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Another city. Another sweaty, fluorescent corridor. Another incomprehensible maze toward a comforting bottle of red. It had been a good one. Maybe not technically but the energy was good. It had spirit. They’d all enjoyed it. What city was this again? Was this Scotland? Graham paused in the corridor for a moment trying to absorb information from his surroundings. Nothing looked particularly Scottish. But could it? Would it? Irn Bru. That usually gave the game away.
A long, sweaty explosion of mirth burst past him near skipping with glee.
“Where are we?” shouted Graham after the beaming shape.
“God knows!” it shouted back seemingly overjoyed in its ignorance.
He followed the shape’s certainty. It would know where the drinks were at least. If not the country they resided in. As he rounded the last corner he’d watched the lanky black mass slip round, he felt a squeeze on his shoulder. How can a squeeze be imbued with personality? Maybe when someone just has too much, he pondered. He didn’t need to turn around.
“You were brilliant. You looked like you were enjoying it. Were you?”
“Yeah. I think I did.”
The strong hand spun him round so he was face to face with the beaming, glistening face of his best mate.
“Giz a kiss?”
He never knew how serious Damon was being in moments like this. So he always treated it as a joke. He’d been bruised far too many times to still be getting his hopes up. Graham comically pursed his lips and squeezed his eyes closed. Damon responded in kind. A silly, noisy smacker of a kiss. He pulled away feeling bruised regardless and pushed his glasses back up his nose with the back of his hand.
“Now a proper one. Please.”
It wasn’t a question though it masqueraded as one. Graham tried to suppress the something like hope that fluttered in his chest as a smile betrayed him. Damon stepped forwards slightly, pressing Graham’s body into the wall. He brought his hand up and cupped Graham’s face before closing the remaining gap and softly kissing him. Graham parted his lips slightly, begging him closer. Damon took the invitation and licked into his mouth. He was soaked to the bone with sweat and Graham could feel it seeping into his own, already damp, t-shirt. Torn between never wanting the kiss to end and absolutely not wanting to get caught by any of the indecently masculine road crew he pushed away from the wall, attempting to steer Damon into an empty room while vainly trying to retain the union of their mouths. Damon pulled away with a familiar smirk dancing across his perfect lips, heavy lidded eyes shimmering.
“What do you want, Gra?”
He was confused by the question. It was perfectly obvious what he wanted. He wanted what he always wanted. As much of Damon as he was willing to give. He clenched his jaw lest the word ‘you’ slipped out and ruined the moment.
“Some privacy?” He asked the wall, utterly unable to make eye contact under the perfect unflinching gaze of Damon.
“Why? What do you want privacy for?” Said Damon wide-eyed and blinking slowly, tilting his head coquettishly.
He knew what he was doing. Graham floundered. He wasn’t good at this sort of thing. He could do it. Just absolutely not talk about it. He wanted to curl in on himself until he was an imperceptible dot and slip between time itself.
“For us. I want us to have some privacy. That’s all.”
Damon slowly raised an eyebrow in response, lip quirking into a smile. Silence marched between them. Damon licked his lower lip then bit down on it, tilting his chin up and blinking his stupid brilliant eyes back at Graham.
“What?” Was all Graham managed in response as he battled to make the briefest eye contact. Now comfortably into his early twenties he’d never managed to shake his surly teen vibe.
“If you tell me what you want, you can have it. Whatever it is. You only have to say.”
Flashbulb images of all the things he very much wanted danced across his mind’s eye, each one more unsayable than the last. He gently tried to shake them from his head, blinking them away furiously.
“Well?” Damon asked, clearly amused by the twitchy display.
…
“Are we in Scotland?”
For once Damon was lost for words.
“Only, there’s nothing remarkably Scottish. And Alex didn’t know. Is this Scotland?”
Damon looked put out. His face had fallen into that slightly surly expression he saved for only the most vapid of interviewers.
“You can just tell me to fuck off you know. You don’t have to give me this shit.”
Graham panicked. He hadn’t wanted to come across as uninterested or flippant. He just needed to not say… things. But he certainly didn’t want to upset Damon either. Or stop what seemed like was going to happen from happening.
“I just don’t know where I am is all. And, well, you know I can’t talk about… stuff. I do want stuff though. Possibly in Scotland. Though the location isn’t a dealbreaker.”
A smirk played across Damon’s face that he quickly wrangled back into his control. He remained silent, clearly expecting Graham to fill the void.
“Fine. I want you to kiss me again. In a little room where no one can disturb us. And I want to know where the fuck I am.”
Damon beamed, grabbed Graham by the hand and dragged him into what may have been a dressing room once but was now used to store old, broken and musty things. It was cluttered and smelly but Graham didn’t see either of these things as being bad in any way. Damon fumbled for the light switch, flicking it back and forth to no avail. Graham quietly rejoiced. A small bank of windows lined the top of one wall. Their mottled glass spilled a faint glow of the orange street lights outside into the space. Enough to see the vague shapes of each other but nothing more. The perfect amount as far as Graham was concerned. He felt Damon move towards him across the floor and shuddered in anticipation of the feeling of his body against him again. As he felt and heard Damon’s lips close in towards his own, Damon changed course and whispered into his ear,
“A kiss is all you asked for. So that’s all you’ll get.”
He planted his hands on the door either side of Graham’s head and kissed him again. He kissed him with force and purpose. His tongue staking its claim to Graham’s mouth. He was happy to give up the territory. Damon pulled at his bottom lip with his teeth and traced his mouth with his tongue before pulling back to survey his work. Graham heard himself panting and felt himself getting uncomfortably hard. He bit down hard on his own bottom lip in a vague attempt to quell either.
“Right. There you go. That’s all you wanted, right? A kiss? Oh Newcastle, by the way. We’re in Newcastle.”
“That’s nearly Scotland.” Mumbled Graham sullenly.
“So, nothing else then? I’ll just go and get a beer shall I?”
“Are you really going to make me say it? Really?”
“Yeah. It’s good for you. For your education. You need to be more sexually articulate. So. What do you want?”
Graham heard the sentences he wanted to say in his head and was mortified by the sound of each and every one. How could he phrase any of this without dying from embarrassment and still manage to get what he wanted?
“What do you want?”
It was a childish manoeuvre but the best he had.
“I’ve told you. I want you to tell me. That’s what I want.”
Damon pulled back and leant his shoulders against the wall, shoving his hands in his front pockets pulling his jeans down just a fraction and exposing a slither of flesh, just about observable in the dim light. All Graham could think was how much he wanted Damon in his mouth. To fall to his knees and take all of him. Relish in hearing the noises he knew he could get out of him. Of all of them, Damon was his favourite instrument to play. The words “I want to suck you off” looped through his head like a dirty mantra. Trying to force himself to be at ease with them before he dared to say them out loud.
“I can hear your brain. Is your head hot?”
Damon sniggered, reached out a hand and placed it on Graham’s forehead as if taking his temperature. Graham shook it off. He wanted this but he didn’t want the piss taken out of him. So he took a breath, mumbled ‘fuck it’ and said as clearly as he possibly could,
“I wanna suck you off”.
He squared his jaw and pulled his shoulders back in a manner that better matched him offering Damon outside to lamp him than fellate him but it was the best he could manage. God he wanted a drink.
Damon seemed genuinely taken aback. He’d probably never expected Graham to actually say it after all. Just wind him up and do it anyway.
His hands found his belt and slowly unbuckled, unbuttoned; unzipped. As he began to shimmy out of his jeans and pants Graham interjected.
“No. I want to do it.”
He was as surprised as Damon that he’d managed to find his voice. Though he wasn’t entirely sure it was his own. It didn’t feel like it could be. Maybe once you’d said something like that the rest came easy. The dam was broken. The foil was popped. He thought about what he might say next and felt his cheeks burn. No. It wasn't like that at all then.
Oh.
So he set about his task. He hooked his hands into Damon’s jeans, yanking him forward and kissed him roughly and thoroughly, stopping to nibble at his ear and suck a trail down his neck. It was nice to feel in control for once. He rarely operated on his own terms with Damon. Musically, yes but not… not when they were like this. He was happy being swept along by Damon’s wants and urges. Had been for years. That’s how all of this had started really. He’d never fared that badly out of it after all. He rubbed his palm firmly over Damon’s erection eliciting a hiss in response. He wanted so badly to feel it bare against his hand, to taste it but he was enjoying punishing Damon for laughing at him. He would draw the tease out just a little longer. With a final bite of his neck, he dropped to his knees, Damon’s head lolling back against the wall in anticipation. Graham kissed the strip of flesh that had so tantalised him earlier, licking and nibbling under the elastic of the waistband of Damon’s boxers. Damon’s hands moved as to pull them down but Graham grabbed both wrists before they had a chance to achieve anything and pushed them against the wall. Damon’s head jerked back down in response, catching Graham’s eye and raising his eyebrows inquisitively.
“I said. I’m doing it.”
He released Damon’s wrists and palmed him again, slowly and firmly over his thin underwear rolling the heel of his palm up the length before circling his thumb at the head. He heard Damon’s breath hitch and smiled to himself in the darkness. Why the fuck hadn’t he done this before?
He grabbed Damon’s jeans and pulled them down to his ankles then grabbed him by each knee, pulling his legs further apart. He could feel Damon’s apprehension. In most situations, he was the one in control. Graham slid his hands to the back of Damon’s legs as he kissed, licked and bit at the sensitive skin of his inner thighs, his cock twitching impatiently for attention.
“Th...thought you wanted to suck me off, Gra? You didn’t mention this.”
It was rare to hear Damon unsure. Uncertain. And Graham had no idea he would enjoy it this much. It gave him a confidence he’d never accessed sober.
“Alright then. I want to drive you mental. I want you to beg me to put your dick in my mouth. That better?”
For once Damon had no response. He swallowed and gave a small but eager nod.
Graham ran his hands firmly up the back of Damon’s thighs, under his underwear and firmly grabbed his arse cheeks, smashing his dick against the warmth of his own cheek and the hot breath of his open mouth. He nuzzled his cheek and jaw against the solid heat while firmly kneading and slightly pulling apart the cheeks beneath his fingers. It was clear Damon hadn’t expected that. Though he made no attempt to stop it from happening.
While he had Damon off guard, Graham opened his mouth and wetly licked the head of Damon’s dick through the fabric of his underwear. The cotton felt foul against his tongue but the heat and just about perceivable taste beneath rendered it utterly unimportant. Damon’s hand moved to Graham’s jaw, tilting his head upwards so the scant light in the room reflected off his glasses.
“Graham. Please. Please?”
Graham instinctively bit his bottom lip and blinked owlishly back, unaware of the effect that would have on the standing man. Damon groaned in response, his dick pulsing.
“Well. Since you asked so nicely...”
Graham resumed his licking just under the elastic of Damon’s underwear but this time hitched his fingers under the waistband and ever so slowly tugged the fabric down servicing each newly revealed morsel of skin slavishly. He eventually pulled back the elastic to reveal just the glistening head of Damon’s imposing dick. It never failed to impress Graham. Like a beautiful sunrise; no matter how many times you saw it, it was always breathtaking. He swiped his tongue through the slit in one long drag and felt Damon’s responding moan through the backs of his thighs that he was now firmly gripping. Rather than pulling the underwear away further, Graham was so pleased with this response that he decided to simply focus on what was exposed. He licked again, this time swirling his tongue around the head as he went. He then decided to do something he’d never before and began wetly kissing and tonguing Damon’s dick with passion.
“Fuck. Gra…”
Graham could tell Damon was caught between enjoying the sensation and desperately needing more. He looked up at Damon, a smile quirking his lips before resuming. Damon’s hand found his hair. He threaded his fingers into the unruly mop tenderly then pulled him away from his new favourite hobby, his mouth still set in a wet ‘O’ seeking its just out of reach treat.
“Gra. Please. I need… I need more.”
Graham felt that need pouring out of his best friend. The tenderness of the hand he felt wound into his hair, the knees trembling under his grip, the brow furrowed above him almost apologetically. Though he couldn’t deny there was a small part of him that wanted to hold Damon in this state all night - sweating, begging, on the precipice between pleasure and pain - right now all he wanted was to see this beautiful man lose himself. And he very much wanted to be the cause. He hooked his fingers into Damon’s underwear once again, but this time wrenched them down past his knees and in one fluid move licked a thick, wet strip from his balls to the head of his dick. Damon gasped like he’d been shot. He tasted of pure salt, fresh like sea water, somehow still clean after his manic exertions on stage. Desperate for more, Graham sank down over the thick length, his mouth and jaw uncomfortably, beautifully stretched. Damon was far too big to take in fully but he eased himself down as far as his jaw and throat would allow, encircling the rest with his hand. As he pulled his head back, so too he pulled his hand, gathering as much wetness as he could to ease it’s continued passage back and forth. Damon moaned in a near constant stream, each note of which seemed to be rendered in a frequency picked up with alarming accuity by Graham’s dick, still trapped in his jeans and pants. As surreptitiously as he could feasibly manage with one hand, he wrestled with the stiff button and the zipper taught against his swollen flesh. Just the act of fumbling against himself to simply be freed took a sliver of the pressure off but he needed more. He managed to maintain the gentle rocking of his head back and forward over the solid heat of Damon, almost like keeping time, while managing to finally get a hand on himself. The ambidexterity of his guitar skills served him well.
He heard a sharp intake of breath above him. Damon’s eyes were thrown open, shining in the darkness and locked onto Graham’s hand moving rhythmically over himself.
“Fuck! Gra… Does sucking me off turn you on that much?”
His tone was one of awe not mocking. Graham nodded and moaned through his full mouth, Damon’s knees trembling in response.
“I want you to come. First. With my dick in your mouth. Please.”
Graham let out a small huff of laughter but carried on with a shrug he hoped Damon understood as “Ok”. He slowed the movements of his head a little to focus once again on licking and tonguing the tip of Damon’s dick while simultaneously tightening and speeding up the hand he had on himself. Though he tried to keep his concentration on Damon, it became increasingly difficult as the heat and tension of his impending release took hold of every part of his body. He only realised he’d been moaning part way through a particularly stridulous one, simultaneously becoming aware that his spit was now soaking Damon’s dick and balls and starting to bedew Damon’s underwear beneath.
Though Damon didn’t seem bothered by any of it. He couldn’t take his eyes off Graham. His mouth had fallen open and his breath came in short bursts punctuated by soft moans.
Graham shivered under the intensity of the gaze. This wasn’t their usual drunk hand job in a toilet cubicle or quick (and quiet) blow job in the back of the tour bus once everyone else had passed out with the drink. Though Graham savoured, treasured and replayed each and every one of these fairly infrequent encounters, he was vividly aware that what was happening now was something new. Something more.
Graham knew he was only moments away from surrendering to the inevitable. He sucked a manageable amount of Damon back into his mouth and hollowed his cheeks. As the first spasm of his orgasm wracked his body, he near screamed around Damon who himself was already on the edge. Damon hastily grabbed for himself and with a few quick flicks of his wrist, pushed himself over the precipice of his own climax. The first jet of hot release across Graham’s tongue coincided with his last over his own knuckles. Close enough for him to consider it coming together. (He’d certainly remember it as such when stuck for inspiration in a lonely hotel room in the none-too-distant future.) He trembled through his own aftershocks, vibrating around Damon’s still twitching dick until they were both still and the quiet of the room became oppressive. Damon, as usual, was the first to speak.
“Yeah. Something like that.”
He threw his head back against the wall, exhausted and laughed to himself and a small damp spot on the ceiling.
Graham took advantage of his distraction to shakily get to his feet, grab Damon by the shoulders of his sweaty t-shirt and snog the air clean out of him. He flinched at first, clearly in recognition of where Graham’s mouth had just been but quickly sunk into a filthy, sloppy kiss.
He pulled away to survey Graham, smiling heavy-lidded and satisfied.
“We’re doing that again.”
“Let me have a drink first.”
Damon laughed and kissed Graham’s nose which was scrunched immediately by way of a response.
They quickly wriggled back into their clothes and wiped off on unfortunate old chairs before the door burst open and a ball of excitement brandishing a bottle of champagne exploded through it.
“Newcastle! We’re in fucking Newcastle!”
The bottle was pressed into Graham’s hand and an arm flung around his shoulder.
“Now come on you two. Wash your mouths out.”
He winked at Graham before gambolling into the distance. Graham froze. Damon stepped forward, wrapping his arms around him from behind and whispered into his ear,
“Well if he knows, we probably don’t have to be so quiet on the bus now.”