AllFreeNovel
Share Us
And he’s so in his element, my heart swells. How can it be that this man, the exact opposite of me in nearly every way, can make me feel like this?
At the end of the first song, the band goes silent and the crowd roars.
“Danke, thank you,” Alwin says into the mic. “Thank you for coming out to support Regenbogen Zusammen and the rights of the queer youth. It’s a project that’s been very near and dear to my heart since my parents kicked me out.”
The stadium fills with boos, and I’m sure I’m not the only one whose eyes have filled with tears.
“Every child deserves a safe place, and that’s what Regenbogen Zusammen is for. Thank you for supporting our community and our band. Now, let’s fucking rock!”
They play four more songs before they get to their big hit, the English song that won them Eurovision. Zoe screams next to me, but I only know because I can see her; the crowd drowns out the noise.
When the song ends, I have never seen Chris smile so wide. The crowd continues to cheer and scream as the band walks off the stage, waving and smiling. Alwin blows kisses to the crowd, and I swear the volume goes up another notch.
When Chris’s eyes find me, it’s a jolt to my system, lighting me up from my toes to the top of my head. His eyes are laser beams, pulling him toward me with single-minded focus until he stops suddenly, close, so close.
31
Sara
Zoe is gone,following the band, and if she said anything to me, I didn’t hear it. Everything was too loud, too exciting, and despite myself, all I could focus on was Chris.
Big hands grip my hips, pushing me back through black curtains and around cables and wires. Chris is guiding me, his eyes never leaving mine and a fire in them like I’ve never seen before.
My back hits a wall, and somehow, we’ve gotten so far into the curtains backstage that the space around us is dark. One step, and Chris is up against me, his cock hard and pressing into my stomach.
His mouth goes to my ear. “Fuck, knowing you were watching me on stage was so fucking hot.”
My fingers clutch at his shirt. Chris feels bigger and broader than ever before. The colors around his eyes are still vivid, almost shimmering, when the heavy velvet moves enough to allow a stream of light in. I stretch on my tippy-toes and bring our mouths together.
I hardly know what’s happening when Chris unzips my jeans, struggling to get a hand into my pants before he yanks the whole thing, underwear and all, down to my thighs, the cold air sending goosebumps across my ass until he grips one cheek with a warm hand. His other hand goes between my legs, plunging in and thrusting deep, making me cry out. I bury my face in his chest to muffle the noise.
Chris’s pants are just as tight as mine, and he nearly pops out into my hand when I get his fly down. We’re panting and stroking, and his hand is gripping and squeezing my ass with every thrust of his hips.
This isn’t delicate and tender; this is urgent and needy. The sounds Chris’s fingers make while pumping in and out of me are obscene, and thank god, there’s enough surrounding noise to cover it. His dick is hard and tight in my hand, and I swipe my thumb over the slit and spread the pre-come over his foreskin and the ridge of the head.
“Oh, fuck,” he says, and his hands disappear, ripping off his shirt and throwing it over my hand before he twitches and pulses into it. His cum splashes onto my fist, hot and wet, while he keeps grinding.
A few shudders and Chris has regained his senses, and his hand is back between my legs. He works me hard, and I curl into him, chasing my own orgasm. A fire licks up my legs, the muscles in my body undulating while I ride his fingers as my orgasm rips through me.
I’m panting hard, coming down quickly while Chris slips his fingers out of me and pulls away from my hand. His fingers—the middle three—go into his mouth, and he cleans the juices off with his tongue, metal bar flashing, before he rolls the shirt around and wipes his hands on a bare spot.
“This shirt is not up to the job,” he mutters, and I laugh. The ribbon and leather top he was wearing is ruined.
“Could have used mine,” I say, still catching my breath.
Chris presses me back against the wall and gives me a long, slow, lingering kiss. “No one will blink an eye when I walk in shirtless to the band’s room. You, on the other hand, might draw some attention.”
My hips wriggle while Chris tugs my panties and jeans back up my legs and zips me up. He tucks himself in and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a hair band and sliding it onto his wrist.
He looks me over. “You look pretty well-fucked.” Chris holds up the shirt, a filthy bundle of cum and sweat. “Stay right there.”
The black drapes flutter as Chris disappears and returns a few minutes later, shirt presumably thrown away. We spend a few minutes tidying up; Chris smooths my hair down in the back where it rubbed against the wall, and then he flips his own head over and twists his hair up into a bun. I’m certain my lipstick is entirely worn off, but it’s hard to tell if it’s on Chris’s lips or if his are just red from kissing.
“Ready?” he says. “I’m sure the rest of Verduistering is back in the room and relaxing.”
He leads the way, pushing the heavy curtains aside and making his way through the space. We start to run into a few people coiling power cords and pushing big boxes on carts through.
“Is relaxing a euphemism? Zoe’s with them.”
