Page 87 of The Prodigal Son

Once it’s fully seated inside me, I shift my hips to feel it lightly grazing my prostate. I groan into Jensen’s neck.

“I’m so fucked,” I mumble, making him laugh. He strokes his hands up and down my back.

“You know you don’t have to wear it for the show if you don’t want to. You can always tell me no.”

I pull back and look into his eyes. “You’re sweet to say that, but trust me, I’d tell you no if I wanted to. You realize I’m a stubborn shithead, right?”

He gives me one of his signature crooked smiles. “Good. I want you to always tell me when you don’t like something. And tell other people the same. Don’t let anyone walk all over you.”

My eyes narrow as I lean in. “Stop talking like you won’t be around to protect me. I’m not worried about anything when I’m with you.”

His arms wrap me tightly against his body, and he breathes into my neck. He doesn’t respond, and it makes me a little unsettled. Jensen might be an enigma to me still, but it’s the subtle darkness hidden deep inside that scares me most of all. But I’m convinced that if I hold him tight enough and love him hard enough, I can scare all that darkness away.

It’s at the end of a long instrumental bridge when I first curse Jensen in my mind. For a while, I almost forgot the plug was there, but once I started moving around onstage and playing harder, I was reminded.

Oh, there it is.

Now, I just have to pray that no one can see the hard evidence in front of my jeans. Fans might be thinking, “Wow, Theo Virgilreallylikes to play guitar.”

And they’d be right. But it’s mostly the prostate-teasing plug in my ass that has me smiling more than normal, hiding my erection behind the microphone stand, and running backstage at odd times in the show to adjust myself.

I made sure to find Jensen’s seat before the show started this time so I could look out at the crowd and spot his smiling face—that smug bastard. I even grin down at him during his favorite song. On the next number, I do a little pelvic thrust move that drives the girls crazy. I hold hard eye contact with him for that part, and he narrows his eyes at me as I do.

But this instrumental bridge…this might be the death of me. It’s the first time I’ve ever genuinely worried about coming in my pants onstage in front of a few thousand people. At least I manage to play the chords correctly. That’s a new skill I didn’t know I had—playing the guitar while on the brink of an orgasm.

The toy isn’t the only reason tonight is different. I told Jensen I had a little something planned for him. And I’m slightly nervous about how it’s going to go.

After the wild song and the instrumental bridge from hell, I decide to slow things down. My band all head backstage for a break, and one of the crew members brings me out a stool.

With my guitar on my lap, I sit on the stool and bring the microphone to my lips. Gazing out at the crowd, there is nothing quite like this feeling. Just me, alone, in front of twenty thousand people.

And yet, it’s still somehow intimate.

I glance down at Jensen’s section and notice him checking his watch. Nine forty-five on the dot. Then he looks up at me with a tilt of his head and a quizzical look on his face.

I strum a new melody softly on my guitar. “I’m doing something a little different tonight,” I say into the microphone. I tug my earpiece from my ear, and it’s so quiet in the arena that I can hear my guitar playing on my lap.

“I don’t know if my record label is going to like this, but I’m going rogue,” I say, and some of the crowd cheers.

“You see…I wrote this song just a couple weeks ago,” I say, and they cheer again.

My hands are shaking, and for the first time, I’m nervous. It has nothing to do with the stage or the crowd, but rather, one person in it. And what I’m about to say.

Here goes nothing.

“Y’all know that stage of a relationship, when things are new, and you can’t get enough of the other person, and they just make you so fucking happy?”

I brave a glance up and find Jensen in the crowd. He’s watching me intently, the expression on his face serious.

“Y’all know that moment when you realize…that you’re in love with the other person. And that moment just feels like…magic.”

The crowd loses their minds, but my gaze doesn’t waver from him. I can see the moisture in his eyes, even from here. Then he gives me a subtle head nod, and I know he feels the same.

“Well, this song…is about that. This is for you. You know who you are.”

Twenty-Six

Jensen

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