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Maybe Raihan was a bit biased, but there was no one on the planet who could command a stage like Piers could. There was no one whose music could pierce down to his very heart like Piers’. And he had tried to find something. He spent almost two years trying to chase a high that he just couldn’t replicate with anyone else. Two brutal years of trying to chase that passionate voice out of his head—two years spent trying to get those haunting eyes out of his dreams.
He stepped through the crowd as a few people leaned over to shove each other to the beat of the song. He looked to his left and right before laughing softly.
Two years wasting his time running from the inevitable.
“I’m in the prime spot to get swept into a mosh pit,” he muttered under the heavy rain of music. He couldn’t hear himself let alone feel his own voice in his chest. It was an exhilarating feeling to be present but not actually feel like he existed. Small things were lost to the cacophonous sound; his own heartbeat was changed to the masterful rhythm of the bass. It wouldn’t be long, he knew, until he surrendered to his urge to dance, to completely fall to the whims of the band. At that point, even his own identity would be wiped clean; he’d be one with the music, with the crowd, with the moment. And there was no greater freedom than that.
Onstage, Piers threw his arms down to his sides and stared at the guitarist. His head still bobbed along to the music, and Raihan was absolutely fixed on him. Tonight, Piers was decked out in a corset and a tattered white-grey dress. There was a torn mesh layer over the skirt that looked like it had seen better days. The collection of carefully placed chains made Piers looked like a shackled bride—perhaps one that had seen a much darker fate. Later, when his thoughts were more of his own, Raihan would have to ask him the story was behind this get up. There was always something , especially if it tied into a hidden meaning in his music.
Piers turned slowly to face the crowd and then stepped haughtingly towards the microphone. A dark blue spotlight followed his path; it gently pulsated overhead, sweeping over him like ocean waves. Raihan drew in a breath—Piers was so close, but the stage kept him out of reach, high above like a sombre god of judgement. A heavily ringed hand reached out to curl around the mic. Piers swayed in place as he waited for his cue. Someone grabbed onto Raihan’s forearm, nearly losing their balance in their excitement. He reached down to support their lower back without a second thought, and then an ear splitting “We love you, Piiiiiers!” sounded off from the same concertgoer. The sentiment echoed all around Raihan as it was repeated in either words or cheers.
The tempo changed, and then the music dipped as a thin moan cut into the air. Piers ran his free hand down the length of the stand slowly, intimately; his moan picked up volume, becoming headier and more erotic. Raihan felt himself react instinctively to the sound. Without looking, he could see the entire crowd bend like reeds in the wind towards Piers. The moans grew louder until they were all consuming, swallowing up even the music.
Which stopped dramatically.
Piers then threw back his veil, revealing his running eyeliner and impressively cracked face. He freed the microphone from the stand, arched backwards, and let out a scream that could wake the dead.
The music came alive again as did the crowd. Without missing a beat, Piers fell into line; he walked down the far right of the stage before quickly doubling back and doing a knee slide to the left. Raihan never wanted him more than this moment. Piers craned back until he was lying on the ground. His hips lifted and gyrated; his back arched with every needed breath between lyrics. His lips were pressed to the microphone in a lewd display as he sang. Eventually, he rolled his head towards the crowd and lifted up his body eerily. He was a thin guy, but he displayed impressive leg strength when he picked himself up without using his hands or even bending forward.
He snatched the mic away and flipped his head forward in a headbang. Raihan snapped his eyes shut to do the same. He belatedly realised that the other attendant was still holding onto him. Their hand tightened on his bicep as they tried to stay standing during the headbang. He didn’t care; he didn’t even think he could care with this haunting, echoing dirge possessing him like a ghost. By the time he straightened up again, his vision was swimming. Raihan had to laugh at himself. He was out of practice, and yet he still never failed to lose himself like this around Piers.
A hand flipped back the veil before shooting up into the air as Piers belted out the final chorus of the song. The spotlights swam over the stage, fading from white to light blue and darker and darker still. They were telling a story Raihan was dying to know more about. He wanted it etched into his skin; he wanted to be branded to the bone with its meaning. Piers began walking forward, and everyone’s eyes were on him. His hand lowered down to join the other around the mic. The veil shook on either side of his face with every passionate shake of his head. He clipped the mic back onto its stand without breaking his flow. The music dropped again, allowing his voice alone to carry across the entire venue.
Piers stared blankly out at the crowd, having briefly lost himself. A brief hush settled over everything and everyone as the power of that moment sank in. Raihan felt goosebumps break out across his skin. He watched Piers’ eyes raise up towards the ceiling and then close. The moment was reverent, beautiful, heartbreaking . When the music picked up again, Piers grabbed onto the mic stand and began to twirl dangerously with it. He slammed his foot down to keep his momentum; his hair and veil whipped around his face as he violently bobbed his head to the rhythm. The lights flashed wildly around them and pulsated to the rhythm. When Piers stopped, he brought the mic stand down abruptly. His back was once more to the crowd as he clung to the stand like it was a lifeline. The lights froze on the band, once more illuminating the stage in an eerie monotone gradient of blue.
And then, everything went dark.
Raihan finally got his voice back, only to lose it once again to the crowd as he screamed and cheered.
Piers lifted up his head when he saw his door push open. No knock before, so it couldn’t have been the venue manager. No boisterous yelling or tired congratulations, so it wasn’t his other band members. His eyes narrowed suspiciously, but once he saw Raihan step through the door, relief and surprise flooded through him in equal measure. He pulled his feet off the center table and stabbed out his cigarette before standing up.
“Hey, precious. What’re you doing here?”
Raihan smiled and then closed the door behind him. “I came to see you, of course.”
“I thought you were busy with the gym. It’s supposed t’ be—?”
Raihan shook his head. When they met each other halfway, he set his hands on Piers’ corseted waist. “I’ve got good people looking after things. Besides, haven’t you told me I needed to take a break?”
“So, you came to a concert?” Piers smirked up at him. His makeup was haunting and unnerving; it made his cyan eyes stand out even more, made them look colder somehow, but he was still the most beautiful person Raihan had ever seen. “Hardly my idea of relaxing.”
“You’re a liar.” Raihan laughed as he tugged Piers closer. “Besides, you have no idea what you look like from my side. You were great up there.”
Piers tilted his head, and that smirk cooled to a far lovelier smile. Small and content and intimate as it was. He brought a hand to Raihan’s arm. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Duh, of course.”
A laugh, raspy and gentle. “Thanks, Rai.”
Raihan hardly needed to be convinced to go down for a kiss, but he still waited for the gentle tug that inevitably came. He drew Piers into his body as their lips met for a slow kiss. Piers’ dark lipstick smudged against Raihan’s mouth, and that small, incidental act of claim made Raihan burn hotter inside. Piers’ hand tightened where it laid before the other slid up Raihan’s torso.
The kiss broke when Piers pulled back a bit to ask, “Concert get you that excited, love?” He had a mischievous glint in his eyes as he rolled his hips forward.
Raihan let out a shaky breath. “It’s all your fault, y’know.”
Piers hummed pleasantly and then hooked an arm around Raihan’s neck. He arched backwards and tugged Raihan down with him. “Most people don’t like the undead widow look.”
Raihan leaned down to press kisses along Piers’ cheek and down to whatever bare skin he could get on Piers’ throat. “What can I say? You awaken things in me.”
Piers laughed. “Clearly.” He leaned his head back and stared at their reflections in the mirror of the makeup booth against the opposite wall.
He gasped softly when Raihan nipped at the hollow of his throat. That small sound alone was enough to urge Raihan on. He slid a hand underneath the tattered skirt. His fingers followed a familiar path up the length of Piers’ leg to the crook of his thigh. Piers shuddered as blunt nails teased the sensitive skin there. He spread his legs a bit more, mentally mapping the steady path Raihan was making. His hips thrust up against his lover’s hand when the sensations became too much. He lifted his head to say something, but Raihan cut him off with a deep kiss. Raihan’s hand then slid over to the high cut thong. The material was silky smooth under his touch and was barely holding in Piers’ half-hard erection.
They moaned into the kiss simultaneously. Piers threaded his fingers in Raihan’s locs before pulling him away. Raihan hissed as the sting of pleasure ripped through him suddenly.
“Lemme take this off,” Piers groaned. When Raihan’s hand tightened possessively on his lower back, he laughed. That heady feeling on stage was completely clouding his mind now. He was still fighting for some semblance of control before he let Raihan take him apart. “Not the dress, killer. Though, you can have the honour of takin’ it off me if ya like.”
Raihan scoffed. “Not a chance.”
They stood upright properly. When Raihan was slow to let him go, Piers had to bite back how much he liked that. Instead, he focused on the smear of dark purple and white foundation over Raihan’s lips and skin. He thumbed at the lipstick.
“S’a good colour on you, Rai.”
“Yeah? What’s it called? Might pick myself up a tube.”
Piers smirked and replied, “Smother.”
He felt the huff of laughter against his thumb, and then Raihan turned his head to kiss Piers’ palm. “Down to the miniscule detail,” he muttered.
“Mm?”
“Nothing, babe.” Raihan held Piers gently by the wrist before placing another reverent kiss against his palm. “Don't worry about it.”
Piers watched him quietly before tugging his arm back. He wasn’t trying to free it; rather, he wanted Raihan to follow along with him. They headed over to the make-up station, which was loaded down with all kinds of implements. Piers did finally free himself to sit down in the beaten leather stool. He turned towards the mirror and began the process of removing his heavy makeup. Before he could get properly started, of course, Raihan offered to snap a few photos of them both with his Rotom.
“Really?”
“Aww, c’mon. Don’t you wanna cement the moment?”
Before you make it too hard for me to think? Piers thought; he rolled his eyes with a feigned sense of bother.
Piers gave his most frigid stare to the camera for the first picture, and then for the second, he relaxed almost immediately. He pressed his cheek to Raihan’s and smiled faintly at the lens. On the third, he pressed his lips to Raihan’s cheek instead. He almost laughed when he felt a smile spread on Raihan’s face. After that, Raihan seemed satisfied enough to let Piers continue his task.
“C’mere,” Piers muttered before cupping Raihan’s face with one hand and scrubbing his face with a makeup wipe with the other.
“Augh! It’s like when your ma tries to get you all fixed up before sending you out somewhere,” Raihan grumbled once he was allowed to pull away.
Piers made a noise before facing the mirror properly. “Wouldn’t know,” he said nonchalantly as he held the wipe flat across both hands. Then, he attacked his makeup with focused aggression.
Raihan scoffed. “Lucky you.” He grumbled a bit more about memories regarding his family and early mornings heading to church, but the stories died off as quickly as they had come.
Which was a bit of a surprise. Truthfully, Piers was expecting Raihan to talk more about it, the concert, his day, or even what compelled him to come in the first place. But there was only them in a quiet room. Not that that was a bad thing at all. He liked the fact that they could just share a space in companionable silence.
But he was curious. When he peeked up at Raihan, he could see the intense look on his partner’s face. Raihan was lost in thought, and despite not knowing what exactly was on his mind, Piers could see that it wasn’t diminishing Raihan’s interest in anyway. The man was still hard in his joggers. Raihan’s right hand was still just tense enough that the prominent vein in his arm was standing out. Piers’ lips curved up a bit before he refocused on his own reflection again.
If this reaction was his fault as much as Raihan claimed it was, then he was definitely chalking this show up as a success. No doubt about it.
Raihan glanced down as Piers swept all of the used makeup wipes into the bin. When the singer reached out for a familiar makeup bag, Raihan felt his cock twitch in his pants again. He let out a sigh and leaned his head back against the wall.
“Got it bad for me, darlin’?” Piers asked in a low voice.
“You really have no idea what you do to me, huh?”
“Oooh,” Piers cooed. “Poor thing.” He didn’t sound even a little apologetic. He pulled out a compact of black eyeshadow and rubbed his middle finger into it. “Guess you’ll have to show me, now won’t you?”
He closed one eye, and he couldn’t help but smile when he felt that intense gaze fall upon him once again. Raihan watched Piers in silence, his mind slowly turning over what he should do to make a convincing argument for himself. But the answer came easily—why think at all? He knew that it was better to surrender to his own desires just as he had earlier to the music. He put his Rotom into standby before stowing it away in his pocket. Afterward, he turned towards Piers and moved to stand behind him. He placed a hand on the stool’s backrest while the other went down to curl loosely around Piers’ neck.
Raihan felt the subtle intake of breath more than he heard it. He ran his thumb against the apple of Piers’ throat idly before gently coaxing his lover’s head to one side. He nipped at the curve of Piers’ jaw, and there was a quiet pleasure in feeling Piers’ pulse pick up underneath his fingertips. Piers wouldn’t admit to working a bit faster with his makeup. He had the routine down by now that it barely took any effort at all to get his signature look, but with Raihan quietly working for his attention, there was a clear incentive to get it all done as fast as possible.
“You’re so distractin’,” Piers muttered as Raihan reached around to feel at the front of the dress.
Raihan soon found the hidden hooks and eyes keeping the dress closed, so he popped open a few of the closures until he could comfortably get at the pale slope of Piers’ shoulder. He didn’t say anything in his defense. Instead, he left a path of adoration in his wake. Faint traces of lipstick and foundation transferred back onto Piers, but even they were soon wiped away as Raihan laved a spot with attention using his tongue and teeth.
Piers paused what he was doing to bare more of his skin to Raihan, who tightened his grip on Piers’ arm. His other hand twitched with the faint urge to choke, and Piers felt himself respond to that whispered threat. He wanted it but wouldn’t ask for it. Not right now. Not yet. Instead, he choked on a moan when Raihan bit down into him and began working on a mark. “O-oh fuck…” he whispered. He brought up his clean hand to hook onto Raihan’s neck, digging his nails into skin as he was assaulted with pain and pleasure.
When Raihan pulled away, Piers was left shaking. His breathing was uneven, and he almost said bugger to the whole attempt of getting himself street ready. He pressed on valiantly still when Raihan began to kiss his skin again.
“You should keep the lipstick on,” Raihan muttered.
Piers’ eyes went down to it. He tucked the eyeliner into the crook of his thumb as he grabbed a tube of Smother. He turned it slowly before cocking a brow. “You know I don’t do requests, right?” he teased.
Raihan laughed against him, dark and knowing. Piers had to bite the inside of his bottom lip to keep from reacting. “Maybe tonight you will.”
An exhale, one final bid to keep control. He was almost done anyway. “Yeah,” Piers agreed before popping open the tube. “Maybe just tonight.”
As if he would turn down anything Raihan asked of him—but it was no fun to give in so easily, right?
Raihan lifted his head to watch as the shade glided over Piers’ pale lips. There was something to this that felt incredibly private; it did something to him the way their usual foreplay hadn’t in a while. He kissed the shell of Piers’ ear and hummed pleasantly. Maybe he’d ask for more repeats in the future, try a bit more colours to see what really got him going.
“Babe…” he moaned, only to have Piers hush him softly.
“Just a bit longer, love,” Piers promised. “And then I’m all yours.”
Piers blotted off the excess with a bit of tissue, and then he set on tracing his eyes with liner. Hell, he even sharpened the corners just to really dig into Raihan. He was in a mood tonight, one that Piers was more than happy to take full advantage of. When it was all said and done, he dropped his supplies back into his bag and zipped it up with an air of finality.
He tilted his head back to look at Raihan. “As promised.” Raihan’s hand slid over his throat and down over the choker. His fingers looped with the spiked pendant before tugging. Piers groaned agreeably. “Do your worst, Rai.”
As if he needed to ask. As if Raihan wasn’t going to put on a gripping show of his own.
It took every bit of willpower Raihan had not to claim Piers with a powerful kiss. He had to redirect his urges into leaving as many love bites as he could. All the while, he pulled Piers out of the stool, which was roughly shoved aside. It tipped over to the floor, but neither man paused to correct it. Raihan groped at Piers, marked the map of his body with hungry touches, and the rough calls of his name spurned him onward.
When Piers was finally, well and truly ready for him, he had a knee on the makeup counter. One hand desperately gripped above the mirror. Raihan had to hike up the dress to Piers’ lower back so that he could watch each thrust strike true. At least every so often. It was hard for him to look away from the beautiful way pleasure overtook Piers’ face. He smirked watching as Piers tried to bite back his own noises; he shuddered when he heard growls slowly replacing shaky moans. The low beginnings of a death scream rolled out like smoke. It was like stirring a dragon, and Raihan gave a fanged smile hearing it.
He coiled a hand in Piers’ hair and tightened his hold. Piers’ head craned back slightly with a tug, and his eyes nearly crossed as his body adjusted to the positioning. Just the slight movement of his hips was enough to help Raihan strike that place that made him see stars. He panted for Raihan to do it again and again and again—
“Rai—! C-c’mon, right there. Right—fuck, yes. Give it t’ m-me— ha!”
“No matter where you are, you sound so fucking good.” Raihan’s other hand secured its place on Piers’ hip and held on so tightly that the spot might’ve bruised under the corset.
The station banged against the wall with every thrust. Nail polish bottles and plastic organisers rattled where they sat. A couple of things toppled to the floor, but nothing broke. Even if they had, Raihan wouldn’t have stopped. Piers wouldn’t have wanted him to.
Another dangerous scream built that Piers couldn’t let loose. Raihan shuddered at the implication and doubled over as he felt his end draw near. Piers watched himself in the mirror, watched them both. He pressed a hand, and his rings clinked against the glass. He chanted Raihan’s name as his vision blurred. It was all so good. Too good. He was going to—
He bit down on his bottom lip until he felt blood to keep himself from crying out. His orgasm knocked all his thoughts loose, and for some reason, the very act of holding back only heightened his ecstasy. Raihan lifted his gaze to watch as the tears ran down Piers’ cheeks, his eyeliner and under eye shadow following in slow dark trails. That coupled with the tight clench around Raihan’s cock were enough to send him over. He buried himself deep and came with a shaky groan of his own. It was so low in his chest that it was a growl in its own right. Piers made a noise of approval at the sound. He tiredly tipped his head back to kiss the corner of Raihan’s mouth.
They shared a brief kiss before Raihan loosened his grip on Piers’ hair. He sat upright and looked down where they were joined. “Too bad you don’t have a plug,” he muttered.
“Didn’ think t’ bring one,” Piers remarked between breaths. He laughed before nodding to his bag. “Guess I’ll keep it in mind.”
“Don’t say that,” Raihan whined before wrapping his arms around Piers’ middle. He kissed the back of his lover’s ear and enjoyed how red the shell of it was. “I’ll show up to your concerts for all the wrong reasons.”
Piers looked at their reflections before laughing. He reached back to stroke his fingers over Raihan’s cheek. “Whatever keeps you comin’ back, precious.”
Raihan let that sit with him just for a moment. Afterward, he smiled a bit and then hooked his chin on Piers’ shoulder, taking in their reflections as well. “Wherever you are, so I am, babe. Everything else?” He shrugged and closed his eyes. He missed the way Piers’ expression softened, though he felt the ghost movements of Piers’ fingers curling near his face. “That’s just a bonus.”