The trip across the Atlantic was always brutal on Jon. Sitting for long flights did not even come close to being one of his favorite activities.
But this trip was different. Richie was in the seat beside him, which, in itself was not unusual. Jon just had a strong desire to stab his tongue down Richie's throat.
They resisted touching each other in any manner, but damn the temptation . . .
The group lounged about the cabin, breaking into small groups, trying to wind down and sleep before they landed in Spain the next morning.
At one point shortly after take off, Dave had taken a seat across from them and began talking about his latest musical project. Then Tico joined them.
Normal banter, music, football, family, music, man talk. Jon�s mind drifted as he watched Richie vehemently criticize the Giant�s decisions that would impact the upcoming football season.
�What the fuck are they thinking? How is he gonna make a fuckin' difference in the defense . . .� Richie�s face was lit up as he talked about it, widely gesturing with his arms and hands.
Richie had on a long black leather jacket over a tight white t-shirt and flare leg jeans with black boots, his hair shining in the dim light of the cabin, his small gold earring catching the light when he moved his head.
Jon felt his pulse quicken for the hundredth time so far during this flight. Fuck, will they ever get there? He watched Richie's face, his full lips and bright smile as he went on about the Giants and their defensive fuckups.
Jon broke his gaze and shifted in his seat, stubbed out his cigarette and took a sip from his beer. He had on sunglasses to hide the deep circles under his eyes.
Shit he was tired, they had a day to recoup, do a show Tuesday. He was wearing an old t-shirt, orange with an Orange Crush soft drink logo across the chest, faded Levi�s, Nikes and a brown leather jacket.
He didn't sleep last night because they had attended an event in New York and had gotten back so late. Jon's prior week had been harrowing. Busy.
He had phoners, meetings, packing, decisions, rescheduling, last minute repacking and phone calls until all hours, more decisions and finalizing plans. The typical winding up before leaving to tour.
Not to mention dealing with the present state of his marriage. Putting up with Dorothea�s shit. She had kept him on his toes since last Monday. And he had avoided his neighbor, Mrs. Cohn, like the plague.
But all that was over, at least for now, a month away from home. He was leaving that behind, looking forward to a change in his daily routine.
He already missed Stefanie, Jesse and little Jake, though. His family would not be joining him on this leg of the tour. The kids were still in school for a few more weeks.
But Richie�s would, he had told him earlier that Heather and Ava would meet them in London and come back to the States with them.
He and Richie had not had a chance to reconnect, to discuss anything, when they'd finally met at the airport in Newark. He had no idea how his week had gone back in LA. And Richie had no clue what Jon had had to endure this past week.
He lifted his sunglasses with his fingers as he rubbed his eyes. Sleep finally overcame him as they sailed across the ocean in the dark.
He felt an elbow in his side and he opened his eyes. There was movement about the cabin as they prepared to land. They taxied to the FBO at Barcelona Airport.
It was a group stretch as everyone arose from their seats and reached for carry ons and other belongings. They filed out of the plane and hovered momentarily on the tarmac.
It was early morning. Jon noticed an increased number of uniformed security officers. More so than last time they were on this side of the Atlantic. So the world was changing.
After what seemed an eternity, they were on their way to the hotel. Everyone was beat even after sleeping a good deal during the eight hour flight.
They pulled into the valet parking area of the hotel, got out and each gathered a bag from the trunk. In the elevator, they were each handed a key card and assigned a room number.
Jon and Richie were next door to each other. They never requested such a thing, never had, but more often than not, they usually ended up with adjoining rooms.
Jon slammed his room door, slipped off his jacket, dumped his bag on the floor and flopped down on his bed.
He must have dozed off, because an insistent knocking on the door adjoining his and Richie�s rooms woke him up. He had no concept of time, whether it was day or night, or even if it was still Sunday, Monday or already Tuesday.
He jumped up and opened the door. Richie was standing there with two empty glasses and a bottle of wine.
�Can Jonny come out and play?� he asked in a little boy voice.
Jon smiled. �You�re a nut,� he said.
�Ooh, he said nut, heh, heh, heh,� Richie imitated Beavis and Butthead. Jon rolled his eyes and turned away, Richie followed him into his room.
It had been a week. The tension was almost unbearable, trying to keep their hands to themselves, but then, neither seemed to want to be the first to make a move on the other. It was a game they continued now. Richie poured them each a glass of wine.
�I was beginning to think you were avoiding me,� he said playfully.
�No, just fell asleep as soon as I touched the bed,� replied Jon yawning and stretching then thinking to himself, no you stupid fucker, I've been wanting to give you blow job since we left the States, but I didn't think it'd go over well on the plane.
They each took a seat opposite each other, propping their legs on the arms of each other�s chairs, almost recreating the scene from about a week ago that started this emotional chaos for Jon.
He lit a cigarette, took a long drag on it and handed the pack to Richie.
"So, how'd it go when you got home?" Jon asked sipping his wine, taking slow drags on his cigarette, he didn't care what time of day his brain knew it was, his body felt like it should be at least late afternoon.
"I'm sorry I had to leave ya in a bind like that last Monday," Richie was apologetic.
"Well, there wasn't anything you could have done anyway . . . " Jon trailed off.
"Is there something wrong?" Richie was afraid to voice the question.
"No," Jon simply said and looked somewhere in the distance, but Richie knew there was more unsaid behind that single word. He remained silent, waiting to see if Jon would offer any more. When he didn't, Richie removed his feet from Jon's chair and leaned forward.
The subject matter was throwing a damper on Jon's mood. Richie could see the darkness growing in Jon's eyes.
"Hey, man, you can talk to me," Richie probed. Jon shook his head.
"Nah," he said. Jon decided to change the mood, lighten up and forget about what he'd been trying hard to since he left the ground in Newark. He downed his glass of wine in one gulp.
Richie watched him and tamped out his cigarette. Jon poured another glass of wine and drained it. He was probably going to regret this later or tomorrow, or whatever the fuck it was, but he didn�t care.
He'd been planning for this moment for a while now. He got up and retrieved his bag from near the door, dug around in it and pulled out a small tube.
Richie watched him, concerned for his friend, wanting to make whatever had happened this past week evaporate for him. He saw what Jon had in his hand and grinned.
�Ah, I see we came prepared tonight,� he slowly stood up. His erection began straining against his zipper.
Jon put the tube on the bed and took off his Orange Crush shirt, threw it down. Then he stood there, waiting for Richie to catch on.
He tilted his head and started running his own fingers across belly, his other hand reached down and touched himself, increasing the pressure in his jeans.
Richie swallowed hard, the saliva had built up in his mouth. He put his wineglass down, almost missing the table.
He pulled his t-shirt over his head, then, he stepped forward and unbuttoned Jon�s Levi's. Jon pushed Richie's hand away.
Richie could see Jon was hard, the bulge in his jeans distorting the front of his pants. Jon put his hands on Richie�s hips, feeling the smooth fabric of his pants, then unbuttoned and unzipped them.
Richie�s cock flashed out and Jon gripped it, it was burning hot. Richie leaned forward to kiss Jon but Jon turned his face away.
�Un-uh,� he said and he looked back at him with that damn crooked smile. Richie reached to unzip Jon�s jeans and Jon moved his hips out of the way, dodging Richie�s hand.
"Damn, you're driving me crazy with that fuck-me-look on your face, so come here," Richie rasped. Okay, you want to play hard to get, he thought. Jon started to slowly massage Richie�s engorged cock.
�You know, payback is hell,� Richie almost choked on the words as Jon�s hands worked magic on him. Jon pulled Richie�s pants down as he went down on his knees.
Richie leaned on the back of the chair he had been sitting in a few moments ago. Jon�s lips enveloped the head of Richie�s cock, his tongue searing over it.
"Oh, shit," Richie sucked in air as Jon's lips pressed on tip if his cock. He sucked, moving his tongue back and forth. Richie was breathing heavily, starting to rock his hips.
Jon took more of Richie into his mouth, still sucking, still swirling his tongue, tickling the underside of Richie�s cock. Richie tangled his hands in soft blond hair.
Deeper it slid until Richie's cock was in all the way. Jon began to rock his head in slow motion, sliding Richie's hardness in and out of his mouth.
�Oh shit,� Richie strained the words, on the edge of coming. Jon stood up and pulled Richie by the arms and pushed him on the bed.
�Fuck, what�d you do that for?� he desperately grabbed for Jon, but Jon stepped back out of his reach. Jon stepped out of his jeans and reached over and picked up the small tube of lube.
He squeezed some out and climbed onto Richie. He slicked some on Richie�s pulsing rod and then squeezed some into the fingers of Richie�s right hand.
Jon�s hard-on was standing at attention. Richie went to grab it but saw the look on Jon�s face. �I want you to fuck me, Rich,� Jon said in his gravelly voice. Jon�s abs were tightened, the outlines of his muscles clearly visible through his skin, his pecs had a sheen of sweat on them.
His hands were massaging Richie�s balls, his arms flexing with the movement. Jon�s blue eyes were piercing Richie�s brain. Get busy boy, he told himself, and he slid his hands up the backs of Jon�s thighs.
Jon sucked in a hiss of air, raising himself a little so Richie could access him. Richie probed with his fingers, sliding the slick lube into Jon�s ass. Jon�s head fell back as he relaxed and let Richie in.
He slid is legs further apart and guided Richie�s cock to the entrance. It tickled like fire, Richie thrust his hips up and entered.
�Oh, fuck. Motherfuck,� Richie clenched his jaws. Jon gritted then relaxed, then bent down and gripped the bedspread on each side of Richie�s body. He helped stroke by lifting himself, bouncing up and down on Richie.
He growled as he came, shooting come across Richie�s stomach. Richie felt like he was shooting fire deep into Jon. Jon dropped his chin to his chest, then fell to the bed, laying next to Richie.
�Jesus fuckin� Christ, Jon, you�ve been saving up,� Richie breathed heavily. Jon lay still, his forehead against Richie�s upper arm.
Richie reached across his body, feeling for Jon�s head, stroking his hair when he felt it. He turned to face Jon and lifted his chin with his hand. Jon�s eyes looked so sleepy.
�Lets get in the bed,� Richie whispered. They managed to crawl under the blankets without getting off the bed. Jon was falling alseep, he couldn�t help it, the jet lag was stronger than his will to stay awake.
He fell off into a dream, smiling for the first time in a week. Richie remained awake for a while, thinking about the look on Jon's face, wondering what had happened and why Jon didn't want to talk about it.
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There was a knock on the door. Richie sat up straight. He listened to make sure he hadn�t been dreaming.
Yep there it was, knocking on the door. He had been dead asleep. Jon lay still next to him, not moving.
He nudged Jon, �Someone�s knocking, I think it�s Bruce, answer him,� he prodded Jon. Jon stirred and turned over, his hair covering half his face.
�Go away,� Jon yelled groggily.
�Time to go, come on, we need to be there in about an hour or so,� Bruce, the band's manager, yelled through the door.
�What the fuck for?� Jon yelled back. Richie had jumped out of bed and ran back into his room, silently closed the dividing door. There was silence from the hallway.
"Press conference, time to talk, time to get your picture taken, remember? All that fun stuff," Bruce hollered back.
�GRRRR,� Jon slid out of the bed. Shit. What fucking day was it? Why was he in such a piss poor mood already, hadn�t they�d just gotten here. Fuck. He pulled on his jeans and halfway zipped them up, as he opened the door. Bruce stood there, with his hand raised as if he was ready to bang again.
�Just wanted to make sure . . .,� he smiled. v �Ok, give me twenty minutes, I want to shower. Do I have time to eat? I'm starvin', can you get me somethin�?� Jon knew he was being a shithead.
�What the hell you been doing the last three hours? I told you when we landed be ready in four hours.� Bruce was frustrated.
�Fuckin� sleeping, man. I�m beat. Give me a fuckin� break.� Jon said, trying to cool it a little.
�Ok, ok, I�ll be back in thirty minutes.� Bruce took a few steps over to Richie�s door and started the entire routine over with a big grin on his face. Jon stepped back and slammed his door.
Surprisingly, he felt a little refreshed after the shower, his eyes looked ok, circles were almost gone. It was time well spent. He quickly shaved, dried his hair, pulled on a pair of jeans with a black Bounce t-shirt and his Nikes.
He slung his jacket over his shoulder and knocked on the dividing door before entering Richie�s room. Richie was sitting on the bed putting on his boots. He was wearing the same black jacket, a pair of red velvet jeans and a black t-shirt.
�I feel like a new man after that little nap,� he smiled.
�We slept three hours according to Bruce. Hey, and maybe I should get some fuckin� credit for how you feel, huh?� Jon walked over to where Richie was sitting and kneed his legs open, reached behind his head and grabbed a handful of dark hair and pulled his head back.
He bent down and took Richie's earlobe into his mouth, tugging on Richie's earring with his teeth, then he moved to his lips where he teased Richie's tongue. Richie wrapped his long arms around Jon. There was a knocking at Richie�s door.
�Rise and shine, its time to go,� Bruce yelled.
"What are . . . you . . .doin, man?" Richie spit out the words when he could free his tongue from Jon's.
"Just warmin' you up for later," Jon replied, and let go of Richie and walked to the door. Richie was glad to see Jon's mood seemed lighter.
Bruce had sent someone for food for Jon and Richie. They quickly ate tapas and some ham and washed it down with a soft drink.
They met downstairs at the valet entrance where the cars were waiting for them. They were rounded up in groups and loaded into one of seven cars and a large white van to meet for a press conference.
Jon, Richie, Bruce, one of the publicists and a bodyguard took one car, the rest of the band in others.
Jon put his brain on auto-pilot, letting someone else do the thinking, letting himself be guided. Just point and I�ll go, he thought. He just waited. Waited until he needed to slip into his alter ego in front of the press cameras.
After so many years, he couldn�t take being �on� all the time. So he learned to turn it off. He was usually silent during this �off� time, responding or reacting only when it was necessary.
He had developed a prima donna reputation because people outside the circle didn�t understand. Again, fatigue began to slowly take over his brain. He was looking out of the window of the car when he felt something brush his thigh.
He flinched out of his trance and looked at Richie sitting next to him. He glanced across the car, Bruce and the publicist were discussing something. He looked over at Richie but his head was turned in the other direction.
He almost forgot where they were and had to still his hand before it reached up to finger Richie�s dark glossy hair. Damn, he wanted it so bad. He had been craving to taste Richie again for a week now.
The car slowed, they must be nearing their destination. Jon sighed, it�ll have to wait. They stopped and someone opened Jon�s door. He stepped outside into a throng of people.
He smiled, brain snapping to life. Showtime. These were fans. God knows how long they had waited out here for them--maybe days. And they were frenzied, screaming, jostling to get near them, hundreds of arms and hands reaching across the barricades that created their walkway to the door.
He wanted to give them what they wanted. He loved his fans--loyal and generous. His desire was to return the loyalty, the generosity.
He smiled broadly, reached out and tried to touch as many hands as possible, touching these people, feeling their energy, trying to give them something back.
Security was having a hard time controlling the surge. Hands touching him, smiling faces, crying faces. Sometimes it was overwhelming, the emotions he saw in those faces. He was being herded, moving toward the door a little more quickly.
He turned around and saw Richie, all smiles, doing the same thing he was, reaching as deep into the crowd as security would let him. Jon waited for the rest of them to go inside and he turned one last time and smiled and waved to the screaming crowd.
Inside it was suddenly quiet, the noise outside muffled and then silent as they made their way deeper into the building. This was some kind of broadcast facility, a television station he guessed.
Jon Bon Jovi, the rock star, coasted through the press conference, answering the same questions he�d answered hundreds of times before, cameras ceaselessly flashing the entire time.
It amazed him sometimes why people were so interested in some of the minute details of his life. It was tiring, sometimes they had to wait for lengthy translations from English to Spanish and back.
The other members of the band fielded their share of questions. Richie and Dave always had some funny retort ready. They kept the press laughing.
One female reporter wanted to know if they would be visiting the nude beaches in Spain. One wanted to know if Jon's eyes were really that blue or if he wore contacts to make them that color.
The questions ended and they were herded to another area for group photos. Jon's eyes began to get bleary from fatigue and flash burn.
The room was full of people, noisy, they were standing in front of a wall draped with a banner that had the "Bounce" logo on it.
Jon felt an arm around his shoulder. He turned to see Richie's warm smile. Jon smiled back, wanting to reach over and lick Richie�s face. Now something else began tingling.
He quickly tried to think of something else, dead animals or something, he tried desperately to recall some of his acting lessons.
Richie said something in his ear but he couldn�t make out the words, however the sensation of Richie�s warm moist breath on his ear almost made him convulse with desire.
Shit, we need to get outta here. Cameras continued flashing. He really couldn�t take any more. He reached around the first opportunity he got and gripped Bruce's arm. He understood the signal and began wrapping it up, making ready to leave.
Jon felt another warm body next to him and he turned his head and the female reporter who had asked about his eyes was staring straight into them.
She was blonde (surely bottled, he thought) her blue contacted irises boring a hole through his natural ones. He smiled and put an arm around her and she snuggled even closer.
In surprisingly clear English she said, "I wanted to see for myself if they were made to be so blue."
He flashed his famous smile and replied: "Baby, there's nothing synthetic here, it's all natural, 100 percent flesh and blood.� His brain was in rock star mode, no telling what was going to come out of his mouth. v �Your eyes, yes, they are more beautiful than I thought when I am this near, however, I may need proof as for the rest of you," she said as she moved her hand that was behind him to his ass. "Maybe I can accompany you to the hotel, yes? And you can prove it to me?"
Damn she was bold. And beautiful. He smiled wider. Another place, another time, he would have had her, but not this day.
What he really wanted at this moment was a cigarette and a pillow, not necessarily in that order. And maybe something else that he dared not think too hard about. He politely turned her down, and sent her off pouting.
They were guided back towards the waiting cars again, through the sea of people.
Richie and Jon slipped into the same car, Bruce following them but sitting half in, half out of the vehicle.
�We have to go to the venue, Matt wants a sound check," he said.
"Why the fuck for?" Jon was getting very irritable.
"He wants to make sure this first show checks, that�s all. You also need to eat some real food. You can rest tonight.�v �Why does Matt want a sound check today?� Richie questioned no one in particular, he knew Jon didn�t have a clue either.
They usually didn�t do sound checks anymore, and even though this was the first gig with the new stage set up, the techs knew what they were doing, it was the same set up they were using four weeks ago in the States, except no satellite dishes.
If anything, it could wait til tomorrow. Someone made a hand motion towards Bruce into the open door and Bruce got back out of the car.
He stood outside, speaking to someone momentarily, the crowd still screaming loudly, then he ducked down and informed Richie and Jon that he'd be taking another vehicle and he'd meet everyone there. He slammed the door.
Richie and Jon exchanged glances. "Oh darn," Richie said.
The vehicle was a six-passenger limousine, had a bench seat facing the rear of the car and one right angled to it, parallel to the side of the car facing the wet bar. Jon took the side seat and Richie the one facing the rear.
Richie looked for the button to close the privacy screen between the back of his head and the driver's seat. He couldn't locate it.
"Damn, how many of these things have I ridden in? And I can't find the fuckin' button."
Jon said in his best Spanish, "Driver, a little privacy please?" as he looked into the rearview mirror at the chauffeur's eyes reflected there.
"Si, senor," the driver replied quickly nodding his head as the screen went up.
Jon sidled up to Richie as the partition sealed shut. "Ask and ye shall receive," he licked the side of Richie's face.
Richie turned and dove into Jon's mouth with his tongue.
"How far is it?"
"Don't have a clue."
"Mmmm, well, mmm, we better not get carried away, mmmmmmm."
"Too . . . late . . . I . . . think." Richie pushed Jon down on the seat, their legs splayed out towards the window.
The driver felt the car jostle and heard a thump. He looked in the rearview mirror at the closed screen. He shook his head and turned his eyes back to the road.
Jon had laid back and was half sitting, Richie working his way down Jon's stomach, unzipping his pants. Richie had his hands on Jon's cock when they felt the car stop.
"Oh fuck," they sat up and zipped, buttoned and tucked the best they could. Jon was running his hands through his hair when the door opened.
"Fuck, I'm gonna die before we get back to the hotel, " Jon gasped. He didn't move to get out of the car right away.
Richie exited the car, his long black leather jacket amply covering his hard on. Bruce walked up to the open door and stood there waiting for Jon.
When Jon didn't come out, he ducked his head down.
"What's the matter?" Bruce asked.
Jon leaned forward with his palms against his forehead, "Nothin', I'm comin'," no I wish I was comin', he thought to himself.
"I'll be there in a minute," he rephrased.
"You ok?" Bruce looked at Jon sideways. "You look flushed."
"I'm fine," Jon said as he scooted across the seat to make his exit.
The Palau Sant Jordi was a sports stadium that seated approximately 15,000. They walked in and made their way to the stage construction. The show was scheduled for tomorrow night, but this was the first one of this leg of the tour and they were using a new structure.
Jon looked up at the stage, watching the roadies tape cables, set up stairs, barricades and props and the techs preparing the electronics.
For some reason, something didn't look right. Jon looked around and asked someone where Matt, his brother, was. Matt was in charge of the techs and the production of the video images that appeared on the huge screens above the stage.
Jon walked in the direction he was pointed and found Matt and an engineer directing the installation of one of the huge plasma screens.
"Why's this different than what we talked about?" Jon asked.
"One of the screens isn't up to spec, they've got to deliver another and it's coming from Japan. Minor fuck up, don't worry about it, it'll be up to speed by end of week, " he assured his brother. "But that's why I called a sound check, just want to be sure," he added.
"Ok, brother, I trust you." Jon slapped Matt on the back and went on the stage to check-out the setup.
Though Jon was involved at every level of the planning and made most of the final decisions, he deferred to Matt when it came to the technical issues.
He just didn't have the fortitude to make his brain work around the dizzying variables of the high tech gadgets they used in the production of each show. I'm too much of a right-brained person, Jon thought.
They spent the next hour and a half in sound check, then gathered to go find something to eat.
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Jon, Richie, Dave and Bruce stopped at a small restaurant not far from the hotel. They had the remainder of the day to themselves.
They ordered local foods and wines and enjoyed the comfort and conversation of friendship. Jon knew he'd probably drunk more wine than he should have, but he wasn't going anywhere that evening except to the hotel.
In the car back to the hotel, Bruce asked if they wanted to join him in the bar, Dave accepted but Jon and Richie declined, siting lack of sleep.
They parted ways at the elevators. Jon and Richie entered a lift and the doors had almost closed when a small female hand caught them and pushed them open. Richie had already punched the button to their floor.
A petite, blonde haired woman entered the elevator and the doors shut. It was the reporter from the press conference. They all stood facing the doors as they began the ascent, Jon standing somewhat behind Richie The entire interior of the car was mirrored.
The woman tried not to be obvious when she looked from Richie to Jon and back in the reflection and when she realized who was in the elevator with her, she turned to face them.
Her face broke out into a wide smile. "Well, I am so lucky to meet up with you here at the hotel," she said.
Jon felt a little uneasy, wanting more than anything to get Richie in his room. Now there was yet another obstacle to overcome. He was so tired. The wine had made him a little loopy.
Try to be nice was his first impulse. There goes his raising again, he'll have to speak to his mother about that.
Jon lifted his face to the ceiling and sighed, "So we meet again," he looked down at her and smiled.
She didn't hesitate to take this as an invitation to step even closer to the two men.
"You're from the TV station, earlier today," Richie pointed out to her.
"Yes, I have come to do some further research for my story on Bon Jovi," she was smooth, had done this before.
"Would you like to go down to the bar, now that you've found us?" Richie asked.
NO!, Jon wanted to say, but he held his tongue.
"Oh, well that would be nice, but since we are already on our way up," and with this, the elevator stopped and the doors opened.
"We could continue our interview in your room, yes?" she finished, looking first at Richie, then at Jon, lingering on his eyes.
Shit, this woman is not going away soon, Jon thought. I can't believe what I'm thinking. I am wishing a beautiful woman--a beautiful and obviously willing woman, to not be here throwing herself at my feet. Shit.
She put her arm in Jon's and waited for him to lead the way. He looked at Richie pleadingly, but it was a waste of energy, Richie had a look of resignation on his face already. They were not going to be able to get rid of this one easily.
They walked down the hallway to Jon's room and all three went in. Housekeeping had cleaned up and Jon's things were put away in the closet or bathroom.
The reporter took a seat on the bed, while Richie took a seat in a chair. The room was not small, but it wasn't a suite, it had one kingsized bed, a small couch, two chairs, a table and a small refrigerator, much like hotels in the States.
Jon remained standing and offered her something out of the refrigerator. She declined and he reached in and took out a foreign beer, opened it and offered it to Richie. He reached back in and retrieved another for himself.
She leaned back on her hands, her ample round breasts straining against her peach colored blouse, making the front stretch apart slightly, almost revealing her bra.
Her skirt was short black leather, high up on her firm bare thighs, with her spiky black Italian pumps on her feet. Her hair hung to the middle of her back and she wore it loose as it was earlier, no part, just brushed back off her face. She had piercing blue eyes and was really quite beautiful.
Both men stared at her, admiring her. "I know you two are married men," she began, "But I would like to know how do you amuse yourselves when you are so far away from home?"
Jon took a long draft of his beer, looked over at Richie and said, "Well, we drink a lot," Jon said with a straight face.
"And we smoke a lot," Richie added without skipping a beat, and with this, he shook out a cigarette for himself and then offered one to Jon, then to the reporter.
"I do not smoke," she said. Jon lit his and leaned against the dresser and crossed his arms. He surveyed her from head to toe and back again.
She began to get the sense from their body language that this might be harder than she thought it was going to be.
She stood up and walked over to Jon and removed the cigarette from his hand, then began stroking his crotch.
"Hey, I wasn't finished with that," he tried to reach for the cigarette.
Fuckin' one track mind, then he laughed involuntarily at himself. Yeah, like I don't have a one track mind myself.
She took his laugh as accepting her advances and she reached up to kiss him. He turned his face away slightly and she missed his lips.
Damn, she�s making this a little harder, he thought.
She looked into his eyes. "If I did not know better, I would be thinking now that you do not want me to do this," she purred.
"Well, you're thinking is right. I don't want you to be doing this," and he removed her hand from his crotch. As much as he wanted her to disappear, her touch had made him respond. His hard on was obvious.
"But I feel that your body does not want what your head says," and with this, she guided his face towards hers and kissed him fully on the lips. God damn she was tempting.
But Jon pushed her away, deciding it was time to stop this. Richie came up behind her and pulled her away, guiding her towards the door.
Jon grabbed his cigarette back out of her hand. Richie opened the door and pushed her out.
"When you want to do a legitimate interview, call our manager and he'll try to pencil you in. I think there's a slot open in 2009," he slammed the door in her face. "Persistent little bitch," Richie said to the door
. He turned and Jon was kicking off his shoes. Jon�s mind had already moved on to what he�d been thinking about all week. He felt the heat rising in his blood in anticipation.
The phone rang. Jon looked at it and then sighed. What now? He answered the phone nearest him on the table.
�Hey, hon,� It was Dorothea.
�Uh, hey.� Jon was caught off guard, not expecting this at all.
�Just wanted to touch base with you. Make sure you were ok,� she chirped on.
�Yeah, I�m ok,� his voice flat. He tried to maintain his level of awareness, not think too hard about this conversation. Get it over with.
�What time is it over there, close to midnight? I know I didn�t wake you,� it was not a question.
�Yeah, it�s after eleven,� he knew he should be trying harder but he just couldn�t muster any enthusiasm. His heart skipped a beat when he thought of Stephanie.
�The kids there? Can I say hi to Stef?� God he missed her.
�She�s still at play practice. She found someone to help her this afternoon. . .� A slight pause from Dorothea, then, � . . . since you weren�t here. I�m going to pick her up in a little bit.�
Jon felt a knife stab of guilt. Touche�, Dot.
�What about Jess . . .� but he already knew the answer. God, please make her stop doing this to me. He was losing control of himself.
�He�s outside with Nita I think.� She�s not making a wild guess, she fuckin� knows exactly where Jesse is, that�s why she�s calling me now, when neither of them were no where near the phone. Jon closed his eyes. He could feel a dull pressure building in the back of his head.
�Everything is goin� ok, we had a sound check earlier.� Why was he telling her this, she didn�t give a flying fuck what he�d done today. He was entering the danger zone, losing control of his mouth.
�I�m exhausted Dot and I want to get some sleep,� he forced the words out of his mouth.
�Well, ok, I know the flight is hard on you, go get some sleep,� her tone slightly condescending, then she added, �Is Richie there?�
�Yeah, he�s right here,� his brain was too tired to do this, too much wine. He shot a glance at Richie. Well, fuck. Richie raised his eyebrows in question.
�Well don�t let him keep you up too late, hon. You know how you two can get carried away. I�m sorry the kids aren�t here, I really am. It�s too bad you can�t speak to them. Maybe next time.� She was doing it again. Fuckin� with him, toying with him.
He felt a rush of blood, the anger sweeping over him in a tidal wave. He heard a click on the other end.
He squeezed the receiver in his left hand, then carefully placed it back on the phone. He wrapped his hand around the entire unit, then violently threw it against the far wall, ripping the cord from the socket.
It crashed against the wall, leaving a dent in the sheetrock and fell to the floor in several pieces.
Richie�s reflexes made him duck and cover. �What the fuck!?� his heart beating out of his chest.
Jon stood there, staring at the wreckage of the phone but not seeing it or anything else in the room. The anger in his eyes glowed. Blood roared in his ears.
He let his head slowly drop and then his body started shaking. He couldn�t hold the flood any longer. The tears came down. Richie was stunned. He stood and tentatively stepped toward Jon.
�Hey, hey, hey, settle down,� He took another step. Jon went to the bed and sat down, his head bowed, his body shaking more from trying to hold it back. He leaned over, his face in his hands.
Richie went to him and sat next to him, putting his arm around his shoulder and pulling him in. Jon pulled away and stood up.
�I don�t know . . . fuck.� He stood in silence, the tears had slowed.
�Rich, I can�t handle this fuckin� shit. I don�t know what kind of shit she�s tryin� to pull. She won�t leave it alone. She knows something, but I don�t know what. If that bitch Mrs. Cohn said anything I�ll fuckin� kill her.�
�Jon, Jon, Jon, don�t fuckin� talk like that, you�re just a little pissed off, calm down,� Richie was scared, he�d rarely seen Jon this angry. �She doesn�t know anything,� he desperately tried to reassure Jon.
�Yes she does, she kept asking me about that fucking hickey on my neck last week.�
�Did you say anything?�
�Fuck no. At one point, she thought Mrs. Cohn did it,�
�Mrs. Cohn, that fake bitch that lives across the street from you? The one out there that morning?�
�Yes.�
�Why the fuck would Dot think she did that? How the hell did she know . . .�
Jon didn�t want to elaborate anymore than he had too, �It�s a long story Rich, the fact is, she�s been givin� me hell since Monday.�
�Jon, how could she know?�
�Rich, she knows, ok.� Jon had paced back and forth in the room for a few minutes during this exchange. He stopped and let out a sigh.
�I don�t want her to leave me Rich,� he finally said. The tears began to flow down his cheeks again. Richie was at a loss.
Torn between wanting to be Jon�s friend and his lover. Wanting Jon for himself, but not wanting Jon�s life to be torn apart by any of this. Hell, if Dot knew, it might not be long before Heather knew. Rich began to understand what Jon was going through.
�Hey, she�s thousands of miles away right now, nothing is going to happen tonight. Don�t think about it now.� Richie touched Jon�s upper arm then gripped it firmly in his hand and pulled Jon to him. Jon stood toe to toe with Richie and let him wrap his arms around him.
�No Rich, I don�t know if I can do this anymore,� his body was coiled tight, as if ready to fight. I don�t think I can do this anymore.�
A hard knot formed in Richie�s throat. Please God, don�t take him away from me. Things would never be the same between them again, not now.
Richie�s hand caressed Jon�s hair, he buried his face in it, taking in his smell, hoping to God this wouldn�t be the last time. He kept stroking the soft blond hair, his breath in Jon�s ear.
�Please Jon,� he whispered. He could feel the tension slowly leaving Jon�s body. He tugged on the back of Jon�s hair to lift his head up. He looked into watery blue eyes.
Those eyes were hurting and he wanted to heal them. He touched Jon�s lips with his own. The eyes closed. He kissed Jon�s lips and tasted salty tears. He waited for the reaction. Jon parted his lips and Richie guided his tongue in between.
Then he closed his mouth, shutting Richie out.
�Rich, don�t . . . no . . .� he said quietly and turned and walked away a few feet.
Jesus, this couldn�t be happening, Richie thought. Richie drifted to the other side of the bed toward the window. He looked out upon the beautiful city, the night lights like stars on an ocean of deep blue.
He wasn�t going to lose this connection he had created with his best friend, his true soul mate.
Jon had taken a few steps away from the bed, his back to Richie. He put his arms behind his head, stretching his back in an arch.
�I want to sleep Rich,� Jon said as he removed his shirt.
�Ok, man,� Richie turned as Jon tossed the shirt to the floor. It was then that Richie noticed for the first time the scratches on Jon�s back, on his left shoulder blade. His heart flipped. Fuck.
He walked up behind Jon and traced one of the them with his finger. Jon flinched. They could have been made by anything, but they damn sure looked like fingernail gouges.
They were almost healed, one still scabbed over more than the others, it had to have dripped blood when it was fresh. He placed his palm over them, put his other arm around Jon�s middle and hooked his chin over his shoulder.
�Jon?�
Jon shrugged away, knowing what Richie saw. Jon went to the minibar and selected a small bottle of scotch whiskey-the size they serve on commercial flights. He twisted it open and put the bottle to his lips and tipped it up.
He drained the entire contents and wiped his mouth, tossing the small bottle towards the wastebasket. It missed and landed on the floor.
He reached for another bottle, and began to open it. Richie reached over to stop him.
�Don�t do this, man. Don�t fuckin� do this to yourself. You want to forget somethin�, I�m here to help you.�
Jon glared at him then turned away and downed the second bottle. He didn�t even bother aiming for the wastebasket, he just dropped the empty bottle at his feet.
They stood in silence for a few minutes, Jon taking a few steps toward the bed, Richie watching him. Jon had pulled his pants back up but hadn�t bothered rezipping. He finally lay down flat on his back on the bed and rubbed his eyes.
�Don�t worry, it didn�t fuckin� hurt, I didn�t feel a God damn thing,� he said. �After Monday, it was nothing. Felt nothing, meant nothing. Found ways to numb it. No feelings whatso-fuckin-ever.� He recalled how he�d so anticipated this trip, anticipated being with Richie. It made the week tolerable.
Now he felt like he was in a black hole with no way out.
Richie went to the bed and lay down next to Jon, propping himself up on one elbow. He began stroking Jon�s chest, and now, he could see more faint evidence across Jon�s pecs.
Jon was staring at the ceiling.
�I want to feel again, Rich.�
I don�t know what I�m going to do, but I�m gonna fix the hurt, Richie thought.
Richie rubbed Jon�s pecs harder, moved his hands to Jon�s shoulders, massaged his arms, warming Jon�s skin with the friction of his palm. Jon closed his eyes and his breathing became heavier.
�Make me feel it, Rich,� he whispered.
Richie leaned over and covered Jon�s mouth with his own, caressing Jon�s tongue with his. He broke away and Jon gasped.
Jon reached up and pulled Richie�s face back down by his hair. Jon plunged hungrily into Richie�s mouth.
Richie let Jon take his time, letting him set the pace. Jon stopped and looked into Richie�s warm brown eyes.
�You know, Rich, I thought I had everything. Family, friendship, I make a living doing what I love, I have more money than I know what to do with, livin� the fuckin� charmed life.
"But there was always something else. Something there, on the edges, but I never could see it, never knew what it was. But now. Now I think I know what it is. All my life has been coming to this.� Richie�s heart exploded with emotions.
�Touch me,� Jon begged.
Richie caressed Jon�s beautiful face as those blue eyes locked on his. He used his hands to knead away the tension, hurt and pain, working from his face, down his neck, running his hands down Jon�s smooth chest, his firm stomach, finally sliding them down below the waistband of Jon�s jeans.
He rolled Jon�s balls gently then began stroking his erect cock.
He looked into Jon�s face, studied the lines on his forehead, tried to kiss them away, tried to suck the hurt out of his mouth, tried to lick it away from his heart, bite it from his belly.
He pulled Jon�s jeans down and and took Jon�s engorged cock into his mouth, rubbing it against the roof, bathing it with his tongue.
Richie opened his throat and allowed Jon to enter as he wished. Jon pushed with his hips and his breathing quickened. Jon thrusting, fucking Richie�s mouth.
He came with hands tangled in Richie�s hair, filling his mouth with juice. Richie felt the warm gush in the back of his mouth, the quivering spasms as Jon unloaded. He closed his eyes and swallowed.
Richie released Jon and crawled up to lay next to him.
�I felt that,� Jon whispered. A slight smile crept across his mouth.
�That�s good, that�s real good,� Richie smiled, stroking Jon�s face, brushing his hair away with his fingers. He leaned down to kiss Jon again.
�You tell me when you want to feel some more.�
Jon reached up and touched Richie�s lips with his finger. �How did we get here?�
�It doesn�t matter, does it?� Richie said.
�No, I guess not. Do we ever have to leave?� Jon asked.
�Never,� Richie replied.
�Does this mean we�re lovers?� Jon searched Richie�s eyes.
�I guess so.�
�What about Heather?�
�You talk to damn much,� Richie laughed.
Jon pushed Richie up and off him. He got up and went to the bathroom. When he returned he pulled the bed linens aside and crawled under.
�I�d like it if you slept here tonight,� Jon said.
�I�m there,� Richie replied and he took his shirt off
. �Un-uh,� Jon smiled a broad smile. Damn it was good to see those teeth, Richie thought. Jon reached for Richie�s pants and tugged him closer.
Jon unsnapped and unzipped them. He worked his hand down the front, pushing the velvet fabric down as he did so.
Richie closed his eyes and lost himself in a swirl of vertigo as Jon clasped his cock firmly and pulled him with it, then slipped his hand underneath to tease Richie�s asshole. �Shit, Jon.�
Jon reached for the lube and squeezed some out. Richie straddled Jon on the bed, Jon sitting up against the pillows.
He lightly kissed Jon�s waiting mouth. Jon opened wider, urgently searching Richie�s mouth with his own tongue. Jon slid his hands up the back�s of Richie�s thighs and pulled him even closer. He spread Richie�s buttocks and probed with his fingers until he found what he was looking for.
He teased, then entered with one finger, then two. Richie tensed for a moment, then relaxed, spreading his legs a wide as they�d go. Their cocks were nudging each other, the heat almost unbearable.
Richie inched up and Jon guided his cock to the entrance, he paused, then slowly entered. �Fuck!� Jon�s head snapped back as he entered the tight hole. Richie gritted his teeth and let Jon do what he wanted.
Jon began thrusting up and down with his hips, the hot, tightness running up his spine. Each spasm rocked Richie to his own orgasm. Richie watched the ecstasy on Jon�s face as he built to an exquisite climax, screaming his name as he shot what he had left deep into Richie.
Richie dropped his head on Jon�s shoulder, both men breathing as if they�d just run a race, sweat dripping off a curl of hair, down a shoulder.
�Did you feel that?� Richie finally muttered in Jon�s ear.
�Yes, I felt that,� Jon laughed.
�Good. Fucking good.�
�Yes, yes it is.�
They slept dreamlessly until almost noon the next day.
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The sledge hammer was relentless. Slam, slam, slam.
Jon wondered who was swinging that god forsaken piece of iron into his frontal lobes.
He opened his eyes a tiny slit. Even though the light was dim in the room, it felt like needles piercing his retinas.
Where am I? was usually his first thought when his eyes opened from sleep. Something he rarely escaped in his adult years.
I�m not at home. A hotel, I�m in a hotel. I have a warm body in bed with me. The images crystallizing in his mind a little.
He closed his eyes and felt the warm body stir behind him. I know who it is . . . it�s . . . his brain slogging to life. Slam, slam, slam.
It was a large warm body with a large arm holding his upper body in a firm embrace. It�s Richie and we�re in Spain. We have a show today.
His eyes flicked open and the weak light dully stabbed them. And I fell asleep with a stuffed animal in my mouth. No. That�s my tongue. Mental note: cool it with the wine the rest of the trip. He heard a soft groan in his ear.
�Oh motherfuck,� Richie whispered.
�Me too,� Jon replied. His body had a strong desire to begin moving, but his brain was still locked on slow motion. I need to run. Get up. He willed his body to move.
When he was upright, he waited on the edge of the bed for the rest of the room to catch up. He fought the urge to vomit as he sat.
�Oh motherfuck,� Richie said louder.
The volume of Richie's voice changed the sledge hammer to a baseball bat, cracking from one side of Jon�s head to the other.
He waited for the nausea to subside, then slowly stood and grabbed a bottled water from the small refrigerator before going into the bathroom.
�You look mah-velous, Jonny boy,� he said as he frowned at himself in the mirror. The lines on his face were deep, his hair looked like little Jake had smeared it with baby food. His eyes were beyond bloodshot with heavily smeared circles underneath.
�Oh Jesus,� Gonna catch hell from Tina, the makeup artist and stylist they brought on tour with them.
He turned on the shower and forced himself to drink water while he waited for the water to heat up. The hot shower felt like torture upon his head as he washed his hair, his body, then he turned the water on cold.
�AAARRRRGGggghh!� he shivered and turned the water off. He leaned against the wall as the echo of his voice bounced around in his brain and finally trailed off.
Toweling off, he poked his head out the door into the bedroom. Richie was still in the bed, pillow over his head.
The toothbrush hurt his teeth, the buzz of the electric razor sounded like a chainsaw. He dug in his bag for his running clothes.
As he was dressing, there was a knock on the door. He glanced at Richie still in bed. He didn�t want to have to do this, but . . .
�Rich, get up, go in your room, I gotta answer the door,� he whispered loudly in the proximity of where he thought Richie�s ear was under the pillow. He jabbed him under the arm in the ribcage.
�AH,� Richie twitched at the poke and threw the pillow off his head. He turned and lay flat on his back. The knock came again. He bolted upright and froze.
His hands slowly went to his head and he creeped to the edge of the bed, put his feet on the floor and silently padded to the adjoining door.
Jon pulled his arm back before he closed the door and turned Richie toward him. He kissed the top of the hand that was covering his eyes. Richie smiled and closed the door as Jon gave him a swift pat on the ass.
More knocking, louder this time.
�I�m comin�, don�t break the fuckin� door down,� Jon muttered as he opened it, his own voice sounding like it was coming from a deep tunnel somewhere in his brain.
Bruce was there with one of the tour assistants and a body guard who was also dressed for running.
�You�ve got about an hour and a half, two hours, Roger get him back here no later than 2 p.m.�
Jon put on his sunglasses and a baseball cap, trying to tuck in as much hair as he could under it.
They left the hotel and ran down a side street, Jon following about a yard behind Roger, the big bad body guard. When Roger turned, he turned, when Roger signaled to slow, he slowed.
He tried to focus on sightseeing while they were out here in the daylight. It was midday in Barcelona and there was a lot of activity in the city.
They had run almost six miles when Jon saw the hotel loom up around the corner. There were a few people milling about the side entrance they were going to use.
Roger immediately put his body in front of Jon�s and detoured him to another part of the exterior of the building. It was too late, one of the people had spotted Jon and was running the few yards toward them.
Roger turned his body to deflect the person. Jon stopped and waited to make the judgement as to whether he should bolt for the door or let this person near him.
His breathing was hard, his head still pounding a little from the hangover, but the blood rush from running had helped diminish it considerably.
A young man reached them first, followed by two young females. They were speaking rapidly in Spanish, waving cameras. Jon�s brain was too clouded to follow the details of the conversation between them and Roger, but he knew from what he did catch what they wanted.
He tapped Roger�s shoulder to let him know it was ok. His face and hair were dripping sweat, a bloom of sweat down the front and back of his shirt and down the back his shorts. His jock strap was itching him, but he resisted making an adjustment.
He posed for pictures, one each with each person, then a few as a group, some with Roger as well. He signed his name several times on whatever they handed him. They were happy. Jon was happy for them. Jon was also very thirsty and hungry.
They got back to Jon�s room without further incidents. Jon stripped and took another shower. His head was still pounding, he wanted to wait to eat something before he tried to take any ibuprofen.
He stepped to the closet where someone had hung a few of his things. There were three pairs of pants, he selected a pair of black jeans and a grey silk t-shirt. He wanted to look presentable for the meet and greet before the show, not sure who would be there.
He stood in the opening of the adjoining door, Richie was not in his room. Maybe he was down in the restaurant. He finished his third bottle of water so far this day, then left his room and walked down the hallway.
Still leery of any fans that may be lurking downstairs, he hesitated at the elevators, not wanting to go down alone. At that moment, Bruce appeared from the opposite end of the hallway.
�Ah, I was just coming to get you,� he said.
�Where�s the food?� Jon asked.
�Downstairs, they�re waitin� for you,� meaning, the hotel caterer was waiting for him to eat before clearing the food away.
Jon ate a meal in a private room the hotel had set up for them away from the main traffic of the restaurant. He sat alone, everyone else had come and gone, probably at the venue already.
As he ate, he replayed his conversation with Richie last night after Dot had called. He tried not to be critical of himself, but he couldn�t help it.
She had the ability to manipulate him any way she wanted. Made him doubt himself, made him worry about things that probably would never happen. v The food was very good, he wasn�t sure what it was, but he wasn�t afraid to try anything. He had tasted everything in his travels around the world.
But there was one taste that he kept thinking about a lot. He smiled to himself. He had turned down the wine they had offered him with this meal, choosing water again instead. He was draining another bottle of it as he ate a piece of fruit
He drank and chewed slowly, enjoying this small moment of solitude, then threw the last bite down and rose. He found Bruce waiting just outside the door, talking to Roger.
�Ready?�
�Yeah.�
There were a lot more people at the venue today besides the road crew. It was time for the meet and greet, the period of time before the show when the band met fans, dignitaries, contest winners, radio station personnel, other celebrities who were guests for the show.
Lots of autograph signing, lots of posing for photos. Jon never tired of this, except when people became obnoxious. Despite his lingering headache, Jon was in a very good mood. He saw Richie and his heart soared.
The venue began to fill with more people as showtime neared. The members of the band were extricated from whatever they were doing and herded into the dressing room.
Their personal wardrobe lockers were set up side by side in a huge room that was obviously used for sports teams, metal lockers lined the walls, the huge restroom had a large gang shower. They began to dress for the show.
Tina visited each one to see if they were presentable for the huge screens that hung above the stage. When she got to Richie, she frowned and shook her head.
�Yeah, you should see the other guy,� he said in his best Rocky imitation, when she turned away, he glanced over at Jon. Jon was not looking at him but had heard his comment and had a wide grin on his face.
She dabbed a little concealer under Richie�s eyes, touched up his hair. She stopped at Jon and studied his face. She furrowed her brows.
�I�m gettin� old, Tina, not as pretty as I used to be,� he joked. His headache had finally disappeared. She dragged him shirtless over to another part of the room where the light was better.
She made him sit down on a tall stool. She picked at the hair on his forehead, smoothed it off to the side with some waxy stuff, tweaking it with her fingers.
She worked diligently to erase the dark circles under his eyes as he waited patiently. She didn�t seem satisfied when she was finished.
She patted his face and said, �Lay off the alcohol, your face can�t hide it.�
�I know, I know, thanks for the compliment, don�t pull any punches with me, Tina, tell me like it is,� he smiled as he went back to his wardrobe.
Everyone else was dressed and had left or were about to leave to get audio wired for the show. Richie remained, he was humming something to himself. Jon didn�t recognize it, must be a song he was working on in his head.
He put on a white t-shirt and changed into dark flare legged jeans. He wiggled his ass into the tight denim and sucked in his belly to button and zip them up. What there was of a zipper anyway.
He felt around the back of the waistband to see if everything was covered. Damn these were low cut. And tight. He squatted up and down a few times to see what kind of give they had.
He considered changing into another pair. The shirt barely grazed the top of the pants. He�d keep them on, what the hell.
The audio tech came in looking for them, wanting to go ahead and get their remote units tucked away. Jon pushed his as best he could in his back pocket, snaking the wire up the back of his shirt and letting the plug hang out the top of his neckline.
He�d fit the earpiece in when he was walking to the stage. He took another look in the mirror at Tina�s concealer job. Not bad, he�ll look presentable on the giant screens above the stage.
The audio tech left and it was just he and Richie in the room. Richie leaned against the corner of Jon�s wardrobe, watching him.
Richie had chosen a dark blue long sleeved shirt with big tie-dyed spots all over it. His California look.
�Time to stop all that primpin,�
�Yeah, ain�t no use anyway, huh?�
�Well I wouldn�t go that far� Richie came up behind Jon, put his hands on his shoulders and tickled his ear with his tongue.
Jon laughed from the tickle and shrugged his shoulder up to his ear. He wiggled his finger down the back of those tight jean and Jon squirmed away.
�Hey, now you�re askin� for someone to come in here and bust us.� He elbowed Richie away and turned around.
Richie took a handful of Jon�s shirt and pulled him within striking distance, smashing his mouth against Jon�s, plunging his tongue deep. Jon resisted momentarily, then gave in. He pushed Richie away and kept his arm stiff, to hold him off.
�Oh, shit, Rich, you�re gonna make me have to change pants, these are too low, I seem to have a growing problem.� He laughed and looked down at the front of his pants to make sure nothing important was poking out of the top.
He grabbed a lighter denim long sleeved workshirt and shrugged it on over his t-shirt. He buttoned the bottom two buttons.
Bruce and the stage manager came in.
�Showtime,� Bruce motioned them to the door.
Richie grabbed one of his many hats and placed it on his head. The three made their way to another area of the arena, the thumping beat of the opening act getting louder.
Jon began to prepare himself mentally and physically for the stamina he�d need for the next two and a half hours. He warmed up his voice while he cold stretched his legs, did a little shadow boxing. The zone is what he called it. Getting in the zone. Focusing on giving it all out there. And he did.
------------------------------------------------
Jon was very satisfied with the show. Lots of energy, lots of give and take with the audience.
The band played well. He missed a note on one song, but what the hell. He was flying high.
They left the stage after the encore and headed back to the dressing room. Jon wanted to go straight to the hotel and not use the gang showers there.
He told Bruce his wishes then motioned to Richie who had begun to change his shirt.
�I�m waitin� til we get back to the hotel,� Jon told Richie.
He draped a towel around his neck and another one over his head and Bruce guided him to a car. Richie joined him, wiping his face with one towel, another draped over his shoulders. They slid in and waited for Bruce.
�Roger will go with you, I�ll stay here,� Bruce said, as Roger got in the front with the driver. The privacy screen was already up and Jon knew Roger would never even consider touching that button.
This was too good to be true. The car started moving as Jon climbed over to Richie and straddled him.
�Gotta take advantage of the situation when it presents itself,� he said.
�I totally agree, partner,� Richie smiled and stretched out his legs and gripped Jon�s ass to keep him from sliding off them.
Jon grabbed the towel around Richie�s neck and threw it aside. He gripped Richie�s damp shoulders and covered his mouth, tasting the salty sweat on Richie�s lips.
Jon�s tight pants were binding up at the tops of his thighs, he reached down and unzipped them himself to keep them from cutting off his blood circulation.
Richie felt the pants give and he slid his hands down the back, cupping Jon�s bare ass. Richie banged his head against the leather upholstery as Jon repeatedly plunged his tongue deep into his mouth.
Jon�s smell, mingled with the smell and taste of his sweat drove Richie mad. He pushed Jon off onto the other seat, made him lay down flat on his back.
Sweat splattered all over the inside of the car from their dripping hair, now cold tendrils stuck to their faces and necks, making the leather seats slippery.
Richie pried the tight pants midway down Jon�s thighs and then pushed his t-shirt up and bent to lick the sweat from between his pecs.
The sensation of Richie�s burning tongue, hotter than his own skin drove a spike down to Jon�s groin. Richie licked his way down to that hot spike, devouring it with his mouth as he came upon it.
Jon let out a gurgled expletive as Richie tightened his lips around it, sliding his tongue back and forth. Jon pushed his hips up, until he felt the back of Richie�s throat, then relaxed and let Richie make the next move.
Richie reached up with his hand and held the base of Jon�s cock between his fingers, exerting continuous pressure as he let more slide in. Then he reached between Jon�s legs and probed a finger into his asshole.
Jon involuntarily clenched his muscles and the motion forced his cock deep down Richie�s throat. Richie continued probing, making Jon�s hips rock.
Jon held on to the door handle to keep himself from falling off the slick leather seat.
�Oh God . . .Rich . . . I�m comin� FUCK!� he screamed as he exploded into Richie�s mouth. Richie relaxed his grip on Jon�s cock and leaned back.
In the dim lights passing through the window, he could see Jon�s eyes closed. They felt the car slowing down, Jon sat up and zipped and buttoned.
He stroked Richie�s thigh as they pulled into the hotel and the valet opened the door, Roger standing guard.
With towels redraped around their necks, they exited the vehicle. Richie held one of his towels in front of him, gripped in both hands, his body anticipating what was coming as soon as they closed the door to their rooms.
Roger accompanied them up the elevator, the hotel all but deserted at that hour. Doors finally closed, Roger off to whatever Roger did when he wasn�t warding off dangerous fans.
Jon stripped off his damp shirt and tight jeans. Richie did the same, his cock standing at attention, waiting for its due. Jon sat on the bed, drawing Richie up to him, still standing.
He wasted no time and began working on Richie�s rigid member, Richie groaning, working Jon�s head with his hands. Jon could feel Richie begin to quicken, he released the hot rod and slid back onto the bed, pulling Richie with him.
Richie laid down, letting Jon climb on top of him. Jon reached into the night table drawer and pulled out the lube.
Richie took it from him and squeezed some onto his fingers. He inserted a slick finger into Jon, but Jon was ready, waiting. Richie slid another finger in, Jon began to grind his hips into Richie�s, letting his head fall back.
�Rich, do it now,� he groaned. Richie guided himself into place and let the weight of Jon�s body slide down him.
�OH, motherfuck,� Richie uttered the same words he said earlier in the day. The tightness moving up and down his shaft as Jon rode him slowly. Richie opened his eyes to see Jon watching him.
Richie holding on as long as he could, looking into Jon�s blue eyes, his hair half dry, skin sticky with dried sweat, Jon trying to keep the rhythm of his orgasm in step with Richie�s.
They came forcefully at the same time. Panting and sweating again, they lay side by side, falling asleep. It was a good thing they had a day off tomorrow.