He glanced between her and the stage which was still twenty or so feet ahead. Being stationary didn’t help any with the giant toy currently pressing against his insides, however, and noticing all the other backstage workers had him giving up on needing answers. He followed after the student as she led him to a set of rickety black stairs that trailed up to the second level.
This auditorium was the larger of the two the university offered on its grounds and was typically used for holiday productions and plays. Rabbit had only been to a few, mostly when they were required, but he recognized they were heading toward one of the balconies set high at either side of the stage. They were used mostly by musicians during dance recitals and plays that either required a smaller band or a larger one.
Baikal had said he’d taken care of things for him, had he meant this?
Sure enough, the female student stopped at the entrance to the balcony at the far left and motioned him inside, leaving once he’d stepped beneath the tall archway.
He crossed over the thin burgundy carpet, walking up to the ledge that overlooked the audience who remained hushed even after they’d started to notice him. A moment later, the light readjusted, landing on him, and the cue used to signal it was time for him to begin was given.
The curved ledge of the balcony came up to Rabbit’s middle, surely blocking out all view from below. No one would be able to tell he was hard—though it’d started to go down due to his nerves and embarrassment.
He’d never been turned on while on stage before, and though this wasn’t technically the stage itself, it was still a piece of it. His palpitations returned and his palms felt sweaty as he lifted his instrument and settled it on his shoulder. When he adjusted his stance, the plug rubbed up against that spot inside of him that always sent electricity skittering up his spine and he inhaled sharply. His dick pulsed and his fingers trembled over the strings.
Rabbit couldn’t do this. Couldn’t stand here with hundreds of eyes on him and pretend like he wasn’t about to start dry-humping the wall. Like he wasn’t terrified someone would discover what was going on with his body. He’d be plastered all over the news if they did. Not only would he have to quit, he’d also have to find a cave to crawl into and remain for the rest of his days, unable to show his face to the world.
Chatter started up in the audience, soft and barely audible, and though the lights out there were dark making it hard to see any of their faces, Rabbit could tell they were starting to get antsy.
If he didn’t do this immediately, there’d be rumors no matter what happened in his pants.
Someone coughed off to the left, and though he couldn't know, his gaze shot that way as if drawn to the sound, landing on Baikal.
The Brumal Prince was standing off the side of the stage in the back, partially obscured by the thick navy curtain. From where he was positioned, no one in the audience would be able to see him, but Rabbit got a perfect view. When Void had his attention, he tipped his head, angling his chin in that challenging way he did, seeming to ask without needing any words whether or not Rabbit was a coward.
If he were in his right mind, that might have been enough, but Rabbit wasn’t in his right mind. He was shaking and rubbing his thighs together ever so slightly without even realizing he was doing it. Yes, he was turned on and that was half the problem, but the other half was the stage fright he was already used to.
Typically, he could tune it out once he made it on stage, but now, knowing that his ass was stuffed full and there was a slight sheen of sweat on his brow that was no doubt visible in the spotlight…He hadn’t checked the mirror before he’d left. Had simply trusted Baikal had cleaned his face up accurately.
Fuck.
Rabbit couldn’t do this. He couldn’t—
The plug started to buzz and he jolted a little, head whipping back to Baikal in shock.
He’d crossed his arms over his broad chest, and the second Rabbit was looking at him, he slipped something out of his clasped hand, just enough for the plastic to be visible.
A remote.
That bastard.
He’d promised there’d be no more tricks and yet here he was—
The vibrations increased and the threat was clear.
If Rabbit didn’t perform, Void would turn that thing up to full force and hewouldcome right here, in front of everyone.
He sent Baikal a death stare, glowering when that merely had the other man chuckling, and then he did it. He played.
His fingers strummed at the strings, the melancholy tune lifting out over the audience in shots of pale blues and greens. Acting on muscle memory, Rabbit allowed his hands to do the work while his mind concentrated on keeping the rest of himself in check. The vibrations didn’t stop, but they did slow, the pulsations pleasant, causing a slight tingle to sweep through him.
Rabbit kept his eyes locked on Baikal, the contact helping in a way he couldn’t quite comprehend. Here he was, in this predicament because of Void, and yet, somehow, seeing him there, watching so closely, helped Rabbit feel like he wasn’t on his own.
Baikal’s goal had never been to expose him to the audience, he’d simply wanted to prove a point—maybe to them both, maybe just to Rabbit.
Somewhere along the way, Rabbit had started to lean into this fucked up relationship. Had come to crave and long for those wayward touches, the charged glances. The possessive way Baikal captured his chin and demanded all of his attention.
The tune shifted, but Rabbit hardly noticed.
All his life, his mother had tried to control him and get him to comply with her wants and her desires. And he’d done it. He’d caved and contorted to fit her needs. Was that why it’d come so naturally to him to follow Void’s orders?
