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BO WAS USED TO SEEING all kinds of stuff on the dance floor when his band was playing, but these three guys just took the cake.
There was something familiar about the twink in that black mesh shirt. His hair... no. The line of his neck and shoulders?
He saw Jay’s cue at the end of their techno piece and nodded. They were all on the same page. Tonight was one of those rare nights they had it all together, not talking, just moving down their predetermined playlist, switching up the moods for their audience and collecting applause. Allison on was great on the drums, her bottle-red braids bouncing off her shoulders as she worked the set with a wide, maniacal grin.
He remembered his reservations about having this slip of a girl play drums for them – but yeah, she was awesome and they were lucky to have her. They even fell over each other to carry her set, being the perfect gentlemen. Especially Jay – he plied her with water bottles and salty pickles while he was, presumably, screwing up his courage to ask her out.
Allison drummed a syncopated roll, signaling the change and giving them all a chance to set up.
This one was his favorite – Kashmir. It got so popular with full orchestral renditions, even car and jewelry commercials ran the old Led Zeppelin masterpiece as their theme music. Bo didn’t care. He’d worked his ass off practicing.
They launched.
The crowd roared.
A spotlight lit up their audience, a dance crowd suddenly still yet cheering, reassembling, adjusting to the new beat and flow.
Even the horny trio stopped and watched.
Bo flicked his eyes toward them. The two guys, the blond and the shortie in the Mr. Yuck T-shirt, were back into romancing the familiar guy, sandwiching him nice and tight. But the guy was looking at him.
Could that be?
Bo felt his focus drift. Suppressing irritation, he bore down hard, feeling the music, making it, thinking ahead.
One... Two... One... Two... High riff... Now!
Jay broke into his solo. Bo toned down the back beat, giving him space to play but as he did so, he could also peek at Eli Winkler, the jam-and-peanut-butter of the man sandwich on the floor.
Eli was looking right at him. Sort of incredulous, bobbing to the beat, rubbing off on the other guys, but his eyes were right on Bo.
No way was Eli gay – yet the evidence was right in front of him. And then it occurred to Bo that maybe, just maybe, Eli hadn’t been hounding him to inspect his work and quiz him about the stones in Pot 16.
Maybe Eli had been ogling him as he worked.
The idea messed with his head. His fingers fumbled around as an image of Eli in his button-down, white work shirt popped into his head. And now, Eli and his see-through black mesh.
He missed a chord.
Jay shot him a look, and Bo focused on what mattered right now.
This was a good gig – a small break-through for their little garage band. He couldn’t afford to fuck it up. He kept his gaze riveted to the edge of the stage as he felt the strings and frets move under his fingers, letting the music wash over him and transport him to that glorious place where he knew no pain.
––––––––
TWO SONGS LATER, THE band took a break and the trio with Eli disappeared. Bo was surprised to feel a pang of loss. He wasn’t entitled to feeling that way. It made no sense. He was here to escape work and the furnace heat and staff supervision.
Eli was staff.
Eli was the guy who’d been driving him up the wall for the last week or so.
And yet, Eli’s gaze had been pinned to him like he hung the moon. Like he was doing something amazing and magical. Like watching Bo play was even better than making out with those two hipsters he’d probably picked up at the bar.
They played another set before they cleared the stage, but Bo didn’t feel the music the same anymore. His grin was a bit pasted-on, his music somewhat mechanical, and Jay’s bewildered glances did little to boost his confidence.
Fuck Eli.
The sentiment didn’t relax him when Bo realized the double entendre his thought represented. Eli Winkler was staff, Bo only labor. This made Eli out of his league and out of reach – Bo had learned not to mess with staff the hard way - and why the hell had he been thinking about Eli like that? He didn’t even like the nosy pest.
Before Bo drowned himself in a mix of Metallica and techno, he promised himself to hook up with some cute guy, drag him to the maze upstairs, and get laid.
“Come on,” Matt tugged on Eli’s flimsy sleeve. “Upstairs!”
“I like the band,” Eli said. He smiled as the bartender slid another cup of light beer toward him. “And I like the music they’re playing.”
“You like the bassist,” Jeff said. “You jerk, you’re here with us!”
“Uh-huh!” Eli was flying high and feeling hot and thirsty. E always made him feel that way. He sucked half the cup down, then waved for a cup of water. “Hot.”
“You’re always hot,” Matt crooned into his ear. “And I want a hit. I’ll go visit the smoking section.”
“The bassist is hot,” Eli clarified. Ecstasy always took his inhibitions away. He needed to share, whereas normally he’d keep such details to himself. He knew that, but feeling as good as he did, he didn’t give a shit.
“And you’re with us, buddy, don’t you forget it. We’re here to show you a good time.” Matt took his face in his hands and looked him in the eye. “We’re here to show you what you’ve been missing. When we’re done with ya, you’ll be sorry you’re not living with us anymore.” He leaned forward, letting their lips brush, and whispered: “We’ll step out for a few minutes. Will you wait here?”
Eli nodded, but as soon as Matt let go of his head, his eyes returned to the stage. To Bo.
Eli was alone, surrounded by a crowd of strangers, sipping water, trying to cool off. He considered going to the stage again to see Bo swept away by the magic he wove with the rest of the band, but he told the guys he’d wait. His friends. Old friends. Old friends with countless benefits. He knew this was gonna be good – they’d said so.
He adjusted his painfully hard erection.
His water and beer were all gone, and he considered getting more when Matt tapped on his shoulder. “We’re back!”
And oh boy, they sure were. They smelled like burnt sage with a hint of acrid sweetness, and they looked all relaxed now. With their earlier flare of jealousy chemically adjusted, their pleasant disposition drew a smile on Eli’s face. “Ready?”
“Way past ready,” Jeff said slowly. “Come along!”
Eli followed them around the bar and back up the industrial staircase. The music vibrated the floor under his feet and he felt those minute earthquakes travel up his legs and right to his balls. Bo was down there, making magic. Bo with his broad shoulders and powerful arms and short-cropped hair. And tattooed arms. Eli had never seen the tattoos before. They’d been hidden under the protective long sleeves and long-cuff gloves Bo always wore to shield his skin from the heat of the furnace. Eli knew Bo sweated a lot. He’d seen the dark stains at his armpits an hour into his shift. He wanted to smell Bo’s manly sweat.
Those tattoos must be salty.
And lick it off. Everywhere.
More of Eli’s blood rushed below his waist. Here he was with Matt and Jeff and he wanted it. He was so hard he could drive nails. Hell, he’d been hard since they started making out on the dance floor, and now he welcomed what was coming his way.
Matt and Jeff never disappointed. Except now he was walking through the play maze with Matt and Jeff and instead of focusing on them, he was hard thinking of Bo, and how he was probably straight. And if not straight, he just didn’t like him, or was playing very hard to get.
Normally, this train of thought would have dampened his arousal. Tonight, Eli was flying. The riffs of Bo’s base reverberated through the whole building. Sound was waves in the air – a scientific fact – and Bo was sending waves of guttural, sexy beat toward him.
Like a caress.
No matter what Eli did and no matter how hard he tried to think of Matt’s mouth or Jeff’s cute brown curls, or his deliciously thick dick, he couldn’t escape Bo.
“This looks good,” Matt said, looking at a plain office desk and a rolling chair without arm rests. “A regular office cubicle fantasy.”
Eli turned his nose. “Nah.” It didn’t suit. None of his fantasies revolved around the accounting department. “How’bout this one?” Just a padded bench.
“Boring,” Jeff groaned. The next two spots were taken, which was too bad because one had a sex swing. They watched for a while as Eli panted, thinking he wanted to be in that swing, having Bo flex his ass as he was driving into him.
So hot.
Matt nudged Jeff. “Eli likes it.”
Jeff raised his eyebrows. “The hammocks?”
“Yeah.”
Jeff looked up to Eli and ran a finger up the back of his arm, knowing exactly which buttons to push. “How’bout something little less private?”
Oh God. Downstairs – where Bo is.
The image of showing off for Bo came and went. Eli’s throat was too dry to swallow. “Need water,” he gasped. If he didn’t get off soon, he’d self-combust.
Matt and Jeff grinned at each other. “Water bottles! And no, not downstairs. Just out by the lockers,” Matt winked. “Come on, I’ll show ya!”
And there it was, the large structural supports that were like a tree of steel and old wood, with hammocks hanging at various heights. The higher ones were accessible using rope ladders. Some hammocks were wide, with spreader bars, and would fit two guys no problem. Other ones were just a strip of fabric or a mesh of thin ropes, hanging like a smiley face until some exhausted, partied-out soul decided to crash in it.
“I... I don’t think I should be climbin’ up there.” Eli realized he’d just said that, and then he realized he was right. His coordination was impaired by beer and that little pill – although he’d be back to his earnest, geeky, inhibited self in an hour – and by a hard-on so massive, it was painful to walk. That had never happened before.
Bo’s magic.
“Come on, Eli. Try this one.” Matt crossed the space and tugged on a swath of webbing that hung at Eli’s shoulder height. “Just as a support, baby. We won’t let you fall, don’t worry. We just want you at our mercy!”
“Like always,” Jeff grinned. “So?”
Eli nodded. A webbing like this had serious kink potential. A riff split the air, a caress sent from downstairs, just for him. He felt it, and shuddered. “Yeah! Yeah. Okay.” He ripped the black excuse of a shirt off. He’d been so hot in it, the cooler air was a relief. “And lemme get out of these.” He fumbled with his jeans.
“Here,” Jeff said, pushing his way in as Matt molded himself to Eli’s back. “We’re gonna make it so good, you’ll come back beggin’ for more. You’ll want to move back to your little room, just like years ago.” Eli felt the graze of Jeff’s lips up his throat, and shuddered. “Just feel how hard you are now! We’ll make you blow over an’ over, and you won’t leave our bed again.”
Eli was trying hard to process those words. It’s not like they hadn't discussed this before. It seemed the guys took their persuasion to a different level entirely. As Eli absorbed the riff of Bo’s keening bass downstairs, he shuddered. He’d never been as turned on as this. A rational corner of his mind told him he was doing something crazy and out of character, pushing past his comfort zone.
They weren’t in bed and they weren’t sober. Eli should have cared about that – that rational vestigial voice in his mind was yelling loud and clear – but he needed to blow, and he needed to blow more than once.
Oh God oh God oh God.
Next moments were a confused jumble of hands and kisses and Eli trying to thrust in a desperate effort to get off.
“Not so soon,” Matt crooned into his ear. “You’d just come, and then what?”
“Yeah,” Jeff said as he pulled a black, strappy thing out of his pocket. “Not so fast, sexy beast. We got a little surprise for you!”