Page 78 of High Notes & Hail Marys

“Kai…” he repeats.

“You’re being rude,” you mutter offhandedly.

That gets his attention. “What?”

“Rude,” you repeat. “I’m doing you a favor, and you’re rushing me? Where are the manners? Come to think of it, I don’t even recall hearing a ‘please.’”

“Of course I said ‘please,’” he protests.

“Nope.” When you shake your head, you part your lips, letting the mugginess of your mouth wash over Sterling’s clothed cock. It’s at about half-mast now, the rosy tip threatening to escape the thong. “You didn’t.”

There’s a beat in which Sterling is dumbfounded. You can almost hear the moment when his slightly torpid brain makes the connection. He puts his hands on your shoulders, and you are ready for him to push you away, but instead, he digs his fingers into the meat of your traps.

“Please,” he says.

You look up again. Sterling’s face is a little pink. Is he embarrassed? Flushed? Turned on? Whatever it is, it’s a good look on him. His hair, side-parted and falling over his brow, is still perfect. His lower lip is red and puffy from where he was chewing on it earlier. Deliberately, you hold his gaze. Summoning acting skills that you don’t really possess, you fix your sternest expression on your own features.

“Like you mean it,” you growl.

He gulps wetly. “Please, Kai. Please unbutton my pants. You are such a good boyfriend to help me out. I’ll do anything you want. Please. Please be nice to me.”

You laugh. Unable to help yourself, you run justthe tip of your tongue over Sterling’s panties, tasting dry silk and victory. But you aren’t inherently sadistic, just playing a game. So you undo his last two buttons and even part the flies of the pants for him.

“You need me to hold your dick for you, too?” you ask, joking as you get up from the floor. You are fully intending to leave the bathroom and wait in the green room. But Sterling’s face goes muzzy-happy, like he’s caught in the crosshairs of horny and delighted surprise.

“Yeah,” he breathes.

It’s your turn to be dumbfounded. “Come again?”

“Will you?” he asks.

You sigh the long-suffering sigh of put-upon boyfriends of superstars everywhere who just asked you to aim their cocks for them while they piss. One of these days, this man is going to do you in. The request is veering a little close to a kink that isn’t your particular thing, but it’s not like he’s asking to give you a golden shower.

Without answering, you take a step toward the toilet and push the seat up. Sterling comes over, holding onto his pants so they don’t slip off his hips. He widens the stance of his feet, and stands in front of the bowl.

This is something you’ve never done before, butyou figure that it can’t be that different from doing it to yourself. Worst case scenario, you have to mop up the floor afterward. From behind, Sterling’s hair smells like product and shampoo. You resist the urge to bury your face in it. Instead, you tilt your head down and tuck your chin atop his shoulder. You put one hand on Sterling’s waist, like you need to steady him. With the other, you reach into his briefs and pull out his dick. It’s mostly hard, despite his protests. This ain’t your circus and ain’t your monkeys, but you swipe two fingers over the slit of his cock anyway. With your big hand around the shaft, you angle his dick towards the bowl. The moment hangs heavy in the air.

He sighs when he starts to pee, like he’s surprised. You aren’t—you know from experience that, if a man needs to go badly enough, it’s mind over matter when it comes to erections—and your hand is steady. Sterling squares his hips, doing some of the aiming for you. The stream of urine is strong and loud, echoing through the quiet room. Amplifying the feeling that you are doing something illicit. His whole body shivers once, quickly, in relief. It goes on for a while, the pissing. He clearly wasn’t kidding about needing to go. Sterling is breathing loud enough to hear as well as feel with the press of his body against yours. You look at the wall, and you look at the wall, and you look at the wall, and then you look down. At your hand on his half-stiff dick; the pee splashing thebowl.

The stream loses its arc, slows, and finally cuts off. When he’s finished, you shake him dry. But you don’t move your hand. Or, rather, you don’t move itaway—it’s moving, all right, clenching and pulling Sterling’s cock. Like you want to milk the last drops out. Or, honestly, like you’re jerking him off.

“Oh, God,” Sterling whispers. You’re hard against his lower back, but you aren’t doing anything about it. You are moving your wrist, getting a good grip on his foreskin and establishing a consistent rhythm.

“I know,” you mumble. You really don’t know, don’t know what any of this is. But it’shim, so it’s sexy, and it’s all okay. It’s so okay that Sterling is rolling his head back against you, so okay that his cock is hot and hard and dribbling pre-cum already, so okay that you are sliding your other hand down the back of his pants and groping his perky ass as you fist his dick.

Sterling’s making pornographic noises, aching, delicious little moans that sound helpless. Thank god there’s a closed door and a green room with another closed door between you guys and the corridor. It’s unlikely that anyone would wander by, but theycould.The backstage door was unlocked. A well-meaning member of the DJ’s crew, or a cater waiter, or an errant guest couldcome down the hall and hear the birthday boy’s choked cries. Sterling Grayson, the biggest star in the world, getting his dick stroked in a bathroom. He’s being loud.

It spurs you to move your hand faster, picking up the pace. Reluctantly, you remove the hand pawing at Sterling’s ass and use it to cover his mouth. You make sure your fingers aren’t too firm, that you aren’t hurting him. Against your palm, Sterling makes a muffled noise of surprise. But then his tongue is out, and he’s licking your hand all sloppy.

You can’t help frotting against his back a little, just to relieve some of the tension in your groin. Sterling’s hands flutter and try to get backwards and between you, grabbing at your dick. The angle’s all wrong, not to mention the fact that you are strangely obsessed with this moment not being about you. This weird, dirty, kind of Bizarro World moment.

“No,” you say sharply. “Hands to yourself.”

Sterling stops instantly, but he also doesn’t listen completely. One hand comes up to grip the wrist near his face, near the hand covering his mouth. The other joins yours on his dick. He can’t get a good share of the real estate — your hand is too big — so his fingers are just kind of riding on yours, holding the back of your hand as you work him over.

Behind your palm, he’s still moaning, his breath coming hard and fast through his nose. If it’s possible, stifling the noises has made him make even more of them. You’ve never heard him this uninhibited. One of two things is going to happen, you realize: you are going to get him off from this fucking handjob, or you are going to black out from sheer over-stimulation and possibly die. You aren’t even the one being serviced, but your vision’s gone a little starry. You might have locked your knees. That must be it.

It ultimately doesn’t matter, because Sterling is right there. You can tell it’s coming: he’s drooling a little bit on your hand, and his cheeks are very hot, and his cries are getting closer together. His whole body is starting to stiffen, and he’s making little thrusting movements with his hips that drive himself harder into your hand, trapped as he is by your body and the toilet in front of him. Then he’s coming, with a noise that you feel all the way in your throat. You have the foresight to aim his dick once again, and cum splatters the rim of the toilet, not quite making it in. You jerk him through it, whisperinggood boy, good, good boyinto the mass of his hair as his body convulses.

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