Sunday 1/20/08
Who: Fisher and Lloyd What: The Spell Hits Where: Lloyd's Apartment When: Sunday Night Rating: R
Fisher had a backpack with alcohol and Cheetos. Hey, if you visited someone at their apartment, you brought something. His mom had taught him that. He wasn't sure exactly where Lloyd lived, but he had a vague idea. As Fisher made his way across the grounds, he refused to let himself imagine that Lloyd and James had had sex in the man's apartment. He didn't want to meet the shrink in his office because that's where Lloyd and Jameas had met, and no doubt they'd had sex in there. And even if they hadn't, Fisher would just imagine that they had. In the apartment at least he could find some surface that was more than likely safe from that mental image. It wasn't that he minded they did it- he just didn't need to think about it.
He was taking a stab at which door it was, knocking forcefully. Thankfully he got the right one, and Lloyd (not some other disgruntled teacher) opened the door for him. "I have wonderful things," he said playfully, stepping past Lloyd without a proper invitation. "Shit, these places are huge." He'd never been in a staff apartment before, and they were swank. Taking a seat on Lloyd's couch, Fisher zipped off his boots and curled up on the cushions. Grabbing his backpack, he opened it, taking out its contents. "Jack Daniels," he said, placing the bottle on the coffee table, "scotch and Cheetos. If there's a better buffet out there, I don't know it."
---
So long as Fisher didn't go into the bedroom, he was safe from James and Lloyd cooties. It was something the shrink had been thinking about prior to the little goth boy coming over and so he'd made sure the door to his room was shut securely. There wasn't a proper lock on it - no point what with Garret being able to walk through walls and he'd bust it anyway during a rather ambitious rush to the bed one night. There had been a tidying spree from the demon, making sure his home was fit for guests. Fisher had never been into his apartment before, and rather than leave the, quite frankly, rude magazines Cherry had got him lying around Lloyd had made his living room almost spotless. Almost, because he was not that much of a freak.
When he heard the door he didn't sprint to answer it. Wearing his usual lazy, casual "grunge" outfit as Garret had called it Lloyd greeted Fisher with a nervous smile before he closed it behind his guest. People were normally surprised he wasn't in something smart when they met him out of office but at heart Lloyd was a little messy rock boy.
"Alcohol and cheetos... well those are two things I love. All that's missing is a huge chinese buffet but I doubt you carry one in that bag... glasses?" he asked, offering to go and get some if Fisher would rather be civilized than drink from the bottle.
---
If Fisher had found dirty magazines on Lloyd's coffee table, it would have actually endreared the man to him all the more. He loved a guy who lived like an actual guy, dirty magazines and laundry on the floor. As it was the fact that the place wasn't spotless was pretty great. Fisher would have hated the idea that the chains on his pants might mess up someone's perfect apartment decor.
Lloyd looked good outside normal attire, looked more like some guy that James might like than some teacher that he fucked. It made it real easy for Fisher to actually like him and not just tolerate him. Plus in recent years, the medium had grown a fondness for pudge bellies. Might have been because he'd spent six years going hungry, or because he was too damn skinny and would have killed for a tummy pooch. Either way, Lloyd looked cute. "Fuck, if I could fit a chinese buffet in here, history class would be a lot more inetersting." Not that it wasn't already. It was taught by the devastatingly gorgeos Professor Witt, and Fisher usually just zoned out and stared at his chest.
At the question, Fisher shrugged. "If you like." He didn't care one way or another how they drank it. He wasn't squeamish about germs. While Lloyd did whatever it was he was doing, Fisher broke open the Cheetos bag and attacked them. Dinner in the cafeteria was supposed to suck tonight (meatloaf, blagh), so he could ruin his appetite with cheesy corn puffs. "So, okay," he said as he chewed, "what's that cryptic post of yours all about, anyway? You didn't tell Garret I take it?" Hey, no sense in beating around the bush.
---
Lloyd didn't believe that he was all that "poochy" if that was even a word. He worked out a lot, tried to eat nice foods, lay off the wine, have energetic sex so that he might not have this damn little bulgy thing. He wanted a six pack not a beer store. Still, his lovers had said they liked him for it. It was 'natural' and normal and manly. He would have to learn to love the tummy, seeing as everyone else apparently. did.
He retrieved two crystal glasses (there was no other kind!) and placed one infront of the guy who was now practically attacking the cheeto bag. It was a miracle to Lloyd to realise that he was only eight years older than Fisher. Eight. And yet the tiny framed goth was so innocent and child-like that it took Lloyd a moment to realise that he was an adult. He wasn't a teenager, he was actually experienced in the ways of the world. Maybe too much so.
"I could have made you something you know," he said, pouring the Jack Daniels into the glasses in generous amounts. "I have a fridge full of stuff going to waste because I never have time to cook." But he was interrupted by Fisher's little question. Brilliant. "No. I didn't tell Garret. I wanted to but I wasn't sure it was wise and now I feel terrible for lying to him. What's worse is that I still continue to flirt with James via email."
---
In a lot of ways, Fisher was just a glorified teenager. He was all id- doing what he felt like, taking things to heart, being moody, stubborn and morose. He had not actual job skills, no real responsibilities, and at the moment he was very well taken care of yet still managed to cause himself problems. Plus he looked young, and dressing like he was fifteen didn't help that any. If Fisher had wagered a guess at Lloyd's age, he'd have put him somewhere in his mid forties. Lloyd was well put together and professional and had shit figured out. No way was he only eight years older than Fisher. But then again, the medium failed to realize that most 28 year olds actually had their lives together.
"I will eat anything you give me," he told Lloyd truthfully. He wasn't very picky. Of course, Cheetos were fine with him. He was more interested in the answer to his question anyway. He had figured that Lloyd would not tell his significant other because, well, why would he? James was a patient and if Garret really had followed Lloyd here (which is what Fisher had heard), then he wouldn't want to know about some other guy.
"You aren't really lying to him, you're just... omitting certain truths." He sucked the cheese off his fingers, thinking. So was that what James had suddenly been in a good mood about? He and Lloyd were kind of... whatever they were being? "Flirting is harmless if you don't plan on doing anything about it," Fisher said after a moment. "The problem is, do you plan on doing anything about it? Or, do you even want to do anything about it?" Because wanting to be with someone and actually taking the effort to make it happen was a huge difference in the need for guilt.
---
Lloyd excused himself and brought some home-made sausage rolls in to the living room, handing the plate over to Fisher before sitting back and nursing the glass of alcohol that he held tightly near to his chest.
He listened to Fisher speak, frowning slightly. Well he always looked like he was frowning but this was more of an increased line, a furrowed brow. He sighed slightly. "All I mean is... I know I didn't do anything wrong. But I'm lying to him. I hate that. He's only just back in my life and already I'm harbouring this big secret which I shouldn't really be ashamed of because I didn't do anything wrong to Garret, essentially. I wasn't cheating on him because I had no idea he was here and I never slept with James when I figured out he was." A thought made him quieten slightly as he debated whether to reveal it to Fisher. May as well - they weren't together now either. "I did kiss him, though. Recently. Moment of weakness...."
---
Beaming, Fisher happily accepted the plate Lloyd gave him, savoring the flavor. Evidently he was hungry. Well lunch wasn't all that long ago, and he'd had... well nothing actually, he'd skipped it. Hm. Maybe there was a reason he never put on weight.
So far, it sounded like Lloyd was in the clear. Nothing had happened with James while he and Garret had been together, so there wasn't anything to feel guilty about. Until... "You kissed him??" It wasn't an accusatory tone, just shocked. In fact Fisher laughed about it. "So what's the deal here, anyway? Do you want James, do you not want James, do you just wanna fuck him?" Setting the plate and Cheetos bag onto the coffee table, he leaned forward a little to really stare Lloyd down. "What exactly is it that you want? Forgetting Garret and relationship obligations and legal repercussions, what do you want from this?"
---
If there was anything Lloyd was going to learn from this it was that Fisher could be scary. With a little sigh Lloyd grabbed a sausage roll and took a bite, chewing as he mulled it over. "I... the thing with James is..." There wasn't a really good way to describe it, really. Instead, Lloyd washed down the food with another sip of Jack and shook his head.
"He won't take no for an answer. He insists he's good for me. And to a degree he might be. But - he has you. I refuse to believe that he is able to let you go like I would require him to because I don't... I don't... I don't know. It's just a mess. He said he could see himself falling in love with me but why? Why would he even WANT to do that in the first place? He has you! He's madly in love with you and I have the guy I've been pining for for years and he still insists he'd be better for me."
---
Fisher took in what Lloyd said to him without much expression on his face. He was listening, but he was also deciphering, reading his tone and expression, and covering up the sudden stab of hurt that James said he could see himself falling for Lloyd. After all, Fisher had no right to be hurt about that- but he was anyway. "James loves me," he began. "I have no doubt about that. But James also likes getting what he wants, and right now he wants you. It's entirely possible it's a conquest thing, that he wants you because he had you before Garret came back."
Leaning back, Fisher drew his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. He was a compact fellow, could curl up into a perfectly small space. "Thing is, though, you hurt him. Badly. He opened up to you which is not something he does to anyone. Not even me, evidently." That last bit had a sting of bitterness to it, but Fisher didn't dwell. "I'm sure you didn't mean to. And besides, how were you supposed to know that Garret was coming back? I know it was all coincidence and circumstance, but the fact of the matter is he likes you. And he doesn't take 'no' very well."
Chewing his lip thoughtfully, Fisher took a slight pause before he spoke again. "I could understand why he'd want to fall for you," he admitted. "You're sturdy. He's going through a rough time, and he's not sure what to do and where he's going and you've got your shit together. And being with someone like that is really appealing when you feel like you're drowning. But of course, you've taken the rock away from him, so now he wants to get it back." He shrugged, grabbing another sausage roll. "This is fucking good, by the way."
---
Thank fuck Fisher got it. "That's what I told him! I'm nothing but a conquest, that he wants me to himself. And then what would happen to me when you came back into the picture on a more permenant basis? I'd be dropped like a hot rock, I'm not a fool"
Though sometimes he could be. He was being very foolish with this whole situation, not severing his ties completely. He knew James needed him but he didn't know whether he could help himself and be true to his position as a shrink. "I can still be his rock, just not his lover," said Lloyd gently. "I didn't know he was opening up to me as a rarity I just figured that perhaps he was finally trusting me as a shrink, as someone he could speak to outside of the bedroom as well as in. If I could, I'd turn back the clock and never sleep with him."
At Fisher's last remark Lloyd scoffed, the glass almost at his lips. "Of course it's fucking good - I had my own bakery back in Wales, it was doing brilliant business. Still is apparently but I bet the danish pastries aren't the same.. you could eat most of my stuff. You should, actually. You're practically wafer thin."
---
Fisher nodded in agreement at Lloyd, but for awhile didn't say anything. James wasn't the type to just drop someone, that wasn't how he worked. Chances were that if Lloyd had become a more permenant fixture in James' life, he'd be there for a very long time. "You can't provide emotional support as a shrink," Fisher said quietly. "You can assure him things will be fine and listen to him talk and cry and yell, but when you get right down to it what he needs isn't the kind of thing just a shrink can provide." What James really needed was a lover he could depend on. Unfortunately, neither Lloyd nor Fisher seemed to be the man for the job.
The medium frowned playfully at Lloyd. "I'm well aware of that," he told him, uncurling himself to pour a glass of Jacks. "It happens when you've been homeless and high for over half a decade." He took a large swallow of the dark amber liquid, the fire burning in his throat. Drinking was not on the approved list of activities he was supposed to be doing, but so fucking what. "But you can feel free to feed me anytime you like. I'm a fan of food."
---
"I wasn't trying to be a shrink, but a friend. Without the benefits," he mumbled, not really arguing because he didn't really want to battle him right now. Fisher was right - what James wanted was a lover, a friend, a port in a storm. Someone maybe older and wiser and without as many fuck ups or returning lovers. Someone who could guide him and give him the support he needed.
Lloyd was up on his feet however, pointing at the little goth. "You - are going to have a festival on those tastebuds. I will bring you the best in culinary delights. I pre-made my salsa and chicken fajitas for dinner tonight if you want some of that? I also have some leftover chocolate fudge cake which I made from scratch thank you very much. Some punch too, which Garret loves. Gets him drunk at a mere whiff!" There was no way that Fisher was going to get away with playing that homeless card. Lloyd simply wanted to wrap him up and keep him warm, give him a home but instead he disappeared into the kitchen to get all he'd mentioned and he returned with a housewifey grin, placing the plates infront of the goth.
---
Lloyd was suddenly pointing at him and looking down at the medium, making him curl back up defensively. Fuck, had he said something wrong? But then Lloyd began talking, and a perplexed, strange gaze fixed itself to Fisher's face. Evidently he had said a magic word somewhere, because Lloyd was going to give him the winnings of the food lottery. He didn't even need to say anything before Lloyd was off to the kitchen, humming and clanking dishware and invading the fridge. Fisher peeked over the back of the couch to watch him, still perplexed. He could understand peoples' desire to feed him, but... usually those people were women.
Looking at the spread Lloyd placed before him, Fisher stayed curled on the couch, almost wary. This just seemed really odd. He was at his ex boyfriend's ex lover's apartment talking about the ex boyfriend in question (who was apparently falling for the lover, nice sting there) and being fed. Fed very well. "This... beats Cheetos and booze," he said truthfully, reaching forward to grab chocolate cake first. Hey, he was an adult, he could eat what he wanted!
"I think I understand now," he said, chewing thoughtfully. "Always made me wonder, but I think I get it now. You must've taken one look at James, saw how damaged and in need he was, and you were all over that." Lloyd was very mother hen like, so this was making a ton of sense now.
---
Well... he'd never actually thought of it like that but he was quick to dismiss it. With a shake of his head he smiled, settling back down closer to Fisher and beginning to make the nice fajita which was just begging to be devoured. "Actually we didn't start like that. He was the one that came on to me. He was very - sure of himself that he could get me into bed by the end of the week, he invited me out for a drink and I went because I was in a shit mood. He once again, said that he'd be fucking me by the end of the night. He was right."
With a great sigh Lloyd ate a few moments, glancing at Fisher's form. It took him a moment before he told him, "You on the other hand... you're probably right about that. I would very much like to take care of you, such is my shrinky nature. You're far too undernourished, self depricating, destructive... I want to be able to change that."
---
Fisher giggled at what Lloyd said about James. "Sounds right," he agreed. "James knew I wanted him right from the start. Arrogant prick. He has an annoying habit of being right most of the time." Part of James' appeal was that he was so confident, it was hard not to be drawn to him.
Everything was delicious. He didn't say so, because he was too busy eating everything, but it should have been obvious. The medium froze when he heard Lloyd's gentle voice say You on the other hand..., the fork still in his mouth. He watched Lloyd warily, not entirely sure where this was going. He was relieved that the demon was only mothering him, not... well he wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. Chewing again, he rolled his eyes a little. "Please don't make me a project," he asked around a mouth of fajita.
---
In surprise, Lloyd raised his eyebrows and stared at him. "Oh no - I'm not seeing you as a project, Fisher, just someone I want to help." The fajita was placed on a plate back on the table as he began to try and explain himself. "I'm... I've always been the carer of the family, the problem solver. I was the one everyone went to for advice. It's against my nature to see someone ill or suffering so I guess you're right about the mothering thing but... you are not a project. I just want to see you right. Be someone you can count on that you don't fuck, maybe."
He shot him a smile then retrieved his glass, sipping a little. "You're only eight years younger than me, Fisher. You're more a little brother than anything."
---
Fisher watched Lloyd carefully, a wary look on his face. "Okay," he said in tentative agreement. He knew he was pitiful, but pity was not something he sought out. "Though I have to warn you, I already have a lot of people I can count on I don't fuck. If you want to stand out..." He left the sentence open, but gave Lloyd a cheeky little wink.
"Eight years? That's it?? I thought you'd be like... fifteen years older than I am. You're just so... I mean you've got your life together. You're an adult. I don't feel any different than when I was eighteen." But that was ten years ago. Wow, ten. Fisher placed his plate on the table, suddenly feeling less like eating delciousness and more like drinking battery acid. He grabbed his drink and tossed it back, finishing it off.
"So, here's a question you've been expertly dodging all night," he said, pouring himself another double. "Do you want James?"
---
Lloyd began to laugh. "If I want to stand out... I have to make you more shit? I can do that, you know..." he said, not really wanting to go down the possible route Fisher's sentence could have lead them.
"Fifteen....? Gee thank you, it's so nice of someone to say they think I'm fifty-odd or whatever. You know most people your age aren't in your situation. They haven't had your circumstances to deal with. You'll get there in the end, though. I have every belief in you, cause you're not as fucked up as you actually think." Lloyd rattled this off, not realising that the effects of a second hefty glass of Jack D was actually getting to him a bit more than usual. Dangerous territory.
At Fisher's question his eyes darted towards the younger man, only briefly, before he stared at the floor. "No." That was far too shady an answer to believe but he added, "I don't want him as a relationship. Just a fuck." As if Fisher could take something from that.
---
He didn't correct the demon. He wasn't serious anyway. Lloyd was the last person in line of people Fisher wanted to sleep with. Well maybe not the last, but the last male.
"I didn't mean that you were old, just... grown up." Lloyd was right, though, most people Fisher's age were not at his stage in life. They were far advanced. He gave Lloyd a funny look, though, when the man said he believed in him. How on Earth could be have faith in someone he didn't even know? "Lloyd," he said politely, "you don't realize how far down this rabbit hole goes. You better lay off the whiskey, you're looking pretty... loose." This might be a good thing, though. Lloyd would tell him a lot more than he probably wanted to if his tongue was well lubricated.
Actually, Fisher could read a lot from that. "You want someone to want you," he clarified. "But not necessarily the responsibility of breaking up your secure life for someone you'll just get a 'maybe' from." It made a ton of sense to Fisher. Being with James (at least for Lloyd) was a gamble that might cost him everything. And being a shrink, no doubt Lloyd weighed consequences more than anyone else did. "Not to mention James is a great fuck." Why not be candid about it? He was somewhat drunk, and they both knew it was true. Stretching out on the couch, Fisher tucked his toes under Lloyd's thigh (God the demon was nice and warm) and stretched his arms over his head. He was a short guy, so with his knees bent he easily occupied only a cushion and a half, his head resting just before the armrest. "My advice, not that you should take it, is to get rid of James. I know it sounds selfish, but if you can't give him what he needs, he's just going to keep looking to you for it and then he'll never get over you."
---
"I realise, Fisher," Lloyd countered, leaning his head slightly against the back of the sofa, third glass clutched to his chest as he looked at Fisher. "My brother was addicted to heroin for seven years. Never told us. He was always very.... I don't know how I can describe it, but he was always appearing normal. You know? And he was so damaged and fucked up inside that it took him a year to get over it all. I'm not saying it's going to be easy for you because it won't. But you're still more grounded and realistic than my brother was, so it can't be all bad."
He heaved a huge sigh, shaking his head and closing his eyes. "Shit, Fish. I don't know what to do. Maybe you and I should hook up, bookend this triangle."
---
Fisher snickered. "Realistic and grounded? What the hell ass crack have you been smoking tonight?" he teased. It would be easy for Lloyd to think that Fisher had his head on fairly straight, because they were talking abuot James. That was a subject Fisher knew plenty on. He could read people well, so if asked a question about human behavior, he could give a pretty good answer. But if they had strayed onto the topic of Fisher's own actions, and the reasoning behind why he was so collected about talking with James' former lover... that would be a whole new ballgame. "Thanks, though," he added, lest the shrink think he didn't appreciate his belief.
He smirked at Lloyd. "I know. That's how you got into the James mess in the first place." Alcohol and loose morals and low self esteem, that's what killed everything. "James is a persistent son of a bitch, but here's what you gotta do- don't play to his emotions, ok? Because he has them but he hates using them, especially if he's going to lose from it. So telling him things like how you're happy now or that he's ruining your life and if he really cared he'd stop... that kind of logic won't do shit. He'll counter with 'If you're really happy you won't be talking to me' or something like that. So if you really, really are serious about not having him in your life, romantically anyway... you just have to cut him out. Be cold. He'll get pissed and call you every name under the sun, but... if you can't be what he needs and you try to go halfway you'll just kill him." He wiggled his toes further under Lloyd, trying to sap his warmth.
At Lloyd's last comment, though, Fisher burst out laughing. It was rich and lively and full of mirth. Shaking his head, he ran his hands over his face. "God, no," he spit out through enthusiastic chuckling. He took a deep breath, then another, calming himself. "No, see, that's not how it would work. I'd have to sleep with Garret. And then he'd have to sleep with James to get back at you, so then you and I could have sex. Not that I have any desire to sleep with you. No offense," he added.
---
At Fisher's little toe wiggling Lloyd warmed up a little internally, almost becoming a hot water bottle for him. He liked being accomodating, any way necessary so the fact that Fisher was getting something from this was quite cool. Even more so because it was his power. The power to be toasty.
And now Fisher was laughing too hard for Lloyd's liking so he frowned, his bottom lip out in a pout. "No offense? Well No offence but my Garret would not really want you. You're too weedy and... well that's it. Unless you had tits he wouldn't be too interested." Lloyd knew all too well about Garret's little fascination with the other sex. The fairer sex but not the most interesting in Lloyd's view, but then again he was biased... his face became grave, jaw set at the thought. Not good. Not fucking good.
"Let's talk about something else, please."
---
As the giggles subsided, Fisher pushed his hair off his face, sitting up enough to grab the bottle of whiskey off the coffee table. "I wouldn't expect Garret to want me anyway," he told Lloyd truthfully. "I mean come on, look at the guy." Garret looked like the captain of a football team, or the head of student council. The kind of guy who had women (and evidently men) falling all over themselves for his dazzling smile and clear hazel eyes. Not the type to take interest in Fisher.
Propping himself up on his elbows, he looked up at Lloyd, studying his face. "It's not that I wouldn't with you," he clarified, since the laughing was over. "It would just be really fucking weird. I'd just keep picturing you and James and..." He poured a healthy dose of alcohol into his glass. "Anyway. Yeah. New topic." After taking a drink he laid back down, reaching to the table beside the couch to set down his drink because it was easier to reach than the coffee table (which was too high for his level of lazy drunkenness). His fingers brushed something papery, so he grabbed is and brought it to his face. And then grinned. "Hell yes!" he declared, flipping open the gay porn mag.
---
At Fisher's little comment about Garret Lloyd actually had to smile a little. Yes, the big American hunk was absolutely out of almost everyone's league. He had no idea how he had managed to snare this big hunk of burning love but there you had it. The two had managed to spend five years together without so much as a hiccup before their split. Almost been encouraged to get married, which Lloyd had secretly hoped for. Now - it was like they were just picking up from before the fight. It warmed Lloyd to think of him - and that was always a good sign right?
Realising he had been drifting off into a dreamland with a dozy grin on his face, Lloyd blinked as soon as Fisher exclaimed. And Lloyd's warm stomach suddenly flipped over. "Oh shit no..." he gasped, scrambling to try and put the glass down on the table so he wouldn't spill it AND snatch the mag off Fisher. "You're not supposed to see that! No...!"
---
Fisher had good reflexes, so the magazine was lifted out of Lloyd's reach and he slapped his hand away. "Hey!" he scolded him. "If you didn't want me reading it, you shouldn't have left it someplace I could find it." They weren't exactly locked up in a safe someplace. Holding the magazine high, Fisher flipped through some of the center pages, since that's where the good stuff was. "Whoa," he said appreciatively. "Ouch." Some of the men in here were freaks, that's all there was to it.
He looked down by his feet at Lloyd, who looked embarassed to say the least. "You are one kinky bastard," he teased, dropping the magazine onto his stomach and reaching for another. "What else do we have over here..."
---
"Well you did pick up the special sort of magazine..." Lloyd stammered, trying to explain himself but it wasn't any use. Fisher was gay! It was nice to see someone actually having a healthy appreciation of the male form, enjoying them with him. Well... not in the strictest sense of the word. It was still nice to have someone as enthused as him but Fisher had actually picked up the weirdest book Lloyd had in his collection.
"The others are average," he said, timidly. "Most of them are of... bulky guys... you know... meatheads... um... Garret-types. And... there are some... younger guys too. Not schoolkids... but... shit..."
---
If anyone appreciated the male form, it was Fisher Majors. He had a personality type he was often drawn to, but as for body type, he was totally not picky. Men were just hot a species. And right now, Lloyd was being really damn cute getting embarassed. The medium grabbed the whole pile, plopping them onto his belly. He raised his eyebrow at Lloyd, smiling a little. "You know, this isn't my first time looking at gay porn," he said quietly, nudging his leg from underneath with his toes. "Relax. I don't think you're a freak because of this. Actually... I kinda respect you more now."
He grabbed the next in line- Unzipped- and flipped it open. This was a typical gay guy magazine- pretty boys, ridiculous poses, taut muscles and adorable smiles. He looked them over, not taking to long to appreciate because he didn't want to start getting aroused and weird up the evening. Not that he really could, probably. It was already a strange weird evening. "So, speaking of Garret-types," he said idly, flipping the page, "when can we expect to see that glorious form in print?"
---
"Garret isn't going to be in any magazine. Though he did... never mind," he said, having been about to reveal hs boyfriend's dreams of doing a sex video together. Then a little thought pinged inthe back of his mind and he smirked. Didn't Garrey do a photoshoot a while ago....? "Actually... if you're good I'll dig out his old modelling photos which he never used for modelling if you know what I mean...."
With a huge belly laugh Lloyd grinned at Fisher. "And I would so do that one, in the red..."
---
Fisher sat up, eyes wide, grin on his face. The magazines on his stomach slid onto the floor in a heap. "Are you shitting me?" he asked. "There are photos of Garret? How good do I have to be to see those?" He waggled his eyebrows at Lloyd. "Because I can be a very good boy."
Looking down at his magazine, Fisher studied Lloyd's man of choice. "Eh, he's hot," he admitted. "I'd rather the one that he's about to blow, truth be told. He looks flexible. And like he can take a good, rough... ahem. Anyway." He blushed a little, turning the page.
---
Having watched Fisher scan the page Lloyd had already figured he would choose that particular stud but the way Fisher got all flustered over it made him laugh again. "Now on this page there is a delightful man I have dubbed 'Donkey' for the obvious reason... but the guy he's doing is more my type." He pointed to a young man, cheekbones, like Garret and James' secret lovechild.
"It depends what you think can persuade me to get them for you. I keep them in my special place," he said, rather gayly, acting all coy and leaning over more to scan the magazine. "Get to page seventy-two, that's where I was at last time."
---
He had never actually flipped through a porn magazine with someone before, and it was actually very normal feeling. Maybe because neither he nor Lloyd were typical men, and they didn't get uncomfortable easily. Or maybe because they already had a shared factor- a naked James- and with that in common there was barely a need to feel awkward. Fisher cocked his head at the image, trying to decide if the guy was actually cute of just unrealistically beautiful. It was the eyes that did it, and the cheekbones. Such a striking young man he seemed almost surreal.
"Well, I don't know you well enough to know what pursuades you," Fisher said truthfully. He turned the pages until he found the one Lloyd instructed him to stop on. "Actually. I guess I could just tell you that you're going to show them to me before the end of the night." He paused, a small smirk on his pink lips. "But I don't have as much confidence as James, so I'm not sure I could pull it off."
---
Lloyd noted that Fisher was admiring this figure just as much as he was. Yes, these magazines sure held some hot potatoes in those pages. With a small chuckle at Fisher's attempt at bravado, the shrink patted Fisher's knee in an almost mock-consoling manner. "You should have. You're maybe not the lost work of Da Vinci but then you don't have to be in order to be attractive to someone. I, for one, quite like your smile. And his abs - Jesus Christ look at him..."
For the man on page 72 was quite yumtious indeed, something Lloyd had been admiring before Garret had strolled in unannounced. He had a habit of doing that far too often.
---
The compliment might as well have whizzed high over Fisher's head (like so many things did), because he simply rolled his eyes at it. "Well how are you supposed to know what kind of person will be attracted to you unless you can either read minds, or..." He whistled at the man on the page. "...you look like that." He wasn't thinking about what Lloyd did with the magazine, even though it was sitting there in the back of his mind. What the hell else did you do with the thing?
Handing the mag over to Lloyd, Fisher leaned across the couch, stretching to grab his drink from the table where the smut had come from. He drank it down, almost draining it, a light buzz going on in his brain. He felt light, less worried about anything. Less self conscious about being in the ex's ex's apartment. Not that he had been all that uncomfortable here to begin with. "I'm eating more cake," he announced, as though Lloyd needed to know. Grabbing the plate of the remaining portion of desert, he dug his fork in, intent on finishing it if Lloyd would let him.
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"You never know what kind of person's going to be attracted to you," agreed Lloyd, eyes still transfixed on the lad on the page. He was rather - large. But Lloyd hadn't been doing anything with this magazine when Garret had shown up. Alright he might have been getting aroused but he didn't get off to still images. Full on porn on the other hand...
When Fisher kindly informed him he'd be eating more cake Lloyd immediately assumed he meant the rest of it and showed no sign of argument. So long as he still had his fajitas and sexy men to look at he was a rather happy shrink indeed. "I never thought that I'd ever be with a man like Garret, ever. I mean look at me - would you think a 6ft 2 brick shithouse who looked like Atlas would fall for me? Even be remotely attracted to me? Psh. Would you even think that James would be attracted to me on sight? No. But I have been informed by both men that that was the case. It beggers belief what problems they have with their eyes."