Jameson // Metallica

KINK NOTHING

CHAPTER 1

Eleven inches of snow. They had to drag their asses through eleven inches of snow to some "artistically inspired" place in the middle of nowhere; just so that they could get the right setting for the video.

Jason pushed himself deeper into his parka, trying to minimize the skin area exposed to the biting cold. He accepted a steaming cup from an assistant.

"Hot chocolate. Best thing for weather like this." She smiled and let her gaze linger on his face a few seconds longer than necessary.

"Thanks."

Past her fur-framed face, ten feet away, he saw James eyeing him from above the brim of his own cup. His breath mixed with the steam from the mug, hung in the air like smoke. Droplets of condensation settled on his mustache.

Jason felt a pang in his stomach when the ice-blue stare drilled into him. He turned away, stomping snow from his boots. Hot fluid warmed him inside and for a moment let him ignore the cold. He let his thoughts jump a few hours ahead, to a steamy shower and a nice warm bed waiting for him back at the hotel.

Snow squeaked and crunched behind him as footsteps approached. He didn't turn around when something—somebody—pressed too close against his back. A dozen layers of clothes between them and yet he could swear he felt the heat on his back.

Warm breath licked the side of his face. "She likes you."

"What are you talking about?"

Chilly fingers closed around his jaw and wrenched his head to the right, to where the cute assistant was talking with one of the crew. "Her."

Jason jerked his head away, but the fingers pressed deeper into his flesh, sliding down, towards the oasis of warmth around his neck. He shivered. "I'm not interested."

"Right." James let go of him and stepped away—far enough to make it look like they were having a random conversation, but not enough to let Jason relax.

"I have a girlfriend." He made a point of stressing the word "girlfriend."

Another nod, accompanied by a smirk. "Right."

"Who is flying in tomorrow."

"U-huh."

He hated that he sounded like he was explaining himself to James. James had nothing on him; and it was none of his business what, and with whom he would be doing tomorrow night. He still hated the feeling, though.

The director's voice announcing the end of the coffee break saved him further conversation—if you could call it that—with James.

"Catch you later." James bared his teeth like a wolf, which eerily fitted with the fur coat he was wearing for the shoot.

Jason crumpled the Styrofoam cup and tossed it into a trash bag. Back to his position in the snow drift. What a fucking joy.

***

He swiped his key card through the lock, feeling like he was never going to get warm again. The hotel room welcomed him with cozy darkness. He flipped the lights on and suddenly the room felt much less inviting.

Back there on the mountain, nothing, not the wind, or the frost, had felt as cold as James's fingers on his neck and he was desperate to get their lingering chill out of his body.

He kicked his boots off and headed for the bathroom, shedding the layers of clothes.

She'll be here tomorrow.

Off went the thick sweater.

His mind wandered over the familiar contours—the arch of her naked back, the curve of her breasts, the invitation of her open thighs.