Friday 19th October
The first time Remington ever met Andy Black, was the day of the Go Punk with Drop Dead ft. Andy Black photoshoot. Andy had worked with Drop Dead in the past, though not in the last 2 years or so, or not since Remington joined the team anyway. He had only been working for Drop Dead for roughly a year and a half, possibly 2 years, after Oliver Sykes had chatted him up on his shift at a shitty Sephora and offered him a job. He flew him out from Vegas to the UK, and picked him up from Heathrow airport. For the first 6 months he had lived with Oliver, longer than either of them hoped, but it took him a while to get a place.
Oliver walked into the studio stressed, running around yelling for Remington. He got a little aggressive when stressed, and though Remington understood it he couldn't help but get a little irritated.
"Remington where the hell are you?" he yelled from across the room as Remington was looking for a specific palette in one of the makeup boxes. "Remington! He's here, get to work! I don't have time for this!" he shouted, gesturing towards Andy.
"Don't yell at me! I can quit this job, you know!" he snapped back, pulling out the palette and heading over to the workstation.
"I want you to do dragged down finger marks all over his body please, a lot of the photographs will be shirtless, I want black finger marks down his chest and arms," he demanded, receiving and eye roll from the younger. He handed the face chart he had made over to Remi and he slammed it on his desk with an over exaggerated sigh. "Don't give me that attitude!"
"Piss off Oliver," he grumbled and finally picked up his brush belt, tying it round his petite waist and turned to Andy. "Hi."
"Hey," breathed Andy, slightly astounded by how such a fragile bodied boy could have so much anger within him. "You're a feisty one," he added, a small smirk playing on his lips. Remington exhaled with a genuine smile, switching on the button on his airbrush.
"Maybe so," responded Remington, pouring in a foundation he knew would match Andy's skin tone, the soft hum of the machine in the background. "Close your eyes," he said sternly, Andy obligating, that smirk still playing on his lips. Remington shrugged it off and began spraying on the fluid evenly along his well structured face. He had a sharp jawline and fantastic cheekbones, a face people could only envy and admire.
"So you and Oliver, you don't get on?" asked Andy once Remington was done with the face. He watched the younger boy intently, his bright blue eyes virtually piercing through Remi. His voice was so thick and deep to Remington it was pure sex, it was hard to concentrate on anything when the man spoke. He knew of Andy prior the shoot, he knew who he'd be doing today, or rather who's makeup he would be doing, hence his faux disinterest in the individual. Remington was a master at many things, playing hard to get, teasing (whether that is playful or sexual is up to interpretation) but most of all playing poker face, hiding anything you could possibly trace from him. He was a mysterious boy, a charming mystery any gay male would be eager to solve, even if all were unsuccessful, a boy like Remington was worth the shot.
"Not always," he replied bluntly, only a trick, really. Andy nodded, a knowing look on his face, as if he knew exactly what Remington was playing at, leaning back in the directors chair. It would be a lie if Remington was to claim Andy didn't attract him, he did ever since he saw his first magazine cover, he was flawless, a lot different to the average man. He was almost sure they photoshopped the hell out of Andy for magazines, though seeing him in person proved him wrong. Sure they probably used some photoshop anyway, but his skin was as flawless as it looked, his face as structured and his body as toned, his hair just as dark and luscious, shinier than humanely possible. He didn't let his attraction or awe show through, however.
Andy glanced over Remington as he was preparing to start on Andy's face, picking out brushes and paints. He was wearing a yellow plaid skirt, much shorter than any man should and Andy was sure Remington would be unable to pick up a brush if he was to drop one. There were hoops and chains hanging off of it and he was wearing knee high socks, garters attached and leading well under his skirt and out of Andy's sight. He wore combat boots and a shirt slightly too short, riding a good few inches above his skirt. But the thing that caught his eye was the necklace dangling off the boys neck when he leaned in to paint a line across Andy's face. He felt the brush trace along his nose and cheeks and waited for him to finish, but before he could pull away and put his brush in his belt, Andy reached out and curled his fingers around the padlock in front of him.
"That's mine," he whispered, his voice quiet and low, his eyes staring right into Remington's and he swore he could hear Remington gulp, and he did. There it was. The moment of hesitation, when the air in his lungs got caught. "The necklace I mean," he smirked, fingers playing with the lock. "My collection."
He could feel Remington's muscles loosen up and hear him let go of the air in his lungs. This was a game they could both play, and for the first time, Remington wasn't winning. They both were.
"Y-Yeah," he stuttered. He caught himself immediately and cleared his throat, standing up straight and feeling Andy's fingers loosen and let go. "Yeah, I bought it a while back," he said, a lot more confident than he had previously been. Andy raised his eyebrow in curiosity. He studied Remington's face intently while the boy returned to doing his makeup. His face was well structured too, no matter how much he tried to deny it, hair was spiked up messily and bleach blonde at the tips with dark roots and his makeup was truly flawless. His lips were big and red, most likely had lip fillers and his eyes were red too, a gorgeous smokey eye in a shade matching his full lips and dramatic lashes crawling over his eyes like a spider. He let it rest and let him focus, though he didn't stop admiring. He was naturally a flirt, but it took a lot to catch his eye the way Remi had. He couldn't help but get distracted by that one slice of skin between his shirt and his skirt and the slice of skin between his socks and skirt. Smooth skin just a few inches from his reach. He mad met many boys in his life who cross dressed, wore typically feminine clothes but none had pulled it off the way Remington did. Everything was different about this one. Everything. It wasn't until Remington was virtually finished with the face makeup, that Andy pointed out the tattoo on his hip. He didn't see it at first, it was hidden under his skirt which has lowered slightly on his hips now, revealing ink, two small words in cursive writing that were both mysterious and alluring. Remington froze as he felt Andy's cold fingers trace along the tattoo.
"Easy access eh?" That goddamn smirk. Stop. You can do this.
"Sarcastic, yet true." His face mirrored Andy's smirk now, both boys playfully planning their next move.
"Is that so?" He nodded. "Well, anyway I guess it's time for you to do my body?" he played, leaning forward to pull his shirt off. Remington's lungs closed up for a split second. He picked up a brush and a compact black shadow, delaying his time as Andy leaned back in the chair, lathering his brush in eyeshadow. He began working on some smudges, not letting himself get too distracted, just focusing on what needed to be done, when Oliver walked in.
"Remington! What part of finger marks didn't you goddamn understand? Fingers man!" Remington clenched his teeth a little, not really at Oliver more at the way he was acting, the way his knees were giving way. He had never been so affected by the presence of an attractive man, famous or not. He took a deep, deep breath and began smudging finger prints down Andy's neck and chest according to the design, going over the ones he had already created with a brush. "Much better!" Shouted Oliver on his way out. He looked at Andy occasionally while drawing finger marks all down his chest until Andy had to stand up. If Andy thought he could get under Remington's skin, he didn't even know the boy yet. Oh no, he didn't know him at all. He sunk down onto his knees, lathering his fingers in black eyeshadow, and stared directly at Andy as he drew two perfectly black lines along his V-line. Only doing as the face chart said. Andy had to look away at that point, and maybe Remington did win after all. Maybe he did, because Andy found it real hard to concentrate on anything right now. The only thing left was smudging his lips a little. He stood back up and looked over Andy, with those deep brown eyes of his and Andy felt defeated for the first time. Utterly defeated. He approved of his work and stepped closer to Andy, reaching for the lips that were much too close to him right now, and traced his finger along his bottom one roughly, smudging the lipstick.
"Nobody wins with me. Remember that. Now go and smash that photoshoot," whispered Remi, glancing at Andy's lips. He melted. Absolutely melted. His knees were weak and he was right, he lost. He underestimated him. He nodded, exhaling deeply and making his way to the photography studio. Remington smiled to himself as he turned around, grabbing onto the workstation edge. He sighed. Wow.
"Hi there," he heard that thick, one-of-a-kind voice once again. He turned to the side and there he was, Andy. "Got a spare one?" He asked, gesturing to the cigarette between Remington's scarlet lips. He reached down and pulled the hem of his skirt up and pulled out a cigarette from his garter. He really was a mystery, wasn't he? He passed the cigarette to Andy, letting the man light it against the lighter he held up.
"You did good today," said Remington, leaning his head against the brick wall he was already leaning against with his back. He watched most of the photoshoot from the side.
"Mhm, so did you," agreed Andy. "You know," he began once again. "If it wasn't against the work etiquette, I'd be taking you back to my hotel today." Remington's head snapped to the side, eyes wide yet a playful smirk still on his lips. He hung his head and chuckled, blowing smoke out and dropping his cigarette on the floor, stepping on it with his boots. He stepped towards Andy and looked up in his eyes.
"And what makes you think I'd agree to that?" He asked, biting on his lower lip a little, a mere 2 inches between their faces.
"Easy access," he hummed softly yet sexily, roughly placing his lips to Remi's. His skin was burning but he ignored the sensation, feeling Andy's soft lips forcefully pushing against his. He tasted of nicotine but it was captivating, and a lot better than a cigarette.
"Fair play Andy," he whispered once they had pulled away. "Fair play." And with that, he turned on his heel and made his way back inside.