Impress Me Not: The Writer

Chapter 42

It was a dreadful day of nothing. Absolutely nothing. He hated it. He would give anything to be back in that room again with him. He would give anything to lie with him in his arms, even if he didn't want to take things further. Damien was his own remedy for the dreadful monotony that his life had become. The only thing that had procured some bouts of differences in it had been the lovers that he had bedded and the newest inventions for which he had made.

Jasper had thought that they were enough. He had believed that he was content with his life, enjoying the newest fling that he had obtained, or the greatest gadget that he had thought of. Inventing better technology and advancing the world through the power of computers and chips had been the whole reason why he had pushed for his career in the first place. He had even finished his higher education at a younger age just so he would be able to perform his dreams rather than all the useless lectures that he had been forced to have before.

The flings were more to satisfy his physical need, as every human had. It didn't bother Jasper one bit before that he didn't have a long relationship as he grew older. It wasn't in his criteria for his life.

Yet all it took was a strange blond and he was more attached to him than a virus to a horrible firewall.

Damien was his magnet, destroying the memory in his hard drive along with all commands that he had. While he still enjoyed his career, he couldn't help but find himself distracted thinking about the man that seemed to have so many layers to his being. He was loud yet closed off, frank yet laconic. His writing was the greatest example of that, Jasper supposed. That was why he had been so eager to learn more about the one who had put those stories to life.

If only that person would answer their phone for once. It had been a day now since him and Damien had seen each other, and Jasper was more than just a tad aggravated at the lack of communication. All that Damien told him was that he was busy with assignments as his classes were getting closer to the ending days. Jasper supposed he could understand, but he didn't have to like it. He would much rather be with him in that small room, even if it just be to type away, getting lost in his computer. Those blue eyes whisked away to another universe when he watched Damien type. He was in his own world, one in which he put into writing for everyone else to share.

It was a little strange that he was an erotica writer though. Jasper was intrigued by that still. There was no way that he had just written about sex his whole life. His history on the website that Jasper was on told him that he had an account much sooner than that.

The extra time that Jasper had waiting for a reply from the man who had still miraculously been able to hold his interest had been spent on looking through that website again. While he had devoured most of the stories that he had written, them being much too short to completely satisfy his lust for those words, there were still so many more that had been written. Most of them weren't long, hence why there were so many of them. While Jasper normally enjoyed long books, this writer had left him fascinated.

It truly seemed like the writer and Damien were two different beings. His online persona was great at putting out stories that were bold and confident, taking any criticism with pride. The ones who hated this persona were ignored or told to go elsewhere. Meanwhile Damien himself hated to even be teased. He was confident at one point, and easily embarrassed the next.

What was the true side to him? That was the true mystery that he had been dying to solve. That was why he had wanted to take him to that night club. If there was anywhere that one could go to not feel judged for anything, it was the Neon Underground. There were all kinds of freaks there. While it didn't seem like Damien was the most comfortable, being able to open him up just as much as he had been that night was enough to keep Jasper intrigued by this man. The longer he thought about him, the more engrossed he became.