Groupie was one of the stories written for Two Dead Queers’s Cake & Blasphemy zine. The goal for that particular zine for me was to convey as much horror in as little space as possible.
Christian was used to sex eyes- as a performer he got them a lot. Hell, he gave them a lot. But this man in the crowd who had started at the bar and somehow floated to the front right up against the stage like a ghost only Christian could see looked more like he wanted to fuck Christian and then eat him. Which was hot, in a way.
He was leaning against the stage now, his eyes as come hither as Christian’s voice.
So Christian gave him a private little show right there in front of everyone: kneeling and crawling to the edge of the stage so that when the bridge hit, he kissed him. Deep.
And as the guitar seared the air around them they kissed deeper and deeper until Christian’s lungs began to burn. He tried to pull away, but the man’s hands were in his hair and so he fisted at the man’s shorter hair, trying to pry him off. The kiss was nice and they could fuck after the show but the bridge had seconds left and he needed to draw a breath and sing the final chorus and he couldn’t breathe he couldn’t—
He broke away, slick with saliva, drawing a breath in time but the notes came out garbled. Wiping his lips, his fingers came away red and the man smiled from the crowd, licking his own blood-smeared lips, chewing the piece of Christian’s tongue that he’d taken from him.