Starfucked

  Starf*cked

  Copyright © 2018 by Sharita Lira

  Writing as BLMorticia

  Published by Triad Literary

  Starf*cked

  BLMorticia

  Editing Bianca Sommerland

  Cover Art Emmy Ellis

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Your non-refundable purchase allows you to one legal copy of this work for your own personal use. You do not have resell or distribution rights without the prior written permission of both the publisher and copyright owner of this book. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your computer to another through upload, or for a fee.

  Disclaimer: This book may contain explicit sexual content, graphic, adult language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable which might include: male/male sexual practices and multiple partner sexual practices.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places, businesses, and incidents are from the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual places, people, or events is purely coincidental. Any trademarks mentioned herein are not authorized by the trademark owners and do not in any way mean the work is sponsored by or associated with the trademark owners. Any trademarks used are specifically in a descriptive capacity.

  Contents

  Trademarks Mentioned in the Book

  Dedication

  Thanks

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Epilogue

  Author’s personal note

  BLMorticia

  Author Sharita Lira

  Trademarks Mentioned in the Book

  Heineken

  Miller Lite

  Spotify

  The Wretched and Hirah Blaze (Part of Metalrotica series)

  Led Zeppelin

  Metallica

  Judas Priest

  Slayer

  Alice in Chains

  Tool

  Jane’s Addiction

  Nikki Sixx from Motley Crue

  “Ride the Lightening, Kill ‘Em All.” Metallica songs

  Dave Mustaine of Megadeth

  James Hetfield of Metallica

  Tums

  Tylenol

  Fender

  Madison Square Garden

  Jack Daniels

  Behind the Music

  Unplugged

  Game of Thrones

  Dedication

  Thanks to Jammie and Morticia for brilliant beta reading

  and to Bianca for editing this series.

  And as always, for Mack and Scottie!

  Thanks so much for your interest in the books. Let’s connect with each other shall we? To keep up with the latest on new releases, sales, and participate in contests, please join my reading group.

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  Starf*cked

  BLMorticia

  Prologue

  Ten years ago, in Seattle, Washington

  Steven

  “Steven! Get your ass ready to go onstage!”

  Nathan Case’s shrill voice interrupted my focus, as well as the girl between my legs. It was the usual deal for me. Receiving head before showtime relaxed me and I required that before every performance.

  “Was I good, Steven?”

  As I zipped, I opened my eyes and smiled at her.

  Who is she?

  She was my blow job chick, but I couldn’t remember her fucking name. Really, I didn’t care because I’d fucked around with a slew of women.

  “You did good, uhh…”

  “Charlotte. Remember, you picked up Charlotte in Charlotte, or close to it,” she chuckled. Her blue eyes held me in place.

  “Oh yeah!” I pretended to remember and sat up in the chair. I straightened out my shirt. “You did really good. With that mouth of yours, you’ll go far.”

  “Thanks, Steven. Same time after the show?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Charlotte smiled wide and inched in for a kiss.

  As much as I would’ve liked to taste myself on her, I moved back and shook my head. “No, no. Not now. Go to the side stage and have a seat with the others. I’ll see you later.”

  Charlotte pouted and got up quickly from her kneeling position. Before I could say another word, she opened the door and left without a peep.

  Sure, it might’ve been a dick move on my part to let her leave without sharing a sloppy, cum-filled kiss, but I honestly didn’t give a damn.

  Bottom line, I didn’t kiss anyone I didn’t love.

  And since I didn’t love anyone… nobody, and I do mean, nobody would be locking lips with me anytime soon.

  After taking a hit with my lead guitarist, I followed him to the backstage area. This little dive we were performing in was the best we could get right now. All the popular bands played small clubs before making it big. In only a matter of time, nights like this would be a memory.

  “Ready for this, Steven?”

  Garrett, my drummer, eyed me through glassy pupils. Obviously, he’d had more than one or two hits of coke. How he did that and played the drums so well, I didn’t know. I suppose with enough practice, you could train yourself to do anything.

  “Born ready. How many are out there?”

  “About five hundred. Case says we’ll clear about two thousand or so once we pay the venue and all that.”

  “And after he takes more than his share of the cut,” I added with malice.

  “Now, now, Steve. I know you think Nathan’s cheating us, but dude, he got The Wretched started for god’s sakes. You see where they are now?” Jeff, our bassist, came to his defense.

  “Yeah, with the best in the business,” I replied. The Wretched were the standard for young metal bands. They were pretty good, but nothing all that exciting.

  “True, but Nathan will get us there. Then we can work with Dave too.”

  “Sure,” I shrugged, not wanting to talk about this anymore. Case was taking too much, and it would only be a matter of time before my bandmates caught on to that fact. Right now, we had no choice because admittedly, Case had connections.

  If we were going to make it, we had to take advantage.

  After the opener went off, they moved their instruments and the promoter announced more shows coming to our area. Once he left, we headed out onto the small stage. Jeff and Garrett played their parts in unison, starting us off with our first noticeable song, ‘Halo Takes a Holiday.’ Decker chimed in on the guitar and I came in last, adding the rhythms that made this tune shine.

  Noticing all the chicks up front, I played up the sexy bad boy image. I swiped my tongue over my top lip, locking eyes w
ith the gorgeous beauties in low cut shirts and big hair.

  We were a nineties throwback band, making a name for ourselves in the new millennium. Plenty of people rendered the grungy, slimy sounding genre to be dead, but we were too good at it to be ignored.

  We could rock hard and, in the end, that’s all true metal fans wanted.

  Watching metalheads sing along with me, I ran my hand over the neck of my Fender, tickling the strings. I banged my head to the beat and waited for Decker to join me on the outro. Whipping my head around in a similar motion, I keyed the final notes and did a little dance to make the ladies go crazy. As expected, they screamed my name. I grinned, letting them know I noticed. A lot of these girls wanted more than the usual attention, but my harem was already too big.

  To everyone else, this was normal... to have all these females at my beck and call, doing whatever I wanted. The combination of drugs, alcohol, and mindless sex numbed me, all because I didn’t want to piss off my bandmates or the homophobic metal world.

  Guys just couldn’t be into other guys, regardless of how much the world was coming around to accept it.

  Wanting StarHaze to succeed meant sacrificing my deepest desires.

  And to get the fuck out of my dead-end town, away from the memories…

  I’d do whatever it took.

  * * * *

  Noah

  “Dude, black guys aren’t into metal! You’re just coming in here to start shit!” The bald bouncer in front of the door pushed me backwards, spitting as he talked. I held my hands up while he patted me.

  Other concertgoers grumbled and yelled about this jerk holding up the line.

  “Shut the fuck up, Jughead. My friend’s only here to catch StarHaze. Your racist ass shouldn’t be standing by the doors anyway.”

  My best friend, Lazarus, Laze for short, balked at the oversized bully who guarded the door. I was tough, but not stupid enough to tango with this mongrel.

  “I’m not racist. Just telling the truth.” The fool leaned in, snarling at me like a rabid dog. “You better not cause any trouble, or you’ll deal with me personally. Is that clear?”

  “Crystal. Now can I please go? I’ve missed practically every song on the set. I’m hoping to catch my favorite, ‘Cursed Heart.’”

  The idiot cocked both eyebrows. “You know ‘Cursed Heart?’”

  Annoyed, I pushed past him, leaving the ignoramus in the dust. I hated coming to this dump, but I rarely got a chance to catch StarHaze live. Local stations played them all the time, hence the reason I knew about the band. I was an avid metal fan, loving everyone from early classic rock like Led Zeppelin to eighties rock with Metallica, Judas Priest, and Slayer. Other than the top acts, I had an affinity for plenty of lesser known performers. StarHaze was Seattle’s own act, playing music as if they were trapped in the nineties. They were like a combination of Tool and Alice in Chains, with a little Jane’s Addiction mixed in. Being the music aficionado, I was, I was okay with my favorites performing the music they loved.

  Older metal ruled anyway. Very rare that the newer stuff did anything.

  It had to be stellar to become part of my regular rotation.

  “’m sorry, Noah.” Laze came up behind me, slapping my back. “I didn’t know Jughead would be here tonight.”

  “It’s okay. I deal with this kind of thing all the time. Black, remember?” I said pointing at my face.

  Laze grunted and shook his head. “You shouldn’t have to. It’s only when we come to this monstrosity that we have issues. Concerts at Haber’s Crown? No problems at all.”

  Haber’s Crown was in downtown Seattle and the birthplace of many rock and metal bands. StarHaze wasn’t born here, but they’d played there several times in the past.

  “While that’s true, I’m used to it. I had noticed the song list on the way in. StarHaze had three songs left. I’m bummed that we missed the first half, but happy Cursed Heart is yet to come.”

  “Yeah. Lemme grab beers, okay?” Lazarus patted me again and I nodded, watching him go to the bar. Lazarus was my best friend, my running buddy, attending practically every show with me. It helped that we were both gay too, because we’d both been bullied through high school and college. Though we got along great, we didn’t want to be lovers. We tried it, and instead of getting closer, we fought a lot. We figured it best to stay friends.

  StarHaze continued to play one of their lesser known hits, ‘Goldie’s Wake,’ a song I’d known lead singer, Steven Sharpe, had written in tribute to his mother. It was a great tune, but I loved Cursed Heart a lot more. The lyrics just spoke to me. Honestly, all of Steven’s words did. Admittedly, I had a crush on him, but I had no shot at the Spokane borne, straight singer.

  With the place packed, I wasn’t able to see much over so many heads, but I’d make do. Work had gotten in the way of me making it on time, but I’d be damned if I would’ve missed the whole thing.

  “Here ya go.” Laze handed me a bottle of Miller Lite. I preferred Heineken, but Laze was buying, so I wouldn’t complain.

  “They sound good so far. Steven’s tune is a little off though.” I whispered in his ear.

  “Probably because he smoked and drank before the show. I’ve heard about his pre-concert shenanigans. Perhaps if he stopped doing all that extra-curricular bullshit, StarHaze would make it somewhere.”

  “True man. Toast?” I held up my plastic cup for him to meet it.

  Laze did just that, tapping his brew against mine.

  We raised them again and both sipped simultaneously.

  The cold liquid rushed down my throat, bitterness tickling my tongue. Although I wasn’t a big fan of the standard, beer was beer. After a long day at work, brews were the perfect relaxer. Honestly, it was all I drank. I didn’t do hard liquor because I hated the way it made me feel afterwards. Beer was just enough to provide a buzz and given the amount you consumed, you couldn’t get too drunk off it.

  “Hey, Noah. Wanna check out Desolate Incarnation on Saturday?”

  Still drinking, I nodded. “Yeah. Where are they playing?”

  “Haber’s, dude. We’ll have a couple of beers, then head over on the bus.”

  “Sounds like a plan. My folks will be out of town this weekend, so I’ll have the house to myself.”

  “Cool. I can crash at your place then,” Laze yelled over the applause.

  “Yep! I’ll make sure to have clean blankets for ya,” I said while clapping.

  Laze winked and held up his beer in salute to the band.

  Steven talked to the crowd, saying something about a young lady in the front row that made everyone laugh. Then he asked what song we’d like to hear next.

  As I held my beer high, I yelled loudly. “Cursed Heart!” It wasn’t the next song on the list, but I had to let Steven know I loved that song.

  “All right! Someone’s a fan of our ballad. It’s coming, dude. I promise you. But first, let’s do this little diddy… about a man I wanna kill, but can’t!”

  Listening to Steven ramble, I rolled my eyes. I’d heard ‘Damaged Fate’ was a tune about his dad, but I wasn’t aware of the real reason behind it.

  “Dude, this one kicks,” Laze said, smiling at me.

  “Yeah, it kicks all right,” I agreed in jest. Damaged Fate was one song I wasn’t totally into, but the riffs behind it were killer, as was the drum beat.

  Instead of focusing on Steven’s subpar lyrics, I focused on the music. The band had truly outdone themselves with this track, the second tune off their StarHaze debut album. I had all six of StarHaze’s demo discs and a couple of bootlegs. Didn’t matter to me that cassettes were a thing of the past. I had my older brother’s tape player, so I’d play them regardless.

  When the band played the middle part, I banged my head, raising my fist in the air in tune with the beat. Steven’s voice might’ve been off, but his axe work made up for it. He slid his hand over the neck of the Fender, plucking the strings with Jeff to make that signature sound that everyone on
the West Coast loved. They were truly an unheralded bunch.

  Although a part of me hoped they’d make it to the bigtime, a small portion wished they’d stay local. If they became famous, they wouldn’t play Haber’s or this dump with a capacity of a thousand. Fans like me, working dead end jobs and going to school wouldn’t be able to afford it.

  Thankfully, Laze knew a lot of people and we got into some shows for free.

  However, if StarHaze got famous, it was almost a guarantee Laze wouldn’t be able to secure tickets anywhere.

  Before I knew it, Damaged Fate was done, and Steven along with the rest of the band bowed, leaving the stage to hear the crowd roar. A mixture of squeals and growls sounded in the audience along with claps and stumps of feet. In all honesty, this was stupid. The band would always come back out and play an encore, especially when there was still some time left before curfew.

  Still, the audience yelled songs and clapped, waiting for the band to rush the stage again and pick up their instruments. After two or so more minutes, they ran back out with their hands held high and Steven holding the acoustic guitar. When he held that, my favorite was about to begin.

  “Cursed Heart! Woohooo!” Lazarus slapped my arm and smiled at me.

  I smiled back and finished the rest of my beer to listen to the calm melody wash over me. Several people in the crowd held up their lighters, some held cellphones, shining their flashlights. Since I wanted to enjoy the song fully, I did neither. I didn’t take issue with others doing it. I refused, because I didn’t like distractions.

  When Steven finished the beginning solo, he stepped to the microphone. “You know this one, right? You asked for it, right? Okay, here we go. Sing along if you want.” Steven stepped away and threw his head back. His blonde locks flew through the air and he swayed from side to side, waiting for Jeff to play his part. Then the bass kicked in and the crowd roared waiting for the first lyric. Steven stepped back to the microphone and bobbed his head to the beat. He swung his acoustic over to the side and belted out the first words.