[lil author's note: i would say sorry for posting more 86 slightly-unhinged queen bee jules but i'm not sorry actually]
It had mostly been a night for drinking, thankfully. There was one interview Walt had to corral them all into at some point. With some Japanese TV people. In a walk-in refridgerator of all places-- their drunkenness making it all the more surreal. But that was mercifully brief, and Nate was eventually able to get Jules alone, in some locked employee bathroom somewhere, pinned to a wall, making out, humping. Nate wanted it to be more, right then, right there. He'd always been a right-here-right-now kind of guy. Jules had stopped him with one of his odd little smiles. “I’m worth somewhere nicer, don’t you think, Nathan?” --And so Nate found them a hotel room. Ditched Jeff completely (much to Jules’s added pleasure and satisfaction). Dodged the majority of the camera assholes on the way out the back.
They were both still drunk enough that it was difficult for them to fully keep their hands to themselves. It was easy enough to look innocent on the way out of the restaurant, at least. Arms slung around each other, drunk buddies helping each other stay upright. It was far more difficult to keep up that sort of feigned innocence in the limo. Jules had begun the ride to their hotel by stroking Nate’s pinky finger with his own. Eventually-- he was too drunk to help himself, and he thrilled at the fantasy of antics like these-- he inched that hand towards Nathan’s thigh. Nate-- who thrilled at antics like these without any apology whatsoever, drunk or sober-- smiled, spread his legs wider, wordlessly dared Jules to keep going.
So Jules held his breath a moment. Bit a corner of his lip. Slid his hand on top of Nate's thigh. Stroked it up and down awhile. Farther up and in each time. --He looked so cute in that stupid oversized suit. He’d look a lot better out of it, though, still. Nate tilted his hips upward, stretched his arms to mask it. Jules exhaled as his hand reached the bulge in Nate’s slacks. He wasn’t fully hard, but he wasn’t soft, either (and at that point, admittedly, neither was Jules). --He held his hand there for a moment. Waited. The driver kept his eyes forward. Perfectly professional. Jules finally allowed a small smile to quirk his lips upwards. He stroked the outline of Nate’s cock with his thumb.
None of them wasted any time once they arrived at the hotel. Got their key, Jules grabbed Nate’s ass on their way up in the elevator (searching out of habit for a rip in jeans, a slice of skin), Nate pinned Jules against their room’s door and pressed their lips together with a moan as soon as it was shut and locked. “...So whadd’you want from me this time?”, Nathan asked between kisses. Julian blinked. “Well, you were kissing me. I liked that, didn’t I?” Nate fought as hard against he could against the urge to roll his eyes. “That’s all, huh? Just kissin’?” He nudged himself against Julian’s thigh.
Jules’s lips twitched into a smile. “Fine. Lay down on the bed.” Nate hesitated. “Uh-- wha—” If Jules had any sort of internal fight against his own eyeroll, it was a brief one. “You asked me what I wanted? Lay down on the bed. On your back.”
Nathan did so, awkwardly, and unzipped his slacks. “You seem to have the right idea.”, Jules said as he swung carefully on top of him. They got back to kissing, unbuttoning each others’ shirts; Nate loosened his tie while Jules tried to untie his own shoes with a single hand. At some point, he gave up with a frustrated sigh, sat himself up off of Nate, began to try untying his shoe again-- then, paused. A mischievous smile crawled up his lips, a spark lit behind his eyes. He slid those eyes over to Nathan, the smile turning more into a smirk. “You know what? You should untie them.” Nate sighed. “So first you want me to lay down, now you want me to get back up and untie your shoes?” “Oh, you don’t have to get up if you’re that offended by it. You can just untie ‘em with your teeth! --Oooh, I might even like that idea better. GOD, Nathan, I LOVE the way you think.”
A black dress shoe appeared in front of Nathan’s face before he could even blink. He gave Jules a look before untying it with his hands. Jules laughed. “Ooh, bratty!” He nudged the side of Nate’s face with the tip of his shoe until they were facing each other. “You know, all of this IS so you can fuck my ass. Isn’t that what you wanted?” “Yes, Jules.”, Nate muttered. “Then take this shoe off and untie the next one.” It was a command, but soft. Almost sweet, but an artificial kind.
Jules had no idea exactly how much pleasure he’d derive from making Nathan do things for him. Mundane things, even-- having him fetch things for him around the studio or the like. Nathan proved his usefulness and willingness (if not always necessarily eagerness) to please whether he untied his shoes for him or got the both of them coffees (Julian’s black, two sugars) from the rec room. There was still a bit of a reluctance on Nate’s part, but it was as if he performed that reluctance for his own pride’s sake. He still did what Jules told him to do in the end because he wanted him in spite of that pride; because deep down, despite the front he put up about it, he liked making Jules happy-- and that was the point: Jules always made it worth it. And Nathan was SO full of himself, and thought he was such a big strong man… it was funny, having him trot off and make them coffees, having him untie his shoes. Well. It was more than just funny. It was satisfying. Deeply satisfying. ...It was arousing. Jules wanted to make Nathan feel so good that someday he really would untie his shoes with his teeth. On his knees. Without hesitation. --Julian smiled again and ran a hand through Nate’s hair once both shoes were taken care of. “Good boy.”
Jules leaned back over Nate, gradually took the rest of his clothes off while Nate took care of Jules’s; Nate pulled him closer, kissed his mouth. Jules returned the kiss, coiled his tongue around Nate’s gently for a moment before humming a quiet laugh, lifting himself ever-so-slightly away. He kissed along his jaw, down his neck. He lingered there, kissed gently but still with an insistence, a light suction, while he slid a hand inside Nathan’s slacks, pulled his cock out (Nate hastily shimmying his pants down his hips), began stroking it. Moaned into Nathan’s ear at the feeling of it stiffening further beneath his touch. --He was turned on, himself, very naturally by all this. Nate was already so close to fully hard and his cock was so thick, long, not quite porn-star but closer to it than Jules expected for someone who’d stuffed his jeans early on (the idiot’s balls must’ve not been big enough for his liking). It was the kind of cock that made guys like Nathan lazy. Julian wasn’t going to let Nathan be lazy.
But he’d already been such a good boy, so Jules wanted to give him something. Of course, it was a something he wanted just as badly; the thought of having it in his mouth was making his kisses get wetter, sloppier. He wanted to stay in control of this, though. As much as possible. So he pulled away. Gave Nathan a wordless smile before he shifted himself downward; Nate spread his thighs outward to accommodate him, stroked his hair, uttered a quiet “Fuck yeah, Raj” as Jules smirked up at him, gripped the base of his cock, ran his tongue up, steadily, from balls to tip.
“You don’t think I can take the whole thing, do you.”, Jules murmured as he eyed the head of Nathan’s cock, rubbed it with a thumb. Kissed it. Paused for a moment, drew away slightly, gave him a sudden, suspicious narrowed glance. “...Or I’m a whore if I can. Or just a faggot. --Am I more than that to you, Nathan?” “Y-Yeah, dude, of cou—” “--Beg me to suck your cock.” “Wha—” “You heard me. Do you want it?” “U-uh-- I mean, yeah, Raj, but, like-- it’s all cool, man. We’re cool. I swear.”
Nate felt Jules begin to relax again, but the intensity in his eyes remained. “...Fine. I’d still like you to ask politely. Could you at least manage that for me?” Nate could, in fact, manage that. With a little sigh, first. “...Can you please suck my dick, Jules?” (He half-dreaded hearing an “I dunno, CAN you?”) Jules grinned, the storm-clouds in his eyes immediately cleared away. “Better than you’ve ever had in your life.” Nate barely had any idea what was going on with Jules anymore, but he rarely did anyway.
Jules was still a little drunk-- he couldn’t help but say a stupid thing or two, and he couldn’t help but start to panic when he became aware of himself drifting too far into tipsy carelessness. He couldn’t be careless with Nate. --But he did take Nate’s entire dick in his mouth, first try. He had years of experience at that point, and it’s not like he hadn’t had bigger. But on a boy so gorgeous at the same time? Who could play so gorgeous, to boot? It was remarkably easy for Jules to enjoy himself enough to nearly lose himself in it all again even after such a sudden shift to near-panic earlier; he was running and curling his tongue around Nate’s shaft, occasionally making his way back to suck closer to the head and run the tip of his tongue up the underside of it, swiveling back down and smiling a little around him as he heard Nathan moan out silly little things. Nate’s hand was in his hair, sometimes stroking it, sometimes gripping it firmly. Nate had Jules’s hair, but Jules had his cock in his mouth and his balls in his hand (his middle finger stroking the underside of them, pressing lightly into the middle). Nathan was his. --Not enough his, yet, though.
By the time Jules slid Nathan’s cock inside of his ass they were both in their own kinds of happy daze, Nate with one hand gripping one of Jules’s hips, the other running across Jules’s chest, resting it in the center, fingers playing with the thin gold chain hanging around his neck. He slid his hand down to Jules’s cock (which had hardened enough to thump against his stomach with each thrust) and Jules tilted his hips just-so with a pleasurable moan; it was a motion that pushed more of Nate’s cock inside him and slid more of his cock through Nate’s hand at once-- Nate had to admit to himself that he more than appreciated the reminder that underneath all the ice queen posturing and mind games (and how the hell was he still so sharp with that much wine in him? --Unpredicatable, though), Jules was truly and simply good at sex. He thrusted upwards as Jules pushed down; Jules tilted his head back, mouth hung open, right shoulder rising, and Nate moved one of his hands up Jules’s throat, rested under the side of his jaw, a thumb played with his bottom lip, and he kept thrusting.
For awhile, he thought he had gotten Jules fully lost in him; his eyes were shut, he was moaning louder than usual, sighing, whispering his full first name, running a hand across his chest, leaning forwards every so often to stroke the side of his neck. Jules’s body was relaxing more and more as Nate fucked him, he was feeling himself up in a lazy, satisfied way (taking over from Nate), his head tilting back, shoulders rolling, a front tooth digging its way up his bottom lip, and Nate was watching it all, excited, relieved, aroused, murmuring variants of “Fuck yeah, man”, “Fuuuck yeah, Raj”--
And then, a sudden gasp inward. “Oh my GOD Nathan stay right fucking there.”, Jules said through clenched teeth. He straightened himself out carefully until he was sitting more or less upright, started feeling himself up again, moaning; tilted his head back, pumped even faster, harder. He slumped forward after a moment, the hand around his cock stopped, his eyes staring directly into Nate’s, half-ecstatic to dead serious in a second. “Move inside me. Slow. Don’t get too far from that spot.” Nathan did so and Jules closed his eyes for a moment, bit his lip, took shaky breaths in and out, dragged his nails gently down Nate’s chest. “Harder.” The dragging became scratching. “Faster. And keep looking into my eyes when you do it.”
Eventually the scratching had become more like clawing, Nathan felt like he was getting close, and Jules was still keeping him at a steady pace, punishing any attempt at settings things off of his tempo by gripping his hair tight at the roots and starting to pull (“You know, I LOVE this hair”, Jules-- who had his hair AND his cock-- had said the final time, “I’d HATE to damage it.”). Nate didn’t want to look or sound like it was getting to him-- he knew Jules would want nothing more than to hear him whimper or murmur out a “please”, but if Jules wanted to feel smug, he’d have to work harder for it.
But his attempted stoicism didn’t matter much, in the end. Jules, whether he saw or felt a change in Nate or not, took a deep breath, grinned; said “Okay, stop.” in a cheerful sing-song. After about five seconds (Nate’s expression changing from puzzlement to an annoyed pout), Jules let out a high-pitched little laugh. “You’re probably wondering how long I’m gonna keep you like this. It’s not like I’m gonna let you go soft on me. I’d hate that! --It’s never boring with me, is it, Nathan?”, he asked, and bent down to kiss and lick the lines he’d dug into Nate’s chest. “It’s a ton of shit but it’s not borin-- no, it’s not boring, Jules.” “RIGHT! --Ugh, you get so impatient but you really are beyond gorgeous like this. I need time to soak it in!” “Yeah, yeah.” “And you can’t help but be a little brat about it all, still, can you. --Do you like it, Nathan?” “Like wha--” Jules slid Nate’s cock out of him and held it against his ass; stroked it. “GOD, you’re so hard; I think you must like it. You’re bratty ‘cause you like when I make you wait for it. You just get a little too excited, that’s all.”
But that’s trainable. Everything is. Jules hummed out a laugh, kissed Nathan’s neck, licked it. “See, if I did that while you were inside me you would’ve came.” He sucked it, and Nathan finally couldn’t help but let out out a groan at the feeling. “Oh my god, you DO like it! I knew it. --GOD you’re so FUCKING gorgeous.” Jules dug his nails deep into Nate’s skin again, a pain of frustration more than any other kind of passion, and it stung enough for Nate to wince, barely swallow down a whimper. Jules’s face had gone completely neutral. “Alright, I think that’s enough. Fuck me. As hard as you fucking can. Like you MEAN it. Because you should.”
It didn’t take much to break through Jules’s icy facade this time, but then again, it hadn’t been fully in place this time to begin with-- all the booze had made it shaky, erratic. And either way, there was always something so much more romantic, passionate, about the scratches and bites and welts Jules made on Nate’s body after he fully gave himself over to it all-- like being devoured, but spat out alive and in one piece at the end. Nate thought that feeling could only happen getting fucked-- but he was the one doing the fucking and there he was, still, being consumed. Then again, it figured that Jules would figure out a way to still be the boss getting his ass fucked. Nate hated that. He loved that. A lot about Jules was like that, and Nate never knew what to do about it unless they were playing music together or fucking.
Jules only let him cum because he was close himself. And god, the sight of it… he saw a version of it every night, song after song, but that was a simulation. Masturbation. Causing it yourself, feeling him pulse around or inside you, having him start to tease out your own, staring at your hand around his neck, his head leaning back, his eyes squinting shut, his mouth opening wide; running your other hand through his angelic ringlet curls, having it all suddenly seize you, gasping and diving forward; his hand around your cock, your face in his hair, breathing it in and digging your nails into his shoulder and cumming and cumming and cumming-- nothing could compare to that. Or pulling yourself carefully off of him after, hand in his hair again, admiring every mark you made on his body, stroking them, kissing his lips, kissing and gently sucking on his neck every so often just to feel him shiver beneath you and remind the both of you that you can do that to him, you can do something to him that sends him into complete bliss, you already own a part of him and he gave it to you so freely, you can make him melt in your fucking arms, you can make him want it ‘til he (nearly-- but perhaps someday soon) begs for it, you can make him want YOU-- all that was enough to drive Julian half-crazy.
Jules was fuckin’ nuts, but Walt always did say Nate liked ‘em crazy. Whatever. There was just something about Jules’s crazy… the freak made him untie his shoes just for kicks and Nate just DID it. --In other words, Nate got a kick out of giving Jules his kicks. And not just giving Jules his kicks, but learning how to play Jules’s own game. Keeping those kicks from him, making him work for them, seeing what the hell he’d do for them. He was getting it more and more, and the more he got it, the easier it was to let himself want it. You can’t want something if you don’t even know what it is. Of course, that also meant that the more he knew, the less he could turn back. You couldn’t stuff the genie back in the bottle.
In that moment, though, it was impossible to think of turning back-- or much of anything at all, beyond the pleasure of being gently, yet intensely, admired (--in the way he ran his hands across his body, the way his gaze caressed it--) by a man he’d always wanted to know more of, somehow. He never thought a guy could want a dude the way Jules wanted him.
He could get used to that.