Date: Sat, 7 Feb 2004 20:28:01 -0800 (PST)
From: reid <fear1980@yahoo.com>
Subject: Heat III (gay - celebrity)

DISCLAIMER: This story is not meant to imply anything about the sexualities
of the people involved. This story makes no comment or assumption about the
views on homosexuality held by Warner Brothers, Greg Berlanti, Mickey
Liddell, or anyone else involved with "Everwood." This is merely a fantasy

H E A T   Part III
by reid

Chapter Three -

	As soon as I heard the door open, I stopped.

	The sweat on my face went cold as I stayed as still as a statue and
listened.

	Greg, however, didn't hear the door. He was still laying underneath me,
panting and gyrating his hips. I pulled my mouth off his stomach and
listened, praying that what I'd heard was some sort of audial illusion. I
could feel the pounding my heart in my ears - that was certainly a new level
of anxiety.

	I swallowed hard, the smell of Greg's body still resonating in my sinuses.
Sweat ran into my mouth and it tasted salty. So salty that it nearly made me
gag. Not that I would have noticed due to my blood turning into goddamned
ice.

	The half second between the door opening and when Greg finally noticed I'd
stopped taking off his underwear felt like an eternity. In that eternity, my
life seemed to flash before my eyes with cruel savagery. I saw all my failed
conquests, my shattered dreams, my aborted attempt at a steamy love affair
with one of Hollywood's hottest new talents. All of it would be gone very,
very soon.

	"What's wrong?" He gasped, sitting up on the bed.

	I didn't need to answer him and sat back on my haunches. I bit my lower lip
and pointed towards the closed bedroom door.

	"Greg?" A voice called.

	At least it was a female voice. Something about that comforted me, but I
wasn't exactly sure how. The insanely logical half of my brain tried to
recognize and catalogue the voice.

	"Aw fuck!" He hissed.

	Greg got up off the bed and dashed over the door, locking it quietly.
Quickly, he searched around the room. I couldn't help but admire how flushed
and sweaty he looked. His muscles were tensed and bulging. His nipples hard
as rocks. I shivered at the sight, remembering how just a moment ago, I was
going to ravage his naked body.

	He ran his fingers through his hair, sighing loudly.

	"Greg? Where are you?" She called again.

	A second later, she knocked on the door. Each thud against the fancy wood of
the door made my heart jolt. No way could this be healthy. This whole
experience would surely take at least five or six years off my life. Not that
I liked the idea! I was too young to die of a heart attack!

	"It's Emily," He growled, "God damn it!"

	"Here, I'll hide - under the bed." I groaned, my head dizzy from the heat
and excitement.

	Greg began to pull on a few random pieces of clothing while I went to put my
pants back on. I didn't relish the idea of having to wear hot, sweaty denim.
Nevertheless, I did all I could to try and fit my raging erection back inside
the tight fabric. For a second, I swayed and everything seemed dark, making
me worry about passing out on top of everything else.

	"Wait!" He said and his voice woke me back up.

	"What?!" I whispered, fussing with the waistband of the jeans.

	Greg stopped me as finished pulling on pair of black shorts, "Just - wait.
Don't bother putting them back on."

	I couldn't help but smile stupidly as I walked over to the side of the bed
and narrowly slid under the frame. Against my sweat sensitive skin, the
carpet rubbed me with a particularly nasty vehemence. Ignoring the scraping
sensation, I situated myself beneath the thick oak bedframe. It was dusty
under the bed; not too dusty, just enough to tweak my sinuses. Dusty and hot
and humid under the bed. I tried not to sneeze.

	I watched Greg's feet as he went back to the door and opened it. Not before
tripping over a pair of shoes and digging a header into the carpet. I tried
to stifle the laugh that couldn't be suppressed. After what felt like an
eternity, his feet reappeared.

	My heart stopped as another pair of smaller feet walked in. These
sandal-clad feet promptly made themselves at home on the side of the bed,
just inches from where I was hiding. Horror struck me as I saw one of my
socks laying on the floor by the night stand like a great white piece of
evidence for the prosecution. Greg had been wearing black socks, left in
plain view, with mine looking bright as day to my paranoid eyes.

	"Are you okay?" She asked.

	It was Emily, the girl who played Amy. I hadn't met her but she always
seemed like such a pleasant girl. In my experience, it was those girls that
would have no trouble ratting you out to the fuzz.

	"Yeah," Greg gasped, his voice sounding remarkably calm, "I was asleep."

	Silence. She knew. She had to have known. She could smell the stank of our
sinful deeds hanging in the air. Her Christian alarm was probably going off
like never before. After Greg got her out of the room, she'd run back to her
phone and call the Mormon brigade to have us drawn and quartered.

	Greg broke the silence, "Yeah, I was sleeping - and it was hot."

	"You were sleeping at five in the afternoon?"

	Greg leaned against the dresser, "I didn't think I was as tired as I was."

	Silence. Again.

	"Are you okay? You were weird today."

	"Em, I'm weird everyday."

	In my mind, I could see his goofy half smile as he said it. His full, red
lips curled slightly and oh so sexy. My dick throbbed against the floor and I
shivered again. Something about the covert excitement of the situation was
arousing me even more. The dust, however, I could have done without. I fought
the burning sensation in my nostrils.

	"Okay," She paused for a moment, "We're having dinner in Nora's room if
you're interested. CP went out and got Subway. He almost got in an accident
with some preacher because the stoplight is out. You should hear him tell the
story."

	"I'm all right. I ate already."

	"I saw that. The producers will love the minibar tab, I'm sure."

	Greg didn't say anything as she got up off the bed. The feet disappeared as
he walked her to the door. I heard them exchange goodbyes before the door
closed. Relief washed through my system and I sighed, my muscles relaxing.
Maybe she wouldn't call the Mormon brigade on us after all. I rested my sweat
drenched forehead against the backs of my hands, a deep breath escaping my
lungs slowly.

	After a few seconds, I raised my head and watched from under the bed as Greg
walked back into the room. He closed and locked the door, giving it an extra
push for emphasis. I rested my forehead against my hands again, glad that he
wasn't telling me to get out. I said a silent prayer, thanking God for not
cutting me off at the knees at least once in my life.

	"Is it safe?" I called.

	"Oh yeah."

	I pulled myself out from under the bed and back into the comparatively
fresher air of the hotel room. I gulped the air like it was fresh out of a
humidifier. I stood up and wiped some of the dust away from my nose.

	Greg sat down on the foot of the bed and held his head in his hands. He
looked adorable. Like a hot, tired angel. A dark sweat stain had begin to
seep through the black fabric of the swim trunks.

	Tentatively, I sat down next to him. The warmth of his body gave me goose
bumps on my arms and legs. Just the feeling of being close to him make me
giddy. As it was, my heart was still pounding and my stomach still felt
fluttery. I couldn't remember feeling so alive. Not that it was a feeling I
wanted to get to know intimately, but it had it's merits.

	Greg looked at me, his face still flushed. He smiled. Sweat rolled down off
his flushed face in the same way it had the day before. The single, perfect
drop of sweat rolling down his nose and making me think of a Jewish
Leprechaun.

	When I turned to him, I opened my mouth to say - something. Maybe I was
planning to make some retarded joke or ask him if the door was really locked.
It didn't matter much. I didn't have time to get any words out.

	As soon as my mouth opened, he kissed me deeply, his mouth sealing onto mine
like a vacuum. Blood rushed to my head and I felt dizzy as the sudden heat of
his wet mouth was like extra fat on the griddle that my brain had become. My
moan was muffled as Greg pushed me down onto the bed, his hands reaching for
the waistband of my boxer shorts.

	He pulled his own shorts off as he straddled my body, moving his hot, wet
kisses onto my collarbone. A jolt ran through me as he yanked my underwear
off and my cock was allowed into the open air. I felt it throb gratefully and
send a trail of precum down the shaft. The sudden sensation of freedom nearly
made me cum right then and there.

	Before I could react to anything else, Greg wrapped his fingers around my
dick and gave it a long, firm stroke. I clenched my jaw and groaned, feeling
the starched fabric of the hotel sheets against my naked body. Desperately, I
tried to think of something to distract me and pull me back from the edge.

	Somewhere outside the hotel, I could hear someone's car alarm going off. It
woke something in me. A fire began to burn in my most animal of places. Like
dry twigs and newspaper in the middle of a drought, it caught fire and began
to smoulder. As the blood rushed in my ears and more sweat released itself
from my pores, I closed my eyes and took a moment. The calm before the storm.

	Laying almost motionless, I enjoyed the feeling of Greg's sweat soaked bangs
on my chest. Like wet bristles of a paint brush. I inhaled, drawing the heavy
scent arousal that filled room, into my lungs. Slowly, my hand slid down over
his flexing back muscles, sliding over the sweaty, hot skin and down against
the ridged hem of his underwear.

	Then the fire couldn't be ignored any longer. I shifted my weight suddenly
and rolled Greg underneath me, his skin slick against mine. Not wasting
another second, I pulled down his underwear in one swift motion. All his
worldly goods were exposed to me and I got my first look at him. In the back
of my mind, I'd wondered what his - area - really looked like.

	It surprised me.

	It wasn't enormous. It wasn't long like an elephant's trunk or thick like a
Wisconsin kielbasa. Nothing like the porn star dick that I'd been unable to
prevent myself from imagining. I guess I'd convinced myself that he'd have
some sort of colossal monolith hanging between his legs - but it wasn't like
that. The odd thing was that I didn't feel disappointed.

	His dick wasn't small - in any way. It was just - nice. It was a nice flesh
color, not too veiny, and the head was a deep purple color. The veins swelled
with his pounding heart and fresh streams of precum ran down the ridged
shaft. Slowly, I reached out and gave his erection a slow stroke like he'd
done to me.

	Greg moaned deeply and grabbed handfuls of the sheets. More than ever
before, the pleasure he felt was making me bolder and more courageous. I'd
never gone so far with another guy before but that mysteriously enough,
didn't seem to bother me.

	The tender flesh of his cock throbbed in my hand, more precum flowing down
over my knuckles in a soft, warm stream. I pulled upwards suddenly and Greg's
body jerked with pleasure. He let out a quick yelp as I cupped his balls with
my free hand. They just about came to a handful - much bigger than I would
have assumed. All in all, his twig and berries were nice and easy on the
eyes.

	I flattened my hand against his throbbing shaft and moved my palm up onto
the head of his cock. His slit flexed open like the mouth of a fleshy geyser
and another thick gush of precum flowed onto my hand. Slowly, I rubbed my
palm over his cockhead, watching captivated as he continued to throb and pump
out precum. Very slowly, I closed my hand around Greg's shaft and felt it
swell against the joints of my fingers.

	Keeping my grip on his cock, I leaned down and rubbed my lips over the
wrinkled skin of his ball sack. The tiny, curly hairs tickled my lips and I
let my tongue dart out, the very tip barely touching him. Greg let out
another loud groan and he writhed under me, my body weight across his legs,
preventing him from squirming too much.

	Just as I brought my mouth back down towards his cockhead, the all-too
familiar sound of the door hit my ears again. My heart leapt to my throat and
I nearly fell off the bed. Greg didn't hear it at first, still too sexually
aroused to notice. When the door closed, he realized and the look on his face
would have made me laugh if I weren't ready to hang myself.

	"Bitch, where are you?" A deeper, masculine voice called.

	"Motherfucker..." Greg hissed.

	As I was about to climb back down under the bed, he took my arm and led me
over towards the closet. Trying not to trip over the strewn crap on the
floor, I stumbled into it's dark confines. Just before he closed the door,
Greg looked at me.

	"I'm so sorry," He said, his voice shaking a bit, "Just let me take care of
this."

	Before I could respond, he shut the door, closing me in the stuffy hot
darkness. I pressed my face against the slats of the door, both for fresh air
and to have some idea what was going on. I could only see one side of the
room, but I could hear Greg unlocking the door. Heavy footsteps stomped into
the room.

	"Why was your door locked?"

	"Because I don't want retards getting in - but I guess it didn't work."

	A sarcastic laugh, "That's funny. Were you jacking off?"

	"Shut up."

	"I bet you were. Was it the guy that played your piano teacher?"

	"Doug, I'm gonna fuck you up in a minute."

	"I'm scared," He paused then came back with a weird geniality, "There's a
girl down in the lobby that says she'll chill with me if you give her an
autograph."

	"No."

	The flat, final tone of Greg's voice nearly made me laugh.

	"Oh come on!"

	"No. Fuck you and the horse that you rode in on. Now get out."

	I heard Greg pushing this Doug person and I heard him try and resist the
eviction. Against my better judgment, I tried to lean over and see what was
going on. The only thing I could make out was the lamp on the bedside table -
and again I prayed that no one had seen my socks on the floor.

	"Greg - seriously. She actually seems willing to hang out with me."

	There was something odd in the way that was said. Like a sudden burst of
honesty in a normally sarcastic vocabulary. I heard the scuffling stop. I
shifted my feet on the rough surface of the carpet. Dust crept into my nose
and I fought the sneeze that was welling up deep in my sinuses.

	"Okay," Greg said in a defeated tone, "Okay, I'll do it. Let me put on a
shirt."

	"Are you high? That'll get her even hotter!"

	Yuck.

	Before Greg could say anything else, I heard the door to the hotel room slam
shut, leaving me in silence. Slowly, I opened the closet door and stepped
out, inhaling the hot and humid yet somewhat clean air. I looked around the
room at the messed up bedding, the clothes strewn on the floor, the food
wrappers crumpled around the wastebasket. Then I came to a sickening
realization: there was no place for me here. Besides under the bed or in the
closet or all the other places I could have been stashed.

	Feeling the hot sting of tears in my eyes, I rubbed my eyes. No matter what
happened, no matter what we tried to do, Greg would always have to hide
himself. He'd have to hide things so certain people wouldn't find out. It was
like Leigh had said: the show didn't need some gay sex scandal revolving
around the lead actor. Especially not on a wholesome network like the WB.

	Disconsolately, I sat down on the bed and began to pull my clothes back on.
The stiff, hot fabric of my jeans felt like sandpaper against my skin. I
winced and yanked my t-shirt back down over my head. It was then that I
realized I'd have to walk across a blackout crippled city. A Mormon city. The
second part calmed my fear somewhat.

	After tying my shoes and standing up again, I debated with wether or not to
leave Greg a note. If he didn't have some idea as to why I was leaving, a
note wouldn't do any good. I hoped that he wouldn't blame himself. I wasn't.
I knew that our situation was exactly the wrong kind to try and build a
relationship. Secretive, covert fuck buddies would be possible, but I wasn't
in the market for that.

	Before I stepped out of the door of the hotel room, I swallowed. For a brief
second, I could still taste him in my mouth. The hot, musky flavor of his
sweat soaked body. I tried to savor it, knowing I'd never taste it again.
Hurriedly, I brought the back of my hand up to my eyes and stopped the tears
that were beginning to flow.

	I knew it was then or never as I forced myself out of the door and into the
dark hallway of the hotel. It was still quite dark, but apparently, some of
the hotel employees rigged up several fog lights that made it at least
possible to maneuver. I trudged down the hall and over to the elevators, not
thinking about the horrifying possibility that Greg might meet me halfway.
All I wanted to do was leave.

	As the elevator moved downwards, I leaned against the wall and felt myself
beginning to collapse a bit. Trying to cut it off before it began, I stood up
straight and let out a harsh breath, clenching my eyes shut and opening them
again. I mopped the sweat from my forehead and cleared my throat just as the
elevator reached the ground floor.

	God took mercy on me as Greg was nowhere to be found in the lobby.
Hurriedly, I walked across the shiny marble floor and nearly sprained my
wrist against the heavy glass doors. I pushed them so hard my shoulders
burned. Somewhere behind me, I heard a hotel employee ask if I needed help. I
didn't hear whoever it was.

	I thrust myself out into the hot, humid night air. After being both under
the bed and in the closet of the room, it was a welcome environment. I took a
long, deep breath into my lungs and began walking. I tried to fool myself
into believing that the breath was somehow cleansing but it wasn't. There
just wasn't anything except my own failure.

= To Be Continued ... =