A/N: Hey Hey Hey So I read a fic the other day and it was so awesome it inspired me to write this little ditty. I want to shout out to Alyce of the Togas and her story Letters in Their hands. This fic is loosely based on the song Hot blooded by Foreigner, but you don't need to know or listen to the song to read this fic.
My phone chirps signaling that I have a text message as I head out the door of my town hours. I can't take the time to answer it because I'm running late thanks to my crazy ass dog, Bob. That dam golden retriever just had to root through the garbage can… AGAIN! If I hadn't loved Steph at the time I probably wouldn't have Bob in the first place, but I've gotten past that now… or so I keep telling my mother.
You see I, Joseph Morelli, Trenton New Jersey Vice cop, and Italian Stallion fell in love with the ticking time bomb that was Stephanie Plum. I was fine when she told me she couldn't decide between Ranger and I. I was fine when she was hunting FTAs for her cousin. I was NOT fine when she told me she was moving to San Francisco with some has been high school cheerleader.
In some ways her moving was a blessing in disguise because it took away a distraction. With Steph out of town I allowed myself to pick up hobbies besides drinking beer and watching sports on TV. I rekindled my love for the guitar and took up martial arts.
The martial arts definitely didn't hurt my reputation as the Italian Stallion. Before I worked out really sporadically and I was in danger of acquiring a beer gut thanks to my favorite haunt, Pino's. Now I have six-pack abs and muscles to kill for. The ladies appreciate them greatly, but I don't appreciate the ladies.
That's another thing; I've found my eyes wondering into unfamiliar territory lately. When I picked my guitar up again I went looking for a band to play with and I found one. It just so happens that we frequent gay bars in the Newark area. I don't mind and it's completely flattering when the guys hit on me, but I guess I've been hanging out in these bars too often because my stallion is reacting differently towards the female species.
My phone chirps again and I groan before answering, "Hello"
"Morelli! Where are you? We can't start practice without our lead guitarist." My lead singer and newest friend Zack says over the pounding of a bass drum.
"I'm pulling down your street now dud. Bob slowed me down on my way out of the house."
"Dude! Tell me about it after practice!"
Before I can say anymore Zack hangs up and I'm walking into his house towards his garage door. We don't wait any time once I've got my guitar plugged in and we launch right into our set for the gig tomorrow.
When we finish the set we're all really hot and exhausted. Unfortunately because of Bob I didn't get a chance to change into shorts so I ditch my t-shirt and sit on an amp in JUST my low slung jeans.
"Jesus Morelli you're going to give some poor girl a heart attack with those guns." Mooner, a former druggie and our bassist says in reference to my bulging biceps.
I smile my stallion winner and flex on purpose, "You know you want some of this."
"Yes, yes I do." Sean, our drummer, says as he molds himself to my back and rubs his hands over my pecks.
Playing along I lean back into his embrace and tilt my chin up to him. This is a common occurrence at band practice. As far as Mooner and Zack know I'm the only straight guy in the band. What they don't know is Sean and I were tossing back a few beers once and we kissed. It was chaste and nothing serious, just a pop kiss, but it was enough to confirm Sean's suspicions. Nothing changed between us. If anything we're better friends.
"Dudes." Jack says as he passes out the beers, "Let's keep it clean until you're in your own room."
Once he finishes his customary line we descend into the debauchery that is four men drinking beer on a Thursday night.
My phone chirps loudly, resounding through my personal gym. I signal to my sparing partner Lester and check the time.
"Lester, time to wrap it up."
"Is it really 7am already?"
"Yeah, time to get ready for work."
"You go on ahead Ranger I'll clean up."
"See you in the control room Lester." I toss over my shoulder before stepping into the elevator and heading to my shower.
Friday mornings are like a cold breeze through Rangeman. I get up at 5:30, take a short elevator ride to the gym and sweat out my frustrations till 7 before heading back up to my penthouse and my huge shower.
That shower has seen some good and some not so good times. My shower is where I let my emotions fly free; there is no holding back unlike in public. This is where I drop the façade and relax. This is where I came after my first night with a woman and where I went after my first night with a man. This is also the place I spent most of the night after Stephanie left. *I'm not mad at her for leaving, but it did hurt me. My life doesn't leave much room for relationships, but I'm working on that.
When I'm done with my shower I towel off and walk into my bedroom naked just because I can. My clothes are simple and functional black on black. As an after thought I grab one of my Rangeman baseball caps and head down to the control room for the usual meetings.
"Christ." I groan as I close the door to my penthouse and on the work day.
All day it's been companies needing upgrades for this and whining about that. I guess that's what I get for providing top notch security for fortune 500 companies. Now I just want to change my clothes and go out.
Being the man of mystery that I am I usually end up in Newark so that there is no chance of running into anyone I would know. It's not that I would shun them if I did run into them, it's just that the bars I go to I'd prefer they weren't there. That is what I call me time and most of my guys have families to get home to.
Tonight I'm going with my standard black on black outfit, but instead of my usual cargo pants I'm in blue jeans that I've been told numerous times hug my ass perfectly.
As I make my way to the garage there are a couple of shocked looks, but no one says a word. In the garage is my right hand man, Tank, getting ready to go home to his cats.
"Going out tonight?" He asks with a gesture towards my attire.
"Yeah, I didn't want to look to scary." I answer with a grin.
Tank chuckles as I slide into my black Turbo. Tonight is definitely a night for the Turbo. I'm feeling Plum Lucky and my bags need some attention.
I pull out of the garage and floor it in the direction of my destination. I'm not worried about Trenton P. D., they know better than to touch my cars.
The bar is packed when I pull up and a couple of people are outside giving themselves lung cancer. I scan the parking lot and notice a familiar red Cherokee parked away from the building. Inside there is a pretty good mix of people. Usually this place caters more to my tastes, but this band has a really diverse following. They haven't started playing yet so the crowd is pretty mellow for now.
I quickly work my way to the bar and snag a stool facing the stage. Within two minutes there's a beer at my elbow and the band is on stage.
After setting up and going through sound check I grab a beer from the bartender and head back outside to relax. While out there I hear the roar of an engine that sends the on lookers into a frenzy. Out of curiosity I walk around front in time to see the break lights of a porche turbo as it parks.
"He's here." I think as I walk back inside through the back door.
The instant I'm through the door Zack is handing out peppermint gum for our preshow ritual. It's nothing special, just something silly to ease the nerves. We have a contest to see who can blow the biggest bubble and winner gets a free beer after the show. This never fails to ignite a round of crude jokes.
As we take the stage the crowd goes wild as it always does. Even in my early days with the guys I realized this band has a solid and eclectic following. Our fan base is so varied mostly due to the fact that we're a cover band. We play anything from the Beatles to Foreigner. With our own little twists on the classic songs.
Tonight our set list consists of a surprise for some of our oldest fans. There are a couple of songs that we haven't played in awhile and Zack thought they'd be perfect for our other curve ball; me singing lead. Usually Zack sings, but we thought it'd be funny to hear everyone else try once in practice and I shocked the hell out of him.
"Thanks for coming out tonight." Zack says as Sean, Mooner, and I do some last minute adjustments, "As most of you know tonight is a special night for us because we're celebrating our one year anniversary of the night we began playing paying gigs."
The crowd cheers and laughs good naturedly.
"We thought we'd celebrate at the place it all began. Right here at the Cherry Hole, so stand up and let the power of the music move you!" Zack shouts, cueing my quick fingered guitar solos that morphs into the opening of the Beastie Boys' (You Gotta) Fight For Your Right To Party.
When the band begins to play my eyes are drawn back to the stage from the spot on the wall I had chosen to start at instead of the twink across the bar. I won't be rude because I know I look his type, but I can't be what he needs.
On stage my eyes are drawn to the guitarist. He is what I need; all defined muscle and shaggy locks. A few months ago I probably wouldn't have considered him, but now his white beater and blue jeans that cling to his body in all the right ways sends my body into a lusty haze.
I watch completely engrossed as his fingers deftly move along the neck of the guitar, coaxing intoxicating music from the beautiful instrument. The music they play is kind of a guilty pleasure of mine. The pulsing drum reminds me of the rhythm my lover's hips take when they're close to release and the wailing guitars bring forth memories of my screams of pleasure.
It has been too long.
I sit on my stool nursing the one beer I allow myself as the band plays through their set list. My guitarist is mesmerizing with eh amount of confidence he exudes. I want his fingers to play me the way they play the instrument and with any skill my wish will come true.
It's so hot on stage and my shoulders ache fromt eh weight of my guitar strapm, but soon a different ache will replace it.
I have been watching him all night. Sitting at the bar and nursing his beer he looks so tense. I want to loosen him up and watch him unwind into a needy mess. The way his black clothes highlight his tan skin and dark hair make me want to leap off the stage.
Then before I know it, it's time for the audience's surprise and Zack is introducing me.
"Alright, Alright!" Zack says, gesturing for the audience to quite down, "Now since tonight is such a special occasion we decided to give you guys an extra special treat."
The audience goes wild causing a smile to grace my lips.
Zack winks at me before continuing, "We have decided to play a tune that we haven't playing in quite some time and I'm not going to sing it."
The crowd gasps, shock clearly evident on their many different faces.
"The highly talented" Zack winks suggestively, "In more ways than one, Joe Morelli!"
The crowd goes wild as I switch places with Zack and start to play Foreigner's Hot blooded. I can feel the energy in the room change as I begin to sing. I can't say that I've ever felt particularly powerful, but right now I can feel the power surge through my veins and the audience's attention is solely on me; including the man at the bar.
I can't break my gaze from the man on stage. The words to his song speak to my body in ways that should be truly criminal. Even after the song is long over and the bad is nearing the end of their show my eyes remain glued to him. I can tell because the singer is thanking the crowd and unintentionally giving me my cue to head backstage.
The sorry excuse for a bouncer takes one look at me and steps out of my way. He wouldn't even attempt to stop me. I may be in my "relaxed" clothes, but I'm still dam intimidating.
I quickly make my way to my destination without protest. I have traveled this same path many times in many different venues. I know what is waiting for me in the dressing room at the end of the hall.
When I reach the door I stop and stand still as always; debating with myself whether or not to enter. I have this debate with myself every time I travel this path. In some ways it is the most exhilarating part and in others it is the most saddening. Keeping part of my life secret is what has made me so successful, but it is also what has kept me from being completely happy and I want to be happy.
Finally the debate within me is over and I'm pushing open the door. This dressing room is the same as hundreds others. The walls are plain white with posters of bands, some famous and some not so famous, all over the place. There is a make up table and a chair as well as a comfortable looking couch. I decide to make myself comfortable on the couch knowing that the band will play two encore songs before the leave the stage for the night.
I don't have to wait long before the door is opens to reveal my guitarist.
After playing our final encore songs we politely wave and leave the stage. Zack, Sean, and Mooner pack up the equipment and head for the van they all rode in and leaving me to complete my after show ritual. They know that I'm too wired to do much else thanks to the high of performing on stage.
As I push open the door to the dressing room we had all been sequestered earlier my eyes drift to the couch and the man sitting on it. He looks so peaceful with his head resting against the wall and one arm resting on the armrest.
"You came." I state, just to break the silence.
He doesn't move from his position except for a slight lift at the corner of his lips as he answers with, "I always do."
I continue to stand in the doorway just looking at this man in all his beauty. I couldn't tear my eyes from him if I tried. Even the way his hair falls lightly across his forehead has me entranced.
"Are you going to stare at me all night or are you going to come over here and show me what I've been missing these past few days?" The man says with a devilish smirk.
I smile and stalk my way across the room until I am standing in between his parted knees and whisper, "We've got to stop meeting like this."
He smiles up at me as his large hands encircle my waist, "I kind of like meeting like this."
I don't have time to reply before his stands in front of me, close enough to feel his warm breath on my cheek. From this position I can feel his perfectly sculpted muscles against my own. His hand travel down and grip my ass bringing me flush against him.
His bold move surprises me because usually I'm the one to lead, but if tonight he needs to lead then I will let him. Then to my shock he speaks and his voice is horse with want.
"Morelli, take me."
At his request I urge him down onto the couch with a deep kiss.
In this moment he is what I need and I'm not afraid to ask for it. His kiss is like a match, igniting a passion inside me I didn't realize I was holding back. I moan loudly, unafraid as he kisses down my neck and his hands rip at the hem of my t-shirt.
"This needs to come off." He groans in frustration.
His groan sends us both spiraling into a frenzy of teeth and tongues and limbs as we hurry to undress. When we are finally both skin to skin his hand finally brushes against were I need him most. I cannot help but groan in absolute rapture.
He plays my body the same way he plays his guitar; with confidence and skill. His skillful fingers dance along my raging erection as his lips and teeth tease my nipples. Just as I am getting used to this sweet torture je adds a new sensation against my hole.
With the added pressure my body arches up off the couch, rubbing myself against his delicious abs.
It's not long before I can't take the torture of his fingers inside me any more; I need more.
I groan loudly and beg, "Please, please I need you now."
"As you wish." He whispers against my ear before nibbling the sensitive skin behind it.
As He slides deep inside me I cannot help the sounds that escape and judging by the sounds escaping him he is enjoying this as much as I am. Once he is fully seated inside me we let out simultaneous groans. He fits perfectly and I can't shake the feeling that he was made especially for me.
He begins to thrust, first slow and measured then faster and harder as I shout my encouragements to do so.
"So fucking close!" He shouts as I thrust hard and fast inside this beautiful man.
I want this man to realize just how beautiful he is, but right now he needs it hard and fast. Maybe later I will be able to show him the love he deserves.
He shouts as I hit his prostate with all my force. We are racing towards the finish; each of us desperate for the release that only we can bring each other. I can feel him clench his muscles around me as I pump in and out of him. In answer I slip one of my hands around his member bringing him closer.
We let go, screaming our releases at the same time. If I were a twink I'd say that I could see fucking fireworks, but I'm not so I'll say that it was dam satisfying.
As we lie on the couch with him wrapped in my arms I gently stroke his arm; silently telling him how much I love him.
"Morelli?" He whispers.
"Ranger." I answer.
"You made my blood boil with that song."
"That was the point."
"And I'm serious about stopping our secret rendezvous." He whispers again.
I stop stroking his arm, thinking that I don't want to stop. Then he speaks again.
"Morelli will you have dinner with me?" He asks wrapped in my arms.
And with those words our secret is about to be thrust into the day light. Thank you Stephanie for making me realize that what I needed was not to be fighting against Ranger, but loving him.
A/N: Well there you have it. It's a little sweet and a little dark, but let me know what you think.
~Peace and Love,