Page 14

Thirteen

Isaac

T he crowd is massive and so energetic tonight that I never manage to find Jensen among the thousands of faces. But I feel him out there. Having his eyes on me is what gives me the spirit to sing louder, strum harder, jump higher.

It’s like he gives me life.

And knowing what’s waiting for me after the show really gives me life. In fact, it’s all I’m living for at the moment.

The crowd is the loudest yet. It’s still so fucking surreal. All of these people know my songs. They like my music. They are not laughing at me or making me feel inferior.

In some sick and twisted way, I wish my father could see this. I wish I could rub it in his face. Look at me, Dad. I did all of this without you.

I don’t need you.

When we run offstage before the encore, I rush over to the backstage crew to help me change quickly for the last two songs. The crowd is deafening. It’s almost unsettling how loud they are.

I guzzle some water and tear off my shirt as someone helps me into another one. For these last two songs, I like to be more casual. It’s an homage to the old Theo Virgil—the one who started in bars and tiny venues and traveled around in a used van.

It’s for the fans who have been with me since the beginning.

After we’re all ready, the band and I run back out to the stage, and somehow, the crowd cheers even louder.

“Wow, Denver!” I shout into the mic. “Y’all really showed up tonight.”

I stare out through the bright lights and try one last time to find Jensen, but it’s futile. It’s just a sea of faces blurring together.

“Well, we have a few more songs in us if you could stick around for a bit longer.”

They cheer with enthusiasm.

As I strum the guitar, they quiet. Then I lean into the mic. “This is the first song that really took off for me. It changed my life. And it came from the heart. So if you relate to these words, then just know you’re relating to me.”

After a few more shouts from the crowd, I get started on the song, and it takes me back to the beginning of my career. When I didn’t quite know who I wanted to be. I remember feeling like I never fit into any boxes as a musician. I wasn’t quite country enough or quite folk enough. I was just me and the music that came from my soul.

Then, out of nowhere, someone got a hold of it, and everyone started to connect with it. Like lightning, it went viral. Overnight, my life changed.

Ironically, it’s a song about wanting to fuck someone I’m not supposed to. And most of them have no idea.

Our last song of the encore is a huge hit at the moment, and the crowd really loses it. They sing along as the band and I jam with our instruments. On the final note, we all leap in unison before the lights go out, and we rush offstage.

To my surprise, Jensen is in the wings, waiting for me. I nearly slam right into him and smile brightly, fighting the urge to kiss him.

“You were amazing!” he says with a hand on my shoulder.

“Thank you, but you’ve seen the show three times now,” I reply with a laugh.

“I don’t care. It’s phenomenal every time.”

“Thank you.”

His gaze holds mine for a few seconds, and my heart swells in my chest. I’m really losing my fucking grip with this guy.

All I want is to get him to my tour bus, but I’m immediately pulled in different directions. The crew takes my guitar, and Jensen and I lose each other in the chaos backstage after the show. The tour manager and crew want to meet with me for a few minutes to discuss some minor things onstage tonight.

Jensen stays close by, and I keep making eye contact with him, fire burning between us, even when we’re apart. He wants exactly what I want. It feels like forever, but the moment no one needs me, we sprint off together.

“Finally,” I mutter under my breath. His arm brushes mine, and I notice the itch in my palm with how badly I’d like to hold his hand. Instead, I settle for feeling the breeze off his body as we run toward the back door that leads to the lot.

We don’t make it to the door, though. Out of nowhere, his hand wraps around my bicep and tugs me into a dark corner. I gasp as my back hits a black brick wall.

Then his lips are on mine. With shock, I push him away and glance around to be sure we’re really alone. When I notice we’re hidden behind a mountain of black boxes and a forklift, I smile and haul his mouth back to mine.

Our movements are rushed and rabid, hands roaming and pulling and grabbing. His large hands squeeze my hip and my ass. I explore his chest and shoulder while devouring his kiss.

“Shhh,” he whispers against my mouth as his hands fumble for my belt.

My heart is hammering in my chest. Is he really going to touch me here? As much as I want to tell him this is a bad idea, I’m too fucking eager to feel his hands on my cock.

“Jensen,” I whisper with my head against the wall as he quickly undoes my pants and tugs them open. Then he stares into my eyes as he reaches a hand in and wraps it around my length.

I let out a husky gasp, so he slams his other hand over my mouth. “I said to be quiet,” he whispers against my cheek with a smirk. Pulling back, he spits into his palm and returns it to my cock to cover it with saliva.

Moving his hand away from my mouth, he kisses the moans from my lips as he starts to roughly stroke my dick to life. It is already half-hard, and he quickly works it to throbbing.

“Fuck,” I whisper. There are voices and people shuffling around us, but we are hidden out of sight, at least until someone needs to move these crates and climb into that forklift.

As his hand squeezes my cock, stroking it hard, he kisses his way along my jaw. I’m putty in his hands. I can hardly move.

When his lips reach my ear, he bites the lobe, making me whimper.

“What are you doing to me?” I gasp.

“I’m showing you how good I’m going to take care of you,” he replies. “I want you to be mine .”

On that word, mine , he squeezes just under the head of my cock, and my eyes start to roll.

“I want to be yours,” I breathe.

“I want to be the one to make you feel good, Theo. I’ll be here after every show, and I’ll take care of what’s mine. I’ve got you, understand?”

“Yes.” My voice cracks as the pleasure builds.

He’s stroking me fast, taking me to the brink of pain and pleasure. My body is tight and ready to explode, but there’s a sense of panic under the surface, keeping me from finishing.

But then he growls in my ear and says, “Now be a good boy and come for me.”

And that’s it. I clutch tightly to his body as I’m pummeled by the euphoria. It crashes into me like a storm, causing my muscles to tighten and my body to contort as I ride the wave. There is no keeping in the sounds as I come hard. The sensation spreads through my body like wildfire.

I fist his shirt and bury my face in his neck as it pulses over and over and over again.

“That’s it,” he whispers in my ear. “Good boy.”

I’m panting against his shoulder for a while before he laughs and kisses my head.

“You’ll have to let me borrow a shirt for the ride over to the hotel,” he adds with humor.

As I pull back, I look down to find his red polo covered in cum stains.

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry,” I say.

He kisses my forehead. “Don’t be sorry. I’m proud to wear your cum on my shirt.”

Goddamn if that doesn’t make me hot.

“Now let’s get the fuck out of here,” he adds as he buttons my pants back up and replaces my belt. I watch him with fascination as he does.

There’s a dynamic between us I’ve never had before, and I’m intrigued by it. He’s so dominant and possessive, and I actually like it. I want him to own me, control me, take care of me, brand me.

I want to be his.

I must still be in a daze because he laughs a little as he pushes me out from behind the boxes. I can’t help but smile over at him as we reach the door. It’s like we have a dirty secret, and he has a very dirty shirt that he’s tried to wipe up without much success.

The security guard greets us at the door. “We’ve been looking for you,” he says, and I laugh off the guilt.

“Sorry, we got…uh…caught up with the crew,” I stammer. I’m really fucking bad at lying, apparently.

“You ready?” the guard asks. “They’re wild tonight.”

I’m confused by that statement until we step out of the building and I hear the screams. Jensen crosses his arms over his chest as if that hides anything on his chest, and I laugh to myself when I see it.

Every part of me wants to reach for his hand as we rush out the door. Unlike last time, I want to greet the fans tonight. So I walk over to where they’re all corralled and waiting. I imagine they’ve been standing here for a long time, and they deserve to get at least a signature and a photo out of it.

Jensen stands back with his arms crossed and watches with a pleased expression as I greet as many of the fans as I can.

“You’re my favorite singer.”

“Your songs saved my life.”

“I love you so much, Theo Virgil.”

“Will you marry me?”

The cacophony of voices gives me another boost of energy. It’s incredible to have so many people who are really here for me .

Although, if I’m honest, I’m only really concerned with one of them. And he’s watching proudly from behind me.

As soon as I’ve seen as many fans as I can, I say my goodbyes to them and rush with him toward the bus. When we climb aboard, the rest of the band is there, so there is no privacy to touch each other.

“I should get cleaned up,” I say to him as I move toward my room at the back.

“Of course,” he replies.

Then I glance down and see the mess again. “Come back here. I’ll get you a new shirt.”

Rio glances up from his phone as Jensen passes by, watching us skeptically. The only member of my band who really knows the truth is Lola, although I’m sure they have their suspicions. I’m just not as close to them.

When Jensen and I are behind the closed door of my room at the back of the bus, I open up my closet and pull a clean shirt down from the hanger. “Here you go,” I say with a smirk.

“Thanks,” he replies almost sheepishly.

Then I stand back and watch as he tugs his dirty shirt off and tosses it on the bed. When I get a full view of his chest, my mouth starts to water and I grow more excited, looking forward to the night ahead.

Jensen is beautiful. He’s all broad shoulders and bronze skin. With a light patch of chest hair, I stare at his pecs with interest.

“Theo Virgil, are you checking me out?” he whispers quietly.

I step toward him and lay my hand on his chest. “I am.” Then I lean in and press my lips to his collarbone.

“You are going to hurry so we can get back to my hotel,” he murmurs quietly.

“Yes, sir,” I reply before looking into his eyes. His commanding presence catches me off guard, and my blood quickens in my veins when I realize just how much I like saying that to him.

Honestly, who the fuck am I?