Appreciation

I don't own Steve Perry or Neal Schon. Strictly a fluff story.

Neal knocked on Steve's dressing room door after the crowd backstage had died down. Steve opened it for him, surprised to see that the guitarist wasn't dragging a posse of half-naked and completely wasted women to his door. He'd been enjoying this new demographic, Steve knew.

Neal walked past Steve into the room. He was holding a beer, but the singer could tell he was still pretty clear. "Hey, Steve, listen... I just want to say... rockin' show, man. And, uh," he paused.

"Yeah?"

"And, um, I just wanted to thank you for bringing the chicks to the shows," Neal grinned.


Steve laughed. "I didn't really try, but sure."

"I mean, this is great, did you see how many of them are out there?"

"Yeah, I did."

"Man, Steve, if there's anything I can do to thank you," he asked, still smiling widely.

Steve started to shake his head, but paused. "You could give me a blowjob."

Neal's grin fell immediately as he took a step back. "What?"

"If you wanted to thank me," Steve shrugged casually.

Neal's eyes narrowed as he regarded the singer. "Perry, are you queer?"

Steve smiled slightly. "No. But I think I'd really like to hear you thank me for the pussy I brought to the show with my dick down your throat."

"I don't think so," the guitarist said quickly. "That's not my thing. I think I gotta go..."

"All right, Neal," Steve said. "I won't write any more chick music until you do it."

Neal stopped and turned back slowly. "You really want this, don't you? Why, you sure you're not queer?"

"Hey, look, you offered to thank me any way you could. It was a sudden impulse, but it's sounding better by the second, I don't know why. And now I really want it, yeah."

Neal sighed and pondered this. He guzzled the rest of his beer and gave the waiting singer a once-over. He locked the door, rubbed his temples for a moment, and then said, "Fine. Once. But I'll kill you if you let this get out. I don't want people thinking I'm a fag or something."

Steve grinned rather evilly as he began to unfasten his pants. "They'll never guess."

He sat on the dressing room's couch, white pants at his feet. Neal sighed loudly and grimaced. "I can't believe this."

"Shut up, it'll be over in less than three minutes if you're good."

"That's too much," Neal whined.

Steve reached up and yanked Neal to his knees. "That's less than one of your solos. Remember, you gotta thank me..."

"You're so fucking sick, Perry."

"I know," Steve said calmly.

Neal tentatively reached forward and grasped the singer's penis. "Fuck, I don't even know how to do this."

"Sure you do," Steve groaned as the blood began to rush to Neal's touch. "Do it like the chicks do it."

"I don't pay attention to that!"

"Neal, you keep whining and this is going to be longer than it has to be."

"This already looks longer than it has to be. Shit."

Steve sucked in his breath as Neal inserted his now-hard cock into his mouth and began to move his tongue across it. "See," he whispered. "You know how..."

Steve looked through half-closed eyes at the guitarist as he worked. He concluded that this was the best impulse he'd ever had. But there was something missing.

"Thank me," Steve gasped.

Neal brought his head up. "What? Thank you."

"No, while you're sucking... hey, don't stop touching it, come on."

The guitarist bent low again and gave a muffled thanks before lifting his head again. "That good? Can I finish now?"

"No, do it again. Tell me how much you love all the pussy I get you."

"No, I already did it," Neal sneered, still pumping Steve's cock with his hand.

"I didn't hear it," Steve said hurriedly. "Go, come on, I'm close..."

"No, Perry. I did enough."

"Fuck you Neal, I said say it again," Steve said halfheartedly as Neal moved his hand faster in anger. His head lolled back and he swallowed hard. "Say thank you for it," he repeated softly.

"No," Neal said as forcefully as he was stroking the singer. Steve reached forward and blindly tried to maneuver Neal's face back down to his groin. "No, Perry, I'm done sucking your dick."

"Say it," he breathed. "Say it..."

Neal leaned forward, his face inches from Steve's. Through clenched teeth, he muttered, "Thank you. For the chicks. Steve."

But Steve was already coming. He reflexively, or so it seemed, slipped his hand behind Neal's head as the guitarist was thanking him and brought their lips together. To both of their surprise, neither one resisted. Steve moaned loudly into Neal as he took his hand away and broke the kiss. Neal collapsed onto the floor in front of Steve, and the singer rested his head against the wall behind the couch, breathing rapidly.

Neither of them spoke for what seemed like an eternity. When Steve finally got the courage to lift his head, he saw the other man regarding his hand in what looked like part disgust and part curiosity. "You want to wash that off in there?" he asked quietly, indicating the tiny restroom.

"Yeah I do, what was that, Steve?"

"Huh?"

"What did we just do?"

"Uh, I think," Steve paused, lost in thought. "I think that was really good, uh, for me, but I... I don't expect you to do it again. So maybe we can just not mention it again."

Neal nodded and stood up, heading for the bathroom. "Damn straight I'll never do it again," he muttered.

He showed up at Steve's room two days later, not ever mentioning the initial event. But he made sure to thank the singer the right way...