Lust Burning

Lord but I was stupid.

Stupid stupid stupid!

With an inward groan, I stared moodily out the van's dirty window, not even seeing the blurry scenery passing by. He was watching me, the bastard, I could feel his gaze burning into my nape. Usually, I have a pretty good grip on my emotions. But today, Chris' worried clueless idiotic fucking puppy dog gorgeous green eyes were driving me nuts.

And whose fault was that?

a cynical little voice in my mind asked.

Mine mine MINE,

I screamed back at it,

because I'm stupid stupid STUPID!

Stupid to think that I could forget Marissa like this, fight the control her perfect body gave her over my testosterone driven mind.

Men really do think with their dicks,

was the ironic whisper in my mind. Yeah well right now, mine was rock-hard, leaking like a melting pop-sicle on a July afternoon and resolutely trying to tear through my jeans. Stuck in this stuffy van with the rest of my band and a mountain of equipment, there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

Shifting restlessly, I bent my right knee and huddled miserably against the drafty window. In my current state, the position wasn't really more comfortable but at least my leg now sort-of concealed the obscene bulge at my crotch. Wouldn't do to have our burly drummer, Rocks (don't ask, it's a long story) who was sitting next to me accidentally notice my straining erection.

That sarcastic voice in my head started laughing, shrieking hysterically at the thought of the scene it would cause and I felt my lips quirk in spite of myself. Rocks enjoys his women like his beer; blonde, fresh, all-american and as many of them as possible. I don't think he's ever even looked at another guy's cock. And with the amount of time he spends in the gym, he's certainly had ample opportunity. A thought which promptly sent my dirty mind into a brief locker-room fantasy full of muscular jocks with 9 inch cocks.

God but I was desperate if I was starting to fantasize about Rocks. He is most definitely not my type. Way too much muscle for me. And although his buzz-cut did set off features that were handsome in a rugged kind of way, I would never have considered him normally.

That's what you get for not letting yourself cum for 15 days,

the insidious Voice in my head responded slyly. Okay, point noted.

Now shut up,

I told it firmly.

The thing is, the voice was right. This whole mess started with a major blow-out with Marissa, my on-again off-again girlfriend. I swear the girl is like a drug. Curvy in all the right places, lips to die for and breasts that must have been hand-sculpted by the devil himself. And she knows it, the bitch. I had finally decided that I couldn't take her petulant irrational behaviour anymore and was firmly determined to dump her for real. Somehow, we wound up fiercely kissing and then my eyes were rolling back in my head from the pleasure of her plump lips and skilful tongue on my cock.

As she finished swallowing my load, her eyes shone with fierce triumph as she drawled, "You can't dump me. "

"You're too weak to resist this" she added with a long slow sensual lick up my still sensitive shaft.

Later, staring at the ceiling after I'd screamed at her to get out, her laughter seemed to echo in my room. She was right, I realised with a sick feeling in my stomach. Okay so maybe I've watched too many movies or maybe I'm an arrogant jerk but by the end of that night I'd decided that I would prove to myself that I could resist her. We usually made up and were together again within two weeks of breaking up. So I wouldn't have sex with her, no, I wouldn't even cum for two weeks. After that I would be free. Strong. Independent.

And really, really horny,

the stupid voice added.

Resting my burning cheek against the cool, humid pane of glass, I tried to concentrate on the conversation around me. Jake, lead guitar and founder of our punk-rock band was driving. He was arguing enthusiastically with Richard, our manager about sound and bass levels and all the technical disasters that might happen at the gig tonight. The Most Important Gig of our time together. We would be recording it and if it was any good, we might have ourselves our first album. And I was so freaking worked up I wasn't even sure I would remember the words to any of the songs. If the band failed because of me, Marissa would have won and I was not going to let that happen. The minute we got to that motel, I was going to lock myself in my room and have the wank of my life.

Angie, Jake's girlfriend and our piano-back-up vocals-tambourine girl, was in the back seat, along with a microphone stand and Chris, our bass player. I swallowed hard as images of those two ignited the burning ache in my groin to a searing, throbbing pulsation. Man, I couldn't take this much longer. Closing my eyes, I focused on breathing steadily, resisting the terrible urge to touch myself.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Stu.

Pid.

See, I don't particularly care about the gender of my partners. I tend to like a rather ambiguous androgynous look. Exactly like Chris. Tall, slim, with slender hips and an ass that literally makes my head spin. Longish hair falling across handsome, somewhat delicate features. Amazing liquid green eyes with touches of gold in them framed by luscious black eyelashes. I had never seen him naked but I imagined his cock would be long and so hard, throbbing with the beat of his heart. The idea had me drooling with rampant lust and I had to concentrate on breathing again.

Chris was soooo hot! Right from the start, I'd felt a twinge of … something…. when our eyes met. For me, it was a fresh start. A new town, a new band, all the old bitter problems left behind. A clean slate. It had been hard leaving my home, but it was really worth it. I'd felt like I could finally breathe again. I hadn't been near a microphone in nearly six months when a friend from work convinced me to audition for his cousin's band.

We'd clicked immediately, all of us. Despite the inevitable head-butting that rose from strong personalities, no amount of strongly expressed opinions could tear apart the affection between those three childhood friends. A good-natured current of humour and respect linked them and now, surprisingly, me. It was as though I'd finally found the niche I was meant to fill. And if Chris made my mouth go dry, well so be it. There was absolutely no way I was going to ruin the gang. I also knew I wasn't the only one with similar feelings.

When Jake introduced us all to his new girlfriend, Rocks and I had swallowed hard. Chris had blushed, stammering a little and I could tell from his slow smile that he really dug the little firecracker. Shit. Blood beating in my ears, I'd tensed, anticipating trouble. This was the way friendships fell apart. Little jealousies, yearnings that got blown out of proportion chewed away at the foundation of affection until eventually it would crumble. I'd been through this painful process once and I didn't think I'd survive a second time so soon.

Then Chris' and Jake's eyes had locked in an unspoken exchange. An alpha-male battle, two spirits colliding in a breathless moment that seemed to stretch forever. I didn't catch every nuance. But I could guess the general sense:

"She's hot."

"Yes. "

"I want her. Badly. I could get her, maybe. "

"Yes. But she's mine. I love her. "

"I know. So I won't. "

"I trust you. "

And just like that it was over. Someone made a joke, Rocks choked on his beer and everybody laughed. No pretending, no argument. Admitting what was and what would be done about it and that was that. Case closed. I'd rarely felt as elated as that moment, like fizzy bubbles in my veins. Yes! Maybe there was hope that this could last!

The sudden jolting of the van stopping brought my head cracking sharply against the window and back to the real world. Finally! Time for some serious release! Inner sigh of relief from the Voice. Except that sometimes fate or God or whatever seems to take pleasure in throwing curve balls at me. We were late. Very late. Turns out we had a dinner with some big important folk before the gig and we really were going to have to hurry to make it.

STRIKE ONE!

Ok, so just a quick jerk in the shower then,

my inner Voice corrected. In the state I was in, I could probably come in less than 10 seconds anyway.

Except that there had been a major water pipe breakdown in the motel and half of it was unusable. With many well-phrased excuses, a serious discount and free dinner coupons for our next stay, the hotel manager explained that we would have to pair up in the rooms.

STRIKE TWO!

We had to divide a suite with 2 double beds, a luxurious honeymooner's room with a fireplace and a regular ol' (cheap) room between the lot of us. I was doomed. Heated discussion or no, we ended up paired together in a way that shut the Voice up in helpless despair.

There really wasn't any argument against leaving the lovers the romantic room. Lucky bastards, they were going to have sex in a jet tub. Richard, as manager, wanted the internet connection and the extra table in the business suite for band meetings and such. Logical.

"Then stick Chris with him," I tried to argue. Except that this left only a room with a double bed for me and Rocks and whatever girl(s) he brought back that night. Potentially interesting but he wasn't having it.

If he was going to have an audience, then he at least wanted them "watching from a different bed, not jerking off two inches from his face." Richard turned a blotchy red at this comment but to my surprise, I sensed unexpected seriousness beneath the playful banter.

I felt like screaming. And it was all my fault. I was out of my mind with sexual frustration and now I would be spending the night in the same bed as the man who starred in all my recent fantasies.

STRIKE THREE!

Don't forget he's straight!

Seems the cynical Voice had recovered and was back commenting the situation. Guess some of my dismay showed on my face, cause Angie sympathetically patted my shoulder, sending tingles down my back and making my swollen dick lurch in my pants. I couldn't help the groan and Chris shot me a sideways glance, looking moderately hurt at my reluctance to pair up with him. What a mess.

The rush of carrying stuff in and getting everything organized took my mind off the bed situation. But I couldn't put it off forever. Less than half an hour later, I was leaning against the solid support of the door to our small room, overwhelmed with nerves. There was a cold ball in my stomach and a ringing in my ears. I was so jittery I could barely breathe. And innocent attractive Chris picked up the vibe. Sitting on the couch, well, more like a loveseat that was ridiculously flowered and about four feet long, he searched my face for a long uncomfortable moment before asking me if something was wrong. He was genuinely concerned and wanted to help. So sweet.

Choking a little, I muttered about how everything was wonderful and turned my back on his emerald stare. God I wanted to kiss him.

A shower.

It was the first time the Voice actually suggested something useful, so I guess I must have been even worse off than I thought. Yes, a shower would get me away from him momentarily. An ice-cold shower. Maybe if I was really quiet, I could finish myself off. That way I might spend at least part of dinner without a raging hard-on.

"Ok, Mat, you go first. I have to shave anyway."

Lost in my thoughts, I nearly jumped out of my skin at Chris' words. I hadn't even realized I was speaking out loud. My brain frantically tried to rewind, to know if I'd only let the shower part slip. I didn't know. The last minute was completely blank. Face hot, I studied my bass-player's expression. He looked completely at ease, if a little baffled, so I decided my tongue hadn't betrayed me too badly.

There are so many other things you could do with your tongue. Or his tongue.

I hastily shut the Voice up before this deteriorated. I just couldn't wait to get out of the aching constraint of my jeans.

Gathering my toiletries, I was halfway to the bathroom when someone began trying to pound a hole in our door from the hallway. Bang! Bang! Grumbling, I altered my route and was nearly run over by Rocks bursting in as soon as the doorknob turned.

STRIKE FOUR!

Hey no fair! There is no such thing as a strike four! But the news Rocks brought was exactly that. The water in their room was still out of order, though it would be fixed by tonight. He had come to share our shower. Given that there was three of us, two who still needed to shave and thirty minutes till we needed to be out the door, there was only one option. Fuck privacy issues, there would have to be one person shaving and one person showering at all times if we even hoped to make it.

Standing under the spray with our drummer two feet away on the other side of the vinyl curtain, I was torn between strangling the guy and simply dropping to the floor and banging my head on it until I blacked out. Even the feeling of the rivulets of water racing down my skin was torture to my oversensitive body. I could feel little muscles twitching spastically everywhere and my hips jerked despite myself. My balls ached so bad that I couldn't think. And my dick… Lord, my erection was so powerful that it was almost ridiculous. Jutting out, distended and purple it bobbed with every beat of my heart. Miserably I watched it twitch, not even daring to touch the pulsing head, though the need to do so was making me weak in the knees, because there was no way in hell I would have been able to stop. I allowed myself a single crushing squeeze around the base immediately after I turned the water off. It did absolutely nothing to relieve the ache, just as I knew it wouldn't. Fuck.

Somehow, I managed to make the breathless dash into the room and into my underwear without the guys really noticing my condition. I hope. I'd originally planned to wear my leather pants for the show, but thought better of it. Those things are uncomfortable and sticky enough without a full-blown hard-on. Settling my faded jeans on my hips, I groaned softly at the discomfort of zipping up. Lord but it was bad!

Sticking my hand into the waistband, I nearly fainted from the pleasure of the contact necessary to adjust myself into a somewhat less painful position. Fingers wrapped easily around the shaft, the urge to pull the loose skin over the sensitive head swamped me. God it felt so good. My hips twisted, the need for friction rapidly escalating. I saw fire bursts behind my closed eyelids and my stomach quivered with need. Tugging faster, I was oblivious to anything but the waves of lust radiating from my core. Sensation, long denied, finally overwhelmed me. My hand was stuck at an awkward angle, movement seriously restricted, jammed into my pants but I couldn't care less.

Yes! Yes! YES! So good! So close! I could feel the pre-cum leaking from my slit. My mind totally black, I focused on the tingling that was rapidly tightening in my balls. Not a thought of Chris or Marissa or anyone; I was aroused even beyond the possibility of forming a coherent fantasy.

"Holy shit Mat!"

Rocks shouted exclamation froze me on the spot. Hand clutching my still-convulsively jerking cock, I forced my eyes open.

No!

The Voice wailed in agony.

Just do it! Let it go! Cum, what can he do about it!?

Except that the shock of being discovered and brutally interrupted actually made my erection fade a little. I was no longer trembling on the point of no-return. Jolted cruelly back to my senses, ejaculation lay beyond my reach.

Sheepishly, I removed my hand from my pants, shiny with the evidence of how close I'd been. Without thinking, I sucked my glistening fingers into my mouth. The expression on Rocks face went from shocked disbelief to guilt to … curiosity? I could feel my ears turning red with embarrassment. For a long moment we just looked at each other while my heart raced, trying to plan what he might say and how I could react.

Chris, clearing his throat in the open doorway to the washroom, clad only in a towel and gleaming with wetness from his interrupted shower nearly made me lose it again. I was back on the edge, rock hard. So much flawless skin, hard planes of muscles drew my gaze down past tight abs to that pristine white towel. Oh to rip it off, then brutally pin him to the wall… Did it just jump a bit, maybe the beginning of a bulge? I didn't have time to check, because he abruptly turned around and disappeared back into the bathroom. Probably my imagination anyway.

"I think maybe we should talk, "came his muffled voice. "But Rocks needs to be in the shower."

So it was that a few minutes later, I was leaning against the tiny bathroom counter, valiantly trying once again to ignore Chris's naked torso and most definitely not looking at the blurred form of our drummer in the shower. Please God just strike me down on the spot and end this torture. Cheeks burning, I somehow managed to blurt out the gist of it; the fight, the blowjob, my resolution. It felt like my entire head was on fire from embarrassment by the end. Focusing on the four corny fish that adorned the bottom of the shower curtain, I wished again and again that I could just disappear. Too bad humiliation wasn't enough to completely deflate my dick, although I was considerably less erect by the end of my story.

Until I chanced to look up and found my eyes drowning in Chris's green gaze. I forgot to breathe at his fierce expression. Oh Lord, his eyes were burning straight into my soul. He knew. There was no doubt. At that moment he could tell exactly how badly I ached for him, even though I had carefully kept my tale heterosexual. The revelation had him shell-shocked, his pink tongue licking nervously at lips slightly parted. I couldn't stop myself. Taking a step forward, I moved closer. I was going to kiss him, I just couldn't help it.

He didn't move back, even when I stood close enough to feel the heat radiating from him. I could easily read the emotions flicking through his stare, compassion, a brief moment of panic, quickly replaced by… acceptance, trust, a trace of excitement. Jesus. He was going to let me kiss him, it was crystal clear. My gorgeous, straight friend was willing to allow me to push his boundaries! Forcing myself to go slow, give him time to turn away, I closed the distance between us.

Easy now,

the Voice gasped breathlessly.

Don't rush things

.

Now that the moment I'd dreamed about so often was suddenly reality, I felt strangely calm, detached. I noted the way his breath was hissing in short huffing bursts, the tension in his shoulders, the smell of his shampoo wet hair and aftershave. His eyelids flickered rapidly and he got that Deer-in-the-headlights look again. Our mouths inches apart I stopped, surprised at actually being able to do so and dead certain he was going to bolt. It was simply that the moment felt so right, so perfect, I couldn't ruin it by forcing myself on Chris.

He swallowed convulsively, and then his features suddenly hardened in determination. His eyes squeezed shut and I wasn't prepared when he suddenly jolted forward, kissing me hard, almost frantically. Like a man who'd screwed up his courage to jump off a cliff, he was on me aggressively, not giving himself time to think. After the first few seconds of initial shock, I began to respond, moving my lips against his. No tongue, not yet. Gradually taking control of the kiss, I felt him relax slowly, the harsh ferociousness easing away under my deliberately tender assault.

It was sweet for a few minutes, almost chaste, wonder and exploration gradually building into need. It became more and more difficult for me to ignore the passion, harder and harder to be gentle. The fires were building and my already frazzled self-control was letting me down. Little keening sounds coming from Chris's throat undid my last resistance and I deepened the kiss, forcing my tongue into his warm wet mouth.