Sweet Music

I just want to give major kudos to my editor, RogueLurker. She's a great lady, and this wouldn't be readable w/o her help. If you like this story, then give her a pat on the back when next you see her.

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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 he brushed 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 would be considered pretty, but a strong masculine aura gave him an air of confidence and predatory raw sexuality that saved him from being labelled a "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 was filled with fans. They already had bedrock following from when they were on a kids' show some years back. That was how Deb had gotten 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 7 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 sharpish features. His physique would be called willowy if he was a woman. 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 had changed his outfit a bit. 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 had been 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 now.

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, towelling 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 was talking 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 of Chris' forehead, his hand sliding to the back of his neck as he leaned in slightly, his violet 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 behaviour 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 had 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 was pressed into the side of the surprised tenor's neck, just as his lungs decided to start working again.

He took a tremendous gasp of indrawn air, and then just sat there panting 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 down to his ass to pull him closer. They looked around at the sound of a throat being loudly cleared.

"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, blushing crimson. Dusty stood, rubbing his mid-section.

"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"

"Not a problem." Deb assured Chris, "Jed and I'll be getting our own room."

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

"Uh, yeah, that'd be great."

"Which one are you in, and what room?"

"The Ramada, room number 232."

"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 abundantly clear 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 how to get 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 to be seen. 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 just 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, blushing 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 last and last until you're done." when Dusty came back in with the ice. He blushed, and dropped the bottle like he'd been burned.