aFireFist
A Life in Hollywood
Chapter 20 - Taylor Swift and Selena Gomez {1989 Tour} - Part 2
The second the last person was gone and the bus doors shut, though, she exhaled and leaned against the side of the vehicle. The public brightness softened into something more private.
"That was fun," she said, tipping her head back against the metal of the bus. "Also torture. My body's still buzzing from earlier. I can still feel your fingers. I need you tonight. Properly. Not a closet. Not twelve minutes. I want time."
Osiah nodded, stepping closer until the toes of his boots nearly touched hers. "You'll have me."
She smiled, softer this time, and reached out to brush her fingers against his wrist, lingering there for a second. "Good. Because after the show… I've got something to tell you. Something I think you're going to like."
She didn't explain further. She just pushed off the bus, stretched her arms over her head—sweater riding up just enough to show a strip of smooth skin above her leggings—and headed back toward the arena with one last glance over her shoulder to make sure he was following.
They headed back inside for the final prep. The sun was starting to drop, turning the sky outside the loading docks a deep orange. Inside, the arena was filling with the low roar of early arrivals—thousands of voices already building, the floor beginning to vibrate with anticipation. Somewhere in the schedule, a special guest was about to arrive, but for now the machine kept moving. Osiah stayed busy through the last checks: final lighting focuses, a last-minute swap on a backup mic, making sure the quick-change area was clear. Taylor disappeared into hair and makeup, then into her first stage look. By the time the house lights dropped, the place was electric.
The show itself was strong—tight, loud, the Philadelphia crowd giving everything back. Osiah watched from the wings the way he always did, fixing the small things that cropped up and tracking Taylor's every move. She was on fire, body sharp, voice cutting clean through the mix. Every so often her eyes found his and held for a fraction of a second longer than necessary.
Later that night, after the final encore and the last bow, they barely made it through the hotel suite door before Taylor was pulling at his clothes. The post-show adrenaline was still running hot in both of them. She kicked the door shut with her heel, shoved him back toward the big bed, and climbed on top of him before he'd even fully sat down. Her stage outfit was already half-off. She yanked his jeans open, wrapped her hand around his c,
{R-18 Scene Osiah x Taylor Swift}
They stayed like that for a while, breathing hard, her body still twitching with little aftershocks. Osiah ran a hand slowly up and down her back, feeling the light sheen of sweat on her skin and the way her heart hammered against his.
Taylor eventually lifted her head and looked at him, cheeks still flushed, lips swollen, hair a complete mess. She looked thoroughly fucked and completely satisfied.
"So… I have a special guest for one of the shows," she said, voice soft but clearly excited. "Tomorrow night, actually. Selena's flying in."
Osiah raised an eyebrow, still catching his breath. "Selena Gomez?"
"Yeah." Taylor shifted her hips. His softening cock slipped out of her with a wet sound, and more cum dripped onto his thigh. She didn't seem to care in the slightest. She just settled more comfortably against him and traced a finger down his chest. "We've been talking about doing a song together for a while. She finally had a free night in her schedule. She's performing with me tomorrow. One song, maybe two if the crowd loses it."
She propped herself up a little so she could see his face better. "I want you helping with her side of things. Quick changes, sound, whatever she needs. She's a little nervous about the staging—it's different from her usual setup. You'll make her feel comfortable. You're good at that."
Osiah nodded, one hand still resting on the curve of her ass. "Alright. I'll take care of it."
Taylor smiled, that dirty little smile she got when she was already planning something more than she was saying. "Good. Because I have a feeling you two are going to get along… really well."
She didn't elaborate. She just kissed him once, slow and warm, then tucked her head back under his chin and let the quiet settle over them. Cum continued to leak slowly from her onto his skin. Neither of them moved to clean up.
***
Selena arrived the next afternoon.
Osiah was already in the arena when her car pulled up to the artist entrance. He met her at the door with a credential lanyard and a calm, professional smile. She looked exactly like the photos—soft features, dark hair pulled back loosely, a kind of presence that was different from Taylor's bright, kinetic energy. She was in a simple black top and jeans, sunglasses still on, a small bag over one shoulder. There was a slight travel tiredness around her eyes, but she smiled when she saw him.
"Hi," she said, voice warm but a little tired from the flight. "You're Osiah, right? Taylor's been talking about you nonstop."
"That's me," he said, handing her the pass. "Welcome to the chaos. I'll walk you through everything so it feels less overwhelming."
He showed her the layout at an easy pace—stage entrance, the quick-change area they'd set up specifically for her number, the private dressing room she'd be using, the path to the monitor board. Selena listened carefully, asking smart, practical questions about sightlines, how long she had between her entrance and the first chorus, whether the in-ear mix could be adjusted on the fly. She was professional, focused, and clearly trying to settle her nerves by getting the details right.
"Taylor said you're the one who keeps things from falling apart," Selena said as they walked the edge of the stage. Her voice was warm but still carried a trace of travel fatigue. "She wasn't exaggerating."
"I just fix what's in front of me," Osiah answered. "You'll be fine. The staging is clean. Once you've walked it a couple of times it'll feel natural. The marks are simple—enter on the eight, hold the first chorus center, then the lights open up behind you."
He pointed out her entrance mark on the floor with the toe of his boot. Selena studied it, nodding, already committing the spacing to memory. They were still standing there, talking through the timing of the final harmony, when Taylor found them. She came in from the opposite direction, still in her black rehearsal sports bra and leggings, hair in a messy ponytail, a light sheen of sweat on her skin from the last run-through. The second she reached them she pulled Selena into a tight hug, both of them laughing and talking over each other the way old friends do.
"How was the flight—you look amazing—I can't believe we're finally doing this—"
"I know, it's been too long—"
Osiah stepped back and let them have the moment. Taylor's arms stayed wrapped around Selena longer than a casual hello, one hand rubbing slow circles on her back. When they finally pulled apart, Taylor kept a hand on Selena's arm like she didn't want to lose contact just yet.
When the conversation turned technical again, Taylor looped an arm through Osiah's and tugged him closer. "He's the one who keeps everything from falling apart," she told Selena. "If something feels off during rehearsal—sound, lights, whatever—tell him. He'll fix it before you even finish the sentence."
Selena looked at him again, longer this time. Her eyes were dark and thoughtful. "Good to know."
Rehearsal for the joint number went smoothly. They ran it four times. Selena's voice blended with Taylor's like they'd been singing together for years—Taylor's brighter tone wrapping around Selena's warmer one without either of them pushing. The staging was simple but effective: the two of them sharing a single spotlight for most of the song, standing close enough that their shoulders almost touched, then the full production kicking in at the final chorus with lights and dancers flooding the stage. Osiah handled a couple of small sound issues from the monitor board—Selena's in-ear mix needed a slight vocal bump on the second run—and adjusted a lighting cue so her face stayed perfectly lit during the bridge. By the fourth pass both women looked locked in and comfortable.
After the final run-through, Taylor pulled both of them toward one of the private dressing rooms at the end of the hall.
"Ten minutes," she said, voice light but purposeful. "I want to go over the quick-change one more time without the whole crew watching. Just us."
The room was small but comfortable—soft lighting, a wide vanity with bright bulbs, a low couch, a couple of chairs, a locked door that shut out the hallway noise. Taylor turned the lock with a click. Selena set her water bottle down on the vanity and turned to the mirror, checking her reflection. She smoothed her hair, adjusted the neckline of her black top, and let out a slow breath.
"I still get nervous before these things," she admitted, meeting Taylor's eyes in the glass. "Even after all this time. Different stage, different crowd, last-minute pairing… it gets in my head."
"You'll be fine," Taylor said. She stepped up behind Selena and rested her hands lightly on her shoulders, giving them a gentle, testing squeeze. "You sound amazing. The blend is perfect. And you look… really good." Her thumbs pressed a little deeper into the tight muscles at the base of Selena's neck. "You're carrying everything up here."
Osiah stayed near the door at first, giving them space. Taylor glanced over her shoulder at him and tilted her head in a clear, invitation to come closer. He moved to the side of the vanity so he was visible in the mirror. Selena's eyes met his in the glass. There was a flicker of something—curiosity, maybe a little heat—before she looked away again, cheeks faintly pink.
Taylor's hands stayed on Selena's shoulders, then slowly slid down her arms in a deliberate stroke. "Osiah's really good with tension," she said lightly, like she was commenting on the weather. "Shoulders, back… whatever's tight. He helped me earlier today. Made a huge difference. I could actually breathe through the last numbers."
Selena let out a small breath that was almost a laugh. "My shoulders are always wrecked after flying. And the stress of learning something new this fast doesn't help."
"Then let him," Taylor said, voice soft but firm. She gave Osiah another look in the mirror. "Trust me. He's got good hands."
Osiah stepped fully behind Selena. She didn't move away. He placed his hands on her shoulders and started working the tight muscles with the same steady, measured pressure he always used—thumbs digging into the knots at the base of her neck, fingers spreading across the tops of her shoulders. Selena's eyes fluttered closed almost immediately. A soft, surprised sound left her.
"Oh… okay," she murmured. "That's… really good."
Taylor watched them in the mirror, a small smile on her face. She reached up and brushed a strand of dark hair behind Selena's ear, fingers lingering against her cheek for a second longer than necessary. "See? I told you. Just breathe."
Osiah worked lower, thumbs pressing into the muscles along Selena's shoulder blades, finding the tight bands of tension and coaxing them to release. Her breathing slowed. Her head tipped forward slightly. Taylor's hand drifted down Selena's arm, then rested lightly on her waist, thumb stroking absently over the fabric of her top. The air in the room shifted—thicker, quieter, charged with something that hadn't been there when they first walked in.
Selena's eyes opened again and found Taylor's in the mirror. Her voice came out softer than before. "Tay…"
"It's okay," Taylor whispered. She leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the side of Selena's neck, just below her ear. Her lips lingered there, warm. "I've been thinking about this for a while. Both of you. Together."
For the Full 11318 word Version Please check my p.a.t.r.e.o.n: pat.....reon.c.o.m/cw/aFireFist just remove the multiple periods in this link. Thank you for the Support!