The story of a lonesome ol'Jerome

*Andy's POV*

Gwyn was shrieking! I was disoriented, fuck! I couldn't see anything, I grabbed my phone, and just turning it on gave enough light to confirm no one else was in the room. After a second or two, I realized I had been asleep, Gwyn must have woken me up, having a horrible nightmare.

Gwyn sat bolt-upright, and though she had stopped letting out those dreadful, piercing cries, after a second she curled on herself and started sobbing.

I sat up next to her, worried. The last time Gwyn had been seriously upset, I had completely fucked things up. I decided to rub a soft circle on her back. "Hey... I'm here for you."

Gwyn's crying got more intense. Shit! I just wanted to comfort her. I grabbed my phone and used the light it gave off to find a box of tissues from the bedside table and turn one of the lights on on the lamp. I set the tissues on my leg, then gave her a one-armed hug. "Hey, do you want to talk about it?"

Gwyn looked up at me, looking so sad and miserable it was heartbreaking. "Ah, fuck! What's wrong? Can I help make it better?" She just sniffled and shook her head in response.

I got a tissue and dabbed at the tears on Gwyn's cheeks, but more kept coming. "Stop that, Doc! I can't keep up when you just keep making more! And these tissues don't have aloe, your cheeks will get raw!"

I saw just the ghost of a tiny smile. "And seriously, you'll have to pay me overtime, if you keep it coming with all these tears. This is hard work."

Gwyn's smile widened. "Overtime?" Her normally spirited voice was small, "for what, Biersack?"

I smiled. Gwyn was weird as shit, but she made me really happy. Even if she had woken me up wailing like a banshee, nearly causing a fatal heart attack.

I gave Gwyn a flirtatious look, cocking my head at her, "Why, for the many quality hours on the job as your lover," I tried making a silly face, "boyfriend, and," then I went for the 'I am going to be on the cover of a magazine- I am so awesome' face, "partner." I waggled my eyebrows dramatically.

Gwyn giggled. "That so, Hot-shot?" I nodded, trying not to look like I had some sort of satanic plan in mind. I was only going to hold her to the one favor she owed me from the night we had met. I may have gotten it quite unfairly, but there you go... I chuckled.

"Well how am I supposed to pay you for your overtime, hmm?" I smiled at Gwyn, taking her hand and holding it. I was glad she would let me distract her away from whatever she had been dreaming about with my silliness.

I rolled my eyes. "Sooooo obvious!" I chuckled- Gwyn thought I meant sex, it was obvious by her cheeky little grin. I pinched her side playfully, knowing better than to actually tickle her, lest there be casualties, or I have to introduce her to the guys tomorrow with a shiner. That would go over real well. "Nope! Not sexin'!" She raised an eyebrow, amused and curious. Ok, clearly time for some seriously cheeseball action to make that smile grow.

"You're a passionate little lady, Gwyn." I caressed the side of her face, it was plain as day she loved it when I did that. I wondered if anyone ever had, with the way she would always look away and blush. "Your kisses are my currency, babe."

I went for it, full throttle shameless, tilting her chin up just a little. "I feel like I've been working pretty hard, doing a pretty good job, putting in those hours. So I’d like to collect.” I leaned down, but stopped about a centimeter away from Gwyn’s soft lips. She was ready for a big smooch, her lips were slightly parted, her eyes were closed. I chuckled internally.

“That is, if you’re satisfied with my performance?” Gwyn’s eyes flickered open. “You think I’m doing a good job in the position? You like the quality of my services and think I perform my functions well?” She snorted.

“You anus!” Gwyn tugged me by the neck, smiling, bringing my lips to hers. I was a little slow to respond, instinctively thinking she was making reference to the ‘famous anus’ thing, before realizing she was just being especially foul while cussing me out. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever met any girl that swore so much, especially one with such a cherubic-looking face.

I pulled away, suppressing laughter, making a serious face. “I love your disgusting language, Gwyn. Your mastery of the vulgar and obscene-”

“-You want those kisses, or were you just fucking around?” She looked at me, impudent and still sexy, even with a face red from crying and puffy eyelids. I pecked her rapidly all over her cheeks, lips, chin, nose, forehead, then pushed her over, and planted some on her shoulder and chest, making her laugh. I wasn’t planning on it, but given the proximity of her warm, fleshy globes, it was too tempting, so I planted a few on her tits, and ended up sucking on a nipple briefly. I discovered Gwyn was having none of it when she smacked me away. “Stop that, you’ll turn me on!”

I laid down next to Gwyn, sliding my arm under her head, encouraged when she went to rest her head on my chest. I liked how she felt curled up against me: soft, warm, and comfortable. Nothing with Gwyn really ever felt forced, it didn’t feel like games were being played. She was different.

“Sorry, Doc,” I gently squeezed a boobie to demonstrate, “they’re just irresistible, like magnets!” Gwyn grunted. “No, really, you should try it. If ever you’re feeling down, just give these babies a quick fondle, I’m sure you’ll feel better, I know I would!”

I looked down at Gwyn, and she was grinning. “I’m sure that would go over very smoothly at work, especially in the middle of a sterile surgery. Conversely, I think you should definitely give your cock a tug whenever you’re feeling bummed out.” I laughed.

“You think I don’t do that already?” We both laughed at that. Gwyn hugged me, then started rubbing her hand over my stomach.

“I actually have a silly, chronic problem with penis-grabbing.” I grunted and looked down at her, amused. “It’s a bad habit. My male partners have all gotten sick of it really fast.” Once I realized Gwyn was being serious, I started rubbing her back, to indicate I was listening, so she’d feel comfortable.
“When I care about someone, when I find someone attractive, and when I like his, well, cock, I have the impulse to stimulate it to erection whenever I see it soft. Because I love the way it looks and feels hard. I’m sure there’s some underlying self-validation to it too, like, so-and-so is aroused by me, therefore I must be attractive. Whatever the case may be, it can be a problem.” Gwyn hesitated for a second.

“I guess what I mean is, um, just let me know if you feel like I’m grabbing your dick too much. Like, I know it’s shitty to get you hard in situations where there’s no follow-through, but I have a bit of a compulsion, I guess. And I do really like your cock.” Though I hadn’t really thought about it, now that she mentioned it, she was a bit of a package-squeezer. Interesting. This might be a challenge.

“Don’t worry about it. I know exactly what to do.” I smiled down at Gwyn, hugging her shoulders. She looked up at me, curious. “I figure any time you get me hard, I’ll just have to make sure you end up either swallowing my load or letting me show you just how attractive I find you.” I winked at her. We’d figure it out. And if, in the process, I got a ton of blowjobs, so be it. I would make the sacrifice.

Notes

so, lately, i've been having a lot of odd encounters with people that are 'fans' (i guess?) of my silly, little stories. at the very least, people who must have read enough of what i've written to recognize me.

i feel like, if you're going to approach me in some environment outside of this website, asking people to be respectful, and not blurt out my screen name, the names of my characters/stories, especially, say, for example, in the middle of a black veil brides set *stares at pathetic group of three teenage girls from aftershock [what the fuck motherfuckers are you doing squawking during a concert shut the fuck up! i desperately wanted to silence you, but i wanted to see bvb, see manson, and i didn't want to get arrested for assault of minors, what the fuck you bimbos!!!]*, when i don't want to talk to you anyway, is fucking common courtesy. same goes for elsewhere online.

do i think i'm an amazing writer- no. i write for myself, because i like to do it. if you enjoy reading it, that's cool, i am glad. but if you want to talk to me outside of this website, be respectful. you don't have to be a writer to sign up here to send me a message if you have a question or something.

teenage girls (yes, you stare at me the most- though it's possible you are in your 20s): please stop staring at me at shows, it is creepy. no, you don't absolutely have to sing me a song if you don't want to. you can just come up and say you are a bvb fan (unless we're at a bvb show, think of something else). but the staring is weird. and irritating. do you like being stared at? so either come say hi or look elsewhere. i am a genuinely nice person but i am not tolerant of bullshit at all.

to the chicks that were assholes: i hope you die a horrifying death, because the world is overpopulated, and it would be a shame if you lived long enough to pass on your genetics, ethics, and that kind of value-system to offspring. besides, you were all hollywood undead fans. after sitting through their show, that kind of told me all i needed to know- they are totally homophobic, misogynistic, bigots. attila wanna-bes. fucking yuck.

these weird experiences have given me a kind of strange appreciation for what it might be like to have psychotic fans, or asshole "fans," like bvb does- you know, people that purport to be fans, but actually just put you down, or treat you badly. it's fucking irritating, and i'd rather have no one recognize me, by far, and have no one read anything i write. fucking obviously. it's fucking fan fiction i write for myself, man. why the fuck would anyone take it upon themselves to be shitty about it?

even when i have read the shittiest of shitty stories, with the most stereotypical elements, i sure as fuck never insulted the author, and you can bet your balls i wouldn't fucking put them down in person, especially if i knew some of their kids had just died. fuck, humanity is shit.

*ahem*

on another note: i have a super-exciting-amazing QOTD up next. it involves possible audience participation in the story! ohemgee! BUT no one has answered my last one. and until someone does (back @kellyrages , back!), i'm not posting it. i guess, if i get to those chapters first, no one will participate. *ohsosadface*

so, again:

QOTD: If you have _____, you have everything.

Visual aid, dudes: