I indulged in another couple pages of writing from Lysander’s perspective in my gay romance webnovel “Fractured Heart: the Tale of the Pop Star and the Pauper,” this time from the pop star’s POV instead of the shy tsundere EDM DJ the actual story is written about.
It’s been really interesting for me to explore Lysander’s inner dialog, because it turns out he’s more of a cad than he lets on, at least as far as how his view of the world has become after a near-decade of surviving and thriving in the Hollywood entertainment world. But I know (though I haven’t written that part of the story yet) that eventually he’ll soften back into the sweet, kind person he was before he got wrapped up in all that. Theo being the first person in a long time that Lys has lusted after without being able to immediately buy or charm him into reciprocating that lust is giving him a reality check he’s been sorely needing after years of everyone sucking up to him and/or immediately capitulating as soon as he expressed his desire towards them :p
Warning for some sexually explicit language, though it’s not the main point of the writing.
~~
If Lysander Delion didn’t get to see what sex with Theo Miller felt like soon, he was going to fucking die.
It wasn’t supposed to have turned out like this. Lysander hadn’t had to go without something he’d wanted in a long time. There were few things in this world that money, connections, or charm couldn’t obtain, and he had all three in spades.
The normal course of events was:
- Lysander met someone or saw something he wanted
- Lysander used his resources to obtain the someone or something he wanted, the end.
But somehow, it wasn’t turning out that way with Theo. Somehow, the shy EDM DJ’s fae-like qualities didn’t end with just his appearance—he was a damned unicorn, interested neither in money, who Lysander knew, what Lysander looked like, or the carefully crafted beguiling mannerisms Lysander had learned to employ. No matter what method Lysander used to attempt to entice him, the kid remained reticent, wary. And it was infuriating.
Not that Lysander had any interest in forcing Theo to accept his attentions. Despite what the tabloids liked to insinuate sometimes—assuming that no one could have possibly ended up as wildly successful and famous as Lysander had without turning into a total monster—he did, actually, try not to be a dick.
And if Theo had just straight up rejected him, had severed contact, or simply said “I don’t want to see you anymore,” then Lysander would have packed up his sexual frustrations and compelled himself to leave the kid alone.
But no. Theo wasn’t making this easy. As much as he shied away from Lysander’s more overt attempts at flirting, he still stayed in contact with him, still acquiesced to meeting with him from time to time. Yes, it had so far always been under the pretense of working on the collaborative EDM song Theo had reluctantly agreed to make with him…well, it wasn’t exactly just a pretense, they were working on a song together.
But none of their interactions had been dates, with the clear, ultimate goal of a romantic relationship. Or, at the least, fucking.
And Lysander had learned enough about Theo at this point to feel fairly certain that if he did explicitly ask for the thing he wanted most, Theo was going to spook away entirely.
So, with effort, Lysander had been restraining that part of him that very, very much wanted to outright pursue Theo. Had been keeping his charms in reserve, only letting them leak out intermittently, giving Theo mere morsels of what it could be like if he’d let Lysander in even just a little bit.
So far, it seemed to be working…maybe. Theo had, as he’d reflected, not wholly rejected him. And that was a good sign, right?
But fuck if it wasn’t testing every remaining shred of Lysander’s patience not simply going for what he wanted.
“Oh, God, Lys, just like that—oh fuck, that feels amazing—don’t stop—”
With an inward growl, Lysander tried to suppress his pent-up ruminations and return his attention to the present. Lucina, his on-and-off-again friend-with-benefits, was writhing beneath him, generous butt made firm by hours of Pilates thrusting back against him in the way he generally liked, thin waist trapped in position by the breadth of his large hands. He couldn’t see her face from that angle, but that was fine; he could tell from her voice that she was enjoying herself. So why wasn’t he?
Lucina was a good sport. A pop star like him, she was sick of long-distance relationships and never expected more from him than he was willing to give, nor did he of her. And she wasn’t his ideal type, but she was pretty enough, and more importantly, she was willing and available. Even if he wasn’t throbbing with desire with her, generally sleeping with her was sufficient for working out his urges if he was frustrated about other things.
Except it wasn’t working this time. Which wasn’t to say his body wasn’t responding in the usual way—under normal circumstances, with a wet, warm pussy ready to receive him, Lysander could find it within himself to let his penis swell—the hard, long cock he’d been blessed with that the girls and sometimes boys and sometimes they/thems were so fond of praising and begging to have inside of them—and give the people who wanted to have sex with him what they craved.
But it wasn’t distracting him from what he really wanted this time, not really. He didn’t want Lucina. He wanted Theo, wanted to see what it felt like to run his calloused fingers down the length of that slim, feline body; wanted to stroke through the straight, black lengths of hair and see how soft they were; wanted to watch with satisfaction as that pouty moue opened up to wrap around his dick and suck; wanted to see the warm brown of his eyes that always seemed to be narrowed suspiciously darken with lust. He wanted Theo to be the one beneath him now, arching and mewling, begging him for more.
Fuck. Maybe he should just give up. Maybe he should stop teasing himself by keeping up this cat-and-mouse game where Theo remained in his periphery, close enough to have Lysander wanting but not close enough to fulfill that want.
“Aahh!” Lucina cried out shrilly, orgasming beautifully, sinking back against him and taking him in until every inch was enclosed in pulsating softness and warmth. It was just enough pleasure that Lysander soon found his own release, filling the condom within her with cum, digging his curled fingers into her hips to keep her in position until the last spasm worked through him and surface-level repleteness replaced his lust. Mental frustrations be damned.
Then she collapsed into the enormous mattress with an airy, delighted laugh, and Lysander fell forward onto his splayed palms to either side of her torso, careful not to crush her. Given that he was 6’5” and made of almost pure muscle while she was 5’4” and probably weighed less than a sack of potatoes, that would have been easy to do.
“Fuck, Lys,” she groaned, rolling to her backside as soon as he’d extracted and giving him a sleepy, satisfied smile. “I missed that fabulous dick.”
“Yeah? Did you?” he replied with practiced smoothness, giving her a wicked, half-lidded grin after disposing of the condom then facing the bed again, folding his arms across his broad chest. Despite the fact that he was smiling, her own smile faltered, and after a moment she pushed up to sit on the side of the bed and give him a look of concern. Shit, maybe he wasn’t wearing his mask of confident nonchalance as effectively as he’d assumed he was.
“You look…distracted,” she commented, rising from the bed and laying a sympathetic hand on his muscle-bound bicep. “Are you…upset you didn’t win Artist of the Year this time?”
His eyes widened slightly and he let out a barking laugh. While, yes, it had stung a little not to achieve that prestigious award after winning it for the last three prior years, that was far from the top of his list of concerns.
But he didn’t want her knowing what was really bothering him—he wasn’t in the mood for a soul-searching conversation, and anyway, it was a little embarrassing to admit his usual methods of getting what he wanted weren’t working for once. So he only shrugged, the soft movement dislodging her grasp on his arm, and said, “Sure. I mean, Hughie did spectacular this year; he totally deserves it. But of course it hurts.”
Her sympathetic frown lowering even further, she hovered a hand uncertainly near his shoulder, then dropped it and offered her own slight shrug. “Well, there’s always next year,” she said brightly in an obvious attempt at consoling him, and a wry smirk tugged at his shapely lips at her endearing efforts to cheer him up.
“Yeah. Next year,” he agreed, and deigned to at least give her cheek an affectionate caress. Then he stooped to the floor and offered the discarded dress to her; an obvious indicator that it was time to go. “I’ll call you next week?”
If her frown shifted a little into disappointment, he pretended not to notice. He didn’t bother to put on any of his own clothes as he strode ahead of her, escorting her out of the penthouse once she’d repaired her dishabille.
She lingered just a little while in the doorway to regard him with one more smile, stroked her palm down his bare chest in what might have been a subtle display of possessiveness. Then she took herself to the elevator to head out of the building and on to wherever she went when they weren’t fucking or happening to run into each other at a mutual event.
As soon as the door clicked shut again, Lysander found himself staring at the back of it, breathing shallow in his chest as he recalled what it had felt like to see Theo hovering there only two nights prior on the way to his own exit. The DJ’s eyes had been so wide, his body practically vibrating with hyper-awareness of how close to him Lysander had been.
Lysander had been lusting for Theo since the very first second their eyes had met at the concert venue weeks prior, but that moment in the doorway had been the first instance Lysander had become certain that Theo was lusting for him, too.
So why wasn’t Theo just giving in to that lust? Why was he still resisting, still keeping Lysander at arm’s length, when his body was so obviously yearning for their joining?
Fuck…Lysander really needed to find some solution to their fraught situation, or he was going to internally combust.
~~
(You can read more of the actual story if you want, including the first eight chapters for free, on patreon, where you can access future chapters as well as a free first-page-of-chapter preview, for just $5 a month: patreon.com/fracturedheartAO )
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