𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐛

                                    

                                          
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𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐑𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐗 𝐁𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫
                          
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It was another late night for Bryson just sitting on that stage just vibing along to his fans rapping to his voice from the backing of his song, "502 Come Up". The moment was like home and he wished he didn't have to leave his spot just to not see his fans' faces till next evening on tour of T R A P S O U L. 
                          
For any singer, rapper---just any plain entertainer---being able to gather in one place with the people who made your dreams a reality, the uplifting is something amazing. The way you connect with the audience seeing their emotions all into the song is motivation to keep going. To keep that same reaction that brings warmness to your heart and that's what Bryson planned to do.
                          
Music was his everything right next to his babygirl. She was his world for him but this---it came as a close second.
                          
But it soon came close time for the set to end and it was off towards his dressing room to pack it up. His manager, Neil, suddenly came up beside him as he was escorted back to the room to see his daughter, Harley, waiting there---he could hear her little comments now. Number one fan of course, "One more song, daddy---my favorite one!"
                          
A busybody she was but she was his busybody, his little miniature sidekick. 
                          
"I got somebody waiting for you in your dressing room. You got a meeting in the morning before soundcheck so don't be late!", Neil ran off as Bryson's expression hardened at the fact any ol' body can be in his private dressing room with his little girl.
                          
He ran towards the room at the hall opening it up with a huff as he paused at the sight of someone braiding his daughter's hair. He softly closed the door seeing as they didn't notice and watched as they both laughed together as the man held up her braids making a funny face. 
                          
Harley attempted to make the same face causing Bryson to chuckle, eyes following ears to the sound. Bryson was soon stumbling as he caught the energetic girl in his arms, kissing her promptly around her fast. He talked to the young girl for a minute before turning to the male who'd gotten closer with a hand out.
                          
"I'm Bretman Rock, I'm pretty sure you don't know me but I'm a real big fan of yours. I'm a model and I hopefully am looking forward to signing a deal within your label."
                          
Bryson took his hand shaking it as his eyes wandered from his eyes down to his plum-wine covered lips, his lean yet muscular figure that made for curves, back up to his addicting smile.
                          
"Bryson, you looking to get into this business? I think you real cut out for modeling, look like you'd be stepping all over people when it comes to it."
                          
Bryson watched as the man laughed a bit shaking his head, "Modeling is what I do best but I've always wanted to try music. It's not too late for me neither, I'm only 22."
                          
"Young as hell, ain't you and already successful. Did my label send you here to talk to me about this career,?" Bretman was led to sit down as Bryson let the girl down to play on his phone.
                          
"Said you could be some type of mentor for me and I was in no place to object that. Even then, I still had all the more reason to agree," his voice trailed off presenting a provocative undertone in his voice.
                          
Bryson caught onto that watching out the corner of his eye Harley singing along to a song. He grinned moving a bit closer in his seat, "See a few reasons that make me want to agree too. We can start tonight if it ain't too late for you?"
                          
"It's never too late to practice my pitches some, fit practice in wherever we can right?"



                          
So the two stayed behind in the dressing room to discuss Bretman's potential in singing and that of course came with testing out his vocal range. Harley had been taken home by his best friend who'd watch her while he made sure Bretman was all good. He surely made all the time for a thorough check.
                          
Bretman's head hit the mirror as he nearly lost grip of Bryson's arms holding him up. His body rocked vigorously against the wooden vanity, legs tied up around Bryson's staunch lower back, pressure building up in his stomach.
                          
He with strong belief felt as if his insides were being beat black and blue with the violent thrusts the other was erupting inside of him. In all his becoming years no matter how short it may seem, none was like the rich, dark toned male in front of him.
                          
Drips of sweat coated their bodies, too many loud groans filling the room as stage crew passed by with red faces or disgust. It was nasty pleasure for them, testing out the waters for what could be a satisfactory affair between maybe co-workers.
                          
"Shit---slow down Bryson," Bretman whined pushing on his stomach as said male moved the hand away lifting the younger male to sit them down on the couch where he urged him to move.
                          
Bretman with steady bouncing held onto the back of the couch, heaving out short, staccato breaths keening at the feeling of lips around his nipples. The pleasure of both was too much to take yet he wanted to feel more of the man inside him. Wanted his hands to grab fiercely at his body like he needed them impossibly closer. The whispers and small laughs they shared at the position they were in. First meeting, first fuck---should've had a date in between there.
                          
Bryson's hands traveled down the expansion of his back before they latched onto those well-defined globes, too much of a tease giving in to the impulse of smacking them. His smirk broadened with the heightened pitch of moans that came with it but they fell back to their normal range---he yearned to hear more.
                          
So he brought his hand down from a greater distance causing a jump through his own skin at the notes hit this time. This was supposed to be a try it out mentor session, it made up for their overbearing lust.
                          
"Do it again baby," Bretman mewled into his ear, kissing the side of his face before taking his lips in between his own pillows. Drawing away, Bryson kissed around his neck fervently with such a passion you'd think they were together. It was just the rush though but enough for them.
                          
"You gon hit some more high notes for me, gonna need the practice," he smiled up at the man earning a smile back before it was broken with an open mouth at the unexpected hand reaching his ass even harder. Moans tumbled out as Bryson picked up the pace, drilling into him allowing the other to hold onto him at the inexplainable pressure that splattered out over his stomach and the man hoping this wouldn't end just yet.
                          
Their hold on each other was something special. Sex was not special in itself really but the connection you have with the person. Their hold resembled the connection they drew to each other in the short amount of time and it rained down on them in ways they couldn't understand yet. The pleasure that lasted a while was just that and it'd remained that way in this moment physically.
                          
Mentally, it's fucking them up.
                          
They both finished off with trembling voices emitting from their high and worn out bodies that ached in places they would need to walk with in the next day much less the next few minutes.
                          
Laying on that couch just taking their time to get it together was alright for them. Comfortable with each other and fucked out of their brains felt good. One thing they couldn't share with each other in the moment rumbled through their minds at least.
                          
Wondering when the next time they'd see each other is.
                          
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