None of the characters in “Promises of Starlight” represent any person living or dead.
The character “Rock Star”/”Angel” is based on Adam Lambert. The author does not in any way wish to disturb or predict Mr. Lambert’s life through the characters in this story.
All videos are to be enjoyed through their link to YouTube. They are not to be downloaded. No claims are made on the videos by the author.
Chapter 4 – HOUSE RULES
“Whataya want, my love?”
Lover and the Rock Star were in bed enjoying a (rare) long and proper midday “interlude.” They’d called the Guitarist’s Wife BEGGING her to take the kids for the day. It had been a long time since they’d been able to be their little bunny-wabbit selves without the sound of tiny feet running down the hallway or the crying because of the scary thing that lives in the closet or the teasing because one wanted to play with the toy the other one had (the kids, not them, although sometimes …)
The fathers took every opportunity they could get to “be” together but those times were quick and rarely mutual, in between everything else happening in a house with two pre-schoolers and two careers requiring sporadic worldwide travel. Dad and Papa had become much more familiar with the garage, the kitchen, their desks, the recording studio and the showers. Even the pantry was kinda crowded but fun if there was time (food “experiments” were still some of their favorite activities).
Sometimes they thought it was deliberate how the kids could tell when they were trying to have “grown-up alone time.” If it wasn’t one needing attention it was the other one. If only they’d known that the “interruptions” were, indeed, carefully planned and thought out from one sibling cousin to the other.
After the interrupting was done, both children would get together downstairs or upstairs (depending on where their fathers were) and silently laugh while thinking back and forth about the looks on their fathers’ faces. They didn’t know exactly what was going on behind those closed doors but they knew it was important. Except that sometimes they heard frantic whispering and giggling or something that sounded like one of them was crying or hurt or something. Sometimes the bed squeaked or sounded like it was pounding against the wall.
Hence the frantic call to the Guitarist’s. There were new rules about such things and one was that, for the fathers to get really busy, the kids had to be out of the house.
“Please, please, just for one day, OK? We finally have two days when both of us will be home and, well, you know.” The Guitarist and his Wife, parents of two children just a few years older than Angel’s and Lover’s, indeed did know. Lately whenever they’d seen the two fathers it was one at a time and neither one was very happy. Not that they were miserable or anything, it was just that they missed each other and their extended “private time.” The Guitarist and Wife understood, from personal experience, the word for it–horny. Really horny.
Out of friendship and pity the Wife offered not only a playday but an overnight as well. Then she’d said something about the dog, “Columbo.” Angel and Lover weren’t sure what that meant but they were so happy and grateful it didn’t much matter to them what she’d said. They’d have promised anything at that moment at the thought that, only a few days away, the house would be theirs, every last inch of it. And they intended to enjoy every single inch.
At the moment Angel was licking Lover’s thighs, taking his time. He’d already cleaned off the rest of him.
Lover was still taking those martial-arts classes and lying by the pool whenever he could. His muscles were strong and firm and golden. He tasted like the sea salt mixed with the musk of a forest in autumn when the leaves blow off the trees and there’s a hint of snow to come. His skin, however, was warm. Angel couldn’t resist nibbling it here, and there.
There were moans and the sounds of heavy breathing. Lover had his hands in Angel’s hair, following wherever it went. Then he arched his back, his hands gripping the headboard behind him as Angel lifted his hips. Angel’s tongue began to lick and nibble as he tickled that place between the front and the back. He watched the effect on Lover as Lover watched while Angel made him fold his legs back so there was nothing obstructing the always busy tongue and fingers, while again stroking that place, that secret, wonderful place.
Angel was thorough, his heart filled with love, using every way he knew how to pleasure the man lying before him. Lover gasped for breath, but Angel was a man on a mission. Lover was his captive, able to do nothing but pump his hips in the opposite direction.
Lover’s words mixed with sounds as Angel took both of Lover’s hands, trying to take Lover’s attention off what he was doing to him so it would take him longer to release. But Lover was edging towards that point of no return, moaning with pleasure, urging Angel on. Then he felt it, that rush that signaled it would be soon, very soon, when all he could do was tighten and be still as he felt it begin to rise. That was the moment he loved the most, just before the release, when he knew it would be any second, that moment when all he had to do was be there, just be, and then give Angel all that he had to give.
He’d said he wanted everything. Soon he’d be getting the rest of it.