Elsewhere

I didn't want to watch them, but I was compelled. It was insane. I couldn't figure out if the burning sensation in my chest was rage or desire. I hated the boy because he was with Darren. I wanted the boy because Darren wanted him.

There was nothing gentle about the way the boy's fingers tugged at and tangled in Darren's hair, the way his hand clenched on Darren's ass through his jeans. Black denim, the same pair he'd worn a week ago when it was my hands all over him. His all over me.

The memory flooded back like a physical ache.

Lying there within the circle of his embrace, his breath a warm caress behind my ear, post coital lassitude drugging me.

The motel room walls were stained with mould.

It was too perfect.

My self-destructive instinct sought to ruin it. Was this purely an illusion? Was he counting the moments until I'd be counting out bills into his hand?

I shifted outwardly. Inwardly I drifted. "Is this real?"

"Of course it is." Even in my sleep haze I could hear the tinge of confusion in his voice. I rolled over to face him, a crease in my brow.

"I didn't realise I was speaking aloud." I admitted.

"You should talk more often..." A casual brush of his lips across mine. "You have a beautiful voice."

Part of me internally rejected the compliment as being-paid behaviour. The rest of me flushed warm with embarrassment.

"Not nearly as beautiful as yours." I let some of my enchantment show in my eyes. "I saw you sing tonight. At the Tavern."

His expression became shuttered and I wanted to kick myself. He shifted uncomfortably, putting more inches between us. He wouldn't meet my eyes.

"What is it?" I asked gently, "You have an incredible voice."
"It's not that." He forced the words out. Struggled to meet my eyes, almost apologetically. "It's just..." He strained, trying to phrase it, "Have you ever had a part of your life you just... wanted to keep separate from the rest of it?"

//Do I ever.//

"Something like that."

"Then you know what I mean." Gravely serious blue eyes met mine.

"I'm sorry." I didn't know what else to say. So I kissed him, softly, almost chastely. "Do you want me to go?" And I would have left if he asked me. Really.

"No." Not even a moments hesistation. I fought the smile that tugged at my lips.

I fought the rising desire that had nestled in my groin. //I shouldn't be here.// Standing behind the Plaza, under a cover of darkness and foliage, the only witness to this rushed frantic coupling.

Darren's hands were under the boy's shirt now, pushing up the material to reveal a chest with muscle severely defined by thinness. The boy was clinging to the wall for support, just as I had only days earlier. The same wall. His back was arched, bowing his body forward, drawing my attention unerringly to the very obvious arousal jutting beneath his faded surf shorts. I watched Darren eye it off with that feral look in his eye. His hands reached for the ties of the boy's shorts.

Darren's fingers had barely slipped beneath the waistband, when the boy spoke, voice gravelly with desire.

"Go down." It wasn't a request. Hands locked in Darren's hair pulled un-gently downward, forcing him to his knees. Darren held the boy's gaze the entire time, his face a mask of stony submission. I saw him take a shaky breath, then he wrenched the boys shorts downward with no regard for the burgeoning arousal beneath. He bent his head.

It was torture, but I couldn't look away.

I saw the actual moment Darren's lips made contact with the younger man's cock. The boy mouthed silent moans, hands locked in Darren's hair, hips swaying and rolling like a gypsy dancer. Darren's soft dark hair fell across his face, obscuring my view of his controlled assault. He went to work, with skill I'd experienced first hand, and my own cock ached with want. My hands, until now deadweights at my side, itched to move, to relieve the pressure, but I fought it, not willing to give in.

As my body firmly rooted me in the present, the ache of desire a sharp knife held at my throat forcing me to watch them, my mind floated back seven days.

"You don't have to keep doing this, you know..."

He pressed a trail of wet kisses down my neck.

"This?" He enquired, tracing a pattern of fire across my chest with his fingertips.

"This job..." I panted, "You have an... ah!" His lips found *that* spot on my neck and I almost lost my train of thought. "... amazing voice -- it could make you millions."

His hair was silken brush over my nipples.

"You think so?"

His bare heated erection pressed against my thigh, he rubbed it against me, setting me alight.

"Sure... the right producer, a little publicity, you're... ahhhh... born for it."

He painted the outline of my lips with his tongue. Spark in his eyes as he met mine. Sly smile. Eyebrow twitched upward.

"You know you almost sound as if you know what you're on about."

And I wanted so much to tell him, right at that moment. But I couldn't even think of the words.

The boy's moans were no longer silent. Soft little pants and keening moans, steadily growing louder as Darren's movements increased in pace. His motions were hypnotic, I couldn't help but watch transfixed as he brought the boy closer and closer to climax. I didn't remember moving my hands, but somehow one had wound up clutching the wall for support. The other had found its way to the bulge in my pants, the metal buttons of my fly digging into my palm.

It would've been much too easy to undo those buttons.

Somehow I refrained from opening them, instead pushing my hips forward, feeling my own touch through layers of denim, pressing the buttons harder into the flesh of my hand.

Darren continued the dance of seduction and I fought against coming in my pants.

The boys hips were bowed out from the wall, he was moaning unashamedly now, hips bucking harder and rougher against Darren's mouth. It was vivid. It was animal. I couldn't tear my eyes away. I couldn't keep my hips from mimicking the boys movements, moving in time with them both. Fighting to come, fighting not to come.

The boy's voice got steadily higher. I could tell he was close. Darren's head was a blur of movement that ended as he wrenched his mouth off the boy's cock allowing me to see the spectacle of the boy's climax, spurting cream onto the scarred concrete.

He moaned as he came, and his voice broke.

And as I stood there, bearing witness, hair stuck with sweat to my neck, hand plastered to the front of my pants, Darren glanced up from beneath a sweaty curtain of hair and looked at me. Directly at me.

"Why did you pick that song?"

"What?"

He looked stung. I didn't mean for the question to sound so accusitive. "At the Tavern tonight, I was just wondering, why that particular song?"

He feathered a hand through his hair and looked intensely thoughtful.

"I dunno... it just kinda.. spoke to me." He shrugged a little. "I sing what the music says to me. That song said a lot. Most of Savage's stuff says a lot." He looked up at me then, from his position casually draped across the couch. It was about 4am and the sky was beginning to lighten. I knew my time was running out, so I'd been asking more and more questions, wanting all the answers before he left. "You know Savage?" He asked
My heartbeat shot to 200 beats per minute. I tried for casual.

"I've heard some of his stuff. It's not supposed to have lyrics is it?"

His expression grew undreadable. I couldn't tell if he was proud or ashamed.

"He'd probably shoot me if he heard my stuff. Fucking with his music..." He wrinkled his nose. "I can't help it. It's not that the music's empty, it just... feels right."

"It sounds good."

He flicked his glance over to me again.

"Thanks."

He didn't break his gaze. Just stared at me, hard. So I knew he could see me, darkness or not.

Then the boy began to stir. Darren turned away and stood to face him. Weak with lassitude, the boy grasped Darren's shoulder leaning his head on his hand, murmuring something incomprehensible. Something that sounded like "woah..." or "wow..." And he caught Darren's lips one last time, kissing sloppily and langorously.

Darren kissed the boy back slowly, eyes fixed on mine as he did. I almost hyperventilated. //When did he see me? Does he know I was here the whole time?// I still couldn't look away. In spite of the still demanding throb in my pants, my hand fell ashamedly from my crotch.

The boy broke the kiss first, leaned back against the wall and caught his breath in heaving pants. Ploughed a hand through his hair and adjusted his clothes. Avoided looking at Darren. Pulled a fold of bills out of his back pocket. Glanced ever-so-briefly at Darren with insolent eyes as he dropped the bills on the ground. Then he walked away.

And Darren closed his eyes for a moment, looking like he'd been slapped in the face. Then he bent down to pick up the money.

Darren recoiled from picking up the bills, turning to face me. I could feel the rage thrumming through him.

"He could've at least handed it to you." I offered. His eyes shot daggers at me.

"Fuck, Daniel, I thought you understood." Questions. Questions screaming from his eyes. "Do you know how fucking humiliating that is? It's bad enough when there's no one around to see it, but you..." He ran out of words then, settled for slamming a fist against the wall. "Shit!"

I stepped cautiously closer. That's when I saw it. The boy had left a puddle of spunk staining the aged concrete. The bills had landed right in it. We both knew it was no accident.

Darren paced restlessly, raking a hand through his ebony hair, looking like he was fighting tears. My heart twisted. I'd known from the beginning there was something fragile in him, something breakable.

He fought me when I tried to take him in my arms. But I won. I held him close, until he stopped trying to brush me off.

It was all I could say. Over and over. He let a few tears fall, but not for long. He was too strong for that. And soon he stopped just letting me hold him and actually held me back.

"Come back to my hotel with me." I pleaded softly. "We don't have to do anything. I just don't want you on the streets tonight." I turned his head to look at me. I knew I was asking a lot. I couldn't help it. I wanted to be with him. "Please."

He considered me slowly, too many questions clouding his blue eyes. "Why are you doing this? I'm not worth this. I'm damaged goods."

"No." He winced a little at the ferocity of my voice. I took a breath, tried to soften my tone. "No, you're not. You're so much more than what they think of you." That innocence, the purity I first saw in him was still there, and at that moment I could see it so clearly.

"When you said tonight was gonna cost me, I didn't think you meant a quart of ice cream."

We were stretched out on the floor of my fairly well-to-do hotel room, cramming down ice cream and talking shit.

"Is that yours?" Darren asked suddenly, voice vibrating with excitement. Before I could even turn my head to see what he was looking at he'd picked up my vintage acoustic and was sliding a finger over the strings.

"Play something!" I took the guitar somewhat reluctantly and strummed a few random chords. I couldn't help but smile at Darren's gleeful expression, looking a bit like a kid in a candy store.

To this day I don't know why I did it. Well maybe I do. I'd already decided not to tell him that night -- he was in no state to find out who I was -- but it was like my fingers were acting without instruction from my brain as they strummed the opening bars to "Universe".

Recognition slammed home on Darren's face and by the fourth bar he was singing. Softly at first, then getting more confident, letting me hear the words I half remembered from hazy dreams and haunting memory. No stage, no bar, no audience. Just me.

This time he was up close, within my reach, singing only for me. My fingers continued to dance over the strings but I wasn't concentrating on playing anymore. Just watching him, as he became the seducer of the song. Innocence dripped away, leaving only lush temptation and I felt myself getting hard behind the guitar.

He sang the last note softly, peering at me from beneath long lashes and at that moment I wanted him more than my next breath. My skin burned as I played the final chord. But I wouldn't make a move. Not tonight. I promised myself I would make no demands on him tonight, he wasn't up to it. I was happy just being near him. Well, I was trying to be.

"What else do you know?" My mouth was dry, making my voice rough and husky. I held the guitar closer to my body, camouflaging my arousal.

Pure panic. //He knows who I am.// I tried to keep it from showing. I made a stupid confused noise.

His eyes predatory, he leaned closer, resting one hand on either side of my body. My heart was pounding loud enough to be heard in the next room as his cheek brushed mine, his breath warm in my ear as he whispered,

The air rushed out of my lungs like a punctured balloon. He sat back on his heels and slowly lifted the guitar strap over my head, moving the guitar aside to reveal the very obvious bulge in my trousers. He stared pointedly at the evidence of my arousal, then pulled the acoustic from my stiff fingers and laid it aside on the floor.

"Why didn't you say something?" He asked, fingers beginning to dance up and down my legs, his eyes roving my body stretched out before him.

"I didn't want you to feel like you had to do something about it." He started to unbutton my shirt, pressed a soft kiss at my neck, I sighed into his touch. "That's not why I brought you here tonight."

His fingers worked my belt button open, lowering my zip, shifting my underwear. The kiss of night air was cold on the heated flesh of my cock. A rush of warmth to my face as his eyes devoured me.

Then his mouth claimed mine and I lost all rational thought. There was only wonder and desire and need and something else that felt suspiciously like love. And I wasn't thinking about the money, the other men, or any of the shit that had been plaguing me all week. It was just him and me. Two bodies writhing in intense lust. Two souls.

At some point I managed to get him out of his clothes, but we never made it to the bed. We groped, stroked and thrust against each other, two bodies, one need, until we were insane for release. When my hand found him, hard, ready and dripping with precome he made a choked sound and brushed it away.

"Danny if you touch me there right now I'm gonna fuckin' explode." He panted into my neck.

I caught his mouth in a desperate hungry kiss, thrusting my tongue deep. My fingers gripped his sweet smooth ass and I pressed our bodies tight, feeling his cock throb against my stomach.

"Wait." He grunted, reaching past me for his jacket, scrabbling in the pockets and coming up with condoms and lube. He pressed them into my hands, and he must have seen the flash of fear cross my features, because then he said,

"Don't worry, you'll love it." with a long lustful kiss that made a million promises and got me so hot I could have passed out with fever. So hot for him I would've done anything.

He slid a hand down my naked chest, the muscles tight with tension and slick with sweat and wrapped his fingers around my straining cock. I almost fainted.

He tore the condom packet open one handed and rolled it on me far too slowly. My teeth gritted, my hands clenched, the touch of his fingers too much even through the latex. His lips found mine, hungry, wet, messy, leaving me panting, his whispered words,

After that it was all sensation as he stroked on lube painfully slowly, in pace to the thrusts of his tongue in my mouth. And when I thought I might die from sheer stimulation without release he lay back and offered himself to me.

I froze. I know it's incredibly unromantic, but as much as I was dying to have him, I was scared shitless. We hadn't done anything like this yet, so far it had all been happily casual and non commital. Easy. Now, when I wanted him most, the storm in my mind was stopping me. He noticed.

"What's wrong babe?" Eyebrow quirked up. Laid out like that, all naked porcelain skin, legs stretched apart displaying his cock jutting thick with arousal he looked wanton, tempting... and incredibly vulnerable.

His hands gently urged my hips forward, until my straining erection brushed against the curve of his ass. At that contact his head dropped backward, breath hissing out between his teeth in a strangled moan. His hips started to roll, teasing at my cock and it was my turn to groan as his sinuous movements tempted me closer, closer, until the tip of my aching cock pushed against his opening.

And the way he moaned and the look in his eye left no question if he wanted it. I knew he did.

I pushed in slowly, determined to be gentle, easy. I wanted so much to make it last, make it special, but his little moans and shuddering breaths were driving me insane with lust.

"Please.... please..." He groaned, eyes blue jewels begging from beneath tangled ebony hair. He pulled me down on top of him and the motion thrust me fully inside him. My strangled moan barely voiced the intensity of pleasure I felt. He was so small, so tight, so damn good, squeezing my cock with his body, hot breath on my neck, hard silky body flush against mine.

He caught my mouth then, and we began to move, his lips, tongue, stroking mine in time to the sinous movements of our bodies. It was heaven. I lost myself in his kiss, in his body, his scent, my hands stroking over every part of him I could reach. This was happiness, perfection, the slow roll of desire over us, our bodies moving in time. Too soon it wasn't enough, and our speed increased, desire escalating, making our movements more frantic.

He tore his mouth from mine, gasping for breath and panting roughly, breath hot on my cheek. He had one hand locked in my hair, the other grasping my ass as I thrust into him. I could feel his cock hard and slick with precome, rubbing against my stomach as we moved.

I stretched an arm above his head, leaning on my elbow, giving me more leverage to thrust and creating a space between our bodies. My other hand invaded that space immediately, roaming the silky pale flesh of his lean chest briefly before finding his cock.

I wrapped my fingers around the sticky hard flesh and began to pump him in time to my thrusts. He moaned loud and long, writhing against me so deliciously I couldn't hold back any longer, letting my hips thrust hard and fast and frantic, pulling him off in time, until the pulsing of his inner muscles around me brought me off.

And when I came it was like nothing else. I was like my come shot through his body and out his cock, we were so close. Drowning, the entire time, in the blue depths of his eyes, and as he stared back into mine, I swear to god he could see my soul.

I never wanted the moment to end. I don't think he did either, 'cos we stayed like that for ages, me still inside him, my hand on his cock, our eyes locked, our breath coming in shallow pants.

Finally, he kissed me, rolling me to my side and off his silky body. When the kiss ended I was lost in his eyes again. We lay there facing each other, and I couldn't tear my eyes from his pale, angel-like face. I reached a hand over, gently touched his cheek and his eyes fluttered closed, then opened again and pinned me.

I felt the strongest urge to say something at that moment. I knew what I wanted to say, could hear it in my head, feel it in my chest, taste it on my lips, demanding to be spoken. And the fact that I wanted to say those three little words simultaneously thrilled me, shocked me and scared the crap out of me.

It must have been about four when it started. The niggling thought, soft strains of a melody unfurling in my head. I tried to ignore it, settle it in the back of my mind for later consideration so I could just remain, warm, contended beneath the comforting weight of Darren's body reclined on mine.

By five I admitted defeat, and with a sigh, relinquished the delicious weight of Darren in favour of the cool night air and a muse who just wouldn't leave me the fuck alone. Attempted to exorcise this tune from my mind so I could return to bed.

That's how I wound up, naked, perched by the window with my acoustic in hand, strumming out fragments of a melody that wouldn't let me rest. I played softly, so as not to disturb Darren. I tested out notes, chords, hooks 'til I had a chorus and a few sketchy verses. After four weeks of being unable to squeeze one song from my tortured, unco-operative mind, this melody flowed from my fingertips like honey.

Days earlier I would've given anything to be writing again, but when the inspiration was finally flowing all I wanted to do was finish so I could crawl back into Darren's arms. Fate has a strange sense of humour.

I worked on the tune 'til I had the skeleton of a song, scrawling down chords, pushing hard to get close to a rough draft so I could call it a night. Before I packed it in I decided to play it through -- just once -- to see if it was working as well as a whole as it did in pieces.

I'd just strummed through the introduction when my guitar ceased to be the only sound in the darkened hotel room.

I turned my head to see Darren, reclined on the bed, one hand propping his head up, singing softly in that "not of this world" voice. I almost stopped playing from shock, but he gestured for me to continue.

And he sang. Not an entire song, of course, just... snatches... sometimes humming, sometimes just singing one line or one word -- like he knew what the song would be, he just hadn't finished it yet. The same as me.

It was beautiful. I could hear in his voice everything I wanted the song to be, forming and crystallising in his lyrics. I found myself waiting to hear what he'd sing next, and once he'd voiced it, feeling like I'd already known.

...it was pure rush. It was more than just desire. It was every part of me wishing it was true -- not just a song -- not just lyrics -- wanting him to mean it. Because I knew then that I did.

"That's gorgeous, Darren." I stated in awe, after the last note was sung. His mouth quirked at the corner and he wrinkled his nose a little.

"No way -- that's exactly how I want it to sound." I could feel myself grinning, and decided not to fight it.

"So, do you always write music in the nude?" He arched an eyebrow at me impertinently, eyes roving my unclothed form.

"Do you?" I challenged, and was rewarded with soft laughter. He rolled on to his stomach and shot me a look.

"So what *do* you do then?" He pressed gently, startling me out of my inner thoughts.

"Always the mystery man." I couldn't tell if that intrigued or disappointed him. Perhaps both. He rolled onto his side and regarded me assessingly.

"No one special." I choked out, immediately deciding to steer to conversation back to safer waters before he asked any more questions I couldn't answer. "You should write those lyrics down -- that'll be a great song."

"No need to, it's all in here." He tapped his forehead softly. "That's a beautiful tune -- did you just make that up?"

"Whaddaya mean wow?" I piped up, suddenly mischievous. I shucked the acoustic and took a flying leap onto the bed, just about bouncing Darren off. "Your lyrics are incredible." I rolled him onto his back and pinned him to the bed, my body straining over his.

"Oh really?" He jibed in a mess of giggles, struggling, but not hard. Moving just enough to *invigorate* certain nether regions of my body.

"I told you. I write what the music tells me to write." He took hold of my hand and placed it on his chest, over his heart. "It all comes from here."

It's strange, but those words made my vision blur a little and suddenly I was tired, so tired of lying.

"Shhh, not now." He placed a finger on my lips, silencing me, then replaced his finger with his mouth and kissed me 'til I couldn't speak nor think.

Rays of pure morning light painted a halo around his sleeping form. I couldn't bear waking him (for a night spent mainly in bed we'd gotten very little sleep) so I slipped from the bed as silently as I could to wash the evidence of last night's activities from my skin.

I was almost glad for these moments to be alone, they gave me time to think, or better, time to work up my nerve.

That was the mantra that rolled through my head as I stood beneath the warm spray of the shower. Losing myself beneath the pounding liquid, I found myself humming the song that I'd now come to know as "I Knew I Loved You". I'd have to talk to Darren about that though. I'd have to talk to Darren about a lot of things.

//Ok, so he'll probably be hurt I've kept this hidden from him, but the fact that I'm sharing it voluntarily now should make up for that.// I wasn't sure if I was convincing myself, but I was sure trying.

The warm water trickled over my skin like fingers. I strengthened my resolve, pushing my face under the spray, letting the water cascade over me. Somewhere beneath the thundering water I thought I heard the muted wail of the telephone. I wrenched my head from beneath the wall of water and listened. Nothing. I must have imagined it.

I leaned back under the spray, rinsing shampoo from my hair, the phantom phone still niggling at me.

//Even if it did ring -- it can't be anything important -- no one knows I'm here except... oh shit//

I shut off the taps, snared a towel and raced back to the bedrooom, cursing my own stupidity for not realising sooner.

I got there just in time to hear the answering machine click to a stop and start rewinding. No sign of Darren. Shit. Tossing the towel 'round my waist I raced for the lift, getting there just in time to catch a glimpse of Darren's stricken expression as the lift doors closed. Too soon he was gone.

"Fuck!" I screamed it out, hammering the wall in frustration. Too late to call the lift back, or take the stairs, shit I wasn't even dressed. "Dammit!" I wanted to break something. I wanted to scream. Somewhere inside, I wanted to die. I blew it.

Later, curled on the bed, head buried in the pillow, breathing in his scent that still lingered on the linen, I listened back to the message that had revealed and condemned me.

"Daniel you bastard -- where the hell are you? I've got studio execs and marketing dickheads breathing down my neck and you're off in Australia fucking finding yourself! I know it's part of the Savage image to be non-existent, but I need you to exist right now. We need an album. We're eating up studio time here and it's not like we can make it up on the Savage tour, you know!

"I know you don't like to hear this Daniel, but you *are* Savage. No one else can do this for you. Look, give me a call already -- you're starting to worry me. I'll be in the office today and on my mobile tonight."

The next week was agony. Unable to wait for a Friday, I was back at the Plaza every night. I drove through so often the other rentboys learned not to approach my car, knowing there was no business in the silver merc, just a broken guy asking questions 'bout some hooker by the name of Darren.

Evenings at the Tavern, nights at the Plaza. Days curled in a ball on the bed in my hotel room, every curtain drawn, not letting the hotel staff change the linen. Willing the phone to ring and when it did, not picking it up from the machine 'cos it always turned out to be Lynne. It was a pathetic existence but I lived it.

And I couldn't forget the look on his face the last time I saw him. Stricken, splintered, betrayed. I promised myself I'd see him again, no matter what it took. I would find him.

When Friday rocked around and he wasn't at the Tavern I had to admit to myself that maybe he didn't want to be found. As dawn approached on Saturday morning and my back ached from spending all night on my feet, holding surveillance at the Plaza I had to admit that there were no maybe's. Darren didn't want to be found.