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Post-concert Robert Plant was a sight to behold.
Loose, sloshy, apple cheeks glistening with smudged trails of sweat and tears, flushed and dishevelled from all the prancing and bouncing he did in his now ruined dirty white socks on the sprung stage of the Grande Ballroom. And yet still brimming with enough pent-up energy to light up a powerhouse. A contemporary angel, avant-garde.
No wonder girls couldn’t take their eyes off him. And not just the eyes. They were all over him, posing like harlots.
One could practically sniff the pheromones in the air and get high.
That’s quite alright, Jimmy congratulated himself, arms crossed over his chest as he took in the tableau.
After all, he’d hired Robert for his voice and his looks, the complete package. He needed someone centre stage who could captivate the audience — both visually and aurally — for hours at a time. Someone the crowd could fuck with, methaporically speaking, while they were being railed from behind by Jimmy’s guitar and the other chaps’ instruments. Robert had it.
With that face, that wail, bloody hell, that body, Robert fit the role to a tee. He was his man, so to speak, and he was proving it to Jimmy day after day that he deserved this opportunity.
No, Robert was exactly where he was supposed to be: lapping up the limelight, dripping with so much unsophisticated grace — a perfect counterpart to Jimmy’s more refined and worldly presence.
Even physically, they were somewhat of an interplay of contrasts and correspondences; complementary colours that sparked off one another, leaving no choice but to gape at the spectacle they presented. Key word here: gape. Stare. Look. At a distance, preferably.
To sum up: young, wild and drop-dead gorgeous.
And with a voice that would put Odyssey sirens to shame.
Jimmy wouldn’t have settled for anything less.
Believe him, he understood the implications all too well — there was a reason he was so mystified — and more than a little suspicious — when Robert had candidly told him that he’d been trying to break through for a few years already, without much success. It had seemed absurd at the time, simply impossible to conceive, a fellow like him… full of spirit and raw talent, stuck in bloody Birmingham of all places, while London was brimming with the most unimaginative prats!
So Jimmy didn’t blame wanton females, all he asked for was some bloody moderation—
The most procacious of the bunch, a buxom square-faced hag with rhomboid earrings irritatingly in pendant with Robert’s turquoise bracelet — Jimmy had a vague recollection of her from the last tour with the Yards, though he couldn’t be too sure — continued to shove her quite impressive bosom against whichever part of Robert was accessible to her any time she laughed at something he said… which happened quite a lot. About (he’d been counting) every three seconds!
And what could a person say that was witty and oh-so irresistibly charming in less than three seconds? Butt? Banana powder? Battleship Potemkin?
…There she goes again! Unbelievable!
This time, Jimmy couldn’t suppress a moue of distaste.
Was she really that impressionable?
But of course she was, they all were. Groupies, or whatever they called themselves nowadays.
Jimmy knows what they really are under the fancy pretence.
Now, Robert was a funny guy, but he wasn’t that funny.
Admittedly, his humor was quick and clever, and when he fancied it to be, as sharp as a needle. Although most of the time it tended to fly straight over people’s heads, especially so in America — they all got a good laugh out of the dullness of the people here!
What Robert was, however, was enticing.
And that was somehow both the best and the worst.
Because he had this peculiar kind of goofy charm… a disarming candour that made him utterly endearing. Combined with just the right amount of roguishness to appeal to weak little things, such as those fluttering birds. Or Jimmy himself.
God, he was weak weak weak weak for this boy.
Almost a man now, really. Weak in the heart, in the knees, all over his body. The most exquisite fever consumed him. He didn’t know what to do with himself anymore. What does it mean when you need to be close to a person all the time? Nothing good, surely. You see, Jimmy doesn’t need people, people need him. Doesn’t want company — that’s just not what he does. He’s self-sufficient.
Nevertheless.
Nevertheless…
It was a bit twee, Jimmy was entirely and painfully aware of that, but since yesterday morning at the beach, when they’d been rolling around in the pale sand under the blushing horizon, like two bloody teenagers, for fuck’s sake, he’d been feeling askew, as though a divine hand had plunged down from the sky and rummaged directly through his chest, and now everything was was out of kilter. Wrong. The sensation stuck with him.
A different kind of ‘wrong’ than what Jimmy was used to, as well.
He was used to bursts of riveting excitement followed by interludes of ennui and mild disinterest towards the affairs of ordinary life and the sometimes right insufferable individuals that populated it.
He was decidedly not used to this.
Having his heart constantly lodged in his throat only to suddenly plummet in a free fall into his shrunken stomach. Lungs inverted… ribs like vicious little thorns that prodded at the most defenceless places inside his body.
Now Jimmy had been watching for some time, unseen. But in that moment — must be telepathy — Robert raised his head and their gazes clicked across the room, sending his heart into a tumble. A sharp jolt shot up his spine, the very same frisson of bewildering attraction that had walloped him senseless that first time in Birmingham many months ago, immediately followed by a compulsive temptation to flee — that too was old news.
Even the twinkle in Robert’s baby blues seemed to mock him.
‘You don’t look at me’ my arse, thought Jimmy.
What went through Robert’s head when he looked at him like that, smirked at him like that? Better yet — what did he see? That had been pretty much the leitmotif of Jimmy’s life: the question of how he’s perceived by other people. To this day, it remained an unsolved mystery, but one over which he craved absolute control.
And then the insolent prat had the audacity to wink at Jimmy.
Jimmy was going to strangle him — but first things first.
He expertly waited out his agitation, then peeled off his nook and made his way over to his vocalist through the backstage/green room — merely one of adjoining smaller spaces to the grand ballroom where they played, adapted for that purpose. The ballroom itself was in full Art Deco style, boasting decadent Moorish arches and beautiful stuccoed low ceilings that, along with the lack of windows, contributed to rendering the air beneath claggy and almost syrupy with sweat and smoke, but it was a small price to pay for the excellent acoustics.
As he passed the table with the usual assortment of drinks and nibbles, Jimmy set down the glass of bourbon he’d been nursing (the owner of the venue did not allow booze inside, but G had smuggled in a few bottles just for them). His stomach roiled, pretty sure from disgust not hunger. Jimmy just ignored it. Hands free, he stepped into the circle of the frolicsome little group.
He extended one hand above the vixen’s head (she was quite short, Jimmy observed with no small amount of satisfaction) to clasp it around Robert’s bicep, feeling with secret pleasure the firm hot muscle bounce up to meet his fingers. Jimmy had this vivid mental image of Robert bulging arms hauling heavy equipment up and down the stage as if it were nothing as he stared with a watering mouth, thinking of how he’d like nothing more than to be choked in the crook of Robert’s elbow. Jimmy blinked, clearing his vision from steam.
Not now.
“A word with you, Robert?”
Not one but five pairs of eyes turned towards him. Laughter ebbed down. It was a familiar pattern with Jimmy. Wherever he went, unease soon settled in like an unwanted guest.
Of course they all believed there was something wrong with Jimmy. There was something wrong with Jimmy. Each set of inquiring orbs only served to shine a bull’s eye on his glaring oddness.
“Robert, now,” stressed Jimmy, authority coming readily into his voice. Predictably, Robert’s brows furrowed and lowered at being ordered around.
As easy to smile as to pout, Jimmy thought with soft exasperation. But what a beautiful little pout he made.
He continued to stare, trying to telegraph his intentions to Robert. He raised his brows expectantly.
Come on, Percy.
“Oh!” Robert exclaimed. “Is this about that… you know, er, that chord progression thing, right?”
“It is,” Jimmy confirmed slowly, amused. Robert was trying to find an excuse for the ladies, how adorably sweet. Didn’t he know he was the rockstar, to do as he pleased without owing explanations to anyone?
“Band business,” Robert clarified for the girls’ sake, as though ‘chord progression’ was not self-explanatory enough.
“Can’t we just tag along?” one of the girls protested, the disappointment palpable in her voice, to which square-face breezed, “Aw, c’mon now boys, the more the merrier! Ain’t that how you say in the UK?” making the others giggle. They were all big ciliated eyes, pouty sleek mouths. Jimmy thought they looked carnivorous.
He smiled.
“Don’t worry. I will try to return him in one piece.”
Robert flinched. His eyes flicked from the girls to Jimmy and back again to the girls.
“Er… you heard him. Be right back, alright.”
No words were exchanged as Jimmy and Robert left the green room side by side, slipping into a shadowy hallway through one of the arches. Jimmy didn’t meet anyone’s eye as they crossed the room. A frisson of tension was simmering just below his skin, building in anticipation.
In contrast to the crowded room, the hallway was relatively quiet, cooler, even though moisture still hung heavily in the used and abused air.
“So… chord progression, hm?” Jimmy couldn’t resist. To his credit, Robert chuckled good-naturedly, then coughed a little into his hand and scratched his neck, lowering his head and skirting his eyes away. Jimmy regarded his mannerism thoughtfully.
“I don’t know, mate.”
Jimmy hummed. “An advice,” he said. It was endearing the way Robert immediately perked up and waited for him all engrossed. A stupidly pleased thrill went through Jimmy’s frame at that.
“Next time,” continued Jimmy once he had the boy’s full attention, “just tell ‘em to bugger off.”
Robert barked out a stunned laugh and Jimmy allowed himself a twitch of his lips.
“Where are we going?” Robert asked, instinctively lowering his voice as they took the stairs that led to the staff exit. He also moved closer to Jimmy so that their arms brushed.
“Somewhere we can fuck, I guess,” Jimmy deadpanned.
Robert’s jaw went slack, a fleeting glimmer of dark delight passing through his feline eyes at Jimmy’s unexpectedly crude words. Jimmy only gave a mischievous wiggle of his brows.
They reached the bottom of the stairs and stopped, Robert turning once again to regard Jimmy with a curious expression while Jimmy quickly darted his eyes upward to where they had come, then forward; he saw the coast was clear, so he turned to Robert and grinned. He could not have said what came over him when he challenged “Catch me” before running off.
“Jimmy!” Robert let out a cackling mad laugh and chased after him.
They tumbled down the hallway like a pair of wild horses, the sound of their heeled boots reverberating against the walls.
Jimmy’s hurdler’s legs gave him an easy advantage, putting him ahead. Once he’d established his superiority, Jimmy allowed himself to be ‘catched’ though. Robert’s palm slid into his, and Jimmy’s stomach flipped in his belly when he was effortlessly tugged back against a broad chest.
“Got you,” Robert purred into his ear. His sultry voice sent a smattering of shivers down Jimmyʼs spine.
There were plenty of doors lining the hallway, leading to offices and magazines and various rooms connected to the shops that were closed at night. Jimmy dragged a tittering Robert inside the first one that gave in before things could escalate. Once inside, he kicked the door shut behind them with the heel of his boot. A storeroom of some sort. Just as well.
“Fucking finally,” Jimmy groaned into the sudden but welcomed darkness. Mind hot, hands quivering, cock throbbing — he crashed into Robert and into the wall. There was a fire in his loins and he felt maniac, high-wired. Almost there already.
Robert tasted of 7UP and the spicy crisps he’d been eating earlier, bitter pot underneath. His breath was moist-warm, his fine lips invitingly soft and warm with saliva. They parted under his own, unfurled rose petals, tongues lapping, teasing, hunting.
“Wanted to do this all evening,” Jimmy confessed. He reached around to grope at the magnificent swell of Robert’s arse with the vehemence of a man about to lose his hands.
Robert’s lips pulled into a grin, a whimsical little grin, pukish, and Jimmy snogged the hell out of it just because he could. He could do anything he wanted, anything at all, because Robert would let him. He could kiss Robert until they both suffocated.
He pulled back.
“You… your mouth… here,” he murmured incoherently, eyes crossing on the divot that cut at the left corner of Robert’s mouth, noticeable even in the semi-darkness, and he prodded at it with his forefinger. “It does this thing when you’re thinking mischief.”
It was true. Actually, it was one of the first things that Jimmy had noticed about Robert.
Robert cocked his head to the side and back, mass of curls silently swaying with the movement. He studied Jimmy closely, nailing him in place with those disconcertingly intense — cognisant, intelligent — light blue eyes of his, pulling at Jimmy’s innermost seams with barely any effort.
Suddenly Jimmy was desperate for Robert to understand.
Cocooned by the darkness, he heard his mouth get away from him. “Bloody gorgeous,” he exhaled. Gosh, what on earth was happening to him?
Robert’s eyes danced with mirth as he drew the tip of Jimmy’s index finger into the supple wet cavern of his mouth, the hot little minx. His kitten tongue laved over his pad, as soft as wet velvet, as bright as the stars.
And then he applied suction.
Oh.
Oh, sweet Jesus!
That right there — that was what was happening to him.
Jimmy’s eyes drooped at half-mast, weighed down by lust and something even deeper than lust.
“Do you know what you do to me?” he murmured as he tried not to shiver his way into a premature heart attack.
“Think so.” Robert spit out Jimmy’s finger and mouthed the words directly against Jimmy’s palm, nuzzling lovingly into it. Jimmy cupped Robert’s face in his hand, watching Robert lean into his touch like languid cat.
This is unprofessional — a voice intoned the usual litany — he’s not like you. He’s married too, has a fucking child to show for it! Want to be a fucking homewrecker and a pervert?
“Well I ‘ave an inkling, alright.” Jimmy’s palm was now damp with Robert’s breath. Robert pulled him closer, and Jimmy’s body gave a shudder at the visceral sensation of Robert’s steady hands enveloping his waist completely. “Wanna see?”
“You do?” Jimmy whispered hoarsely, somewhat dazed by the wild creature momentarily tamed in his hand, breath itching in his throat. Wait a minute. Why did Robert say that? What does he know?
Robert hummed low in his throat.
“Aw, shit!” Jimmy suddenly gasped.
His hand being in the proximity of Robert’s shoulder was the only thing that saved him from toppling on the floor when his knees buckled a moment later.
Robert’s inquisitive fingers had found the damp bulge at the junction of his legs. And rubbed it over his trousers, slow and sure, causing Jimmy’s silky knickers to slide stickly against his swiftly stiffening prick, the buttery-soft sensation making Jimmy’s vision go blind.
Fuck. Fuck—
“Pagey…” Robert called him softly, plaintively, squeezing at the meat above Jimmy’s hip with proprietary firmness. His otherwise occupied hand moved even lower, bold fingers finding the sloping curve of his aching bollocks and tightening around it while the heel of his hand ground against Jimmy’s clothed cockhead, driving it stickly against his lower belly. Jimmy keened weak and pathetic in the recesses of his throat, bucking up into Robert’s hand and clawing at his shoulder.
A sharp inhale went through Robert’s nostrils as he flipped back his curling mane. “You’re gorgeous, too, Jimmy. You hear me?” — Jimmy couldn’t help the way his eyes darted in mild shock — “You are… so good. I mean it, so good, so good to me…” Robert rambled out unheeding of the warning that singed through Jimmy’s face. He was panting as though their cocks were one under his tantalising touch. “Fuck, Pagey… you’re so fuckin’ wet I can’t—” Jimmy… had heard enough.
In a sudden, sharp movement, he jammed their foreheads together.
“You are driving me barmy.”
Even as he was snogging him, Robert giggled, unserious. He remained supple and slippery even when pinned down. Oh, he’d give the lad six of the best and see who’s laughing!
“You already are barmy, Pagey!”
God help him, he was. He absolutely was. The truth was sort of devastating.
“Am I?”
“Yes! You are!” Robert cackled without mercy.
“Right, go on, tease me…” Jimmy murmured moodly, cupping Robert’s face in both his hands as they resumed the kiss. He did not care. Robert’s right hand slid up his body, leaving a blaze of desire in its wake. Every pore of Jimmy’s skin tensed, like the most superficial layer of water.
Mirroring Jimmy, Robert curled his hand around Jimmy’s nape.
His thumb jutted out and pressed over his skittering pulse, his most vulnerable point. Jimmy’s world rattled, tilted on its axis, serpentine shivers scattering all over his skin. He swallowed.
“Rob—” but was hushed before he could say anything else.
“Shh, relax.”
…Relax?
But he was relaxed. Jimmy did not understand.
Robert was staring at him with a laser-like focus in his eyes.
Taking advantage of Jimmy’s indecision, he reversed their positions, easily manhandling a wobbly Jimmy against the wall. One hand remained firmly at Jimmy’s waist as he plundered his mouth. Jimmy didn’t protest. In fact, he slowly began to… oh.
Well, he supposed he’d been a little tense. Not anymore.
I trust him, he realized, surprising himself. Then again, Robert was a gentle giant, much like G.
The parallel wove itself into a safe corner in his mind, where it nestled, pulsing with a soft emerald glow. That’s right, he thought, humming delicately around Robert’s tongue.
That seemed to make Robert barmy.
“Careful — it’s delicate,” Jimmy admonished before Robert’s errant hands could ruin his blouse beyond repair.
“Lemme do it to you.” Robert ignored Jimmy completely. His deft fingers were already feeling for the zipper of Jimmy’s trousers.
Jimmy frowned as Robert tugged at his clothes here and there.
“We really shouldn’t,” he said just to be contrary.
Robert’s answering look was nothing short of flabbergasted. It lasted but a fleeting moment, but oh it did the trick for Jimmy. He suddenly wondered what might happen if he were to push Robert’s limits in this area, just as he already did in their professional relationship.
“Be quick.” Jimmy bit down on the corner of his lip where a shit-eating grin threatened to spill all over his face.
It was almost too easy with Robert, really. He was just so much fun.
Robert nodded, a little frantic. “Quick as a whistle… you got it.” He leapt into action, as if afraid Jimmy would change his mind yet again. Jimmy loved it. In a flurry of movement the zipper was lowered and his trousers hastily undone and yanked to mid-thighs. Passionate, clumsy kisses, more teeth than tongues, were exchanged between ministrations. Suddenly they couldn’t resist each other. Jimmy’s heartbeat thundered away above his collarbone.
His breath, Robert’s smell, filled his nostrils, musk and patchouli and smoke, fierce and overbearingly masculine, making his head spin.
“What’re you gonna do, huh?” he drawled the breathless question, trying to make sense of what was happening. “Tell me babe.”
“This… Jimmy.”
Robert didn’t elaborate, but he didn’t need to, because with a clever flick of his wrist he whipped out Jimmy’s raging hard-on from its silky confinement and claimed it in his fist.
“Jimmy…” Robert’s breath fanned hot and desperate against his cheek as he wanked him off energetically.
A roughened thumb brushed up over Jimmy’s head, then pressed down sideways over the slit as it slid down, extracting a dollop of precome. Jimmy felt it drib, felt something sizzle, water on a bed of coal, at the very root of his cock as more clear fluid drooled out.
“Shit,” he cursed. Panted. Shuddered so hard he knocked his head against the wall. Robert smooched his cheek, his neck, his collarbone, even his hair, his breath hot as a furnace. Jimmy canted his head more, encouraging a wet trail of sloppy kisses up to his ear, and when he tilted his head the other way just right their mouths locked in a cracking, voracious kiss. The pleasure was heightened into pure bliss by the sensation of Jimmy’s hot hard cock being pumped inside Robert’s big worker hand. Robert’s bangles jingled on his wrist, their discordant clangs somehow harmonizing with their excited breathing, the delicious friction of skin on skin that grew from dry to filthily wet.
“Yes… yes, like that, that’s right. Fuck yes,” Jimmy sighed and ondulated slightly in Robert’s hold, testing his grip and finding it malleable to a point. His hands skidded restlessly, greedily, across boiling muscle, grabbing around a pair of lean, tapered flanks.
Robert nuzzled against his face. He was just there, pressing against his cheek with his mouth and nose.
“Want to put yer cock in me mouth.”
“Yes—” Jimmy almost choked. “Go ahead. ‘S yours,” he groaned wantonly, throbbing at the promise of that lovely song-singing mouth around his hard tool even as Robert’s hand gripped him still.
He was primed.
Jimmy feared he would come embarrassingly fast and reveal all his cards.
With a fistful of Robert’s hair he dragged him closer for a tongue-laden, bruising kiss, ravaging desire surging through him. Making him moan as Robert moaned right back at him. Fretful hands skimmed on Jimmy’s thighs, yanking both pants and trousers to his ankles as Robert sank to his knees. His slick mouth caught against his chin as he did so, leaving a wet stain that instantly cooled in the air. Goosebumps covered Jimmy’s exposed skin like a bad rash.
A deep embarrassment flooded him — though it wasn’t simple embarrassment, but a deep-rooted self-awareness that turned Jimmy into one giant exposed nerve, every sensation capable of tearing him apart.
He gripped Robert’s shoulders in a vice as the other burrowed between his legs and took him into his sweet cock-sucking mouth. Jimmy let out a long moan, and the noise echoed in his head. In the dark, the world ceased to exist, only the forbidden paradise of Robert’s lush mouth remained.
He bucked his hips, forcing Robert to take more. After a brief hesitation, Robert did. His tongue curled shyly around his cock, tasting him properly for the first time, and it was so blatant, so painstakingly obvious that he’d never done anything of the sort, that Jimmy was smitten on the spot by violent, all-consuming lust; wicked and possessive, it lightened a spark into Jimmy’s dark heart.
By the time Robert’d took two thirds in, Jimmy was shaking with the effort not to give in to the primal urge to just ram himself down Robert’s throat. Robert attempted to accommodate more, but only managed to choke around his girth instead. He pulled off to take a couple of ragged breaths before diving right back in.
“Easy baby, don’t damage your pipes,” cautioned Jimmy, who couldn’t help but worry about the precious instrument encased in Robert’s throat. He reached down to peel Robert’s hand from his hip and gently guided it around the base of his cock. He patted his fingers. “Here… use your pretty hand.”
Robert took it from there.
“Taste so good, Jimmy!” Robert gasped, emerging from a wickedly good low glide with a wet suck. He pumped his fist steadily along Jimmy’s shaft and flattened his clever tongue against the tip, moving his head up and down gently as he collected more fluid, blond hair bobbing over his shoulders and lashes fanned over his cheeks.
“Yes baby…” Jimmy shivered, fisting his own hair and pulling at the roots. This was utter torment.
Jimmy’s derangement only seemed to rile Robert up more, make him audacious, eager to please, and he started to suckle obscene kisses up the length of Jimmy’s throbbing cock as he fondled his balls. “Jimmy…” he pleaded. From his sac, two of his fingers pushed even lower, brushing dry and rough over Jimmy’s taint, hinting more to come. In a blaring instant, Jimmy came to his senses. His thighs locked up around Robert’s wrist, effectively trapping him in place.
“Like you did to me.” Robertʼs warm breath puffed against his groin.
He had the gall to explain that… to him!
But Jimmy was so close… so hysterically close it hurt in the best possible way.
Robert returned to apply his mouth to his skin, sucking bruises to the seam of his trembling thighs, prying him open as one would a reluctant oyster. Easing through, he insinuated a digit between his cheeks. Jimmy stopped breathing altogether when it crossed over the fine hair of his arsehole. A sob choked in his throat. Robert paused before he gave a tentative rub. Jimmy jerked, gasping for air. He pushed up on his toes, squirming away from the shockingly intense sensation. Robert followed him, gave him no quarter, licking up his bollocks to sheath Jimmy’s cock back in his mouth. “Fuckfuck — oh, shit!” Jimmy cried pathetically, his voice too weak even to project through the room. The double assault alighted his senses, made his lungs and brain useless. All was left of him was his cock and his arsehole, and the pleasure that crackled between them like a line of gunpowder.
And maybe Jimmy needed that — Robert’s fingers inside, too. But he knew Robert would not dare.
What if instead Robert manhandled him around and forced his big hungry cock inside of him and fucked Jimmy fast and harsh against the wall and made a mess of him.
The thought of getting buggered by someone younger than him, stronger than him, of getting buggered at all was both inconceivable and desiderable, frightening and impossibly arousing.
Jimmy gasped loudly, straining and shaking in Robert’s grip as filthy imaginings continued to fill his mind of Robert tied to a bed, Jimmy’s hand around his cock, of his dick inside his mouth, their bodies writhing, Jimmy disperate and helpless as Robert pounded into him. He did not know whether he wanted to penetrate or be penetrated, to dominate or be dominated. The concepts themselves lost consistency in the mounting magma of his explosive desire. Until the heat coiling in his abdomen finally bursted, white-hot shrapnels cutting through him, tearing pieces of himself away as he convulsed and spilled down Robert’s throat. He carried on coming and coming, wave after wave of scorching delight washing over him in an endless tide. Until a spike of panic — that he’ll remain stuck in this dazzling limbo forever — pierced through the pleasure, bringing it to a premature end. The shimmering nebula of his orgasm collapsed into a dim star and Jimmy floated back into his own terrestrial body, spent and quiet against the wall as he found his breath again.
Not even a moment had passed that he was pulled into the orbit of another shaking body, this one still captive of its need of release. Without looking he sneaked a hand to Robert’s front, quickly freeing his throbbing need. A black compulsion gripped him then, and he paused scarcely a inch from it, feeling it twitch and radiate moist heat into the back of his hand.
“Please Jimmy,” Robert whispered against his cheekbone. His dirty angel with come-smeared lips.
“How much do you need it,” he said. “Tell me.”
Robert rutted against his knuckles, smearing Jimmy’s phalanges with warm fluid. He whined pitifully in his throat. “Please, please, Jimmy! Anything… anything,” he begged. Jimmy struggled to reason with the heavy beat of his heart pulsing in his temples.
His fingers formed a ring. “You need it bad… you fucking tart,” he cussed. A brush of his thumbnail was all the encouragement Robert needed and his cock jerked inside, ready to be milked. Jimmy obligingly squeezed around him. “Jimmy!” Robert wailed, and unlike Jimmy’s gracile voice, Robert’s thundered between the narrow walls, threatening to project further. He was too loud, moaning and groaning with abandon, but they had completely forgotten where they were, and Jimmy had no heart to shut him. All Jimmy could think of doing was to tangle a hand into Robert’s hair and invite him to find refuge in the curve at the base of his neck. Soon Robert lost any restraint, driving Jimmy’s whole body snugly up the wall with the force of his pelvic thrusts. It was inelegant and crude, raw and carnal. Powerful. Jimmy was convinced this must have been how the first men on earth made love. “Yeah,” he uttered, half-dreaming, “thatʼs it, fuck m — my hand, love.”
He squeezed in rapid pulsations around the stiff weight in his hand, and Robert was a goner. With a melodious high moan, he spilled over Jimmy’s knuckles. Jimmy gentled him through it and held him close to his chest, sheltered and cherished, as Robert slowly came to. He swiftly wiped his soiled hand against the wall beside him before he enveloped Robert into a full embrace and they panted quietly into the dark room. There was not a spot on his body that was not connected to Robert, but strangely it wasn’t overwhelming so much as it was grounding. Jimmy let his eyes close for an indulgent moment, basking in the precious warmness of Robert’s aura that enveloped him completely. His powerful nerve-force.
Gradually, their breaths and pulses fell into sync, and for a moment they became one body and one heart.
But then Jimmy recalled two things: that they’d been gone too long for their absence not to have aroused suspicion, and that beyond this very door there was a building teeming with human life. Were it up to Jimmy, they would never leave this closet, but alas that was not a feasible option for them.
He conceded himself another couple of indulgent minutes before speaking up. “We ought to go back now, before pretty birds start flying around looking for you,” Jimmy sighed regretfully before he could allow himself to change his mind and spirit Robert away. He caressed Robert’s cheek affectionately.
“You go first.”
“That was pretty good, innit?” Robert gave him a tentative smile as he adjusted himself inside his jeans, all his soul stripped bare for Jimmy, and he wanted to bash himself over the head hard.
“It was,” Jimmy said, controlling his voice, but it was enough for Robert to become smug. Delicately clearing his throat, Jimmy slapped Robert’s bum, nudging him towards the door.
“Off you go,” he prompted.
Instead, Robert turned back and covered Jimmy’s mouth with his, and this time it was sweet and almost playful, with the way they nipped at each other and Jimmy softly growled at him.
“You’re a menace,” Jimmy chided, pushing him away.
“You love it,” Robert laughed, but then he obediently slipped out.
Once he was alone, Jimmy thudded his head back against the wall and exhaled a weary sigh. He stared up into the blankness, acutely aware of the guilty affection festering in his chest despite himself. “Bloody hell,” he sighed again. Well, nothing could be done about it.
Jimmy made himself presentable, as much as he could make himself presentable in the dark and without a mirror, and left the tranquil alcove. He was totally caught up in his head, so he started when he came face to face with someone’s bulging blue eyes — fuck! A boy — younger than him, more around Robert’s age — carrying some gear on a dolly. He wasn’t a familiar face, so no part of Zeppelin’s entourage.
Jimmy took in his rapidly flushing face, the direction he came from and calculated his approximative speed. His stomach plummeted to his feet. Oh. He had seen Robert coming out right before him.
Just as panic was about to kick in, Jimmy heard the familiar purposeful footsteps approaching.
He sagged with relief.
Yes, Peter would sort this out for him. And sure enough, a moment later…
“Oi, what’s going on here?!” G bellowed.
The manager took one look at the situation — Jimmy’s rumpled appearance, the wild look in his eyes, the lad looking puzzled and mildly intimidated between them. His portly frame didnʼt hinder his speed in the least. People who didnʼt know G were always surprised by how fast he could move, but Jimmy knew better. Within the next second, Peter had the guy by the scruff of the neck and pinned against the nearest wall, barking at him and shaking him like a ragdoll. Time for Jimmy to make himself scarce. He returned upstairs, to the ballroom, the strobe lights and the buzzing green room. With nothing better to do, he went to retrieve his abandoned drink from the table.
Jonesy, who hovered nearby with a girl and a guy from the opening act, noticed Jimmy slinking back and tuned out of the conversation to direct a questioning look at him, one single eyebrow arched. When Jimmy only smirked deviously at him, the other brow slowly reached the companion.
Drink recovered, Jimmy quickly slotted himself into his safe corner again. There, he sipped and took a moment to center himself.
And to watch Robert from across the room.
Against his will, his eyes scanned his body, perversely seeking traces of their romp. He was already mussed, but now he stood taller, more confidently, even though there was a mellow quality to his movements, his gaze. A soffuse blur to his light. Jimmy’s eyes tracked his lips and his stomach cramped with a ravenous hunger. So much for centering himself.
This was utterly awful.
He took another sip of his lukewarm drink. Perhaps someone had spiked it. Right, maybe he was drugged right now. That would provide an adequate enough explanation for his current unbalanced state.
“I’ve dealt with him.”
Again, Jimmy started as he turned towards G, who had somehow managed to sneak up on him. It took him a second more to catch the meaning of his words. Ah, right. He’d already forgotten the nosy lad.
“Thank you,” Jimmy said quietly, relieved. One problem less, he supposed, eyeing Peter’s pinkened knuckles.
Although the lad’s only crime had been to find himself in the wrong place at the wrong time, hardly his fault. Then again, in movies that was enough to get you clobbered and thrown into a canal.
Besides, Jimmy was fairly certain that G had only roughened him up a little bit — he would be fine.
G grumbled a dismissal of sorts, but his voice was gentle when he spoke to him, with a hint of worry. “The hell was that about, Jim? That scumbag didn’t put his hands on you, did he?”
“No, he didn’t.”
Jimmy plucked at his lip. Oh, to hell with it.
“But… but someone else might have,” he admitted even more quietly. He waited with bated breath as his friend followed the straight line of Jimmy’s gaze, which ended on the rugged Apollo holding court in the centre of the room. Their second US tour running out, Robert was no longer the lost puppy that Jimmy had carried in the palm of his hand. He had started to take his first wandering steps into this new strange world, conquering it effortlessly with his natural charm. The naive, blooming boy he’d met almost a year ago would soon disappear, Jimmy could already see it happening.
A jumble of contrasting feelings swelled in Jimmy’s chest. A few happy, prideful — others darker and twisted, tinged with melancholy.
“Ah!” G let out a gust of air. “Should’ve known. I had my suspicions. Even though…” Jimmy turned to look at G sharply. “What d’you think?” he inquired. But his friend was smiling, the light shining off the balding spot on his head as he peered down at him. He chuckled and put an affectionate hand on Jimmy’s shoulder, managing to wrap his entire scapula inside his meaty palm. His expression softened. “Nah, nothing. I’m happy for you, son, for both of you, actually. He’s a good lad,” G said with a penetrating look that had Jimmy hiding away in his glass. He finally decided to neck it, spiked or not.
“Sounds like we’re about to get hitched,” he mused to himself. G burst out laughing and clapped him on the shoulder.
“It’d be ‘bout time! You’re the last soldier standing, old chap.”
No, thank you.
Getting married was not part of Jimmy’s plans for his immediate future, if at all. He’d seen what having a family did to fellows — even the likes of Jonesy, whom Jimmy had previously thought immune to such sentimentalities. Not that Jimmy was cold-hearted, but one had to admit that it was an unnecessary hindrance in pursuing a successful music career. Missuses required attention… children required attention, love, and care! Okay, maybe part of the problem was that Jimmy couldn’t quite picture himself as a father.
Quite naturally, at that point his thoughts circled back to Robert.
Christ, a father. Robert was someone’s fucking dad.
Everytime Jimmy stopped to think about that, his insides did a little somersault. He couldn’t quite get around the notion. He looked at him laughing, young and carefree, untamed, and couldn’t picture him at home with a wife and a child, a normal work, an ordinary life… Robert had told him he’d studied to be an accountant — was that what he’d be doing now if Jimmy hadn’t plucked him away? Wast away in some office? Or maybe someone such as Robert would’ve found another chance to shine even without Jimmy, his brilliance impossible to contain in between dreary coal mines.
When he’d first seen him playing with that ridiculous group, Obbs-whatnot, Jimmy had been simply gobsmacked. There was no other word for it.
The night was not yet over that his mind was already working feverishly to rewrite his plans — erase Winwood, erase Marriott and Reid, no, Robert Plant was what he’d been looking for. With G and Chris Dreja (the latter was still on board at the time) he’d been evasive, saying he wasn’t fully convinced, but the truth was that Jimmy had realized that same sleepless night that Robert was The One. Once that fact had been established, his practical Capricorn mind had naturally focused on how to get him. He’d wanted to impress Robert just as much as Robert had impressed Jimmy. Show him who Jimmy Page of the Yardbirds was. That was the plan. It’d been a simple matter of principle. Or was it? Well, at least that had been his reasoning at the time. Rather ingenue, thinking about it. Even when Jimmy had been naively convinced he wasn’t hitting on his underage singer, he probably was. Come on. Come on now. He played for him, treated him to all the delicacies of his pantry. Only being a gracious host, of course. Come on. He’d doted and fussed on the boy as though he was fucking Oliver Twist come knocking at his door dressed in rags. Even offered to let him stay — a week! A whole week! To do what? Ah, yes, to know him better, he had said, to see if they were compatible. Professionally speaking, of course. As if he couldn’t feel the sparks flaring off the moment they shook hands! Jimmy wouldn’t even allow his own mother to stay this much, god forbid. Then of course there was the way Jimmy had spoken to him… using a certain voice… intonation — a specific inflection that he had practiced and perfected through the years and underhandedly applied to Robert. A carnet of carefully selected ambiguous words, indeed.
And Robert… he’d been so grateful. So wide-eyed and impressionable. He was so green. So damn eager. The feeling was short of intoxicating. As per that, the memory of the week together was forever lost into a pink-tinged fog of arousal for Jimmy. Things had derailed fast, he still did not feel he regained complete control over his own life.
To put it frankly, he had no idea what the fuck he was doing.
And it was both thrilling and terrifying.
Some weeks ago, Jonesy had told Jimmy, in the offhanded way in which he offered his startingly acute observations, that he glowed when he talked about Robert, about how good he was — for the band in general. Glowed, for fuck’s sake. Which since the year dot is an euphemism for looking like you’re pregnant, or you’ve been thoroughly well fucked. Well, the first thing, anatomically speaking, was impossible, thank goodness. Now, about that second one…
Glowing.
Glowing.
Jimmy looked at Robert now and it finally hit him. Suddenly, he felt drunker than a whole alehouse. There was a holler folded under his tongue, a shiver in his spine, a lump of flaming coal in his loins. Oh, look at him!
Look the way he burned! What a light he made!
Glowing.
Glowing.
Glowing like a fucking supernova.