Everyone on the tour knew they could sleep in late. Another flight was chartered to take the entourage to Miami for the second last show, so there was no need for an early start to anyone's day.
Pete got up to take a piss, and when he came back to bed, his boyfriend was just waking up. "Hola," Carlos said.
"Morning, sexy," Pete replied, and they kissed. Their kiss started out as a dull, nondescript gesture of 'good morning', but urgency slowly grew until Carlos rolled dominantly on top of his boyfriend, desperately trying to carve art on the back of Pete's throat with the tip of his tongue.
"We haven't consumed our marriage yet," Carlos whispered, his long, black hair cascading down onto Pete's chest, tickling his nipples. His dick was stiff inside his boxers.
"What?" Pete replied.
English was the Mexican's second language. "We haven't consumed ..."
"I know what you said," Pete interrupted, "but I think you mean 'consummated', not 'consumed'. Do you know what it means?"
"It means we get to have an extra-special marriage fuck," Carlos stated.
Pete looked up at his beautiful boyfriend, sighing as he tried not to giggle. An 'extra-special marriage fuck'? Carlos's occasional misunderstandings in English were so goddamn cute. "No, dude, that's ... no ... so, first of all, without going into details, consummation is a church thing, and neither of us are religious, so fuck that bullshit. Secondly, consummation comes after the actual marriage takes place, not after the proposal. And thirdly," Pete concluded with a devious twinkle in his eyes, "if you're gonna go there, it means I'm meant to be a virgin from now until we get hitched, so hands off." Carlos's erection strained inside his undies as Pete playfully rolled away from underneath him. He got up and began to prepare for the day.
"Babe," Carlos protested, pointing at his swollen log. "Don't you want some of this?"
Pete's pussy twitched. Of course he did, but he thought this might be a fun game. "Wish I could help you out," he shrugged, "but I don't make the rules."
Carlos felt frustrated. He desperately wanted to consume his soon-to-be marriage, and his morning wood wasn't going anywhere.
Pete jumped in the shower. His thick, shoulder-length red hair was shampooed into a lather when he noticed a shadow hovering near the bathroom door. It was Carlos, jacking off, watching him. Pete rinsed the shampoo away before pressing his ass cheeks firmly up against the glass of the shower cubicle, giving his boyfriend a good look at what he wasn't getting. He reached for the soap and ran it up and down his crack, pulling his cheeks wide, pressing them flush against the glass again. The shadow at the door disappeared, and Pete finished his shower. "Like the show?" he teased, towelling off next to their hotel bed.
"That was so fucking hot," admitted Carlos.
Pete smiled as he noticed a small ball of tissues next to the bed. He kissed his betrothed on the cheek. They got dressed and headed downstairs for a late breakfast before their bus left for the airport.
Touchdown in Miami went without a hitch, and the bands and crew checked in to their expensive, opulent home-away-from-home for two nights. They were just a block away from the coast. The weather was perfect, the sky was a deep, clear blue, and the rooftop bar and pool were sheer rock 'n roll decadence. Ace dived in like an Olympic swimmer, flicking his long, wet hair out of his face before ordering a cool beer. "This is the life, boys," he declared, holding his icy beverage skyward, toasting whichever benevolent deity had granted him this perfect day. "Welcome to the Sunshine State, the best place on earth." Pete used the pool stairs to wade slowly into the water, and Carlos followed. For such a warm day, the pool was surprisingly colder than they expected, and it took a few moments for Carlos to summon the courage to submerge his groin.
Almost magically, two more beers arrived -- one for Carlos, and one for his boyfriend. The three metalheads swam, splashed and drank, enjoying a perfect moment in the sun.
Candii arrived at the pool wearing dark sunglasses, a tight bikini and a pair of flipflops. Ace noticed she'd had her toenails painted black. She entered the water gingerly. "Hey boys," she said, kissing her rockstar on the cheek, "are you all having a good time?"
"Fuck yeah," Ace replied.
"This is the fucking best, Candii," spluttered Pete. He sipped his cold beer.
"I'm so glad, sweetie." Her fake plastic titties, barely contained within her bikini top, appeared to be almost buoyant. Lifeguards weren't required this afternoon. If anyone was in danger of drowning, Candii could've been used as a flotation device.
"By the way, I've got an announcement," Pete added. He glanced at Carlos, just to make sure it was OK with him. His boyfriend nodded. "Carlos and I are gonna get married," he beamed.
"No fuckin' way," said Ace. His mouth gaped open in complete surprise.
"Yeah," said Carlos, "it's true. I proposed to this idiot, and he said yes."
"Because this idiot loves you," Pete replied, throwing his arms around the Mexican's neck.
Candii clapped her hands together in glee. "This is the best news ever! A band marriage on our tour! Can we do something special to mark the event?"
Both Carlos and Pete shook their heads, waving the offer away. "Thanks, Candii," said Carlos, "but we'll organise something quiet once the tour is over."
Candii pouted. She had other ideas about that. But for now, the four of them splashed, played and drank, and under the surface of the water, Carlos could barely keep his hands off his boyfriend's juicy yet unexpectedly off-limits ass. As the sun began to set and the pool area began to quieten, Ace began to formulate plans for the evening. He was feeling a little drunk. "OK everyone, y'all are on my turf and in my hometown, and I'm taking y'all out for the night. Head back to your rooms, get changed, and we'll meet in the lobby in half an hour."
Ace escorted the foursome to a Cuban bar and restaurant not too far from their hotel. He knew the place well, having been here many times before. It was a warm, humid night, and as they were led to their table, the waiter asked for their drinks order. "Four Cristals, por favor," Ace replied, and within moments, a quartet of icy-cold Cuban beers landed on their table.
"I thought there was a trade embargo?" Carlos quizzed, frowning in confusion.
"Sssh," came Ace's response. "What are you, the Department of State? Just fuckin' drink it," he said, necking half of his bottle in a few quick gulps.
Pete took a swig. "Fuck, that's good," he assessed. He checked the label on the bottle -- yep, the beverages appeared to be genuine Cuban imports. He wondered if Cuban cigars were available. He'd love to suck on a fat one.
Ace ordered for everyone, and shortly, a banquet of Cuban food arrived. They ate well, though Carlos went a little heavy on the chilli.
"That was an awesome meal. I'm very full," Carlos burped, "yet at the same time, unsatisfied."
Candii was surprised to hear this. The meal was amazing, her company had poured liquid gold into this tour and the bands were reaching new audiences; why would anyone feel unsatisfied?
"Looks like I'm gonna have to jack off until we get married," Carlos continued. "Pete's a born-again virgin until we tie the knot."
Pete explained this morning's conversation and the misunderstanding that lay behind it. Both Ace and Candii chuckled inside, wondering how long Carlos could last.
"You shouldn't be jerking off either," Ace cracked. "I'm 'fraid to say you're just gonna have to wait." He grinned. "I hope your balls don't explode in the meantime, but the church says masturbation is evil." He laughed as he saw Pete's mischievous smile coupled with Carlos's pained grimace.
"Fuck the church," came Carlos's punchy, no-nonsense reply. He showed heaven his middle finger.
"So I'm guessing your marriage won't be a religious affair?" asked Candii, already suspecting the answer. Another round of beers landed on the table.
Pete shook his head. "Fuck no. And if I can be honest, my head is still spinning about all of this. I can still hardly believe Carlos asked me to marry him in the first place. I'm half-expecting to wake up and find this has all been a dream. But if this is truly real, a quiet civil ceremony would be fine by me, so long as we can party hard after."
