Jamie. Ah, Jamie. My bad influence. I met him when I supported his band, right at the beginning of my career; my first big break. I found out later that he'd heard the demos, seen the pictures of me and the band and made sure we got the support slot. Or to be more accurate and less modest, he'd seen my picture and decided what he wanted.
Which makes him sound calculating, and he's not that. He just knows what he wants, and he's confident enough to go out and get it. I owe him a lot. Doesn't hurt that he's sex on legs and got the dirtiest mouth of anyone I've ever met, of course.
It was the night of the first gig we did with them - Jamie doesn't waste any time - and we'd gone down pretty well with the crowd, considering that they were there to see Jamie and his crew and their own special blend of angst and debauchery. I'd been feeling pretty pleased with myself - pleased enough to accept Jamie's invitation to their backstage party after the gig. There were a few fans there, but not too many; I later found out that, in the grand tradition of rock n' roll, the road crew were under instructions to be very selective indeed. I ended up sitting next to Jamie in the corner of the dressing room, sharing a bottle of wine and some weed and getting to know each other. We'd met briefly earlier that afternoon, at soundcheck, but that had been it. I was still having a little bit of trouble believing that I was really speaking to him; I'd been listening to his albums for years, had been a fan of his right back before I even met the Twins. He wasn't that much older than me, it turned out, but his band had got going when he was only nineteen; it had taken me a while longer.
We were passing the spliff back and forth, getting slowly and pleasantly wasted, when Jamie turned to me with a sly smile on his face and a supremely flirtatious look in his huge, kohl-smudged blue eyes.
"Fancy a blowback?" he grinned, and I could only grin back.
"Go on then," I said, trying not to feel too freaked out by the sheer weirdness of one of my favourite singers flirting with me.
He took a huge drag off the joint and leaned forwards, placing his lips very carefully over mine as he breathed the smoke into my mouth. I inhaled slowly and deeply, sucking the smoke into my lungs and feeling it go straight to my head.
Jamie drew back, that smile still on his pretty face, and took a long swallow from the bottle of wine. I found myself staring at him, fascinated. He was so different from the Twins but I couldn't help but find him desperately attractive. The Twins were - always have been - more protective of me than anything else but I knew Jamie definitely didn't have my best interests in mind and I found that refreshing and incredibly sexy.
He grinned. "Want another one?" I nodded mutely and he leaned over again. He didn't draw away again quite so quickly this time, and I'm pretty sure I didn't imagine the brief flicker of his tongue against my lips. I was beginning to feel a little dizzy from the weed and the alcohol, not to mention the company, and I wasn't sure whether to be disappointed or thankful when a guy from the road crew started clearing the dressing room, herding us all out towards the tour buses, through the fans who had stuck around outside the stage door. Jamie stopped to sign a few autographs and I started to head off towards our minibus, following the rest of my band, but Jamie grabbed my wrist and made me stay. I waved to my guitarist, who happened to have glanced back, and mouthed 'see you later'. He shrugged and grinned and got into the minibus, and they left for the hotel without me.
Jamie extricated himself from the fans eventually and tugged me along behind him as he climbed up into the bus. He settled us into a seat towards the back and rolled another spliff.
"Great show tonight, by the way," he said, licking the Rizla and smoothing it into place. "You're very talented."
"Thanks," I said, wondering what else one could say to that.
Jamie shrugged, sparking up the joint and taking a long drag before passing it to me. "Don't mention it. You'll go far. Besides, with a face like yours, they'll be falling all over you. Can't say I blame them, myself." He smoothed a lock of hair out of my face, letting his fingers skate over my cheekbone as he did so, and I felt my breath catch. Trying to hide it, I took a hit from the spliff, holding the smoke in for as long as I could before I exhaled.
He took the joint off me and inhaled sharply. "You should come up to my room when we get back to the hotel. I've got a couple of bottles of decent wine and a whole lot more weed. And I want to talk to you more."
I nodded and he grinned. "Excellent." Then he leaned in and kissed me hard and I pretty much stopped thinking.
It was a ten minute bus ride to the hotel but I don't remember much of it except Jamie's mouth and hands and the smell of the weed and the dizzy exhilaration. We staggered off the bus and into the hotel, Jamie excusing us from a party their bassist was holding in his room and dragging me into the nearest available lift. He pushed me against the mirror as the doors slid closed and tilted his head up to kiss me again; I slid down a little bit so that I was closer to his height. I hadn't noticed before, but he was at least a head shorter than me and it felt odd to be kissing someone smaller than me; the Twins both have at least four or five inches on me and I'm used to having to stretch up to kiss them.
By the time the lift reached our floor Jamie had my shirt half undone and my hands were tangled in his hair, and I knew we wouldn't be getting much talking done. We separated for long enough for Jamie to find his room, dig out his key and unlock the door, and almost fell into the room, just about remembering to lock the door behind us.
We didn't get as far as the bed. About five feet inside the door, Jamie pinned me to the wall and slithered down against me, kneeling in front of me and unbuttoning my jeans, pulling them down with practiced ease. I found myself feeling briefly, obscurely grateful that I hadn't bothered to put on any underwear before the show, before he took me swiftly and skilfully into his mouth and I gasped aloud. He chuckled deep in his throat and the vibrations shivered along my length, making me gasp again. This was different from anything I'd ever experienced before; it was quick and urgent and I found myself responding almost desperately, my breath catching and hitching in my throat. Jamie was clearly more than experienced, and some distant part of my brain reminded me of reading an interview with him, long ago, in which he as good as made his bisexuality crystal clear. The unreality of it all finally dawned on me as he brought me to a shuddering climax and I felt my knees buckle, my back sliding down the wall. Jamie slid up to meet me, licking his lips and smiling. I managed to catch myself before I slid any further, and found myself face to face with him, a grin beginning to spread across my face.
"You're very sweet," he whispered. "Come on; bed's over there. We can talk later."
I nodded and kissed him, easing his shirt off his shoulders and down his arms. "Later's good."
It was very much later. We lay in his bed, exhausted and sated, sipping at the wine and smoking yet another joint and resuming the conversation we'd been having in the dressing room, getting to know each other. I didn't tell him that I'd been a fan of his for years, and I didn't tell him much about my background, but I suspect there was just as much that he wasn't saying. Honesty came a lot later for us. In the meantime, there were other things to be doing.
Which is how I ended up getting laid by the lead singer of the band we were supporting every night of the tour, and gained a good friend in the process. We see each other whenever we're in the same city and usually end up raising all sorts of hell, in one way or another. Our bands have shared a bill more than once since that first tour, and that's always fun; and it's even more fun dodging the press and the fans, and then reading the rumours about us on the net. The press never dare to make any suggestions, the world's still too homophobic for that, and besides, though I don't exactly keep my sexuality a secret, I don't go out of my way to talk about it, while Jamie is commonly known to be bisexual though he's never officially come out as such, so nobody wants to make the "accusation". Suits us; the internet rumours are far more entertaining. Anyway, it's nobody's business but ours what we get up to - and it's nothing serious.
- Current Mood: cold
- Current Music:more Placebo
be aware that i'm posting this all as-is. i'm not going back and rewriting bits that could be done better, or filling in the gaps. having said that, i am more than happy to answer questions about characters, concepts, etc.
we never did come up with a proper title for this, so i'll be posting it as Hugo, which is the working title (it's an in-joke that i can't even remember now).
for those who might need this "warning", Hugo contains a lot of (gay) sex, drugs, and rock and roll, sometimes explicitly.
- Current Mood: anxious
- Current Music:lots and lots of Placebo
Author's Notes: This came to me very unexpectedly after I'd been awake for 23 hours straight and pretty much wrote itself in one go. I expect there will be at least one companion piece and I'm thinking this may turn into a *thing*. We'll see. Right now I'm just enjoying working out the friendship these two have.
- Current Mood: satisfied
- Current Music:Mozart - Requiem