Three Part Harmony (The Road to Rocktoberfest 2024)

28. Epilogue One

Epilogue One

Mike

I moved in with Griffin, mainly to take care of him during the first few weeks he was at home recovering from the surgery. Physical therapy started about three weeks later and I stayed to help with that, as well. Mostly I was playing the role of supportive boyfriend and I was there to give him the nudge he sometimes needed to do the exercises as prescribed by his therapist. He wasn’t always the best patient—because he had no patience! He was expecting to bench-press a thousand pounds almost instantly after having muscles, tendons, and skin sewn back together.

No matter how much his therapist and I tried to explain to him that it wasn’t possible without tearing his healing pieces, he kept wanting to push the limits and do more. These were daily battles—wars really, which sometimes led to arguments. It usually ended with me bribing him with sexual favors that he knew I’d do regardless, but that was our bartering system. If he behaved and did what his medical team outlined for him, then I’d lavish him with what I called a full-body blowjob or I’d ride him like I was the Lone Ranger riding his horse, Silver.

Giddy-up and hi-ho, Silver, as the Lone Ranger would say.

It was amazing how much you could do, even with one of his arms out of commission. But Griffin worked hard every day like it was his job to regain the strength in his arm, and I guess maybe it was to a large extent. It was difficult to watch sometimes because he’d continually push himself right to the edge of exhaustion day after day, seven days a week. When his workout was completed a massage therapist would arrive to rub him through the “cool down” period. This was meant to get his muscles to relax again. I’d follow that up by helping him into a hot bath and slowly clean him. The final detail to this process was my own special workout on top of him, or him in my mouth. By the time we were finished, we were both dazed and completely spent. It made for very long days but I wouldn’t trade those weeks of caring for him for anything because it brought us so much closer together.

Living with Griffin was like living with my best friend—except it also came with incredible sex every day, sometimes several times in one day. The physical chemistry we shared was on a level I’d only ever had with him. It’d been this way since day one of our relationship and it just kept getting better and hotter the longer we were together. In my heart, I already felt like we were married, or joined together by an imaginary tether for the long haul.

It wasn’t always perfect—but what I’d learned was nothing in life was. Griffin and I were the exception to the rules I thought I knew about relationships. When you’re with the right person, it doesn’t feel like a lot of work. Things seamlessly flowed together for us. It was the commitment we had for each other that kept us talking and working through those disagreements when they cropped up instead of simply walking away. But even the arguments weren’t all that bad because they led to amazing make-up sex afterward. I’d call it a win-win for us.

We were definitely in a good place together but we weren’t in any hurry to change our living situation to me living with him permanently. Once Griffin was fully back on his feet and ready to return to work, I’d be going back to sleeping at the band house with my brothers. It made sense because over the next few years I’d be going through a rush of work and travel with the band. We had set goals to achieve. One was to climb the Billboard Hot 100 song list and the second was to become a regular headliner arena act. We were laying the foundation of making both those things happen.

We were already signed to a record label and contracted to do three albums with them. Things were moving in the right direction now and we were hoping like hell the momentum continued to carry us forward. Everything we wanted was right there ready for us to grab by the balls and it started with this new album .

We recorded our freshman album right after our first Rocktoberfest show and it did pretty well, considering we hadn’t quite made a name out of ourselves at that point. Our fan base was gaining new numbers every day, as was our social media presence. Word was out that Chaos was here to kick some ass on a stage near them, which meant another tour—most likely a much longer one—would soon follow after our sophomore album released. I had a strong feeling that our second album was going to be what lifted us to the next level.

I still wasn’t sure what Griffin was going to do about his job. He hadn’t given Fizzbo an answer on returning to his position of being my guard. I think he was waiting to make sure he recovered fully before he committed to protecting me again. If he decided not to take back his old job then it would mean we’d be separated for longs periods of time when we toured but I didn’t want to voice my opinion on the subject. This was his career, not mine, so it truly had to be his decision. In the meantime, I would continue to care for him while living at his condo.

“Where’s my Schmoopy Bear?” I called out in a sugary tone as I shut the front door to the condo.

“Jerking off in the bedroom,” he replied with a few grunts.

“Mmm, sounds like a party to me,” I said while I followed his voice and walked toward the bedroom. “Far be it for me to miss a sexy-time party!” I said the last part as I turned the corner into his room, which I guess by this point was really our room, and stopped short .

Sprawled on the floor in front of me was a very sweaty Griffin working through a set of stomach crunches—while wearing nothing more than a bright yellow jockstrap and a glossy sheen of sweat.

“Oomph. Oomph. Oomph,” he uttered repeatedly with every new contracting curl of his stomach muscles. His movements were fluid like a well-oiled machine as he lifted to an almost sitting position before rolling down flat and repeating the exercise again. I was flat-out mesmerized by what I was seeing. I couldn’t look away and my mouth was agape.

“Don’t tell me you’re speechless,” Griffin teased. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at a loss for words. This really could be a first. Remind me to make a notation of it on the calendar.”

“Yeah, well…urb. Nepther. Slat ‘er num.” Great. I was literally talking gibberish.

“What’s that, rockstar?” Griffin asked as he came to a sitting position and stopped to wipe the sweat off of his face with a hand towel beside him. “Are you speaking German or is that some kind of Pig Latin—or Mike Latin?”

“How could I not? You have mirrors in here, so the chances are high you’ve seen what you look like wearing nothing but a jock,” I chided. “And you know how I feel about sexy men wearing jocks!”

“You want to fuck them,” Griffin replied, “and you say a jock is like an open invitation to bone whoever is wearing one because their asses are out and ripe for the taking.”

I set my hands on my hips and nearly stomped my foot like a petulant child. “You know, sometimes you listen far too closely to what I say and your memory is annoyingly accurate. ”

Griffin laughed at me and slowly lifted to his full six-foot-two-inch height, going slow so as not to jar his shoulder in any unusual way before he put his sling back on. It was when he bent over with his ass pointed at me that I did stomp my foot like a bull warning of an impending stampede.

“You’re taunting me and you know I am not one to back down from a challenge,” I admonished. “I will come over there, take out my hard cock, and fuck you until I fill you to the brim with my load. Is that what you’re looking for me to do?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Griffin teased over his shoulder, then started walking toward the shower.

While he was turning on the water, I quickly disrobed and left my clothes in a heap on the carpet, then clomped my way into the bathroom. I reached into the drawer beside the sink and retrieved a tube of lube we kept there then slicked up my throbbing shaft like I meant business. Griffin was about to open the shower door but glanced at me while I was still stroking my thick cock.

“Keep the jock on,” I instructed.

“Do you want me to remove the plug or would you like to do it for me?”

It was a simple question and one I easily understood, but damn, he knew how much I loved it when he had a plug in him. It made me weak-kneed every fucking time and it left no doubts in my mind what Griffin wanted from me. It was a request that I would never refuse him—ever.

I shifted in behind him, slipped my fingers into his crease and trailed one down to circle his filled hole. I gripped the edge of the plug and gave it a slow turn. I heard Griffin gasp at the same time a shiver rippled through him from the sensation of the plug spinning inside him.

“Are you using the plug with the prostate massager?” I asked as I rested my chin on his good shoulder.

Griffin nodded, so I rewarded him with another agonizingly slow twist. This time when he moaned, I kept the plug focused in that one spot and edged him until I could feel his legs quivering. Griffin leaned against the frame of the shower door with his good arm. His breaths were harsh and coming in bursts of air. He was becoming unhinged but I was nowhere near done playing. I tugged on the plug and eased it out a tiny bit. Griffin almost seemed to chase after the plug, seeking to have it pushed back in. It made me wonder how long he’d had the silicone thing shoved in there today. The thought of that caused another pulse of cream to seep from the tip of my cock.

I rocked the plug back into him and heard him release a sound that reminded me of a sigh of relief. For a man who’d never bottomed before me, he sure as hell had discovered how much pleasure came from being a bottom. I teased him a while longer by slowly pushing the plug in and then gliding it back out so that only his rim was holding it in place. I looped my arm around him and wrapped my fingers around his solid shaft, then pulled off one tight stroke.

“Are you ready for me to remove the plug and replace it with my cock or do you want to play a while longer?” I asked .

“Ohhh, fuck,” he muttered. “I’m ready for you. Please. I need the full stretch.”

“Good answer,” I said and then my fingers went to work taking the plug out. As soon as the silicone toy was free from his hole, I pushed two fingers inside to check for any resistance. There wasn’t any, so when I retracted my fingers, my dick went straight in. In one clean thrust, I was fully seated inside the man I loved more than life.

We stopped using condoms a few weeks ago when the stitches came out of Griffin’s biceps and he was cleared for sex. We never looked back. There was something so primal and sexy in seeing come leaking out of our used holes. It was like marking each other in a way no one else ever had and I loved knowing I was his only. Griffin wasn’t my first but he was the only one I’d ever gone without a condom with. To me, that was special because no one else in my life was important enough for me to even consider ditching the condoms.

“Fucking hell, this is what I needed,” Griffin grit out.

“I always know what my man needs and I’m very happy to oblige,” I answered.

I bit the side of his neck then leaned back a bit to watch my cock disappear into his hole over and over again. The way the jockstrap framed his muscled ass cheeks was like a masterpiece hanging in the Louvre Art Museum under special lighting was beyond enticing. I wanted to turn him inside out and hear him scream my name when he climaxed.

“Yes! Yes, right there,” he cried .

I kept a relentless rhythm, pounding into him, and in less than five minutes I was skirting the edge of orgasm—far sooner than I wanted to. But Griffin was right there with me and met each of my thrusts with his own when he impaled himself on me. Fuck, we worked well together.

I held him in place and finally tipped him over the edge when my hand went back to stroke his cock. Two hard pumps later, Griffin was shooting against the wall beside the shower and I was filling him up. I kept myself buried deep while we caught our breath, then managed to hold on to him while I opened the shower door. I didn’t ease out of him until we were under the shower water. I squirted my palm with bodywash and went to work loosening his muscles and washing off the sweat. When I reached his hips, I dropped to my knees. My fingers worked between his cheeks, spreading the perfect globes and gazing at his well-used hole and my fresh release seeping out to run down the inside of his thighs. My index finger scooped up some of the come and then pushed it back into his hole and I heard Griffin hiss, no doubt a little tender from the hard fuck I’d just given to him.

“Should I kiss it and sooth the tenderness?” I asked.

“If you kiss it, it’ll only lead to more fucking and that’s going to make it more sore,” Griffin stated. He looked at me over his shoulder and grinned. “Sore in the best way possible.”

I stood up, dragging my front against his slick backside. “Okay, I’ll leave your hole alone for now, but I am going to kiss the hell out of your mouth instead,” I promised.

“Go for it,” he offered .

“Kissing you is one of my favorite ways to show you how I feel, and I’m going to keep on kissing you every day for the rest of my deliriously happy life,” I murmured beside his ear.

“You’ll get no complaints from me,” he whispered, right before our lips met in a soul-stealing, bone-melting feast of mouths, lips, and tongues.

I could definitely do this with Griffin all damn day and not care if we ever came up for air again. I was that happy with my life with him and the trajectory of my career. With him at my side, I felt invincible, like I could do just about anything and succeed.

I had Griffin to thank for that—for all of it, really, but I’d make it my life’s mission to make sure he knew how grateful I was for the influence he had over every decision I made getting to this point. We were a team on every level. Partners in crime, and so full of love for the other that we probably looked like a couple of love-drunk fools, but neither of us cared. We were stronger together than apart and I intended to keep it that way for eternity. Then I’d love the hell out of him in the afterlife, too.

Eternity. It had a damn sweet ring to it when I repeated it inside my head.

It was also a long fucking time, but I could handle it—I’d look forward to it, because I’d be with Griffin.

Epilogue Two

Griffin

Six Months Later . . .

Balls on fire was a good way to describe my recovery from the biceps surgery but I was well on my way to a full comeback. The doctors were claiming the muscle was even stronger now because of the repair, but I wasn’t sure I believed them. Even still, I was very happy with where I was physically since this nightmare happened at Rocktoberfest about eight months ago. I’d come a long way during that time frame. Too many hours to count of physical therapy that sometimes kicked my ass to the nth degree but I never gave up. There were times I wanted to but Michael seemed to sense it and knew just how to nudge me through the rough patch. I’m not going to lie, the work to come back from that surgery was daunting and flat-out hard as fuck, but I did it, and I felt confident in saying the worst was definitely behind me. In fact, my doctors cleared me to return to work, providing I could pass the physical tests Ventura Security required of their personal security officers.

The physical test was a mixture of cardio, motor skills, and strength ability. It was close to military boot camp style physical testing and not for the faint of heart. It pushed me to the far reaches of my capabilities but I completed the two-day testing process. I wasn’t sure how well I’d done but I had a meeting with Fizzbo today to go over everything.

A lot was riding on this. If I passed and Fizzbo stayed true to allowing me to slip back into my position as Michael’s guard, then that’s what I wanted to do. If I failed the physical, I decided I’d stay with the company but I’d do easier protection jobs. The problem with that was it would separate me and Michael for long periods of time when he left on tours. While he did that, I’d likely be stuck in LA working with other clients—and missing him something terrible .

The drive downtown to Fizzbo’s office had me sweating at the thought of how this meeting might go. I knew Mike would stay with me, regardless if I was working directly with him or on other details, so that’s not what I was concerned about. It was doing the long distance thing with him that I feared. Our relationship was rock solid and I felt confident he wouldn’t bow to temptation while on the road—at least willingly. But sometimes the ridiculous antics of his peers spilled over to sweep him up in it, too, and that’s when shit usually went sideways.

I didn’t necessarily think he’d break under pressure and hook up with a groupie or some other rando. We’d talked about trust numerous times and Mike was a hundred percent confident he could be faithful to me. In return, I promised him I wouldn’t freak out like I did at The Asylum gig all those months ago without talking to him first. But there was always the tiniest dust particle of doubt that just lingered like a shadow in the far recesses of my brain. I couldn’t help myself but it was something I continued to work on every day to get past.

Now, as I walked into Fizzbo’s office for our meeting, I was feeling a different kind of doubt but one equally as unsettling.

“You’re looking well, Griffin,” Fizzbo greeted. “Please, have a seat.”

“Thank you. It must be because I’m feeling great,” I affirmed, and sat in front of his large oak desk.

“That’s good, that’s good,” he said and set his muscled thigh on top of the edge to rest his large frame. He ran a big hand through his short hair and then gave his scalp a scratch while he appeared to be gathering his thoughts together. “Still in love with Mike?”

“Completely, and it continues to deepen every day,” I said in a serious tone. “I never thought it was possible to have this kind of connection with someone.”

“And, it’s obvious to everyone around you,” Fizzbo agreed with a smile. “A blind man could see how you feel every time you look at each other. I’m really happy for you, Griff. He’s a special guy and genuine.”

“Thank you,” I said.

Fizzbo shifted a bit on the corner of the desk. “Let me ask you the question I asked right after The Asylum show and you requested to be reassigned to another client. Are you confident in your ability to protect Mike with how you feel about him now? Because I’m guessing your feelings have grown since The Asylum show, and back then you were talking about emotions being a distraction for you to the point you didn’t feel you could properly do your job to protect him.”

“That’s correct. I remember saying it, and at that time, that’s how I felt,” I answered.

“How do you feel now?” Fizzbo questioned.

“I am one hundred and ten percent certain that I can keep him protected better than anyone else on your team,” I said with pride dripping off every word.

“Excellent answer, because I gotta say, I saw you in action at Rocktoberfest,” Fizzbo said. “You were the only security officer—from our team and those who worked for the event—who detected the threat for what it was and immediately went into action. Your reaction was spot on, Griffin. You did everything according to the training protocols we’re always preaching about. I witnessed no hesitation on your part and I definitely didn’t sense you were distracted—even after you realized Mike was likely the intended target.”

“Be visible, vigilant, observe, adapt to situational changes, be quick, maintain order, and protect at all cost,” I rambled off our mantra as if I were reading it from a text book.

A slow smile spread across Fizzbo’s handsome face. “I’m having a Proud Papa moment here,” he said with affection.

“I was trained by the best,” I said and grinned at him.

He held my gaze for a moment and then stood to move around his desk to sit in the swivel chair on the opposite side again. “Would you like to know how you did on the physical exam and in the situational rooms?”

“I’m nervous to hear but I know I gave it my all,” I answered. Nervous was an understatement. In reality, my gut was churning with anxiety so badly, I thought I might vomit. But I had absolutely done my best, and given the opportunity, my skills would continue to improve the more time I had to I heal.

“You passed your physical exam with flying colors,” Fizzbo announced. “Our medical team saw minimal deficit since the injury and unanimously approved your reinstatement to the previous position. That being said, I also need to point out something else in the report. You were a little slow in the situational rooms when presented with potential threat scenarios. But considering your time away from the job to recover, I would say that is to be expected. I have full confidence that your reactionary speeds will improve simply from being back on the job. Do you think that’s a fair assessment?”

“I might have been a little slower, but I’d like to point out that my reactions to every scenario presented were accurate and my follow-through appropriate,” I boldly added.

Fizzbo grinned. “That is correct,” he said, “and there is a notation in the report stating as much, which leaves just one question. Would you like your old job back with Mike?”

“I think you already know my answer to that one,” I replied.

“Excellent,” Fizzbo nodded. “Their tour starts in one month. You’ll do light duty until then, but once we leave for the road, you’ll be back to your full and normal duties. Does that sound good?”

“I’m more than ready and able for the tasks involved,” I confirmed. “Believe me, no one will protect him better than I will.”

“Then it’s my pleasure to welcome you back to the team, Griffin,” he said, then stood from behind his desk and extended his hand to me.

I stood, too, and accepted his handshake, damn proud of myself for rising above being sliced open while saving Michael. I would have taken any amount of bodily damage, including death, in order to protect him. Partly because it was my job to do so, but it was also the oath we took when we were hired. I had another reason beyond both those things and it was the depth of my love for this man that had me catapulting through the air to land on the blade of a hunting knife.

Case closed.

I’d do it a hundred more times if it kept him safe, happy, and in my life.

I left Fizzbo’s office flying so high I swear my feet weren’t touching the ground. I couldn’t wait to share my good news with Michael, but I had one more stop to make before I went home to him. I drove a few streets over from the Ventura Security Headquarters and pulled up in front of a store I was quite familiar with by this point in my life. As I stepped through the door of the shop today, and the bells chimed above my head, I’d never been more certain of anything in my life.

My trip downtown to meet with Fizzbo and to run my other errand had taken much longer than I thought. By the time I finally walked through the door to the condo, Michael was waiting for me with a look of concern on his face.

“Jesus, I was starting to worry,” he sighed and wrapped me up in his arms. “Did everything go okay with Fizzbo? Did you pass your physical and he offered to put you back on your old job?”

“I aced the physical and then I accepted Fizzbo’s offer,” I remarked. “Which means we’ll both be going on tour—together.”

“Seriously?” he asked, and jumped up to fold his legs around my hips. He pressed his chest to mine and I winced at the friction.

“Careful, baby,” I said against his slightly parted lips.

“Did I hurt your arm?” he questioned and I shook my head .

“Nope, my arm is feeling fan-fucking-tastic,” I said. “In fact, I felt so good after the meeting, I stopped on the way home for a little something I’ve been wanting for a few weeks.”

Michael tilted his head in question and hopped down from my hips. “What’s going on?” he asked.

I took a step backward then grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head. His eyes fell to my bare chest and the patch of plastic wrap taped to the skin over my heart.

“Holy shit, what did you get?” he asked once he realized what I’d done.

I carefully peeled back the tape to reveal the fresh ink I’d just had done at my favorite tattoo shop. Mike moved closer to check out the new artwork. I’d been creating the design in my head for weeks, wanting to get it just right before I had it added to my body. Today everything aligned for me and that made it the perfect day to have this done to mark the occasion.

“It’s a shooting star blazing through the sky and the rainbow-colored sparkles that make up tail spell out, ‘My Rockstar,’” I explained with pride. “You’re my shooting star, Michael, and I wanted it inked onto my left pec because you live inside my heart now and always will.”

His fingertips lightly stroked around the edges of the protective gel covering the fresh ink. He had a look of awe on his face and when his gaze lifted to meet mine, I saw so much emotion shimmering on the tips of his lashes. “You did this for me?” he asked.

I nodded at him and swallowed hard. “I wanted a piece of you permanently etched on my skin,” I said .

“It’s stunning and I feel so honored—and loved, Griff. Every day you find new ways to show your commitment to me and that makes me love you even more.”

Michael stepped back a bit and proceeded to remove his t-shirt, tossing it to the floor on top of mine. Then his fingers went to work peeling back a similar looking piece of plastic wrap that covered a section of skin on his left biceps muscle.

“Holy shit, you just got inked, too?” I asked with surprise. Mainly because he hadn’t mentioned he was thinking about doing it. Then again, I hadn’t shared my intentions with him about mine. I guess this was yet another example of how we were consistently on the same wavelength.

“I did,” he answered. “As soon as you left for the meeting, I drove to go get this done. Do you know what it is?”

“I think it’s an animal of some sort,” I said as I inspected it closely.

“It’s a Griffin,” he said, “and, same as you, this mythical half-lion, half-eagle creature will always have my back and be my fiercest protector in life and love.”

“Is the location on your left arm symbolic for you?” I asked.

“Yes, and I think you know why.”

“It’s the spot I took a knife blade from an assailant to show how much I love you,” I teased with a grin.

“You are correct, but are you sure about your reason? Maybe it had more to do with you falling onto a knife that a bad guy happened to be holding? Perhaps you’re just clumsy. ”

He was mocking me to ease some of the emotions running rampant in this moment. I knew that. Mike was always the comedian, and it only made him more endearing to me, so I continued to play along.

“Next you’ll start implying I cut myself to get attention,” I mumbled as I laid the plastic wrap back into place over the tattoo and pulled my shirt back on.

“Well, now that you’ve thrown that out as another theory, I have to ask the obvious question. Did you do that to yourself?” he asked. “I mean, you can be honest with me. I won’t tell anyone.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and watched him dress. “You are such a smart ass, and a brat,” I commented with only adoration in my tone.

“I thought I was your shooting star ?” he joked, using air-quotation marks for emphasis.

My arms circled his waist once he was covered again. “You are also my rockstar, my one and only love, and so, so much more.”

“Kiss me, and never, ever stop,” he requested.

“I don’t plan to.”

“Good, because your shooting star is hoping to be shooting something else real soon,” he said and laughed. Then he took my hand and started tugging me down the hall toward our bedroom, and I was more than happy to let him.