Romantic, wordy, and a tad goofy.

The Groupie Part 3

Needless to say, I felt awkward. 

“Take a seat.” Zane offered after a moment of silence while I hesitated in front of the door, mentally clamping down on my feet so they didn’t shuffle on me. His voice was soothing and had the opposite effect on me.

I mumbled a “thanks” and sunk into the couch against the wall, next to the door. Drawing my legs up into my usual comfort position of Indian-style, I found it very hard to resist the urge to hug myself tightly. Music was coming from a speaker somewhere. It was a mix of mellow house music and ballad-pop.

He offered me a drink, water or Coke, and I took the latter gratefully, glad to have something in my hands and nervous to have him near me again. Eyeing his legs was not polite.

Grow the hell up! I yelled at myself inwardly and clutched the knee of my jeans in my free hand. Talk to the man before he kicks you out, at least say something about the concert! Maybe, shit, maybe he really did pull you back here because of overhearing you at the hotel? I needed to fix that misconception at least!

“Um, you were incredible.” I said, quietly, and pulled my eyes upward to where he leaned against the counter in front of the mirror, forcing myself to look at him in the eyes. It wasn’t hard, because he had been starring at me. It made the next words harder to get out. “I, uh, I had no idea how great Snowborne was, I didn’t mean to put you down today at The Stafford, in, um, the lounge. This album sounds much better than the first.”

Oh, Crap I didn’t have to say that, did I? Idiot, idiot, idiot! Swinging my eyes away from him, I swept them around the small, orange-yellow painted room, empty except for the ugly yellow leather couch, a small fridge, and a wall of marquee mirrors with an attached dressing counter and chairs in front of them. The lights around the mirrors, being the only ones on, were a blessing to me, knowing how much I was blushing.

Asshole, he was a rock asshole, he had to be a rock asshole, repeat and rinse. 

Instead of snarling at me, however, Zane broke into a wide smile, and sat down backwards in a chair he set in front of me. He placed his chin on his hands on the chair back and scrutinized me. “Honestly, I’m surprised you remembered that I was there.” The color of his eyes wasn’t clear but they glinted, and his lips were perfect as his smile widened. It was an effortlessly restrained and sexy thing when he smiled. “And you’re right, this album is much better. Very different. We tried to be less concerned with what other bands were doing and to think more about our own sound.”

I’m not looking at his legs spread out from the chair; I’m not looking, really. He was still wearing just the T-shirt from on stage, and the muscled curves of his lean arms showed in the light.

“I haven’t actually heard the album itself.” I admitted, running a hand through my hair nervously to get it to stop clawing at my knee. “I’ll definitely be picking it up. Um, how do you write the songs? Do you write the songs? Or, is that a stupid question?”

God, I was lost. Make him talk about him.

“Interviewers are always getting me to talk about me. Actually, I was curious what kind of music you liked.” He reached forward and lightly touched my knee when he saw me twitch at that. “Don’t be nervous, Ethan. I really don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

THEN DON’T TOUCH ME. “Ah…. Depeche Mode? The Smiths…” I then listed some newer bands I enjoyed. I pointed upwards at the air, referring to the song that had just started. “These guys are pretty cool.”

“So you liked the Smiths cover?” He seemed genuinely interested, and I relaxed a bit. “We didn’t slaughter Morrissey?”

“No!” I said, my nervousness melting. “It was incredible, the arrangement was beautiful, and your voice…” I blushed again, and slowed down. “It, was, um. Perfect…”

“Good!” He straightened up a bit, “So what was the last good concert you went to?”

And then we talked about music, I have no idea for how long. He’d slip away from any clumsy and ill-informed questions I asked about Snowborne, and I didn’t know what to say when he asked about me, not knowing what I could say that would possibly be interesting and not wanting to bore him. But we argued which was the best Depeche Mode album, (I voted Violater, he said Music for the Masses), Smiths versus Morrissey, great new bands of now. 

A sense of warmth came over my whole body as we spoke and I loosened up a bit. This was okay. Still, he was confusing me too much for me to relax completely. His voice and words said casual, but his body language and his eyes were intense and locked. And I felt oddly like my words were being tracked very closely in a way that went beneath the content. Zane watched me like a hawk, and it was also impossible for me to forget how much cooler he was. 

 I felt like a dork, although one grateful to have been distracted from how attracted to him I was. And I felt horrible because we were here at his concert and I didn’t know anything at all about his band.

“You should listen again to their last album’.” Zane said amiably, referring to our last subject where I had expressed my reservations about a band whose output I found uneven. “It’s pretty damn good.”

“I have crap music taste.” I blurted out, clumsily and shortly, looking down at my hands. “I didn’t deserve to win any sort of contest, I’m sure there’re more worthy fans that could talk to you more about you than me.” Blinking, it hit me how stupid that was, because, well, what contest? Why was I here?

We both felt silent and I smacked myself mentally. The easy conversation was ruined, and I figured it was time to kick my sorry ass out of there. And yet I couldn’t move.

Focusing on the music, it changed songs and turned into the dance song “Deepest Blue”, a an old house number I'd heard on one of my first CDs. Closing my eyes, I smiled a bit. 

“I love this son-“ A finger lightly traced my jaw, and I stopped talking as the touch shot through my body.

Of course. This was what I was doing here. The sense of anticipation that had been building up the whole while and carefully ignored escaped from confinement and seeped throughout my body like warm liquid chased by electricity.

Zane’s touch moved up to trace my parted lips. A small sound escaped as I slowly opened my eyes. He had lightly taken my chin and was staring at me with such intensity, such heat, I felt my face flush. He had leaned his chair forward, and the light caught the planes of his face, making him look like a beautiful predator.  


“Yes?” Breathing is good, I reminded myself.

“Mind if I kiss you?” 

“um….” I stalled, trying to get my heart under control, deeply embarrassed that my cock was straining against my jeans already. “I think if you try to kiss me while balanced on the chair like that, you and it are going to end up on top of me. Wouldn’t be good.”

His intensity broke, and he smiled, righting the chair. “Sorry…” Suddenly, he was up, and then lowered himself next to me on the couch and lightly put a hand on my knee.

  I’d be lying if I said I didn’t notice the tent in his tight jeans as he moved, or if I claimed it didn’t make me worry and bite the inside of my lip involuntarily. 

 He looked up at my hair, and touched it gently. “Now…” his eyes suddenly snapped to mine, and held them, his voice husky and deep. His eyes are hazel-green, my mind supplied helpfully, now you know! “Can I kiss you?”

“Please?” I breathed and unfolded my legs so I could get closer to him, feeling myself smiling despite an increasing sense of panic. 

And then his lips were on mine, so gently and teasingly. Just our lips touched, exploring carefully, and like a reflex one of my hands came up to snake behind his neck over his leather necklace, tangled in his soft, thick hair. His hands were behind my back, one on the small, and he pulled me forward carefully but firmly as he lightly nibbled my upper lip. 

My hand tangled in his T-shirt, panic melting away as I breathed in his scent. The chest underneath my touch was hard and lean, and I brushed an erect nipple, causing him to make a sound into my mouth and the kiss to become more intense, and my body to arch into his.

What am I doing what am I doing what am I oh SHUT THE HELL UP.

Are all rock stars unbelievable kissers? His lips were everything I had dreamed of while staring at them, strong and soft, and I battled his tongue with mine eagerly. Dimly aware his hand was resting half in the top of my jeans on my side(Was I glad I hadn’t worn a belt? God, I guess I was), right on my hip, and I strained into his touch.

Forever seemed to have passed when we both groaned a bit at the same time, and he drew his face away a fraction with his chest rising and falling beneath my hand. Somehow while we were kissing I had twisted and pulled myself into him to the point where I was almost on top of him, and my groin had just met his, his hardness underneath under his jeans meeting mine.  

“Hi.” I said, like an idiot. 

He smiled, pulling me closer and causing me to dig my erection into his, grinding. “Hi yourself.” He buried his face in my neck and lightly tasted my ear, running his fingernails down my back.

“I was worried I was moving too fast,” he breathed, placing both his hands on my hips, digging his thumbs below my jeans and swinging up a leg, tucking it next to me on the couch and encircling me. “You, uh, seem okay, though. Uh…” He closed his eyes as I responded by truly climbing onto his lap, pulled my finger down his chest, fascinated by it while my hips moved instinctively over his. Beneath me, he felt very large, and I made a mental note about how the hands to cock ratio meant something seemed to be very true.

Well, yes, I wanted to say, I think I am okay. I’ve never really made out before with a guy quite like this, never been this hot for anyone before, and ya’ know what? Feels great! Does that make me a slut? How stupid was I being?

All that came out, however, was a low “mmmHmmmm….” Before his lips were on mine again and he met my rotations. 

My hands slipped up his shirt, feeling his hard stomach, and he put one of his on top of it in response, enfolding mine in his long fingers. His kiss became more tender at the same time, and it was such an embarrassingly sensual feeling I broke free and buried my face in his shoulder. I nibbled at his neck until he gently pushed me away. I wondered what I had done wrong and stopped moving.

He seemed to sense my sudden nervousness and lifted a hand, tracing my cheek again. “Do you mind if I put myself at a disadvantage?” he asked, almost shyly.

“Disadvantage?” Confused, I tilted my head at him.

He lifted his arms and pulled his shirt off over his head. Fascinated, I ran my hand down his long bare torso while marveling at the lean muscle and his smooth, tan skin. The effect of his naked, perfect chest and the tied leather cord around his neck was absolutely perfect. Brushing his nipples, and feeling his cock twitch beneath me, I lifted my eyes to his.

“Well…” I breathed, and quirked an uneasy smile at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be putting me at a disadvantage, here?” It was so easy, joking with him while we were like this, that it was actually that fact that scared me far more then anything we were doing. And, honestly, Zane taking off his shirt actually did put me at a disadvantage. I was so blinded by the power of the Incredibly Sexy Half-Naked Man before me he could have said for me to do anything and I probably would have. To crush that feeling of panic again I lifted my arms, and he instantly got the hint.

Lifting my shirt while kissing my chest, he caught a nipple while he threw my shirt next to us and I bucked, my cock straining. “Fuck, Zane…” I moaned.

He pulled our chests together, and stroked my breastbone with a finger. “I like it when you say my name, Ethan.” He stretched out ‘Ethan’ in his incredible voice, and kissed the bottom of my chin. “You’re so beautiful….” He moved down my neck, his hands leading to the top of my jeans and my zipper as my hips thrust forward in anticipation. 

“Oh, God,” I wasn’t wearing any underwear, and his hands found that out instantly, sending heat up through my body from the point of contact. I dug my face into his shoulder, breath coming harder, as he began to stroke me. 

Reaching down and stopping him briefly, I fumbled with his (damn button fly!) jeans and belt, and also found nothing beneath. Zane lightly kissed the side of my face.

My fingers slipped downward, through the hair slowly and he pulled me forward with his free hand to kiss me again. My hand wrapped around his cock(so long, so solid…) as he did so, and he became fierce, taking in my mouth so completely I even managed to forget his hand around me for a split second.

We stroked each other, and it was both exhilarating and embarrassing, looking someone in the eyes while being masturbated by them. But there was no looking away, I was trapped. At one point I tried to, overwhelmed by the intimacy, but he lifted a hand and firmly held my face, trailing a finger down my nose.

My body started to pulse into his hand, and I groaned. “I think… I’m going to…”

“You’re, not the only one…” Zane smiled, his eyes heavily lidded, face flush, and it was so unbelievably hot I bucked, and let out an endless moan as I came far harder than I ever had before; my cum squirting all over both our chests. He continued to lightly stroke me as I shuddered, making sure I was done.

Not being able to speak for a bit, I felt so unbelievably good… and then suddenly so embarrassed to have come so much all over him. And more importantly, he hadn’t come, which meant everything to me. He was still hard.

“Ethan…” he said with great intensity, “You’re so hot and – what?” He looked startled as I reached back, found my T-shirt, and quickly wiped both of us off with it, then smiled shyly at him before sliding downwards onto the floor quickly. “You don’t have to worry about that right now, we….Urrrrrg!” 

I didn’t see his facial expression as I took him into my mouth, but I felt his whole body tense. His hands grasped the back of my head, and he lightly massaged my scalp as I slowly savored the taste of Zane. The sweat was delicious, and he smelled like a clean man who had exercised. He was so long, longer than Mike, but just a touch less wide. That was alright with me. It felt like he fit perfectly. I played lightly, running my tongue on the underside and jabbing lightly at his sac, causing him to move his hand to the arm of the couch so he could clutch at it. As he spasmed once and said my name gutterly I knew he was close.

Even just blowing him he turned me on again. I wanted to devour all of him, right then and there.

Taking the whole of him, I let his cock hit the back of my throat as I stroked his balls, and was pleased when I felt them tighten, and his hand still on my head clench tightly. “Ethan… I’m coming, you don’t have to _” 

Moving faster, he couldn’t finish what he was saying before he came with a beautiful “Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhh” into my mouth, and came long and hard, his body bucking. Still, I refused to release him before he was completely empty. 

He stopped me, taking the sides of my face and gently coaxing me upward. “Thank you.” His eyes trapped mine as he stopped an inch from my face, my hands braced on his knees. Why was I so damn touched that he thanked me? Idiot, idiot! 

We kissed, slowly, languidly, and he took his cum with his tongue and gave it back to me, the tasty, salty goodness lingering as we both swallowed the last of it.

Kissing around my mouth tenderly, I swear he almost purred, pulling me up further so I was once again on his lap, wrapping his long arms around my middle.

Somehow I was already half-turned on again from blowing him, but I ignored it and played with his hair, captured by its’ dark, wavy thickness. Why was I so enraptured of this stranger? 

Because he’s a rock star, a little voice answered in my ear, a stunning, insanely sexy beast of a musician whom you just blew all of half an hour into your acquaintance. 


Zane’s hands had drifted to my hips and pushed my jeans down a bit, and I looked at his hands in dazed surprise as he traced a lazy circle with a finger. “You have the most beautiful body, so perfect right here… “ He increased pressure right where my abdomen went into my thigh, causing me to squirm in pleasure. “But also everywhere.”

The last was spoken with my eyes suddenly pinned by his, and I blinked and knew I was blushing something fierce. I tried to chase the unease gnawing at my stomach away and shook my head. “I’m nothing compared to…”

The door flew open.

“Zane, if you’re still in here, you need to help me….” The blond guitarist stood in the doorway, the knob in his hand, blinking at us and his rushed motion stopped dead. “… with, Jarod…” 

Half-naked, straddling another man, and my pants wide open. I’d never been so mind-numbingly embarrassed in my life. A voice in my head screamed FLEE NOW. 

To Part 4