by Gwen Martin
“I knew it wouldn’t work out,” Jesse admits with a sigh, running the pad of his finger around the edge of the small glass. The cocktail is bright purple and has some kind of shimmer dust inside that twinkles in the dim blue lighting. “You know, she started dating Ross within six months of our breakup and got engaged six months after. I kept stalling our engagement whenever she tried to talk to me until we got into a huge fight one time and—” He stops and takes another sip, shrugs. “Then I just asked her to marry me.”
“You never told me that,” Luke says.
Jesse’s smile is rueful. “I didn’t want to add more fuel to the Sheila Hate fire.”
“Eh, that’s fair,” Luke concedes, leaning back into the plush booth and resting his head against the high velvet-lined back. “So why did you do this? Why be here for this wedding?”
Jesse shrugs again. “I shouldn’t have asked her to marry me. When you’re popular on social media your life isn’t yours anymore, and everyone feels entitled to a piece of you. I’ve basically stopped even opening the messages they send me, you know? It’s either super supportive or super hateful. People are crazy, man.”
Luke slides his hand closer to Jesse’s, lets the back of his palm rest against his wrist. He wasn’t aware this was going on, and there’s a part of him that’s unsettled by it all, that Jesse carried this weight around with no one else to be there for him. Luke felt that Sheila was a less than perfect match for Jesse, but he didn’t realize that he had been holding off on their engagement for so long.
“And I don’t want people to think that we broke up because I was cheating on her, or that I was abusive or whatever other ideas they’re concocting,” Jesse continues. He makes brief eye contact with the bartender and nods, and the bartender gets to making another drink. Lana Del Ray is doing some serious work on Jesse tonight. “I just want her to be happy.”
“Even if she’s the most entitled Bridezilla in the world?” Luke teases.
Jesse chuckles, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, even if she’s the worst Bridezilla in the world.”
“Dude, you’re turning into a sappy-ass love song, and I love Lana as much as the next guy, but we need to step this game up,” Luke announces, scooting out of the booth to grab Jesse’s drink. “This whole summer time sadness shit is killing the fact that we got out of that hellhole with Sheila and her plastic crew.”
Luke orders two shots to go with Jesse’s refill. At this point he doesn’t care if they're hungover messes tomorrow, the only thing that’s planned is that ridiculously expensive circus show and that’s not until the evening. Sheila had said something about a brunch or whatever, but Luke put his foot down on the four hour drive to Sin City about how much torture he will subject himself to.
He slides the shot over to Jesse first, who grins at the bright green colored concoction. Luke grins back and lifts the drink, clinking their glasses together and downing the sugary liquid in one go.
“Hashtag God bless liquid marijuanas,” Jesse declares with a satisfied sigh.
“I’ll say,” Luke agrees. “I’m all for this cool jazz vibe but this place is making me narcoleptic. Let’s go somewhere else and you can keep babbling your blues away.”
One bar ends up becoming two, and two becomes three, and before they realize it they’re stumbling around on the Strip, laughing at nothing in particular. They end up at the Bellagio fountains, watching as the water dances to Frank Sinatra and taking selfies for Jesse’s Instagram. Luke’s head is swimming, the water’s movements swift and fascinating, and he almost doesn’t notice when Jesse takes his hand, and pulls him close pressing their chests together.
“I know on the drive over we agreed to play it up hard for Sheila,” Jesse whispers, his words slurring a little. “But I think I need...you know, practice.”
Luke’s vision swirls, from the booze or the heady feeling of Jesse’s words he doesn’t know. His breath is hot against Luke’s lips, and Luke can’t help but watch the way the tip of Jesse’s tongue swipes across the corner of his mouth.
“Practice is good,” Luke says, breathless. “We can totally practice.”
“Good,” Jesse whispers, leaning in to brush his lips against Luke’s. “I like this, you know.”
Before Luke can respond, Jesse presses their mouths together for the second time that night. It’s more gentle, but insistent, enthusiastic in all the ways that make up everything that is Jesse. His mouth tastes sweet from alcohol, and when he glides the tip of his tongue over the ridge behind Luke’s teeth, he grabs onto Jesse’s shoulders ferociously to keep balance. Everything around him is a dull roar, the music playing in the background, the night’s wind picking up around them, and right now Luke is flying.
Jesse rests his forehead against Luke’s, a husky chuckle spilling from his lips. Everything inside of Luke pulses with electricity, right down to his toes.
“You’re really good at that,” Jesse whispers.
Luke hums, carding his fingers into Jesse’s hair. “So are you.”
Then Jesse pulls back, his eyes wide and a little hazy. His hair is messy from Luke’s fingers and the blowing wind, lips red and swollen. Luke wants to get a cab, go back to the hotel, and finish this off. He’s had plenty of time to conjure up more than a few daydreams and he’d like to have a few of them come true.
Instead of offering a trip back to their hotel, instead of offering a few more things that Luke can show off, he sees a tiny chapel in the distance, and an idea comes to mind. A brilliant idea, if he has any say in this. An idea that will make Sheila shit her pants and allow Jesse’s secondhand Instagram fame to rise through soaring towers and eclipse anything that is Sheila’s fancy Vegas wedding.
“Do you trust me?” Luke asks, focusing back to Jesse.
His eyes shine so blue against the flickering lights of the strip, and Luke wants to kiss him again, wants to put his mouth on every part of Jesse’s skin to taste him.
“Yes,” Jesse says without hesitation. He sways a little, his hand reaching for Luke, wrapping fingers around his neck. He nods again. “Always.”
“Perfect,” Luke says, reaching up to Jesse’s hand and squeezing his wrist. He smiles a sloppy wicked grin that Jesse mirrors back. “Because I have an idea.”
They manage to find a cab back to the hotel. It involves some inventive app downloading and phone usage, but the moment they slide into the backseat of the unimpressed Uber driver’s car, Jesse’s hands and mouth are all over Luke. The pressure of his touch is hot and intense, and Luke can’t stop himself from grabbing back, from wanting to memorize every part of Jesse even as they stumble towards the elevator and rush inside.
Luke doesn’t remember how they make it to their hotel room, only that as soon as the door closes, Luke’s back slams against it with a thud. Jesse staggers back, a sly grin stretching over his lips as he discards his jacket, flinging it on the floor. Luke bites his lip as Jesse swaggers back to him, placing his palms on either side of his head.
“Hello there,” Luke whispers, eyes roving over Jesse’s face and landing on his mouth.
Jesse leans forward until their lips brushing against each other. It makes Luke shiver with want.
“Hi,” Jesse whispers against Luke's mouth, flicking the tip of his tongue inside.
Luke’s hands grip Jesse’s hips, pulling him close enough until their chests press into each other. He tugs at the hem of Jesse’s t-shirt and lifts it over his head, discarding it on the floor next to their feet. Their mouths connect, sloppy and wet, feverish and messy, and Luke can’t resist his hips bucking, delighting in the groan he swallows.
Jesse grinds against Luke with vigor, a jean-clad hardness pressing against his own, surging an electric current through his veins. He wants more, more of Jesse’s sweaty skin, more of his mouth, more of him. He wants it all.
“God,” Jesse whispers in awe against Luke’s chin.
Their dicks press against each other once more making Luke squeeze his eyes shut, and
pant heavily as Jesse’s teeth graze over the hammering pulse point on his neck. Luke’s hands tug sharp on the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him back with a gasp as he smashes their mouths together again.
The taste of Jesse fills Luke’s mouth, heady and wet and warm. The sensation of their tongues curling together as they grind against each other has Luke almost coming in his pants The kiss is not languid, but messy with too much spit and teeth, and Luke has never been so turned on before in his life.
Jesse pulls up Luke’s shirt, ripping it off over his head and tossing it behind him. His palm grazes over Luke’s stomach, calloused fingers making him shiver at the touch. Luke lets out a surprised moan when Jesse cups his cock with the palm of his hand, and presses hard.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” Luke moans, exhaling sharply, tilting up into the delicious pressure. “Please don’t stop.”
“Oh, I’m not going to stop,” Jesse promises, nipping at Luke’s neck, that turns into a sharp bruising bite, squeezing Luke’s dick through the fabric of his jeans.
Luke gasps, his head hitting the door hard. He barely has time to register the new blossom of pain, because then Jesse drops to his knees, yanking Luke’s belt open, pulling it off and making haste on his zipper. Luke ends up with his jeans down to his ankles, his boxer briefs tenting in front of him, chest rising and falling rapidly.
Jesse takes in a deep inhale, tucks his fingers into the band of Luke’s boxers and pulls them down. Warmth flushes throughout Luke’s body, and his dick twitches as Jesse crooks a finger, brushing the pad along the underside of his cock from root to tip. He licks his lips and pauses, uncertainty furrowed in deep lines between his brows.
“Um,” Luke starts, his hand twisting into fists on his side. He swallows around the lump in his throat. “Everything all right?”
“Yeah,” Jesse whispers, his eyes focused everywhere but at Luke. “Just...been a while.”
Luke bites back a grin, reaching out and cupping the back of Jesse’s neck with one hand, gripping the base of his cock with the other. “That’s okay,” he whispers back, lifting on the balls of his feet to draw closer to Jesse’s mouth.
Jesse’s eyes flick up to him, heated and half-lidded. He licks his lips again, dragging the flat of his tongue across the bottom of Luke’s cock, leaving his mouth open so that the tip sits right on the edge of his lips. Luke exhales a sharp breath, swallowing hard and nodding further encouragement.
“Keep going,” he murmurs.
Jesse wraps his hand over Luke’s hand and nods. “Yeah, okay.”
Luke’s tangles his fingers tight into Jesse’s hair, as he exhales a breathless laugh, his mouth enclosing over the head of Luke’s erection, sucking softly before gliding his mouth down further. His tongue grows more enthusiastic as he eases into the task, swirling over Luke’s slit with a happy moan, the sound making Luke’s toes curl, and legs weak. The sensation is overwhelming, leaving lungs burning like he just ran a mile at max speed, gasping for breath.
He can barely keep his eyes on Luke, the look of his greedy mouth overwhelming. Luke has to concentrate on not coming too soon, wanting to draw out this moment as long as possible. The room tilts a little as the alcohol rushes through his system, but the heat of Jesse’s mouth keeps him anchored, keeps him wanting more.
Then Jesse tilts his head to the side, gliding the flat of his tongue and mouth along the side of Luke’s shaft, sharp obscene moans spilling out of Luke’s mouth as Jesse’s mouth sucks with insistence.
“Fuck,” Luke hisses, clenching that fistful of hair hard.
He tugs it again, guiding Jesse’s hot mouth just where he wants it. Jesse swallows down until his lips hit the side of Luke’s hand that’s still gripped onto the base of his dick, all previous hesitation vanished. Luke bucks his hips forward as Jesse pulls his hand away, placing it on the side of his face. Luke traces the hallowed dip of Jesse’s cheek, relishes the warm slickness of his tongue, shudders at the jolt of pleasure when he hits the back of Jesse’s throat.
Dull nails bite into the flesh of Luke’s hips, the stinging sensation sending him over the edge. His eyes widen in shock as his orgasm surges over the brink, a heady rush breaking over him in waves. Jesse pulls back with a gasp, come dribbling out of the corner of his mouth, down his chin and over the column of his throat. He wipes the remains off with the back of his hand, and Luke sinks down onto the ground in a tangled heap, pulling Jesse closer.
“You are…” Luke starts, unable to finish, the lust-laden wooziness of post orgasmic glow rendering him speechless. He uses what little energy he has left to bring Jesse’s mouth to his for another kiss.
It’s sloppy, with salty remnants filling his mouth. It is without a doubt the filthiest thing Luke’s ever done, and possibly the hottest. He fumbles with Jesse’s jeans, pulling out his cock, and giving it a few dry tugs before licking his palm and returning to kissing. Jesse’s hands grip onto Luke’s shoulders, and Luke breaks the kiss to lap at a small spot at the corner of Jesse’s mouth, his tongue flooded more with that bitter tang.
Jesse expels a shaky moan, jerking forward into Luke’s tight grip. He rests his forehead on Luke’s shoulder, hands braced behind them as Luke continues a vigorous pace. Jesse’s harsh breath tickles over Luke’s skin, his mouth leaving a blazing trail of wet kisses along his neck. Jesse turns and bites with vigor into the juncture between Luke’s neck and shoulder, muffling a groan, jerking forward as he spills into Luke’s hand.
Luke tilts his face to the ceiling and groans, biting into his bottom lip.
Jesse collapses into Luke’s arms, their unsteady breathing the only sound in the room. Luke’s leg starts cramping from the odd position he landed in, his hand is sticky with come. When Jesse cranes his neck up and locks eyes with Luke, he forgets about it all.
Eventually they disentangle from themselves, discomfort scrunching on Jesse’s face.
“Shower,” he announces, slurred. He crawls on his knees, towards the bathroom, his pants still halfway down his legs, ass on full display.
Luke sits, paralyzed by the sight in front of him, and blinks several times to stay in focus. The alcohol has definitely kicked in.
“You coming?” Jesse asks over his shoulder, still on all fours
Luke has the briefest image of spreading Jesse wide, slicking him up with his mouth before pushing inside and fucking him into the itchy carpet floor.
“Yeah,” Luke says hoarsely, taking several tries to get on his feet. Jesse snorts when one attempt has Luke back on his ass, resulting in Luke flicking him off and following in tow.
Seven
Jesse
“Morning, hubby.”
Well, shit.
Jesse scrubs a palm over his face, hoping that somehow he will remember what happened twelve hours ago. An unfamiliar weight on his hand startles him into near sobriety and he squints at the simple golden band on his left ring finger.
“What the fuck?” Jesse exclaims, scrambling until he’s sitting up. “When did we—”
“They offered them at the chapel,” Luke mumbles with a shrug, turning onto his back. He squeezes his eyes shut, taking a deep fortifying breath as if he’s trying to stop his own hangover from doing anything dangerous. “It was your idea.”
“What?” Jesse asks with vehemence, and regretting it instantly. His head explodes with pain, an increasing pressure like it’s being split right down the middle. The room tilts and his stomach does a very upsetting flip. “Oh God, I’m going to be sick.”
“You know where the toilet is,” Luke says in a muffled voice. He’s taken to placing a pillow over his face. “Just please do not move around too much when you get up. Or I may puke in the bed.”
It’s then that it all comes back to Jesse: the night before at the club with Sheila; how he and Luke left for a night out on the town; kissing Luke on the Strip, and how in a moment of drunken splendor they decided that they—
“Holy fuck, we’re married,” Jesse says, his eyes staring
wide to the ceiling. “We got fucking married in Vegas.”
“Inside voices, please,” Luke whimpers underneath the pillow.
“This is serious,” Jesse all but screams. “Somehow between the eighteenth fucking purple drink I kept pounding back, I married my best friend and—”
He doesn’t mention what happened afterwards back at the hotel. How the velvety feel of Luke’s dick in his mouth would be a part of his masturbatory index until the day he died.
The pillow slips from Luke’s face. He’s pale, and worse for wear, but his hazel eyes fill with growing concern. “The marriage thing isn’t a problem. You forget that my father is a divorce lawyer for some of the most ridiculous celebs in LA. He will not run you out of town. He may even compliment us.” Luke shuffles with slow care until he’s lying on his side. There are pillow lines on his cheek, and his hair is an absolute wreck and Jesse wants nothing more than to reach over and kiss him stupid when Luke licks his lips.
When Luke speaks again, he’s hesitant, as though he doesn’t want to give away too much information. “Do you...remember anything else?”
It’s then that Jesse reaches out, and brushes back the auburn fringe that threatens to impede his green eyes. “Yeah,” he answers, his voice rough.
“And do you...regret any of that?”
Jesse’s thumb glides down over the slant of Luke’s nose, over the pillow line on his cheekbone. He pulls down on Luke’s bottom lip, marveling at the way Luke’s eyes flutter shut, a deep line settling between his eyebrows. He exhales a slow shaky sigh as Jesse crooks his thumb in trailing along the trail of moisture trapped inside Luke’s bottom lip.
