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Spending the night in the Fuck Room with his girls put Jake in a substantially better mood by the time they had arrived in the Windy City than when they left Columbus. It was true that, being a man, his modus operandi was to pass out immediately upon reaching completion, whereas Sloane and Nyx both seemed somehow energized by their orgasms. But he was generous of heart as well as cock, and did not begrudge them whatever it was they did once he was safely carried away in the arms of Morpheus.
Jake yawned, shifted around a bit, mostly to dislodge Sloane’s hand from his ass (what exactly did they get up to while he slept?), and quietly shuffled out into the galley. Not surprisingly, everyone else was awake. Lenore and Nick were playing a very combative game of UNO, each one with a poodle in their lap. Guns was seated in the back of the bus, grimly staring at a piece of paper in his hand, intermittently rubbing his eyebrow ridge as if it made his brain hurt.
“What you got there, Chadwick?”
“Oh. Hey, Jake.” Guns folded the piece of paper into a something resembling a tightly rolled joint. “Fuck if I know. I sorta need eye bleach now. Along with brain bleach.”
“Aha, well!” Jake reached out towards the piece of paper. “Now I must see this for myself. Give to Daddy.”
“Fuck off, Jake.”
“It’s not even yours,” Jake bristled. “What gives?”
Chad appeared to contemplate Jake’s point for a few more moments. Then, making a great show of his resignation, he shrugged and handed the piece of paper over. “Knock yourself out.”
“Thank you.” Jake unrolled the paper and looked at what appeared to be a hastily written poem, scribbled on the back of a napkin in a shaky ballpoint pen. Whoever had done this, had obviously done so while the bus was moving.
Drops of heaven on my tongue
Taste of summer rain
God it has been far too long
Let me taste your pain
Thrust inside me
Come again
Fill me with your sin
I can’t wait till we’re alone
I will let you in.
“Holy fuckballs,” Jake pronounced and glanced over at Guns again. “You didn’t write this, did you?”
“You think I wrote a poem about sucking some guy’s cock?”
“Well, it’s not explicitly about sucking some guy’s... look who’s all judgemental this morning!”
“I’m not judgemental, I just didn’t write it. You know who must’ve done it!” Chad’s eyes shifted over to where Nick was attempting to demoralize Lenore, to no avail.
Jake laughed. “No fucking way. That’s not his style. This... this is... downright poetic. If Nick had written it, it would’ve gone something akin to... I’m gonna fuck your throat, your entire fucking face, and then I’ll come all over you, fuck England!”
“Point,” Guns admitted with a shrug.
“Whoever wrote this,” Jake squinted at the napkin in his hand again. “Well... he’s a poet. Or she, I suppose.” A dubious look traversed between the two men. “A bigger poet than Nick, anyways.”
Jake considered the napkin, and then his options. Finally he dropped it over Lenore's head, onto her cards. "I think this is one of the girls'," he said, knowing full well that it was neither Sloane nor Nyx's style, despite their occasional penchant for strap-ons. "Think it has merit?"
Lenore grabbed at the napkin before Porthos could eat it. "On a napkin?" Then she froze, staring at the wrinkled, makeshift parchment. "Dear god."
Over the top of his cards, Nick raised an eyebrow. "Have you found the next 'Wrecking Ball'?"
Lenore's eyeroll was particularly scathing. "And this is why we have yet to land in the top ten."
"Well fuck you too, princess."
"No, fuck this." Lenore turned the napkin with a flourish, setting it neatly down on top of a wild draw 4 card. "This. This is our number one hit single."
"Leftovers."
"Read it, fuckhead!"
Nick leaned closer, lips pursing. "... erotic leftovers."
"Oh fuck off, Nick!" Lenore turned in the booth to look up at Jake. "Tell me where you got this. It's not from the girls, I'm not an idiot."
“Guns found it,” Jake shrugged, hiding a complacent grin. “Ask him.”
“Chad?" Lenore peered back towards their drummer thoughtfully. "And here I thought you were just a pretty face and a pair of fantastic arms."
"Hey!"
"And here I thought you were a breeder," Nick added, eyeing Guns with a smirk.
"It's not like I wrote the bloody thing. I almost blew my nose on it for chrissakes!"
"Well," Jake started, pushing aside the urge to join in the razzing to declare his sudden and brilliant realization aloud, "I suppose it must have been that poodle you picked up in Detroit."
~~~
It was not, Spence reflected, the best Boom Goes the Crown show he'd been to. The band was excellent, of course, but despite lining up three hours early he'd only managed to end up in the second row in front of Nick, a position that he was quickly jostled out of by two scraggly-haired meatheads who were more interested in slamming their heads together than actually listening to the fucking music.
He should have gone with Hiro, who was probably sitting comfortably up on the balcony drinking a cold beer instead of half covered in a warm one. But part of him hadn't been able to help but think that if he just got close enough to catch Nick's eye again...
Bitterly, Spence swallowed down a wave of longing. He had to stop thinking about the possibility of going to bed with Nick again. No matter how earth-shattering it had been, he knew he'd only be having delusions of grandeur to imagine that a rockstar of Nick Marlowe's caliber would possibly want to seek him out again. And the sooner he accepted that, the sooner he could go back to enjoying the show.
Frowning, he tried to peer over the thrashing fuckboys. A few people had pushed their way out of the pit during the break before the encore; maybe he could find a spot on the rail in front of Nyx. It wouldn't be Nick, but...
Then, as he shouldered his way into a gap between concertgoers, he felt a hand close around his arm and yank.
Kalani. Shit.
"You're that poodle groomer, yeah?" Kalani had to yell to be heard over the whining distortion of Sloane's guitar. "Come with me!"
For a terrified second Spence considered the possibility that he was being kicked out and banned for life, and was about to deny everything. When he realized that Kalani was towing him not towards the exit, but to the stage door, his pulse quickened.
Maybe things weren't so hopeless after all.
Spence found himself pulled through the heavy door, blinking in the sudden flickering fluorescent light as it slammed shut behind them. "Wait here," Kalani told him firmly, pushing him into a gap between two wheeled gear crates as if they were a holding pen for him. Then he was down the hall and out of sight.
Spence's eyes followed him, then took stock of the hall, crowded with gear. Behind him, a steel rail covered in sharpie graffiti and flaking paint edged the side of a ramp that ascended up to a set of double doors, behind which he could hear the muted power chords that closed out "Tea Time for Cunts." On a good night he'd be flying high on adrenaline and the euphoria on the crowd, surging to the angry pulsing music, hanging on Nick's every word as he closed out the concert. Something deep inside him yearned for it. But with any luck, perhaps... perhaps he'd close out the night with something far, far better.
The door at the top of the ramp flung open, clanging against the rail, the roar of the crowd and crunchy distorted guitar filling the hallway. Nick was storming down the ramp, his tattered, open shirt flapping behind him and leather pants pulling across his thighs as he moved. Like a god, Spence thought, already half hard. Thor, crackling with lightning, alive with sound and fury.
"You!" Nick's pace quickened, and he hopped the rail halfway down. Then Spence was being slammed back against the riveted metal gear case, Nick's fingers tight in his hair and his tongue down his throat. It was as though Nick's entire form was infused, charged with the frantic energy of the stage, thrumming against Spence, hot and sweat-damp. He shoved a thigh between Spence's, cock grinding into his stomach as he thrust against him, hard and demanding.
"Jesus Christ, Nick!"
"Ah, fuck." Nick turned towards the voice, and, dazed, Spence followed his gaze to see the blond woman from the bar. Their manager, he remembered, striding quickly down the hall with Kalani behind her.
"Fuck that," Nick growled. Then he grabbed at the case behind Spence, hauling at it and pivoting to send it wheeling down the hall towards the approaching pair. Before Spence could question anything, Nick's hand was around his waist, pulling him out the fire exit, the door blaring complaint at their violent sortee.
"What - " Spence tried helplessly, but before he could catch his bearings he was in the back of someone's car, peeling away from the venue.
"She can have you when I'm done with you," Nick said, claiming his mouth again, and all the questions in Spence's mind evaporated as all the blood in his body quickly rushed south.
The remains of Spence's propriety warred with the very real and immediate fact that Nick, in very tight leather pants, had apparently kidnapped him with the intention of getting him naked as soon as possible. Nick's hands pushed between the car seat and Spence's ass, squeezing and pulling him closer. Spence's fingers curled in the back of Nick’s shirt, and he fought to hold back a moan as Nick's teeth bit at on his bottom lip. Fortunately the car they were in stopped before he could break any decency laws, and soon Spence was in another Holiday Inn, being towed down a hall and into a room remarkably like the one Spence had last been naked in with this god among men.
Nick's green eyes narrowed, dark and predatory. "Bed. Now."
"Naked?" Spence offered tentatively, tugging the bottom of his t-shirt out of his jeans.
Nick snorted. "Obviously." He stalked forward as Spence took a stuttered step back. Hopefully towards the bed; he couldn't turn to look, not when Nick was currently unbuttoning the fly of those delightful leather pants. He swallowed hard, pulse fluttering against his eardrums, caught between arousal and nervous excitement. Nick had been passionate before, of course, but that was nothing compared to this - this triumphant gladiator, stalking forward to claim his prize.
Nick’s nostrils flared, his lush lips parted, and Spence saw the pink tip of his tongue press against his upper teeth. “I’ve been thinking about you, Jordan Spencer,” Nick spoke, his voice a deep rumble in his chest, and Spence was afraid he was going to lose his bowels from the sheer excitement of it. “Been thinking about fucking you. So hard you walk with a limp for the next three days.”
“Jesus Christ,” Spence muttered, his knees hitting the back of the bed.
“Now, does that sound like something you’d be interested in?” Nick pressed closer and Spence fell onto the bed, losing all sense of coordination. “Say it.” Nick bent over Spence’s prone form on the bed. “I need to hear you say it.”
“God, yes, sir. I really fucking need you to fuck me.”
“So hard you can’t see straight?”
“So hard I forget my own name,” Spence managed, congratulating himself for being able to produce so many words at such a moment. They might, in fact, be his last words, he suspected. It was very possible he would not survive this latest encounter with Nick’s beautiful, fat cock.
With a growl, Nick pulled Spence’s t-shirt over his head, leaving it tangled around the wrists as makeshift restraints. Spence gasped and eagerly wrapped his legs around Nick’s hips. His body was very much on board with the entire proceedings, even as his brain screamed in agony and disbelief.
“Mmm, you look good like this. All trussed up for me to fuck.”
A rather embarrassing sound escaped Spence’s mouth as it opened and instinctively reached out towards Nick. He wanted, needed to be filled, in every orifice, and as soon as possible, before his brain exploded. Nick smirked down upon him, his hands tightening around the waistband of Spence’s jeans and yanking them down his narrow hips and legs. His own fly stood long unbuttoned, but infuriatingly encasing Nick’s engorged cock which strained against the leather. Nick straightened up only long enough to palm his own dick as he bit his lower lip and admired his handy work. Slowly, he pulled Spence's thighs from around his waist, pushing his knees up to his chest. "Stay like that."
Thank god he wasn't one to skip abs day, Spence thought, pulling his knees higher.
Grabbing a small bottle of lube from the bedside drawer, Nick drizzled some over his own fingers before leaning over Spence and capturing one of his nipples into his mouth. Spence unleashed an outpouring of obscenities and arched off the bed, nipple chasing Nick’s lips as they left him, teasingly bereft and exposed to the cool air as Nick’s saliva cooled against his skin.
“No fair,” Spence muttered, just as slick fingers traced over his balls and taint, coming to rub circles around his hole. “Please...” He was definitely not above begging. “Please, sir.”
“God, you’re pretty,” Nick mumbled, his eyes unfocused and dilated in lust. His finger breached Spence’s opening, screwing in slowly but surely as his other hand pressed up against one of Spence’s spread thighs, pushing it back against Spence’s chest. “Fuck, look at your tight, little arse. I could pay a motherfucker to paint a picture of it, I swear.” Before Spence could summon a clever response to this statement, Nick added a second finger, before bending down and latching his teeth over a meaty and tender part of his buttcheek. Spence emitted a squeal and his ass clenched tightly around Nick’s fingers. “So hungry for it, aren’t you, baby boy?” Nick smacked Spence on the same spot where his teeth doubtlessly left a very telltale imprint.
“Fucking hell, you know I am!” Spence growled back, unable to control himself anymore. He was afraid if this impossible foreplay continued a moment longer, he might embarrass himself again by coming too soon.
Thankfully, Nick appeared very much on the same page by then. Pushing his leather pants down his hips and finally extricating that same cock that Spence was only too happy to choke on a few short days ago, Nick grabbed Spence by the hips and pulled him to the very edge of the bed. Spence heard the rustling of a condom wrapper being torn, while his fingers dug into the mattress and he sucked in a breath as he felt the first prodding of the head of Nick’s cock against his hole. He gave a small prayer of thanks that Nick had taken the time to stretch him because as thick and magnificent as that cock had felt in his mouth, it felt doubly as challenging slowly breaching his ass.
“All right?” Nick asked, hands sliding up past Spence’s knees and settling around his ankles as he placed Spence’s calves over his broad shoulders. Nick’s hands slowly trailed down again and settled over Spence’s hips. A whimper was all the sound of approbation Spence could muster. To emphasize his point, he clenched around Nick’s cock and attempted to fuck himself deeper with it. “Oh fuck, you’re so tight,” Nick panted as he began to move slowly inside Spence, each thrust picking up power and momentum.
For Spence, it was as if each push of Nick's cock enslaved him, forcing the air from his lungs, pushing pleasure up his spine. This was far, far beyond the pleasure of the concert, far beyond anything he'd ever felt before, being the sole and complete focus of Nick's intensity. Nick's hips pressed against his ass as he plunged inside to the hilt; his fingers dug into Spence's hips to hold him in place as if to bury himself inside him completely.
"Yes," Spence gasped, as if nothing in the world would be better than completely belonging to one Nick Marlowe. "God, please...."
"Jesus fuck...." For a moment Nick's fingers were painfully tight on his hips, stuttering hard into him, each thrust jarring Spence's body, before he was leaning over him, bending him almost in two to claim Spence's mouth, sucking and biting at his lips and tongue between gasps for breath. "How are you so goddamn fuckable?" He gasped, moving harder. "So fucking tight around my cock, baby,...!"
"Just made for you," Spence gasped, euphoric at the idea, drunk on pleasure, drunk on Nick's words. "Fuck me whenever you need, sir, god - !"
Nick made a choked, needy noise, stealing Spence's cries with kisses as he went to town, bucking up into him hard and fast. In moments, Spence was coming apart completely, crying out into Nick's mouth as everything around him that was not the pleasure of Nick's cock and the ecstatic knowledge of Nick's pleasure faded to blackness.
They were both sweaty now, Spence thought idly as he caught his breath. Part of him was vaguely aware of Nick manhandling him up into the bed, before sliding under the covers beside him. Naked, he registered with a soft wave of satisfaction. Naked was good.
Nick's breath tickled his ear. "I'm gonna fuck you again when you wake up," he purred, throwing an arm around Spence’s waist. Like a seatbelt, Spence’s brain supplied sleepily. Very responsible.
Clearly he had no choice but to stay as long as Nick desired. What a terrible hardship. "Mmm," he murmured, trying to stay awake long enough to form a reply. "I’ll have your sin again."
~~~