Living in Fast Forward

by BA Tortuga

  No. They needed a little push and pull to keep things happily spicy.

  “You’re looking amazing. What’s your secret? Can you share?” Brandy Wannamaker blinked at him through the wildest pair of false eyelashes he’d ever seen, and he swore he wanted to ask her whether it was hard to open her eyes like that, but he didn’t.

  “Clean living, ma’am, and I’ve been spending some time with a new personal trainer. He’s a bit of a hardass, but he’s fair. If I work out hard enough, I get a sausage biscuits. You know what they say about carrots and old dogs.”

  Brandy laughed for him. “Is that like dangling new tricks?”

  “See, honey? I knew you understood guys like me.”

  Now let me go sing my little song so I can go take a goddamn nap.

  THEY’D TAKEN Hollis on some four-day getaway, media tour, weird-assed thing, and he’d been stuck on the bus.

  God, he was bored.

  Like really, deeply bored.

  He’d worked out, watched porn, jacked off ’til he was raw. Finally he dug out his stash and worked on a nice, solid buzz. If nothing else, he could get him some sleep before Hollis came back and needed to be stretched out.

  Stretched out.

  Sucked off.

  Uhn.

  He leaned back in his bunk, the parked bus still rumbling a little as they got ready to head out again.

  Of course, just about the time he was feeling good and halfway through a big doobie, the door opened up front, slamming right back against the side of the bus. Shit, he hoped it wasn’t Ann Marie.

  He grabbed the matches to light a candle, peering down the hall to see who the fuck it was.

  “Well, baby, you sure party it up while I’m gone.” It was Hollis, about as rough around the edges as Jeremy had ever seen him.

  “I was bored.” He set his joint down, headed over to get his hands around those tight muscles. “How’d it go?”

  “Huh? Oh, same old, same old. You know I’m better at singing than talking.” Yeah, he’d found out fast that Hollis hated the shit where he had to do Q and A.

  “Yeah.” He dug in, thumbs rubbing. “Did you eat?”

  Mmm. Eating.

  “No. I mean, I thought about bingeing on bad stuff, frozen taquitos and fried cheese, but I didn’t. Be proud and give me some of your joint, baby.”

  “Come on back and I’ll share.” He got their fingers together, grabbing the ashtray on the way.

  “Thanks, man.” Hollis held on, hand warm and a little damp, wandered back to his little hidey-hole with him, and slumped on the couch. “Fuck, I’m tired.”

  “Have a hit and you can nap.” He lit up, took a deep drag, and offered his lips to Hollis.

  Leaning right in, Hollis took the shotgun, breathing the smoke right out of his mouth. Long lashes fell over those pretty eyes, Hollis making a happy noise.

  “Mmm.” Fuck, that was sexy. “More?”

  “Uh-huh. Who needs a nap when you have an almost naked trainer and green grass?” Hollis winked, waiting for another hit.

  “Is that a trick question?” Another deep hit, another head tilt, and this time he rubbed up on Hollis some, just revving them up a little.

  “Nope. Kinda a rhetorical one.” He got a kiss after all the smoke was gone, Hollis’s lips warm and firm on his. Oh hell yes. He rocked into the kiss, tongue sliding on Hollis’s, just jonesing on being able to touch and feel. Hollis hummed, hands sliding around his back to hold him tight. Lord, that man was hot. Like a furnace.

  Jeremy figured that the next step should be clothes. Because, damn, Hollis needed to be wearing less.

  Like now.

  His fingers were a little stupid, but they managed it, baring Hollis’s chest.

  “Oh, better,” Hollis said, wiggling out of the jeans too. Boots went flying. Then Hollis was on him, tugging at his thin linen pants. He chuckled and shifted, letting Hollis strip him down, his freshly waxed skin still a little sensitive.

  “Oh, so smooth. Look at that.” Hollis felt him up, fingers rough enough with guitar calluses to make him shiver.

  “You missed it. You could have watched me torture myself.” He twisted, body trying to get more of those touches.

  “Uh, no. I like the end result, but unless you let me shave you or something, I don’t want to watch.” Now. Wow. That had possibilities. Real ones.

  “I could do that.” Did that come out of his mouth? Wicked.

  “Yeah? Well, it will have to wait until you have hair again. But I’d love that, baby.” Huh. Look at how that made Hollis’s cock jerk.

  “Cool.” Dude, his fingers looked good wrapped around Hollis’s prick. Like photographers and soft lighting good. Framed on the wall good. Hallmark card good.

  “Uhn. Oh, do that squeezy thing again.” Yeah, Hollis liked it when he touched, working or not. Massages were good.

  “Mmm-hmm.” He focused on that, on tensing and relaxing his fingers, one after the other, just working Hollis’s prick, nice and easy.

  “Oh, fuck, baby. It’s like after working out, only…. Fuck, that’s hot.” Those hips started to roll, pushing Hollis’s flesh into his hand. Yeah. Yeah, it was. He found himself panting, watching his hand like it belonged to somebody else. Wiggling, stretching, Hollis put on a show for him, that prick red and heavy and so sweet to hold. “Love how you touch me. No one ever touches me.”

  “It’s my favorite thing.” Shit. Shut up, Jeremy. No spilling those deep, dark fantasy things while fucked-up in your client-cum-fuck buddy’s bed.

  “Yeah?” Lord, look at those eyes. They caught his, just holding him right there. “Good.”

  “Yeah.” Oh wow. So fucking pretty. “Beautiful goddamn man.”

  “You’re good for me, baby. Not just for my muscles.” Before the sap got out of hand like he was worried it would, Hollis was kissing him again, cock rubbing through his fingers madly.

  Oh. Oh, hell yes. He started working, thumb rubbing the slit good and hard.

  Breaking the kiss, Hollis gasped for him, head falling back, hips working in short, sharp bursts. “Soon, man. Soon.”

  “Uh-huh.” Cock. Throat. Cock. Throat. Oh man. The temptation of that heavy prick was too good to pass up, and he slid south, mouth following his hand right on down.

  “Oh, Jesus. Jeremy….” Hollis was singing for him. Whiskey-soaked nights and cigarettes. That’s what Hollis made him think of.

  Addictions.

  Worse than crack.

  Or better.

  Something.

  Damn.

  He took Hollis in down to those heavy, soft curls, the scent there enough to make him swallow, suck good and hard. A harsh shout ground out of Hollis’s throat; then the man was coming for him, long and deep, that whole body bucking beneath him. Salty-and-bitter good, Hollis just poured into him.

  Jeremy reached down, started jacking himself off, swallowing hard. So fucking hot. So fucking good.

  “Uhn.” Hollis just flipped them, swarmed over him and grabbed his cock, then pulled at it like there was no tomorrow. “So pretty, baby. So hot for me. Come on. Need you.”

  “Hollis. Beautiful. Your hands….” Those calluses were pure fucking magic, and he just went to town, humping and thrusting until he shot, the whole fucking world tilting.

  “Oh, yeah. That’s it. I fucking love that.” Hollis smiled for him, the lines on that face a lot softer, more relaxed.

  Leaning in, he kissed the corners of Hollis’s mouth, beside the man’s eyes. “Good to have you back.”

  “Good to be back, baby. You got any more green? I could use, like, two more hits. And some Doritos.” Winking, Hollis patted his ass. “Before round two.”

  “I do and I do and hell yes.” Jeremy grinned, nose rubbing against Hollis. “I might even show you where I keep my stash.”

  “Oh, that would be a sign of pure trust.” Grinning, Hollis stretched out, hands behind his head. “Lay it on me, Jeremy. I’m ready to relax.”

  “Mmm.” He let his
fingers drag along that fine, fine belly, just barely tugging those dark hairs. “Sounds like we’ve got ourselves a plan, Mr. Lee.”

  A real good plan.

  Chapter Eleven

  GOD, HE loved being on stage.

  Hollis grinned at Tom, his band leader looking like nothing more than a demon with his wild shock of black hair that covered his eyes. The man had the picture of Dorian Gray in his bus somewhere, he had no doubt. They moved from playing his latest number one to “Once Upon a Time,” to a rollicking version of “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” as the lights went out.

  He hurried backstage, sucking down a bottle of water while he changed out of his soaking wet shirt and into something clean and dry and tight across his chest. He was going to have to go buy bigger shirts—not for his belly, which was flat as a board, but for his shoulders, which just seemed to get broader.

  “We doing encore A or B, boss?” Tom asked.

  “B.”

  “You’re feeling it tonight, eh?” Tom grinned, head bobbing like a giant bird’s. He knew the man approved, though. The boys in the band liked it better when he was feeling ambitious, and playlist B was one he had to work for, just a little bit.

  “I am. Let’s do it.” He drank another bottle of water, taking off his hat to lean his face into the fan, cooling his hot cheeks. Lord have mercy, this was fun. He hated to admit it, but Jeremy was better than good for him, in all sorts of ways. He was working the goddamn stage like he hadn’t in five years, ten years maybe.

  He felt… shit, he felt alive, like he was born to do this and nothing else, and he was fixin’ to get up and go do it again.

  “You ready, Hollis?” Ann Marie asked, and he nodded. He was. He was more than ready.

  He bounced on his toes as he waited for his cue to get back out there, starting with one of his newer ballads, letting the sound pour from him like it had in the studio. The next couple of songs were lightweight and easy, letting him focus on signing autographs with the people that had spent the big money and glad-handing the VIPs. He didn’t even have to think about these, just sing and sign. Bang, boom, bam.

  Now, the big song.

  The lights went down and the spot came up, and suddenly it was all him. The band would come in midway through the chorus and stick with him until the final chords, but the beginning and the end of this belonged to him and sat on his shoulders.

  He’d written “Lost Girl” for his sister, years ago, but it had taken him and Tom and Tuck Martin, along with a little space of years, to turn a super-personal, schmaltzy song about his sister dying of an overdose into an anthem of finding your way back home again. It wasn’t the same story, but it was universal and better for it, regardless of how much it wasn’t true.

  Every time he sang it, he thought, this time I won’t get through it.

  When he hit the long, high note at the end without straining, Hollis damn near creamed his jeans.

  Hollis held that last note until his voice felt like raw hamburger, his back bowing and his hips spanking the air. The screams from the crowd really took him higher, making his heart pump and his adrenaline levels soar.

  He pumped his fist in the air one last time and headed offstage, his encore over. His bodyguard took him right out to the car, and they went for the bus, the crowds parting to let them through.

  Hollis was still jonesing on the music when he hit the steps, the bus smelling like Doritos and a little bit of green. Jeremy had been a busy boy.

  “Hey, honey. You have a good time while I was gone?”

  “Been relaxing.” Jeremy was upside down, legs twisted into some weird-assed-pretzel thing. Made that tight ass look amazing, though.

  “What in hell are you doing?” he asked, letting his hat drop on the little couch.

  “Utaana Kurmasana. The upside-down turtle.” That was obscene. “How did the concert go?”

  “It fucking rocked, man.” His bones were vibrating. Goddamn, he felt good. Good enough to pounce that tight little ass, but not at that angle. “Can you get up, please?”

  It was sort of unreal, the way that muscled body curled up and rolled down, Jeremy popping up like a jack-in-the-box.

  “Much better.” He took two steps forward, grabbed Jeremy right up, and kissed the man like there was no tomorrow. Man, there was no better way to work off a show. Mmm. Jeremy tasted like pure sin. All the man needed was the smoke of a good whiskey and it’d be fucking perfect.

  That wasn’t likely, though, so Hollis took Jeremy exactly as he came, rubbing up on him, heart pounding. His cock was like iron.

  Jeremy leaned back, panting and rubbing right back, giving him all that strength to work with. “Jesus, you’re hungry. It’s fucking hot.”

  “Need you.” And wasn’t that fucking weird. He needed Jeremy, not just a groupie or something. He needed that solid body and that husky laugh.

  “I’m right here.” One leg wrapped around his hip, dragging him in closer.

  “Good.” They smacked up against the wall of the bus, managing to miss anything like furniture altogether. That was okay. He could do it standing. Jeremy leaned in, teeth teasing his skin, making his throat zing.

  “Uhn.” His hips rolled, and he went up on tiptoe, his skin tingling. “God. Jeremy. Baby.”

  “I won’t leave a mark, man. Promise.” Those teeth scraped again, tongue soothing, sliding along his skin.

  “You could… where it doesn’t show.” The way his prick leaped at the thought, he knew he needed Jeremy to do it. Dangerous as it was.

  “Oh, fuck, yeah….” Jeremy got his feet planted and started working Hollis’s shirt off. “There’s all sorts of fine fucking skin that doesn’t show.”

  “Yeah? Show me.” His nipples drew up hard and tight, his belly quivered, and Hollis couldn’t fucking wait to see where Jeremy started. Yeah. Now.

  “There’s here.” Those fingers bared his chest, Jeremy’s mouth fastening right under one nipple. The suction was strong and sudden, teeth working his skin.

  His whole body jerked, his hands coming up to hold Jeremy’s mouth right there. “Oh. I like it there. I surely do.”

  Jesus. Jeremy went to town, fucking focus as strong here as it ever was in the goddamn workouts.

  “I. Oh. Fuck.” His voice was just blown. Rough as a cob. His cock pushed against his damned jeans, about to strangle under the tight cloth. “Please.”

  Sure as shit, Jeremy kept right on going, fingers working him free so that mouth could drop down on his prick.

  “Fuck!” His head snapped back, banging the wall, and his hips rocked up, pushing his cock right in where it needed to be. Hungry bastard. Jeremy looked fine, head bobbing, long back leading down to that perfect tight little ass….

  “Jeremy.” He tugged, his hands cradling Jeremy’s head. He loved that mouth, but that ass had been taunting him since he walked in.

  Those lips popped off, swollen and wet, Jeremy’s eyes just wide as all get-out. “You okay?”

  “Want.” His thumbs rubbed along Jeremy’s cheeks. “I want in you. Like now.”

  “Well, you’re all slicked up.” That tongue flicked out, caught the tip of his prick, and made his toes curl.

  “Uh.” God, that was enough to make him crazy. “You sure? No glove?” He wanted that so damned bad… but he wanted to make sure.

  “So long as neither of us is catting around, we’re gold.” Shit, those eyes were so serious.

  “I’m not. Hell, I haven’t in a long damned time.” His reputation be damned, he knew what was what. “I want you in bed, baby. Come on.”

  Jeremy’s fingers twined with his, his lover standing and pressed right up against him for a second before they headed down the hallway.

  His little bedroom looked tiny, but the bed was big enough for the two of them, and that worked for him. Hollis stopped Jeremy just long enough to get them naked. Then he pushed Jeremy down, intent on getting to that sweet ass. Jeremy spread, legs sprawling out impossibly wide. Goddamn. There was pro
mise there.

  Humming the last song of the show, Hollis knelt, hands grabbing Jeremy’s thighs and lifting, spreading them even more. He licked his way down, not bothering to waste time, just pushing his tongue right against that tight little hole.

  “Hollis.”

  Yeah, baby. That was right. Jeremy was one flexible bastard, muscles working as Hollis licked and lapped.

  Dark, intense, Jeremy tasted like sweat and want. Made Hollis crazy, as if he wasn’t already. His cock warned him that if he didn’t get in soon, he might not last. So he pushed a finger in alongside his tongue, getting Jeremy good and stretched.

  “More. More, man. I won’t break.” Jeremy started bucking, started riding his touch straightaway.

  “Mmm-hmm.” Oh God. He just… he managed maybe another thirty seconds. Then he had to straighten up and push heavily between Jeremy’s legs, guiding his cock into place. Jeremy—thoughtful bastard that he was—lifted up on his elbows, pushing right down on Hollis’s prick and taking him in. Goddamn.

  “Baby….” All he could do was grunt and start getting his hips going in the right direction.

  “Yeah.” They found themselves a rhythm, a steady, solid bang-bang-bang that echoed in his head. It was like driving bass and pounding drums, only somehow better than that. He met Jeremy’s eyes, stared right into them as he thrust, saying all sorts of things, even if it wasn’t out loud.

  He got a nod, Jeremy fucking hearing him, right fucking there with him. He let one hand slip to touch Jeremy’s cock, thumb grazing the head, even as he pushed in deeper and deeper. Those groans were like a whole new song, one he needed to write down. Later.

  “Oh, man. Harder. Harder….” Jeremy’s head slammed back, throat working.

  “Uh-huh. More.” He worked it just like he was on stage, just like he needed to, hips spanking Jeremy’s ass. Fucking A, that man… that ass. It liked to kill him. Jeremy’s cry rang out, echoing in the little room, all husky and desperate and fine.

  “Baby, please.” He just needed that much more. Just needed that little bit of squeeze and pull. He got it too, Jeremy’s muscles fluttering around him like a thousand fucking wings as heat sprayed over his fingers.