*

I would've thought drinking a couple glasses (well... approximate plastic cups) of wine was a smarter option than getting totally smashed, but not this time, for some reason. It had been alright so many times before. And it was such a nice thing to have... just Nate and myself and a guitar and a bottle of wine. No pressure to talk for either of us. Him just noodling away. Me humming along when I felt like it or when he struck gold.

UGH. Come to think, I should've known even that was a bad idea. Like, I kissed Greg after singing together at one point at his house, and he didn't smell quite as good besides (not to say he smelled bad! and especially not after shows, but anyway--). I'd somehow miraculously made it thru nearly half the tour without caving. I came close sometimes. I did some stupid things that made it a lot more difficult (I thought it'd scratch the itch, so to speak), but I didn't cave 'til tonight.

Not that I caved all the way, or anything, but-- it started out like it usually did. I don't know why tonight was different. Maybe I've just been tired... it's hard to think about, because it's not like I can do anything about it. Anyway, he was playing, like he usually does, and we were sitting against the side of his hotel bed, on the floor, next to each other. ...Ugh, I guess he did look good, but he always does these days. Fucker. He still had that headband in his hair and it made him look like some ancient Greek athlete or something and ugh that's SUCH a THING and does he know that?? It's like the cologne, yknow? And he had only been wearing a leather vest over his back[55] during the show, and I couldn't pay very close attention for obvious reasons, and there he was next to me, his hair looking like that, his chest looking like that, playing like that, and UGH I hate him so fucking much and I did a little then, too, but I don't know. Things have been so fucking awful. My life's more and more upside down. And it's not like every stop has a good club around (we're still trudging along the midwest). I've got more and more pent up. And things were on a razor's edge as it was.

But it's not like I could say it was impulsive either. I leaned against him first. Tested the waters there. Remembered my old daydream of sitting flush behind him as he played. That (and everything else on top of it-- his smell, his hair, his playing--) got me a little hard. And this time I just let it happen. Let that sit for awhile. Leaned my cheek against the side of his neck and he tensed a bit-- but then leaned to invite me closer. I breathed him in. Kissed him soft, underneath his jaw. So much threatened to flood me then, but I knew I couldn't allow it. I still can't. Such a difficult tightrope to walk. And I managed, I think, despite being clumsy from the wine. I couldn't help but admit to him, in his ear, how damn fucking good he smells all the damn time and how fucking crazy it's been making me. And I asked him if he was trying to drive me crazy. Bit his earlobe a few times for good measure. Just enough to hurt (he needed at least a little). He stopped playing. Slung his guitar behind his back for a moment, hesitated, took it off completely. "I think yer just always kinda crazy, Raj." --He said that, with a stupid smirk on his stupid face. I technically kissed him first, but not on the lips. That was him. I had no idea what I expected, but it wasn't that. I wasn't even sure if he was gonna be a lip kisser. Plenty of (mostly-)straight guys aren't. It threw me for a moment, and of course he seized that moment (though even that was a surprise, there), kissed me harder, untucked my shirt and pulled it up a bit over my back, placed, then pressed, a hand on me to get me even closer to him.

I couldn't let the surprise get to me at that point. Of course he would try to be as forward with me as he was with girls. Ugh. He couldn't do that with me, or at least, I didn't want him to, but if I didn't want him to, it meant I had to pick up my own pace and aggression. So I pressed back into him, grabbed his dick-- when it was obvious he was just as hard as I was, I undid his jeans, started feeling him up. Fuck, and he smelled so good, and then he was feeling me up, and I was kissing his neck again, licking it, and my other hand was on his chest for awhile, then in his hair... he was the one that wanted more. I didn't give that to him. He wanted to be silly about it at first. Thankfully not too silly-- just enough for me to call him that (and drunk). And he liked me calling him silly (his cock was still in my hand, easy to tell). So we still got each other off (he did thankfully grab lube at one point... like, no, you're not just using spit with me, sweetheart. And what do you mean it's JUST my dick). And of course he looks amazing when he cums-- it's quite similar to how he looks on stage, really, but somehow, that didn't make it boring. After he came down enough he started kissing my neck all over, and it was his turn to ask me something in my ear (and bite it, because of course he has to get the last word in edgewise...)-- if he could fuck me if he was sober.

I told him I have someone already for that, and he tried to ask me who, but I just told him-- wouldn't you like to know! Tapped the end of his nose, got up to clean off. He still kept trying to guess as I took care of myself, and each guess was funnier than the last 'til I was sure he was joking. He never guessed Benny. Interesting...! And very lucky.

Now the question is-- will THIS have scratched whatever itch this is. Ugh. I don't know. It's so damn stupid. And he was drunk, and I still worry I took advantage of him somehow-- I was tipsy myself. I don't know. I mean... wow, he was a lot more into it than I expected. I'm not sure if I want to ask him if he's had any experience. I'm not sure if I want to bring this up again. It'll be up to him. Maybe not being able to fuck me will be disappointment enough for him. It was a bit disappointing for me, honestly... I should've known that's what he wants, though. And G-d, I don't even know if I'm sick. I don't want to make HIM sick... G-d I don't even want to think about that. It already wasn't going to happen and now it definitely isn't. But if he's alright with handjobs... this is a sort of side-thing I can't feel too guilty about on a relationship level. On a practical level... ugh. I'd never do it on a night Walt's around. Absolutely not. Beyond that... wow, it's still so much to wrap my head around.

*

This time I told him just how stupid this all was. Once made sense. It was something that must've been pent up for awhile. We got it out of our systems. Whatever. You do what you need to so you can keep working with someone. And he was still clearly going through some things because of whatever happened with Rita, and your standards fall through the floor when you've just been dumped. ...Or, I suppose, even when you've been dumped months ago but never let the thought of it enter your thick skull for more than a few seconds at a time (--Well, maybe I shouldn't judge that too much; I know how it is to need to not think about something).

Performing with him the day after the first time was a little surreal. Dreamlike. Not altogether happy, of course. Laced with anxieties of various kinds. A dread certainty that everyone somehow knew. But Nathan either wasn't bothered by it or he was doing a helluva job pretending otherwise, and for that I was grateful. There were times on stage where I leaned into him, took small hits of him the way I'd been doing before everything at the hotel happened, and a part of me would almost panic. One of those moments especially-- I saw Benny right in front of the barriers, beaming at me the way he always does, and my heart felt strangled with guilt for a moment. You love me, you've been so worried about me on this damn tour, and there I was leaning against the guy I felt up the night before, and that guy was younger and "fit" and white, and all I could think was all that crushing Ben's heart, him feeling so inadequate or that he must truly be ugly or I really was just putting up with him-- and then Nathan did something so beautiful with his guitar it didn't matter anymore.

I didn't have any expectations, really. I walked off stage after everything was done and he followed me. We did all our usual post-show routines with the rest of the guys, but Nate was closer to me the whole time than any of the rest of them (idiot). And then we were in his hotel room again (Shann usually has mine), sitting where we usually would, doing what we'd usually do. He leaned against me, this time. Looked up at me with that stupid boyish almost-innocent look, and I wondered again, like I did a year ago, what the hell he thought he was doing. But I still kissed him (idiot-- me, this time). And that's when I told him how stupid this all was. So many eyes are on us all the time, every other person knows who we are. And what would Walt think about his favorite being around me like this? "I mean, what would he think about THIS?" He pulled a bag of coke out of his pocket with a big grin at me-- half boasting about getting one past Walt but also an invitation to me. I just took my pills out of my own pocket. Said I was covered. Wine was enough anyway. So it was this time, too.

Interesting, and understandable the more I think about it, that despite Nate's love for Walter he's still not a kiss-ass. That's never been him. A parrot, sometimes, but not a kiss-ass. Either way-- I still had to reassure myself this time that this was just Nate and I's now-normal routine, just with an extra step or two added to it. That's all. I haven't asked him anything about it. He hasn't asked me anything about it. Maybe we never will. It's probably better that way. He doesn't really know what he's doing; he's half-drunk and chasing after what feels good. He's not the first, and I'm pathetic enough that he probably won't be the last. Whatever.

*

Having another good-feeling thing be so complicated hasn't really lessened the stress of everything else. Not sure if I was expecting it to or anything, but yknow. Walt was around recently and every time he looked over at me I wanted to throw up even more. I couldn't help but think-- sure, Nate hasn't told Walt that he uses coke. That's still quite a bit different from telling him (or accidentally spilling) anything about me, or about what things have been like between us lately. Walter got me to "spill on my own dirt", as Greg put it, all that time ago. Nate's not nearly as careful, and he has a weakness for Walt. I'm sure he could get him to spill on quite a bit. Of course I was selfish enough last time that I took Nate's little excuse to keep things going without question or even much more hesitation. UGH.

If Nathan wants to keep doing stupid things-- if he believes I'm as free as he is-- Ben and Shannon both, in their own way, are so afraid of me doing a stupid thing that sometimes I'm around either of them and it feels like I'm wearing a collar n' leash too tight and it keeps getting yanked around every which way (and then Walt steals it from both of them and gives it such a tug I nearly fall over).

I wanted to do all this for Ben. I wanted to help get him the position he's in now. I thought it'd make things easier for the both of us, even if it gave us extra work. Instead he's nearly as stressed as I am, it seems, but when he's stressed he doesn't seek me out. Sometimes he goes completely radio silent for awhile, even. We both told each other earlier this year that we'd try our best to talk to each other, be honest with each other, but there's so much now I can't be honest about and it's not like he's talking to me either. Sex is still amazing, when it happens. When we're in the thick of it, whether it's making love or something more rough n' raunchy, I know Nathan could never give that to me. I'd never trust him with it, even if he knew even a little more what he was doing. I remember how it felt in my kitchen. I remember that first time in the hotel, how forward he was, trying to get something more out of me than I felt like giving. It made me anxious, but I also just couldn't buy it. Like he was being rough 'cause he knew there was something still so boyish about him he had to try and hide (which just makes it more obvious... its like when he had that silly mustache). Of course, I know he'd never buy me trying to fuck him, either. --Not that I would, especially right now, when it could literally kill him.

Ben gives me so much of what I know Nathan can't give me, but at the same time, it never feels like enough, and that makes me feel like the worst piece of shit I can think of. He's done so much for me. I feel so safe with him. And I still can't fucking help but be selfish. What the fuck is wrong with me.

*

[55]The usual for the jeans... yes, sweetheart, we know you're a shower, not a grower, thank you; then again at least he wasn't stuffing his pants TOO much in the old days. Still some though~! Oh, that could be fun to tease him about, if it gets to that... ugh, I shouldn't even be fantasizing like this. SO stupid. Ugh.