These words were all he needed to hear. The explosion started low in his groin, his testicles pulling up tight. He shoved his hard cock past the curve in the man’s throat and came harder than he’d ever done in his young life and in that instant, he knew he wanted David to do this to him.
Scott stared, drained and sated, as David leaned down to gasping Terrance, cum drooling from his now empty mouth and spoke softly to the kneeling man, “Come for me.” He heard David whisper. A few more strokes, the man on the floor sprayed Scott’s pant leg with cum as he cried out enjoying each pulse of white firing from his reddened dick.
Scott felt the other man collapse against his left leg and he wished he had something to fall against himself. As if David could read his mind, he felt two warm, strong arms crisscross his chest, pulling him back against his friend’s hot, hard shirtless torso.
“Damn, Scotty! That was hot, babe.” He caressed Scott’s ear with the tip of his tongue before he drew the very top into his mouth, sucking on the tender flesh. “Are you okay down there, Ter?”
Scott looked down. He’d forgotten the man at his feet.
“Need a hand up? I know how it is when you’ve been on your knees for a while.”
Scott frowned at the thought that his friend had been with other men. Jealousy started to rear its ugly head. David was his and only his. Why couldn’t his friend understand that? He stepped away from David, tucking his wet, sticky dick back in his jeans. A strand of cum strung across his crotch only to be cut by his zipper as he pulled it up. Scott watched David kiss the guy deeply and passionately. Both men’s tongues fighting for dominance as their moans grew louder. Suddenly, something inside of Scott snapped. He was furious with his friend as he turned and started to leave, pushing aside others in his wake. He almost made it to the club’s entrance before David caught him.
“Let me go!” Scott jerked his shoulder from David’s grasp. Spinning around, he fought the tears as they formed in his eyes. He made it out the door, but he knew David was right behind him.
“What the hell, Scotty? What’s going on? How the fuck do you think you’re going to get home?”
Scott stopped whirled around, jealousy and pain were evident on his face. “Why?” He couldn’t stop the whine in his voice. “Why him? Why not me?”
David stepped close, taking his friend in his arms. His right hand pressing Scott’s head against his shoulder. Scott struggled weakly to push away but quickly gave up. “I’m so sorry, but Scotty, I can’t do this with you, Scotty. He wanted me to dominate him. Tell him what to do. I like that. I get off on it, but I can’t do that with you.”
“Why? Davey, why? I want it. Can’t you see, I want it?”
“Because that’s not the type of relationship you and I have.” David’s thumb came up to brush Scott’s tears away. “If you choose to give up control when we make love, then that’s your prerogative. I can’t demand that from you. I’m sorry I hurt you. I didn’t mean to. I wanted you to have a little fun tonight and Terrance was willing. Forgive me, babe.”
They stood on the street holding each other for several long minutes before they kissed. Long, slow, wet, soul-devouring kisses and they didn’t care who saw them. They didn’t get back to Silverlake until well past midnight. David dropped his friend off in front of his house. Scott looked up. There was a flash of lightning in the distance. A rare occurrence for Los Angeles. Scott could smell the rain as he ran for the door of his house.
*****
It was Sunday and there was no reason for him to wake early. Scott remembered he’d fallen asleep in his jeans from the previous night and that was the thing that got him in trouble. He peeled the cum soaked material from his body and headed into the bathroom in the hall. It was designated at his bathroom. His two younger sisters had a jack and jill set up downstairs. The hot water came on for only a short time before the cold blast hit him in the face. More evidence of his sisters who tended to take long showers in the morning, leaving the hot water tank drained.
Wrapping a towel around his waist, he went to his bedroom. Still half asleep, despite the cold water wake up, he reached down to pick up his soiled jeans only to find them missing. He remembered his confusion, but that only lasted a minute when his father stormed into his room, slamming the door behind him.
“What the hell is this?” He shook last night’s jeans at his son. “I told you I didn’t want you seeing that boy again. Now I mean it. Is this his shit on you? Is he forcing you to have sex with him?”
Scott reached out for his jeans, but his father pulled them from his grasp. He couldn’t stop the anger that coursed through him as he stepped up to his father, glaring down at the smaller man. “No, that’s not David’s cum, though I wish it was. It’s just some random guy in a filthy toilet in a gay bar, Dad.” Red-faced, he threw his next words in his father’s face, “And yes, Dad. I’m gay. I’m a fucking, and I do mean, fucking faggot.”
The slap across his face startled him. It was the first time his father ever hit him. His whole life they’d argued, slammed doors and threw objects across the rooms at each other, but never did his father hit him, until now.
“You will pack your things and get out of this house. I will not have a stinking pervert living under my roof. I want you out of here in one hour or I will call the cops and have you removed.”
Scott stared at the now-closed door. He was stunned and confused. Had his father really just thrown him out of the house? He’d heard about this happening to other kids, but never imagined it would be him. Scott remembered he turned to look for his most prized possessions. Putting them in a pile on his bed with clothes and underwear, he retrieved the money he secreted away in the back of his closet. There was silence in the rest of the house. Neither of his sisters appeared to find out what was wrong. His step-mother hated him and he later found out she was the reason he was forced to leave that day.
Hands trembling as the reality of his situation became clear. He called the one person he could count on, but the call went to voicemail.
*****
Three hours later, Oscar Niewitski heard a knock at the door. He remembered he’d debated on whether or not to answer. They’d had a platoon of Jehovah's Witnesses and Mormons at their door lately, but on reflection, he couldn’t figure out why they would be out in the pouring rain. When he opened the door, he saw a soaked and crying Scott with what looked like all his worldly goods stuffed into equally soaked black plastic bags and two suitcases.
“Oh, dear Lord, Scott, what happened?” He motioned the tearful young man in and pulled the rest of his bags off the doorstep. “Just stay there. Let me get a towel, son. David!” Oscar shouted.
David stepped from his room. He saw Scott immediately and came toward him. “What happened, Scotty?”
“Dad threw me out. I told him, Davey. I told him I was gay.” Scott remembered he melted in David’s arms just as he started to shiver.
Chapter Six
August 31, 2019
Scott leaned down to his husband and kissed his forehead. The sounds of his ICU room were now familiar, too familiar.
“It was Larry, Davey. Larry did this to you, that bastard. They’re arresting him right now. He decided to hurt you because you wouldn’t tour anymore. His gambling and drugs finally caught up with him.” Scott paused, brushing back a stray piece of hair that had dropped onto his lover’s brow. “I want you to wake up for me, Davey. I want to see those beautiful blue eyes staring at me every morning when I wake up. I want to watch cheesy, old sci-fi movies with you. I want you to repeat all the lines because you’ve seen them a thousand times already. I want to hear you tell me my God it’s full of stars, Davey. I want to sit on the couch naked with you and eat popcorn. Please, baby, time is running out. Please wake up, Davey. Please wake up.”
The ventilator kept its rhythmic beat and the heart monitor softly beeped. The IV still dripped in counterpoint to the monitor and it broke Scott’s heart when nothing else happened.
�
�I love you, Davey.” He kissed the cool skin of his husband’s forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
His eyes were dry as he turned from the bed because over the past month he’d used every drop and there were no more tears left to shed.
Chapter Seven
October 2005
Scott felt his phone vibrate in his pocket as he crossed the USC film school campus. He was in his Junior year after Oscar Niewitski blackmailed his father into paying his tuition for college. A wealthy, gay celebrity had donated the rest of the money needed to cover books and expenses after hearing his story one night during a benefit at The Center. Oscar and Betty had become his parents and David was much more than a friend or a lover. From the first night he’d appeared on the Niewitski’s doorstep, the two young men had slept together and clubbed together.
David had formed a band with three other guys. David played guitar and was their lead singer. Leon Stitch, a short, thin man with an eye for the ladies proved to be a master on the keyboard. Griff, aka Muse, Hendrix played the drums and any other percussion instrument they needed with skill and ferocity that ended up costing them a lot of drumsticks. Lastly, but not least, handsome and broody Christian Preston played the bass and stood one inch taller than the 6’3” David in stocking feet. Of all the band members, Christian and David were the closest. Both gay and buff, they liked to work out together turning their bodies into enviable, God-like perfection. Heads turned when they walked down the street. Men and women wanted them and Christian took advantage of the attention they got.
Initially, they named the group, A Band of Misfits, but that idea quickly died. Eventually, they settled on calling themselves Acid Hookers, after Muse did a hit of LSD and went after all the trans hookers on Sunset. Scott hated that name and hoped one day that name would change. Their sound was more reminiscent of soft rock versus the heavy metal their name implied.
He dug the phone from his pocket. Seeing David’s name he answered while he still walked to get to his next class. “Davey, what’s happening, dude?”
“We got a gig?”
“What?”
“A gig, man. An honest to God paying job.”
“That’s great. Where? I’ll get my friends and we’ll be there.”
“Cobalt. It’s a club in Hollywood off of La Cienega.”
Scott frowned, “Isn’t that a metal club? One of my friends filmed a music video there.”
“Is it?” David sounded confused. “I just signed the contract. I didn’t even ask. Oh, crap! They are going to crucify us. Oh, my God! Scotty, you have to help us.”
“When do you play?”
“Tonight. 9 PM.”
“Shit! Listen, I have to hit class. Let me think for a bit and see what I can do, okay? See you back at the apartment. Just stay calm, I will think of something, promise.”
*****
After class, Scott called in every favor he could. He pulled in students studying makeup, lighting, and costume. Acid Hookers needed to become a heavy metal band in the next four hours. He’d sent David a text asking him to get the whole band to the venue at least two hours early, so of course, no one showed up until thirty minutes before they were due to go on stage.
At this point, David was a wreck. He’d paced a rut into the asphalt in the parking lot behind the club. He’d grabbed a cigarette off his drummer and kept puffing it which showed how stressed he was. Lisa, a take-no-prisoners lesbian and a senior specializing in makeup and costuming, was the last person to arrive.
As she got out of her car, she was shaking her head at the sorry group in front of her. She grabbed her oversized tote from the back of her car. “Oh, no. This is not going to work. Give me your coat.” She pointed to Muse and he hurried to take off the calf-length faux leather coat. “You care what happens to this coat?”
He frowned, “Well I kind of like it, but I got it at Goodwill. It’s not leather, it just looks like it is.”
“You!” She pointed at David, “What’s your name? What do you do?”
“David Niewitski, lead singer.”
Lisa frowned. “David Niewitski, what the hell kind of name is that for a lead singer.” She turned to her classmate. “Scott! Think of something else, give him a stage name.” Lisa pushed David to sit on the bumper of Stitch’s car, pulling makeup and hair gel from her tote. A quick, messy application to his longish hair made it spike. Taking her kohl black eyebrow pencil, Lisa began to outline his eyes. “You got great eyes, kid. You need to make that a focal point.” Raising the pencil, she darkened his eyebrows and created a perfect, almost feminine line. A dusting of shadow and blush brought out his cheekbones. Scott looked at his lover, mouth open in disbelief. In seconds, Lisa had turned him into this amazingly handsome man. Very masculine, but with a touch of androgyny.
“Take off your shirt, David.” Lisa turned to Scott. “You got that name yet, Newland?”
“Uh,” Scott struggled for a moment then flashed on the book he’d been reading, The Portrait of Dorian Gray. “Dorian Gray. David’s handsome, but timeless looking.”
“Yeah, that works.” David handed her his shirt. He stood there in the parking lot, abs and pecs to die for and it wasn’t lost on Lisa. Her lopsided grin obviously approved. “You’re not exactly my type, kid, but I do enjoy a nice piece of art.” Lisa started ripping his floral print shirt into strips.
“Hey! I liked that shirt.”
“Buy another, here. Now drop and give me 50 pushups. You want the girls to go ape shit over your body.” She tied the thickest piece around his neck, then moved onto the other guys. Each got gel, makeup, and a strip of David’s deconstructed shirt. “You, too, handsome. Give me 50.” She gave Christian a strip and had him tie it around his black boot before he hit the ground beside David. Muse’s bit became a bandana, replacing the one he already had on. Stitch ended up with a crisscrossed strip highlighting his skinny, bare arm. In the years to come, this became his signature look.
Lisa pulled out a large pair of scissors and spared the black, faux leather coat no mercy. She cut the sleeves to where they just covered the top of the shoulder, then turned it the wrong side out. “Here!” She threw it at David as he stood up after doing the push ups. “Put this on.”
Scott stared at his lover’s glistening chest and now bulging arm muscles. He could feel himself getting hard but now was not the time. The coat fit tight and couldn’t close in the front, but that wasn’t the idea. Lisa meant to show off the band’s front man’s assets to their best advantage.
He knew now was the time to step in and do his part. “Okay, this is a metal club. I’ve got my friend, Ricky, inside, he’s going to work the light panel. We want your entrance and exit to be dramatic. The stage will be black to the audience and then we’ll hit you guys with white light so bright it will make their eyes hurt before we crank it down a little. You need to play loud and rough. Muse, give them drum so loud that they can feel it in their chests. Davey, you need to be Dorian Gray. You are this mythical creature. Beautiful, but with a voice that will shock them. Keep it rough. Use your range to stun them. Take command of that stage. Think Freddy Mercury, babe. That presence. Make them believe you are the one in control. Be the Dom you are. I want you to do only three songs, one right after the other. Then I’ll go to black again and you guys walk off stage.”
He looked at the heads nodding in understanding. “They will either boo you or beg for more. You guys are not just a good band. You are a great band! You can do this. Kick some ass. Fuck with them before they can fuck with you. You got it?”
“Yeah!” They all shouted in unison as they turned to head into the club.
Lisa leaned against Scott and looked up at him. “I just hope they don’t get killed.”
Scott looked down at her and sighed, “Me, too.” As they followed them into the club.
The thing Scott remembered most about that night was the way David, no, Dorian Gray, took command of the room. At 6’5” in his boots, he towered over his bandmates. Despit
e the makeup, Dorian strutted and stomped across the stage. Chest puffed out, peacock proud, he was the Alpha male in the room. His whole demeanor screamed masculine, but his sexy pout, the tilt of his head and shrugging shoulders defied any attempt to categorize him. David Niewitski had disappeared. Dorian Gray was a take no prisoners showman. He even grabbed his bass player and planted a kiss on his lips then strutted away in this room of hypermasculine Metalheads and they cheered. The women in the room went wild. As suddenly as their set began, it ended and the lights went out. The club’s crowd didn’t know what hit them.
They screamed and shouted, stomped their feet. Loud whistles and cheers demanded their return to the stage. Three minutes later, Acid Hookers were back. He remembered how David/Dorian glanced over at him, a smug smile dominating his lips just before he introduced the band. He knew they were a success. He knew this was only the beginning and he was right.
Chapter Eight
May 2006
Seven months meant a new name for the band. No longer the Acid Hookers, they simply went by Absinthe. Larry Wong had signed to be their tour manager plus a record label was interested in them. David proved to be a shrewd negotiator concerning their album, merchandise, and tour deals. Using an entertainment lawyer recommended by Scott, he kept all the rights to his songs and worked the same deal for his other band members. They had already laid all the tracks for an album of their original songs that ranged from hard rock to ballads and the final editing was in progress. After writing music all his life, David had more than enough songs for their needs. The next step, Larry told them, was to do a music video.
Scott had been working on a film as a second unit director when David called him to see if he could help them. David told him they’d hire him for the video. It would give him experience and something different on his resumé. David overnighted a CD to Scott’s Arizona film location. As Scott listened to the tracks they were considering over and over again an idea began to form.
Songs of Love : Books 1-3 Page 11
