Games We Play

Give Them a Show

Disclaimer: This Story is NOT real. The events in this Story did NOT happen. For the purpose of this Story, these are CHARACTERS playing a Role. They don't exist outside this Story. All this being said, I hope you enjoy & would love to hear your kind feedback.

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When Andy steps forward, the stage lights wash away his view of the crowd, drowning him in an ethereal glow.

With a quick glance to the right at Jack, the chorus is passed to Andy. He closes his eyes, shutting out the rest of the world, and turns his focus inward to his vocal cords.

He isn't one to get lazy with his voice just because he isn't in the studio. The chorus calls for a full head voice through the high notes and that's exactly what he'll deliver. Even if his boys are the only ones who can truly hear him.

As he leans back into the notes, Andy feels the warm brush of a hand slide across his shoulders; Rye's hand.

Rye tugs Andy back into his chest, accepting and supporting the weight as Andy reaches the crescendo of his chorus. He gives Andy's shoulder an encouraging squeeze, then lets his fingers slide up the length of Andy's neck.

He wraps his hand around Andy's throat and takes a firm grip of the blonde's jaw, tilting Andy's head back against his shoulder. He can feel Andy swallow thickly beneath his palm, his pulse pounding beneath Rye's fingertips.

Rye looks out across the crowd and knows full well how many eyes are on them. He can't even begin to count the number of cameras focused on them but knows every second of that footage will quickly be picked over and analyzed carefully. He knows that this exact moment will spread like wildfire across their social media fan base. He knows all this and smiles wickedly before nosing into Andy's sweat-damp hair, his mouth catching on the shell of his ear. "That was sick, babe."

I'm going to end you, Ryan Leonard Beaumont. The thought flashes through Andy's mind, chased by a shiver of arousal that runs down his back when he feels Rye's tongue ghost across the skin behind his ear. Had his eyes not already been closed, a thousand rabid fangirls would have just witnessed his eyes roll up into his head.

It's his own fault, Andy knows. He's always pushed the boundaries with this 'Randy' stuff, but the fans all seem to enjoy it so much; who was he to deny them? Plus there's always that jolt of excitement, the thrill of getting away with something so naughty and yet so completely innocent.

Innocent. Ha! Tell that to the erection currently growing in his skin-tight skinny jeans. Thank God for long tops. And damn Rye for knowing which buttons to push to get the biggest reaction out of him. Too much time in too close of proximity and no secrets between them...so what if Andy had a few dominance kinks. They all had kinks, but Rye didn't need to take advantage of his just for jokes.

Well, two can play that game.

Andy tucks his mic into the waistband of his trousers. He turns within Rye's arms, places a hand against Rye's chest and marches him backward. Rye grins in response, but the smile drops from his face when Andy - with both hands plastered to Rye's chest - slides to his knees in front of him.

Andy will regret it later, but the shaken look he receives from Rye is worth every stitch of the pain he'll feel in his knees tomorrow. Rye's jaw drops to the floor and his pupils blow wide open. "Fuck."

The word is a breath of air across Rye's lips, but Andy smiles victoriously hearing it. He drags his hands down Rye's torso, coming to rest at his waist, but it isn't until Andy reaches for the snap of Rye's trousers, that he reacts, his eyes widening dramatically.

Rye smacks Andy's hands down and jumps back and away, scampering across the stage to take up his part in the next song.

He glances back once with dark, confused eyes causing Andy to roll back, howling with laughter.

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AN: We all love some Randy content, but how much of it is for show? And how much is real?
Let me know what you think in the comments. Give this a like if you've enjoyed this fic so far. Lots more to come.