Chapter 1

Dusty saw Deb coming across the quad and gave a little wave. Deborah, actually but she hated that, insisted that people call her Deb. In her opinion Deborah was a name you'd give someone that you expected to speak with her teeth clenched and play the violin, not someone who laughed like a donkey and played the electric bass in a garage band. They had agreed to meet for the concert on the commons at 5:30 on their way to see Deb's favorite group, an a capella band called Word of Mouth. Naturally, she was late.

Deb stopped about 15 feet from where he stood leaning against a tree with his legs crossed at his ankles, looking him over like a buffet at Sizzler. His sleeveless t-shirt fit like a second skin, with the words I'm With Stupid and an arrow pointing at the fly of his 501s. His auburn locks in their perpetual disarray. Five minutes after brushing his hair, it would be an unruly mess, forever looking like he had just climbed out of bed from a hot session with some lucky guy. Taken on their own, his finely sculpted features and golden brown eyes were pretty but a strong masculine aura gave him an air of confidence and predatory, raw sexuality that saved him from the label of "boy toy". No one ever thought to question it.

"Do you have any idea how many times I've wished you were straight, Dusty?" she sighed melodramatically as she approached him.

"I'd guess about as many times as I've wished Mel Gibson would suck my cock. You know, my little brother Trevor looks a lot like me and I'd bet he'd really go for some mature poon," he wore a wicked grin as he said this.

"Ick, man, he's barely legal. Plus, he's probably a virgin. What, I ask you, would I do with a virgin?"

"The same thing you'd do with a non-virgin, only more times probably, not to mention the fact that you wouldn't have to deal with any bad habits that he might have picked up from some other chick. You'd be training him from scratch, babe. Think of it, he's basically a walking erection who would be extremely eager to please,"

"Damn. You make a good case. I just might have to seriously think about it,"

They walked over to where he had parked his VW and climbed in. He loved his van. While it was the furthest thing from sexy, it had plenty of room in the back for a good-sized mattress, which he kept a 400-thread count set of fresh and folded sheets sitting on the middle of, ready for anything.

Once they arrived and found their seats, they had about a half hour to wait for the show to start. Dusty was amazed that Deb was able to get tickets at such a late date. The band was starting to build a reputation in the States and the hall filled with fans proved it. They already had bedrock following from when they were on a kids' show some years back. That was how Deb got hooked on them. They had been very popular overseas but had only recently begun to make waves over here.

"Deb, you never said how you got the tickets and passes," Dusty whispered.

Also whispering, she replied, "I went online and bought them from their site months ago. It seemed to take forever for them to arrive,"

About a minute before seven, the house lights lowered some, the stage lights came up and a voice announced the group. And there it was, that incredibly sexy voice coming through the sound system. The prime tenor for the group came out onto the stage, strutting like he owned the place.

"God, he's so hot! I just wanna throw him down right there and have my way with him," Dusty sighed.

"I don't think you'd stand a chance. I'm telling ya, he's not gay. Look at how he's focusing on the ladies out here, " Deb argued.

"It's camo, babe. All an elaborate act. He's not out of the closet yet,"

"Nah, he's flirting with that woman Keith just hauled up on stage. He's all rubbing his ass on hers and everything. I'm telling ya, Chris is straight. You'd have a better chance with Jed, the percussionist. I don't get why you're into him anyway. He's not your usual type.

This was true enough. He usually went for jock types, big muscles, big cocks, little brains and little in the way of talent outside the bedroom or the field. There was just something about this guy though. He was average height with light colouring and somewhat sharp features. If he were a woman, his physique would be willowy. What an athlete would think of as a swimmer's build.

"I know, but Chris is just sizzling. Look at him jumping around up there. The guy is a huge ball of energy. He must be incredible in the sack, plus that sexy voice? Sheeit, Deb, you know what I'd give to make that guy whine like a kitten. If you need some proof that he's gay, I'll give it to ya,"

"How?" Deb demanded.

"Patience, Grasshopper. All will become clear in time," he said with a smug grin.

Dusty looked around at the other people seated in the auditorium. The place was big and steeply tiered. The head of the person sitting in front of him was at chest level. Figuring anyone onstage would be able to just about see into the laps of the audience, he prepared himself to gather the proof Deb wanted.

They were starting a slow song just then and Dusty gave his full attention to Chris as he began singing. Chris was scanning the audience, making eye contact now and again and Dusty's goal was to catch his eye and hold it. His eyes scanned past, lingering only for a second but then snapped back, drawn to Dusty like ball bearings to an electric magnet.

Dusty knew what he saw was a guy in the third row staring directly at him and lightly stroking his package, while wearing a "come hither" expression. Dusty's grin widened when Chris actually faltered, his voice seemed to catch in his throat for a split second. His eyes lingered on the movement of the hand, then catching himself he flushed and looked away. After that, the singer's eyes would skitter back every few seconds, never staying away for long. At the end of the song, the group exited stage right to get ready for the next number.

"See?"

"Jesus wept! You and your fucking gaydar. I really hate you right now. You know how hot I am for him and you have to go and prove to me that he's a fag. Thank you sooooo much," Deb's eyes were shooting daggers at Dusty, who just laughed.

Back stage, Chris felt like he'd slipped through the looking glass. He couldn't believe the heavenly creature flirting with him from the third row. If you could call what the redhead was doing flirting. He'd never had anything like this happen, and wasn't at all sure how to handle it. His experience was limited to being picked up in a 7-11 once and another time while he was reading in Central Park. This guy had to be messing with him. He was just too good looking to be honestly interested.

Kevin and the others started making obvious innuendoes while he adjusted his clothes to hide the evidence of his arousal. It was intended as gentle teasing among friends but they weren't helping the situation. At first, he hadn't even been sure the attention was aimed at him. He had to believe it, since the others had concluded that there was something to rib him about.

Chris could usually give as good as he got when it came to joking around, but he seemed to have lost his equilibrium. Gary decided to take matters into his own hands.

"Guys, time to let up. We can't go back out onstage with him all flustered like this,"

Dusty and Deb were still whispering together when the band returned to the stage, arranging themselves for their next number. Chris' outfit was a bit different. He was wearing grey slacks, a midnight blue silk shirt under a grey and blue waistcoat with a grey jacket that matched the slacks. When he came back out on stage, the jacket was tied low, around his slender hips, the knot of the sleeves directly in front of his fly. He was still strutting but seemed a little less comfortable.

Right away, he started trying to catch Chris' eye again. It wasn't difficult to do. His eyes were obviously drawn to him. Every time Chris looked at him, Dusty was doing something erotic. To keep the singer's attention he had undone his belt and the top button of his jeans so that he could adjust himself, making sure Chris was looking when he did it.

Dusty had kept up his campaign of seduction for most of the concert and he was really starting to hope it would be over soon as his balls were really starting to ache from the constant state of arousal he had kept himself in while putting on his show for Chris.

As soon as the group said good night and it was clear they wouldn't be coming out for a third encore, he was out of his seat, catching Deb's hand and working his way past the other people in their row.

"You have no idea how glad I am that you got those back-stage passes, girl. I think I'd have to break someone's head if they wouldn't let me back there right now," he said as he buckled his pants and then banged on the entrance to the rear of the theatre.

When a little goth girl, holding a clipboard, opened the door, Deb flashed the passes at her. The two were ushered in, and pointed towards the dressing room.

Walking down the corridor, they had no trouble finding the guys. The door was open and there were several fans already in there with them, getting autographs, talking with the group members and having their pictures taken with them.

Dusty stepped into the room, scanning the place for Chris. He spotted him coming out of what appeared to be a washroom, toweling his hair dry. With a relieved smile, Dusty made a beeline for him.

Stopping in front of him, Dusty said, "Hey,"

Chris pulled the towel down onto his shoulders and looked up to see who spoke to him and froze. The look of astonishment on the guy's face was comical.

"Uh... hey. Umm, you... enjoy the show? You want an autograph or something?" he stammered.

"Yeah, to all of the above. The show was great, I'd love an autograph and the 'or something' too,"

He reached up and smoothed the wet hair off Chris' forehead, his hand sliding to the back of his neck as he leaned in slightly, his golden brown eyes locked on Chris' baby blues. Dusty's right hand was just brushing the shirt at his waist when a large, heavy hand landed on Dusty's shoulder and pulled him around. Dusty found himself looking at an Adam's apple. Looking up he recognized the base singer in the group, Gary.

"Dude, what's your prob?" Dusty asked, as he stepped back with care. He didn't want to trample Chris.

"You're leaning, man. And I don't like it,"

"What business is it of yours, big guy? He your squeeze or something?"

"No. He's my friend and your actions are clearly making him uncomfortable. Therefore, it becomes my concern. Shall we discuss this in private?"

"What makes you think I wanna go anywhere with you, man?"

"Gary, it's cool, really," Chris protested.

"No. It's not cool, Chris. We're going to have a talk as soon as the meet and greet is over. His behavior is inexcusable," It was a bit loud in the room and Gary was speaking quietly so the rest of the fans wouldn't hear what was going on.

It took a good hour. Dusty waited out of the way, watching the brouhaha. Finally, the last roll of film had been exposed, one final autograph book was christened and a last minute "Thanks, guys!" said. Looking around to see if everyone had left, Gary spotted Deb talking with Kevin.

Reaching for her, he said, "Sorry, miss but it's getting kind of late and we still have things to do before we can leave. Would you excuse us, please?"

"But—"

"She's with me," Dusty interjected. "She's my best friend. Anything you think you need to say to me can be said in front of her, 'cuz I'd just tell her anyway,"

"That cool with you, Chris?" Gary asked.

"None of this is cool, man," Chris looked very uncomfortable.

"So, this is about protecting his virtue or something? Like, you wanna know what my intentions are or what?"

"Your intentions are perfectly clear, son. I have no issue with your intentions. What I do have an issue with is your actions. What you were doing during the concert was not a problem, seeing as how the audience couldn't tell what was going on, but in here anyone paying the least bit of attention to the two of you would have seen what was going on. At this point in time, Chris is not out to the general public. His reasons are his own and I respect them, as should you,"

"Hey, I didn't know, man. I'm sorry. Honest, how could I know he's still in the closet? I mean, just 'cuz someone don't advertise that they're gay, don't mean they're hiding it, right?"

"That's true but you need to be more discreet in the future. You should always assume that someone hasn't come out unless you know for certain otherwise,"

"Yeah, you're right. I'll be more thoughtful in the futu—"

"YAH! Who just grabbed my ass?" Deb shrieked.

The three of them were standing fairly close together, so when she jumped forward in surprise, she slammed up against Gary then ricocheted off him and back into Dusty. He steadied her, while looking at who had been standing behind her. Jed had a shit-eating grin on his face. Dusty grinned back.

"I'd say the percussionist is the culprit, Deb. Weren't you saying you thought he was cute?"

"No, I said you'd have a better chance with him than Chris. I thought for sure he was the gay one. "

"Hey! Why would you think I'm gay?" he demanded, clearly affronted.

"Come on, look at how you dress. Straight men do not wear button down, silk shirts open and untucked, with a tight t-shirt underneath," she replied.

"They don't?"

"I told you, man. Do you believe me now?" Chris asked, snickering at Jed.

"Shit. No wonder I never get laid," he muttered.

"You know, you're real cute when you pout?" Dusty commented.

"Back off, dude, I don't fly that way," he said defensively, but turned his puppy dog eyes on Deb while he said it. She smiled and he brightened.

"So, are we through here?" Dusty inquired.

Gary appeared to ponder for a moment, "Yes, I think we are,"

Dusty turned to Chris, who smiled shyly at him. "Wanna get out of here?"

"I can't. Not right this minute, anyway. Someone might see and snap to what's up,"

"Why aren't you out? I mean, it's not like you'd loose your female fans, and you'd gain tons of male fans. Seriously, the girls who are infatuated with you would be disappointed, but they wouldn't be pissed. Isn't that right, Deb?"

"That's about how I feel. I'm pissed at Dusty here, not you," she responded, punching him lightly in his abdomen, intending to hit his tight six-pack, but her aim was higher and harder than she had meant.

She wound up hitting him right in the solar plexus, causing hit breath to rush out and his diaphragm to seize up. His arms flapped about like a wounded bird, until his right hand landed on Chris' shoulder, his fingers spasmed closed, causing him to clutch a handful of vest and shirt.

"Oh shit, hahaha, I'm sorry, hehe, I didn't mean, HAHAHAAAA..." She tried to apologize but seeing Dusty looking like a stunned, beached carp was just about the funniest sight she'd ever seen.

"Are you OK, Dusty?" Chris enquired, looking concerned.

Dusty stumbled back, the back of his legs struck a vanity chair and he sat down heavily. He still had a handful of Chris' clothes and dragged the singer along, tangling their feet as he lost his balance, involuntarily sitting down. Chris suddenly found himself in Dusty's lap, straddling his legs. Dusty's face pressed into the side of the surprised tenor's neck, just as his lungs decided to start working again.

He gasped in a tremendous lungful of air, then panted heavily into Chris' neck and ear. Despite the way that they had ended up in this position, Chris quietly groaned and shuddered as he closed his eyes to enjoy the single most erotic experience of his life. Dusty felt Chris' instant erection press hard into his flat stomach and slid his hands to his ass to pull him closer. They looked around when they heard someone clearing their throat loudly, obviously trying to get their attention.

"I think that all of us in here would appreciate it if the two of you would wait until we don't have to be present. It was bad enough watching the two of you eye-fucking each other during the performance. I really don't have any desire to see more, thank you," Gary said when he had their attention.

Chris scrambled up, turning crimson. Dusty stood, rubbing his mid-section, while asking, "Well, if we can't leave together, how are we gonna handle this?"

"I don't know. I've... I mean, its been... I... I... I have a room that I share with Jed," Chris stuttered. Dusty couldn't keep from smiling; everything about Chris seemed so sweetly innocent and compelling.

"Not a problem," Deb assured Chris. "Jed and I'll be getting our own room," Jed suddenly looked astonished, but his expression switched to child-like glee in the next second.

"How about we meet you guys at your motel?" The red head inquired of Chris.

"Uuuh... yeah, that'd be great," the singer reliped.

"Which one are you in... and what room?" Dusty asked.

"The Ramada, room number 232," Chris said quickly.

"Great, see you there," Dusty slid his hand behind Chris' head, his right slipping to the small of his back.

He pulled him in close, his lips just barely brushing Chris'. His tongue snaked out and swiped at his bottom lip, Chris gasped, startled by the unexpected sensation. Dusty took advantage of his parted lips by slipping his tongue into the warm depths of his mouth. It was obvious that Chris would have hit the floor if Dusty hadn't been so strong. As it was, Chris just sort of sagged like a rag doll, his knees completely unequal to the task of holding him up. Dusty gave his ass a little squeeze as he got him back onto his feet.

"See ya there?"

"Right... sure... you bet," Chris looked beyond dazed.

"Right. Let's go, Deb," Dusty said, turning to his friend.

As they left, the band could hear Deb continuing her complaint to Dusty about getting pointers on making a guy swoon.

"God, help me! I think I'm in love," Chris was leaning back against the wall for support.

"Lust," said Gary.

"Same difference," Eric piped in.

Deb was standing in the lobby, waiting for them but Dusty was nowhere in sight. Looking concerned, Chris approached her. She smiled and pointed upstairs. Quickly returning her smile, he was off, moving towards the elevator like the hounds of hell were on his heels.

When the door opened, he saw Dusty leaning back against the ice machine, ankles crossed, thumbs hooked in his pockets, fingers framing his basket. The entire pose designed to display the goods to their best advantage. Chris stood there, enraptured. He snapped out of the trance when the door started to close again and reached out to stop it.

"Which way?" Dusty asked as he reached down to pick up the paper bags by his feet.

"What?"

"To your room... which way?"

"Oh, right. Follow me," Chris said, flushing slightly and heading out of the elevator alcove.

"Endlessly, Babe."

Dusty was walking so close to him he could feel his body heat. His warm breath washed over the back of Chris' neck, sending goose bumps down his arms and across his chest. Chris felt like his guts were turning to jelly. He absolutely could not get the damned key card to work right. Dusty reached around him and caught his hand. Taking the key card, he unlocked the door for them and using full body pressure, got Chris moving into the room ahead of him. Once across the threshold, he put out the do not disturb sign and grabbed the ice bucket.

"What's in the bags?"

"Have a look see, while I go get some ice," Dusty replied, smiling.

Chris started pulling stuff out of the bag. A 5^th of Raspberry Smirnoff, another of coconut Captain Morgan's rum, blue plastic cups and some snack food. He had just pulled a large box of ultra thin Ramses and a big bottle of lube that claimed to, Make it last through any extreme situation with our new 'waterless', condom safe formula that never dries out! Smooth, silky texture lasts and lasts until you're done, when Dusty came back in with the ice. He blushed and dropped the bottle like he'd been burned.

Dusty grinned, "You have done this before, haven't you?"

"Yeah... sure... of course. It's just been a while and never with..."

Dusty strolled over to him, leaned into the shorter man's back and asked, "With what?"

"With someone... ssso... h-hot," his insides were quivering again and he couldn't seem to control his voice around this guy.

With his mouth right by Chris' ear, he whispered, "Mmmm, thanks but I find that hard to believe. You're a hot little number yourself, all wiry muscles and untapped energy. I'm dying to see which one of us wears out first."

That deep voice right in his ear, the warm breath puffing against his hair and neck had Chris in such a state of arousal that if Dusty had touched him at that moment, he would have blown his load right then. He already had a wet spot on his underpants, and slacks from precome. He hadn't realized he was holding his breath until he started seeing spots. Luckily, Dusty moved away to pour some drinks and he was able to take a breath and try to regain his equilibrium.

"Smirnoff or Captain Morgan?"

"Which ever, I don't care."

"OK. Captain Morgan it is."

He sat on one of the beds as Dusty played bartender. He took the glass that the red head offered him and drained it.

"Whoa, I don't want you incapacitated, just relaxed."

"Don't worry about it; I have a really fast metabolism. Alcohol doesn't affect me as much as most people. As a matter of fact, I think I need another," he said with conviction and stood to get it.

Dusty stood and caught him around the waist. "Actually, I think what you need is me. Let me give you a massage, I guarantee it'll relax you better than booze. It'll also let you get used to me touching you. We just need to start slow is all, not just jump right in. We've got all night, after all."

He reached around and dug into the second bag, pulling out another bottle, this one containing a yellow-white liquid. When he popped the top, Chris could smell coconut and pineapple.

"Pina Colada flavored massage lotion," he said, smiling lecherously. "Take your clothes off and lie on your stomach on the bed."

Chris spent a couple minutes fumbling with the buttons on his waistcoat, until Dusty took over. The rum didn't seem to be kicking in yet. His coordination was shot because of his nervousness and painful arousal for a couple hours.

He had gotten all of the buttons on Chris's vest and shirt undone, when Chris stopped him.

"I think I'd like to take a quick shower first. If you don't mind?"

"Not in the least. I'll join you," Dusty replied, smiling.

"Well, actually, I'd like to do it alone. I mean, I'd be more comfortable, ya know—if I could just have a few minutes to myself."

"Not a problem. Take your time and once you feel ready, we can enjoy each other," Dusty stepped back to let Chris move past him.

Chris found he could control his fingers with Dusty in the other room and managed to get undressed without trouble. His nerves were on edge; he couldn't believe that this incredibly looking guy actually wanted to be with him. Chris knew his reactions so far had to have made it clear that he didn't have a hell of a lot of experience in the bedroom.

He knew people thought he must be comfortable with sexual matters, because he sang songs about love, sex and intimacy with such conviction but it was just an act. Once you got him off the stage, he was at a complete loss. He had never managed to screw up his courage enough to approach someone that he found attractive. He had only been with two guys and that was because they had approached him.

He finished his shower quickly but stalled for a while. He was afraid to leave the bathroom. Figuring that he might leave soon, if he hadn't already, Chris put on his terrycloth robe and opened the door.

He stepped out, dreading that the room would be empty. When he saw, Dusty slouched on the bed farthest from the door a wave of relief washed over him. Then he didn't know what to do.

"You're shy," It wasn't a question. "Jeez, Chris, how can someone who goes out on a stage all the time, singing and strutting around like he owns the place, be shy?"

"I don't know. I guess when I'm performing, it's like, I know I can give them... I can... I know what's expected of me. I know can fulfill their expectations but this..." He took a deep breath, "I don't... I'm scared that I'll screw up and you'll be like, 'Shit, this guy ain't worth the trouble, I'm outa here.' I mean, I..." His eyes glistened as if he was about to break down and cry.

Dusty felt his heart swell with emotion and it was a startling sensation, to say the least. It was one of those things he had read in books but had always thought was just literary license, not something that actually happened to people. Like, wringing your hands in distress. It was almost funny when he realized that Chris was doing just that, only it was the belt of the robe he was wearing that was taking the abuse, rather than his hands.

Dusty got up from the bed and said, "Come in here," he moved past Chris to enter the bathroom. When Chris didn't follow, he repeated firmly, "Come here, Chris."

The singer took a hesitant step toward him. Dusty reached out and caught his wrist, pulling Chris to stand between him and the mirror. He stood behind him, with his hands lightly on his shoulders. His hands slid down Chris' arms to his waist. They slowly, caressingly glided them around his waist to lie on his trembling stomach. Leisurely, Dusty unwrapped the belt and let the robe fall open. Skimming his hands up through the light thatch of blond hair, Dusty smoothed the robe back off his creamy shoulders, allowing it to drop to the floor.

"Look at yourself," he breathed into the shell of Chris' ear, palms resting on his bare hips. "What do you see?"

"I..."

"What you see," Dusty whispered, "Is someone that I think is extraordinarily sexy. You look at yourself and you wonder, "How can someone I think is beyond gorgeous want to be with me?" What you're not considering is that not everyone would find me as attractive as you do."

Chris made a sound of incredulity.

"Take my word for it. I've been turned down plenty of times. My advice... don't look a gift horse in the mouth," Dusty smiled at him in the mirror as he pulled Chris back into his straining cock. Chris shivered and groaned, lifting his arms to pull Dusty's head into the crook of his neck, while arching his back so that his ass pushed into the denim-clad groin behind him. Chris' erection was flaming red and twitching.

"Now, about that massage..." Dusty took his hand and pulled him into the other room.

Dusty had Chris lie on his stomach, while he stripped and then straddled his hips. Chris could hear him open the lotion bottle, squirt some into his palm and smooth it around to warm it up. Firm hands touched down at his shoulder blades and smoothed up to Chris' shoulders, causing his breath to catch in his throat. After a few minutes of slow, sensual rubbing, he began to relax into the experience. As Dusty slowly moved down his back, Chris could feel his hard cock trailing down the crack of his ass, bumping back and forth.

When Dusty began following his hands with his lips and tongue, he couldn't help but groan and spread his legs slightly. Dusty's entire hands were working his butt cheeks, while his mouth was sending shivers from the base of his spine to the rest of his body. He clutched the pillow and ground his hips into the mattress, whimpering incoherently when Dusty's tongue slipped into the top of his crack.

When he felt the larger man pry his cheeks apart, he held his breath in anticipation. The actual sensation of having this beautiful man swirl his tongue around the edge of his hole, clamp his lips around it and create a suction, was intense but when he flickered and probed it with his agile tongue, it was too much.

He cried out, his entire body shuddering with the intensity of his orgasm; he was literally blind for a few seconds. Afterward, all he could do was lie there, twitching and gasping for air.

Dusty continued to stroke his back, buttocks and thighs. It was sensual, yes but mostly soothing. It was as if he knew Chris needed to come down before he could stand more stimulation. When his breathing returned to normal, he felt Dusty turning over. He opened his eyes to find the other man smiling down at him.

"And think, that was just a little foreplay," he looked down between their bodies. "You're still hard. God, I knew I was gonna love being with you."

At this, he slid down and began licking up the come that covered Chris' stomach, making little appreciative sounds as he did it. He got as much as he could without touching Chris' still aching cock and then moved back up for a kiss. He kissed Chris' lips for a bit and then slipped his tongue into his mouth. The combined taste of Dusty's mouth, the massage lotion and his own essence was glorious. He never wanted the kiss to end and clutched at the red head when he tried to move back down his body.