Bedsprings Arc Pt. 04bynaradragonfly©
The conclusion of the Bedsprings Arc
He's cheating on me.
Evan Fucking Rosier, my boyfriend of--shit, is it seriously five years now?--what seems like forever, is cheating on me. I just know it.
It's not like he hasn't before, and not just since my starving actor boyfriend Evan Roswell hit the silver screen and changed into international heartthrob Evan Rosier. He always flirts. Mostly with boys, but he certainly makes exceptions. He can't resist a pretty face, and I know he's slept with at least a handful of his flirtations. The first time I found out was the second time we broke up. It's a long story. We're a messed-up couple.
It's just that--even though I'm always jealous, he bores of them. Always within a week. A few days is unusual. With luck, they won't even hold his attention more than a few hours.
But this is different. He's sneaking around, keeping secrets, making excuses. And it doesn't help he's been working late nights shooting some fucking vampire flick, so we haven't had sex in a week, except for a quickie in the closet, right before he started sneaking around. I should make it clear that it's rare for us to go two hours without sex. After a week, I'm fucking insane with jealousy and my own libido. Normally, he would be, too, but it seems he's found something that interests him more than me.
I am so fucking jealous. I'm going to be sick.
I walk to the door of his dressing room and stop. I hear a high-pitched cough, and then Evan's laughter, loud and wide. I can taste my own jealousy, cold and cloying like swampwater in the dead of winter, thick and choking in the back of my throat. I knock.
Evan swears, and I hear scuffling. Someone whines. Who the hell actually fucking whines?
"It's probably Matty," Evan's voice grumbles. "Hold this. I'll get rid of him."
He opens the door. "Matty." He steps through, carefully closing the door behind him, so that I can't get a glimpse inside. I glare.
"You'll get rid of me?" I echo, fucking pissed.
"Who's in there?"
"No one." The smirk on his face is reckless, challenging. We both know he's lying, it's more than evident, but he's stronger and faster than me. There's no way I'm getting past him.
Rage tastes like a mouthful of vinegar, and it's burning my throat. "You fucking bastard. Go to Hell." I walk away.
"Matty!" He swears, grabbing my arm before I'm halfway down the hall. "Matty," he growls.
I glare, angry and fucking hurt. "Don't you fucking call me Matty."
He sighs, forcing his voice gentler. "We're shooting late again tonight. The next take is in fifteen minutes."
"Break a leg," I snap, in full hope that he will.
"But I will be home," he finishes, firmly. "I'm having Jerry drive you home. You're not taking a taxi when you're this upset."
I'm letting him walk me out to the parking lot, although I'm not exactly docile about it. Jerry's his private limo driver. "Of course I'm fucking upset," I rail. "My boyfriend's cheating on me, and actually thinks I'm fucking stupid enough not to notice."
He opens the limo door and pushes me in. "Jerry, take him home."
"Which one?" Jerry asks.
"The rented one. The flat. And keep an eye on him. He might try to run away."
Run away. Like I'm a spoiled child. "I am not your fucking pet," I snarl, "you selfish fucking--"
He cuts me off with a kiss. "I'll explain tomorrow. Any question you have, I'll answer it. Just wait home for me until tomorrow."
He closes the door on my retort.
I thank Jerry when he drops me off. "You can go," I say. "I'm not going to run away. He promised me an explanation. I can always leave him tomorrow. Not like I haven't done it before." I lock the door and collapse on the bed, starting to cry. Fucking crying, like a little girl.
I wake up with him on top of me. His arms are around my waist, so only his head and upper torso rests on me. He's fast asleep. He likes to keep it cold in the apartment, because then I'll let him cuddle me. He knows I wouldn't let him, otherwise.
I squirm, attempting escape, and he wakes, nuzzling my neck. I hate being nuzzled.
"Morning, sweetcheeks," he whispers.
I shove at him. "Get off me."
He kisses the side of my neck. "No."
"I've gotta piss. Get off."
He sighs and lets me up. When I come out of the bathroom, he's already in the kitchen, making us breakfast. Ass-naked.
"Can't you put some fucking clothes on?" I glower. "You'll contaminate the eggs."
"You could take yours off," he offers.
"You promised an explanation," I remind him.
"I'm not hungry."
He looks at me with a sigh. "Matty, would you relax? Can't you trust me even a little?"
"How can I trust you? You cheat on me all the time."
"Matty, we've discussed this."
"This isn't like other times! You're keeping secrets, making excuses, lying to me--I want to know who was with you yesterday."
The doorbell rings.
"Jesus, Matty," he says. "Didn't you even remember it's your birthday?"
I freeze. "What?"
Fuck. I didn't. I completely forgot my own birthday. I scramble for the door. Pat's there, Evan's stage manager, holding a little brown puppy with a big red bow around its neck. It looks at me and whines, confused. Pat puts it into my hands. "Happy birthday, Matt."
I am not about to melt. Evan puts his arms around me from behind, ruffles the puppy's ears. "Is that a good enough explanation?"
I lean into him, because the jumble of relief, happiness and affection rushing in to take the place of the hurt and anger is overwhelming.
The puppy yips and licks my nose. I have completely fucking melted, into Evan's arms.
"Excuse us," he says to Pat. I can hear the smirk in his voice. "We need to go have birthday sex now."
He closes the door. I'm still melted, playing with the puppy's little paws.
"Breakfast is getting cold," he reminds me.
I set the puppy down and let him scamper around our feet as we eat.
I look up, watching the puppy, a bite of bacon halfway to my mouth. I've probably even got a stupid grin. Evan's still ass-naked. My grin widens.
"Stop staring at the dog and eat, or I'm going to throw you over my shoulder and carry you off to be properly fucked, and you can just go hungry."
"He's cute," I say, eating faster.
Evan snorts. "You're both cute. It's disgusting."
I stop. "You did not just fucking call me cute."
"What if I did?"
"I'll deny you sex."
He starts laughing. "I'd like to see you try."
I gulp the rest of my juice and stand. "Let's go."
He smirks and grabs me by the waist, shaking a finger at the dog. "You be good while Mommy and Daddy are busy."
"Oh, fuck you," I say, but it's harder to speak with his hand down my boxers. "I am not 'Mommy'."
"Yes, you are," he says, pulling off my shirt and stopping only to kiss me before pulling me into the shower. "You really are."
We're kissing again as we hit the shower wall. I barely notice when he turns on the water. Evan Fucking Rosier is incredibly good with his tongue, and I can't notice a thing else when it's in my mouth. He gropes me, and I moan into his mouth. Okay, so I noticed that.
I love a good kiss. He's feeling affectionate, so he makes it sweet and deep, ravishing my mouth with a languid sort of dominance. It's fucking good, but I know that it isn't going to last long, because his grip on me is getting tighter, and I can feel his cock hard against my hip. One of his hands slides down my ass, spreading my cheeks and massaging my arsehole with one finger. That makes me shudder, but I'm not about to break the kiss.
We've got one of those showerheads on a hose--I'm sure there's some name for those--that can be moved around, and I'm so distracted by the kiss, that it's a complete shock when he sprays it across my exposed ass. My arsehole is very fucking sensitive. I yelp and almost fall. He presses me tighter against him so that I don't. He's laughing. I start swearing at him, at least until he does it again and I have to gasp, clutching at him. "Evan."
He laughs, spraying down my hair. "What? It's fun. I like making you squirm."
I glare at him, but relent in time for another kiss. My hand wraps around his cock. The only way to get him to stop teasing me is to make him want it so bad he can't think. He purrs in approval.
"Here." He puts the nozzle into my hand. I grin, directing the water so that it sprays over both our erections, and he grinds them together with a possesive growl. I can feel he's grabbed the lube, because he glides a finger into me, coating my entrance.
"Do you want me to turn?" I pant. I want it now.
"No." He puts down the bottle of lube. Grabs my hips and hoists me up, against the wall. I obediently wrap both legs around his waist. For a moment, he meets my eyes with a smirk, then thrusts into me.
I arch my back with a shudder, enjoying the way his breath hitches for a moment when he enters me.
"My Matty, tight-assed as ever," he mutters.
"Wouldn't be a problem for someone with a normal fucking cock," I retort. His is huge. Obscene. And he doesn't even have the decency to be gentle with it.
"You wouldn't be satisfied with anything less."
Now is hardly the time for conversation. I tell him so, squirming, in hopes that he'll stop smirking at me and actually start to thrust.
"Didn't you say something about denying me sex?" He's smirking, teasing mercilessly, with a sweet nuzzle to my jawline, like we're not both going insane because of how he's buried to the hilt in my ass.
I start swearing. "Don't you dare fucking tease me now, you smarmy mother-fucking bastard, fuck me!"
"Don't you mean smarmy brother-in-law fucking bastard?"
"I hate you," I growl. He smirks, pulls out, and rams back into me, hard. I whine, trying to remember to breathe, but I pick up the pace quickly, riding him. Remembering I'm still holding the shower nozzle, I move it so the water hits my prick, because it feels fucking good.
We've both been needing, so he comes sooner than usual. I love the way he orgasms, because they're long and powerful, so he doesn't stop thrusting for even a moment while he's cock's pumping into me, filling me with his seed. I ride it out, shuddering, and hit my own orgasm near the end of his, yelling, with my legs wrapped tight around his waist.
He laughs at he recovers, kissing me. "You needed that, didn't you?"
"Fuck yes," I reply, letting him pull out.
He smirks and grabs the soap, starting to clean me off, in between a few sweet, lingering after-sex kisses.
"What're you going to call him?" He's cuddling me again, and I don't even mind.
"Bedsprings," I say, after a moment.
He's confused. "Bedsprings?"
"Don't ask." I grin, leaning up to give him a kiss, laughing.