There seems to be a bit of confusion going on. I never wrote that "I'm sorry" thing and all that shit. A certain someone :glares at said person: decided they were tired of me paying more attention to my boyfriend even when he was gone so they decided to post that when I was really going to post this. So here's the actual chapter. Oh and yes me and my now ex-girlfriend did break up and yes me and my boyfriend are back on track...pretty much.
Also, my boyfriend doesn't treat me like a toy, he never has, even though we don't totally see eye to eye sometimes(understatement), he's still the best, most perfect thing in the whole wide world, and him being hot is just a bonus, a really good bonus, but still just a bonus, I'd still love him even if he were an ugly fucking ass.
Yay! More updating! I'm just getting flooded with ideas for this story!
Anyway, I just got my haircut, exactly how I wanted it for the most part, but I miss my old hairstylist named Monica, my new one, Megan, is okay, but she's just not Monica.
I had a rather uneventful Fourth of July, heh, I just realized something, my boyfriend is British and every year I celebrate a day when American kicked Britain's ass.
"You live here?" Artiste asked in between heady kisses. Soon he found himself pinned to the side of the rod-iron fence, moaning wantonly as he rubbed himself against the thigh between his legs.
Recitalist moaned deeply when their positions were suddenly switched and Artiste was kneeling before him. "No, I don't live here, my brother's boyfriend does," he groaned as Artiste freed his hard cock and licked the tip teasingly. Fumbling, he yanked his cellphone out of his coat pocket and hit the speed dial for his brother. "Let me the fuck in now," he moaned as he was swallowed to the hilt.
Artiste smirked and pulled off Recitalist's length, tucking it back into the redheads' pants. "I take it I'm going to get laid in a bed instead of the snow?" He leered as he was dragged through the now open and gate and inside the giant manor.
"Upstairs, first hallway, second door on the right," Dorian yawned sleepily when Recitalist looked at him expectantly. "You have to explain why he's here to my Father."
Recitalist just nodded and dragged Artiste up the stairs, slamming the door to his room and throwing the other man down on the bed, pouncing on him.
Just felt like teasing you with a really short chapter and all that.
