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Orchestral Maneuvers

Chapter Text


I held up my index finger and laughed at the joke my brother, Joe, just made on the line about our mother. He was currently visiting Mom back home in a suburb of Pittsburgh.


“I have to go. Jan’s getting impatient. Again.” I chuckled as I rolled my eyes at her. She stood with her hands on her hips, bright fuchsia dress—the color was good on her—holding a clipboard.  I had told her to try the color, though, she had been dead set against it initially. I’d convinced her to buy the dress when we’d been perusing the fashion magazines on the sofa in her office. “I’ll call you later. Say hello to Mom. Bye.”

I hit end call and turned to her with a smirk. I was seated at my desk, feet on the edge, which she impatiently pushed off to the floor.

“What? I was on a break.”

“Breaks over. And stop calling me Jan. You know I hate that.” She thrust the clipboard in my direction. “We need a violinist.”

I yawned. “I know. You told me your cousin, Stanley was going to come in and audition for it.”

She made a face. “I remembered he peed on stage during an orchestra performance.”

“Kids get nervous.”

“Stanley was an adult. He’s out. So put out feelers or whatever on one. And you didn’t tell me someone was coming in to audition for cellist. I have a meeting with the city.”

Janet was the director and conductor of the Mason Philharmonic Orchestra. I was her assistant. Or had been for about the last six months. Mason was a suburb of LA.

I glanced at the name she had on the clipboard. “Oh, yeah. Christopher Pine.”

“You set this up?”

“Yep. I figure I may as well see what he has to offer…rather what he sounds like…first. Then if he’s good enough I’ll have him come in and audition for you.” I smiled. “Why waste your time?”

She folded her arms across her chest. “And if he’s not good enough, you’ll send him away?”

“Scout’s honor.”

Janet rolled her eyes. “Were you ever a scout?”

“For about five minutes,” I replied. “That color looks good on you.”

She twirled around, preening a bit. “Yeah?”

I winked. “Definitely.”

“Well. I can’t be charmed that easily, you know.”

She could, actually, and we both knew it.

She took her clipboard back. “Says his dad’s an actor. These Hollywood types. He better be the best damn cellist I’ve ever heard if he thinks he’s going to get into my orchestra.”

“Good luck with the meeting. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Two o’clock, Zach. We have a ton of work to do for the upcoming show. Arrangements. Staging. The orchestra itself comes at four for rehearsal.”

“I know, I know.”

“Two. Not two oh five. Not two ten. And definitely not two thirty.”

I know.” I fluttered my fingers at her. “Bye Jan.”

She huffed but she turned and walked out of the offices. I’d lock up later.

Ten minutes later, the door opened, and I looked up from my computer I had been working on.

Standing there lugging a cello case was sin personified into a young human male. He was breathtakingly gorgeous. So actor perfect.

I picked my jaw off the floor. “You want the Mason Playhouse down the street.”

Bushy brows furrowed over stunningly blue eyes. “Huh?”

God, I was getting hard just looking at him. This would not do. I prayed he was a horrible cellist. Then I might actually get to fuck him.  But if he was good, Janet good, then I was in trouble. She had a strict rule, a moral code, that I wasn’t allowed to sleep with any of the orchestra members. Well, she wasn’t either. But all I cared about was whether I could. And hell…

“Isn’t this the offices of the Mason Philharmonic?” the kid asked. He was young. Younger than me, anyway. His cheeks were faintly pink. And he had the greatest set of lips I’d ever seen. I was already imagining them wrapped around—

“Yeah, this is the Philharmonic,” I answered, grumpily.

He rested his cello case against the wall, very carefully, and then approached me, hand outstretched.

“Chris Pine.”

I ignored his hand until he dropped it. If anything he turned even pinker. It was hot. And I sure as hell wanted him.

“Zachary Quinto,” I said coolly. “Assistant director.”

“Where’s Ms. Miller?”

I snorted at that and got to my feet, coming around the desk. “Janet Miller never attends first auditions, Pine.” I realized too late that the prominent bulge in my pants would be very noticeable to him. I saw when his gaze swept downward.

To his credit, he said nothing, just returned his gaze to my face, where it stayed. “Where do you want me?”

Bent over the desk. Against the wall. Oh, hell, in the bathroom stall, I don’t care.


This time he smirked a little. “Where do you want me to play?”

The little shit knew I wanted him, I was sure of it. Because he was used to it. Probably everyone did.

I glanced at the clipboard. “Where else have you played? Leeds?”

“It’s in England.”

“Yes, Christopher, I know where Leeds is,” I heard myself snap.

“Um. Sorry. I’m a little nervous. I-I went to school there. University for a time. And I played in their orchestra.”

“Hmm. And in Boston?”

He nodded.

“Normally we’d have you try out at the rehearsal hall next door, the acoustics are better. But they’re doing maintenance work there today. You can set up your instrument and play for me.”

I tried not to think about seeing his instrument, and instead leaned against the desk, arms crossed over my chest as I watched him set up his cello. He bent over a few more times than necessary, I thought, as he got to work, but there was no point in complaining. He had a superior ass.

It was my turn to smirk as he placed himself on a chair behind the cello and put his bow to the instrument as he began to play a classical piece in bass clef.

Little by little the smirk slipped from my face.

This fucking kid was good.

And already I knew Janet would love him.

Which meant, if I was going to get to fuck him, it was going to have to be before his second audition in front of her.

“All right.” I held up a hand to stop him. “That’s enough.”

His blue eyes widened. “But I haven’t finished.”

“Yeah, you have.”

I saw him swallow and for a second I had the perverse pleasure of knowing he thought he’d failed. I doubted this living Adonis failed at anything.

“But Mister Quinto—”

“Call me Zach. You like coffee?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Me too. Come with me. We’ll get some.”

“The audition—”

“Get real. You passed, kid. Pack it up and let’s get that coffee.”

Chapter Text

There was no denying this kid was that gorgeous. And as he slid into the booth of a trendy little coffee place, I slid right in next to him. None of this sitting across shit for me.

His eyes widened slightly as he put the straw up to his perfect lips and sucked. And yeah, my thoughts went there.

“So, Chris, how long have you played the cello?” I had to make some conversation, after all, and that seemed a fairly safe topic.

“Oh, since back in middle school. My grandfather played it for the San Francisco Symphony when he was younger.”

I leaned my elbow on the table and focused my entire attention on him. I prided myself on expert knowledge of body language and right then I wanted him to know exactly what I was thinking.

Of course, I had absolutely no idea if Chris was gay or bisexual or anything. It had been my experience most entertainers, musicians included, could swing whichever way they wanted at any given time.

“When do you think I’ll get a chance to play for Janet Miller?” Chris asked, as if he didn’t notice I was eye-fucking him.

“I’ll have to let you know.  She’s always quite busy, you understand. You’ll play for her alone and if she likes you well enough, you’ll have to play with the other cellists. We have to know how you’ll play and sound together.”

“But I did get the second audition, right?”

Well of course he did. And I’d already told him that. But if he thought I was going to rush things, well, he was wrong. Not until I had him panting underneath me for a couple of times at least.

“Yes, yes,” I said somewhat irritably. Mentally I was calculating the fact that even after his second audition, the one with Janet, I could still fuck him. He wouldn’t be part of the orchestra then. Not until the final part. I had no doubt he would pass all auditions with flying colors.

The one in my bed being the next one he would pass.

“So, listen,” I said, trying to sound as casual as possible. I didn’t want to come off as a harasser or a creeper, but I also was very much interested in him. It was a fine line. And then, of course, there was the chance he really was straight as an arrow.

His sensual lips curved ever so slightly. “I’m listening, Mister Quinto.”

Okay, and didn’t that send a jolt to my dick. Yeah, okay, I hadn’t known I had an authority figure kink. Who am I kidding? Of course I knew. Still…

“You can call me Zach…ary. For the moment.”

The little shit grinned. “Okay. Zach…ary.”

I rolled my eyes. “Funny. What are you doing for dinner?”

“Is that part of the audition?” Chris asked.

No. I’m asking you out.”

“Uh-huh. So if I say no, does that mean I won’t get the audition with Janet Miller?”

I wanted to kick him, but of course that would be awkward sitting next to him, and probably not the best way to win him over anyway.

“No, it has nothing to do with the audition. It’s personal.”

“So there’s no sabotage involved if I say no?”

“None.” I tamped down my disappointment. “So are you? Saying no?”

“No I am not saying no.”

“Yes then?”

“Not necessarily.”

“You’re giving me a headache,” I grumbled.

“A lower head, anyway,” he said, shocking me with going there. Oh, yeah, this guy was no innocent, and he knew just how attractive he was to me. “But dinner? Nah. I know a club down on Vine. We could go dancing.”

“Dancing?” I asked, with skepticism. “Can you dance? Because I’m not so good.”

Chris shrugged. “Nope. But it’ll be interesting, anyway. Yes or no, Zachary?”

“Absolutely yes.”

He smiled. “Great. See you at ten at Lost Causes on Vine.”

Chapter Text

I was driving to the club when Janet called.


“You aren’t driving and talking on the phone, are you?”

“No, Mother,” I said dryly. “Hands free. You’re on speaker.”

“Where you headed?”

I hesitated. “A club.”

There was silence, then a bit of a chuckle. “You? To a club?”

“I’ve been to clubs,” I said, defensive.

She sighed. “Yes, I know you have. But Zach, honey, you’re more of a champagne and candlelight dinner guy.”

“I went to clubs all the time when I was younger.”

“Sure, sure,” she said. “Is this a date then?”


“Ooh. Do I know him?”

Not yet.

“No. You haven’t.”

“Is he hot?”

Beyond belief.

“Yeah, he’s nice to look at.”

She chuckled again. “Okay, well, I hope you get lucky or whatever you’re looking for. How’d the audition with that Pine guy go?’

“Er. Well, we had to reschedule it.”

“What? How come?”

I need time to fuck him.

Yeah that wouldn’t go at all well to admit.

“Something came up and he couldn’t make it,” I lied, easily. Too easily.

“Huh. Well, if he’d not taking this seriously then—”

“No, no. He is. His mother…grand.” Lord, what the hell was wrong with me? “Grandmother has fallen ill and he had to be there for the family. I’ll work it out with the reschedule. I promise. No need to worry.”

“Okay.” Janet sighed. “I hate all this personnel stuff. You know that. I don’t want to have to do any of it. I just want to conduct music. The number two violinist says she knows someone that might fill that spot for the violin. So talk to her about it, okay?”

“Sure will. And I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“On time, Zach.”

“I know. What are you going to do tonight?”

“I’m going to go home, put my feet up, drink a glass of wine and watched some television.”

It was my turn to laugh. “Star Trek?”

“Of course. I have a thing for Spock. As you know.”

“I do. Enjoy your fantasies, Jan.”


“Night.” I hit end call on my steering wheel.   

I was pulling up to the valet for the club anyway. It was worth the extra money not to have to squeeze my car into some parallel parking space, or worse, pay for one of those badly lit parking lots blocks away.

I’d been to Lost Causes before, thought it had been years. It was owned and operated by an old queen who called himself Buffy. He’d named it Lost Causes as he felt pretending he was straight was a Lost Cause. Or so Buffy’s story was. He mostly presented as male, but there were a few occasions he would be in drag.  

It had been in West Hollywood probably longer than I’d been alive, and certainly longer than Chris has been. Not that I was a lot of years older or anything. But I had an older spirit, I guessed. Maybe it came from having my dad die so young. Whatever the case, Janet had been right. Champagne and romantic dinners had become my thing of late, my way of wooing lovers, but apparently Chris wanted none of that.

I gave the keys of my Acura to the valet guy, and yanked down my black buttoned down shirt as I made my way to the door of the club. Already I could hear ear-piercing, heart pounding music from within.  

I paid my cover charge to the guy at the door and slipped inside.  

It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dimly lit place. It still had the vague smell of old stale cigarettes from the days you could smoke inside bars and such in California. The place was filled with guys of all ages, looking to score, no doubt.

I glanced toward the bar, with no space available on any stool, but didn’t see Chris there. I pushed my way through the crowd to look at the dance floor, which was crowded with sweaty bodies in various stages of dirty dancing. No sign of him there either.

And I had begun to become frustrated, thinking either I’d never find him in this crowd or that he was late or worse, I’d been stood up. I didn’t get stood up. Not these days.

Whatever the case I was about to give it another ten minutes and I would bail.

“You come here often?”

It was said just over my left shoulder and I spun around to face him. Face Chris.

He was smiling.

And he was gorgeous.

My glaze slid down from his wet, puffy lips, down the scrape of stubble on his jaw, down his neck, his Henley shirt open there to expose his throat, a little bit of clavicle and the start of his chest, then down his torso to notice he wore the tightest pair of leather pants I had ever seen.

His smile widened.

“Like what you see?”

He turned around to give me a view of his perfect ass. And wow. Those pants gave new meaning to that phrase, ‘painted on’.

Holy shit.

I was pretty sure I was salivating.

Chris turned back around. The smile had dropped from his face, and he was now staring at me intently, his blue eyes sparkling. The electricity between us almost burned me.

“Dance, Mr. Quinto?”

Chapter Text

I allowed myself to be led onto the dance floor of the club, but with no little reluctance. I was no dancer, that was for sure. I wasn’t exactly two left feet, but I would never win the graceful award either.

But whatever anxiety I’d felt about making a fool out of myself in front of my object of lust disappeared the moment I got a look at Chris’ moves. I looked like a Solid Gold Dancer compared to him. He was both choppy and jerky. And yet he was so hot it simply didn’t matter. With that pert ass thrusting in everyone’s direction, no one cared how ludicrous his dance moves actually were. Which freed me up to not be nearly as self-conscious and just approach him for some dirty dancing moves of my own.

By the time I pulled him close and he slid his body against mine, I knew I was in trouble of displaying my very prominent hard-on to everyone there. Not that the rest of the guys on the dance floor weren’t hard watching him too.

But then he suddenly gave me a slow wink, which seemed also unexpectedly awkward, moved out of arms, and off the dance floor, leaving me standing there erect, like a fool.

For a moment I just stared at the space where he’d been, and even allowed a big, muscular guy who looked like he could bench-press three of me, to put his hands all over my ass. When he pulled said ass against his prominent crotch and went to inch his hand to mine, I pushed away from him and off the dance floor in search of Chris.

It took a moment, but I spotted him by the bar, head tilted back, bottle of beer in hand as he took long swallows of it. His neck was arched and exposed, his Adam’s apple sliding along his throat. I scooted up beside him and he turned those blazing blue eyes on me.

“Want a drink or want to get out of here?”

I smirked as I took the bottle out of his hand and slammed it down on the bar. “What do you think?”

“I think we ought to fuck in your car.”

And didn’t that just make my cock jump.

“It’s with the valet.”

That made him laugh. “Fine. We’ll fuck in mine then. Come on, Quinto.”

He fisted his hand in the hem of my shirt and pulled me toward the exit. He paused by a vending machine that contained condoms and lube, for a price, of course, and eyed me.

“Do we need these?”

“Unless you have some or want me to fetch some out of my car.”

He rolled his eyes and put his money in, retrieving a condom and a packet of lube. Then he tugged me through the exit, winking at the smirking bouncer at the door as we squished past his big bulk to get out of the club.

Chris didn’t let go of my shirt the entire time as he led us to his car, parked on the street, down a somewhat deserted side street. There was one lone street light and it had seen better days of putting out light. I felt a little nervous in such an area, but there was no one else around but us, that I could see, and he walked up to the door and opened it the old-fashioned way with an actual key.

“Is this a classic?” I asked, eying it.

“You want to talk cars or you want to fuck me?”

What I wanted was to see his smart mouth full of my dick, but I pushed him into the now open back seat, and pulled the door closed as I pounced on him.

He drew my head down to his, fastening his plump lips on mine, his tongue teasing at the seam of my mouth so I’d open up and let him in. I reached to unfasten the bindings on those tight as hell leather pants.

Chris rose up beneath me, shimmying the leather pants off his hips, as I yanked at them.  I wasn’t at all surprised to see that he’d gone commando, but I was thrilled and pleased, because it would make this much easier. I got the pants only to his knees before he was telling me that was far enough.    

“Undo yours.”

I straightened up enough to manage the snap and zipper of my pants, tugging the pants and my underwear down enough to release my dripping went hard cock. He tore open the condom wrapper with his teeth and then rolled it over my dick.

Then he flopped over onto his stomach, displaying that round ass of perfection. I squeezed the lube out of the packet and shoved my fingers inside that puckered little hole that was just begging for penetration.

He moaned low in his throat, a sort of mewl, that sent a jolt of pure lust and excitement right to my hard-on. He was hot and tight and I couldn’t wait to stick my dick in him.

It wasn’t easy parting his legs enough to get into that hole with the leather pants still at his knees, but I managed, hovering above him. I briefly looked out the car windows, what can I say, caution was good, and then I pushed past the muscles of his ass.

And then it was like I died and went to heaven. Good Lord, he was snug and perfect, and he pushed his ass back at me just as I shoved in deeper still.

With one hand holding onto his hipbones, I slid the other beneath him on the car seat and wrapped my fingers around his fat, hard cock.

“Fuck,” he breathed out, frantically thrusting back at me as I pounded into that round perfection. I had a feeling we were rocking his car pretty good, but what the hell.

It was Chris who came first, gasping and crying out, his face plastered to the leather of the seat. But the smell of his cum, just made me shoot mine that much faster, thrusting and pushing through the orgasm, filling up the condom.

Chris didn’t linger long after we were panting in unison, shoving me off him with a mumble of me being heavy. I figured it probably wasn’t a good idea to linger in a car on a dark street anyway. We did up our clothes and got out to stand once more on said street.

Chris eyed the mess on his back seat. “I’ll have to clean that when I get home. See you.”

I bristled somewhat at his dismissiveness, but I let it go. I wasn’t done with him by a long shot and something told me he wasn’t done with me either. The Orchestra being an entirely separate thing.

Janet would be waiting a while longer for her new cellist.

Chris got back in his car then and started it up, driving away with a wave. I shook my head, went back to the club, and retrieved my car from valet.   

Chapter Text

It was during a rehearsal break the next day that Janet approached me with what I figured was bribery in the form of my favorite iced coffee. I was easily bought by such things, and she knew it, so I took it without question, already sucking in a good amount through the straw.

“Well?” She prodded.

“How’d you know I was dying of thirst?”

Janet dismissed this. “You’re always dying of thirst.” She plopped her petite frame down on a nearby desk. “How’d the date go?”

Which of course is why I was given the gift of coffee.

“Incredibly well.”

“I knew it! So you got laid?”

I rolled my eyes. “Honestly, woman, keep your voice down and be a little more circumspect.”

“You did.”


“Pretty good, huh?”

“Do you fetishize my sex life, Jan?”

She turned red. “No!”

I laughed and joined her on the edge of the desk. We were friends, good ones, besides her being my boss, and anyway, we’d known each other a million years or so. I took no offense and neither did she.

“He was spectacular.” I eyed her. “When was the last time you had a man?”

She snorted. “Honey, that ship sailed.”

“Doesn’t have to have, you know.”

“And the sails of that ship were retired.”

“Oh brother. What about Charlie?”

Charlie? He can’t get it up, Z.”

“They have things for erectile dysfunction you know.”

“Anyway you’re trying to change the subject so I don’t badger you with questions about Mister Spectacular.”

“There’s nothing really to tell, darling. He’s a fling. I’m not going to put a ring on it.” I paused. “Or him.”

She chuckled. “Well, all right. How about that cellist then? Chris Pine.”

I took a long slow sip of coffee through the straw, feeling my palms sweat. “What about him?”

“Are you going to audition him or what?”

I had, of course. And so far both auditions he’d passed with flying colors.   

Apparently I took too long to answer though, because Janet sniffed. “There are other cellists out there you know.”

Not as good as him, I silently added, and couldn’t say it out loud. Not yet anyway.

“I’ll arrange it. Don’t worry. You concentrate on the violinist instead.”

Just then my phone buzzed in my pocket.  I threw her a look and slid off the desk, moving away to take the call. I was glad I did.

“Hey, Chris.”

“Zachary.” He sounded somewhat breathless. That made two of us. “Can you come pick me up at my parents’ house later?”

“What happened to your car?”

A throaty laugh that had my cock hardening. “My dad’s car you mean. It’s getting detailed. Obviously.”

I choked. “That was your dad’s car?”

“I’m an out of work cellist. You think I can afford a car?” Chris paused. I heard voices in the background, but they weren’t speaking to him. “I live with my folks. Are you coming to get me or what? You have a place, don’t you? Being a big shot I figured you did.”

“A big shot? Hardly. I’m an assistant director. We make squat. But yeah. I have a place. Give me the address.”

Chris did and I made plans to pick him up later.


Chris slung his duffle bag into the back seat of my car. He grinned crookedly. “Always come prepared. You know like the Boy Scouts.”

“Were you one?”

“Sure. Anyway, stuff to spend the night. In case.”

And of course if I had my wicked way with him, numerous times as I intended, he would definitely be needing that overnight bag.

I eyed him as I pulled away from the curb. “You didn’t tell me your dad was that actor guy.”

He shot me a look. “You saw him?”

Probably surprised since he’d only had me pull up to the curb and honk my horn for him. But yeah, I’d seen his old man tooling around the yard when I first pulled up. He’d even waved at me. His dad wasn’t super famous or anything, but I’d seen him in a number of television shows.

“Yep. Out by the rosebushes.”

That made Chris scowl for some reason. No doubt wanted to keep his sordid life with me a secret from his dad. Wouldn’t be the first time I experienced that.

“He seemed nice,” I added.

“Of course he’s nice.” Chris looked out the window. “We’re not rich or anything.”

“Still, nice house, nice neighborhood.”


I had a small one bedroom apartment off the main drag of Mason. Not really very glamorous, but I couldn’t afford much. I’d gotten a very small inheritance from when my pop had died, and plus I was pretty good about saving money. Back when I was waiting tables, I’d saved a lot.

The building had one of those underground parking lots that were dangerous in earthquakes due to floors collapsing on themselves and I’d been meaning to find somewhere new. Janet kept on me about it. She’d thrust endless reports about the dangers of such structures my way.

Chris said nothing as I parked in my allotted space and made my way to the rickety elevator. It creaked as it rocked and rolled up to the fourth floor where my place was.

“What?” I asked, eyebrows raised, as I flung open the old-fashioned door when it finally creaked to a stop. We got out. “I never said my last name was Rockefeller.”

Chris laughed at that. “You’re a funny guy, Zach. Most nowadays would have said someone like the Kardashians or something. You go for old money.”

“I’d make a terrible Kardashian,” I assured him as I stopped at my apartment door. I unlocked it and gestured for him to go inside. “Home sweet home.”

Chapter Text

The first thing Chris did was head for the tiny space off the kitchen that acted my dining room. He eyed the table and then me.

“You got any sturdy furniture?”

And without waiting for my response he jumped up on to it and splayed himself out.

“I have sturdy furniture because I don’t fuck guys on it,” I said, dryly.

He leaned up on his elbows. “Pity that. Tables are the perfect height.”

“Well. I have a bed that works even better.” I tugged him off the table and he slipped down with an eye roll. 

“I had no idea you were so uptight.”

I opened my mouth to refute this, but then closed it. Yeah, I was a little uptight. “Anything to drink?”

Chris shook his head. “When do I get that audition with Mrs. Miller?”

Back to that were we? And okay, I got it. That was the reason he first came into my life. And as he pointed out, he was out of work. I probably should start to feel bad. And I would. Really. After a few more times. Okay, right, that made me probably a sleaze. But it wasn’t like I was telling him he would only get the job if he slept with me.

“Next weekend. Saturday morning,” I told him. And I was pretty sure Janet would be available then. I’d make sure of it. I couldn’t delay this for Chris or the orchestra any longer. And maybe, if things went well for us, we could carryon on the side.

Hope springs eternal.

His smile brightened up the room then and I knew I’d done the right thing by giving him a date for it.

“Great. Good,” Chris said. “I was beginning to think you were yanking my chain.”

“Well.” And I turned away from those too intense blue eyes, rubbing the back of my neck. “I might have, er, delayed it a bit.”


Mama Quinto didn’t raise any cowards, so I turned back to face him. “Janet has a rule about me fucking the musicians and I’m really attracted to you, so…” I shrugged.

“So you purposely delayed my audition with Janet Miller.”

He’d kept out accusation in his tone which was fairly impressive. I nodded.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m positive you’ll get it. The job, not just the audition. You’ll blow her away, just like you did me.”

He smiled. “I blew you away?”


“Wait. No. I’m supposed to be fucking pissed.”

“Uh. Are you?”

“I should be,” Chris said, staring straight into my eyes. “That was a shitty thing to do. And unprofessional. And…oh fuck it.”

He launched himself at me, shoving his face into mine, his lips forcibly covering mine in a hard, teeth clattering kiss. I was pushed against the dining room table, the edge pressing painfully into my ass cheeks.

I only allowed his control, his aggression, for a moment before I turned the tables, so to speak, and dug my hands into that perfect ass of his. I pushed our pelvises together, our erections colliding through our pants and he moaned against my mouth.

Abruptly, I shoved him away on a gasp, but only to push him toward the bedroom. He was a good obedient boy and allowed himself to be directed there before I pounced on him, knocking him to the mattress.

I pinched his nipple through his shirt which earned me a groan of “Zach” and him arching up against me.

“Yeah, this needs to come off.”

I pulled his shirt off, over his head and flung it somewhere before attaching my mouth to the bud.

“Fuck, fuck. Slow down or I’m going to…”

I pulled my mouth off his nipple, mercifully, and instead returned my lips to his. They were scorching hot and incredibly soft. Damn addicting, I shoved my tongue past them and into his mouth to stroke my tongue along his.

He tugged my shirt out of the waistband of my jeans and I took it off the rest of the way.

Bare chest to bare chest, I moved us again, this time with me lying on my back and Chris lying on me. I grabbed handfuls of his rounded cheeks and ground our jeans covered cocks together. Again and again the hardness and the friction had us both crying out.

Chris clutched at me as he moved his mouth off mine and to my throat to suck there even as I rubbed us together, harder, faster, rougher.

“Hope you brought other pants,” I said hoarsely.

His laugh against my throat came out hot and moist. “Bastard.”

“Mm. Maybe. But this will take the edge off.”

I slipped my hand between us, first unzipping his and then my own jeans. I pulled out his then my cocks, slick and sliding together.

“Oh, God,” he moaned, his hips beginning to rock frantically as I got our dicks rubbing together in sync. He dug his fingers into my shoulder as he panted and rode it out.

Our shafts jumped together, his letting go first, spunk shooting from the tip, but mine followed only seconds later, egged on by the scent and sight and feel of him coming.

Chris shook and flailed against me for several seconds as we both continued to orgasm.

When finally he calmed, I wrapped my arms around his middle and turned him to lay flat on the bed beneath me once more. I kissed him, long and slow.

“Ready for round two?” I leered.

He laughed and punched my shoulder.

I kissed him some more.

Chapter Text

“Are you ready for this?” I asked Chris, though I knew he was. He was a fantastic cellist. I knew that the first time he played for me, but I also found out time and again since that first performance.

In the last few days, since he’d come to my apartment, he’d spent almost all his time with me. We’d gone and retrieved his cello and he’d practiced long into the night before falling into bed with me where I relearned everything Chris liked. Again and again.

When I’d asked him what he was going to play for Janet at his audition on Saturday, I’d been a little concerned with his response.

“The Bach Cello Suite 1.”

I knew that would not impress Janet. It was a beautiful piece of music, don’t get me wrong, but I also knew that a good six grade cellist could play it in their sleep.


He laughed. “I’m totally kidding. No. I know. I mean I can play that piece backwards and forwards. But I’ve never played it for an audition. You notice I did Haydn’s Cello Concerto Number One for you.”

Not bothering to hide my relief, I nodded. “Good. What are you going to play then?”

“Shostakovich Concerto Number One. I could do Concerto Number Two, but I think One will be good.”

I laughed. Because really. “If you play her that and do it well, she’ll want to marry you.”

“I just want the job. The marriage can come later.”

He’d been practicing every night until his fingers probably bled, but I knew his maniacal practicing wasn’t really needed. He was great. One of the best I had ever heard. And he wouldn’t be with Mason Philharmonic for long.

We were sitting in my car not outside the concert hall where his audition was to take place but in the parking lot of a Riteaid.

“I didn’t know there were any of these left,” Chris muttered, looking dispassionately at the store.

 We’d have to drive closer, get out and get to it soon enough. But I had a few things to say first. All of them selfish and personal, of course.


He gazed back at me, blue eyes so saturated it was hard to concentrate on anything other than my desire to take him right then.

I cleared my throat. “I’m not a fan of subterfuge…

“Oh, that’s a great word.”

“Don’t distract me. The point is…I don’t want to stop seeing you because of Janet’s stupid rules. I mean maybe they’re smart for the most part, but…”


“I really like you and…”

Zachary. I get it. I do. I feel the same way.”

I frowned. “You do?”

“Yeah.” Chris rolled his eyes. “Do you think I would have spent so much time with you if I didn’t love the way you fuck me? My lips are sealed. Before and after I get the chair. If I do.”

“You will.”

Chris nodded. “Okay maybe. But you don’t get to make the decision. Not really right? Janet Miller does.”

“Yeah. If…”

He laughed again. “Are you actually going to ask me if we’re still going to be involved if she doesn’t like the way I play cello?”

I looked away, feeling called out. Because yeah. I am a selfish prick.

“When you put it like that…yeah.” I looked back at him, hoping I looked cute enough for him not to be mad.

“I’m not sleeping with you for the job, Zach. Okay? I don’t have to. I’m damn good and I know it. Ready?”

I moistened my lips. “Yeah. I’ll drop you off about a block before. That way if she happens to be outside or looking out the window, she won’t see us arriving together. I’m afraid you’ll have to lug the cello yourself.”

“I’m used to it. Let’s do it.”

I leaned over then to the passenger seat and gave him a quick kiss. “For luck.”

He rolled his eyes again, but he was smiling.

I dropped him off at a post office about a block from the concert hall and then pulled into my usually parking spot in the lot.

Inside, Janet was waiting, hands on her hips, leaning over sheet music she had spread out on a table. “There you are. Aren’t you late?”

“Right on time.”

“Hmm. But without coffee, so that makes you late.”

I smirked and went over to the side office to where the coffee pot was kept. “I’ll make a pot,” I called out. Because I knew after Chris’ audition, she’d want the two of us to go over the choices of concertos for our next concert.

“Hope this kid is good,” she said, resting a manicured nail on her bottom lip. “I really don’t want to go through more auditions.” She peered at me. “Are you getting enough sleep?”

“Yeah,” I said quickly. “Why?”

“You look a bit wrecked. Dark circles under your eyes. Hickies all over your throat.” She smiled at that. “Apparently your love life is going well.”

She looked away from me to the door as Chris had arrived, struggling to open it as he carried the cello case.

I shrugged at her look and went to open the door for him. “Mr. Pine. Welcome.”

“Mr. Quinto, it’s nice to see you again.”

“Please meet Janet Miller, our esteemed director and conductor of our orchestra.”

“Ms. Miller,” Chris said, extending his hand. “It’s a huge honor.”

Janet smiled serenely, though I knew she hadn’t failed to notice how gorgeous he actually was.

“Mr. Pine, whenever you’re ready.” She glanced toward me. “Playing Bach today?”

My eyes widened slightly, and I mouthed, “Behave.”

She hid a smile.

“Only if you want me to,” Chris said as he pulled up a chair and set up the cello. “I plan to play Shostakovich Concerto Number One.”

“Do proceed. My coffee, Zach?”

“Coming up.”

I went into the office as the first strings of the concerto came from Chris’ cello. I breathed deep, letting the sounds of the beautiful music surround and fill me.

Yeah. He was good.

I poured our coffee, adding powdered cream to both cups and brought them out to hand one to Janet. She was watching Chris, her eyes never leaving the movement of his bow as he created magic.

When Chris had finished, he leaned back in the chair rather heavily. His blue eyes like the ocean’s waves as he stared at us, waiting, expectant.

She looked at me finally, her eyes looking quite misty, and I knew she was as impressed as I was, as she should be.

“That was…very passionate. And very accurate, Mr. Pine. Quite impressive.”

“Thank you. You can call me Chris.”

Janet nodded. “And we are Janet and Zach. Welcome to the Mason Philharmonic, Chris.”