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Love On Display	By : AEMorgan Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Bon Jovi Views: 2466 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Bon Jovi. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Richie was halfway to the bar when Eric stepped out from between a cluster of tables. "Was the dance… satisfactory." He made a show of staring at the hard-on tenting Richie's pants.

Richie shifted uncomfortably on the spot, feeling the urge to cover his crotch with his hands. His tongue darted out to wet nervously dry lips. "Uh. Yeah. Is… Can I… Is there anyway I can talk to him. In private?"

Eric laughed. "Invatevate. Sure. $25 for 30 minutes. Extras cost. He'll let you . Ta. Take a seat at the bar, someone will come and get you when he's ready."

Richie nodded and sat on one of the bar stools, watching as Eric moved down the bar, stopping andsperspering something in Jon's ear. Jon tensed but nodded, sliding off his stool and pushing through the curtain covering one wall. Richie pulled his wallet from his jeans pocket and flipped through it, sighing under his breath; $25 was all he had. But he had to see Jon, had to speak to him. He knew if he waited until the morning, Jon would have had time to make excuses and avoid him. He sighed again and spun the stool around, leaning his back against the bar, eyes darting around the club.

Jon sat back in the plush leather chair, chewing nervously on his fingernails, fingers picking at his cuticles. Eric told him someone had requested a private dance but not who. And he'd just danced for Richie. He knew Richie had enjoyed the dance, had been turned on by it; he'd seen it in his face and the erection he'd been sporting. What if Richie had requested the private room and what if he didn't just want a dance?

The sound of the door opening startled Jon from his train of thought and he looked up, still biting his nails Please don't let it be Richie, please don't let it be…"

"Richie."

"Jon."

"Uhmm, hi." He smiled weakly. "Happy birthday."

"Thanks." Richie sat down on the bed opposite Jon and watched him, waiting for him to say something. When Jon didn't speak, Richie ran his fingers through his hair. "Thought you said you worked in a bar?"

"I did. And I do. Never specified what I did."

"True," Richie admitted. He frowned. "Do your mom and dad know what you do here? Don't tell me they're okay with this?"

Jon shois his head and stood, turning his back on Richie, resting his forehead against the cool wall. "No, they don't know. It's not like they'd give a fuck if they did. They wouldn’t…" he shrugged. "They don't care what I do."

"Of course they care, Jon."

"No they don't, Richie." There was a slight hitch in Jon's voice but Richie heard it and frowned. "They…" Jon took a deep breath. "They threw me out."

"Because of this?"

Jon shook his head. "No. It happened a few months ago. They caught me and…. and Tom making out on the couch one evening. Dad went… he just went fucking mad." Jon sniffed, tears starting to roll down his cheeks.

"Oh God, Jon, I'm sorry…" Richie turned Jon around to face him and held him close. Neither man said a word, just stood there silently, Jon's tears shaking him slightly. Richie tightened his hold on Jon; how on earth could Jon's parents have done this to him? he wondered. Jon's just a kid…"

Jon blushed and pulled away. Richie let him go, wiping the last few stray tears from his cheek with a thumb. "You OK?" Jon nodded, swallowing heard. Richie frowned at a smear of colour on Jon's cheek and wiped his thumb under his eye again. More make-up came off, revealing a mostly faded bruise around Jon's eye. "Jon?" Richie tilted Jon's chin up with his finger to get a better look. "What happened?"

Jon shrugged and wrapped his arms around himself. "Didn't bend over quick enough."

"Bend over? I don't under… oh." Richie stumbled backwards slightly, the backs of his knees hitting the chair and he sank back down into it. "Oh."

Jon shook his head. "I'm not a whore, Richie."

"I never said you were," Richie replied quickly.

"No, but you were thinking it."

"What am I supposed to think, Jon?"

Jon's eyes widened and he shook his head. A look of distress passed over his face, but he squeezed his eyes shut, mouth changing to a thin flat line. "Fine," he replied dully, features schooled to an emotionless mask. "If it's a whore you want, it's a whore you get." He dropped his knees in front of Richie, hands resting on the guitarist's thighs.

Richie tensed at the touch, sucking in a deep breath as Jon started to unzip his pants. He moaned, then shook his head, pushing Jon away.

Jon landed on his back, legs spread slightly. He laughed and spread his legs wider, folding his hands behind his head. "This way works too." He looked up at Richie and raised an eyebrow. "Well?"

"No," Richie ground out. He rose from the chair, bent down and grabbed Jon's arm pulling him to his feet, shaking him lightly. "You're better than this, Jon." He insisted quietly. "Get your stuff, we'revingving."

Jon hed hed and pulled his arm free, realising how he'd just offered himself to Richie; proving the guitarist right. He was a whore. He sighed softly. "I can't leave in the middle of my shift, Richie." He whispered. "I won't… I won't get paid if I do."

"Jon, please…" Richie started to reply but a loud bang at the door stopped him.

"Time's up!" The door was flung open, both men blinking as the bright lights from the club assaulted their eyes. "Pay and leave,chiechie was instructed by a face-less voice.

Jon blushed as Richie pulled $25 from his wallet and handed it to him.

"I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?" Richie asked as he turned away.

Jon nodded. "Yeah," he replied quietly, sinking to his knees, the money falling from nerveless fingers as Richie walked out the door, closing it quietly behind him.
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