Lost in Lust

"Jason," she murmured drowsily as he caressed her curls. They were lying nude and entangled in front of a roaring fire, having just made wild, abandoned love five times in the last half hour. "We have to talk about us," her voice was small and uncertain, as he alternated sucking on her upper and lower lusciously full, ruby hued lips. His hands sensually caressed every inch of her warm, bare skin which he could reach without exerting himself. "Okay," she said with a lust filled sigh, giving herself fully up to his expert ministrations, "But after this next orgasm we are definitely going to have that long overdue relationship talk."

"Sure thing," Jason said agreeably though he wasn't really listening, 'Why did women always have to talk even when they should be concentrating on the mutual exchange of physical pleasure that was the whole point of sex?' He thought irritably. He had relinquished her lips (boy was he regretting that!) and now he was delicately nibbling on her ears.

During moments of quiet reflection…hey, who was he kidding? It was more accurate to say that during those rare fifteen minute breaks when he didn't have a half dozen women lined up waiting to be ravished by him, and he had a chance to be by himself and maybe breathe for a short while, he would worry a little about his proclivity toward biting, nibbling and even grazing on various parts of the female anatomy. It wasn't like there was any nutritional value involved in the behavior. As an added bonus to indulging his inner sexual carnivore, he often broke out in hives in response to the various perfumes and body lotions which they appeared to inevitably wear…Actually that was another topic he would often ponder during his infrequent sexual lulls,

'Why did they pour that smelly stuff on with such abandon as Spinelli would say?'

Jason was distracted from the by now rote performance of his duty as stallion in residence by the tantalizing thought of the young hacker's neck. Over the years he had made a study of the boy's neck-the delicate nape, the translucent skin which blushed at the slightest provocation (Jason considered it his duty, whenever possible, to be such an agent provocateur), and the throbbing pulse points he just knew he could suckle on contentedly for hours. There was one particular spot just below his left ear which Jason was convinced would taste absolutely sensational.

A sudden coursing of pure longing raced through his veins as he ached for the boy from the pink room to magically supersede the women lodged between his thighs doing her best to get his recalcitrant member to salute. From the muffled sound that escaped her occupied mouth he could tell she felt vindicated in her attempt but he could have told her it was the lover in his mind and not the one lying on the quilt with him who had caused such a sought after surge in tumescence.

He groaned in frustration, it had been years-three long years-since he had first started having sexual fantasies about Spinelli. His wanton ways, his playboy reputation, his status as the Don Juan of Port Charles were all nothing to him if he couldn't have the one lover he craved. So, it seemed things had reached a climax and he didn't mean the familiar upswell he could feel that meant he would be coming any moment now. No, it was time, he was going after Spinelli and he was going to snatch him away from right between the manicured fingers of all his various blonde bimbos and make him his once and for all. He would show his grasshopper what being a Master was all about.

Lying there, sweat soaked, as the woman collapsed on his chest, he contemplated his plan, his methodology. Suddenly Jason sat bolt upright, uncaring of his companion's exhausted moan of protest. He didn't even register her presence. He had an idea and it was a doozy. He knew for a fact that there was a 'Lost' marathon on tomorrow night in honor of the new season starting up. If there was one immutable aspect of his roommate's behavior he could rely upon, it was that he would be bolted to the sofa tomorrow night sans Maxie who couldn't stand the show's lack of fashion sense.

So, Jason thought to himself with a self satisfied smirk, 'I think I might just pop up a bowl of extra buttery popcorn and plunk myself right down on the couch next to Spinelli.'

Yes, that was brilliant, he would sit next to his oblivious but sexily adorable roommate and beguile him with his newfound interest in the television pop phenomena that was 'Lost'. Jason knew only the vaguest outline of the show's plot-something about a plane crash stranding a group of people on an island. Still, that was perfect, Spinelli would love to enlighten his mentor and meanwhile he would plop that bowl of hot buttery steamy goodness right smack down into the hacker's lap.

His eyes glazed over and he started getting hard again just thinking about it. The woman looking down at his revitalizing penis in amazement said in a hoarse, aghast whisper, "again?" Jason ignored her comment, his mind was elsewhere. He could readily envision the scene. He would have carte blanch in touching Spinelli as he innocently and consistently reached over to get some hot, salty popcorn from the bowl positioned in that delectable location he himself would be occupying before the night was over.

"Oops," he grinned wickedly to himself, licking his lips in anticipation as he envisioned a variety of potential scenarios, "Sorry, I just dropped one there Spinelli, let me see if I can get it out before you're burned."

Or there could be, "Whoops! Did that go down your shirt? I am all butterfingers tonight. You know butter is so greasy and I wouldn't want it to stain your shirt, let's get that off you before that happens…"

Immersed in his thoughts of pale, perfect, velvet skin that would be all his to stroke, to touch, to limn with his tongue and lips it took a moment for Jason to be called back to his current reality. Somehow a second woman was now lying next to him. For someone else who wasn't the stud muffin that Jason was, it might have been a bit disconcerting, but it had happened to him before and it didn't always stop with just one additional nocturnal visitor either. They were speaking, asking him something which he hadn't heard. Jason was so entirely miserable as his fantasy about Spinelli evaporated, popped out of his thoughts like a red lust filled balloon, he almost snarled at them, a single syllable of vicious uncaring inquiry, "What?'

Unperturbed by his unexpected display of temper, they asked in bright tandem, "Jason, did you use condoms?"

He glared at the two mental midgets who were smiling at him in unconscious synchrony, "Did you see any?" He asked irritably, "I never use them, birth control is your responsibility!" It wasn't bad enough they pestered him night and day, now they also expected him to shell out for condoms. Anyhow, he wasn't about to sheath the magnificence that was his stock in trade as a world renowned lover, condoms blocked sensation, everyone knew that.

"Oh," they said, their eyes lighting up lasciviously as they contemplated a brief nine months from now when a blonde haired, cerulean eyed little bundle of joy would be gazing up at each of them as Jason stood proudly by, his arm curled lovingly around their shoulders. Such delusional daydreams were obviously a negative side effect of watching too many episodes of 'Big Love'.

'Yep,' Jason thought to himself contentedly, the birth control conversation not even penetrating his awareness as he woodenly went through the well worn mechanics of divine sexual artistry that were his trademark as a legendary lover. 'I think it's time I figured out what all the fuss is about that 'Lost' show, and Spinelli is just the one to show me…'

He smiled in satisfaction at the thought of the inevitable result of the successful implementation of his plan to seduce an unsuspecting Spinelli. Meanwhile, both of the women privately took credit for producing an outcome which in actuality belonged to a geeky, shaggy haired computer hacker whose definition of must see television was about to undergo a soul altering transformation.

"Tune in tomorrow," was Jason's last coherent thought as he rolled over, wrapping himself in the quilt, as the fire slowly died down sleep overtook him. He hadn't given a moment's consideration to his two buxom guests who pouted in disbelief at his unresponsive back, 'Where were they supposed to sleep?'