STORY EXCERPT

Mitchell “Mitch” Shaw clutched his microphone and threw back his head as he cried out the words to his number-one hit single. He closed his eyes and soaked in the energy of the stadium, as thousands of men and women sang along with him. As he reached the end of the final verse he strutted over to Carr, the lead guitarist, sang the last few words with him, then slapped him on the back as Carr stepped forward to play his solo.

A moment to himself in front of the crowd, Mitch stared out into the sea of faces, as he often did. The fans loved it—he’d seen many a blog where someone had sworn that he had been looking right at them while he sang—but he had an ulterior motive. For the last few months, a man had been present at each gig. A man that never sang along, never swayed with the music, never even smiled. He just stared right at Mitch.

The man wasn’t there for the entire duration, but he was always there for a song or two, before disappearing. Mitch had never seen him outside of a concert, or at any of his other public appearances, but the guy still gave him the creeps.

Just as the song came to an end he spotted the man near the front of the crowd. Tall, thin, a mess of brown hair that looked like he’d been dragged backward through multiple hedges. There was something about his stare, too. Something wild.

For a moment he wanted to shout into the microphone. To get his fans to grab the guy and bring him forward. Just so he could find out what the hell the guy wanted. He didn’t though, and as the song ended and everyone began to cheer, the man left. Mitch watched him go, then shook himself out of his confusion long enough to thank the audience and tell them they’d be back out in ten minutes, then headed toward the back of the stage with the band.

“Was he out there?” Carr said, a smirk on his lips. “Your secret admirer?”

The rest of the band laughed, and Mitch took it with a grin. He couldn’t let them know how much the guy got to him. After all, he’d never done anything other than stare.

“Yeah, I saw him,” he said. “I swear, the guy must only hang around for his favorite songs.”

Theo, the drummer, shook his head. “Waste of a fuckin’ ticket, if you ask me.”

“I ain’t complaining,” Carr said between sips of his water bottle. “He’s paying our wages.”

“Remind me to write him a thank you letter, then,” Mitch muttered as he headed to the bathroom.

The gig was the last of the tour, and Mitch had never been more glad of anything. Every part of him ached, from his vocal chords to his feet, and a few months kicking back in some warm country sounded like heaven. He planned to do as little as possible for a few weeks before starting work on the new album.

Well, he’d probably head to a few bars, using the patented celebrity disguise of a baseball cap and some big sunglasses. Maybe find a cute guy to take to a motel and have a little fun. Of course that had a few risks. The biggest being that he wasn’t currently ‘out’, other than to his bandmates. He wasn’t ashamed of being gay. It was just that with a band like his, built heavily on sexuality, their sales relied on their female fans thinking they stood a chance.

He smirked as he bent over the tiny sink and splashed water on his face. If they could see what he got up to some weekends, the album sales would probably plummet. Then again, they could surprise him and not care in the least. If it was just his livelihood at stake, he’d out himself, but he had his bandmates to think about.

“Ah, the trials of being famous,” he said as he dried his face and walked back out to his friends. “Let’s make ’em scream.”

* * * *

By the time the set was finished Mitch was exhausted, and by the time they’d finished the encore song and fought the scrum of fans to get back onto the tour bus, he doubted he’d be able to spell his name, let alone sign it.

Some of the band members and crew were using somewhat illegal methods to keep awake, but Mitch was long over that bullshit, and instead headed to the back of the bus and dropped onto his bed.

He managed a whole thirty minutes of sleep before there was an almighty bang that jolted the entire vehicle. The area filled with questions and curses as guitars were dropped and lines of coke were messed up. Mitch staggered through to the front to find the driver pulling the bus onto the side of the darkened road.

ADULT EXCERPT

Mitch knew he was taking a chance by heading to a stranger’s rented room, but he didn’t care. He didn’t know why, but ever since leaving the hotel he’d felt pretty damn invincible. His arm didn’t hurt, he wasn’t in the least bit tired, and he was convinced that he could handle anything the world decided to throw at him.

Plus, y’know, the guy was hot.

He’d introduced himself as Harlan. His accent had hints of a hundred different places, leaving Mitch—who was going with Mike for the evening—with no clue as to where he was from originally. He didn’t ask, as he knew how these one-night deals worked out. You talk too much and some of the guys lost all interest. They wanted sex, not a chat.

That was fine with Mitch, anyway. That’s all he wanted tonight, too. “Get some, get gone,” as Carr so eloquently put it.

“So, how do you like it?” Harlan said, as he let Mitch into the motel room.

“It’s nice, I guess.” Mitch nodded to the wallpaper. “Always been a fan of lime green.”

Harlan laughed, a low rumble that made Mitch shiver. “I meant the sex.”

“Oh, right. Hard and fast.”

He smiled. “Works for me. Take off your clothes.”

Mitch hesitated. This part was always a worry. Not that he had anything to be ashamed of, but there was almost that moment of nervousness, no matter how hard he worked out. He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off, dropping it on the floor.

Harlan frowned. “Huh.”

Mitch’s stomach clenched. “What?”

“That bandage. You hurt yourself.”

He glanced down. “Oh. Yeah, dog bite. No biggy.”

Harlan nodded, then gestured to Mitch’s pants. “Take ’em off and turn around.”

Mitch did as he was told and slid his pants down his legs, along with his underwear, then spun to face the bed. Harlan stepped up behind him and snaked a hand around to grip Mitch’s hardening cock.

“Nice,” he said, as he pulled the foreskin back from the engorged head. “Pity you ain’t a top. You’d make a lot of men very happy.”

Mitch reached back and grabbed at Harlan’s still-clothed ass. “How do you know I’m not?”

“Years of experience.”

Mitch jumped at the sound of a zipper being pulled down. “You don’t look that old.”

“I started young.”

Not wanting to miss all the fun, Mitch turned to watch the man undress. His shirt was already off, revealing sculpted abs and pecs you could break walnuts on. Small, almost unnoticeable scars crossed one pec, stretching diagonally down toward his naval. The grouping almost made them look like claw marks. Mitch opened his mouth to comment on it, but he was distracted as Harlan pulled down his jeans.

His cock sprang up from beneath the clothing, hard and ready to go, and Mitch couldn’t peel his eyes away. Mitch was big and had had his share of big dicks, too, but it never failed to surprise him when someone pulled something out of their pants that was bigger than his own. Nine inches easily, and uncut, just how he liked them.

Harlan smirked and stroked his cock a few times. “You like what you see?”

“I do.”

“Then get on your knees and suck it.”

Mitch didn’t have to be told twice. He dropped to his knees in an instant and wrapped a hand around the stranger’s thick cock, then ran his tongue around the tip. Harlan growled in response.

“There’s a good boy,” he muttered.

He was clearly into being in charge, and that was how Mitch liked it, too. After weeks of being on tour and having everyone jump to his every word, it was a relief for someone else to take charge.

“Yes, sir,” he said, then took Harlan’s cock into his mouth.

Since he was in a rush to get to the main event he didn’t start slow. Instead he worked fast, stroking Harlan’s balls as he bobbed up and down on his thick shaft. He increased the depth rapidly, too, until the tip of his cock was pushing against the back of his throat. He relaxed and let it slip down. Harlan gasped in response.

“Well, this sure as hell ain’t your first time.”

Mitch smiled, which was no mean feat with a cock in his mouth. He held Harlan in his throat for a count of five, then pulled back off before doing it again. It wasn’t long before Harlan’s breathing started to get heavier, and he pulled Mitch off with one arm.

“Bend over.”

Mitch could hardly contain his desire as he walked to the end of the bed and put his hands on the footboard. He gripped the wooden frame tight and took a few deep breaths as Harlan pulled lube and a condom from a drawer. He tore the foil of the wrapper with his teeth, then pulled the rubber over his cock, his gaze on Mitch the whole time. The bottle in his hand, he walked around behind Mitch, then dropped a few drops of lube onto Mitch’s asshole, massaging them in with his finger.

“I’m gonna enjoy this,” he said.