This is a boyxboy story, which means boy on boy action. I started last night and couldn't stop writing and it became, well, LONG. This chapter is NOT clean. If you are okay with boyxboy, then you can read. Please, enjoy!
Video <Cinderella Man - Eminem> : Okay, I usually hate this genre but Eminem has a few exeptions and Cinderella Man went on the car radio and I finally decided, I liked it the chorus most of all though. Even though it's simple: Cinderella Man. And that's how it all started so, enjoy!
★.¸¸.¤´¨ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ◕ ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬००҆'˚'҅०◦∙ ☆ ∙◦०҆'˚'҅००▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ◕Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ´¨¤.¸¸.☆
Once upon a time… that’s how these stories start, right? Well, anyway, it’s supposed to go like “once upon a time there was a boy named John”. Wow, that sounds dorkier than intended. I give up, anyway, my name is John and I live in New York with my father, my very wicked step-mom, and two ugly step-sisters. You know this isn’t an average story, so what makes this different? Well, I’m a guy, obviously. It’d be pretty awkward if my mom named me John if I was a chick, right?
“Get out of bed, you blithering moron, you’re supposed to take your sisters to the damn party!”
If you haven’t guessed, this is my step-mom. Yeah, the “wicked” part fits right in. Okay, here’s her intro: her age is a mystery. She’s says she’s in her late-twenties – with two dumb teenage daughters, yeah, okay – she looks like she’s in her mid-thirties, but I asked my stupid sister, Caroline, how old she was and she said in her mid-forties. Well, I never got the guts to ask so I left that one to Sherlock Holmes. Another fact is that she forces me to call her “Mother”. She doesn’t truly care for me, but the charade has to go on. Her real name is Vicky – Icky Vicky, I secretly call her – and she has the pale blond hair, ice blue eyes, and deadly pale skin. She looks like the Ice Queen from the original Narnia movie. But except she has more work done on her breasts. I heard stories of her, since she was once the most eligible bachelorette before my dad married her when I was twelve. She was rich as can be but still craves more pictures in magazines and more money to waste.
I opened my eyes and frowned, “I’m up, woman!”
“Don’t use that tone with me, lazy ass!” she snapped, eyes glowing, “Get up and hurry, you idiotic faggot.”
“Don’t call me that, she-devil!” I snapped right back at her. I tore the sheets off and sat up. She was staring at me, no blinks, no reaction, for a very long time. Slowly, raising an eyebrow, I spoke up, “Are you checking me out, Mother?”
She snorted, “Where did you get that necklace?”
I grabbed the silver cross hanging from my neck, “From my mother, hag. Now leave.”
“I never gave that to you,” she said, confusion etched into her features.
“From my real mother,” I frowned, glaring, “Now, please, leave me be so I can get up and drive your ‘precious’ daughters”– I mean, “slutty” but yeah right, like I’d say that to her face –“to their god damn ‘party of the year’”– I mean “party for the Blue Bloods (blue balls if you ask me)” –“already.”
“Lose the swearing and the tone and you got a deal, ass-wipe,” she told me, swishing her hips as she walked out of the room. She glared at me, “And please, John, don’t embarrass them!”
I gave her the finger and she gave out a girly groan, slamming the door behind her, “You’re impossible!”
I sighed as I stood up and tossed my tee and boxers – my usual PJs – to the ground and grabbed my only towel from the ground where I tossed it yesterday. I didn’t understand why we were assigned towels in this fucking household, it doesn’t make any sense. I wrapped it around my hips and walked down the hallways to the bathroom I shared with my ugly step-sisters.
I went to the door and found it locked, “Open the fucking door! I just need to take a quick shower!”
“It’s in use!” a preppy little voice replied.
“You have no ride unless I can take the damn shower!” I snapped at her and open sesame… it opened revealed an overly-overdone-makeover girl named Meredith, the smart yet evil sister.
So, her intro: Meet Meredith. She’s your typical head cheerleader stereotype. You know big tits, open legs, devious personality, and acts like a super villain out of the presence of someone that she owes her loyalty. She didn’t get her mother’s look, but her unfortunate father’s. She has dark brown hair, tanned skin, big hazel eyes, and a smirk always on her face. I heard she has a boyfriend from each high-school, and has a specific day to hang out with each one. She slowly grinned, “Hello, my dear brother.”
“Not interested, Meredith, I need to take a shower,” I said, dully.
“Can I take it with you?” she asked, one of those smirks in place.
“Like I said, not interested,” I slowly edged around her, it’s like living with another, well, me. She grabbed the towel and I turned to see her holding it up in the air like a flag.
I sighed, “Meredith, give me the towel.”
“No, Cinderella,” she smiled.
“If I’m Cinderella, who are you? The ugly stepsister?” I grabbed the towel and shoved her out of the bathroom, locking the door behind her. I rolled my eyes as she banged on the door.
“Let me back in there!” she screamed like a frustrated five year old child begging for their toy back.
“It’s in use,” I mimicked her.
I slugged into the shower and turned on. I don’t have to describe this to you, do I? A shower is a shower. When I got out, I did my usual routine. Brush teeth, comb my hair, and floss. I finally walked out; relieved Meredith disappeared after her five minute temper-tantrum. I heard a loud noise and damn my curiosity, I followed it to hear loud music pulsing from the girls’ bedroom. I sighed and pounded the door, “Turn down the music, I bet on my life that California can hear it!”
The door opened to reveal this time, luckily, the less intelligent sister, Caroline. Being a bit less striking and softer than her sister, she had fairer dark brown hair and softer brown eyes. While her sister came by, with cheats from her loyal nerd herd that worshipped the ground she walked on, a straight-A, four point oh GPA, Caroline did her homework and passed with a two point five GPA and the only A-grade she had was in gym. Despite being less intelligent and a girlie girl, she knew her sports.
She smiled, softly, “Don’t you love his voice? It’s so…”
“Annoying,” I ended for her, “Turn it down.”
“You love Royal Parade and you know it!” she crossed her arms, flirtingly looking under her eyelashes up at me, “You’re driving us, right?”
“Yes and no, I won’t be your date,” I said, smiling.
“Yeah, like I would ask that,” she sighed, “John, will you just come in with me? Not a date, just a friend…”
“Pshh!” her sister exclaimed behind her, “Like he’d do that.”
I glared at Meredith, and then looked back at her sister, “Sure, it’s better than going back to pick you up. I’ll stay and drive you two back home, anyway, you look nice.”
“Hello?!” Meredith called behind her.
“It looks a little whorish on you,” I turned and walked away, leaving her to squeal behind me like an angry animal.
I walked into my bedroom and without thinking, I slugged on a pair of boxers and a watch to keep track of time.
I grabbed a shirt with a South Park reference “do you like fish sticks?” on it, a pair of light blue skinnies, and dark navy converses, putting them on and grabbing my cell off my nightstand and putting it in my back-pocket. I also grabbed my neon orange Nano iPod, the white earphones wrapped around the device. After I was completely dressed, I took the keys and hurried to the girls’ bedroom, slamming on the door and calling out, “You have five minutes max!”
I ran down the stairs, passing by the maid, Julia, “Hey, my sexy senorita, what’s up?”
“Don’t call me that. I’m Italian, not Spanish!” she snapped, she slapped my head as she walked by me.
“Okay, I won’t call you sexy,” I smirked and before she could object, I ran out of the house and to the black Toyota. I jumped in and turned on the engine, impatient for the girls. The girls walked outside and Meredith tapped on my window, I rolled it down and she glared at me.
“Aren’t you supposed to open the door for us?” Meredith asked me.
I burst out laughing, holding my stomach as I did so, I stopped when I saw her serious expression, “You’re kidding me.”
“John,” Caroline whined behind her.
“Get it the damn car!” I snapped.
They both groaned and got in the backseat. I don’t believe them, open the door? I’m not the fucking chaffier despite I am ordered around like one, I’m their damn stepbrother. I can only take so much before I snap at either of them. I swear, one more whine and I’ll step on the breaks.
I looked at them, “Give me the invitation so I can follow the directions to the house.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll just tell them so you don’t have to look down every second,” Caroline said, waving me away, carelessly.
“Give. Me. It,” I said, annoyed.
“What’s with you?” Caroline asked, nervously as she gave me the slip of paper.
“Remember the last time you gave the directions?” I asked her, annoyed, looking at her through the mirror.
Meredith snorted, “We were supposed to go to Subway, not Mexico.”
“We didn’t end in Mexico!” Caroline came to her defense, making Meredith look at her with a deadly expression.
“We were close enough,” she said, in a disapproving, low tone that was exactly like her mother’s.
I smirked and follow the directions, ignoring them the whole way. When we finally arrived, it was to a large spiked fence. It had the engraftation of “Royal Parade” on it, I froze, “What’s this party for?”
“Royal Parade’s new single, Heart on the Floor!” Caroline said, excitedly, smiling, “We get to meet Damien Darkridge.”
I frowned, “Oh, shit.”
Meredith shoved me, “GO!!!”
As I gave the guards the invitation, we were let in and I parked with the other cars, “I hope we don’t get blocked in.”
Meredith and Caroline grab both of my arms and put them over their shoulders. I groaned, loudly, “You two are plotting something, aren’t you?! No, I won’t do it…”
I was tugged into the mansion and froze as Royal Parade song pumped in the air, a crowd wildly danced to the erotic sound to Shards.
It slivered into my skin, causing everyone to shiver. On their thrones, on their stage, Damien Darkridge and his three band members sat on red velvety seats and had golden crowns placed on their heads as an effect. A crowd of the most attractive girls surrounded them, giggling.
“…It burns,
Like a thousand suns,
It can no longer,
Be undone,
It hurts,
Like a thousand shards,
It cannot end,
It just started,
I’m sorry,
For the pain,
I’m sorry,
I can’t stay sane,
Forget you,
And your darkness,
Your soul it black,
Always endless,
Shards,
Shards,
Burning deep within my skin,
Shards,
Shards,
Burning just like my sins…”
Meredith giggled by my side, “He looks like a sex god.”
“I like Romero the most,” Caroline pointed at the pink-headed drummer. He must be gay. Who dyes their hair pink unless they are insane or gay?
But Meredith was right, Damien was beautiful. Oops, I forgot to tell you, I am completely and utterly bi. I shuffled a hand through my blond hair, grinning, “Go and play.”
They both giggled and ran to the stage. I rolled my eyes and went into the crowd. I don’t understand this band. Their music is so lively, the lyric were so… dark. It was a weird, original mix and it attracted the girls. They thought Damien was the bad boy so, like any hormonal teenager, they bowed at his feet.
What’s with them and bad boys? They only end up hurting you. I would know. One bad boy created me. He dumped me like garbage and I followed his footsteps as a player. It wasn’t in his honor, but to annoy his popularity. I stole it over night; I never slept around like he did. I just dated and broke hearts, guys and girls alike.
I went to the bar and smiled at the cute bartender, wouldn’t be hard to get passed him. He had a childlike look about him; I smacked my hand on the counter, “Bartender!”
“Yes?” his gaze froze on me, a sensuous smirk on his lips now, “What can I get you?”
“A beer,” I ordered.
“A light?”
“I might be blond, but I don’t do light, pretty boy,” I said, grinning. He did as I said and put it on the counter.
“Who are you? Most people here I’ve seen on the magazines, but not your handsome face,” he said.
“I am the son of Andrew Fierce, stepson of Courtney Fierce,” I explained and he nodded in understanding.
“Not a blue blood,” he said.
“Not even close,” I smirked.
“Blue bloods don’t get dirty,” he flirted, smiling, “And I like dirty.”
“What a coincidence,” I smiled, “So do I.”
He laughed, “We’re gonna get right along, I can tell. My name is Jackson, yours?”
“It’s John,” I said.
He raised an eyebrow.
“My mother didn’t like originality,” I explained and he snorted, shrugging it off.
Jackson leaned over the bar, “Do you want my number?’
“Who says I’ll call?” I teased.
“Call? I was talking about my address,” he smirked.
“You were right,” I smiled, “We’re going to be great friends.”
“Bartender, get me the strongest drink you can make!” a deep voice called behind him. Someone sat by me, groaning.
I turned to see Damien. I looked to the ceiling. Why do you like to torture me, why, God?
Jackson rolled his eyes and went to grab make the drink. I smirked as Jackson gave it to the jerk and turned his attentions, “So, sweet Johnny, should I write it?”
I opened my mouth to reply.
“Another!”
Jackson’s jaw dropped and we turned to see an annoyed Damien holding up his glass. I grabbed the tall glass, turned it over, seeing nothing come out. What the hell?
“Impressive,” I held the glass out to Jackson and he grasped it, still in confusion. He did as his boss ordered and I looked at Damien. I knew Jackson gave me a drink because I was attractive and too dumb to ask for ID. Damien, on the other hand, was a year older at nineteen and the tabloids advertised it on billboards. Should Jackson not give him drinks?
I shook my head in disbelief and looked at him.
“What the hell are you looking at?!”
“At a very drunk popstar,” I said.
He snorted, “I’m not drunk.”
I smiled, “You will be soon, Damien, if you keep drinking like a stressed out pirate.”
He glared at me, “Piss off, commoner.”
“Commoner? It’s the twenty-first century, you asshole,” I said.
He scowled, “Why don’t you bother Romero or Stephan? I’ve had enough with you jealous assholes.”
“I’m not jealous,” I informed him.
“Hm,” Jackson put the drink down and the popstar grabbed the glass and gulped it down, causing our jaws to drop.
“Okay, I’m a little jealous about how you can gulp those drinks done,” I whistled, “Takes skill to do that shit.”
Jackson and I watched the singer swallow drink after drink until he couldn’t even sit on his seat no longer. I smiled as I drank my beer and watch him hit the ground. One of the band members rushed over, like Damien here, he had the emo scene look about him. I think his name was Owen or something. Owen looked around, “Shit, how much did he drink?”
I snorted, “I stopped counting after five.”
Owen blinked, “What was in the drink?”
“Vodka and more vodka,” Jackson frowned.
“He’ll be sick in the morning,” I snorted.
Owen looked at me, “Can you take him to his room?”
“I don’t work here,” I said.
“Just do it!” Owen snapped and handed over the drunken asshole, “I have to deal with the others! I’m the only sober Royal right now. I can’t deal with this loser right now.”
Damien laughed, “Owen can’t deal with us or his women. That’s why I always get them in the end.” He breathed into my face, giggling.
“Woo! This man needs a mint!” I said, fanning my face and holding him up with my other arm.
Owen rolled his eyes, “Just do this little thing for a little tiny favor. It should be a fan’s dream to do so.”
“I’m not a fan,” I said, annoyed. Owen blinked in astonishment, like that was impossible, “Where’s his room?”
“Floor up, fifth door on the right,” Owen said, still surprised.
“Come on, asshole, let’s go get you in bed,” I told Damien.
The prick giggled, “Mommy, can you read me a bedtime story?” I waved my face again as I coughed, and lost him in my arms. Damien hit the ground like a dead duck.
I hissed, “You’ll feel that one tomorrow.”
I helped him up and dragged him to his bedroom. I rolled my eyes and frowned, “Come on…”
“You know what’s funny?” Damien asked me as I dragged him up the staircase.
“Me pulling you up the stairs?” I asked him, “Because if you told me this morning I’d be doing this, I would be cracking up.” I pulled him up one step, smiling in triumphant.
Damien giggled, “No, that’d you are pretty enough to be a girl!”
I dropped him on purpose, he groaned it pain and I smiled, “The asshole had an oopsy-daisy!”
I pulled him up once again and tugged him another step up.
“I want to make a confession!” he giggled.
“I’m not a priest,” I told him, pulling him up two steps.
“Too bad, you’ll listen!” he said, annoyed, then he went preppy again, “I’m in love with a guy.”
My eyes widened, “That’s new.”
“Yeah, and his name is Owen,” he smiled, goofily, “I love him and he hates me. He told me he thinks I’m a waste of space, nothing good for but for singing.”
I frowned, “That’s harsh.”
“I thought I was straight until right then!” he said, smiling, “I had everything: the girls, the money, the house! Then I end up playfully kissing him and getting too into it. Owen hated it, but I loved it.”
I frowned, “Too much info, dude.”
I finally got to the top but he kept on talking, “Remember those stories? About my father and mother? That they’re dead!”
“Yeah.”
“They aren’t. They just hated me. So they disowned me like I was a dog or something. I was pushed out the house in a hurry!” he giggled, “I was alone and Owen found me and took care of me. I didn’t know how much I cared for him! He’s the only guy I will ever be in love with, I think.”
I dragged him into his room and smiled, “We’re finally here.” I dumped him on his bed and patted my hands.
“Wait!”
I turned and saw him trying to trudge out of his jacket. I rolled my eyes, “This is like a Meredith but in man-form!”
I went back and helped him out of his jacket, “Here.”
He whispered something under his breath. It was too quiet to hear. His eyes were drifted closed.
“Excuse me?” I asked.
He pulled on my jacket and pulled me close, “I said, ‘kiss me.’” He leaned in and kissed me. I don’t want to sound like a girl, but real live fireworks exploded in my heads and my skin began to sizzle under his.
I began to kiss him back and I tugged his head closer to mine. He took his strength, suddenly I was underneath him. I was shy about the kiss at first and I was a little drunk, but still in control. I could stop this… but I didn’t want to. He brushed my hair back and tried to open my mouth but I didn’t open. He tried again and I slowly opened my mouth. His wet, seductive tongue entered and massaged my own. I groaned under his kiss and I held him close, he held me close and began to grind against each other.
My whole body sizzled underneath his. I groaned and rubbed myself harder against his. He slid his hands under my shirt and his fingers began to tease my nipples. I moaned and shifted.
He pulled my shirt off, smiling wide. I returned the favor and took his off. I smiled as Damien’s mouth traced up my chest and he closed his mouth on one nipple. I bit my lip as he sucked and sucked, his tongue wrapped around and I scowled as he stopped and winked at me. He went to the other nipple and began to tease it as well.
He stopped and smiled as his fingers went to my jeans, I gasped as he opened the fly and tugged them down. I gasped, loudly as he touched my erection. He professionally played with me and I gripped the sheets as he kissed the length, I let out a small moan. His tongue slid down and then back up, he put me inside his mouth. I moaned, loudly.
“Fuck,” I moaned.
He played with my pleasure and I withered underneath him, aching for release. He released and kissed up my chest, connecting his lips with mine. I froze when he tugged his own jeans up and I felt his erection on my thigh. He stopped kissing me and aimed himself at my entrance. Slowly, he entered and I felt myself rip and tear.
I felt myself tear and rip. I wasn’t a virgin but I haven’t exactly played around in a while. And I wasn’t exactly the bottom material usually. He was all in and slowly he found my spot, causing me with let out a groan.
I saw him smirk and he slowly came out, and painfully thrust back in. He hit my spot once again and I let out a moan. Each thrust was rougher and rougher. I loved the feeling though.
I came all over his chest and then a minute later, he came. He fell beside me and frowned, “I didn’t use a condom, did I?”
“No,” I said, out of breath.
“What if you’re pregnant?!” his eyes widened.
I rolled my eyes, “I don’t think that’s really possible.”
He frowned and leaned towards me, “I think I love you.”
“You don’t love me,” I told him, feeling exhausted. I heard my cell vibrate and I checked the message from Caroline: can we leave now? I frowned and looked to a sleeping Damien, wrapped up his sheets.
I’ll be there in a min.
I grabbed my stuff and put on my clothes in a hurry. I ran out and just then I saw my iPod on the ground. I was about to go get it when I saw Owen walk up the hallway. My eyes widen and I hurried down the stairs.
I just had sex with Damien Darkridge. Now, that would crack me up this morning. Now…
Now, I am just in denial. I hurried into the car and saw the two girls. I silently prayed: Damien, forget last night. He was drunk as a fucking skunk so there’s a good chance he’ll forget everything.
I looked to the two giggling girls in the back of the car. They will never know. No one will never know. I will never even see Damien Darkridge again… I hope.
★.¸¸.¤´¨ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ◕ ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬००҆'˚'҅०◦∙ ☆ ∙◦०҆'˚'҅००▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ◕Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ´¨¤.¸¸.☆
Author's Note: I started this idea months ago but I never got really into it. I just started writing last night and it became a new beautiful story. I hope y'all enjoy this. I took time and energy in this :)
Quote of the day: "You know you are in love when you can't sleep... because reality is finally better than your dreams." - Dr. Seuss