What Happens Backstage - Part 2

River POV

People say they want fame, but they don’t tell you how loud it gets.

I used to dream about being in a band like Afterhour. I’d watch guys like Leo and Micah on stage and think, God, what would it feel like to be that wanted? Now I know.

I’m the youngest in the group, and it shows. I still get nervous during interviews. Still check my hair three times before walking onstage. I barely turned nineteen last spring and already I’ve got fans drawing porn of me.

And lately? It’s gotten worse.

Ever since Micah kissed Ash on stage, the fandom’s gone feral. Our Twitter mentions are pure chaos. The “Ashah” hashtag is trending every night. TikToks, fan cams, thirst edits.
But the worst—or best—part? The art.
It started innocent. A few doodles of the kiss.
Now it’s fully animated videos. Fictional moans. Micah on his knees. Ash moaning his name. It's… detailed.

And I can’t stop watching them.

I’m in the hotel room, lying on my stomach, my laptop warm against the sheets.
The newest animation just dropped. It’s insane. Ash is naked, straddling Micah, their hands everywhere. It’s not even subtle anymore. The moans are synced. The dialog is dirty.

I’m biting my lip. I know I should stop.

But I don’t.

Then I hear it—the door opens.

“Yo,” Jett’s voice cuts through, casual as ever. “You watching porn or just practicing guitar with moaning?”

I slam the laptop shut. My heart’s beating out of my chest.

Jett’s grinning. He walks further in, leans against the desk like he owns the place. “Was that the Ash-Micah video? Heard they added sound now.”

I try to play it cool. “It’s… nothing. Just fan stuff.”

He smirks. “You’re blushing, dude.”

I cover my lap with a pillow. I can already feel it—half-hard, twitching, the scene still burned into my brain.

Jett walks out without saying anything else, still smirking.
And I just sit there, hard and unfinished, my chest rising and falling way too fast.

Later that night, after everyone’s “asleep,” I finally pull the video back up.
Lights off. Laptop dimmed. One hand under the covers, the other scrolling through the smuttiest parts.

Micah licking Ash’s neck. Ash whispering, “Fuck me in the green room.”

I slide my hand lower. Grip my cock.
I bite my lip to stay quiet, stroking slow. My hips twitch. I’m close.

And then—a shadow moves.

“Jesus,” I whisper, yanking the sheets up.

Jett’s standing there. He didn’t knock. Didn’t announce himself.

He closes the door behind him, eyes locked on me.
“You seriously watching it again?” he says.

I don’t answer.

Jett walks closer. I stay frozen, cock still hard under the sheets.

He doesn’t look away.
He just nods at the bulge and says, “Does it make you horny?”
I swallow. Then nod.

Jett’s voice drops lower. “Show me.”

I hesitate.
Then—I let the sheets fall.

I’m completely naked now. My dick hard, leaking. My thighs trembling.

And Jett just sits at the edge of the bed. Watching.

I start stroking again. Slowly.
He doesn’t touch me. He just leans in a little, talking low and filthy.

“Bet you were pretending it was you under Micah… begging for it.”
I bite down a moan.
“Or maybe Ash. He’d be gentle. Maybe too gentle. You’d have to tell him to go harder.”
I stroke faster. My hips buck up.
“And now you’ve got me watching you. Like some fucked up OnlyFans scene. That get you off, baby?”

Fuck yes.

I’ve always fantasized about being watched. Maybe by a fan. Maybe by someone backstage.
But this is better.
It’s Jett.

His voice is a slow tease in my ear. And I can feel the heat from his body even though he’s not touching me.

I gasp, turning my head slightly. “Touch yourself.”

Jett smirks. “Didn’t even have to ask.”

I glance down and see it—his hand inside his sweats, stroking himself as he watches me writhe under him.

We don’t kiss. Don’t touch.
Just two bodies, side by side, breathing hard, moaning under our breath.

I pump faster. My body arches. I feel the knot in my stomach tighten—
And then I cum, hot and fast, spilling over my stomach, my thighs trembling. I don’t care if I’m loud.

Jett finishes seconds later. A low grunt, barely audible.
He slips his hand out and licks one finger clean.

“You’re not the only one reading it,” he whispers.

And just like that, he’s gone.

---

I decided I will be alternating between this and brand-new series. I also find interesting the idea of switching POVs when writing group stories, like I did with The Gooner Gang.