6 comments/ 11283 views/ 13 favorites I Love New York Ch. 01 By: PeterPanics With a long sigh I zipped up the last of my luggage. Four hours of packing and two massive suitcases later, I was finally done. Looking around my now empty apartment, I felt a little empty knowing that my time in California was through. Time for another ending, I suppose. I had to remind myself, as I hoisted the giant bags onto my bed, that I was chasing my dreams. Twelve years of playing piano, and it had gotten me to Julliard. My dream school. The very thing that I'd striven for all my childhood, and now, at twenty, I was finally going to be able to pursue it. Unfortunately, that meant moving across the country, away from the California sun and all I really knew. Walking to the window, I stared out at the street below. I had a beach view from the apartment. It was December, the beach was naked with the exception of a few brave souls walking slowly down the shoreline. I was going to miss this, spending my mornings taking in this wonderful sight, spending my afternoons down at the water, spending my nights cuddled in bed with... him. He was just another reason leaving California was going to kill me. Sure, we'd only been together about four months, but four months was enough to get me hooked. Everything about him was different and new, and while I wasn't in love with him, leaving him was not going to be fun. To call him different would be an insult. He was unlike anything I'd ever seen before. Gorgeous, yes. Talented yes. But... something else. The sound of my apartment door slamming shut snapped me out of my thoughts. I turned back to the bags on my bed and sucked in a deep breath. Exhaling slowly, I felt hands slide around my waist. "So, Dev, are you leaving without saying goodbye? How rude of you." He purred, his breath warm on the back of my neck. I turned to him, avoiding his ice-colored gaze and smiling down at the floor. "I'm not very good with goodbyes, Lucas. You should know," I murmured, slowly pulling his hips to mine. His tiny smirk was his way of laughing at me. He knew he had me. "I should know. You didn't say goodbye to me last night." "With the way you were pressed up against the bartender, I didn't think you'd want me to," I shot back defiantly. Lucas had me playing his game now, and he knew it. Everything about him was playful, from the way he ran his hands down my back, to the way he bit is perfect pale pink lips as I spoke. Lucas was always about the game. "Oh, come on Devon. I was just having fun. I didn't fuck him," he whispered in that low, raspy voice he possessed. Always with the theatrics. "But you wanted to," I said, finally meeting his eyes and seeing the spark in them. I could stare at Luke all day, easily. He flashed his smile at my words, long eyelashes fluttering. His golden hair fell perfectly into those ice eyes, begging to be pulled away and worshiped. As the game continued, I felt his skinny hips grind against mine, maybe without his knowing, an unconscious movement. His slow breathing was sprinkled with breathy giggles as he pressed his body to mine and resorted to nibbling my ear as his hands found the button on my jeans. This is always how he plays. "I have a plane to catch, babe," pulling his hands from my jeans to my face. His mouth fell into a little open pout, those eyes alive with disbelief. "Not for another hour. You've got to let me show you what you'll be missing, baby," He pleaded. He pressed his lips to my throat, his warm breath leaving a little trail across my skin. A tiny smirk tugged at the corner of his lips when he felt the rise he was giving me through my jeans. "Come on Devon. Pretty please?" I had to bite my lip to keep back a groan as he slid his hand down the front of my pants and started to teasingly rub my cock. Surrendering to him meant he won. That's how his little games usually ended; in my defeat. He pressed his lips against mine hard, his warm tongue tracing my bottom lip. "Devvvooonnn," He pleaded into my open mouth. "Let me." I needed no more invitation. My blood boiled. I pressed my hard cock against his, biting his bottom lip as I managed to get him against the wall. "You win, Luke," I mumbled against his lips, sliding my hands beneath his shirt. He smirked, his eyes full of lust and mischief. "I always win." I leaned in to taste his beautiful lips, an effective way of getting him to shut up, my cock now straining against the fabric that held it hostage. My head swam with the excitement of Lucas' hands all over me, sliding off my shirt, toying with the barbell in my nipple before leaning down to tease it with his tongue. He trailed his way down my body, sliding to his knees before me, biting his way down to my monster, now wet with precum. He slid my underwear down, finally freeing me, my cock springing forward to greet him. For a moment he stared with a smile, then looked up at me, those playful eyes teasing me in every way. "Can I have a taste, baby?" He asked. I couldn't play anymore. I was out of the game, Lucas was champion. I knotted my hands in his hair and dragged him forward, his warm mouth finally meeting my dick. He dragged his tongue over my pee slit, tracing the vein all the way down to the base before sucking long and hard on my entire length. It took all my self control to not thrust down his throat, the hot, wet suction of his mouth making my head spin. I let out a moan, throwing my head back. He began to bob back and forth on my cock, taking all of my modest seven and a half inches in his mouth, his talented tongue flicking and teasing every part of me that made me shiver in the most delicious way. I whined like a bitch when his glorious moth was replaced with his hand, jerking me in quick, long movements. "Dev, baby, look at me." I looked down, and those eyes bore into mine, and in a very, very naughty way, that only Lucas could master, he closed his mouth around my dick once more, never breaking his ice cold gaze. I'm surprised I didn't come then. Instead, I let my self control fail. My knuckles turned white clinging to his golden hair, my hips crashing into face, the soft sound of his low moan as he gasped for breath. Those ice eyes never left mine as I fucked his pretty mouth. With a shudder and a moan, I came in his throat, the first shot hitting him while I was still buried in his mouth. I groaned and slumped against him, he reached up to jerk the rest of my load onto his waiting tongue. With a devious smile, he stood up and kissed me hard, sharing the taste of my cum with me. "Bitch," I spat at him. He smiled at me sweetly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Don't hate the player, baby, hate the game," he purred, pulling the dark hair away from my face and kissing me again. "You cheated," I breathed, my eyes trailing down his perfect body to his cock, pressing tight against his pants, my own release having turned him on beyond belief. "Maybe," He whispered, hands sliding down my back, "But I make the rules. I'm allowed to break them." There was no more discussion after that. My dick had already begun to harden again as he took me down on the floor, yanking down his jeans and quickly lubing his dick, a full inch bigger than my own. I reached out to jerk him, but he quickly caught my hands. "I need to fuck you," Was his only explanation. And as I turned to get on my hands and knees, he yanked me back onto the floor and crawled over me. "I want to see your face when I come inside you." Without wasting another second with words neither of us would remember, I felt him position himself at my entrance. With a quick thrust and a moan, he pushed inside me, stretching my tight hole around him, his loud groan melting into my own moans of bliss as he began to pull in and out of me. My cock throbbed in response to his entry. His rough thrusts rocked both of our bodies back and forth, his wonderful dick milking my ever-sensitive prostate with each stroke. He was all too good at his game. My moans, begging for him to fuck me harder, pleading for him to make me cum, succeeded in driving him crazy. I may not be the best at it, but I could play his game. I could play it well. I arched my back, overcome with animal like desire, wanting him buried so deep in my ass I could taste him. My cock ached for sweet release, and I finally gave in and began to jerk with each thrust of Lucas' monster within me. "Don't be a bitch," he scolded, stopping for a moment to pin my wrists at my sides. "You'll come when I get you there." This issued a steam of swearing from me, cut off by shivers and groans every time Luke slammed into me. I couldn't hold it any longer. With a final "You fucking cunt!" I began to cum again, shooting all over my chest and stomach. Lucas was close. His eyes widened as he watched me cum, moaning curses at him, biting his chest as I shot all over myself. The threw back his head and issued a loud groan, coming with his cock deep inside my boycunt. I squirmed as he slumped over me. Still glowing from the ass-pounding I'd received, and the glorious orgasm I'd just had, I held his wasted body to mine, watching the last of his orgasm fade from his face. He pulled out of me slowly, and we lay together on the floor for a while in warm silence, minds running, hearts racing. He bit my shoulder softly, pouty eyes gazing into mine, his energy drained, his lust gone, nothing left but the pale blue color and a glow in them I couldn't place. "Devon," He said, tracing the lines of my thin stomach. "I'm going to miss you." I smiled, kissing his lips softly. Here he was, invincible, headstrong, different than so many, showing me the side of him I don't think anyone had ever glimpsed before. "I'm going to miss you too, Lucas." He slowly peeled away from me and stood up, stretching, his naked body beautiful. "I need a shower," I mumbled, somehow finding the energy to get up off the floor. "My flight leaves in twenty minutes." I Love New York Ch. 02 Here is the second chapter of "I Love New York". Thank you so much for all the great feedback on the first chapter! This chapter will delve more into characters and Devon's transition into New York. While it's a bit different, I hope you all enjoy it. ~PeterPanics * It was needless to say that I missed my flight. I had twenty minutes to shower, get to the airport, and go through security, and with Lucas sitting naked on my bathroom floor, I couldn't have been more distracted. Somehow, though, I was able to pull my mouth away from his long enough to mumble something along the lines of "I'm late and you're not helping." So, to be honest, I wasn't at all surprised to see the 4:00 flight to New York City was already up in the sky. Instead, I bought a ticket to the next flight (I could already feel the burn in my pocket) and sat down for the wait. I'm not a very patient person. Long, open, periods of time make me anxious. Why? Because I cant sit still for twenty minutes without thinking about something too much. I overanalyze a lot of things. Sometimes, I sit and think in depth about stupid things. Other times though, I ponder on the heavy things. These thoughts, as you can tell, can be toxic. I don't like thinking about those things, yet somehow, they always manage to sneak up on me when I'm least expecting it. Like when waiting for a flight in an airport. I pulled out my phone, My fingers hovering over Lucas' contact. No, I can't. Things are complicated enough with him as is. Plus, I just said bye to him. No need to make it a habit. Instead, I dialed Cassidee. Her bright, bubbly voice answered on the first ring. "Devvy, babe, I'll be at the airport in like two seconds, okay? There was a wreck in the middle of-" "Cass. Calm down. I'm still in California." I heard her exhale on the other line. "Well you could have said that!" she breathed heavily and dramatically, like she'd been holding her breath on my every word. "Yeah, Cass. Anyways, I missed my flight. I booked a ticket on the last one out of LAX. I won't be in the city until sometime around ten. There's a layover in Boston." She mumbled some curses under her breath. "Alright kid. Hurry up and get your punk ass out here. I miss you, and there is a shit ton of people that you need to meet. The city is a big place." I hung up after a quick goodbye, laughing to myself. Cassidee was quite possibly my best friend in the world. We'd met when we were seven years old, at an after school art program for "troubled" students. She spilled blue paint on my canvas just to be an ass, and I spilled red paint over her head and called her a bitch. Thus the "troubled" part of that first sentence. We were pretty much inseparable after that point. We both had horrible childhoods, but we had each other. Really, that was all we needed. Together, we got through a lot of bullshit. Lies, bullshit parents, sex, drugs, confusion... we'd fought it all. She knew me better than anyone. Really, it was no surprise to her the day I came out. We were both fourteen, drinking, partying. She knew I sucked cock and I knew she ate pussy. The lesbian artist and the gay pianist. It was like something out of a bad Sunday comic. Anywhore, Cassi got accepted into the New York Academy of Art the year before I was accepted into Juilliard, and already had a nice setup in the city from everything she'd told me. She was graciously taking me under her wing, promising me that she'd guide me around the wonderland that is New York. I've never been out of California. I mean, there was my senior class trip, and we went to Cancun, but other than that, I've only known the west coast. I was born and raised in Long beach, within walking distance to the sunny shore, thirty minutes from downtown LA and the sunset strip. Southern California was my favorite place to be. The people, the atmosphere, the sun. Maybe I shouldn't say that, being that I haven't been everywhere there is to be, but in twenty years, I've never gotten sick of SoCal. There was a call for my flight to board, and it shook me from my thoughts. I gathered my things and followed the mob of people headed to the east coast. Here we go, Devon, here we go. "DEVON!" Cassidee came running at me, her face lit up with her smile. She barreled into me, almost taking us both down to the pavement, burrowing her face into my chest and squealing. I hugged her close to my chest, laughing as she yelled at me for not coming to visit. She stepped away and grinned up at me, her massive blue eyes shining. A part of me deep inside wondered how she could see through all the eyeliner. She looked unchanged, her hair dyed a daring shade of purple that cascaded to her waist, standing almost a full foot shorter than me, her tiny body dancing in circles around me. "devvvvoooonnnnn!" she sang in a tiny high-pitched elfish voice. "I've missed you so much babe!" she squealed, hugging me again. "I've missed you too Cassi." I assured her with a laugh. Her devious grin made me smile. "Look at you Dev. Still doing the hardcore thing, huh?" she asked, reaching up to tug on my lip ring. "And you got a new one!" she exclaimed, flicking the nose ring in my septum. "The boys like it." I laughed, sticking out my tongue to show her the barbell that pierced it. "Only you, Devon, could make having metal in your face look super hot." She giggled, tucking her hands beneath her chin. "What about you, Cass. Your still flitting around like a little butterfly?" I asked, looping my arm through one of hers as she lifted my duffel bag off the conveyer belt. "I do what I do," she giggled. "I laugh, I dance, I spill things." "Words to live by." "Aren't they though?" she laughed, her chirpy little voice floating through the terminal. She busied herself tying up her hair into a long ponytail while I gathered the rest of my luggage. "How are things in Long Beach?" she asked, helping me carry all my bags while her eyes scanned for the exit. "Y'know... always good." I mumbled, looping my arm through hers as she maneuvered through bodies. Much easier for her to do than for me, just to clarify. She frowned, not looking back at me. "Something is bothering you. No... a boy is bothering you." I was glad she wasn't looking back at me so she couldn't see my bewildered expression. She didn't need to look back, she knew my thoughts. "We've been friends thirteen years, Dev. I know you. So tell me about the boy." Lucas was a long story. Everything about Lucas required extensive amounts of explaining. "Just... its complicated." I managed under my breath, narrowly avoiding walking over a toddler. How was she navigating the mass of people so easily? Finally, we reached the revolving exit. I'd only seen revolving doors in movies. I wanted to stare at it for a minute, take in the nostalgia of it, but the purple headed monster in front of me dragged me onto the street behind it before I could give it a second glance. "Everything is complicated with you. You're a damn complicated person, Devon." I had nothing to say to that, so instead, I stayed quiet and followed her to her car. I agree, Cassi. New York City in the fall. It was breathtaking. I stared out my window with wide eyes, marveling in the beauty of it. Trees lined the heavy streets, just beginning to turn golden-brown in mid-august. People filed in massive crowds along the pavement in ways I'd never seen before. Los Angeles was busy, but this city was flooded. The traffic was intense, a sea of yellow cabs amongst the black tar and white dashes marking the streets below. Tall billboards broadcasted anything and everything imaginable, from sports feeds to news briefs to advertisements. I stared up at the skyscrapers, dragging their long fingers through the clouds. I couldn't see the tops of any building I looked at. California has earthquakes, and the highest building I'd ever been in had eight floors. These massive infrastructures though, thirty, forty, fifty floors, more and more and more than I'd ever seen. Were New Yorkers just unafraid of heights? "Everything is big." I managed to whisper, breaking the silence in the car. "That's New York. A lot of people, and not a lot of room. So, we build up. Our apartment building has seventy floors." Cassidee laughed, glancing over from the driver seat to see my wide eyes and dropped jaw. "You'll get used to it, hun. Your not in California anymore. Lots is different. Driving is different, food, people, attitudes, everything is different. You'll adjust." I managed a stiff laugh, nervousness finally knotting over in my stomach. This is it. "Usually me and Gavin don't even drive. Its easier to walk, or take the subway." I looked over at her. "Subway?" She shook her head. "Your like a puppy, Devvy. Don't worry. We'll teach you everything." "We?" "Of course. Gavin. Me. All my friends." "Gavin?" "Our roommate. Gavin. He's an acting major at Juilliard with you. He'll show you everything you need to know about the school and such. He's a pretty good guy. He pretends to be hardcore, just like you devvybear." She giggled, poking my cheek playfully. I smiled down at my knees, feeling like I'd been lifted from planet earth and put in this odd, wonderful place. Subways. More Taxi's than I'd ever known existed. Buildings with seventy floors. Was this even the same planet? Thirty minutes later, Cassidee was lifting a suitcase bigger than her entire body into the elevator. "Listen up, Devon. We are on floor sixty-two, room 7794D. there is a spare key on top of the eave, and usually either me or Gavin will be around to help. Comprendo?" I laughed at her horrible use of Spanish and watched the elevator doors slide shut. "So what have you been doing, Cass? We've been talking about me the whole time." I asked, poking her in the ribs. "Art. I just finished up my second of eight terms at the Academy.... Um... I work at this little bookstore at the moment, occasionally I get featured in a gallery event, usually small places, but its still exposure." "And in the love life?" I asked, leaning up against the bar in the small space and watching the lights on the wall skate past floors. "Pshh. What love life? Girls in New York are all sluts." she scoffed. "Aww has it been a while since Cassididdles got some pussy?" I laughed. She laughed out loud, holding her tiny stomach. "I'm not in a relationship, doesn't mean I don't get girls. I refer to what I said before. Girls in New York are sluts. Its like a wonderland of vagina out there." We both laughed at that until we reached our floor. Cassidee turned the key in the door of apartment 7794D, and opened it in one swift motion, inviting me in. "Welcome home!" she exclaimed. I walked in to the apartment and gasped. I was used to seeing apartments that were crap. I'm used to gray carpents, windowless, dingy white walls, and shit lighting. This apartment was stunning. The kitchen veered off to the left, and the living area to the right. The kitchen was open, tiled in a black and white checkerboard pattern. The appliances were red, and cassi's art hung above the stove. Everything was spotless. The walls were starch white, decorated by the bursts of color in Cassidee's artwork. The living area was large, simple, and open, a long black leather couch with a matching loveseat and a coffee table, to the left of that was a massive grand piano. My eyes lit up. The piano was beautiful, polished and perfect, shining in the dim light cast by hanging fixtures above. "Your room is down the hall. The third door," Cassi said, pointing down a dark hallway. "GAVIN! WE'RE HOME!" she bellowed, handing me my bag and turning on brighter lights. I walked into the living room, feeling like an intruder, when a tall figure emerged from the hall. I'll admit he was gorgeous. And yes, he did the hardcore thing like I did. His hair was in long, dark dreadlocks that were tied back in a heavy band. His skin was a light olive color, his eyes light brown. His chest and arms were sculpted through his loose tank top, his eyebrows pulled over his eyes intensely. "You must be Devon." He said with a warm smile. I reached out to shake his extended hand. "Devon Maxwell Davis. Nice to meet you." "I'm Gavin. Welcome to the city! Cassidee has told me a ton about y-" "Are you two giving each other hand jobs yet?" Cassi interrupted, tossing me a bottle of water and slinking up beside me. Gavin stiffened and glared at her, then plopped down on the loveseat. I looked at her quizzically. "Gavin here is straight," She giggled, sitting next to him and petting his arm, "or so he thinks." I sat down on the couch across from them and smiled, confused, as Gavin was no doubt envisioning murdering Cassi in her sleep. "Its okay to be confused, Gavin," she teased. He rolled his eyes, and something told me Cassidee did this often. "Gavin got caught kissing a boy in the bathroom of my last gallery event." She explained. I tried really hard to not laugh, but a giggle escaped as Gavin's face turned bright red and he got up to leave. Cassidee caught his wrist and yanked him back down. "I'm not gay, okay? I was really drunk and it was dark and I thought he was a girl." He sputtered, looking at me with pleading eyes. I hated to admit it, but a curious guy that was as good looking as Gavin was kind of hot. Cassidee just agreed with him and pet his dreads, mumbling something about how he was right, that guy did look like a girl. I left them to go unpack my suitcases. For a long time, I stared out the window at all the lights. A sea of lights, and an ocean of opportunities. Turning to my suitcases, I unzipped them, pulling out my belongings one by one. I set my laptop on the nightstand and busied myself folding my clothes. A lot of black, gray, and white. A lot of chains, a lot of tight shirts and tighter jeans. Hats with flat bills, and bits of metal to put in the holes in my skin (four piercings, if you were wondering. my septum, tongue, snakebites, and my nipple.) I was good at pretending to be hardcore, just like Cassidee said. I didn't feel anything but sensitive though, sitting on this bed, in this city, so far from home. It was a scary, overwhelming thought. But I'm here, and its going to be great. There was a knock on my door, and Gavin poked his head in. "You busy?" "Nah. Come on in." I mumbled, clearing off space on the bed next to me. He held up a pair of my favorite jeans, and smiled at them. "You can feel free to borrow anything you like. Just let me know first." I offered a smile, as he set them back down. "I may take you up on that," he laughed. Translation: the gay guy doesn't dress like a queer. "I just wanted to apologize for earlier." He continued "Cassidee doesn't know how to shut up sometimes." His smile was nervous as he sat down beside me. "Trust me, I know. She means well though." I promised. "So... tell me about yourself Devon. Cassi just says you're a pianist and your... um... "Gay." I finished for him. I was smiling, he wasn't. "Yeah. I'm gay. But I'm also Devon. Twenty years old, but forever a kid at heart. I play piano, guitar, drums, bass, and cello. I don't like peas. My favorite baseball team is the rangers and I watch football every Sunday. Go Colts." "Wait... you watch sports?" Translation: faggots do that? Since when? No wonder he was hell-bent on being straight, whether it was who he was or not. He was a fountain of gay stereotypes. I laughed at him. "Only when I'm not watching musicals and singing show tunes, Gavin." Finally, he broke and laughed along with me. The awkwardness that surrounded him melted and he smiled, for real this time. "So do you need any help unpacking?" he asked. Translation: can I go through your clothes so I can see what I'll be snagging from your closet? "Yeah, man, sure." I finished my packing, and I talked to my new roommate who was a very confused, but nice guy. I climbed into bed that night, and I knew that even though it was scary and new, New York was were I was supposed to be. I fell asleep and dreamt of a seventy story building with the Mann's Chinese theater next door to it "This city is massive," I breathed, walking faster to keep up with Gavin. "Yeah, but you'll never get bored. There's always a place to be, or something to do, people to meet," he said, "I think you'll like it." I shrugged. It had only been a few days since I'd landed in New York, and so far, I'd asked for ketchup on a hot dog (apparently a big no-no), gotten lost on the subway (ended up in queens), and almost got trampled crossing the street (what's the rush?). I felt like a failure as a New Yorker. Gavin was kind though, and continued to ensure that I would get used to things. Now, he was chaperoning me to my new university. The campus was large and sprawling, most of the buildings low and flat in comparison to the skyscrapers towering above it. The trees were all turning beautiful shades of red and brown, orange with tips burning dark gold. Groups of scholars, the best of the best in performance arts, clustered beneath them, conversing and laughing. "The main office is that way," Gavin pointed, "I'll be in the D building. Its around the corner to the left. Come find me when your done." He smiled and gave me a tiny nudge toward the building. I walked quickly, pulling my papers from the messenger bag slung over my shoulder. Tuition payments and the sort. I walked though the revolving door (I'd long lost my nostalgia. They're all over the city.) and saw the line for finances almost leading to the door. I caught my place in line and prepared to wait. The office was wide, and ornate. Long rows of benches pressed against the walls, different offices marked with large signs hung by brass chains from the ceiling. The walls were a soft white color and gold lamps made them glow softly. So this is where almost 35 grand of my money was going. To decorate office buildings, cause I know this shit isn't cheap. It took almost an hour in line, and another half hour hassling with the old cunt of a woman behind the desk before I could finish and go find Gavin. I was stressed, tired, and just wanting to go home by this time. I stormed out of the building, kicking up piles of leaves as I walked. My converse skidded across the sidewalk angrily, scuffing the white tip. Damn sidewalk. Messing up my sneakers. What a whore. Why do we even need sidewalks anyway? Cant people be smart enough to NOT get run over? I groaned and searched for building D. I climbed a set of stairs, scanning each building block as I walked. Fuck, Gavin. Where are you? I'm mad, I'm frustrated, and I need to go home and clean off my shoes. I need to go home and sleep off the rising fury in my gut. How the fuck could she do this to m- I was cut off by the sound of a song I knew by heart. A piano sonata OP. 46 was playing somewhere down the long hall. Almost automatically, my fingers twitched to the sound, and I could see myself dancing along the ivory keys to it. I'd won my first recital performing this song when I was eight years old. I crept silently down the hall, the sound of Kabalevsky growing louder. I turned a corner and my eyes met an open door, the sonata playing within. I crouched near the doorframe when I saw a single figure inside. I was silent as I watched, awestruck. There was a single male dancer in the room, spinning in time to the sonata. His arms extended full and wide, he took to the very tip of his toes to glide across the floor. A ballet. His skill was insane. He matched time perfectly with the piece. He was breathtaking. His hair was long and dark brown, brushing his shoulders as he danced. The messy, choppy locks stuck to the sweat on his throat and forehead, falling out of the band knotted in the longest layers in the back. His face was thin, with wide, innocent eyes that watched the floor as he twisted with ease. Those eyes were the most stunning shade of hazel, with streaks of blue and flecks of green within the cinnamon brown that colored his iris. His chest was broad, his shoulders strong and wide, protruding from his tight black tank top. A tattoo covered most of his left shoulder and his forearm, though I was too far away and he was moving too quickly to identify what it was. He wore black yoga pants, strong calves visible as the fabric danced with him. I Love New York Ch. 02 "I want him for Christmas." I whispered to myself, unable to pull my eyes away from the beautiful ballet in the room. "DEVON! HEY DEV OVER HERE!" I froze, hearing Gavins heavy footsteps thudding down the hall. The dancers' head snapped to the doorway, where I stood, gaping. His jaw dropped, and I stood, frozen in fear as Gavin finally caught up to me and grabbed my arm. "I said take a left, dude, you turned rig-" he stopped short, seeing the embarrassment on my face and the mystery dancer gawking at me. "How long were you watching me?" he finally spoke. His voice was smooth as butter, with low, deep undertones hiding beneath velvet. "I... I hea-ard the s-song, and I recognized it, I j-just wanted... um... to see what um, what exactly it was coming f-from." I stuttered. "Mhm. Sure. Okay, well, the peepshow is over, I'll just be leaving now." He said, sharper this time, his wide eyes turning to me, glaring like I'd just kicked his cat. With a quick step he turned off the CD player that he'd been using, gathered his things off the floor, and stormed past me. Gavin waited until he turned the corner to finally address me. "Were you peeping on Kayden dude?" he asked, his intense eyes boring into mine. "You KNOW him?" I asked, my eyes bugging out of my head. "Everyone knows him. Kayden Spark. He's some dancer on scholarship, he's a raging fa-" I glared at him. "Faaaaaa..." he tried desperately to cover for his slang mistake, His eyes looking both horrified and apologetic. "Faggot, bruv. I got it. He's gay. You should really watch what you say though, anyone hears that and you might get beat up by a princess that takes it in the butt." I mumbled, only being a little sarcastic. I understand being confused, but Gavin's ignorance was annoying. "Annnyyywwways," Gavin mumbled, "He's pretty much a bitch to everyone. No one really knows why, though. He's in his second term here and he's practically a glutton for punishment with the way he acts." "Oh." It was all I could manage, the pretty boy still fresh in my mind. I'd almost forgotten how pissed I had been. Almost. I wasn't expecting my pocket to vibrate then, but It must've been fate, because at that minute, I got a text message from Lucas. 9pm pacific time? Skype me? Missing you, Dev, so lets have some fun. Seeya then. Because I really wanted to think about Luke after seeing this stunning dancer for the first time. Kayden. Kayden spark. I like it. I pulled away from the sink, staring at my face in the mirror. I looked the same. My hair was getting too long, dark and messy, falling in my eyes and over my ears. Maybe Cassidee could trim it for me sometime. My eyes were the same shade of emerald green, black flecks dancing around in them. The same piercings decorated my skin, the same cheekbones that gave my face a fragile look. Why was everything so different when I still looked the same? There was a knock at the door, forcing me to walk from the bathroom and collapse on my bed. "Yeah?" Cassidee flitted in, her purple hair pinned up in intricate swirls, wearing a long white jersey dress. "Me and Gavin are going out, you coming?" she offered, patting my knee. "Nah, thanks Cassi. I've got a lot on my mind, and I promised I'd videochat with Luke in like, five minutes." "Luke? Does my devvybear have a boyfrrrraaannnndddd??" she cooed. I was quiet for a long minute, watching her put on six inch heels. "I dunno what he is, to be honest. He's just... Lucas. Something about him is wrong, but it feels nice, and I like it, but I can't understand what it is." Cassi furrowed her brow. "Well that's really fucking deep, Devon. I've already done a few shots, so I cant really process that right now. Talk to me tomorrow about it, bub." And with that she was off, leaving me alone, and feeling strangely empty. "Hey Dev!" Lucas laughed boyishly, batting his long eyelashes to the camera. I forced myself to smile at him, feeling utterly fake. "How is the NYC? Are you missing home yet? Did you put up your stars yet?" he asked, his voice bubbly and excited. "Its nice. Really busy. I miss surfing, and I miss being able to put ketchup on my hotdog. And I haven't gotten any stars up yet... but If I leave my window open at night the lights outside help. I mean, they don't glow, but its pretty." I said, watching his gold hair shine in the light of his bedroom. He was the only one that knew, probably because he'd been the only one in my bedroom. My weakness was the dark, and I don't like sleeping in it. So, I would buy insane amounts of things that glow in the nighttime, and watch my room come alive with light. It was small, but he remembered. He was in the middle of saying something, and I was spaced out. "Lucas, what are we?" I finally blurted. His eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean, Dev?" "I mean, what ARE we, Lucas? What is this relationship? Is there even a relationship, or is it all a part of your game? Everything about you makes me sick to my stomach, but I cant stay away from you. I don't know what this is. I just want to know." I clasped my hand over my mouth. Stop. Talking. Devon. Shut your face. Lucas sat on the other end of the computer screen, mouth hanging open, taken off guard by my sudden attack. The look on his face said he wasn't sure weather to be offended or... well, offended. I'd just told him that everything about us repulsed me, which was true, and his smile seemed permanently removed. "Your... Your..." he stuttered for words, and took to staring at his hands. "You're just my Devon. And I'm your Lucas." "MY Lucas? Or am I sharing you?" "Jesus Christ, Devon, we aren't married." Point taken. I smiled at him, trying to walk around the bone crushing feeling that had settled over me. Yeah. You're a raging mindfuck. I understand. And when I logged off skype that night, I didn't know how to feel. I curled up in a ball, missing home, missing any sense of normalcy I had in long beach, wishing I knew what the hell I was doing in my life. I closed the window, and slept with the lights off. I don't like the dark, but I don't like this city more. As I drifted to sleep, I dreamt of playing Kabalevsky's a piano sonata for a very familiar dancer. I Love New York Ch. 03 The third chapter of "I Love New York"! Can't wait to see the reactions this one provokes! Worked very hard on it, so enjoy. Devon has no problem getting himself into trouble. Thanks for reading! ~Peterpanics "What the hell happened to you last night?" I mumbled, wiping the crust from my eyes and stretching. My purple-haired friend lay naked in her bed, the tiny jewel in her bellybutton twinkling in the early morning sun seeping in through the window. She smiled warmly as I slid into bed beside her, twirling a purple strand of her hair between my fingers. "Oh, Devon, it was so wonderful. She was a gymnast, you know. She could do this thing with her leg and a nightstand that just-" "LA LA LA LA LA. I'M NOT LISTENING." I joked loudly, letting Cassidee roll into my arms. "When are you gonna get some ass, Devon? Its been three weeks since you showed up here, and I'm having to beg you to leave the apartment. Its New York City and your new in town! That's prime conditions! Your actually ALLOWED to whore yourself around and not get called a slut." She giggled, running her hands on my chest to play with the bar in my nipple. "I don't know Cass... I mean, I could... and god knows I want to... but something is still holding me back." I said. She knew what that meant. I'd told her about my disaster back in California, and how I'd left a really odd relationship with Lucas to come to New York. "So your saying you cant go out and enjoy yourself with New York's finest cock because you don't know if Lucas would let you?" she laughed. "You had sex with our summer camp counselor when we were fifteen. What has this guy done to you, Devon?" I knew she was kidding, but she was right. "Do you want to know what I think, Devon?" she asked, twirling my hair between her fingers. "I think you're afraid to sleep with anyone else. I think this Lucas guy has been the best you've ever had, and I think you're afraid no one else is going to make you come the way he does." I stared into her blue eyes, wondering where she got her PhD. It was something I'd thought about, and more than once, admittedly, but not something I was going to admit to the naked lesbian tucked in my arms. Lucas was it... Lucas was the first guy who had ever, ever made me orgasm in such spectacular ways. That was a lot to say of someone who'd lost his virginity at fourteen, and in case your wondering, I did indeed get laid at summer camp. I bit my lip, the metal ring in it cold against my skin. "It doesn't matter now. Lucas is my past." Cassidee grinned, her smile bright and sunny. "Then you promise me your going to start making an effort." Before I could respond, Gavin burst in, fully clothed and ready to go. He stopped, absorbed the sight of Cassidee, naked and shameless, and me, only wearing the pokemon briefs I'd slept in the night before, knotted together in bed. He cocked his head. "There's something wrong with this picture." Cassidee laughed, loud and bright, sitting up and peeling away from me. "We've decided to try and convert each other. Too bad Devon here can't get it hard for a girl. Maybe you should help him, Gav." She winked at Gavin, and he turned bright red and his jaw tensed. Cassidee teased Gavin nonstop. For a girl who was only interested in vagina, she really pressured every guy around her to hook up with other guys. Maybe I needed to check my room for hidden cameras, Cassidee could be collecting scandalous videos of me jerking off and putting them on the web or something. A half hour later, I was on the subway with Gavin, deep in conversation about the upcoming Giants game. I'd come to enjoy his company, and he'd come to enjoy learning all of my strange quirks. My toothbrush faces east. I fold my underwear. My leather pants get put on a hanger. I won't eat my food if it touches. I get nightmares if I don't have something glowing in my bedroom. I sleep with a domo plushie. These were the things you share with a best friend, and it was fun sharing them with Gavin. Yes, he usually ridiculed me for them, but it was just fun to tell him. Cassidee knew me better than she knew herself, but Gavin was just learning. And it was new, and exciting. "Yeah dude, the rams are going down." He said, and we both laughed. When it faded, he looked at me and grinned. It was boyish, and it was cute. With such intense features, his smile made them all soften with childlike innocence. "Soooo, I was talking to Cassidee last night and she thinks you need to come party NYC style. She's busy on an art deadline tonight, and you know how she gets when she's focused... so I was thinking... there's this rave in Jersey City. Moby is DJ'ing. Its going to be pretty sick, if your interested." Cassi's words echoed around in my head. Gavin smiled hopefully, his dreads falling around to his waist. "I'm always down to rave." "I know how much you all enjoy Beethoven, so I'm assigning a three page composition, at least five minutes in length. It is to be on my desk by Monday morning. Also, for the rest of our time here today, I'll be assigning each member of this class to another department. Yes, children, you'll no longer be under my watchful eyes twenty-four seven. We will be breaking up into the theater and dance departments, to help with musical aspects of the end of term performances. That is to say, you'll be responsible for the music in these performances, and not only will you receive your final marks on them, but your classmates within their own departments will as well. You fail, you all fail. Meet me at my desk as I call you." Professor Wrought smiled at us charmingly, the class sighing with the intense pressure upon us. He was aging, maybe in his late fifties, his hair grey and glasses thick. Still, there was something charismatic about him. He wore age well. His hands were long calloused from years of sharing music, and some say he was in attendance here at Juilliard before many of us were born. I didn't doubt that in the least. Everything he said, he meant, and this was one of the things the composition students knew well. I'd only known this man almost a month, and he'd already insulted me, stripped me of all pride, beaten me to a bloody pulp with his words, and shit inside my soul with a certain amount of charm that no mortal human being could master. Yes sir, Professor Wrought was a musical god. Upon our first meeting he made it clear that he hated me affectionately. That is to say, he enjoyed how much he disliked me. He disliked my hair and my clothes. He disliked the way I spoke and moved. He disliked my music theory and my opinions on Beethoven. He disliked me so much, in fact, that he began to like me. How is this possible? How can one have so much hatred for another human being that they begin to like each other? Like I mentioned before, we are in the presence of a god. He checked his watch, turned back to his desk and began rummaging through his notes. The class was small, as with all the classes. Today, only seven other students joined me. I'd chosen Music as my major, with an emphasis in composition, because I love writing music, even though I'm rubbish at it (something our dear professor wrought noted with passion) but more so because collaboration with other departments was allowed, encouraged even. This assignment though, was a lot to swallow. Being responsible for our own work was intense enough, but incorporating it into someone else's art was entirely more difficult. This was made even more stressful by being an end of term performance, in the semester showcase, where the old coots in ties that sponsor this place and pay insane amounts of money for it come to observe its progress. "Mr. Davis. Mr. Davis... Devon!" professor wrought shook me from my thoughts. "Care to join me for your project or would you like me to fail you now?" I smiled sweetly as I could manage and walked to his desk. The only other pianist in the class, Anne Gretchen, was just leaving his desk, a copy of Macbeth in her hands. "Am I being assigned to a play too?" I asked brightly, the thought of working with Gavin entering my mind. "No way, hotshot. You've got more talent in your pinky finger than Anne has in her whole body. I assigned her that to ensure her an easy A. You, however, I want to see stretch potential." "Gee, thanks." I mumbled under my breath. Sorry, Gavin, we'll work together sometime. "I'm assigning you to the showcases main Ballet. The recital is estimated to be close to two hours long, so you'll be composing the main score." He handed me a single flyer, the words '"The Sweet Taste of Poison" a ballet by Juilliard dance company #2' on it, marked with the time, place, and professor in charge of rehearsals. "You're expected to attend all rehearsals, and check in with me and your new director weekly to track your progress. You're out of my hands now, Mr. Davis. You will be living, eating, and breathing this project." "I can't wait." I mumbled sarcastically, tucking the page in my messenger bag and walking from the room. It's funny how I didn't believe him. I should of, because the rest of the semester was going to be a roller coaster of up and downs, and it never would have started if he would've just assigned me to damn Macbeth. "Fucking ass, Devon. Stop using my flat iron." Cassidee bitched, a streak of green paint across her left cheek. She was stomping out of her bathroom, and returning to the war zone that had taken over our living room. She'd pushed all the furniture out of the way and put a massive dropcloth down, and in the middle of it was her easel. Usually, she kept her art supplies locked safely away in her bedroom, but today she was working to meet a deadline, and she meant business. She was always unusually bitchy when she worked. For one, she hated interruption of any kind, and for two, she felt like she needed to get everything creative locked in her head before they could escape. This meant that if Cassi was working, she was no longer my pixie-like, loving, adorable best friend. She was a fucking bear, and if you messed with her, she was going to claw your face off with her bare hands. Gotta love the creative process. Her hair was tied up in an incredibly messy ponytail, her smock covering up most of her clothes. "Damn it! Hurry up! I want you faggots out of my apartment! Your STIFILING my CREATIVIY! " she screamed, picking up her paintbrush and turning her back to me. She means well. Really. I gave myself a quick once over in the mirror. My hair was messy as ever, my jeans were black and tight, a pair of lime green suspenders hanging from the back. My tank top was thin and white, (I didn't plan on it staying on all night) and three glowsticks hung from a string around my neck. I'd begun to rub the glow in the dark glitter gel I'd nicked from Cassidee's sock drawer over my chest when Gavin walked in. His leather pants left little to the imagination, his tee shirt clinging to his lean frame, a florescent Alice in wonderland graphic pressed to the front. His wrists were decked in beaded bracelets and wristbands that promised to glow. His dark dreads were down from their usual band. It took me a minute to realize that I'd been checking out my roommate who mayormaynotbe gay, and another minute to realize he'd been checking me out as well. We both looked down, blushing, avoiding eye contact. "You ready to go?" he asked with a tiny smile, toying with the cap to the gel I'd returned to smearing across my chest. "Yeah." I smiled back, turning to him. I smudged the leftover gel on my hands beneath his eye playfully. "Lets go." "I'm really, really fucking drunk," I mumbled. I wasn't talking to anyone. I think I might've been talking to myself? I spoke it aloud. I think. Good god, Devon. Your not even fucking legal. Bodies were everywhere. I was being pressed up against and people were touching parts of me I hadn't had touched in way too long. Walls of chests and tight stomachs surrounded me, all moving to the same heartbeat. I moved with them, warmth flooding throughout me. How long had we been here? Why the fuck did I care? I don't know how long I'd been dancing. I know I was hot. My shirt was gone and I was thirsty. This was nice. I didn't want to leave the mess of people. I didn't want to lose this feeling. How long had it been since I didn't give a fuck? I liked not caring. Someone handed me a drink, and I drank from it gratefully. I'm really fucking drunk. I'm really fucking drunk. Just keep dancing. Just keep dancing. "Devon!" A voice floated above the wub-wub-wub of the music and the wall of bodies. "Devon!" I heard again. I just grinned. Come find me, mystery voice. Come find me, I'm hiding in this mess. I'm really fucking drunk. But this is so nice. A hand closed around my wrist. I felt myself being pulled out of the mess, out of the chaos that I liked so much. I whined in protest. The hands all over me were gone. The music was still thudding in my chest, pounding, itching, begging to become a part of me. The lights burned in my retinas, swirling and dancing and shaking. "Devon!" the voice said again. It was Gavin. Gavin was holding me. Gavin was pulling me away from the fun. "Bitch." I whined as he dragged me through more people. "What a bitch." I don't think he heard me. I don't know if he heard me. I didn't care. I was noticing how toned his chest was. He'd lost his shirt too. He was slick with sweat, his strong arms pushing through the crowd as he pulled me behind him. Then we were off the dance floor and he was still dragging me, and I didn't know why. We were outside and then in a taxi, all so fast I didn't know what we were doing. But I knew Gavin was there. And I knew he looked really, really fucking good. "Gavin." I mumbled, finding his light eyes in the dark of the cab. I found his hands in the dark and slid them to my bare chest. "Gavin." I said again. I could hear him breathing, and it was loud in my ears. I pressed against him, and I realized it was nice how solid he felt. It was really, really nice. I knotted my hands in his dreads and pulled his face closer, and I was kissing him. It was good. His lips were soft and his breath was sweet with alcohol. His chest moved faster as his breathing picked up, and we were moving but I don't know how. Good. Good. Good. This is nice. "You feel good." I whispered to him. "I want you." He whispered back. "I've wanted you since I first met you." I giggled uncontrollably and pulled him back to my mouth. And I don't know how but he's in my bed and we're both really hard. His mouth is tracing the lines of my stomach and he's eyeing the growing bulge in my pants. It sent shivers up and down my back. I couldn't stand how much I wanted him to suck my cock. "Please." I gasped. And he does. I woke up to the sound of water running. Somewhere, water was running. I groaned as the throbbing pain in the back of my skull spread all over my body, settling in my stomach. I felt like someone had thrown a brick at my head. I glanced around to see I was in my bed, my sheets were covered in glitter and random bits of clothing. The rave. The booze. Gavin. Gavin gave me some pretty unbelievable head. I followed the sound of water to my bathroom, where I caught a flash of dark dreads. I turned to the mirror. I could use a shower too. I had some pretty bad bedhead, and bits of glitter still clung to my body. "Morning Gav." I mumbled, groping for my toothbrush. "Its three in the afternoon." "Its morning somewhere." He poked his head out from behind the shower curtain, flashing me a smile. "On a scale of one to ten, how hungover are you?" he asked. "eleven." I managed through a mouthful of toothpaste. "There's some aspirin in the medicine cabinet. By the way... that thing... last night... that never happened." He smiled, his pretty teeth shining. "Hm? I dunno what your talking about. We came home, you brought me a sprite, and we both went to sleep in our respective beds." "Exactly." I shrugged, and offered him a small smile. "If you're planning on bringing any other guys a sprite, you might want to look into a tongue piercing." I teased. "I dunno what your talking about." He grinned, and winked at me, and suddenly he was just Gavin, and I was just Devon, and nothing was different. And he hadn't given me really good tongue. And he was back to pretending to be straight, and I was back to being a homebody. And I liked it that way. "Where the fuck is building C?" I muttered to myself, looking for the dance studio. I'd call it luck but others might call it fate, when three women ranging in size hurried past me, all wearing leotards. "Wait!" I called. The three froze, and turned to me. "Are you going to building C?" "You don't look like a dancer." One scoffed. Bitch, please. "I'm not." "Then why do you need to go to the dance department?" the second sneered. Why do you need to know? "I'm your composer." "Oh, okay. I'm sorry we gave you a hard time. Just follow us." The third said sweetly. Building C was only a short walk away, and when we reached the entrance, the girls were already whispering. I tried to scoot past them, but they'd blocked the door. "So, I was wondering if um..." the second girl, with almond shaped brown eyes and short blonde hair, was giggling quietly to herself. "Do you think, maybe we could go out for coffee or something sometime?" I tried to smile. "Um, thank you, but I don't date women." She looked shocked for half a second, then recovered and masked the burn of rejection with a smile. She turned to her two other friends and giggled. "Kayden is going to flip." She whispered. Kayden? The dancer that had been twirling through my dreams? That Kayden? I didn't have time to really think over it, because the blonde had looped her arm through mine and began to drag me into the room. Good fucking god. I was going to be her new gay best friend. I knew it. I was just like a good handbag. I clutched my messenger bag to my chest as we walked in. The room was huge, extending out them length of a full gym in both directions. The floors were hardwood and the back wall was a mirror, making the massive amount of dancers in the room look even more intimidating. There was a piano and a boom box off in one corner, and I walked over to it, quickly hiding behind its keys. The three girls followed, like puppies. "I'm Molly." The blonde said, smiling in a very uncomfortable way. "I'm Daisy," said the second girl, who had long brown hair to her waist and dark eyes. "And I'm Vera." Said the last one, who had black hair and straight bangs, with thin eyes that hinted at an Asian bloodline. "I'm Devon." I mumbled, pulling my binder from my bag and laying it out across the piano. Daisy opened her mouth to say something when the room suddenly fell silent. The three girls silently waved goodbye and took their places on the bar across the room. I felt awkward and out of place. He walked in slowly, tossing his gym bag in the corner, eyeing each of the dancers as he passed. He was even more gorgeous than I remembered, His dark hair was loose and soft, each layer framing his face. His jaw was sharp and the lines of his face perfect, those big hazel eyes sweeping over each body. I wanted them to sweep over me. I wanted to know what that felt like. He was wearing a tank top and a pair of grey gym shorts, his white socks sliding across the hardwood. The tattoo I'd noticed before was clear now, an intricate and detailed tribal design, which started on his shoulder blade and wound around his bicep and down his side, disappearing beneath his shirt. I imagined it covered most of his left side to his waist. It fit his body so well I was almost jealous. His chest was broad and his muscles firm, not bulky, but smooth and sexy. I wanted to reach out and touch him. I Love New York Ch. 03 "I'd like you all to take your marks and begin stretching; it's going to be a busy day." He said aloud, his voice permeating the silence of the room. The dancers did as they were told, each taking a place on the bar. That was when he saw me. He turned to me, His hazel eyes finding mine. I could so clearly see the flecks of gold that decorated them. "Good morning." He mumbled, sulking over to the piano and leaning against it. "Morning." I coughed. He was silent for a long moment, watching his dancers stretch. "I'll be your composer for the ballet. My name is Devon." I managed. "I know who you are, Mr. Davis. Professor Wrought promises nothing but the best from you. He says you're the most talented pianist he's seen in years." "I try." I mumbled, a sigh of relief escaping my lips. He didn't remember me. Thank God. He turned away from me, counting out loud for the dancers. He walked away, leaving me to watch him make micro adjustments to each body's form. When he returned, he didn't look at me. "I guess now you won't have to hide to watch me dance." He said coolly. I managed a stiff laugh. "I really am sorry about that... I mean... I really was just following the song." "You don't have to keep telling me. I believed you the first time." He said, walking away again to address the group of ballerinas. I didn't hear what he was saying, because my head was still ringing with his words. He'd believed me? He snapped me out of my thoughts when he returned, sitting down beside me on the bench. "I'd like you to watch the ballet a few times before you begin composing. Y'know, so you can get a feel for the tone of the ballet. Then, we can start plugging the music into where its needed." He said, his eyes scanning over the dance floor, and not meeting my face. I noticed his hand was shaking eversoslightly in his lap, and for half a second I wondered why. "I don't mean to offend... but I thought a professor was going to be directing? Or a choreographer, or the writer. I mean, I didn't think I was going to be consulting with a dancer." I asked, turning toward him but not looking in his face. He laughed, and the sound was happy and bright. "Mr. Davis, I AM the writer. I choreographed the ballet. I dance in it. This is my work." He said, standing up to tower over me. "So just watch the dancing so you can begin doing the ONLY thing you're here to do." He said coldly, the harsh emphasis on 'only' making we want to crawl under a rock and die. The ballet was beautiful. It told the story of Romeo and Juliet through Juliet's eyes, the sharp point of view translating so perfectly into the dancers' movements. The first half was about 45 minutes long, and after a small intermission came the dramatic, fast paced second half, spanning about 40 minutes. Kayden danced, of course, as Romeo. His movements were precise and natural, each step flowing through him like a shock wave. He was graceful and quick, his strength surprising me. As he danced, the others danced with him, but he far surpassed all of their talent. He had a natural ability to dance, and dance beautifully, and it was addicting. I was awestruck at the amount of talent in the show, in the room, and when it was done I applauded loudly. Each dancer clapped with me, beaming at me. At least they liked my presence. Kayden dismissed the rehearsal as the applaud died down, and soon the room was alive with dancers picking up gym bags and filing out of the room. I collected my sheet music and took to filing it into my binder, Molly, Daisy, and Vera each waving good bye to me as they left. I put my binder in my messenger bag and looked around at the empty room. So this is what my project was. I'd be a part of this work of art for the next eight weeks. "How did you like it?" I almost jumped when I turned toward the doorway to see Kayden's trim figure leaning against the frame. "It was stellar. You did a good job." I managed, still somewhat infatuated with his looks. "Thank you. I worked very hard on it." He laughed, but it sounded tense and I saw a flush of color in his cheeks. Did he just blush? Did I just make him blush? No. No way! It must be warm in here or something... "So when can we start working together on the music?" he asked, coughing lightly. "Whenever. I have a lot of ideas." "So do I." He mumbled, handing me a slip of paper with an address and time on it. "Well let's hope they mesh." "Well, ultimately, it's my ballet." He scoffed, a bit of arrogance in his voice. "It's also my mark." I shot back, shrugging and slinging my bag over my shoulder. If he wanted to be queen bitch, he would have to get through me first. "Don't worry about your marks." "Don't tell me what to do." I said coolly, meeting his eyes for the first time. His nostrils flared in a way that made me think no one had ever challenged his authority. I smiled to myself. I don't like authority. "I just want this ballet to be p-" "Perfect. I know. I'm going to try and help, okay? Just stop acting like I'm out to get you." I finally said, and with that I walked past him and out the door. "Do you work here?" I asked a few hours later, walking into an empty café. It was warmly lit, having already closed for the night, the stairs were stacked atop the tables two by two. It wasn't that far from the apartment back in SoHo, and it looked nice enough, with chalkboards advertising deals on everything from sandwiches to coffee. Kayden nodded, pulling off his apron and hanging it on a peg by the front door. "I asked you to come here though, because I live upstairs." The way he glided around the open floor, it was like the entire world was his dance floor. I would never get used to his grace. Not to mention he looked flawless as he worked, cleaning up bar tables and stacking mugs. I liked when he wore his hair down, like he was, the way it fell into his eyes was cute. That wasn't why I was here. He looked over and grinned at me. "I'm just about done. You can head upstairs and wait if you want. The door is unlocked." Walking into his apartment was like walking into another world. I'd grown used to the SoHo apartment, and all its modern chic-ness. Kayden's place was way different. The walls were a dark brown, the floor a sandy hardwood. It was small, with a tiny kitchen just big enough to turn around in, a living area about the size of my bedroom, and a short hall that lead to a single door that I assumed to be the only bedroom. The entire space was overcrowded with mismatched things, chairs with broken legs, each cabinet had a different handle, couches covered with pillows of every shape and size, drapes hung to the floor, but somehow, the eclectic space was nice. I heard footsteps up the staircase, and turned in time to see Kayden coming through the door. "It's not much, but its mine." He laughed. I realized I'd never heard him laugh before, and it was a nice sound. "If you follow me," he continued to mumble, maneuvering past me and into his living room, "You can sit at the piano." He pulled a dusty cover off a bulky object I hadn't noticed in the corner. Beneath it was a simple piano, polished but old. "I hope its enough. I planned on using the one at school but they won't let me use the room after-hours... so I think this is all we have." "No," I said, "I've got one at my place too. And I'm sure if I ask Wrought, we can use his classroom." I sat down on the rickety bench and pulled my bag off my shoulder. "But we should get started. Its already pretty late." It was hard to focus on keys and notes with Kayden sitting beside me. I could smell his shampoo each time he moved, some citrus I couldn't name. He smiled every time I played something he thought worked, and in turn it made me blush. He jotted down notes quickly across my binder, his sloppy penmanship light against the paper. I enjoyed everything about him, I enjoyed his vibe and his laugh, oh his laugh, and the way his eyes were full of focus with every suggestion I made. Minutes flew by. Then hours. Sunset turned to the shimmer of lights of New York at night. Kayden became lighter, and suddenly everything we spoke of ended in laughter. His usually quiet, reserved nature opened up as he became more comfortable. "Play that again!" he laughed. "That was so good, Devon!" He put his hand on my shoulder as I repeated the notes, and the weight of him against me felt insanely good. His smile widened at the sound. "That's really good. I really like that." He reached over me to pick up his pencil and scribble it down in my notebook. His loose cardigan hung in my face, revealing his tank top and the smooth knots of muscle beneath it. "Holy crap, Devon. It's already after midnight." He mumbled, standing up and stretching. I liked the way his tongue poked out when he yawned. I stood up too and took off my beanie, ruffling my hair beneath it. Kayden walked to the kitchen, and I followed. "I think we did fabulous for the first night. I didn't think working with you was going to be so..." his voice trailed off. "What?" I asked with a smile, hopping up to sit on his counter and plopping my hat in my lap. "Easy. Enjoyable. Fun. I mean... I had actual fun tonight, Dev. I haven't had real fun in a long time." He said with a tiny smile, tossing me a bottle of water. I felt my cheeks ignite with red, and I looked down to try and mask it. "And you blush every time I compliment you! Look! Oh my gosh why are you blushing like that?" His laughter echoed across the small kitchen and rang in my ears. I looked up to see his head cocked, dopey smile in his eyes, propped up on his elbows on the counter beside me. "Cause... I mean... come on, Kayden, its you." Now it was his turn to blush, and my turn to make fun of him. "Devon... I really don't want to like you. You're making it very hard." I smiled at him. "Why not?" "I don't date cute artsy pianists from California." "Damn. And I was so looking forward to it." I joked. He looked down at the floor, the last of his smile fading. "You've been making me crazy Devon. I keep thinking about you... and I think that it's because I'm trying so hard not to like you that I'm beginning to." "Kayden." I mumbled. He looked up at me with those big brown eyes. "That doesn't make any sense." I felt his hand against my thigh before I realized his lips were on mine. He had lifted me off the counter and my feet found the floor, and within an instant we were pressed together. His lips were soft and strong against mine, parting to breathe against my jaw. "Devon this feels really great." He said breathily. Instead of taking time to agree with him I pressed my lips back to his. I could feel his hands on my ass, gently pulling me against him. I had the heavy sensation in my balls that signaled I was about to get really hard really fast. His tongue traced my bottom lip, and I knotted my hands in his hair. "Dev." He pulled away, his breathing heavy. I felt is body being pulled away from mine and I whined a little bit, leaning slumped against the counter for support. "Devon I cant do this. I'm sorry but I need you to leave." I couldn't meet Cassidee's eyes as I walked in the front door at one that morning. Rejection still fizzled in my veins. Her eyes urged me to speak to her, and when I pulled away from her hands she knew something was wrong. The crushing pain in my chest was too much. I'd let him build me up with his words and he just watched me fall... I opened my door and let the glow of my stars engulf me. My heart hung low. What had I done wrong? I began to undress in the dark, sliding out of my tee shirt and slowly working off my jeans. I almost screamed when I felt warm hands slide around my waist in the dark. "Sssh." His hands reached up to cover my gasp. "Let me take care of you." He whispered, moving around me in the blackness and pressing his lips to my throat. My blood boiled with rejection and lust. It felt good to have his lips pressed against my chest. It felt good to be wanted. His tongue was soft as he worked perfect circles down my torso, his hands locked on my waist. I gasped with want. The tearing in my chest didn't mirror the dizzyingly good feelings his mouth was provoking. I stared up at my ceiling. The stars glowed brightly. It made me sick to my stomach. It all made me sick to my stomach. Everything. All of this was fucked to shit. His mouth was tracing the lines of my stomach and I could feel his breath against my dick. It sent shivers up and down my back. I couldn't stand how much I wanted him to suck my cock. "Please." I gasped. And he did. Gavin fucked me that night, and it felt right. It felt right because it was dirty, and low, and it was the wrong thing to do, but fuck it. Live your life for yourself, because in the end, no one else gives a shit. I Love New York Ch. 04 Hey readers! Just wanted to give a major thanks to my new editor, Cruel2BKind, for making me reconsider some things and agreeing that my pacing sucks J This chapter has been really challenging, and I re-wrote it a few times to produce this. I hope you enjoy! ~PeterPanics * em>Faggot. I felt Gavin's cock pushing into me, filling every inch of space I had. I moaned from the heat and the pressure. Queer. His low growls pushed from the bottom of his chest made my cock jump. God he felt so fucking good inside me. Bitch. His teeth found my shoulder blade, sinking into it with ease. With a hard, long thrust, he hit my most sensitive of places and made me cry out. Slut. Whore. Cunt. I awoke with a gasp, sweat pouring from my skin. My boxers were sticky with come, my breathing was heavy and uneven. Faggot. Queer. Bitch. Slut. Whore. Cunt. It all crashed through my head at a million miles an hour and I felt sick. I bolted to the bathroom and found myself doubled over the toilet vomiting. I am so fucking sick of myself. When my body was done, and had nothing left to expel, I curled into a tiny ball on the bathroom floor. The tile was cold, and it felt good against my hot, sweaty skin. A shower sounded delicious, but I was too drained to even try. Instead, I shoved a towel beneath my head and lay there, too filled with self-loathing to care. Your one twisted mother fucker, Dev. Yes. Yes, I am. Using Gavin for my own personal shit. Pretending to actually give a damn about him. Having sex with him because it made me feel better about myself. .Faggot. Queer. Bitch. Slut. Whore. Cunt. "Devon." Someone was shaking me. "Devon." "Go. Away." I managed. Something beneath me was rough and solid. I opened one eye to see underneath the bathroom cabinets. No one had swept beneath them in ages. I closed my eyes tight. Let me go back to sleep, I pleaded internally. Let me wake up when this shit is over. "Dev, you asshole. Wake the fuck up." I felt a sharp pain in my kidney and realized I'd just been kicked. I opened my eyes to see none other than Kayden Spark towering above me, his eyes livid. A series of thoughts ran through my muddled mind. How the fuck did you get into my bathroom? WHY are you in my bathroom? Why am I sleeping on the bathroom floor? Haven't you fucked with my head enough, Kayden? I only vocalized one. "Bitch, don't fucking kick me." "Don't tell me what to do." He said hotly. It was in this moment of silence that embarrassment set in. Not only was I still reeling from the burn of the dancer's rejection, but here I was now, asleep on the bathroom floor, sweaty, stinky, and wearing come-covered underwear, while he stood above me unfazed and dashing as ever. I peeled off the floor, my skin sticking painfully in some spots. I stood up and faced the beautiful boy. "What do you want, Kayden." I mumbled. The bitch was laughing at me. "You look like shit." "Feel like shit." Was all I could manage, glancing in the mirror to see that I did indeed look like shit. Disheveled hair, wrinkled boxers (Not to mention the stain), bags beneath my eyes, five o clock shadow looking permanently etched into my skin, sex on my breath. "You've missed the last two days of rehearsals. I demand to know why." He scoffed, crossing his arms in a very catty fashion. "You don't demand shit of me, Kayden." I mumbled, walking past him into my bedroom and searching for a pair of jeans. I picked up the ones closest to me, disregarding that they were probably dirty. I didn't care. Why should Kayden get to humiliate me in my own home? "When you fuck with my ballet, MY work of art, I can demand whatever the fuck I want." He breathed, his eyes hot with anger. "Why haven't you shown up to class?" "Why haven't you shown up to class?" I mocked in a very childish way, walking away from him again to the kitchen, ignoring the footsteps behind me. "How the hell did you even get in my apartment?" I took to finding a coffee cup in the mountain of clean dishes on the counter. He disregarded the fact that I was very clearly pissed off at him and sat down at the dinette table and looked at me warily. I stuck out my tongue at him. It provoked a giggle from him that made me want to bash his face in. Even when I wanted him to jump off a cliff he could still give me butterflies. Pssh. I turned away from him and fell silent. "The purple headed girl." He mumbled behind me. "What?" I asked, turning to face him. "The purple haired girl let me in. She said she was on the way to some expo but I was welcome to stay as long as I needed, and that you'd been sleeping most of the last few days." "Well, one thing I've always liked about Cassi is she's always honest." I said, boring into his big hazel eyes so intensely he looked away. I took a long drink of my coffee, the bitter taste not mixing well with morning breath. Was it even morning? I glanced over my shoulder at the clock above the stove. 3:40 pm. I had no idea the date. My life had been three things: Sleep, Sex, Sleep. It was pitiful and I was ashamed of it, but face it, what was I really proud of anymore? Everything about New York sucked. The people sucked. The city sucked. August sucked. Everything sucked massive cock. I didn't care that it was childish to say. "Devon... we need to talk about what happene-" "Shut your face, Kayden." I warned. "We aren't having this conversation right now. Fuck that." His eyes narrowed. "Fine. My place in two hours." He said, starting toward the door. "No. Not your place." I couldn't see his face, but I could see his muscles tense. "Fine. Central Park. Meet me at Harlem Meer." He slammed out of the apartment with such drama that it would make Richard Chamberlain cry. My reflection in the mirror said I was superb. Told me I looked great, felt well. Mirrors are dirty liars. This, I had come to know. I smiled, and wanted to laugh at how easily my reflection smiled back. What a fake. I took a deep breath and turned back to my eyes. I hadn't realized how dark they'd gotten. They'd gone from green to black, and it had been a long, long time since they'd been the color of charcoal. It made me want to punch the guy on the other side of the glass. I stared over the glass lake, bringing myself to smile at the ducks waddling past. I felt a hand on my shoulder, and looked up to see Kayden, balancing two smoothies on one arm. "We should go for a walk." He offered. I took a smoothie and thanked him, and tried to avoid looking at him. I was both infuriated and infatuated by him, and it was killing me. He tried to slide an arm through mine, and I simply shook him off. Who was he trying to kid? We began to walk along the path, stepping slowly, and carefully. "What did you want to talk about, Kayden?" "The other night." "Yeah?" "Yeah." He mumbled. "I just... I want you to know why I asked you to leave." "Because you're not interested." "No." "Then why did you push me away?" I snorted. He ran his fingers through his hair, opening his mouth with no sound coming out. "I know I'm not the guy that's the best for you okay? I've got an ugly past. I've got bad habits and obsessive compulsive tendencies... But I didn't deserve that, Kayden." "I know you didn't." he stuttered. "Then why did you?" I demanded The words hung in the air, like a noose. He at me, his gaze stead but heartbreaking. "I told you... I don't want to like you, Devon." "That's a shit excuse, and you know it." I snorted. "Is it, Dev?" he grew angry, stopping to stand in front of me. "You're making me crazy. I'm thinking about you all the time. I'm thinking about how you make me feel so new and scared and how fucking great it feels. I can't do that Devon! I came to New York to dance. I came to New York to follow my dreams." He inched closer, his voice shaking with anger. I could see every detail of his face, every golden fleck in his perfect hazel eyes, and even though I wanted to shove needles in them, they were beautiful. " I didn't come to this city to get tied up in drama and skinny boys with scene hair and a shit ton of teenage angst. You're nothing but a distraction, something in my way." He muttered, his fist closing around the bottom of my shirt. It crushed me. Something in my way. I smiled at him. "Who the fuck do you think you are to judge? You don't know me, Kayden, you fucking asshole." I whispered. "You want to know something? I've been through more shit in my life than you've ever imagined. People have fucked up my head, built me up, torn me down, used me, like you wouldn't believe. You think you know everything? You think your king shit? I can't believe I ever had feelings for you, you selfish bastard." I spat. "I'm sorry your wasted your time." I turned to stomp away when I felt his hand close tight around my wrist. I gritted my teeth. I'm going to deck this motherfucker in the face. "Please don't walk away." His voice was small. Breakable. Fragile. My heart melted, and all the anger was gone. "Please don't walk away from me." I looked back to see his eyes, big, and pleading. His voice was a whisper, low and begging, so heartbreaking and beautiful. I felt the walls tumbling down, slowly, but steadily as I stared into his hazel eyes. "I'm sorry." He whispered. "I'm sorry for everything. I just want to know you, Devon. I just want you with me. I don't know why. I can't explain it, but there is something in you that is magnetic, and I can't stop wondering about what it would be like to figure you out... " There go the walls. He leaned in closer and I could smell the strawberry of his smoothie on his breath, Whatever scent he was wearing, the familiar citrus of his shampoo. I ached to lean in those few extra inches and feel his gentle lips on my own, but there was something I had to say. "Don't say things you don't mean." I mumbled, putting my head down and staring at my sneakers. They were still scuffed. Still scuffed from the first day I saw him. He smiled, and I knew all hopes were lost. I liked him, he liked me, and this was going to happen, one way or another. There was no hope of shaking him off, or trying to go without him, because these things would never work. It was bound to be a train wreck, me and him, but to hell with it. May as well throw my hands up and enjoy the ride. When he kissed me this time, I felt this. I could feel it down to the core of my being. There was no getting out of this one. Cassidee crossed her arms matter-o-factly. "What are you going to do, Devon? Run away from your problems?" She threw the ad down on the floor in front of me. "Its not running away, Cass, it's moving on." "Can you even imagine how much easier that's going to be for you to do than for Gav? You were his first, Devon!" the disappointment in her eyes stunned me. "I'm looking for apartments. That night was a mistake. It's not healthy for me to be using Gavin like this... moving out is the right thing to do." "You're moving out?" His voice came from the doorway behind me, so quiet and heartbreaking I wanted to kick myself. His intense eyes were confused and hurt, and they killed me. I opened my mouth to speak but no words came out. "Gavin. I was going to talk to you bu-" Before I could finish he was halfway out the door. As if on cue, my cell phone rang, echoing dubstep music around the room. "Hello?" I answered quietly. "Why hello there Dev." A raspy, seductive voice greeted me. My stomach lurched uncomfortably. Luke. Lucas. Lucas was talking to me. Right now. When I'm already so far up shit creek it was going to be impossible to get the crap out of my hair. Now. "Why've you been ignoring my messages? I've missed playing with you Dev." My skin itched and suddenly I had the intense urge to throw my phone out the window. A blackberry couldn't survive 60 stories. No way in hell. "Um... I've been busy. School... and stuff." "And stuff?" his voice asked, and I could picture the little smirk on his face. God, I was playing again. I never, ever, wanted to play again, and here I was hundreds of miles away and he could still spring this stupid game on me. "Yeah. What about you Luke?" I managed. I refuse to let him do this to me. "Y'know. Things have gotten real lonely here." "You? Lonely? Never." I mumbled. If I closed my eyes, I could see him. He was probably lying in bed, his head cocked to the side, his phone on his bare stomach on speaker. "Of course I'm lonely though. I've tried to play with others but they aren't as much fun as you." "Why is that?" I asked, trying not to think of where his hands may be straying as we spoke. "Because other boys like losing. Not you. You try really, really hard not to lose. And then, you get all angry when you do. Everyone loves angry sex." He chuckled boyishly. I hung up the phone. The shiver that ran down my back was almost involuntary... almost hungry. No. He wasn't going to control me like this. I wasn't a pawn in his ridiculous head game. Cassidee shot me a worried glance. "You feel like explaining what that was all about?" she asked, combing a strand of hair behind my ear. I sighed. This is all gone to hell. "No. I'll be back in a little while, okay Cass? I need some... solitude." "Do you want to play a game?" I remember the way he whispered so seductively in my ear; his breath was warm against my jaw. I let my fingers pound against the keys harder. The piano sang louder, the sound reverberating through my fingertips. I quickly pecked at keys, my eyes never leaving the ceiling. One two, one two five. C B, C B G. I felt the music coming from the massive instrument quicker and quicker, the sound lovely, but distorted with speed. I couldn't run my fingers over the ivory keys any faster. A single grey crack ran through the ceiling. I wasn't playing anymore. I was pounding. I was slamming against the instrument with all the force my arms could muster, and I was crying. "Do you want to play a game?" "Mr. Davis." I let my arms drop from the keys and hid my face in my hands. Stop crying. You're an idiot. There isn't anything to cry about. "Mr. Davis. That really is no way to treat a 60 year old piano." Professor Wrought walked down he auditorium steps slowly, his arms crossed. Of course I'd gone to school. There was no where else for me to go. I couldn't stay at the apartment, I couldn't walk the streets, I couldn't even lock myself in my room. I needed quiet, and I needed the piano,, but most of all, I needed someone to listen. The wretched old man stopped at the edge of the stage and looked up at me in the dark. "Maybe instead of assaulting the instrument, you'd like to talk?" I stared down at him. I hated the old douchebag, and he was the last person I wanted to talk to. He was the last person I wanted to walk up the stage steps and plop himself down on the bench beside me. He was the last person I wanted to tell all this to. "Professor... can I tell you a story?" My voice was monotone and unrecognizable. "I never knew you were one for stories, Mr. Davis. But if it's going to keep you from attacking my piano, then proceed." Smartass. A 'yes' would have worked just as well. "I was fourteen when my mom died, Professor. She was a beautiful woman. She was smart and strong and she loved life. She encouraged me to dream the impossible. She promised me I was going to be better than she ever, ever was. I always thought it was impossible. She taught me how to play piano, she taught me to believe in myself, and she taught me to have heart. My mom accepted me for all that I was. She accepted that my sexuality was not typical. She accepted that my hair was different and I dressed differently. She accepted that her son was not going to marry or have kids. Somehow, she still loved me. She loved me with everything in her." "I'm glad to hear that, Mr. Davis, but this doesn't explain the beating on my piano." He mumbled, obviously confused as to why I was giving him my life story. I really didn't know why I was either, to tell the truth, but it was all coming out. "My dad wasn't in the picture until after she passed away. They carted me off to Arizona to live with the drunken bastard. I hated him, and he hated me. He was a homophobic asshole, with no heart... and heart is everything, Professor Wrought." I felt tears coming, and I didn't want to cry in front of this self righteous ass. He didn't care about my life. He was a teacher, here to instruct, here to show me how to become a better pianist, and here I was wasting his time after-hours. Just shut the hell up and go home, Devon. No one wants to join your fucking pity parade. I stood to go, grabbing my bag from the top of the piano. "I agree with you, Mr. Davis. Heart is everything." He said quietly, looking up at me through his thick glasses. "Now, if you'd please sit down, I was in the middle of a story with an intriguing young man." I sat, and opened my mouth, but no sound came out. I was so incredibly touched. I turned to the piano and started the first few notes of "Pieces" by Red, and stopped when I felt his eyes watching me. "One night..." I mumbled, over the sound of the keys. "One night he caught me with my boyfriend... and no son of his was a faggot." I coughed on the words, my fingers suddenly heavy on the ivory. The flashes of that night cascaded through my head. The screaming. The blood. The empty feeling when he walked away. "He raped me." I whispered, the first tear finding my cheek. I focused on keeping my fingers moving. Just keep going, Devon. Just keep going. You want a man, you little faggot? I'll show you a real fucking man! Empty words echoed in my head, ran down my spine and made my very core ache. My chest was heavy with the screaming that usually accompanied these toxic memories, but I kept them inside though they begged to burst from me. I could so easily remember all the horrible details of that night. I'll show you a fucking man... "I had a concussion. Four broken ribs. A compound fracture in my left wrist. And he left me there bleeding in the dark." I felt my bones shiver. "I HATE the dark." I gritted. "He walked away. And I didn't have anything after that... I stayed in a hospital for a few weeks, some bullshit of I fell down the stairs. I ran away, took a train to California and went to live with my best friend. She fixed me up. She built me back up. She reminded me so much of my mother that she became a substitute. To this day, I love her more than I've ever loved anyone. Without Cass, I would be dead... I wouldn't have made it past those first few weeks." I fell silent as I got to the part of the song that picked up in tempo, and let the music fill the silence. One key, then the other, solid and never ending. Beauty, without an image. When the song ended, I continued with a Sebastian Larsson number I didn't remember the name of. "She moved here. To New York. To follow her dreams, when in all honesty, I had forgotten about mine. I applied to this school. I never expected to get an acceptance letter back. But I did. It's been six years without my mother, and I live this for her. But... before my dream even took off... I met him." I talked quietly, and stopped all together for a moment, shifting my focus from letting all this out on a stranger and the piano. "I was still on the west coast, at some house party I'd been dragged to by a friend. Drank insane amounts of alcohol. Anyway, He was there. He looked like... you wouldn't believe. His hair was golden, and his eyes were so pale blue I felt like he was seeing right through everything. He pulled me outside and away from the party... he asked me if I wanted to play a game." I Love New York Ch. 04 "Do you want to play a game?" "I'm not very good at following rules." "There is only one rule. If I get you hard, you have to let me have you. No matter what, whenever I decide I want you..." "With the way he was pressed against me, I had already lost. It became a thing with us. Whenever he wanted me, he would play his head game. It bothered me. Everything about it bothered me. It was too much like what my dad did. And the look in his eyes," I shivered, "It was the same look my dad had." "I couldn't stop though. That's not how the fucking game works. There is no stopping. There is no way. He's infectious and it's disgusting. Everything about him is WRONG and bad and dirty. And I hate him. I hate him so much!" My fingers crashed down again, and the tears never stopped. "I hate how much control he's got on me. I hate that I can never say no. I hate that I slept with my best friend. I hate that Kayden wants a relationship with me and I cant stop being an idiot for long enough to see it." I stopped. I just stopped. My hands slid from the piano, and I stared at the beautiful instrument. Finally, I felt empty. I felt so small and insignificant, I felt like this was the bottom and I was staring up at the open sky wondering how the hell I was going to get back up there. But it was a good emptiness. A hollow, breathless feeling. I was alive. And I was okay. And it could only go up from here. It was a renewal. A rebirth. And Devon Maxwell Davis was starting fresher than ever before. "That isn't the end." Professor Wrought finally spoke. "A young man with as much heart as you will have a happy ending, Devon." He stood up, an encouraging smile on his face. His footfalls were heavy and loud as he clunked across the stage and through the maze of seating. He walked down the auditorium steps and stopped at the double doors to look back at me a final time. "And heart is everything." "I told you. I'm done with the game. You need to find someone else, Lucas. I can't live like this." I managed. I felt Cassidee's hands slide around my waist, her big smile encouraging. I could hear his breath catch, and the fragile sound of it made me shudder. If I closed my eyes, I could see the look on his face, his beautiful jawline distorted with a frown. "You shouldn't frown, Luke. You'll wrinkle." I murmured into the receiver, breathing in at the sharp pain in my chest. Let go. Just let go of it all. He didn't speak a word, so I continued in monotone, one by one the massive weights I'd carried because of him began to lift, and it was scary, but so incredibly refreshing. "I'm sorry. I've had some great times. That time in the dressing room at Ross? That was a plus. But I want to love someone. I want to feel for someone. I'm sorry." It was true. I need love for once, no just sex or orgasms. Love. I hung up my phone. I walked over to the window. Cassidee grinned at me, her perfect teeth shining. "Here's to the past." I whispered with a tiny smile. And I had been correct. A blackberry cannot survive 60 stories. I poked my head in the little Café on Spring Street and glanced around. Behind the counter stood a dancer working quickly and diligently on a cup of coffee, his hair tied back, his apron in a little knot around his waist. I walked in and up to the counter, sliding a chair out and plopping down. "Waiter? Coffee please. Decaf. Two sugars. And maybe you could do that cute thing with the whipped cream?" I asked quietly, watching as Kayden turned around and beamed. "What are you doing here?" he asked, handing the guy beside me his coffee and turning to me. "Ordering a coffee. Damn waiter takes forever, too." I joked. He laughed quietly, rolling his eyes at me. "What do you want, Dev?" I dropped the menu I'd been pretending to read and smiled at him. "Come to dinner with me tonight. 7:00." He eyed me warily. "What? Are you afraid of being seen with me? It's the scene hair, isn't it?" I laughed. His grin was infectious. "So... like a date then?" he mumbled. I shrugged, offering a tiny smile. "More like... getting to know you." His tiny smirk traveled all the way to his hazel eyes. "Be here at seven." I wrapped my leather jacket around me a little bit tighter. On the West Coast, September wouldn't be cold. Here, however, I was in three layers and skinny jeans I'd stolen from Cass. He was waiting outside the café, on a curb. He looked perfect sitting there, his hair falling around his face in little light brown locks, messy and cute. His coat was long and tan, a long green plaid scarf hung around his throat, his black v-neck was barely visible beneath it. "Hey." I mumbled, watching him stand up. "Your late." He scowled, the funny face soon being replaced by a warm smile. "Fashionably." "Annoyingly." "Shut up. I'm paying for dinner." I scoffed, sticking out my tongue at him playfully. With that we started down the street, chatting quietly, our hands finding each other in the dark. His smile was ever-present as we talked about small things, the ballet, the news, the traffic. "So..." he asked shyly, watching his feet on the concrete. I noticed he was avoiding the cracks. "Why did you ask me out tonight?" "Getting to know you." I shrugged. "Hm... What do you want to know?" "Everything." I breathed, not even thinking about how that was going to sound out loud. I looked down at the pavement, my face hot with embarrassment, my sneakers leaving little prints on the fallen leaves. He didn't say anything, but he smiled, and I swear I saw his cheeks flush with pink. The butterflies in my stomach just wouldn't quit. "Then I guess we should get started. There is a lot to learn." He said, doing a quick spin to end up walking backwards. His prevision and grace left me gaping. He extended his hand to me. "My name is Kayden Spark. 22 years old. I am 5'10, 160 pounds. I speak fluent French. My mothers name is Kayla, and my father is Colton. I am a dancer from Burlington, Vermont, where I was born and raised. I have two sisters, Becca and Dakota. I currently reside in New York, New York, studying dance with an emphasis in ballet. Nice to meet you." He shook my hand with a tiny smile. I cleared my throat and grinned. "My name is Devon Davis. 20 years old. 5'10, 140 pounds. I am a pianist from Long Beach, California. Forever a child, and terrified of the future. My mothers name is Isabella, passed away 6-4-04. My favorite color is green, and I'm still afraid of the dark. The closest thing I have to a sister is Cassidee Morales, my pixie with purple hair. Nice to meet you, Kayden." This time, instead of taking my hand, he leaned close and found my lips with his own. The taste was so sweet and wonderful, and his hands on my face and around waist felt amazing. For a minute, I forgot Gavin, I forgot Lucas, and it was just me and him. The only thought in my mind surprised me. He is perfect. I Love New York Ch. 05 Chapter five has arrived! I really, really hope you all enjoy it; the feedback I get on my chapters really inspires me to do well, and write more. For those fans of Gavin, you may hate me for this addition. For the fans of Kayden, your welcome! Enjoy, ~PeterPanics You're sure you don't need any more help?" Gavin asked quietly, glancing around my new digs. "Yeah, I'm just going to crash tonight. Thanks for helping." I said with a groan, pushing my last suitcase against the wall. "It's big." He mumbled, peaking around the corner. His smile never stayed when he was around me anymore. His dark, intense eyes never met mine, and when I asked him to help me with things like this, it was always a fight. It was hard for him to even talk to me anymore... "Took me a month to find it." I countered, trying not to touch his skin as I took my bags from his strong arms. It was nothing special. In all honesty, it was a major step down from Gavin's posh modern SoHo apartment on the sixtieth floor. It was a simple apartment, big and empty. It was five-story, walk-up, renovated warehouse, and my apartment on the third floor was proof. There was one main room, massive and spacious, with a small kitchen and bathroom through a door in the very far corner. The walls were drab white, with two long florescent lights along the ceiling, and a single window with a view of the city skyline. Living in Brooklyn was different, but it was good different... a sort of on-my-own different. And it was, my first time truly alone, without Cassidee or Gavin to watch over me. "You're always welcome back in SoHo, you know. You'll always have a place..." His voice trailed off, and his eyes fell to the floor. "You'll always have a place to be with me." I watched him pull his dreads back, inhaling deeply. It crushed me to know I was why he was hurting. I never meant to hurt him. I never meant for any of this... He left without another word, glancing back over his shoulder to look at me once more before he disappeared down the stairs. It had been about a month since I'd decided to let go of the past, and more importantly, let go of Lucas. Gavin may have been the hardest thing to let go of. I didn't feel the same way he felt about me, and I had realized that about halfway through my odd transition. I never would feel the same way, and it killed me. I had used Gavin. But to him, I was the first man he'd ever been intimate with (No matter how drunk or heartbroken I was at the time) and that meant something more to him. I sighed, and sat down on mattress Gav had helped me carry up. Time was passing so incredibly fast. September was gone, leaving an early-November chill in the air, something I'd coined "two sweater weather". Gavin and Cassidee had seen me off to my new apartment; Professor Wrought was busting my balls on the end-of-semester compositions, and Kayden... Things were good. Life was good. I Love New York Ch. 05 I walked over to where he sat, and lay down beside him. "Will you stay with me tonight?" I asked quietly. He raised an eyebrow at me warily. "Not like that." I promised. "Will you... will you just sleep with me? In my bed. I won't touch you or anything... just... I don't want you to leave." I admitted. He smiled and touched my cheek with the back of his hand. He wordlessly got up, crossed the room and turned off the light. I couldn't see, but I could feel the sheets being lifted, and him wriggling into bed beside me. His hand groped for mine in the dark, and when he found it, he pulled me closer. He kissed me slowly, languidly, his soft lips warm. I pulled away and cuddled closer to him, tucking my head beneath his chin. I could hear his breathing, his heartbeat, and feel his arms hold me close. Everything about it was so mind-blowingly perfect. I drifted to sleep in the dancers arms, and I didn't even care that it was dark. I Love New York Ch. 06 Hey guys! Chapter six of ILNY, cutting very, very close to the end of the series! Devon is pretty much on an emotional roller coaster between the guilt he feels with Gavin and his euphoria when he's with Kayden, and I try to make that clear in this chapter. I want to give a massive thanks to cannd, who left a SUPER inspiring comment on chapter four, parts of which inspired some of Devon's dialogue in this chapter. Also, I'm getting a lot of suggestions on Gavin's HEA, and some of them are very creative. Thank you for them, and keep the feedback coming. I'm not sure yet when I'll be writing his HEA, because I think I may take a break from the gay male cat for a while and work on a story for ILNY's own Cassidee. Still haven't made any decisions on that yet. I'll be sure to keep you posted! Anywhore, I'll stop rambling now. Enjoy. ~PeterPanics I Love New York Ch. 06 "How much longer to Burlington?" I asked quietly, trying my hardest to hide how shaky my voice had become and the way my jeans were starting to tent out at his touch. "Four hours." I groaned. My poor boner. He smiled, knowing that he was being a pain in the ass. "I just love long drives." "Cocktease." I mumbled, leaning forward to slam back the rest of my coffee. "I don't tease." He said glancing at me from the corner of his eyes "Don't even. I see the way you walk around my apartment." I laughed. "Then why don't you ever do anything about it?" He challenged. "Are you admitting to being a tease?" "Are you admitting to being a coward?" "Absolutely." I chuckled, doing my best to shift so my erect cock wasn't so prominent, not an easy task when you're wearing girl jeans and the hottest man you've ever known is eyeing your crotch. He smiled, and I could see the gears spinning in his mind. With out a word, he spit into his palm. His eyes never left the road, not even when he reached over and dipped his fingers into my waistband. "W-what are you doing?" I stuttered, staring at his intrusion with a gaping mouth. "Shh." He cooed. The corners of his mouth twitched, and I braced myself against the seat as his warm fingers yanked down my boxers and he started to jerk me off in long, hard movements. His soft, strong hand slid across my dick, slippery with his warm spit, spreading my own precum all over my shaft. He reached down to softly fondle my balls, sending a ripple of warmth across my stomach, the tingling in my heavy balls picking up as he returned to masturbating me. My heart thudded loudly in my chest, the heat spreading across my body, and I knew he wouldn't have to work much longer. "Oh... Oh god. Fuuuuckk. Jerk my cock, baby. Mmmmm Oh fuck... FUCK." I moaned loudly, as I was thrusting into his palm. "Come on babe. Come for me." He cooed quietly. I could see the massive bulge in his pants twitch as I got closer and closer, his eyes still fixed on the road ahead. Finally, I couldn't stand the pressure in my stomach any longer. With a flood of ecstasy, I came in his tight fist, and his smile widened with each hot jet of come. I shuddered, and settled back in the seat, closing my eyes and letting my breathing return to normal. I felt him slide out of my jeans, and when I opened my eyes, I watched in fascination as he took to licking my jizz off his hand. It was such an incredibly sexy, daring sight, to watch him clean up my mess. It sent a shiver down my spine. There was no way I could keep off of him. With clumsy, testosterone-fueled movements, I unbuckled my seat belt and clambered over the console between us. "I'm driving." He warned. "It's the freeway." I whined, pressing my lips to his throat. I combed his hair away from his perfect face and nibbled a warm line up to the base of his jaw. As I peppered his jaw line with kisses, I reached down to rub his massive cock, straining against its poor denim prison. "Oh fuck Devon." He groaned, his hand clenching around the wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. I slid my hand beneath his shirt, feeling his warm, firm body beneath mine. "Je veux vas te faire encule, Devon. Oh mon dieu, je veux vas te faire encule comme un animal." He gasped. I slowly leaned down, kissing his chest, his stomach, listening to the way his breathing picked up as I fumbled with the button on his jeans. His cock sprang forward to greet me, its full nine inches so close to my face I could smell his precum. His free hand knotted in my hair, his jaw clenched tightly. I wrapped my hand around his beautiful penis, jerking him slowly as I took one of his smooth balls in my mouth. "Sucer ma bite, Devon. Me sucer comme une chienne." He gritted, his French rushed. Everything about him was new and unexplored. I kissed my way up to the tip of his cock, flicking my tongue over it playfully, and evoking a shiver from him. I spit on him before I took him in my mouth. I sucked gently, bobbing my head up and down on his long member. I closed my eyes and let myself get caught up in the taste of him, how salty his precum was as it dripped from the tip of his dick, how it felt to have his hard cock in my mouth when I'd been daydreaming about it for so long, what it was like to press the barbell in my tongue against his slit and the reaction it provoked. My own dick twitched with want, and I reached down with my free hand to jerk myself. "Suck my fucking cock!" he gasped, his hand on my head now controlling my smallest of movements. His breath was coming is short, shallow bursts, just the sound of it enough to make me shiver. Fuck, he turned me on. When I opened my eyes, I realized I'd taken all of him into my mouth, and my lips were hitting his skin each time I bobbed down. I jerked myself faster, knowing by the way he was clenching his fists on the wheel that he was close. "Oh my god Devon... FUCK... I'M COMING DEVON." As promised, his hand clenched in my hair, his hips started thrusting into my face, and warm jets of his come coated the back of my tongue. I moaned along with him as he came in my mouth, succeeding in getting me off a second time. He finished, and his body relaxed against his seat. I carefully zipped up his jeans, sat up with a groan, and kissed his lips quickly. "You taste like my come." He snickered. I wiped my mouth and eyed him. "Means your mine now." He chuckled, a tiny smile playing over his lips. I laughed at how cute he was when he was possessive. I stole back to the passenger seat, buckling my seat belt and staring at the beautiful boy. "How much longer to Burlington?"