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      I love the blinding lights of the stage, but even though there were a thousand or so fans standing in front of us, music was the furthest from my thoughts; again. I was trying to really focus tonight but it seemed that my mind had other plans for me. We were so close to the end of our tour that all I needed to do was finish the next few gigs. But he just distracts me so much these days that I really don’t know what I am going to do anymore. Glancing out at the crowed I can see the multitude of fan shirts; as well as small cell phone and camera screens capturing our every move, our every word. I don’t need to look at my drums to see where I need to hit them any more than I need to look at the strings of a guitar, but tonight I have to continue to try to keep my head down, bent over my set to keep from looking at him. So I return my gaze back to my set; back to my safe zone. He is not more than 10 feet away standing at his keyboard with that little jump step he does. His white jeans are hugging him in all the right areas and his ass keeps trying to call me away from my set. Those damn jeans, he had started wearing them more and more, on gigs and interviews; some new trend that he seemed to be on, and it worked for him. I can feel my head tilt up a bit and soon I can see him out beyond the loose strands of my hair. He is in near slow motion as I gaze at him, his leg keeping his beat and the sweat starting to collect at his jaw. Shit. I drop my head and stare at the metal frame again.

     Come on, Focus. I just need to make it to Taylor’s solo song and then I might be able to make it backstage long enough to get rid of some of this tension. That time is meant for water and a quick bathroom break but as of late I have been using the 5-7 minutes to try to cool down before having to go back on stage. But the difficulty always came with finishing in the small time gap given to me. The song ended and the crowed went nuts again, the lights dimmed and as soon as my area got dark I was out from behind my set and heading off stage.

            I could feel Isaac’s eyes follow me as I managed to make it off the side of the stage. I rushed down the hallway; half running, with a slight bounce here and there to avoid running into one of the stage hands as I made it back to our little room with the small attached bathroom. I just hoped to God that Isaac didn’t follow to see what was up with me. I closed the door to the bathroom and clicked the lock shut. Leaning into the door I popped the button, pulled at the zipper, and felt my cock practically jump out into my hand. I couldn’t help the moan that escaped me as my fingers wrapped around my girth. I didn’t stop to lube up, and the friction was a bit more than what I was used to. I enjoy drag, but this was drier than even I was used to. I hissed into the small space as I continued my assault. I just didn’t have the time; either I was going to hurt myself to the point that I would lose my erection or I was going to cum sooner. Either option was fine with me at the moment, so long as I didn’t walk back out on stage hard. Shaking my head I tried to clear my mind from my time constraint. My hand pumped back and forth down my shaft as my mind became flooded with images of Taylor’s ass and torturous jeans. I could feel a new wave of sweat beading at my brow and my breaths were beginning to come in short deep achy needs. Rap, Rap, Rap. I froze. I could feel the dread seeping through me as it mingled with the guilt of being caught once again.

            “Zac, Quit jerking it and get back on stage!” Isaac’s voice cut through the silence that fell, as I heard and felt the first and following raps through the door. There is no fucking way my eldest brother could have known I was really jerking myself in here. Glancing down I could see the slight twitches and the full extent of where I had been interrupted. Biting my lip I managed to tuck myself back into my tight jeans. Stealing a quick glance in the mirror I could see I was completely doomed. Fuck. There was no hiding how aroused I was and there was nothing I could do now. I turned and opened the door to face my older brother and eventually the swelling crowed again.

            “What the fuck, Isaac?! Can't a guy use the restroom in peace for 5 minutes?” Running my forearm across my forehead I could feel the excess of sweat that had accumulated during my short pause.

            “You don’t have 5 minutes; we had to be back on stage 3 minutes ago.” He pushes past me and headed back to the stage. There is nothing I can do but follow him back to the blue tinged stage. It hit me all at once, the semi darkness only illuminated in the deep blue of the stage lights above. The main of the light was focused on him. He was chatting up the crowd and they seemed to be loving every moment that he stood there. He didn’t need to say much to get them going, a sentence or two and the crowd would surge with newfound energy at his very tone or a simple smile. His charismatic ways have always been a marvel to me. I have to pick my way carefully back to my set as I kept glancing back over to him.

          Had I really been gone that long? We quickly started into the next song but it was clear that my long absence was not lost on Taylor. Round about the second verse I caught his glance for a second time. His head tipped to the side and just the slightest edge of his brow arched. The small distance between us did nothing to hide his small gestures. These small gestures always spoke volumes to me. Pulling my vision from his form once again I glanced out to the crowed and watched as they moved with the motion of the song. I could feel the words leaving my lips, my arms moving from the repeated practice of the song, yet it didn’t feel right. I glanced back over to the piano and found that his head was just sweeping back to the crowd. In some corner of my mind I knew what he was feeling; I could even guess what he was thinking. ‘Where the hell did you go?’. I shook my head again to clear the thought. I saw his left hand leave the keys and shoot out to his side; the slight movement was something that the majority of the crowed couldn’t see, a gesture that was meant for me alone. I watched as his hand tilted one way then the other before returning to his beloved piano. ‘Are you okay?’ I could feel the frustration growing in me. I was fine… sort of. As I beat out the tempo, my knee kept beat as well and each time my leg moved I could feel the friction of my jeans on my sensitive cock. Why had I rushed out of the bus of all days without boxers on? Why did I insist on attempting to pull off Taylor’s tight jean look? The answer was easy, if not too easy. I wanted to catch Taylor’s glances; I wanted to see if I affected him at all. Maybe then I would know what to do.

            The drumstick came down hard; I could feel the reverberating shake as it cracked under the assault. Glancing down I could see my spare, the last one I had with me. I hit the next note and half of my drumstick flew away from me. My fingers reacted, the release of the end in my hand and the quick grab for the spare. In my shift the fabric dug into my groin and sent a shiver of sensations through my midriff. The slight pain mingled with a pulse of pleasure. The words falling from my lips changed octaves slightly, a deeper ache etched into the undertones that I was sure that the crowed wouldn’t notice. Glancing off to Isaac however I could see his own confusion. Having the most mobile instrument, he made his way back a bit and glanced at me again. Nodding in the direction of the broken drumstick about a step away from him, he seemed to get the hint and went back forward.

            As each song came and went I felt the surge of energy rise in me as well as slowly tapering off. All the same though; the end of the set couldn’t have come quicker. My erection had dropped a bit but not enough to go completely unnoticed. As much as I wanted to leave stage quickly it just wasn’t an option. Both my brothers had already made their way nearly to center stage and any more lingering around wasn’t going to give me the time I needed. It took me a moment to reach them and as I did my gaze was pulled to a few of the fans in the front row; their glance and linger on that general direction made my body tingle uncomfortably. The pictures posted from our fans should be really interesting after tonight.

      Taylor’s hand reached out for mine and I slid my sweaty palm into his. He was completely drenched in his own sweat and I doubted that he would notice my sweaty palms all too much but the thought still left me feeling even more uncomfortable so close to him. His hand was firm, confident, solid, he was my rock. He may not know what was going on in my fucked up mind but he was always quick to give me a reminder that he was here for me if I needed him. As we stood in the center of stage I felt the subtle change in his hand, his cupped hand turned and his fingers laced in with mine. The subtle changed sent sparks in my mind and I could feel the ‘butterflies’ flood my stomach while my heart beat threatened to jump from my chest. I mustered everything I had in me just to put on a smile for the screaming fans as his thumb moved to the back of my hand and slowly rubbed back and forth as our hands came forward and up into the air. Everything stopped. That small gesture from Taylor was enough to make my world come crashing to a complete halt. I could feel every small edge to his hand, each grove and drip of sweat. The blazing heat that was more likely coming from my hand radiating between our grasp. The bright blinding glow of the white stage light as it illuminated him. But I continued to mimic our bow as we have done as far back as I can really remember being on stage. Once done I felt his hand fall away just as quick as it always does after our bow. But the contact burn lingered. His touch always lingers.