Carnival without Lights

Jesse situated the stupid tie that hung stupidly around his neck under his stupid folded collar—God he hated these stupid ass parties. Why the hell did he even let Rupert coerce him into it? Because saying no to Rupert was about as emotionally straining as smashing a kitten with a hammer—at least when it came to something as impersonal as a party or a dinner. (It was easy to tell Rupert “no, go to hell, I’m not telling you anything about that.”) So Jesse fumed as he fixed his tie for the last stupid time and pulled on the uncomfortable suit jacket that matched his stupid, mother-fucking, uncomfortable dress pants. Stupid Rupert and his stupid-fucking parties and his snotty-ass rich “friends.” These stupid parties were a waste of time—he could guarantee that Rupert would have more fun staying home and getting it on on the couch than he would at that party, but /no/ he had to see his “friends.”

Stupid Rupert and his damned extroverted nature.

“I don’t see why you’re sulking so much!” Rupert called out as a greeting as he swooped into the room in what could have been an attempt at being graceful. “Angela is going to be there!”

“And so is that idiot she married,” Jesse retorted bitterly, looking over what was supposed to be his reflection in the mirror. For the third time this year he’d worn his job interview suit to one of Rupert’s faggy parties…

“Oh, come on. I thought you two got over this—and think, if it weren’t for ‘that idiot she married’ you and I wouldn’t have ever met!” Rupert slid into the view of the mirror and stepped close behind Jesse, examining his lover’s reflection. “You should let me buy you a new suit. This one is—”

“Old. I know. You keep bringing that up, you know!?” Rupert flinched and Jesse turned around to make eye contact through more than just the mirror.

“Hey, don’t get mad about it—”

“I have a right to get mad about it! Quit trying to talk me into letting you buy me stuff! I have a job; I can take care of myself!”

“I never said you couldn’t!” Rupert defended, holding up his hands at shoulder’s height and trying to smile through his uneasiness. “I just want to buy nice things for my boyfriend.” Jesse’s glare darkened.

“Don’t you dare try to make me sound like the bad guy!”

“What bad guy?” Rupert asked, face drooping heavily in unrest. “There’s no bad guy in this!”

“Don’t kid yourself,” Jesse hissed. “‘Wah my boyfriend won’t let me buy him better clothes and his are too low-class to be seen around me’, sound familiar?” Jesse looked away when he saw how Rupert’s face crumpled.

“That’s not why I want to,” Rupert defended softly. “I just like to—”

“I know,” Jesse interrupted, his voice lacking venom. “Just forget it.” He turned back to the mirror and picked at his hair one last time. Rupert’s expression in the glass proved that the other had done just that—forgotten about it. Jesse envied his ability—life would be a hell of a lot easier if he could forgive and forget things that goddamned fast.

“Hey,” Rupert said after a moment, his face lighting up to its full extent once again. “How about you and I stay at the part only for an hour and a half, just to say ‘hi’ to everyone, and then we can come home, you can put your jeans back on, and we can—I dunno, watch a movie or something.” Jesse snorted—an hour and a half always meant two hours.

“Fine. If we stay over though…” he drawled, smirking to himself. “Need I say more?” Rupert’s equally twisted lips were answer enough.

000000000000000000000000000000000000

He was being that stupid butterfly again—bouncing back and forth and talking to everyone and never saying anything important. But oh how he /glowed/ as he did it. His eyes lit up from more than the glass of champagne in his hand—he actually /loved/ seeing all of these people who whispered things behind his back the very second it was turned. He had to have heard them! They weren’t subtle about it.

“I think he’s just pretending to be gay. He can’t really be—”

“Why would he let his parents throw him out then?”

“Look at him! Just by the way he dresses you can tell he’s the—”

“Shh, honey. That man he’s with is listening!”

The hell the man he’s with was! How could he ignore it? He hated these parties and he wished Rupert would too. But it was a pointless battle—Rupert loved the parties, loved the gossip, loved the attention (both positive and negative), loved being fawned over (the girls just /loved/ him), loved the clothes, the food, the wine, champagne, and soft music. Yes…despite Mr. Whoever’s comment, Rupert was definitely gay…

“Jesse!” Angela. Jesse turned around and smiled at the face of his happily married and heavily pregnant friend. He hated the thought of her bearing the children of the cold-looking man who followed after her like a hunting panther. “Hi!” She extended her arms and Jesse extended his, allowing her to embrace him and hugging her back while his eyes locked firmly with Sam’s. Sam was overprotective which was both good and bad. Good because Angela would be safe, bad because it was pissing annoying to have that man glaring at you when you tried to hug your female friend when you were gay.

Before the tension could increase, however, Rupert caught sight of his long-time crush (a crush that probably still remained, but Jesse didn’t care to ever bring it up since Sam was too busy impregnating innocent women to bother himself with Rupert) and strutted over.

Though Jesse tried to pay attention to the conversation he was having with Angela about the baby she was carrying and how far along she was and how excited she was that Sam was also excited to be a parent, he found himself paying more attention to the way Rupert smiled when he talked. Rupert was…

…

ahh…

That’s what Rupert was. Refreshing like a cold drink at the end of a long run in the heat. Ahh. Usually happy, always trying to smile, blinking slowly on purpose because he knew his long lashes reflected the light. Ahh…Compared to that, Angela’s curled hair, lined eyes, and painted lips were quite plain. Ah… wasn’t that hour and a half up yet?

A quick glance at the clock—a half hour to go. Damn.

That was alright, Sam was dismissing himself and Angela left the conversation with him, turning the quartet into a duet. Good. Jesse and Rupert both watched them leave, Jesse glaring in contempt at Sam’s back while Rupert smiled cheerily.

For a moment Jesse’s mind waned to Daniel. Being the wimp that he was, Jesse wondered how long Rupert would last in one of Daniel’s favorite games before breaking down and becoming unable to smile through his tears? Probably fifteen minutes. Ten was too soon for the smile to die completely, but the tears would fall within the first five. Ahh…he kind of wanted to see it happen. Nothing too cruel though, just a light whipping and some forced penetration. No insults though—Rupert was excessively sensitive to name calling. Ahh…that idea was fantastic… After all, no damage would really be done. Rupert would just make himself forget afterwards, right?

Fifteen minutes to go…

Rupert was talking to some rich bitch in a dress so low cut that the brown of one of her nipples of showing. He was overcome with the urge to pinch the thing as hard as he could and just pull it until the flesh split—ew, but then he’d be stuck holding some bitch’s tit…He’d rather it was Rupert’s…but he wouldn’t pull his off. That would be hard for the bubbly man to forget. It wasn’t even possible that one day (unless he was suffering from Alzheimer’s) he’d wake up and say “Hey, Jesse? Where’s my right nipple?”

He laughed out loud and Rupert glanced at him uneasily before resuming his conversation with the woman who finally corrected her dress.

Taking him to this stupid party…making him look at that bastard Sam…making him stare at a woman’s tit…giving him all of this free time to fantasize and try to keep his hard-on concealed…Rupert was going to get it when they got home…

And by ‘it’ he meant sex.

Thirteen minutes…Aah! And now Rupert was happily talking to someone else—some old woman wearing so many layers she looked as modest as a nun. She was one of the few elders who didn’t care who Rupert took to bed. She thought he was just a “sweet young man”. (She was always saying it.) Jesse could find no part of the claim to disagree with… Rupert was a nice young man, a sweet young man, a good young man. He tried to be happy and make everyone happy, he tried his best not to argue, he got pushy but he always backed off…

Yeah, Rupert was a good man…but he talked too fucking much.

Five minutes now. Jesse felt himself becoming fully aroused again. The old lady was gone and now and the two of them were alone together as the socializing people bustled around them.

“Hey,” Rupert said, turning to Jesse and smiling. “I have to go to the bathroom, then we can go. Alright?” Jesse nodded, surprised that Rupert was actually going to keep his word for the first time on such matters.

“Sounds good,” Jesse answered, looking at the large clock across the room happily.

“Come with me?” Rupert asked, sounding uncertain.

“What are you, five? Afraid you’re going to fall in or what?” Rupert chuckled and bumped his shoulder against Jesse’s as he began to walk.

“Nah, but come with me anyway.” Jesse didn’t protest—they would be leaving soon and it would be better to just disappear from the crowd sooner rather than be left alone while Rupert was hiding out in the bathroom chatting like a high school girl on her lunch period.

They made their way inconspicuously into the bathroom, Rupert passing a glance over his shoulder as he always did when entering a bathroom (as if afraid of being seen—but how awkward would you look if you caught someone’s eye on your way in? Jesse felt his lips twitch with a smile. Knowing Rupert, if he was caught going in, he’d make a fool of himself pretending that he’d made a mistake and was entering the wrong room.)

So they made it inside and closed the door behind them. It was a large single bathroom, nearly the size of the kitchen in Jesse’s apartment, but had a nice window that looked out over a nice garden through deeply tinted glass. The sun was setting. It was going on seven thirty.

“Hurry up, I don’t want to be in here all night, you know,” Jesse said from his position—looking out the window. He heard the door lock click, but that was the end of the sound. Rupert’s reflection in the glass showed that he was still standing by the door. “What?” Jesse turned around and the facial expression that had previously been shadowed over was now exposed as a devilish smirk. “What?” Jesse felt his own lips twitch into a grin.

It took no time for the two of them to meet on the same page, and even less time for them both to loose their heads and reserve. Being careful of each other’s hair—since they had enough sense to remember where they were and that Rupert’s income depended on public image—their bodies started to entangle. Jesse’s hand ran up Rupert’s shirt after skillfully unbuttoning the lone clasp on his fitted jacket. Rupert’s tongue mingled triumphantly with Jesse’s, their lips pressed together and their teeth occasionally colliding. While Jesse’s fingers singled out Rupert’s right nipple (though more interested in fondling it than hurting it as he’d been fantasizing about). Rupert lowered his hands to Jesse’s waist—unbuttoning, unzipping, invading…

Jesse called out softly, trying to keep his head about him even though it had floated away as Rupert’s trained hand began stroking him. Why was it again that he didn’t leave Rupert to go back to Daniel? Oh, this was it. The way Rupert touched was unmatched by any other lover that he’d ever had…he’d only had about six, but of them Rupert was the best.

Jesse let his other hand rub at Rupert’s arousal through his trousers and let the hand beneath his shirt slide over to tease the left nub of flesh. Rupert let out a whimpering moan that he stifled with the aid of Jesse’s lips and then pulled away, panting.

“You want to?” He asked, raising an eyebrow as if to say “Dare you resist?” or some other corny line from a passionate foreign-language film.

“Yeah,” Jesse answered, grabbing Rupert by the most sensitive parts of his chest and pulling him back into a kiss as his lover’s thumb traced circles over the head of member. Jesse allowed one of his hands to drop back to Rupert’s waistline and dipped his hand inside the garments after tugging open the zipper and button. He cupped him gently and then squeezed with enough force for Rupert to moan in equal discomfort and bliss (probably more in distress than ecstasy since it was a solid fact that Rupert loved nothing more than being babied and pain was far from nurturing) before letting the sac and the hardened length slide out of his hand as he retracted it. He considered, for a moment, digging his nail into the very tip just slightly, enough to leave an indent, but decided against it.

Rupert didn’t go for things like that—Rupert’s things were nipples, kisses with tongue, and, oh yes, public settings. Just the thought of fucking in the bathroom of a millionaire’s house while over eighty other people strolled the room outside was exciting. Daniel would never /ever/ go for something like that. After all, you couldn’t very well rape your boyfriend and then beat him for over an hour despite his cries if there were people in the other room, could you?

No. But you could find yourself gripping the sink with your two hundred dollar marked down from three suit pants on the floor with your lover messily trying to get you prepared with hand soap. Was that even safe? Jesse didn’t know and, quite frankly, he didn’t care. It was one of Rupert’s things to always have lube; Daniel had trained him to take it dry at any given moment.

Actually, the hand soap burned a little…

It kinda…hm…interesting—reminiscent of the old days.

But Rupert, ever cautious, pressed in too slowly. He was too careful. “I don’t want to hurt you!” Please, being hurt was a good thing. Daniel had taught him that much.

Rupert pressed in slowly, but buried himself as deeply as possible—trying to keep his moaning to a minimum. He pulled out half way and then pressed back in; setting up a pace that Jesse easily met, pushing back his angled hips. He kept one hand gripping Jesse’s left hip and the other wrapped around Jesse’s twitching penis. He kept his thumb on the tip, swirling around it on the murky film of precum. He could always tell if he did something right, tug just hard enough, stroke slowly enough (because Jesse liked being teased), because the rings of muscle tightened around him violently—making it all so much better.

He began to thrust faster, Jesse beginning to have as much trouble as Rupert with keeping his moans quiet as the pleasure heightened. The muscles clenched again as Rupert retracted, preparing to press in for the last time, but lost his grip and released—half inside, half outside. He finished Jesse off with his hand and then pulled away to grab a sheaf of toilet paper to wipe himself and Jesse clean.

Once his hands were washed and dried, he redid his own pants while watching Jesse pulling up his own. They checked each other over for anything that would give away their…antics…laughing as they did and sharing a brief kiss before opening the door while engaging in “the end” of a private conversation. Their ploy worked. None of the looks that met them as they exited the bathroom together said “Did they just…!?”.

Nope.

No one suspected thing…

But they had left early—but on Jesse’s standards they were leaving nine minutes late…