More randomness!!!

[dysonrules]

I have been laughing hysterically for approximately six hours now and I need to stop before I hurt someone.  My f-list is made of an almost unbearable amount of WIN.  I might die of it.

So, on to the goodies.  Firstly, I have yet another fabulous birthday fic from the lovely megans_writing wherein Harry forces Draco to play Scrabble.  Much happy loveage to her!!!  *hundreds of hugs*

The Game Lovers Play

Onward to the insanity.  Since I mercilessly tortured my poor beta by writing an insanely long AS/S fest fic, I had to reward her.  How, one might ask?  By writing Real-Person-Slash about her very own husband, of course.  Luckily, he is made of 100 million percent AWESOME and liked it so much he plans to podfic it for me.  *dies of glee*

I have to admit, I love this more than anything I've written recently, so even though you don't know who they are, feel free to read it and then join the Z-bra Fan Club, of which I am President.  (Sorry, byaghro, you get to sleep with him, so I get to be President.)  Note: Names have been changed to protect the innocent.  No real rock stars were harmed in the making of this fic.

Stranded

 

            The wipers slapped against the windshield and left annoying streaks in their wake, reminding Zac that he should have replaced them two months ago.  The freeway was nearly empty in the growing twilight and he considered flipping on the headlights.  A car appeared on the shoulder ahead.  The driver looked to be leaning against the front fender, getting soaked by the downpour.

            Zac slowed the truck and drew in a surprised breath as he pulled up next to the man and lowered the passenger-side window.

            It can’t be, he thought, but the resemblance was uncanny.  The young man leaned his head into the window and Zac found himself mesmerized by a pair of dark eyes ringed in black eyeliner.  The smile was unmistakable.

            “Hi,” the wet fellow said and a droplet of water trailed down one perfect cheek to poise on the edge of the smooth jaw.  It took a moment for Zac to register the greeting.

            “Ah… you need some help?” he asked, finding his voice.

            “The car.  It seems to be broken.”  The boy shrugged and his smile widened.  “I have called the rental business and they say assistance will be coming soon.”

            Zac snorted.  A rental car.  He could be here until midnight waiting for a tow truck.  “Can I give you a lift to town?  They’ll pick up the car whether you are here or not.”  He wanted to ask the question that hovered on his lips, but he did not want to come across as some sort of crazed fanboy stalker.

            The man looked uncertainly at the car and then back at Zac.  He gnawed his lip with gleaming white teeth.

            “I do have a gig in town tomorrow.  I should probably get back to the hotel and get some rest.”

            Zac’s heart rate nearly went through the truck ceiling.  He had half-assumed the lad only looked like Bill, but apparently it was really he.

            “Come on, then.  I’m on my way to town to have dinner with my wife, so I’ll give you a lift.  You can call the rental company and let them know you left the car.”

            The dark eyes measured Zac and he seemed to decide he was no crazed American serial killer, so he grabbed a small bag from the car, locked it, and climbed into the passenger seat.

            Zac pulled the truck back onto the highway and turned on the headlights.  The rain came down even harder.  Zac lifted his sweatshirt from the seat between them.

            “You can… dry off some, if you want.  I’m Zac.”

            “Bill,” he said and took the towel.  His fingers were long and slender and they brushed against Zac’s as he took the shirt.  He patted his hair dry and fluffed it out with his fingers until it stood out in a semblance of his usual style.  Zac flipped down the sun visor for him to expose the mirror.  Bill smiled and used the mirror to work at his streaked locks.  The alternating dark and light hair was unusual, but looked right on the singer.

            “You said ‘gig’,” Zac said innocuously while trying not to stare.  He had never found guys attractive… except this one.  He called up a mental picture of his wife and tried to steer his libido in a more appropriate direction.  “Are you a musician?”

            Bill nodded and set the damp sweatshirt back on the seat.  “Thanks.  I have a band.  My brother and I.  You like rock n’ roll?”

            Zac shrugged.  “Sometimes.  Maybe I’ve heard your songs.”  And maybe I have every single album you’ve ever recorded in any language.  And maybe I have posters of you on my wall at home.  And maybe I’ve had a fantasy or two…

            Bill laughed and the sound did nothing to curtail Zac’s growing attraction.  Even his laugh was gorgeous.  “Maybe not.  We’re from Germany.  Can you tell?”

            “The accent?  Yeah, it’s cute.”

            Cute?  Zac blanched.  He hadn’t meant to say cute.  Perhaps cute did not translate well and he could pretend to have meant something else.  He glanced at Bill, who looked at him appraisingly.  A smile that bordered on a smirk curved Bill’s lips and Zac’s eyes widened.  Oh hell, he is not checking me out.  I’m just losing my mind.  Zac quickly turned his attention back to the road and counted the flickering white stripes until he reached one hundred.  Only then did he turn his gaze back to Bill, to find the singer still watching him with an unreadable expression.

            Think of Shauna, think of Shauna, think of Shauna, Zac chanted to himself.  He pictured his adorable wife and had an imagined conversation with her.  “Honey, I think I’m attracted to another man.  Would you mind terribly if I cheated on you?”  Her imagined response was unhelpful.  “Seriously?  With Bill?  Oh my god, at least wait until I get the camera!  And will you lick his tattoos for me?  Please?”  If Zac had not been driving he would have put his face in both hands and groaned aloud.

            “Are you all right?” Bill asked and Zac could only assume the panic was beginning to show on his face.  He forced a smile.

            “I’m fine.  I need to um… call my wife and let her know I’ll be late.”

            Zac fumbled for his phone and realized it was in the pocket of the sweatshirt.  He tried to dig it out and drove a bit too far to the right before turning the wheel sharply.

            “Your phone?  I will find it for you,” Bill offered.  He felt around in the pockets and fished out Zac’s phone.  He held it up triumphantly and then placed it into Zac’s hand.  His fingertips brushed over Zac’s wrist and seemed to linger there for a moment longer than necessary.

            Zac tried to remember to breathe normally as he flipped open the phone and pressed the speed-dial button.  Shauna answered in her usual fashion.

            “Um… hi honey.  I picked up a stranded guy on the freeway and I’m going to drop him off at his hotel, so I’ll be a little late.”

            “Is he hot?” she asked immediately.

            “You have no idea,” he said with a groan, mentally shrieking at her, Bill!  It’s Bill!

            “Ohhhh, well if you get sidetracked at the hotel, I’ll just wait longer.”

            Zac flipped the phone shut and gave Bill another grin, trying for suave this time instead of borderline hysterical.  “She says no problem, take as long as I need.  She’s very… um, understanding.”

            “Good,” said Bill.  “I would hate for you to get into trouble on my account.”  He leaned back and stretched.  His shirt rode up several inches to expose a strip of flesh above the waistband of his black jeans.  Zac’s mouth went suddenly dry and he jerked his eyes forcibly back to the road.

            “No trouble at all,” he said.  Zac managed to make small talk all the way to the hotel, mostly by picking out landmarks and sounding like a local tour guide.  Bill did not seem to mind.  He grew drier and cuter by the mile.  By the time they reached the hotel it had stopped raining.  Zac pulled up to the covered area and prepared to drop Bill off, but the dark eyes fixed on him.

            “Won’t you come in?  I want to give you something.”

            Zac’s body twitched as his lust-infected mind supplied plenty of wicked somethings for Bill to bestow on him.  He shook his head, knowing the smart path led to escape, but he still felt slightly depressed knowing he would probably never see him again, except in photos or at long distances at concerts.  “I can’t.  The wife, you know.”

            Bill gave him that dazzling smile and nodded.  “All right, then.”  He leaned over suddenly and Zac felt an almost electric shock as Bill’s lips brushed against his ear.  “Thank you.  I’d give you a kiss, but American men seem not to like it.”

            Zac could barely speak.  “I… don’t think I’d mind… so much.”

            “Then thank you again,” Bill said and Zac felt soft lips press into his cheek.  He felt like a giddy school girl for a moment, receiving a kiss from her first crush.  And then Bill pulled away and the door opened.

            What am I doing? Zac thought suddenly.  “Wait!” he cried.

            Bill paused with one foot partially out the door and looked at Zac questioningly.

            “Actually, I have heard of your band.  My… my wife is a big fan and she would kill me if she knew I met you and did not bring her some sort of souvenir.”  Like you, trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey wearing nothing but a dog collar.  He slapped that image down, gave it concrete galoshes and tossed it into the river, hoping it wouldn’t return until he was in a very private place with enough time to deal with the aftereffects.

            “Then you will come in?”

            “Only for a bit,” Zac said.  “Let me park.”

            Bill pulled his foot in and shut the door.  Zac pulled the truck into the parking lot, locked the doors, and followed the rocker, trying not to think admire his—hot—sauntering walk as they headed for the elevator.

            Loud shrieking startled Zac out of his reverie and Bill turned to him with wide eyes.  He reached back and grabbed Zac’s hand.  “Fangirls!  Run!”

            The two men pounded for the elevators, pursued by a hoard of shrieking teenagers.  They leaped inside and Zac leaned on the door closed button while Bill pushed a floor number.  The doors slid shut moments before loud pounding sounded against the metal and the screaming cadence of Biiiiiiilllll died away.  Bill leaned against his shoulders, laughing, and Zac joined in, thinking this might be one of the craziest days of his life.

            “My savior twice today,” Bill said and did not remove his arm.

            “All I did was press the button that time.”

            “You saved my life.  Seriously.   Those girls would have ripped me to pieces.  Some of them get pretty crazy.”

            “Don’t you have a bodyguard?” Zac asked seriously, turning to look at the man, whose chin practically rested on his shoulder.

            “Yeah, but sometimes I just need to get away by myself.  Usually it’s okay in smaller cities to rent a car and go—no one knows who you are.”

            “Gotta be a strange life,” Zac admitted.

            “Strange.  And lonely sometimes.”  The doors opened and Bill dragged Zac out by the arm still slung around his neck.  “This way.”  He fumbled in his back pocket for a card key and slipped it into the slot.  The door clicked open and Bill let go as they entered a huge suite.  Bill tossed the card key on the nearby counter and then pulled his shirt off over his head.  Zac tried not to stare as bare flesh was revealed by the motion, but he was not even partially successful.

            “Shirt is still damp from the rain,” Bill explained and threw his shirt at a nearby chair.  “Well, what do you think your wife would like?  Autograph?  Posters?  CDs?  We have all sorts of crap.  I mean… promotional materials.”  He chuckled and Zac grinned back.  It was impossible no to with that brilliant smile beaming at him.

            “She would take anything and everything up to and including pencil shavings and used trial-sized shampoo bottles.”

            Bill laughed again.  “We don’t use hotel shampoo.  Need special shampoo, can’t you tell?  Is still soft, want to feel?”  Without awaiting a response, Bill moved closer and leaned his head toward Zac, who obediently reached up and put a hand into the streaked locks.  It was definitely soft, surprisingly so considering it looked like it would be the texture of coarse wire from the shape.

            “Very soft,” Zac admitted.  Bill smiled again and Zac thought he might die happy from an overdose of that smile.  Shauna would understand.

            “Where would you like the autograph?  Most people ask for the chest—usually the girls—but I think yours should be somewhere special.”  Bill’s hands slowly tugged the t-shirt from Zac’s jeans and pulled it up to reveal his abs.  He sucked in a breath as the slender fingers slid over his skin.  “Do you mind?”

            Zac shook his head in bemusement.  He suddenly felt nearly catatonic.

            “What about lower?” Bill asked in a voice that seemed ten times sexier than ought to be allowed by mortal beings.  He could only nod in response and stare, mesmerized, as Bill’s pink tongue licked out and caught between the perfect teeth for a moment.  Zac felt his belt buckle tugged open, and then his jeans were unfastened and pushed down gently.

            Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, he thought, snapping back to awareness at the knowledge that he was hard as a fucking rock.  Bill had not pushed his jeans down far—one hip was revealed, along with a slender strip of his flank.  Smooth fingers traveled from the edge of his hip over the exposed skin to brush the hint of dark curls visible beneath the elastic of his briefs.

            “Right here, I think,” Bill said and produced a Sharpie marker from god-knew-where.  “Hold still.”  Bill knelt at his feet—which produced a whole new rash of fantasies.  With a flourish, the singer scrawled his signature on the tender skin of Zac’s flank.  He clenched his teeth on the involuntary gasp as the rough feel of the pen and the odd sensation of being marked—nearly owned.  The dark eyes flicked upward and a smirk curved the gorgeous lips.  Zac was painfully aware that his throbbing cock was mere inches away from Bill’s exquisite mouth—and then it was even closer.

            Bill dipped his head forward and brushed his lips over the tip of Zac’s erection, still covered by his underwear, but no less sensitive for the fact.  The intake of breath could not be contained this time and the dark eyes seemed to gleam in triumph.  They remained locked with Zac’s as his hot breath blew through the material, sending a jolt of white-hot desire skidding through his blood.

            Bill’s pale fingers tugged at the constricting material then, dragging jeans and briefs down in one rough motion to expose Zac completely.  Bill’s eyes left his finally to examine the hard object revealed, but only for an instant before his lips wrapped completely around the head of Zac’s cock, enveloping him in wet heat.

            “Oh god, oh god, oh god,” Zac murmured, provoking a chuckle from Bill that vibrated straight though Zac’s core.  Holy shit, he had a pierced tongue!  The smooth metal stud added yet another dimension to the stunning sensation.  The singer went to work in earnest then, sliding his tongue over the taut vein beneath his cock and swirling it over the head to dip teasingly into the slit, over and over, until Zac’s breath came in ragged gasps and both hands were tangled in the soft hair as he struggled not to drive himself into Bill’s mouth and fuck him mercilessly.  It was over too soon—Zac reflected that he usually had quite a lot more staying power, but then he had never been sucked off by a guy before, either.

            He cried out softly to give warning, but Bill only took him deeper.  Zac shook with the force of his release and the incredible feel of being not only devoured, but swallowed.  When the tremors subsided, Bill licked him thoroughly clean, earning yet more indrawn breaths when his tongue slid across the overly-sensitive flesh.  When he was finished, Bill tugged his clothing back into place and fastened it before he rose to his feet.  His eyes met Zac’s once more and he leaned forward to take Zac’s lips in a steaming kiss.  He tasted both sweet and bitter at once, slightly salty from Zac’s come, but amazing, nonetheless.  Their tongues played together for probably longer than was prudent and Zac was surprised to find his hands still twisted in Bill’s hair.

            He pulled back slightly and asked, “Do you want me to… um?”  Bill was pressed fully against him and Zac felt a noticeable hardness against his thigh.

            “No, I’ll take care of it in a bit.  Your wife is waiting, remember?”

            Zac nodded, but made no move to go.  Bill kissed him once more and then moved away with a sigh.  Zac’s hands fell away from the mussed hair and he grinned slightly at the debauched look of the singer—his lips were red and slightly swollen and his cheeks were flushed.

            “Wait a moment,” he said as he turned and sorted through some papers strewn across a nearby writing desk.  After locating what he sought, he handed an envelope to Zac with another flash of his devastating smile.  “Here, tickets to the concert tomorrow.  And backstage passes.”  His voice delivered the last sentence with a definite seductive timbre and Zac felt another flush of heat crawl over him.

            “We’ll be there,” he promised.

            Zac made his way back to the truck in a haze and climbed into the driver’s seat.  He dialed his wife.

            “Hi honey.  I just got an incredible blow job from our favorite singer.”

            She laughed.  “I wish.  Now get over here, I’m hungry.”

            Zac grinned as he hung up.  He could hardly wait to show her his “autograph.”