Marlowe & Friends
Part 4
It was a few evenings later. Tarrant went to bed early, even though his sores appeared healed, his cock looked healthy, and he hadn't had a fever and weakness for days.
Ryan arrived to check up on them. He wore silver slacks, a black dress shirt, and a white undershirt. His shirts were tucked tightly into his pants. He wore Dior cologne and had his hair slicked back. Tonight, he looked like Jesse Plemons from his Breaking Bad days.
Marlowe wore only his plaid pajama pants.
"The hubby is at the club. I told him I'm attending a drag show with my fag hags," Ryan said as he groped Marlowe's growing bulge. "We're supposed to meet at Denny's later."
Soon, he talked Marlowe into grabbing a comforter and coming outside with him. Ryan brought a bottle of Dom Perignon, two wine glasses, gourmet popcorn, and cheese crackers.
They drank for a few minutes, and Ryan got Marlowe naked under the comforter. "I only give head," Ryan said, stroking Marlowe's cock. "It's the only thing Jet lets me do. He knows I love sucking."
"Can I see your dick?" Marlowe asked, smirking.
"Maybe someday," Ryan replied unconvincingly.
Ryan gave Marlowe a slow, sensual blowjob for an hour. Occasionally, he pulled up Marlowe's legs and ate him out. Marlowe had a tiny pink hole, which tasted subtly sweet. They sipped their Dom every few minutes, and Marlowe started to get giddy and buzzed.
Ryan sucked out a sweet, salty load and slowly swallowed and savored it. "I love the way you taste, sweetheart," Ryan murmured.
"You can eat it anytime." Marlowe stirred. "I do have to pee, though."
Ryan hesitated. "You want to piss in my mouth?"
Marlowe's eyes widened. "Serious?"
"Yeah, you're an innocent kid. I know your urine is clean. I'll drink every drop."
Marlowe shrugged. "I guess if you want to."
Marlowe rose and urinated in Ryan's mouth. Ryan gulped it down like a champion and only spilled a little on his shirt. Afterward, Ryan kept his dick in his mouth for a few minutes. He pulled away. "Even your piss tastes delicious," Ryan said, licking the piss spot on his shirt. "Now I'm curious what you'd look like taking a shit," he muttered.
Marlowe chuckled. "You're not eating my shit."
"Just to watch."
Suddenly, the bedroom light came on, and Marlowe put on his pants. "You ever done anything with him?" Ryan asked.
"Tarrant? Only touched his dick."
"Incest is somewhat hot."
"He's not blood. I wouldn't touch him if he were."
Marlowe and Ryan sat and finished their Dom. "Jet would love to watch me suck you. He'd want to suck you, too. Can you picture two mouths on you?"
"I'm timid, except with you."
"Well, if you ever change your mind."
They returned to the bedroom. Tarrant was naked and jerking off to bi-porn. "Someone's feeling frisky tonight," Ryan joked.
Tarrant turned on the lamp and rose. "Who wants to suck it?" Tarrant asked, point blank.
Ryan and Marlowe dropped to their knees and started sucking it. Ryan pulled off Marlowe's pants, stroked him, and watched him suck. "Kid is good," Ryan marveled.
"Get naked, Ryan," Tarrant said.
"Husband."
"Bullshit. I've seen you fuck all kinds of boys. Get naked, whore," Tarrant joked.
"Someone is definitely feeling frisky tonight," Ryan responded.
"His husband only lets him suck," Marlowe teased.
"Is that what he said?" Tarrant asked. "He's full of shit. Those two have threesomes every other night."
Ryan smirked and blushed. "Hey, don't tell my business."
"Busted," Marlowe said, chuckling.
Tarrant grabbed Ryan and pulled him up. "Boy wants to suck," Tarrant said.
"What is this?" Ryan asked nervously and grabbed his bulge.
Tarrant got down next to Marlowe. "He tries to be in control, but he has none," Tarrant said, pulling away Ryan's hands.
"No one wants to see my dick," Ryan protested.
"Everyone wants to see it." Tarrant pulled his slacks down. Ryan wore a fluorescent pink thong bikini, and his cock head and one testicle stuck out. He also had a pride flag tattoo on his upper thigh. "See, this slut came prepared."
Tarrant yanked down Ryan's bikini. Ryan had a fat, bald cock and low-hanging balls. Marlowe immediately went to work on it. "Fucking eat that shit, boy," Tarrant said, slapping Ryan's plump ass.
"I hate you," Ryan joked.
Tarrant rose, and he and Ryan fed Marlowe their massive loads. "Boy was hungry," Tarrant muttered.
They showered together. At one moment, Marlowe dropped down, fingered, and ate out Ryan's loose, sloppy hole. "Now you taste amazing, baby," Marlowe joked.
Afterward, they snacked and drank Dom in bed as Marlowe played his Gibson guitar and sang. "He's great," Ryan said, cuddling naked between them. "He has the voice of an angel."
"Wonder why," Tarrant murmured.
Marlowe smiled. "You want to hear a song I wrote yesterday?" Marlowe asked.
"I'd love to, baby," Ryan said, kissing his shoulder.
Suddenly, popping emerged from outside. "Fucking firecrackers," Tarrant grumbled.
They got out of bed and put on their underwear. Ryan put on his slacks halfway as Tarrant went to the balcony.
"This isn't Fourth of July, mother fuckers!" Tarrant hollered.
Three pops followed. A clinking emerged from the window. "What the fuck?" Ryan asked, darting toward the window. "Get the med bag!" Ryan exploded at Marlowe.
Marlowe rushed to the bag, grabbed it, and brought it to the balcony. He froze when he saw Tarrant lying motionless on the floor. "I saw this," Marlowe gasped in terror.
"Drop the bag and call 911," Ryan yelled, gripping Tarrant's bloodied chest.
It was seven years later. Marlowe was playing at an autumn festival, which was sold out and comprised primarily young females. He looked more manly, scraggly, and rugged and had a slight cold. Resultantly, his voice sounded raspier. A few people hollered and held up their phones and lighters, unlike years before, when everyone was ecstatic.
Afterward, he joined Ryan offstage. Ryan was balder and rounder but now dressed like a teenager. He and Marlowe watched newly eighteen breakout star Callum Hahn perform to the roaring crowd. Ryan looked spellbound. "He's dreamy," Ryan murmured. "My dream boy."
"Until he's twenty-one," Marlowe grumbled, glaring at the Frankie Valli-meets-Justin Timberlake Callum.
"This one is different."
"You always say that. Besides, Callum isn't going to let you suck him. He's straight."
Ryan sighed. "But a twink can dream."
"You're thirty-five. Get a fucking grip. Besides, you have a big-time Doctor Jet at home."
Ryan groaned, and Marlowe trudged to his dressing room, which was a converted janitor closet.
Half an hour later, he left his room and met his fans: five nerds, one cute girl with her grandma, and a middle-aged goth girl. Meanwhile, fifteen of Callum's rabid fans were jumping and screaming a few yards over as Callum signed their autographs. "Nana, it's Callum! Can we go over there?" the cute girl asked her grandma. The girl looked like she was about to have a heart attack.
"Let's wait for his crowd to die down, sweetie. I told you we would get everyone else's autographs first," Nana replied.
Marlowe stopped texting and started signing autographs. "I'm surprised Callum's team only gave fifteen backstage passes," one of the nerds whispered to her friend.
"Corporate shills," the friend replied.
"You're our favorite singer, Marlowe," another nerd told Marlowe.
"You sure it's not Callum?" Marlowe grumbled.
"I'm obsessed with your music," the goth girl said.
Marlowe glanced up. "I don't get many emo--MILFs," Marlowe muttered.
"I'd love to pick your brain, especially about your song Rain."
"Good luck with that. It came to me in a dream." He took her young Marlowe poster next. "Who do I make it out to?"
"Me. My name is Rain."
Marlowe looked up. "Serious?"
"Dead serious."
Ryan approached. "Your mom is blowing up my phone. She says it's an emergency," Ryan grumbled.
"Yeah, I can see her missed calls and texts. My step dad probably died," Marlowe replied casually.
His fans looked horrified. "Sorry for your loss," one murmured.
He finished signing, walked toward his room, and called his mom. "Who died?" Marlowe asked.
His mom hesitated. "Your uncle."
"Liver?"
"Yes."
"I'll fly out in a few days. How's Rocky?" he asked, referring to his pot-belly pig.
She paused. "I love you, Marlowe. You know this."
Marlowe saw a FaceTime call from Jayden. "Need to go. I have an important call." Marlowe hung up and took the call. Jayden looked as plump as Ryan and exited a busy pub with his five buddies. "Fuck, life has been good to you."
"You calling me fat?" Jayden asked.
One of Jayden's friends scoffed in the background. "Is this the washed-up singer?" the friend asked.
"Ignore them," Jayden replied, chuckling. "We still on later?"
"Sure."
"Hey, did you--?"
"No. Callum is busy."
"Ah, shit. It's all good."
"We want to see C-dog!" one of his friends hollered and started belting out his latest hit.
Marlowe packed his things an hour later and entered an Uber Lux with his manager. His manager sat in the front, and Marlowe sat in the back. "Love your songs," the driver told Marlowe as Marlowe ignored him.
They drove for a few minutes, and his manager answered his phone. "I'd love to be his manager," his manager said. "I was on a roll for a while. I need to get back on top. Did you talk to his team yet?" His manager paused. "I wonder who this rich benefactor is. Did you ever find out?" Marlowe looked up, and the manager noticed. "Well, keep digging. I have to go."
They drove to the skyscraper hotel. "You want me to drive to the back?" the driver asked.
"No need," the manager replied, and he and Marlowe entered the front lobby.
A massive group of Callum fans waited for Callum's arrival. They wore his clothes and held his merchandise. "That guy used to be famous," one of them said.
"The homeless guy?" another replied.
Suddenly, Rain approached Marlowe as he noticed and huffed. "The titular Rain," Marlowe grumbled. "Did I forget to sign something?"
"I know you're busy, Marlowe. But I would love to talk to you."
Marlowe noticed Jayden standing and waving a few feet away. "Are you press?"
Rain hesitated. "Okay, you got me."
"Which publication?"
"Summer Everyday, a music magazine based in Boston."
"I haven't had an interview in forever, so why not. Give me about fifteen to twenty minutes."
"I'll be in the bar."
She left, and Marlowe joined Jayden. They headed to the elevator as Marlowe searched his net. "Nice to see you, too," Jayden joked.
"The magazine she claims she works for hasn't been active for years."
"Maybe she's a stalker."
"I seem to get more of those than regular fans lately."
They entered the elevator. "At least Craig Harris is hot."
Marlowe shook his head. "He's a failing country singer ever since he was outed. Besides, he's vapid and arrogant."
"Then why are you with him?"
Marlowe paused. "Fate," Marlowe muttered. Marlowe showed Jayden a picture of Rain. "Mystery solved. It turns out she's an investigative journalist for several prestigious blogs. So why mention a shuttered, indie mag?"
"The plot thickens."
They exited the elevator. "This hotel sucks. They put me on a low floor in the back. I should've gotten the penthouse."
"Let me guess, Callum got the penthouse?"
"And it's the whole floor."
"In the best hotel in the city."
"Don't remind me." They entered Marlowe's standard room, and Marlowe closed the door. "We're not having sex," Marlowe said, point blank. "Sit in the chair over there--in front of that metal disk. We're playing a game."
Jayden paused. "Game?"
"Do it." Jayden sat in front of the box of fate. Its frame was nowhere to be seen. "Do as I tell you." They went through the steps, but nothing happened. They froze for a few seconds. "Sometimes it doesn't work, except--"
Jayden stood. "Except that you had visions," Jayden said with a strange, sinister voice. "I was supposed to select a person--so the love of my life would kill me outside of a club in five years. That's still going to happen. Honestly, he doesn't need the box of fate for that."
"What--in--the--?"
Jayden took a few steps forward. "Place, thing, person, beast, machine, and--?"
"Five configurations."
"Six. And guess which one our friend downstairs was about to choose? That's not happening now."
"The goth girl?"
"The goth girl. Your next big hit. It's reminiscent of Avril Lavigne's Skater Boy. You're welcome."
"Jayden?"
Marlowe's phone buzzed. "Speaking of."
Marlowe saw that Jayden was trying to call. "So confused."
"Don't answer it. We saw this movie already--a few nights ago."
Marlowe shut off his phone. "Who are you?"
"Another clique question. It doesn't matter. Oh--" Jayden reached for the box of fate, and it threw to his hand. "That's mine." Jayden tucked it into his leather jacket. "Your grandpa and uncles meddled too much in my affairs. And I hate fucking meddlers. But now they're all dead." Jayden walked to the door, froze, and turned around. "On second thoughts, I shouldn't take the doors. Not that security can see me. However, it will be interesting when they see you talking to yourself on the tapes later. It'll also explain--things."
Marlowe shook his head. "There's a reasonable explanation for this," Marlowe grumbled.
"Remember seeing your fate in your visions?" Marlowe looked up. "What was it?"
Marlowe paused. "I can't--"
"Your uncle said you'll get punished if you divulge. Aren't you already being punished? Your uncle got a lot wrong, like that sixth configuration."
"I was old, in a hospital, surrounded by Craig--"
"Yada, yada, yada. You're leaving out one major detail."
Marlowe stared down. "I was partially paralyzed."
Marlowe looked up to see grotesque wings, horns, and fangs from Jayden.
Fifteen minutes earlier, Edgar fucked Callum in the back of his limo. Callum cleaned off his limp, crimson dick with baby wipes as Edgar wiped his cream pie. Usually, Edgar looked like a billion dollars. "You were the only good thing about--what's that alien-looking mother fucker's name again?" Callum asked.
"We'll call him a loser. Kidding--Marlowe is okay. His music is corny and derivative, though."
"Why did you sign him?"
Edgar looked confused. "I didn't. I don't know who signed him. I think it had something to do with that dead Malibu uncle."
"Well, we know it wasn't that nasty blond who keeps trying to suck me."
"Right. Where did dumbass get that fool?" Edgar got on the speaker. "Go to the back, baby driver."
Callum took a swig of Edgar's priceless shipwreck wine and spat it out. "The fuck?"
"Kid, I got that from the Acropolis Museum in Greece. You better swallow that shit. By the way, I just read your article in Rolling Stone."
"It was all bullshit."
Edgar chuckled. "Tell me how you REALLY feel about your fans."
"They're only good to eat."
The men laughed as the limo parked. "Stick with me, kid, and you'll go places."
"And that's why you can ride my straight dick anytime."
Callum exited the limo, and Marlowe fell on him, killing him immediately. Glass was everywhere, and Marlowe had several significant cuts.
Edgar, the driver, and bodyguard bolted out of the limo. The driver called 911 as the guard took Callum's nonexistent pulse.
Edgar stood near Marlowe's head. Marlowe couldn't move as he gripped the box of fate. A raven flew above them. "Edgar? What are you doing here?" Marlowe muttered in pain.
"Marlowe, you just killed my superstar," Edgar said. "It's okay. I have this hot fourteen-year-old I'm working on."
"Get the middle-aged goth girl inside the hotel bar. Hurry before Satan returns."
The End