Part One of Ahh Paris! series: Everybody Must Have A Fantasy

Chapter Three

Richie has secretly had it bad for Jon for years.

The day he worked up the courage to talk to the young, extremely cute singer of the band playing in the bar was the day that his life changed forever.

His looks were strikingly beautiful. The blue eyes were luminescent underneath all that makeup and sprayed hair. Richie had just itched to snag his fingers into that hair and haul the young man close.

The moment he first looked at Richie properly and smiled, Richie could have sworn the Earth stopped and time stood still. When his slippery-soft looking lips spread into a grin first, then split like an overly ripe fruit to reveal a heartbreaking smile, the curl of want settled in and around Richie's groin and had refused to budge since.

Richie was surprised at his own reaction to this young singer. He liked girls; women, didn't he? Absolutely! With their luscious curves, soft bodies and all manner of secrets to discover; he'd pleasured, and had been pleasured by, a wide variety of females in his later teenage years and young adult life. None had ever left his bed, or the back seat of his car, claiming to be left wanting. His reputation around town preceded him.

But to have that similar reaction to a guy? It left him confused, troubled and most definitely horny when he got home. He let himself into his parent's house late that night, after getting to know everyone over a jam session and a sneaky beer or two, and crept downstairs into his basement bedroom.

He'd moved down there a few years ago so that he didn't disturb his parents if he decided to start playing his guitar if he couldn't sleep. Well, that was the excuse he gave his parents anyway. He used it for his more personal benefit too. He'd snuck numerous girls in and out of the back door and down the stairs, all without his parent's knowledge.

He made it to his room and locked the door after stripping out of his smoky clothes and putting them into the washing machine. His mother hated the smell, so they'd come to the compromise that he'd put them in the wash as soon as he got home.

He turned on his tape player, already loaded with a mixtape that he'd put together full of his favourite chill-out songs. Laying down on his bed in the dark, his thoughts turned to the young blonde man that was now his lead singer, his boss if you will.

Seeing in his mind's eye his slim body in a pair of faded blue jeans, he wondered how soft the denim was. He pictured them both standing in front of each other and Richie's hand reaching out to feel how soft it was over his ass. He sees Jon's eyelids droop as Richie's hand caresses and smoothes over his ass cheek. Jon's tongue wets his bottom lip, his teeth biting one side. Richie imagines taking a step closer to Jon and slipping his other hand around Jon's body to cup his other cheek and draw him close.

His hand snakes down his own body while he's picturing this scene in his head and slips under the waistband of his underwear. He strokes his own penis with feather-light touches, knowing without conscious thought when to encase it and increase the pressure.

As Jon and Richie's bodies move in their own dance, Jon places his hands on top of Richie's and runs them up his arms to his shoulders, then down to his chest, holding them there to feel the racing heartbeat. He scratches his nails over the covered nipples.

Richie's second hand is imitating imaginary Jon's. His heart is beating hard and his leg muscles are tense.

As Jon's hands move down over Richie's belly, he finds the bottom edge of his t-shirt and slips his fingers underneath. Hands are splayed over warm flesh and revel in the heat before slipping to the waistband of his jeans. Richie's hands are still on Jon's ass, slipping into the back pockets holding him close, hips moving against each other.