Fighting Chance: (A male/male enemies to lovers erotic RomCom between a young musician and his idol)

by T L Dasha

  “What’s that?” Roland’s voice was barely a whisper as it touched my lips.

  “I can see everything I want to see.”

  Roland lifted his chin as my kisses moved down his neck, inviting me to take as much as I wanted.

  “But no one can see me.” I moved my hands down his waist and gripped his firm rear end as I returned to his lips. Just as quickly, I released him and spun him around to face the glass, wrapping my arms tightly around his shoulders, and pulling his back into my chest. I nibbled at his ear with the lightest pressure. “I can fuck you in front of everyone, and they’ll never even know.”

  He turned his head to meet my lips again. His breaths were labored, his heart was beating at a mile a minute. Mine was too.

  He stayed tightly against me even as I released my hold to move my hands down to his thighs. I found his belt, while my mouth kept him busy with kisses, then I let everything drop to the floor, exposing his growing need to the city lights. His kisses got more frantic, his tongue begging for distraction as I worked him into rock hard submission. His hands were behind him, clinging to my legs for support, while his back arched into my chest. My thinly covered hardness pressed into his bare ass, and my hands stroked his cock.

  He released my mouth in a desperate gasp for air. “J-Jay, I’m going to-“

  I spun him back around to face me, pushing him hard into the cold window. “Oh, we can’t have that. Not so quickly.” The corners of my lips curved upward in cruel satisfaction. “Don’t you want to give them all a good show?”

  His cheeks were red, his lips were slick and parted, his hair disheveled, his knees shaking, and his cock at attention. He watched my every movement as I took off my shirt and undid my own belt. He watched as I pulled down the zipper. He watched as my pants slipped down. His gaze was transfixed on my erection. I moved in close again, pressing our bodies back together, letting my hardness rub against his. I whispered in his ear.

  “Roland Finley. I’m going to fuck you.”

  He took hold of my shoulders and pulled me tighter against him, not needing further invitation. I lifted him up and let him wrap his legs around my waist, supporting the rest of his weight against the glass. I pinned his tongue in his mouth with mine, and traced his opening with my finger. He bit down on my lip as I pushed my first finger inside of him. I pulled away to let him look at my face as I pushed in a second. He struggled to keep eye contact. He was biting his own lip now, both of his piercings pulled tight.

  “This might hurt a little.” I carried him back to my desk and pushed everything aside to lay him back on the lacquered, hardwood surface. I pulled a bottle of lotion from my drawer. That would have to do.

  “Can I?” He looked up at me with devious eyes and took the bottle of lotion from me. He sat up and squirted a few pumps into his hands. Though he didn’t have the foresight to rub his hands together to warm it up first. Instead, he ran cold lotion up the length of my cock, working it in with slow, pressured movements. I gripped his shoulder to try to refocus my attention. The shocking cold in contrast with the building heat was the kind of perfect accident that almost made me come on his chest, right then and there, in those clumsy, perfect hands.

  “Fuck, Roland.” I couldn’t take it anymore. I pushed him back and applied a few more pumps myself. Then I pushed back his legs, and I entered him, slow enough to feel every inch of him tighten around me.

  He let out a gasp and clawed for the edges of the desk above his head, bracing himself while his body arched with every push. I stabilized his hips with one hand, while I pumped his cock with the other, moving slow but hard, matching the rhythm of his moans. He was so fucking tight and so fucking perfect.

  He climaxed on my chest as I filled his ass. I stayed inside of him for a few extra seconds, not able to will myself to leave that warmth. Then I allowed myself to collapse backwards into my waiting chair, trying to catch my breath, trying to get my wits about me, and trying to resist going in for another round.

  ~I know I can’t own you, but I’ll take all I can~

  Chapter 10

  Roland Finley

  I woke up alone in the smooth satin of Jay’s bed as the sun fell on my face. His half was already neatly made, the only trace left of him in the scent of sage. My clothing was folded on the night stand beside me. It was long past midnight by the time he had finished his work last night (which is only kind of my fault), so it didn’t make sense for me to go back to my dorm, when his home was only a few miles away. I slept so well in Jay’s bed, I wasn’t about to protest.

  His room was sleek and modern, with black and white furniture, and a full length mirrored wall hiding the closet. The sheets were black, while the blanket was white, and the carpet was gray to cover the spectrums in between. I hadn’t really gotten to look around much the last time I was in Jay’s home. Partially because it was dark, partially because I had an unholy hangover, and mostly because he was doing a solid job of keeping my eyes in the back of my head.

  I got dressed and found my way to the kitchen. Jay was standing over the stovetop, still dressed in his pajamas, frying up the most heavenly smelling bacon to ever tease my nose. He stirred a pot of some sort of hollandaise then took a taste. Even his cooking seemed erotic as he slid his tongue over his finger, his eyes closed, a smile teasing his lips. In an instant, he switched his attention back to another pan, flipping hash browns in a beautiful mess of butter.

  “You know,” I practically jumped out of my skin as his voice shook me out of my daze, “there’s a reason I’m a writer and not a performer.” His eyes shot up to mine, and his mouth had formed into a smirk. “But it’s good to see I’m just as capable of pleasing an audience.”

  My face flushed, realizing how intently I had been watching him, which only made him laugh more. I averted my focus to the small, round dining room table, and took a seat atop a tall stool. “Do you like to cook?”

  “It’s less about whether or not I enjoy cooking, and more about disliking the mediocrity of everyone else’s food.” With the nimble wrist of a seasoned chef, Jay assembled two beautiful stacks of Eggs Florentine, dribbling on hot hollandaise with artful purpose. “I prefer to have total control over anything I put in my mouth.” He gave me a smile, then slid a plate across the table as he took a seat.

  “This is incredible!” I couldn’t comprehend all of the flavors that were dancing on my tongue. It was a perfect combination of butter and zesty lemon, with an even more perfect marriage of a springy yet crunchy English muffin, crisp spinach, and a soft poached egg.

  “Obviously.” The nonchalant tone in his voice was no mask for the satisfaction in his eyes. He shifted his focus to cut into his egg and let the yoke spill over the spinach below it.

  This felt so normal, eating breakfast across from Jay, as though he were any other person. Like we were a normal couple, enjoying each other’s comfortable silence as we shared a meal, Or like I had come upon an oasis in the middle of all the hustle and chaos and bright lights that have been my life lately.

  Even if he was this same oasis that caused my mind the most chaos of all.

  Jay glanced at his cell phone to check the time. “I have work, but I’ll call you a cab.” He returned his gaze to mine. “This was tolerable.”

  Tolerable…

  My mouth flattened into a hard line. “I’ve had more tolerable evenings, but yeah. It was alright, I guess.”

  “Have you now?” Jay cocked an eyebrow. “Maybe next time I’ll have to actually try.”

  “Maybe I’ll let you.” I shrugged. I stopped bothering to fight the grin on my face. “Alright, call that cab, and I’ll get ready to go.”

  “Be quick.” Jay dialed the cab company, and I slipped back into the master bedroom to use his shower. I could have waited ‘til I got home, but his shower was as big as my entire bathroom, and it had jets all over the walls. I certainly wasn’t going to pass that up.

  I stepped into the hot water and lathered up my hair with some kind of f
ancy, organic shampoo that smelled lightly of coconut. Steam coated the glass, and I relaxed into the pounding heat of the water, washing away all the sweat and musk from my body.

  The steam released as the shower door opened. Jay pushed me into a tiled wall. The sensation of the forceful impact against the hard surface was immediately replaced by the sensation of Jay’s strong tongue forcing its way into my mouth. I ran my hands up his slick, naked body, sucking hard on his tongue as I pulled every bare inch of his skin against mine. He grasped my hair to pull my head back and move his lips down to my neck, lapping up the hot water as it ran down my chin.

  “W-what about the cab?”

  “I’ll call another one.”

  Jay hoisted me up by my hips, and I held his waist between my knees, while gripping hard around his shoulders. My cock rubbed against Jay’s abs, while the pressure of the water stream massaged it in all the right ways. He lathered his length with conditioner, and positioned it in line with my ass.

  He took my mouth again as he pushed into me, using the weight of my body to take me all the way down onto him. The initial pain only made the pleasure that followed that much more satisfying, and the taste of hot water on his lips only made him that much sweeter. I dug my fingers into his muscles. Every drop and movement that rubbed against my cock only got me harder.

  I tore my mouth away to gasp for air as I felt him fill me with his hot cum, while my own release shot over his body. He pulled out and let me get my footing before he stepped back.

  I couldn’t seem to catch my breath as I stared at my own semen washing down his chest. His eyes were still glossy in a lustful daze. I placed a hand on his shoulder and knocked him back into the frosted shower glass. Then I got on my knees.

  I could feel the come from his last orgasm sliding down my inner thigh when I pressed him harder against the wall. I ran my tongue up his abdomen, catching my own cum with the pouring water. I moved back down, running a round of soap up and down his shaft. It didn’t take much to get him hard again.

  I replaced my hands with my lips, pulling him in as far as I could. He was thick and firm, twitching slightly as my tongue felt its way along this smooth erection, tracing the veins of his cock. I gagged lightly as his head teased the back of my throat.

  “Roland, you don’t have to-“

  I took him back inside me and sucked harder, stealing his last protest. He ran a hand through my hair, and guided the tempo, his moans mixing with the spattering of water around us.

  His fingers grasped at the glass, but there was nothing to hold on to. The power I felt making his body buckle under my strokes was indescribable. I pulsed until he couldn’t help releasing into my mouth. The force of his orgasm made me choke. I dropped to my hands to try to collect myself.

  Jay crouched down, and lifted my chin, fluttering a soft kiss over my lips. His voice was low and out of breath. “I can be a little late for work.”

  Chapter 11

  Roland Finley

  Round Three of the Battle of the Bands asked for a turning point in our lives, and my mind was so well lubricated that I had a smash hit in a matter of seconds.

  I walked into the interview room with an extra spring in my step.

  “It’s probably the same for most everyone here, but there was no more significant turning point than ‘the day we discovered music.’” Logan gave the camera a confident smile.

  “And more importantly, the day we discovered that there was more to life than video games and anime.”

  “Hey now, I wouldn’t go that far. I think you mean the day we discovered that there was a whole career in writing music FOR video games and anime.”

  “Right, yeah, that.” I laughed. “God, we really were nerds.”

  “Was that the original plan? How did you end up switching from composing game music to alternative rock?” The interviewer looked at us both curiously.

  Logan and I glanced at each other then returned our attention to the camera. We both spoke in unison.

  “We wanted to get laid.”

  --

  “A turning point?” Tanner rubbed his neck, making a sidelong glance at Lance. I couldn’t help but be a little curious as Dread Theory’s interview streamed in the waiting room.

  Lance looked confident as always. “I’ve always been ambitious, so this was a tough one for me. How do you choose just one defining moment when every day we make decisions that change the course of our lives.”

  “Ooooh, so deep.” Logan snorted. “Where does he come up with this stuff?”

  “It’s like the Barnum Effect.” I nodded. “Be just specific enough to sound poignant, but just vague enough so anyone can identify with what you’re saying.”

  “Either way, it’s fake.” Logan shook his head. I agreed, but I felt like his music had been so powerful as of late, we’d both be eating those words in a minute. Dread Theory had always been better than I cared to admit, but they had definitely stepped it up since this whole competition had started.

  We took to the stage for our set, following Bleeding Hate’s black metal banger about overcoming drug addiction thanks to fatherhood. Metal wasn’t ordinarily my thing, but the energy and emotion of it all got me so revved up that I couldn’t have asked for a better lead in.

  We wasted no time getting into the song, Logan playing softly in the background as I opened with a rap.

  ~Isn’t it strange the way

  We think it’s all okay

  Happily moving along

  Convinced things will never change

  And then suddenly we wake up and we don’t remember why we cared. Remember why we dared. Remember why we’re there.

  Where is this road even-

  Taking-

  Me-

  Why did I think this is where I’m-

  Supposed-

  To be?~

  The crowd bounced with the beat, feeding me their energy. As we built into the chorus, I was lost in the sound.

  Drake Morgan took our place on stage as the audience dismissed us with hollers and applause. “I never get tired of their energy! That was Fighting Chance with Blindsided. If that moved your heart like it moved my feet, be sure to vote at the end of the show!”

  Once the crowd quieted down, he continued. “I never know what to expect from our next performers- let’s all put our hands together for Dread Theory!”

  Neon lights decorated rising smoke, slowly revealing Lance Gold amongst the purple haze. The lights focused on him as Marcus rolled through a solo. Lance’s voice was almost lost in the music as he started to speak:

  ~It’s so dark.~

  He closed his eyes and jerked his mic to the side before returning it to his lips.

  ~Surrounded by these sterile walls, but all I see is black.~

  ###

  Jay McClintock

  Seventeen Years Ago

  “He has a pulse! The boy’s still alive!” A man’s voice penetrated my consciousness, clearly audible over the whirring of chopper blades. I could hear them all yelling. I could feel their panic. But I couldn’t open my eyes. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t feel anything. My only communication was my beating heart.

  I don’t know how much time had passed when I heard another voice. It felt like an instant, but it couldn’t have been.

  “A transfer? He’s stable but his body needs to heal… I assure you our facilities are safe… I see… Yes, I understand. Thank you, Detective.”

  More darkness. Idle conversations. The sound of a vehicle driving along the road. An ambulance maybe? Silence again. Darkness again.

  “I can be his guardian temporarily. My wife will understand, but…” Another man’s voice. I don’t know that one either.

  Why can’t I wake up?

  Why.

  Can’t.

  I.

  Wake.

  UP!

  Bright lights bombarded my eyes as I shot upright. Why is there a needle in my arm!? Where am I?

  I thrashed about,
ripping out tubes and needles and medical tape. Everything was white and sterile, while the sound of chatter and plastic wheels rolling over tile filtered in from the hallway. A hospital. I didn’t die. Heaven couldn’t possibly look like this. A nurse rushed into the room, and immediately began trying to reconnect me to the excess of machines by my bedside.

  I didn’t struggle. I tried to speak, but my words came out as coughs over the desert that was my throat.

  “He’s awake.” The nurse spoke into an intercom then turned to me. “Can you hear me? Do you know your name?”

  “I…” Speaking wasn’t getting any more pleasant. I made some kind of flailing hand motion that might indicate I wanted water. Or at least I hope it did. She figured it out.

  Once I had downed the glass, I was finally able to form words. “Yes. I can hear you.”

  “What’s your name?” She repeated.

  “Sebastian Karas.”

  “Your birthday?”

  “December 29th”

  She nodded, seemingly satisfied with my answers. I glanced around the room, taking it all in. Heart rate monitors and IV bags were to my left, and there was an empty bed to my right. I stared at the empty bed for several seconds. Then it dawned on me.

  “Where’s my dad?” Memories of the accident started flooding back to me, and it was all I could think to say. My own predicament seemed less important right now. “Is he okay?!”

  The nurse just frowned. Whether I asked about my father or my predicament, she wouldn’t answer any of my questions. Within a few moments, a man in a dark blue suit walked in. He approached my bed.

  “Welcome back, Sebastian. You’ve been asleep for a little while now.” His smile was warm and gentle, but he had hard eyes. “My name is Detective Franz. I work with LAPD.” He offered me his hand. I didn’t take it.