I laughed, genuinely enjoying recounting the sordid details of our adolescent misadventure.
“So, we got in and nobody noticed our fucked-up IDs,” I said, “but then we got cocky.”
“It’s not cocky to want a drink,” Dalton interrupted.
“It is if you’re fifteen and you use a really obvious fake ID to try to buy a couple of whiskeys,” I replied.
The whole venue was laughing now. Laughing at us, laughing with us. It felt amazing.
Panic? What panic? When had I ever felt anything but the high of working a crowd?
“So, they took our IDs,” said Dalton, “and they didn’t give us drinks. But before they could kick us out, Levi just grabs my hand and takes off, dragging me away into the crowd.”
“They never did catch up with us,” I said, winking. “We didn’t have anything to drink and we lost our fake IDs, but we danced our fucking hearts out.”
“And let me tell you,” added Dalton, “it was fucking worth it. Because we got to see Blink-182, and we were only ten feet from the stage that night.”
Everyone went wild. We had them wrapped around our fingers, and I felt the thrum of showmanship throbbing in my chest. They were mine, the people in the crowd. For the rest of the night, I owned them. And as I looked out at the masses of people who loved our music enough to buy tickets and stand in line and shout themselves hoarse, I realized that there was nothing in the world I would rather do than what I was doing right at that moment.
We launched into our first song, and from there the night unspooled around us. It seemed like every single person in the venue knew the words we had written. We were bathed in their adoration. I barely noticed the passage of time, as wrapped up as I was in the moment. But when we finally left the stage, covered in sweat and beyond exhilarated, I knew that we had fucking rocked it. There was no way that the scout wasn’t drooling over us, no way that Porter wasn’t proud of me, no way that we had failed in any sense of the word.
I was high without any substance.
Someone pushed a drink into my hand backstage, and someone else asked me if I was heading back to the hotel. I probably answered them, but I honestly couldn’t remember. I didn’t end up at the hotel though. Porter drove us all back, but before he could even get inside the lobby I was grabbing his hand—lacing our fingers tightly together—and dragging him toward the nearest taxi.
“Take us to the hottest club in the city,” I told the driver.
“I presume you mean the hottest club I think you’ll be able to get into,” she said, deadpan.
I laughed, still walking on goddamn sunshine.
“You want to go clubbing?” Porter asked, his expression incredulous.
I leaned in to bite at his ear and whispered, “I want to rub up against you.”
Judging by the muffled throat clearing up front, I wasn’t whispering so much as whisper-shouting. Porter blushed and I threw back my head, grinning.
“Here you go,” the driver told us, pulling up to the curb outside a club that was spitting pulsing red light onto the street through the door. “Dance your little hearts out.”
I gave her a massive tip and Porter mumbled some kind of thank you as I led him toward the line.
I was still covered in sweat from the show, so the blast of humidity from the club didn’t deter me, but Porter gave me the side-eye.
“What are we doing here?” he asked.
“We’re dancing,” I told him. “Come on, feel me up on the dance floor before I get famous enough for people to recognize me.”
I should have known that those were famous last words. And Porter, well, I’m sure he did know that we were making a massive gamble. But he didn’t try to stop me, and I didn’t think to stop myself. So, we threw our bodies together on the dance floor, pressed tightly against each other by everyone else who was squeezed in there, grinding and panting and making out.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, leaning up on my tiptoes, and kissed him passionately. It was all open mouths and flicking tongues and groaning into each other as our hips ground together. I was hard as a fucking rock already, desperate for him, and Porter started working me up by grabbing my ass and biting at my collarbones. When I was with him, it felt like every single inch of me was weak with desire. I slipped one hand under the hem of his Henley, rubbing at his tight abs and groaning.
“You’re amazing,” I told him, knowing full well that the words were carried away by the blasting music. It felt good to tell him, though.
He leaned in close, his stubble scraping my jaw in the most delicious way, and murmured, “You make me want to do filthy things to you.”
Which, I mean, I wasn’t about to say no to that. I was trying to get my composure back—he was really taking a toll on my ability to be a calm, self-possessed person—but then he swiveled me around by the hips, lining us up so that we were facing the same direction with him behind me. It was exactly like the other day in the shower, except for the fact that we were surrounded by goddamn strangers.
So many eyes on us as we moved together.
I closed my eyes, leaning back into him, and smiled as I felt his hand sliding across my waist. He hesitated for a moment before he rubbed across my straining cock. My jeans—impossibly tight and ridiculously expensive—were suddenly the bane of my existence. I wished that I would just shuck them right there on the dance floor.
What I wouldn’t give to take Porter right then and there.
I cupped his hand with my own, holding him right where I wanted him, and leaned up to press a kiss against his pulse point.
His other hand came up to my chest, and he began rubbing against one of my nipples through my shirt. Fuck. He was working me up in the worst way. There was probably a goddamn wet spot on my briefs already, and my ass was clenching as I imagined him taking me there, just working his way into my body in front of all those people.
God fucking dammit.
A fresh pulse of arousal rolled through me as he squeezed me, pulling our bodies infinitesimally closer.
IwantyouIwantyouIwantyou.
Enough was e-fucking-nough. I pulled away from him, spinning to catch his eye—god, he was startled—and twitched my head pointedly toward the bathrooms. I wouldn’t say we ran, exactly, but once we both realized that the other one was onboard with a clandestine bathroom hookup, it wasn’t like we were going to dilly-dally about getting there.
Of course, the bathroom had a line. There were a bunch of people kind of half-heartedly waiting for a stall, so I clutched at my stomach and rasped, “Gotta puke, can I…?”
“Oh god, yeah, you can take the next one,” said the guy at the front of the line. He looked at Porter sympathetically. “He gonna be okay?”
Porter kinda mumbled something incoherent—he was not nearly as good of an actor as I was—and then someone came out of the handicap stall, so we headed straight for it.
I wouldn’t have had the balls to mess around in a bathroom that crowded if the stall hadn’t been the fancy kind with doors that go all the way from the ceiling to the floor. But once we were in there, we had a teeny, tiny modicum of privacy. And I wasn’t about to miss that opportunity.
“Are you sick?” Porter asked, his eyes wild.
I grinned at him. “I mean, I wanna do sick things to you…”
“God, you just lied to him? To cut the line?”
“I’m a miscreant,” I said, shrugging. “Ooh, this stall is spacey. Wanna take advantage of it?”
“I mean, uh, I’m not gonna say no to you,” he said.
“How do you want me?” I asked. “I’ll do anything you want, just…god, I need to touch you.”
I feel like nobody had ever propositioned Porter quite so brazenly, because his eyes went super wide and he just kind of goldfished at me for a minute.
But then his brain engaged again and he fell to his knees on the industrial polished concrete floor. And okay, it’s not like I’d never imagined a guy sinking to his knees for me. Bu
t I had never experienced it in real life, and let me tell you, the actual experience far outstripped anything my imagination had come up with. He looked up at me, his eyes full of trust and eagerness and lust, and his lips parted slightly as if he couldn’t wait to wrap them around me.
“Get your pants off,” he murmured.
“Fuck,” I said, wrestling with my fly and shoving my pants and briefs down my thighs. My cock sprung out almost comically, slapping against my abs. Leaning back against the wall of the stall I looked down at him, my beautiful, sweet Porter. He licked his lips, almost nervously, and my cock started drooling precum in earnest as I thought about the epic blowjob I was about to get. But then he was turning me around and spreading my cheeks.
Holy shit.
“Porter,” I moaned, pressing back against his hands as they spread me. My cock was pressed against the cool metal of the stall, and the shock of it brought me back to myself a bit. “Are you sure—”
But then he was licking over my hole, his trepidation evidently evaporating. And let me tell you, he didn’t have anything to be nervous about…he was a fucking pro at eating ass. He flicked his tongue against me again and again, working me up mercilessly. I wrapped one of my own hands around my cock and began to stroke it as he changed tack and began laving his tongue in long, slow strokes from the back of my balls to the base of my spine.
He let out a little whimper behind me, and that was the thing that sent my body into overdrive. He was so clearly into what he was doing, and I honestly don’t think I had ever experienced anything as hot as Porter desperately rimming me in the bathroom of an upscale New York City club.
Fuck.
“I need—” I gasped, speeding up my hand as I stroked myself.
“What is it? What do you need?” he asked, pulling back.
I turned my head to meet his eyes and my stomach dropped. He was a mess, saliva dripping down his chin, his lips red and swollen. My cock throbbed almost painfully, and I clutched at the base, praying that I would be able to hold off for just another moment.
“I need you inside of me,” I panted.
Porter’s eyes flashed and he dove back in, stiffening his tongue as he worked his way inside of me. Then, just as I thought he couldn’t drive me any closer to the edge, he was sliding a spit-slick finger into me. It was exactly what I needed, and with a final jerk of my cock, I was coming across the wall and my own hand, leaving a sticky Rorschach test in my wake.
Without thinking, I slid down the wall and settled on the floor. My mind was still reeling, my heart pounding, and I shook my head to try to clear it. I don’t know how long I was down there before his voice reached me.
“Levi?” Porter asked, peering down at me.
Oh god. He was a vision, completely debauched, and I could have happily spent the rest of my life on that grimy bathroom floor staring up at him.
“That was…”
He raised his eyebrows. “Ill advised?”
“Well, yeah,” I said. “Duh. But it was also…”
“Really fucking hot,” Porter supplied.
I nodded. “God, Porter. I’ve never…Jesus. I’ve never done anything quite like that.”
His face split into a grin and he asked, “Been rimmed in a public bathroom?”
“Well, uh, yeah. That was a first,” I admitted. “But I meant, like, that level of desperation. It was just…you drove me wild tonight.”
“Me?” asked Porter, incredulous. “You were on fire tonight. I was mesmerized.”
“What, the show?” I asked.
“The show, the taxi ride, the club. I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off you since you first stepped out on that stage.”
My mind was finally starting to mellow out. It was as if the orgasm had rebooted me.
Have you tried turning it off and back on again?
“What can I do for you?” I asked.
What I really meant was, How can I make you feel as great as you make me feel?
Porter bit his lip, and I wondered when the last barrier between us would fall away. We were getting close.
And then he fucking obliterated me by saying, “Can I take you home and fuck you?”
My cock twitched, making a valiant effort to harden up again, but even I couldn’t get a boner less than five minutes after coming my fucking brains out.
“Yes,” I nearly shouted, standing up and wrapping my arms around Porter once more. I could feel his cock through his jeans, straining, and it took a real effort not to beg him to just fuck me right there. But then I remembered that Cooper had booked a king room for Porter and me, and a giant hotel bed sounded infinitely better than trying to fuck in the bathroom stall.
So, I wiped myself—and the wall—off with toilet paper, and pulled my jeans back up, and tried to look like I’d been puking rather than coming my brains out. We weren’t fooling anyone, of course. There was a chorus of catcalls as we left the bathroom, and I cheerily flipped everyone off.
Then we were back out in the summer night, light pollution blocking out the stars that I knew were up above us somewhere. I reached out to grab Porter’s hand, nuzzling into him as we waited for a taxi to drive by. The night was far from young, but we had so much ahead of us. I wondered what it would be like to wake up with Porter the next day, our bodies entwined and our hearts impossibly full.
9
Porter
New York, NY
There was something magical about that night. Levi and I were riding on a wavelength that nobody else could access. It was like we had ascended some great towering mountain together, and then we were spit out on the other side of that experience with an unbreakable connection. I wasn’t sure if it was the fact that we had screwed around in public, or just that we were finally falling into synchronization after dancing around each for so long. But there I was, drunk on Levi’s body, high on his bright, mischievous smile, and I felt a shift.
We took our time, the first time I fucked him. I wanted to savor every single second of it, drink in his moans and thrusts and helpless cries. So, I allowed myself to take my time with him.
We burst into the hotel room just as the sky was beginning to lighten. It was clearly the early hours of the morning, and I pulled the curtains shut to block out the rest of the world. This was just for us.
Levi pulled off his shirt and shimmied out of his pants almost immediately. I turned to stare at him, soaking in the sight of his glorious body, and he shot me the most lascivious smile I had ever seen. It made my stomach drop and my breath hitch. God, he was beautiful.
“How do you want me?” I asked, my eyes raking up his body.
“Preferably naked,” he snarked, reaching out to tug at my shirt. I ripped it off, tossed it aside, and faced him once more.
“Like this?”
He shook his head. “More naked than that.”
So, I shoved down my jeans and briefs, instinctively reaching down to palm my cock. It had been hard for what felt like an eternity, and a bead of precum bubbled up as I rubbed myself.
Levi licked his lips and pulled off his own underwear unceremoniously.
“Get over here,” I growled, planting myself on the bed with my back pressed up against the headboard.
He did not need to be told twice. One moment he was standing beside me and the next he was throwing himself at my body, straddling me clumsily and cupping my face in his hands.
“You’re perfect,” he told me, his voice awestruck.
I shook my head, smiling. “I’ve got nothing on you.”
“Guess we’ll have to agree to disagree,” Levi said seriously.
“Tell me what you want,” I panted, thrusting up against him. Our cocks rubbed together deliciously as he shifted against me.
“Will you take me like this?” he asked, his voice going small and vulnerable.
A spike of arousal shot through me. I had never been ridden by anyone, but it had always been one of my top fantasies. The idea of being able to see Levi’s face t
he whole time, letting him take control, watching him use my body to cater to his pleasure…I nearly came on the spot just thinking about it.
I nodded, drawing in a ragged breath. “Do you have…?”
“Oh shit, yeah,” he breathed, reaching over to the bedside table and pulling out lube and a condom.
God, he was going to be the death of me.
“How did those get there?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
Levi tipped back his head and laughed. “I had a feeling we’d want them to be easily accessible tonight.”
“You’re the eighth wonder of the world,” I told him.
He grinned and said, “You know it.”
Then he was slicking his own fingers and reaching behind himself to slide them into his hole. I swallowed thickly, trying to tamp down on my outrageous level of arousal as he prepped himself. God, I was going to come in about ten seconds if I didn’t get a grip.
I ran my hands up and down his thighs, leaning forward to kiss at his neck. Levi was practically purring, leaning into me as he thrust his fingers in and out at a grueling pace.
“Hey,” I whispered, gripping his thighs firmly to get his attention. He opened his eyes and gave me a confused look. “We don’t have to rush this, baby.”
“I know,” he moaned, “but I want you in me so badly.”
Well, when he put it like that…
“Here, let me help you then,” I said, reaching around to guide his hand away from his ass. I squirted a liberal amount of lube onto my own fingers and thrust in with two right off the bat. He threw back his head and let out the most delectable whimper.
“Right there…oh fuck…right there—”
I pumped my fingers into him, crooking them on each pass and grinning as he slowly lost his mind right before my eyes. I was practically milking his prostate and he was eating it up with a damn spoon. I needed him so much in that moment, it took my breath away. And the fact that I had him when I needed him so desperately? That created this marvelous feedback loop of satiation that sent me spiraling dangerously close to my own orgasm.
The Limelight Page 11
