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It hadn’t taken James long to give into the feelings he had for Jason, even if they mostly came from his dick. Well, that wasn’t entirely true--maybe half from his dick, half from somewhere else. From his head or his heart, he wasn’t sure, because he really hadn’t given it that much thought. James had made his move, Jason had let him, and no one else needed to know. It was working out just fine--sharing hotel rooms was commonplace, expected, and Lars and Kirk had given up on trying to figure out--at least outwardly--what was going on between the singer and the bassist. James was good at keeping Jason relatively quiet in the bedroom and he knew Jason would never, ever open his mouth about any of it outside. He still had a reputation to build.
The Vegas show was insane. Even James could hardly take in all of the energy in the room--it was just one mass of pulsing, beating life half-hidden in the dark, revealed only completely in slants and flickers of bright colored lights from the stage. From his perch, he could smell beer, sweat and smoke; he could feel sweat too, his own that was dripping down his face, his back, his chest, soaking his hair and running into his eyes. Around and behind him, the rest of Metallica looked about the same. Lars was glistening with sweat, half-naked and pounding away; Kirk had his head hanging half the time, whipping his hair around the other half, his movements on the stage fluid and bright. Then there was Jason, who James avoided looking at sometimes because he was too much. He couldn’t help it though, when Jason backed him up on vocals and that hard, gritty, rough voice tore through the air. The fine, almost delicate, musculature of his arms were shiny and his hair was damp, most of it hanging right in his face but when James caught glimpses of those steely, challenging eyes, he almost forgot what words he was supposed to growl out next.
There were those primal feelings, the feelings James was most familiar with, but there was something else too, maybe from both his head and his heart, or maybe from some other place entirely. When James met Jason’s eyes--even the first time--he felt a pull, some kind of connection. Jason definitely knew it too, but once he had realized how strong his pull on James was, he’d grown even more confident. That was a good look for him.
As much as James wanted to drag Jason right over to their hotel and lock him away for the rest of the night, he couldn’t. They had to save face to some degree and part of that included actually going out like normal dudes. Like normal band members who weren’t fucking around with one another. And, beyond that obligation, they were in Vegas--after such a wild show, the game plan was to clean up, pound some drinks and head out to the strip.
James hadn’t planned on getting as drunk as he did, but the neon lights were like a siren call. Liquor and beer started to flow and it felt like only minutes before he was on fire all over again, heat surging through his entire body and, once again, right down to his dick as he caught Jason’s eyes, his face glowing bright pink in the night. They didn’t have to say anything to each other after that and, thankfully, it was easy--Jason said he was going back to the hotel. No one put up much of a fight, Kirk and Lars being way too preoccupied with the drinks and the girls around them. James waited what felt like fifteen or twenty minutes and had planned to announce his departure but managed to slip away unnoticed--the perks of staying a little quiet. And the perks of being, well, him. No one questioned what he did.
Inside the hotel room, Jason was popping the tab of a beer, just in time for James’ arrival. He looked to the door all wide-eyed, like it wasn’t actually James he was expecting, then giggled. James strode over in the blink of an eye and took the beer out of Jason’s hand: “What’s so funny?”
“Nothin,” Jason answered. It was almost painfully obvious how drunk he was--cheeks all flushed, the tip of his nose red, simultaneously seeming to want to hide behind all those big curls while also pushing his shoulders and chest out more, taking up more space. He took another beer for himself and cracked that open, too. “Just--just you, man.”
James didn’t mind this. Sloppy, drunk sex was good. Besides, he felt really good--powerful, even, still riding the high from their set and still toting around a half-hard cock. “You’re fuckin’ wrecked, Newkid,” he noted, not like he was any different. He kept his eyes on Jason drinking as he knocked back the one he stole, head tilted back and spine straight.
Jason just shrugged and smirked as he finished his beer. As soon as the empty can was placed on the surface of the little kitchenette table, James hauled him over to “his” bed; Jason was drunk enough so, when James pushed him back onto the covers, he just laughed and collided against it with a muted thud and a soft squeak of springs below, the blankets momentarily billowing around him. He started to unbuckle his own belt when James pounced, and James shoved one knee between Jason’s thighs as he pinned his wrists over his head.
“Don’t do that yet,” he warned, his hair hanging over Jason’s face.
Jason wiggled his fingers but didn’t fight the hold on himself. “Isn’t that where this all headed, Het?”
“I didn’t say you could do it.”
Jason laughed again. “Oh. Right, I--I get it.”
James straddled Jason’s thigh and let go of his wrists, leaning back. “Get what?” he asked, pulling his own shirt over his head. With his hands free, Jason was on him instantly, running his hands down James’ chest and sides, smoothing over his abdomen teasingly, his fingers just missing the bulge in his jeans. With the abundance of alcohol and Jason’s spell on him, James suddenly became sort of sluggish, compliant under Jason’s touches--he didn’t try hard to fight when Jason shifted underneath him and got the upper hand, pushing James back and climbing on top of him.
Jason licked his neck, sliding his tongue up to right beneath his ear. “Get that you always wanna boss me around,” he answered and nibbled on the lobe, metal clinking between his teeth. James fisted his hands in Jason’s t-shirt and closed his eyes--he was okay with letting Jason do what he wanted for a bit. He felt loose and open, the haze of inebriation light and foggy in his head while his hands felt free to explore; Jason was giving the same right back, his hands roaming all over James’ bare shoulders and chest as he kissed his neck. No hickeys--that was another part of the deal. Not a part they always abided by, however--James had an easier time with waving it off as a night with a chick but, the one time James had given Jason a nice big bruise on his neck, Lars and Kirk had relentlessly hounded him about what happened. And Jason just wasn’t a great liar.
Apparently Jason wasn’t in the mood to abide by that rule, or maybe was so drunk he forgot about it; he squeezed James’ pec and brushed his thumb over his nipple as he sucked right over his pulse, teeth and tongue flush with his skin, his lips soft and warm. James moaned and arched up, the teasing over his chest sending an electric fizz through his muscles and up into his head. He felt drunk still, but even drunker by Jason’s touches, tempted to reach between them and get his jeans off, but Jason started to slowly make his way down. The mess of soft auburn curls tickled James’ chest as he slid down his body, nipping at his pecs, kissing his sternum, dragging the tip of his tongue down his abdomen. James’ breath hitched as Jason gave him a kiss above his navel and his hands held him securely around the waist, like he was trying to hold him down. Hot--maybe James should let Jason take charge more often.
But Jason didn’t immediately lunge down to James’ aching erection. He paused at his abdomen and took his time with his teeth, tongue and lips, kissing over James’ ribs and down one side; James’ hips wiggled beneath him while Jason pressed his face right into his belly and sucked little hickeys there too, his mouth so warm and wet, this fierce determination obvious in his furor. And with his body nestled right between James’ thighs and Jason’s chest just barely rubbing over his dick, it had become almost too much and James groaned and grabbed Jason’s hair, trying to push him down.
Jason just chuckled and licked above James’ waistband, tongue soothing one of the burning bite-marks. “You’re hot when--when you’re so fuckin’ needy, Het.” He was generous enough to undo James’ fly and peel back the flaps of denim, but nothing else beyond running his fingers through the beginnings of his pubic hair; James looked down to watch, Jason’s hand nearly the same pale color as the hidden skin of his own hips and groin, his slightly trembling abdomen a stark contrast of golden tan, stained with red marks vaguely in the shape of Jason’s mouth.
Yes, James was needy. He yanked a handful of Jason’s hair hard, making him gasp below: “So suck it already, Jase.”
Another chuckle, despite Jason obviously straining in James’ hold. “I’m not gonna if you say it like that.”
James pulled him up by his hair, managing to wipe the smirk off Jason’s face as he whined, landing on top of James clumsily. James grabbed him by the throat, his thumb lingering threateningly over Jason’s Adam’s apple, and left the other hand in his hair, loosening his hold and letting his fingertips gently scrunch through some curls.
“Why you being so--Jesus, so goddamn difficult tonight?” James asked, his hand big enough to squeeze the back of Jason’s neck.
Jason’s eyes were still bright even with all the alcohol in his blood. He looked alert and ready, like he was only slack in James’ hold because he wanted to be, not because he was being made to do anything at all. No, you never really could make Jason do anything, James had learned. Whatever he did, it was always his choice. If anything, Jason could more easily get a leg over him and use that charm and that magic spell he had over James to get exactly what he wanted, even if he had to be quiet about it.
Jason closed the gap between them and kissed James on the mouth, all soft and sweet. “You like it.”
James kissed him again, wanting more, letting his lips part for Jason’s tongue to meet his own. He did like it, actually, and he liked the slow, slightly messy and wet kisses they were sharing; it felt remarkably easy to just let go with Jason.
But, as it often went, James’ controlling, possessive nature couldn’t always be so easily subdued. He cut off a quiet moan from Jason with the hand around his neck and turned his own head to the side so Jason pulled back, then met his eyes. “Jase,” he began, his name slick over his tongue as he stroked Jason’s nape. It was the alcohol talking to a certain degree, but not entirely, when James’ mind fuzzed out as he looked at that pretty face and asked, “Are you gonna be mine forever?”
Jason’s lips parted and his eyebrows tensed a bit. The two seconds between the question and his response made James’ heart curl in on itself, feeling like he’d overdone it, he was too much, he fucked up and Jason was probably losing his hard-on right then and there; but then Jason gave him a cocky smile and felt over James’ chest again, running his fingers up over his collarbone. “If that’s what you want, Het.”
“Yeah,” James sighed, closing his eyes again, loosening his grasp, as Jason kissed his jaw and the corner of his mouth.
Jason dipped below and nipped at his throat. “We should just, like, get fuckin’ married, man.”
James laughed and reached down to grab Jason’s ass. “What?”
“Like, y’know?” Jason asked, as if James had any idea what he was talking about. “We’re in Vegas. We could do it.”
James hummed and tried to shove Jason’s pants down, only managing to nudge one side just barely down his hip. “Maybe after you suck my dick.”
Jason kissed him again. “Mkay, James. If that’s what you want.”
James held Jason’s face in his hands, running his thumbs over his cheekbones. “Yeah,” he said again against his mouth. “That’s what I fucking want. I’ll--I’ll give you whatever you want, too.”
Sliding his tongue against James’, one of Jason’s hands traveled back down and smoothed over his belly, making James shudder and lift his hips up desperately; his skin was still tender down there, sensitive from Jason’s devoted attention. Jason tugged James’ bottom lip between his teeth as he pulled back, pressing his palms against his chest as he hauled himself up: “You want me to suck your dick?”
James groaned and blinked up at him, one hand wrapping around Jason’s arm. “That’s what I’ve been saying.”
Jason inched down, nestling right between James’ legs again, his fingers just resting on the open fly of his jeans. “How bad?”
Had it been anyone else, James would have lost his damn mind and, in a way, he was losing it with Jason, but he had just enough patience--and enough beer--left in his system to play along. In his own way, at least. “So bad I’m about to make you,” he said, the threat coming out empty, almost comical--they both knew who really had the power.
“Really?” Jason teased, stroking one finger over James’ bulge. “You gonna make me choke on it? Make me slobber and fucking drool all over your big dick?”
James groaned loudly and whisked Jason’s hands away, pulling his own pants and underwear down. He’d been riled up all night--this was too much. Jason laughed quietly and James watched him hunker down, then felt the gentle flick of tongue against his balls and he was gone.
--
James couldn’t remember much. Showering with Jason after they fucked, he could remember some of that, before they tore into the rest of the beers and then the mini bar; he recalled the smooth movement of Jason’s throat as he swallowed a little bottle of rum, similar to how he’d looked when he’d swallowed James’ cum not long before, and the taste of whisky on his tongue again. The taste of rum and whisky had mixed when Jason kissed him, both half-naked and damp, bitter and sweet all at once; Jason’s hands had roamed down James’ arms and he remembered some filthy, delicious words mumbled against his lips, then more booze, then weed and then hardly anything at all.
His head was a pounding, aching mess when consciousness hit him, hard and heavy. He was also sweaty, overheated from all the drinking and the hotel comforter and Jason lying next to him. And Jason looked like he was out cold, completely still and breathing slowly and steadily, still in the same position James vaguely remembered him being in when they’d crashed as the sun was just rising. At least one of them had drawn the blinds before bed and the stark Nevada sun was shut partially out--still, James shielded his eyes as he blinked and sat up. His guts were churning and his throat was parched and his brain was nothing but fog. Glancing over at the table in the corner, he saw all the empty bottles--they must have cleaned the mini bar out, in addition to draining all the beer Jason had brought. Plus all the drinks at the bar before. It wasn’t shocking that James was hungover, but it was shocking how his whole head felt so fuzzy and drained. He blamed the weed for his memory loss more than anything.
But really, what the hell had happened after they’d left the hotel? Because he could remember that, stumbling down the street with Jason, but he couldn’t remember why or to where. Maybe to get more booze? No--there was no evidence of that. He’d try to figure it out later because, right now, James really needed to chug some water, maybe try to find some hair of the dog, and shower.
As James was washing his hair and trying to wash some kind of memory back into his head, he heard the sink run and opened one eye to look through the glass; he saw Jason bent over the sink, cupping handfuls of water to his mouth. James laughed a little to himself while he watched Jason scramble around for a toothbrush and mouthwash, furiously brushing away and then rinsing and spitting before staring at himself in the mirror.
“I look like shit,” he called out to James.
“Yeah, well, I feel like shit,” James replied, tangling his fingers in his hair, rinsing conditioner out. He turned the water off and wrung his hair out, water dripping onto the tile. It felt too warm in the room with the steam, so he hastily grabbed a towel for himself and huffed past Jason to the thermostat, cranking it down. He heard the shower run again; he went over to his discarded pile of clothes, fishing for his jeans, and his fingers slipped over a thick, slightly glossy piece of paper. Maybe a clue as to what the hell happened last night. Or rather, this morning.
What the fuck. James felt like he had to be tripping. A marriage certificate? The words didn’t even make sense; the paper in his hand couldn’t have been real. The room still felt too hot, like he was being suffocated. He read over the paper in bewildered horror--there was his signature and Jason’s, sloppy but still clear as day, and the date. He clenched the paper in his fist, body shaking, and not even the moment he gave himself to try and calm down did anything. This was what had happened?
He tore into the bathroom and nearly hauled the shower door open, confused rage dangerously hot in his body, vision almost blurred. He managed to pause outside the glass and watched Jason through the steam and tried to soothe himself by following Jason’s hands as they washed over himself. Still, it wasn’t enough.
“Get out,” James barked. He could feel that command shift the energy in the small space and Jason paused his movements for a few seconds, then turned the water off and opened the door.
“What?” he asked, clearly unshaken by James’ obvious anger and the fact that he hadn’t moved back an inch to give Jason any space.
“What the fuck is this?” James asked, waving the certificate in his face.
Jason twisted his lips and raised an eyebrow, not at the certificate but at James. “You don’t remember?”
“No, I don’t remember getting fucking married,” James gritted out, tempted to tear the certificate in two. But Jason looked half-amused, half-concerned, which was throwing James off, and then he remembered something--vague again, but something. Bright white lights and cheap fake flowers. Holding Jason’s hand, their fingers weaving together. Champagne, cold and fizzy as it ran down his throat. Kissing Jason in front of someone else for the first time.
“Man, you were fucked up,” Jason said, casually pushing James back with a sweep of his arm. He grabbed a white towel of his own and wrapped it around his waist. “I mean, I was too, but I remember most of what happened. I think. We drank more, we went to that chapel, we got married. That’s it.”
James gawked at him. How could Jason be so nonchalant about this? People didn’t do this. 24 year olds from one of the biggest metal bands in the world didn’t just get married to each other. That was ridiculous. Not to mention a death sentence.
“Did you wear a dress?” James asked, grimacing then. It was kind of a joke. But he had been so fucked up, Jason very well could have and he wouldn’t have remembered.
Jason laughed. “No.”
“Don’t tell me some fat fuckin’ Elvis impersonator did this shit.”
Another laugh, even louder, Jason tossing his head back. “Um--hate to break it to you, Het--”
James groaned and walked out of the bathroom. He looked at the certificate again, still somewhat in disbelief, though the rage was rippling steadily away. What a night--or morning--it had been, apparently. Jason came up behind him and rested his chin on his shoulder, damp hair brushing against his neck. James sighed and made himself put the paper down on the table, right in front of the empty liquor bottles and beer cans.
“You’re so pissed,” Jason noted.
“Obviously,” James said. He was, but it was dying down as more bits and pieces came back to him--namely telling Jason he loved him. The words had fallen from his lips underneath those bright white lights, and James could see Jason’s eyes as he said it, clear grey like the sky. Those words were true, he’d just never said them before. “If you remember all of it so well, why didn’t you stop it?”
“I was fucking wasted, James. Not much different from you.” Jason wrapped his arms around James’ waist and pulled him in close. “Sorry. I thought--even with both of us being fucked up, I thought--it was what we wanted. Even though it is fucking hilarious.”
James could remember what he said before the whole Vegas wedding and he’d meant what he’d said--he did want Jason to be his forever. That was true. “You really don’t care?”
“About what?”
“About what everyone else will say.”
Jason snorted. “What ‘everyone?’ No one has to know.”
That was appealing. Jason could be James’ and no one would have to know--duh. Not even Lars and Kirk had the privilege of that knowledge and wouldn’t for some time--if ever. Besides, James found a little satisfaction in the secrecy of it all. Jason was his and his alone. Apparently, forever--just what James wanted.
Jason nestled his cheek against James’ shoulder. “Did you really mean it when you said you loved me?”
James’ chest became heavy and he shivered, rattling in Jason’s arms: “Yeah.”
“Okay.”
James turned around and put his hands on Jason’s shoulders, nudging him back to the bed. “What about me?” he asked, pushing him down, climbing over him, the towel around his hips coming halfway undone. “You love me, Jase?”
Jason finished tearing the towel away from James, then grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down. “Yeah, I do,” he said, punctuating his words with a kiss to James’ lips. “And now that we’re married, I want a honeymoon.”
James laughed. “This ain’t enough for you?”
“It’s pretty good. Maybe need a big room-service breakfast and more champagne.”
“Okay,” James agreed, kissing Jason back. “After we uh, what do they say? ‘Consummate?’”
Jason smiled and curled one arm around James’ lower back, pinning their hips together. “I’m into that.” He ached up and spoke softly against his neck: “Want you to fuck me and show me you’re mine forever.”
James ground his hips into Jason’s, making them both moan softly. “Whatever you want.”
Jason’s quiet moan melted into an elated laugh as he wrapped his arms around James’ shoulders and curtained his face in blonde hair. “Sounds good to me, Het.” He stroked the back of James’ neck and said against his collarbone, “I guess forever starts with today, huh?”
James let his body go totally soft on top of Jason, just giving enough space to give Jason a deep, wet kiss. He lifted one leg up and pulled the towel around Jason’s waist down as best he could, pleased that he was already just as hard.
Jason must have seen it on his face. “So cocky,” he said, spreading his legs more. “Can’t believe I married you.”
James laughed and extended one arm out, slipping two fingers into his mouth. “Can’t believe you did either, you fucking lunatic.” He watched Jason lick and drool over his fingers and couldn’t stop himself from laughing; Jason grabbed James’ wrist and tore his hand away.
“Not sexy enough for you?” he taunted, taking James’ jaw in his hand and making him look in his eyes.
James’ laughter quieted to a chuckle; he snatched Jason’s hand in his own and pinned it to the bed and pressed them flush together again. “You’re stupid sexy,” he said, grinding into him. “It’s just fucking ridiculous, man.”
Jason let out a rough, quiet groan. “You don’t want stupid sexy forever?”
James traded pinning Jason’s wrist for threading their fingers together against the sheets. “I did last night, I guess.”
Jason was clearly unfazed. He hooked one leg around James’ thighs and smiled; James wished he could remember how Jason smiled at him the night before more clearly, but their “honeymoon” was shaping up to be one of the most memorable experiences of his life. There was no way James would forget that smile, with just the right amount of assurance and haughtiness, or how Jason’s pupils were blown out just from looking at James.
“I don’t regret it,” Jason said, using his free arm to hook around James’ neck, concealing his face in a curtain of blonde hair. “Don’t fucking tell me you do, James. I know you don’t.”
He didn’t. “I don’t,” James said, huffing as Jason treated his throat to soft kisses. “You know me, Jase.” James knew Jason could see that he ran hard and fast, with no looking back. He’d never looked back after Jason. Never would.
“I know,” Jason said, and James could feel the satisfaction on those lips against his neck. It felt right to please Jason, to give him what he wanted--funny how it happened, that what Jason wanted was just what James wanted, too. If that really meant forever, James would take it and run with it.