by Lane Hayes
The second he pulled me into the master suite, I hooked my fingers in his belt loops to stop his momentum, then crashed my mouth over his. Our tongues dueled in a frenzy as we unbuttoned, unbuckled, and unzipped. I paused to kick off my sneakers and pull my sweater and T-shirt over my head. Then I snaked my arms around his waist and lowered his jeans over his ass before squeezing the flesh with a porny sigh when his bare cock slid alongside mine.
“I want to be inside you, baby.”
I whimpered when he reached between us and closed his fist over me in a firm grip. “Fuck. Yes.”
Gray licked my lips, then traced a slow, teasing path along my jawline to my ear before whispering, “I want to see you this time.”
Words failed me. I could only say, “Me too” so many times. I let out a needy groan before driving my tongue into his mouth again and tilting my hips in the quest for more friction. Gray got the message. He released me and pointed at the king-sized bed like a caveman. And of course I didn’t hesitate. I pulled the fluffy white duvet back, then crawled onto the middle of the platform bed and wiggled my ass in invitation. Gray chuckled at my antics. I glanced at his reflection in the window and gulped. I may have leaked precum on his pillow. I couldn’t help it. A naked Gray was a thing of beauty. He reminded me of a modern-day warrior. Tall, sexy, muscular, and inked in all the right places. And the touch of gray at his temples and in his beard made me a little crazy. But the sight of his raging hard-on sticking straight out in front of him made my mouth water. I wasn’t gonna last long.
“You need to hurry.”
Gray pulled a bottle of lube and a condom out of the bedside drawer before climbing onto the bed behind me.
“We have time. We’re not going anywhere,” he purred.
He pressed kisses along my shoulder and down my spine. He scooted back and smacked my right ass cheek and then my left before reaching between my spread thighs for my cock.
“Maybe you shouldn’t do that. I’m already close. Just fuck me, Gray.”
“Shh. I will. I want to taste you first. Open up for me.”
I rested my head on the pillow then pulled my ass cheeks open per his instructions, exposing myself completely. It was funny that I didn’t feel slightly vulnerable or awkward. I hadn’t been intimate with many men. I’d certainly fooled around a bit, but I usually insisted on control in bed. I didn’t take orders well, and I usually liked to be on top, but this felt too amazing and my brain had left the scene a while ago. I sighed in blissed-out pleasure and pushed my hips back to meet his talented tongue when Gray bent to lick the sensitive skin around my hole. He teased me mercilessly. He stroked my cock as he worked me over, licking my entrance and then pushing the tip of his tongue inside before repeating the action. Yeah, it was incredible, but it was torture too. And just when I was about to beg, he let go and reached for the lube.
“Want me to turn over?”
“Not yet. Hold on to the headboard. That’s it, baby. How does that feel?” he asked as he pushed a single digit inside.
I shivered in response and rested my head on my forearms when he added a second. He spoke in a low, sweet voice as he finger-fucked me. He licked sweat from my neck and shoulders and praised me for being good. I should have laughed and made a joke of some sort to even the playing ground and not give him too much power over me. But I liked it too damn much. It felt oddly like being taken care of, and something in me responded like a thirsty man getting his first sip of water after a long drought.
“Mmm. I’m getting close.”
“Not yet.” Gray added a third finger, then bit my shoulder and growled in my ear, “Roll over.”
He slipped a condom over his rigid pole as I flipped over. He scooted between my open thighs and bent to suck me. Thankfully, he kept it brief. I was a man on the edge. Literally. He shifted back and lined his cock up with my hole and pushed.
“Oh fuck,” I cried as he made his way inside me, inch by inch.
He held my gaze the whole time, and he didn’t stop until his balls rested on my ass. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
He smiled sweetly, then pulled out slowly, almost to the tip, before surging forward again. He repeated the maneuver a couple of times. And when I lifted my hips in a silent request for more, he delivered. I hooked my legs around Gray’s waist and pulled him against me, gliding my tongue over his as he moved inside of me. The moderate pace gave way to an urgent one. I broke for air and grunted when he captured my hands above my head and slammed into me, bucking his hips over and over.
“So fucking good,” he whispered, slipping his right hand between our sweat-slicked torsos to grab my dick. “So good. Look at me, baby. Tell me when you’re gonna come. Tell me when you—”
“Fuck me. Now!”
Ropes of cum shot over his wrist and my chest as I fell apart underneath him. Gray didn’t miss a beat. He released my cock and pushed my knees against my stomach and pistoned his hips until his own orgasm claimed him a few seconds later. He braced his weight on the headboard and roared like a wounded animal, trembling in the aftermath.
I laughed when he shook his head as if to clear the cobwebs. He pressed a sweet kiss on my forehead before slowly disengaging. He removed the spent condom and wadded it in tissue, then plucked a few more tissues from the box and swiped at the mess on my stomach.
“All better,” he said, rolling to his side and pulling me along with him so we lay side-by-side.
I closed my eyes for a moment and smiled. “Don’t let this go to your head, but that might be the best thing I’ve ever done.”
Gray’s slow-growing grin warmed me from the inside out. He pushed a stray strand of hair from my eyes and kissed my nose. “Me too.”
I tried to think of a light, throwaway line to dim my ridiculous smile, but nothing came to me. My body was sated and my head was blissfully calm. Gray probably had no idea that he had this effect on me. I could breathe when I was with him, but I was never bored. Weird. He was a puzzle I wanted to put together, a song I wanted to write and listen to over and over. I wanted to collect those puzzle pieces and figure him out.
I didn’t get it. But I couldn’t deny that I wanted him. Not his talent, his connections, or his fancy lifestyle. I liked the mysterious guy with a nerdy side who seemingly had dozens of secrets he wasn’t ready to share. I wanted them. But mostly, I just wanted him.
7
JUSTIN
Charlie called a couple of weeks later, demanding to meet the band. And he was very specific about the location.
“It has to be at Gray’s studio. We have access to professional equipment there and can record a track to send to my dad’s office immediately. We have to get the ball rolling, or the window of opportunity will close.”
“Whoa. This is a little fast.”
Silence.
“Oh. I see. And what are we waiting for?” Charlie prodded in a neutral tone.
“I just thought I had a little more time.” I caught myself from adding anything dramatic like, “before my two worlds collided.”
“You can’t win if you don’t play the game, Justin,” he said gently.
“You’re right. When do you want to meet?”
“Tomorrow afternoon. Four o’clock.”
“We all have jobs, Char. I don’t know if—”
“Make it happen. Time is ticking.”
I stared at my cell after he hung up on me. I couldn’t say why, but meeting at Gray’s to record a song or two as a group felt like a big step. The second I introduced my bandmates to Gray and Charlie, I had a feeling something—maybe everything—would change.
I WAS RIGHT.
It was funny to see my band’s reaction to Gray’s place. Of course they were impressed with the house, but the studio blew them away. Tegan, Johnny, and Ky moved around the room, touching instruments reverently while Charlie looked on from the sofa.
“They aren’t museum pieces. You’re supposed to play ’em,” he urged.
“Wait
up. I don’t really get this whole situation. Who are you?” Ky asked.
Ky was a quintessential California boy with longish blond hair, blue eyes, tan skin, and a lean swimmer’s physique. He was a professional skateboarder turned bass player. Tegan went to high school with Ky. They lost touch for a while but reconnected after Ky saw one of Gypsy Coma’s gigs. I didn’t know him as well as Tegan or Johnny, but he was a good bassist, and we’d neared the point where almost anyone who could play was welcome.
“I’m your manager-slash-agent-slash-social-media-director. You all know the plan, correct?”
“Uh. Sort of. We’re practicing here, and then I’m not sure,” Tegan admitted before turning to me. “This is the place with the insane record collection?”
“Yeah. I’ll show you after we play. So…here’s the deal.” I clapped, then rubbed my hands together before explaining that we wanted to present a track to the studio for consideration for the next Baxter movie. “Xena has already signed a contract with them. There’s no reason we shouldn’t give it a shot too.”
My bandmates stared at me with matching “What the fuck?” expressions. Johnny spoke up first. “That sounds good. Maybe too good. How did we go from hoping to get invited to Carmine’s to recording demos for a movie? Seems like we’ve missed a few steps. I mean, Ky just started playing with us. No one’s gonna take us seriously until we’ve put a few miles on.”
“Not with that attitude,” Charlie snarked.
I waved my hands above my head. “Hey, I know it’s a long shot. Nothing may come of it, but we’re at the beginning where every opportunity is worth a try, right?”
“Okay, but whose house is this?” Ky asked.
“The guy Justin’s working for. He’s alphabetizing records or something,” Tegan said. “Is he here?”
I caught Charlie’s eye, wordlessly asking him to keep his side of the deal. I didn’t want to share specifics about the studio’s offer to write a love song or my relationship with Gray. In my mind, they were separate. I knew they’d come up eventually, but I’d already decided I wouldn’t sign the contract for the love song unless I could finagle one for Zero too. And Gray was…mine. I wasn’t ready to share anything about us. Not yet.
“No. He’s at a project meeting,” Charlie supplied. “And full disclosure, Gray is my godfather, and my father is the producer. Neither is a point in our favor. If you suck, my dad won’t make exceptions to make his kid happy. Not his style. Speaking of style…what’s yours? Are you rock or folk or—”
“Both,” I said. “I think we should play ‘The Ocean.’ ”
“I’m assuming this isn’t a Led Zeppelin cover,” Charlie said, pulling his computer out.
“You know Led Zeppelin?” Ky asked, raising his brow.
Charlie glared. “I do. Very well. Shall we?”
I grinned at Charlie, then gave Ky a “Don’t be a dick” look before pulling an acoustic guitar down from the wall and adjusting the strap over my shoulder. Then I approached the mic stand, strummed the first few chords, and lost myself in the music.
We played for two hours straight and if I do say so myself, we fuckin’ rocked. Gray joined us an hour into our session. He sat beside Charlie, and other than offering a minor suggestion on a chord change on one slower song, he simply observed. I introduced him to everyone and hung back while they exchanged pleasantries afterward. Then Charlie gave them a brief tour of the library, laughing when Tegan asked if I’d gotten any filing accomplished.
“Geez, Justin, it’s kind of a mess,” Tegan commented under his breath as Charlie stepped aside.
“And I’m kinda busy,” I retorted. “There’s a lot to it. You know, genres and languages and stuff.”
“And remembering the alphabet. Hope he’s not in a hurry,” Tegan said, glancing toward Gray, who was in the middle of a conversation with Johnny and Ky in the hallway. “He’s hot, by the way. What’s he like?”
“He’s cool,” I replied nonchalantly before fixating on my cell.
Tegan shot a pointed look at me. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. Why?”
“Dude, you’re the worst liar ever. Are you sleeping with him?”
I bit my bottom lip and gave him a weak smile in response. “Do guys really say ‘sleeping together’? It sounds kind of old-fashioned.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Tegan’s tatted biceps stretched the fabric of his plain tee when he scratched his head. “Is that why we’re practicing here? Or is he Charlie’s connection? Or is Gray how you met Charlie and got us a place to practice and an opportunity to play on a soundtrack? And Johnny’s right. Don’t you think it’s weird as fuck that a band who’s only strung together a few shows at closet-sized venues would be considered for a deal like this?”
“Do you have twenty more questions, or is that it?” I huffed sarcastically.
“Just one more.” He smiled at Ky and Johnny when one of them called his name; then he lowered his voice for my ears only. “What are you hiding? I know you, Justin. And I’ve noticed a few things. You’re never home, you’re always in a good mood, and you’re not spinning in a million directions at the same time. Rory called me the other day to ask about you. He noticed it too.”
“Rory called you?”
“Yeah. He wondered if you’d gotten back together with the dragon or if something happened with Dec.”
“Never and no,” I replied with a universal “yuck” face.
“I didn’t think so. I can’t figure out if you don’t want to say anything because it’s a gay thing and you like to keep your homo activity on the DL, or if it’s something else.”
“I’m openly bi, T. Everyone knows.” Nice evasive maneuver, I mused.
“Oh, please. You make sure no one knows you like to suck dick. It doesn’t go with your image. I know how that goes,” he added with a self-deprecating shrug that defused the harsh words. “You’re out—but when it’s convenient. And it’s mostly convenient for you to admit you’re bi when you have a girlfriend. Just sayin’.”
I rounded on him angrily. “Are you trying to start a fucking fight?”
“No, asshole. I’m just reminding you that I’ve been here from the beginning. We agreed after Gypsy Coma imploded that the only way we could start over was if we were honest with each other. No lies, no secrets. I don’t care who you sleep with. But if your new boyfriend has something to do with this band, you might want to let me know.”
“Hey, T, you gotta see these Elvis records,” Ky called from the other side of the room.
Tegan nodded in acknowledgment before turning back to me. “I want you to be happy, man, but I don’t get any of this. It seems…too good to be true. I hope I’m just being overly cautious. Somebody’s gotta be.”
“I might have forgotten to water your plants a few times, but I’m not completely irresponsible. And don’t forget, you’re the one who told me to call Charlie.”
“Yeah. For social media help. I didn’t think he’d be our manager.” He let out a beleaguered sigh and stepped backward. “Hey, like you said, it’s worth a shot—and maybe this’ll work out. Crazier things have happened.”
“It’s true. T, think about it. If everything falls into place, Zero has a decent shot at being bigger than Gypsy Coma ever dreamed.”
“That would be amazing. Gotta wonder what it’s gonna cost us.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, furrowing my brow.
“Get real, Justin. Nothing’s free.” Tegan gave a humorless laugh. He spread his arms wide as if to encompass the house, the people, the music…and then he moved into my space and tapped my shoulder. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that you avoided answering my questions. I’m gonna let it slide for now, but you’re not off the hook. None of us are. If we’re a band, we’re in this together.”
I stared after him for a moment, wishing I could offer reassurance or a guarantee. But I came up empty. I believed great things could happen here. This was a talented group of guys. We hadn
’t been together long, but none of us were novices. We’d paid our dues in other bands. We knew what it was like to play to uninterested hipsters in crappy clubs with worn-out sound systems. But in an age where YouTube videos launched careers for artists performing cover songs from the comfort of their own bedrooms, I had to believe Zero had a shot too.
Gray
I LOVED MUSIC. I loved writing scores and crafting songs, but writing throwaway content for box office hits wasn’t creatively satisfying. Writing to order was boring, but I was good at it. If a music producer wanted to hire me to pen a signature song for one of their label’s big stars, I needed minimal information to fulfill my part of the deal. Who was the artist? What was his or her range? What genre, what tempo, and was there a theme?
It was the same for a film. Seb knew he could give me a few key words and let me do my thing. Within a week or two, I could generally deliver what he was looking for and more. But I took my time on this love song because I didn’t want it to end. And in the weeks after our first “research date,” I wondered if the feeling was a metaphor. I didn’t want an end date or a deadline with Justin. I wanted to go on and on.
Justin was my muse. I wrote a string of songs for a popular country singer’s new album and started working on the score for a sci-fi thriller set to be released in eighteen months. But I didn’t touch the love song unless I was with Justin. It was ours, not mine. In a business sense, of course. I was incredibly attracted to him, but I wasn’t delusional. I’d had previous instances of “falling” for a muse for a short time. The singular obsession that led to intense spouts of creativity was a common theme among artists. But this felt different. In an artistic sense, he wasn’t inspiration for a song; he was the silence in between the words. A gorgeous note followed by a poignant pause.
