‘Phoenix’ by @tushmore_ #LGBT #GuestPost

“ One day you’ll be cool. ”

~ Almost Famous.

Realization hit Alex. That was the way into the venue.

Backstage.

Hurrying to the door, he brushed his wayward hair out of his eyes, and knocked.

Mocking snorts sounded in the alley. Alex glanced over, seeing two bikers look his way, smirking. Alex wasn’t sure what was so funny.

When the door opened, Alex came face to face with a gruff looking, middle aged man, and all his pleas of being allowed backstage died on his lips. The man looked him up and down, then erupted into laughter.

“You gotta be kidding, mate!” He began to close the door.

“But-but I have something for Danny,” Alex tried to say. The door slammed shut. Alex was left outside, in the cold, dark alley. His rapidly cooling skin felt the breeze, and his hairs stood on end. He couldn’t bring himself to put his jumper back on. He wanted everyone to see his t-shirt, and wished they knew how much of a fan he was.

Didn’t he deserve to go backstage? Was it only girls that were allowed?

This sucks.

~Phoenix, Melanie Tushmore.

~ ~ ~

Hello there!

So now on the blog tour, our hero, Alex, has discovered a favourite band, his world has turned on its axis as they become his new obsession, and now…

Now poor Alex realises he is desperately ‘uncool’.

What is ‘cool’ exactly?

A word on ‘being cool’ by Eddie Izzard, from his show The Definite Article.

“ ‘Cool’ is a pursuit of youth. It’s linked to the circle. You’ve got ‘looking like a dickhead’ over here, [then] ‘average looking’, [moving to] ‘kind of cool’, ‘cool’, ‘hip and groovy’… [straying too far, then] ‘looking like a dickhead’! ” – Eddie Izzard.

The only definite thing I can say about ‘cool’ is that true cool means not giving a shit. Be unapolagetic, be a rebel, be yourself.

(If I could tell that to a younger me, to say ‘don’t worry about clothing items so much’ then that would’ve made my life a lot easier.)

The dawning moment was, being a kind of dorky teenager (a rebel without a clue), all you want to do is go see your favourite band and join in this AWESOME atmosphere, these clubs and bars…

Er, except that, as you look around and see the fashion parades of posers in shiny black leather (very expensive!) and pierced ears and outrageous hair and whatnot, you look down at yourself and realise, damn, I am uncool.

So, you hurriedly try and bring your wardrobe up to scratch. You want a part of this new identity, this scene, and you think that will come when you have the right clothes.

These are some of the things that whizz through our hero’s mind, when his new friends offer him a make-over. (Wow, he’s lucky! No one ever did that for me, lol.)

I thought it was important to show all this through Alex’s eyes, as he discovers the rock scene and its fashions for the first time, tries them out and eventually finds his own style and niche.

It’s also important that in this story he realises that, at the end of the day, what he wears isn’t what defines him, but it takes a special someone to help him see that. ^_^

~ ~ ~

Phoenix blurb:

Young painter Alex Tatton has always loved music. When a tragic accident takes away his parents, he turns to a darker style of music and discovers the rock band, Death Rose. Feeling isolated from his own life, Alex develops a crush on guitarist Danny Death who, despite the name, is vivacious, full of life, and has a reputation for being ‘the nicest guy in rock n’ roll’.

After a gig, Alex finds Danny to give him a signed painting. Danny is everything a star should be: charming, sexy, a beacon of light in Alex’s otherwise dark life, and after meeting him Alex is determined to see him again—and this time he wants more than just an autograph.

Pairing: M/M

Content: Contains explicit content.

~ ~ ~

Phoenix excerpt:

Even with the AAA pass hanging from his neck, like some sort of illicit medal, Alex still couldn’t believe he was being granted access to the Death Rose dressing room. Giddy with excitement, he followed Danny inside.

The room was plain, but full of open bags and suitcases spilling their contents, promising clothes of sexy black leather, spandex, studded garments and more. When he imagined who’d be wearing them, Alex felt hot. The warm air in the room didn’t help matters.

There was no one else here, though voices filtered in from the hallway. The entire structure was temporary. Sounds eked through: music, shouts, bangs. Alex was about to ask where the others were, just for something to say, when Danny stopped in front of him and turned. Alex almost stepped away, about to apologise for getting under his feet. Danny’s arm snaked around his waist, drawing Alex to him. Alex barely had the wherewithal to look up as Danny’s mouth pressed against his.

It felt like a dream, too surreal. Alex opened his mouth and kissed back while he was still living the fantasy. Danny’s kiss was fast, full of want, but altogether too brief. Suddenly he pulled back, half turning away. Alex was left reeling, his lips wet and his nose full of Danny’s smell.

Voices preceded the arrival of people into the dressing room. With a shy glance from Danny, Alex realised this was why he’d stopped, and silently cursed whoever it was for interrupting them. He pressed his lips together, preserving the feel of Danny’s lips on his.

The people who’d entered the dressing room were arguing. Nicky D. Muir, Death Rose’s drummer, was being apparently told off by a pudgy, older man with a tan, wearing glasses. “Don’t push me, Nicky,” he said, as Nicky grumbled and collapsed into a battered couch.

Danny glanced at the pair over his shoulder, but otherwise kept his back to them. He didn’t seem overly concerned with the row unfolding.

Alex took the opportunity to risk a look at Danny’s body, wondering if Danny was hard, like he was. He so wanted to reach out and feel, onlookers or not. God, what he wouldn’t give to touch Danny … But nerves held him frozen. He would follow Danny’s lead, wait for his cue.

Alex’s eyes wandered. There was a suitcase open, balanced on a chair. Alex hadn’t noticed its existence until Danny rummaged inside it. It had to be his. Clothes of black and some varied colour escaped at either side.

Danny said quietly, “What do you want me to wear, Alex?”

The continued argument in the room was mildly distracting, but Alex’s focus was on Danny. Even so, he was sure he’d misheard him. “Pardon?” he stuttered.

A smile teased Danny’s lips, like he was about to laugh. He picked out a pair of black, spangly leggings. “What do you want me to wear? To be honest, I don’t think I can get away with leggings right now, unless you get my guitar for me so I can hide this stiffy.”

Alex’s groin flooded with warmth, making him even harder. He laughed, feeling dizzy with nerves and want. His next words came out more breathy than he’d intended. “I wouldn’t mind seeing that.”

Danny looked at him, like he had to check if Alex meant it. His eyes seemed larger, searching. Again, Alex had a small stab of realisation that perhaps Danny wasn’t as sure of himself as he’d assumed.

Either that or he was a pretty good actor.

Who cared, Alex thought. This was better than his fantasies of Danny. This was real. The desire must have showed in his eyes, on his face. Alex did nothing to hide it. A dirty grin spread over Danny’s lovely mouth, then his hands went to his belt. “Help me with my shoes, gorgeous.”

His words were barely audible, but they were the only thing Alex heard. Heedless of where he was, Alex dropped to a crouch. It seemed only fitting to kneel before someone like Danny, like he’d been born to please this man.

As much as Alex wanted to lean in and bury his face in Danny’s crotch, he kept himself in check. Perhaps he was still in shock at the situation, it all seemed too good to be true. What if one hasty move prompted Danny into action? Would Alex be expected to suck him off in a backstage dressing room?

Alex’s blood heated, and his dick clenched. I’d do it, I would. But … what would happen after? Would he throw me out, never speak to me again?

He swallowed, and tried to concentrate on the simple task at hand. Get Danny’s shoes off. Danny’s jean-clad legs were stuffed into black cowboy boots, and now Alex was closer he noticed patterns of rhinestones up the sides of the boots as they caught the light. Danny raised one foot, and Alex gripped the boot, wriggling it free. His whole body thrilled at the task. It wasn’t how he’d envisioned undressing Danny, but for now, this would do.

One boot off, and Alex helped rid Danny of the other boot. He noticed Danny’s black socks, saw one was actually inside out. Just that tiny detail made Alex’s heart expand to painful proportions. He longed to be the one to dress Danny, and undress him, every day for the rest of his days. Make sure he wore his socks the right way round.

Alex tried to quash down his impulsive thoughts. A potential hook up was one thing, and seeming more and more likely by the minute, but anything more than that? Hollie was right. He was only setting himself up for a fall. A big one.

He must have paused, as Danny said softly, “Hey? You okay?”

Alex snapped out of it. He resolved to deal with the fall out when it happened. He could just paint his experiences for the rest of his days. Being with Danny now was like having a real life muse. Raising his head, Alex looked up at him, memorising every detail. Danny’s belt was undone, his hands poised at his fly, waiting.

Alex promised himself he would paint this picture one day. Smiling, he bit the bullet and said, “Sure am.”