Fighting Chance: (A male/male enemies to lovers erotic RomCom between a young musician and his idol)

by T L Dasha

  Jay shrugged the shirt off his shoulders, and placed my hands on his back. He pressed his fingers into my thighs, running up the length of my jeans until he took a firm hold of my ass. He lifted me by my behind, and I instinctively spread my legs as he placed me on the bed. His tongue never left my mouth.

  He was on top of me now, a knee between my legs, nudging my excitement into eager compliance. He pushed my t-shirt up to my neck, then kneaded my nipples with his thumb until he was taking my moans directly into his throat. We released our kiss only long enough for him to remove my shirt completely.

  Smooth satin slid over my back as he pushed his body against me. I fumbled for his belt and hoped he’d do the same for me. Being confined in my pants was becoming unbearable. I needed him to touch more of me.

  But he pulled back. He raised a finger to scold my impatience.

  “Not yet.” His voice was a low growl in my ear. In an instant, he had my hands pinned over my head, and he was straddling my waist. Only a few thin layers of cloth were between his hardness and mine, but it still felt like too much.

  “You’ve never been with a man before, have you?” Jay ran his fingers down my arm, over my shoulder, along my jaw, down my neck, my chest, lower, lower…

  “I’ll start you out easy.” His thumb released the button on my jeans, then he slid down the zipper with an excruciating lack of urgency. “Look at me.” He held eye contact while his hand coiled around the length of my erection. “Don’t take your eyes off me. Not for even a moment. ”

  I swallowed hard and nodded eagerly. Jay released my other hand, and started to move down my body, positioning himself in between my legs. I did everything in my power to keep my gaze trained on his, as his tongue slid down my abdomen. As it wrapped around my cock. As he took me entirely into his mouth.

  The color blue had never looked so devilish. The corners of his mouth teased at a smile, as he relaxed his throat and pulled me in deeper.

  “Fuck! Jay!” One hand gripped the bed sheet, the other shot straight to his hair, getting lost in a tangle of his messy brown locks. He held my cock firmly with his tongue as he traveled up to the head, then he massaged the tip in between each plunge. First he moved slowly, then he picked up the paced. Faster and faster. Tension building stronger. I gripped his hair harder as my body verged on orgasm, throwing my head back, squeezing my eyes shut, thrusting myself into him.

  Then he stopped, leaving me tipping over the edge, but not giving me the final push.

  “I said you couldn’t take your eyes off me.”

  “I- I didn’t mean to-“ My lips were struggling to form anything but moans. I opened my eyes and moved my eyes back down to his.

  “That’s better.” Jay smirked. “You can cum when you obey.” He took me back into his mouth and moved faster than before. His saliva coated my shaft, and his lips applied irresistible pressure. It took everything I had to not break eye contact.

  “I’m- Fuck!” I came in his mouth, my whole body shaking with a more intense high than I had ever felt. His lips lingered on the tip, not surrendering a single drop, then withdrew with a thread of his saliva still tying him to me.

  His Adam’s apple shifted as he swallowed.

  Jay moved back up my body, and kissed me softly on the lips. My flavor intermingled with his. It was so simple and so erotic, it almost got me hard again.

  “Get some rest.” His breath tickled my ear.

  “What about you. I can-“

  “Rest. I’ll show you more next time.”

  He placed one last peck on my forehead, then climbed off of me, taking his warmth with him. But I was too tired to protest. My body was begging me for sleep. I got myself back in order and crawled under the covers.

  “Where are you going to sleep?” I looked up at Jay, watching as he changed into a set of pajamas. Loose flannel pants hung low on his hips, while a black tank top clung to every curve and contour of his lean body. He turned to me, cocking his head back with a look that clearly communicated ‘are you an idiot?’ He shook his head without saying a word, then slipped beneath the covers with me.

  He clicked off the lamp, then turned to face me. His eyes dared me to make a move. I couldn’t say no to a dare.

  I nudged up closer to him, pressing my cheek into his warm chest, taking in that scent of sage and sex. I relaxed into the gentle pulsing of his heartbeat. He rested his chin on the top of my head, and he wrapped an arm around my shoulder to pull me in a little closer.

  First his grip was tight, but it only took a moment before his breathing slowed. His arm relaxed. We both drifted off into sleep.

  Chapter 8

  Roland Finley

  “Where’d you disappear to last night?” Logan sat across from me in the food court as he opened his Styrofoam container of Chinese food.

  “Where did I disappear to? Where did YOU?!” I stared at him, dumfounded. “As soon as those obnoxious fangirls showed up, you were nowhere to be seen!” I rolled my eyes. If the night hadn’t turned out better than I ever could have asked for, I might have punched him in the jaw for even asking me that. “So much for celebrating together.”

  “Well, I mean…” Logan glanced to the side, a sheepish grin on his face as he spun some lo mein around his chopsticks. “How was I supposed to know that being on TV meant we would have groupies. Did you know neither one of those girls were wearing underwear?”

  “Fascinating.” I know he wanted me to ask how he knew that, but I didn’t really want the details. We sat in silence for several seconds longer than was comfortable. “Fine, I’ll bite. And you know this how?”

  “We’ll just say that bathroom stall sex isn’t as hot as it looks in the movies.” Gross. “Threesomes are though.” His lips curled in a catlike grin. “We went to an after party, and the blond one said you left with an agent or something. She wanted you bad. I figured that meant more for me, so that’s cool, but… who is this ‘agent,’ exactly?”

  “Oh that’s…” I must have looked like a deer in the headlights as I searched my entire creative mental database for a good lie. Then again, he just told me he banged two dumb groupies, and I’m worried about telling my best friend I might be falling for an industry professional?

  It probably wouldn’t have felt so complicated if I didn’t have to admit that industry professional was a guy. Or that part about falling for him. Hell, I hadn’t even fully admitted that to myself yet. That may have been my hang up more than anything.

  “Now that I think about it…” Logan interrupted my train of thought. “I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen you with… anyone.” Logan slid me the remainder of his Chinese takeout and sat back in his chair. “Maybe that’s why it wasn’t that surprising that you seemed so annoyed when they came up to us.”

  Upon further inspection, I guess he wasn’t as oblivious as I thought. I fixed my eyes on the tray and shoveled a piece of orange chicken into my mouth, focusing on the tangy crunch.

  “I’ve kind of wondered this for a while but…” Logan continued. “Are you ace?”

  I looked up at him. “You mean like asexual?” Not the worst guess, honestly. “Would it be weird if I was?”

  “Not really. I’m not trying to date you, so it doesn’t matter to me.” Logan reached over and ruffled my hair, ruining my fauxhawk. Unnecessary. “I just realized that in all our years of doing lame nerd shit together, I’ve never partied with you. Shit’s changing now that we’re one percent famous, but it’s hard to be a good wing man if I don’t know what kind of bait to put on the hook, you know?” Logan shrugged.

  “A fishing analogy? Really? Do you even know how to fish?”

  “Don’t change the subject.”

  I let out a sigh. This is dumb. What am I so afraid of?

  “Would it be more weird if I told you my agent friend was…” I paused to take another bite, trying to figure out how to proceed. I’ve wanted to have this conversation with Logan for a while now, but it wasn’t the easiest thing to bring up. Bu
t how could I call myself a writer if I couldn’t even talk about my feelings to my own band mate? If I wanted to win this- if I wanted to beat Dread Theory- I was going to have to start being more honest. Honest with Logan, honest with Jay, honest with the audience, and honest with myself. I swallowed my chicken and took a deep breath. “He’s a guy.”

  My face flushed as I heard the words escape my lips. Logan cocked an eyebrow.

  “Like, he’s got a penis?”

  “Most guys do, yeah…”

  “So you mean you’re gay?”

  “I…” That was harder to vocalize than I thought. I gripped some noodles with my chopsticks and shoveled them into my mouth. He waited for me to finish, letting my awkwardness hang in the air until I gave him a complete answer. “I guess I am, yeah.”

  “Huh. That makes sense.” Logan looked up, as if he was searching his entire memory bank for past signs. He snapped his fingers. “Holy shit, is that why you always thought watching women’s volleyball was so boring?”

  What? Is that really your first thought?

  “… Among many other reasons, but… sure.”

  “Wait, so have you ever had a crush on me, then?”

  Typical. “Do you really have to ask that question?”

  “I don’t know. If I was gay, I would have a crush on a stud like me.” Logan grinned as he gave me a quick sneak peak of his gun show. For the love of…

  “God, you’re such a dork.”

  “Exactly. And so are you. Yet another reason to have a crush on me.” He wiggled his eyebrows in a way that I can only assume was supposed to be seductive.

  I couldn’t help laughing. Logan seemed impossibly pleased with himself. If I had known it would be this easy, I probably would have come out to him a long time ago.

  “So does that mean I’m your ‘first love?’ Is this next song going to be all about me?” Logan stole back the Chinese food. “I’ve never been in love, so this one has to be all you.”

  “Pffbt, I never even jerked off to you. Sorry to crush your dreams.” I rolled my eyes. The arrogance.

  “But what about this ‘agent’ character. Have you jerked off to him?” Logan’s smirk sent all the blood to my cheeks. I bit down on my lip rings, and ran my tongue over the metal, relieved I had put them back in today as my nervous crutch. I could feel Logan’s eyes on me, reading all of my tells. “Or did he do it for you?”

  “I… uh… I mean he…” I rubbed the sweat from my neck with a napkin, avoiding further eye contact. When did it get so hot in here?

  Logan laughed as he watched my internal struggle. “Fuck Roland, it’s fine. We’re both twenty-two years old. I wouldn’t expect you to still be a virgin. I’m still you’re best friend no matter who you’re fucking. Though I’m gathering from your reaction, he means a little bit more to you than those ladies from last night did to me.” He stood up and stretched his arms to the ceiling. “Make a song about him, and I’ll help you make it shine. I’m going to expect a formal introduction sooner or later though.”

  I nodded eagerly, relief settling in my chest. “Thanks, Logan.”

  “Alright, I’ve gotta get back to my shift. I’m counting on you, nerd.” He gave me one last wink before he headed back to the jewelry store. I felt lighter, finally at ease.

  To be honest, I still wasn’t sure what my relationship with Jay was, but I knew I wanted him around. I knew I liked talking to him. He inspired me. He excited me.

  Maybe that is what they call love.

  ###

  Jay McClintock

  “Somedays I just want to watch you buuuurn –“ Brad Garza broke chorus with a no longer containable laugh. He smirked at me through the glass of the recording booth and spoke into the microphone. “Jay Jay, I love this. This is exactly how I felt after I broke up with Maddie.”

  “Are you really surprised? You act as though I don’t know everything about you.” My eyes rolled on impulse. “Now quit messing it up. From the top.”

  Brad polished off our session in perfect pitch, then he joined me in my office to debrief. He picked a bottle of whiskey from my top shelf and poured us each a glass. He looked good standing in my office. The ambiance suited him, with his short dark hair meticulously shaped atop his head. His light brown skin framed eyes that were nearly black, atop high cheekbones and playful dimples. He might have looked more like a boy than a man if not for his trim facial hair and his sleeve of tattoos. His masculine touches amidst his gentle and trustworthy demeanor is what made him the object of America’s fantasies.

  “The album is coming along nicely,” I clinked my glass into his before taking my seat and savoring the notes of earthy caramel. “And excellent choice of whiskey.”

  “I can barely tell my bottom shelf from my top.” Brad shrugged. “But I know you don’t bother to keep anything that isn’t worthwhile.”

  I nodded. A fair assessment. “So, in the first stanza for ‘Til Your Death Do Us Part’-“

  “Who was that text meant for?”

  I choked on the words. He wasted no time prying into my business.

  “Interesting reaction.” His lips took on a mischievous curl. “Does ‘Jay McClintock, the cuddly sociopath’ have a crush on someone?”

  “Just another play thing. Nothing more.” The last person who needed to know about Roland was Brad. His jealousy had already proved destructive enough. Maybe that would make for a good song.

  “A play thing, huh?” Brad pursed his lips, his expression thick with doubt. “So did this ‘play thing’ inspire the lyrics for ‘You Taste Better When You Hate Me’ or ‘Don’t Leave Yet’?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Neither. Why are you so interested in my love life?”

  “Because this is the first time I’ve ever seen you flirt with anything other than work.”

  “Everyone has needs.”

  Brad set his glass on a coaster then moved around to my side of the desk, positioning himself behind my chair.

  “And what are these needs exactly?” His long, firm arms draped down around my shoulders. He slid a hand up to my chin, and tilted my face upright, so he could hold eye contact as he looked down on me. That grin still painted his lips.

  I ran my hands up his arms, sliding in between each finger and interlocking our grips. I pulled both of his hands away from me and released them.

  “Needs you simply can’t fulfill.” I kept my eyes serious and unflinching. Brad furrowed his brows and pursed his lips, annoyance reflecting in every light crease in his twenty-nine year old skin. He was a year younger than me, but the lights and fame seemed to have aged him a few years more. He shoved his hands in his pockets and stepped back.

  “You’re writing for one of those ‘Battle of the Bands’ kids, aren’t you?”

  “That’s confidential.” I stood to face him. He was leaning against my window, the whole city below him.

  “You should probably tell Cory Dane that, because he didn’t hesitate for even a moment to tell me all about it.”

  Here we go. “Let me guess- they’re going to have a guest appearance from a ‘superstar’ this year, and they hunted you down?”

  “I reached out to them, actually.” Brad’s eyes shifted sideways. An unusually submissive gesture.

  “Why? A silly reality show like this is so far below you.” I eyed him suspiciously.

  “You’ll be the king, my son. Just as I was.” The grin was slowly returning to his lips. “You act like I don’t know everything about you. Although that wasn’t a story I expected to hear on cable television.”

  I mustered a half-hearted smile. “It was about their absent fathers and the sacrifices they made for them.”

  “Right, and that time ‘Dayton Gold’ went over Dead Man’s Curve and left his son orphaned and fighting for his life? I can’t wait to hear about how ‘Lance Gold’ woke up from a coma in witness protection.” Brad’s tone was more amused than mocking. Any bitterness in his voice seemed to have subsided. He knew better than to make a joke of the
situation, but he also knew well enough how to put me back in my place.

  “Alright, alright. You’ve made your point.” I threw my hands up, no longer willing to argue.

  “I was just hurt that you gave that song to them instead of me. That’s a big one for you.” Brad pouted. “Even if we’ve both had our share of ‘play things,’ you’ll still always be my favorite.” His smile was jovial. “So round two is about a ‘first love,’ eh?”

  A chuckle escaped my throat. “I bet you think that’s going to be about you.”

  “Of course not!” Brad crossed his arms and shook his head. “I have no interest in being your first love. I’m holding out to be your last.” He was incorrigible. Always, always so incorrigible.

  “I think I know what the last song on Heroes of Heartbreak is going to be about.”

  “Harsh!” His laughter filled my office. It would have been more unnerving if he had stayed mad. Brad had far too short an attention span for that. “I’ll whittle you down eventually. It’s almost ironic that someone who has made millions writing about love refuses to dabble in it.”

  “That’s why I’ve made millions. You’re the one who told me failure is the best inspiration, aren’t you?” I nudged back. “I believe it went something like, ‘Lust and hurt feelings make for much more powerful muses than love ever will,’ remember?”

  “Oh, NOW you’re going to start listening to me?”

  Once we tied up the loose ends and went over a few remaining song ideas, I parted ways with Brad and got in my car to head to my next appointment. I still needed to meet with Dread Theory to discuss this round of the competition. Though I wasn’t feeling terribly inspired. Love wasn’t something I had any tendency to keep in my life for very long. What was I going to do- write them a song that subtly conveyed how I felt about Roland?

  I stopped abruptly in the parking garage, almost causing an accident behind me.

  How I felt about Roland?

  …Why… Why would that even cross my mind? It’s a song about someone you love. Not…