Habit of A Lifetime Ch. 01

He was still sucking Rayne’s fingers gently in the darkness when the singer’s other hand came up, hesitantly at first, running through his pale, tangled hair to caress the nape of his neck. He withdrew his fingertips from the boy’s mouth, then, more insistently, Rayne Wylde pulled his companion’s moist lips down onto his, kissing him with a savage hunger of his own.

Danny broke the kiss first, pulling away to whisper into his mouth; “D’you want to go somewhere more private?”

RAYNE

In spite of his resolve to seduce the boy from the front of the Apollo crowd, (Daniel… Danny, he reminded himself firmly) Rayne found himself surprised by the youngster’s willingness to be with him. He prided himself on his ability to judge a personality and he had already calculated that Danny would be pliable and possibly a little naive. That had been a mite shy of the mark. Already he had figured out that this kid was no pushover. Getting him drunk - or trying to - had not seemed to work and he was beginning to wonder if this endeavour had been worth the effort, when Danny followed him down the stairs. The boy’s concern had been a surprise. What he had not bargained for was that Dan would ‘physically’ want him just as much as ‘he’ wanted Dan.

Charley Collister was outside with the Merc when they finally emerged into the cool Mancunian night. Rayne was still limping slightly from his tumble down the stairs, which allowed him to lean against Daniel for support, one arm draped loosely around the boy’s slim shoulders. His lips still tingled from the ferocity of their recent kiss.

Danny Weston, on the other hand, seemed impervious to the moment of intimacy faced with their mode of transport back to the Midland Hotel. His hands wandered like a child’s over the gleaming bodywork of Charley’s black stretch Mercedes and he made little sounds of awe and appreciation, which clearly charmed big Chaz to the soles of his ox-blood Doc Martens.

“This is amazing!” the kid breathed settling into the supple, soft, ebony leather of the Merc’s immaculate upholstery. His fingers still wandered over every little feature of the car, exploring electric window switches and folding arm rests, locating the mini-bar in the back seat quite by accident.

Rayne fished a miniature Stolichnaya from the cache and with some magnanimity said; “Help yourself!”

Thumbing an overhead switch he dimmed the interior lights and a tiny portable TV screen descended smoothly from the roof and replayed the night’s gig for them in muted tones. Charley slipped into the driver’s seat and gunned the engine and the Mercedes slipped silently away into the Manchester night.

“I need to make a pick-up, Chaz,” Rayne Wylde told his driver in that same languid, gravel-toned voice that Danny recognised from the songs. “Just a couple of grams. Nothin’ heavy.”

Charley’s eyes met his sceptically in the rear-view mirror. “I should clear it with Matt, Chief.”

“Matthew won’t mind,” Rayne lounged in the back seat still rolling the tiny bottle between his palms. “I’m not over my spending limit,” he added persuasively. “And we don’t play the next gig ‘til Monday.”

Danny glanced at him, speculatively he thought. Rayne met the kid’s wide blue eyes and winked reassuringly. Taking a deep breath, Daniel said; “I’ve got some stuff. Just a little bit, if you want to share.”

“We’re not talkin’ blotters ‘ere,” Rayne chuckled at him and unscrewed the cap of his bottle, downing the contents in one.

“Coke,” Danny said at once. From the driver’s seat Charley was looking him over again via the mirror. His expression was far from approving. Rayne was less judgmental.

“You are a fuckin’ angel,” he exclaimed, wrapping himself around the boy and kissing him again. He was less restrained this time, getting his fingers inside Daniel’s cropped t-shirt and snug-fitting jeans, even as his warm, wet tongue explored the cavern of the boy’s half-open mouth. This time Danny made no attempt to resist his groping hands.

TO BE CONTINUED......