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[b][u][center]Darren’s Days Off

Part 2

For Taiko

By Draconicon[/center][/u][/b]

Thud, thud, thud, thud.

Darren groaned as he rolled over onto his side, glaring at the wall. Of course, the wall had done nothing to offend him, but if he were to glare at the actual offending parties, he would have had to get up, and that would mean giving up on whatever sleepiness that he had actually managed to wrangle for the night. He pulled the pillow tighter around his head in a vain effort to make the sound stay on the other side, but the thudding, pulsing, pounding racket continued despite his best efforts.

“Mmmmph…”

He rolled over onto his stomach, trying to cover both ears at once, but even then, the vibrations from across the street continued to pulse through the air. Even when the off-key, out of tune racket of an ill-tuned guitar and a drummer that could not keep up the beat were silenced, the actual soundwaves kept thudding through the room. Their speakers were turned up way too loud, and he could actually feel his ribs bouncing every time that the beat came down.

[i]Why won’t dad call the police on them?[/i]

Probably because it was the rich family across the way. He hadn’t bothered looking out the window to be sure just yet, but considering that there were plenty of people in Opal City that came here to retire away from the rest of the world, that meant that there was a lot of money in town, too. His father tended not to rock the boat, too, and money meant that there was a big boat to be rocked.

That wasn’t to say that his dad was a bad person and let them get away with everything, but there was a certain learned ‘staying out of the way’ going on. When you did everything to make people happy, when you did everything to be good, then you started to find certain behaviors allowable from different people.

Darren groaned as a new strum split the air, cutting through the protection of the pillow material over his ears. He lifted his head from the mattress, feeling the dryness in his eyes, the slight burn behind them that always meant that he was losing sleep. The long office hours that he forced on himself tended to give him those all the time. Thankfully, there were solutions for that.

The human rolled over to the side of the bed, pulling on the drawer of his nightstand. The eyedrops that he’d been using for the last few years – saline with a little bit of extra moisturizers – were put to good use. The tingling burn over his eyes faded as artificial moisture spread across them, though the slight sting that always came with the application spread with the relief for a moment or two. He blinked it away, then sat up completely, grumbling under his breath still at the horrific playing going on across the street.

Yet, even though he was probably the one that had the most reason to call the cops, he didn’t reach for his phone. He wasn’t a local, and he doubted that he would have the most back-up on the matter. Even if he wasn’t just passed around in an endless game of ‘transfer tag’, he imagined that they would be less than eager to go to one of the bigger donors to the police department.

Sighing, he grabbed his sheets and stood up, using them as a makeshift robe as he stood by the window. The sleepiness faded, alright, just as he had expected it to when he started moving. Part of the issue of having a good work ethic; you learned to shed the tired when you started moving around again.

Just as he thought, all the racket was coming from across the street, from the big second garage – yes, [i]second[/i] garage – of the large house across the way. The two-story building loomed over the two houses on either side, and the longer driveway and larger plot of land only made it clearer that this was the retirement house of someone with a fair bit of money.

The open garage was filled with a couple of fox twinks, badly auto-tuning to the song that they were singing, a lead wolf vocalist that was badly painted for the role of the band’s ‘face’, and a couple of burly dragons on drums and bass. None of them, not [i]one,[/i] was on-key or playing well. The only tune coming out of there was coming from the drummer, with the bassist matching them every so often and making something resembling a tune.

Darren pulled his sheet a bit tighter around him, ensuring that he kept his crotch and chest covered. He knew for a fact that he could be seen from the window, particularly with the light streaming in from the hallway. Last thing he needed was the rich people looking at him and wondering what the half-naked guy across the road was doing, staring at their son.

Darren had a rather unkind thought about the wolf across the street and shut it down, sighing to himself. He needed some rest; he was already getting more judgmental than he wanted to be. Unprofessional, wrong, not the right sort of mindset for someone in his sort of job to have. He started to turn away, thinking about heading down to the kitchen for some coffee (he could always pull out his travel laptop, log into the company servers and see if there was something practical to do) when something else caught his eye. He paused in mid-turn, narrowing his eyes towards the roof of the house beside the garage.

[i]Okay…not seeing things.[/i]

Of all the things to find sitting on someone else’s house, he’d spotted a maned wolf in much better make-up than the wolf in the garage. Long-legged and long-armed, the strange seemed to be half-rooted to the top of the house, and had a look of greater suffering on his face than anyone else that Darren had seen during the evening. Even his brother, Riche – who’d been dealing with screaming campers all week and had every reason to be horrified at all the noise – hadn’t looked so angry and upset as the maned wolf did across the way.

Darren held a hand in front of his eyes for a few seconds before looking at the figure again, and when it didn’t disappear, he nodded to himself. He’d found something useful to do since he couldn’t sleep.

#

His dad had everything in their garage. They had tool sets that were more than twenty years old but as good as the day that they’d been bought. They had pressure washers. They had car repair cranes and chains. And they had ladders. Lots, and lots, and lots of ladders.

With all the din coming from the garage across the street, it was no surprise that nobody noticed a young man walking across the street and along the fence. He climbed over it with the ladder at quarter extension, pulled it over, and walked behind the garage. He waited until the thudding beats of the drum would drown out everything, and then hitched the ladder to two-third extension, climbing up the back of the garage and getting on the roof.

Sure enough, the painted maned wolf was still there. He hesitated, shuffling forward – it had been a long time since he last helped someone out on the roof, after all – before reaching out and tapping the canine on the shoulder.

The maned wolf whipped his head around. His jaw dropped.

“You – how?”

“Do you need a hand getting down? I have a ladder,” Darren said, tossing his thumb over his shoulder.

“…That’s honestly the least of my problems right now.”

“Band?”

“If you can call it that. You can – well, obviously you can see me.” The maned wolf sighed. “Someone can finally see me, and it’s a night like this.”

“Oh. That kind of thing, huh?”

“…You’re taking seeing a ghost surprisingly well. Heh. You some kind of ghost hunter?”

“Nothing so exciting. Mind if I sit?”

When the canine gestured for him to do just that, Darren got as comfortable as he could. The rooftop was buzzing and vibrating under him from the sound being so close, but at least on the rooftop, it wasn’t blasting right into his ears. He had something of a barrier between him and it, here.

Glancing out of the corner of his eye, he had a better look at the stranger. The maned wolf, up close, was ever so slightly transparent, something that he hadn’t been able to see at a distance and in the dark. The paint on his face looked like it was a pretty heavy-duty make-up, the sort of thing that was more used by the heavy-duty rockers, those that went almost all the way to metal. However, it was the real deal, not the sort of cheap knock-off stuff that the wolf under them was using.

That rocker look continued into the leather jacket that the other guy was wearing, one that parted just enough to show the lean muscles beneath it, cording tight in the chest before going down to just-visible abs through the maned wolf’s belly fur. One nipple was pierced, the other wasn’t, and he wore leather pants that were just tight enough to give a hint of a package down there.

Darren cleared his throat, looking up and away. He pulled his knees to his chest, looking across the way to his own house. It wasn’t a full two-story place, but it did have a sort of half-second story, where he’d been sleeping. Guest room, really, kind of a place that was a mix between an attic and a guest room. It worked for him, though.

“So…what brings you out tonight?” Darren asked.

“Same thing as you, probably. Them.”

“They’re not very good, are they?”

“Ha! That’s putting it mildly.” The ghost rubbed his forehead, shaking his head. “All those fucking mistakes…”

The pair of them winced as a particularly horrible chord got mangled just below. What should have turned into a keening guitar wail, high and pure, turned into this mess of a series of shrieks, the hissing whine of a badly-played, badly-tuned instrument making Darren try to grind his ear off on his shoulder as he tensed and winced. The maned wolf covered his ears.

“Ugh! Doesn’t work anymore…”

“What doesn’t?”

“Ever try to plug your ears when you’re not solid?”

“Oh…oh, dear. I’m so sorry.”

And he was. At least he could muffle the sound, somewhat. The ghost was completely intangible, however, and that meant that there was no way to block off the sound. Everything that could touch him was just as intangible as he was, unable to block out sound, unable to hold it at bay. All the other guy could do was suffer through it.

Hoping to at least offer a distraction, Darren scooted a bit closer. Not much, but a little.

“Do you want to talk?” he asked.

“Please. Anything to listen to something different.”

“I’m Darren.”

“Baritone.”

“I think I know that name.”

“You should. I was [i]big[/i] a few decades ago.”

“I think my dad has a few of your records.”

“And what did you think of them?”

“They’re alright. Pretty good singles, not sure if I liked all the albums.”

“Thanks for the honesty. Some of those just got cranked out.”

“The realities of business,” Darren said sympathetically.

“Heh, all too real.”

The more they talked, the more relaxed Baritone got. That was the whole point for Darren; half of what he was saying was coming out without thinking, something that he had long since trained to do at the old hotel before Kai Lee came along and picked him up as an assistant. He had been expected to soothe guests and make sure that they felt better than when they arrived, ensuring that they rated the hotel highly so that more guests would come in the future. He was trained to be able to listen to what the other person said, to keep talking, to sound pleasant and happy and willing to do what they needed.

It was surprisingly easy to fall back into that. Maybe he hadn’t changed as much as he thought he had, despite the new job and the way that he dealt with so many different responsibilities than before.

As he kept talking, continuing the fairly mundane conversation, he thought back to what he did remember of Baritone. His father didn’t keep a great deal of records – his dad had been around at the cusp of record to CD shift, and he had managed to convert most of his stuff over to that – but there were a few artists that he had kept records of. Baritone had been a younger musician when he passed, one of those unfortunate accidents. Not suicide or drugs, just one of those equipment malfunctions and stage accidents that just…happened. The maned wolf had gone painlessly, from what his dad said, but he’d never gotten more than the meteoric rise to the top. Never had to come down, or try and maintain that super-star level. He’d gone up, and then stayed there rather than crashing down afterward.

No wonder this sounded horrible. For someone that had made it that high, listening to someone else that had all the advantages but none of the talent to use it would have been torture.

Darren shook his head. Without thinking, he reached out and tried to pat the maned wolf on the back. His hand passed through the musician spirit, but Baritone smiled slightly despite that.

“So…are you just…haunting this place?” Darren asked, trying to distract from his little faux pas.

“Heh, not exactly.”

“Not exactly? Then what are you doing?”

“I’m not [i]just[/i] a ghost, man.” The maned wolf leaned his head back, looking up at the stars. “And I’m not angry. Gotta be angry or sad or something like that to haunt someone.”

“So, you’re something else? A spirit?”

“Of rock and roll.” Baritone smiled. “Let that be a lesson, man. You make yourself great, and you stay great.”

“Seriously?”

“That’s what I’ve found. Not that these dicks are going to figure it out, playing like this.”

Baritone stomped on the roof of the garage. Not that anyone inside would have heard it, but Darren still chuckled to himself. The morose expression on Baritone’s face had faded, at least, which was definitely better than how they’d started.

“I’ll remember that,” Darren said. “Are you feeling better?”

“Heh…better than I thought. Nice to know I’m still remembered.”

“Well, you [i]were[/i] amazing.”

“Were? Hey, I’m the spirit of rock and roll, man. I [i]know[/i] I’m still awesome.”

“Yes. Yes, you are.” Darren smiled, stretching his arms over his head. “Mmmph…Well, at least I’ll have something to remember tonight by. And not just the ‘music’ going on down there…”

“Hmm? You’re leaving?”

“I wanted to make sure that you were okay. You looked…hurt, up here,” Darren said as he got to his feet. “And if you weren’t a ghost, or something like that, I thought that I’d make sure that you had a way down. Didn’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Heh. The rock and roll lifestyle’s all about trouble. But you didn’t have to do that.”

“No. But I wanted to.”

“…You’re better with the idea of ghosts and spirits than most people would be, Darren. You have much experience with things like me, man?”

“Hmm, a little.” He made his way to the ladder, nudging it with his shoe. It was still properly hooked to the side of the building. “You see a lot of weird things in Novus Ager. More weird things there than here. But you’re the first ghost that I’ve spent time with, if that helps.”

“It makes you all the more…interesting.”

“Well. I guess I’ll be –”

“Wait.”

He turned, only to see the maned wolf getting to his feet. A top hat manifested over his head, spinning round and round before flopping down. A guitar of red light, framed in purple, took form, and a series of chains that he belatedly realized were made of guitar picks ran round his pants. The maned wolf grinned at him, running his thumb along the suddenly-glowing make-up that lined his face, and his mane seemed to rise, almost like the frills along the necks of some lizards.

“I gotta say. You lifted my spirit again. So, let me return the favor.”

“You don’t have to do anything for me. I just –”

“Darren.” Baritone smiled, swinging his guitar around to hold it properly. “Just consider this a VIP pass to the rock and roll life.”

And with that, the maned wolf slammed his hand down over the strings. The first proper chord of the night echoed out, slamming into him hard enough that Darren went tumbling backwards, falling off the rooftop. The soundwaves carried him down, and as they echoed in his ears, time seemed to slow, the world went black, and his heartbeat, formerly so slow and steady, started to pick up the pace…

In song…

#

Thump.

“Heh…heh…”

Baritone looked down at his hands. Flesh, not fur and pads. Fingernails, not claws. But dexterous and strong, just as he needed.

“Wow. Been a looooong time since I looked this good.” Baritone smiled, rubbing his throat. “Oh, man, and that voice. This guy could [i]sing[/i] if he had a few lessons. Man, why the hell – oh. Oh, ho ho ho.”

Pulling the human’s shirt to the side, he saw the reason. This dude was marked. Hell, he was fucking branded. No wonder he had all kinds of obligations running around in his tired little brain; he had a master telling him what to do. Well, decent enough one, from what little tunes he was getting from the human’s memories on the surface. Not a bad guy, not someone that forced it.

Hell, he was forcing this dude to take some time off. That was a damn good boss, all things considered.

[i]Well, why don’t I lend him a hand? Seems like Darren needs some TLC…in the rock and roll style.[/i]

He preened himself a bit, feeling the way that the braids pushed out into a faux mane as he undid the various ties and pulls that kept it back. He tossed Darren’s head from side to side, making all that fluff push out. Lots of good, luscious hair, and –

Well, it wasn’t a full mane, but it was a hell of a lot better than the last time that he had the chance to hop into someone. That battle of the bands had been a good one, but fuck, the guy that had summoned him had been all too eager to be a metal-head, rather than a rock-and-roller. There was only so much he could do without a mane to toss.

The out-of-tune thud-a-thuds coming from the garage, however, brought him back to the moment. Baritone’s make-up glowed along Darren’s face, and he looked down at his clothes. Too subdued, too serene for the sort of stuff he wanted to do. This wasn’t the time for someone to look all helpful. Nah, this was the time to be a [i]rebel.[/i]

He flexed, and Darren’s shirt ripped right down the middle, musical notes raining down his shirt, staining the white cloth jet black as it pulled outwards into an improvised vest. Perfect, much better for his flexibility.

Those jeans needed to change, too. No point in that. He was a rocker, and that meant that he showed [i]off.[/i] Another little thrust, another little flex, and the jeans cut off just at the top of the thigh, little more than booty shorts. And what a booty they contained, too. It had been a long time since he had a body that was this strong, this sexy, and this ready for someone like him.

He chuckled, giving himself a good spank and a nice fondle. Good on both ends, this one.

[i]Darren, you’re gonna…heh, who am I kidding? You probably won’t remember this as anything more than a dream, dude, but I’m gonna make this the best dream you’ve had in a long, long time.[/i]

He adjusted the top hat that he called for earlier, grabbed his shining guitar from the side of the garage, and walked around to the front. The off-beat bassist continued, the drummer the only one worth a damn, and even that not much. He didn’t bother slowing down when the band finally saw him coming around the side, and instead met them eye to eye.

The wolf tried to keep playing, but there was something about having a real rock and roller around that obviously threw him. The wolf slowed, then the song stopped.

“Hey, I know you. You’re –”

BWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

Without speakers, barely even with his guitar, Baritone blasted all the noise that the band had been making back with the pure, true power of rock and roll. The chord peeled back the paint on the roof, rattled the metal supports for the garage, and bowled over the two fox twinks that had been attempting to sing for the last few hours. The wolf tumbled head over heels, almost banging into the drums, and only the dragons seemed to be able to stay upright without that much effort.

“Now that I have your attention.” Baritone tossed the guitar over his shoulder, the lights of the instrument winking out as he strutted into the garage. “You dudes call this rock and roll?”

“H-hey. Where do you get off doing this?” the wolf said, squirming back to his feet. “This is my house. Now get the hell out.”

“Not fucking likely. You can’t just put on a show and make people listen to bad music.”

“Bad music? Why I oughta – gimme that.”

The wolf grabbed the bass guitar from one of the dragons, and without warning, swung it. Baritone just grinned as it slammed into his side, snapping at the middle. If Darren had been just himself, then that might have broken a rib, possibly knocked him off his feet. As it stood, it did almost nothing.

Almost. Might leave a bruise on Darren later, some small spot, but hey; didn’t get into this life without getting into a few fights.

As the wolf stared at him in shock, Baritone tipped his hat.

“Little piece of advice, fan-boi.”

“Fan-boi?!”

“Don’t try to beat a rock and roller with a rock instrument.”

He didn’t even need the guitar this time. The music just exploded from him, wailing strings sending the entire bought band to the far sides of the garage. Proper sound, proper tunes blasted through the air for the first time in the whole night, and Baritone laughed with Darren’s joyous voice, spinning in place as his power touched the speakers and broadcast the tunes throughout the neighborhood. Boom, boom, whoooooooom.

Of course, there was more to it than that. The power of rock and roll – of any genre, but particularly rock, the punky, powerful, punchy sounds of rock – was to tap into other people, to draw their attention to the musician like the demi-gods that they were. As Baritone spun on the spot, he saw the worship that he hadn’t seen since he played the stage for real. That adoration, that wonder, that [i]need[/i] to be on his fucking level.

God, he missed it. He’d only had it for a little while, and then –

But fuck. He had Darren now. He had a body that could take it, dish it out, and make it fun as fuck. He was going to enjoy it while he could, that much was for certain.

“Come on, boys. Let’s live it up.”

The dragons were first to step over the still-dazed wolf, making their way to the human that had completely knocked them off their feet. Their hands reached for him, and Baritone stepped into them, allowing the groping, touching, stroking.

“Heh, that’s right, boys. You got a genuine rock and roller with you today. Why don’t you show me how much you…appreciate that?”

Baritone had always been fond of his fans. Hell, he had been a little famous for just how ‘fond’ of them he could get, though he wasn’t surprised that hadn’t lasted as part of his reputation. The papers, the people, they always sanitized the record to make them more palatable, more easily sold. The more that they talked about the music and not the people, the easier that was.

He grinned as he ran his hands down the dragons, rubbing their muscular chests, reaching past their stomachs to their waistbands. Loose jeans made it easy to fish out their cocks, pulling them free and giving them a few good strokes. They hardened quickly for his soft hands, probably eager to get to work on the ‘human’ that had come in and changed things.

“You like that, boys? You got some fine ‘instruments’ to play, here…”

“Mmmph…”

“Nnnngh…”

“I bet you want to put ‘em to use, too…but not yet…”

He swished, almost, something that a body like Darren’s shouldn’t have been able to do so easily, but he made it happen. One sandal got left behind as he walked on the still-dazed wolf, pushing the air from the dick’s lungs as he walked over to the foxes. They were shocked, in awe, and he grinned at them as he grabbed them both around the hips, groping their asses. They jumped at that, a pair of pretty-boys that were just there to look cute and be part of the band’s aesthetic.

But hey, every face needed some ass to play with on the road. He pulled them close, his hands all but finding their puckers already, fingers sliding in. The foxes melted in his touch like the finest of groupies.

“Heh, you like that, boys?”

“Mmmph…”

“Mmm, sir…”

“Get naked, boys. And dragons, you too.”

It didn’t take long to get the full band exposed. They had the power of rock and roll running through their veins. The pounding excitement, the eagerness to be on stage, the thrill of performance: it was all there, all pushing to be used, to be brought to the fore once more. It was just that, this time, they were performing for him in a whole different way.

When they were all naked, even the wolf – who looked more confused than anything else – Baritone let out one last stream of music. Through the speakers, across the neighborhood, through anyone that had the ears to hear, he sent it. A wailing, high, almost moaning guitar sound, something that curled through the head and called the beast, that pulled the needs of the living, primal being that beat in every chest to the fore. Cocks would rise everywhere, a performance like he hadn’t had in a long time.

The spirit pushed his new body forward, easing Darren to his knees. The foxes knelt before him, eagerly offering their rounded asses to the human body, while the dragons stood on either side of him, presenting their cocks like finely-tuned instruments. The only one that seemed to have a clue that something off was happening was the wolf, but even he was laying on his back, oblivious to the fact that his cock was sandwiched right between the human’s ass cheeks.

“Heh. This is gonna be great.”

Unzipping his shorts, he pulled out Darren’s fat cock. It was perfect for fucking little twinks like the foxes, and as he pulled the shorts down enough to get the wolf’s cock properly up and between his cheeks, the heat of that rod made him grin. It really had been too long since he had a proper body to feel things in. Time to get into it.

Using the dragon dicks as hand grips, he lifted himself up, sliding that shaft further down between the cheeks and right against the pucker. The feeling of life, excitement, the heart-pounding pleasure that he had missed from the stage, was all there. He could feel it against his fingers, feel the clenching against his cock, feel the throbbing under his ass.

[i]God fucking – Darren, you better leave me a map to Novus Ager. I’m gonna need to do this more often.[/i]

And with that, he slammed that muscular ass back, taking that cock all in one go. He was pretty sure that Darren would feel that in the morning, but he didn’t care. He had gone for [i]years[/i] without getting something like this. He wasn’t going to let a little thing like discomfort stop him. Not right now. Not for all the kindness and appreciation in the world. He was a rock and roller, and pain was just as much a part of that as pleasure.

As he stroked, fucked himself, and fucked the foxes, Baritone felt the old memories coming back. That year on the road, that year showing off for fans that screamed his name, that year when it was a non-stop party. It felt like the world would never be the same, that he would always be a shooting star.

He was. He had been.

And as this spirit, he always would be. He laughed, the mane that Darren’s hair had become rising slowly as the fuck got faster, an almost unheard song playing faster and faster to match the tempo of his thrusts…

#

Darren woke the next morning with more than a slight amount of discomfort. Not necessarily pain, but definitely soreness, soreness that had no obvious cause, but which he had felt more than once both in Novus Ager and back in Kusan City. Usually after a party. Or when he had someone else around that had powers.

“…Not gonna ask – oh, ow…”

He held his hands to the sides of his head. He hadn’t expected his ears to be in good shape after everything that had happened the night before – the band had been playing so loud that he expected there to be ringing, after all – but ow, they were in bad shape. He groaned under his breath, rolling sideways. The room spun, which told him that his ears were in worse shape than he thought. The equilibrium stuff in there was all off, which meant that he had taken some actual damage, somehow.

[i]Mmmph…[/i]

Darren held still, making sure to stay settled where he was. No more room spinning as long as he didn’t move. As he breathed slowly, trying to collect himself, he felt little fragments of memory. They were almost like dreams, but just slightly more real than that, as if they had something to tell him.

On his knees.

Hanging from two dragons.

A knot rubbing against his hole.

Something grinding on his cock.

He sighed. They were just sexual thoughts, and probably things that were brought to mind by a wet dream or something. Some desperate escape for him that he’d probably slipped into overnight, just to not think about all the music that was playing in the background.

[i]If you could call that shit music.[/i]

Darren groaned. So, getting sleep didn’t help him as much as he thought with the judgmental way of thinking. Wonderful.

As he rolled over again, testing to see if the dizziness was a little bit less and the ringing had faded – it hadn’t – he noticed something else. He wasn’t wearing the same clothes that he had worn when he went across the street for…some reason. He was wearing tight shorts, so tight that they were almost split down the crack of his ass, and pulling tight to his morning wood, too. Something so tight that it felt like it was designed to show him off from head to toe, making sure that everyone looked at his ass.

And a vest? A vest that was darker than him, for that matter, which took some doing. He shook his head, fumbling around for his shirt from the day before. If anyone saw the chest mark –

“Hey. Hey, Darren, you awake?”

Riche. His brother. He groaned.

“Just…one second.”

He stumbled out of bed, and had to crawl to his clothes. As he pulled a shirt on, his brother cracked the door.

“You okay?”

“I think – mmmph. Not really. Can you call…call the clinic? I think I need to see a doctor…”

[b][u][center]The End[/center][/u][/b]

Summary: Darren has a wild night, and it gets wilder as a spirit gets involved.

Tags: M/M, M/M/M/M, Orgy, Dragon, Human, Spirit, Maned Wolf, Ghost, Wolf, Fox, Possession, Revenge, Loud Band, Anal, Oral, Teasing, Magic, Series,