|The Velvet Rope
Author: starfish422 PM
Slash: DD AU outtake featuring Jacey and a certain gay male Latin singer. Written for Lastof10 for her recent birthday. Pure porn and - I would imagine - poorly-translated Spanish.Rated: Fiction M - English - Romance - Words: 3,378 - Reviews: 29 - Favs: 18 - Follows: 3 - Published: 08-15-11 - Status: Complete - id: 7289287
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
This is a love letter to one of my favourite people, Lisa. I wrote it for her birthday a few weeks ago after coming across an email she'd sent long ago telling me of her fantasy DD outtake. It's a long way from anything DD and entirely non reality-based, but it's everything she requested. :) She told me I should post it as an outtake...and so I've done.
xoxo Katie Starfish
The energy is amazing. I've never been anywhere or seen anything to compare with this constant barrage of visual and aural stimulation. Lights flashing, a throbbing Latin beat pounding in my ears and beneath my feet, and amidst it all, a beautiful Puerto Rican god onstage, with hips swivelling through dance moves that should be illegal.
From my front row seat I can see every drop of sweat that glistens on his exposed chest, the warm brown of his eyes and the short scruff of beard covering his jaw, framing those lips...god, I'd love to suck on those lips, feel them make their way down my chest, over my stomach and all the way to...
My cock hardens painfully in my jeans. Yeah, I was caught up in the hype long ago when he was livin' la vida loca, but I was really just a kid then. It wasn't till he came out last year that my fantasies went into overdrive. Picturing his gorgeous face, moans escaping his lips as I go down on his huge (of course) cock has been in my top three spank bank files since I read those six beautiful words: "I am a fortunate homosexual man."
When I heard Ricky was coming to Austin I knew I had to be there. I didn't even try to get someone to come with me – I want to be here by myself with no friends to distract me. I paid half a month's rent to get a ticket that would put me as close as possible – worth every single penny. Now he's only a few feet from me, singing a heartfelt love song in Spanish, and it feels like I could reach out and touch him.
The rest of the concert passes in a cloud of hormones and desire. After, I follow the flow of the crowd out onto the street. I stand there for a while in the humid night air, feeling dazed, at loose ends. I want...something. I know I can't go home and just go to bed like any other night. Almost involuntarily my feet start to move, carrying me to Sadie's, one of the most exclusive clubs in Austin. The chances of me getting in should be next to nothing – I've been here twice before with no luck – but contrary to all logic, very soon I find myself standing in line, where a bouncer points at me and waves me in.
I've never been in a club like this before. I don't know what I expected but it looks pretty much like most of the better clubs in the city. The drinks are fucking expensive, probably twice what I've ever paid anywhere else, so there's one difference. There are a lot of really beautiful people here, both gay and straight, and to one side near the front is a staircase that leads up to a VIP area. I'm still standing near the bar when a large group comes in, attracting much attention and causing commotion among the bar patrons. Whoever it is obviously has quite an entourage and a number of security people around them, but I don't see anyone I recognize, until the group passes close by where I'm standing...
...OH. MY. GOD.
It's him. He's surrounded by people and I can barely see him, but for an instant he looks at me and our eyes lock. Almost immediately he's rushed along with the rest of his entourage, but somehow in only a millisecond he manages to thoroughly eye-fuck me.
He vanishes up the stairs and I feel like the wind has been knocked out of me. I'm breathing deeply and clutching at the bar to remain upright. I can't believe he's here at the same club as me, just an invisible velvet rope separating us. I turn to lean back against the bar, planning to take a few moments to steady myself then head home. I figure that, between the concert and then the sighting, this night has already been about the best night of my life and I should just pack it in.
Not so fast.
I feel a hand on my arm and I turn to find a tall, very handsome Hispanic man with a gold cross and bulging biceps beside me. I figure he's going to hit on me, and I'm about to politely decline, but he doesn't give me the chance.
"Mr. Martin would like to invite you to join him upstairs," he says, not unkindly. Stunned, I can only stare dumbly at him. With a hint of a smile he adds, "If you're interested."
If I'm interested? "Uh...okay." So eloquent! But the man doesn't comment on my mealy-mouthed reply, just turns and places his hand on my elbow, gently guiding me through the crowd to the bottom of the staircase, where a club employee stands to prevent the undesirables from joining the beautiful people upstairs.
Honestly, I'm not quite sure how I'm managing to place one foot in front of the other, because it feels like my brain is short-circuiting. At the top of the stairs the man leans close and asks my name. "J-Jacey," I reply. He nods and continues to guide me to a grouping of couches where...god, it feels weird to even say it...Ricky Martin is sitting. There's a large group of people with him, probably twenty-five or so milling around, drinking and laughing. Ricky is talking to an older man, his manager perhaps, sipping what looks like something clear and fizzy with a lime in it.
We make our way to him and the man with me says, "Ricky, this is Jacey. Jacey, Ricky Martin."
And it happens. Ricky Martin looks directly at me, and he smiles. Not just a run of the mill smile – the kind that brings down choruses of angels and light from heaven. This man is the most beautiful man I've ever seen, and he is smiling at me.
And then he's holding out his hand to me and I'm taking it in mine – good hand, warm hand, firm grip – and shaking it, and he's asking me if I want something to drink and signalling a server to come over. And I still haven't said a word to him, and he's so relaxed and friendly, and it's Ricky Martin! And let me tell you, sometimes you hear of someone getting to meet a celebrity they love, and the person turns out to be a complete tool or an egotistical ass or whatever, and this? Is SO not that.
For the better part of the next hour, he is totally focused on me, asking me questions about myself and chatting with me like we're both just two regular guys who were recently introduced instead of what we are – an art student and a Latin god of sex. Once I relax a bit I find it surprisingly easy to talk to him. He occasionally reaches out to touch my arm where it rests on the back of the couch, more frequently as our conversation continues, until he is softly tracing his fingers up and down my forearm. My skin tingles as his fingertips pass back and forth, and it's making me so fucking hot.
Finally he reaches out, takes the empty glass from my hand and sets it on the low table in front of us. He stands and, holding his hands out to me he says, "Dance with me?"
I nod, taking his hands and letting him pull me to my feet. There's a small dance floor up here; he leads me to it before turning me around so my back is resting against his broad, muscled chest. His hands still holding mine, he wraps them around my waist and begins to sway to the pounding beat of the dance music spilling from the sound system. His hips swivel and mine make a somewhat pathetic attempt to follow them; he shifts his hands so they're on my hips and helps me mimic his movements.
With each thrust and swivel his cock rubs against my ass, making me imagine what it must look like, all swollen and flushed deep pink, a bead of moisture at the tip. His hand slides across my chest and then slowly, deliberately, he presses his hips harder against my ass. "Tu eres muy sexy. Me pones tan caliente," he moans in my ear. I groan. It's too surreal, too difficult to believe this is happening to me – that I'm the one making him feel this way.
He turns me in his arms to face him. His beautiful deep brown eyes and those soft lips are so close. He leans in close and kisses me, soft at first but quickly deepening into passionately making out there on the dance floor. For several songs we continue to grind on each other, completely engrossed in the sensations and the touch and the smell – it's intoxicating. My cock is so hard, weeping with desire until I have a wet spot on my briefs.
Just when I think I'm about to be reduced to coming in my pants in front of everyone, he turns to one of his security staff and tells him he's leaving. The man goes to see to the valet, and Ricky turns back to me. "Jacey—" The way he says it sends tingles all the way to my toes—"Will you come with me?"
"Fuck," I gasp.
He smiles. "Well, that's what I was hoping. Only if you want to, though – I don't you to feel pressured into something you don't want."
"I do," I reply. "I really, really do."
"Let's go, then." He wraps an arm securely around my waist and we head back toward the staircase. Stupidly I wonder whether his entire group will follow, but he just waves to them, wishing them a good night as we pass; only his security come with us. A few moments later we've slid into the back seat of a stretch Cadillac Escalade limousine. His driver and a couple of security staff are in the front; though we have enough room back here for at least ten people, we have it to ourselves.
The instant the vehicle moves, his hands are on me, pushing my t-shirt up to expose my chest. His lips latch onto one of my nipples, sucking insistently. I gasp and arch under him, every nerve in my body singing with need after so much sensory input. I tug at his shirt; he has to release my nipple to pull it off over his head, so I shuck mine at the same time. He gently pushes me down across the width of the seat and covers my body with his own, kissing me deeply again; his bare chest against mine feels incredible.
He manages to insinuate one hand between us and strokes down the front of my jeans, rubbing the outline of my cock. I work up the nerve to reply to the filthy things he's murmuring to me in Spanish. "Me muero de ganas," I moan, hoping my rusty grammar won't distract him or kill the mood.
If he minds, he doesn't show it. He pulls back enough to whisper hoarsely, "Quiero chupar." His hands are already undoing my jeans and pulling them down.
"Si," I reply, lifting my ass so he can get my briefs off. When my hot, hard dick is finally exposed, no longer trapped aching and needy, he takes a few seconds to just look at it, holding it in his hands before he goes down on me. And, oh my god, Ricky Martin's mouth is on my dick. Just the fact that he's sucking me off, instead of simply expecting me to go down on him, is surreal enough; but as it turns out, he's an extremely talented cocksucker. Like, better than every porn movie blow job you ever saw. He's doing things with his lips and tongue that I can't even identify.
It's too good, too good and it's such a short time later that I have to push him away, begging him to stop. Yes, I'm sure I'll go down in gay history as the queen who asked Ricky Martin to stop blowing him, but at least it'll be because I was asking him to fuck me. I slide off the seat onto my knees, quickly unzipping his jeans to find nothing beneath them – nothing but a glorious, hard, uncut cock. "Oh my god," I groan, unable to stop myself from licking a broad stripe up the underside. He hisses, pressing closer to me; I open my mouth wide and let that gorgeous, thick cock slide down my throat. I try to give him as good as I got. Trying to get that monster into my mouth eventually makes my jaw ache, but it's so worth it. The noises he makes are very encouraging, and hearing how much he's enjoying it has the effect of turning me into a total cock slut. As long as he keeps making those sounds there's no way I'm going to stop voluntarily.
He holds out for a long time – the man has some stamina – but eventually his hands rest on my head, gently pulling me off. He leans forward to kiss me. "Me tu voy a follar," he whispers. My cock, twitching and dripping between my legs, throbs in anticipation.
He reaches into a small compartment beside the seat and pulls out condoms and lube. He wastes no time rolling on a condom and lubing his cock. I climb up onto the seat and, facing him, straddle his thighs. He grasps his cock in one hand and lines up the head with my ass. "You drive till you're comfortable," he tells me, letting me take control. I go slow, letting it do the job of gradually opening me up, a fraction of an inch at a time. I've never had anything this big inside me before, not even the dildo I used this afternoon when the anticipation for the concert was too much to withstand. It takes a while, with me sweating and panting, and Ricky doing the same beneath me, murmuring encouragement, licking my nipples and rubbing the pre-cum around the frenulum of my cock; but finally he's almost all the way in.
And then I start to talk dirty. "Si asi, que grande, que caliente, asi, metemela hasta adentro..." He complies, flexing his hips up to complete that last little bit. God, he's in so far it almost hurts; I didn't know I could take something like this. He pulls out about halfway and smoothly slides back in...repeats it...and establishes a slow but steady rhythm, bottoming out on each incredibly deep thrust. His strong hands grip my ass, keeping me spread wide so my ass can swallow every delicious inch.
"Toque su pene," he groans. Immediately I do, one hand going to my cock and the other coming up to twist and pull my nipple. He shifts under me, giving him a slightly different angle, and the change brings his cock into constant contact with my prostate, caressing it with every stroke. My body feels like it's about to burst into flames.
"Fuck," he swears in English, slowing down almost to no movement. "You're so hot and tight...feels so good. I'm too close..."
"I am too," I pant. "I'm right on the edge. Fuck, you're huge."
"You want me to fuck you till you come, bellaco?" he groans.
"Fuck, make me come!"
"Si...asi..." He thrusts deep, hard, fast, relentless, over and over and I'm coming, my jizz spurting all over his hard, muscular abs. He stiffens beneath me, pushes deep one last time and grunts, swearing and shaking, coming deep inside me. I hold on until his body goes slack, and then I let myself fall forward onto his chest.
With my body trembling, my skin sweat-slick and my breath coming in shaky gasps, I am the very definition of fucked out. Never in my life have I been fucked so thoroughly, nor have I come so hard. It's at least fifteen minutes before I can even think about moving; in that time Ricky softens and slips out of me, but neither of us move or even speak. Eventually, with wobbly legs I lift my body off his. He reaches across the seat to where a Kleenex box sits, and pulls out a handful to give to me. He has his own mess – or rather my mess – to clean up from his stomach.
Silently we put our clothes back on. He opens a bottle of sparkling water and hands it to me, then does the same for himself and pats the seat beside him. I slide close and he puts an arm around me. Not a word has been exchanged between us since we finished, until now.
"Thank you, Jacey," he murmurs. "You're a beautiful, sexy man. It was my pleasure to be with you tonight."
"I...I don't know what to say," I tell him honestly. "I still can't quite believe it happened. It was amazing."
He smiles and places a kiss on my forehead. "For me as well." After another moment he asks tentatively, "So...where can we drop you off? Where's home?"
I tell him my street address, and he pushes a button to talk to the driver in the front seat. I blush, having forgotten that there were other people in the vehicle, despite the fact that we've been just driving around all this time. It takes a good half hour before we reach my place, and it's spent mostly in silence; but it's a comfortable silence. He keeps his arm around me, plays with my hair and occasionally kisses my cheek or my head. For my part, I remain snuggled up to my fantasy for as long as possible, knowing it's coming to an end soon.
Finally the vehicle comes to a stop and turns off. Ricky puts a hand under my chin and lifts my face to his. "Thank you again for being with me tonight."
"Thank you," I reply. He kisses me softly on the lips, then I pull away and smile once more before slipping out the open car door. His security guy, the one who found me in the bar earlier, stands beside the car and closes the door when I'm out.
"Did you enjoy yourself, Jacey?" he asks with a knowing smile.
Grateful for the dark that conceals most of my furious blush, I reply, "I did. It's a nice car."
He laughs out loud and reaches out for a fist bump, which I return. "You have a good night," he says, returning to the front seat of the vehicle.
I stand on the sidewalk in front of my house and watch until the massive vehicle's taillights have disappeared down the street. It's still pretty hard to believe that the sort of thing you only fantasize about can actually happen to you. But as I turn to head into my place, I'm struck by the truth of six beautiful words:
I am a fortunate homosexual man.