Let the Music Play - 16. Encores

Taking a single bow, arms strung across each other’s bare shoulders as they stood side-by-side after their second encore, the four members of Instinct reveled in the cheers, looking out into an amphitheater lit by hundreds of camera flashes, and the occasional light-stick-illuminated beach ball.

Backing away, they turned, exiting to the side of the stage. As soon as they were out of the public eye, Brandon let out a whoop. “We did it... Nobody can tell me that crowd didn’t love us!”

Jon agreed. “Yeah, I admit it, I was a little nervous how they’d take to a new singer, but by the second song, I knew. So, did it feel like you thought it would?”

“Sorta, but different in some ways. I was nervous at first, but it was like I was feeding off their energy by the second song. It was such a rush – I never knew it could be like that.”

“Welcome to our world, bro,” Eric said with a big grin as he gave Brandon a slap on the back.

Looking around at the busy crew and looming reporters, Brandon asked, “What happens now?”

Coming up behind them wearing an enormous smile, Helen answered, “Now comes the backstage party, which is more a public relations event than anything. It will last for about an hour, and it’ll be a good one, because every indication says tonight was a hit. Congratulations, all of you, that was great.”

Eric pulled Brandon aside, and putting his hand beside his mouth said in a loud stage-whisper, “What that really means is we can get a little wasted and wild. Helen even approves because it’s part of the image and good PR.”

With a mock glare at Eric, Helen told Brandon, “He’s close, I suppose. Just keep it halfway sane, and that goes for all of you, okay?” She aimed a stern glare in Jon and Eric’s directions, “First, there’s about fifteen minutes with the press, then you guys can unwind, somewhat.”

Exchanging a lingering glance with Chase, Brandon knew that he wouldn’t drink much; he had far better plans for later that evening.

* * *

Dimitri paced at the center of the compound, checking his watch every few seconds, scanning the hilly horizon. With a sigh of relief, he spotted a cloud of reddish dust, raised by the very large truck coming into view in the harsh mid-day sun.

Wheeling the big truck into position alongside the main workshop, The Scar let out a sigh as he clicked off the engine, relieved to have his day’s journey over. Climbing down from the cab, feeling the exhaustion setting in, he smiled a wan smile as he greeted his chief of operations and his engineer. “Hello, Dimitri. Hello, Vladimir. Good to see you both again. How are things proceeding?”

Dimitri glanced around to confirm that they were alone and could not be overheard, “Only one small issue; we need a replacement for one of the gunsmiths; the old one wasn’t working out. Other than that, we are actually ahead of schedule as Vladimir has managed to have some of the jigs created. Did all go well on the supply end?”

The Scar took a quick glance around to satisfy himself that they were alone, “As well as can be expected. All the remaining machine tools and metallurgical supplies appear to be in the container, though it is packed too tightly for me to see much past the access hatches. There are a few items for our lens-grinding facility, but most of it is for here. We still need a source for the Kryton switches, and of course our shipment of plutonium which should be here in four days. We’ll keep the truck until then, so the pick up should be as easy as what I’ve done today.” Giving the engineer an appraising look, he added, “I need to review your final designs, but let us go inside, out of this accursed sun.”

After adjourning to the small farmhouse, the engineer and The Scar took seats at the rustic wooden table within the small but cozy kitchen as Dimitri busied himself making their tea. The Scar got right to the point with a single word, “Proceed.”

Taking a deep breath, the engineer began, “I have a finalized design, a very conservative one, and it should meet or exceed your specifications. To minimize the possibility of pre-ignition from neutron flux during detonation, I will use cylindrical implosion; instead of a sphere of plutonium, using a short, fat cylinder incorporating ten kilos. The cavity within the cylinder will contain some lithium hydride, part of which will convert to tritium under neutron bombardment during the initial stages of fission, providing a rich neutron source and increasing the yield.

“As I say, it is a very conservative design. The nominal yield will be around eighty kilotons, approximately seven times the yield of the bomb used on Hiroshima. However, we will lose some yield if we incorporate cobalt salting as you specified; utilizing cobalt for the outer case instead of depleted uranium will cost us about six kilotons due to the cobalt, unlike the uranium, not yielding much energy as it fissions under the neutron flux. The cobalt will, however, increase the fallout by several hundred fold.”

With a smile, The Scar replied, “What’s a few kilotons between friends, eh? Very well, now, for the key issue; how will the bombs be storable, unattended, for ten years or more and still be capable of use remotely?”

The engineer, feeling quite pleased with himself, drummed his fingers once before smiling a satisfied smile, “That was the hardest part. Your specification for a radio receiver to be operational at all times, combined with no external power source, made things nearly impossible, but I found a way. I will use a simple crystal-based radio receiver, which requires no power outside of that provided by the radio waves themselves. A processor taken from a cell phone will monitor the signal; those phones use most of their power in standby to transmit signals, so the signal processor and the attached control circuit will use far less than a single watt. It will also transmit nothing, no electromagnetic signature at all, exactly as you specified. It will be quite undetectable. The processor will monitor the pre-set frequencies for a specific set of tones, essentially the kind made when you press the keys on a non-pulse-dial telephone. Upon receipt of the correct consecutive sequence the control circuit opens a relay, activating the detonation sequence timer.”

“Very well, but what of the critical problem? This still uses some power and I need these devices to be operational, unattended, for ten years or more. What is the power source? Will we require some form of external supply?”

Smiling broadly, the engineer replied, “Nothing will be required, exactly as you specified. The main power will be supplied by a series of rechargeable lithium batteries, others of which, the non-rechargeable kind, will be a source for the lithium metal, easily converted to the lithium hydride we need. These rechargeables I will use are batteries for laptop computers; they are capable of a very high discharge rate, ideal for our needs. I will use fifty of them giving us a very large storage capacity, far more than we shall need, and thus much redundancy should they degrade over time. Now, as you know, Plutonium is warm to the touch due to radioactive decay, mainly emitting non-ionizing alpha radiation. We will take advantage of that heat source by incorporating a thermocouple into the support jigs for the core. A thermocouple generates electricity when exposed to a temperature gradient, essentially generating electricity from any heat source. This is how some space probes are powered, in situations such as missions to the outer planets where solar panels are rendered useless by being too great a distance from the sun. Those probes use Plutonium 238, which has a far shorter half-life and is thus a better heat source, but we only need a watt or two, while they require hundreds. This will be simple to do, and provide ample power to operate the signal processor and keep the batteries charged, giving an unattended service life of around fifteen or more years.” The engineer ended his lecture with smug smile at his own brilliance.

“That is very good, Vladimir, very good indeed. You have done exceedingly well. Now, what of supplies? What will you need?” the Scar asked.

“The electronics are child’s play; you can obtain what I need from most any electronics store. The crystals for the radio are available from the internet or a hobbyist’s shop, and I can make the thermocouples from simple copper and aluminum, which we already have. Aside from the explosives, what I need that you have not yet said you have is the cobalt itself. Simple cobalt metal will do, but I will need at least two hundred kilograms. It is not a controlled materiel, but to obtain it in such a quantity...”

With a snap of his fingers, The Scar replied, “This I have already arranged. We will get it from a metal foundry, as it is used for many alloys.”

* * *

The actinic glare of camera flashes dazzled them all as they entered the main backstage lounge. Swarmed by press, the four members of Instinct went their separate ways as Helen paired them off with pre-selected reporters.

While the interviews were underway, Helen whispered to her partner, “Barbra, I’ll shoo the press out a few minutes after the interview, so act fast and make it look good, sweetie.”

Chase, feeling very glad that the interview was over, tried and failed to avoid attention from the hovering reporters as he made his way towards Helen.

Finally making it to Helen’s side after disengaging from half a dozen reporters, Chase noticed that she was watching Brandon’s interview with more than casual interest. As soon as Brandon stood up at the end of his interview, Helen gave a subtle nod to Barbra.

Racing forward, just fast enough to create the intended notice, Barbra ran to Brandon as he approached, throwing her arms around him and giving him a quick, chaste kiss on the lips. With her arm draped down his bare back, she slid her hand into the back pocket of his shorts as he played along. Together, with Barbra’s hand still in place, they walked over towards Helen, as countless camera-flashes lit off around them.

As soon as Jon and Eric joined them, Helen whispered, “There’s too many press people in here for us to clear them out, so we’ll go to the dressing area, and then once we’re gone Günter and the venue security can start clearing the press out.”

Sensing that their quarry was leaving, the reporters swarmed close. It was only by Helen taking the point and pushing through the seething mass of people and proffered microphones allowed them to reach the door.

With her charges safely inside, Helen, with Günter’s help from the other side, shoved the door closed. Turning with a sigh, she said, “They’re always like that; the press is like a school of hungry sharks, only with fewer manners, but we have to put up with ‘em; its part of the business. You guys can relax now; the rest of the backstage party is private. I’ll go help usher them out, so I can fuel a few rumors...”

Returning to the swarming reporters, Helen ignored them all until she heard the question she’d been waiting for, “Who’s that girl with Brandon Wolfe? Are they an item?” a reporter yelled.

Adamantly shaking her head, Helen replied, “No, they’re just friends,” knowing full well that there was no better way to arouse a reporter’s curiosity and spark the rumor mill.

She didn’t have long to wait for the success of her plan to be confirmed, as several reporters jumped on the topic, asking for details on the girl. Helen smiled as she said, “No comment; they’re just good friends.”

Her task accomplished, Helen stood aside, thanking the reporters as they were ushered from the room.

As soon as the last newshound had been removed, she opened the dressing room door and hollered to her charges, “The coast is clear; y’all can come out now... ” The three brothers lingered behind, quibbling over the relative merits of the various hotels they’d stayed at, while Brandon, having nothing to add to the conversation, turned for the door.

No sooner had Brandon emerged from the room than he was nearly knocked over as he was given a frantic hug. Recognizing an old friend, Brandon gave her a hug back as he asked, “Glad you could make it. Where’s Jim?”

Linda stepped back, grinning at her old acquaintance, “He’s in Las Vegas, starting a new job. We’re moving in a few weeks. You utter rat! We don’t hear a word from you since you leave Phoenix, and then I get a letter with front-row Instinct tickets and a backstage pass with no explanation. I’d have fallen for it too, if I hadn’t already seen your picture on every damn magazine stand in town. Congratulations, you’re a hit!”

Brandon smiled, “I just wanted to thank you and Jim, and I did promise you autographs... speaking of which, come and meet the guys.”

With Linda in tow, Brandon re-entered the dressing room to find his band mates, who were still the sole occupants of the room. “Hey guys, remember me telling you about Linda and Jim, my only friends here in Phoenix? If Jim hadn’t let me sleep on his couch back when he was first dating Linda I probably wouldn’t have made it. They were the only people who didn’t drop me like a hot potato when I was outed... Linda’s been a fan for as long as I have, so I asked Helen to send ‘em tickets and passes. Jim’s away, but I’d like you all to meet Linda, and I promised her autographs...”

Linda shrieked with a glee that belied her twenty-five years as the three brothers gathered round. Eric signed the proffered autograph book first, standing aside while Jon and Chase took their turns. Brandon noticed Eric looking with a little too much interest at Linda’s rear, and he knew the look and what it meant by now, so he caught Eric’s eye and mouthed, “Hands off,” which Eric acknowledged with a grin and a shrug.

Shoving her autograph book at a surprised Brandon as soon as she’d finished with the three brothers, Linda elbowed him lightly in the ribs, “Hey sexy, you don’t think I’d miss the chance to get yours too, now did ya, Mister Lead Singer?” For the first time in his life, Brandon penned his autograph, blushing slightly as he did so. Linda smiled, “Damn, you’ve come a long way. Jim was really sorry he had to miss this.”

“You said you’re moving to Vegas, right? That’s our next stop. Let me give you my phone number and we’ll all get together. I’ll get you guys tickets for the show, too.”

Linda nodded her head, “I’m still packing up the house and I was planning on driving to Vegas the day after your concert there, but for this, I’ll leave a day early. Hey, I noticed that you said ‘outed’ to the Carlisle brothers back there. I guess that means they know about you?”

“Yeah, they know. They’ve been really cool...” Brandon paused, tempted to tell her about Chase, but realized he shouldn’t, “They’ve been totally supportive, but I’m not out by any means. I’m just waiting for my folks or some of the people I used to know to stir up trouble.”

“I haven’t heard much of anything from any of them about this. Your folks don’t seem like the types to read rock magazines and with your new name, which fits you well by the way, they might not know. I’ll bet they hear soon but you’ll be on the road by then. There’s not a hell of a lot they can do anyway, and they’d be fools not to realize that you now have the resources to make life hell for them if you feel like it.”

His eyes opened wide at that last remark. Brandon hadn’t thought of that angle himself, but he smiled as he realized it had much truth; he wasn’t at their mercy anymore.

After talking for a while and catching up, Brandon wished Linda a good night and set off in search of his band mates.

He found them, gathered around a table, doing shots of what Brandon was relieved to discover was not tequila, but whiskey, with the members of The Shadows.

The three Shadows had been drinking heavily, celebrating their big night, and Brandon grinned as Chase poured him a shot. Brandon braced himself for the burn, but found the whisky to be a lot less harsh than he’d expected. “It’s from Scotland, pretty good stuff,” Zeke, the Shadow’s guitarist, informed him.

Taking a seat at the table, Brandon passed on the next round, as did Chase. They were far from alone in the room; a throng of road crew and an assortment of fans with backstage passes had entered the room, with many of them crowding near the table.

With a barely suppressed chuckle, Brandon noticed that all the remaining fans seemed to be both female and hot. Several of them were jockeying for position beside the band members; one blond had already found a perch in Eric’s lap, and had her arm draped possessively over his bare shoulders.

After a few more rounds, Jon seemed satisfied with the brunette who had maneuvered her way to his side, elbowing out her competition.

The party continued, loud music blaring, for half an hour, by which time every musician, other than Brandon and Chase was pretty well lit, and had their dates for the evening. Brandon felt the unwelcome attention of several girls, including a few uninvited hands on his bare shoulders, and Chase had his own group of contenders as well. Brandon had to fight the urge to laugh; they were sure barking up the wrong tree.

Helen elbowed her way to the table, “The limos are waiting, time to go,” she said, tossing each of her charges a t-shirt.

The Shadows had their own limo to take them to their own hotel downtown. Parting company with handshakes and backslapping all around, though Brandon picked up on Zeke’s awkwardness where he was concerned. The Shadow’s lead singer gave Brandon a hostile glance, though Brandon failed to notice, as the two groups parted company. Three of the girls accompanied The Shadows, reveling in the attention.

Jon and Eric’s dates for the evening, firmly latched to the two brother’s sides, accompanied Instinct into the waiting white stretch limo, and Barbra made sure to take the seat beside Brandon. A few eyebrows were raised amongst the observers who noted that Chase, as usual, was unaccompanied, due to his staying close to Helen whose mere presence was enough to deter the groupies. What had seemed merely odd on the previous tour now aroused the curiosity of more than one reporter.

After a short drive up the un-crowded freeway – a very welcome change from Los Angeles – they were soon pulling into the Arizona Biltmore’s long driveway, which Brandon was surprised to note was lined with luxurious private homes.

Brandon’s first glimpse of the Biltmore itself amazed him; it was far different from anything he’s ever seen, a long, low front, just a couple of stories tall, with a few protrusions sticking up into the night sky. The lighting accentuated the palms and the building, but he could see little more through the limo’s dark glass.

The limo wheeled to a stop outside the main portico entrance, and several members of the hotel staff tried to keep the reporters at bay. In spite of their best efforts, Brandon found himself dazzled by a dozen flashes the moment he stepped out of the Limo. Unable to see much of anything, he staggered as Barbra took his arm, saying with a chuckle, “You’ll soon learn to avoid looking at cameras at night. Just hang on to me.”

Barbra made it look good; she and Brandon, arm in arm, walked up the red carpet into the Biltmore’s lobby, leaving the hotel staff to deny the reporters entrance to the hotel.

Once his eyes recovered, Brandon had a hard time believing what he was seeing; the lobby was as beautiful as he’d heard. The subdued lighting from the countless white ceramic illuminated blocks set into the walls and pillars glittered off the largest gold-leaf ceiling in the western world. He’d grown up in Phoenix, but he’d never before set foot in the Biltmore, and he was astounded. He didn’t have long to admire it, as a cadre of hotel staff lead them swiftly down the lobby, then up a gentle ramp to the left, and out into an enormous garden area, with glowing fountains centered in huge expanses of lawn. Rushing them through a long covered portico that skirted the lawn, the hotel staff ushered them into a two-story building, one of many that stood scattered around the seemingly endless acres of pools, fountains, and lawns.

Arriving on the second floor via the twin elevators, the efficient staff showed the guests to their respective suits. Eric and Jon’s were across the wide hall, and they soon disappeared within, along with their giggling dates.

Chase entered his alone, pausing only long enough to give Brandon a veiled wink. With a smile on his lips and Barbra still on his arm, Brandon walked into Helen’s suite, and the hotel manager said quietly to Helen, “We’ve declared this floor guests-only, and the elevator requires a room key-card from a room on this floor. There are only a few other guests on this floor, and we tried to ensure that none of them are members of the press. Let us know what you need, and we’ll do everything we can to oblige. Please enjoy your stay.”

Entering the suite to find Brandon and Barbra looking around the lavish room, Helen told Brandon, “Tonight went very well indeed. However, I did notice your unplanned deviation from the routine. That was risky, singing to Chase like that. In any case, I think everything went far better than we could have hoped.” Noticing that Brandon’s eyes had strayed to the wall between the two suites, Helen added with a chuckle, “Okay, Romeo, I see you’ve noticed that there’s no connecting door. We’ve been assured that this floor is press-free, but just in case, be careful in the hallway. Other than that, things should be just fine. Your room is the second one and that’s where your luggage is, so if you want to go, go.”

With a bashful grin and a nod, Brandon headed for his room, finding to his surprise that his luggage had already been unpacked. After picking out a pair of khaki pants and grabbing the fastest shower he could manage, he returned to his room, wearing just the pants and white sneakers, and left the door open as he began to frantically paw through his shirts. Pulling them out of the antique wardrobe one by one, he tossed the rejects on the bed as he continued his frenzied quest to look ‘just right’.

Helen glanced in the open door, “What are you being so particular about?” she asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Brandon began re-examining the shirts as he gushed, “I want to look just right tonight... for Chase.”

The light slowly dawning, Helen asked in an incredulous tone, “You mean to tell me you two still haven’t done it yet? Damn, you two are worse than uptight girls. Okay, I think I know just the thing... Where’s that white sweater we got you on Rodeo Drive?”

Brandon retrieved it from the wardrobe where he’d seen it, handing it to Helen with a puzzled look. “Isn’t it a bit warm for a long-sleeved sweater?”

Helen chuckled. “You won’t be wearing it, not exactly. Stand still.” Brandon forced himself to stop fidgeting, and Helen draped the sweater over his shoulders, crossing the sweater’s arms on his bare chest and then pulling one around the other. Turning Brandon towards a mirror, she handed him a comb from her purse. He combed his hair into place, and had to admit that the white sweater looked good against his tan skin, even if it did look a little like a cape. “Thanks Helen, this looks great,” he said while returning her comb.

“Go on, have fun. Just be good to each other,” Helen said with a knowing smile. Brandon didn’t need any further encouragement, and took off at a fast walk.

Puffing his chest out a little, Brandon tapped on Chase’s door. Seconds later, Chase opened it, wearing cargo shorts and a grin. Chase said nothing for a few moments as he ran his eyes over his boyfriend’s bare torso, and Brandon asked, feeling slightly nervous, “Can I come in?”

By way of an answer, Chase pulled Brandon into the room, kicking the door shut behind them with his foot as he pulled Brandon in for a deep and passionate kiss. Coming up for air a couple of minutes later, Chase said, “I got the song... I mean, I know you wrote it for me.”

Looking into Chase’s sparkling blue eyes, smiling from the heart, Brandon circled his thumbs on Chase’s bare back as he said, “Yeah, I did. I didn’t know you then, it was just a crush, but that poster meant a lot to me, and now you mean so much more...” he said, before their tongues danced again.

A few minutes later, as they caught their breath for a moment, Chase said, “I figured you’d be as hungry as I am, so I ordered us some dinner. I hope you like Chateaubriand, because I ordered it for two.”

Brandon felt his stomach growl at the mention of food, and though he was hungry for other things, he knew Chase must be starved, too. “Chateaubriandsounds great... Uh, what is it?”

Chase smiled as he led Brandon into the living room, “The best beef you’ve ever had.”

Brandon found Chase’s suite to be much like Helen’s; very lavish, though a little over furnished. Taking a seat beside Chase, enjoying the feel as their shoulders rubbed together, Brandon wasted no time in pulling Chase in for another kiss.

A few minutes later, a soft knock at the door announced the meal’s arrival, and Chase let the server in. With practiced speed, he set out the trimmings and utensils on Chase’s table. “Enjoy your meal, sirs,” he said before taking his leave. Noticing Brandon’s concerned glance at the departing server, Chase added, “Don’t worry about it. Places like this look after their guests, and that includes privacy and confidentiality, so it doesn’t matter if he figures anything out.”

Digging into the fancy dinner, Brandon had to admit, it really was the best beef he’d ever had. After finishing off the main course and some apple pie for dessert, Brandon’s mind turned to other desserts. As Chase finished, the friendly chatter they’d been enjoying morphed into an awkward silence, broken only as Chase asked, “Do you want to sit on the couch a while, or...”

Catching the meaning, Brandon smiled, trying to re-assure Chase. “The couch sounds good...”

Sitting down beside his boyfriend, Brandon was surprised when Chase, whom he’d thought nervous, pulled him into a deep kiss. Running his hands over Chase’s back, Brandon didn’t find the tension he’s expected, Chase seemed instead to be relaxed.

Breaking the kiss in order to nibble on Chase’s neck, Brandon traced his fingers along Chase’s chest, pausing only to circle a thumb around Chase’s left nipple. As Brandon dropped his head to tongue Chase’s other nipple Chase shuddered, the sensation sending delicious chills down his spine.

Trying to make things special for Chase, Brandon tried his best to act serious and romantic, taking care to give Chase as much pleasure as possible, without realizing that his demeanor was having the opposite effect of his desired intent. Chase pulled back from nibbling on Brandon’s neck to ask, “What’s up? You’re as tense as hell. Are you nervous?”

Pausing from his task, Brandon looked into Chase’s eyes to say, “I just want to make this special for you.”

Chase eased away from Brandon, his mouth twitching up in a slight smile as he realized what Brandon intended. “You’re trying so hard to look after me that you’re getting tense. Brand, I want this for us, not just me. Just relax...”

Enjoying the sound of Chase’s abbreviation of his name, Brandon nodded, “I’m the one who’s supposed to be telling you to relax. My other times weren’t like this; they were kind of hurried and didn’t mean much. I just wish I had more experience at this...”

Chase arched an eyebrow, breaking into a grin to let Brandon know he wasn’t serious. “Dude, you pretty much just said you wish you’d had more sex before we met.”

Beginning to laugh, Brandon replied, “I didn’t mean it like that...” He never got a chance to finish, because Chase shut him up with a kiss.

Feeling Brandon’s tension had eased but not disappeared, Chase moved his hands to Brandon’s sides, with his fingertips positioned over Brandon’s ribs. Breaking the kiss, he said, “I remember something about you from that time Helen interrupted us. Can you guess what?”

Brandon began to shake his head, arching an eyebrow in puzzlement, as he took note of Chase’s devilish grin, and glanced down. Seeing where Chase’s hands were, Brandon chuckled nervously. “You wouldn’t...”

Chase both would, and did; whispering the words, “You’re ticklish,” he began attacking Brandon’s ribs with his fingers, reducing his boyfriend to a squirming victim as they filled the room with their laughter. Trying to escape Chase’s tormenting fingers, Brandon lay back on the sofa, trying to pull Chase with him, but Chase had other ideas.

Pulling free, Chase stood up as he gave Brandon’s ribs one last attack, and then backpedaling as Brandon got up, mischief in his green eyes, looking for some playful revenge. Chase grinned as Brandon rushed at him, chuckling as Brandon tried his own tickling.

“I’m not that ticklish, but you are...”Chase commented as he resumed his attack for a moment, causing Brandon to double up. Breaking away at a jog, Chase bolted through an open door with Brandon in pursuit.

Chase, still wearing an impish grin, laughed as Brandon tackled him from behind, launching them both into the soft embrace of the king-sized bed. Laughing, Chase attacked Brandon’s ribs again, curling on top of him as Brandon writhed and giggled. Chase stopped only for a moment before leaning in for a kiss.

Pulling back to catch his breath after a long and deep kiss, Chase pulled Brandon further onto the bed, until they faced one another, laying side by side. Allowing his hands to roam freely over Brandon’s side and shoulders, reveling in the touch of his hot, bare skin as their chests met again, Chase said in a low whisper, “you’re overdressed.” Attacking Brandon’s ribs once again, Chase rolled on top of his squirming, laughing boyfriend, tugging open the button of his pants before scooting backwards, pulling the pants with him. Brandon laughed as the pants, to Chase’s evident frustration, became tangled up around his ankles, due to Brandon’s shoes being in the way. Rolling over onto his back, Brandon kicked off the shoes and let Chase pull off the pants and socks.

Tossing the pants over his shoulder, letting his eyes drink in the sight of Brandon in tight black briefs. Chase stood at the foot of the bed, grinning as he said, “Now I’m the one who’s overdressed.” With a flick of his writs, Chase untied the drawstring of his shorts, giving them one quick downwards shove and letting them fall to the floor.

Chase fought the urge to laugh as Brandon’s jaw dropped slightly at the sight of his naked body, and jumped back into the bed, scrambling on top of Brandon, hearing his sigh as their bodies pressed together, as their tongues resumed a more cautious, deliberate duel.

Inflamed by the touch and the sensations, Brandon slid his hands slowly up Chase’s back, making him tremble, pressing closer. Chase used a free hand to knead Brandon’s bicep, feeling hard muscle flex and move beneath the smooth skin. Frustrated by the last barrier between them, Chase eased back, raking his fingers down his boyfriend’s sides, and hooking them under the waistband of the black briefs. With one fluid movement, Chase pivoted back onto his knees, tugging Brandon’s briefs off, taking a long moment to admire his boyfriend’s bare and aroused body, before retuning to his place as their naked bodies melted together.

Roaming hands teased and then more, as the kissing became frenzied. Brandon felt Chase thrusting their hips together, the sensation casing him to groan with pleasure into the kiss. Chase pulled back, lowering his head and arching his back, as he angled his neck to trace his tongue down the cleft of Brandon’s chest. Still on his back, Brandon let out a sigh of pleasure, kneading the muscles of Chase’s back.

Breath came in ragged gasps as the intensity rose, hesitancies abandoned, subsumed by purest instinct. Chase paused for a few moments, staring into Brandon’s green eyes, nothing but their hot and labored breath between them, before succumbing to his hunger to taste Brandon’s lips once again.

With carefree ease, Brandon levered his arms between them, lifting Chase, rolling him from on top so that they lay side by side, giving Brandon the access for what he had in mind. Tonguing Chase’s nipples one after the other, he felt Chase writhe from the sensation, grinding their bodies together, each craving the touch and feel of the other.

Chase moaned softly as Brandon ran his tongue down the cleft of his chiseled chest, tracing Chase’s nipples with his thumbs, his own gentle touches raising goose flesh as his fingers traced Brandon’s back.

Their bodies writhing, souls afire, burning for one another, the two lovers oblivious to everything but one another, Brandon and Chase gave freely of themselves. Feeling the pressure build from Chase’s relentless grinding, now echoed by some of his own, Brandon buried his face for a moment in Chase’s hair, smelling the faint tang of limes.

Sliding his hand between them, Chase traced his boyfriend’s hard, sweat-slickened abs, reveling in the feel of him, the heat, the movement, and the earnest passion which consumed them both.

Barely able to think, Brandon gasped as Chase nibbled on his chest. Raising Chase’s head with his hands, Brandon brushed Chase’s lips with his own, pausing for only a bare moment before sating his hunger for another frenzied kiss, emotions running rampant...

Brandon’s hands roamed Chase’s heaving sides, and he felt Chase’s hands on his chest, less gentle, more demanding, and he knew that Chase was getting close.

Feeling Chase’s flexing muscles tense, Brandon began kneading his lover’s lats, pulling their bodies even more tightly together, lips locked to his, every muscle trembling while grinding together with a fury, until senses exploded and passions flared to the perfect peak: together.

Breaking their kiss, gasping for breath, basking in the afterglow, Chase managed to whisper; “Now that was worth waiting for.”

After giving Chase a quick kiss and a hug, Brandon replied, “Let’s go get cleaned up in your shower... then we can really take our time on the next round, and the one after that...”

“And the one after that,” Chase said with a sated grin as he pulled Brandon towards the waiting shower...