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For a few moments that felt suspiciously like an eternity, Nick’s face did nothing but accumulate furrow by furrow, bunching up in the middle of his forehead in a growing frown. His eyes narrowed upon Spence’s face and his jaw clenched, pushing out against his cheekbones.
At last, Nick’s hand traveled up to stroke over the hairs of his perfectly groomed beard with his thumb and index finger. “Athos! Get on the bus!”
“You must have misheard,” Spence stuttered, “my name is...” Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a dash of white as the poodle who had been sexually assaulting him bounded onto the bus behind Nick. “Oh. That is Athos.”
"Indeed. Fortunately, he likes you. I, however, haven't made up my mind about you yet. But I'm willing to give you a trial."
“What would he have done if he didn’t like me?” Spence asked, internally cursing his inability to hold his tongue. Perhaps he should have led with asking about the “trial” thing, instead of the doggy talk.
Something rather resembling a crooked smile settled into the corner of Nick’s mouth. “Let’s just say he has a vicious streak.”
“He’s a poodle,” Spence pointed out.
“Yeah? Don’t tell him that.”
"I'll certainly take that into account." Spence wet his lips, hoping that Nick's crooked smile meant he hadn't completely ruined his chances. "So, about that trial....?"
That was how Spence found himself being dragged down the aisle of a tour bus that, in hindsight, probably cost twice as much as his apartment. He took brief note of the couches strewn with various articles of costume and the take-out boxes piled in the galley, as well as the large dog kennel under the table with... dear god, was that three poodles? Nick bent to latch the crate door. Then he was dragging him past a wall of bunks and into a small room at the back of the bus. He stopped to grab a single white sock off the floor that was gray with dust bunnies, stuffing it into the outside door pull and sliding it shut.
Well that was an encouragingly universal sign.
In the dimly lit space, which was decked out in flickering lights only vaguely reminiscent of Christmas decorations, Spence spotted a rather large bed. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting. Of course, if the rumor mags were true, at least three of the members of Boom Goes the Crown were an item. Together. And it was true that threesomes required proper space to maneuver...
“You still with me?” Nick’s voice brought Spence out of his contemplations.
“Oh, yes, sir,” Spence replied, wetting his parched lips with his tongue.
Nick emitted a soft chuckle and pushed him backwards onto the bed. “You don’t have to call me ‘sir’,” Nick said, crawling onto the bed after him and discarding the leather coat he had been wearing onto the floor. “Unless you’re into that sort of thing.”
Spence's cock answered before he could think about it, and he grinned. "Well," he said, stroking his hands over the hips of Nick's ripped jeans and pulling him closer, "I suppose that depends on whether you are into it." He watched Nick's eyes darken and Spence arched up to draw him into a kiss. He lowered his voice, not attempting to hide his desire. "Are you into it... Sir?"
Nick's hips bucked against his in response. "You talk a lot for someone who's supposed to be sucking my cock," he growled, but pinned Spence back to the bed, returning his kiss with a fierce hunger, all tongue and teeth and febrile heat.
The sensible argument that he couldn't suck Nick's cock while his tongue was down his throat quickly faded, along with pretty much every other thought that wasn't Holy fuck, yes. Spence couldn’t believe it, even with Nick’s entire weight pressing down upon him, suddenly overcome by the scent of his stale cologne and cigarettes and whatever else conspired against Spence’s senses to render him wild with pure lust. How was it that Fortune had favored him this much? Spence bucked upwards, into the heat of Nick Marlowe’s body, his fingers caressing the closely cropped bristles covering the rockstar’s shaved skull, loving the way the hair tickled his fingertips. Holy fuck. Yes.
“Take off your clothes,” Nick purred into the skin of Spence’s neck, right below his earlobe, and a violent pulse of desire shot directly to the very tip of his straining cock. “Wanna see you,” Nick added, his hand already crawling into the waistband of Spence’s jeans, to pull out the shirt that had been tucked inside.
Spence would be lying if he said he hadn’t imagined this moment before, dozens of times, maybe more. In no version of even his most brazen fantasy did Nick Marlowe ever look down upon him with eyes burning like coals, and demanded to see him. He swallowed and quickly began to wiggle out of his t-shirt, thanking the gods for the cover of darkness and hoping Nick wouldn’t notice that it sported the Boom Goes the Crown logo right in the middle. But hey, if you’re gonna try to fuck the band leader like a groupie, you might as well dress like one! He tossed the t-shirt to the floor, where it pleased him to note it landed right on top of Nick’s infamous leather coat. With any luck, he'd go home still smelling like Nick.
Spence arched his hips off the bed as Nick yanked at his jeans and boxer briefs, managing to shimmy them down far enough that he could kick them off. Nick's own jeans were far less obedient, damp with perspiration from the show and clinging tightly to his body. Spence was certain he was going to tear the tattered things beyond wearability even for Nick, but Nick didn't seem to care, yanking frantically at the fabric.
The next moment, there was nothing but skin and heat and the exquisite hardness of Nick's cock pressed into Spence's stomach, sliding against his own as Nick thrust hard against him.
"Better," Nick growled before pulling back, and Spence found himself caught again in the heat of that gaze, sweeping down the length of his body as if he could devour Spence with sight alone.
Spence forced himself to breathe, sucking in the night air in the vain hope that it would cool the desperate desire that smoldered in his core. He gave Nick a smile that he hoped looked more confident than he felt. "Do you like what you see, sir?"
For a moment Nick didn't answer, but shifted to kneel between Spence’s thighs, pulling them up to rest over his own. Nick's cock nestled against the side of Spence's balls, and he rolled his hips against him slowly as he stroked his hands up the inside of Spence's thighs, fingers tracing the lines of his hips. "You pass," he murmured, then leaned down to draw a lick up the underside of Spence’s cock.
Somewhere in the middle of watching Nick's lips part over the head of his cock, Spence's brain short-circuited. An embarrassing noise escaped from his throat, half overwhelmed, half incredulous, and though he tried to protest that Nick certainly didn't need to feel obligated to blow him, all that managed to come out was a garbled, "You really - fuck!"
If his lack of eloquence bothered his companion, Spence certainly couldn't tell - or at least wasn't in enough of a right mind to do so. The only thing that registered was Nick's mouth on his cock, hot and wet and eager as it slid down his shaft. Nick's groan thrummed through him, his fingers digging into Spence's hips as he swallowed around him, and, before Spence could gather his thoughts back together long enough to take stock of his situation, he was coming thick and hot down Nick Marlowe’s throat, hips stuttering up into the mouth of the sexiest man on the planet.
Fortunately, Nick's muffled groan sounded nothing but pleased, swallowing around him again, continuing to suck him through the bliss of his orgasm and the aftershocks, until Spence had to pull back, spent and oversensitized. Don't apologize, he told himself firmly, trying to ignore the burning heat of shame and mortification that was spreading across his cheeks. "Jesus Christ, you're amazing," he breathed, forcing his voice to keep steady. "I don't suppose you'd like to come up here and fuck my throat in return?"
Nick, who had been licking a wet stripe along the line of Spence's hipbone, gave a huffed, surprised laugh against his skin. He pressed a wet kiss to Spence's stomach, then smirked up at him. "That's one hell of an invitation. I don't mind if I do."
Holy fuck. Yes. Spence groaned as Nick continued to lick his way up his body, sucking and biting at his skin along the way. Then, his lips were over Spence’s, prying them open, molding against them, his own taste penetrating his senses from the back of Nick’s tongue. Nick Marlowe swallowed my load, Spence’s brain screamed in lustful agony, and he moaned into the other man’s mouth, trying to taste all of it, attempting to enshrine that moment in his memory so that it could keep his bones warm when old age and decrepitude set in.
“Look at you,” Nick whispered against the corner of Spence’s mouth, sliding his thumb past Spence’s lip and pressing it down against his tongue. “So eager to get a faceful of my cock.” Nick’s thumb stroked up and down Spence’s tongue gently, chased by the tip of Nick’s own tongue as it played along the seams of Spence’s lips.
“God... please,” Spence begged with unrestrained abandon.
“So pretty when you beg for it,” Nick’s words were barely a breath whispered against the flushed skin of Spence’s neck. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Gonna give it to you.”
“Thank... thank you..,” Spence stammered, leaving his jaw hanging slack as Nick removed his thumb and scooted up towards the head of the bed, until his thighs were braced against Spence’s armpits. Nick’s cock rose proudly from the enticing triangle of his groin, thick, firm and dripping at the tip. In the darkness, Spence could not help but wonder whether it was flushed red to match the thick tufts of curls from the root of which it had sprung. Spence salivated at the mere thought. He reached out with reverent fingers to wrap around Nick’s shaft and guide it into his waiting mouth.
Nick’s hand tightened in Spence’s curls as his cock slid, velvety and warm, towards the back of his throat. Spence’s fingers settled into the grooves of Nick’s hip bones, loving the smooth feel of his heated skin, the thick cords of muscles as they flexed and moved against the palms of his hands, and encouraged Nick to thrust forward, swallowing eagerly around his cock. Spence closed his eyes and allowed his other senses to guide him. Regretfully, the darkness had not allowed him to see Nick’s skin better. Many a night he had lain there, wondering exactly what those patterns of freckles would look like along the expanse of his thighs, along the dips above his ass. Now, Spence could feel and taste Nick. His entire being was becoming suffused with eau de Marlowe and he expressed his gratitude by moaning lustily around the thick cock that filled his mouth and stretched out his lips.
Never in his life had Spence wanted someone to appreciate his substantial cock-sucking skills more. He wanted, he needed Nick to remember this, the way he knew he himself would be reliving these brief moments later on when he bit the pillow and jerked himself off with enough ferocity to give himself calluses.
Nick was a taste of heaven against his tongue: the weight of his fat and veiny cock, the heady aroma of his arousal, accompanied by soft moans that Spence’s ministrations pulled out from him, filled Spence with a glowing sense of satisfaction. His own cock was rapidly hardening against his own abdomen again, despite his earlier embarrassing sprint to the finish. He allowed Nick to thrust all the way in, holding him close until he was so choked up that tears began to streak out of the corners of his eyes, hoping his fingers would leave marks of remembrance on that freckle-spattered skin. At that moment, Spence preferred Nick’s cock to the very air or the act of breathing. Nick’s hips stuttered; he inhaled sharply and attempted to pull back. Instead, Spence swallowed around his swollen shaft and held him steady as Nick’s balls pulled up and he began to unload burst after burst right down Spence’s throat.
Nick slid down next to him, his body lazily sinking against Spence’s side, his arm coming to wrap across Spence’s ribcage, as he pulled Spence into a slow, insistent kiss, as if wanting to taste all of himself on his lips. If all of Spence’s bones had already not turned to liquid, that final post-coital act would have undone him completely. Fortunately, he was quite beyond all rational thought, so he allowed himself to close his eyes and press into Nick’s armpit, if only to enjoy the aroma of the singer’s satisfied body a few moments longer.
~~~
