The brunette stood transfixed on the floor of the night club. He wore his school uniform, khakis, tie, white button up and blazer. His long brown hair neatly tied back, and his glasses on, he didn't fit in with the rock club crowd with their knowing smiles and skin tight leather. He stared worshipfully at the glorious wildly dressed musicians on stage, long teased hair and bright makeup. They postured aggressively for the crowd, matching their music, the redheaded vocalist giving them all a sultry look. Charles watched Snakes N' Barrels, all of seventeen and fresh out of Exeter. He'd just graduated that day, and this was his choice of reward. His parents were in Europe, and so here he was seeing his favorite band.
On stage the redhead stomped and gyrated against his guitar, tossing his hair and smirking. He knew he was gorgeous, knew he was adored. He smirked, catching sight of the prim young man staring up, awe struck from the bacchanalian crowd. Oh, he knew he'd be taking back stage after this show.
When their set finished he hopped off stage, moving through the crowd towards the brunette. "Hey der'" he said with a rakish grin. Charles had to stifle a gasp when he realized that Red, his idol, was speaking to him.
"H-hi," he stammered shyly, pushing his glasses up his nose.
"What's yer name, kid?" asked Red looking him up and down, who really couldn't have been much older than Charles.
"I'm Charles... or Charlie," he replied, surprised he'd managed to remember his name so overwhelmed with the presence of the redheaded rock god in front of him.
"So, what's a nice boy like you doin' in a place like this?" asked Pickles with a smirk.
Charles flushed, reminded of his less than apropos attire. "I just graduated from highschool," he admitted, "like... today."
Pickles smiled, god could this one get any cuter?
"So what yer sayin is, you aint actually that much of a goody goody, huh?" said the rockstar.
"I mean... I don't know, I guess..." said Charles flushing.
"Christ yer cute," the rockstar responded with a wicked grin, "C'mon back stage, I'll introduce you to the band." At that statement, all bets were off. Charles again had to keep from screaming in fanboyish glee.
"Y-y-yes," said Charles allowing himself to be lead off. Red lead him backstage. "C'mon, you're partyin' with us tonight," he said, allowing for no arguments, not that Charles would have made any.
The brunette followed heart fluttering in his chest, back stage Snizzy, Candy and Tony were all sprawled in the green room with bottles of liquor and a few scantily clad girls. At Red's entrance they looked up, shoving the groupies to the side.
"Hey, look what Red brought back," said Snizzy with a broad smirk.
"Cute," said Candy with a wolfish smile, giving Red an appreciative nod. Charlie flushed.
"I- can't believe I'm here," squeaked Charlie, awe struck to be surrounded by the members of his favorite. Red grinned, enjoying the slightly hint of envy radiating from the others, groupies were a dime a dozen, a sweet little virgin like Charlie? Well that was a rarity.
"Tony, Snizzy, Candy, meet Charlie," he said, waving towards them. "Tony, get our new friend a drink."
"Nice to meet you, catch," said Tony, tossing him a bottle of rum. Charlie caught it awkwardly. He'd never drunk hard liquor before, never anything other than a forbidden beer at the occasional party. Still, this was Snakes N' Barrels, and so off came the cap and he took a swig. It burned, but not as badly as he'd expected. He managed to cover the wince, but Red noticed.
"Tony, we got anything to mix that with?" he asked, leading Charles to a seat on the sofa. Tony nodded and came up with a plastic cup and some cranberry juice, mixing a strong drink and giving it to the new comer.
"So, yer from some private school, huh?" asked the redhead with a raised brow, eyeing the other's uniform.
"Exeter," he said, blushing more, knowing his expensive private school education didn't exactly help him fit in with the rock gods that surrounded him.
"Dood, so yer pretty smart den, huh?" said Pickles, as Charlie sipped his drink, much more bearable than straight liquor. Pickles himself was gifted, he'd been on the verge of graduating two years early when he'd left home, but his family had driven him out before he'd finished. Not that he regretted it, being a rockstar seemed to him a pretty good recompense for not graduating high school.
"Yeah, I guess," the brunette said with a little laugh, the liquor was beginning to hit him, and the sweet aromatic smoke filling the room seemed to make reality a little fuzzy. The building had been a theater in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, and the furnishings here had remained unchanged, velvet sofas with ornately carved wood details, oriental rugs, and antique mirrors made the smokey room look even more mythic, even more like a scene from another time, another world. Red put a hand on Charlie's thigh, as they talked, about the brunette's education, about the band's upcoming album. Red told road stories and got Charles laughing, Charles told spoiled rich kid stories and got Red laughing. Red found himself thinking this one would be more than another virginity for his collection, this charming, unconsciously sexy, potentially gorgeous, deliciously corruptible prep school boy was something he wanted for more than a quick fuck.
After a drink more Charles was in the redhead's lap, hair out of its pony tail hanging in chestnut waves about his shoulders, with his blazer half off. The vocalist's hands slid over Charles's body, fingers itching to get under his shirt, to yank off the tie. Finally, he could resist no longer.
"How bout' we find some privacy dere, chief?" he suggested, giving the other a lustful look. Charles agreed with drunken enthusiasm, practically falling off the redhead's lap. Red lead him away, down the corridor to his dressing room, before pulling him into a wanton kiss. Later he'd want the other dolled up, probably by Candy, who's skills with hair and makeup bordered on the miraculous, but for now, he wanted to fuck the innocence out of Charles Foster Ofdensen. Their lips met fiercely, viciously. The rockstar's tongue invaded the fan's mouth, as he yanked open the other's shirt, ripping fabric and causing buttons to pop off. Charlie moaned, barely registering the ruined garment.
Pickles grinned, slamming the other man against a wall, a hand fisting in the silky brunette locks, as the other worked to undo the belt buckle on Charles's trousers. Charlie groaned as Red divested him of his pants and boxer shorts while he was at it. Red sank his teeth into Charles's neck, making him moan in pleasure. It felt like fire, he'd made out before, but never with a guy, and never like this. He trembled, he ached for more. Red was an animal, a glittering animal, with eyes made up with metallic silver and heavy black liner, lips glossy, a neon green star painted one cheek, and dressed in skin tight leather pants, platform heeled boots, a fishnet top, big hoop earrings, and far too much jewelry to be decent. He was a sight to behold, sex incarnate and all Charles could think was that this rock god wanted him.
He made a pretty picture, naked, blushing, cock hard, and lips pink and shiny with Red's gloss. All that smooth unmarked pale skin. Pickles licked his lips, unzipping his fly, and taking out his cock.
"Hey der, babe," said the rockstar, in a voice hoarse with desire, "you wanna get on yer knees fer me?" he adds, voice softening, coaxing, as if he's trying to get a shy animal to come to him. Charles bit his lip, before awkwardly getting down on his knees. He licked his lips, looking up, questioningly. He knew what the rockstar wanted, no seventeen year old is so innocent they don't know what a blow job is.
"Well, c'mon, babe," said Red with a smile and a gentle tug on the other's hair. Charles parted his lips, covering his teeth before starting in. The taste was salty, human, a little bitter, not entirely unpleasant. He licked along the underside, sucking, bobbing his head, vaguely remembering seeing a girl pretending to fellate a bottle. He copied what he remembered, and Pickles moaned. It certainly wasn't the best blow job he'd had but for someone so obviously uninitiated, it wasn't half bad, and with a little practice the rockstar could tell he'd be amazing. The redhead moaned, thrusting into the other's mouth, making him choke just a little before finally pulling out. Charles looked up, face flushed, and lips swollen. He was hard, aching for it, cock dripping with desire, The redhead grinned. "Git up, and lay down over there" he said, motioning for Charles to stand. The brunette stood, waiting, expectant as Red dug out lube.
"You wanna be fucked, babe?" asked the redhead, and Charles drunk and wanton, moaned his assent. Red was so goddamn hot, and looking at Charles, sprawled before him. The rockstar grinned like a snake, lubing up his fingers and sliding one into virgin tight Charlie, who moaned, bucking his hips. It felt... odd having something sliding inside him, no pleasure at first, but the fact that it was Pickles made him quiver with desire. Pickles curved his fingers to find the other's core, that little bundle of nerves, and Charles jumped, moaning in ecstasy. Soon enough Charles was ready, and Pickles thrust in, slow and gentle giving him plenty of time to adjust. The brunette's eyes closed, and he moaned low. This is like nothing he'd experienced before, Pickles above him, red hair brushing electric over his skin, and he could hear Motley Crue blasting on the stereo.
"Jesus," he moaned softly, eyes open again, not wanting to miss an instant of this, after all he still thought he was going back to reality after that night. Pickles took n the expression, and kissed him again, passionate, lightly drawing his teeth over the younger man's lower lip, before biting down properly, and then he started to move, slow at first, each slow stroke drawing needy gasps from the brunette.
"Holy," gasped Charlie, and Red grinned.
"Ya like that, babe?" he purred, heavily made up green eyes sparkling, pausing for a moment.
"Yeah, I like it," growls Charles, clearly not happy about Pickles stopping.
"C'mon, you c'n do better than that, dood," said Red with a note of amusement in his voice, "or is mister prep school too fancy t' talk dirty?"
Charles flushed, opening his mouth without knowing quite what to say, but then a moment later his expression changed, and he knew exactly what to say.
"Yeah, I fucking like it, and I fucking want it, I want you to fuck me, I want to be raw and wild for once in my goddamn life, and you've already started so you'd damn well better finish this," he growled, bucking his hips, and giving the other a cocky look to rival the rockstar himself. That did it, Pickles began in earnest, grabbing the brunette by the hair and slamming into him.
"Ya like that, ya little whore?" he demanded, driving his cock deep within the other man until it half hurt, but the pain was exquisite and just heightened the pleasure that coursed through the complete circuit of their bodies.
"Yeah, yeah, oh god yeah," pants Charles, clawing at the rockstar's back, leaving long red marks, bucking his hips up in time, clearly a natural at least in this respect. Pickles moaned, rocked his hips, desperate for more of that tight perfect ass, more of those breathy cries. He conquered the other's body, smashing down Charlie's barriers like a warrior invading a city, and with every thrust Charles lost a little of his shyness, louder, more enthusiastic, more vocal. Lean muscles worked for shared pleasured, driving themselves together to create ecstasy generating friction. Skin gleamed with sweat from the effort, breathing ragged as they got built towards orgasm. Energy building for an explosion. Pleasure reverberating like guitar strings as they snarled and kissed, thought gone, lost in each other. They fucked like animals. For Charles this was unreal, his hero, a man who was to him a legend, was fucking him, and their flesh and blood lust was proof to him that gods walked the earth, that there was no falsehood in rock n' roll mythology.
"Gahd," groaned Pickles, "ya feel so gahd damn good," he added, laying a stinging smack on the other man's ass. Charles could only moan in response, and cling to Pickles, shuddering, desperate to finish, desire was the most exquisite. The brunette knew he'd come the second the redhead touched his cock, trying his best to hold back even now, wanting to extend this moment.
"I'm so close," cried Charles, overwhelmed by the sensation, by the situation, by the utter unbelievable beauty of the moment. Finally, Pickles wraps a hand around the brunette's cock, stroking in time with his rough thrusts.
"Then fuckin' come fer me," said the rockstar, and Charles came shaking, moaning, practically sobbing as he spilt himself across his stomach. Pickles grinned, pulling out to jack himself off and finish all over Charlie's face, before they fell together panting.
"You're amazing," managed Charles as he cleaned himself up with the wreckage of his shirt.
"Yer naht bahd yerself, kid," said the redhead with a laugh, "sahrry about the shirt," he added, giving the garment a rueful glance, before lighting himself a cigarette, and offering one to Charlie, who took it, took a drag and coughed, which drew a laugh from the redhead.
"Gahd, yer cute," he said, shaking his head, "all innocent and whatever, it's fuckin' adorable."
Charles smiled.
"Well, apparently not that innocent now," he said laughing.
"Nah, yer still pretty innocent, compared t' the rest of us," replied the rockstar, "what er' you planning to do now that yer out of school?"
"I want to go into entertainment law and management," said the brunette with a sigh, "I mean really I'd rather be a rockstar, but my parents'd flip, and well... not everyone's you. I'd just settle for... being involved you know?"
The redhead's eyes lit up, oh what a fortuitous meeting. A fun new toy for Red, and for Charlie, an internship that'd look incredible on college applications... not to mention the chance to follow his favorite band on the road.
"Is that so, huh?" said Red with a grin, "well I mean we're up for takin' an intern or somethin, our manager dood, Johnny'd be happy to teach you stuff. We'd need t' leave tomorrow morning, but yer a boardin' school kid, you prolly have yer shit packed already."
Charles blinked, and had to restrain himself to keep from acting like an over excited idiot.
"I- wow, uh, fuck yeah," he exclaimed, "my stuff's all in my car... just clothes and books and records, but I can send a lot of it home."
Red nodded, "cool, wha'd y' drive?" he asked.
"A sixty-seven Chevy convertible, fire engine red," he said with a grin, "restored it myself."
"Nice, real nice," said the rockstar appreciatively, "I have a lotta cars, lately I've been fond a' this vintage mustang. We'll make sure it gets taken care of, babe, n' room n' board n' whatever. Johnny's been' whinin' about an assistant ferever so, yer prahbably gahnna be a gahd send."
Charles nodded, overwhelmed by everything that was happening and still quite drunk.
"Uh, yeah," he said trying to keep up "I mean I'll have to call my parents. I can be here awhile, summer and longer, I was planning to take off for a semester abroad, but... this is better."
Pickles smirked, so he was his for the summer at least, and possibly, if possible longer. "Sounds great, dood," he said, grinning, before running his fingers through Charlie's blunt cut brown hair, examining him.
Pickles hummed, "we're gahnna have t' do somethin' about yer look, we gaht an image t' uphold," he added with a laugh, "I'm gahnna send ya t' Candy and he'll get ya fixed up."
Charles blinked, the idea of being prettied up by the drummer felt odd, sudden, as if he was being inducted into the band. Still, he agreed if he could have another drink first, to kill his nerves. Pickles chuckled.
"Y' cahn always have more booze, babe," he said, helping Charles get partially dressed and helping him up.
Charles allowed himself to be lead to the car in Red's leather jacket, and then taken over to the hotel, where Candy, Snizzy, and one of the groupies were all tangled naked on a bed together. Charlie blushed a little, still shy about walking around semi-topless and seeing his favorite band in such intimate positions, Sammy and Snizzy's affectionate pose making it obvious the pair were a doting couple. He felt he was invading into some sanctum in which he, a mere mortal, did not belong, and yet by Red's side he felt elevated. Red snapped his fingers and the other men jumped.
"Candy, I need ya t' fix Charlie here up t' look haht, hair n' makeup, n' whatever," he said gesturing at the brunette, "he's comin' with us ahn tour, n' he needs t' fit in."
Candy stretched himself languidly before getting up. "He's already hot, Red," said the blond with a laugh, "but I'll doll him up for you."
"Come on then," said the drummer, motioning for Charles to follow him into an adjoining room. While the rest of the band smoked and played cards, Candy got Charles cleaned up, bleached and layered, waxed, polished, plucked, preened, powdered, glossed, lined, rouged, pierced, teased, fluffed, sprayed, dressed, and generally transformed from stiffly dressed valedictorian to slutty glam rocker.
Candy reappeared about three and a half hours later, to find the others dozing in various states of drunkenness and undress. He cleared his throat and they woke.
"Gentlemen," he said in an amused tone, "may I present, the new meat. Charlie c'mon out here, babe."
Pickles's jaw dropped. He was... stunning.
-TBC-
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