The hours separating us from the stage dwindle, and my mood begins to evolve. My breathing deepens. The tempo of my heartbeat kicks up a notch. My fingertips drum against my thighs in an erratic staccato and my gaze clings to Toni like a horny stalker.
We return to our trailer so I can change for the performance, and the instant the door closes I’m on him. Spinning him around, I lift him onto the table and wrap his legs around my waist before sealing my mouth to his.
Zac would have rejected such behaviour, seeing it as an attempt to challenge his hold over me. But Toni accepts my manhandling with wide smiles and open arms. His response makes me want to rip every stitch of clothing from his body. Huh. Maybe I like to be in charge sometimes, too.
“This is new,” Toni says with a laugh. “I like it.”
“Me, too,” I mutter, rocking my hips against him. I tug off my shirt, but quickly replace it with a tighter one in black. “I always get horny before I perform.” The words are pressed to his lips between quick licks and shallow kisses. “As in, full-onI will eat you alive if you come near mekind of horny.”
“Sounds like fun.” He reaches out to flick open the button of my jeans. “You want me to take the edge off?”
I jerk against him, even as I shake my head. “This edge needs to come with me. It helps keep the nerves at bay.”
His eyes go round with wonder. “Is this where the wholeI’m humping the air around meintensity comes from?”
“Pretty much.” Chuckling at his description, I back away and shimmy out of my jeans and boxers, taking care not to brush against my aching dick more than necessary. My control here is shaky at best.
Toni’s gaze crawls all over me as I pull on the black thong I wear to avoid a visible line under my pants. I’m still tugging the faux leather over my thighs when he pushes me back against the opposite counter. “You are so fucking hot, right now.”
Dropping to his knees, he grabs on to my hips. For a second, I think he’s going to yank the thong aside and go for my dick, and I try to stop him. Instead, he latches on to a spot right above my hipbone, sucking hard on the sensitive skin.
With a groan, I relax back against the counter and let him have at it. When pleasure gives way to pain, I hiss in a breath and he releases me, lapping at the bruised area with his tongue.
He rises to his feet, his right palm cupping my balls through the thong as he places his lips against my ear. “When you’re up there letting your gay rock flag fly, remember whose mark you’re wearing.”
Smiling, I draw back enough to meet his gaze before running my tongue over my bottom lip. “Yours.”
“Damned straight.” He steps away then, reaching down to adjust himself within the confines of his pants. “Now, finish getting ready. I’m looking forward to feeling superior while everyone around me drools over my boyfriend.”
I burst out laughing, grateful for the minor release in tension it provides.
After I finish dressing, and manage to get my excited dick under control, we head for Gavin’s van to meet the rest of the band.
“I’ll see you on the other side,” Toni says as we approach the stage soon after. With a final kiss, we part ways so he and Charmaine can join the audience.
Once Johnny, Gavin, Oz, and I are in the backstage area, I wander off to a quiet spot to warm up my voice, running through a short set of vocal exercises. A half dozen scales, some trilling, a little breath work. The familiarity of the routine gives focus to the fire licking at my insides, and when I return to join the guys, I’m ready.
The throbbing beat of the band currently on stage pulses through me, making the hairs on my arms stand on end. I lower my gaze, keeping my tongue firmly inside my mouth and my teeth out of my bottom lip.
Johnny glances at me sideways. “Hang in there, mate,” he says in a gruff whisper. “We’re almost up.”
My head jerks in a nod and I bounce on the balls of my feet, trying to keep my skin from splitting apart. Almost there.
It’s hard to believe there was a time I lived my entire life this way. When the whole world seemed to morph into a stage and the air became charged with all the energy I didn’t know how to contain. My creativity felt limitless. New music poured out of me constantly. I played every gig I could get—and a few more I stole. I stopped noticing when I left the stage because I never stopped performing. The lines between the man I was and the musician I wanted to be didn’t just blur, they vanished. Performing became an addiction, and I got caught in a never-ending high. Always open, on display, ready to seduce my audience and be seduced in return.
It was a dangerous way to live.
Zac wasn’t the only person I ran from when I left Sydney. I was ashamed of who I’d let myself become, of the things I’d done and almost done. All in service of a career heading nowhere.
I shut it all down. Locked my music in a cage and left fear in charge of the key.
It worked for a while. But repression is a danger all its own and over time, the music trapped inside me began to decay. Joining Fifth Circle provided an escape from the encroaching madness. It’s become my crutch. I can relieve the pressure but not lose control. Taste the high but keep my body safe.
This is all I can have now, these momentary bursts of freedom. They’re all I can allow. Because the more I have, the more I’ll want. The more I want, the more I’ll be willing to give to get it. Some dreams aren’t worth the cost of entry.
Our turn comes and I lunge for the stage. The audience is a writhing mass before me and I spread my arms wide, gorging myself on the thunder of their applause. Every inch of me wants to bathe in their adrenaline, rub up against air thick with their pheromones.
The music begins. The cage splits open. I am theirs. They are mine.
