Twilight on Jasper Ch. 2

“How will your wife and kids feel about me crashing there?” I figured it was worth a shot.

Not looking up from the napkin, he knits his brows and shakes his head. “I live alone, don’t worry about it. There’s plenty of room for you.” _Do_ you now? __

It wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be, telling my friends I wouldn’t be there tonight. They thought it was because I didn’t like the place they had made for me, so I had to tell them I was going on a date and that I wouldn’t be home because I expected to get laid. As is, Bryon followed me part of the way, and I had to lose him by going into a McNasty one way, getting lost in the crowd and going out a completely different exit. The smell of their awful food made me sick to my stomach, but at least I’m alone now. I’m in a rather well off neighborhood with some pretty townhouses lined by bushes, small yard trees and ivy. I come up to the address on the napkin, which is an impressive house that fits right in with the rest of the block. The ivy-covered house has a certain character, which makes up for Irving Steele’s lack of it. I go up nervously and ring the doorbell, which plays a short tune from a song I don’t recognize.

The door swings open and Irving’s freshly shaved face emerges, lit up like a Christmas tree. “Jason- come in, come in! Make yourself at home.” He moves aside so I can stroll in. “Would you like something to drink? I have hot cocoa on the stove, I’ll go get you a cup.” He walks quickly through the cavernous, barely furnished rooms before I have a chance to decline. I watch him wordlessly as he makes his way into the kitchen.

This place is amazing. It reminds me of a museum, because everything is so immaculate and organized, it made me want to break something. There’s a pale blue plush carpet in every room, paintings on the walls, the bay windows were spotless and the garbage pails were empty. It’s almost as if no one really lived here.

Irving comes whirl-winding back toward me with a mug in each hand. “Go on, have a seat, get comfortable. You can even take your shoes off if you’d like.”

“Uh, thanks, but I’ll keep them on for now.” I secretly wanted to smear mud on his beautiful clean carpet. “Thanks for the cocoa.”

“Oh, it’s not a problem. If you want more, it will only take me a minute or two to make it.” He sits down immediately next to me and glares into my eyes. I feel my cheeks get hot and I know I must be beet red. He’s wearing some sort of cologne or aftershave, and it smells really, really good. “You know, Jason,” He slides one of his strong hands on my knee, then gently squeezes. “I’m really glad you came over. I worry about you.” He’s blatantly hitting on me. What do I do?

“Uhhh…thanks.” Was all I could come up with. I was weirded out, yes, but at the same time, I wanted this to happen. He’s far too cute for me to turn down such an enticing offer. He sips at his cocoa and then puts the cup onto the glass coffee table. I stare at him and put mine to the side as well. We glance at each other for a moment and I can feel this sexual tension rising in my groin, along with something else. I put my hand on his knee, and begin rubbing sensually on the inside on his thigh.

His eyes widen dramatically and he recoils his hand, using it to grab my wrist. “Jason…what are you doing??”

I lean over, pressing myself against him, grabbing his waist with both hands. “Why, I’m graciously accepting your offer, Mr. Steele.” He grabs my shoulders in a weak protest as I grab his face and kiss him. His whole body tenses up and his eyes remain wide, but he doesn’t struggle. My tongue finds its way past his soft lips and into his warm mouth.

“Mm, Jason…stop…” He yanks away from me, still gripping my shoulders. “I didn’t…I mean, I’m sorry if I lead you to believe…”

“Shush, it’s okay.” I put a finger on his lips and a hand on his bloated crotch. “I can feel how bad you want it. You don’t have to pretend.” I lean over and kiss him again, this time massaging his cock through his silk robe at the same time. He lets out a shaky sigh as he grips my wrist again. I use my body to push him backwards onto the couch, and he does so quite willingly. He moans against my lips, still making weak, futile protests, but his body tells a completely different story. I climb on top of him and undo the knot to his robe, pushing it open to reveal a cute pair of silk boxers and a toned, smooth chest lightly sprinkled with dark hair. The man obviously works out a few days a week, and he looks good for it. I feel up his chest and sides, making out with him heavily and slowly grinding my hips into his.

He wants it just as bad as I do, and we both know it. Pretty soon, he’s not even struggling anymore. Finally admitting defeat, his body surrenders itself to me, his arms wrapping around me and his hips beginning to grind back. His moans become those of pleasure and excitement, and his tongue dances with mine just as eagerly. My fingers grope up his arms, onto his shoulders and up his neck, until I’m entwining them in his silky brown hair. He wastes no time pulling my shirt over my head and feeling up my bare, sweaty chest. He sits up just enough to help me slide his robe off and grip onto the back of his neck with one hand, pulling his head close and passionately invading his warm mouth with my tongue, while my other hand roams purposefully over his swollen crotch. The more I kiss him, the more I want of him, and all this kissing and foreplay is making me absolutely nuts with desire.

He begins blindly fumbling with the zipper of my jeans, trying to get it open. I let him struggle with it for a little while before I offer assistance. He peels my jeans off me almost violently, pulling them down past my knees. I kick off my sneakers and pull them off the rest of the way. I barely turn back around in time for him to sit up, grab me with an unexpected aggressiveness, reversing the roles so that I’m pinned underneath his heaving body. I gladly let him nudge my head back so he could suck and nibble on my neck, running the very tip of his tongue in tiny circles right above my collarbone, making me shudder and moan. All the while, he’s managed to worm his hands underneath my ass and has two giant fistfuls of my tender cheeks.

In turn, I slip my hands past the band of his boxers and feel his soft, smooth ass, running my fingers lightly over his crack. He has smooth, velvety hairs coating it, which made me want to grope him endlessly. He grunts loudly and bites hard on my shoulder, beginning to grind against me again. His thick, perfect pink lips brush up against my ear as he pants heavily from excitement. His lips find their way to my own once again, and all of a sudden, he scoops me up in his arms and picks me up off the couch as though I weighed next to nothing.

“Hey! Where are you taking me?” I yelp out from shock as we make our way over toward the carpeted stairway.

“Mm. Shower. I want you soaking wet.” He kisses me again, this time with more passion than I thought him capable of. This man was full of pleasant surprises, and I can barely wait for the next one.

We stumble into a maroon-colored bathroom with a stand-up shower big enough for eight people. Still tongue-kissing me, he puts me down on the matching rug and sends the sliding glass doors flying open to make way for us. He wastes no time turning on a warm shower and ripping my underwear off me before tossing me in. He climbs in after peeling off his boxers, revealing what had to be the most beautiful cock I’ve ever seen. It wasn’t huge, maybe about 7 ½ inches of cut meat, just slightly tanned to perfection. It had a smooth purple crown that practically begged me to lick the pearled droplets of pre-cum from it, and I complied to its silent demands all too eagerly.

He moans loudly as I get on my knees before him and begin worshiping that fabulous cock of his with my tongue. He runs his fingers frantically through my hair as the warm water drenches us. First I lick all over the head, making sure not to miss an ounce of the bitter, raunchy seed that slides out of his piss-slit. Then, I rub my tongue all over the thick, swollen shaft, slowly making my way over to his bloated, hairy balls. As I press up against his loaded nuts with my tongue and fingertips, he grips my hair tighter and holds my head there, groaning out his approval. I hear him fumble around with something, and then I feel his warm, soaped-up hands lather up my dripping wet shoulders. I glance up for a moment and he drops the soap into my hands. I get a good lather going and begin sucking his cock again, soaping up his smooth, firm ass.

“Ah! Oh God, Jason, your mouth feels so good on my cock…that’s it, suck me!” He grunts out loudly, gripping my shoulders tight.

I soap up one of my fingers and start to slowly work it into his welcoming pucker, using my mouth on his prick to relax him so he lets me in. The thought of my finger quickly being replaced with my aching dick is almost too much to bear. He groans and cries out in a mixture of pain and pleasure as I work my finger all the way into his hole.

“Not soap, not soap! Jason, please…I have aloe gel, use that instead.” He pulls the smallest bottle in creation off the shower shelf thingy and puts it in my hand.

I continue to suck his cock until my finger is all the way out. I stand up and he sighs in relief, turning his ass toward the stream of water to cool his burning asshole. I take this time to use what little Aloe Vera gel was in that tiny bottle, squirt it all over my hard member, toss the bottle aside and grab his slender hips with both hands. He immediately grabs the far wall with both hands and begs me to enter him. I couldn’t deny him now if I tried. My throbbing cock felt as though it would explode if it didn’t get some gratification soon.

I slowly push myself into his tight, welcoming ass, and he reaches back and spreads his ass cheeks to help me along. “Oh yeah…oh, Mr. Steele, you’re ass is so fucking amazing, I could fuck you all night!” So with both hands gripping onto the wall, I thrust my cock in and out of him rapidly, my hands exploring his firm ass and slender hips. I bend over and bite down passionately onto his shoulder, then reach around with one of my hands and grip his bloated cock.

Just then, his moans get about twice as loud from the stimulation. He throws his head back and cries out, bucking his hips against me to meet my panicked thrusts. “Ohh god, please don’t stop, Jason! I’m begging you! It feels so good…I swear, I haven’t been fucked like this in years!”

“…Well get used to it, Mr. Steele, because you’re gonna be fucked like this a lot more often! If I’m going to be living here until the trial, you’ve got a lot of bending over to do!” I cap off my words with a faster pace, spearing my prick into his abused ass brutally, and he loves it. He rewards me with an elongated scream of pleasure. Unfortunately, I was so incredibly turned on, I knew it wouldn’t be long before I dumped my load into his beautiful apple-shaped ass.

His back arches and he lets out a series final escalating gasps to let me know he’s on the brink of orgasm. “Fuck me, Jason, FUCK ME!! HARDER, goddammit…OH YES!!” That’s when he grips the hand I’m using the stroke him off and guides it along, screaming and gasping at the top of his lungs, splattering his rich seed all over the bathroom walls. “Cum inside me, Jason, that’s it…” He moans out, gasping for breath. I’m quick to follow suit, being more turned on right now than I have been in quite some time. I grab his shoulders with both hands and yank his whole body into me as I unleash my hot, thick sperm deep inside his bowels. We both groan out loudly as my thrusting diminishes into long, smooth strokes. I’m so deep in the throes of ecstasy, I almost don’t hear the bathroom door click open.

“WHAT THE FLYING FUCK...?!?!”

We both spin around toward a middle-aged man standing there in a suit and tie, yanking the sliding doors open. His semi-wrinkled face is tensed in the most mortified look I’ve ever seen. His form is half obscured by the swirling steam that had filled up the room. Mr. Steele quickly struggles into a standing position, covering his weakening erection, his face suddenly white as a sheet.

“Carey! What…are you…I mean…I thought you were on your way to Maui!”

“My flight was delayed until tomorrow night, and it’s a good thing too! Get out of my shower. BOTH OF YOU!”

“Carey, please, I can explain…” Mr. Steele puts his free hand up and waves it in a defensive motion.

“Save it, Irv! I want you and your boy toy dressed and out of my house, right now. MOVE IT!” With that, he leaps over the ledge and grabs the nearest towel, still babbling about how he could explain everything.

“Hey, wait a second…” I decide to get in on this little soap opera, climbing out of the bathtub after him and wrapping a towel around my waist. “This is his house too- you can’t just kick him out!”

The man cackles sarcastically. “His house…is that was he told you? Grow up, kid, the man is a public defender! You think he can afford a house like this??” Now why didn’t I think of that? “No, Mister Steele here was merely house sitting for me during my vacation. It’s nice to finally know what you do with the place while I’m gone, you sniveling little worm!” The man raises a fist and goes to hit Irving, pinning him up against the wall. I leap in between them and hold the man back. “Fucking little boys in my own shower, huh, Irv? You’re a real pervert, you know that??”

“Hey now, mister! I’ll have you know I’m quite legal, thank you very much! In another seven months, I’ll be able to drink!”

“Which you’ll do plenty of if you hang around this little weasel enough, kid. Now get your fucking clothes on and get the fuck out of my house before I call the cops.”

Minutes later, we’re walking down the darkened city streets in our damp, disheveled clothes, blushed faces and Irving with his nice, prominent black eye. “Look, Jason, I’m really sorry about…”

“Lying to me?”

“Yeah…and uh…“

“Humiliating me?”

“That too.”

“Nearly getting us both arrested?”

“Alright, look. There’s no need to rub it in.”

“You started it. So are you going to swallow your pride now and take me to your real house, or are we gonna sleep on a park bench tonight?” I stop walking and glare at him meaningfully, threateningly. If he hands me one more pathetic, lousy excuse, I swear, I’ll walk off and get myself a new lawyer.

He merely stops, looks down and sighs heavily. “Alright. Let’s go.”

Our journey begins on the Brooklyn-bound number 4 train. I couldn’t tell you about the whole train, but we are officially the only two white people in the car. We then transfer at Atlantic onto the number 2, which brings an even more dangerous looking crowd into our company. People that, for unknown reasons, seem to get their jollies out of staring at and silently challenging us from neighboring seats. We do our best to ignore it. When we get off in a neighborhood that makes my skin crawl, about four big hooligans follow us off the train, all the way to the end of the platform and into a parking lot with absolutely no light. I could barely see my own hand in front of my face, but I could hear them stomping after us, keeping pace. I think they want to mug and kill us. I’m scared and I want my mommy.

Irving whispers harshly to me, grabbing my arm. “This way, c’mon.” He leads me out of the side of the lot onto this sidewalk that’s so torn up, it was actually hazardous to walk on. There were a few streetlights here, and to my utter relief, the four hoodies hadn’t followed us this far. We got onto a large avenue where there were all these groups of people hanging out outside of corner delis, smoking pot and drinking large bottles of malt liquor out of brown paper bags. A few of them harass us for money on the way past, and a few ask if we want to buy drugs. There was a funny smell to this neighborhood, and all I could think about was that this made Bryon’s “place” look like friggin’ Bell Air.

Before I know it, he stops me dead in my tracks. We’re standing in front of a poorly lit, crumbling six floor walk-up building that looks like it’s survived more than a few fires, with paint-peeled steps, rusted, bent iron banisters and bars on every miniscule, yellow-tinted window. There was graffiti all over the place, and there was a bum clearly visible inside the lobby with a bottle of scotch and a ripped porno tape cover.

“Look,” He touches my shoulder with an odd, sort of panicked look in his eye. “There’s something I gotta tell you before we go in…” Just then, those four hoodies come around the corner and smile when they see us. Crap.

I grab his arm and lead us into the front door. “You can tell me later, just, let’s get inside.” He pulls out his keys and begins to unlock the inner door when that bum comes up to us with his filthy hand out. “Sorry, man. I’m poorer than you are.” Irving chuckles at me and leads me the rest of the way, up three flights of stairs, each flight smelling more of urine than the last, and finally up to a small unmarked door with a faded, plastic crucifix on it. I turn to him, panting like a dog from walking up those damn stairs. “So, is this it?”

“Yes, but there’s something you should know, Jason.”

“More surprises? Just open the damn door.”

“Please, just listen to me. Look, it’s not…I mean, when I got your case…it was…no accident.” His eyes become sorrowful and embarrassed.

“No accident? What are you talking about??” His silence makes me uneasy. “Irving, tell me what the hell you’re talking about. Open the door.” His breathing becomes labored and I hear the clicking of at least three or four locks, but all I could look at were his eyes.

The door swings open and Irving steps aside passively. “See for yourself.”

I walk into the pitch-dark apartment and feel along the walls for a switch. I find one and suddenly, the room is flooded with light, revealing a cramped studio with an old, ratty couch, shelves, bookcases, plastic table and chairs and all along the walls and doors were photocopies and homemade drawings of my comic book characters. All of them, especially Lazarus. Right above the couch was a whole bunch of newspaper clippings of me at the book signing and headlines about the trial and the beating of those guys by a man they claimed was dressed as Lazarus. Right above the clippings was a copy of In Your Dreams #1 signed, To Irving, XOXO…Jasper Collins. I’m in such shock, I almost fall on my ass.

He grabs me and holds me close to him. “Like I said…I begged my boss to let me have your case. You see, I’m a bag fan of yours, Jasper. I have been for two years. I’m an artist too, see? That’s some of my work up there, you like it?”

I push away from him and take another good look at the art that isn’t mine. He was pretty good, but his lines were too dark, too forced. “It’s…it’s good, Mr. Steele, real good.”

He closes and locks the door, then goes to grab me again, displaying a disturbed looking grin on his blushed face. “I knew you’d like it! I was going to wait until the trial ended before bringing you here so you wouldn’t be distracted. See, I was figuring that for the next issue, you and I could work together. That’s my dream, and I was sure that once you saw how much I loved your work, you’d want to be with me…”

“There’s…” He grabs my wrists and I tense up, glaring into his eyes. “There’s nothing wrong…with having dreams, Mr. Steele, but…I’m doing fine on my own.” His brows knit angrily and he yanks me closer to him by my wrists. “Mr. Steele, stop it. Leggo, arrgh, you’re hurting me!”

“You’re doing fine? You call this doing fine? You get rich and famous off your characters while almost destroying them in the process, you destroy their home, force them to live in hiding and now you’re on trial for murdering someone you can’t even prove you didn’t beat up? Son, if that’s your idea of fine, then I’d hate to see your life in shambles. However, if that’s what it’s going to take to prove to you how much you need me, then I can go ahead and arrange that!” He squeezes my wrists tightly, making me scream out in pain.