oul. This fuckin’ heat was too much to bear and I was relieved to have a break from it.
America was beautiful, don’t get me wrong, especially the Pacific Northwest and the endless amount of trees, but it just wasn’t for me. I’d never be able to live in a place like this, it was all just so different from what I was used to.
I hated the fact that we had to tour America at all, but the label insisted. As far as I was concerned, I’d have been totally happy to stay in the Queen’s country. There was one good thing to come out of this tour, though, I thought, as I watched Catherine bounce up and down on my cock.
I was becoming quite fond of her pussy. In fact, I was becoming quite fond of her. Which still surprised me. I’d do well to keep my distance, I thought. Which was ironic, because my cock was buried in her so deeply, I couldn’t have gotten closer to her if I wanted to right now. But that’s not what I meant.
I saw the way she looked at me. I knew what that look meant. And hell, I felt it too. That ridiculous bloody tingling in my heart when she laughed, the way I couldn’t get enough of her, the fact that I couldn’t stop staring at her, even when she had her clothes on - all of these things were very unfamiliar feelings. Fuck, I’d not felt like this since Ally, really.
I’d always dismissed those memories as just the intensity of first love. First touch. First fuck.
But now? Well, I’d fucked myself around the world practically, and I’d honestly thought I was so jaded by now, I’d never feel anything like this again. But, here it all was. Messy and fucked-up and inconvenient and beautiful.
Who was I kidding? Myself? Catherine? In the moment of passion, I allowed myself a glimpse into a possible future, a future with Catherine, a future of laughter and long, slow shaggin’ well into the night, a future filled with love and maybe even an escape from the relentless misery that seemed to reside in my heart these days. But those dreams were pure rubbish.
It would never work out. I knew this, like I knew the chords of my songs. Liam Mercury didn’t do relationships. Liam Mercury didn’t do long term anything. Hell, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d fucked the same person twice. And now, here I was, my cock buried in Catherine for at least a dozen times in the last few days, and I had no desire to fuck anyone else.
What the fuck had happened to me?
I’d let myself believe, that’s what. Fuckin’ fooled myself into thinking I could have a different life.
I reached up and grabbed a handful of Catherine’s breasts as I came inside her, her hips rocking against me until every last drop had escaped from my body. When she leaned down and kissed me, I kissed her back, wishing things were different.
But they weren’t.
They never would be and I had no choice in the matter.
“You’re so fucking amazing, Liam,” she whispered, smiling down at me, her eyes filled with love. I looked away, a pit forming in my stomach. Shit. I knew this would happen.
Love wasn’t in the plan.
I shouldn’t have led her on. I should have kept my fucking hands to myself and not been such a huge asshole. But I hadn’t done that, had I?
No, I’d fucked everything up, once again.
Ian was right, I was a fuckin’ loser. I was going to hurt this girl, and it fuckin’ killed me that I had to do it. It was just like Ally, all over again.
Catherine didn’t deserve this shit. Neither did Ally. They were better than that.
Catherine was better than me.
She was pure, sweet, a good woman.
Why she’d ever opened her legs for a man like myself was beyond me.
I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her close. Her naked skin felt like heaven against mine, and I pushed my cock up into her again.
“One more time,” I whispered, my body aching to come inside her one last time.
***
It’d been several days since I got pissed drunk, and I was certainly making it up for it tonight. I’d brought a bottle on stage with me, much to Ian’s frustration. By the time the show was almost over, my vision was blurred and I was swaying a little. It felt bloody amazing, and for the first time since this afternoon, I wasn’t consumed with guilt about fuckin’ Catherine over.
I knew she was confused, I could see it in her eyes, when I dared myself to look. After I’d finally disentangled myself from her this afternoon, I’d withdrawn without a word. I started drinking early and kept quiet, because the last thing I was able to do was explain myself.
I’d sound like a bloody fool if I tried to explain what was going on inside of me.
So, I did what I always did - I shut my mouth and drank myself numb.
It felt good. Like a familiar, old sad song that I couldn’t stop playing, the misery felt like home. I let it sink into me, low and deep, until the familiar grimace had found its way back onto my face. When the last chords sounded, and all the bows were over, I walked back to my dressing room alone, walking right past Catherine without a word, her eyes forming a question I didn’t want to answer.
To her credit, she gave me my space, leaving me alone completely.
Later, in the hotel, the party was jumping. Rocket grew up in Seattle, so his entire family and group of friends filled the party suite. Everyone was so fuckin’ joyful, it made me sick. Catherine stood in a corner, quietly talking to Rhone with a glass of wine in her hand, and every time she looked at me, that question was still lingering there, along with exactly the thing I hated seeing - pain.
I found a couch and sank down into it with my whiskey bottle and laid my head back and closed my eyes. I’d have gone to my room, but as much as I wanted to be alone, the thought of it unnerved me. I wanted to be close to Catherine, even if I had put some self-imposed restrictions on myself. I wasn’t sure if I could keep my hands off of her or not, but I figured I had to at least try. And I knew as soon as Rocket figured he had a shot, he’d swoop in like a fuckin’ vulture.
I avoided her gaze and did my best to keep to myself. Which was impossible. All of Rocket’s friends wanted to talk to me and they kept sitting on the couch, cornering me with their stories about Rocket, or blubbering on about how much they loved the band, blah blah blah. I did my best to be polite, but I was so over it.
I was just excusing myself from the latest one, a tipsy blonde with huge tits that were threatening to explode from her skin-tight black leather dress.
“I lost my virginity to one of your songs,” she gushed, leaning in to me and pressing her tits up against me. At any other time, my cock would have responded, and I might have dragged her into the bathroom for a quick shag and she would have thanked me afterwards.
“Is that so?” I replied, looking over her shoulder for Catherine. “Which song?”
“To the Moon,” she said.
“Oh, yeah? How was it?” I asked. “The sex? It was good?”
“It was okay,” she replied with a giggle. “I’ve learned a lot since then,” she pushed her tits into me again. “Why don’t you let me show you?” her voice lowered seductively. I looked into her heavily-lined blue eyes, her long blonde hair framing her beautiful face. Her tits rested against my arm, and I looked down at them, and then down at my cock.
Nothing.
Man down!
What the hell was going on? I’d have jumped on this ride in a second in the past, with my cock leading the way. But there were no signs of life right now.
I chalked it up to too much whiskey, and politely excused myself from the blonde’s clutches. She pouted as I walked away, and I wondered what it would feel like to have those pillow lips around my cock. Again, I pictured it in detail and there was still no movement down below.
The party swirled around me in a haze as I stood up, and I walked towards the door. I had every intention of going to straight to my room. The last thing I wanted to do was cause a scene tonight. I’d wanted to disappear since I’d arrived, and the feeling only grew as the hours had passed. All I had to do was make it to the door, down the hall, in the elevator an
d up to my room. I’d pass out quietly in my bed and forget about everything.
I wish I could say that that is what happened. For fuck’s sake, if I could it would have been so sweet. But no, I’m Liam fuckin’ Mercury, and I always live up to my reputation.
The doorknob was in my hand, I was turning it slowly as I glanced to my right just before I opened the door. Maybe my eyes were playin’ tricks on me, maybe it was the whiskey. Or, maybe it really happened, I’ll never truly know.
All I remember is seeing Ian, Rhone, Catherine and Rocket talking in a circle, and as I glanced down, I saw Rocket’s hand brush against Catherine’s ass. It might have been nothing. It might have been completely innocent. Hell, even if it was intentional, even if Catherine had grabbed his meaty paw and rubbed it all over her backside like she was buttering a turkey, it doesn’t excuse what I did next.
Does the whiskey excuse it? Maybe. Probably not.
But it’s the only excuse I’ve got, so I’ll wave it loud and proud as I tell you this next part.
Well, what I remember of it. It’s a big blur, actually.
I remember flying through the air and the resounding thud that shot through my body as Rocket and I hit the floor. I remember glass breaking and the distinct thought of how remarkably warm and sticky my blood covered hand felt. There wasn’t any pain, though. That came later, the next day. I remember the look of shock on Rocket’s face, and the sound of shrieking behind me. Once my fists started flying, the blood from the cut on my hand starting splattering all over everything and the both of us. By the time someone pulled me off of him, we were covered in my blood.
I remember looking down at my hand and seeing a huge gash in my palm and being pissed that I’d wasted all that good whiskey.
What I remember most of all, and what I wish I could forget more than anything, is the look of utter disgust on Catherine’s face as Ian dragged me out the door.