Words, Music, Sex and Sin
Angyl and Rina
Disclaimer: The songs aren't ours - they belong to Tea Party, a great Canadian band that just had the right sound, the right lyrics and the right sensuality for Zane.
Collecting his drink, Marcus Rider shouldered his way away from the bar, deftly managing not to spill it on himself or any of the other patrons crowding Byzantium. Fuck, it wasn't even eleven yet and the place was already wall-to-wall queens. Of course, the rumor that All Souls' Night might be making an appearance to try out some of their new songs probably had a lot to do with the crowd, not that the place would have been echoing without them.
Spotting the friend he'd come with, Marc bulled his way toward the other man, shaking his head when he made it there. "Jesus, you think people had never seen a band before."
"Honey, I've seen bands aplenty. What we're looking at tonight is prime jerking off material. I for one plan to have myself a grand evening after this with my thoughts of that delicious lead singer and a bottle of Jergens."
Marc slugged back a good portion of his tequila sour, slinging his arm around the tall brunette's shoulders. "David, if that's all you come with tonight, you're really a sad bastard. If he gets you that hot, ya gotta figure that everyone else in here is going to be in the same boat. If you can't score tonight..." He finished by digging his hand his pocket, bringing out a small baggie. "Now come on, open your mouth like a good boy, then go enjoy yourself."
Waiting until David swallowed the E, Marc tossed one into his own mouth, washing it down with the rest of his drink. "Now get out there and have fun. And if you do not get laid tonight, I'm disowning you!"
"But what about you..." The other man's question was swallowed in the din of the pulsing music as Marc headed back into the writhing mass of bodies gyrating to the techno beat. He soon found a partner and let the music dictate his moves, his unbuttoned green shirt growing damp with sweat from the exertion. He probably shouldn't have taken the E, not when he was hoping to talk his way backstage and set up an interview with the band's lead singer, Zane, but fuck. You go to a club, you use. It was simple.
Some time later, just how long Marc had no idea, the music cut off, and the lights came up enough to illuminate the stage located at one end of the club. The patrons ran like lemmings toward the riser, Marc moving along easily with them, losing his dance partner but gaining a spot in the front - a good bargain as far as he was concerned.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, the event you've been waiting for: Please welcome All Souls' Night!!"
The stage went black, a thick layer of dry ice billowed out over the stage, and then the lights came up, dark red and black light. The music began to throb, an animalistic beat full of hard rhythms, driving beats and primal fire. Out of the black center of the stage, where the drum kit normally was, Zane prowled from the darkness, black leather and skin, looking like some sort of leather rock god, his eyes slumberous, his mouth pouting and his body primed for sin. As he moved forward another section of the stage rolled out revealing the drummer, Ian, or Freak as he was called, pounding out a sensual backbeat to the song.
The black leather vest Zane wore showed both his armband and his navel tattoo, the leather pants showed skin from waist to ankle, intersected only by the criss-crossing of leather strips. He was smoking tonight, sex incarnate, high on E and wanting to get laid. A tomcat on the prowl, a bad boy looking to corrupt.
Opening his mouth, Zane began to sing:
Driven by restrained desire
Drowning in a sea of rage
We exist in a world where the fear of
Destined by a fate so cruel
Zane prowled the stage, a hunter looking for his prey, his hips rolled, his body tempted, and then he saw just the tasty treat he wanted to devour tonight. There, pressed against the stage - grinding against it. He would do nicely.
Marc looked up, was caught in the hungry gaze of the lead singer's eyes, and felt himself start to harden. Jesus, the man was sex incarnate. Was it any wonder men and women alike both threw themselves at him?
The drug coursing through Marc's blood made everything sharper, clearer, brighter, and he licked his lips, imagining how the singer's tattooed skin would taste under his tongue, how his toned body would feel under his palms. Even as the writer ran his hand through his brown hair, pulling his shirt farther apart, exposing his flat, tanned stomach, a part of his brain was taking note of everything about Zane. He needed a sex-god rock star for his next book, and by God, that was what was in front of him. Poor Brad wouldn't know what hit him, but Marc definitely wanted to find out.
Zane belted out two more sets, playing to the audience, letting the hit of E burn through him and make him burn them. Tomorrow he'd watch the feedback of the tape his manager was making, improve on techniques, watch how the crowd responded, but tonight he was here for fun. This was the part of performing he loved the best. The waves of lust and admiration that poured off the crowd, the hoarse screams and the gyrating bodies. This was what he lived for, he and the band.
To his left and right the girls of the band, basist Gigi and lead guitarist Cory added their own brand of sexuality, sensuality and eroticism to the show. All four members of the band were extroverts and proud of it.
Gigi had a penchant for little leather and lots of skin. Short and agile, she was a living flame, sort of in your face but too damned sexy for anyone to be offended. Cory on the other hand, was a cool, sensual drink; she was the ice to Gigi's fire, but she burned in her own way. The drummer, Freak, with his tattoos, piercings and wild hair was the fourth member.
Between the four of them, there wasn't a dry crotch in the place, and that was just the way they all liked it. They each got a rush from the energy that came with such a scene, the knowledge that they had a room full of people wanting them. Zane found it a high that no drug could replace; however, it was paling in comparison to the lust burning through him for one person in particular.
The man he wanted was still in the front row, watching him with devouring eyes. Such a pretty man. He wanted a pretty man tonight. All hard planes and sharp angles, not the pillowy softness of a woman. Women were old for him now, he'd done too many of late. Now he wanted raw power, heat, and vice. He wanted raw, dangerous sex. He wanted the man watching him with hunger.
One more song, he thought, one more set and then they'd call it a night, but first... Prowling off stage for a moment, he talked to one of his security men, pointing out the man he wanted. Nodding in agreement, the two guards made their way out to the floor to invite his latest object of lust back stage to meet the star.
Returning to the stage, Zane cued the band and launched into the last song of the evening.
I saw a face in the mirror
I only wanted a friend
Senseless is pleasure
Lost in a combination of lust and plotting, Marc didn't notice the two beefy guys flanking him until one of them tapped his shoulder. "You're in luck tonight. Zane wants you to come backstage. You interested?"
Was he interested? Giving the official looking badges the pair wore a look, Marc tilted his head back toward the stage, giving a slow smile when he caught the singer looking in his direction. "You could say that," he murmured, following the pair through the crowd and around the back of the stage.
Zane smiled as he watched the security boys escort the lush number backstage as he finished the song. He was so pumped by the audience, the smell of sex and frenzy, and the drug pumping through his veins that he talked the band into one final encore before calling it a night and leaving the crowd in chaos. Damn, he loved nights like this.
Accepting a towel from one of his people, the rock singer looked over to where the hot little number he'd picked out was sitting, flanked by the security boys. Waving them off, he stalked right up into the pretty boy's personal space even as he peeled off his sweat-drenched shirt. "I'm Zane and you're fucking gorgeous. Care to play with me tonight?"
Taking his time, getting a good eyeful of the singer's washboard abs and the tantalizing lines of the tattoo circling his navel, Marc smiled. "I'm Marcus and in answer to your question..." Without any further warning, he slid one hand around Zane's neck, pulling him in for a hot, open-mouthed kiss, his other hand sliding lower to cup Zane's groin, kneading the hard bulge of his erection.
Zane accepted the kiss, took it over and dominated the younger man's mouth, feasting on his succulent lips. "Very nice indeed," the singer purred, grinding his cock into Marc's hand. "I like playful men. Let's get out of here."
Waving to Ian and the girls, who seemed to want to stay and party or maybe find their own playmates, and the crew, Zane pulled Marcus along behind him and out the back door to the club. A car was waiting, and the driver held open the door for the two men to climb inside. Tinted windows and a dividing screen allowed them even more privacy.
Popping the cork on a bottle of Moet & Chadon, Zane forwent glasses and chugged right from the bottle before offering it to his companion. "Care for some champagne or would you rather drink what you were playing with inside?" he purred, unzipping his pants from the back and pulling them over his hips to reveal a large and straining cock, dripping with precum.
"If the answer is the second, then there's condoms in the center console, lube too but I'd rather save that for a bed - or in front of my windows," the rocker continued with a wicked grin.
Marc groaned deep in his throat, overcome with a ravenous hunger to gobble Zane's cock to the root and drink him down, condoms be damned. Fortunately, self-preservation took over, and after a lick up the length of the singer's erection, Marc reached into the console and pulled out a handful of rubbers.
Keeping hold of one, he scattered the others on the floor of the car with little care where they landed. "I choose both," he smirked, taking a swig of the bottle even as he rolled the condom down over Zane's cock. Holding the bubbling wine in his mouth, Marc slid to the floor and closed his lips over the head of the singer's erection, letting the bubbles tease the latex coated flesh, grumbling to himself that the rubber probably dulled the sensation some. His own cock was pulsing against his pants, beating in time with his heart, but he didn't care, all he wanted was to hear the smoky-voiced groans as the other man came.
Zane groaned and let his head fall back on the soft leather of the seat, one hand tangling in the blond-streaked hair, the other taking back the champagne bottle to take another mouthful of the bubbly liquid. "Damn, but you have a talented mouth, Marcus," he husked, tracing his way along the younger man's neck and under his shirt to pinch and roll a nipple between his fingers.
The breathy hitch, the slight jerking movement of Marcus' body had the singer grinning. So baby liked it a little piquant. Zane could do piquant. Baby was adventurous too; he liked to play with champagne, Zane thought with a grin. The bubbles were almost elusive, but the knowledge that they were there added the little extra to have him start to thrust up into Marc's mouth. "Suck me, pretty boy. Suck me till I come," he growled quietly, goading the younger man on.
Humming a pleased affirmative, Marc slid a hand into the space between Zane's thighs, cupping his balls and rolling them between his fingers as he took the other man deeper, massaging the head of his cock with his throat muscles as he swallowed.
The small flare of pain as Zane pinched his nipple again made Marc shudder slightly, and he arched his back into the pressure, wanting more of it, knowing that the pain would lead to more pleasure later.
Raking his nails across the tender flesh, Zane pinched and pulled and flicked one nipple then the next, moving back and forth between the two. Another couple of mouthfuls of champagne and the bottle was set back into its container. Snagging an ice cube from the bucket, Zane transferred it into the hand that had better access to Marc's nipples then chuckled as the younger man yelped and bucked when it touched his heated skin.
"Mmmm, pretty, pretty," he purred before letting his head fall back and concentrating on his building orgasm. Oh, the things he planned on doing to this lovely....
Marc's nostrils were filled with the scent of leather and sweat and musk, and he twisted against the chill of the ice cube, twitching when a stream of cold water ran down his chest to pool at the waistband of his jeans.
Sucking harder, lashing Zane's thick erection with his tongue, Marc rubbed a finger over the thin skin behind the singer's balls, teasing the tight portal there. Zane groaned, and Marc pulled off to concentrate on the fleshy head of his cock, his eyes turning upward to watch the older man's handsome features twist with pleasure.
Zane's eyes opened, slumberous with passion, and he looked down at the younger man servicing his cock so well. Big green eyes stared up at him with lust, curiosity and a hint of amusement. It was enough to pique the rocker's interest when very few people did. He'd invite this one to stay the weekend, maybe longer if Marcus proved to be as intriguing as his eyes.
Too caught up in watching those lush lips move against his rubber-coated flesh, the cheeks hollow and expand, and the hazy desire that filled those eyes, Zane's orgasm caught him unawares and left his foundations rocked as wave after wave of bliss exploded through him, leaving him gasping and stunned.
Continuing to mouth Zane's shaft until the last of the pulsations ceased, Marc then stripped the condom off and cleaned the other man up with some of the tissues he'd found in the console. Sliding his hand over the now quiescent flesh, Marc climbed back up onto the seat, slinging one leg over Zane's and rubbing his erection against the singer's thigh.
"That mouth good for anything but singing?" he asked mischievously before taking the bottle and knocking back a swig of the champagne. "Or are we getting near where we're going?" Growling low in his throat, Zane's hand wrapped around the back of Marcus' neck and pulled him in for a kiss, his tongue forcing his way into the champagne-drenched depths of the other man's mouth and raping it thoroughly before letting go.
"We're going to my house in the Beaches, and we've been here for the past five minutes. I just wanted to come before we got out," Zane replied with a throaty chuckle, twisting both the younger man's nipples hard.
Electricity jolted from Marc's abused nipples straight to his cock, and he moaned loudly, swaying forward against Zane before straightening, his eyes alight with lust.
"Anyone ever tell you you're a selfish SOB?" Marc chuckled, rolling his neck to get out the kinks that his angle while on the floor had put in it. "I'd say you've got a lot to make up to me, bub. Don't you think we should get started?"
Giving Zane's cock a final pat, Marc slid across the leather seat, opened the door and got out. Ignoring the driver's surprised look, he stood, surveying the property and the house in front of him. Nice, very nice, though he had to wonder how many dozens of groupies had made this trip before him. Zane got out the other side, only taking time to pull the pants up and tuck himself back in, leaving the back zipper wide open with a view of his rather toned ass. "I'm a singer; of course I'm a selfish bastard," the older man laughed. "I'm every boy's and girl's cream dream, and tonight I'm all yours.
"How many of those pretty boys in that club went home tonight and beat off wishing they were where you are right now, I wonder?" Zane continued, acting the part of the spoiled, jaded rock star to the hilt. "Gonna sell your story to the Star when I let you go?" he teased as he led the other man inside, then used Marcus to shut the door behind them.
"Don't let the act fool you, Marcus," he whispered, rubbing his face against the side of Marc's cheek. "Get to know the real Zane if you dare, not the rock star everyone wants to fuck or be fucked by. Think you're up for that game?"
Turning in the circle of Zane's arms, Marc looked up at the other man, green eyes meeting gray and locking together, neither wanting to be the one to look away first. "If you knew me better, you wouldn't even bother to ask that question," he murmured, sliding his own arms around Zane's neck to pull him closer.
"Not gonna sell the story to the Star either. I know what the price of privacy is for someone famous, and no way am I taking advantage of it. Besides," he continued, arching his hips against Zane's, "who's to say that you won't be the one with the story?" "Ohhh, and we have a mystery on our hands. Someone who understands the need for privacy, someone who understands fame. Not one of the faces of today, I would have recognized you, not political either - would have recognized you there too. You know someone, have been someone, were with someone or are from someone who's lived life in the spotlight, am I right?" Zane asked, brushing his lips across Marc's in a whisper soft kiss.
Walking backwards, the rock star crooked his finger. "Come play with this spider, little fly. I've got a web waiting upstairs just for you." That said, Zane turned and sauntered up the stairs, not once looking behind him.
Even as his cock jumped at the sight of Zane's ass flexing as he climbed the stairs, Marc smiled. The singer was a living contradiction, one that Marc hoped he'd get a chance to try and figure out.
Right now though, he wanted to get fucked, and he wanted it now. Pulling off his shirt, he let it drop on the marble flooring, kicking his shoes off as he started up the stairs. Leaving his jeans and boxer briefs on the upper landing, the writer wandered down the hallway, peering through open doors, stroking himself as he walked, keeping his arousal on the edge. "And just where the hell is this web of yours?"
Zane's disembodied voice echoed down the hall from another set of stairs leading up to the third floor. "Grew tired of spinning a web, decided to worship the moon goddess instead." The older man laughed quietly, the booze, the E, and the hot sex making him wax poetic as the songs began to flow through his brain. Not only intriguing, but inspirational as well... "Ever thought of becoming a muse? You're good at it."
Zane stood naked on the balcony of his third floor loft bedroom, the sliding glass door wide open. All the curtains on the floor to ceiling glass windows were wide open, and the sound of waves crashed, and esoteric new age music played from hidden speakers. "Come dance in the moonlight with me, Marcus," he invited.
Intrigued, Marc climbed the second set of stairs, pausing at the landing and looking around the huge room, feeling instantly relaxed and at peace there despite the lust gnawing at his nerves. "Not much of a muse," he murmured, padding across the silky smooth wood floor, "need to save my creativity for myself mostly." Walking out onto the balcony, Marc moved to Zane's side, their bodies fitting together as if they had been lovers for years, not less than a night. "And what does your worshipping of the moon goddess call for?" he asked as they swayed together, his hands sliding over Zane's back, feathering light touches from his shoulders to his ass.
"I think I'd rather worship you instead," Zane husked, dropping to his knees and taking the other man's shaft into his mouth slowly, relaxing his well trained throat muscles to slowly accept all of the younger man within the confines of his mouth and throat before he started to withdraw once more.
"Fuck!" Marc gasped, his hands going to Zane's shoulders and holding on tightly, his head falling back as the other man deep throated him. Trying to hold his hips still, Marc let out a small whimper, the E and what seemed like hours of arousal as well as Zane's skillful manipulation of his body pushing him to the breaking point.
"Gonna... Better stop," he gasped, wanting nothing more than to have Zane finish what he'd started but conditioned by years of safe sex not to let him.
Cursing quietly, knowing that he needed to play it safe or his mother would have his balls if she ever found out, the older man let go of the cock in his mouth reluctantly. Taking the shaft in his hand he began to rotate and stroke his wrist, the rough calluses built up by years of playing acoustic guitar sliding roughly over the sensitized skin. "Come for me, Marcus," the singer purred. "Come on me. Let me feel you splatter across my skin, paint me!"
The rough friction of Zane's hand moving on his cock proved to be too much when combined with the whiskey smooth voice, and Marc let out a cry, his cock leaping within the almost too tight grasp. Each pulse shot a spray of semen on the kneeling man's chest. Once he was able to focus again, Marc stared at the rivulets, their tracks silvery in the moonlight.
"You've been anointed," he rasped, dropping to his knees alongside Zane and kissing him hungrily before leaning in to lick his own come off the singer's smooth chest. "And washed clean," Zane husked, his mind whirling with desire, lust and the distant strains of music and lyric that teased his senses. Pulling the younger man up for another kiss, this time not caring that he could taste the faint traces of semen in Marcus's mouth, Zane feasted hungrily, grinding into him.
"Lie with me?" he asked, pulling Marc to his feet and into the house towards the huge bed that dominated the center of the room. Vaguely noting the furniture had a Japanese look to it, Marc plastered himself against Zane's side, his hands moving over the singer's body as they walked toward the bed. It was monstrous, at least the size of two king mattresses put together, and covered in a black spread. A profusion of crimson, white and midnight blue pillows covered the upper half of the bed, and white mosquito netting draped artfully around the whole thing, lending it a decadent atmosphere.
Following Zane down to the smooth fabric, Marc crowded up against him, nuzzling the singer's neck and nipping along his jaw. "I have been dying to taste your tattoos all night," he purred, twisting his head to the side and running his tongue over the dark ink on Zane's bicep, tasting sweat, smoke and an addictive flavor that was Zane alone.
"Then taste me, Marcus," Zane husked, drawing his fingers to the sun streaked brown hair of his newest lover. "I'm yours - explore to your heart's content," the singer invited, his own free hand busily stroking firm flesh, tracing and learning.
The pleasure was thick in his veins, like a drug-induced haze, beautiful, slow and sensual. It was an erotic dance that he and Marc wove together, moving, undulating, twisting and writhing. It was addictive and Zane was enraptured.
Eyes smoldering and body hardening almost impossibly fast after his climax, Marc took his time, tracing the black lines with the tip of his tongue, biting at the paler, tender flesh of the inside of Zane's arm. When he was certain that he'd tasted every inch of the design, Marc shifted back up to compare that flavor with that of Zane's mouth.
The singer's hands moved over his body in maddeningly random ways, and it was all Marc could do to push himself to his hands and knees to crawl down the length of Zane's body until the swirling design inked around the other man's navel filled his vision. He lowered his head to lap at the salty flesh, delving into the shallow indentation and feeling Zane's fingers tighten in his hair. Zane purred and stretched, feeling well stroked and petted. It echoed well the predatory feelings of earlier in the night, this lazy, cat-like satiation and reawakening. Marcus was arousing him again, playing all his sweet spots and making the hunger come back.
"If you want to taste all my ink, there's one more tattoo to do," the older man laughed, a throaty and amused sound. "Never thought I'd say this seriously while having sex, but... guess you're gonna have to kiss my ass, Marcus."
A soft chuckle echoed from the writer's lips against Zane's taut stomach. "You want me to do that, you're gonna have to turn over." Crawling to the end of the bed, Marcus sat on his knees, watching avidly while Zane stretched again before rolling to his stomach.
Moving forward, Marcus canted his head to the side, studying the Chinese lettering. "What does it mean?" he asked, swiping his tongue over the marking, tracing the lines, for the moment resisting the desire to spread Zane's asscheeks and taste him there. "It means wicked," Zane purred, arching his back and thrusting his hips up and back so that they were more prominently displayed. His legs shifted slightly wider, and he braced himself on knees and elbows, making contented rumblings deep within him.
Raising his head again, Marc laughed. "Now why does that not surprise me?" Then, taking the invitation so blatantly offered, he dipped his face, lapping at Zane's tightly puckered entrance, groaning at the musky taste that exploded over his tongue.
Wanting the other man as hot as he was, Marc continued probing the tiny hole, pressing his tongue in farther with each cycle. He shifted his weight to one hand and slid the other one under Zane's body, circling and lazily jerking his cock, not wanting him to come yet - when that happened, Marc wanted it to be with the singer slamming into his ass.
The desire flowing through the singer, which had been lazy and sated, began to grow and get a wild edge to it. Pushing harder and harder between the invading tongue and the gentle hand stroking him, Zane growled low in his throat, wanting more.
Zane's hand shot down and yanked the younger man's hand off his cock, and then he dropped and rolled onto his back, free hand scrabbling for both condoms and lube. "I want you to ride me," he commanded quietly. "I want to see you moving on and over me, laying claim to me even as I lay claim to you. Ride me, Marcus, ride me," the singer purred hypnotically even as he slid the condom over his cock and covered it in a thick layer of lube.
"Come anoint me again."
Nearly frantic in his haste to do just that, Marc grabbed for the lube, squeezing it out over two of his fingers. Reaching back, he stretched himself, his eyes going half-lidded at the pleasure and the thought of riding the long, thick cock in front of him.
Zane's low growl told Marc that it was time, and he straddled the singer's waist, steadying his cock and slowly sinking down on to it. Sucking in a breath as he was stretched wide, Marc let out a small sigh when he felt his ass come to rest on Zane's hips. Flexing his thighs, Marc rose up, feeling the pull as Zane's cock slid out of him, then filled him again. He kept his movements controlled at first, but the bite of Zane's fingers into his hips and the sight of the other man snapped Marc's control. He began to move faster, rocking up and down on and against Zane, groaning at each penetration, pinching the singer's nipples with one hand while stroking his own cock with the other.
Zane watched with hooded eyes, moaning softly as Marcus rode him. Tugging the younger man's hand away from his cock, he brought the slightly sticky fingers up to his lips and suckled them, his own hand resuming the stroking as he lavished all the attention on Marc's fingers that he'd wanted to show the other man's cock earlier.
The tight play of muscles in motion, the sibilant sound of bodies slapping together moistly, had both men groaning in need. Over and over they merged together only to nearly separate, the ebb and flow of desire as it built into a frenzied storm. Zane purred his approval, ran a free hand up Marcus' chest to pinch and tease the younger man's nipples before sliding back down to his waist.
Lust reared up, ravenous for more, and gray eyes turned black as the hunger built, and his hips began to snap up to meet Marc's downward thrusts, the hot, silky channel squeezing and teasing him. Zane began to pump Marc harder, faster, wanting to feel the hot semen splatter his chest again, run down his hand in rivulets. His tongue lashed the younger man's fingers, sucking hard as he watched the ever-mounting desire rise in Marc's eyes, and felt the tight clenching of a body on the verge of orgasm.
Releasing the fingers from the heated depths of his mouth, Zane pulled the younger man down, his lips barely brushing against Marc's. "Come for me," he whispered, staring in the hazy blue orbs of his lover. "Come now."
As if waiting for those words to let himself go, Marc shuddered and bucked, his body tightening around Zane's erection as he felt the tremors of his orgasm shoot through him. Giving a strangled moan, Marc sat up, back arching as he drove down onto Zane's cock one final time before everything exploded. Lights flashed across his vision, and he swore that it was his very brains that were spurting from his cock across Zane's chest, pooling in his navel and covering the tattoo there with a haze of opaque liquid.
Marc's still damp fingers clawed down the singer's chest, and his body spasmed around the shaft filling him. Somehow he kept moving, milking Zane's erection with every bit of skill he possessed, feeling the tension mounting in the other man, as he got closer to coming.
"Perfect, so fucking beautiful," the older man gasped as his own cock was squeezed and clenched and manipulated closer and closer to his own orgasm. His hands came to join together with Marc's, and guiding the younger man, he began to rub the hot white cream into his own flesh, making it a part of him.
As Marc's writhing became silky, sated undulations, Zane found his frustration mounting and, with a quick turning of their bodies, switched positions so that he was now pounding into the younger man's blissed out body, desperately seeking his own release. Over and over he slammed into his lover, watching as Marc began to travel over the silky sheets from the force of his thrusts.
Zane was on fire; he needed to be buried completely within this man, just his cock was not enough, or so it felt. He wanted to merge completely, lose himself and his soul inside the sweet haven of Marc's body. "Sweet, so sweet and hot and fierce," he groaned as lazy muscles still methodically clenched and released around him.
Sweat poured and then...
His world shattered apart, a supernova explosion of lust that culminated in a feral cry, a driving rhythm of his hips then complete cessation of movement as he went ramrod straight and cried out his release to whoever cared to hear.
Collapsing on top of the younger man, the madness of the night at last drained out of him, Zane purred, content and sated, his mind and body finally at peace with the night.
In awe of the power and energy Zane used during sex, all Marc could do was lie under the other man, his hands lazily roaming over Zane's back as he recovered from his own orgasm. Jesus, the singer fucked just like he sang, everything out there and in your face, daring you to grab hold and be taken for the ride of your life.
Sighing luxuriously, Marc stretched out under Zane's weight, shifting carefully to let his legs slide down to the other man's thighs, smiling tiredly when he accomplished the move without losing the feel of Zane inside him. He closed his eyes, meaning to do so for only a second, but fell into exhausted slumber, his arms still loosely clasped around Zane's waist. Zane let his heartbeat quiet to its normal speed and felt the sweat cool his body. The hands moving on him were sweet, almost as if Marc was trying to soothe the savage beast. Zane chuckled inwardly at that thought. The beast had been riding his back tonight, close beneath the surface of his skin.
Lifting his head to say something, Zane smiled when he realized the man beneath him was sound asleep. "Of all the gin joints you had to walk into mine," he chuckled, quoting the old Bogey movie. "Now I know how Morrison felt when he met Pamela. I think I've just found my muse."
Kissing the younger man softly, Zane disentangled himself as slowly and gently as he could so as not to wake Marcus. Stripping the condom off, he knotted it and threw it into a semi-hidden garbage can then covered the younger man with a blanket. Throwing on a pair of loose sleep pants and grabbing his acoustic guitar, the singer walked out onto the deck, closing the glass door behind him, and down the outside staircase, heading across the lawn to his favorite spot on the beach, inspiration dogging his heels.
Opening his eyes, Marc was treated to the blurry sight of gauzy draperies hanging over him. He blinked several times, trying to clear his vision, and finally managed to get his contacts moistened enough to see through them. Movement brought with it delicious aches that trigged hazy memories of the previous night, memories that included...
Pushing up to his elbows, Marc looked at the other side of the bed, a smile growing as he studied the dark angel lying asleep next to him. In this light Zane looked younger, softer, though definitely as sexy as he had been last night. Unable to resist, Marc drew a finger lightly down the singer's arm, tracing the tribal band just as he had with his tongue the night before.
Humming happily, Zane opened his eyes and rolled onto his side. "Mmmm, I dreamed of you when I finally went to bed," he sighed, rolling onto his back and tugging the younger man with him. "The reality is much better though. Spend the week with me?"
Scooting over and resting his chin on Zane's chest, Marc thought over the offer. "I've got a meeting on Thursday I can't miss, but other then that I'm free." He chuckled and raised himself a little bit, looking down at the singer. "Sure you won't get bored - or that I won't?" he asked, wanting to leap at the chance to learn more about the man and his lifestyle but not wanting to appear over-eager.
Zane laughed quietly, more of a rumble than anything else. "You telling me that last night were boring? That the way you screamed and wailed and clawed my chest was just you faking an orgasm?" the older man teased.
"I can promise to try not to bore you. In fact you may be surprised by what you see. I'm not all glitz and gloss and rock n roll living. There's a side to me that very few see. You're the first one I've wanted to stay longer than a night," he finished quietly, brushing Marcus' hair out of his eyes.
"Whoa..." Stunned by that bit of information if a bit dubious about it, Marc couldn't answer for a minute. "Yeah, I'd be interested in finding out more about you, as well as having some more of those fake orgasms..." He chuckled before brushing a kiss over the singer's lips. "Besides, there are a few things I need to tell you about myself." A tiny bolt of fear made Marc's stomach quiver. He didn't want to leave, not before he had to anyway, but what would Zane say when he heard of his ulterior motives?
"Tell me after, right now... Fuck me," Zane invited softly.
"Shi-it..." Marc breathed out, his morning erection going diamond hard at the thought of it. "It would be my pleasure." Leaning in, he kissed Zane hungrily, their tongues sliding and twining together as their hands roamed. Clothes weren't a problem as neither had worn any to bed, and soon their cocks were sliding against each other, the friction eased by pre-come. Tearing himself away from the singer's addictive mouth, Marc rocked back onto his knees, his hands trailing down Zane's chest. "Roll over, lover," he purred, fingers dipping into the hollows of the singer's hips. Zane chuckled low in his throat, "Lemme guess, you wanna see my other tattoo, right?" he asked as he slide out from underneath Marcus and got into the position he'd been in last night when the other man had rimmed him, weight on elbows, hips canted up and back, legs spread wide, waiting.
"Like this, Marcus?" he asked with a wicked glint in his eye as he looked over his shoulder, "or would you care to position me elsewhere?"
"There is fine," the writer growled, smacking Zane right over the tattoo before pausing to admire the mark his hand left. Sure that Zane would stay in place, Marc rolled to the side of the bed, grabbing the lube and one of the condoms scattered on the dresser. "And maybe I want to mark you this time, not just stare at your ink..." Even as he ran his hands up Zane's back and over his shoulders, Marc nipped at the unadorned curve in front of him. Wincing then thrusting back into the initial blow, Zane was disappointed when it stopped. It was one of the games he liked to play when in the right mood, and he was finding that he was in that mood this morning. However, the feel of teeth nipping his flesh had him gasping and bucking as the sensation went straight to his cock.
"Fuuuuck." The word was long and drawn out as Zane relaxed into the mattress, letting the mood take him over. "So goood. More," he demanded.
"Why do I get the feeling you're used to being in charge?" Marc murmured, licking at the handprint before closing his lips and teeth on the firm flesh, biting and suckling a rosy passion mark into existence.
One hand slid over Zane's hip, and the other moved forward to rub the small mounds of his nipples. When he heard Zane groan again, Marc pulled back, admiring his handiwork. "God, that's hot. I need to be in you and now."
Squeezing lube out over his hand and Zane's ass, Marc teased the tight muscle with a fingertip before pushing it inside, slicking the passage as he stretched the muscle. "Yessssss," the older man sighed, feeling the finger slide into his body. Lunging back on it, impaling himself to the fullest degree, Zane moaned because it wasn't a sharp enough bite to his pleasure.
"Not your fucking finger, you!" the older man groaned, his hand reaching behind him to grab Marc's cock and squeeze it hard. "I want this inside me, nothing else."
Jaw dropping at the harsh grip on his erection, one that only served to make him harder, Marc snarled. "Keep that up, and you aren't going to get shit in you."
Batting Zane's hand away from his cock, Marc pulled on the rubber and slathered it with lube. Positioning it at the entrance to the singer's body, he leaned in, grabbing Zane's wrists to keep him in place, and shoved inward.
The immediate feeling of glove tight heat gripping him made Marc want to scream, and he managed to keep quiet by closing his teeth on Zane's shoulder as he started to thrust, sharp, staccato movements designed to pleasure them both. Zane's head went back, and he let loose a howl that could probably be heard by the neighbors. The pleasure pain of the younger man's entry combined with the painful pleasure of the bite had him back to his wild, ravenous state of the night before, except this time he wanted to be and was on the receiving end.
"Yes, God, fuck me!" the singer half begged, half commanded as he thrust backwards to meet each stab of Marc's hips, his prostate rammed repeatedly, sending him into paroxysms of pleasure.
Giving a feral smile, Marc tightened his grip on Zane's wrists, not wanting either of them to touch the older man's cock. If he could hold out long enough, he wanted to see if he could make Zane come without doing anything but fucking him.
Rolling his hips, he slammed in before jerking out, each stroke rubbing against the singer's prostate, the shudders wracking Zane's body traveling to Marc through his cock. "Christ, touch me, please, making me crazy, God, fuck. Marcus, will you fucking let me go?" The older man growled and snapped as he lunged into the thrusts, hips rocking and shaking, his whole body one huge nerve connected to his prostate.
He was being driven insane, that was all there was to it, stark raving mad. It was hell; it was heaven; it was the most exquisite torture he'd ever had. Zane's cock slapped repeatedly against his belly, smears of precum decorating it, as each thrust of the younger man's hips drove him forward. "Sweet fucking... you're gonna kill me!"
"You telling me that no one's ever fucked you into coming?" Marc gasped, moving with Zane's aborted attempts to try to free himself, his cock almost slipping free of the other man's body before he thrust it in again.
"Don't know what you're missing. C'mon, Zane, go with it..." He paused, panting, thinking of anything so as not to come yet. "It'll be good." "Bastard," the older man snarled, lunging back and only succeeding in sending a tidal wave of heated ecstasy rushing through his body. "Oh Jesus," he whimpered, head dropping to hang down between his shoulders. "Oh sweet Jesus God," he gasped as he focused on his cock slapping his stomach and, further down his body, Marc slamming into him.
It was a sight that was too hot for words and too much for the singer to handle. Eyes closing, balls drawing up, and body spasming, Zane came with a wordless cry of ecstasy.
The moment he felt Zane's body seize up around him and the faint splatter of warm liquid on his arms, Marc gave in, slamming into the singer's body a handful of times before his own orgasm overwhelmed him, rushing from him in a pleasure so intense it hurt.
Still rocking back and forth as the aftershocks ran through both of them, Marc loosened his fingers from around Zane's wrists, massaging what he knew would be marks that would probably turn into bruises later in the day. "Told ya," he chuckled, gloating, before straightening up, tugging off the condom and disposing of it, and finally flopping down on the bed next to Zane, who was still on his hands and knees.
Zane looked at the younger man dazedly and then collapsed onto the bed in a heap. "That was fucking incredible," he purred, moving only far enough to place a kiss on Marc's shoulder. "Gonna be feeling it for days. The make-up artist is gonna have fun covering the bruises when we start shooting the video next week," he chuckled.
"So tell me, hot shot, faking that one too?"
"Wear leather bracers," Marc commented, his voice full of satisfaction and a bit of humor. Shifting to his side, he wrapped an arm around Zane's waist and pillowed his head on the singer's shoulder.
"And if you couldn't tell, why should I?"
"Bet you were momma's darlin' and a brat to boot," Zane laughed quietly, carding his fingers through Marc's hair.
"This is going to sound insane, at least I think it sounds insane given my history, but... I want to know everything about you, Marcus, including your last name.
"And I want to tell you everything there is to know about me," the singer continued after a long pause.
"Whoa." Unable to hide his surprise or the pleasure that comment gave him, Marcus lifted his head so that he could look at Zane. Running a finger back and forth across the singer's chest, he followed its movements with his eyes for a second before meeting Zane's smoky gray eyes again.
"It's funny you mention that, funky coincidence or something. I like you a lot, Zane, well, what I know about you anyway - the public parts and that you fuck like a dream. I want to know more, for me and for another reason, you know, those things I wanted to talk to you about before you distracted me?"
He smiled a bit, but his finger was still tracing over the singer's chest. "My last name's Rider," Receiving a blank look in answer, Marc chuckled. "So much for my ego. I'm an writer, and I was at the club hoping to get a chance to talk to you about your life for my next book."
Marc looked back down at his hand again, unaccountable nervous. In just this one night, Zane had gotten to him, burrowed under his skin and into his subconscious with such ferocity that Marc had to wonder if he'd ever want anyone else again. "Now though, I want to know about you for me first; Brad's on his own for a while."
"Brad... Rider... Street Smarts," Zane finally put together, his mind going into overdrive to remember and connect the threads. "Father's a pretty good actor, mother's a writer of smut-fic. Read a few when I was trying out a more romantic, gothic look. Seemed to be what the screaming masses want, male and female. Poet shirts and breeches just aren't me though.
"Heard about your book, and I've been meaning to read it, but life got in the way," the older man continued thoughtfully. The younger man came from famous parents, so Zane had been right on that account. Marcus did understand the value of privacy in a life in the spotlight. As for the other...
He'd used Marcus as the inspiration for his song last night; how would using him as inspiration for a fictional character be any different? "An intriguing proposition - one that could be mutually beneficial. But I don't talk business in bed. Not when I'm with someone as gorgeous and intriguing as you, that is. We'll do business later, for now... feel like grabbing a shower with me and helping me make breakfast or lunch or whatever the fuck it's called? And then I have a secret I want to share with you. Well, there are a few, but this one we don't have to leave the house for."
"A shower sounds great, food sounds even better, and as for the secret," Marc licked his way along Zane's jaw before sitting up, stretching his arms over his head. "You gonna show me another tattoo?"
Scratching the hair at the back of his head, Marc slid out of the massive bed and walked over to the full-length windows. The sun on the lake was bright as a flare, and he winced slightly at the glare. "If the water was cleaner out there, I'd say let's just go jump in the lake. As it is..." He shuddered, thinking of what drained into Lake Ontario's waters. "Plus your neighbors might not appreciate the sight, fine as it is."
"The neighbors can go fuck themselves," Zane growled as he watched the man, feeling a slight tug of desire despite the night's and the morning's activities. Getting out of bed, the older man came up behind Marcus and wrapped himself around his lover's naked form. "I'm going to take you right here, in broad daylight before you go. I want the world to see how beautiful you are when you come," he purred, licking his way along Marc's neck.
"I want to fuck or be fucked by you in every room in this house... including the pool behind that grove of cedar bushes. And for the record I often swim there nude, and my neighbors can't say a fucking word since it's private property. I'd suggest we go swimming now, but we'd still have to wash the chlorine out afterwards. Maybe later this afternoon..."
Finally letting go of the writer, Zane padded through a door off the side of the room, into the bathroom and the large glass block shower. "Come wash my back for me, lover," he invited with a shout.
Leading the bewildered writer into his workroom after breakfast, Zane motioned for him to take a seat on one of the leather chairs scattered throughout the room. Picking up the acoustic guitar leaning against the stool he was on, he half grinned. "Couldn't sleep last night after you came. Spent a long time watching you and then... this came to me."
Quietly, Zane started to play.
You tell me what you want
As the last strains of the bluesy ballad faded away, the singer looked up at Marcus. "Do you like it?"
"Like it?" Marc realized he was leaning forward, on the verge of falling off the chair, staring in rapt attention at Zane, and sat up. "My God, it's amazing! You seriously wrote that last night?"
Not waiting for an answer, Marc stood and, after taking the guitar from Zane's hands and laying it on the ground, sat in the singer's lap. "That is the best gift anyone's ever given me, ever. Thank you." His tone and bearing had been serious up until then, and then he grinned. "Of course if I hear it on the radio, I'm going to get so fucking hard that it's going to be embarrassing."
Zane grinned and slid a hand between Marc's legs to cup his fabric-covered cock, stroking it lightly. "I rather like the thought of being able to make you hard even when I'm nowhere to be seen," the older man laughed.
"As for the song, you inspired me. I lay there, watching you sleep, thinking to myself that this must have been how Jim Morrison felt when he found his muse, Pamela. And then the song came to me and had to come out. It'll be on the next album," he said matter-of-factly. "It's one of the best I've done. I've got dozens more in the back of my head clambering to come to life. You inspire me like no other has... you're my Pamela," the singer finished, feeling oddly naked and vulnerable as he said that.
"Jesus," Marc breathed quietly, at that point more focused on Zane's words then the light pressure of the singer's hand on his crotch. This whole scene was fucking freaky, but he wasn't going to argue with it, it felt too good, too... right.
"Just better promise me that you won't end up like he did, 'cause I know I'm not going out the way she did." Marc was completely serious when he said this. He messed around with E when partying, but that was the extent of it; he knew too many kids from famous parents who had ended up drugged-out wrecks or dead.
Reaching up, he stroked the side of Zane's face, feeling the rough stubble on his cheek as neither of them had shaved after their shower. "And I have no desire to lose you just after finding you."
"I may play with some E now and again, may drink a little heavily on occasion but that's all, I promise," Zane replied, an eerie sense of deja vu washing over him. So fast, too fast but... so right. This was what he wanted, who he wanted.
However, they needed to get out of this intense mood and have a little fun. Too serious too soon would be a bad thing. Giving Marc's cock a last squeeze, he nudged the younger man off his lap and stood himself.
"I don't know about you, but I have this overwhelming urge to do something spontaneous... something dangerous... something wicked... You interested?"
"That depends..." Marc let the silence hang for a long moment. "Got time for me to go by my place and get a change of clothes, or does it matter if I don't have any for this mystery thing you're planning?"
"Well, clothes would be good for tonight - something versatile for dinner and then clubbing. But for now... I was thinking of fucking in my pool," Zane grinned.
"Let me go grab my shit and get changed," Marc said over his shoulder as he unlocked the door to his condo and led Zane inside. The place still smelled new and felt almost unfamiliar, but since he'd only been in it a few months, that was to be expected. "Make yourself at home, or come and watch," he grinned at Zane. "No touching though or we'll never get back out of here."
After their romp in the pool, the two had spent the rest of the afternoon groping their way around Zane's house, managing to christen two more rooms before deciding they'd better save some energy for the night to come. After that, they lounged out on the deck, talking about everything and anything, and Marc found himself enjoying Zane's quick mind as much as he did the singer's body.
"Since you're the one who's going to be mobbed wherever we go, why don't you choose tonight? I eat anything." After saying that, Marc peered out of the walk-in closet he'd been looking through and leered, "As you already know."
"And you have quite the appetite too," Zane chuckled as he wandered around the condo, taking in the place. "You make sure you clean your plate." Picking up a statue here, thumbing through a book there, Zane learned a bit more about his lover.
"You haven't lived here long, have you?" he asked, coming into the bedroom and wrapping his arms around the other man's waist. "You smell good. You look good. That bed looks good. Do we really need to go out?" the rocker teased.
"Yes!" Marc exclaimed, swatting a hand at Zane's leather-clad ass. "I would have been happy to stay at your place and fuck our brains out, but you wanted to have dinner and go clubbing, so we're doing it." He grinned back at the singer as he said that, and then gave him a push back so that he could pull on a tight black shirt with mesh insets on the sides. Tucking this into his black linen trousers, Marc stepped into a pair of loafers, did his belt, and considered himself finished.
"I moved in here a month ago. Sort of trashed the place I had since school after I got the first check from the publishing company, so I paid to fix it up and started looking for somewhere new. The building is great; they did an amazing job combining the old with the new here. I'm still working with the decorator on stuff, but it's getting here. If you like baseball, one of the Jays' pitchers is a neighbor, I can get you an autograph some time."
Grinning as he added the last, Marc grabbed the overnight bag he'd tossed his clothes and toiletries into. "And that's it. Ready?"
"To get into your pants? Always," Zane grinned as he pinched the younger man's ass.
"Autograph, my ass," he continued with a snort. "What would I want with a scribbled on picture? Hell, I don't get it when my manager hands me a stack to sign, so why would I wanna start collecting them?" he asked as he let Marc lead him outside then watched that cute bubble butt wiggle as the writer locked up.
"As for the restaurant, I've made reservations at the 360," Zane informed his lover as they caught the elevator down to the ground floor and made their way to Zane's Mercedes convertible.
"Well, ya never know about autographs... You might be a star-fucker in disguise. Might be hiding some fetish about sports stars or authors..." He trailed off, laughing, as Zane smacked his butt again.
"And the 360? You have something for windows, don't you? Or is it you want the whole world to see you
"The only thing I have for windows is fucking you in front of them," Zane replied, causing more than a few heads to turn since he didn't make any effort to lower his voice. One poor little old lady looked like she swallowed her dentures, but all the singer could do was snicker. He enjoyed shocking people.
"And I've got the only author I want. I picked the restaurant because it's in a higher price bracket and therefore a little more exclusive. No screaming teenies there unless they're with their parents. And it's got a fucking fantastic view! Figured we could go to the Halo after, unless you have a club you prefer?" Zane continued as he popped the trunk on the car and put Marc's bag in the back before opening his lover's door and sliding across the hood to get in himself.
Gunning the engine and sticking in a CD he grinned. "Sit back, relax and let me do the driving. Tell me what you think of the CD - it's the new album."
"You're shitting me!" Marc heard the first words of one of the songs Zane had sung last night and leaned back in the seat to listen to them better. "And Halo is great, though something tells me I'm going to end up fighting people off you all night."
Chuckling, Marc raised his glass and took a sip of the dark red burgundy. "If I don't move soon, I'm going to fall asleep in this chair and then that cute little thing who's been drooling in her soup all evening long is going to try to jump you."
"Well, we can't have you fall asleep," Zane laughed, stealing Marc's glass to have a taste of the red wine. "After all, I still have some window fantasies to enact when we get home from the club," he purred, his foot leaving the floor to trace a path up Marc's inner thigh under the table.
"And just to ease your mind about the cute little thing..." Zane brought Marc's hand up to his lips and lapped at the tip of one of his fingers before engulfing it in his mouth. Suckling on the digit, mimicking the act he wanted to do later that evening, the singer smirked evilly as he let his foot grind lightly into the writer's erection. "Awake enough yet?" he purred when he finally let Marcus' finger go.
"Fuuccckkk..." Marc groaned, his hips arching forward against Zane's foot as much as his position and their location would allow him. "Oh yeah, awake and raring to go now."
Sliding a hand under the table, he ran his fingers up the singer's leg, feeling the muscles in his calf flex under the thin, supple leather of his pants. "And considering I bet you grind against me while we're dancing, I bet I'll be that way for hours to come - unless you want to grab a quickie in the car or in an empty stall somewhere?"
"Mmmm, what a delicious idea," Zane replied, licking his lips. "I haven't had a good bout of washroom sex since high school. There's just something so raunchy and arousing about doing it in a stall when there are men washing their hands outside and having to be quiet..."
"Listening in, trying not to get hard," Marc continued, taking the wine back and draining the glass before standing, his pants conspicuously tight at the crotch. "Pay the bill, rock star. I'll be waiting in the washroom. Don't be long."
Turning, the author wandered out of the restaurant, feeling the heat of Zane's gaze on his ass until he turned the corner then practically raced for the men's room.
Zane gazed lustfully after his lover until Marc disappeared from sight then signaled the maitre d'. "Bill please," he requested and then promptly dropped the price of the meal plus a generous tip.
"Wonderful meal, fantastic service. Will have to do this again. Excuse me please," he mumbled, extricating himself from the maitre d's presence and trying to walk at a reasonable pace towards the bathroom. Fuck, he was horny.
Walking into the elegantly appointed washroom, Zane looked for his lover and, finding the right stall, slipped inside, pushing Marc against one of the walls and kissing him senseless even as he flipped the lock.
Laughing, trying to keep his voice low as they struggled to keep their balance in the confined space, Marc slid his hands down, working at the line of silver buttons holding Zane's pants closed. Once he had them open, he pushed a hand inside, purring when he felt the hard, smooth flesh against his palm.
"Good thing I had enough room in my pockets for these, isn't it?" he rasped, biting at Zane's collarbone and pressing a condom and lube into the singer's hand. "Get me ready, rock star. I want to fuck you hard so you remember who you're with later on."
"No way in hell I'd forget," Zane moaned, taking the condom and lube in one hand and undoing Marc's pants with the other. Making a quick decision, the rock singer sank to his knees, ripping the condom packet with his teeth. Placing the latex sheath on the tip of Marc's cock, he quickly pushed it into place with his lips.
Sucking on his lover's penis lightly, the older man unscrewed the lube and squirted some in the palm of his hand, warming it to skin temperature. His own pants were shoved down to his knees, and the lube was scooped up and applied to his anus, his fingers sliding in and out of his body causing him to groan and vibrate around the cock in his mouth.
"Fuck, Zane," Marc rasped, the combination of the other man's mouth on his cock and watching Zane prepare himself making him even hungrier then he'd already been. "Get up off the floor and lean against the back wall; I need you now."
When Zane scrambled up to comply, Marc shoved the singer's pants farther down. Taking hold of his cock, he slotted it between the other man's asscheeks, pressed the tip against the tight circle of muscle and pushed, sliding in in one stroke that had the both of them giving muffled groans.
The door to the washroom creaked open, and Marc grinned, leaning in to nuzzle Zane's ear. "Gonna take you hard, fast and hot, lover. But you gotta stay quiet or someone might call security."
Zane let out a barely heard whimper. Who would have thought that his muse could be so... forceful. He adored it! Biting down hard on his arm, even though he really wanted to shout his pleasure out to the heavens, consequences be damned, the rock singer stayed perfectly still and let Marc power into him, his senses flooded with the forbidden raunchiness of hot, torrid sex in a public place.
"That's it, take it all," Marc growled, keeping his lips close to Zane's ear, aware of the slight noises their bodies were making as they moved together and wondering if they were as loud as they seemed. Actually, he didn't really care if anyone heard; he just didn't think either of them wanted to see the news on the cover of one of the scandal rags sold in the grocery stores.
Feeling Zane's ass contract around his cock, Marc wrapped a hand around the other man's erection, jerking him off in time with his thrusts.
The flushing of the toilet sounded like a tidal wave in Zane's ears, the sound of the running faucet a waterfall; everything was louder, brighter, stronger, harder... a wail of ecstasy was caught and held in his throat, and the singer breathed a sigh of relief when the sound of footsteps moved toward the bathroom door and then departed down the hallway.
"Marc, God, please, Marcus," the older man begged breathlessly, his body caught between the dual tortures of his lover's cock and fist. It was incredible, indescribable... wonderful. The slapping of flesh, the soft moist sounds of their coupling, the stroking of his cock, all goaded and stimulated him, driving him higher and higher. It was so good, too good, and he didn't think he could last much longer.
"Give in, Zane," Marc whispered, twisting his wrist as he rubbed the head of Zane's cock, each tug in time with a thrust that prodded his prostate. He felt his own orgasm gathering at the base of his spine and worked Zane faster, wanting them both to come together. Finally, when he thought he was going to scream, he felt the singer shudder against him and a spastic throbbing massage his erection.
Groaning, his legs trembling, Marc arched a final time into Zane's body, then came, the knowledge that if anyone came in that washroom at that moment, they would know exactly what was going on, turning him on to no end.
Zane collapsed forward, his face hot against the cool tile of the walls, the sweating metal of the water pipe pressed into his stomach. He could taste the coppery tang of blood in his mouth where he'd bitten to keep from screaming out just how amazingly good it had been to come. God, much more of this and he'd pass out from exhaustion!
Marc was plastered against his back, a heavy and pleasant weight as he panted to catch his breath. "That was...heaven," the rocker managed to whisper, pushing off the wall enough to turn his head and kiss his lover thoroughly. "Gonna feel claimed all night."
Marc smiled lazily and tried to get his eyes to focus. "That was the idea," he sighed, rubbing their faces together before pulling back just enough to clean them both up and rearrange their clothing to a more presentable state. "But feel free to do the same to me any time." Zane turned around, and Marc pulled him in for a final kiss, smiling as he eyed the singer's swollen lips and flushed face, knowing that his looked the same. Oh yeah, there was no question what had been going on in here all right.
Unlocking the stall door, Marc took a quick glance around, and, seeing that the washroom was empty, tugged Zane out after him. "Ready to hit those clubs now?" he asked, having to stifle a chuckle at the definite hitch in the older man's stride. Normally he wasn't that aggressive, but damn, something about the rocker brought out the animal in him.
Zane let out a rueful chuckle as he moved over to the sink to wash his come-covered hands. Splashing water on his face and then drying it off, he managed to look a bit more composed than a few minutes ago.
"We can go to the clubs, but I can't guarantee that I'll be my normal, graceful self. For some reason my ass is feeling kinda tender and twitchy, go figure," he teased the younger man.
"C'mon, writer, you wanted to use me as an information source for your new book - time to go see how the other half lives," he grinned.
Laughing, Marc slung his arm around Zane's waist. "You forget, rock star, I am the other half - unless you mean you want to pick up some chicks and have a foursome."
Snickering, Marc neatly sidestepped the blow Zane aimed at his ass and pushed the singer into the elevator, their laughter lingering in the foyer after they'd vanished.