he can see me from the Valley. "E's coming back from London tomorrow."
"He left the country?"
"Work stuff."
"Huh," Turtle says, and then there's more quiet. Turtle thinking on me almost always lands me with something I don't want to hear.
"But he's coming back tomorrow."
"Are you gonna let me talk to him?"
Two months. Two fucking months I've kept E away from Turtle and Johnny. Not to be a prick or anything, but they know things about me, things I'm not ready for E to know. Johnny especially. "Are you going to-"
"Come on, Vince. Jesus. You wanna lie to your boy, that's your fuckin' business."
Great. Now I feel like an even bigger piece of shit. "Turtle, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."
"I know. I know, but E was my friend too, ya know. I mean, I wasn't all clingy and shit like you were, but he was my friend, too."
"I know."
"So, yeah. I'll take you to the airport."
"Thanks, Turtle."
"You're getting me some new rims for this. Forties."
"Anything for you, Turtle."
~*~*~
Entry 75
I ask a cop at arrivals where the charters jets come in, and he directs Turtle somewhere almost a mile from the main arrivals gate. And over there, it's a whole different ball game. The security is one guy with a metal detector and a dog. There's no police. There's not much of anything beyond a few limousines lined up to pick up their charges.
E is standing on the sidewalk when we pull up. He's wearing sunglasses, jeans, and a Zoo York shirt, and he doesn't look like he just got off a private freaking plane.
Turtle parks in a fire lane and is out of the car before me.
"Jesus Christ, you're still a short mick fucker, ain't you, E?"
"Turtle?"
They're hugging and I kind wish I had a camera or something. I don't really know how to work the one in my phone.
"In the flesh, baby. Nice to see Boston didn't kill ya."
"God, it's been forever." E laughs and then he hugs Turtle again. "How are you?"
"I get by. Yo, I think Vince might wanna say hi."
E blinks, then looks at me. His whole face cracks into a smile that gives him wrinkles around his eyes. "Hey."
"Hey. Miss me?"
E's kissing me before I realize he's moving. I stumble backwards and hit the side of Turtle's SUV, and I forgot this. I forgot how it feels when he was kissing me, like I'm burning from the inside out.
"If you get come on my car, I'm gonna fucking kill you, Vince."
E laughs into my mouth then breaks away, still smiling. "I missed you a little."
"Me, too."
"I know ya'll love to eat the cock and all, but some of us need to real food to live. I'm hungry and you promised me lunch, Vince.""
"Screw you, Turtle," E bites off, but it makes Turtle laugh.
It's totally nothing, but I can't really breathe for a second because this, right here, with E and Turtle messing with each other and us together? It's the only thing I've really wanted in the last fifteen years. I honestly don't know what to do now that I've got it. Maybe I've peaked. I think there's worse things that could happen.
~*~*~
Entry 76
Lunch is good. E spends most of it ragging on the fact that Turtle's got a girlfriend, while Turtle shoots back with good-natured gay jokes. Turtle talks about how Saigon's blowing up and what he does for Rufus, and E talks about seeing Big Ben and how the Tower of London isn't actually a tower but this fortress on the edge of the river, but doesn't mention what it was he was doing work-wise.
Turtle drops us off at my apartment two hours later and we don't make it out of the elevator, which, okay, is new.
I've honestly never done anything beyond making out in an elevator and suddenly E's on his knees between floors 3 and 4 sucking me off. It's been so long since he's touched me like this that I come like a freight train before I get to my floor.
He's got a little bit of come clinging to the corner of his mouth and I manage to get us into my apartment before I jump him. I taste myself on his lips, lick his smile clean, and push him back on my bed.
I'm not as young as used to be, but I've still got better recovery time than most. I thank God for that now because I want to fuck E like I have never wanted to top anyone in my whole fucking life, so I'm grateful as fuck that I'll be able to go again soon.
It's separation anxiety. Or something about having seen my come on him, maybe. I don't know. I'm not generally the marking/possessive type of guy when I'm doing the marking, but fuck. Fuck. I want. I fucking want.
"Please," I pant into his mouth. I feel like I have to ask because I haven't ever fucked him before. And I don't know, it might not be his thing. "I need to be in you ,E. Let me in, fucking please."
"Yeah," he breathes back. "Just, go slow okay? I haven't-"
He blushes, his whole face and down his neck. It spreads down his chest and I can see it through his open shirt. Jesus, God, he has to be fucking kidding me.
"You haven't ever?" That shouldn't make me so hard. Really. It's caveman bullshit. But fuck me, to be his first? Hell yes.
He nods slowly. "It never came up," he says, and then he lets out a nervous laugh at his own bad pun. I'm too turned on to laugh right now, but I smile back at him.
"You sure?"
"Don't be a dick, Vince."
"I thought that was the whole point."
"Look, either you're going to fuck me, or I'll fuck you. I don't care. But it's been two fucking weeks in the grey, the wet, and that empty fucking bed, so if you don't get on it-"
I kiss him, short and wet, just to shut him up. "Bossy."
"Lazy," he shoots back.
"Not that lazy."
I prove it by grabbing a condom and a tube of lube. It's the smaller one I keep in the night stand, not the jumbo size I've got in the back of my closet for work. I push thoughts of work out of my head because E is lying on his back in front of me, half dressed and waiting. Like that first time, only flipped around. It blows my mind that he still trusts me when he really fucking shouldn't.
"You've still got all your clothes on," E says.
"So do you."
"You should take them off."
"Again with the bossy. This how you do business, E?"
E grins at me, but his eyes go kinda dark and I get this hot feeling in my gut like I used to with Billy, only better because this is E. "Yeah. Take off your clothes, Vince. Slow. "
I do. And then I take his off as well. It's kind of like unwrapping a present. Freckled skin over hard muscle. All for me.
I lay over him and he sighs. "Vince."
He says my name and I'll do anything he fucking wants. I kiss the side of his neck and over his jaw. He groans in the back of his throat.
I pull back and grab for the condom. Once it's on, I move back over him. It's easy and it's good, and I'm kind of surprised that I fit on top of him as well as he does on me. I kiss him a little more, my hands slick and dripping. I slide my fingers against his hole and he tenses beneath me.
"You've gotta relax, E. It'll hurt at first, but it's good. I swear to God, it's good."
"I know. I've seen you." He gives another of his nervous laughs. "And heard you."
"Then just chill for me, okay?"
E actually rolls his eyes at me. "I'm chill."
"You don't feel like it."
"I'm relaxed."
It's not true. But he's trying so fucking hard that it actually gets me hotter.
I want to tell him that I know what I'm doing. That I've done this for hundreds of men I don't care about to the point where it's practically an art for me and that for him, I'll make it so good that his eyes roll back in his head and he screams for me. But I don't say any of it. I just stare at him and worry.
"Jesus, Vince, I want you. Just fuck me already."
Which is enough for me. I snake down his body until I'm face to face with his cock and take it into my mouth. Champion cocksucker me, and once I start, he actually does relax. His whole body tenses for a second and then it turns into spaghetti, limp and flexible.
He's twisting the sheets into a mess in his fists when I put lube-slick fingers inside him. I could probably just get him wet and slide in-keep him hot and be gentle-and it'd be fine. A million times better than my first, and definitely good enough to leave E wanting to do this again.
But E's all about taking precautions and being prepared. And bottoming's about the headspace as much as the dick inside you. I want his headspace to be so good he can't even think.
His whole body arches off the bed when I get two fingers inside him. I twist my wrist and drag over his prostate and he lets out a strangled noise. It hits me in the gut. His hands claw at my shoulders and I realize that I'm not good at waiting. Patience was never my strong suit.
I grab for the lube with my other hand. It slides out thick and gooey into my palm. I slide my fist over the condom and thank God for that layer of rubber because it helps me hold on until I can move up his body.
I kiss him, licking into his mouth, and he's pliant. It's weird. E never gives an inch but now he's letting me pull his knees up over my shoulders.
His arms wrap around the back of my neck. I can't see anything but his face. His lips are red from him biting on them and his eyes are too fucking blue. He tilts his head back and up slightly, asking for a kiss without words, and I can't deny him. I rub the side of my nose against his and press my mouth to his. I push into his mouth and his body at the same time.
Years of practice. Natural skill. The fact that I've already come once. It's the combination of those things that lets me stay still long enough for his death grip to loosen and not just shoot like a fucking Kalashnikov. I don't move until it changes again, kneading my muscles and encouraging me. I let my hips roll into him and it's such a cliché, but it really does feel like home, like I've never belonged anywhere but with E, in E.
"Vince," he gasps. "Vince, oh God, Vince." He looks kind of lost, like he doesn't know what's going on, and it's so weird to see him looking to me for help when I've always turned to him.
I wedge my elbows closer together, not easy with his legs on my shoulders. But I have to be able to touch his face, to hold it between my hands. "Yeah. I'm here. I know, E. You got it."
He nods then bucks up into me. His heels dig into my shoulders for leverage as he pushes up and back onto me. E changes the pace, takes us faster. He's twisting and thrusting on the mattress and against me like I don't even know. I've never seen or felt anything like it and he keeps looking at me, into me, and through me.
"I-Vince-I feel like-I can't-Vince, I can't fucking breathe."
I laugh, but it's choked because I can't really breathe, either. He's so fucking hot and tight around me, spasming and squeezing. The hairs on his legs and chest are soft and electric on my skin as he moves. He's fucking beautiful. "Good."
"You're a bastard," E manages on a breathy moan as I hit his prostate.
"You like it," I murmur. But just to prove that I'm not a bastard, I shift my balance so that I can take his cock in my palm. The rhythm of my fist is choppy, as most of my effort is focused on keeping my arm from giving out and meeting E's strokes.
"Love it," E agrees. "Love you."
I don't respond that. I can't. I just-I can't.
I kiss him instead and slam into him so hard that I can actually feel his breath knocked out of him and into my mouth. He screams down my throat and comes all over my hand and our stomachs. His feet flex on my back and his hands tangle in my hands and pull, hard. The edge of pain is enough, it sends me over, coming into the condom and E.
It's one of the top five greatest orgasms of my life. And when I come down, E's got his arms and legs around me. I shouldn't have this hollow, sick feeling in my gut. Not after that. Not with E.
~*~*~
Entry 77
Rufus is having a barbeque on Independence Day. Kelly says I'm supposed to bring a date. Which means she wants to meet E. Turtle's said something. I don't know what. I don't think I want to know. But I tell E about it as I'm helping him look at furniture for his house and he just kind of looks at me, wide eyed and stupid-looking for awhile.
"Look, if you don't want to-"
"No, I do. I want to go, Vince. Really. I think it'll be fun. Thanks for asking."
"Yeah, sure thing."
He gets a mahogany dining set and a couch that you could drown in that'll take up half his living room. It's brown and leather, and it might be more comfortable than my bed.
He pays for it all with a black AmEx. I pretend not to notice. He pretends not to care that I still haven't said, "I love you," back.
~*~*~
Entry 78
The client fucks me. He's older and he uses Viagra, so it goes on and on and on and Jesus fucking Christ, on. He's not one of my regulars-I'm doing a favor for this guy, Adam at the Agency, who's getting some dental thing done-and the client's not very good.
Every time he comes close to setting up anything remotely resembling a rhythm, he gets tired or bored or ADD, or something. I feel like my ass is bruised on the inside. The problem with a bad fucking-not a violent fucking or an attack or anything, just a bad top-is that he's still in me, moving me from the inside. And no matter how used that hole is, it's still got nerves.
I'm gonna walk with a limp because Enzyte Bob never had anyone correct his technique. Adam owes me so fucking big, the son of a bitch. He's going to pay me back for this-I just haven't figured out how yet.
~*~*~
Entry 79
I've got a regular, RJ, who's a huge comic book geek. They're his living even, a surprisingly good one considering he can afford me.
He likes me to dress up as different superheroes and rescue him. And then take him. It's actually kind of fun. Cheesy. Dorkiest fucking thing this side of Johnny's Viking Quest fans. But still fun.
I make a damn good Superman and I can do stuff like Spiderman, Wolverine-anything with a full body-costume-no problem. He even made me dress up like Wonder Woman once. That was weird, but interesting.
But occasionally, he'll pull out fucking comic book characters I've never heard of. Who the hell is Rorschach? The guy showed me a picture-the fucker is ugly. Why on earth would you want that? And what's the Blue Beatle do, anyway?
I have no idea. It doesn't really matter. But today he wants me to be Squirrel Girl. Yes. Squirrel. GIRL. He's got a stuffed squirrel to go on my shoulder and I don't even know. What am I supposed to do with that? Chitter and take it I guess.
At least he's got a sense of humor about it. I can usually keep my composure (practice and professionalism and all) but sometimes, like when he says something like, "Oh, yeah, I'll fuck you so good, Squirrel Girl, you furry bitch," I just can't help it. He doesn't mind if I crack up, so long as I wear the leotard.
~*~*~
Entry 80
Johnny calls me at noon on a Thursday, which is typically my off time. I don't usually do nooners on Thursday because, well-lately anyway-I've been meeting E for lunch. But even before that, there's something about Thursdays that just makes daytime bookings go bad.
I don't know. I think it's kind of like saying MacBeth in a theater or something. I just forget sometimes that Johnny pays attention to little things like that.
"Vin, it's me."
"Yeah, Johnny, hey." I haven't had a real conversation with him since the fight. We've texted back and forth because I couldn't stop communicating with him altogether, but it's been awhile since we spoke. A long while. Almost a month. I feel like a fucking cunt for cutting off contact with my brother for that long. Johnny's always been there for me. How could I do that? "How are you?"
"Are you going to that thing on the fourth?"
"At Rufus' in the Valley? Yeah. You got a date yet?"
Johnny laughs. "Nah, you know me. I'm going to fly solo. Probably pick up someone there. The ladies can't resist me."
I pull the phone away from my mouth to hide my sigh. Something's shifted-in me for sure since E got back from the UK but in Johnny, too-and I think we're on the way back to normal.
"No," I agree by way of apology, "They can't."
"So, uh, Turtle tells me you're bringing E."
"Yeah."
"How's that goin'? You two getting on good?"
"Yeah, Johnny. It's real good."
"You being careful?"
"Johnny-"
"I don't mean wearing a rubber, bro. I mean, you watching out for yourself?"
"I'm trying."
Johnny lets out a frustrated grunt, but doesn't push it. The lines of communication are only newly opened and he knows better. We both do. We're Chase men after all-we know when not to poke a sleeping bear. I'm just not used to being the bear.
"Listen, Johnny if you can't find a date, I know this girl-cute, blond, good with a rope- "
"Yo, I don't need cast off pussy from you, Vince. I'm beating them off with a stick as it is."
The conversation steers away from me and I relax a little. It's good to have my brother back.
~*~*~
Entry 81
I hear a joke at the Agency today when I go in to pick up my official pay check, the one I report on my taxes from all the credit card jobs I've done. One of Lloyd's better ones.
"What do you get when you cross a genius with a hooker?" Lloyd asks with a big smile. "A fucking know-it-all."
I tell E when he drops by my apartment after work and he chuckles. Then (because E's got a fucking competitive streak nowadays or something), he one-ups me with a joke that devolves into a description of the most disgusting, obnoxious, grotesque, horrific, incestuous sex on the freaking planet. I'm repulsed and laughing so damn hard I can't see him anymore, but I know that he's still got a straight face. He does it without cracking even a smile right down to the punch line.
"And afterwards, the family stands up and takes a bow. So the talent agent says, 'What do you call this act?' And the family says, 'The Aristocrats.'"
"I don't get it." It makes so little sense that I can't help but laugh.
E laughs and shakes his head. "That's the point. You started this."
"You come up with all that crap on your own?"
"We had a development meeting with Robin Williams last week and he just had to tell me, new guy to the Hollywood scene and all that. Most of that's his. The bit with candles and the ice cubes was mine, though, 'cause I'm pretty sure I left some things out."
"Dude, that had skull fucking." I laugh and plant my feet in his lap on my sofa. I love this almost as much as I love fucking him. "Someone fucked a human skull in that joke. I think you covered everything."
"That's nothing. You want disturbing?"
"Hit me."
"When my Grandpa Gallagher drinks? He starts reciting dirty limericks. The shit that comes out of his mouth, you wouldn't believe it. He's got that accent, plus he gets really into it. Way too into it."
Then he repeats one of his grandfather's favorites about a whore from Kuala Lumpur that actually turns my stomach. And filth is my business.
"You've got a dirty mind, E."
His thumb is stroking over my ankle and he smiles. "It's pretty dirty right now."
I wonder if he's going to do something with my feet. I've got a regular who's a foot fetishist. It's harmless and kind of nice, and for E, I'm game for just about anything, but all he does is run his fingers over a small patch of skin.
"How dirty?"
He doesn't answer. Instead he squeezes my foot and says, "C'mere."
I end up in E's lap, sighing into his mouth as our dicks rub against each other in his hands. I plant my hands on the back of the sofa for balance and just let him do what he wants. He's still got his fucking suit on, which is so weirdly hot. His insanely expensive watch is cold on my thigh and when I come, it gets all over his tie.
~*~*~
Entry 82
Rufus is a good guy. I've always liked him and he's done real good by Turtle. Of course a big part of that is because Turtle's done good by Kelly, but still, you wouldn't guess that when you first meet him. He's a scary guy-huge and bald and imposing-like Dom coulda been if he could've kept his ass out of prison and stuck with anything for more than a month.
Also, he throws a damn good party and his wife's barbeque is borderline orgasmic. I'm thinking about asking Kelly if she can get me some of the sauce they use on the ribs so I can lick it off E later.
E. Here. With me and Turtle and Turtle's gorgeous girlfriend and her family and Johnny and in my life. I'm distracting myself from how nervous I am with a plastic cup full of beer and a loop of everything's fine playing in my head, but still. Right up until Johnny opens his mouth, I'm in fucking knots.
"You grew up good, E. Look at you," Johnny says when he finally does speak to E. "You're a freakin' businessman now. Come a long way since Queens."
"Thanks Johnny. It's good to see you." He holds out a hand like the gentleman he somehow transformed into while he was gone. Johnny grabs the hand and pulls him into a hug.
When they break apart though, Johnny takes E by the shoulders. "It's good to have ya back, E, but you break his heart again, I'll break your fuckin' legs. You got me?"
I groan and E's mouth actually drops open in shock. He nods dumbly. Johnny pats him on the shoulder.
"Excellent. I need a beer. You guys in need?"
"We're good, Johnny."
Hours later, when we're up on the roof of Rufus' house watching the fireworks, E leans over and says "Again?"
"Later," I promise. I don't want to talk about that at the moment. I thread my fingers with his and lean against his shoulder as the sky explodes with color. I'm happy right now.
~*~*~
Entry 83
E fucks me awake. It's slow, soft, and warm and he's on his side, spooned up behind me. He moves my knee, pulling my leg slightly up and back over his thigh. His arm is wrapped around my chest, tying us together.
I gasp out of a dream about firefighters using a fire hose that sprayed blue Jell-o at forest fires to the so much better reality of E's cock so deep inside me that it's like I can feel it pressing the air out of my lungs.
"God, E-"
"You are so fucking beautiful," E murmurs, kissing my neck. He's still moving. Fucking languid is the best word for how he's moving, and I feel like I'm melting. "So fucking beautiful that I can't look at you sometimes. Do you have any idea what you do to me, Vince?"
I reach an arm behind me and grab the back of his neck, needing more. My body rocks, digging and headed towards desperate. But he stops me from reaching for it by letting go of my torso to grip my hip.
"Easy," he soothes. "It's okay to be easy, Vince. I just want to be inside you for a while. Relax."
And I do. I turn pliant, but not my usual kind of I'm-whoever-you-want-me-to-be moldable. It's like…I'm still me, but all my bones are gone and I'm just this lose, squishy Vince-shaped thing that's held in place by E's hands and E's dick and E's body pressed against mine.
"That's it. God, Vince, the way this fits." His lips are dragging over my skin. "I always knew we would."
"Don't leave me," I pant. I'm still a little drowsy and with the feel of his gentle rocking and firm hands, I'm too unraveled. I don't know where that comes from, but it's out now.
"I'm not going anywhere," E promises. He leans forward so he can kiss my mouth, morning breath be damned. He turns my head towards him so I can see his eyes. "I'm not leaving again, Vince, I swear."
~*~*~
Entry 84
I have to lie my way out of a premiere. E wants me to go with him to some red carpet thing.
"It's no big deal. You'll kill it. Come with me."
I know I'll kill it. I've walked that walk before. With too many people for me to take that walk with E. Someone would know who I was. I don't know who, but someone.
I'm gonna have to talk to Ari about changing my profile for the fall premiere season. About changing my entire business plan, actually. I don't think I can keep walking into the unexpected as much anymore, not and keep fucking E regularly.
It's tricky and flimsy. A house of motherfucking cards, man. When did that become my life?
~*~*~
Entry 85
Scott tells me about the new head of Warners. A short, East Coast prick is how Scott describes him. New to Hollywood, changing shit up. He's ruffling feathers and making moves.
"But he's fucking good," Scott says. I nod and he groans because well, his cock is down my throat and the motion kind of changes things up for him. "He just had a premiere, tore the Goddamn house down, I'm telling you. Gorgeous people everywhere and it's breaking records left and right. He knows what he's doing."
I hum in response and he pulls my hair, hard. He calls me baby boy and comes in my mouth, bitter and hot.
He keeps talking after I pull my lips off him. He likes to rehash business during sex. I think he's ADD-gotta be doing more than one thing at once. Usually it's the whole Daddy/boy thing but even when its not-things have to be complicated for Scott to be happy. So he keeps talking about how he's gotta deal with this new guy while he plays with my dick like it's a toy.
"He hot?" I ask, because that's the sort of thing Scott loves to dish on. The fuckability of people in the industry.
"Eh, he's not bad. He's short and not in a good way. Young though, like you."
"Not as fun, I bet."
He gives me a smile that's half Dirty Old Man and half genuine. "Nobody is, Chase. Nobody."
~*~*~
Continue to Entry 86-105
Entries: 71-85 of 151
Status: Complete
Fandom: Entourage
Word Count:~7,900
Disclaimer: I don't own Entourage or anyone who has ever appeared on it.
Pairing: Vince/Eric, Vince/Pretty much everyone else except Turtle, Johnny, and the Golds (seriously)
Rating: NC-17 for lots and lots of sex
Warnings: AU, prostitution, mentions of past childhood physical abuse, BDSM, gay sex, straight sex, group sex, rape fantasy, fisting, wax play, a foot fetishist, mentions of daddy-kink, extremely brief mention of watersports. If any of the particular warnings are squicks for you, send me a private message and I'll tell you which entry to avoid!
Betas and helpers: guest_age, justabi, allyndra, ariadne83, pesha and deepad were all completely indispensable. Thank you so much.
Authors Notes: This inspired by Belle Du Jour's blog/books/TV series but doesnt crossover in anyway. But it is a hookerfic so I know there are a lot of warnings but I hope you guys will give it a try anyway. Minor characters from canon have links to their pictures if you need a reminder. This fic is complete and I will, baring any unforeseen circumstances, be posting a segment a day until the end of the entourage_fest.
Summary: Entries from the private journal of Vincent Chase, a high paid male escort living in Los Angeles.
Entry 1-20
Entry 21-40
Entry 41-55
Entry 56-58
Entry 59-70
Entry 71
"What'd you forget?" I ask when E calls me. He's been sleeping at my place for the last three days while I'm on vacation. It's one PM and he should be working.
"Nothing. I've got a lunch meeting that just got cancelled and my broker just called," E says. "You busy?"
E's been living out of his suitcase since he came out to LA. How I've managed to miss him with all the work I do in his hotel I don't know, but it's moot because he's sick of it and if he's going to be staying in California for a few years, he wants something stable.
He claims that he needs a native speaker to come with him to make sure the broker's not fucking with him, but I know that doesn't have to be me. He's got this girl Sloan who, as much as I can tell, is like his version of Turtle and then some. And I know she grew up out here.
But it's time with E when he should be working, so I don't point that out. I just climb into his car when he pulls up outside my building fifteen minutes after hanging up. We drive out into the hills and I want to know what the hell it is that E actually does for Warner's because the last time I was out this far was when I worked that job for M, and he makes twenty-million a picture.
The first house E pulls up to is worth at least that much. The realtor is standing on the sidewalk when we arrive, creaming herself over the commission. I would be, too, if I where her. It's the real estate equivalent of a Saudi prince with oil on family land booking me for a long weekend.
"Jesus, E, did you find a sunken treasure or something?"
He laughs. "What?"
"How can you afford that house?"
He shrugs. "I'm valuable at work."
It's a glittering white monster with a balcony that seems to stretch straight out. The whole building is almost reflective because it's so white, and E leaves his sunglasses on inside. I cannot believe for a second he's just in production. Phil is in production, and his house was smaller than this.
"How valuable?"
He adjusts his tie a little and glances around the iceberg house. "Very. Look, Vince, don't make a thing of it. She's already jacking up the prices."
I don't really have time to react because the realtor is back.
"Tom and Nicole were looking at it before they split," the realtor says.
"Really," E says flatly. I don't see him rolls his eyes behind his sunglasses, but I know he does. And I smile.
She talks about the kitchen and the living room layout for another ten minutes before E cuts her off.
"It's not really what we're looking for."
She scrunches up her face and wow, is that unattractive. "Too much?"
"It's a little cold."
"I know exactly what you mean, Mr. Murphy. I think I have one that will be much more to your tastes. Why don't you two just follow my car?"'
We go to four more houses and E's phone is buzzing off the hook when she hits pay dirt. It's the last house she has for the day because E was supposed to be back at the office where he runs very goddamn valuable to Warner Bros. Studio.
It's a Spanish estate off the Outpost and even from the outside, it looks amazing.
"This was one of Marlon Brando's first homes. He sold it to Johnny Depp in '95. Johnny was living here when he was making Ed Wood. " she says as we stand out on the landing. The yard is tiered into three separate stories and at the bottom is a modest pool. "The owner's asking 4.3 million, so it shouldn't be a problem. It's well within your price range. If you like it, of course. I'll leave you two to talk it over," she says and heads down the steps toward the pool.
E and I walk back inside to the curving spaces and clean lines and he takes off his sunglasses and looks at me. It's been two months since I found him again and I cannot handle him looking at me like that. I shove my hands in my back pockets and pretend to examine the molding.
"What do you think?" he asks, coming up behind me.
"I don't know, E. You'd be the one who has to live here."
"Yeah," E agrees with a sigh. "But let's pretend I care what you think for a second. What do you think?"
I lick my lips and try not to think about what it would be like to fall asleep in this building, what it would be like to have breakfast here with E. I fail and it makes my palms sweat. "I think it's a great house."
"Good," E says, hooking his fingers in my belt loops and tugging me to him. His chest is solid and warm against my back. He kisses my shoulder through my shirt and I force myself to relax into unfamiliar intimacy. It comes so damn easy for him. "Because it's less than I was going to spend and you look fucking amazing in it."
I smile and cover my hand with his. "I look good in Armani too, E. Doesn't mean you should try and buy the exchange."
"I can try," he says and I have to assume he's joking, even though his voice is totally serious. "Come on, Vince, can't you see you and me here?"
"I see you here."
"Well, there you go. That's good enough for me." E goes up a little to kiss my neck then pulls away to go find the realtor. I catch his wrist as he walks away and drop to my knees under a brass chandelier. E laughs. "You are such a horn dog, Vince."
He has no fucking idea. I rub my cheek against his thigh before I look back up at him. "I like seeing you here," I say as I unzip his pants and reach into his Calvin's for his cock. He laughs again and brushes the hair off my forehead.
"I like seeing you period, "he says, brushing his thumb over my lower lip. "Christ, do you have any idea what you do to me?"
I don't answer him with words, sucking his hard cock into my mouth instead. The wood under my knees is a little uncomfortable, but he tastes good and his hands slide back into my hair, running through it smooth and gentle.
He rides my mouth to a relatively quiet orgasm and pulls me up to him with a rough jerk. He kisses me slow and deep, licking what I couldn't swallow out of my mouth, and walks me backwards. My back hits a wall and he only stops when the realtor clears her throat.
"Gentlemen?" She's got a tightlipped expression that could be a suppressed smile, but might just be a result of bad Botox. "What do we think?"
E rubs the back of his neck and takes a step back from me, which sucks. But he's flushed and trying not to smile. It's shy. It's hot. He looks happy. "We'll take it."
I stop myself from pointing out that there's no we here. I like him looking like this and I don't want to ruin it.
~*~*~
Entry 72
Bob calls my cell personally and invites me over for the weekend. E's got to fly to London for something work-related, so I say yes. Then he calls Ari and makes arrangements that way because we don't like to exchange money. It feels like it cheapens a service I'm actually pretty happy to provide him.
He sends a driver and I sleep on the drive into the hills. The chauffer clears his throat and the housekeeper escorts me inside. I leave my shoes by the door and walk into Bob's arms.
Bob pays me for my time, and not much else. He doesn't like to be lonely and he cares about me. So, it's easy. It's pleasant. He rambles on but once you get used to it, you learn to listen and find out he's got some of the most amazing stories anyone's ever heard. My parents weren't big bedtime story people, so I kind of love it.
We go through the motions of the evening. We have dinner together and he shows me projects he's been "working on". I nod and I listen, and then I take him by the hand and lead him to bed. He bought me like six pairs of two thousand dollar pajamas when we first started this and by now I have a favorite, a red pair that are soft on the inside and silk on the outside.
I pull them on and climb into bed with Bob. He takes my hands and cuddles close to me. My heart breaks as it so often does when I'm with Bob, but this time it's because it makes me think of E and how for the last week he's been in my bed like I'm in Bob's.
"You all right, Chase?" Bob asks, his hand stroking over my back. I scoot closer and shrug. "You seem down. More tired than usual."
"You weren't tired when you were my age?" I ask.
"When I was twenty-five, I was too busy to be tired."
"I'm twenty-eight."
"You are? You don't look it."
Bob knows he doesn't have to flatter me, which makes me think that maybe those myths about semen doing good things for the skin are true. Still, I smile at him and scoot my head closer to his on the pillow.
"What were you doing when you were twenty-nine? I bet you owned the town."
"I was on my way up," Bob agrees. "Mostly when I was twenty-eight, I was wondering whether my wife was going to have a boy or a girl."
I push myself up on my elbow and look down at Bob. If he had kids, where were the pictures? Why didn't they come see him? He was a sentimental guy. Evidence of family would be all over the place.
"So, which was it?"
"I don't know." Bob says and God, I have never seen him look that sad. "Alice-" He breaks off with bright eyes.
"That's a nice name."
"She hated it," Bob laughs. "She thought it was plain. I told her, I used to say 'Allie, you're gorgeous, and changing your name isn't going to make you any prettier.' She didn't think Alice Markowitz could be a star, so she went by Alicia Marcus instead."
"I think I saw one of her movies on TV. Brunette right?"
Bob nods. "She had such talent, my Allie. She was going to be a star. I was going to make her a star. I wanted her to be happy."
"How'd you meet her?"
"I was producing a movie. She was an extra. She caught me feeling up one of the dancers and called me out on it."
"And you knew you liked her?"
"No. I thought she was uppity and a troublemaker, so I fired her." Bob smiles and the wrinkles in his face deepen. "But she still came to the studio every day until she got me to rehire her."
I smile back. "How long did that take?"
"We were done with production by then. I didn't hire her back on for the movie I fired her off of. It would've looked bad. She didn't realize and was furious with me when she found out. Her whole face would turn red when she yelled at me. Barged past my secretary into my office, read me the riot act, and then banged me right on my desk. We were married six months later. You know, I think I've still got that desk in storage somewhere."
I can't help but laugh. I've known Bob for years and it still weirds me out a little when he talks like that. "She sounds impressive. How come she wasn't a bigger name?" Bob had made superstars over the years. If he wanted someone to be famous, they would be. "Was the breakup bad?"
He shook his head into the pillow. "I loved her too damn much for a break up. Hell, I was young. I thought I ran the whole damn town and everything in it. I would've done anything to keep her with me. I thought I could do anything, but you can't, Chase. You can't do everything." There are tears in his eyes and they make my own eyes sting.
"There are no pictures," I blurt before I can stop myself.
"I've got our wedding pictures somewhere, I haven't looked at them in twenty years," Bob says. "We were married three years. She was younger than you when she died."
With the baby. He doesn't need to tell me that for me to know. I reach out and cup Bob's papery cheek with my hand. I brush away the tears because seeing them is fucking hurting me and this woman's been dead for more than forty years.
"I'm sorry, Bob."
"Don't be sorry. She was the best thing to ever happen to me. Things end, Chase," Bob says, running a hand gently over my shoulder. His hands are so different from E's, thinner and more delicate, but the tenderness is so similar. It's like my edges are fraying and I shut my eyes against him as he continues. "You can't say when or how, you've just got to enjoy them while you have them."
My throat burns because I'm in bed with a man who is older than my grandfather when I should probably be home. I'm letting him hold me like E does, when less than a week ago he was looking at houses for an us. I scoot my body blindly closer to Bob, looking for protection against the dread and fear I feel pushing their way out of my eyes and my lips.
"If you knew you'd lose her, do you think you'd still do it?"
He pulls my head to his chest and rubs my back like I don't even know what. But it feels good in a way that has nothing to do with sex, and it makes my lips tremble. "The only thing I would change would be how long I spent keeping her off the lot. Most people don't even get to have that once. So if that's what you're so tired about, Chase, I suggest think about if you'll still love them when you're my age."
"Do you still love her?" I ask. My voice cracks and I can feel tears fighting their way out of the corners of my eyes. I usually feel safe doing this with Bob, but now I feel damn exposed and fragile. I know Bob would never purposely break me, but that doesn't make it much better.
Bob's hand pauses on my back. Against my face, I feel his bony chest rise and fall in a heavy sigh. "I've never loved anyone else."
I crack and suddenly I'm crying like I only do with Bob, like I only ever have been able to do with him, and my hands fist in the back of his shirt. "Me either," I whisper and Christ, that's scary. My whole body is shaking and I'm so fucking scared of that.
"I know."
"I'm so fucked," I choke out. "I'm so fucking fucked."
He soothes, "It's all right, Chase. It gets easier. You'll be all right."
He doesn't say it gets better. Because I don't think for people like me and Bob it does. We fixate. We cling. We have one thing that works for us and always has, and when we lose that, what the hell are we?
I don't know about Bob, but I'm a used up, turned out whore. And E deserves better. He won't settle for less than better once he knows what I am, and then he'll disappear again. And then I'll be a used up, turned out whore with a shattered fucking heart.
And I really don't know how I'm going to deal with that. I can't tell him the truth like he deserves because I just don't have the willpower to say or do anything that could end what I've got with E any sooner than it absolutely has to. I barely made it when I lost him the first time.
Now that I've had him with me, holding me, inside me-I don't know how the fuck I'll be able to go back to before once he's gone. And it's definitely not an if, it's just a matter of when.
That's reality. It's what will fucking happen. There's nothing I can do about that. All I can handle in this moment is to twist closer to Bob, press my nose into the fabric of his pajama shirt that's wet with my tears, and try not to think about when.
~*~*~
Entry 73
Client is a regular in his forties who wants someone to talk down to him and humiliate him. He's got lingerie that I force him to wear and a paddle that's bigger than my head. It's a lot of work, physically, but it's a character that's so not me that it feels like an escape. I don't have to try and get off with this one-I tell him he's not worthy of my come and he's so twitchy he's actually enjoying it, which is good. Because E's still stuck in London and I don't feel like having an orgasm with this client.
~*~*~
Entry 74
"Do you want to drive me to the airport?"
"Not even a little. Traffic's a bitch at LAX."
"Turtle," I'm whining. It's pathetic but hey, Turtle's not a potential hookup or a client. I have to take different tactic. "Please? Come on, I'll owe you one."
"You owe me so many ones, Vin, that we're in triple digits."
"So I'll owe you one more. And I'll fill the tank."
There's a long pause. Turtle has said no to me before. It's not like it's unheard of or anything. But I really need him to say yes this time. "I need an oil change, too."
"Done and done."
"What you gotta go to the airport for, anyway?"
I rub the back of my neck even though there's no way he can see me from the Valley. "E's coming back from London tomorrow."
"He left the country?"
"Work stuff."
"Huh," Turtle says, and then there's more quiet. Turtle thinking on me almost always lands me with something I don't want to hear.
"But he's coming back tomorrow."
"Are you gonna let me talk to him?"
Two months. Two fucking months I've kept E away from Turtle and Johnny. Not to be a prick or anything, but they know things about me, things I'm not ready for E to know. Johnny especially. "Are you going to-"
"Come on, Vince. Jesus. You wanna lie to your boy, that's your fuckin' business."
Great. Now I feel like an even bigger piece of shit. "Turtle, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."
"I know. I know, but E was my friend too, ya know. I mean, I wasn't all clingy and shit like you were, but he was my friend, too."
"I know."
"So, yeah. I'll take you to the airport."
"Thanks, Turtle."
"You're getting me some new rims for this. Forties."
"Anything for you, Turtle."
~*~*~
Entry 75
I ask a cop at arrivals where the charters jets come in, and he directs Turtle somewhere almost a mile from the main arrivals gate. And over there, it's a whole different ball game. The security is one guy with a metal detector and a dog. There's no police. There's not much of anything beyond a few limousines lined up to pick up their charges.
E is standing on the sidewalk when we pull up. He's wearing sunglasses, jeans, and a Zoo York shirt, and he doesn't look like he just got off a private freaking plane.
Turtle parks in a fire lane and is out of the car before me.
"Jesus Christ, you're still a short mick fucker, ain't you, E?"
"Turtle?"
They're hugging and I kind wish I had a camera or something. I don't really know how to work the one in my phone.
"In the flesh, baby. Nice to see Boston didn't kill ya."
"God, it's been forever." E laughs and then he hugs Turtle again. "How are you?"
"I get by. Yo, I think Vince might wanna say hi."
E blinks, then looks at me. His whole face cracks into a smile that gives him wrinkles around his eyes. "Hey."
"Hey. Miss me?"
E's kissing me before I realize he's moving. I stumble backwards and hit the side of Turtle's SUV, and I forgot this. I forgot how it feels when he was kissing me, like I'm burning from the inside out.
"If you get come on my car, I'm gonna fucking kill you, Vince."
E laughs into my mouth then breaks away, still smiling. "I missed you a little."
"Me, too."
"I know ya'll love to eat the cock and all, but some of us need to real food to live. I'm hungry and you promised me lunch, Vince.""
"Screw you, Turtle," E bites off, but it makes Turtle laugh.
It's totally nothing, but I can't really breathe for a second because this, right here, with E and Turtle messing with each other and us together? It's the only thing I've really wanted in the last fifteen years. I honestly don't know what to do now that I've got it. Maybe I've peaked. I think there's worse things that could happen.
~*~*~
Entry 76
Lunch is good. E spends most of it ragging on the fact that Turtle's got a girlfriend, while Turtle shoots back with good-natured gay jokes. Turtle talks about how Saigon's blowing up and what he does for Rufus, and E talks about seeing Big Ben and how the Tower of London isn't actually a tower but this fortress on the edge of the river, but doesn't mention what it was he was doing work-wise.
Turtle drops us off at my apartment two hours later and we don't make it out of the elevator, which, okay, is new.
I've honestly never done anything beyond making out in an elevator and suddenly E's on his knees between floors 3 and 4 sucking me off. It's been so long since he's touched me like this that I come like a freight train before I get to my floor.
He's got a little bit of come clinging to the corner of his mouth and I manage to get us into my apartment before I jump him. I taste myself on his lips, lick his smile clean, and push him back on my bed.
I'm not as young as used to be, but I've still got better recovery time than most. I thank God for that now because I want to fuck E like I have never wanted to top anyone in my whole fucking life, so I'm grateful as fuck that I'll be able to go again soon.
It's separation anxiety. Or something about having seen my come on him, maybe. I don't know. I'm not generally the marking/possessive type of guy when I'm doing the marking, but fuck. Fuck. I want. I fucking want.
"Please," I pant into his mouth. I feel like I have to ask because I haven't ever fucked him before. And I don't know, it might not be his thing. "I need to be in you ,E. Let me in, fucking please."
"Yeah," he breathes back. "Just, go slow okay? I haven't-"
He blushes, his whole face and down his neck. It spreads down his chest and I can see it through his open shirt. Jesus, God, he has to be fucking kidding me.
"You haven't ever?" That shouldn't make me so hard. Really. It's caveman bullshit. But fuck me, to be his first? Hell yes.
He nods slowly. "It never came up," he says, and then he lets out a nervous laugh at his own bad pun. I'm too turned on to laugh right now, but I smile back at him.
"You sure?"
"Don't be a dick, Vince."
"I thought that was the whole point."
"Look, either you're going to fuck me, or I'll fuck you. I don't care. But it's been two fucking weeks in the grey, the wet, and that empty fucking bed, so if you don't get on it-"
I kiss him, short and wet, just to shut him up. "Bossy."
"Lazy," he shoots back.
"Not that lazy."
I prove it by grabbing a condom and a tube of lube. It's the smaller one I keep in the night stand, not the jumbo size I've got in the back of my closet for work. I push thoughts of work out of my head because E is lying on his back in front of me, half dressed and waiting. Like that first time, only flipped around. It blows my mind that he still trusts me when he really fucking shouldn't.
"You've still got all your clothes on," E says.
"So do you."
"You should take them off."
"Again with the bossy. This how you do business, E?"
E grins at me, but his eyes go kinda dark and I get this hot feeling in my gut like I used to with Billy, only better because this is E. "Yeah. Take off your clothes, Vince. Slow. "
I do. And then I take his off as well. It's kind of like unwrapping a present. Freckled skin over hard muscle. All for me.
I lay over him and he sighs. "Vince."
He says my name and I'll do anything he fucking wants. I kiss the side of his neck and over his jaw. He groans in the back of his throat.
I pull back and grab for the condom. Once it's on, I move back over him. It's easy and it's good, and I'm kind of surprised that I fit on top of him as well as he does on me. I kiss him a little more, my hands slick and dripping. I slide my fingers against his hole and he tenses beneath me.
"You've gotta relax, E. It'll hurt at first, but it's good. I swear to God, it's good."
"I know. I've seen you." He gives another of his nervous laughs. "And heard you."
"Then just chill for me, okay?"
E actually rolls his eyes at me. "I'm chill."
"You don't feel like it."
"I'm relaxed."
It's not true. But he's trying so fucking hard that it actually gets me hotter.
I want to tell him that I know what I'm doing. That I've done this for hundreds of men I don't care about to the point where it's practically an art for me and that for him, I'll make it so good that his eyes roll back in his head and he screams for me. But I don't say any of it. I just stare at him and worry.
"Jesus, Vince, I want you. Just fuck me already."
Which is enough for me. I snake down his body until I'm face to face with his cock and take it into my mouth. Champion cocksucker me, and once I start, he actually does relax. His whole body tenses for a second and then it turns into spaghetti, limp and flexible.
He's twisting the sheets into a mess in his fists when I put lube-slick fingers inside him. I could probably just get him wet and slide in-keep him hot and be gentle-and it'd be fine. A million times better than my first, and definitely good enough to leave E wanting to do this again.
But E's all about taking precautions and being prepared. And bottoming's about the headspace as much as the dick inside you. I want his headspace to be so good he can't even think.
His whole body arches off the bed when I get two fingers inside him. I twist my wrist and drag over his prostate and he lets out a strangled noise. It hits me in the gut. His hands claw at my shoulders and I realize that I'm not good at waiting. Patience was never my strong suit.
I grab for the lube with my other hand. It slides out thick and gooey into my palm. I slide my fist over the condom and thank God for that layer of rubber because it helps me hold on until I can move up his body.
I kiss him, licking into his mouth, and he's pliant. It's weird. E never gives an inch but now he's letting me pull his knees up over my shoulders.
His arms wrap around the back of my neck. I can't see anything but his face. His lips are red from him biting on them and his eyes are too fucking blue. He tilts his head back and up slightly, asking for a kiss without words, and I can't deny him. I rub the side of my nose against his and press my mouth to his. I push into his mouth and his body at the same time.
Years of practice. Natural skill. The fact that I've already come once. It's the combination of those things that lets me stay still long enough for his death grip to loosen and not just shoot like a fucking Kalashnikov. I don't move until it changes again, kneading my muscles and encouraging me. I let my hips roll into him and it's such a cliché, but it really does feel like home, like I've never belonged anywhere but with E, in E.
"Vince," he gasps. "Vince, oh God, Vince." He looks kind of lost, like he doesn't know what's going on, and it's so weird to see him looking to me for help when I've always turned to him.
I wedge my elbows closer together, not easy with his legs on my shoulders. But I have to be able to touch his face, to hold it between my hands. "Yeah. I'm here. I know, E. You got it."
He nods then bucks up into me. His heels dig into my shoulders for leverage as he pushes up and back onto me. E changes the pace, takes us faster. He's twisting and thrusting on the mattress and against me like I don't even know. I've never seen or felt anything like it and he keeps looking at me, into me, and through me.
"I-Vince-I feel like-I can't-Vince, I can't fucking breathe."
I laugh, but it's choked because I can't really breathe, either. He's so fucking hot and tight around me, spasming and squeezing. The hairs on his legs and chest are soft and electric on my skin as he moves. He's fucking beautiful. "Good."
"You're a bastard," E manages on a breathy moan as I hit his prostate.
"You like it," I murmur. But just to prove that I'm not a bastard, I shift my balance so that I can take his cock in my palm. The rhythm of my fist is choppy, as most of my effort is focused on keeping my arm from giving out and meeting E's strokes.
"Love it," E agrees. "Love you."
I don't respond that. I can't. I just-I can't.
I kiss him instead and slam into him so hard that I can actually feel his breath knocked out of him and into my mouth. He screams down my throat and comes all over my hand and our stomachs. His feet flex on my back and his hands tangle in my hands and pull, hard. The edge of pain is enough, it sends me over, coming into the condom and E.
It's one of the top five greatest orgasms of my life. And when I come down, E's got his arms and legs around me. I shouldn't have this hollow, sick feeling in my gut. Not after that. Not with E.
~*~*~
Entry 77
Rufus is having a barbeque on Independence Day. Kelly says I'm supposed to bring a date. Which means she wants to meet E. Turtle's said something. I don't know what. I don't think I want to know. But I tell E about it as I'm helping him look at furniture for his house and he just kind of looks at me, wide eyed and stupid-looking for awhile.
"Look, if you don't want to-"
"No, I do. I want to go, Vince. Really. I think it'll be fun. Thanks for asking."
"Yeah, sure thing."
He gets a mahogany dining set and a couch that you could drown in that'll take up half his living room. It's brown and leather, and it might be more comfortable than my bed.
He pays for it all with a black AmEx. I pretend not to notice. He pretends not to care that I still haven't said, "I love you," back.
~*~*~
Entry 78
The client fucks me. He's older and he uses Viagra, so it goes on and on and on and Jesus fucking Christ, on. He's not one of my regulars-I'm doing a favor for this guy, Adam at the Agency, who's getting some dental thing done-and the client's not very good.
Every time he comes close to setting up anything remotely resembling a rhythm, he gets tired or bored or ADD, or something. I feel like my ass is bruised on the inside. The problem with a bad fucking-not a violent fucking or an attack or anything, just a bad top-is that he's still in me, moving me from the inside. And no matter how used that hole is, it's still got nerves.
I'm gonna walk with a limp because Enzyte Bob never had anyone correct his technique. Adam owes me so fucking big, the son of a bitch. He's going to pay me back for this-I just haven't figured out how yet.
~*~*~
Entry 79
I've got a regular, RJ, who's a huge comic book geek. They're his living even, a surprisingly good one considering he can afford me.
He likes me to dress up as different superheroes and rescue him. And then take him. It's actually kind of fun. Cheesy. Dorkiest fucking thing this side of Johnny's Viking Quest fans. But still fun.
I make a damn good Superman and I can do stuff like Spiderman, Wolverine-anything with a full body-costume-no problem. He even made me dress up like Wonder Woman once. That was weird, but interesting.
But occasionally, he'll pull out fucking comic book characters I've never heard of. Who the hell is Rorschach? The guy showed me a picture-the fucker is ugly. Why on earth would you want that? And what's the Blue Beatle do, anyway?
I have no idea. It doesn't really matter. But today he wants me to be Squirrel Girl. Yes. Squirrel. GIRL. He's got a stuffed squirrel to go on my shoulder and I don't even know. What am I supposed to do with that? Chitter and take it I guess.
At least he's got a sense of humor about it. I can usually keep my composure (practice and professionalism and all) but sometimes, like when he says something like, "Oh, yeah, I'll fuck you so good, Squirrel Girl, you furry bitch," I just can't help it. He doesn't mind if I crack up, so long as I wear the leotard.
~*~*~
Entry 80
Johnny calls me at noon on a Thursday, which is typically my off time. I don't usually do nooners on Thursday because, well-lately anyway-I've been meeting E for lunch. But even before that, there's something about Thursdays that just makes daytime bookings go bad.
I don't know. I think it's kind of like saying MacBeth in a theater or something. I just forget sometimes that Johnny pays attention to little things like that.
"Vin, it's me."
"Yeah, Johnny, hey." I haven't had a real conversation with him since the fight. We've texted back and forth because I couldn't stop communicating with him altogether, but it's been awhile since we spoke. A long while. Almost a month. I feel like a fucking cunt for cutting off contact with my brother for that long. Johnny's always been there for me. How could I do that? "How are you?"
"Are you going to that thing on the fourth?"
"At Rufus' in the Valley? Yeah. You got a date yet?"
Johnny laughs. "Nah, you know me. I'm going to fly solo. Probably pick up someone there. The ladies can't resist me."
I pull the phone away from my mouth to hide my sigh. Something's shifted-in me for sure since E got back from the UK but in Johnny, too-and I think we're on the way back to normal.
"No," I agree by way of apology, "They can't."
"So, uh, Turtle tells me you're bringing E."
"Yeah."
"How's that goin'? You two getting on good?"
"Yeah, Johnny. It's real good."
"You being careful?"
"Johnny-"
"I don't mean wearing a rubber, bro. I mean, you watching out for yourself?"
"I'm trying."
Johnny lets out a frustrated grunt, but doesn't push it. The lines of communication are only newly opened and he knows better. We both do. We're Chase men after all-we know when not to poke a sleeping bear. I'm just not used to being the bear.
"Listen, Johnny if you can't find a date, I know this girl-cute, blond, good with a rope- "
"Yo, I don't need cast off pussy from you, Vince. I'm beating them off with a stick as it is."
The conversation steers away from me and I relax a little. It's good to have my brother back.
~*~*~
Entry 81
I hear a joke at the Agency today when I go in to pick up my official pay check, the one I report on my taxes from all the credit card jobs I've done. One of Lloyd's better ones.
"What do you get when you cross a genius with a hooker?" Lloyd asks with a big smile. "A fucking know-it-all."
I tell E when he drops by my apartment after work and he chuckles. Then (because E's got a fucking competitive streak nowadays or something), he one-ups me with a joke that devolves into a description of the most disgusting, obnoxious, grotesque, horrific, incestuous sex on the freaking planet. I'm repulsed and laughing so damn hard I can't see him anymore, but I know that he's still got a straight face. He does it without cracking even a smile right down to the punch line.
"And afterwards, the family stands up and takes a bow. So the talent agent says, 'What do you call this act?' And the family says, 'The Aristocrats.'"
"I don't get it." It makes so little sense that I can't help but laugh.
E laughs and shakes his head. "That's the point. You started this."
"You come up with all that crap on your own?"
"We had a development meeting with Robin Williams last week and he just had to tell me, new guy to the Hollywood scene and all that. Most of that's his. The bit with candles and the ice cubes was mine, though, 'cause I'm pretty sure I left some things out."
"Dude, that had skull fucking." I laugh and plant my feet in his lap on my sofa. I love this almost as much as I love fucking him. "Someone fucked a human skull in that joke. I think you covered everything."
"That's nothing. You want disturbing?"
"Hit me."
"When my Grandpa Gallagher drinks? He starts reciting dirty limericks. The shit that comes out of his mouth, you wouldn't believe it. He's got that accent, plus he gets really into it. Way too into it."
Then he repeats one of his grandfather's favorites about a whore from Kuala Lumpur that actually turns my stomach. And filth is my business.
"You've got a dirty mind, E."
His thumb is stroking over my ankle and he smiles. "It's pretty dirty right now."
I wonder if he's going to do something with my feet. I've got a regular who's a foot fetishist. It's harmless and kind of nice, and for E, I'm game for just about anything, but all he does is run his fingers over a small patch of skin.
"How dirty?"
He doesn't answer. Instead he squeezes my foot and says, "C'mere."
I end up in E's lap, sighing into his mouth as our dicks rub against each other in his hands. I plant my hands on the back of the sofa for balance and just let him do what he wants. He's still got his fucking suit on, which is so weirdly hot. His insanely expensive watch is cold on my thigh and when I come, it gets all over his tie.
~*~*~
Entry 82
Rufus is a good guy. I've always liked him and he's done real good by Turtle. Of course a big part of that is because Turtle's done good by Kelly, but still, you wouldn't guess that when you first meet him. He's a scary guy-huge and bald and imposing-like Dom coulda been if he could've kept his ass out of prison and stuck with anything for more than a month.
Also, he throws a damn good party and his wife's barbeque is borderline orgasmic. I'm thinking about asking Kelly if she can get me some of the sauce they use on the ribs so I can lick it off E later.
E. Here. With me and Turtle and Turtle's gorgeous girlfriend and her family and Johnny and in my life. I'm distracting myself from how nervous I am with a plastic cup full of beer and a loop of everything's fine playing in my head, but still. Right up until Johnny opens his mouth, I'm in fucking knots.
"You grew up good, E. Look at you," Johnny says when he finally does speak to E. "You're a freakin' businessman now. Come a long way since Queens."
"Thanks Johnny. It's good to see you." He holds out a hand like the gentleman he somehow transformed into while he was gone. Johnny grabs the hand and pulls him into a hug.
When they break apart though, Johnny takes E by the shoulders. "It's good to have ya back, E, but you break his heart again, I'll break your fuckin' legs. You got me?"
I groan and E's mouth actually drops open in shock. He nods dumbly. Johnny pats him on the shoulder.
"Excellent. I need a beer. You guys in need?"
"We're good, Johnny."
Hours later, when we're up on the roof of Rufus' house watching the fireworks, E leans over and says "Again?"
"Later," I promise. I don't want to talk about that at the moment. I thread my fingers with his and lean against his shoulder as the sky explodes with color. I'm happy right now.
~*~*~
Entry 83
E fucks me awake. It's slow, soft, and warm and he's on his side, spooned up behind me. He moves my knee, pulling my leg slightly up and back over his thigh. His arm is wrapped around my chest, tying us together.
I gasp out of a dream about firefighters using a fire hose that sprayed blue Jell-o at forest fires to the so much better reality of E's cock so deep inside me that it's like I can feel it pressing the air out of my lungs.
"God, E-"
"You are so fucking beautiful," E murmurs, kissing my neck. He's still moving. Fucking languid is the best word for how he's moving, and I feel like I'm melting. "So fucking beautiful that I can't look at you sometimes. Do you have any idea what you do to me, Vince?"
I reach an arm behind me and grab the back of his neck, needing more. My body rocks, digging and headed towards desperate. But he stops me from reaching for it by letting go of my torso to grip my hip.
"Easy," he soothes. "It's okay to be easy, Vince. I just want to be inside you for a while. Relax."
And I do. I turn pliant, but not my usual kind of I'm-whoever-you-want-me-to-be moldable. It's like…I'm still me, but all my bones are gone and I'm just this lose, squishy Vince-shaped thing that's held in place by E's hands and E's dick and E's body pressed against mine.
"That's it. God, Vince, the way this fits." His lips are dragging over my skin. "I always knew we would."
"Don't leave me," I pant. I'm still a little drowsy and with the feel of his gentle rocking and firm hands, I'm too unraveled. I don't know where that comes from, but it's out now.
"I'm not going anywhere," E promises. He leans forward so he can kiss my mouth, morning breath be damned. He turns my head towards him so I can see his eyes. "I'm not leaving again, Vince, I swear."
~*~*~
Entry 84
I have to lie my way out of a premiere. E wants me to go with him to some red carpet thing.
"It's no big deal. You'll kill it. Come with me."
I know I'll kill it. I've walked that walk before. With too many people for me to take that walk with E. Someone would know who I was. I don't know who, but someone.
I'm gonna have to talk to Ari about changing my profile for the fall premiere season. About changing my entire business plan, actually. I don't think I can keep walking into the unexpected as much anymore, not and keep fucking E regularly.
It's tricky and flimsy. A house of motherfucking cards, man. When did that become my life?
~*~*~
Entry 85
Scott tells me about the new head of Warners. A short, East Coast prick is how Scott describes him. New to Hollywood, changing shit up. He's ruffling feathers and making moves.
"But he's fucking good," Scott says. I nod and he groans because well, his cock is down my throat and the motion kind of changes things up for him. "He just had a premiere, tore the Goddamn house down, I'm telling you. Gorgeous people everywhere and it's breaking records left and right. He knows what he's doing."
I hum in response and he pulls my hair, hard. He calls me baby boy and comes in my mouth, bitter and hot.
He keeps talking after I pull my lips off him. He likes to rehash business during sex. I think he's ADD-gotta be doing more than one thing at once. Usually it's the whole Daddy/boy thing but even when its not-things have to be complicated for Scott to be happy. So he keeps talking about how he's gotta deal with this new guy while he plays with my dick like it's a toy.
"He hot?" I ask, because that's the sort of thing Scott loves to dish on. The fuckability of people in the industry.
"Eh, he's not bad. He's short and not in a good way. Young though, like you."
"Not as fun, I bet."
He gives me a smile that's half Dirty Old Man and half genuine. "Nobody is, Chase. Nobody."
~*~*~
Continue to Entry 86-105