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Trent woke up with an awful headache. Oh, fuck. He opened his mouth to groan in protest but his tongue might as well have been made of cotton for all he could wrench a sound from it. The musician clumsily pushed himself out of bed to go get his day started. He got dressed in a loose red robe that’d been strewn on the floor. Trent took a glance at the half-empty bottle of Jose Cuervo on his bedside. He sighed, then focused on strings attached to the robe, tying a shitty knot around his waist to close the red garment.
Trent winced as he stepped on his belt buckle from last night, still entangled in the belt loops of some leather pants. Pain shot up his foot, but nothing could be worse than his headache at the moment.
The room was a mess. A mild sense of shame accompanied the pain as Trent remembered he was not in his own home. He’d have to clean up everything when his stay was over. If he would even be there to do so.
Originally, he thought it’d be a good idea to rent a beachhouse, get away from the city and maybe find inspiration for song writing. At least that was the initial idea. Being holed up on a random beach with a small house to himself just made things worse mentally. The impulse to drink just got worse, and there was no one around to try to stop his addictive behaviors. Trent couldn’t even think of any lyrics, every time he tried to write in his journal to document his feelings the words would just turn to scribbles. Maybe coming here was a waste of time.
Trent soon discovered that the more he drank by the waves, the more the depressant encouraged his thoughts of embracing the sea permanently. He’d been trying to get sober but the pressure of putting out a new record was more appealing at the moment. It felt like people only cared about his music when he was miserable anyways. Trent only felt worse thinking about his situation, the bitter taste of bile rising to his throat as a warning. Shit- shit.
Bare legs scrambled into the hallway and thudded against ceramic bathroom tiles. His knees were cold against the floor, hands gripping the slightly warmer toilet seat. Trent's throat spasmed, body trying to push out whatever's left of the liquor from last night. Throwing up was probably Trent’s least favorite part of his morning routine, and the bitter taste would get more potent when he would brush his teeth afterwards. The minty toothpaste only made him gag.
Cloudy liquid dribbled into the water below him, his hair falling in the way. Trent only got more queasy at the sight of his own vomit, gagging audibly. He nearly fell into the bowl when a warm thick hand was suddenly on his back.
“Easy,” A man cooed behind him, his voice was deeper but eerily familiar. Trent was about to wheel around before an aggressive gag brought his face back towards the misty water. This time his throat was burning, more bile with flaky chunks forced itself out of him. Another hand slid behind his head with a sickening gentleness and cupped his long hair out of the way, saving whatever strands that weren’t yet caught in the crossfire. The musician coughed, whatever the chunks were made out of left a nasty taste in his mouth.
“There you go,”
Trent braced himself with one arm while the other wiped away any vomit-tasting saliva that’d coated his lips. The hand on his back ran up to squeeze his shoulder, Trent nearly forgot that he’d no clue who the man was. He exhaled, and straightened his posture. The man let go of Trent's inky hair, warm hand an assuring pressure for him. A sense of relief washed over him.
“Thanks,” Trent mumbled, his headache pushing its way back into his senses.
‘Yeah. I’ve been there,”
He turned around to face the stranger. Trent’s eyebrows pushed up in surprise. Why…the man looked exactly like him but..older. And with shorter hair, noticeably a longer patch of hair hiding his right eye. Along with a more built physique, muscular but soft around the gut. For all intents and purposes, this was… him.
“Who?..” Trent licked over his chapped lips, not sure if he was finally hallucinating. He hadn’t heard anyone break in, much less noticed anything out of the ordinary on his rush down the hall.
The older Trent offered him a small charming smile. He seemed way too calm for Trent’s liking. Then again, maybe he was a manifestation of Trent’s imagination. Trent remembers having sleeping issues ever since he was little, maybe the lack of sleep was catching up to him.
“Right…okay,” Trent nodded slowly, blinking twice as he processed that he apparently has a doppelgänger. In his beach house.
“Lacroix?” Older Trent reached into the back pocket of his black skinny jeans, pulling out a can of apricot flavored Lacroix sparkling water. Any sort of rising anxiety in the back of Trent’s mind cooled at the sight of his favorite drink. It's like the man was an older version of himself.
“No way, dude…I haven’t had this in a while,” He took the can from his doppelgänger, his thinner fingers brushing against the other’s stronger ones in the process.
“Weird how 7/11 has alcohol but not sparkling water here, I remember that.” The buff man exhaled softly as though reminiscing. Trent didn’t question him, leaning away from the toilet bowl before fiddling with the soda tab. Chewed fingernails made it a little more difficult to get a good hook underneath the tab, especially when they were so short. His fingerpad pulsed with a mild pain after he resorted to just prying the can open, practically gulping down the beverage. He was so thirsty and the apricot flavor drowned out whatever was left of the bile.
“Slow down,” The older man’s tone was stern, guiding the can away with a firm hand around Trent’s wrist. Trent shot him a glare, sparkling water dribbling down his bottom lip. Older Trent gave him a silent “really?” look, swiping the droplet off of Trent’s plush lip.
The action felt way more intimate than It should’ve been.
“Sorry.” Trent muttered, waiting for the doppelgänger's grip to loosen before shakily standing up off of the cold bathroom tiles. His knees cried in protest, harsh red lines from the tile pattern had dug into his skin.
“S’okay, I know you’re thirsty. Go back to bed, I’ll grab some ibuprofen.”
Older Trent quickly got to Trent’s aid, one strong hand wrapping around his soft waist. Trent’s stomach churned, the gesture was too sweet. Was this man really himself? He let himself be escorted back to the bedroom. In any other situation the embarrassment of needing someone else’s help would’ve been too much. But this felt different, with each guiding step that older Trent took, Trent felt safe. It was as though the older man knew the layout of the Beachhouse a little too well, keeping Trent from stepping on anything hazardous.
Trent laid back on the bed, carefully keeping his half empty can of lacroix from spilling onto the bed. His doppelgänger kept his eyes glued on Trent, eyes hungrily following the inch or so of pale thighs that were revealed as Trent lay on his back. Trent noticed how quickly the stronger man looked away when he realized Trent was watching him too, silently turning away to retrieve some painkillers.
He sat up, loosely holding the can to his lips before taking slower gulps. Once he finished the can, out of habit he tossed it to the side carelessly. Everything would be over soon anyways, maybe seeing himself was like in the movies, when characters see the light before they’re about to die. Trent closed his eyes, trying to ignore his headache and tune into the sound of the sea. The window in the bedroom was broken, never closing completely. All Trent could ever hear was the waves lapping a hello to the beach. He could hear his own thoughts too. They were nearly just as loud as the seagulls that would often squawk nearby.
Waves were an imaginative type of static. Perpetual, sure, but not abrasive like a TV on the wrong HDMI channel. It would be calming if it didn’t lull him into a state of wonder. Would death be just as easy? Slipping away, into the embracing arms of powerful currents. No more worries, just a long sleep. An eternal nap with no consequences.
He wouldn’t have to deal with Malm asking him where the next album is over and over again. Trent wouldn’t have to deal with Brian inviting him over only to have sex and do coke together. Most importantly, he wouldn’t have to deal with waking up ever again. He never considered himself a religious man, not since graduating high school, but if there was some sort of afterlife, Trent hoped it wouldn’t feel as empty as living. Everything seemed more tolerable when he wasn’t conscious.
At the same time however, Trent enjoyed being in control of his life. Little moments like performing, and playing video games with Chris had made him happy. But Chris wasn’t around anymore ever since he hurt his shoulder, and the beach house didn’t come with a playstation. He also wasn’t on tour anymore. Turns out boredom is a dangerous yet helpful tool. Writing out your feelings in a journal for later when you’re bored and alone is helpful for songwriting. So does wanting to disappear.
“Found some Reese’s in the back of the fridge too. I know you’re probably really hungry, but it's all I could find.”
Right. I have a doppelgänger. Trent snapped his attention from his thoughts and onto the older Trent.
“Thanks,” He took the unopened two-pack of peanut butter cups and two ibuprofens from the other.
“Don’t mention it...” Older Trent looked towards the window, presumably watching the shore whilst the younger man swallowed the pills. The orange wrapper crinkled when pulled apart. He grabbed the white paper tray and pulled out the two cups. Trent decided to offer Reese's to his newfound company. He took out one of the chocolate covered cups and held it out.
The stronger man kept his eyes on the water. Trent took that as a “no thank you.” After not consuming anything other than tequila for more than 10 hours, the Reese’s cups just reminded him of how hungry he truly was. It’s not like Trent from yesterday went grocery shopping though. He slipped one between his lips, the peanut butter tacky on the roof of his mouth. The sweetness made him want to reach for something less sweet to wash it down with. He instinctively reached for the nearest bottle to his bed.
The Jose Cuervo bottle that he’d loved on the night before was the first item to reach his hand. Trent flinched when the bitter brewed taste hit his tongue. A wild whiplash compared to the chocolatey sweetness of a Reese’s peanut butter cup. The tequila served its purpose, helping the thick peanut butter go down. He noticed through the clear glass his doppelgänger was staring at him now. This one is mine. Trent’s thought was almost possessive, pulling the bottle down closer to his chest.
“There’s more in the living room,” Trent invited the other to get his own drink. Older Trent frowned.
“I don’t drink anymore.” His doppelgänger spoke firmly, turning silent.
“Suit yourself,” The younger one nursed a sip of his tequila. Drinking himself away again seemed more and more appealing by the moment. Maybe if he passed out again the other man would be gone.
“Let's go swim.”
“What?” Trent set the tequila back at the bedside, the bitter aftertaste palpable in the puff of his breath.
“C’mon,” The older one slid off of the bed and calmly exited the room.
“Dude, wait-“ Trent stumbled out after him, wooden floor cool underneath his feet.
The layout of the beachhouse allowed Trent to follow easily. The hallway bled into an open kitchen and living room, pretty much barren except for the occasional empty glass bottle. He’d been holed up in the bedroom with only the occasional run to the store the whole trip. Sometimes, though, he’d go outside when he couldn’t sleep and walk the beach.
The shore wasn’t very different in the morning, and a mild breeze pushed at his robe when he reached the porch stairs outside. His doppelganger was waiting for him at the bottom. Each step felt stronger than the other, the downwards descent didn’t feel as intimidating with someone else there.
“Why are we out here?” His question garnered no response.
Seagulls squawked overhead as though encouraging him. Fourteen wooden steps in total. Morning sand was cool between his toes, slightly warmed from the sun. Trent exhaled softly. His headache was less persistent but still present.
He followed the stronger man down to the edge of the water. Older Trent started stripping, pulling off his tight black tanktop first. Trent couldn’t help but watch, his eyes scanning over his muscular physique. Fatty pectorals defined down to the light outline of abs with a healthy layer of fat obscuring them for the most part. It was his own body, but at the same time it wasn’t. Heavy saliva gathered in his mouth subconsciously.
Trent swallowed thickly. He looks good. Wide hands reached to unbuckle a leather studded belt, carefully sliding it undone. If the older one noticed Trent ogling he didn’t comment on it.
He scrunched down his black skinny jeans to his ankles before shaking the garment off. Older Trent didn’t hesitate before pulling his black briefs off too, tossing his clothes into some big pile a couple feet away.
The older man kept walking into the waves until he was to his knees. Trent followed him, curious. The edges of his robe were definitely soaked, standing just behind the other quietly.
“When I was here, I never got the chance to go in the water. “ Older Trent spoke softly. “I was scared. Deep down, if the waves would pull me in, I don’t think I would’ve fought against them.” He turned to face Trent, nude and calm. “It gets better. I promise,”
His assurance struck a sort of anxiety within Trent rather than a comfort.
“When?” Trent blurted. “When does it get better?”
Older Trent only offered a smile. A wistful sort of expression. Trent wasn’t sure what that meant. Then there was a hand on his cheek. Warm compared to the cold water lapping at his knees. His thumb brushed Trent’s face in a way that made Trent’s heart ache. Did the older man pity his younger self? He obviously knew Trent would live after this trip, and he understood Trent the most out of anyone else in the world. But what was this feeling? Trent could feel his own expression soften.
Trent ran a hand over the one cupping his face, gingerly squeezing it.
Affection, self love at its core.
Trent closed the distance between them, sucking the other’s bottom lip. It was a tender action. Almost too gentle. His doppelgänger was still for a moment as if caught off guard. Trent was about to pull away before strong hands guided him into place, crooked teeth fiddling with his top lip.
The older man pushed aside the robe obscuring Trent’s right shoulder. He pressed his hand flat against Trent’s clavicle, gliding down to his chest. Rough fingerpads gently twisted a nipple, running over the hardening bud. Trent gasped into the kiss, the stimulation ran a shiver down his spine. It’d been a while since he’d had a good lay.
Trent grasped the older man’s wrist, guiding his hand further down his body. His doppelgänger withdrew from the kiss, mouthing down to the crook of Trent’s neck. With one hand Trent undid the lazy knot keeping his robe closed and allowed the older man to continue his descent.
Brushing past his thin happy trail, older Trent’s palm was delightfully warm as it wrapped around his member. Everything was going by so fast, he didn’t have time to think. Trent let himself be guided onto sand, his robe acting as a barrier against the harsh grains as he was stripped.
Spit-wet digits prodded at his hole. A lukewarm sensation that dug up a sense of discomfort amidst his numbed thoughts.
“Wait-“
Older Trent paused, hovering the warmth of his fingers inches away. Trent swallowed harshly, looking up at his doppelgänger's face.
At this distance, a tiny little dot caught his eye in the other green eye staring back at his own. The optometrist first pointed it out to him in junior high, a mild cause of concern, since in rare cases eye freckles could develop into cancer. Such a development never happened. It’s just been there. He never found it to be any more aesthetically pleasing than disfavorable, but looking at it now from outside the mirror… there was a sort of beauty to it, a delightful contrast to the hues of green.
“Everything okay?” Mild concern toned the older man’s voice.
Trent’s mind had wandered. “Yeah…Just not down there. Not today,”.
“Okay, s’alright.” Older Trent murmured, wrapping his hand around Trent’s rising erection instead. The younger shivered in his hold. “Is this good?” Older Trent asked the man underneath him tenderly.
Trent nodded with a sharp inhale as a rough thumb pad swiped over the delicate surface of his frenulum. He couldn’t help but fixate back on the reflection of an older version of himself above him. He’d never really particularly considered himself attractive, and in fact he was surprised when he found out PlayGirl magazine had named him the sexiest rocker of 1994. It was flattering of course, but he was never particularly seeking that sort of attention.
Perhaps it becomes hard to get out of the lustful eyes of porno magazines when you release a music video with nudity and BDSM imagery in it in the first place. Even now though, the older man’s pointy long nose gave him some sort of perverted delight. The crooked nature of the cartilage, paired with its protruding bridge added to his rugged look. The stubble on the jaw wasn’t bad either.
Trent himself had tried growing some facial hair in the past, though none of the looks had particularly stuck. Maybe one day he’ll commit to a beard. His train of thought was derailed when the older man shifted his thick erection on top of Trent’s. A delicious heat pulsated from the appendage.
He gasped, not expecting a firm palm to wrap as much as it could around both of their dicks. Tight, hot and slick with spit. Trent couldn’t help the lust fueled bucking of his hips.
“Feels good doesn’t it?” The older man hummed.
Trent whined softly, the hand slicking up and down faster. His hands reached for support, finding strong shoulders to grapple onto.
“Ah fuck-“ Another rough hand smoothed over his hip. The morning breeze was cool against his tender flesh. Older Trent gasped, leaning down for another kiss.
Trent cupped the other's face, black stubble prickled his finger pads. He sucked hungrily on the older man's bottom lip, briefly introducing tongue before a low moan climbed its way past his lips.
The older man smiled against him, placing more chaste kisses. Trent could feel the knot in his stomach tighten by the second. His dick twitched within the other man's grasp, heavy with blood. Older Trent thrusted into the shared grip, grinding delightfully into Trent’s delicate flesh.
The hold on Older Trent’s face loosened and instead wrapped his arms over the older man’s neck. He grasped at thick muscled shoulders. Skin hot and emitting light sweat. Trent shivered, whining softly when Older Trent gently shook off Trent’s arms and sat up.
“Hhngh- wait,” A sense of panic struck him as the tight grip around their members withdrew.
Older Trent shushed him softly, scooting back to fit his head between the younger’s legs. “I’m still here,” he muttered assuredly.
Trent watched as his doppelgänger wrapped his thin lips over the tip of his head. His mouth was hot and wet, sucking on Trent’s tip before taking in about half of the younger’s length.
Christ. He moaned high and sweet, thighs squeezing the older man’s head. A thick hand groped his ass, running up to squeeze his upper thigh. His hips bucked, shivers shaking down his spine.
“Ah shit— just like that,” Trent gasped as the older man began bobbing his head with clear skill. Pale fingers clenched the red robe beneath him. The knot in his lower half squeezed tighter when the older man placed a protective hand over Trent’s soft hip. His delicate skin shivered under the heat of Older’s Trent’s assuring palm.
Trent inhaled sharply, a hot tongue firmly licking up his erection. His eyes flew down to the older man, Jesus. Older Trent nuzzled his cheek against the spit wet appendage in front of him. A charming smirk exuded confidence, the red puff of his lips made the image only more erotic.
“You want more, pretty boy?” The older man hummed, pressing a kiss too chaste on the underside of Trent’s dick. Trent nodded fervently, a soft exhale parting his parched lips. The pet name sent a tingle down Trent’s spine. “Tell me,” He cooed lavishly with a coy smile.
Trent stared at him briefly. Processing what was being asked of him. He was too close to stop now.
“Please..” the younger mumbled.
“Please…what?” Thin lips mouthed at his tip. Any sort of subconscious bucking was put to a stop by the strong hand on his hip. The power the older man had over him was nauseously arousing.
“Yes…please,” He muttered breathily.
Older Trent grinned. “Good.”
A sense of relief lifted off of Trent’s chest as the older Trent kissed his frenulum before going down once again. Trent cried out in pleasure, his body futile in its jerks of ecstasy underneath the older man's grip.
The hand groping his ass traveled to the sensitive skin of his groin, curving to fondle his balls. The younger moaned softly, every skilled move the other man made only pushed him further.
The knot inside finally snapped, a heavy feeling accompanying his orgasm. Trent gasped, his member twitching as hot cum spurted past the older man’s lips. Caught off guard, older Trent pulled away. Trent would be lying if he didn't think the way his cum splattered in uneven spots onto older Trent’s face was hot.
The older man cursed under his breath, unhooking
Trent’s legs from his thick shoulders. Trent watched him try to wipe the cum off of his face. The younger panted softly, coming down from his high.
“Sorry,” Trent muttered, not that he actually felt remorse but it just felt right to say.
“S’okay,” the older man assured as he got up. Trent’s focus was immediately drawn to the bigger man’s remaining erection.
“You want me to do anything ‘bout that?” Trent propped himself up on his elbows, pointing at the elephant in the room.
Older Trent shook his head. “Later. Let’s get you clean first.,” He turned away to pick up the pile of clothes he’d discarded awhile ago. Trent himself got up and secured his robe again.
Back inside, Older Trent insisted on a hot shower for the both of them. Sea water was dirty, and fucking on top of a loosely sprawled bed robe with sand all around wasn’t exactly sanitary either. Older Trent’d even snuck a comment about Trent’s greasy hair.
That's how Trent found himself partially under a hot spray of water with his doppelgänger scrubbing his back with a soapy loofah. Sharing a shower wasn’t as sexy as the movies pretended they were. Someone gets the hot water while the other person waits in the cold for their turn. The silence was a bit awkward too, but the older man behind him didn’t seem to mind it too much.
Trent was also trying to ignore the other man’s still blaring erection, occasionally brushing against his back. The feeling only made him want to turn around to help the man but Older Trent had insisted that Trent didn’t need to do anything for him.
The older man had a possessive grip on Trent’s soft waist, moving the loofah down to Trent’s lower back. His doppelgänger set aside the loofah and detached the shower head, letting hot water soak away the suds. Once the action was finished, Older Trent draped his bigger figure against Trent’s back, his soft muscles almost felt like a cushion. Strong arms curled over Trent’s stomach, resting just above his hips.
Trent’s dick twitched in arousal with his doppelgänger’s thicker member gliding over his ass. He couldn’t take it anymore.
“Christ dude, just fuck me already,” He blurted, whipping his head as far back as it could turn. Older Trent seemed surprised, his eyebrows hiked upwards at the sudden demand. “Or…just let me help at least. There's no way that doesn’t hurt.” Trent motioned to the erection digging in his back.
Older Trent was quiet for a moment as though thinking of a solution. He suddenly moved his arm, lightly patting Trent’s thigh.
“Open.” A simple yet effective demand. Trent slightly widened his stance, allowing the older man to fit his erection just underneath Trent’s sensitive member but also between his thighs. Trent looked down to see the red tip peaking out between his thighs. His dick twitched in interest, already having cum a few minutes ago finding the situation was arousing nonetheless. Older Trent patted Trent’s thigh again, signalling for him to close.
Trent swallowed harshly.
“Fuck,” The older man cursed as milky thighs squeezed around his erection. A shiver ran down Trent’s spine, when his doppelgänger’s hot breath hit his earlobes.
Trent leaned forward to grasp at the shower tiles in front of him for support. Older Trent reared back his hips before thrusting forward between Trent’s thighs. His thick erection grinded deliciously underneath Trent’s over-sensitive dick, eliciting a whimper from the younger.
“C’mon big guy,” Trent murmured encouragingly, daring to squeeze the older man's member. His doppelgänger grunted. Strong hands gripping Trent’s pudgy love handles were his only warning before Older Trent started properly fucking his thighs.
The younger gasped softly, still way too sensitive from cumming earlier. Skin slapping against skin, the lewd sound was nearly drowned out by the shower. The hot water had shifted mostly onto the older man. Trent steadied his palms against the cold shower tiles, trying not to be rocked forward with each heavy thrust.
“I know you’re—ah—close, no way you’re not with all this time.” The stimulation already was beginning to feel too much against Trent's post-orgasmic body, the underside of his member felt raw over the older’s harsh snap of the hips.
Older Trent chuckled in his ear, resting his chin briefly on Trent’s shoulder before licking a hot stripe on the back of his sensitive ear lobe. Trent gasped, his thighs squeezing together in pleasure. His doppelgänger moaned, gripping the younger’s hips tighter.
Trent let the other have his way with him, wondering briefly how much better the stronger man’s harsh pace would’ve been inside of him. He couldn’t help but inhale sharply at the thought. Arousal began to build in his stomach again. Trent squirmed in his doppelgänger’s hold, occasionally pushing back into the attention.
The older man pressed kisses down Trent’s nape. Almost too romantically. Trent could hardly focus on the gentle display of affection when his inner thighs felt like they were being rubbed raw. Older Trent settled his chin on Trent’s shoulder, pressing a final kiss to the younger’s neck before focusing on his own release.
Trent could feel his doppelgänger’s member spasm as the older man finally climaxed. His cum diluted down the drain, some of it beginning to drip down Trent’s thigh. Older Trent sighed, his tight grip on Trent’s love handles relaxing.
He didn’t pull out until a brief moment later, not bothering to detach the rest of himself from Trent. They stood for what felt like forever, thick arms wrapped around the younger’s body. Trent found that he didn’t mind it too much.
Older Trent left the shower first, telling Trent that he would be waiting in his room. Trent took his time tidying up, washing himself.
Trent turned the shower handle, the water coming to a screeching halt.
He stepped out of the shower with a shiver.
Weird. There was only one towel by the towel rack and there weren't any wet footsteps on the tiles.
With a mild confusion, Trent briefly ruffled his wet hair with the towel before tying it around his trembling body. The bathroom door itself was closed as though another man hadn’t just left the room. As Trent got closer to the door he noticed the door was locked. A sense of panic sparked through his chest.
He rattled the doorknob, pushing the door open into the hall. Trent scrambled through the thin hallway. His heart dropped. The bedroom was desolate aside from empty bottles, various garments discarded on the floor, and a ruffled bed. The usual.
Trent was alone. Again. Turns out his lack of sleep was getting to him. At least, that was the most rational explanation he could think of. He exhaled, feeling rather melancholic.
Seagulls' squawking alerted his attention to the broken window. He paced over to the window sill. Perpetual waves fizzled out as they lapped the sand. Trent could barely see the foam left behind.
The static of the sea was louder than ever, he swallowed harshly, not sure what he was looking for amidst the empty shoreline. Searching….