Must have been that one bottle of beer he had before they went on stage tonight. He didn't usually drink alcohol before a show, but it was there, and he was thirsty at the time. Oh well.
He wiped the sweat from his face with a towel, took a deep draught of his bottled water, some dripping down the side of his mouth. He wiped it with the back of his hand. This break would be his only chance.
Richie's guitar solo would last a few minutes, he had time to take a leak. He yelled into the ear of one of the stage assistants to see where the closest restroom was.
The stage hand pointed and mouthed something Jon couldn't hear. He walked Jon in the direction he had pointed and then Jon saw a door to an office. A private restroom in the arena marketing director's office right down the hallway around the end of the stage. Away from the milling crowd backstage.
He nodded to the assistant and dashed into the office, dimly lit by a single lamp on the desk, Richie's guitar still rattling the rafters deep in the bowels of the venue. He glanced back, the stage hand pointed to his watch and made the OK sign with his hand then closed the door to wait outside for him.
Jon walked across the room, past a table and chairs, an arrangement of armchairs, a desk. He could tell it was a woman's office from the decor.
He entered the small private bathroom and felt the wall for a light switch. As he flipped it, he heard the office door open and close again. He looked back, it was David.
"I thought I was gonna piss all over myself out there," Jon laughed, then he became silent as he saw the look in David's eyes. A smile swept across his face.
"What are you doin' here, Davey?" he asked in a sing song voice as the keyboardist walked across the office and into the bathroom, closing the door. "Can I get a little privacy here?" Jon looked at David but knew what was about to happen.
"So, have you ever done it during Richie's guitar solo?" David said, a very wicked smile crossing his lips. Jon laughed out loud as he turned to the toilet.
"You've got to be fuckin' kiddin' me," he laughed again as he relieved himself, shaking it as he began to tuck it back into the tight pants.
David moved up behind him, wrapped his arms around Jon and gripped his wrists to keep him from finishing the job. Both their bodies were overheated from being on stage, sweaty patches soaking their shirts.
"No, I'm not kiddin'," David licked Jon's ear from behind. The hot moist breath sent an electrifying jolt shot up Jon's body. Shit they didn't have time for this, but goddamn that felt good.
"I don't think . . ." Jon began as he turned but couldn't finish with David's tongue plunging into his mouth.
His cock grew hard quickly, standing out from his unzipped pants. David reached down and fingered the tip, a drop of moisture there
. "But, to . . . answer . . . your . . . question," Jon muttered between thrusts of his own tongue, "no, I've never . . . done it . . . during Rich's solo."
He let out a moan as David gripped him firmly and moved his hand up and down.
"I dare you to blow me now," Jon was able to say in one breath as David quickly dropped to his knees and took Jon into his mouth. Jon leaned back against the pedestal lavatory, hands on the cold porcelain, David's hot tongue slathering his erection.
Thoughts of time running out quickly evaporated as he focused on the searing heat between his legs, his hips beginning to push forward, wanting to bury himself in that warm moist mouth. He let his head drop back, let the warmth spread from his groin to his belly, building as his breathing quickened, David working as quickly as he could, moving his mouth over the hot skin.
"Oh shit . . . fuck that feels so damn good," Jon rolled his head from side to side, strands of hair sticking to his face. Jon could still hear the muffled guitar, and recognized the bars being played, knew that time had run out, he needed to be back on stage. Now. He began to thrust his hips more urgently, feeling the hot explosion erupting, spasms wracking him from head to toe. David's tongue continued to lick and tease him.
He stood still for only a moment, then pushed David away and turned and reached for a towel. Who ever this office belonged to was going to find a little surprise tomorrow. If only they knew . . . if he'd had time, he would have left a signed thank you note. He cleaned himself off and zipped up.
David had stood and was breathing hard, smiling, trying to calm himself down. Jon looked at David's bulging crotch and with a sympathetic pat on the stomach, he walked out of the bathroom.
"Let's go Davey, they're waitin' for us," he said.
The stage assistant was standing in the open doorway of the office, talking into his headset, his facial expression and body language trying to explain to the person on the other end why half the band was not on stage at this moment in front of 25,000 people.
He saw Jon and a wash of relief swept over him, he gestured wildly for Jon to hurry. Jon started to jog, finding it hard to keep the smile off his face.
He ducked in behind Tico's drumset, back onto the stage and glanced down to make sure he was intact. He looked over at Richie, who was in turn looking back at him, a big question mark almost visible in the air over his head.
Something caught Richie's eye over Jon's shoulder, Jon turned to see David take his place at the keyboard. Richie looked back at Jon, never missing a note and broke into a wide grin. Jon could read Richie's lips when he said "Shit, I can't fuckin' believe you."
Jon pointed at him and mouthed, "Your turn next time."
He turned to the microphone and launched into the next song.