Riley's heart stopped beating for a moment, and nearly forgot to start again as he looked at Chris looking at him. "Yeah," he said at last.

"You need to be somewhere?" Chris asked. "'Cause if you're not doing anything," he grinned, shoulders rising in a slight, casual shrug, "you want to hang with us? I owe you a drink, after all."

Flattered that Chris remembered him and his name, Riley returned the grin. "Sure!" he enthused, not sure whether he was more excited that Chris *had* noticed the drink Riley had handed him during the set or at the invitation itself.

Riley went back through the dwindling throng of fans with Chris, aware of the glances - some jealous, some merely curious - that the girls were casting in his direction. Hands nonchalantly shoved in his pockets, he watched Chris sign the last few autographs. After waving goodbye and enduring a small explosion of flashbulbs, Chris took Riley over to the bus and they climbed on board.

The rest of the band was there and as Chris introduced Riley, Rob gave him a nod of recognition and tossed Riley a beer. Riley sat down in a corner and looked around, admiring the bus, content just to hang out for awhile and listen to the mostly inane conversation around him. It was a real tour bus, with sofas and a bar and a TV and everything. He wondered whether Chris's new record company had sprung for it, or whether Chris was paying for it himself. That seemed like the kind of thing Chris would do for his friends.

He looked up when Chris came over and balanced on the arm of the sofa next to him. "Are you having a good time?"

"Yeah," Riley said, raising his beer in a kind of salute. "Thanks."

"Well, thanks for coming to the show." Chris smiled and indicated the sofa with his own beer, motioning for Riley to slide over. As he settled into the new space, he asked, "So you're a local?"

"Yeah - uh, no," Riley said, shifting so he was fully facing Chris. "I'm from Huxley. It's about twenty miles north of here."

"So what do you do in Huxley?"

"My family has a farm," Riley replied, instantly groaning inwardly and wishing he'd had a more interesting story prepared. He just hadn't anticipated getting into a conversation about himself with Chris Cole.

But Chris just said, "So you're a farmboy, huh? Cool. Corn, right? Iowa grows a lot of corn?"

"Yeah," Riley couldn't help but grin at the way Chris was trying to make him feel comfortable, leaning forward as if sincerely interested in what Riley had to say. It was very convincing, and even though a part of Riley knew it was ridiculous to think that a rock star could be interested in the life of a farmboy, he couldn't help but feel welcome. So he started to trade stories with Chris about the more hilarious points of growing up in the country, versus growing up in the city. At least, it was hilarious to Riley and to Chris, who kept slapping Riley's knee or throwing an arm around his shoulder as he laughed at all the punch lines. But apparently it was less funny to the rest of the band, who got up and wandered off one by one. Before he realized it, it was just Chris and Riley, talking and drinking on the bus.

Alone with Chris Cole on the tour bus. Alone and - no, not quite drunk - but alone and tipsy with Chris Cole on the tour bus. Riley had to suppress the urge to do something horrifying like giggle. Or worse, sigh. Like when Chris let his arm slide off Riley's shoulders slowly; it felt like Chris's fingers were lingering across his back. **Wishful thinking, Finn.**

Chris got up and returned with another couple of beers, holding one out to Riley as he took a pull on his own. "You sure this is legal?" he teased.

Unprepared for the question, Riley hesitated - and in that hesitation, knew he was lost.

Still holding out the beer, a look of concern crossing his face, Chris said, "Please tell me you're at least 18."

Those few moments were enough for Riley to recover, and he said easily, "I'll be 19 in a month." As Chris visibly relaxed, handing over the beer and sitting next to him again, Riley added internally, **and two years.**

Before the lull could turn awkward, Chris asked, "Have you heard the new album yet?"

Feeling a little guilty, Riley admitted, "Just the songs from tonight."

"Well," Chris said, getting up again and returning with an unwrapped CD, "here you go." He grinned at Riley's enthusiastic thanks, and asked what he thought of the ones he heard tonight.

"Oh, I liked them! I mean, I like everything you do. All your songs. I have to say that 'Colorful' is still my favorite." Riley smiled as he added in light-hearted confidentiality, "You know, I used to think the lyrics were, 'I know I can be colorful, I know I can be *gay*,' not *gray* - that's what I thought 'I know you will love me *either way*' meant!"

He laughed - but then realizing that Chris hadn't joined him, hadn't, in fact, said anything, Riley looked down at the bottle he was clutching. He must've got it all wrong - the rumors, the stray touches and glances tonight, the invitation onto the bus - none of it meant a thing. Still staring at his beer, Riley took a long pull, as if there were a way out at the bottom of the bottle.

Chris watched Riley, the way he was drinking, and getting flushed... looking for courage in that bottle his hands are wrapped around? He swallowed, took a deep breath, and said, "You know, the first time I fucked a guy, I was so wasted I couldn't remember it, let alone appreciate it."

Still fixated on the bottle, Riley didn't know what to make of that. Was Chris just saying that to be nice? Was he fucking with him? Riley moved to raise the bottle to his lips again, but just then Chris leaned over and placed a hand over Riley's, arresting his movement. He tilted his head, trying to catch Riley's eye, and moved his other hand to Riley's neck. Riley turned and opened his mouth to ask what Chris was doing, but his words were swallowed by Chris's lips pressed to his own, Chris's tongue sliding into his mouth.

Riley melted into the kiss. As his bones dissolved, he felt the bottle slide from his grasp and bounce off his foot, pulling him out of embrace as the contents spilled out on the floor. "Oh!" he breathed apologetically, leaning down to pick it up. But Chris brought his attention back with a tug on Riley's hand, drawing the boy to him. Their lips met again and Riley readily gave himself back over to Chris, who was delighted that it took no more coaxing. They fell into an entangled, horizontal position, kissing themselves nearly breathless, bodies moving against each other as they shifted to give each other access, hands slipping beneath shirts to slide along smooth, taut flesh.

Their shirts slid up with the friction and soon they were skin to skin; Riley trembling and eager, Chris loving the way that shivering body felt against him. As Riley's hand moved up Chris's torso, his fingertips grazed across an unexpected nub. With a small thrill, Riley opened his eyes and shifted to look - yes, his fingers were brushing Chris Cole's fabled third nipple. He rubbed his thumb across it, pinched it, mesmerized watching it harden as he played with it. The sound that came from Chris, something between a moan and a chuckle, gave Riley a start. Coming back to the moment, Riley gave him a shy smile and, as if apologizing for the attention, confessed, "I always wanted to touch it."

Softly, Chris replied, "You can touch whatever you want, man." It had been awhile since he'd felt like this, not since Emily maybe, and he just wanted it to go on and on, no matter where it went.

Riley shifted down on the sofa, bending his head to take the erect nipple between his teeth, nipping and lapping at it. He was rewarded by Chris's soft intake of breath, fingers tangling in his hair appreciatively. Riley knew what was expected of him and began to work his way down Chris's body; his hands reaching the waistband and smoothly undoing the button fly. He sat up to tug both jeans and boxers down past Chris's hips, unconsciously biting his lip as Chris's cock sprang free. His already ragged breath growing more uneven if possible, Riley swallowed unconsciously. He was afraid that if he backed off now, Chris would end the night. So Riley took a deep breath, licked his lips, and bent his head once more.

Although Chris very much wanted to feel Riley's mouth on him, he saw how beyond nervous the boy was and reached to stop him. He deftly pushed Riley back, lying next to him, one leg draped over him, kissing and caressing Riley, until he felt that give and melt. Chris moved his mouth to Riley's ear, nipping and tonguing it, feeling Riley squirm against him, feeling Riley's arms wrap around him, lips seeking his again. The kissing went on and on until Chris murmured, in a pause for breath, "Fuck me, Riley."

Riley pulled away, head spinning with alcohol and words. "What?"

Chris kissed him again. "You can fuck me if you want to. Do you want to?"

Blushing, Riley didn't know how to answer. This, what was happening to him now, far surpassed anything he thought could happen. When he'd started jerking off first to the music, and then to pictures of Chris; when he'd begun to develop his own fantasies, playing them out in his head while he masturbated. Even when he came here to Des Moines, he never really thought he'd be doing this, making out with Chris Cole. And now, what Chris was offering him. well, even in his wildest fantasies - and some of them got pretty wild - it was always Chris fucking him. He'd even practised, trying to loosen himself up for Chris, to get used to having something up his ass, sticking his own fingers inside himself while masturbating. (Once he'd even tried a hot dog, but that hadn't worked too well.) So Chris's offer was almost too much, something he'd never even allowed himself in fantasies. He was at a loss for a response, and it was hard for Riley to think with Chris moving against him like this, kissing and rubbing.

When Riley hesitated, Chris moves even closer, flush against him. He licked Riley's lips, nudging them apart with his tongue, curling it wetly inside Riley's upper lip, breathing the words, "Do you want me, Riley? Do you wanna be inside me?" Gentle, unthreatening, just shy of begging, "fuck me, please," letting Riley be in control; even though Chris could feel the answer pressing against him, he repeated his request because he wanted Riley to feel in control - and because Chris wanted to hear the words. Between each kiss, Chris kept whispering it over and over, "fuck me, Riley," until Riley was so hard he was afraid he was going to come - and finally, when Chris asked yet again, "Do you want to fuck me?", Riley managed to gasp, "yes."

Up against the wall was how Chris wanted it. There was something about the slow-screw-against-the-wall, or even the fast-and-hard one, that just simply *sent* him. He got to his feet and shimmied out of the rest of the clothing, taking off everything but the thin chain he wore around his neck, watching with pleasure as Riley followed his lead. When they were naked, Chris pulled Riley into an embrace, walking backwards until he felt the wall behind him. Still liplocked with the boy, Chris fumbled blindly for the telephone table but was unable to reach it. With a sigh, he dragged himself away from Riley's mouth and missed the boy's bemused look - was Chris going to call someone? - as he turned to open the top drawer. He straightened up, unscrewing the cap of a small tube and squeezing a glistening dollop onto his other palm. Smiling reassuringly, he let his gaze drop from Riley's face to his engorged cock as he curled his fingers around the shaft and began massaging in the lubricant. He took his hand away at Riley's moans, leaned in to kiss him lightly, and teased, "Maybe I better let you do this yourself." Riley blushed, but took the tube that Chris pressed into his hand and finished greasing his cock as Chris watched raptly. Then wrapping himself in one of Riley's strong arms, Chris turned to face the wall, legs spread apart, bracing himself against the wall. He was wondering how much guidance the boy would need, when he felt a slick fingertip probing gently at his entrance, worming inside him, joined by a second finger, twisting and coating his passage. When the fingers withdrew, Chris reached back for Riley's cock and rubbed the tip along his crack, pushing back in invitation. He let go when he felt Riley's hand over his own, positioning the head properly - and then with a soft grunt, Riley was inside him.

The way Riley began to move against and inside him, tentatively, Chris knew he was still a little nervous. He undulated with Riley's thrusts to show him he was enjoying it, that it was okay, it was fucking wonderful; he was trying to think of something to say to put Riley at ease, to help him relax - but then Riley seemed to find his rhythm. He began thrusting with real force, the tip of his cock bumping Chris's prostate, making him arch and moan and dig his fingernails into the wall, thrilling to each slick stroke as it went on and on. Then with Riley's breath against his neck, mouth against his ear, Chris heard the words Riley was murmuring between grunts - Riley was fucking him to the beat of "Stand Up."

It was a little odd, a little perfect, to be fucked to the tune Bobby Beers had written to his male lover. Chris had been so surprised when Bobby had thrown that in his face the day he took over as lead singer. It hadn't been common knowledge back in the days when Bobby was still the Dragons front man and Chris wasn't sure how well known it was now, whether Riley had chosen it or if it was just a happy coincidence. Either way, if a little music helped Riley, Chris was all for it. Hell, he'd even sing it himself if it got Riley there.

Still braced against the wall and now pressed to it, Chris was almost painfully aware of his own erection. So hard he couldn't take it anymore, he reached for himself. Noticing Chris's movement, Riley felt a wave of guilt in the midst of his pleasure; he couldn't believe he had neglected the reach-around! He reached for Chris's cock then, intending to take over. But again he hesitated, then settled for wrapping his hand over Chris's, feeling the man shudder lightly at the touch, and stroking with him. He continued to pound into Chris, who was now tightening around him, a rhythmic milking that soon brought Riley to the brink of orgasm - and then tipped him over, his release accompanied by guttural moans as he came deep inside Chris. With another manual stroke, and then one more, Chris was joining him in ecstasy, cum splashing from his pulsing cockhead, spilling over their entwined fingers.

They were still against the wall. Plastered to his back, Riley slipped out of Chris and drew away, leaving Chris leaning against the wall for an extra moment while he went to the sofa to catch his breath. With a furtive glance at Chris, Riley picked up his discarded clothing and began to dress. Now that he'd had his fuck, Chris would surely kick him out. Riley wanted to play it cool, like he'd done this before. As he got up for his shoes, which he'd kicked off half-way across the bus, Chris came over suddenly and kissed him again, pushing him back down on the sofa gently and straddling him. "Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

"I, uh - I sort of thought you would want me to leave."

Still naked, Chris sat astride the clothed Riley and shook his head. "I'm not done with you yet," he murmured, gazing into Riley's eyes.

Riley's moistened his lips and asked, with only the slightest hitch in his voice, "Do you, want me to go down on you?"

Leaning forward and kissing him, Chris slid to the side and pushed Riley back to lie next to him: "I want you to do whatever you want." One leg draped over Riley, Chris propped himself on an elbow as he caressed Riley's face, his body. Riley was hard again immediately. He knew he should let Chris have a turn, but before he could say anything, Chris offered in a low voice, "You want to fuck me again?" With a shy smile, Riley nodded and blushed. He wondered if Chris could see the blushing in the dark, and was grateful for the cover to hide in though he longed to see the other man's face in the light. At his smile, Chris smiled back and said, "Okay then."

Taking his leisurely time, pausing to trail his fingertips along intriguing contours and angles, Chris undressed Riley and reapplied the lubricant - not that he himself wasn't already sopping, but he'd take any excuse to fondle that gorgeous cock. "You're," Chris started, then found that he was the one hesitating now. He wasn't sure how Riley would take this, but he felt compelled to say it: "You're beautiful, do you know that?" Flushed, Riley dropped his eyes and gave a slight shake of his head, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like, "You're the one who's beautiful." Chris smiled as he settled himself on his back, gesturing an invitation for Riley to come to him. Riley crawled up between Chris's legs, not sure how to proceed with Chris facing him. Chris pulled him down for a reassuring, encouraging kiss, then shifted to hook the back of each knee over Riley's shoulders in turn before helping Riley enter him. This time there was no hesitation, no searching for rhythm; Riley fucked Chris like he was born to do it, both of them loving it even more the second time, transported to pure bliss at the moment of climax.

In the afterglow Riley collapsed against, letting Chris's legs unwind before shifting to the side, his head still resting on Chris's chest. As Chris stroked his hair, his other arm around Riley's back, a contented humming vibrated from him - and Riley realized that Chris Cole liked to cuddle. He didn't know why, but that revelation made Riley happy. Especially since he was the one being cuddled. Then Riley recognized the song Chris was absentmindedly humming as "Colorful," and with an extra flush of pleasure began following it in his own head:

//most were being good for goodness sake
//but you wouldn't pantomime
//you are more beautiful when you awake
//than most are in a lifetime
//i know i can be colorful
//i know i can be gray
//but i know this loser's living fortunate
//'cause i know you will love me either way

Then there was a light rap on the window. Chris grinned wistfully, and with a note of reluctance told Riley, "That's Rob telling me we need to hit the road soon."

They dressed wordlessly and went to the front of the bus together. Chris kissed him again and asked, "Will you be okay? Do you need us to drop you off anywhere?"

**Going to Huxley?** Riley thought. "No, I'm good," he assured Chris aloud.

"Okay," Chris nodded, and opened the door to the outside world. Riley felt sheepish as he emerged, but no one laughed or made any comments; they just smiled at him. Chris walked Riley a little ways away from the bus, stopping when they came to the edge of the parking lot. "So, I guess this is goodbye."

Words didn't seem adequate, so Riley just nodded. He turned to go, when he heard Chris say his name again. Turning back, he watched Chris pull his necklace off overhead. "I want you to have this," he said, pressing it into Riley's hand. Riley looked down and for the first time noticed that it wasn't just a chain; they were dog tags. He looked at Chris questioningly. "They were my grandfather's. He was a Marine, in World War II."

"Wow," Riley said softly, looking at the tags again. Then he returned his gaze to Chris's face and held out the chain. "I can't take this."

"Please," Chris said, "I want you to have it." He didn't know what else to say, how else to explain to Riley that the night meant something, that it wasn't just a cheap one-night-stand. To his relief, a wide smile crossed Riley's face and he nodded.

"Thanks," he said simply. Then it was Chris's turn to nod. He took a step into Riley, hugged him quickly, and then returned to the bus without a backward glance. Clutching the gift, Riley rounded the corner to where he'd hidden his backpack before the gig. It was still there. He shouldered it and waited in the shadows just to watch Chris get on the tour bus, to watch the bus disappear into the night.

He stood still for another moment after the bus was gone from sight. He didn't feel tired. In fact, he was feeling awake and alive. There was plenty of time to get back to Huxley. Maybe he'd just walk it. He draped the chain around his neck and started off in the opposite direction the bus had gone in. Chris was seeing the whole world in his tour bus. There was so much of the world to see beyond Huxley! Riley probably would never be a rock star, but he'd sure like to see the world. As he felt the metal tags against his skin, he thought that maybe he'd join the Marines himself some day and see the world beyond Huxley. He smiled to himself. **Yeah.**

THE END