You Get What You Paid For Ch. 03

He turns to me and smiles, nodding. "I know." He sniffles a little as if he had just caught himself before he started crying. "I missed you."

I feel goosebumps all over me. On the inside, too. Christ, the things he does to me... "Bet you say that to all the boys," I say, mostly to deflect my need to smile like a goon.

Adam laughs. "I promise I don't." For a moment, we're just smiling at each other, and I'm relieved when he speaks up because I was on the edge of gushing over him. "Tell me about this boyfriend of yours."

I roll my eyes. "I don't wanna talk about him."

He laughs. "Trouble in paradise?"

"No. I told you, everything's... fine." Just fine -- and not comparable to how I feel with and about Adam. There's just something about the way my body responds to his presence that's impossible to ignore.

"'Fine'," he teases, chuckling to himself.

"Shut up," I say. "Tell me about you instead. What have you been up to?"

"Me?" he asks before shrugging a little. "Not much. Working a little. My grandparents are in town so I've been taking a little time off here and there. Playing a lot more music too."

I almost forgot he plays saxophone. "You any good?"

He looks at me as if I've offended him. "Am I any good? Hell yeah, I am," he says, laughing.

I just smirk. "I'm gonna need proof."

He stares at me before cocking his chin. "Where's your laptop?"

I hop off my bed and grab my laptop from my desk. As I bring it back to bed, I log in quickly and make sure I don't have anything incriminating up, like porn, or Adam's profile. "What do you want?" I ask.

"My email," he says, reaching his arms out and beckoning for the laptop. I hand it to him and he sets it in his lap, pulling up Chrome and logging into his Gmail. After a quick search through his inbox, he finds what he was looking for: an email with a video attached to it. "Aha!" He downloads it, and when the video pops up on the screen, he tilts the laptop towards me.

Immediately, the sound of his jazz band fills the room. It consists of a drummer, a pianist, a bassist, a guitarist, two trumpets, and two saxophonists, one of which is Adam. It looks like they're practicing in a studio or something, jamming out to something upbeat. I smile slightly, partially watching Adam's finger tap along to the intricate rhythm before he points to the screen. "Wait for it," he says, and then, Adam gets his shot at a solo. It's just him, the bass, the drums, and hints of piano while he goes through riffs and runs with total ease. I can't help but smile while I watch him play. Even he looks like he's smiling in the video, his fingers going wild.

"Alright, I'm impressed," I admit with a laugh.

"Told you," he says with a grin. Suddenly, someone lets out a whoop when Adam hits a high, elongated trill, and whoever's recording turns the camera around towards the small crowd behind them. Amongst a dozen or so people is an elderly couple, both with bright, excited smiles. "Those are my grandparents," Adam points out.

"Really?" I ask, leaning in to look at them better. The grandfather seems particularly energized by the music. "They're so cute."

"They really are. And, as you can tell, they love jazz."

I smile. "Do they know what you do for work?"

He snorts a bit before closing the laptop. I'm a little disappointed because I wanted to keep watching. "Oh yeah."

I'm surprised that he told them. "Even the part about... y'know... men?"

He laughs. "Not explicitly, but... I feel like they might know."

"How do they--?"

"Feel about it?" he asks. "They hate what I do. Would much rather me pursue jazz than, y'know, sell myself."

I wince. "Jazz is a little more noble, no?"

He laughs. "Much more righteous," he teases before shaking his head. "My grandma thinks I'm going to hell." Then he looks at me and smiles. "Seems we're both bound for eternal damnation, aren't we? A gay guy and a prostitute?"

"You could probably convince God that it's not technically prostitution," I say.

"Sure, but at the end of the day, I'm still fucking dudes."

I laugh. "But you don't love them."

"I don't think that matters to God."

Fair point. "Well, then, maybe you're worse off than I am. You get more action than I do."

He chuckles a bit, nodding. "I better start praying for forgiveness soon." Then Adam turns to me. "Do you think I'm proud?"

I look at him in confusion. "What?"

"Like, am I too cocky?"

I grin. "Where is this coming from?"

"My grandma says that's my deadly sin," he says. "Pride. But I think she's just reading my playful defiance incorrectly," he adds with a smile.

I shake my head. I can see it pretty clearly: Adam shirking religion and probably cracking inappropriate jokes at the expense of his grandmother. All in good fun, of course. But I decide to mess with him a bit. "Maybe Grandma's right," I tease.

He hits me and I laugh, pushing his hand away. "What's YOUR sin?" he asks.

"My sin? I'm an angel."

"Bullshit," he says with a grin.

I give it some thought before saying "Probably envy."

He looks intrigued. "Really? Envy?"

"Yeah, big time," I tell him. "I'm envious of... I don't know." I let out a nervous laugh. "Everyone."

"Why?"

Why? Countless reasons, my sweet Adam. "Well, perfect example: you're confident and good-looking and smart and care-free, and I'm--"

But Adam cuts me off. "Don't."

I look at him, uncomfortable with the look he's giving me. "Don't what?"

"Do that 'put yourself down' thing you always do."

I blush. "Do I do that that often?"

"Often enough," he says. "Makes me wonder why."

"Um. I don't know," I tell him. "It's kind of a habit."

"A bad one," Adam says before looking at me curiously. "Not that you asked, but here's my psychoanalysis of you."

I laugh. "Oh God."

He smiles. "I think it probably stems from your parents," he says, "and their rejection of you. I mean, you're always making little comments about how undesirable you are, how ugly and dumb you are, blah fuckin' blah. Which are lies, by the way."

"Shut up," I say, laughing and hiding my face.

"Am I wrong?" he asks, and then he chuckles before saying "Don't answer that. I'm not wrong. Because I'm always right. And Mr. I'm-Always-Right is telling you that you deserve good, Teddy. You deserve it, and you'll get it."

I peer up at him slightly, half of my face hidden by my pillow. "Sucks that you're straight."

I can't believe I just said that. I want to do nothing more besides swallow my words and never speak again, but thankfully he doesn't read too much into it. He just chuckles and smiles at me. "You saying you'd treat me right?"

Going along with the playful tone, I say "I'm a little offended that you have to ask that question."

Adam bursts out laughing before clutching his side, clearly trying to fight the urge to laugh so that he doesn't hurt himself. "Oh, Teddy," he says, chuckling. "Teddy, Teddy, Teddy."

"What?" I ask, amused.

He smiles. "I love you, man," he says, and I immediately tense up. But then he keeps speaking. "I'll deny it if you say it, but you're my favorite client." He chuckles, scratching his stomach. "Kinda wish you weren't dating. Is that selfish?"

I feel a strange mix of emotions. Being the favorite of anything is generally a compliment, but it's hard to accept that compliment when it's tied to a word like "client." It still seems like we're not acknowledging our personal connection. It's a word that keeps us within the bounds of professionalism. Was that intentional? Probably not, but it still, in a weird way, hurts -- especially since any romanticism of his "I love you" was completely deflected by him tacking "man" at the end.

But I play it off as best I can. "Maybe a little," I say with a smile.

"Isn't that one of the deadly sins? No, right?"

"Greed," I clarify. "Or gluttony, I guess."

He laughs a little. "Maybe selfishness is a baby sin."

"Maybe," I say in a soft voice.

When we make eye contact, I can't help but feel them all over again: those stupid fucking butterflies. Two seconds ago, I felt hurt by him referring to me as nothing but a name on his customer list, and now, my stomach feels light and fluttery, the sensation slowly expanding towards my chest. I notice my heart rate more, too -- fast and alert. There's a sense of urgency within me now. Suddenly, I need to kiss him. I need to feel him. I need him to feel me. The need sweeps over me so suddenly and so completely that I could almost cry right now.

Adam's face shifts. "You okay?"

Apparently I AM crying. My eyes are welling up with tears, but I blink them away and keep myself composed. "Yeah, sorry." I wipe a stray tear away, feeling embarrassed.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I say, clearing my throat. "I'm just--" What? An idiot? Yep. That's it.

He smiles gently at me before shifting onto his side with a grunt and then reaching out for my shirt. "C'mere." I don't think about whether or not it's a good idea. I quickly slide forward and let him put his arm around me while I bury my face in his neck. I feel calm right now. Soothed. Protected from my feelings. That is, until he starts speaking again. "Don't be so down about it," he says. I open my eyes, still nuzzled into his neck and shoulder. Don't be so down about what? "You'll find someone who's perfect for you," he says. "Don't worry."

Is that why he thinks I'm upset? Relationship issues? Oh, Adam. Silly, naive Adam. Why'd you have to hit me with the "you'll find someone eventually" spiel? This situation makes me want to both crawl out of my skin and slap the hell out of him. And kiss him. And make love to him.

I'm so confused and torn. Sad and horny. Loving even though I'm not loved back. I grip onto Adam a little tighter as all my emotions blend into one motivation: closeness. I want closeness. If Jackson were here, I'd be on him, needy and desperate. But I've got Adam tonight, whether or not he wants me.

I kiss his neck a few times and Adam squirms a little. "Teddy?"

"Shhh," I say softly, continuing to kiss.

He grips my shoulders. "What are you doing?"

I sigh. "Please, Adam," I say softly. I sound so damn desperate, but in this moment, I couldn't care less. I just grab onto his shoulder with a tight grip to emphasize my need. "Please."

He leans back a little so that he can see my face, and he peers into my eyes, trying to understand what's going on. "You don't want to talk or anything?" he asks.

"I want you to do your job," I tell him. I'm sure that came off as harsh, because he raises his eyebrows a bit in surprise. Fucking hell. What's happening to me? I'm on an internal roller coaster right now, and I'm riding it blind. I sigh and try to shake my feelings off, pulling away from him and shifting onto my back. "Fuck. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," he says softly.

I just put my hands in my face, groaning. "I hate this. I fucking hate this."

"Hey," Adam says, and I feel him grab one of my wrists and pull my hand away from my face. Then he cups my face, tilting it towards him. "Talk to me."

All I do is sigh. "I'm never gonna get what I want, am I?"

I don't expect him to know what I'm talking about, to know what I'm implying. He looks just as confused as I feel. But his hand feels nice on my cheek, and his concerned gaze is somewhat comforting, so I let the moment linger. I need to get over him, though. I need to move on. I need to focus on what I have: Jackson. Jackson's good. He's good and funny and stable and sexy and he wants me for me, and that should be enough... So why isn't it?

I find myself staring at Adam for so long that I don't know who leans in first. Me, or Adam? Probably me. But all I know is that we meet halfway. Adam smoothly slides his hand to the back of my head and pulls me into him for that last inch, making our lips finally touch. Whatever confusion I felt, whatever anger I was harboring, it all evaporates as soon as we start kissing. This feels right. Regardless of the fact that I'll probably have to pay him after this, or the regret I'll probably feel when it's over, or the act he's putting on for my sake, I'm committed to this moment.

I slide my arm around him, careful not to hurt him as I slide even closer. Our kisses deepen, and I do my best not to moan too much since Adam isn't making a sound. He just has his fingers in my hair, gripping slightly before he starts to slide it down my back, grab my ass, and tug me close enough for our groins to touch.

I notice that I'm doing most of the grinding, but I don't care. I keep it up, locking our legs together and moving my hips against his as we kiss. My thigh resting on his hip gives him easy access to me, and I feel my body heat up as he slides a hand right up the leg of my boxers. His fingers grip one cheek before they tease in the crack, and I let out the softest moan when I feel him lightly brush against my hole.

He teases me a few times before rubbing it in slow circles with his middle finger. In response, I reach between us to grope his bulge. As soon as my hand makes contact, he grunts and breaks the kiss. I decide to make my move. I shift him onto his back and then carefully straddle his legs. Looking up at him, I pull his sweatpants down and move my head down to his crotch to inhale. He smells so good that my eyes flutter closed. It's that intoxicating musk. It makes my mouth water. I lick my lips before starting to lap at the fabric of his underwear, feeling out his cock through his boxer briefs. Then, I grip his bulge and wrap my lips around it, humming gently.

I peel back the boxers to give me access to his beautiful cock. I take a breath before lapping at his softie and then taking him into my mouth. I relish in the taste and the scent of him for a minute, anticipating the feeling of him hardening. But then I look up. He's biting his lip, closing his eyes. That's when I notice that he's not getting hard. So I stop. "You okay?" I ask. I shift my hand so that I'm rubbing his dick gently.

He opens his eyes and looks at me. "Yes," he says shortly.

"We don't have to--"

"Just... keep going," he says, looking down at my hand stroking him.

So I keep it up for another minute or so. Still no progress. "If you're not up to it, we can just--"

"Shhh," he says, cutting me off. I can't tell if he's trying to focus or trying to relax. He could still be in pain or something, or just not in the mood after his ordeal tonight. I should probably stop, right? He's only doing this for me. I'm about to spare him when he makes another request. "Kiss me."

If you say so. I let go of his cock and climb over him, leaning down to kiss him while making sure I don't put any of my weight on his side. Mostly, I just hover over him. As we kiss, though, he guides one of my hands right back to his cock, signaling for me to keep jerking him off. I do it slowly, pumping his dick and sliding my tongue against his.

My guess is he thought a little lip action would help him get it up -- and he was right. Soon, I feel life flooding into his dick. He gradually gets stiffer, filling my fist until he's almost rock hard and moaning against me. I rub the underside of his head with my thumb and he twitches slightly before letting out a small laugh against my lips.

I pull back a little. "Can I?" I ask.

He licks his lips slightly but just nods. I smile before going back to my original position, holding his hardness up and ogling it up close. Fucking beautiful. It's perfect, and I missed it. Jackson has a great dick (in fact, he's incredibly hung), but Adam's just has a certain appeal to it that I can't quite put my finger on. I kiss the center, then the head, and then wrap my lips around the tip. Adam lets out a moan when my tongue does a little dance around his glans, and I hear him inhale sharply through his nose when I take him in.

My goal is to take my time. I don't care how much it'll cost me. I just want to relish every moment I have with him, starting with his cock. Holding the base of his cock firmly, I keep my strides deep and extremely slow, my tongue lathering his cock in saliva. Every time I pull off, I give the head a kiss or a lick. Sometimes I'll run my moist lips down the sides of his shaft before sliding my tongue back up. This is me worshiping, practically. Even as I struggle repeatedly to take him into my throat, I keep on trying and maintain a slow, sensual, pace. By the end of this blowjob, he'll really know how into his cock I am.

When he says he's getting close, I pull off, giving him teasing strokes or kisses but making sure he doesn't cum. Not yet. Usually I'll switch over to his balls and completely focus on them while his body steps away from the edge of orgasm, slapping his hand away whenever he tries reaching for his dick to give himself relief. He's mine.

After a while, I pull off just so I can take my clothes off. I'm heating up and my cock is painfully hard in my underwear and I know Adam won't be bothered by my nudity. However, I'm surprised when, as I toss my underwear to the floor, he reaches forward to grab the head of my cock. I huff slightly before pushing my hips forward to allow him enough reach to wrap his fingers around it. He strokes me slowly, feeling me out with his fingers before he tugs me closer.

I look at him inquiringly, and he just says "Come up here."

I shift on the bed, kneeling beside his head. Adam doesn't let go of my cock until I'm close enough for him to crane his head forward and take me into his mouth. I moan softly, my hand automatically going to the back of his head to give him some support. It's hot to watch him blow me like this. His eyes are closed as he bobs back and forth, lightly touching himself with the exposed fingertips of his bandaged hand as his uninjured hand gropes my balls tenderly with his other hand. If ever my cock slips from his lips, he kisses and laps at the underside of my shaft, making my dick bounce and leak precum on his cheek.

He does take a breather pretty early on, though. However, as if to make up for it, the hand on my balls slides back a little further, and I feel his fingers glide across my taint until they get to my hole. I bite my lip, my grip on his hair tightening as he rubs my pucker back and forth. I close my eyes for a moment, enjoying the sensation before Adam's voice breaks my concentration.

"Sit on my face."

I open my eyes and look down at him. "What?"

"Sit on my face," he says again, and I notice a different look in his eyes. Something more fiery than I'm used to seeing.

"Um... You sure?" I ask, skeptical considering his injuries.

"Yes," he says, and he leaves it at that.

Well... Okay. I swing my legs over his body and straddle his torso before sliding back carefully. Adam leaves his arms by his sides, both hands lightly toying with his cock. When I push back enough, I feel Adam hum against me before that warm, wet tongue of his slides against my hole and sends shivers up my spine. I gasp, the sensitivity striking me as he laps over and over and over. I do everything in my power to focus and make sure I don't hurt him, but damn, it feels so good that it's almost blinding. Coupled with his scratchy facial hair, I'm on cloud nine.

I sit up pretty straight for a few minutes, grinding gently against his mouth and stroking myself as his tongue enters me. When I finally open my eyes, my sight hones in on his cock, and suddenly, I need my lips around it again. So I bend over, making sure he still has good access to my hole before I take the head of his dick into my mouth. He lets out a muffled groan against my ass, the sensation of which only excites me further. I don't go crazy with the blowjob. Mostly I just like how he feels taking up space in my mouth, and I bob slowly, moan, and let my tongue roam.

Eventually, he pats my arm and makes some sort of muffled noise against my ass. I'm not sure what he wants at first -- all I know is that his patting becomes more insistent, like he needs my attention. So I move off his cock and then pull away from his face. Immediately, Adam takes a huge breath, panting slightly, and I turn to face him. "Christ, are you okay?"