Page 73 of Matthew

“The life of a music star,” Avir commented as he drank his second bohut and gazed at the crowd, which consisted of Matt’s backing band, Casual Innuendo, management, and the music executives who pimped or vied to pimp the musicians’ work. “Are you enjoying it, Mattie?”

“It doesn’t suck,” he laughed. “It’ll be weird to be normal next year when the tour’s done. At the rate I’m composing, though, I might be ready to get into the studio again pretty quick.”

“Take a break.” Irene had been standing nearby, and she leaned in to join the conversation. “At least six months. Trust me. Don’t burn yourself out.”

“It’s all I want to do,” Matt protested. “I already have more songs than I can use, and they keep coming.”

“Let other groups and singers record some of your tunes. Become a producer.”

“On that note, I have a business proposition for you,” Avir told Matt. “Masok and I have been researching what it would take to start a studio. We’d like you to run it.”

“Me?” Matt blinked at him.

“You’ll have a staff to handle it when you’re doing your own stuff, such as touring and recording and jumping through Parlek’s promotional hoops.”

Irene grinned at Matt. “You recorded an amazing demo using your home gear. Imagine using a full studio setup with engineers to order around.”

“Demos,” he echoed. “There’s a lack of studios offering those to new artists. It would be great to give people the opportunity they haven’t had. The chance I wouldn’t have had if you guys hadn’t been so generous by giving me the right equipment, which I was lucky enough to have some ability to operate.”

“Our thoughts exactly,” Masok said. “It might not be the most lucrative venture if you opt to help those trying to get started over the established acts, but it would be worthwhile. Then again, who knows who you might discover?”

“It’ll be yours to do as you wish,” Avir said. “If you find it isn’t for you, we’ll hand it off to someone else to run. We simply thought you’d enjoy the challenge.”

Matt beamed. “I bet I would. Thanks!”

“Just don’t lure him off the tour.” Irene shook her finger at them. “He’s the best opener we’ve ever had.”

* * * *

The party was done after three hours, but Matt was wide awake when they returned home. “I wish I was tired. I love sleeping in my bed at home.” He’d had few opportunities to do so lately.

“You can still use the bed,” Kom chuckled, patting his ass. “In fact, I insist upon it.”

“Damn right,” Masok agreed. He pushed Matt toward the door to the corridor. “I need all the lovemaking I can score before you two ditch us for the limelight off-planet.”

As if to underscore how he felt, he pulled at Matt’s clothes on their way to the sleeping room. The blue jacket that had become almost as well recognized as the Rickenbacker, Martin, and Matt himself…fan-produced art always featured him wearing it…disappeared first, followed by his shirt, both of which Masok draped over his own beefy shoulder. Matt’s belt was undone and hanging half-off by the time he reached the door.

“To hell with the slow strip.” Avir zoomed past Masok to pick up Matt and toss him onto the bed. The Dramok yanked off his boots as Matt laughed and pretended to attempt to escape. Avir dragged him back and made his trousers disappear.

“Much better,” Avir growled, rubbing his hands all over Matt, forcefully enthusiastic.

Matt was hard, exulting in the demand of his clan leader. When Avir grabbed his cock and pumped, he arched and shouted at the violent surge of passion.

“What do you want, Mattie? Rough or gentle?”

Matt stared at the muscled figure over him, felt how good Avir’s brusque handling was. “Rough.”

Avir tugged open the crotch of his pants. His cocks spilled out, engorged and slick with eagerness.

He took nothing off, but spun Matt onto all fours. His big paws laid hold of the smaller man’s hips and jerked him toward his shafts. He sank his primary into Matt’s ass, pushing deep without mercy.

Matt yelped and instinctively tried to pull free as heady hurt filled him. His cock bobbed enthusiastically, the burn of determined entry blazing a fiery path. Then came the violent bliss of Avir rubbing his cumspot.

“Where do you think you’re going? You’re staying right here while I fuck this delicious ass,” his lover growled, tugging Matt onto him.

Matt beat his fists against the mattress and clawed the sheets, but Avir only laughed. He skewered him, his shaft embedding to the hilt, his secondary rubbing against Matt’s lone sex.

“Take it, little man. Take my cock. Take it all.”

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