Rating: +18. (Harsh language, slash sex, use of drugs, controversial matters)
Pairing: Vin/Karim; Vin/Sara (OFC); Vin/Gabriel (OMC). Valentino/Sara (eventually)
Summary: there’s a time in your life when you have to make up your mind, knowing in advance that no matter what decision you may end up taking, there will be consequences. It’s only harder when you have to choose between living a lie for the sake of your career or risking everything so you finally are able to be truly happy.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Mr. Vin Diesel, Mr. Valentino Morales or any other person famous or not that you can recognize. The rest of characters are mine. No money had been made, no damage done. This is just for entertainment purposes.
Feedback: Of course, as long as it’s your honest opinion.
Archive: No, thanks. ONLY at the Redlight Blog/the Beautiful Blog.
NJ’s note: This story has been inside my head for a few months now. Yes, I know ‘same ‘ol deal’ but it’s true. With the exception of the prologue, each chapter will be divided in two parts. The first part is taking place in the present time. The second part will be Vin’s and Gabriel’s memories and they will be shifting from Vin’s to Gabriel’s point of view and vice versa. I hope is not too confusing, but I guess that you’ll let me know if that’s the case.
I’d like to thanks evilgrin for being yet once more my beta and for offering me her unconditional support, respect and love. Thank you, woman!!
Hi, my name is Gabriel Esteban Montes, I’m 25 year old and homosexual. I never liked the word ‘gay’ too much, but I admit I use it frequently. And before you start assuming shit, let me tell you that not, I’m not a ‘crystal queer’ and I’m not a ‘fairy’ either. I’m not effeminate and I’m not affected. In fact, if we cross paths in the street, you wouldn’t be able to know what I like in the sack.
I never had to leave the closet; in fact there was no closet to leave to begin with. You see? I don’t have a family, not that I know, anyway. So I never felt the need to hide my sexual orientation, which I had pretty clear since I was eleven year old, nor I had to worry about what my non-existent family members might think about it, or had to suffer the psychological struggle of being accepted the way I am. That’s probably one of the few benefits of growing up in the streets.
Street kids never gave a rat’s ass about that sort of things; they were busier searching for something edible to carry to their mouths and to have a safe, dry place to crash, avoiding to be raped or killed than worrying about what the preferences regarding sex of the kid sleeping at their side were. As long as you didn’t mess around and minded your own goddamned business, no one gave a fuck. Mostly ‘cause half the ‘straight’ kids ended up doing whatever in exchange of food. Sad but true. No point on denying the evidence.
Concerning foster homes, shelters, caretakers, social workers and the like, the fact I liked cock was just incidental/anecdotal stuff, since they cared about that fact as much as they cared about the next one. In other words, they never gave a fuck either. To all of them we, street kids, were just one more entry to add to the annual stats.
Now, with that said. Let’s move onto less teary-eyed stuff.
I’m also a painter, or rather wish I become one some day. If I manage to put together the money I need to start taking classes at the art school, that’s it. Meantime, I have two jobs. I’m a go-go dancer and a porno actor.
Gee! Don’t give me that look, guys! A man has to eat and at least it’s legal deal. It pays the bills too, which is more than most jobs do, but I keep struggling to reach the end of the month all the same. However, you probably like to know that the nightclub where I dance six nights a week is paying for my health insurance, and that alone is a luxury these days.
I’ve been told that I’m good at acting; I even was nominated for a GayVN Award. Best Newcomer, but I didn’t win, and you won’t see me crying over that. However, I’m a busy actor and I’ve shot 20 movies already, playing all kind of roles. Firefighter, cop, doctor, business man, secret agent, vampire…you name it, but all my dialogue lines put together will fit on one page, and for one side.
Being a porno actor is an aspect of my life that I rather left alone; I’m not very proud of it. But like I said, it pays my bills and put food in my stomach, so it’s not like I can bitch about it a lot. Although if I’m honest, then I have to confess that I hate it, more and more each day. In fact, I hate this shit with everything in me, but I’m paid more than in any other shitty job. Life has already been fucking me real good since I was a kid, so to have a 12 inch massive cock up my ass feel more like a cruel metaphor than any other thing.
It’s a good thing that there’s anyone around who may feel disappointed or ashamed of me, with the exception of myself, that is. No friends, no family, not even a pet. Partners is all I have, at least most of them are nice and treat me with respect and affection, like Max, and take care of me, like Fred.
My life could be far worse than this, but I still hate it all the same. So that’s the reason why I created this wonderful place within my head. A place that I keep coming back as often as I can to runaway from the reality that surrounds me when it gets so awful, sordid and sad that I can’t stand it.
It’s a deserted beach. The sea spray whirls against the shore as its curled waves playfully lap the sand, drawing fanciful shapes. A soft, salty breeze caresses my naked body as the sun warms my skin. I really love this place. It’s so quiet in here. There’s no one else aside of me. I’m alone and at peace, and a profound calmness wraps me. In here I feel saved and secured but above all I feel in control of my little universe. It’s indeed a really wonderful place.
Sadly enough, I know that, eventually, I’ll end up being pulled out of it, most likely by a hand fisting my hair, and I’ll snap my eyes open in a reflex action, even though I’ll know that I won’t see anything because I’ll be blindfolded. My wrists will hurt; the ropes probably will be tie too tight and it’ll likely scrape/scratch the sensitive skin. I’ll end up with a couple of bruises too, not because I’ll be hurt on purpose, but because some of my partners take matters like ‘credibility’ and ‘verisimilitude’ beyond the standard limits. But again, it comes with the business.
My shoulders will feel numb and, once more, I’ll find myself fighting back tears, repeating no end to myself ‘I can do this’, as though some sort of mantra, naively hoping that if I keep chanting that line, then the reality won’t end up devouring me.
Yeah, right. I’m dead wrong, and I already know that, but I’m also a dreamer, and dreams are the only thing that you don’t have to pay for having them.
Most people that know about my past in the streets can’t believe I’m the way I am. They find shocking that I didn’t turn into a bitter soul. Well, as unbelievable as it may sound, I’m not that way. I’m glad I’m off the streets and grateful too. If I learnt something while sleeping under cardboard and digging among trash bins, it was to appreciate what I have, and to live my life as though there wouldn’t be a tomorrow.
I’ll spare you the nasty details, mostly because that’s part of my past and I already moved on. But you should know that I managed to make through it without losing the tinniest bit of hope. Maybe that’s the reason why almost all people I know think that I’m too ‘naïve’ for my own good, and that being unable to bear a grudge against people is not the wisest way to walk around.
Well, that’s the way I am. Take me or leave me, but if you gonna fuck me, expecting for me to bow my head at your command, then you’re in for a nasty surprise, because I may be what people call a good egg and I sure as hell am unable to bear a grudge for long, but I’m also a restless fighter who won’t put up with any shit just for the hell of it.
Hi, my name is Vin Diesel. Well, okay, that’s my stage name. My real name is Marc Sinclair Vincent, but only my mother gives me the ‘whole name’ deal, and only when she’s pissed off. I’m a famous actor; a celebrity known across the five continents and I have a small legion of fans.
I love my life; I really do. I have the best friends a man can wish for, a family that loves me unconditionally and that shows me its support time and again, a job that I’m addicted to and that satisfies me in every level and a wonderful daughter that I’d die for. I guess that it can’t get any better, right? Wrong. There’s no love in my life.
Don’t get me wrong. I have the love of my family, my friends and my fans, and most days all that love is more than enough. But that’s all I have. There’s no LOVE in my life, if you know what I mean.
At least, not the sort of love that leaves you breathless and aching. Not the one that causes your heart to start racing like a wild horse or that makes you feel butterflies, wildly fluttering within your stomach.
Yeah, I know, do not roll your eyes at me, ladies. I’m a romantic at heart, even though I’m pretty conscious of the fact that I’m not precisely the epitome of a romantic fella. Damn! Okay, you can laugh as much as you feel like it, but I wasn’t joking when I told Letterman on that interview that I was the regular ‘meat and potato’ type of guy. Problem is that just a few people want to hear about that.
Most people would be disappointed if they find that most of us celebrities would rather stay at home, doing whatever than going out and about. Sadly enough, home-loving does not sell as remotely good as it does being caught drunk and partying. Not to mention that no one would believe that, in my case, I rather expend my time playing with my daughter or with my Xbox 360 with a bunch of friends than taking any chick to a party.
Speaking of chicks I take to party. I know that most of you think that I’m what people call a ‘cradle snatcher’ because I always go out and about with really young chicks. But I have my reasons to act in such a way.
First off, they are easy to manipulate and most of them, if not all, put up with my bullshit without complaining. In second place, you should know that they make for the best cover up ever. Why? You asked yourself. Well, I think I didn’t mention it before but I’m ‘closeted’ bisexual.
Yeah, I know, I know. I shocked the hell out of me, too, the day I realized it. But what do you want me to say? I can have the best of both worlds, so why would I refuse to have my fun with around one quarter of the population? It doesn’t make sense, not in my book. Anyway, back to why I date young girls.
The third reason is because everybody knows that any ‘grown up’ woman would send me to hell in five minutes tops. Of that I’m very conscious too, but I’m not ready for a commitment, not yet, at least not the kind of commitment any mature, self-centered woman in her thirties or forties would expect. What do you want me to tell you? I’m a hopeless romantic and a ‘closeted’ bisexual but also a Peter Pan at heart. Ha!
The thing is that the only emotional responsibility I have is to my daughter, to her mother, to my friends and to the rest of my family.
To my daughter because she’s the only person in my life that is pure and innocent. That little baby girl has me wrapped around her little finger since the very first time I saw her, and each time she smiles at me, I find myself chocking back tears of joy. She’s probably the only one who would love me forever for who I am and not for what I am. Unfuckingbelievable, if you ask me.
To her mother because Paloma is the only girl I know that is as beautiful inside as outside, if not more. Unselfish, loyal, caring and generous beyond limits. She’s one hell of a girl that willingly offered me the unique chance to experience fatherhood without caring what people might say about her. And believe me, the poor girl took a lot of shit, and still does, just because she is the mother of my daughter. I say that is terribly unfair, but she just smiles and says that it’s okay, that she doesn’t care because she’s happy and doesn’t regret the decision she made. Isn’t she wonderful?
And last but not least to my friends and the rest of my family because without them I wouldn’t be where I am today. They trusted me when no one else did and offered me their unconditional support without asking for anything in return. They never turned their backs on me and were and still are available each and every time I need them.
So, yeah, my only commitment is to all the people I mentioned above, but still, I have yet to run into that LOVE with capital letters. And, in the meantime, I keep pretending I’m not looking for it, playing along and fooling around, so that to convince myself that I don’t really need it, but I swear each day is harder to pretend.