Lest We Forget

When John woke up, around noon, he was alone in his bunk bed. The tour bus was empty, except for Pogo who had passed out in a sofa in the corner, but he didn't seem to be one to wake up the next many hours - he had probably taken one too many strange pills the night before and would have the worst hangover in history when he finally regained consciousness. That meant it would be smartest to stay as far away from him as possible the rest of the day. Pogo was not the one to fuck with when he was either hungry or had a hangover.
The blonde looked around as to see if there were any more bandmembers around but none was to be seen. He wondered where the rest of the band had gone, they had performed in a rather small city last night so it wasn't like there was much to see around here, but they had probably found a small bar anyways that had open early and settled there for their day off. They probably hadn't been able to wake him or Pogo for that matter, when they took off but he could catch up with them later if he felt like it. For now he would take a long, hot shower and get dressed before Pogo woke up and kicked his ass for no apparent reason, a habit he had gotten a bit too far into lately at least in John's eyes, especially when he was hungover. But it wasn't like John hadn't tried it before. Pogo had been a real ass to him the first half year of his time in the band, and that had passed, so this time it probably would too.
He swung his bed over the edge of the bed and sat there for a while. Pogo's breath was steady and silent. He wondered if there was any food in the bus at all, he didn't really remember when was the last time he ate a proper meal, but it was definitely too long ago. He went to check the little fridge that was settled in the other end of the vehicle, but there was nothing in there but a slice of bread and a few beers. Not John's exact idea of some sort of lunch.
He wished that maybe Marilyn or especially Ginger had been around to go out and eat with him; secretly he had also been hoping that Ginger would be lying next to him when he woke up, but he refused to think of that at the moment. He actually would've liked any kind of company, but he'd prefer one of those two. He still wasn't completely sure of what kind of man Tim was, after all it wasn't long he'd been with them and those glaring, icy, blue eyes could really make him uncomfortable if they stared at him long enough – which he sometimes found that they did, since Tim would spend a lot of time with Pogo, sometimes just sitting in a corner looking at everybody else. He wasn’t really sure what was actually going on between Tim and Pogo, but it had been there since the beginning. They usually seemed like they were competitors in everything; who could get the most groupies in one city, who could come up with the craziest shit to do after a show, who could do the most drugs without passing out, things like that. But they still spent almost all their time together, and sometimes it seemed that there was a lot more to it than they’d like to admit to everyone else. John himself could easily imagine things like that going on between them even though he didn’t know Tim that well, there just seemed to be this tension between them that he knew far too well himself.
John headed for the bathroom and since he was only in his boxers it took him very short to get undressed. He was about to enter the shower when he caught his own eyes in the mirror above the sink. He eyed himself for a while, his blonde hair that was starting to grow longer again, his slender, tattooed arms and his even skinnier chest, his friendly brown eyes and the makeup from yesterday that was smeared and faded, and yet still soothed his face.
He ran his fingers over his lips and got a bit dark lipstick on his hand, which he wiped off on his pale shoulder. He stood like that for a while, with his hand on the skin and just caressed himself for a while. It was a really long time since someone had touched him like that, slow, caring, loving, and when he thought about it, he really missed it somehow. Ginger used to do it, but now it was like he was getting more and more distant, they almost never spent time together just them alone, in one way or another, and it really brought John down, most of the time without himself noticing though.
He sighed and tried to think of something else, but the thought of him being incredibly lonely at times kept returning as he continued glaring into his own eyes. He sunk into his own mind, trying to figure out what was going on with himself and Gin-ger, they used to be so close and now it just seemed... Over? Ginger spent a lot of time with the other band members now and John was left behind by himself. And it did hurt, it really did, but he tried to ignore it as much as he could.
Maybe Ginger hadn't putted so much in it back then when they started it all as John had. Maybe Ginger had only been messing around with his best friend for fun, as a drunk experiment because they were younger and crazier. But to John it had been much more than just drunk experimentation. John had been in love. Actually, he still was, but he wouldn’t like to admit it, he could barely imagine how humiliated he would be if anyone found out, especially Pogo or Manson. It was times like these that John found himself missing Twiggy an awful lot, he knew that their former bassist would've understood him. Because Twiggy had been in the same situation as John for several years before he finally took off, admitting to himself that the things he dreamed off would never happen.

***

John stood naked in front of the mirror for a while and he was so caught up in his own mind, thinking about Ginger and all the things he wished he’d do that he didn’t notice the muffled sounds coming from outside the bathroom door. He jumped from shock when it was suddenly opened and Pogo stepped in with red eyes, scratching his face and looking like something that had been dead for a while. The guitarist almost forgot to cover his lower parts with his hand before the keyboardist actually saw him.
“Oh well, what are you doing here?” Pogo smirked and John took a step away from him so his back touched the cold sink. The two men stared at each other for a few awkward seconds, one only covered by his own hands, the other wearing leather pants from the night before, with boots, a leather collar around his neck and a bare torso.
“I- I was just about to take a shower…” John answered and looked away from Pogo’s eyes. He was very uncomfortable by being undressed in front of the other man, he would really like him to leave but Pogo just stood there at the door with a sly grin on his face making shivers run down John’s spine.
“I see” he grinned. “But you ought to know, there are certain kinds of things that can’t be washed off”. In a matter of moments, Pogo’s face became cold and serious, not making John feel any better about the situation.
“What are you talking about?” John asked, not really wanting to know.
“I’m talking about…” he took a step closer to the guitarist. “The dirt on the inside”
“I don’t understand” he mumbled and tried move further away but there was no more space in the small bathroom.
“It’s what poisons your mind, Johnny. Don’t you think I know you’re lonely?” Pogo stared him into his eyes. “I’ve heard you cry at night and I’ve heard you whisper his name in your sleep. I’m not stupid”.
John bit his lip. He was not sure what to do, or even what to think right now. It was true what Pogo said; on the coldest and darkest night he could be crying himself to sleep when he thought everybody else in the bus had fallen asleep long ago, longing for someone to hold him and tell him it would be okay. And back then when he first joined the band, Ginger would crawl up in his bed when he was sad and they would cuddle and kiss and sometimes they would end up having sex while everybody else was in the room, probably asleep but possibly listening. That never happened anymore. John was neither very surprised that he might have said Ginger’s name in his sleep. He often dreamt about him.
“Why don’t you forget him?” Pogo asked, and John looked up in his challenging eyes but quickly shot his gaze down when it felt like he was being pierced by the keyboardists stare.
“I…“ John felt his lip starting to quiver lightly and didn’t dare to look up at the bigger man as he spoke the words. “I can’t” A couple of painfully silent moments passed where John swore that Pogo could hear his thoughts and feelings that were raging inside his head. John couldn’t forget Ginger. He meant too much to him even though it wasn’t returned. “I love him” he stut-tered at last and felt his eyes burning. He didn’t want to cry in front of Pogo but he knew he was going to if he didn’t get left alone within the next few minutes.
“Poor, little Johnny is in love” smirked Pogo and tilted his head. “What a shame, you know it’s not like that the other way around, don’t you?”
John felt the first tear running over his face and dripping from his chin down on his bare chest. He knew that very well. He just didn’t get it, Ginger had seemed like there was something – something more than just the sex. He’d really fucked John over, but John could never blame him for it. In his eyes Ginger was still perfect. And every time he saw him he still hoped that there actually was something more, but every time he tried to talk more intimate with Ginger or attempted any physical contact with him it was like he pulled away and disappeared into himself. And he suddenly seemed repulsive and it honestly made John feel like shit every time.
“Aw baby, are you sad about it?” Pogo’s sugarcoated voice sounded and John wasn’t too sure whether he was mocking him or actually felt bad for him. “But you know what?”
“What?” Asked John and finally lifted his head and looked at Pogo. Pogo’s eyes were still sharp but they also seemed to have something else in them by now. Pity? No, it didn’t seem like he actually felt bad for him, Pogo wasn’t one to do that either. It was more like excitement, a little spark of eagerness and the guitarist had no idea if he should feel good or worse about that.
“I can make you forget, Johnny. I can wash off the dirt on the inside” he said, low but audible and took another step towards John so there only was a few inches between their faces. “Let me”
Pogo then reached up and took off the collar before he gently and still firmly took John’s hands away from his crotch and tied his wrists together with the collar. John blushed at the exposure of his dick but Pogo seemed to concentrate on tightening the collar as much as possible without hurting John. The smaller man shifted while silent tears still fell from his eyes, he didn’t want to do this, he didn’t want Pogo to tie him up and he didn’t want to forget Ginger. And yet he didn’t tell Pogo to stop, he didn’t even try to resist. He just let it happen as Pogo cocked his eyebrows at him with a smile and pulled him out of the bathroom. He had John’s arm in a tight grip and guided him onto a couch in the other end of the bus where he placed John before he left John alone for a few minutes. He could hear the keyboardist move around near his own bunk bed and he knew that if he wanted to leave this was his chance. But he didn’t leave; he just sat steady on the couch and waited for Pogo to return.

…

When Pogo came back into the room with the couch he was also stripped down and settled next to John on the couch. John felt his shoulders shake a bit, he was anxious, he didn’t want to do this and he was trying hard not to cry any more than he already dud.
“Now Johnny, lay down” Pogo demanded and John heard him speak the words but didn’t really understand them, he felt intox-icated. He was drunk on sadness and unrequited love. When he didn’t do as told to, Pogo gripped his shoulders and moved him down to lie on his back. He then placed himself on top of John and started kissing his neck and shoulders. John was sobbing but it did indeed feel good, and as Pogo moved his mouth further down his chest, he felt his breath become heavier through the sobbing.
When the keyboardist reached his abdomen, he started nibbling with his teeth while stroking John’s ass and thighs with his hands meanwhile. John was panting lightly and when Pogo let a couple of his fingers slide inside him, he felt himself let go of his wish for the other man to stop. His cock was also starting to harden and longing to be touched. His mind became clear again.
As Pogo hit a sweet spot with his fingers a loud moan escaped John’s lips and he heard the keyboardist grin knowingly.
“You like it, you little slut, don’t you?” he asked slyly, and pushed his fingers in a little deeper.
“…Yes” John admitted, and he looked down to see a satisfied look on the other man’s face.
“You want more?”
“Yes”
“Beg for it” Pogo commanded and John tilted his head back on the armrest of the couch.
“Please” he moaned with his voice hoarse from sleeping and crying.
“Oh, Johnny, I know you can do much, much better. I’ve heard so” Pogo teased and John knew he was talking about the times he and Ginger had been having fun in the bus while assuming that the others were asleep, but he didn’t get to feel embarrassed before Pogo pushed another finger inside him and he shifted from the pain that within moments turned to pure pleasure. “Now, beg for me!”
“Please, just fill me out already” he started, and noticed how Pogo had started moaning too. “I fucking want you inside me; please fuck me, hard and fast. Fuck me ‘till I’m clean on the inside!” he begged and yet Pogo didn’t fuck him nor touch his dick.
“Is that all you can do?” Pogo kept on taunting. “Johnny, show me what a whore you are”
“Please Pogo, fuck me like the slut I am. Make it hurt or ache or whatever, just please fuck the living shit out of me. Make me forget everything, I need to feel you inside of me, I can’t take this anymore, just fuck me for God’s sake!” he whimpered and could almost feel himself starting to cry again, before Pogo finally pulled his fingers out and pushed his cock inside the guitarist.
“Oh, fucking yes!” John almost screamed as the keyboardist started to thrust inside him with such pace that the couch was shaking underneath them. If it wasn’t because of his hands that still were tied with Pogo’s leather collar John would’ve reached down and touched himself, because Pogo didn’t seem like he was going to and he really needed to be jerked off soon or he felt like he’d explode.
Pogo’s hand were gripping tight around his hips, leaving red scratching marks and making sure John didn’t move out of the spot at all, as Pogo slowed down to push even deeper into John and hitting his prostate, and it made John feel like heaven. If only now the keyboardist would touch him.
“Ah, I’m going to fucking cum” Pogo groaned in between his thrusts and John just moaned as reply. He felt Pogo speed up again before he came inside him and pulled out to collapse next to John, who still was rock-hard and horny. “You are a whore with a dirty mouth, you know that Johnny?” he then said, before he stood up, removed the collar around Johns wrists which made him able to move his arms again and walked to the bathroom. John was now suddenly alone again.
He had kind of expected Pogo to jerk him off after he had gotten his own release, but that was apparently his own job. He reached down and started stroking his own dick, and he felt that it wouldn’t be long before he came. He could still feel Pogo inside him, violent and fast, yet one of the most pleasurable things he had done the last long time. And he knew very well why that was; he had not been thinking of any of the things that never would fail to bring him down. His mind had been completely blown by the rush of fucking someone without anything but lust.
But while he masturbated, the thought of someone else on top of him suddenly popped up in his head. He remembered all the times he’d had hot and passionate sex with Ginger, and suddenly his mood was dropping again. He thought of how he’d felt before he and Ginger started to fool around, but he couldn’t recall it. All he could think of was how he wanted Ginger and Ginger didn’t want him back.
He tried to keep focus on the thought of him and the drummer having sex, being in love, but as soon as he shot his own load over the couch, he felt the tears starting to run across his face again. He felt the sorrow swell inside him and taking over every-thing else. He heard Pogo turn on the shower in the bathroom, and he felt howling sobs escape his throat.
He didn’t know what in the world he could do to make these feeling go away. He didn’t know how he could ever get over this, how he could forget. Pogo had promised to make him forget, and he had kept that promise, but only for a little while. The thought of Ginger came back, along with the sadness. It seemed that they always did.
John lay down on the couch again, but this time he curled up and buried his face in his hands. He felt so pathetic, how easily he was affected by the drummer. And as he lay there he realized that if he ever had to get away from the unreturned love inside him, he had to get away from it all. He needed to leave all this behind and start over somewhere where Ginger wasn’t around to constantly remind him of how addicted John was to his company when he was fine off without the guitarist. First then he could wash off the dirt on the inside, and first then could he be free of the poison in his mind.
But even with that solution in mind he still wasn’t sure it would make him happy again, happy like he once was. He was afraid than even then, his mind would always return to that time when it seemed like Ginger also was falling in love with John.
He was afraid that no matter how far he ran, no matter how much time passed, no matter how many times he let people fuck him to feel the short glimpse of oblivion, no matter what the fuck he did, he would still be thinking of the drummer when he lay alone at night. He was afraid because he knew that he would probably always cry for him, and this was a nightmare he could never escape. It would always return.

He could never forget.