2. - – Paul
CHAPTER TWO
-
PAUL
There's nothing better than rock'n'roll in my opinion, except that is, getting to watch the most beautiful woman in the world sway slightly on her feet as she sings along to Cary’s screaming voice. Misha is everything I have ever wanted in a woman, but I’ve been too afraid to make a move on her. She’s going to die, it’s inevitable.
Her cancer has progressed too far, and the chemotherapy appointments she goes to are only delaying what we all know is coming.
I don’t know if I could handle falling in love with her, only to lose her right away.
“Stop gaslighting yourself, you idiot, you’ve already fallen for her.” I grumble to myself while checking the equipment and keeping an eye on the guys on stage, making sure there are no issues with their mics, amps, and speakers.
The concert is in full swing, and the multicolored stage lights pan back and forth, while the white spotlight follows Cary as he paces the front edge of the stage.
The fans below him reach up and grab at his leather pants, some aggressively enough that if he weren’t a strong guy, they’d pull him down into the pit with them.
Smoke fills the air from the machines at the corners of the arena, making the light seem almost ethereal and creepy, and just how the guys like it.
Marcus pounds away on a drum solo as I weave between cords and wires.
Finding the leads for Derrick and Lucian’s guitars, I begin prepping for the intermission, where they’ll take center stage together, their backs against each other and riff and rip as a powerful duo as the other guys change their sets and get ready for the rest of the show.
It’s my favorite part, and the thing I look forward to every time they jog out onto a stage.
The way Lucian’s fingers fly over the frets of his Fender, so fast you can’t even see them, perfectly balances out the smooth riffs from Derrick’s slower bass.
It’s the perfect way to blend the two ends of the show together and build up to the encore, where the theatrics, ever since Massachusetts, have been insane.
I'll never forget that night, the way the boys fought in the back of the audience with a man over Cary’s girlfriend.
The blood they shed that night set the stage for the amazing show that they now put on each and every time the fans come to see them.
It reminds me of an old band from the 1980s who used to throw blood on the audience, only that blood, I believe, was fake or from pigs, and not the real stuff that Cary insists upon.
Where they source it from, I have no idea, and I think I don't want to know.
Finishing up my preparations, I look out onto the stage and see Lucian peering at me.
I give him a thumbs up to let him know that everything is set, and he nods at me so slightly that if I wasn't looking for it, I’d miss it.
The glimmer in his fiery eyes and the upturn to his lips tells me that he’s stoked and ready to go, and that the show tonight and his performance with his brother from another mother is going to be epic.
Misha is absolutely stunning standing on the side of the stage.
She has her hands clasped in front of her, her thumbs twirling around each other in her excitement at watching the boys do their thing.
When I slide up next to her, my job for now being done, she looks over at me and gives me the brightest smile.
Seeing her happy just warms my heart, and I really wish that there was something I could do to make sure that smile lasts for eternity.
“Enjoying the show?” I ask her loudly over the music that fills the arena, reaching over and very gingerly adjusting the edge of the scarf that’s wrapped around her head.
Like I told her earlier when the boys were still practicing, none of us care that she's bald underneath that thing, I'm bald too, so I think that makes us a pretty good pair.
“Always.” She hollers back to me, and a bright light illuminates in her pale blue eyes.
We could stand here, shoulder to shoulder, yelling back and forth to each other over the music, but instead we stand silently.
Just breathing the same air as her has me head over heels, and when I sway slightly on my feet and give her just a little tap with my shoulder, I can feel little tingly sensations in my bare bicep.
Looking over at her, I wonder if she can sense them.
By the look on her face, the rising of the very thin, blonde eyebrows above those icy pools, and the little shiver she makes, I can tell that she does in fact feel them too.
The racket of the band playing subsides as if I'm underwater, or like the world, except for her, is fading away into the background. All I can see is her, and with the perceived silence around us I can hear the pounding of my heart, and the small little gasp that comes out between her pale lips.
“Misha, I…” I start to say to her, not even knowing what the next words are going to be.
Everything else disappears from my mind and my mouth, and instead of thinking or denying myself what I know to be true, I slide my arm around her waist and pull her to me.
Her short and soft body collides against my tall and hard one, her hands coming up I'm pressing against my chest to keep her balance.
I won't let her fall, though; I will never let her fall.
It's only half of a heartbeat before she looks up at me the almost foot difference in our height making it a gorgeous view as I look down at her and see that smile returning, along with something else that washes over her face… anticipation.
“Paul…” She says, barely breathing my name before I wrap my large palm around the back of her head and lower my mouth to hers, stopping anything that she could say in protest.
It's a bold move, I know this. I know that when she's finally able to breathe and I'm not sucking the soul from her that she's going to yell at me, and probably even hit me, but I don't care.
I can't spend another minute in this woman's presence without doing something to make a move and to show her how I truly feel about her.
Her lips are cool to the touch against my hot ones, a stark contrast that reminds me just how sick she really is, but I kiss her deeply anyway, knowing that she’s the last woman on earth who would be fragile from this disease.
I've seen the way she fights, and the way she handles all the guys in the band, and delicate or fragile is not a word I would ever use to describe her.
She's a warrior. My warrior, if she’ll agree to have me for whatever time she has left.
Instead of denying me access, like I assume that she would, she opens her mouth and invites me in. I kiss her deeply, hungrily, feasting on her mouth, drawing aroused little moans from deep within her throat.
It's heaven, or something even better than that of which I cannot describe. My head swims and my body sways back and forth, pulling her tighter against my front, afraid to let her go because she feels in my grasp as unsteady on her feet as I am.
“Fuck Misha, I’ve needed this forever.” I moan into her mouth, licking her tongue, and caressing everything I can reach with my own.
“Paul.” She sighs again, leaning into me, wrapping her arms around my waist, holding onto me as she kisses me back with a passion that cannot be denied.
I can feel my cock swelling behind my zipper, begging to be released, and I groan a little noise of frustration at the thought of having to wait until after the show to take her and finally make her mine.
“I’m going to ravage you when the show is done.” I say to her between strokes of my tongue, making her moan and sigh in what I can only perceive as the same guttural need as I’m feeling.
“Yes.” She breathes into my mouth. “Please.”
The past year of watching her and waiting for this moment flashes behind my closed eyelids as I devour her harder and deeper. I know I’m cooked. I can never go back to just admiring her from afar. She’s mine, all mine, whether it’s right or not.
I’m so lost in her that I barely register when the music stops, and Cary and Marcus trot up to us. It’s not until I feel Marcus’ hand on my shoulder and hear him inside my head giving me a mental fist bump that I pause just long enough to open my eyes and give the two guys a wickedly happy grin.
“Yeah, baby.” Marcus says, slapping me on the back so hard that I wince from the connection. “Oops, sorry.” He chuckles. “Didn’t mean to interrupt this love fest.”
“Finally.” Cary adds, poking Misha on the shoulder, making her sway a little against me, her body rubbing up against my obvious hard-on. “You two need to seal the deal, like, right now.”
It’s adorable watching her face scrunch up in both embarrassment and desire at the same time as she turns her head to stare at Cary like he just committed some moral sin.
Her cheeks flush, her eyes narrow, and the corner of her mouth turns up in a devious smirk, matching the one on his face when their eyes meet.
“Cary!” She shrieks at him, swatting at him mostly in play, but I can feel the shyness in her returning. “We…I…you…the show…”
“Excuses, excuses, my dear. We’ve got this. Go have freaky monkey sex or something. You both need it.” Cary laughs and nods to me, then adds, “Douche bag here and I have everything under control.”
I can feel the excitement in me ready to boil over, and I don’t waste another second of our lives.
Scooping her up in my arms, I toss her over my shoulder and abruptly turn on the balls of my feet, carrying her off the side of the stage while she kicks her feet and cackles in surprise and happiness.