Welcome to the Show

By Jules Kelley

It was supposed to be one-night only, a limited engagement. It changed the course of three lives entirely.

Rockstar Keith and actor Adam have the kind of relationship that keeps tabloids in business: Passionate and dramatic. And when they add budding journalist Sebastian to the mix, it's dynamite. Being together shows each of them new, wonderful parts of themselves, but navigating their careers and a long-term multi-person relationship in the public eye of 2012 is playing with fire—and if the paparazzi doesn't destroy them, their inner demons just might.

Note: This title was previously released as LoveGames by M Jules Aedin in 2012. This edition has been rewritten with mostly new content, including a brand new ending.
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jules Kelley
• Release date: Dec 24, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215624401

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Crowds didn’t usually bother Sebastian Keane, but when he was trying to elbow his way through the sweaty throng to get away from his date-gone-bad, he wished fervently that the Atlanta Pride pre-party had less of one. A dancing couple jostled him from behind, and he stumbled forward just as some asshole gestured broadly, catching Sebastian across the collarbone and baptizing him in warm beer over his face and chest. Fuck. That was going to be sticky as hell later.

Jesus fucking Christ—

Oh—sorry! The voice didn’t sound sorry at all, laughter grating across Sebastian’s nerves. The beer was running down into his shoes, and this motherfucker was laughing. He shook his hands, flicking droplets off his fingertips, and the guy took a step back. Served him right.

You look as mad as a wet kitten, the asshole said, still chuckling. But don’t feel too bad. I’m sure you’ll win the wet T-shirt contest.

Seriously? He finally looked up to see just who this bastard thought he was—and okay, fuck, he was hot as Satan, but he was still an asshole. Satan’s asshole. What the fuck, dude? Fuck off.

The corner of the devil’s mouth quirked up, and the ghost of a dimple flirted with his cheek. Normally, Sebastian was a sucker for dimples, but that didn’t apply to people who spilled beer on his second-best cropped shirt and then made jokes about it. Especially when those jokes might have been a backhanded reference to his eyeliner. Which—shit—was starting to run into his eyes.

"I am sorry, the man said, and he might have sounded sincere if he didn’t still sound like he was two seconds from laughing. You would win, though. You’re gorgeous."

Wait—Is that your idea of a come-on?

Oh, I’d love to come on you, the man leered, and Sebastian rolled his eyes and tried to shove past him. This jerk didn’t deserve another second of his time. The man shifted, soft-blocking his escape route, and Sebastian glared up at him. Sorry, sorry. I couldn’t resist. I’ll behave; I promise. Where are you headed in such a hurry, anyway? The concert stage?

No, I was leaving. Honestly, he couldn’t care less about the concert. Some overplayed popstar his roommate couldn’t stop listening to at high volume, that Sebastian would pay money to never have to hear again. He was just here to have a good time and maybe try to scrape a freelance article out of everything to see if he could sell it to one of the local papers, maybe one of the community circulations. And okay, so maybe he’d gotten distracted by the hot guy with the tongue ring who’d been hardcore hitting on him. But—There’s a very dramatic fight happening back there between the guy I was about to hook up with and the boyfriend he was apparently two-timing, and I wasn’t sticking around to get in the middle of it. Looks like I’m an asshole-magnet today.

Ah. A fully dimpled smirk this time. So you’re not a fan of being in the middle, hm?

Sebastian snorted. More like I’m not a fan of being lied to. I’ll be in the middle all day long, as long as all parties are aware and enthusiastically consenting.

The man grinned, flashing Hollywood-perfect teeth. Good to know. He stuck out his hand. I’m Keith, by the way. And I do really apologize for ruining your dramatic exit. And for making inappropriate comments, even if you are incredibly pretty.

Sebastian almost blushed but managed not to, proud of himself for not giving Keith the satisfaction of a visible reaction. I’m Sebastian. Sebastian shook Keith’s offered hand automatically, wincing when their palms stuck together. Ah, sorry, my hand is… kind of sticky.

Which is my fault, Keith said graciously, though there was a mischievous sparkle in his eye. His lips pressed together like he was trying not to speak, and even though Sebastian had only met him five minutes ago, he somehow knew that it was taking all of Keith’s self-control to keep his promise to behave and not go for the obvious joke of how else he could make Sebastian sticky.

"It’s not… completely your fault, Sebastian allowed. Okay, so this guy was kind of charming—in a demigod of chaos kind of way. But I should probably finish exiting, now that I smell like a brewery."

No, no, come let me buy you a shirt. There are booths everywhere. Pick something you like, and I’ll buy it for you. As an apology. Keith grinned. I promise I’m not just trying to get you out of your clothes.

Sebastian rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t stop a smile. "You were so close," he said, holding up his thumb and forefinger an inch apart.

Keith laughed. I only have so much self-control.

Dammit. Maybe Keith wasn’t a total ass. And apparently Sebastian hadn’t learned his lesson about handsome strangers hitting on him. Okay, fine. You can buy me a shirt.

Keith made a lead the way gesture, but as Sebastian started to step in front of him, a very harried-looking man pushed his way through the sea of people, one hand out, laser-focused on Keith. Christ, not again.

Mr. Black! The man squeezed between a couple of butches in studded leather with a quick apology, grabbing at his plastic lanyard to keep it from catching on their belts. A very muscular dude with a pair of reflective aviators followed just behind. Mr. Black, they want you backstage for a sound check. We’ve been looking all over for you.

This last was said accusingly, the man’s eyes narrowing at Keith—Oh shit. Keith Black. As in, that Keith Black, the one whose album his roommate played all hours of the day and night, the one he couldn’t turn on the radio without hearing, the one…who was playing the fucking concert at the pre-party. Tonight.

Sure, Ron. Sorry you had to come looking for me. Keith gestured to Sebastian and said, If this gorgeous young man will let you, would you grab a shirt in his size from one of the booths? I owe him a replacement. Hell, give him a VIP package too, if he’ll take it.

Before Sebastian could protest—a shirt was one thing, but a VIP package sounded excessive, no matter how helpful it would probably be in his theoretical writeup of the event—Keith turned a full smile on him, and he forgot every word he’d ever learned.

I would say I’m sorry for bumping into you, kitten, but it was a pleasure to meet you, so that would be a lie. If you stick around for the concert, I hope you have a good time. He walked away without waiting for an answer, the shades-wearing muscle Sebastian now recognized as a security detail cutting a path through the sea of people ahead of them.

Well, hell. Maybe he would. Even if he hated the music, he’d have something pretty to look at, wouldn’t he? Damn. Maybe if he’d known the guy singing Walk Through Fire or Fly Through Fire or whatever that stupid overplayed song was had an ass that wouldn’t quit and a smile that promised the best kind of trouble with the playful charm to back it up, he wouldn’t have hit skip every time it came on.

Sir?

Sebastian snapped his gaze away from where he’d been watching Keith’s leather-clad ass disappear into the crowd and focused on the lanyard-wearing venue employee.

Ron, right? Sebastian smiled. It’s fine. I’ll just… He thumbed over his shoulder. I’ll just go.

What size shirt, sir? Ron insisted, leading him over to—of course—the Keith Black merchandise booth, and Sebastian only hesitated for another second before he gave in. Fine. It would be a memento from an amusing story. Emma would at least think it was funny.

Small. Depending on the cut of the shirt, maybe an extra-small to get it as tight as he liked, but he could always crop it if necessary. Thank you.

* * *

You have that look on your face.

Keith tilted his chin to gaze up at his lover, Adam Cruce, from his stretched-out position on the floor. When Keith hadn’t been there for his scheduled sound check, they’d gone ahead and put two other acts in front of him, which meant he was stuck waiting and was already bored as hell. At least Adam was here now; that was the benefit of events they were both invited to attend.

What look is that?

The one that says you found someone tasty and you’re still thinking about him. Adam grinned as he dropped to the floor beside Keith, apparently unconcerned with getting his expensive slacks wrinkled or dirty. There were many things Keith loved about Adam, but his sleek elegance, even while he was being as casual as possible, was one of the tastiest. He was so self-contained; Keith couldn’t imagine ever being that put-together. Is he pretty?

Adam’s question dragged his thoughts right back to the stunner he’d bumped into out in the crowd and away from the torture of full-body boredom. Which had probably been Adam’s plan all along.

He’s too pretty for words, Keith sighed, letting himself remember Sebastian’s intensely blue eyes and delicate features. I spilled my beer on him.

Adam laughed, though he winced in sympathy. Not your best pickup move, he teased. Was he mad?

As a wet cat. He smirked. At first.

Oh, did you manage to charm him out of it? Adam leaned in close to him, skimming a fingertip down the bridge of his nose. You devil. Poor guy didn’t stand a chance.

Ron found me before I could get him out of his wet clothes, but I did at least offer him a replacement shirt. Keith grinned and tilted his head back to playfully snap at Adam’s finger. The gray fog of boredom and red threads of annoyance were already starting to fade into softer, happier colors with Adam there, and the tender compliments had him buzzing, looking for more of Adam’s attention and approval, his favorite stimulant. Maybe he could convince Adam to sneak off to the rehearsal room and lock the door—or not lock it, whichever. Sometimes having an audience was even better.

How long do you have before you have to go on? Adam murmured, dragging his thumb across Keith’s lips, lighting up Keith’s nerves with bright silver sparkles. God, did he have enough time? Adam’s button down shirt was open in enough of a V to be a tease, and those pressed slacks were just begging to be unzipped. A dirty little blowjob on the floor was the best idea he’d had in a long time, and it sounded like Adam was on board.

Unfortunately—Probably about five minutes. He sighed. And we’re good, but we’re not that good. He curled his fingers around Adam’s bare forearm, toying with the cuff of the rolled-up sleeve, relishing the rasp of blond hair under his palm.

Mm, too bad. Adam’s familiar touch, as gentle as it was commanding, spread a warm, golden glow from Keith’s jaw down over his chest and stomach, and then a bright crackle of surprise and interest when Adam’s fingers curled behind the studded buckle of Keith’s belt. I’m pretty sure the dressing room is empty.

Keith couldn’t stop himself from glancing toward said dressing room—little more than a walk-in closet, honestly—with its open door spilling tempting light into the hallway.

Maybe I can be five minutes late.

Keith had planned to suck Adam off, but as soon as they were inside the room, the door locked and closed behind them, Adam shoved Keith against the wall and went to his knees. He had Keith’s belt buckle open faster than Keith could get his hands down there to help, and then worked the leather pants down Keith’s thighs far enough to get what he wanted.

Tell me about the guy, Adam demanded as he palmed Keith’s cock. He looked up through long golden eyelashes, the smattering of freckles across his nose giving him an incongruously innocent air. He stroked Keith’s erection with firm, steady pulls, and flicked his tongue out over the head. The one you wanted to pick up. Tell me about him.

"He was—fuck, baby!" As soon as Keith started talking, Adam molded his mouth over the head of Keith’s dick and sucked hard, hollowing his cheeks. Adam gave him a stern look, and Keith took a deep breath, understanding the implicit threat. Keep talking or this stops. He was… kinda young, maybe college age… He had his hand stamped so he was at least twenty-one.

Adam made a humming noise that, at any other time, Keith would have catalogued as thoughtful. At the moment, it sounded dirty and delicious and felt fucking amazing.

He was tiny—less than five-five, easy—and skinny. Prettiest face I’ve ever seen. Blue-green eyes…glitter and eyeliner, all glammed up.

Keith lost his breath and his train of thought all in a rush as Adam took him almost down to the root, and Adam squeezed his balls just enough to remind Keith he was supposed to be talking.

"H-he… Fuck, baby, yeah… He was… He slid his hand into Adam’s hair, fingernails scraping over his scalp. Adam sucked harder, and Keith struggled to keep talking. Dark hair, cut a little shaggy. Mouth you’d pay to see around your dick. Fucking perfect little nose."

Adam coughed, and Keith let go of his hair immediately to let him pull back in case he’d gone too deep. He didn’t expect Adam to pull all the way off—or to be laughing.

"His nose?"

Keith’s scowl probably would’ve been more convincing if he hadn’t been breathless and laughing. Shut up and suck my dick, he said, shoving playfully at Adam’s head. And yeah, his nose.

Adam was still snickering, but he must have realized they’d used up at least all of Keith’s five minutes and were probably getting close to at least five more, because he managed to control himself long enough to get Keith’s cock back into his mouth.

Keith groaned; waves of deep-pink pleasure rippled through him. He’d never met anybody better at blowjobs than Adam Cruce; the man could have tempted angels out of heaven. He couldn’t help but wonder how the pretty boy would do, with those lush lips and bedroom eyes. Now there was a thought.

He’d fit perfectly between us, babe. Keith shut his eyes and imagined that exquisite little body between them, the three of them slick with sweat as they moved together. Maybe he’d even take us both at the same time, both our cocks shoved into his tight little hole…

Adam pressed his tongue firmly against Keith’s frenulum at the exact moment he rubbed two fingertips across Keith’s perineum, and fireworks exploded up Keith’s spine. He could’ve sworn he saw stars. When his soul returned to his body, his cock was still throbbing in the aftershocks, and his throat felt raw, like he might have shouted something. Probably profanities, maybe Adam’s name.

Adam coaxed him through the final few pulses, grinning as he pulled off completely, and Keith slid down the wall, legs shaking.

Fuck.

Adam climbed over him, one hand tight on his jaw to tilt his head back, and kissed him deeply. Keith melted into it submissively and focused on the soft bruise forming under Adam’s thumb to center him in his body instead of floating in shattered little pieces.

I swear to God, Keith panted when Adam let go of him, both of them breathing roughly, you get better every single time. I wish I had time to pay you back, but…

A pounding on the door finished the sentence for him, and Adam kissed him again through a smile. You can owe me.

Adam stood and helped Keith to his feet, fussing with Keith’s hair as Keith struggled to pull the leather pants back up. They wanted to stick to the sweat on his thighs, but he managed to finally get them up over his hips. The belt buckle jangled loudly as he fumbled with it, still numb with pleasure, and Adam moved his hands aside to fasten it for him.

Another loud knock, and then: Keith? You horny bastard, get the fuck out here. They’re gonna kick us off the stage without a sound check if you’re not there in two minutes.

Adam laughed and called back, Hold your horses, Manny. He’s zipping up.

The door muffled the sound of Manny’s sigh, but not completely. Shoulda known it was your fault, the drummer called back. "Everyone thinks he corrupted you, but some of us know it was the other way around."

With the belt finally buckled, Keith pulled open the door and pushed Manny toward the stage. Come on, dude. Stop flirting with my boyfriend and let’s go.

See ya, Manny! Adam said cheerfully, and Manny flipped up his middle finger.

Keith laughed, glowing from the inside out as he stepped out onto the stage with thirty seconds to spare.

* * *

Adam Cruce thought the nice thing about being the star of an indie soap opera that only aired on an LGBT-specific network was that he could get away with not being recognized most of the time, which meant he didn’t need a security detail. Not even at Pride, where he stood a greater chance of someone squinting at him for an awkward moment before saying, "Has anyone ever told you that you kinda look like that guy from Boyfriends?"

It was probably because Jamie, his character, dressed like he was either going to a nightclub or coming home from one the next morning, whereas Adam’s wardrobe was decidedly more sedate. Corporate daddy, Keith liked to say.

So as he browsed through the vendor tents that were starting to get set up for the