Rachel parked the bus and they all disembarked. Sean, with Emerson in tow, went toward the side door, where Macie was standing. She handed them their key.
“Third floor. We’re all near the end of the corridor.”
“Thanks. Think we can order in a pizza or something for dinner? Em’s in no shape to go out again tonight.”
It was only a little past two, but Sean knew rest was the best thing for Emerson right now.
“Sure,” she agreed. “Let me know when you’re hungry.”
Sean nodded, then led Emerson inside.
The location wasn’t a four-star hotel, but it wasn’t a dump either. Somewhere near the middle. Macie always said it didn’t make sense to get an expensive hotel, when all you did was sleep there. When she spoke sense, Sean always listened to her advice. Right now, he didn’t care what the hotel looked like. All that mattered was that he got to share a room with Emerson.
There was a king-sized bed, a desk with a television atop it, an armchair beside a large, curtained window. Cozy. Sean pulled the curtains shut, then collapsed onto the bed. “You feeling any better?”
“Sleepy.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Emerson sank onto the bed beside him, and wrapped his arms around Sean. Sean closed his eyes and relaxed into the embrace, loving how the top of his head tucked nicely under Emerson’s chin.
Emerson’s voice was soft. “I don’t know how I’ll make it through the next two days, but I’ll try to stay calm.”
“After you’ve done it once, the rest will be a piece of cake. The lights are so bright; you can’t even see the audience.” Sean’s fingers inched up to Emerson’s chest. “And, I’ll be right beside you the whole time. There’s nothing to be afraid of while I’m here.”
“I know.”
Sean shimmied up so their faces aligned. “I love you,” Sean whispered.
“I love you, too,” Emerson said.
Chapter 22
Their free day seeing the sights of Boston went by quickly. Emerson hadn’t visited the city before, so they checked out all the touristy things. The whole crew tagged along, and it had been fun. It also helped Emerson to forget about the concert—for a brief time, anyway.
Friday morning, though, the knot in his stomach was back. On top of that, Jake filled up their schedule with interviews at local radio and television stations, so they were busy from the moment they woke up. It made the day go fast. Emerson wasn’t sure if that was a good thing, or a bad thing. It was time for the concert before he realized it.
They got there a few hours early, mostly to get Emerson used to the venue. He was sure Sean didn’t usually watch Mills do the sound checks himself. Why would he? But, he took Emerson out onto the stage and stood beside him as they looked out. It seemed massive from this perspective. How many people would be staring up at him?
Sean’s fingers massaged Emerson’s shoulder. “Just relax, Em. Loosen up a bit. Here,” he handed Emerson Molly. “Try playing a few notes. Get used to the sound from up here.”
Emerson took the guitar with shaking hands. He cradled her, resting her neck on his open palm. He clutched her, tightening his fingers along her strings. I can do this, he told himself, taking a deep breath. I can do this.
Sliding the shoulder strap over his head, he settled the guitar against him. His left hand’s fingers arched, forming a C-chord. He positioned his right hand against the stings. Keeping his eyes down, he played the simple chord. The guitar wasn’t hooked up into the sound system, so it resounded only in the space around them.
Surprisingly, the action soothed him. Strumming and holding a guitar had been so central to his life for the past few weeks. This act seemed natural now. Normal.
“Good, sweetie,” Sean said encouragingly. “Now, let’s get her plugged in so you can see how she sounds.” He waved over Mills, and he hooked the guitar into the system. Sean handed Emerson a set of earplugs. “You probably won’t need them now, but you will later.”
Emerson took them and put them into his pocket. “Thanks.”
One of the venue’s sound techs at the edge of the stage gave a thumbs up, and Emerson played the chord again. His whole body vibrated from the sound emitting through the speakers. He stopped playing and squashed the strings flat to cut off the noise.
“Jesus,” he hissed. “That makes my eardrums shake. Fuck!”
Sean shot him a sympathetic look. “That’s only half strength, babe. It’ll be louder tonight.”
Emerson grimaced.
“You can wear the plugs now. Give it a try.”
The earplugs looked like silicone, and a dull tan color to blend in with his skin. “How does this even work?” It looked like a beehive with a stick up its butt.
Sean laughed. “Here, let me show you.” He took the plug and stuck the stick slowly into Emerson’s ear. “It may feel weird at first, but you’ll get used to it. They’re actually quite comfortable.” He slid it all the way in place, then went to the other ear.
Emerson’s fingers felt the tip of the beehive; it only stuck out a few millimeters from his lobe.
Sean got the other one inside. “How’s that?”
“Okay, I guess.” He could still hear Sean’s words clear enough, but they were muted, like Emerson heard them through water.
“Give it a try.”
Emerson played the chord again. Much better. He switched to a D, then played the intro to “Southbound Train.” He stopped, then removed one of the plugs. “Can we try a song the whole way through? I want to hear how we sound together.”
“Sure, just play ‘Southbound Train.’ We’ll go through it from start to finish.”
Emerson darted a glance around the stage. “Can we try with microphones, too? I want to see how it will really be.”
“Of course, Em. Let me get the guys to set up everything.”
The stage crew ran over and set up microphones, plugging wires into slots all over the place. Emerson could hardly keep up. He’d never realized how complicated sound equipment could be.
“All set,” said a young woman with a smile.
“Thanks,” Emerson told her. “Sorry for the trouble.”
“No trouble at all. We’re all looking forward to hear how you two sound together, anyway.”
Sean grinned and took his microphone from its stand. Another stood in front of Emerson. He played with the metal latch, raising it a few inches so it sat right in front of his mouth. This was even more nerve wracking than the guitar—thinking of his plain voice being amplified around the space.
“Don’t think about it, Em,” Sean told him with a pat on his back. “It’s exactly the same playing at home.”
An unbidden smile came to Emerson’s face. Home. He loved it when Sean said that.
“Okay, here goes.”
Emerson tapped his foot, getting the beat. Five, six, seven, eight.
He played the opening to “Southbound Train” again. Sean took up the words.
Working so far away from you.
Two towns over, it’s the best that I can do.
I gotta make a living, ‘cause I’m wishing to settle down,
build a home to bring you to.
They went on to the chorus, and Emerson joined in with a harmony.
I’m gonna ride that southbound train.
The sound of the engine’s calling out your name.
Each second that goes by,
bring me one step closer to your side.
The longer I’m away from you,
the more I need to hurry back.
And my heart is racing,
like the train upon this track.
They did the next two verses, completed the bridge, and finished strong with the chorus again.
Emerson played the last note, and let the sound vibrate through the air around him.
Fuck me, he thought with something akin to a religious awakening. That felt incredible. He turned to Sean, grabbed the other man’s shirt, pulled h
im close, and shoved his tongue into Sean’s mouth. Sean froze for a stunned moment, then kissed him back.
“Goddamn, Em,” Sean said, retreating just a hair. His smile was big and bright. “Did that turn you on or something?”
“I think it did,” Emerson said slowly. He had felt almost high, but now he realized he was around at least a dozen other people, and he was getting the beginnings of an erection. He forced himself to take a step backward, away from Sean and his warmth. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. I’m kind of excited by this side of you. Want to try another song?”
“No, I think I’m okay.” He shot Sean an embarrassed, but hopeful look. “Maybe we can slip somewhere more private, though?”
“Of course. We can get out of the way here and lounge in the green room.”
Emerson passed Molly off to one of the stagehands, and pulled the plugs from his ears. Sean took his hand and led him from the stage, down a long, narrow path, and into the green room. A couple chairs, a couch, and a TV were the only things inside. Sean pushed Emerson in, then closed the door.
“No lock, but we can get around that.” He shot Emerson a smirk, then grabbed one of the chairs and propped it under the door handle. “Now it’s private.”
Emerson didn’t waste time. He’d never felt so alive, so excited, so needy. He took Sean’s wrist and pulled him roughly to the couch. Emerson sat down, Sean coming to straddle his lap. Sean let out one of those moans Emerson had come to crave and it fueled his desire higher.
“I need to fuck you,” Emerson growled, his hands kneading at Sean’s ass, driving their groins closer and closer.
“God, Em, you’re so worked up. I love it.”
Sean got off Emerson’s lap and fell to his knees. His hands—even the bandaged one—ran up Emerson’s thighs, circling the bulge under his jeans. Sean unbuttoned Emerson’s pants, stripped them off, and threw them over his shoulder.
Emerson watched as Sean removed his own pants, followed by his boxers. His naked perfection teased Emerson. He wanted to reach out and grab hold of Sean, bend him over, force his cock inside that soft flesh.
“Sean,” he said huskily, “we don’t have any lube.”
“Don’t worry about it, Em. I’ll handle it.”
“What—”
“Shh.” Sean got back on his knees. His fingers slipped under the hem of Emerson’s boxers, and pulled them down a few inches, exposing just the top of dark hair and hip bones. Sean’s tongue darted out and licked the skin. Emerson watched, hungrily. Sean got the boxers all the way off—Emerson lifting up slightly—and began to lick at the head of Emerson’s cock. It twitched weakly, wanting more contact.
After a few more minutes of gentle teasing, Sean provided what Emerson wanted. Sean’s lips brushed the tip of his cock, then sank lower down his shaft. The hot wetness of Sean’s mouth made Emerson’s balls tighten. It felt perfect, and he moaned his encouragement. Sean pulled back, his breath coming in short pants across Emerson’s skin.
The fingers of Sean’s right hand began to stroke him. “What got you so turned on?” he asked.
“Your voice,” Emerson answered, moving his hips in time to Sean’s motions.
“What about it?”
“It’s so sexy. So strong.”
His tone held a hint of a smile. “No, it was more than that. We sang at home lots of times, and never with this outcome.”
“I—I don’t know. It’s you and me. It’s both of us. We just fit. And hearing it all together.” He groaned, just remembering.
“Mmm,” Sean said, returning his lips to Emerson’s cock. He sucked at it more, harder this time.
“God, Sean. That feels so good.”
Sean pulled away again, getting to his feet. Emerson groaned in disappointment. “This will feel good, too,” Sean said, straddling Emerson’s hips again. He grabbed Emerson’s cock from behind and rubbed it against his asshole.
“No, Sean. It’ll hurt you.”
“I got it pretty wet. It’ll be fine.”
And the man sank down, impaling himself. They both gasped. Sean’s face clenched in pain, but he kept going.
“Don’t hurt yourself.”
“Shut up, Em. It feels good. Just let me fuck myself on your cock.”
Emerson dug his fingers into Sean’s hips. “Yes. Do it.”
Sean slowly sank down, until Emerson was completely buried in the tight heat. Then Sean began to move up and down.
“Can I touch you?” Emerson asked, his hands tightening on Sean’s thigh.
“Yes.”
He took Sean’s cock in his hand, and began to stroke it gently. His reward was one of those tiny gasps Sean made when pleased. God, he loved those sounds.
“How does that feel?” he asked.
“I love it,” Sean answered breathlessly.
“Good, now ride me.”
Sean grinned down at him, his green eyes heavy and filled with desire. Sean’s right hand held tight onto Emerson’s shoulder as his movements became more forceful. He cried out with each thrust of his hips, fueling Emerson’s own ascent to climax.
“I’m going to come,” Emerson said, still jerking on Sean’s cock in time to their movements. And he did, his cock pulsing and spasming inside Sean. His hand tightened on Sean’s cock, moved faster along the shaft.
“Yes, Em,” Sean said, and he came, too, all over Emerson’s stomach.
Emerson continued to move his hand, until Sean’s body began to relax. He helped Sean up, steadying him with hands on Sean’s hips. Then, Sean pushed him sideways on the couch, into a laying position, and climbed on top of him. Emerson put his arms around Sean, his hands playing with the hair at the base of his neck.
“You okay?” Emerson asked.
“A bit sore.”
“I’m sorry.”
Sean raised his head from Emerson’s chest. His eyes were clear and beautiful. “Don’t be. That felt fantastic.”
There was a knock on the door. “Are you guys in there?” Macie asked.
“Yes,” Sean answered.
“Well, get out here, we need to get ready!”
“Coming, Mom,” Sean said with a good-natured groan.
“I swear; I can’t leave you two alone for more than a few minutes. Going at it like rabbits the second my back is turned.”
“Would you rather we not wait till your back is turned?” Sean shouted.
“Don’t be so gross, you asshole. Now hurry!”
Sean laughed—amused with himself. He got off Emerson and found a packet of tissues by the television. He wiped himself and Emerson off, then they redressed. When they opened the door, Macie stood there tapping her foot.
“The doors to the venue open in an hour. A local radio station is here to do a pre-show interview. And you need to meet the members of the opening band—Reynold.”
“Reynold?” Emerson said. “I’ve never heard of them.”
Macie eyed him, as if he were the bad influence, not the other way around. “Whenever we do a show, we get a local band to open. It’s a way of paying it forward.”
“I got my break that way,” Sean added. “So I like doing it for others.”
Macie glared at his interruption. “Go wash up at least, and we can get started. I don’t want you guys smelling like sex.”
Chapter 23
Reynold played their last song, the sound of the bass guitar echoing over the audience. There was thunderous applause as the band members bowed.
Emerson thought he was going to throw up. There was no way he could do this. What was he thinking? What if he ran? Would Sean chase him down?
Sean took Emerson’s hand, probably sensing Emerson meant to bolt like the Cowardly Lion. “Babe, it’ll be fine.”
“Promise you’ll still love me if I fuck this up?”
Sean smiled and kissed him quickly. “Of course. I love you no matter what. Now, come on.”
Reynold passed them and wished them good luck. Emerson got a few pats on the ba
ck from the members. He smiled weakly at them. Then Sean pulled him, and they were walking out onto the stage.
The screams and applause from the crowd assaulted him, even through his earplugs. The lights struck his eyes, nearly blinding him. He could hardly see past the edge of the stage. Only the first row of people was visible. But he could still remember the size of the building, and imagine just how full it was. He gagged.
“Easy, babe,” Sean said. “Just stay with me.”
When they got to the microphones, Emerson was able to focus on the task of getting Molly settled. That helped calm him a bit. Sean didn’t give him much time, though.
“Hello, Boston!” he shouted into the microphone. “It is so great to be back here again!”
They yelled louder than before.
“Before we get started tonight, I do need to explain a few things. Have you all heard about my recent injury?” He held up his bandaged hand.
The audience yelled and booed.
“I know, I’m not too thrilled about it either. Of course, it does lead me to believe in fate, since I’m lucky enough to have a boyfriend who plays the guitar like a dream and sings like an angel. May I present Emerson Willis!”
Emerson tried to keep the surprise off his face as the crowd went crazy, screaming for him. What the fuck? How did that even make sense?
“I know, I agree,” Sean said with a laugh. “And in case you didn’t know, this amazing man also saved my life. He’s my fucking hero!”
And in front of everyone, Sean leaned over and kissed him. Emerson forgot about the people, the lights, the yelling. He just felt his boyfriend’s lips on his own, reveling in the taste and feel of Sean. When he pulled back, those green eyes sparkled with love.
“And we have a great show to put on for you tonight. Emerson has been working so hard over the last few weeks to get ready for this. I’ve never seen anyone show so much determination. So, let’s kick this off!” Sean covered the microphone briefly. “Ready, babe?”
Emerson only nodded, not trusting his voice in the moment.
“Then count us in.”
With a deep breath, Emerson tapped his foot. Five, six, seven, eight.
His fingers flew over the chords, playing the opening to “Southbound Train.” It was a good song to start with, because it was upbeat.
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