FIC UPDATE!
HAYDEN’S LOVERS-PART II
By: Anisapologist
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A look at Hayden’s lovers through the years…
Disclaimer: Not True!
THE HOCKEY PLAYER FRIEND
You call Adam because you really need to know that you can still sleep with someone other than Tove.
He loves you gently one night, after his team has won a game. He’s hot and sweaty from the game and you tell him not to shower because you love the smell of a man’s sweat when he fucks you. You waited for him by the locker room, and though he was surprised to see you, he smiled that easy smile of his and took you back to his hotel room.
“Fuck, you feel good,” Adam whimpers against your ear as he takes you in the dark hotel room.
You tremble under his caresses and bite your lip to keep from crying, “I love you, Adam,” you whimper in a needy voice, clinging to his shoulders, “Please tell me you love me too…”
Adam looks at you a bit concerned, “Are you all right, Haydie?” he asks in his gruff voice that you love so much because its masculine and deep.
You shake your head, tears coming to your eyes, “I’m fucked up,” you say softly.
“Tell me…”
“I…I can’t…” you whisper apologetically, “Please…just…just fuck me…fuck through the floor…make me forget….forget everything…please?”
He does. He pounds into you ruthlessly, just the way you want it, need it. And after you both come, he doesn’t press you for details. He’s happy to simply hold you in his strong arms, and tell you he’ll always treasure what you share together in secret. You begin to cry then.
“I’m such a fucking whore!” you say, your voice full of self-loathing, “You have no idea what a sick fuck I am!”
Adam looks at you, surprised at the outburst, “Haydie? Calm down, man…it’s okay…”
You sit up, “NO! Its not even…even close to being okay, Adam…I met someone…someone I care about-really care about, you know? And…I fucked up. I lost him, and I don’t know if I can…deal with that…”
Adam looks at you sympathetically, “What happened?”
You give Adam a nervous glance, not sure if you can trust even him with the secret that is Tove, but you desperately need to talk to someone, so you decide to risk it, “I….when I was fifteen-before I met you-I was…I slept with Tove…and I still do, sometimes.”
Adam is totally silent and does not visibly react.
“Ryan…that’s the guy I met-he came over a few days ago and Tove was there…we were stoned. Tove started coming on to Ryan, and they ended up fucking…. I just wanted to watch…then Tove…he stopped fucking Ryan and…started fucking me instead-with Ryan there! He saw it all. He left and told me I was sick. I haven’t had the nerve to call him since….”
Adam shifts on the bed, sitting up and taking you in his arms soothingly, “Oh, Haydie…why? Why would you want…Tove?”
You shake your head, “I don’t know. Maybe because…well, you know the kind of house I grew up in-how my father was? It was fucked up, dysfunctional…Tove always protected me as much as he could-keep dad from…hitting me, keep me from seeing my dad beat my mom up…I guess I just feel so attached to him, so close to him because of what we went through together as kids…and then, one time when we were drunk, we got curious, and…it was nice, it was good, you know? So, we kept doing it…. it’s fucked up, I know. But…fuck! What am I gonna do?”
Adam takes a deep breath and kisses your forehead gently, “You should call Ryan…” he says at last, “Talk to him.”
“Do you think I’m sick?” you ask in a very small voice.
“No,” Adam replies instantly, stroking your hair, “But…I don’t think you and Tove should be…doing that. It’s wrong, and its..not healthy.”
You have always loved Adam’s gift for understatement. You nod and smile sadly, “I just…I don’t know how to say no to him…”
“Learn too,” is Adam’s only response, “Learn too-before it destroys both of you.”
“Can I…can I stay here tonight? Please?” you plead softly, afraid that Adam will throw you out and never speak to you again.
“Of course, baby,” he smiles, lying back down and beckoning you to join him.
Tentatively, you lay down on his chest, and he wraps an arm around you gently, “Sleep now,”
“Still friends?” you whimper, close to tears.
“Of course. Always.” Adam says firmly and you smile against his skin.
You smile warmly, and lean against Adam, recalling your first time together….
FLASHBACK:
The bus was deathly quiet. Your high school ice hockey team was on its way back from losing a game, and it was already dark outside.
You dozed in your seat next to Adam, who was wired from the game and unable to sit still.
“Stop it!” you snapped, annoyed as he moved around in his seat, “Trying to sleep…”
“You’re adorable when you pout!” Adam said suddenly, causing you to open your eyes in surprise.
“What?” you gasped, “Are you coming on to me or something?”
Adam lowered his voice and leaned towards you, “What if I was?”
You stared at him, and said nothing. Then you looked around, to make sure no one was watching.
“I’d let you have me.” you whispered, voice shaking slightly, eyes downcast.
Adam’s hand played lightly with your erection on the outside of your sweatpants, as you stared with wide eyes, not sure how to react. Adam looked at you, a question in his eyes and you nodded instantly, granting permission. He slid his hand deftly inside your sweats, grasping your erection, and causing you to moan in response.
His other hand came quickly to your lips, silencing you with his fingertips, “Shhh…” he whispered, as he slowly began to stroke.
Biting your lip to hold back cries of pleasure, you stared into Adam’s eyes as you shared this erotic act, amazed at how good it could feel….you came silently, eyes fluttering closed, your tense body going slack against the seat.
You made love that night, heatedly, in the backseat of Adam’s car in the school parking lot.
You didn’t know what you were doing, really, and Adam had to guide you through it. You were surprised that he seemed so experienced, but happy for the guidance. Adam was rough sexually, but you liked that-you liked the way he grabbed you, the way he panted and grunted as he entered you, the way he looked and sounded when he came…afterwards, he held you as you straddled his lap, dazed at what had happened between the two of you. He told you that this had to be your secret, and you agreed readily, already thinking you were in love with him.
You were heartbroken when Adam told you he was getting married. You had been sleeping together for three years, even after you had moved to Vancouver, and even though you knew he had a girlfriend, and slept with her too, he always assured you that you were the one he wanted. But…Adam was going to be a big hockey star, and-like you-he couldn’t afford to be gay.
So, he married Sandi, and you went to the wedding, even serving as Best Man, feeling guilty because Sandi looked ecstatically happy, and yet you knew that only the night before, Adam had made love to you after the rehearsal dinner, in your hotel room, moaning about how good you felt and how the wedding would change nothing-he would always need you like this, in bed.
After the wedding, it was three months before you saw him again, but when you did, it was as if nothing had changed between you. You had been afraid that it would be awkward, and you would not know how to act around him, but Adam solved your dilemma by shoving you against the door of his hotel suite and fucking there against it, coming inside of you with a shout, and then holding you and stroking your body for hours, telling you how much he still loved you, how sorry he was…. The sex was so good, so right….after a while, you got used to the arrangement. You accepted that Adam would never be yours exclusively. You were content with a few nights a year in some hotel.
END FLASHBACK
You awaken in the morning to the feel of Adam writhing gently against your back, “Morning, Den…” he whispers hoarsely, his erection pressed to your lower back suggestively.
You say nothing, merely groaning, and laying flat on your belly. Adam slicks himself with lube and enters you slowly, making love to you slowly and tenderly, pausing to kiss your back, and lick you as he moves inside.
“I want to come in you,” he grunts as he gets close.
You turn your head to one side and whimper, “yes…”
You feel his body tense, feel the heat of his essence as it fills you, hear his groan of delight, listen vaguely as he falls against your back, kissing your neck and whispering that he loves you. He nuzzles your neck, and you smile a lazy smile and just enjoy this moment of private pleasure.
THE ROCK STAR
You go to the concert because you truly like Rob’s music, and have no intention of meeting him afterwards. But of course, you are invited back stage, and you start drinking with him…you take him home.
You have sex with him because it seems like what he wants. He pushes your head down gently to suck him off and watches you with intense eyes as you deep throat him. He moans softly, and watches until his eyes fall shut and then he is fucking your mouth.
All at once, he asks you to stop and lay on your belly on the bed, which you do. He fucks you, but he’s slow and gentle about it-whispering in your ear that you seem so fragile, so vulnerable, and are you sure its okay to do this? You nod and grit your teeth and he enters you with a grunt.
The sex is nice, because he’s tender. It’s over quickly. He climaxes and withdraws, rubbing your back reassuringly afterwards, asking how you want to come. You roll over and tell him not to worry about it. He gives you a sad look, and reaches for you, wanting to jack you off, but you still his hand and shake your head firmly, “No, don’t…it’s okay…please.”
“You’re so sad,” he says, and it is a statement, not a question.
He leans forward and gently, softly kisses your forehead.
Rob draws his hand away and nods slowly, looking as if he regrets it. He dresses in silence and then leaves you alone with your tears.
You miss Ryan so very much….
THE CO-STAR
She had just broken up with her fiancé, and needed someone to talk too, so she came to your room at 3am…. you were drunk and asleep when Sienna pounded on your door, crying. You let her in reluctantly, and tried to make her feel better, telling her what an ass you thought her boyfriend was….she leaned forward and kissed you.
You found yourself in her bed, in the hotel suite…she straddled you, naked, and you could feel the heat of her sex against your thighs. You reached up and cupped her small breasts, pulling her down against you for a deep, searching kiss. As you kissed her, you slid inside her warm wetness and she gasped against your lips as you entered her, staring into your eyes as you stared back. It was only your third time with a woman, but you guessed that you were doing an okay job by the way Sienna moaned and arched for you. She was soaking wet, and tight, and it felt amazing…. you rolled her onto her back so that you could be on top and really slam into her pussy. You went at her with an angry intensity that she seemed to love. You felt her muscles contract around your hard cock and felt a gush of warmth, as she came.
You found you rather liked being inside her, moving quickly, eyes rolling back in your head as she moaned softly beneath you. She was warm and soft and wet…so different from a man’s body. It felt good….you cried out her name. You came on her belly, pulling out and spraying all over her perfect skin as she moaned and grabbed her breasts, arching her back.
“Afterwards, she lit a cigarette and handed it to you before lighting one for herself, “I thought you were gay,” she said airily.
You just smiled at her and said nothing.
For a few weeks, you fucked her everyday, every chance you got. It wasn’t like you were turning straight or anything, but she felt so good, and it was something different, and you found that it took your mind off of Ryan.
The two of you would get drunk and then fuck like animals in heat. One night,
You grunted and fell onto your back beside her, the room spinning from the alcohol and the sex….
“I can’t do this,” you told her, your words slurring, “I’m gay. I can’t keep…lying to you.”
She didn’t reply.
You fucked her twice more while filming continued-once up against a wall, in her ass, almost imagining she was a boy with her back to you and her short blonde hair….and once in her hotel suite, in the shower, all wet skin and hands and sex and needy kisses and rough thrusts. Gripping her slim hips and slamming inside her a final time, you came, screaming, then mentally cursed yourself for being so stupid and coming inside some slut without protection….you withdrew gently and leaned back against the shower tiles, breathing hard. She said nothing, just got out of the shower and dressed.
You don’t see her for a few weeks, and then she is blowing into Toronto on her way back to London after the Oscars, and asks if you want to get together.
You meet for lunch, and she kisses you in your car as you leave the café, asking in her straightforward way if you want to fuck her before she has to leave to catch her plane. You smile shyly and nod. You are horny….you drive to a cheap motel, and have sex for a few hours in a room that looks like its rented by the hour.
Sliding into her pussy is a bit like coming home-she feels warm and safe. You moan at the feeling and bend down to kiss her neck as she wraps long legs around your waist and pushes you ever deeper.
“Sienna…” you groan, fucking her gently, wanting it to last, “I wanna…can I come in you?”
“Uh-huh…” she murmurs, eyes closed-and you wonder, briefly, if she is thinking about you or Jude as she makes love to you. Pushing those thoughts from your mind, you thrust quicker, feeling close to climax. She comes, and you feel hr body tighten impossibly around your cock, sending you over the edge, “OH!” you cry out, spilling heavily inside her body, gasping for breath as you collapse against her.
You hold each other closely afterwards; very few words are spoken, except your whispered, “Thank you.” in her ear.
There is something in the way that she kisses you goodbye at the airport that lets you know you are not going to see her again…
THE DIRECTOR
He was old enough to be your father, perhaps that was part of the perverse attraction, and he wasn’t particularly attractive, either. But he made you feel special, and he treated you so well on-set. When he invited you to his mansion for dinner after shooting wrapped, you both knew exactly what you were there for.
He poured you a whiskey and ushered you out onto a balcony that overlooked a grape valley in Tuscany. It was absolutely breath taking.
With little fanfare, he entered you as you gripped the balcony rails for support, and then pulled your body back and flush against his. You gasped because there was pain, then went slack in his arms as he thrust inside you over and over again.
You were slightly drunk already, and needy. You leaned your head back against his shoulder, turning your face towards his so you could kiss. His tongue slid into your mouth easily, and there you were, body against body, kissing and fucking languidly as the sunset behind the mountains.
He broke the kiss, and whispered something to you in Italian that sounded beautiful, but you had no idea what he was saying. He climaxed quickly, sighing softly against your neck and then sagging forward, against you, slipping from your body, and breathing heavily.
After a moment, his hand snaked around to free your own erection from your pants and he stroked you gently and slowly, whispering things in Italian, and kissing you lightly all over your neck and shoulders.
You leaned back against him now and he supported your whole weight. You watched the sun go down as he jacked you off, and when you came, you made no noise, just jerked your hips forward, spasming once, twice and a third time, arching your neck back against his shoulder and letting your knees buckle as you spilled your essence over the balcony and down onto the walkway below.
You were flushed and light-headed, trembling in his arms. You whimpered his name, and he soothed you, telling you it was all okay, and that you were beautiful. You wanted to believe him, but of course you did not. You just closed your eyes and let him hold you until long after it was dark.
TOVE
Tove drinks a lot. You’ve noticed how he always drinks alone, and tries to hide the amounts that he’s putting away. You vaguely suspect he’s an alcoholic, but if he is, he’s a functional one.
Everyday he gets up and goes to work, no matter how much he’s drunk the night before. Then he comes home and cooks you dinner and tries his best to look after you.
Tove isn’t a bad person. He’s a wonderful friend and a great brother-he truly loves you and you know that. And yet…and yet…
You know that the sexual aspect of your relationship is wrong, and you have never really wanted it. All you ever sought from Tove was his affection, his embraces…not sex. That was something that Tove craved, not you. Rather like his drinking, his sexual obsession with you was a dirty little secret-and one that he only gave into occasionally, when his desire overrode his logic….and something he frequently felt very guilty about.
In many ways, Tove is a tragic figure in your life-he has given you everything he has to give and more. He has no life of his own-your life is his life. So, when he asks for your body, you always give it to him because it is what he needs and you want to repay him for all he has done for you. When he orgasms inside you or in your mouth or your hand, he is blissfully happy-and that is really the only time you ever see him so happy.
You lay in bed with him, naked. Tove has not come to you since that night with Ryan. He felt so badly about it, so sorry for ruining things between you and him, and so embarrassed that he could not control himself in front of Ryan….but last night he came to you, in the darkness. He stood beside your bed, stroking his erection, reeking of scotch, and in a needy voice he had asked, “Den…are you awake, baby?”
You rolled over and just looked at him, not saying anything.
You let him lay on top of you and cover your form with wet kisses, you listened as he moaned and begged for it, you arched up and gave him your cock, which he petted and sucked reverently, telling you he wanted to drink your come…you felt his weeping hard cock against your belly as you made out on your bed, felt him lubricate himself, let him fuck you, slowly and gently at first, staring into your eyes wondrously, telling you how it has never felt like this with anyone else….then he speeds up his thrusts, groaning and throwing his head towards the ceiling, crying out your name in release, collapsing against you, shaking with emotion and exertion. You slid your arms around him, and just held him through the night.
In the morning, he gently pushes your head downwards and you suck him off the way he likes it in the morning-slow and languid and erotic.
Now, you are kissing his navel, nuzzling the soft hair there, whimpering, the taste of his essence still in your mouth. His hand plays with the curls at the nape of your neck absently. You know he’s lost in thought, “What are you thinking?” you ask softly.
“Just that I wish…I wish I didn’t want you like this….need you like this.” Tove replies, his voice drenched with guilt.
You close your eyes against his words and kiss his belly tenderly, “I know, “ you say softly, “I know you do…”
Then you suck him until he comes in your mouth, and hold his sex in your mouth as he pets your hair, “I’m sorry, Den<” he whimpers, sated and exhausted, “Sorry it’s like this…for us…you must hate me so much…”
You shake your head sadly, “I could never hate you, Tove.”
He drags himself from your bed and goes to work.
You wonder, idly, if he drinks at work. He probably does. You wonder where he hides all of the bottles…when you were a kid you used to try to find all your mother’s bottles and pour the alcohol down the drain, believing that if you did this, she would stop being a drunk…you know better now. You don’t bother to look for Tove’s bottles.
RYAN
Ryan recognises your phone number When he does pick up, he says nothing-just waits for you to talk.
“Ryan? It’s me…it’s Hayden…” you whisper nervously, “Please don’t hang up…”
“I know who it is,” he replies coolly, “What do you want?”
You sigh because you are not really certain how to answer that question-you want so many things…at last you settle on simply saying, “I want you…please talk to me?”
He is quiet for a long time and you think that he’s hung up. Just as you are about to say something, he agrees, “Okay. Where do you want to meet up?”
You agree to meet in a local park by his house. You arrive twenty minutes early, and pace the grounds nervously, trying to figure out what the hell you are going to say to him.
Ryan’s Escalade pulls into the parking lot, and Ryan emerges, looking gorgeous in denim cut off shorts and a wife beater-your heart skips a beat when you see him approaching.
But you can tell by the look on his face that Ryan did not come there to talk. Even as he approaches you from a distance, you can see him unbuttoning his pants and you instinctively back up until you are standing up against a tree, and Ryan attacks your mouth with his own ruthlessly, his tongue claiming your mouth and you cry out into his in surprise kisses you hard and demanding for a few moments, then pulls away, gasping for air. You lean your head back against the tree, and close your eyes dazed by his actions-and incredibly turned on.
“I need to fuck you now…” he mutters between breathless kisses, “Want to be in you…”
You nod desperately, shedding your jeans, letting them fall off your hips, along with your underwear, not even caring that you are in a public place-that anyone might spot you-all that matters is Ryan. Your world has shrunk to only him…
“Missed you so much…” you murmur as his kisses transport you to a place somewhere far away from this park.
“Christensen…” he says gruffly, hooking one arm under your knee and urging you to lift your leg, never breaking the deep kiss he has you locked in.
You know what he wants-you lift yourself up and wrap your legs around his waist as he finds your entrance with wet fingers, preparing you quickly. You pull your head back, smacking it hard on the tree truck, but not caring, grunting in pain and anticipation. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you arch as best as you can for him.
He enters you quickly, with little preparation, and the pain is blinding but cathartic. Your eyes fly open and seek his. You stare at one another now-his eyes angry and accusing, and yours sad and apologetic. Your mouth hangs open in wonder as he takes you there, in public-the recklessness of the act only adding to its eroticism.
This is not about making love-it is not even about sex-this is about claiming and ownership. Ryan wants to own you-and you want to be owned by him.
You can feel your back being ripped apart by the roughness of the tree through your thin tee shirt, as Ryan slams against you hard and erratic, groaning loudly with each movement, then burying his mouth against your neck and lapping at it sloppily, saliva dripping down onto your collarbone. He sounds and acts like an animal, and you simply let him have this-let him have the sex his way. You close your eyes, and grunt, turning your head to one side, feeling him getting close.
“FUCK!” he shouts as he grinds against you a final time, then tenses, his come pouring into you, hot and sticky and sublime. He falls against you heavily, and you slowly lower yourself off of him and back onto the ground, while continuing to hold him against you, his knees buckling as his sex slips from your body, his head resting in the crook of your neck.
You remain this way for many long moments, just resting against the tree and holding him as he recovers from his orgasm.
All at once, he pulls away and falls to his knees, taking you into his mouth in a quick, smooth movement that causes you to gasp in surprise, “Ohhhh…Ryan!” you groan as he sucks you off, your hands playing with the curls of his hair, guiding his mouth very gently, watching him, even though you notice that he won’t look at you.
You come with a sharp gasp of pleasure and spill into his mouth, leaning forward slightly, body taut. Ryan swallows your essence as if it were the nectar of the gods, then lets your softening sex slip from his mouth, and lays his cheek gently against your thigh, still refusing to look at you.
You feel an odd warm dampness against your thigh, and tilt Ryan’s chin upwards to look at his face. It is then that you realise he is crying. Your heart breaks for him and you fall to your knees in front of him, stroking his cheek lovingly, “Oh, Ryan…I’m so sorry! I love you…I love you so fucking much!”
You embrace him and he falls hard against you, nearly knocking you backwards in his haste to feel your body against his again, “Hayden…” he groans, sounding broken.
Abruptly, he pulls away from you, zipping his pants and staring at the ground. You sag against the tree, watching him, “Where are you going?” you ask sadly, redressing yourself.
“Now it’s my turn to run away,” he says bitterly, “I can’t…I have…feelings for you that I don’t think I’ve ever felt for anyone-not even my wife. But…when I think about you and Tove, I…it makes me sick, Hayden. I can’t…share you, especially not with him.”
“I’m not asking you to share…you don’t know what I was planning on saying to you today-you didn’t give me a chance. You just walked up and fucked me!” you say angrily, “How do you know what I was going to say or do about Tove?”
Ryan slowly meets your gaze, “So, were you? Going to ask me to share you with Tove-or were you going to tell me you’d end things with him for me? Tell me now.”
You look at him nervously and run your hands through your hair, “I…I want to end it with him. I want you-only you. I love you, Ryan…I just…it’s going to be hard for him, and I have to…be gentle about it? Can you understand that?”
Ryan lights a cigarette and crouches down on the ground to smoke, taking a long drag and nodding slowly, “Yeah, I guess I can understand that,” he says quietly, “But..I can’t be with you-not really with you-until…you end it. Can you understand that?”
You nod quickly, smiling happily and sliding down on your knees beside Ryan, reaching out to embrace him, “I understand…Thank you…I love you so much…”
Ryan smiles reluctantly, laughing when you knock him over, “Hey, hey! I’ve got a smoke here-don’t burn me alive!”
You laugh merrily and roll on top of him, straddling him and smiling down at him broadly, “Oh, I would never do that! Can’t have you burnt! You’re far too gorgeous to burn!”
The laughing dies away and the two of you stare at one another for what feels like an eternity. Then Ryan reaches up and tucks a stray curl behind your right ear affectionately, “So beautiful Hayden….you’re so beautiful…”
You drop your eyes shyly and bite your lip. You swallow thickly and take a deep breath before meeting his eyes again, “I never wanted it, you know? Sleeping with Tove…I never wanted it, not really. I mean, he didn’t rape me or anything, but…I never really enjoyed it. I knew it was wrong…perverted, you know? I tried to tell him, but….he doesn’t have anyone else in his life. He’s lonely, and…it’s my fault because he spends all his time looking after me, and never has a chance to meet someone for himself. I guess I felt like I owed it to him…”
Ryan listens, trying not to sound judgmental when he replies, “Baby, Tove is a grown man-if he wants a life of his own, it’s his job to make one for himself. You didn’t force him to move in with you, or get in the movie business with you, or hang around you all the time….he made those choices himself. It’s not your fault-and you don’t owe him anything.”
You nod, your gaze dropping to Ryan’s chest, unable to meet his eyes. You know what he is saying is true, but it’s easier to blame yourself for…everything. You don’t want to think that Tove might be to blame…that he might have even orchestrated things so that you would rely on him, and would need him to become an intregel part of your life, so he would have you all to himself.
“What are you going to do?” Ryan asks quietly.
“End it with him,” you promise, “I only want you, Ryan-you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, I mean that.”
Ryan nods solemnly.
Tove handles it as well as can be expected. He’s angry. He’s hurt. But he tries to understand, knows you are doing the right thing. He agrees to move out, and you help him do so numbly, feeling bad for him. He looks forlorn, and lonely…but just as he is about to leave, he pauses at the door to his SUV and crushes you against him in a brotherly hug, “I love you, baby boy…always have. This is the right thing you are doing here, don’t worry about me-I’ll be fine.”
And then Tove is gone.
THE SCANDAL
You sit on your bed, sobbing into your knees, unable to cope. Tove sits listlessly in a chair across the room, afraid to touch you, not knowing what to say. You called him when the scandal broke because you did not know what else to do, or who else to ring.
The pictures are everywhere. Pictures of you and Adam. The two of you kissing, holding, in various states of undress….even making love.
It’s all your fault because the photographer was following you, and you should have noticed them, but you didn’t… He had a long lense and a perfect view into your hotel suite…he took photos for hours….the tabloids bought them all-even the ones where you both look so…lurid, so…wanton, so tawdry….you will never be able to explain to Tove or to your parents or to Ryan or to anyone that it wasn’t like that with Adam-that you love each other, and that the sex between you was beautiful and about love and need and a deep friendship….on film it all just looks like sick lust and a man cheating on his pregnant wife with another man.
As upset as you are for yourself, your heart aches for Adam-he doesn’t deserve this. His life is destroyed-his marriage is over, his career is over…. he’s a good person who doesn’t deserve to be treated this way.
You want to call Adam, but you are too afraid of what he’ll say or do. So you sit with Tove in your bedroom, smoking far too many cigarettes and sobbing like a small child uncontrollably.
“I know how it…looks, “ you manage to say between sobs, “But…I love Adam. I have for years…he loves me too. I’m the only man he’s ever-EVER-been with.”
Tove looks up from the floor that he’s been staring at for an hour, listening to you cry and the telephone ring off the hook, “He’s married, Den! He has children…” Tove says it in an accusing tone, “How could you…do that?”
“I know!” you cry out, “I…I just….I never thought about…her. His kids…I didn’t want him to leave his family for me or anything…it wasn’t like that…”
“You keep saying that, Hayden,” Tove says, his voice bitingly sardonic, “So tell me-what was it like?”
You stare at Tove; hurt and betrayed that he thinks of you as a marriage-wrecker, “It was just…something we did, sometimes…a few times a year, maybe. We loved each other, but we knew…we agreed that we could never be together, so…”
“Oh fuck, Den!” Tove rolls his eyes disgustedly, “This has been going on for years?”
You nod through your tears, “Since high school-since before Sandi…”
“You were Best Man in their wedding for fuck’s sake!” Tove shouts at you, running his hands through his hair angrily.
You look down at the floor because you have no defence for that. What Tove is saying-what he is accusing you of-is true.
“So you just fucked him in hotel rooms when he was away from his wife.” Tove finishes for you, standing up to leave the room, “That’s fucking great, Hayden. I need a break from this-I’ll be back in a while.”
“Where are you going?” you ask, angry now, “To a bar? That’s your answer to everything, isn’t it? Have another drink-that’ll solve it!”
Tove turns back to give you a loathsome glare, “At least I don’t break up peoples marriages, Hayden-and I don’t get myself photographed on my knees getting fucked by a man for all the world to see!”
“No-you just fuck your own brother, and then drink until you pass out.” You reply, your voice flat and calm and deathly unemotional, “You’re a model citizen, Tove!”
Tove pauses at your words, but does not turn around and does not address them. He walks out and you hear his car drive off.
Your mobile rings at almost the exact same moment, and you pick it up instantly.
“Its Ryan,” you hear him say, “I heard-and saw. How are you?”
You dissolve into tears.
“Why are you crying, baby?” he asks, and he sounds pained.
“Because…I love you, and I fucked up, and now you’ll hate me, and I just want to do some ice and forget everything….”
“Christensen, I need to ask you something, and you have to..you gotta tell me the truth, okay?” Ryan says solemnly.
“Okay,” you choke out between the sobs that threaten to overwhelm you.
“Were you with Adam before or after we made up?”
“Before…I swear! It was before!” you cry out too loudly, “I haven’t seen him since we got back together. I wouldn’t…”
You can hear the smile in Ryan’s voice on the other end, “Then none of this matters-at least not to me. I’m sorry for you, though-and your friend. Do you want me to…come over or anything?”
Your heart is so full you think it will burst and you smile despite the tears streaming down your face, “Yes! Please? Come over? I need you…so much, baby,” you beg into the phone.
You are in that post coital blissful state, curled up next to Ryan, both of you naked and sleepy, when your cell phone rings again.
“I should get that,” you mumble sleepily, reaching for the phone, “It could be Tove-he left here in a huff. He’s probably drunk somewhere…”
You pick up the phone without looking at the number, “Hullo?”
It’s Adam.
“Hayden…” he breathes. He sounds destroyed.
You sit up, instantly awake, “Adam! My God-how are you? I’m so sorry…so fucking sorry…”
You don’t really hear half of what he is saying to you, but you agree to meet him t his place in an hour to discuss the situation. Ryan is not pleased, but tries to understand.
“Do you want to come with me?” you offer.
“No,” Ryan smiles softly, “I have to learn to trust you sometime, don’t I?”
“I love you,” you tell Ryan, kissing him gently and picking up your keys.
You lay in bed with Adam, but it is not because you are having sex. You are fully clothed, and so is he, but he is also a mess, and you have come to try to comfort him. His wife has left him, threatening to take the children away…he is crying softly in your arms and saying that he wishes he had never lied about his sexuality…you know exactly how he feels.
You stroke Adam’s face lovingly and stare into his eyes intently as he speaks, “I just want…to be who I really am now…no more hiding. Will you be with me? As my lover, Hayden?”
You swallow thickly, and look away, “Oh, Adam…” you whisper, voice filled with regret and pain, and Adam knows without you saying a word that you are not going to be with him, and he looks crest fallen.
“You’ve met someone, haven’t you?” he says after a long moment, and you just look at him sadly.
Adam tries very hard to look happy for you, but that only makes you feel worse, “I love him, Adam. I love him, and I’ve hurt him so much already…I can’t….hurt him anymore.”
Adam smiles and reaches out to clasp your hand in his. You lay side by side on your bed and stare at the ceiling, “Tell me about him,” he says good naturedly, like the Adam you have always known-like his life isn’t in the toilet, like he hasn’t just lost everything he’s ever worked for….
You smile wistfully and tell him about Ryan. He pretends to listen and pretends to care.
You leave a few hours later, giving Adam a hug and telling him to be strong, that things can only get better. He looks you in the eye and lies to your face, and tells you that he will be just fine….
THE SUICIDE
When Adam kills himself, you are devastated beyond all reason. You literally cannot react, cannot even cry.
You receive the call at three in the morning, and you are in bed with Ryan. Tove stumbles in to the room a few minutes after you hang up, mumbling and asking who was on the phone, and Ryan has to tell him because you cannot even speak.
Tove embraces you, and Ryan strokes your back, and you just sit there for some indefinable amount of time in stunned silence; feelings like you want to vomit.
You push Ryan away, though you don’t really want too. You do coke and meth and pot and vodka, and anything else you can get your hands on. You ignore Ryan’s calls, don’t return his messages. You truly want to die because you believe that your life is worthless---all you ever do is hurt people, hurt those you love. Adam’s life was much more important then yours and yet he’s gone-what possible point is there to your pathetic existence.
Ryan takes the abuse you give him, and tries to hold you, even though you push him away. He helps you to bed when you are drunk or stoned, and makes you strong coffee in the morning.
“Why are you doing this?” you ask him one morning, annoyed as he pads around your kitchen in bare feet making you toast.
He doesn’t look at your accusing stare as he answers, “Because I love you,”
You snort and look away, lighting a cigarette and ignoring the toast, “How can you love me? I’m a terrible person-you’ll find out. I’ll end up ruining your life too.”
Ryan ignores your words, taking a deep breath and pretending to read the paper. It had been weeks since you made love, since allowed him to even touch you. You are being a complete jerk to him, and you know it, but you can’t seem to stop yourself. The guilt over Adam’s death is so heavy, you feel as if you will break underneath its weight.
Ryan lets you yell and cry and throw tantrums. He gives you the ‘I’ve-seen-it-all-before’ look when you do it.
Tove can’t deal with any of it any longer-he’s never home, and when he is, he gets drunk alone in his old bedroom, where he is currently camping out. You honestly worry that one night he might drink himself to death in there, and then you’ll have another death on your conscious.
One night you hear him retching into the toilet off his bedroom, and get up, stumbling to his bedroom. The door is locked, and you can hear him vomiting violently.
“Tove!” you shout angrily, slamming your shoulder against his door to no avail, “Open the God damn door!”
Suddenly Ryan is beside you, trying to help you open the door, “Tove? Are you okay? Open the door!”
After a few long moments, Tove drags himself to the door and unlocks it. You open the door and just look down at your big brother. He is sitting in a heap on the floor, pale and drawn and looking like hell, “Oh, Tove…” you moan, falling to your knees beside him and stroking his hair, “You gotta…you got to stop this, baby…you’re killing yourself. Why are you doing this?”
Tove looks like he doesn’t really want to answer that, but knows that he has too, “I’ve been a drunk for years, Hayden,” he admits quietly, “You just didn’t notice until a few months ago…”
“I always knew you drank,” you reply, “I just…never knew why.”
Tove buries his face in his hands and cries, “Because I hate my life. Because I hate that I…slept with you. Hate myself for fucking you, and fucking you up in the process. Because I grew up watching mom drink to forget, so I guess I thought I’d give it a try…because I hate…fucking hate dad for what he did to you…what he did to all of us…because our family is fucked. Because I’m tired of being the perfect one who never does anything wrong…I don’t know, take your pick!”
His words are so full of bitterness that you don’t know how to respond, you just reach out to embrace him and he falls against you, smelling of whiskey and vomit and sweat and salty tears. You sit there with him, as he sobs against your shoulder, and you wonder how things ever got so bad, “It’s okay, Tove…we’ll get you some help. You’ll be all right, baby.”
Ryan watches the two of you, looking very uncomfortable. After a few minutes, he turns and goes back to bed without a word. You stay with Tove, help him to bed, kiss his forehead gently, “Get some sleep, Tove,” you say, feeling numb as well as exhausted.
Tove looks up at you lovingly, “I love you, baby boy,” he whispers hoarsely, “Go to Ryan, baby-he needs you. He loves you.”
You nod and smile.
But when you go back to your bedroom, Ryan is gone-and so is his bag. A hastily written note lies on your pillow, and you cry silently as you read it:
“Hayden,
I love you so much, but I am not honestly sure if you feel the same way about me. I am going to my house to give you some space and time to think. You have to decide what it is that you want. You know where I am if you want to talk…R
You want to call him right then, and tell him how sorry you are for everything, but for some reason you don’t. Instead, you sit numbly on the edge of your bed and read and re-read the note until you feel so exhausted, you simply lie down and finally sleep.
Days go by. Two weeks pass. Tove is in rehab and you visit him often. You are reading scripts and trying to get on with life. You cry a lot and drink far too much. You stare at old photos of Adam, and then burn them. You go out with friends, and always dread running into Ryan out somewhere, but you never do.
And for some reason, you do not call him. You simply cannot make yourself pick up the phone and call him, no matter how much your soul screams at you to do it. Perhaps you feel that you blew your chance with him twice, and you don’t deserve him. …You try not to think about it. You try not to think at all.
THE FASHION DESIGNER
When Tom touches you-innocently enough, on the arm, during a Vogue shoot, you look at him and your eyes meet and you just know that he wants you.
A few hours later, you are lying naked in his bed as he slowly caresses your body and tells you that you are beautiful. You hate when people say that and your body tenses.
“What is it?” Tom asks, sensing your discomfort.
“Don’t say that…don’t say I’m beautiful, please?” you beg softly, eyes closed, arching against his gentle strokes.
Tom leans against your body and kisses your neck, “Why do you hate yourself so much?” he asks quietly.
You turn your face to his and kiss him, letting his tongue explore your mouth slowly, deeply. He crawls on top of you and pulls back, looking down at you with concern, lifting one of your thin arms to his lips and kissing the length of it, from wrist to shoulder, before pausing and running fingertips over newly healing scars thoughtfully, staring at them, “Why do you hurt yourself?”
You just look up at him and say nothing, because you have no answers, really.
“You need help, Hayden…you know that, don’t you?” he continues.
You turn your head to one side, feeling trapped by his body straddling yours and suddenly just wanting to be somewhere-anywhere-else.
“Please, don’t….” you say trying not to sound as needy as you feel, as frightened as you are.
“I’ve seen so many people like you in my life, Hayden,” Tom continues, “In this industry…you’ll die if you don’t stop.”
A single tear slides down the side of your face and onto the silk sheets below as you listen to him, “Maybe that’s what I want,” you admit quietly, “Maybe that would be….better….for everyone.”
Tom says nothing, then gets out of bed and wraps himself in a linen robe, avoiding your questioning gaze, “So, what is his name? This man you love so much and are so lonely without?” he asks you, cutting through the silence of the bedroom.
You look at him, stunned, and manage to reply, “Ryan…Ryan Phillippe…”
Tom nods, and returns to the bed, laying beside you, “Nothing has to happen between us tonight, Hayden…we can just talk, you know,” he says, smiling and you realise that he is a compassionate-if slightly lonely-man, who has a soft spot in his heart for fuck-ups like yourself.
So, you talk until you have no more words. You tell him all about Ryan and Adam and Tove and your whole fucked up life, and Tom listens sympathetically, and holds you when the words become too painful and you need to just cry.
When you finish your story, he strokes your cheek and kisses you deeply. You whimper and arch against him, needing the soothing balm of sex to ease your pain.
For a few moments you do nothing but kiss, and caress, and you whimper and he moans and it feels good.
“Make love to me, please?” you sigh, spreading your thighs wantonly and offering yourself to Tom hungrily, needing to feel wanted.
It is dawn, and he makes love to you, and by then you are writhing and desperate, arching against him, panting, clutching at his shoulders and pulling him against you, spreading your thighs wide and wrapping your legs around him as you kiss deeply and wetly, moving against one another in an almost hypnotic dance of want and lust.
You cry when he enters you, and the tears keep coming as he moves inside you, staring down at you with a mix of sympathy and concern that is at once moving and frightening for you. He takes your hands and threads your fingers with his own, then raises your arms over your head and stretches you upwards, until your body is a long, lithe line that is flush with his own, and you think it must be his aesthetic eye that wants to not only make love beautifully, but have it look beautiful as well.
He comes with a soft sigh against your cheek before kissing it gently, and withdrawing, laying next to you, and pulling you against him, “Let go for me, Hayden,” he urges, “Come for me…”
You know what he wants instantly, and most of the time you would be too shy, too self conscious to do it, but now you are too far gone to stop or even care, so you gyrate your hips against his, hard and rough, getting yourself off against his warm belly, and spilling your cream over his tanned torso and navel, then slumping against him, still crying, as he holds you close in his arms and just lets you cry.
Several hours later, you wake up to see Tom entering the bedroom with two cups of coffee.
You look up at him, dazed and sleepy, and not even sure where you are, and Tom smiles kindly and hands you a cup, Good morning,” he smiles, “You know the party I’m having-to launch the Vanity Fair cover?”
You nod, sitting up slowly, and sipping the coffee.
“I’ve taken the liberty of inviting a friend of yours-I hope you don’t mind. Ryan Philippe?” he smiles up over the cup at you knowingly, and you swallow thickly, staring down at the black liquid in your cup, trying to stop yourself from crying because you cried enough last night, and you really don’t want to make a fool out of yourself-again.
“Why are you…doing this?” you ask incredulously.
Tom smiles and sips his own coffee, looking at you thoughtfully, “You need him. You love him. If you won’t call him, maybe you’ll talk to him if he’s in the same room, no?”
“What does this have to do with you?” you ask, your words coming out far more harshly then you intended them to.
Tom just gives you a paternal gaze, “I guess I like helping people,” he says simply, then stands up, and claps his hands together, “Time to get up and out, Hayden…I don’t have any more time to waste on you and your love life…”
You stare at him for a moment, trying to decide if he is happy for you, or sad for himself because you will never be his. You decide it’s probably a bit of both, and smile sadly, “Thank you,” you whisper.
Tom shrugs as if he has done nothing at all, “Just make sure you look gorgeous that night, my darling-and TALK to him, promise me?”
You nod and promise him that you will.
Tom strokes your cheek a final time, “Don’t be stupid like me, Hayden. Love is precious and rare-don’t let it slip through your fingers.”
You lean your cheek into his palm and close your eyes, just enjoying his presence, sensing a deep and profound sadness in him-perhaps a loss in his life that he has never gotten over. You stand there together in comfortable silence for a long time, and then Tom add, “Thank you for last night. You were..wonderful.”
You open your eyes then because you hear such emotion in his voice and you see that he has tears in his eyes. You look at him questioningly, and he sighs and nods, “Yes, you remind me of him-a lover from years ago. Someone I let slip away….don’t make the same mistakes that I made, Hayden.”
You turn your head and kiss the palm of his hand in gratitude.
“Now, get out of here..before I try to bed you again!” he laughs and you smile and leave, thinking that Tom Ford is one of the nicest people you have ever known….
THE TRUE LOVE
You hate these Hollywood soirees, and you hate them even more when they have anything to do with fashion because it just makes you feel like a faggot model. But tonight, you have a good reason to be there-you may finally have a chance to see Ryan…
You enter the party and grab the first drink available because you really need to calm your nerves. You are wearing white tie and tails, as the dress code had instructed, and people are staring at you, making you feel very uncomfortable.
Then you see him. He’s standing against a statue in the foyer, sipping a drink and smirking at some blonde model who is flirting with him. Only Ryan Fucking Philippe would be cool enough to completely ignore the dress code, and come in a casual linen suit…he looks amazing. His hair is tussled just so, and his lips are as full as his eyes are piercing.
You feel as if your insides are being torn out. You feel as if you cannot breath. You feel as if your whole body is on fire. It takes you a full half-minute to respond when the waitress asks if you would like another drink. You just stare at him, willing his eyes to meet yours, and at last, they do.
Ryan breaks off his conversation and walks towards you casually, “Christensen,” he smiles coolly, “You look very dapper this evening,”
“Hi,” you say nervously, looking at your shoes, not sure if he means it or if he is making fun of you.
“Look up, Hayden-remember? It’s not polite to look at your shoes when people are talking to you,” Ryan scolds in his teasing manner.
“You look wonderful,” you say quickly, forcing yourself to look at him-and then blushing madly and regretting your words even as you say them. Your palms are sweaty and the glass you are holding slides around as you desperately try to think of something-anything-to say.
Ryan watches you for a moment, and then takes pity on you, “How have you been, Hayden?”
You swallow and consider lying, but decide not too, “I’ve been terrible. I’m sure you heard all about it.”
Ryan nods knowingly and stares at his drink, “The public has a very short memory, Christensen,” he assures you sagely, “They’ll be on to another, newer scandal before you know it.”
“I hope you’re right,” you say wistfully
“I’m always right!” Ryan smirks at you, before becoming serious suddenly, and dropping his voice lower, “How is Tove?”
You nod and smile softly, “Better-getting better every day-one day at a time and all that. He’s in therapy-it seems to help.”
You want to add that you are also in therapy and that you think it is helping you as well, but you figure that’s too much information, right now-and maybe Ryan doesn’t really want to know. Maybe he no longer cares what happens to you….
The next words come out of your mouth before you even think them.
“I missed you so much after you moved out…”
“Really?” Ryan replies mildly, belying the bitterness he is still feeling, “I wouldn’t have thought you’d notice when I left-you barely noticed when I was there.”
You stare at the floor again, not sure how to respond to that.
“I’m sorry,” he says after a moment, taking a step towards you, “It just…it still hurts, you know?”
You nod, not looking at him, “I know,” you agree, “I’m sorry…”
“Are you sleeping with Tove?” Ryan asks suddenly, out of nowhere, and you snap your head up to look at him, studying his face to note any malice there, but you see none.
“No!” you exclaim too loudly, and then lower your voice, “Of course not! That’s…way over. We’re brothers now-nothing more. The way it should have always been…”
Ryan nods, taking in what you are saying slowly.
“So…are you seeing anyone?” you ask hopefully, managing a small smile.
Ryan cocks his head to one side, “I know this is Hollywood, and all that, Christensen, but I do not move on that fast!”
You laugh and realise that it is the first real laugh you have allowed yourself for months, “You want to get a coffee or something sometime?” you ask, biting your lip, sounding and feeling like a teenager asking someone out for the first time.
“How about now?” Ryan asks, giving you a smile that warms you from your toes to your heart, “I hate these things anyway-you know that.”
Giggling, you join hands and escape the party before anyone sees you leave and duck out to Ryan’s Escalade. On the way there, you catch Tom’s eye and he smiles and nods knowingly.
You mouth the words, “Thank you,” to him, and leave.
You both know that the coffee is going to have to wait.
You drive to Ryan’s place and fall into bed, your two bodies coming together like pieces of a puzzle, fitting perfectly.
The sex is warm and desperate and loving. And when you come, you cry with happiness, and when Ryan comes, he whispers against your ear that he loves you, and at last-- at long last-- you feel complete.
Afterwards, you lay in bed together, watching the sun come up, comfortable in one another’s presence
“You know I have a confession to make,” you smile, looking over at him, “I only went to that party tonight because I knew you would be there.”
Ryan smiles knowingly, “Same,” he admits, kissing your temple lightly, before running a slender finger down the length of your face, “I love you, Hayden,”
You smile and tears spring to your eyes at his words, “I love you too-so much. I’m so…so sorry for..everything. I was…so horrible.”
Ryan shakes his head, “You were in pain….suicide is a terrible thing. …”
You nod in agreement silently, thinking for a moment about Adam and the waste of his life, “I’m not just talking about after Adam…I mean…everything-Tove, the things I did, the things I said…”
Ryan takes your hand and brings it to his warm lips, kissing it, “I know,” he says gently.
“I wanted to call you…so many times over the last few months…” you admit.
“Why didn’t you?” Ryan asks seriously, reaching out to clasp your hand in his reassuringly.
“I thought you hated me-and I wouldn’t have blamed you, but I didn’t want to face it. I just couldn’t face you telling me to fuck off.”
“I will never do that,” Ryan promises quietly.
You look up and smile shyly at Ryan, “I feel so safe with you-the first time in my life I ever felt this way, I think…” you admit, feeling emotional and vulnerable, and needing Ryan so very much.
Ryan doesn’t reply in words-instead, he kisses you slowly and deeply, then rests his forehead against yours, “That smile of yours does it to me every time, Christensen….” He murmurs quietly, just holding you.
“So…what happens now?” you ask at last.
“Now?” Ryan pulls back and gives you one of his smirks, “Now we start our happily-ever-after…”
You smile.
FINIS
By: Anisapologist
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A look at Hayden’s lovers through the years…
Disclaimer: Not True!
THE HOCKEY PLAYER FRIEND
You call Adam because you really need to know that you can still sleep with someone other than Tove.
He loves you gently one night, after his team has won a game. He’s hot and sweaty from the game and you tell him not to shower because you love the smell of a man’s sweat when he fucks you. You waited for him by the locker room, and though he was surprised to see you, he smiled that easy smile of his and took you back to his hotel room.
“Fuck, you feel good,” Adam whimpers against your ear as he takes you in the dark hotel room.
You tremble under his caresses and bite your lip to keep from crying, “I love you, Adam,” you whimper in a needy voice, clinging to his shoulders, “Please tell me you love me too…”
Adam looks at you a bit concerned, “Are you all right, Haydie?” he asks in his gruff voice that you love so much because its masculine and deep.
You shake your head, tears coming to your eyes, “I’m fucked up,” you say softly.
“Tell me…”
“I…I can’t…” you whisper apologetically, “Please…just…just fuck me…fuck through the floor…make me forget….forget everything…please?”
He does. He pounds into you ruthlessly, just the way you want it, need it. And after you both come, he doesn’t press you for details. He’s happy to simply hold you in his strong arms, and tell you he’ll always treasure what you share together in secret. You begin to cry then.
“I’m such a fucking whore!” you say, your voice full of self-loathing, “You have no idea what a sick fuck I am!”
Adam looks at you, surprised at the outburst, “Haydie? Calm down, man…it’s okay…”
You sit up, “NO! Its not even…even close to being okay, Adam…I met someone…someone I care about-really care about, you know? And…I fucked up. I lost him, and I don’t know if I can…deal with that…”
Adam looks at you sympathetically, “What happened?”
You give Adam a nervous glance, not sure if you can trust even him with the secret that is Tove, but you desperately need to talk to someone, so you decide to risk it, “I….when I was fifteen-before I met you-I was…I slept with Tove…and I still do, sometimes.”
Adam is totally silent and does not visibly react.
“Ryan…that’s the guy I met-he came over a few days ago and Tove was there…we were stoned. Tove started coming on to Ryan, and they ended up fucking…. I just wanted to watch…then Tove…he stopped fucking Ryan and…started fucking me instead-with Ryan there! He saw it all. He left and told me I was sick. I haven’t had the nerve to call him since….”
Adam shifts on the bed, sitting up and taking you in his arms soothingly, “Oh, Haydie…why? Why would you want…Tove?”
You shake your head, “I don’t know. Maybe because…well, you know the kind of house I grew up in-how my father was? It was fucked up, dysfunctional…Tove always protected me as much as he could-keep dad from…hitting me, keep me from seeing my dad beat my mom up…I guess I just feel so attached to him, so close to him because of what we went through together as kids…and then, one time when we were drunk, we got curious, and…it was nice, it was good, you know? So, we kept doing it…. it’s fucked up, I know. But…fuck! What am I gonna do?”
Adam takes a deep breath and kisses your forehead gently, “You should call Ryan…” he says at last, “Talk to him.”
“Do you think I’m sick?” you ask in a very small voice.
“No,” Adam replies instantly, stroking your hair, “But…I don’t think you and Tove should be…doing that. It’s wrong, and its..not healthy.”
You have always loved Adam’s gift for understatement. You nod and smile sadly, “I just…I don’t know how to say no to him…”
“Learn too,” is Adam’s only response, “Learn too-before it destroys both of you.”
“Can I…can I stay here tonight? Please?” you plead softly, afraid that Adam will throw you out and never speak to you again.
“Of course, baby,” he smiles, lying back down and beckoning you to join him.
Tentatively, you lay down on his chest, and he wraps an arm around you gently, “Sleep now,”
“Still friends?” you whimper, close to tears.
“Of course. Always.” Adam says firmly and you smile against his skin.
You smile warmly, and lean against Adam, recalling your first time together….
FLASHBACK:
The bus was deathly quiet. Your high school ice hockey team was on its way back from losing a game, and it was already dark outside.
You dozed in your seat next to Adam, who was wired from the game and unable to sit still.
“Stop it!” you snapped, annoyed as he moved around in his seat, “Trying to sleep…”
“You’re adorable when you pout!” Adam said suddenly, causing you to open your eyes in surprise.
“What?” you gasped, “Are you coming on to me or something?”
Adam lowered his voice and leaned towards you, “What if I was?”
You stared at him, and said nothing. Then you looked around, to make sure no one was watching.
“I’d let you have me.” you whispered, voice shaking slightly, eyes downcast.
Adam’s hand played lightly with your erection on the outside of your sweatpants, as you stared with wide eyes, not sure how to react. Adam looked at you, a question in his eyes and you nodded instantly, granting permission. He slid his hand deftly inside your sweats, grasping your erection, and causing you to moan in response.
His other hand came quickly to your lips, silencing you with his fingertips, “Shhh…” he whispered, as he slowly began to stroke.
Biting your lip to hold back cries of pleasure, you stared into Adam’s eyes as you shared this erotic act, amazed at how good it could feel….you came silently, eyes fluttering closed, your tense body going slack against the seat.
You made love that night, heatedly, in the backseat of Adam’s car in the school parking lot.
You didn’t know what you were doing, really, and Adam had to guide you through it. You were surprised that he seemed so experienced, but happy for the guidance. Adam was rough sexually, but you liked that-you liked the way he grabbed you, the way he panted and grunted as he entered you, the way he looked and sounded when he came…afterwards, he held you as you straddled his lap, dazed at what had happened between the two of you. He told you that this had to be your secret, and you agreed readily, already thinking you were in love with him.
You were heartbroken when Adam told you he was getting married. You had been sleeping together for three years, even after you had moved to Vancouver, and even though you knew he had a girlfriend, and slept with her too, he always assured you that you were the one he wanted. But…Adam was going to be a big hockey star, and-like you-he couldn’t afford to be gay.
So, he married Sandi, and you went to the wedding, even serving as Best Man, feeling guilty because Sandi looked ecstatically happy, and yet you knew that only the night before, Adam had made love to you after the rehearsal dinner, in your hotel room, moaning about how good you felt and how the wedding would change nothing-he would always need you like this, in bed.
After the wedding, it was three months before you saw him again, but when you did, it was as if nothing had changed between you. You had been afraid that it would be awkward, and you would not know how to act around him, but Adam solved your dilemma by shoving you against the door of his hotel suite and fucking there against it, coming inside of you with a shout, and then holding you and stroking your body for hours, telling you how much he still loved you, how sorry he was…. The sex was so good, so right….after a while, you got used to the arrangement. You accepted that Adam would never be yours exclusively. You were content with a few nights a year in some hotel.
END FLASHBACK
You awaken in the morning to the feel of Adam writhing gently against your back, “Morning, Den…” he whispers hoarsely, his erection pressed to your lower back suggestively.
You say nothing, merely groaning, and laying flat on your belly. Adam slicks himself with lube and enters you slowly, making love to you slowly and tenderly, pausing to kiss your back, and lick you as he moves inside.
“I want to come in you,” he grunts as he gets close.
You turn your head to one side and whimper, “yes…”
You feel his body tense, feel the heat of his essence as it fills you, hear his groan of delight, listen vaguely as he falls against your back, kissing your neck and whispering that he loves you. He nuzzles your neck, and you smile a lazy smile and just enjoy this moment of private pleasure.
THE ROCK STAR
You go to the concert because you truly like Rob’s music, and have no intention of meeting him afterwards. But of course, you are invited back stage, and you start drinking with him…you take him home.
You have sex with him because it seems like what he wants. He pushes your head down gently to suck him off and watches you with intense eyes as you deep throat him. He moans softly, and watches until his eyes fall shut and then he is fucking your mouth.
All at once, he asks you to stop and lay on your belly on the bed, which you do. He fucks you, but he’s slow and gentle about it-whispering in your ear that you seem so fragile, so vulnerable, and are you sure its okay to do this? You nod and grit your teeth and he enters you with a grunt.
The sex is nice, because he’s tender. It’s over quickly. He climaxes and withdraws, rubbing your back reassuringly afterwards, asking how you want to come. You roll over and tell him not to worry about it. He gives you a sad look, and reaches for you, wanting to jack you off, but you still his hand and shake your head firmly, “No, don’t…it’s okay…please.”
“You’re so sad,” he says, and it is a statement, not a question.
He leans forward and gently, softly kisses your forehead.
Rob draws his hand away and nods slowly, looking as if he regrets it. He dresses in silence and then leaves you alone with your tears.
You miss Ryan so very much….
THE CO-STAR
She had just broken up with her fiancé, and needed someone to talk too, so she came to your room at 3am…. you were drunk and asleep when Sienna pounded on your door, crying. You let her in reluctantly, and tried to make her feel better, telling her what an ass you thought her boyfriend was….she leaned forward and kissed you.
You found yourself in her bed, in the hotel suite…she straddled you, naked, and you could feel the heat of her sex against your thighs. You reached up and cupped her small breasts, pulling her down against you for a deep, searching kiss. As you kissed her, you slid inside her warm wetness and she gasped against your lips as you entered her, staring into your eyes as you stared back. It was only your third time with a woman, but you guessed that you were doing an okay job by the way Sienna moaned and arched for you. She was soaking wet, and tight, and it felt amazing…. you rolled her onto her back so that you could be on top and really slam into her pussy. You went at her with an angry intensity that she seemed to love. You felt her muscles contract around your hard cock and felt a gush of warmth, as she came.
You found you rather liked being inside her, moving quickly, eyes rolling back in your head as she moaned softly beneath you. She was warm and soft and wet…so different from a man’s body. It felt good….you cried out her name. You came on her belly, pulling out and spraying all over her perfect skin as she moaned and grabbed her breasts, arching her back.
“Afterwards, she lit a cigarette and handed it to you before lighting one for herself, “I thought you were gay,” she said airily.
You just smiled at her and said nothing.
For a few weeks, you fucked her everyday, every chance you got. It wasn’t like you were turning straight or anything, but she felt so good, and it was something different, and you found that it took your mind off of Ryan.
The two of you would get drunk and then fuck like animals in heat. One night,
You grunted and fell onto your back beside her, the room spinning from the alcohol and the sex….
“I can’t do this,” you told her, your words slurring, “I’m gay. I can’t keep…lying to you.”
She didn’t reply.
You fucked her twice more while filming continued-once up against a wall, in her ass, almost imagining she was a boy with her back to you and her short blonde hair….and once in her hotel suite, in the shower, all wet skin and hands and sex and needy kisses and rough thrusts. Gripping her slim hips and slamming inside her a final time, you came, screaming, then mentally cursed yourself for being so stupid and coming inside some slut without protection….you withdrew gently and leaned back against the shower tiles, breathing hard. She said nothing, just got out of the shower and dressed.
You don’t see her for a few weeks, and then she is blowing into Toronto on her way back to London after the Oscars, and asks if you want to get together.
You meet for lunch, and she kisses you in your car as you leave the café, asking in her straightforward way if you want to fuck her before she has to leave to catch her plane. You smile shyly and nod. You are horny….you drive to a cheap motel, and have sex for a few hours in a room that looks like its rented by the hour.
Sliding into her pussy is a bit like coming home-she feels warm and safe. You moan at the feeling and bend down to kiss her neck as she wraps long legs around your waist and pushes you ever deeper.
“Sienna…” you groan, fucking her gently, wanting it to last, “I wanna…can I come in you?”
“Uh-huh…” she murmurs, eyes closed-and you wonder, briefly, if she is thinking about you or Jude as she makes love to you. Pushing those thoughts from your mind, you thrust quicker, feeling close to climax. She comes, and you feel hr body tighten impossibly around your cock, sending you over the edge, “OH!” you cry out, spilling heavily inside her body, gasping for breath as you collapse against her.
You hold each other closely afterwards; very few words are spoken, except your whispered, “Thank you.” in her ear.
There is something in the way that she kisses you goodbye at the airport that lets you know you are not going to see her again…
THE DIRECTOR
He was old enough to be your father, perhaps that was part of the perverse attraction, and he wasn’t particularly attractive, either. But he made you feel special, and he treated you so well on-set. When he invited you to his mansion for dinner after shooting wrapped, you both knew exactly what you were there for.
He poured you a whiskey and ushered you out onto a balcony that overlooked a grape valley in Tuscany. It was absolutely breath taking.
With little fanfare, he entered you as you gripped the balcony rails for support, and then pulled your body back and flush against his. You gasped because there was pain, then went slack in his arms as he thrust inside you over and over again.
You were slightly drunk already, and needy. You leaned your head back against his shoulder, turning your face towards his so you could kiss. His tongue slid into your mouth easily, and there you were, body against body, kissing and fucking languidly as the sunset behind the mountains.
He broke the kiss, and whispered something to you in Italian that sounded beautiful, but you had no idea what he was saying. He climaxed quickly, sighing softly against your neck and then sagging forward, against you, slipping from your body, and breathing heavily.
After a moment, his hand snaked around to free your own erection from your pants and he stroked you gently and slowly, whispering things in Italian, and kissing you lightly all over your neck and shoulders.
You leaned back against him now and he supported your whole weight. You watched the sun go down as he jacked you off, and when you came, you made no noise, just jerked your hips forward, spasming once, twice and a third time, arching your neck back against his shoulder and letting your knees buckle as you spilled your essence over the balcony and down onto the walkway below.
You were flushed and light-headed, trembling in his arms. You whimpered his name, and he soothed you, telling you it was all okay, and that you were beautiful. You wanted to believe him, but of course you did not. You just closed your eyes and let him hold you until long after it was dark.
TOVE
Tove drinks a lot. You’ve noticed how he always drinks alone, and tries to hide the amounts that he’s putting away. You vaguely suspect he’s an alcoholic, but if he is, he’s a functional one.
Everyday he gets up and goes to work, no matter how much he’s drunk the night before. Then he comes home and cooks you dinner and tries his best to look after you.
Tove isn’t a bad person. He’s a wonderful friend and a great brother-he truly loves you and you know that. And yet…and yet…
You know that the sexual aspect of your relationship is wrong, and you have never really wanted it. All you ever sought from Tove was his affection, his embraces…not sex. That was something that Tove craved, not you. Rather like his drinking, his sexual obsession with you was a dirty little secret-and one that he only gave into occasionally, when his desire overrode his logic….and something he frequently felt very guilty about.
In many ways, Tove is a tragic figure in your life-he has given you everything he has to give and more. He has no life of his own-your life is his life. So, when he asks for your body, you always give it to him because it is what he needs and you want to repay him for all he has done for you. When he orgasms inside you or in your mouth or your hand, he is blissfully happy-and that is really the only time you ever see him so happy.
You lay in bed with him, naked. Tove has not come to you since that night with Ryan. He felt so badly about it, so sorry for ruining things between you and him, and so embarrassed that he could not control himself in front of Ryan….but last night he came to you, in the darkness. He stood beside your bed, stroking his erection, reeking of scotch, and in a needy voice he had asked, “Den…are you awake, baby?”
You rolled over and just looked at him, not saying anything.
You let him lay on top of you and cover your form with wet kisses, you listened as he moaned and begged for it, you arched up and gave him your cock, which he petted and sucked reverently, telling you he wanted to drink your come…you felt his weeping hard cock against your belly as you made out on your bed, felt him lubricate himself, let him fuck you, slowly and gently at first, staring into your eyes wondrously, telling you how it has never felt like this with anyone else….then he speeds up his thrusts, groaning and throwing his head towards the ceiling, crying out your name in release, collapsing against you, shaking with emotion and exertion. You slid your arms around him, and just held him through the night.
In the morning, he gently pushes your head downwards and you suck him off the way he likes it in the morning-slow and languid and erotic.
Now, you are kissing his navel, nuzzling the soft hair there, whimpering, the taste of his essence still in your mouth. His hand plays with the curls at the nape of your neck absently. You know he’s lost in thought, “What are you thinking?” you ask softly.
“Just that I wish…I wish I didn’t want you like this….need you like this.” Tove replies, his voice drenched with guilt.
You close your eyes against his words and kiss his belly tenderly, “I know, “ you say softly, “I know you do…”
Then you suck him until he comes in your mouth, and hold his sex in your mouth as he pets your hair, “I’m sorry, Den<” he whimpers, sated and exhausted, “Sorry it’s like this…for us…you must hate me so much…”
You shake your head sadly, “I could never hate you, Tove.”
He drags himself from your bed and goes to work.
You wonder, idly, if he drinks at work. He probably does. You wonder where he hides all of the bottles…when you were a kid you used to try to find all your mother’s bottles and pour the alcohol down the drain, believing that if you did this, she would stop being a drunk…you know better now. You don’t bother to look for Tove’s bottles.
RYAN
Ryan recognises your phone number When he does pick up, he says nothing-just waits for you to talk.
“Ryan? It’s me…it’s Hayden…” you whisper nervously, “Please don’t hang up…”
“I know who it is,” he replies coolly, “What do you want?”
You sigh because you are not really certain how to answer that question-you want so many things…at last you settle on simply saying, “I want you…please talk to me?”
He is quiet for a long time and you think that he’s hung up. Just as you are about to say something, he agrees, “Okay. Where do you want to meet up?”
You agree to meet in a local park by his house. You arrive twenty minutes early, and pace the grounds nervously, trying to figure out what the hell you are going to say to him.
Ryan’s Escalade pulls into the parking lot, and Ryan emerges, looking gorgeous in denim cut off shorts and a wife beater-your heart skips a beat when you see him approaching.
But you can tell by the look on his face that Ryan did not come there to talk. Even as he approaches you from a distance, you can see him unbuttoning his pants and you instinctively back up until you are standing up against a tree, and Ryan attacks your mouth with his own ruthlessly, his tongue claiming your mouth and you cry out into his in surprise kisses you hard and demanding for a few moments, then pulls away, gasping for air. You lean your head back against the tree, and close your eyes dazed by his actions-and incredibly turned on.
“I need to fuck you now…” he mutters between breathless kisses, “Want to be in you…”
You nod desperately, shedding your jeans, letting them fall off your hips, along with your underwear, not even caring that you are in a public place-that anyone might spot you-all that matters is Ryan. Your world has shrunk to only him…
“Missed you so much…” you murmur as his kisses transport you to a place somewhere far away from this park.
“Christensen…” he says gruffly, hooking one arm under your knee and urging you to lift your leg, never breaking the deep kiss he has you locked in.
You know what he wants-you lift yourself up and wrap your legs around his waist as he finds your entrance with wet fingers, preparing you quickly. You pull your head back, smacking it hard on the tree truck, but not caring, grunting in pain and anticipation. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you arch as best as you can for him.
He enters you quickly, with little preparation, and the pain is blinding but cathartic. Your eyes fly open and seek his. You stare at one another now-his eyes angry and accusing, and yours sad and apologetic. Your mouth hangs open in wonder as he takes you there, in public-the recklessness of the act only adding to its eroticism.
This is not about making love-it is not even about sex-this is about claiming and ownership. Ryan wants to own you-and you want to be owned by him.
You can feel your back being ripped apart by the roughness of the tree through your thin tee shirt, as Ryan slams against you hard and erratic, groaning loudly with each movement, then burying his mouth against your neck and lapping at it sloppily, saliva dripping down onto your collarbone. He sounds and acts like an animal, and you simply let him have this-let him have the sex his way. You close your eyes, and grunt, turning your head to one side, feeling him getting close.
“FUCK!” he shouts as he grinds against you a final time, then tenses, his come pouring into you, hot and sticky and sublime. He falls against you heavily, and you slowly lower yourself off of him and back onto the ground, while continuing to hold him against you, his knees buckling as his sex slips from your body, his head resting in the crook of your neck.
You remain this way for many long moments, just resting against the tree and holding him as he recovers from his orgasm.
All at once, he pulls away and falls to his knees, taking you into his mouth in a quick, smooth movement that causes you to gasp in surprise, “Ohhhh…Ryan!” you groan as he sucks you off, your hands playing with the curls of his hair, guiding his mouth very gently, watching him, even though you notice that he won’t look at you.
You come with a sharp gasp of pleasure and spill into his mouth, leaning forward slightly, body taut. Ryan swallows your essence as if it were the nectar of the gods, then lets your softening sex slip from his mouth, and lays his cheek gently against your thigh, still refusing to look at you.
You feel an odd warm dampness against your thigh, and tilt Ryan’s chin upwards to look at his face. It is then that you realise he is crying. Your heart breaks for him and you fall to your knees in front of him, stroking his cheek lovingly, “Oh, Ryan…I’m so sorry! I love you…I love you so fucking much!”
You embrace him and he falls hard against you, nearly knocking you backwards in his haste to feel your body against his again, “Hayden…” he groans, sounding broken.
Abruptly, he pulls away from you, zipping his pants and staring at the ground. You sag against the tree, watching him, “Where are you going?” you ask sadly, redressing yourself.
“Now it’s my turn to run away,” he says bitterly, “I can’t…I have…feelings for you that I don’t think I’ve ever felt for anyone-not even my wife. But…when I think about you and Tove, I…it makes me sick, Hayden. I can’t…share you, especially not with him.”
“I’m not asking you to share…you don’t know what I was planning on saying to you today-you didn’t give me a chance. You just walked up and fucked me!” you say angrily, “How do you know what I was going to say or do about Tove?”
Ryan slowly meets your gaze, “So, were you? Going to ask me to share you with Tove-or were you going to tell me you’d end things with him for me? Tell me now.”
You look at him nervously and run your hands through your hair, “I…I want to end it with him. I want you-only you. I love you, Ryan…I just…it’s going to be hard for him, and I have to…be gentle about it? Can you understand that?”
Ryan lights a cigarette and crouches down on the ground to smoke, taking a long drag and nodding slowly, “Yeah, I guess I can understand that,” he says quietly, “But..I can’t be with you-not really with you-until…you end it. Can you understand that?”
You nod quickly, smiling happily and sliding down on your knees beside Ryan, reaching out to embrace him, “I understand…Thank you…I love you so much…”
Ryan smiles reluctantly, laughing when you knock him over, “Hey, hey! I’ve got a smoke here-don’t burn me alive!”
You laugh merrily and roll on top of him, straddling him and smiling down at him broadly, “Oh, I would never do that! Can’t have you burnt! You’re far too gorgeous to burn!”
The laughing dies away and the two of you stare at one another for what feels like an eternity. Then Ryan reaches up and tucks a stray curl behind your right ear affectionately, “So beautiful Hayden….you’re so beautiful…”
You drop your eyes shyly and bite your lip. You swallow thickly and take a deep breath before meeting his eyes again, “I never wanted it, you know? Sleeping with Tove…I never wanted it, not really. I mean, he didn’t rape me or anything, but…I never really enjoyed it. I knew it was wrong…perverted, you know? I tried to tell him, but….he doesn’t have anyone else in his life. He’s lonely, and…it’s my fault because he spends all his time looking after me, and never has a chance to meet someone for himself. I guess I felt like I owed it to him…”
Ryan listens, trying not to sound judgmental when he replies, “Baby, Tove is a grown man-if he wants a life of his own, it’s his job to make one for himself. You didn’t force him to move in with you, or get in the movie business with you, or hang around you all the time….he made those choices himself. It’s not your fault-and you don’t owe him anything.”
You nod, your gaze dropping to Ryan’s chest, unable to meet his eyes. You know what he is saying is true, but it’s easier to blame yourself for…everything. You don’t want to think that Tove might be to blame…that he might have even orchestrated things so that you would rely on him, and would need him to become an intregel part of your life, so he would have you all to himself.
“What are you going to do?” Ryan asks quietly.
“End it with him,” you promise, “I only want you, Ryan-you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, I mean that.”
Ryan nods solemnly.
Tove handles it as well as can be expected. He’s angry. He’s hurt. But he tries to understand, knows you are doing the right thing. He agrees to move out, and you help him do so numbly, feeling bad for him. He looks forlorn, and lonely…but just as he is about to leave, he pauses at the door to his SUV and crushes you against him in a brotherly hug, “I love you, baby boy…always have. This is the right thing you are doing here, don’t worry about me-I’ll be fine.”
And then Tove is gone.
THE SCANDAL
You sit on your bed, sobbing into your knees, unable to cope. Tove sits listlessly in a chair across the room, afraid to touch you, not knowing what to say. You called him when the scandal broke because you did not know what else to do, or who else to ring.
The pictures are everywhere. Pictures of you and Adam. The two of you kissing, holding, in various states of undress….even making love.
It’s all your fault because the photographer was following you, and you should have noticed them, but you didn’t… He had a long lense and a perfect view into your hotel suite…he took photos for hours….the tabloids bought them all-even the ones where you both look so…lurid, so…wanton, so tawdry….you will never be able to explain to Tove or to your parents or to Ryan or to anyone that it wasn’t like that with Adam-that you love each other, and that the sex between you was beautiful and about love and need and a deep friendship….on film it all just looks like sick lust and a man cheating on his pregnant wife with another man.
As upset as you are for yourself, your heart aches for Adam-he doesn’t deserve this. His life is destroyed-his marriage is over, his career is over…. he’s a good person who doesn’t deserve to be treated this way.
You want to call Adam, but you are too afraid of what he’ll say or do. So you sit with Tove in your bedroom, smoking far too many cigarettes and sobbing like a small child uncontrollably.
“I know how it…looks, “ you manage to say between sobs, “But…I love Adam. I have for years…he loves me too. I’m the only man he’s ever-EVER-been with.”
Tove looks up from the floor that he’s been staring at for an hour, listening to you cry and the telephone ring off the hook, “He’s married, Den! He has children…” Tove says it in an accusing tone, “How could you…do that?”
“I know!” you cry out, “I…I just….I never thought about…her. His kids…I didn’t want him to leave his family for me or anything…it wasn’t like that…”
“You keep saying that, Hayden,” Tove says, his voice bitingly sardonic, “So tell me-what was it like?”
You stare at Tove; hurt and betrayed that he thinks of you as a marriage-wrecker, “It was just…something we did, sometimes…a few times a year, maybe. We loved each other, but we knew…we agreed that we could never be together, so…”
“Oh fuck, Den!” Tove rolls his eyes disgustedly, “This has been going on for years?”
You nod through your tears, “Since high school-since before Sandi…”
“You were Best Man in their wedding for fuck’s sake!” Tove shouts at you, running his hands through his hair angrily.
You look down at the floor because you have no defence for that. What Tove is saying-what he is accusing you of-is true.
“So you just fucked him in hotel rooms when he was away from his wife.” Tove finishes for you, standing up to leave the room, “That’s fucking great, Hayden. I need a break from this-I’ll be back in a while.”
“Where are you going?” you ask, angry now, “To a bar? That’s your answer to everything, isn’t it? Have another drink-that’ll solve it!”
Tove turns back to give you a loathsome glare, “At least I don’t break up peoples marriages, Hayden-and I don’t get myself photographed on my knees getting fucked by a man for all the world to see!”
“No-you just fuck your own brother, and then drink until you pass out.” You reply, your voice flat and calm and deathly unemotional, “You’re a model citizen, Tove!”
Tove pauses at your words, but does not turn around and does not address them. He walks out and you hear his car drive off.
Your mobile rings at almost the exact same moment, and you pick it up instantly.
“Its Ryan,” you hear him say, “I heard-and saw. How are you?”
You dissolve into tears.
“Why are you crying, baby?” he asks, and he sounds pained.
“Because…I love you, and I fucked up, and now you’ll hate me, and I just want to do some ice and forget everything….”
“Christensen, I need to ask you something, and you have to..you gotta tell me the truth, okay?” Ryan says solemnly.
“Okay,” you choke out between the sobs that threaten to overwhelm you.
“Were you with Adam before or after we made up?”
“Before…I swear! It was before!” you cry out too loudly, “I haven’t seen him since we got back together. I wouldn’t…”
You can hear the smile in Ryan’s voice on the other end, “Then none of this matters-at least not to me. I’m sorry for you, though-and your friend. Do you want me to…come over or anything?”
Your heart is so full you think it will burst and you smile despite the tears streaming down your face, “Yes! Please? Come over? I need you…so much, baby,” you beg into the phone.
You are in that post coital blissful state, curled up next to Ryan, both of you naked and sleepy, when your cell phone rings again.
“I should get that,” you mumble sleepily, reaching for the phone, “It could be Tove-he left here in a huff. He’s probably drunk somewhere…”
You pick up the phone without looking at the number, “Hullo?”
It’s Adam.
“Hayden…” he breathes. He sounds destroyed.
You sit up, instantly awake, “Adam! My God-how are you? I’m so sorry…so fucking sorry…”
You don’t really hear half of what he is saying to you, but you agree to meet him t his place in an hour to discuss the situation. Ryan is not pleased, but tries to understand.
“Do you want to come with me?” you offer.
“No,” Ryan smiles softly, “I have to learn to trust you sometime, don’t I?”
“I love you,” you tell Ryan, kissing him gently and picking up your keys.
You lay in bed with Adam, but it is not because you are having sex. You are fully clothed, and so is he, but he is also a mess, and you have come to try to comfort him. His wife has left him, threatening to take the children away…he is crying softly in your arms and saying that he wishes he had never lied about his sexuality…you know exactly how he feels.
You stroke Adam’s face lovingly and stare into his eyes intently as he speaks, “I just want…to be who I really am now…no more hiding. Will you be with me? As my lover, Hayden?”
You swallow thickly, and look away, “Oh, Adam…” you whisper, voice filled with regret and pain, and Adam knows without you saying a word that you are not going to be with him, and he looks crest fallen.
“You’ve met someone, haven’t you?” he says after a long moment, and you just look at him sadly.
Adam tries very hard to look happy for you, but that only makes you feel worse, “I love him, Adam. I love him, and I’ve hurt him so much already…I can’t….hurt him anymore.”
Adam smiles and reaches out to clasp your hand in his. You lay side by side on your bed and stare at the ceiling, “Tell me about him,” he says good naturedly, like the Adam you have always known-like his life isn’t in the toilet, like he hasn’t just lost everything he’s ever worked for….
You smile wistfully and tell him about Ryan. He pretends to listen and pretends to care.
You leave a few hours later, giving Adam a hug and telling him to be strong, that things can only get better. He looks you in the eye and lies to your face, and tells you that he will be just fine….
THE SUICIDE
When Adam kills himself, you are devastated beyond all reason. You literally cannot react, cannot even cry.
You receive the call at three in the morning, and you are in bed with Ryan. Tove stumbles in to the room a few minutes after you hang up, mumbling and asking who was on the phone, and Ryan has to tell him because you cannot even speak.
Tove embraces you, and Ryan strokes your back, and you just sit there for some indefinable amount of time in stunned silence; feelings like you want to vomit.
You push Ryan away, though you don’t really want too. You do coke and meth and pot and vodka, and anything else you can get your hands on. You ignore Ryan’s calls, don’t return his messages. You truly want to die because you believe that your life is worthless---all you ever do is hurt people, hurt those you love. Adam’s life was much more important then yours and yet he’s gone-what possible point is there to your pathetic existence.
Ryan takes the abuse you give him, and tries to hold you, even though you push him away. He helps you to bed when you are drunk or stoned, and makes you strong coffee in the morning.
“Why are you doing this?” you ask him one morning, annoyed as he pads around your kitchen in bare feet making you toast.
He doesn’t look at your accusing stare as he answers, “Because I love you,”
You snort and look away, lighting a cigarette and ignoring the toast, “How can you love me? I’m a terrible person-you’ll find out. I’ll end up ruining your life too.”
Ryan ignores your words, taking a deep breath and pretending to read the paper. It had been weeks since you made love, since allowed him to even touch you. You are being a complete jerk to him, and you know it, but you can’t seem to stop yourself. The guilt over Adam’s death is so heavy, you feel as if you will break underneath its weight.
Ryan lets you yell and cry and throw tantrums. He gives you the ‘I’ve-seen-it-all-before’ look when you do it.
Tove can’t deal with any of it any longer-he’s never home, and when he is, he gets drunk alone in his old bedroom, where he is currently camping out. You honestly worry that one night he might drink himself to death in there, and then you’ll have another death on your conscious.
One night you hear him retching into the toilet off his bedroom, and get up, stumbling to his bedroom. The door is locked, and you can hear him vomiting violently.
“Tove!” you shout angrily, slamming your shoulder against his door to no avail, “Open the God damn door!”
Suddenly Ryan is beside you, trying to help you open the door, “Tove? Are you okay? Open the door!”
After a few long moments, Tove drags himself to the door and unlocks it. You open the door and just look down at your big brother. He is sitting in a heap on the floor, pale and drawn and looking like hell, “Oh, Tove…” you moan, falling to your knees beside him and stroking his hair, “You gotta…you got to stop this, baby…you’re killing yourself. Why are you doing this?”
Tove looks like he doesn’t really want to answer that, but knows that he has too, “I’ve been a drunk for years, Hayden,” he admits quietly, “You just didn’t notice until a few months ago…”
“I always knew you drank,” you reply, “I just…never knew why.”
Tove buries his face in his hands and cries, “Because I hate my life. Because I hate that I…slept with you. Hate myself for fucking you, and fucking you up in the process. Because I grew up watching mom drink to forget, so I guess I thought I’d give it a try…because I hate…fucking hate dad for what he did to you…what he did to all of us…because our family is fucked. Because I’m tired of being the perfect one who never does anything wrong…I don’t know, take your pick!”
His words are so full of bitterness that you don’t know how to respond, you just reach out to embrace him and he falls against you, smelling of whiskey and vomit and sweat and salty tears. You sit there with him, as he sobs against your shoulder, and you wonder how things ever got so bad, “It’s okay, Tove…we’ll get you some help. You’ll be all right, baby.”
Ryan watches the two of you, looking very uncomfortable. After a few minutes, he turns and goes back to bed without a word. You stay with Tove, help him to bed, kiss his forehead gently, “Get some sleep, Tove,” you say, feeling numb as well as exhausted.
Tove looks up at you lovingly, “I love you, baby boy,” he whispers hoarsely, “Go to Ryan, baby-he needs you. He loves you.”
You nod and smile.
But when you go back to your bedroom, Ryan is gone-and so is his bag. A hastily written note lies on your pillow, and you cry silently as you read it:
“Hayden,
I love you so much, but I am not honestly sure if you feel the same way about me. I am going to my house to give you some space and time to think. You have to decide what it is that you want. You know where I am if you want to talk…R
You want to call him right then, and tell him how sorry you are for everything, but for some reason you don’t. Instead, you sit numbly on the edge of your bed and read and re-read the note until you feel so exhausted, you simply lie down and finally sleep.
Days go by. Two weeks pass. Tove is in rehab and you visit him often. You are reading scripts and trying to get on with life. You cry a lot and drink far too much. You stare at old photos of Adam, and then burn them. You go out with friends, and always dread running into Ryan out somewhere, but you never do.
And for some reason, you do not call him. You simply cannot make yourself pick up the phone and call him, no matter how much your soul screams at you to do it. Perhaps you feel that you blew your chance with him twice, and you don’t deserve him. …You try not to think about it. You try not to think at all.
THE FASHION DESIGNER
When Tom touches you-innocently enough, on the arm, during a Vogue shoot, you look at him and your eyes meet and you just know that he wants you.
A few hours later, you are lying naked in his bed as he slowly caresses your body and tells you that you are beautiful. You hate when people say that and your body tenses.
“What is it?” Tom asks, sensing your discomfort.
“Don’t say that…don’t say I’m beautiful, please?” you beg softly, eyes closed, arching against his gentle strokes.
Tom leans against your body and kisses your neck, “Why do you hate yourself so much?” he asks quietly.
You turn your face to his and kiss him, letting his tongue explore your mouth slowly, deeply. He crawls on top of you and pulls back, looking down at you with concern, lifting one of your thin arms to his lips and kissing the length of it, from wrist to shoulder, before pausing and running fingertips over newly healing scars thoughtfully, staring at them, “Why do you hurt yourself?”
You just look up at him and say nothing, because you have no answers, really.
“You need help, Hayden…you know that, don’t you?” he continues.
You turn your head to one side, feeling trapped by his body straddling yours and suddenly just wanting to be somewhere-anywhere-else.
“Please, don’t….” you say trying not to sound as needy as you feel, as frightened as you are.
“I’ve seen so many people like you in my life, Hayden,” Tom continues, “In this industry…you’ll die if you don’t stop.”
A single tear slides down the side of your face and onto the silk sheets below as you listen to him, “Maybe that’s what I want,” you admit quietly, “Maybe that would be….better….for everyone.”
Tom says nothing, then gets out of bed and wraps himself in a linen robe, avoiding your questioning gaze, “So, what is his name? This man you love so much and are so lonely without?” he asks you, cutting through the silence of the bedroom.
You look at him, stunned, and manage to reply, “Ryan…Ryan Phillippe…”
Tom nods, and returns to the bed, laying beside you, “Nothing has to happen between us tonight, Hayden…we can just talk, you know,” he says, smiling and you realise that he is a compassionate-if slightly lonely-man, who has a soft spot in his heart for fuck-ups like yourself.
So, you talk until you have no more words. You tell him all about Ryan and Adam and Tove and your whole fucked up life, and Tom listens sympathetically, and holds you when the words become too painful and you need to just cry.
When you finish your story, he strokes your cheek and kisses you deeply. You whimper and arch against him, needing the soothing balm of sex to ease your pain.
For a few moments you do nothing but kiss, and caress, and you whimper and he moans and it feels good.
“Make love to me, please?” you sigh, spreading your thighs wantonly and offering yourself to Tom hungrily, needing to feel wanted.
It is dawn, and he makes love to you, and by then you are writhing and desperate, arching against him, panting, clutching at his shoulders and pulling him against you, spreading your thighs wide and wrapping your legs around him as you kiss deeply and wetly, moving against one another in an almost hypnotic dance of want and lust.
You cry when he enters you, and the tears keep coming as he moves inside you, staring down at you with a mix of sympathy and concern that is at once moving and frightening for you. He takes your hands and threads your fingers with his own, then raises your arms over your head and stretches you upwards, until your body is a long, lithe line that is flush with his own, and you think it must be his aesthetic eye that wants to not only make love beautifully, but have it look beautiful as well.
He comes with a soft sigh against your cheek before kissing it gently, and withdrawing, laying next to you, and pulling you against him, “Let go for me, Hayden,” he urges, “Come for me…”
You know what he wants instantly, and most of the time you would be too shy, too self conscious to do it, but now you are too far gone to stop or even care, so you gyrate your hips against his, hard and rough, getting yourself off against his warm belly, and spilling your cream over his tanned torso and navel, then slumping against him, still crying, as he holds you close in his arms and just lets you cry.
Several hours later, you wake up to see Tom entering the bedroom with two cups of coffee.
You look up at him, dazed and sleepy, and not even sure where you are, and Tom smiles kindly and hands you a cup, Good morning,” he smiles, “You know the party I’m having-to launch the Vanity Fair cover?”
You nod, sitting up slowly, and sipping the coffee.
“I’ve taken the liberty of inviting a friend of yours-I hope you don’t mind. Ryan Philippe?” he smiles up over the cup at you knowingly, and you swallow thickly, staring down at the black liquid in your cup, trying to stop yourself from crying because you cried enough last night, and you really don’t want to make a fool out of yourself-again.
“Why are you…doing this?” you ask incredulously.
Tom smiles and sips his own coffee, looking at you thoughtfully, “You need him. You love him. If you won’t call him, maybe you’ll talk to him if he’s in the same room, no?”
“What does this have to do with you?” you ask, your words coming out far more harshly then you intended them to.
Tom just gives you a paternal gaze, “I guess I like helping people,” he says simply, then stands up, and claps his hands together, “Time to get up and out, Hayden…I don’t have any more time to waste on you and your love life…”
You stare at him for a moment, trying to decide if he is happy for you, or sad for himself because you will never be his. You decide it’s probably a bit of both, and smile sadly, “Thank you,” you whisper.
Tom shrugs as if he has done nothing at all, “Just make sure you look gorgeous that night, my darling-and TALK to him, promise me?”
You nod and promise him that you will.
Tom strokes your cheek a final time, “Don’t be stupid like me, Hayden. Love is precious and rare-don’t let it slip through your fingers.”
You lean your cheek into his palm and close your eyes, just enjoying his presence, sensing a deep and profound sadness in him-perhaps a loss in his life that he has never gotten over. You stand there together in comfortable silence for a long time, and then Tom add, “Thank you for last night. You were..wonderful.”
You open your eyes then because you hear such emotion in his voice and you see that he has tears in his eyes. You look at him questioningly, and he sighs and nods, “Yes, you remind me of him-a lover from years ago. Someone I let slip away….don’t make the same mistakes that I made, Hayden.”
You turn your head and kiss the palm of his hand in gratitude.
“Now, get out of here..before I try to bed you again!” he laughs and you smile and leave, thinking that Tom Ford is one of the nicest people you have ever known….
THE TRUE LOVE
You hate these Hollywood soirees, and you hate them even more when they have anything to do with fashion because it just makes you feel like a faggot model. But tonight, you have a good reason to be there-you may finally have a chance to see Ryan…
You enter the party and grab the first drink available because you really need to calm your nerves. You are wearing white tie and tails, as the dress code had instructed, and people are staring at you, making you feel very uncomfortable.
Then you see him. He’s standing against a statue in the foyer, sipping a drink and smirking at some blonde model who is flirting with him. Only Ryan Fucking Philippe would be cool enough to completely ignore the dress code, and come in a casual linen suit…he looks amazing. His hair is tussled just so, and his lips are as full as his eyes are piercing.
You feel as if your insides are being torn out. You feel as if you cannot breath. You feel as if your whole body is on fire. It takes you a full half-minute to respond when the waitress asks if you would like another drink. You just stare at him, willing his eyes to meet yours, and at last, they do.
Ryan breaks off his conversation and walks towards you casually, “Christensen,” he smiles coolly, “You look very dapper this evening,”
“Hi,” you say nervously, looking at your shoes, not sure if he means it or if he is making fun of you.
“Look up, Hayden-remember? It’s not polite to look at your shoes when people are talking to you,” Ryan scolds in his teasing manner.
“You look wonderful,” you say quickly, forcing yourself to look at him-and then blushing madly and regretting your words even as you say them. Your palms are sweaty and the glass you are holding slides around as you desperately try to think of something-anything-to say.
Ryan watches you for a moment, and then takes pity on you, “How have you been, Hayden?”
You swallow and consider lying, but decide not too, “I’ve been terrible. I’m sure you heard all about it.”
Ryan nods knowingly and stares at his drink, “The public has a very short memory, Christensen,” he assures you sagely, “They’ll be on to another, newer scandal before you know it.”
“I hope you’re right,” you say wistfully
“I’m always right!” Ryan smirks at you, before becoming serious suddenly, and dropping his voice lower, “How is Tove?”
You nod and smile softly, “Better-getting better every day-one day at a time and all that. He’s in therapy-it seems to help.”
You want to add that you are also in therapy and that you think it is helping you as well, but you figure that’s too much information, right now-and maybe Ryan doesn’t really want to know. Maybe he no longer cares what happens to you….
The next words come out of your mouth before you even think them.
“I missed you so much after you moved out…”
“Really?” Ryan replies mildly, belying the bitterness he is still feeling, “I wouldn’t have thought you’d notice when I left-you barely noticed when I was there.”
You stare at the floor again, not sure how to respond to that.
“I’m sorry,” he says after a moment, taking a step towards you, “It just…it still hurts, you know?”
You nod, not looking at him, “I know,” you agree, “I’m sorry…”
“Are you sleeping with Tove?” Ryan asks suddenly, out of nowhere, and you snap your head up to look at him, studying his face to note any malice there, but you see none.
“No!” you exclaim too loudly, and then lower your voice, “Of course not! That’s…way over. We’re brothers now-nothing more. The way it should have always been…”
Ryan nods, taking in what you are saying slowly.
“So…are you seeing anyone?” you ask hopefully, managing a small smile.
Ryan cocks his head to one side, “I know this is Hollywood, and all that, Christensen, but I do not move on that fast!”
You laugh and realise that it is the first real laugh you have allowed yourself for months, “You want to get a coffee or something sometime?” you ask, biting your lip, sounding and feeling like a teenager asking someone out for the first time.
“How about now?” Ryan asks, giving you a smile that warms you from your toes to your heart, “I hate these things anyway-you know that.”
Giggling, you join hands and escape the party before anyone sees you leave and duck out to Ryan’s Escalade. On the way there, you catch Tom’s eye and he smiles and nods knowingly.
You mouth the words, “Thank you,” to him, and leave.
You both know that the coffee is going to have to wait.
You drive to Ryan’s place and fall into bed, your two bodies coming together like pieces of a puzzle, fitting perfectly.
The sex is warm and desperate and loving. And when you come, you cry with happiness, and when Ryan comes, he whispers against your ear that he loves you, and at last-- at long last-- you feel complete.
Afterwards, you lay in bed together, watching the sun come up, comfortable in one another’s presence
“You know I have a confession to make,” you smile, looking over at him, “I only went to that party tonight because I knew you would be there.”
Ryan smiles knowingly, “Same,” he admits, kissing your temple lightly, before running a slender finger down the length of your face, “I love you, Hayden,”
You smile and tears spring to your eyes at his words, “I love you too-so much. I’m so…so sorry for..everything. I was…so horrible.”
Ryan shakes his head, “You were in pain….suicide is a terrible thing. …”
You nod in agreement silently, thinking for a moment about Adam and the waste of his life, “I’m not just talking about after Adam…I mean…everything-Tove, the things I did, the things I said…”
Ryan takes your hand and brings it to his warm lips, kissing it, “I know,” he says gently.
“I wanted to call you…so many times over the last few months…” you admit.
“Why didn’t you?” Ryan asks seriously, reaching out to clasp your hand in his reassuringly.
“I thought you hated me-and I wouldn’t have blamed you, but I didn’t want to face it. I just couldn’t face you telling me to fuck off.”
“I will never do that,” Ryan promises quietly.
You look up and smile shyly at Ryan, “I feel so safe with you-the first time in my life I ever felt this way, I think…” you admit, feeling emotional and vulnerable, and needing Ryan so very much.
Ryan doesn’t reply in words-instead, he kisses you slowly and deeply, then rests his forehead against yours, “That smile of yours does it to me every time, Christensen….” He murmurs quietly, just holding you.
“So…what happens now?” you ask at last.
“Now?” Ryan pulls back and gives you one of his smirks, “Now we start our happily-ever-after…”
You smile.
FINIS