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Chapter Text

The Late 1990's, California.

The sight was so common, Elvis almost passed by without stopping. Four youth, wearing dark blue trousers, white shirts and school ties, standing on the street corner, singing a capella, their pure young voices blending in sweet, if somewhat untrained, harmony. He had seen that sight time and again…Philadelphia, New York, Los Angeles, London…teenagers dreaming of being musical stars.

He paused to listen for just a second and found his attention captivated by one particular youth. His hair was a tawny blond, his eyes were so blue, they seemed to glow and shift, flecks of silver and gold scattered like the night sky of a planet far away, but mostly it was his smile that grabbed Elvis. Electric, charming, inviting, it lit his entire face, announcing with the confidence of youth that life was fantastic and the future was his.

Given the right training, that smile could captivate an audience, making each member of the audience feel as if his song was directed straight at her.

Elvis leaned slightly against the rough brick wall, listening, analyzing whether the smile was worth the investment of his time. The quartet didn't seem disturbed by his presence, too wrapped up in their own music and dreams to care about a strange adult watching them.

Their song ended with a lengthy battle, as each tried to hold the note the longest. The final victor was the youth that commanded Elvis's attention. The battle was playful rather than serious, with laughter and smiles celebrating the end.

The four chatted for a few minutes before separating, one heading into a nearby store with the air of someone going to a job rather than casual shopping. Two headed off down the street and Elvis stopped the fourth before he could walk off.

"May I have a moment of your time?"

The youth merely shrugged, seeming unaccustomed to being approached by a stranger, but not unfriendly. In his own home environment, he had no reason to feel nervous.

"You may have heard of me. I'm a music producer." He pulled out one of his cards and offered it. "Elvis Presley."

Gingerly taking the card, the youth said, "Your name sounds familiar." He tried to sound nonchalant, but was a bit intimidated. No one in his circle of acquaintances ever owned business cards. In the corduroy slacks and sweater, the man didn't appear particularly out of place, but from the way he spoke and held himself, the man exuded a confidence and sophistication unknown to Austin.

"I used to be a singer. I'd like to talk to you about your singing. Is there someplace we can go?"

The youth studied Elvis carefully through lowered eyelashes. The man didn't seem dangerous and Austin was curious. Curious and bored, with little else to do. Ian had to work and their mom expected Brian and Andrew home, but this day was too important to trot back to his own house and hang around. "There's a little place down the street. We could have some drinks."

"Lead the way," Elvis said graciously. As he started to follow the youth down the block, he asked, "What's your name?"

"Austin Butler. My mates and me, we were just celebrating. It's the end of school. All done and never going back."

"Finished your levels?" Elvis guessed, thinking Austin looked about 20.

"Yeah. No more teachers…no more studying. It's great."

"So what are you going to do now?"

They entered a small diner and settled at a table, Austin nodding to the waitress.

"Don't know. Anything I want. Get a job. Go some place. Any place. Out of this town."

The waitress bustled over and took Elvis's order for two glasses of lemonade , nodding in a friendly fashion at Austin while giving the stranger an examining look.

"Have you thought about singing for a living?"

"Singing?"

"I'm looking for someone - a special someone - to promote as a rock'n'roll singer. Not just in California, but in the whole country. I think you could be that person."

"Me?" Austin laughed. "You must be daft." When Elvis's level gaze didn't waver, Austin said, "You're serious," with disbelief in his voice.

"Very serious. You have talent, Austin. It's untrained and raw, but with hard work and determination, you could be great. Most importantly," he brushed one hand down the side of Austin's face, his thumb resting briefly in the cleft chin, "with your charisma, you could be famous."

Austin flushed at the compliment and jerked slightly away, uncomfortable with being touched, but his eyes sparkled. "Me and my mates, we've talked sometimes, about trying to make it big, going to Los Angeles and singing in some of the clubs there - "

"No, Austin," Elvis interrupted. "Just you, as a solo singer."

"But they're my mates. We sing together!"

"They don't have the talent," Elvis said flatly. This would be hard, he knew. Austin obviously had a loving spirit, thinking of his friends as much as himself. Being self-centered would feel like betrayal. But success in the entertainment industry demanded a healthy ability to put oneself first. Elvis learned that the hard way; he wasn't sure if that lesson could be taught gently.

"You only watched them for one song!" Austin protested, his cheeks flushing with indignation. Who was this man to make snap judgments on his friends?

Gentling his tone, Elvis responded, "That's half a song longer than they would get many places. I know talent. I know that spark it takes. It's time to think about your future, Austin. Yours."

"Ah, you're daft. Like I could be famous in , anyway. That's a fool's dream." Austin stood. Though he'd barely touched his drink, good manners forced a muttered, "Thanks for the lemonade." With that, he hurried out.

Elvis sipped his lemonade, thinking. That conversation could have gone better. His offer was too abrupt, too unbelievable, Austin too loyal, but no matter. Among the many lessons Elvis had learned as an enterprising southern lad who tasted brief success with the big bands before transforming himself into a successful producer of rock 'n' roll, he knew when to persevere and when to let go.

Tossing some coins on the table, he rose and headed toward the store where Austin's friend worked. He needed information to try a different approach.

*********

Austin pounded up the stairs and into his home, his mind still whirling from the conversation in the café. Famous? Could he be famous? He paused at the mirror hanging in the entry, gazing at his reflection. Sure, Many thought he was cute, but could he be famous?

Not that such wondering mattered now. The daft old bugger would have accepted his "no" and gone away, never to be seen again.

Walking into the front room, he saw his mother polishing the furniture while straightening the room, she always attempted to keep their house as neat as the proverbial pin. A low voice was crooning about love in the background as she worked.

"Austin, you're home. Last day for you."

"Yeah, Ma. Last day."

"I thought you'd be celebrating with your mates."

"Nah, Ian had to work and Brian and Andrew were wanted home." Austin crossed the room to give her a peck on the cheek, then flung himself into the chair and picked up the record cover. "Ian starts full-time next week." Though he'd celebrated Ian's job when he got it, the thought of him working every day was disturbing. After escaping the daily boredom of school, Austin wasn't ready to tie himself to more mindless tedium.

"Time for you to get a job," she said optimistically. "Good you to have something do to ."

Staring at the drawing on the cover, Austin decided it could have been the same man. A decade older perhaps - this man was only in his early 20's and his face was clean shaved. Tuning out her suggestion, he said, "I met this bloke today."

"Met this bloke? Met who?"

Turning the cover in his hands to face her, he poked a figure at the smiling figure in the dapper evening suit. "This guy. Elvis Presley." He fumbled in his pocket for the business card and pulled it out. "See? He's a music producer now. Silly idiot. He said he could make me a real rock star."

His mother sat down slowly, the rag still clutched in her hand. "You met Elvis Presley."

"Aye."

"And he said he'd make you a star."

"Aye. I told him no though - he wanted me to leave my mates behind."

Her mouth opened and closed and Austin began to realize he'd made the most colossal mistake of his life seconds before the piercing shrieks hit his ear drums.

********

Austin was hunched miserably on the front stoop when Elvis strolled up half an hour later. “You got me in trouble,” he accused.

“Did I?” Elvis asked mildly.

“My mum’s in a fit because of you. She wouldn’t believe I met you and didn’t bring you home.” The fact that his mother was upset was particularly unsettling to Austin, she was a eternal pacemarker.

“Shall we rectify that mistake?”

His tone more conciliatory, Austin asked, “You’d do that for me? Come in and say hi?”

“My offer was abrupt but it was sincere, Austin. I still want to work with you but there will be a lot of changes in your life. You’ll have to leave this town. I want your parents to trust you with me.”

Austin shifted his feet as he stood. “You really think that? That I could be famous?”

“Yes Austin. You could be a great star.”

He hunched his shoulders slightly then rose up straight. Elvis could see the quicksilver changes of moods reflected in his eyes – distrust, surprise, wonder, acceptance. “Let’s go talk to my mum.”

**********

Mrs. Butler was effusive in her excitement, promptly packing Austin off to the kitchen to make tea with hurried instructions on doing it properly. Carrying the tray back in, Austin stopped in the doorway, surprised. He thought of his mother as old – she was his mother after all, a parental figure of authority, someone who wasn't quite a real person in her own right but rather an extension of the family. Sitting in a chair next to Elvis, listening enraptured to his soft Southern brogue, she appeared much younger and prettier than ever.

He set the tray down and she gave it a fast perusal, nodding once sharply to indicate he had performed the task correctly. Austin perched gingerly on the couch next to Elvis as his mother poured tea and Elvis continued his tale about a concert he’d given in New York. His mother was laughing as Elvis wrapped up the story.

“So,” Elvis changed subjects as he took the cup of tea, “I believe Austin told you about my suggestion.”

“Yes,” she said hesitantly, “do you really think Austin could be good? He’s always been very musical and very talented at performing,” she concluded with pride.

“I think he could be great. He’s very talented and he can succeed out there .” Elvis’s eyes flicked sympathetically around the small room.

“Then let me take him to Los Angeles. He’ll need a lot of training before we go to the Hollywood.” Said Elvis showing a bright smile.

“I don’t know,” she worried. “It’s so far…that new music is so…” She shook her head as if coming to a realization. “But it’s not up to me. He’s a man now. It’s Austin’s choice.”

Two pairs of eyes fixed on him, one expectant and hopeful, the other distraught but proud. Austin thought of his life, his family, his friends, his hometown, the only town he really knew. He thought of his future now that he was done with school. Despite his brave words that he could do anything, he didn’t truly know what he wanted to do or where to begin. He imagined standing in front of a crowd, singing to screaming hordes. It was difficult to conceive that it could be him, making music and causing girls to swoon.

Being a rock ’n’ roll star was a wild fantasy, a daydream for him and his mates. But this man said it could be true, if Austin was willing to walk away from everything he knew and place his life and trust in his big hands.

He looked at Elvis, at the short dark hair, the strong unlined faced, the confident posture, the manicured hands holding the tea cup and he decided.

“I’ll go.”

**************

Los Angeles

Everything was working out exactly as he planned, Elvis thought with satisfaction as he watched Austin sing, even though the last few months had been filled with more triumphs and rows than he expected.

Vocal lessons came first and foremost, increasing Austin’s range, making him memorize the lyrics to innumerable songs, knocking bad singing habits out of him. Properly trained, his voice proved as pure and strong as Elvis predicted.

Instruction in how to move was barely necessary. An instinctive performer, Austin swayed and danced to the music, making love to the microphone. He exuded the same hip-swaying style that made Elvis so desirable but with his own unique stamp.

The club Elvis selected for Austin's first test wasn’t large, but it was in Los Angeles. The manager owed Elvis a favor or two, happy to repay one by having Austin open for the night. The young girls in the audience shrieked and swooned satisfactorily as Austin crooned familiar songs, covering material made famous by well-known performers. Elvis was thrilled that this show was a strong indicator of Austin’s potential.

Unfortunately, this show also was a disturbing demonstration of Austin’s effect on Elvis. As he watched Austin clasp the microphone and lean closer to a delighted female, Elvis felt the heat build in his groin.

His initial attraction to Austin grew stronger the more time they spent together. No longer just an attractive face with potential, Austin was an open, honest, eager soul whom Elvis was falling deeper in love with every day. They talked for hours, the initial reserve quickly breaking down until they were sharing conversations more honest than Elvis had with all but the closest of his friends. The age difference made him feel guilty.

Then Austin would laugh and smile, making Elvis crave to gather the lad’s body in his own and cover that vibrant smile with his kisses.

Confident that the show was going well and overwhelmed by his body’s demanding need, Elvis slipped away, finding the small bathroom backstage. Fumbling with his clothes, he freed his cock and grasped it firmly.

Letting his imagination roam, he pictured Austin naked before him. Living together, he’d often seen Austin in his underclothes, was familiar with the shape of his bare arms and legs, could visualize the curve of his perfect ass.

In his fantasy, Austin stretched sensually on the bed, one knee flexed and legs slightly spread, arms lying by his head, vulnerable and waiting. Waiting for Elvis to take him, either gently or savagely. It wouldn’t matter which way because they would be so in tune, it would be the way both needed at that moment.

The movement of Elvis’s hand speeded as he saw Austin, whispering endearments, pleading for his love, gasping in ecstasy and sobbing in completion. Such sweet contemplation, to imagine being the first one to introduce Austin to pleasure and love.

He shuddered with his own release, his free hand pressing on the wall to hold him up. Returning to reality was distasteful, but discovery would be disastrous. Even if Austin didn’t guess the true nature of Elvis’s desires, he would never understand finding his manager jacking off in the bathroom during his first concert. He rapidly cleaned himself up and restored his clothing before staring at himself in the dingy mirror. The images of lust and love were placed firmly in a secret corner of his mind, replaced by feelings of affection and concern. Austin regarded him as a mentor and he could not violate that sacred trust.

Perhaps the time would come when Austin was more mature, more polished in the ways of the world…perhaps then he could show Austin his love and have his affection returned.

He could only hope.

*********

New York

Austin was trying very hard not to gape but he had the sneaking suspicion he wasn’t succeeding. New York was everything he could have dreamed, with its army of towering skyscrapers and its hordes of well-dressed people.

Even his life was more than he could ever dream, he acknowledged happily. His first single was climbing the charts in Los Angeles and the tickets for his every appearance were snapped up eagerly by his growing legion of admirers.

None of it would have happened without Elvis. He would have dreamed and maybe tried to be a success. Maybe he would have made it. Or maybe he would have dreamed his life away at a menial job in California.

Stepping out of the taxi, he discreetly checked the fall of his jacket and tie, brushing his hand through his hair to ensure its straightness. The taxi sped away, leaving him smiling at Elvis as he noted his mentor making the same gestures.

As he stepped onto the sidewalk, a small cluster of girls began whispering, trying to identify them. Autograph hunters and fans of the stars, they waited outside this hottest of all restaurants to catch a glimpse of the rich or famous.

Austin nodded and smiled at them, knowing they might not recognize him. Elvis’s words repeated in his mind – ‘You’re becoming famous in the country. Don’t be disappointed if you don’t have many fans yet. That will come in time.’ His eagerness for success grew with each step and Elvis always seemed to sense when to calm him.

Glancing sideways at his mentor, more of Elvis’s words rang in his head – ‘Be poised and confident yet honest and open.’ Elvis certainly epitomized his own advice; it was difficult for Austin to reconcile the sophisticated businessman with the poor Southern kid he’d talked about once being.

An excited giggle and a wondering, “Austin!” told him Elvis had been overly pessimistic. He found himself surrounded by the crowd, small notebooks and pens thrust in his face. ‘Make eye contact. Smile. Always treat your fans well.’ Austin basked in the adoration until the last book was signed and a warning signal from the doorman sent the girls back to their place.

Carefully camouflaging his glee with a polite smile, Austin followed his manager into the restaurant, his feet walking on air. They were efficiently seated at a table for three to find a woman already waiting for them. As polished as Elvis, she screamed sophistication from the elegant chignon, tasteful gold jewelry and black velvet dress.

The introductions barely registered on Austin as he sat down, trying to see everyone in the restaurant without gawking, his delight at being admired replaced by the thrill of being close to those he admired. Elvis and the woman were chatting, catching up on news and tales of acquaintances.

Austin apologized and retreated to the bathroom.

“He is a charming boy,” Diana said, watching Austin’s delectable backside walk away. “Trying so hard to be a man of the world but still so naïve.” She started to tap a cigarette out of her holder but caught Elvis’s pointed glance. “Sorry darling. Always forget your concern about your throat. So what help do you need?”

"It's about Austin. He's beginning to face … temptations."

"He's beginning to have girls toss themselves at him right and left, yes that's obvious darling." At his grimace, she added, "Well, what did you expect? He's absolutely luscious and you're trying to make him a star. Looks, talent and fame, what more could anyone want?"

"I don't want him to get in trouble, not being able to cope. I thought if … he had some experience…" Elvis let his words trail off, unsure how to broach his suggestion.

Her laugh was sharp and short. "Darling, you don't need to make sure he gets experience. He'll find out the facts of life all by himself. If he hasn't already."

"He's dated girls from his school, yes, but we've been so busy these last few months …" He took a hasty gulp of water. "Never mind. It was a ridiculous thought."

Austin asked, sliding into the booth. “Hey, can we go sightseeing tomorrow? I want to see the Statute of Liberty.”

“I can’t tomorrow. I have business, a potential client to see.”

Austin looked confused. “A client?”

“Well, he can’t manage just you, can he?” Diana asked with kind severeness. Austin glanced away, leaving Diana to wonder if perhaps Austin thought Elvis *should* concentrate all his time on him. “I have a suggestion though. I have a cousin who lives in town. Cute young thing. She’d love to show you around tomorrow, hit all the highlights.”

“Yeah, alright,” Austin agreed listlessly. “You’ll meet us for dinner, won’t you?” he asked Elvis.

“Yes, dinner will be fine. I’ll have my business finished by then. And speaking of dinner, let’s look at the menu for tonight.”

Obeying the suggestion, Austin wondered why he was so unhappy as he read the bewildering array of exotic appetizers and entrees. Elvis was hardly obligated to spend all of his time with Austin, even if he had for the last several months. If Diana’s cousin looked anything like her, she would be an attractive girl. Spending free time sightseeing with a young woman ought to excite him. But Austin had planned on seeing New York with Elvis, occupying his time during the long transatlantic flight by remembering movies set in New York and wondering what Elvis could tell him about the different sights. He wanted to hear what Elvis's first day in New York had been like, when Elvis discovered his favorite places. Some stranger as his tour guide didn’t seem right.

Austin didn’t make enough yet for Elvis to live only on his fees. Elvis tried to explain their contract to Austin, the investment Elvis made by supporting Austin until he started selling records and how he was being repaid, but Austin hadn’t understood much of it. He did know he owed Elvis a lot - he'd seen the checks Elvis sent home to his ma. How long would it take before he paid Elvis back? Would it be different when Austin was a big star? When Austin was famous and in demand all over the world, would Elvis have enough time to manage anyone else? Probably not, Austin decided. Then he’d never have to worry about Elvis having other commitments.

Chapter Text

The early 2000’s, Southern California

Resting his feet on his coffee table, Elvis listened to the harmonic melodies of the latest singing groups emerging from his radio. The count down broadcasting the newest hits had just finished and normal programming resumed. To many people, spending Saturday night listening to teenagers croon might be boring, but music was his life, a love ingrained from his youth in Memphis . Staying on top of America’s passion for this new, decadent, rock ’n’ roll was his business and Elvis was a superb businessman.

None of the other singers on the radio, Elvis thought fondly, could touch his Austin. He glanced over at the most recent publicity photo from the studio, a pre-release for Austin’s first movie. The silver frame displayed the black and white print of the youth’s striking looks to its best advantage. Fortunately, people never expressed surprise at Elvis’s predilection for having Austin’s photo in his home and office, assuming it a strategic move to advertise his successful protégé. No one realized it was more than mercenary good sense and a fondness for the lad that made Elvis gaze at the handsome youth with such pride and affection.

A knock sounded on the door and Elvis rose to cross the room and open it. As if conjured from his thoughts, Austin stood in the doorway. His hair, was mussed, his tie slightly askew and his jacket unbuttoned. The smell of alcohol hung in the air. Elvis glanced past him to see Austin’s car parked unevenly in front of the house, the left wheels halfway up the sidewalk.

“Can we talk?” Austin asked abruptly, “I know it’s late.”

“Of course. Come in.” Standing aside, Elvis let Austin step into the living room. The lad hesitated in the middle of the room. “I think you could use a cup of tea,” Elvis said, taking his elbow and guiding him toward the kitchen.

“That would be nice.” Austin docilely allowed himself to be led into the other room, taking a seat at the breakfast nook, watching as Elvis puttered around the kitchen, putting on a kettle to boil water. “I didn’t want to bother you at this time of night, but I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“I’m always here for you, Austin. Always,” Elvis spoke forcefully.

“It’s just – you’ve always been honest with me. You tell me when I’m good, you tell when I’m being a shite bastard. Not everyone does that in this town.”

Setting out two cups, spoons, sugar and milk, Elvis agreed. “It’s a town built on magical dreams and sordid lies, Austin. I told you that when you got the movie contract.” He spoke softly, not wanting to sound as if he was rebuking Austin. The young and naïve could be warned but some realities were simply not accepted and understood until experienced. Elvis’s own introduction into the music business had been occasionally brutal, forcing an enterprising Southern lad trying to make it big in the country to grow up fast.

“Yeah. I know.” Austin randomly traced patterns in the white formica of the table.

“I thought you had a date with Susan,” Elvis asked. “Didn’t things go well? She seemed like a nice young woman.”

Rather than answering Elvis’s question, Austin began rambling about the day’s filming. One of the movie’s musical scenes was shot that day, featuring Austin as an unknown who wows the crowd at a local talent show. Austin had become a success because he truly loved few things as much as singing, connecting with an adoring audience, and using his fine tenor to the fullest. Even the numerous retakes hadn’t diminished his enthusiasm as he prattled about the hectic events that occurred when a large crowd of teenage extras, overly excited to be watching one of their idols, had gotten out of the director’s dictatorial control.

Elvis let Austin’s words meander, knowing the youth would come to the point in his own good time. The filming didn’t seem to be the problem. He racked his mind to remember Susan and could only picture a sweet girl with sparkling hazel eyes, brown curls, and a large white poodle skirt. She was the daughter of one of the crew members – the cinematographer, he thought – and managed to wrangle a visit to the set through her father. Elvis had been present when she was introduced to Austin and had been amused and half-jealous by her barely-hidden delight when Austin politely requested a date.

The kettle boiled as Austin jamin’s ramble came to an end. Elvis made the tea and nodded toward the living room. “Let’s be comfortable, shall we?” Austin obediently moved back to the living room, tossing his jacket and tie on the chair. The two settled on the couch, not talking as they dealt with adding the proper portions of sugar and milk.

“Real tea,” Austin said, “not that tasteless shite they call tea in here. Bad water, I call it.”

Propping his feet on the coffee table and leaning back, Elvis agreed, "The taste of home," before prompting, “Susan.”

Staring at his tea, Austin said, “I thought we’d go up the coast, take a drive, go someplace quiet. Someplace I’m not known.”

Elvis stifled a laugh, wondering where Austin thought he would be unrecognized after being featured on teen magazine covers and selling several gold albums. The lad's personality was still naïve despite his fame. “But you didn’t,” he prompted again, as Austin stalled to a halt.

“Nah. Susan wanted to go someplace famous, someplace known. A swank restaurant for celebrities. So we went to that new place Mark was talking about. There were photographers and famous people and people trying to pretend they were famous and crowds gathered outside. They all screamed when I got out of the car.”

“How did Susan react?”

“Ah, she was so excited. All the people screaming and the fancy clothes and snobby waiters and people she’d only seen in magazines.”

“She was with Austin the star.” Elvis could see the old, familiar path of this story. It had happened to him. Every celebrity learned the bitter truth eventually – too many people wanted the giddy delight of living in a star’s shadow but didn’t care that a real person existed inside that celestial being.

“Yeah.” Austin looked at Elvis, before grimacing and staring back down at his cup. “Then we – went for a drive.”

“You went parking.”

“Well – yeah. She let me kiss her but she got all fussy about her hair and I got all excited and then she said she had to go home,” came out in a rush.

Elvis remembered those hormonally-ridden days, when the lightest kiss or the slightest peek of bare flesh gave him an erection. He didn’t miss the skyrocketing emotions and rampant physical needs. “You feel she got what she wanted from you but she didn’t deliver on her end of the bargain,” he said bluntly. Like many young, sometimes Austin needing forcing to face his own truths.

“Well, not that. I mean, I knew Susan wouldn’t well – you know. Not all the way. I just get so tired of it all. I mean – the kids today, they were fun. I talked to a lot of them and signed autographs until my hand cramped and the director got all mad about his schedule. But it’s got so tiring, you know? No one knows *me.* No one but you. Everyone – even Susan – just wants to be with ‘Austin.’” Austin shifted restlessly on the couch, his knee brushing Elvis’s.

“Maybe we should go home when the movie is finished,” Elvis suggested. “Spend some time in California. Look up your friends.”

“The people who knew me ‘before’? Nah, they won’t work. I saw everyone when we were home between those last tours.

From the evident bitterness, these feelings had been building slowly in Austin for a long time. Elvis had been too much out of touch with Austin lately, not wanting to waste all his time watching him work on the movie. Austin's shining optimism and good nature were being tarnished by the hard brass of reality while Elvis had been busy writing songs and lining up dates for the next tour. “I know it’s difficult, Austin. Believe me, I do understand what you’re going through. Not to the same extent,” he said, his mouth curving in a quirky understated smile, “but there are people out there – honest people. People who can be your friends, *your* friends, not just people hanging onto Austin."

"And the girls?" Austin asked. "You never found one."

Elvis shrugged uncomfortably. "There will be someone to love you, Austin, even if there hasn't been for me. Besides," he said lightly, "I'm still young. Maybe my perfect someone is waiting just outside." Or right next to me on the couch he added silently. If only…

"Maybe," Austin said despondently. "It seems there's no one to trust, no one who really listens to me or talks to me. No one but you." He put his cup down and flopped back, arms flinging to rest on the back of the couch.

Turning to look at the man he'd discovered singing with friends on a street corner as a young teenager and turned into an idol for millions of teenyboppers enjoying the postwar boom, Elvis wondered at the repetition of "No one but you." He held Austin's gaze, trying to see past those mysterious eyes into his mind. Was he tired of the constant travel from the last several years, when he’d met hundreds of new acquaintances in dozens of cities, but no true friends? Or could he possibly mean something more? Was this Austin's subtle way of broaching a subject that must seem very scary and frightening to the young man? Did he want something more than these young American girls, so repressed, so concerned at being labeled ‘bad girls’ that they couldn’t enjoy life? Taking a daring risk, Elvis set his tea cup on the table, took Austin's face into his hands, and kissed him. Austin's mouth was partially open as their lips met and Elvis's tongue darted out to trace along the soft lines, relishing the taste. For a second, he felt Austin's tongue slide against his before he was forcibly shoved back and Austin was leaping off the couch.

"You're a poof! A poof! God, I can't believe this!”

Elvis stood, making calming gestures. “Austin, it’s alright. It’s alright. I misunderstood.”

“You’re not my friend! You want – Christ, you want to - !”

Austin started to grab for his jacket and head for the door. Elvis panicked at what might happen if Austin, already depressed, slightly intoxicated, and hysterical from feeling betrayed by his mentor, got behind the wheel. Bad enough that he'd driven here from dropping off Susan. He strode after the young man, catching him in the short hallway, turning him around and holding him against the wall. “Austin, calm down.” In response, Austin only repeated the same accusations. Elvis shook him hard but Austin screamed again, “You want to fuck me!”

“Yes, I do!” Elvis practically bellowed. “But if I didn’t want your friendship more, don’t you think I would have done it already?”

The honesty shocked Austin into silence.

“Let’s go to my hotel room, little boy. Give me a blow job and I’ll make you a star. ” Elvis said savagely. “Do you think you could have resisted for long? It didn’t take you long to abandon your mates to be a solo star.”

Austin stared, still silent, numb from both Elvis's brutal honesty and his unexpected attack. Elvis normally responded to Austin's upsets with an even temper and words of calm reason. His rare spurts of anger always forced Austin to look hard at himself and his actions. His struggle with the decision to leave his mates, particularly once fame had come and he’d visited home, seeing them at boring jobs, was long and painful. Elvis had been there for him and never thrown that betrayal in his face, reminding him time and again of how his success helped his family.

Neither of them were perfect people without flaws. And he owed Elvis too much to judge him hastily.

“Now go sit down and we’ll talk this out. You’re not leaving here in this state.”

Like a zombie, Austin walked back into the living room, sat down on the chair facing the couch, his jacket dropping on the floor from lax hands. Elvis picked it up and hung it in the closet, flicking off the radio before he sat on the couch. He poured them both more tea, adding an extra dose of sugar to Austin’s before shoving it at him. “Drink,” he commanded.

Sipping slowly, Austin said, “All this time – you’ve been waiting to fuck me. And I never knew.”

“I don’t exactly advertise it,” Elvis said calmly. “It’s bad for our business.”

“You don’t want a wife.”

“No, I used to be married,” he admitted.

“But – “ Austin waved the tea cup helplessly, as if he didn’t even know where to start, his perception of his best friend and mentor too topsy-turvy for comprehension.

“It just *is,* Austin. It’s the way I am. I can’t explain it and I can’t change it. When I saw you singing that day – I was attracted to you, I admit it. You’re a beautiful young man. But most importantly, you have a voice and smile the angels would envy. I knew if you had any determination and were willing to work hard, I could make you a star, It’s a different world. The youth control the world, not the war.”

“You said that, when we had tea together. That I had to have determination and work hard. That it wouldn’t be easy.”

“I’ve tried to never lie to you, other than about my atraction for you. I wasn’t sure how you would react and you were so young. You’re still young,” he murmured.

“I’m an adult,” Austin flashed with the predictable anger of someone who is in his 20s.

“Yes, you’re an adult.”

“And what I’ve said was true. You’ve worked hard and you’ve been an amazing success. I misunderstood tonight. I hoped – you were like me. That you were reaching out to me but didn’t know how to say it. I apologize. It won’t happen again. This doesn’t need to be mentioned again. Nothing has to change.”

“Oh,” was Austin’s only response. Elvis waited with a sense of helpless frustration, allowing Austin to process this new information, hoping that he hadn’t ruined the best relationship of his life. Better to return to a state of frustrated longing than lose Austin forever. “That women, Samantha,” Austin said eventually, “that women who meets you in New York when we tour. She’s - ” he trailed off.

“She and I are lovers, yes. We’re not *in love.* But it’s good to spend time with someone.”

“Oh.” His eyelashes shuttered his eyes for a moment before Austin looked at Elvis again, as if seeing him with new sight.

“Better?” Elvis repeated, afraid to make any more assumptions on Austin’s meaning.

“You won’t lie to me ever again. Not about anything.”

“No,” Elvis promised emphatically. “Never again. There are no more secrets in my closet, Austin.”

“I guess – I guess we could just go on.”

“Thank you,” Elvis said calmly as relief soared through him. “We’re a great team, Austin. I’ve been working on new songs for you. You’ll love them.”

“I should go home,” Austin said. They both rose, Austin putting his cup down on the tray. They faced each other across the short width of the coffee table. Elvis was almost dizzy with relief. Their friendship would be saved. “That kiss – can I have another one?”

“Why?” Elvis asked hoarsely. Perhaps his hormonally-ridden days were not as gone as he thought, as all the blood in his body rushed to his groin.

“Because for four years I thought I knew everything about you. We’ve shared everything and sweated and worked hard and been best mates. And now I don’t quite know you. I need to know your kiss.” He stopped for a second before blurting out even more rapidly, “I don’t want to be like Susan, just lead you on for what I need and not give you what you need. But I need to know – more.”

Resting his hands on Austin’s shoulder, Elvis said, “I would be delighted to give you a kiss. And anything else you want. As long as you promise to say stop when you’ve had enough. And believe me, I won’t feel cheated.”

Austin nodded and then leaned together, Elvis bending down and Austin rising on his toes to eliminate the height gap. Their heads angled as their lips met, lingering together gently, barely touching. Elvis pulled back briefly, but when Austin stayed compliantly in the same place, he kissed him another time. The second was as sweet as the first, but deeper, mouths opening wider, tongues beginning to explore.

Walking around the coffee table, Austin took Elvis’s hand as he sat down on the couch. “Another?” Elvis asked, his voice husky. The third was even deeper and harder, Austin’s tongue as aggressive as Elvis’s, his arms sliding around Elvis’s chest.

“That’s nice,” Austin said when they broke for air. “Nice.”

“Yes, it is.” Elvis agreed. It was. Daringly, Elvis said, “But there’s many things even better.”

“What things?” Austin asked almost shyly.

Elvis’s hand splayed on Austin’s shirt, his index finger resting over one nipple, rubbing firmly. Austin breathed harshly and shivered. “Ah, You don’t have to”

“No, I don’thave to.” He leaned closer, whispering in his ear, “But I want”

Austin’s hips bucked and Elvis smiled. The young man was obviously excited, evidenced by his cock pushing against the front of his trousers. Perhaps the excitement could be expected as part of Austin’s passionate personality – the willingness to try anything, taste everything, experience all that life has to offer – or perhaps Austin’s true nature was being freed from the constraints of polite society which hadn’t allowed him to even contemplate a different way of life. Maybe he just needed to be taken by the hand and showed the possibilities that existed.

“Can I taste you?” Elvis crooned in his ear.

Austin nodded his head eagerly.

Guiding Austin to lie down on the couch, Elvis went to his knees on the floor. He unbuttoned the front of Austin’s shirt, pulling it loose from his body, and pushed his undershirt up, exposing the firm, young chest. Elvis’s fingers played in the faint trickle of hair that arrowed down the center before leaning forward and licking at Austin’s nipples, alternating between the two, applying first a light pressure, then harder, firmer and more lingering. Austin’s hands twisted in Elvis’s short, brown hair as his nipples peaked under the attention.

Elvis snuggled his forearms on either side of Austin’s head, bending down until the lips touched. He took Austin’s mouth as aggressively as he’d ever dreamed, imprinting himself on Austin’s lips, and the lad responded as enthusiastically as he could ever hope.

Breaking their lips apart, he explored Austin’s face, nuzzling at his cheekbones, pressing kisses on the strong nose. Austin allowed the exploration, his body limp and passive on the couch, a helpless shiver his main response. Elvis worked his way down Austin’s torso, discovering the taste of his Adam’s apple, the width of his shoulder bones, the taut flesh of his abdomen.

Stopping at the top of Austin’s trousers, he ran a finger along the waistline. Austin’s skin was so perfect, creamy pale, the solid muscle underneath rippling and flinching at Elvis’s touch.

“Do you want more?” Austin asked hesitantly.

“I’d like to take care of this for you,” Elvis replied, letting the top of one finger trace the fly of Austin’s trousers.

Biting his lower lip, Austin nodded. Elvis nimbly unbuttoned his belt buckle, undid the single button and unzipped his trousers. Austin cooperated by arching his back as Elvis pushed his trousers and underwear down his legs, puddling them around his knees. His hands caressed Austin’s firm upper thighs. They matched the rest of Austin’s body, slender and yet surprisingly muscular. But Austin’s thighs weren’t what Elvis most wanted and he soon began kissing Austin’s erection, licking the sensitive flesh before taking it into his mouth. It was everything Elvis desired, Austin’s musky scent filling his nose, his eager cock in Elvis’s mouth, the taste of youth and innocence flooding his senses.

“Jeez!” Austin exclaimed, as Elvis sucked, swallowing as much of Austin’s cock as he could. The curses became more graphic, Austin chanting swear words rhythmically as he buried his hands in Elvis’s hair and he thrust frenziedly, coming within seconds.

“Jeez, I can’t believe it,” Austin muttered, his body limp and satiated. “I can’t believe that felt that good.”

“Personally, I thought it was a little fast.”

“Oh. Sorry,” Austin flushed, embarrassed at his lack of control.

“I think we’ll try it again, a little slower. If you don’t mind.”

A squeak of surprise was Austin’s only comment as Elvis began again, taking the flaccid organ in his hands, cherishing it with tiny kisses and long strokes of his tongue. It took longer this time and was even more satisfying to Elvis, feeling Austin’s life force pulsate in his mouth, hearing Austin’s ragged exclamations of delight and astonishment, knowing he’d given Austin the ultimate gift of a perfect orgasm. Even without stimulation, he came in his trousers when Austin gave a final strangled scream, the lad’s excitement enough to push him over the edge.

“Wow,” Austin said when he could talk. Snuggling next to him on the couch, Elvis pulled the smaller man around so his own back was on the couch and Austin rested on his chest, held in place by Elvis’s embracing arms. He wished he could turn off the lights but was reluctant to disturb the atmosphere of bliss surrounding them.

”I’m so tired. I could fall asleep right here,” Austin said finally.

“You should stay the night.” When Austin tensed under his hands, Elvis added, “In the guest bedroom. Just like you do when we work late. You’re too tired to be driving. There are some of your clothes in the closet – you can clean up and go home tomorrow.”

With a soft kiss on Elvis’s nose, Austin stood, tugging his undershirt down and pulling up his pants. “Good night then.”

“Good night, Austin. And thank you.”

“Yeah, thank you.”

After the lad stumbled off to bed, Elvis lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling, wondering what tonight meant. Would it be a one-night fluke, caused by the combination of Austin’s unhappiness and insatiable curiosity and Elvis’s unrequited desire? Would Austin act as if everything was normal in the morning, allowing them to resume the mentor protégé relationship that made the single name of “Austin” a household word? Or was tonight the start of something even better? The long-term relationship Elvis yearned for with all his heart and soul?

**********

In the morning everything seemed fine. Elvis was cooking breakfast when Austin stumbled down the hall, still slightly yawning but freshly showered and casually dressed. Elvis slid a plate of eggs, bacon, toast, and fried tomatoes in front of Austin as he sat down. It was a breakfast from home and Elvis hoped it would give a sense of comfort after last night’s revelation.

Austin dug in with enthusiasm after a muttered, “Thanks.” Eating his own breakfast with slower appreciation, Elvis brought up the next tour and the two intently discussed cities and venues Austin should play.

The night before was acknowledged only one time. Placing his hand over Elvis’s, Austin squeezed once as he met Elvis’s eyes and said, “Thanks…for listening last night…and the rest.” The lad blushed slightly and averted his gaze.

Squeezing back once, Elvis replied, “I’m always here for you, Austin.”

Austin nodded, separating their hands, and that was the end of it.

Making a silent vow to himself, Elvis swore that it would be enough. He had Austin’s friendship, respect, and one memory of that handsome face and strong body lost in the throes of passion.

It had to be enough.

*********

When the phone call came two weeks later it surprised Elvis, even though he'd planned for such a possibility.

Working on a movie was unlike anything Austin had ever done. He was accustomed to long hours in the studio and a grueling schedule of concert dates but only with a group of musicians or an audience. How he would react to a cast and crew of dozens dependent on how he uttered every syllable and hit every cue was new. Elvis had little experience in the endeavor to help him.

Elvis had stayed the first few days, observing Austin's developing relations with the others and his reactions to the work. Everything seemed fine. Austin was a likeable young man who quickly made friends. The role was his choice and he wanted to do well, paying careful attention to the director's wishes and advice from his new drama coach.

So after a few days, Elvis had a discreet conversation with the drama coach and left Austin to it, only dropping by to check on the movie's progress occasionally. Madame Lefave's voice on the phone was a shock then, Elvis not instantly placing her husky French accent that he guessed covered the broader nasal tones of a native New Yorker.

"He is being ze prima donna, Monsieur Elvis," she complained, "and I cannot do a thing with him. Ze director is furious. You must come help."

"I'm on my way," he replied tersely.

His ears were assailed by both excited whisperings and discontented murmurings when he stepped inside the huge studio. Everyone seemed to be on a smoke break, puffing away at their cigarettes. Even the tech people were chatting rather than fussing interminably with the lighting. The room reeked with the harsh smell of nicotine, the exhilaration from those who found emotional scenes titillating, the discontent from those who were jealous of Austin's quick rise to fame, and boredom from those who wanted to get a good day's work in the can without temperamental scenes.

He wondered if any had called a columnist yet. Austin's publicity was universally good; no doubt any of Hollywood's gossip mavens would snap eagerly at a sign that the newest golden boy wasn't so perfect.

Making his way toward Austin's dressing room, he smiled and nodded politely at people, pretending the timing of this visit was purely accidental. Madame Lefave gave him a haughty sniff but made no further move toward him. Her task was done and he would remember to reward her with a larger paycheck for this week’s coaching.

Entering without knocking, he found Austin sprawled on the small daybed. He was wearing jeans and a white T-shirt, the flannel shirt that comprised the rest of that day's costume tossed on the floor.

"Come to get me in line?"

Elvis swung a chair around and sat down on it backwards, his arms resting on the back. "Have you been out of line?" he questioned mildly. Patience and understanding were always his best response to Austin’s few flare-ups.

"I just get so sick of it! I had to say the same line twenty times today! Twenty times! 'Gosh Mr. Peterson, that'd be neat!' The lights were wrong then someone's make-up had to be touched up, then Jennifer wasn't in the right spot…" He let out an exasperated noise.

"Austin, what's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" He jumped up and paced the small room, kicking the flannel shirt out of the way. "I've told you what's wrong. I'm sick of always being on cue and doing the same thing over and over because of someone else's mistakes!"

Elvis snagged the shirt and tossed it on the bed. Still patient but more insistent, Elvis said, "I've seen you sing the same line fifty times without complaining to get the sound right. So what's wrong?"

Austin sighed and paced back the other way. "I'm surprised you're even here. Don't you have to go to the airport?"

"The airport?" Elvis parroted the words though he knew what Austin meant.

Making the two syllables sound like separate words, Austin said, "Samantha.” Elvis raised his brow but remained silent, wanting more. With exasperation, Austin continued, “At the airport. Coming in this afternoon. She called me last night when she couldn't reach you. Did you have a nice dinner?" The unusual snideness in Austin's tone told its own story. Austin wasn't unhappy about the frustrations of the daily filming; his sole source of anxiety was Elvis's personal life.

Elvis didn't let his hopes rise. Austin's jealousy wasn't particularly new, evidenced several years ago when his fame was escalating and he tried to convince Elvis to drop the rest of his clients. Elvis had fallen victim to his own desires then, waiting eagerly for some signal from Austin that he wanted a closer relationship before ultimately realizing Austin was simply trying to exercise control over his environment. And Elvis was the only constant element in his life. Answering the last questions first, Elvis said, "Yes, I had a very nice dinner with a prospective client. You're not the only person I manage, if you recall." Elvis forbade any comment at Austin's subtle flinch at the reminder. "And yes, Samantha is coming in this afternoon to spend the weekend. She didn't mention she’d talked to you when she finally reached me."

"I told her that since I wasn't your secretary," Austin sniped, "I didn't see you every day and she ought to keep trying herself.”

Elvis stood and blocked Austin's pacing using his body to subtly pressure the other man against the wall. "Is that what this is about? Do you want to see me every day?"

"Are you going to bugger her?"

Placing his hands on the slim, denim-covered hips, Elvis took another step closer. "Do you object?"

Glaring down at the floor, Austin muttered, "I don't want you to. I don't want you to bugger her. I don’t want to think about the two of you together. But I don't - "

Elvis sighed and gently brushed his beard on Austin's smooth face. "You don't know what you want, do you?"

Austin repeated more firmly. "I don't want you buggering her. "

Hoping to force Austin into further declaration, Elvis slid one hand into the small of Austin's back, the cotton T-shirt soft against his palm, while he cupped Austin's cock through the stiff denim. "If you want, I'll put Samantha up at a hotel. I have to have dinner with her tonight. She’s my friend and I owe her some time. We won't have sex. But," he warned, catching one of Austin's hands and bringing it to his own groin, "I can't be celibate forever." He inhaled sharply as without encouragement, Austin curled his fingers, squeezing. For a long moment they stood, each fondling the other, Elvis's eyes darkening while Austin's widened with discovery.

"No, not forever. I can feel that," Austin said with a touch of humor. "I'll - figure things out. Soon. I promise."

"I'll wait as long as I can." Elvis liked the way the pupils in Austin’s eyes dilated. Elvis stepped back but glanced down in concern. With the enthusiasm of youth, Austin had reached full erection from Elvis's brief touches. "You can't go out there like that. Let me take care of you."

He started to sink down but Austin caught him. "Nah, not that way. With your hands. I want… I want to know your kisses when I come."

Elvis delayed only long enough to grab the washcloth from the rack. Austin unbuckled his belt and pushed his jeans and underwear down to rest on his thighs. His penis leaped out, curving up eagerly and for a second Elvis regretted Austin's choice as his mouth watered. Then he wrapped the cloth around the stiff flesh and buried his tongue deep in Austin's mouth.

The youth arched, digging his fingers into the broad muscles of Elvis's back. He hadn't wanted the cloth shielding his skin from the touch of Elvis's palm but he understood the need to protect his costume. Even with the covering, he could feel the individual digits of Elvis's hand, working together to pump him, jerking rapidly and forcefully, bringing him to ecstasy.

It was so very like Elvis, thinking of Austin's costume, of Austin's pleasure, drowning Austin's cries with the heat of his kiss to protect Austin's reputation. Always taking care of him.

Would it be different if they went all the way? If Elvis held him down and pounded into him? How would the care and understanding be expressed if Elvis turned him around, put his hands to the wall, and took him?

At the fleeting visual images of them together, Austin came, the tidal wave of pleasure cresting through him. He hung limply in Elvis's arms, allowing the man to lean him against the wall. He watched dazed as Elvis pulled out his own cock, wrapped the dampened cloth around it, and came with a few urgent strokes, his cry muffled by biting his forearm.

Austin tugged his clothes into place, watching as Elvis steadied his breathing and attended to his own attire. Still without speaking, he quickly drew a comb through his hair restoring it to place, and patted at his face. His make-up was ruined by the streaks of perspiration. Grabbing the other washcloth, he wiped his face, cleaning off the rest of the face powder. He'd tell the make-up girl he was doing jumping jacks to burn off energy. She was accustomed to Austin's active ways disturbing her careful work.

Elvis was watching his preparations, appearing to Austin as he always did – elegant, polished, successful. Pulling on his outer shirt, Austin promised one more time, "I'll figure things out soon."

*******

The loud knocking interrupted his contemplation of the city. He didn't know how long he'd been staring out the window, looking down at the Saturday morning traffic, but his tea had grown cold in his hands.

He was thinking about Elvis again.

He recalled that first dinner in America when he'd learned Elvis had other commitments, leaving Austin to spend several days strolling around New York with Diana’s beautiful but ditzy cousin. All four of them dined together every evening. The two were only alone in their hotel room late at night. The experience put him on edge, a feeling he attributed to the bewildering energy of the metropolis and its jaded citizenry. He hadn’t felt right until they started working on recording more songs for his debut album, just the two of them and the studio musicians spending eight hours a day in the studio.

Was he in love with Elvis? Had he been for a long time? Was that why he enjoyed the older man’s company so much? Why he had so eagerly and willingly let Elvis make love to him, not once but twice? Did his body know what his brain couldn't accept?

Or was it just possessiveness? Elvis had been leaving him alone at the movie studio while writing songs, so now Austin needed proof that he was important to Elvis? Was he really just a spoiled dog in the manger who didn't want Elvis but wouldn't let anyone else have him?

Lorraine Dawson. Behind the horn-rimmed glasses she wore to play the school librarian, the older actress was a beautiful woman. Not even that old – probably around Elvis’s age. Her auburn hair was gorgeous when she freed it from its tight bun and swirled around her shoulders. Though they flirted on the set, Austin never even thought about dating her, taking the seductive banter merely as an indicator of her friendliness to a foreigner.

Maybe he should give her a call and see if she was free for dinner. He would take her to a quiet restaurant and then find out if she would be his dessert. Between Elvis’s worries about gossip mongers, long tiring days at the studio, and too many girls who felt obligated to be wined and dined before he even got a kiss, much less a good feel, it had been far too long since he’d been between the thighs of a woman, since he’d known the sensation of losing himself in a beautiful warm body rather than his hand.

Or Elvis’s mouth. Or Elvis’s hand. Elvis’s so very knowledgeable and skilled mouth and hand. Elvis's talented and experienced touch that gave him more pleasure than any woman ever had.

At those alarming memories, he reached for the phone. Maybe a good hard fuck was all he needed to exorcise these unsettling thoughts from his mind.

And then he could see Elvis and set him free.

*******

The first package arrived on Tuesday morning, delivered by a uniformed messenger from one of Hollywood's ritziest stores. Elvis wouldn't even have guessed that Austin knew the store existed, but it was his protégé's sprawling writing on the attached note. "We need to talk. I've booked us rooms at an inn in Santa Barbara this weekend. Here's something to make sure you aren't late. Austin." A small map with directions was enclosed. He tore off the wrapping to find a gold watch, both elegant and masculine in design.

A set of golf clubs arrived the next day. The note this time said, "When we get tired of talking, I understand there's an excellent golf course nearby. B." Elvis swung each club admiring the balance and workmanship. Creating a small putting green in his living room, he whiled away the evening hours in pleasant anticipation.

Thursday's box was small and from a reputable jeweler. The note said merely, "Don't forget your dinner jacket." The cufflinks were gold to match his new watch, with his initials "EP" inscribed in cursive letters. Elvis went to start his packing.

Friday's present had him opening his suitcase to insert one more item - a dressing gown in blue velvet which matched his eyes. At first he thought there was no note, but then in a fit of whimsy he pulled the gown on over his clothes and tucked his hands in the pockets. Paper crinkled and he pulled out the final note. It had only three words written on it. "Tonight. Yours, Austin."

******

Austin was already there, walking on the beach, barefoot and with his pant legs rolled up. Elvis found him easily, surrounded by a small group of admirers, signing autographs and answering questions. He waved a hand and introduced, "My manager, Elvis Presley," which earned Elvis only brief looks from the girls before their attention was captured by their idol.

Elvis admired the ease with which Austin handled the crowded, adroitly signing autographs, answering questions and smiling all at the same time. Elvis may have given him the lessons, but Austin was an apt student. Once finished, Austin waved the girls away and they went reluctantly. The two fell into step as they walked along the beach.

"I'm glad you came," Austin said finally.

"Did you doubt I would?"

"Nah, guess not."

"I need to know where we stand, what you expect of this weekend."

Austin answered obliquely. "I took Lorraine out last Saturday. I never thought much about older women but - someone - suggested…well anyway. We went dancing and then for a drive and I realized she'd let me do anything I wanted. She made that pretty clear."

"And did you?" Elvis asked, dreading the answer.

"Nah. 'Cuz it'd be just like Susan, wouldn't it? Oh she'd…" Austin glanced away, embarrassed. "She'd come across but it'd be the same. Neither of them wants me for me. Neither of them has been there at my side for years, taking care of me. Neither of them would want to stay if things went bad, if the glamour disappears. Neither of them…really loves me. You've always loved me, haven't you?"

"I tried not to," Elvis admitted candidly. "I didn't want to take advantage. But you're such a special person." Automatically, he glanced around, noting the closeness of other people. Their wandering had led them to an isolated area close to the rocks, so Elvis dared to cup one of Austin's cheeks with his hand, his thumb brushing Austin's cheekbone. "I can't imagine life without you," he said simply. "As your manager, your friend…or more, if you'll have me."

"Then I want to be your lover. Or try, anyway," Austin amended. "What we did before, that seemed nice. I think more would be okay. But I haven't - " He bit his lip.

"I understand, Austin. Don't worry. We'll only do what makes you comfortable."

"Then tonight. I'll come to you," Austin promised.

*****

The anticipation was expected but the nervousness surprised him. Elvis paced the hotel bedroom, waiting for Austin to come to him, unable to relax. His jitters were worse than the first time he stepped onto a stage, blinded by the spotlights, but knowing hundreds of people were watching him, waiting for him to entertain them.

Stopping at the full-length mirror, he studied his reflection, trying to examine himself from Austin's eyes - from the perspective of a potential lover. His body was in good shape, kept fit by regular workouts. Tall and broad and male though, it was not likely that Austin had ever imagined loving such a body.

Enough people, both men and women, had told him he was handsome.

The figure in the mirror stroked its cheeks and Elvis wondered frantically if he should have shaved?

Then other hands slid down the brocade lapels of his dressing gown, coming to rest on the tie and Austin murmured, "I knew this color would match your eyes." Austin's face was smiling over his shoulder, his hold on Elvis allowing him to keep his balance as he rose up on his toes. "Sorry I took so long. I didn't want to be seen."

"I'm just glad you came."

Those busy fingers were undoing the tie and the blue velvet robe dropped open. "Damn," Austin said dubiously, "I thought I remembered how big you were. Is that going to fit?"

His penis hardening at the mere suggestion, Elvis promised hoarsely, "Yes, absolutely." He turned, pulling Austin into his arms. They fit together perfectly, as naturally as if they'd been created for each other. They kissed passionately, learning again the sweet taste of lips and teeth and tongue.

With a light shove, Austin broke away. "Nah, not this way." When a distressed look crossed Elvis's face, he kissed him quickly and reassuringly before backing him across the room and pushing him to sit in the armchair. "I know you. You'd pleasure me first. But we've done that twice already. This time," he said, sinking to his knees between Elvis's thighs, "this time is for you."

Elvis could only groan at the sight of that beloved face so close to his erect penis. Trust Austin to insist on being a full participant. Elvis hoped he had the stamina to truly appreciate Austin's taking control.

Then Austin’s hands were on his chest, exploring his skin with his fingertips, stroking from his shoulder blades to the crease where thigh met torso and back again. Austin delicately plucked at Elvis's nipples and smiled in satisfaction when they hardened. "Not so very different," he murmured.

"No," Elvis agreed, barely able to speak as warm hands wrapped around his cock, measuring its length and thickness..
"Now this," Austin said, "this is very different."

"Not so different from you. From what you're used to feeling."

"True," Austin agreed. "So I'll just do what I like having done, shall I?" No answer was required as Austin leaned forward and pressed his lips to the top of Elvis's cock. Using his lips, tongue, teeth and hands, he explored Elvis's cock, his heavy testicles and the smooth skin of his inner thighs. His touch was hesitant for mere seconds as Austin was quickly emboldened by Elvis's moans and the comforting feeling of knowing what Elvis would be experiencing. Not a woman with a woman's mysterious responses and way of thinking, but a man, simple and direct, needing the warm stimulation that would lengthen his penis to its ultimate hardness, draw his balls up tight and then finally allow release in a sweeping ecstasy of pleasure. Pleasure that would leave his body satisfied and his cock limp and relaxed.

Austin’s lips played around the tip of his cock, his tongue lingering in the slit, swirling around the flared head, tickling at the sensitive underside. Elvis’s hands, lying on his thighs, twitched with suppressed need. Opening his mouth wide, Austin slipped it over Elvis’s cock, taking as much as he could. He sucked fiercely, feeling like he had a jawbreaker in his mouth and was determined to reach the sweet center. The taste was unfamiliar and slightly bitter in Austin’s mouth, but surprisingly flavorful. Fingers wrapped in his hair, Elvis’s hands convulsing on his skull.

He felt the throbbing in his mouth, the signal that Elvis was about to come, and those hands yanked on his hair, pulling him away. He didn't go far, still kneeling on the ground, watching as Elvis came, his body shuddering, the milky fluid landing on his thighs. Watching another man come from such a close perspective was a new sight, but one that Austin found strangely erotic and gratifying.

Elvis gathered Austin into straddling his lap, the youth smiling in a very self-satisfied cat who ate the canary way. It was so like Austin. Austin, who crowed when he perfectly hit a note he'd been striving for. Austin, who found pride but not arrogance in his accomplishments. The smugness reassured Elvis that the experience was mutually enjoyable.

Elvis kissed him, curling a hand around his penis, not surprised to find it only half-hard.

"Get into bed," he said and Austin went, sliding between the sheets, watching Elvis as he disappeared into the bathroom. Elvis left the door open so Austin could see him wet a cloth and wash the semen from his body.

Dropping his robe over Austin's, he slid into bed next to him.

"You'll want to – well, take me now?"

"In a little bit. I need to recover."

"Oh."

He reached for the whiskey and glasses he placed on the night stand and poured them generous measures.

Austin took the offered glass with a half-mocking smile. "Getting me drunk, are you?"

"It will help if you are relaxed."

"Oh."

The repetition of that single syllable worried Elvis. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"No. I want to." The affirmation was emphatic. "I've been thinking about it enough. What it would be like. I want to know."

"Then drink up and roll over." Elvis was warmed by Austin's obvious trust in him as the lad followed his directions, swallowing the liquor before setting the glass down and stretching out on the bed. The blankets and sheets slipped to the small of his back and Elvis admired the elegant lines of his body. Short, compact, and yet so finely made.

He didn't linger any longer, not wanting to let anticipation cause Austin to worry, but oiled his fingers and slipped one between the cheeks of his ass and into his body. He searched for the one spot that would guarantee Austin's pleasure and was relieved to find it easily, as evidenced by Austin's gasping exclamation.

"Jeez! What is that?"

A chuckle signaled Elvis's happiness. "It's called a prostate." He stroked the spot again, pleased when Austin shivered and clutched at the pillow. "I gather you like it," he teased.

"Like it? Ah – " Any further words were lost as Elvis stroked a third time.

Moving with haste but finesse, Elvis introduced another finger and then yet one more, stretching the tight muscle and preparing Austin to accept him, keeping a steady rhythm of touches against his prostate.

Letting his fingers slip out, he was gratified by Austin's small, needy whimper at the loss. He nestled his legs between Austin's spread thighs, kissing the back of his head and whispering, "Don't worry, it gets better," before thrusting his cock slowly into Austin.

His intention was to keep his speed slow and the motion of his hips smooth, all too conscious of Austin's virginity. But Austin was never a blushing initiate at anything, doing everything with enthusiasm. After the first few strokes, the younger man shoved back as fiercely as Elvis thrust, turning the sex into a battle, a duel to see how hard Austin could take it and how forcefully Elvis could give it to him. Elvis was surprised but willing, responding with vigor as he lunged deeper, his hands clenching on the sheets as he locked his elbows to give himself more power.

For Austin, having Elvis's cock in his mouth had seemed the easy part when he contemplated the evening. He knew what that was like from the other side. Knowing that Elvis wanted to bugger him was difficult to imagine but surprisingly easy accepting in reality. After the initial mild pain and discomfort, it was all pleasure, taking Elvis into his body, feeling the other man's power and passion become a part of him. They were truly united now, bound together by Elvis's hard cock plunging into his body, raking across his prostate and sending fire throughout his body. Welcoming Elvis felt unbelievably right and Austin wanted more, wanted all that Elvis could give him, wanted Elvis to fuck him until he completely filled Austin, until the two were no longer divisible and dropped from exhaustion.

They fought the battle fiercely, the sounds of their moans and the smell of sweat and sex filling the air until their joint cries of passion proclaimed they both won.

*****

The wrap party was in full swing when Elvis arrived. A band played on one side of the room while a lavish selection of food was spread out on tables on the other side. Actors, executives, technical crew, and associated hanger-ons mingled together, celebrating the end of a successful production, bemoaning the loss of the closeness that had developed during the shoot and boasting about or angling for their next job.

Austin was the adored center of attention. Everyone wanted to congratulate him, for the most part out of a genuine liking but also to treasure the ability to say they'd known him when he was a fledging actor. His future in movies seemed as assured as his success in movies and all Hollywood loves a success.

Elvis waded into the throng of admirers, gave Austin a hearty hug, basking in the reflected glow as his manager for a few minutes, then strolled over to the food table, spending the next few hours nibbling on appetizers, making new contacts or touching base with old ones. He indulged in his favorite pastime, watching Austin. To a casual observer, the younger man fairly glowed with excitement but Elvis could detect the slight strain around his eyes. Something was causing Austin stress but now wasn’t the time to discuss it.

The producer trapped Elvis on the other side of the room, boring him with a lengthy monologue. Elvis finally broke free when he realized Austin was gone. He found him in the dressing room, sitting in a chair, his feet propped on a box containing his personal possessions, and a contemplative expression on his face.

Austin turned to face Elvis at the tiny clicking sound of the door being locked. Elvis leaned down and they kissed lightly but Austin's response was more abstracted than passionate.

"Sorry to be finished?"

"Nah. It's been fun but I'm ready to concentrate on music again. The acting was fun but music is the best."

Elvis stroked one finger down the curve of Austin's face. "Then what's wrong? You seem distracted."

"That's always the way it's going to be, isn't it? You'll give me a hug or pat my back in public but then lock the door behind us. You'll never come up to me at a party and kiss me or hold my hand or ever just stay at my side all evening. Not like a bird would."

"No, I never will. I can't. It's not just bad for business, it would ruin both of us. Can you imagine the uproar if we even held hands in public?" Squatting down, he rested one hand on Austin's knee, feeling the tenseness of his leg muscles.

"And having brought me this far, you're not going to let your love ruin me, are you?"

"Why are you doing this Austin? You knew how things had to be from the beginning."

"Yeah, but then it seemed all secret and exciting. Picking those presents for you and telling outrageous stories to the sales clerks about why I was buying my manager such nice things. Escaping off to Santa Barbara and these last few weeks…we've spent all our time together and that's been great, getting to know this whole other side of you. And the sex," Austin flushed, "well, we've spent so much time in bed that I hadn't thought much about being out in public. Until tonight."

"And now that you're thinking about it?"

"I'm thinking…maybe I should go home. See my family before we go back to the recording studio."

The desire to fight Austin's suggestion was strong. The urge to carry him off and keep him close was fierce and his emotions slipped before he could stop them. "I don't want you to go."

"I don't know that I want to go. But I think I must."

Though he felt like it was a low blow, Elvis couldn't stop himself from saying, "I thought your friends also treated you like a celebrity, that I was the only one who still saw you as Austin, not Austin."

Austin flinched at the accuracy of that shot. "Yeah, they do. But they're my friends too. I just - I need to get away for a while."

Elvis conceded the fight. At least Austin wasn't leaving permanently and Elvis would know where he was. He nodded his acceptance as he stood up, pulling Austin into his arms. "But not tonight?" he asked with hope.

“No, not tonight.”

“Good." He said kissing Austin.

********

By the time they drove their cars separately to Elvis’s, parking and walking into the house with decorum, the emotional exhaustion of the party caught up with Austin. Elvis undressed him efficiently, tucking him into the bed and undressing himself before joining him. Austin rolled over and cuddled into Elvis's arms. "I'm sorry. I can hardly keep my eyes open."

"It's okay," Elvis reassured him truthfully. "Go to sleep." He wanted this experience to be special, not undermined by tiredness. The thought of Austin going back home alone scared him. But he missed his friends.

*********

Austin liked waking slowly, liked emerging from a pleasant dream to the sensation of his early morning arousal making him stiff and hard, stretching in the warm sheets and letting the wisps of sleep clear from his mind.

There was a hand stroking him. He groaned and nestled back into Elvis's arms, shivering as teeth latched onto his ear and nibbled.

"Damn, that feels good."

The "good morning" was amused but the "ready for me to fuck you?" snapped Austin fully awake.

*********

New York

Elvis roamed through the house, drinking a beer. He was supposed to meet a songwriter but he’d cancelled, not being able to stomach the pretense of the music business schmoozing. Too many days had passed. Austin was gone, on a plane ticket with no set return date, and Elvis was miserable.

He truly missed Austin.

***********

Miami

His powerful arms and legs slicing through the water, Elvis loved the Miami sun. Almost any day of the year he could slip on his trunks, plunge into his backyard pool, and swim an endless number of laps while the sun baked into his body. To him, Miami would never be as beautiful as Memphis, but the weather was better for his needs. And right now he needed to push himself until he was too tired to think. Reducing himself to a mindless state of exhaustion was the only way to avoid dwelling on Austin and his absence. Alcohol hadn't worked.

Two weeks… Only two weeks so far. Sooner or later, Austin would contact him. Maybe to end their romantic relationship. Maybe to end their business relationship. Maybe, if fate was kind, to resume both.

He stopped swimming and rolled on his back, staring at the blue sky, letting the sun caress his skin with its warmth.

"I was beginning to wonder if you would ever stop," said an amused voice.

In his shock at hearing Austin, Elvis floundered for a moment, slapping at the water, finally righting himself and swiftly reaching the edge of the pool. Austin was crouched down by the side, resting on his heels, elbows on his knees. "Austin. You're back." Instantly he cursed himself for the stupid, obvious words, but he could only stare in delight at Austin.

"Yeah. You really like to swim, don't you?"

Drinking in the sight of Austin, smiling, relaxed…confident Austin, Elvis replied, "Yes." He waited to hear the decision that imbued Austin with such ease, the anticipation stealing what breath remained from his exertion.

"We'll have to have one at our place. With a much higher fence."

"Our place?" Surely Austin was a sorcerer, for he had stolen Elvis's ability to string together a coherent sentence.

"Yeah. Well, it'll be known as my place, won't it? It's about time I moved out of the apartment and into a real house." Grinning, he said, "With a big backyard and a high fence so the neighbors can't see if I make mad, passionate love to my manager in the pool."

Swallowing against a dry throat, Elvis agreed, "Yes, a high fence sounds like a good plan."

"In the meantime, I guess we'd better save the wild passion for the bedroom, eh? Hate to give your neighbors a show." With those careless words, Austin stood, picking up his suitcase and walking toward the house as he loosened his tie. Stopping at the backdoor, he turned to throw a challenging look at Elvis. "Well?" he asked before continuing into the house.

Grasping the side of the pool, Elvis pushed himself up and swung onto the ground, following Austin's path. The luggage was dropped inside the doorway. Austin's tie was on the living room floor, his shoes in the short hallway, his shirt at the entrance to Elvis's bedroom. The rest of his clothes were in an untidy pile on the bedroom floor. Austin was lying out on the bed, idly stretching his arms and legs, squirming slightly on the pale blue sheets, the covers tossed to one side.

It was Elvis's fantasy from the first time Austin sang to an audience. His lover, waiting for him, wanting him.

"Austin, I have to know."

"Know what?" Austin asked, with an odd smile on his face.

"What this means," Elvis said hoarsely.

Austin twisted, rising up on his knees, crawling to the edge of the bed and placing his hands on Elvis's hips, suddenly serious. "It means that I've done all the thinking I needed to do. That everything is straight in my mind. That you are the one right person in the world for me. You've proved that over and over again. You are my manager, my friend… my love.”

The untidy bedroom might not have been the most romantic place for such a declaration but the words could not have been any more sincere. Curling his hands around Austin's wrists, Elvis, one of the supreme lyricists of rock 'n' roll could only say, "Oh…my love."

A flash of mood change and Austin grinned. "Now get this suit off and prove your love."

Catching his spirit, Elvis promised, "Any time, any place, every day, every night…" He stripped off the clingy wet suit as Austin fell back, holding onto his knees to press his legs to his chest, demonstrating how he wanted to be taken. Preparation was swift, both too impatient for lengthy foreplay, and then Elvis was sinking deep into Austin. His position held Austin's legs against his chest, allowing Austin's hands to be free to roam at will. And roam they did - over Elvis's back, his arms, through his hair, moving ceaselessly to communicate his need.

The unconscious restraint was gone, a sense of freedom sweeping through Elvis. He no longer had to worry about all the nagging questions - whether he could make it good for Austin, whether Austin would like it, whether Austin would stay with him. Austin had made his choice. Austin wanted him and they would be together forever.