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Line My Eyes and Call Me (Pretty)

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Then her front door closes and it’s just the two of them. Surrounded by the after-party’s aftermath; empty pizza cartons and bottles of champagne, once fancy glasses now smeared with ash.

The room is as trashed as they are, and the sudden quiet makes Vinnie’s head buzz. He can still smell Hamm’s cologne.

They’re sprawled across Christina’s fluffy purple couch, passing the last of the joint back and forth by hand because somewhere in the course of the evening, they’d lost her long handled tweezers.

Vinnie cards his fingers through his hair; it’s short again, and it makes him feel exposed. He lays his head back against one of the pillows.

The haze of pot smoke has finally settled, like the fog rolling into Malibu every morning. He’s sleepy, dopey, and a couple of the other dwarves he’s too fucked up to remember, but Christina looks untouched. Even her lip liner is flawless.

Which is how Vinnie realizes he’s staring at her mouth.

She smiles, channeling demure as she hands him what’s left of the joint.

“When you shave, you look like such a baby,” she says, patting his smooth cheek.

He takes the final puff, lets the smoke sit for a while in his lungs before answering. “That would be why I don’t shave.”

(Well, that and, frankly, he’s too lazy. Everyone’s always asking him, “don’t you want Hamm’s job? Don’t you want all the attention, to do the talk show circuit, to be the leading man?”

And Vinnie can’t think of a polite way to say fuck no, John can have it, he’s good at it. John makes rolling out of bed after a three day bender look sexy, but I never wanna have to work that damn hard.)

“Oh, but it’s adorable,” Christina tells him. Her cheeks are splashed high with pink like a doll’s, and her hand is still on his face.

A stray bit of her hair curls beneath her chin, fire bright. He can’t resist the urge to tuck it back where it belongs, though he’s surprised when she lets him. Being this close to her makes Vinnie feel 14, with hands too big for his wrists. He’s not sure he wants to be adorable.

She touches her open mouth to his. Her tongue tastes like maraschino cherries, and his fingers span her waist, digging in hard until she bites down on his bottom lip.

He’s startled by the needy little sound he makes.

“Adorable,” she says again, against his neck, and ok, sure. Whatever the lady wants.

*

She leads him to her bedroom with both hands on his hips, a dance step spun around. Presses him down onto her bed by his shoulders before disappearing into the attached bathroom.

She turns to look at him as she shuts the door.

“Make yourself comfortable,” she says.

Vinnie chooses to interpret this as ‘take off your clothes.’

Then he’s laying naked under her blankets, watching the ceiling fan whirl and blur above him, all the pot he’s smoked making time stretch like new taffy. He isn’t sure how long he waits for the bathroom door to open again.

Isn’t sure he didn’t actually fall asleep and is just dreaming her now, standing silhouetted by the florescents in only stockings, garters, and a smile. She’s pulled her hair up, the stray curl he touched earlier is tucked carefully behind her ear.

“You’re absolutely gorgeous,” he says, and hopes it didn’t come out sounding like ‘you have the biggest breasts I have ever seen’, because both are equally true.

Her hand slips between her own legs. “Mmm, thank you.”

Leather bands dig into her hips, emphasize her waist. The strap-on she’s wearing is shimmery purple, and kind of frighteningly large. Her fingers look tiny wrapped around it.

Half-shell, his brain supplies, and he’s stoned and stupid enough to wonder why in hell he’s thinking about sea food, before the answer supplies itself too.

“Oh,” he whispers.

Christina’s smile is benevolent. Beatific.

She’s Venus with a dick. Vinnie goes to his knees.

*

The dildo is smooth, inflexible and it tastes like plastic, but when he sucks it into his mouth, Christina scrapes her nails across his scalp, then pets the back of his neck and whispers, “Such a good boy.”

And Vinnie’s face burns, hot caramel and whisky spilling through his veins, arousal mixed with shame. Like he’s doing something baddirtywrong here, trying to wrap his tongue around the too-thick toy.

Because she smells like woman, earthy and sweet, and her ass is soft and round where he dares to squeeze. But he’s stripped and bowed in the shadow of her, and she’s cupping his chin, holding her dick at the base like a weapon and feeding it to him slowly slowly, until he drools, until he wants to choke.

By the time he’s face down on her bed, his own dick feels bigger and harder than her plastic one.

*

She presses a cool palm to the back of his neck, where the sweat is starting to gather. Runs a hand down his side, firm pressure along his ribs, his flank. It makes Vinnie think of gentling a horse. He’s really fucking high.

“Look at you,” she says. She sounds amused. “I can count all your bones.”

He wants to say something clever, about Hollywood and its standards of beauty, maybe, but then she’s kissing him, mouth open and wet over each of the bones she’s counting.

He imagines her leaving traces of red lipstick along every bump of his spine. She smiles when he shivers, he can feel it, right before her teeth sink into his hip, leaving a different kind of mark.

His dick is leaking all over her silk sheets.

“Vinnie,” she whispers against his lowest vertebrae, just above the cleft of his ass. “Tell me something.”

Deft, delicate fingers, spreading him open, slithering inside, and Jesus, he’ll tell her anything. He’ll profess eternal love if that’s what she wants to hear.

It isn’t.

“Have you ever done this before?”

He hesitates too long- and now he has the imprint of her hand on his ass too.

“Shit,” he manages, ears ringing. “Not with a girl.”

“Ohhhhh, well then let me tell you what you’ve been missing.”

He cranes his neck to look at her; shining down at him, eyes and teeth so sharp and bright he has to blink. “Really rather you show me at this point.”

Christina’s mouth falls open as she laughs, and the thrill of that feels like victory.

*

Two-three fingers twist inside him and Vinnie groans, legs trembling.

“It’s all about stamina,” Christina is saying.

She’s also rubbing the tip of the toy down the crack of his ass, teasing it over his balls, then dragging it slowly back up. It’s cold where he is warm and open for her, and he shivers, not really paying-

“Are you paying attention, darling?” Her voice is gentle. The push of her hips is most certainly not.

Fuck, the damn thing is big. Vinnie takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Stamina,” he repeats.

Christina hums in approval. “See, when boys are finished, the sex is all over, isn’t that right?”

That seems like a trick question, so he’s thankful when she doesn’t wait for an answer.

“But with this,” another ruthless twist and now he’s full of her, head in his hands, body curved and quivering like an archer’s bow, hanging on her whim, on her dick. Anticipation makes him feel eager and fragile. He wishes he could see her face.

Then she bends, soft body covering his, hot breath in his ear. “With this I can fuck you all night long.”

“Oh, god.”

*

She pulls away a bit, leaving only the tip inside of him, reaches around and slides a slick fist up his dick. He’s caught, doesn’t know which way he wants to move, but she finds a rhythm that’s smooth and unpredictable, makes him arch his back to ask for more.

She curls her other hand around his hip, right over the marks she’s left, and rocks into him. Her breathless, high-pitched sighs sound like music compared to the groans she’s yanking from his belly with every thrust.

And a part of him would like to flip over, to see her eyes and touch her breasts, to fuck her right back. But he can’t and he won’t; he understands that this is the deal, that he’s got to lay here and take it, everything she wants to give.

The thought makes his cock jump in her fist, and she hums a little sound of approval at him again.

(When boys come it’s over)

Vinnie bites the inside of his wrist.

*

He’s pretty sure she comes twice, although it’s difficult to tell from his position, cheek pressed to her pillow, brain dribbling out his dick.

Stamina, he tells himself; but somewhere around the hundredth hour, she calls him ‘baby’, twisting his balls a bit in her hot little hand, and he spills obediently into her palm with a grateful sound.

In the stillness of after Christina finally looks mussed, pink flush like cotton candy all the way down to her belly button. If he licks her there, Vinnie is certain he’ll taste sugar. He lays his head on her stomach instead, and she pets his hair with longer and longer strokes.

“You can stay here if you don’t snore,” she tells him.

He opens his eyes. The ceiling fan seems louder somehow, his limbs heavy and far away.

“Curl up at the foot of your bed like a puppy,” he slurs back.

He can hear the clinking of party glasses in her laughter, as he falls asleep.


-End