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A Deviant Spawn Christmas

By: LoveBird1929



Author's Note:

Happy Holidays! A Christmas story for my readers!

This story is very, very lightly inspired by yaoi. And when I say lightly, I mean I have not taken the time to read up on yaoi to determine what it's really all about. In fact, the most research I've done on yaoi is reading Jet Mykles Heaven Sent series which I've read on message boards some people don't consider to be true yaoi for this reason or that. With that being said, this story is very, very heavily inspired by Jet Mykles. I just recently reread about Johnnie Heaven and Lucas Sloane of Heaven Sent fame and decided to write a story of my own about a rock band with a few magnetic bandmates.

I won't tell you yet what song kept running through mind while I wrote this piece. I don't want there to be an influence on anyone's opinions of the characters other than the descriptions I've provided and your vivid imaginations lol...but, if you're interested in learning the identity of the song, see notes at end. And please feel free to share with me any songs you think fit Deviant Spawn's image.

Thanks for reading! And voting!

*

"Man, dude, this is so beast! I still can't believe that it's happening to us! Us, Rory, as in me and you!"

Rory rolled his eyes as Shane Wilkinson exalted yet again the gift Rory's cousin had given to them for Christmas this year. The exaltation had been going on almost nonstop for the past twenty-four hours, ever since Rory had told his best friend about the gift, and, quite frankly, Rory was way beyond the point of being tired of hearing about its coolness.

"This is Deviant Spawn we're talking about," Shane gushed, black outlined lapis lazuli eyes glowing, head of blue tipped black spiked hair bobbing animatedly with each word. "Deviant Spawn! And we're about to meet them! I can't believe it! I just can't fucking wrap my mind around it!"

Rory couldn't wrap his mind around the fact he hadn't yet wrapped each and every one of the exclamation points ending each and every one of Shane's sentences around Shane's pretty, little, leather collared throat.

After listening to his friend babble for several minutes more, Rory decided he would give Shane the proof he seemed to so desperately need that he wasn't dreaming. Just as he determined to administer that small dose of reality through a pinch strategically placed to the mesh covered, soft, sensitive skin of the inner part of Shane's upper arm, Shane jumped to his feet and raced to the safety of the double doors. He opened one just wide enough to stick his porcupine head through, then quickly pulled it back inside, let the door slam shut, and emitted an eardrum rupturing screech.

"They're here, Rory! They're here! They're coming down the hall! Right now! I kid you not!" Shane did a twirling dance that was the physical personification of his excitement.

"Shane," Rory called calmly.

"I can't believe we're getting ready to meet Taz—"

"Shane."

"Angel—"

"Shane."

"And Revelin."

"Shane!"

"What?"

"Sit." Rory pointed to the red-gold plush cushion of the couch, right next to where he sat. The gold bangle bracelets lining his wrist jangled with his sudden movement and light from the harsh fluorescents high overhead glittered off his ring's oversized yellow topaz stone. "Your head is going to explode if you don't calm down."

"I'll risk detonation for the opportunity to meet Deviant Spawn." Shane obediently drifted over to drop down on the seat beside Rory. "It would so be worth it."

"Star struck much?" Rory couldn't help but tease.

If this was how his friend acted just over the thought of meeting the band well known not only for their lyrical take on the alternative genre of rock, but also for the alternative lifestyles they publicly led, he could only imagine how much worse it would be once the members actually walked through the door. He'd probably end up having to pry a humping Shane off their legs like he was some horny, unneutered mutt.

And it was at that very moment Rory realized how lucky he was his cousin had arranged for him to meet some of the musicians she'd met in the course of her job over the past few years. Sure, none were big as Deviant Spawn, and probably never would be, but they had still been good practice for Rory to perfect the calm, collected demeanor he was currently pulling off with very little effort.

"Why, yes, Rory, I am star struck. And I wish you'd stop faking like you're not, too," Shane said, bottom lip extended in a contrived pout. "Because I know you and I know you're excited. But you got this whole unperturbed vibe going on right now and it sucks. Sucks donkey balls. Giant donkey balls. Great, big, giant, hairy, sweaty—"

"Will you quit with your overly descriptive lamentation of the genitalia of your brethren, already, jackass? And while you're at it, reel the lip in, Shane. I get the point. And, FYI, I am excited," Rory responded, blowing a wayward lock of hair out of his eyes. It seemed to have lately taken up permanent residence there. He really should have gone to get a trim before the concert, but he'd run out of time. It had taken him forever to rummage through his closet searching for the perfect outfit before finally settling on his much loved, cream, v-neck sweater paired with form fitting, tan pants he knew clung to his ass just so. Then it had taken another eternity to enhance his looks through the technique he'd long ago perfected of applying a complementing light coat of make-up. "I'm just better at managing my enthusiasm than you. I have had previous experience in these types of situations, after all."

"Meeting local talent doesn't automatically qualify you as some type of authority," Shane said dryly. "And is that the standard you really want to use? In that case, don't forget to sign me up as a guru because I've even managed to meet some of our city's local talent."

"And yet and still, you're the one acting like a fangirl right now."

"I am not. This is excitement you see, Rory. I'm excited. Just like you should be..." Shane paused for dramatic flair before adding with a sly smile, "...pretty boy."

"Do not call me that!" Rory snapped, slapping his own leg for effect. He knew he was femme, anyone who met him who possessed even the minutest amount of common sense knew he was femme, but he hated it when people called him pretty boy. Just because he was effeminate did not also mean he was some scared ass, pansy wimp as the disrespectful label implied.

In truth, most people who met him soon discovered that all five foot-eight inches, one hundred and fifty-five pounds of Rory Banks to be quite feisty.

"Then don't call me—" The rest of Shane's retort died on black painted lips as the door swung open.

Images of gothic, overly friendly cocker spaniel's filling his mind, Rory clamped a hand firmly on his friend's wrist to prevent Shane from bolting from his seat again. And possibly embarrassing the both of them in the process. He didn't even want to think about having to explain to his cousin how he'd inadvertently let Shane sexually assault the rock group. Especially not after she'd somehow managed to finagle this extremely rare backstage meeting with Deviant Spawn post their very first stateside concert, held on Christmas Eve in Orlando, after a successful year and a half long stint in Europe. Rory knew his cousin had met the band some years before, and was considered by them a close acquaintance of sorts, but this meeting she'd set up for Rory and Shane was unheard of.

Angel was the first member through the door. Of medium height, the Hispanic drummer possessed a solidly thick build. Dressed in a t-shirt and baggy shorts, he stuck to the band's signature dress code of all black with the sole exception being the white towel covering his shaved head to soak up sweat. His ensemble was completed by a cute, petite, giggling redhead draped under his left arm and a fawning, buxom, bald chick under his right. Thousands of magazine articles had pegged the identity of the little black dress garbed females as one of three sets of on-again-off-again girlfriends Angel rotated between in his open, three-way relationships.

In a tangle of body parts which appeared to all be one huge extension of each other, the threesome plopped directly across from Rory and Shane onto the room's only other traditional couch. Rory grinned in return to the warm, friendly smile Angel somehow managed to flash at him and Shane between all the licking, kissing and groping he was involved in.

Shane bounced up and down.

With a suffering sigh, Rory tightened his grasp.

The next member of Deviant Spawn to enter the room was the lead guitarist/back-up vocalist, Revelin. The tall, thin man sauntered through the door's opening, a toothpick stuck in one corner of his mouth and a cell phone plastered to his ear. His chin length hair was its natural black at the roots, tinged blue at the tips, and parted at the top of his head down the middle to hang loose on both sides of his face. The black leather vest he wore, a mirror image of the one worn and ordered off the band's internet site by Shane, was unzipped to reveal the light mat of black fur which covered his defined pectorals. The hair tapered to an eye catching thin line which disappeared into the waistband of his tight black jeans.

Rory's pulse quickened slightly as Revelin shot him an interested glance and a head nod. Revelin's gaze then slid over to Shane where he gave the same noncommittal head bob before his attention wandered elsewhere. Just as quickly as his gaze had roamed, Revelin's cobalt blue eyes, glittering with curiosity, snapped back to Shane. A slight smile curved his lips as he winked, flipped his phone shut and pushed the toothpick to the other side of his mouth. He strolled to the far side of the huge dressing room where, while still watching Shane, he lazily sprawled along the length of a chaise.

Shane bounced even more excitedly. Then leaned over to hiss in Rory's ear, "Let go of me."

"No," Rory immediately returned.

"But I really, really want to go talk to Revelin," Shane whined. "Come on, Ror. Let go, man. Pretty please. I swear I'll make it worth your while later."

"No way. There is absolutely no way possible I would dare let you loose on him all hyped up as you are right now. You know my cousin hates that I have balls and she doesn't. Do you want her to have a valid reason to cut off mine?"

Then Rory did exactly what he'd said he wouldn't by releasing his grip. But if his cousin confronted him later, he would refuse to accept the blame for his action as it had been unintentional. And out of his control. She would just have to understand that at the moment Rory's concentration on Shane had naturally been broken by the entrance of the last member of Deviant Spawn.

The band's lead singer. The frontman. The rhythm guitarist.

Taz.

Although Rory had been maintaining his outward composure a hell of a lot better than Shane, he was still every bit as in awe. Probably more so. He'd been a fan of Deviant Spawn for the past six years; had, in fact, been the one to introduce Shane to their music when the two of them were thirteen.

And, for as long as he could remember, he'd had a serious crush on Taz.

Dimly, Rory was aware of Shane's desertion followed by the sound of his friend chatting it up with Revelin, but he didn't dwell on the abandonment. Rory was more interested in Taz's long, damp, platinum tresses which were pulled up into a high ponytail at the crown of the vocalist's head. The ends brushed the tops of tanned shoulders bared during the show when Taz had slowly and methodically unbuttoned, then shed his long sleeve, black, silk shirt while crooning sexily into the microphone Deviant Spawn's latest hit, Him.

As Rory and Shane had been sitting in the front row, again courtesy of Rory's best cousin, radio personality Jasmine "Jazzy" Banks, Rory had had an awesome view of the strip show when it had commenced. He'd nearly gone into palpitations when Taz had pulled up a stool to right in front of Rory and sat on it while staring hard at Rory and singing the lyrics Rory had imagined were written about him. The description of the secret, much gossiped about lover Taz sang about fit Rory to a tee. His equanimity had only been restored when the security guard had shown up to collect him and Shane for their exclusive backstage meet and greet.

Unable to stop himself, Rory's eyes drifted down Taz's long torso. Like Revelin, the singer was on the tall, thin side and in perfect form with his sleek musculature. Unlike Revelin, not one hair covered his chest. Taz's skin was smooth...and it just begged Rory for a caress. And, oh, how Rory wanted to tender that touch. He knew without a doubt Taz's honey toned skin would be soft and so very, very silky.

There was one other thing both Taz and Revlin shared, Rory noticed not for the first time. Their wicked, sexy sensualness. 

Rory's thoughts were cut short by a sultry, melodic tenor murmuring, "And hello to you, lovely."

Horror-struck, Rory stared at his outstretched fingers...his outstretched fingers which were paused mid-stroke of flawless, bronzed abs...flawless, bronzed abs which belonged to a Taz who the door had barely shut behind before he'd been accosted by Rory! Rory didn't remember the moment he'd left his seat, much less the moment his mind had decided it was a good idea to act on the very bad idea to touch the multi-million dollar lead singer of Deviant Spawn.

Jasmine was going to kill him! Then resurrect him only to kill him again! And the death-brought-back-to-life cycle would only end once she finally decided to disown him. After killing him one last time.

And that was the best case scenario Rory dreamed up. Worst case included Taz having security escort him off the premises stat and lodging an assault charge against him, spearheaded by the Who's Who of malicious lawyers whose services were only available to the Who's Who of Hollywood. And Deviant Spawn was definitely a Who.

With a squeak, Rory jerked his hand away. Only to find his fingers snared in Taz's tight grasp which kept the errant members exactly where they wanted to be, even if it was a place they had no business treading.

"Oh, no, you don't," that beautiful voice spoke again. "There'll be no molesting then running."

Fuck, shit, fuck! Taz was angry.

Rory was so dead.

Impending death aside, Rory still wanted to look up into Taz's face. He wanted to peer into the black rimmed eyes he personally knew, from the many nights he'd spent jacking off to the life size poster of Taz hanging on his bedroom wall, were the most intriguing shade of gray humanly possible. But he didn't dare.

Well, didn't dare wasn't exactly correct.

Rory couldn't look up into Taz's beautiful orbs. Because he was currently frozen stiff by a paralyzing blend of lust for the man he'd wanted to fuck since before he knew what the word meant mingled with fear over the rage and indignation he suspected those grays were blazing down at him.

"You, lovely, are going to finish what you started," Taz purred.

"You w-w-want to d-do what?" Rory stuttered, stunned. He couldn't believe what he'd just heard. He must be mistaken...there was no way in hell Taz, Rory's only celebrity crush ever, actually wanted Rory to continue feeling him up.

It just wasn't possible.

Things like this did not happen to Rory.

As Rory debated with himself internally, his attention was focused on his hand, covered by the long, elegant fingers of Taz's hand, laying on Taz's stunning, golden chest. Sure Taz was playing a sick, twisted mind game with him, Rory tried to snatch his hand away again.

Only to discover Taz was still holding tight. And, Jesus, was the man strong.

"How 'bout I show you exactly what I want." Guiding Rory's touch, Taz proceeded to do exactly that.

He used the tips of Rory's fingers to outline one of the small squares of muscle, then, when the outline was completed, dragged Rory's fingers down the center of the package. He repeated the sensuous action with each one of his highly defined abs, and when they'd reached the last of his six pack, Taz still didn't relinquish his hold. Instead, he used his leverage to yank Rory closer.

Taz's free arm snaked around Rory's waist, anchoring Rory firmly in place as he laid Rory's palm flat on his taut stomach. Rory shivered at the feel of flesh still slightly moist from Taz's recent high energy stage antics. But if Taz noticed Rory's trembling, he didn't let it deter him. He continued to push Rory's hand lower, making sure the tips of Rory's fingers traced the strip of flesh which curved inwards along the prominent line of his pelvic bone. The journey didn't stop until Rory's hand rested just above the waistband of Taz's low slung, skin tight leather pants.

"Shall I show you what else I want?" Taz murmured huskily.

Not waiting for an answer, he pushed Rory's hand south, using his fingers to curl Rory's around the left laying bulge located just beneath Taz's belt buckle. A sizeable, hardening bulge.

"Now, you can clearly see what it is that I want from you, lovely," Taz said. "So, the question is, do we continue? Or do we stop?"

"Stop, Taz. For the love of God, stop," a richly deep baritone filled with amusement called out. "Can't you see you got that kid all shook up? Leave him alone."

Solely focused on Taz's rapidly lengthening erection, Rory didn't try to look around to identify which of the other band members it was that had tried to come to his rescue. He was so far gone, it didn't even occur to him that Shane's rare silence was a pretty good indication that Rory was probably making a spectacle of himself with Taz.

"Is that true, lovely? I got you all shook up?" Taz questioned.

Rory barely managed a shake of his head in the negative. This was a dream come true for him. A dream he didn't want to end. Ever.

"The kid says he's cool," Taz responded to his bandmate as he used Rory's fingers to knead his hardness.

"Then, for the love of God, lover boy, stop because you got me all shook up."

"Never let it be said that Taz doesn't give his audience what his audience wants." Taz released his hold. "Even when those wants clearly don't coincide with his own."

Light headed, Rory stumbled backwards a step. He immediately realized he was about to pass out as he'd been holding his breath during the entire encounter and drew in ragged gulps of air to refill his oxygen starved lungs.

Then promptly turned on his heel and fled the room.

He leaned against a wall in the hallway, listening to the boisterous laughter trailing his exit. Even the two girls were laughing. The sound only stopped when the door snicked shut. But, moments later, when the door opened again to admit Shane into the hallway, Rory discovered the laughter was actually still going very strong.

The same deep, rich voice which had demanded Taz leave Rory alone questioned, "Think they'll come to the after party? I'm really digging the talkative goth, but I think you scared the quiet, girly one shitless, Taz."

Taz responded confidently, "They'll be there."

Seconds after Taz issued his sure statement, the laughter in the room morphed into uproarious snort filled snickers. Before the thick, steel door closed again, preventing Rory from hearing any more of the conversation within, Rory heard Revelin gasp a choked, "Fuck, Taz, you always have been a slick ass bastard."

Shane thrust his hand at Rory, distracting Rory from trying to figure out the meaning behind Taz's and Revelin's exchange. He stared at it, confused as to why his friend suddenly wanted to shake hands with him. "What, Shane?"



A Deviant Spawn Christmas



"Just wanted to greet a fellow member of Club Fangirls, s'all," Shane said, deadpan.

When so blatantly confronted with his star struck behavior, Rory did the only thing to be expected: Using the hand that had so recently been wrapped around the outline of Taz's cock, he pumped Shane's hand up and down empathetically.

And said, "I'm not only a member, I'm also the founder and the president."

Rory allowed an idiotic smile to overtake his face. It was an exact replica of the toothy one spreading across Shane's.

As they shuffled towards the exit, Shane exclaimed, "Did you hear Revelin? He actually said he digs me! He digs me! Not nearly as much as I dig him, of course, but still! Man, that is so beast! And, holy fuck, what the hell was that with you and Taz? Jesus, Rory, I think he likes you. Like, really, really likes you!"

Silently, Rory agreed with his friend's assessments. And thought silently to himself, I'm never washing my hand again. Not for the rest of my life.

*

Contrary to Taz's prediction, Rory hadn't planned on attending the after party. For a few key reasons.

One, before they'd embarked on their evening, he and Shane had reached a mutual agreement they wouldn't go. As clubs didn't really play a part in either of their comic book geared interests, after their meeting with Deviant Spawn, they'd intended to grab some strawberry milkshakes from Mickey D's and crash at Shane's place for the rest of the night. While playing Batman: Arkham Asylum on the Xbox, the plan had been to moon over the band and, later, relieve some sexual stress with one another if necessary.

Two, Rory had no desire to stay out all night partying. He didn't want to be too tired to get up in a timely manner to return home the next morning. Christmas was a big deal for his family, always held at his parents' house, and extended family had been arriving from all parts of the country for days in advance. Rory knew his mother would be up at the crack of dawn preparing a hearty breakfast for the temporarily enlarged Banks' brood and breakfast was served on a first come basis. Basically, if you weren't there to serve yourself the minute she pulled her famous rum buns from the oven, then it was likely you weren't getting a serving.

Three, well, Rory's third reason was a recent addition to his list. He honestly did not think he could survive another encounter with Deviant Spawn's intense lead vocalist. At least not without being reduced to a blubbering, drooling fool. Better to retain a shred of his dignity and not even chance it.

So, given all of his valid reasons for not setting one foot inside of Virtuous, Rory was beyond surprised to find himself leaning on the railing of the second level of the tri-floor club watching the swarm of gyrating, gesticulating bodies move in sync with the blaring music down below. He was waiting on Shane to return from the VIP section up on the third floor. With Rory's keys.

Keys Taz had apparently managed to swipe from Rory with Rory being none the wiser.

Rory wondered what was keeping his friend so long. Shane had been gone close to thirty minutes this trip, his second to VIP. The first had ended with Taz immediately sending a smudged lipsticked, glassy eyed, strangely mute Shane back to Rory, lacking keys, but armed with an invitation Rory had refused to come join him.

It was apparent to Rory that Taz had somehow misjudged him as a groupie. Much as Rory adored Taz, he refused to do anything to perpetuate the erroneous opinion. And going to VIP would definitely be a form of perpetuation. Because if Taz whipped out his cock and demanded Rory suck it in front of all present, Rory would mindlessly drop to his knees like the blubbering, drooling fool he was afraid of becoming and do it without question. Therefore, Rory opted to stay far away from the VIP section.

And far, far away from Taz. And that tempting cock of his Rory had already had the pleasure of touching once.

The rational part of his mind told him he should feel some sort of annoyance over what was happening. And if it wasn't Taz instrumenting this whole bizarre scenario, he probably would. As it was, the insane part of his mind, the part currently in control, found it all a bit flattering. Surreal, but flattering nonetheless.

After stealing Rory's keys, Taz had arranged transportation, via one of the band's many rented limousines, for Rory and Shane to the club on the other side of the city. He'd also arranged entrance to the venue for the two nineteen year olds, free of charge. As well as admission to the exclusive VIP section.

Since the hulking security detail employed by Deviant Spawn refused to take orders from anyone other than Deviant Spawn, Rory's and Shane's path to the car had been disrupted by a guard approximately the same size as Colossus who'd steadily ignored Rory's loudly vocalized objections. Same security guard had then whisked them to the waiting limo which had taken them to the club while ignoring Rory's fruitlessly stomped feet. The only reason the guard had given for his actions, and only given because Rory had stuck his head out the limo's sunroof and started screaming like a banshee, was that he was acting on Taz's order and that it was in Rory's best interest to go along with the order because it was the only way his keys would be returned to him. For the first time becoming aware of their absence, Rory had demanded to have his keys returned immediately. The guard had indulgently reiterated they would be returned, at the club, forcing Rory to admit that he was going partying because, for whatever reason, it was what Taz wanted.

And through it all, Shane had made no effort to hide the fact that he found it hysterically funny that Rory's unflappability had been so thoroughly jacked, slapped then flapped upside down.

"You just make sure you get my keys, jackass," Rory had grumbled when they'd first entered the club. He'd then stalked off, being sure to make a wide berth around the mountainous guard. The man had been eyeing him with too unhealthy an interest that Rory recognized from their earlier encounter did not bode well for Rory's free will.

When the guard made a move to grab his arm in an effort to no doubt direct Rory to the stairs leading up, Rory had dodged his grip then hurried to the stairs leading down. He'd mixed with the crush on the dance floor until the DJ had announced to the exuberant, delighted club goers Deviant Spawn was in residence. Figuring he was safe, overfed guard's notice properly focused on his famous charges as it should be, he'd drifted back up to the less crowded second level where he'd been hanging out unnoticed ever since.

Rory didn't bother to divert his attention from the floor below when Shane finally reappeared at his side. His best friend leaned against the railing next to Rory and Rory opened his hand. When his keys were deposited on his palm without further ado, Rory couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed Taz had given them up so easily.

But who was he fooling? Was he actually expecting Taz to woo him? Taz, the man who could have whoever he wanted, whenever he wanted, wherever he wanted. As Rory hadn't seen any photos of the famous bisexual singer with a male companion as feminine as Rory for the past three to four years, he could only assume Taz had found someone in VIP more to his liking. Someone a tad more masculine. Or maybe he'd gone and hooked up with one of those waifish thin, boyish females he seemed to like so much. Whoever the person was, they were probably more than willing to dance to the singer's sexual tunes without first requiring special catering.

"Shit," Rory groused. He tossed his head to remove the ever errant lock of hair. "How the hell are we supposed to get back to the car?"

"That's simple, lovely. I'll have the driver take you on the way to drop me off at the hotel."

On hearing that voice again, that voice that made every Deviant Spawn song an instant hit, Rory squeezed his eyes shut.

Taz. Not Shane. It was Taz returning the keys to him.

"Or, were you wanting to take me up on that offer to join me up in VIP...?" Taz asked, voice raised to be heard over the noise of the club.

"I...no, I, um, I think I'm ready to leave, yes, definitely ready to go. But, first, I have to find, er, Shane...my friend...you know, blue-black spiked hair...babbles a lot..." Rory didn't know if what he'd just said made any sense, so he stopped talking.

"Don't worry 'bout your friend. He and Rev seem to have hit it off with each other. And I'm pretty sure that Rev is happily planning to see that Shane gets wherever he wants, or needs, to be," Taz said with a warm, sensuous chuckle.

"That, uh, sounds good," Rory responded, grasping onto the railing to hold him up when his knees gave out. Then, as it became clear that Taz's words could also be construed as a sexual innuendo, he breathed a shocked, "Oh."

"And now it's time to get you—"

"No! I mean, you don't have to leave your party because of me. Just arrange for the limo to drop me off at my car. I'll be fine."

"No can do, lovely. I brought you here so it's only fair that I personally see you back." Taz strolled away.

By the time Rory got his brain to communicate a message to his eyes to open and to his legs to start walking, he turned to see that Taz had stealthily made his way to the rear exit. Colossus shadowed his every step, preventing the handful of frenzied hopefuls present on the second level from approaching with his glower. Rory scrambled to catch up with his departing ride and the ominous sentinel.

When they finally reached the cordoned off back alley, filled with limousines, Rory was stuffed to the brim of the fabulous view of Taz from the rear. Taz had taken his hair out of its queue and the white blond strands, dry now, hung loose to the middle of his back, bone straight and with not a single curl or wave to be found in the thick mass. He'd also re-donned his black silk shirt and the waist length piece of fabric clung to his shoulders, highlighting their broadness. And the leather pants he wore conformed to his lean form, showcasing his tight ass to perfection.

If life were to end right then for Rory, he would die the most contented girl scout ever.

Rory slid inside the interior of the stretch limo Taz indicated with a tap of his fist on the hood, the only limo which was a sedan rather than a SUV. Taz stood outside speaking quietly with his driver and guard and by the time he joined him, Rory had maneuvered himself to the furthermost part of the seat. Staring out the dark tinted window, he tried to make himself as inconspicuous as possible while watching two of the vehicles, empty of occupants other than a chauffeur, drive off.

"Decoys," Taz said by way of explanation. "Lord knows I love the attention that comes with the press, but sometimes it can be wearing. They tend to get too fanatic and invasive for comfort."

Being as knowledgeable about all things Broderick "Taz" Phelps as he was, right down to Taz's height of six-two and the exact time Taz had made his grand, squalling entrance to the world twenty-seven years ago, Rory was well aware of the singer's penchant for keeping the identity of his lodgings a secret from the media. Taz always made it a point to stay at a separate location than his less privacy inclined bandmates. Even equipped with that knowledge, it was still strange for Rory to actually hear Taz express his desire for peace. Because Rory had always thought of Taz as being Taz, the celebrity lead singer of Deviant Spawn.

And not as Taz, the human who possessed the same basic needs as any other person.

Since Taz didn't seem to require a response to his comment, Rory hoped it might be a sign of how their ride would progress. Maybe, just maybe, Taz would prove merciful and ignore Rory. Wouldn't try to force him into a conversation which was bound to make absolutely no sense on Rory's side.

Would let Rory bask silently in his presence.

The limo pulled out of the alley, opposite of the exit utilized by the decoys, and smoothly merged into traffic. And Taz shifted his long form down the stretch of seat until he sat in its bend, right next to Rory. His legs were splayed wide open, the left one brushing against the outside of Rory's right.

Breaths coming in erratic intervals, Rory thwarted the hysterical giggle which threatened to burst free from his throat. Taz's nearness played serious havoc with his senses, eliciting responses which were at opposite ends of the spectrum. Earlier, Rory hadn't been able to breathe at all. Now, he breathed much too fast.

A long silence ensued, neither Rory nor Taz speaking. Rory, because he couldn't. Taz, because, human or not, Taz was still a megastar and didn't have to if he didn't want to.

But it was Taz who eventually shattered the quietness. About twenty minutes into the winding journey, he leaned forward, opened the limo's bar and retrieved a bottle of Patron along with a glass. "Drink?"

"I really shouldn't," Rory answered. He needed to keep a close tab on what was left of his scattered wits. Alcohol, strong alcohol at that, would not help.

He watched Taz twist the cap off and pour himself a good sized serving. Watched Taz raise the tumbler to his full lips. Watched the pull of Taz's long throat as he took a swallow.

Imagined watching the pulls of that throat, home to a powerful set of vocal cords, as Taz swallowed him.

Rory lunged for the open bottle Taz still held. He sucked down burning mouthful after burning mouthful.

"Careful," Taz cautioned, removing the rim from Rory's lips then coaxing the bottle loose from his hand. He screwed on the cap and replaced the Patron back inside the bar. "You're not old enough to be drinking, much less taking it to the head like that."

"I'm done." Rory relaxed as the flames spread through his body in a wave of heady warmth. "Just, uh, needed to calm my nerves a little."

"You drained half the bottle, kid. You didn't calm your nerves, you drowned them."

"Couldn't help myself. You make me nervous," Rory blurted.

"I do, do I." Taz's raspy tone indicated his satisfaction with hearing the hasty confession. "I make you nervous. You make me want you. Even exchange if you ask me."

"I make you...you make me...I want you, I mean, you want me...oh, crap."

The limo stopped moving while Rory annihilated the language he'd spoken fluently for his entire life. When Colossus, who'd ridden up front with the driver, opened the vehicle's door, Rory lurched out of his seat and crawled over Taz to make his departure.

Only to find they hadn't returned to the concert hall. Not even close. The limo had brought them to an extravagant, obviously expensive hotel.

Taz's hotel.

If Taz was revealing the location of his hotel to Rory, then was he...surely he wasn't expecting Rory to stay the night with him? Was he?

Worried his poor brain cells would be obsolete come morning, Rory turned a pleading glance to the chauffeur who stood in the open juncture of the driver's door. "There's been a mistake. You were supposed to—"

"I'll call if I need you again this evening, Blaine," Taz dismissed the driver as he exited the sedan behind Rory. He pressed close to Rory's back, his next words a provocative whisper on the heated skin of Rory's neck. "What kind of Good Samaritan would I be if I let you drive home knowing the amount of alcohol you've consumed tonight? Before you go anywhere you're going to sober yourself up in my room first."

"But I am sober," Rory protested as Taz stepped around him, treating Rory to a second view of his delicious, retreating backside. Rory forced his attention back to the driver. "I'm not drunk, Blaine. I'm sober, I swear."

The older man shrugged his shoulders apologetically. Then retook up his position behind the limo's wheel, shut his door, and took off out of the hotel's parking lot like a frisky nun out of a porn store with her illicit goods. Clearly the man wasn't willing to risk his job to provide any kind of assistance.

Rory heard the screech of tires taking a corner too fast. Watched the taillights disappear around the same corner.

Clearly.

Rory focused his narrowed eyed attention on the guard. "Hey, Rasputin, I'm gonna need for you to get that driver back over here. Pronto. Because I am not drunk. Do you hear me? I am not drunk. Not even a little bit tipsy." 

"Stop fighting, lovely," Taz tossed over his shoulder. He stopped walking and turned back to face Rory, but Rory refused to look at him. "I have witnesses willing to corroborate that you've drunk way too much tonight. Isn't that right, Nietz?"

"Saw him down half that bottle at the club with my own two eyes, boss," the guard rumbled.

"You're a lie!" Rory shouted. Oblivious to the pain, he jammed his bejeweled finger in the center of the guard's massive chest. "It was in that damn limousine I downed half the bottle, not the club. And just in case no one has ever told you before, lying is very un-Colossus like, Colossus!"

Nietz grinned at Taz over Rory's head, infuriating Rory even further. But Rory dropped his arm to his side and admitted he was defeated when Nietz said, "Heard his confession with my own two ears, too, boss."

"So, you see, lovely," Taz explained with too much good-naturedness, "I'm sure you'll agree that in all good faith I just can't let you leave right now. Underage drinking. Over indulgence. No, there's no way I can let you go just yet."

"You do realize this is one step above extortion?" Rory mumbled.

"What can I say? If there's one thing to which I can swear, it's that I want what I want and I always get what I want. It's a specialty of mine."

Rory just bet it was.

Despite Taz's readily given admittance to the dubious use of coercion, Rory dutifully trailed him through the revolving glass door with the guard trailing Rory. If Rory was to be honest, being blackmailed by Taz wasn't an unappealing idea. Especially since the musician had twice made reference to his desire for Rory.

Maybe that desire bore further exploration.

But could Rory really, truly allow himself to play the oft disparaged groupie to Taz's celebrity? And still respect himself come daybreak?

A skip entered Rory's step as the lurid answer bounded around his head, equally shocking in its intensity as it was in its accuracy: Hell fucking yeah he could, to the first question!

Not so much, to the second. Rory hungered for more from Taz, but it just wasn't a feasible expectation for him to hold the world renowned rock star to.

Besides, Rory didn't really want to live out his life in the public eye, anyway. Not even if it was with Taz, the man he felt like he knew better than himself as a result of carefully listening to and studiously deciphering every word of every Deviant Spawn song. The man he loved.

Okay, so maybe he was lying. He would love to live his life at Taz's side. But it was a farfetched dream that wasn't going to happen. So it was best for Rory to just put it from his mind.

He would make himself be satisfied with this single encounter with Taz in the privacy of Taz's room at this hotel unknown by the paparazzi. At least no one who knew him would know what he'd done. No one, that is, except Shane because Rory would spill all the details of his one night stand with a legend to his best friend.

But only after first getting details of Shane's night with Revelin. Rory was fairly certain Shane was, or very soon would be, in a similar state of affairs with the charismatic, openly gay guitarist. That was considering, of course, Revelin discovered a way to silence the chatterbox, which Rory was sure he would. From the numerous magazine articles he'd read on Deviant Spawn, Rory had long ago deduced that Revelin was, in fact, a mathematical genius.




A Deviant Spawn Christmas



Therefore, Revelin would have no trouble at all concluding that the insertion of Revelin's long cylindrical organ into Shane's open "O" mouth was an effective way to keep Shane's mouth busy.

That meant Rory's biggest concern, his most immediate concern, was how he was going to come away from his own experience still in possession of the ability to think and reason.

Nietz remarked, "Hey, Taz, I think the kid must've decided spending more time with you must not be such a bad prospect. You should see him from this angle. Little dude got more bounce in his ass than that crazy flexible Jamaican stripper Angel fucks with."

"I can only hope he's as limber as she is. Guess I better provide the pole if I want to find out. It for damn sure won't be a stripper pole, though."

Rory killed the skip. "You do realize I can hear you, don't you?"

"Oh, I know," Taz said.

"Go to hell, Broderick."

Nietz snickered. "Damn, Taz, he hit you with the government name."

"And you guide him there, Colossus."

*

Anxious, agitated and excited, Rory stood on one side of the elevator, facing the doors. Taz stood on the other side of the car, calmly leaned back against a side wall with his arms folded across his black silk swathed chest, facing Rory. Even though Rory stared straight ahead, he could still feel Taz's eyes on him. The singer had been silently staring at him ever since the conveyor had dropped off Nietz four floors ago.

"Have you bottomed before? Have you ever let some man stick his dick so far up that sweet ass of yours that when it exploded cum from your exquisite tightness, you could taste it?"

"What kind of questions are those?" Startled at the shocking nature of the queries, Rory's eyes flew to meet Taz's. He instantly regretted his action as he felt like he was drowning in the overpowering, molten silver depths.

"The kind which gets your attention apparently," Taz said. He smiled mischievously. "I do believe you're seeing me for the first time this evening, lovely."

"What are you talking about? I've been looking at you all night, starting with your kick ass performance."

"Exactly, you just proved my point beautifully. You've been looking at me. You've looked at my lips, my chest, my hair, my ass."

"I didn't look at your ass," Rory protested weakly.

"His pecan brown eyes lay me bare. He sees into my soul even when I refuse access there. He sees all of me like no one ever has before. And that's the secret behind his undeniable allure," Taz softly sang the hook to Him. "Don't get me wrong, lovely, I love knowing I'm the source of your aesthetic pleasure especially considering you're the source of mine. But ever since we entered the limo I've been waiting for you to stop looking at me and to finally see me. And now you do."

As Rory listened to Taz, he repeatedly tried to tear his eyes away only to find he couldn't. The visual connection was too extreme, but it was as if Taz mutely commanded Rory to maintain it and there was nothing Rory could do except comply.

"So now that I, as you put it, see you, what is the significance?" he whispered.

"The significance is that now I can apologize properly." Taz crossed the small distance separating them. He grabbed Rory's chin between thumb and forefinger, tilted Rory's face upwards and stared down intently into his eyes. "Few people know this, but I'm the reason Deviant Spawn doesn't interview directly after a performance. All hyped up on the adrenaline rushing through my veins, I've been told I can be a bit...much. Factor in a person who's not only astoundingly attractive, but also ultra-sexy into the equation and, well, you experienced the results yourself."

Taz thought he was astoundingly attractive and ultra-sexy?

"Very," Taz assured.

Slightly embarrassed he'd spoken his thoughts aloud, Rory said, "O-okay, so you're sorry for earlier. But w-w-what's the difference, really, between what you did then and what you're doing now?"

"Other than the fact there aren't any onlookers to spoil my fun? Absolutely nothing." Taz dropped a soft, lingering kiss to Rory's lips.

The elevator stopped moving. The doors slid open. Taz broke the contact. And exited.

And a shaken Rory was left standing behind barely holding all the pieces of himself together. Until the singer called from somewhere around the corner, "Better get your ass over here, lovely. Unless you want me to come back in there and finish what I started...?"

Rory hustled out the elevator and to the door standing open to Taz's Presidential Suite. The man was nowhere in sight, but a light shining from what Rory concluded was the bedroom at the far end of the huge living area served as a pretty good indicator of his location.

"Make yourself comfortable," Taz called, still out of sight. "Just gonna touch bases with Rev and Angel real quick, then I'm all yours, lovely."

After pulling the main entrance to the suite shut behind him, Rory made his way to a loveseat where he perched nervously on the edge. The low tones of Taz's conversation drifted to him, though he couldn't make out the specifics of what was being said. Nevertheless, Rory loved Taz's voice and enjoyed listening to the smooth cadence of his musical inflection. He let the harmony of it soothe him.

Seconds after the singer stopped speaking, Rory's own phone buzzed. He extracted his cell from his pocket to see he had a new text. Rory flipped his phone open.

From: Klarion

Rev says that taz says to let u know i'm ok. I'm ok! More than ok. Better than ok. Will talk tom. Want deets. All deets. Detailed deets. I'll have deets!.

Rory laughed that, as usual, Shane's distinct personality came through so accurately in less than a one hundred sixty character text message. He honestly didn't know what he would do without Shane. They had been through so much together, had been each other's support system through the horrific experience that was high school for an uncloseted homosexual male. The guy was so much more than just a friend to Rory. He held the title of being Rory's first and only lover, if not his first love, he was Rory's closest confidant, he was Rory's brother—

"What's up with all the comic book references?" Taz asked from right behind Rory. "First Nietz with Colossus and Rasputin. Now your friend with Klarion."

"Fuck!" Rory hollered, taken by surprise. He leaped to his feet and swung around to face Taz.

Who lifted a platinum eyebrow and regarded him in amusement. "Relax, lovely."

"I...I just...you were...you...I...hell, never mind." Rory gave up on his explanation, returned his phone to his pocket and sank back down to his former position on the loveseat. There was no way possible he could ever let Taz know that his uneasiness was simply due to the fact that Taz was Taz. According to the entertainment news outlets, Taz had casually dated, and fucked, some of the world's hottest stars and starlets. Even if Taz did think Rory was attractive and sexy, Rory didn't compare to Taz's previous lovers with his unsophistication and unrefinement. And Rory's shortcomings would soon become apparent to more than just himself if he didn't pull it together. "My, um, dad."

"Your, um, dad what?" A barefoot Taz came from in back of the loveseat, crossed in front of Rory and cocked a hip against the loveseat's arm farthest away.

Focusing his attention on an expensive vase mounted on the ledge above the unlit fireplace, Rory explained, "He's the one who got me involved in comics. He loved the escape they provided to him when he was a little boy, so he automatically assumed his only son would too."

"That's interesting. You really don't seem like the comic book sort."

"I love them and collected every single issue I could get my hands on growing up. They fascinated me." A heated blush raced up Rory's neck. "But you're right, somewhat. My fascination was not of the same caliber as other boys my age. Other boys outside of Shane, that is."

"This sounds like it's going to be good. Care to share why comic books fascinated you two so much?" Taz prodded.

Rory ducked his head. He stared at the carpet which was a tan a few shades lighter than his pants. "I mean, just look at Wolverine, Cyclops, Thor and Gambit, just to name a few. And, I know he's inherently evil and all that, but even The Darkness ranks up there in hotness."

The lilting timbre of Taz's voluminous laughter resonated throughout the room. "Fuck me, how did I know I was going to just love your reasons?"

"Yeah, well, I'm glad you're thrilled. Because my dad wasn't when he found out his son had a greater love of comics than he did, but for an altogether different reason. Much later he eventually came to accept it—came to accept me—but his reason why is a story all its own."

"I'll tell you what," Taz said. "I want to hear this reason because I somehow suspect it's even funnier than the motive behind your fascination. So, how 'bout you share the reason with me and I'll share something with you about Deviant Spawn that no one else knows."

Something no one else knew about Deviant Spawn?

Rory didn't think twice before announcing, "He came home early from work one day to discover while my mother was gone to a PTA meeting I had destroyed several of her very expensive, very high thread count, white sheet sets. And to discover I was dressed in my homemade Emma Frost costume."

"The White Queen?"

"The very same." The way Taz easily kept the conversation flowing relaxed Rory. He stopped the nervous bounce of his leg he hadn't even realized he'd been bouncing. "And my outfit was a damn good rendition, if I do say so myself."

"I bet it was, lovely. And I bet that was a most interesting way for your father to discover—"

"That's not the worst of it," Rory interrupted.

"It's not?" There was a huge smile in Taz's voice.

"He came home to discover that I was dressed like Emma Frost. And that Shane was dressed like Wolverine. The battle ground was my bed."

"Well, shit," Taz said softly. "Just...shit."

Surprised at Taz's sudden seriousness, Rory risked a glance at him. Only to discover Taz was staring intently at him again. Just like he had in the elevator.

"Either I seriously misjudged both you and Shane as being bottoms, and need to warn Rev before he gets the shock of his life, or you just described the most erotic image ever."

"Shane's a bottom," Rory admitted. "Like me."

"Two cute twinks. Both fighting to get beneath the other one." Taz squeezed his eyes shut and grabbed his cock. "That's, hands down, got to be the hottest picture I've had drawn for me in a long ass time, lovely. How do you guys work out who tops and who bottoms?"

Rory's eyes fastened onto Taz's gently massaging hand. "We, uh, make a game of it. Whoever gets their clothes off first, and makes it to the bed first, bottoms."

"Who wins?"

"Me, usually."

"I can see that. While by no means does Shane strike me as top, you absolutely do not belong there." Rory's gaze rose to discover Taz's steel colored orbs were open again. They were filled with a burning desire. "Care to play your game with me? I guarantee to let you win."

"Oh, God." Rory scrambled off the loveseat and flew to the other side of the room. Pacing back and forth in front of the wall mounted flat screen, he looked anywhere but at Taz. He took several deep breaths to calm himself and his fierce cravings. Before things went any further, and lord knew he was going to let it go further, he needed Taz to understand something. "I know what me being here looks like, Taz."

"And what would that be, lovely?"

"I know it looks like I'm a groupie, but I'm not."

"Has anything I've said or done tonight indicated that I think you're a groupie?"

"Not really, but—"

"You are here because I didn't leave you with much of a choice. Just for the record, since you seem to be confused on the matter, I didn't have to give groupies a choice. They came willingly. Or not at all. From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you weren't a groupie and I also knew if I didn't take the necessary actions, I would've found the consequences unacceptable. You would've left that dressing room happy as a pig in shit over our meeting, but with plans to never see me again. Am I right, so far?"

"Yes, but—"

"I also know who you are, lovely. And I would never make such a disrespectful assumption about the family member of someone I consider a friend."

Rory stopped his pacing to stare at Taz. "You know Jasmine is my cousin?"

"How could I not? You two are the spitting image of one another. Except," Taz added with a smirk, "you're more of a female than she is."

"Ha, ha, ha. Very funny," Rory replied, smiling despite himself. Taz's observation didn't offend him...Jasmine had made the same observation herself often enough.

Plus, it was true. Jazzy was a lesbian. A stud lesbian.

"Jazzy ever tell you how we met, lovely?"

"Bits and pieces, here and there."

"Listen close, I'm going to give you the whole of it. We met about four years ago after a concert in Tallahassee. The goddamn manager of Deviant Spawn at the time had arranged a solo interview for Jazzy. He'd assumed it would be safe to do so since it was obvious to him Jazzy wouldn't be interested in me and that I, in turn, wouldn't be interested in her. But when he introduced us, I knew two things instantly. One, Jasmine Banks was the most beautiful creature I'd ever laid eyes on, male or female. And, two, I wanted her."

This story had a predictable ending. "And then you discovered God had cursed you with the wrong set of sexual organs."

"That's not quite the way it happened," Taz said. "As much of a pussy hound as your cousin is, I think I could've had her if I'd pressed the issue."

Suppressing a snarky comment, Rory asked, "Then what stopped you?"

"Simply put, you stopped me. Jazzy put the breaks to anything that could've happened between us which would amount to more than a friendly conversation. She told me all about how her baby cousin was my biggest fan ever and how he would never forgive her for such a betrayal."

Jazzy had been right. Rory wouldn't have forgiven her. "I never knew that. Wow."

"Wow, my ass, kid. I hated you. With a passion. There I was, with this interested, gorgeous female in front of me that I wanted to do nothing more than bend over the table separating us and fuck into oblivion, but all she wanted to do was talk about you. Then, to add insult to injury, she went and showed me a photo of you in her phone that she had just taken the day before."

"Are you for real?"

"Yep. And just like your scheming cousin knew I would be, I was hooked once I saw the photo and discovered Jazzy was the rough draft and you the finished product. I demanded to see every picture she had of you stored in her phone. I made her forward each one of them to my phone. And I provided her with all of my personal contact information with directions that she send me regular updates on you."

"You cannot be serious," Rory said, incredulous.

Taz was admitting to having known who Rory was for years. Years!

"Oh, but I am. Your full name is Rory Eric Banks. You were born September twenty-fifth, nineteen ninety-one, at Arnold Palmer Medical Center. Your mom stayed at home with you and your older sister while your dad worked as a store manager for Publix. Your father and Jazzy's father are brothers. You're currently researching universities throughout the country to find which ones have the best fashion design program. Shane Wilkinson has been your best friend since the second grade. I've digitally watched Shane change styles from grunge to preppy to the gothic style he's currently captivated by, while you've refined your looks using the lovely femme style that complements you so beautifully."

"Wait." Rory waved a hand to stop Taz's diatribe. His whirling mind was dangerously close to short circuiting. "How do you know all of that?"

"You've been my drug of choice for years, lovely. And Jazzy, good little dealer that she is, has kept me very well stocked. When I said I demanded she send me regular updates, I meant through all means and in everything."

"But I'm not your type." Bangles banged into each other in protest when Rory pointed his finger in Taz's direction. "You haven't been seen with a femme for years."

"Want to know why?" Taz asked, pushing off the loveseat's arm. "Because other femmes pale in comparison to you. After I laid eyes on that very first picture of you, I knew they were nothing more than a bad imitation of the real thing that was waiting for me here in Orlando. But up until quite recently you were underage and I was out of the country, so," Taz lifted one shoulder in a shrug, "I had to distract myself somehow while I waited. I hooked up with men and women I knew didn't run a chance of reminding me of you, didn't run a chance of reminding me of the forbidden. Only to discover time and again that every single one of them was inferior to just the thought of you."

"You make it sound like you've been planning this meeting between us for years," Rory whispered hoarsely.

"I have." Holding his hand out to Rory, palm up, Taz said, "So please don't make me wait one moment longer to have you, Rory."

Posed so eloquently, there was no way Rory could refuse Taz's request. He crossed the room and took the outstretched hand.

*

They were in the bedroom, Taz's face lowered to Rory's. Rory sighed his acceptance and opened his mouth for Taz's tongue when the questing invader licked the seal of his lips demanding permission to enter. Immediately, Taz's tongue forged forward and engaged Rory's in a duel, equal parts spirited gentleness to passionate roughness.

Rory's arms tangled around Taz's neck seeking support while Taz's arms looped around his waist offering succor. Careful not to break their connection, Taz maneuvered Rory backwards until Rory's rear hit the edge of the large bed situated on a raised dais in a corner of the room. An outraged gasp escaped Rory as Taz suddenly disengaged from the kiss, bent down to sweep Rory's legs off the floor and tossed him onto the center of the huge mattress.

Tossing the lock of hair out of his eyes, Rory attempted to push up on his elbows only to meet the resistant force of Taz's hand planted in the center of his chest. "Lay back, lovely."

"Want you," Rory panted, reclining into the downy softness.

"And you're going to have me, lover. All of me. For forever."

Despite the mind numbing lust crowding his head, the force of Taz's words punctured Rory's haze. Pretty words spoken in a pretty moment?

From the solemn expression gracing Taz's face, Rory didn't think that was the case. So, that begged the question of whether Taz spoke of starting some type of permanent, ongoing liaison with Rory.

And if being Taz's fuck toy was something Rory could settle for.

Still standing, Taz unzipped then removed Rory's heeled boots. Next, he divested Rory of his socks. Strong hands expertly massaged the arch of Rory's right foot and Rory shivered when Taz pressed warm lips to the sensitive skin.

"Erogenous zone?" Taz asked.

"Crap, yes."

Taz locked his hands firmly around both of Rory's ankles. "So that makes me wonder what will happen if I do this?"

Rory's back shot off the bed and a whimper escaped his mouth as his big toe was engulfed in the moist heat that was Taz's oral cavity. Taz licked and sucked at Rory's toe, swirling his tongue around it before moving on to the one next to it. He paid equal attention to all five digits while Rory twisted his fists in the thick comforter to prevent himself from burying them in Taz's thick mane of white, blond tresses.

When Taz started in on Rory's left foot, Rory tried to kick in an effort to break loose of Taz's unrelenting hold. Conceding that his struggles were futile, Rory finally stooped to begging, "Stop, Taz, you have to stop! Or I'm going to cum!"




A Deviant Spawn Christmas



With a chuckle, Taz freed Rory's toe from his mouth and his ankles from constraint. "Can't have you doing that prematurely. I have special plans tonight for your spunk."

"What plans?" Rory managed to choke between heaving breaths as he collapsed onto his back.

"Patience, lovely." Taz eased onto the bed. Knees bent under him, he settled his weight to the right of Rory. The long, elegant fingers Rory had admired earlier in the evening were at the fly of Rory's pants, deftly unfastening. "But seeing that hot ass reaction just now is good information I'll file away for future use. Each time I come to worship at the altar of your body, I fully expect to enjoy learning new things about how to please you. And to teach you new pleasures you've never before experienced."

Definitely speaking of an ongoing liaison.

But Rory couldn't settle for just being Taz's fuck toy. He would much rather to allow himself this night with Taz...and nothing more.

Automatically, Rory lifted his hips in assistance when Taz started to inch his pants down. As it was revealed, Taz pressed gossamery kisses to skin Rory had always before disdained for its perpetual milky whiteness. But the heat reflected by Taz's actions as he tongued the junctures located between Rory's thighs and his hairless balls forced Rory to make a reassessment of the desirability of his porcelain hued flesh.

"Hmmm, I think I like that you shave everywhere, lovely. So smooth." Taz shifted himself from his kneeling position beside Rory to a kneeling position between Rory's parted thighs. "Get rid of that damned sweater before I destroy it. I want to see all of you."

Rory sat up long enough to do as told. The only piece of clothing he now wore was the sheer, black thong confining his erection. A still fully clothed Taz leaned down and nuzzled his face back and forth along the straining, slightly less than modest, length.

Knowing he was close to reaching the level of coherent thought prohibited beyond this point, Rory hesitatingly questioned, "Taz?"

"Maybe it's time to kick shit into high gear since you're still lucid enough to say my name rather than moan it."

The teasing tone emboldened Rory. But Taz's hot breath on his groin nearly caused him to come undone. Before it was too late, Rory rushed forward with what he needed to say, "I just want to make certain that something is clear between us. I don't want to be your on-call fuck buddy."

"Good thing that's not what I'm asking you to be." Taz caught the band of Rory's thong between his teeth and tugged until only the very head of Rory's cock was freed. He let go of the band so it trapped the exposed portion of the turgid column against the lower part of Rory's belly. "I'm asking you for forever."

"As your fuck buddy."

"As my boyfriend."

"I can't be your—"

"Then as my husband."

"—boyfriend," Rory finished. "I can't be your boyfriend or your husband, Taz."

What the hell was he saying? Yes, he so wanted to be Taz's boyfriend. Or husband. Either one would do, he didn't have a preference. He wasn't picky.

"Why?" Taz's question was posed around the tip of Rory's leaking organ which was stuffed in his mouth. "You are truly lovely, lovely. Smaller than most, but your five inches is perfect for your petite stature. And you taste good. Sweet."

Hips pushing upwards in search of more of the wet contact, Rory steered the conversation back to the matter at hand. "I j-j-just...can't."

As soon as that last word left his mouth Rory decided when he returned home he was going to cut his tongue out. Because for some unfathomable reason it just wouldn't stop spewing nasty, dirty, hateful...sensibleness.

With a sucking pop, Taz released Rory's erection. "Gotta give me something better than that to work with."

"For fuck's sake, Taz, you're a fucking celebrity. How's that for a reason?" A celebrity with an international fan base which numbered in the millions. Deviant Spawn devotees were comprised of the young, the middle aged, the old, the ugly, the average, the beautiful and, well, the even more beautiful.

Hell, Taz's bisexuality would mean that any person he tied himself to would be faced with twice the competition for his affection. Both men and women were at Taz's beck and call, ready and willing to do anything he demanded.

Ready and willing to sabotage any relationship the vocalist was involved in for a chance to start a relationship of their own with him.

"It kicks rocks as a reason. Because right now I'm not a celebrity, lovely, I'm just a man trying to please his boyfriend."

"I'm not your boyfriend."

He was going to skewer his detestable oral organ.

"Well, since you insist, husband, then." Taz drug a finger up Rory's side. The touch was whisper light until he reached one of Rory's nipples. He grabbed the bud and gave it a playful twist. "But I demand you immediately make an honest man out of me. I'll expect, of course, a platinum band—plain, please—a huge wedding and a month long honeymoon to Curacao."

Rory slapped Taz's hand away. "Jesus, will you be serious!"

He was going to set it on fire.

"See, that's the thing, lovely. I am being serious."

"Tonight, Taz. Tonight is all I'm willing to give you. Tomorrow you go back to your world and I'll stay in mine."

He was going to watch it burn to a crisp.

"Not possible," Taz replied as he sat back to stare down at Rory. "The paparazzi? The reporters? The journalists? They will all link you to me. You're a part of my world already whether you want to be or not. You just have to make up your mind whether you want to be known as my groupie or as something more. Because what I'm offering you is something more, lovely, but you sound real determined to make yourself happy being nothing more than my groupie."

"Not buying the bullshit. I saw the launching of the decoys. I am your biggest fan ever. And I know that only a selected, trusted few know where you are right now and who you're with. And that's the only reason I chose to stay."

He was going to collect the ashes in a plastic sandwich baggie.

"As I said earlier, you weren't given a choice."

"Trust me, if I'd thought there was a chance of someone taking incriminating photos of us, I would've found a way to leave."

Then unremorsefully scatter the remains in the St. Johns River to be forever lost. And his voice box had to go, too, damn it.

"Conflicted little lovely one, aren't you?"

Well, fuck, how had Taz seen through his ruse? "No."

"Yes, you are." Taz was quiet for a moment, his face taking on a thoughtful aspect. Then his lips twitched upwards into a calculating grin. "Alright, Rory, we'll do this your way. You're giving me tonight and I'm happily taking it."

Rory maybe would've offered his thanks, maybe would've questioned Taz's easy acceptance or maybe would've taken the necessary time to rethink if the course of action he'd set in motion was truly the one he wanted to follow, because he didn't think it was, but further thought at that moment was impossible. Taz had ripped off Rory's flimsy underwear and ensconced Rory's erection in his clever, stroking palm. The pace Taz set had no definable rhythm; the strokes altered between being short and long, tight and loose.

A warning tingle originating in Rory's brain raced down his spine where it settled deep into the pit of his stomach. His balls drew up and just as his cock was ready to discharge its tribute to Taz, Taz removed his touch.

Rory tried to capture his cock with his own hand so he could finish what Taz had started, but Taz easily kept it away. Rory ground out, "Bastard."

"If my father heard you say that, he would take you to task for the insult, lovely."

"Quit fucking with me."

"What a dirty little mouth you have. I think I'll have to clean it later with my special solvent. But for now I need you to be good. I already told you I have special plans for your spunk."

"Then why aren't you ready for it, Taz? I'm ready to cum. I need to cum."

"In a few moments. I'll let you know when," Taz said nonchalantly.

"No, not in a few fucking moments. Right fucking now." Rory reached for his erection again, hoping and praying to goad Taz into cleaning his mouth with the special solvent sooner rather than later.

But Taz intercepted him a second time. He led Rory's hands to the top button on his shirt. "Since you obviously need something to occupy your naughty hands."

Tanned abs were revealed to Rory's greedy eyes as he hurriedly made short work of unbuttoning the closures. When the shirt finally hung open, Taz slid the silk off his shoulders, the effect on Rory as profound as the first time he'd watched Taz shed the piece of material while on stage.

Rory's eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head when Taz went to work on his tight leather pants. Finally, they, too, were gone, liberating Taz's impressive, uncut erection.

Even his dick was tanned. And twice the size of Rory's. It was longer than Shane's even, but of an equal thickness.

And his neatly trimmed nest of pubes was as light as the hair on the top of his head.

"Now, lovely." Taz wrapped a fondling hand around Rory's erection and cupped the other around its head.

With a sobbing whine, Rory came. Hard. In forceful, continuous, energy sapping spurts that shouldn't have been possible considering he and Shane had hooked up the day prior.

Taz directed all of the twitching cock's offering into his palm. He smeared the abundant pearly liquid along the length of his own bare erection, then flipped Rory onto his belly.

"Protection?" Rory panted into the pillow.

"I'm clean," Taz acknowledged Rory's request. "I haven't been with anyone in over a year. Not since before September twenty-fifth of o-nine."

He hadn't been with anyone since Rory's eighteenth birthday. "But what about all the—"

"For show only, Rory. There has been no one in my bed. No one."

Not sure why he trusted Taz, but knowing that he implicitly did, Rory nodded.

"Thank you, lovely. For giving me the gift of your trust." Thrusting in short, steady strokes, Taz worked his slicked tip into Rory's hole.

Thoroughly relaxed from his orgasm, Rory offered no resistance to Taz's breach. Instead, he arched his ass into Taz's rocking and felt Taz's cock pop into him and slide home. The wondrous sensation of Taz filling him so completely, followed by the sound of Taz's hips and balls steadily smacking Rory's ass as he built up speed, tore a mewl from Rory.

He'd just mewled, Rory thought disgustedly. Like a little kitten, he had just fucking mewled.

On the next push in, Taz hit Rory's prostate. Rory screamed.

A vague thought skittered through Rory's mind that at least it was a step up from cute, kittenish sounds.

Taz slowed his movements, then stopped moving altogether. He leaned down and Rory felt the cloak of soft, silky hair on his shoulders as Taz's lips skimmed the back of his neck. "You okay?"

All Rory could do was offer a tortured moan in response.

Chuckling, Taz said, "Yeah, you're okay. And that's definitely something else for us to explore further later."

"Taz—"

"Later tonight." Taz draped himself on top of Rory and resumed his motions again, chest to back, but at an adjusted angle that didn't rub Rory's prostate and at a slower pace. "You are exquisitely tight, lover. Just like I knew you would be. Oh, fuck, I'm not going to last long."

A few thrusts later and Taz tautened as his cock convulsed and pulsated, depositing its load inside of Rory.

"Fuck, yeah," Taz groaned. After catching his breath, he readjusted himself so that he spooned Rory's back, still buried deep.

*

Weak light streaming into the darkened bedroom around the ensuite bathroom's cracked door teased Rory out of his slumber. The absence of the warm body behind him and the sound of Taz's low murmur drifting from the lit up room clued Rory in as to what his lover was up to.

It was the first of the four times that Taz had already woken up that night that the insatiable singer hadn't also woke Rory up to engage in another session.

Before falling back to sleep, Rory wondered who it was that Taz was on the phone with. Probably Revelin or Angel...

*

Rory didn't know how much later it was when he awoke next, this time to the sensation of an intense, almost painful, pleasure. Taz was again positioned between Rory's thighs. His probing finger tenaciously massaged Rory's prostate and his sucking mouth worshipfully drained the semen which shot out of Rory's balls and up his shaft.

He pulled off Rory, licking his lips. "So fucking good."

*

Satiated and satisfied, Rory stretched languidly. With a tentative wiggle, he discovered that his ass was sore, but it was sore with a good type of pain accompanied by better memories.

Exultant, Rory opened his eyes, ready to drink in his first sight of a bed mused Taz in the daylight. His elation died when a glance around the bedroom and a quick foray into every other living area of the Presidential Suite revealed Rory to be all alone.

Taz had left. Hadn't even bothered to wake Rory up to say goodbye despite the fact he'd woken Rory several times during the night to either fuck Rory, suck Rory or feed Rory his special solvent.

Well, this was exactly what he'd said he wanted, wasn't it? Hadn't he been the one to falsely tell Taz he wanted their time together to be limited to just last night?

Yes, a variation of those words had come straight out of Rory's dishonest mouth. So that meant he had absolutely no right to the sick feelings of being used and betrayed he was currently experiencing. Taz had done nothing more than stick to the specifics of the plan insisted upon by Rory.

Rory grabbed his clothes from where they'd landed on the floor during the night's festivities and carted them into the bathroom. He tossed his destroyed underwear into a waste basket, then slowly dressed. Studying his fully clothed reflection in the mirror, he silently reassured himself that not only did he still look like the same person he was before he'd participated in the one night stand, but that he was the same person. There was no reason for him to feel dirty. Hell, there were millions of people around the world doing what he'd done...and worse. The fact that there was such a thing as bukkake was proof of that.

Making use of the hotel provided toiletries, Rory brushed his teeth and hair and washed his face, hoping to cleanse off any unseen dirtiness. But all of his efforts failed.

Because the filth he felt was inside of him, not on him.

After his father had discovered the epic battle between Emma Frost and Wolverine in Rory's bedroom that day long ago, he'd set Rory down afterwards and explained to him that no matter Rory's preference in partners, when Rory gave himself to someone sexually, he was giving that person a piece of his soul that could never be returned. In so doing, he'd let Rory know that he accepted Rory for who he was while also cautioning Rory to be careful and to always use common sense.

Carefulness and common sense Rory never felt the need to use with Shane. Yeah, after that they'd slept with each other, often, but it was more the result of their natural gravitation to one another because of how close they were and their similar interests than any real romantic interest. Rory loved Shane, Shane loved Rory, but neither was in love with the other.

Carefulness and common sense that had fled last night when Rory had submitted to Taz.

Sighing, Rory made his way to the suite's entry door. Where he discovered a folded piece of paper containing the hotel's logo taped in the center. A single word was written on the front in a flowing, elegant scrawl: Rory.

Fingers shaking, Rory retrieved the letter and smoothed it open.

Lovely,

I think a part of me has loved you since that very first picture of you Jazzy showed me. There was something just so sweet and alluring about you, that you just wiggled your way right into my heart before I knew what was happening. You made your home there without a word having to be exchanged nor a meeting between us needing to take place. And in my heart is where I have carried you all this time.

I thank you for last night. It was beautiful and magical and everything I'd ever dreamed it would be with you. And more. It also forced me to make some difficult decisions.

You don't want to be a part of my world. And I understand that, lovely. I do. It is the reason I left without first waking you.

All I can say is that I hope you will find it inside of you to one day forgive me.

Yours in love always,

Taz

P.S. – I believe I made two promises to you last night.

The first was to tell you a secret about Deviant Spawn no one else knows. The secret is our name. Deviant, as you are probably well aware, came about because Rev, Angel and I considered ourselves to be deviants when we were younger, still do now. We didn't then, nor will we ever, neatly fit into anyone's mold and we absolutely refuse to conform. Always have. Always will.

However, the world believes Spawn came about from Angel's mother and her ironic fondness for referring to him as the Spawn of Satan when she first discovered her sweet Catholic boy was a man whore. That's not the truth. Spawn is actually an homage to the famous comic book superhero. He's faded in popularity recently, but he's still a favorite of mine. A favorite of Deviant Spawn.

The second promise I made to you came earlier in the night and was a bit more obscure in delivery. I'm sure it's probably slipped your mind by now, lovely. Regardless, I am a man of my word so my promise will be fulfilled.

Rory folded up the letter and shoved it in his pocket. He wondered at the second promise Taz referred to, but stopped for fear of driving himself crazy when no ideas readily presented themselves. All of his feelings of ill will had, for the most part, abated, but a strong sense of melancholy persisted.

The words Taz had written to him were infused with an honest genuineness. The same honest genuineness as the words Taz had spoken during the night.

Had he been too harsh in his dismissal of what could've been between him and Taz? Was it too late for the two of them to discuss it over?

Opening the door, Rory eased into the hall. And was immediately struck by the sensation of something being off. Maybe it was the giggling teenage girls huddled together a few feet away, though he couldn't imagine why that should bother him.

Other than the fact that the floor he was on contained only one other corridor which led to the door of the only other suite on the floor.

True, Rory hadn't seen anyone entering or exiting the other hall the night before, but somehow the idea that teenagers were the occupants of the second suite just didn't fit with the hotel's swanky image. Unless the teens had the money of Disney and Nickelodeon superstar sweethearts, which Rory guessed the two girls didn't.

They looked like fans. Which, due to Taz's standard precautions, was impossible.

Rory ignored the duo and entered the elevator. When he reached the ground level, he stepped out of the car. And right into bedlam.

Bright lights flashed and whirling clicks sounded from every which way as numerous cameras, digital and professional, took Rory's picture. Three to four microphones were thrust into his face. A multitude of questions were called out, one on top of the other.

No, not questions. One question. Asked in many different forms. About him and Taz.

"Is it true that you're the secret love of Taz, lead singer of Deviant Spawn?"

"How long have you two known each other?"




A Deviant Spawn Christmas



"How did you two meet?"

"Where did you meet?"

Crap. Someone had betrayed Taz's trust and spilled the location of his hotel. To hundreds of his fans going by how packed the hotel lobby was.

And, apparently, to the press.

The last time something like this had happened a few years before, Taz had acceded to giving an impromptu interview that Rory had watched on TMZ that night. While Taz had kept his cool while bantering back and forth with reporters and fans, his frigid gray gaze and the tight press of his lips had made it obvious he was not pleased with the invasion.

Though the group of reporters in front of him was only a small showing, Rory still failed to think of the right answer, or any answer for that matter, to stop their bombardment. He was saved from being forced to speak when the elevator doors behind him opened...and out stepped Taz followed by Nietz.

"There you are," Taz said to Rory, smiling dazzlingly.

The flashes of light and whirling clicks doubled. The reporter's shouted questions neared the level of a cacophony. And the screams of diehard fans drowned them all out.

Purely in the sake of self-preservation, it was on the tip of Rory's tongue to ask, "Do I know you?" but then Taz went and fucked up all his chances of denying their acquaintance by adding, loud enough to be heard over the din, "I went back to our suite to collect you, only to discover you were gone, lovely."

Nope, there'd be no denying. Not now. Not when Rory's photo was likely to end up plastered next to Taz's with Taz's statement as the highlighted and bolded caption on the covers of the next issues of every major magazine from the United States to Russia to Singapore.

Everyone Rory knew, and a whole lot of people he didn't, would know what he'd done. And who he'd done it with.

Then again, they wouldn't know exactly. They couldn't. They could only assume as Taz had only made an allusion, not an actual statement of fact.

Thinking to flee, Rory took a step away from Taz, angling for an opening he could see between two of the photographers' bulky equipment. Only to have Taz lean down and breathe in his ear, "Not so quick, Rory. You'll want to stay for this. My second promise to you is about to be fulfilled."

Unable to stifle his surge of curiosity, Rory halted. Nervously, from the corner of his eye, he watched as one of the photographers slightly shifted positions resulting in the vanishing of his path to freedom.

Taz straightened, then playfully addressed the reporters, "Who the hell let you assholes loose for Christmas? And who the hell told you where to find me?"

After the round of laughter to Taz's unexpected joviality died, the barrage of questions began again. Taz listened to the questions, nodding his head every once in a while, then finally raised his hand in a gesture for silence.

"Okay, assholes, consider what I'm about to share with you as this year's Christmas gift from Deviant Spawn. I've gathered that you all seem interested in the same thing: discovering the identity of the lovely young man standing here with me today. His name is Nietz Nielson. He's my personal body guard and I hired him about a month or two ago. He's damn good at what he does. Remember that."

"What about the young man to your left?" a male called out, the young, energetic correspondent eagerly shoving his mic right into Taz's face.

"Oh, is it the other young man's identity you guys are all wanting to know? I apologize, I honestly thought you were talking about Nietz," Taz said, amused. "The other young man with me is Rory Banks. He is the cousin of Orlando's very own Jazzy Banks."

A sense of foreboding enveloped Rory as Taz's arm wrapped around his shoulders and hauled him tight into Taz's side.

"He is also my lover. And he's damn good at what he does, too."

Motherfucking statement of facts.

Rory had never fainted in his life, never...and he didn't then. But damn if he didn't stand there wondering what God or Demon he had to pray or tithe to in order for them to strike him senseless.

"Last night Rory and I reached an agreement," Taz continued to Rory's amazed horror.

"Taz, don't!" Rory beseeched.

"Oh, come now, lovely," Taz challenged. He looked down at Rory, capturing his gaze. "All of these individuals here are astute people. They already know the depth of my feelings for you. The whole world knows since I wrote that song about you."

Him. The song Rory had daydreamed and wished was written about him actually had been written about him.

Lightheaded, Rory broke eye the contact in favor of staring at his feet.

"Mr. Banks, how does it make you feel to know that Taz wrote a hit song about you?"

"Mr. Banks! Did you help Taz compose the lyrics?"

"Are you going to star opposite Taz in the video for Him, Mr. Banks?"

Rory opened his mouth. He tried to force words out past the tight constriction of his throat. After several tries, he finally managed to mutter a croaky, "No comment."

"No comment?" Taz immediately questioned. "Such modesty, lovely. You really are adorable. He's adorable, isn't he?" he asked the crowd. "But since he doesn't seem inclined to tell you guys the full story, the job falls to me. Last night, I decided I'm no longer satisfied with keeping our relationship a secret. So Rory, of course, decided he's no longer satisfied with being my boyfriend."

A feminine voice asked, "Does this mean the first Deviant Spawn wedding is in the near future?"

A long silence stretched. Then Taz answered with a very clearly spoken, very heartfelt, "If he'll have me."

Cursing by name every deity he knew from Christianity to Greek mythology for not helping him of a tight situation, Rory feigned a faint and hit the ground.

*

"We're gone now, lovely. You can stop playing possum."

"Don't wanna," Rory answered petulantly.

Chuckling, Taz ruffled Rory's hair. They were riding in the back of the same limousine from the night before, on their way to pick up Revelin, Shane and Angel plus two for a late breakfast.

The entire situation mirrored the previous night with the trustworthy Blaine chauffeuring, Nietz keeping him company and Taz sitting in the bend of the limo's seat. The only difference was Rory, who wasn't crowded into the furthermost part of the seat this time. Instead, Rory's prostrate form was stretched along the long part of the seat where Nietz had laid him. And his head was buried in Taz's lap.

"Quit sulking," Taz chastised.

"I'm not sulking."

"You are. You've been sulking ever since Nietz carried your supposed unconscious form out of the lobby."

"Can you blame me, Taz? I mean, really, it was just ten minutes ago that you entirely destroyed my world as I know it," Rory griped, sitting up. "Oh my God, was it really just ten short minutes ago that you bent me at the waist and fucked me up the ass into this insane, crazy situation?"

"Actually, as I recall, most of the fucking took place throughout the night and well into the early morning."

Rory shot Taz a look full of venom. "This is going to be all over the news by tonight. It probably is already all over the internet."

"It is," Taz confirmed smugly. "We made it to Yahoo's main page. We're what's trending now." He lifted his hips slightly from the seat in order to obtain his cell phone from his back pocket. He jabbed a few buttons, then pushed the phone right up underneath Rory's nose and said, "See for yourself."

"Crap," Rory groaned, staring at the photo.

A rumpled, embarrassed Rory stared at the ground, longish chestnut brown hair mostly shielding his thin, pale features from view. Taz's arm was slung around his shoulders and the grin on Taz's face could be described as nothing less than predatory as he stared at the top of Rory's head. In stark contrast to Rory's stiffness, Taz appeared every bit of the famous rock star that he was with his laid back stance, perfect tan, loose, flowing blond hair and outfit of all black. And an impassive Nietz hovered protectively over the two obvious lovers. The blurb under the picture read, "Famed musician Taz of Deviant Spawn confirms on Christmas morning the identity of the inspiration behind Him...along with his plans to soon wed his male lover."

"How much you wanna bet we've made it to Facebook, too?" Taz asked.

Rory launched himself at Taz, wrenched the phone from Taz's hand and slung it across the limo. He pummeled the bigger man's chest with balled up fists. "Everyone I know is going to know where I was last night and what I was doing! Everyone! My mom! My dad! My brother!"

"I've still yet to see the problem, lovely." Taz attempted unsuccessfully to corral the flailing limbs. "And you don't have a bro—"

"The problem, Taz, is that Jazzy's going to know!" At the thought of his cousin, Rory stopped his abuse. He covered his face with both of his hands and spoke into his palms, "Oh, no, the mouth of the south with a live microphone and a rapt audience is going to know."

"And?" Taz peeled away Rory's hands, holding them in his own. "We're engaged and we only did what engaged couples do."

"I didn't agree to that marriage proposal."

"You didn't turn it down, either."

"You conniving dick," Rory hissed without rancor. His anger had dissipated. It was hard to hold onto it when Rory wasn't truly angry. Not really.

Annoyed over having Taz screw with his life? Yes. Livid? No.

How could he be angry...when he was so ecstatic?

To Taz's credit, he had the good sense to adopt a semi contrite expression. A clearly false semi contrite expression, but it was better than nothing. "As I said in my letter, I am truly regretful things had to play out this way."

"That's what the apology was for? Oh, you've got to be kidding me. And here, silly me thought you were apologizing because you'd slipped away without telling me."

"I slipped away without telling you because I kinda suspected you'd take issue with my heavy handed actions." Still holding Rory's hands, Taz pulled Rory onto his lap, adjusting Rory until he comfortably straddled Taz. "I know I would."

"You are such an asshole. No, what was it Revelin called you last night? A slick ass bastard. That's exactly what you are."

"You heard that, eh? Guess there's no point in denying the title my own best friend has bestowed upon me. So I'll admit to it. I am undeniably a slick ass bastard. And an asshole. And a conniving dick, too. But, in my defense, I did swear to you last night that I want what I want and that I always get what I want."

"The fucking obscure promise," Rory bitched in a whisper.

Taz yanked him closer, nuzzling his face against Rory's throat. "I want you in my life, lovely. And since you were insistent on denying me what I wanted, I had to take matters into my own hands and make it so that you couldn't deny me quite so easily. At least not without coming off as ruthless and heartless in the process."

"Jesus, you leaked the hotel's name and location, didn't you? That's why you were on the phone in the middle of the night! It was you!" Rory exclaimed, arching into the light nips Taz placed along his neck.

"Forgive me?"

"Hell. No. I should walk, no, make that run away from you. Fast as I can."

The low growl which erupted from Taz's throat made Rory pull back. "Rory—"

"Shut the fuck up, Taz. I can't walk, run, skip, bounce, fly, roll, skate or anything else away from you. You made absolute sure of that. The reporters would bulldoze my parents' house trying to get at me. I can hear it now, Rory the Gory Heartbreaker of Taz the Deviant Saint. Plus," Rory added quietly, staring into Taz's eyes, "I don't want to leave you."

"Good." Taz stroked a finger down Rory's cheek. Rory instinctively leaned into the loving touch. "Because I'm not going to let you."

"But you're not forgiven," Rory said, determined to make Taz pay for his highhandedness. But not too much. After all if Taz hadn't done what he'd had a good chance existed that, no matter how much Rory may have wanted it, they would never have gotten together.

Rory's firmly-rooted-in-reality subconsciousness wouldn't have allowed it. It would never had allowed him to contact Jazzy to request she contact Taz on his behalf.

Both of Taz's hands strayed to the waist of Rory's pants. With a few slight movements, he sprung Rory's erection free. "Just tell me how to make it up to you."

"We're spending Christmas with my family today. And you get the pleasure of explaining to them why I'm suddenly an overnight sensation."

"To your non-existent brother, too, huh?"

"Especially to my non-existent brother. But, be warned, he's going to kick your ass if you don't treat me right."

"Then I have nothing to fear."

"Except Jazzy. Because you also get the pleasure of making sure she keeps her trap shut. Else she'll blab to all of Orlando the truth about how we hooked up...and how she's the responsible cupid."

"Awww, fuck, lovely. Can't you think of anything else you want other than me trying to hush Jazzy?" Taz asked with a pained groan.

"Yes, I can. And I have. And you'll give those wants...in addition to this wish. I don't want it widely known that, for all intents and purposes, we started as a one night stand."

"If it's truly that important to you..."

"It is."

"Then consider it done. What else?"

"You can keep that plain platinum band for yourself. I want an eighteen karat white gold ring with a diamond which weighs no less than two carats. And I'm not going to no damn Curacao. I want to go to Italy."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah," Rory said, gasping as Taz stroked him slowly with one hand. "I want monogamy. And your heart, Taz."

Wrapping his other hand in Rory's hair, Taz pulled Rory down until his lips skimmed Rory's ear. "You're asking for the one thing I can't give, kid."

"No monogamy? No deal. No love? No can do."

"Monogamy's not the problem, lovely. As a matter of fact, since you haven't yet enrolled in any universities or colleges, you'll be coming with me on the next leg of Deviant Spawn's tour so you can monitor what I do, and who I do it with, personally."

"And your heart?"

"There lies the problem. Can't give that to you."

"Why?" Rory asked, though he already knew the answer. He just wanted to hear Taz say it.

"You know why, vixen. My heart isn't mines to give. It already belongs to you. Has for years."

Rory shuddered involuntarily on hearing the profession. "You've always had mine, Taz."

"Glad to hear it. Now, can we revisit this monogamy idea for a just a quick second? I'm all for it, but just keep in mind anytime you and Shane decide you want to—ow, Rory!" Taz grimaced, relinquishing his hold in Rory's hair, but not his cock, so he could rub his shoulder that had just been thumped with a two handed fist. "Damn, lovely, I was just playing. Shit, I thought it was Revelin's jealous ass I would have to worry about beating me down if I tried to enact my twink fantasy with you and that friend of yours he's so enthralled with, but now I see it's my own little sissy I'm going to have to watch out for."

"There can only be me, Taz."

"There only was ever you, Rory," Taz said seriously. He lowered Rory to the seat and freed his own stiff cock from the constraint of his tight leather pants. "Now stop talking. It's time for us exchange our very first Christmas gifts with each other."

*

Author's note:

Okay, so as I wrote this story the one song which kept playing over and over in my head was One Step Closer by Linkin Park. Not saying that Deviant Spawn is based on Linkin Park, or anything like that, but the style of that particular song is the type of music I pictured Deviant Spawn producing.

What do you guys think? Any other suggestions?