Hot Like Me
folder
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
16
Views:
3,895
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
16
Views:
3,895
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Ch. 2: "Dontcha"
Part II: "Dontcha"
Harley climbed the spiral staircase, the swirl of steps making him dizzy for a moment. Once upstairs, he tiptoed back into the bedroom and crawled under the covers, feigning sleep when Trey emerged from the bathroom.
Trey got dressed, a black Escada suit with a black shirt and silk tie, splashing a dash of CK2 on his neck before exiting the bedroom and closing the door behind him.
After hearing the front door close and Trey's car pull away, Harley tossed off the bedclothes. "Tits," he spat as he got out of bed.
The walk-in closet was calling his name.
---
"Holy God!" Jake exclaimed when he walked into the kitchen.
Harley was leaning against the center island, the Patrón bottle again in his hand.
"What do you think?" Harley asked with a lascivious grin.
Jake shook his head. "I think you're very lucky that I've come to like and respect your brother," he said. "If I didn't, I'd have absolutely no reservations about slamming your cute little ass to the tile and fucking the living daylights out of you right now. Sweet Jesus, Harley! Couldn't you have found something just a tad more provocative in your closet?"
Harley licked his lips and grinned. He knew he looked good. Simple, but good. Damn good.
Black, skintight, low-rise leather pants.
Black, ribbed-knit, wife-beater tank top.
Black, leather, chrome-buckled motorcycle boots.
Black eyeliner. Just a subtle touch.
All that black, contrasting with his pale, soft, alabaster skin.
Young, skinny, and painfully pretty.
"Holy God," Jake repeated.
"Please don't hate me because I'm beautiful," Harley pouted sexily, running his tongue across his bottom lip.
Jake cracked up. "Get your ass in the Jeep, Princess, before I lose all sense of decorum here." He opened the back door, and Harley prettily danced his way outside, drunkenly singing his favorite club song, the one by The Pussycat Dolls.
"Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me, don't you wish your girlfriend was a freak like me... don't you... don't you...."
~~~~
_______________________________________________
© Copyright 2006 Justin Tyler. All rights reserved. Publication or distribution of any kind is prohibited without the written consent of Justin Tyler.
________________________________________________
Harley climbed the spiral staircase, the swirl of steps making him dizzy for a moment. Once upstairs, he tiptoed back into the bedroom and crawled under the covers, feigning sleep when Trey emerged from the bathroom.
Trey got dressed, a black Escada suit with a black shirt and silk tie, splashing a dash of CK2 on his neck before exiting the bedroom and closing the door behind him.
After hearing the front door close and Trey's car pull away, Harley tossed off the bedclothes. "Tits," he spat as he got out of bed.
The walk-in closet was calling his name.
---
"Holy God!" Jake exclaimed when he walked into the kitchen.
Harley was leaning against the center island, the Patrón bottle again in his hand.
"What do you think?" Harley asked with a lascivious grin.
Jake shook his head. "I think you're very lucky that I've come to like and respect your brother," he said. "If I didn't, I'd have absolutely no reservations about slamming your cute little ass to the tile and fucking the living daylights out of you right now. Sweet Jesus, Harley! Couldn't you have found something just a tad more provocative in your closet?"
Harley licked his lips and grinned. He knew he looked good. Simple, but good. Damn good.
Black, skintight, low-rise leather pants.
Black, ribbed-knit, wife-beater tank top.
Black, leather, chrome-buckled motorcycle boots.
Black eyeliner. Just a subtle touch.
All that black, contrasting with his pale, soft, alabaster skin.
Young, skinny, and painfully pretty.
"Holy God," Jake repeated.
"Please don't hate me because I'm beautiful," Harley pouted sexily, running his tongue across his bottom lip.
Jake cracked up. "Get your ass in the Jeep, Princess, before I lose all sense of decorum here." He opened the back door, and Harley prettily danced his way outside, drunkenly singing his favorite club song, the one by The Pussycat Dolls.
"Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me, don't you wish your girlfriend was a freak like me... don't you... don't you...."
~~~~
_______________________________________________
© Copyright 2006 Justin Tyler. All rights reserved. Publication or distribution of any kind is prohibited without the written consent of Justin Tyler.
________________________________________________