Little Blue Heart
-Written for beans827, my hardworking, dedicated, patient beta on her birthday- Love you bb!
Lots of hugs and smooches to pyjammies for beta'ing, and vbfb1 for the lovely banner.
Stephenie Meyer owns the characters – I just used them to write about beans' favourite things!
Part 1 – Just a little crush
Some might call it a little obsessive, I call it dedicated.
Just because I knew some little known facts about a gorgeous, lean, twink porn star, did not mean I was a stalker. I knew these things because I was interested in the enigma that was Jazz Hale and not just for his bleached blond hair, award-winning peen and round-cheeked ass. He was soft-hearted, wickedly funny and smart. When he smiled, and looked deep into the camera with those amazing blue eyes, something twisted in my chest as much as it caused my cock to harden and my balls to pull up.
When reading his tweets and blogs, it made me mad how people would discount his opinion on things merely because of what his job was. As if he had no brain, or he was not worthy of using it because people looked down on what he did for a living. Hypocrites – why would they be following him on twitter and blogs if they themselves did not watch him in his movies? They were the brainless ones.
I admit that I was first drawn to the same things as everyone else. Jazz did have the most delicious peen in gay porn as far as I was concerned. He was larger than average at eight and a half inches and of decent girth. It was a lovely shade of pale pink, and when he was close to coming, the head of his cock and half way down his member would darken to an almost crimson blush—lovely. His leanly muscled torso gave no indication of the gloriousness of his rounded behind. Full firm cheeks, with a pale, pretty rosebud—eminently lickable in my book. That gorgeous ass would be recognisable anywhere by its sheer perfection, but around two months ago Jazz had added a tattoo. It made my job that much easier searching through the myriad of porn on-line, most of which was rubbish.
A small blue heart now occupied the space several inches to the right of his left hipbone, just above his biteable butt cheek. I was fascinated by the tattoo, the only artwork adorning his beautiful body, and often wondered what the significance of the piece was. He was very tight-lipped on his blog, and when asked, only answered that the reason was private and would only ever be disclosed to the person it was meant for. Inexplicably that statement made my gut clench, and I felt jealous of whoever it was that held Jazz's heart. Which was completely ridiculous – the chances of me meeting this gorgeous guy in real life were beyond impossible.
The biggest hurdle was that I lived in Seattle, and Jazz apparently lived somewhere in California. Actually that was probably not the biggest hurdle – in truth, I was the biggest hurdle. Even if perchance we would somehow be in the same room, I might as well be across the ocean. I am the definition of nerdy. Tall, lanky, uncontrollable hair, pulled too much as I performed scientific experiments at the medical laboratory I was employed by. I also wear glasses. And, did I mention that I'm an avid collector of comics? No? Well…you see my point.
The scientist in me tried to analyse exactly what it was that drew me to this guy, why no one else seemed to evoke the same feelings in me that he did. Why I was disinterested in watching porn unless he was in it, barely becoming hard and losing focus within a few minutes. Jazz was rather discerning though and his movies were not as prolific as some of the more jaded and boring porn stars; they were so much better. He was so sensual and sexual, putting his all into every movement, every action. The way his lean body sinuously stretched across the bed, undulating with the pleasure of everything he was experiencing. And he liked to kiss. I liked that. A lot. It made his flicks so much more than just the fucking and getting off.
Most of the other 'stars' grunted and muttered the occasional 'deeper' and generally acted as if they'd rather be anywhere else but there. Jazz moaned deep and long when it was good and hissed if someone ventured too deep. His eyes would glaze over and his chest and face would take on a lovely pinkish tinge when he was aroused, and his cock would be rock hard, bouncing away uninhibitedly as Jazz was fucked. My eyes would be glued to the screen, mesmerized by his cock bouncing up and down, and around, while my hand was wrapped around my own.
The highlight of my year was the day, a couple of months ago, Jazz, or more likely someone who administers his blog, answered one of my comments. This particular day, he'd commented on the state of gay marriage legislation with valid comments and arguments. One asshole had written in and said he was more interested in sticking his cock in Jazz's cute ass than reading the drivel he wrote. I was so livid that day that I propelled myself from simply a lurker to a member of the website so that I could give this jerk a piece of my mind.
I can't recall the exact words I used, but basically told the dickhead that everyone had a brain and a right to exercise it. If he didn't like it he need only press the little 'x' on the top right hand corner of the screen and piss the fuck off without insulting someone who did not deserve it. And furthermore, that Jazz had extremely well-reasoned points and was obviously so much more than peen and ass, a point he should well remember if he was a genuine fan.
I was still sitting there fuming ten minutes later when two responses to my comment popped up into my email inbox as alerts. One was from 'Big'n'Nasty', the jerk, telling me to mind my own business. The other was from Jazz himself, according to the comment anyway. He thanked me profusely for seeing more to him than his on-screen persona and that he would love to chat more with me about my view of the current state of the legislation. I was too nervous to reply back of course, but continued to lurk, avidly lapping up any information that Jazz chose to blog about. I would make the odd comment here and there about topics, and each and every time, Jazz would reply so fast I'd swear he was on waiting for my avi to pop up. I cursed my shyness for never responding, especially to the final comment when Jazz said that he wouldn't bite (too hard) if I replied.
After my uncharacteristic outburst I started to feel a little hypocritical, as I continued to avidly search for new clips, and re-watch old favorites, of Jazz. I did appreciate his mind but I don't think I could ever be blind to his more obvious attributes. I did find myself watching his face more closely than I did before his comment back to me, looking for something but I wasn't sure what. Take tonight for example: in his most recently posted video, which was now almost two months old, I thought I detected something a little wistful in his eyes as he bent over the arm of a couch, his back arched and this legs spreadeagled to show off his ass to best advantage as it was being fucked. But the look was gone before I was even sure it was there. He'd arched back, and tangled his fingers in his lover's hair as he kissed him passionately, his eyes closed to me.
The camera angle switched to a shot over the other guy's shoulder as his dick slid in and out of Jazz. This was my favourite camera angle. I could almost imagine I was looking down and that it was my hard cock easing itself in and out of that tight hole. His perfect ass looked like it clung to the dick as it slid out of him and I tightened my grip around the head of my cock as I pumped it in time to the movements on the screen in front of me. My moans echoed around my bedroom in tune with the sweet sounds of Jazz being fucked. I watched the long fingered hands, not unlike my own, as they stroked Jazz's back and sides as he slowly eased in and out, before tightening around his hips as the pace of the thrusting increased. When Jazz looked back over his shoulder with his hooded eyes fixed on mine as he came, pumping his cock furiously, I came with him, a loud moan echoing around my room.
My cock had barely stopped pulsing when there was a heavy thumping on my wall, and my room-mate and cousin, Emmett, yelled through the closed door.
"Dr. Nerd, stop wanking and hurry the fuck up. I'm starving."
I used to be embarrassed at getting caught, but that had quickly gone by the wayside after living with Emmett for a month. He walked around naked most mornings with a massive woody as he was eating breakfast and reading the paper. More times than I care to remember I'd arrived home to Emmett wanking on the couch in full view of the front door, his track pants pooled around his ankles and a box of tissues beside him. I refused point blank his suggestion of joining him on the couch for a group wank the first time he'd uttered the words. I shuddered at the memory – firstly the screen was full of pink nasty pussy – so not my thing, and the thought of getting it out and getting busy with my cousin sitting right next to me was more than a little repugnant. Emmett had just shrugged his shoulders and continued as if I wasn't there. I'd scuttled to my room and found my favourite Jazz vid to replace that memory with.
After a quick trip to the local pizza shop and gorging ourselves on deep dish pizza, Emmett had left to meet up with his girlfriend at her place and I returned home. I thought about having another wank so turned my computer back on, but thoughts of Jazz were pushed to the background as my computer pinged with a Skype chat from one of my comic group buddies. My other not-so-guilty pleasure!
The excitement within the group was heating up as we were, all ten of us, due to meet in a few days at Comic Con in San Diego. All of us were regular commentators on various comic lover blogs around the traps and had got to know each other quite well over the last year. We'd even moved to Skype as a group to be able to chat in real time on occasions, particularly when a new comic reprint was due to come out or a special edition. We'd even thought up a group name for ourselves, Comicals, so that we would keep a continuous chat running.
My comic buddy online tonight was code-named Flash. We'd all picked our favourite super hero as our 'handle'. Mine was Doctor Strange. Flash was my favourite of the group, we seemed to have the most in common, not least a preference for men. We'd spent many an evening pining over the dearth of gay comic super-hero's around, and in one epic all night chat a few months ago, had even outlined some ideas for a gay comic we joked about Flash one day writing and illustrating. Flash had asked the next day if I'd mind if he played around with our ideas a bit to see what he could come up with. Of course I said, yes, the rough pictures he'd drawn and sent over Skype showed me how skilled he was at it.
I was smiling tonight as my fingers flew over the keys chatting about the Con in a few days. I'd not dated for a while, not having met anyone who'd peaked my interest enough, and secretly, I was hoping that Flash and I might click in person. I know I fantasised over meeting Jazz Hale but realistically he was out of my league. I couldn't imagine having all night chats about anything and everything with him, not least because he would make me tongue-tied, but also I severely doubted he would be into comics too, and that did occupy a lot of my spare time and budget lately.
My smile grew even wider when Flash informed me that we'd been allocated to share a room by Kick Ass. He'd apparently put all ten names in a hat, and drawn two out at a time to allocate the twin hotel rooms. I was really looking forward to this weekend even more now. I'd heard a rumour that there was a new comic book series being promoted and was very excited about it. Flash said that he'd heard the same thing and that he'd already booked us in for the launch. The way he typed 'us' made my heart beat a little bit faster. We'd chatted and even flirted a bit online, but nothing had been really said about the possibility of what might happen when we got together, other than plans to attend various events and gatherings. Things might be looking up.
After Flash logged off citing an early morning appointment, I thought about going back to looking for more Jazz porn but decided instead to pack for the weekend. The next few days were going to be crazy busy at work and I didn't want to forget anything. I chucked in the box of condoms and packets of lube I'd purchased the other day. It might be wishful thinking but I used to be a boy scout and I never wanted to be caught unprepared.
End Note: Today, 15 July is my beta, Beans827's birthday and because she has been such a wonderful friend and supporter of my writing (especially those pesky tense problems I have) I wanted to write a little one- shot for her. As per usual, I am a wordy bitch and the fic is a little longer….
Part 2 – More than meets the eye – coming soon