February 25

He awoke to his head throbbing in time with his heartbeat, his mouth dry and tasting as if he'd been sucking on dirty socks all night. He cracked his eyes open a slit and then hissed as pain radiated across his gummy eyes, and, in turn, stabbed through his head like a razor-sharp knife. Screwing his eyes shut, he breathed slowly, starting shallowly and then working his way up to deeper, longer breaths as he tried to quell the nausea washing over him in wave after wave.

It was going to be one of those days.

Lying motionless, he took several deep, slow breaths until the nausea dissipated, and then he carefully pried his eyes open once more. He blinked slowly, his brow pinching with confusion as he stared at his unfamiliar surroundings, wondering where the fuck he'd had landed himself this time. Turning his face into the generic, white pillowcase, he groaned, his dick instantly hardening as a familiar scent filled his nose.

Sandalwood. Vanilla. Citrus. Justin.

Sliding his hand under the bland blue blanket and hideous cheap motel coverlet, he cupped his dick and squeezed, his breath hitching as it filled and lengthened. God, the scent alone, mixed with the heady aroma of musk from his arousal, was nearly enough to make him come. He circled his thumb over the head of his dick, gathering up drops of pre-cum, and used it to slick the shaft for a leisurely morning toss off while enveloped in the scent of his beloved.

Fuck, he'd always smelled good; it was one of the things that had always drawn him to the blond like a moth to a flame. That, and his pale, unblemished skin, that seemed to glow from some inner fire that he'd always wanted to touch and tame and bathe in. And those pretty, pink, pouting lips that just seemed made for sucking cock; in fact, he was imagining them wrapped around his dick right now, sucking him down to the root, his hot mouth and tongue running up and down it as he bobbed his head in his lap.

Moaning, he planted his feet into the bed, and rocked his hips, fucking up into his hand, all the while imagining that it was that gorgeous ass that had attracted him from day one. So good. And he was just getting into it when he felt something stirring in the bed next to him; gasping he halted his actions and stared into blue eyes; ones that were not quite the right shade, but were gorgeous nonetheless.

They blinked at him as the man sleepily pieced together his surroundings and then smiled – beautiful and bright, but not quite right. Buttery blond hair fell around his face – again, so very close, but not quite right – as the twink propped himself up on one elbow and looked at him with a sly smirk.

And then it all came flooding back to him – the pressing need to get out of his apartment before the walls closed in on him, stumbling onto some little hole-in-the-wall bar, and meeting the hustler that, if he squinted just right, looked enough like his beloved that he could pretend to have him for a few hours.

He'd picked him up in the bar, paid for the night before walking to where he'd left his car; he drove them to the nearest cheap motel because he wouldn't sully the place he planned to bring his beloved with a cheap imitation; and ended up fucking him all night, only stopping when pink was starting to tint the sky.

No wonder he had a headache.

"Need a hand with that?" the twink asked with a cheeky smile, running his hand over his thigh to cup his balls, squeezing them gently, but rhythmically.

He looked up into a face that wasn't quite right – the features were not nearly as refined as his beloved's – and now, in the harsh light of day, the allure had faded and the twink was just a pale replication of the true perfection that was his love. Still he was beautiful, and his dick was hard as a rock and getting impossibly harder due to the blond's ministrations, and if he closed his eyes just right…

"Yeah," he whispered, his voice rough with lust as the twink grinned and grabbed the bottle of lube.

Sliding his eyes three-quarters of the way closed, he watched as the twink quickly opened himself up; something that didn't take long since it'd only been about four hours since they'd last fucked. And then the blond rolled a condom onto to his dick and slicked him up before slowly easing down onto it, his hot, tight ass enveloping him, punching a loud gasp of air out of his lungs.

His hands wrapped around the twink's hips as he groaned and sagged, the blond's head resting against his shoulder as he adjusted. He wrapped his arms around the blond and pulled him close, burying his face into the fine hairs by his ear and breathed deeply. Sandalwood. Vanilla. Citrus. Musk. Justin. It was intoxicating.

Pressing a small kiss to the tip of the blond's ear, he groaned and let go as the twink's muscles contracted around his dick. The blond sat up, planted his hands onto his chest and rose up until he'd almost lifted off his dick completely and then he plunged back down, eliciting a sharp hiss from the both of them.

"Yeah, that's it, baby," he murmured, digging his fingers into soft flesh, his eyes tightly shut and the vision of his beloved hovering over him as the blond rocked and writhed and circled his hips trying to find that right angle, his lips parted and head thrown back. "Ride me."

And then he lost all thought to the heat building between the two of them as the blond rode him for all he was worth, quickly bringing them to completion.

Panting, he flopped back on the bed, insensate, and a part of him, the part that craved the physical pleasure of another body, sated for the time being. But he still couldn't help feeling a bit let down and hollow as, while the twink was a close replication, he wasn't what he wanted. He was just a body to slake the lust that pounded through him every time he saw his beloved walking in the distance.

He watched, conflicted as the twink rolled off him, and clambered off the bed to grab his clothing. His head was throbbing again, and he knew that he had to get home soon to take his meds if he didn't want to be incapacitated for the rest of the day. He rolled out of bed, peeled off the condom, tied it off and tossed it in the trash as he headed to the bathroom for a quick wash before he called a cab; he didn't think he could drive.

He walked up the mirror and studied his face, still having trouble recognizing himself all these years later. The car accident that he'd been in eight years ago had made certain of that. Although he couldn't remember it, and couldn't remember much of a couple of years before that due to selective amnesia, he'd been told he'd crashed headlong into a pole while drinking drunk. Something that had left him scarred for life.

Due to a malfunction, the air bag hadn't deployed, and as he hadn't been wearing his seat belt, he'd flown into that dashboard; and with the windshield shattering on impact, his face had been mangled. It had been cut and smashed beyond recognition and had taken months of pain, and several surgeries, to rebuild it until it even somewhat resembled his face before the accident.

And it still startled him to see this stranger staring back at him to this day.

That hadn't been the only consequence; outside of the loss of years of his memories, which he'd never gotten back, he was now susceptible to debilitating headaches that often had him blacking out when they came on. Even the meds didn't help at times and those lost hours scared him at times as he woke up in places he didn't remember; hence his worry this morning.

And then there had been other issues; but he didn't want to think of that.

Scratching his chest, he looked at the shower, contemplating whether or not to take one with the the twink's voice broke though his thoughts.

"I hate when you call me Justin," the twink muttered as he pulled on his shoes.

"What?" he asked, a fluttering feeling of panic washing over him as he looked at the twink that looked so much like his beloved, but was not him. Had he said something that he hadn't? He didn't think he was missing any hours, bt if he had said something, then he needed to nip this in the bud before it could get out.

"Justin," the twink said, as he walked over to him, his gait a little hitched after the active night they'd had. "You kept calling me by his name last night; you know, your ex?"

"Yeah; something like that," he muttered, relief coursing through him; like he needed the blond to get to nosy. He didn't need anyone up in his business. He held his breath as the twink leaned in for one last kiss; which he decided to indulge. And then he closed his eyes and savored it as that scent washed over him again.

Sandalwood. Vanilla. Citrus. Musk. Justin.

And he was lost to it again, until finally the twink pulled away with a grin and turned on his heel.

"By the way," the twink said, heading for the door. "I left the toiletries that you brought with you and wanted me to use on the bed; I figured that you'd want them back."

"Yeah, thanks," He said, turning away from the twink, unable to watch him walk away and shatter the illusion. He wanted to hold onto it for just a few more seconds.

"I left my card in there in case you want to do this again," the twink said as he opened the door. He nodded, unable to answer; and then the door closed gently behind him, leaving him in silence.

"Sound good," he whispered to the room, his dick already growing hard at the thought of having his beloved again. Shrugging the thought of a shower off, as he wanted his scent clinging to him for as long as possible, he quickly dressed and called a cab; and then, leaving the key on the bedside table as he didn't want anyone to see him there, he stepped out the door and walked down to the cafe to wait. "I can't wait."