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I didn’t want to fuck Josh after this show,
But my camera broke during the first song of the set, and I couldn’t fucking take it.
There was so much pent up anger inside of me that it lasted the rest of the show. Everyone could tell; I threw down the microphone during the opener and stormed off.
Sometimes you just have to shrug it off and pretend to be alright, you know? So, I grabbed my ukulele and bounced right into the next song. That’s just what happens when you’re in this business.
Things don’t go your way all the time, and I’ve had to learn to accept that. Especially on this tour. Josh and I are about to take a break for a little while, not really knowing when we’ll tour again. So why the fuck would things suddenly go wrong?
I’m livid when I step off the Trees platform tonight.
Stalking back to the stage, I take my final bow with Josh, pretending to have a smile on my face for the cameras. If I act on my angry tendencies, there’s going to be photos of me all over Twitter with a stupid fucking frown on my face. It’ll become a reaction picture that people use, especially when they’re reading some fucked up shit like Twistler.
What’s her name… Laura? Lorelai? Lauren. I don’t know, but damn does she know how to write.
Yeah, I see everything those freaks— my freaks, unfortunately— write about online. Usually I try my hardest to ignore it. Fanfiction just gets in my head and makes me wish I was more like the cracked out, fictional version of myself that people like to write.
300,000 words of cowboy Josh though? Sign me right up!
Whatever. Not important. I can’t give into my fantasies about my drummer wearing nothing but a cutoff flannel (unbuttoned) and jeans.
The two of us walk off stage together, and I can’t help but glance back at the crowd while I’m leaving.
It's exhilarating to know that so many people care about this band. Every single member of the crowd knew every word to every song, and I couldn’t be more grateful. These people— my family— inspire me every day to keep creating art. I would not be making music now if it wasn’t for their constant reassurance.
I meet the eyes of a few members, and they give me a smile in response. It’s reassuring. Almost like they’re saying “Just hold on, Ty. You’ve got us.”
When my mental health got really bad and we had to take a year away, these people still stayed. They scoured the internet, looking for any signs of life that might be proof that we were still around. And they found the proof in Clancy.
Because they discovered Clancy, they found me. My fanbase dove headfirst into Dema— an intimate look into my deepest, most precious thoughts.
But they weren’t afraid of it. They dug for clues, piecing my story together as more and more letters appeared. It was fun to put the project together, but what made it all worthwhile was the reaction that the clique had.
Even during the hiatus, I would log onto Twitter to see thousands of people freaking out over a new letter or photograph. They put the story together relatively quickly, though. Which meant I just had to keep creating more.
That isn’t necessarily the worst thing in the world, though. Seeing the reaction of my people when they watched the ending of this story was the highlight of my career.
Sorry I killed Clancy, guys.
It will probably happen again, because he is in fact immortal. And I do fear that the story will just keep going.
That doesn’t matter to me, though. I'm happy to create. I find solace in knowing that these people will constantly show up for me.
It makes me feel alive.
“What’s up with you?” Josh asks me as we walk towards our dressing rooms.
I turn to him, cocking my head to one side. “What do you mean?”
He sighs. “You’ve been pissed off all night, dude. I can tell.”
That’s the downside of us being so close.
If the crowd can’t tell, there’s a 100% chance that Josh can.
He just knows me on a deeper level than anyone else, I suppose.
I give him a look that’s a mixture between rage and lust, because that just perfectly captures how I feel.
“Okay,” swallows Josh, turning the handle to his respective dressing room. “Well, I’m going to leave you alone…”
“No.” I reach for his hand, fingers slipping off of his wrist and leaving black marks.
I immediately straighten up, realizing how desperate I sound. “I, uh… I kind of wanted to talk to you. In my dressing room. Alone.”
Josh raises an eyebrow. “Will clothes be involved?”
Holy fuck, he knows me so well.
“Nope.” I shake my head, a grin spreading across my face. “Not at all, actually.”
“Wonderful.” Josh grabs my hand, immediately high tailing it for my dressing room.
He has a lot of enthusiasm for someone who won’t be able to walk after this, but I admire it.
I’m dragged through the door of my own dressing room, breathless and giggling at my bandmate’s excitement. There is nothing better than the ecstasy and excitement that runs through your body before you have sex.
I close the door with my hip, and Josh’s hands are underneath my shirt before I can lock the bolt.
He works quickly, pulling the white crop top off of my body before moving on to the turtleneck underneath.
“Christ…” he whines, pulling the shirt over my head “You wear too many layers for this.”
He’s right— I do wear a lot of layers.
Then again, Josh is shirtless every night. Not only do I get a great view on stage, but I have easy access to him afterwards. Because I live for the dramatic flare, I take a lot longer to undress.
As he undoes the clasp of my belt, I begin to work at his pants. I slide them over his hips, boxers falling with them. Sometimes, I take my time, wanting to edge Josh before I actually fuck him. But tonight is not one of those nights.
I need him.
Desperately.
“Little bit eager tonight, are we?” Josh whispers, breath warm against my ear as he slides off my boxers. He places a gentle hand on my dick, and a loud moan escapes my lips.
Josh hears the sound and smiles at me. “Hey, easy. Easy. We got time, alright?”
My stomach churns, and I wordlessly nod my head. Josh drops to his knees, looking at me through puppy dog eyes.
“You want this?” he asks me, innocently smiling.
“Fuck…” I whisper, already feeling my knees give way. “Josh… Please?”
I hate sounding needy, but after the night I’ve had? I really, really just want Josh.
He takes the entire length of my dick in his mouth with ease, and I can already feel myself wanting to cum.
Holy shit. We just started.
Am I that fucking easy?
His tongue swirls around it, trying to gauge how he wants to take me tonight.
“Make it quick…” I groan, closing my eyes. “I need to be inside of you.”
Josh springs into action.
He begins to suck, slowly at first. Almost like he wants me to get madder than I already am.
Out of instinct, I pull at his hair roughly.
“If you want me to fuck you tonicht,” I breathe. “Then you need to hurry this up.”
That sends Josh into overdrive, and he sucks on my dick faster than ever before. I thrust my hips, moving deeper inside of him. Josh gags, but he doesn’t stop.
“Josh…” I moan, feeling the build up in my stomach. I won’t last much longer. “Josh…”
“Open your eyes.” he mumbles.
I listen, and the sight of him is enough to finally push me over the edge. He’s looking up at me, brown eyes filled with tears, and the entire length of my dick in his mouth.
I cum fast, spilling all over his mouth and down his chest. Josh licks up as much as he can, moaning my name over and over again.
Screaming for Josh, I collapse against his chest. My heart is racing violently.
“I got you…” Josh whispers, catching me. “Do you… do you want more?”
I know what he means. Josh wants to fuck me. After the show we’ve had, he knows that I have enough adrenaline inside of me to go for multiple rounds.
“Fuck.” I swear under my breath. Without saying anything more, I position myself underneath the man.
He smears the remaining cum onto his cock, and I instinctively begin to stretch myself. I wanna make this as easy as I can for Josh.
“Atta boy…” he breathes, and I let out a soft noise. “You’re excited, huh?”
I nod. “Take your time on me…”
It sounds like a prayer, a desperate plea.
He nods in agreement, positioning himself right next to my entrance.
“You ready?” he asks me, planting a kiss on the back of my neck.
“Whenever you are, sweetheart.” I mumble gruffly, and my sassy attitude is all Josh needs to thrust himself inside of me.
My body goes limp. I can’t fight the urge to become numb in his grasp.
“You were pissed tonight, huh?” Josh asks me between thrusts, and I just moan in response. “Nothin? Not even a sarcastic comment? How about now?”
He thrusts deeper inside of me, hitting my spot with ease. I scream, biting down on my arm to prevent myself from being too loud.
“Yeah…” Josh breathes, kissing me again. “That’s it, baby. Just stay right where you are for me.”
Right. As if I’m going anywhere.
He keeps pounding me for a while, soft moans escaping my lips as he hits my spot over and over again. Josh is perfect— he knows damn well of that. He’s memorized the cartography of my body, knowing exactly what to do and how to do it.
“You ready, Ty?” he asks me gruffly, and I give him a thumbs up in response.
He cums inside of me, filling me with warm liquid. I arch my back in response, allowing every part of me to be filled with Josh.
I want him to seep into every crack— every crevice— of my body, and my soul.
No, I don’t want him to.
I need him to.
He collapses against me, chest heaving from the effort. I run around, wrapping my legs around his waist.
“Atta fucking boy…” I breathe, ruffling his hair. “You killed that, love.”
I get awkward in times like this, but Josh only smiles at me, planting a kiss on my lips.
He kisses down my body, leaving marks on my stomach— the thing that I’m the most insecure about.
As soon as he’s gotten his fill, I flip the man onto his back. We’re on the tile of the dressing room, but neither of us seem to care that much.
Except Josh, who’s a little bit of a neat freak.
“What if we make a mess…?” he asks me, looking up through half-lidded eyes.
“You didn’t care too much about that when you pounded my shit.” I mutter, slightly pissed off. Quickly recovering, I shake my head, smiling at him. “I’ll clean it up, baby. Promise.”
There’s a bottle of lube in my backpack, and I climb off of Josh to grab it. I don’t want to leave him alone on the cold floor, but with the excitement of getting the chance to fuck him senseless, I’d completely forgotten about the bottle.
I quickly lube myself up, returning to my position above Josh. Straddling the man, I place a lubed finger inside of him.
Immediately, his hips arch, and he’s begging me for more.
“Shut the fuck up.” I mutter, sticking a second finger inside of him. ”Keep your fucking voice down.”
His head is twisted just enough so he can see me, and I watch in satisfaction as his eyes roll back.
“More?” I ask, checking in. I want to make sure that he’s okay before I continue.
“Go ahead…” the man manages to slur out. “All of you…”
I know exactly what he means, but I have to double check.
“You want me to go ahead and put it in, pretty boy?” I murmur, kissing the top of his head. “You think you’re stretched enough?”
“Tyler.” Josh’s face suddenly grows serious, and he opens his eyes just enough to look at me. “If you don’t hurry the fuck up and fuck me until I can’t move, I’m going to get up and walk out.”
Okay, that’s hot. And new.
I’ve never heard him like that before.
Nonetheless, it is all the confirmation that I need to fully stick my cock inside of Josh.
The feeling that washes over me is instant. Our bodies just… click. It’s like we were made for each other.
Divine intervention.
Lock and key.
He gasps, immediately squeezing against my length, and I moan his name at the pressure. Fuck. I don’t want to cum just yet.
I regain my composure quickly.
“Just breathe…” I whisper softly, kissing the top of his head once more. I’m angry and needy, but I can take the time to be gentle with him. “Breathe, I've got you…”
“Ty, I don’t care about this tonight…” Josh mumbles under his breath. “Comfort me afterwards. Fucking use me right now.”
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I pound inside of him repeatedly, finding my rhythm after a few loud moans from Josh.
While I go down on him, I think about everything that went wrong tonight.
First of all, my fucking shirt that I wanted to wear tonight was in the wash. I wanted to wear the ALWAYS shirt, but I had to settle for the stupid fucking CLANCY shirt instead.
It’s like wearing a fucking name tag on your first day somewhere, dude. As much as I love the Clancy character, it truly does get to a fucking point.
After that, I had to reshave my sides. They were getting too long, and I’m usually my own fucking barber. That’s why my hair sometimes looks a little bit lopsided.
The cut today however, was perfect.
Until I fucking nicked my ear.
It really is the little things that ruin your whole day.
The shirt thing was okay, the cut on my ear hurt like a bitch, and then I got on stage to find out that my fucking camera for RAWFEAR broke.
Nobody told me, either. I just stormed off stage after ‘The Contract’ to be handed my uke and told that we’re going straight into ‘We Don’t Believe What’s On TV’.
Trust and fucking believe— multiple people were fired tonight.
I shouted out my crew at the end of my show like I always do, but half of those people didn’t know that they’d be unemployed before the last piece of confetti for the night fell.
I thrust deeper into Josh. Today has got to go down in the list of the worst shows I’ve had to play in my 16 years of touring. I love this life that we live, but sometimes I wish that the crew could crawl inside of my mind and understand what the fuck I’m thinking about half of the time.
Before I know it, my body has gone into overdrive. White hot heat shoots through my veins, and I’m about to cum all over Josh.
I scream his name, letting out every single piece of me that I have left before collapsing, breathlessly, on top of him.
Josh turns around, giggling, before pressing a kiss to my neck.
“What?” I ask, one I’ve gained enough breath back to speak. “What’s so funny?”
“You were mad tonight…” he wheezes, pressing his forehead against mine. “Jesus, Ty. Remind me to never get in your way.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re the only person I want in my way.”