by Z. Allora
Once they were back outside, the driver took the suitcase and guitar. Daiki and Wayuu got into the car.
Sage reached over and buckled the safety belt around Daiki. His arm brushed across Daiki’s chest. He paused right in front of Daiki’s face.
Their mouths were so close.
Daiki’s vision tunneled. Sage’s lips were right there, and then Sage licked his lower lip. Daiki leaned toward heaven—
Tap, tap, tap.
Daiki jumped. “Oh.”
Zen squeezed his shoulder in apology and then said, “Speaking of manga, tell us what you have planned for us, Sensei.”
Manga? Oh, right. He was a mangaka, not the drummer’s personal kisser, though if that were a job, he’d apply. Daiki smiled at how rare it was for someone to make him lose place and reason with embarrassing ease.
He turned to Zen. “Nothing too out there. The manga will focus on Kashi-sei’s brand of visibility. I’ll keep the storylines as close to reality as possible. I’ve already hooked into a couple of LGBTQ advocacy groups because I want to slide in information where I can.”
Haru air-guitared a bit of a soundless song and then said, “Smart. They will also be a good source of marketing.”
Sage frowned but then nodded. “I guess getting their input makes a lot of sense, considering what our mission is.”
Daiki tried to keep calm, but when Sage got all—
“Will my little sister be able to read Kashi-sei’s manga?” Zen asked.
Um… car with other people; not the time to get turned-on. Focus on the question. “Depends on her age.”
“Seventeen.”
“Definitely.”
After quick stops at Sage’s and Haru’s, they pulled up to Suzuki Zen’s luxury apartment building. A teenager appeared with an overnight bag in one hand and a keyboard in the other.
Zen jumped out of the car. Words were exchanged that Daiki couldn’t hear. Zen kept shaking his head no, but the teen stamped her foot and wouldn’t release the bag.
He dropped his head, grabbed his keyboard, and then stomped back to the car.
“Um, I hate to impose, but could you say hello to my sister, Sensei?” Zen handed Sage his keyboard.
“What? Oh, um, sure.” Daiki stepped out of the car.
Zen whispered, “Don’t mention Wayuu is with us. Otherwise—just don’t.”
Haru snorted, but Sage and Wayuu didn’t add anything.
“Okay.” Daiki smiled at Zen’s sister as he walked over to meet her.
“Sensei, this is my sister, Suzuki Yumi,” Zen introduced them.
They exchanged greetings. She gave him her card with all her details as well as her social media accounts.
“Please call me Yumi, Sensei. I love your work so much. You are why I want to be a mangaka.” Daiki listened to her gush embarrassingly rave reviews for his work. Her compliments were flattering, but her brother was a rock star, and there was another idol in the car who had a big following—not to mention Haru, as well as Sage—so her praise felt as overwhelming as it was misplaced.
Daiki responded to numerous questions and even agreed to look at her work. “You can pass your drawings to me through your brother… if you don’t mind, Zen.”
Zen glanced at his sister. He chuckled. “I don’t, but even if I did I don’t think that would matter…. Okay, sis, we’ve got to go.”
She tossed the duffel bag to her brother and waved them off.
“Thank you. You were very kind to her.” Zen rested his head on the back of the seat.
Daiki still felt like his face was red. “I’m grateful to all my fans, but I was taken aback by her extensive knowledge of my work.”
Sage smiled at him and squeezed his thigh for a moment.
Haru asked, “So why didn’t you tell her Wayuu was in the car, or does she hate anything Fire, like you?”
Zen glared at Haru and then glanced at Wayuu. “For one, it would’ve been a thing—a very big thing—and secondarily, I don’t hate all things Fire at all…. Not even a little bit.”
Daiki wanted to say something, but a bump pressed him against Sage, and he allowed himself to enjoy the closeness.
Chapter 10
SAGE HELPED clear the dishes Daiki’s assistants brought in for the band as Daiki broke out the sake.
The way in which Daiki served, using two hands to pour from a brown-and-blue earthen tokkuri carafe, did odd things to Sage. The ritual of sharing sake was a small thing, but Sage treasured someone who appreciated the intimacy and performed the traditional activity so mindfully.
When Daiki stood in front of him, Sage held his ochoko—the matching cup—on his fingers, supporting it with his other hand.
As soon as everyone had been served, Daiki returned the tokkuri to rest on ice in a chilled larger vessel with slow, practiced movements. The ritual relaxed and enchanted Sage. He nabbed the tokkuri, then carefully filled Daiki’s cup. He added sake to the vessel, put it in the ice, and took the seat next to Daiki.
Weird how he relaxed simply feeling Daiki’s body next to his. It was—
Haru elbowed and side-eyed him. “You look happily confused.”
Sage shook himself and held his cup out. “Thank you all for making this dream one step closer to reality. Kanpai!”
As everyone shouted, “Kanpai!” he caught Daiki’s gaze and mouthed, “Thank you.”
Daiki’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, and then he gave Sage a shy smile and mouthed back, “Thank you.”
Happiness filled him and freed him the way only drumming had in the past. He drank and held the cup, waiting for Daiki to refill it. Once Daiki replenished everyone else’s, Sage poured Daiki’s and topped up the tokkuri.
The talk became easier once they were on their second bottle of sake.
“Tell us about dating in LA?” Zen leaned toward Sage as if he wanted all the salacious details.
What could he say? Glancing at Daiki, who also seemed to be interested, made Sage shrug. He didn’t want to talk about before, but he said, “Dating always felt like auditioning.”
Wayuu snorted. “Playing a part. Always pretending to be what you’re not.”
Everyone stared at him.
Sage had been referring to the number of would-be actors in LA, but….
Swallowing the remaining sake, Wayuu waved them off. “What? Everyone pretends to be someone else.”
Nodding to help Wayuu move past that bit of unexpected truth, Sage added, “Like emotionally stable.”
Chuckling, Haru shook his head. “Hey! Some of us are emotionally stable. Ask my girlfriend.”
Zen slid his gaze over to Wayuu. “I find someone who has it all together rather boring.”
Haru looked between the two of them and inclined his head. “To each his or her own.” Sagging a bit on the counter, he asked, “Question, Wayuu. Who exactly is Ito-san? I know he’s your, what… manager? But—”
“He owns my ass.” Wayuu snorted.
Zen set down his cup harder than usual.
Wayuu picked up the tokkuri, handed Zen the cup, and refilled Zen’s ochoko with a shaky pour.
Zen wiped his sake-wet hand on his pants. “He picked up Fire’s debt?”
Sage hadn’t heard much on the subject but bristled at the thought of being at that man’s beck and call.
“Looks and brains,” Wayuu murmured as he folded his arms on the counter. His head fell onto them two beats later.
Zen swiped some strands of hair out of Wayuu’s closed eyes. “Wayuu. Watanabe Wayuu?”
Haru chortled. “He’s down for the count. Anyone heard of Ito?”
Pulling his attention off the passed-out man, Zen snatched his lingering hand away from Wayuu’s hair.
Daiki shifted in his seat and stared down at his sake.
Sage studied Daiki and tried to read between his actions to what he wasn’t saying.
Zen frowned. “Ito is one of those various investors who cares nothing about the music, only the money and power co
ntrolling a successful band or idol can bring.”
“You’ve just described the music business globally.” Sage didn’t bother to keep the annoyance out of his tone.
Sitting straighter, Haru asked, “But he wouldn’t—”
“Why not? It’s not a secret how some idols are mistreated behind the scenes,” Zen answered, pointing out the horrid reality Sage didn’t want to be a part of. Trying to improve that situation was why he was here.
“You?”
“WTZ’s agency wasn’t terrible, but I had my share of issues and run-ins.” Zen shook his head as if to shake off the memories, and pounded back his sake.
Haru dragged his fingers through his hair as he grimaced. “I guess Freddie Mercury’s assertion wasn’t wrong. And you and Wayuu probably know this more than most.”
Zen squinted at him. “What?”
“Freddie said that maybe we’re all musical prostitutes. Giving the fans what they want, when they want it, for money….”
Sage shook his head. “No musician should have to pay with their soul.”
“Or body.” Daiki covered his mouth as if he needed to stop more words from falling out.
Zen’s hands on the counter tightened into fists.
Refilling everyone’s cup except Wayuu’s, Sage held his up. “Never. Kanpai!”
Everyone conscious said, “Kanpai.”
“What should we do about him?” Haru pointed to Wayuu.
“I’ve got him.” Zen gently shook Wayuu, and when he didn’t wake, Zen pulled Wayuu’s arm around his shoulder. Wayuu roused out of unconsciousness enough for Zen to half carry him to the second bedroom.
Sage attempted to help, but a glare from Zen made him back off, so he took on the supervisory role of pulling down blankets, adjusting pillows, and trying not to laugh at Haru’s snarky comments.
Haru’s eyes sparkled with mischief, but he kept a straight face. “Don’t give me that look. I simply asked if you’d be tucking us in as well?”
Zen growled.
Biting back a laugh, Sage exited the room and returned to the kitchen.
Daiki had cleared the counters and was straightening everything.
Sage rested his chin on Daiki’s shoulder and leaned in for a moment. “You knew?”
Daiki didn’t look in his direction but gave him a nod. “I overheard something I shouldn’t have at the restaurant.”
“That’s why you suggested this sleepover and why Wayuu asked for your help getting his things?” He really wanted to know what Daiki and Wayuu had talked about but tried to sound like it didn’t matter.
“Yes.” Daiki started the dishwasher.
“Thank you for breaking out the sake.” Sage tapped a beat with his hands on the counter.
Daiki shrugged. “I find it helps my assistants tell me what they really think.”
Sage stopped drumming and stepped in front of Daiki. Their gazes locked, and Sage fell into an oasis filled with everything he’d ever wanted.
He cupped Daiki’s face and lifted his chin, putting Daiki’s lips in line with his. Their breath mingled, tantalizing him. Anticipation of touching those lips again—
A door opened, and Daiki stepped back. He turned and busied himself with rearranging the dish towel.
Haru came in rubbing his eyes. “Oh, sorry. Just coming in for some water.”
Daiki got four bottles out of the refrigerator. He handed one to Haru, and Sage accepted the other three. “For Wayuu and Zen. Have a good night.”
Sage didn’t want to go, but Haru stood there like he was watching a play. Sage asked Daiki, “Um, do you think you could come with us tomorrow on the apartment search?”
Daiki’s eyes got huge like one of the characters he drew. So damned cute!
“You’ll be staying with us a lot of the time… right?” Sage’s dad would have been impressed with how he loaded that question. Maybe he should have been shocked by his desire to do so, but being close to Daiki chased away anything except the need for more.
“Um….” Daiki looked around the apartment as if it held a usable answer.
Haru’s body shook with a suppressed chuckle.
Sage shot Haru a look of “Help a buddy out and stop being a cock blocker.”
Giving Sage a slight nod, Haru said, “How else would you be drawing us realistically?”
Daiki opened his mouth, but Sage wasn’t sure what the answer would be, so he quickly added, “We’ll leave around eleven. Night.”
He escaped into the bedroom before Daiki could say no and found Zen staring down at the sleeping Wayuu.
Sage clearing his throat seemed to propel Zen to the other bottom bunk. “You and Haru get top bunks.”
“Sure.” Sage wasn’t sure what was going on between the two singers, but his real issue was that a top bunk would make sneaking out more difficult.
DIFFICULT BUT not impossible…. Sage grinned as he made his way through the dark living space over to Daiki’s room. The bedroom door was open a crack, and the light was on.
Daiki sat cross-legged on top of his comforter in lounge pants and no shirt. His hair was every which way under his fox hat, and the round-framed glasses made him look hot like a delicious schoolteacher, smart like—
“Oh, Sage.” Daiki ripped off his hat and glasses.
What was it about Daiki that turned Sage inside out? Sweetness, intensity, talent, a willingness to explore—
Daiki tilted his head. “Did you need something?”
Sage closed and locked the door. He traced a finger over Daiki’s lips, which were far from innocent now, and answered, “You.”
“Me?” The surprise in Daiki’s voice tripped another wire in Sage’s brain, tightening the cords around his heart.
Sage licked his thumb and glided the wetness over Daiki’s bottom lip. “You look like you’re ready for me.”
Daiki’s eyelashes fluttered, and he whimpered the tiniest bit. “I am.”
Wow. “I like that you don’t play games.”
Daiki licked Sage’s thumb. “When my characters aren’t honest, all that does is create drama.”
“You don’t want drama?” Too many men did.
“No.”
Sage really believed him. “You want something other than drama?”
“You… I want you. Right now. Please.” His honest need and sincerity couldn’t be ignored.
Sage shouldn’t let himself fall so fast, but glancing at Daiki, who wasn’t hiding the affection, he clipped the usual strings that held him in place. Besides, Daiki was impossible to resist, and Sage didn’t want to.
He tangled his fingers into Daiki’s hair and smelled the strawberry scent of his shampoo. Sage kissed the hair he held. He wanted to kiss everything.
Daiki twined his arms around Sage and pulled him down on top of him.
It would be so easy to just take this where they wanted it. Daiki’s total surrender was there in every shaky breath he took.
No, not the time. Sage dragged his mouth along Daiki’s neck and kissed his Adam’s apple.
Daiki’s gasp wasn’t loud, but Sage didn’t know how thick the walls were. He whispered, “Shh,” in Daiki’s ear, which seemed to have the opposite effect.
Sage tried to get off him, but Daiki’s hand skimmed down Sage’s back and settled on his ass. He thrust up as he pressed Sage’s ass down. The thin material of his lounge pants and Sage’s jersey shorts did not prevent alluring friction from making too many promises.
Daiki stared up at Sage like he was everything, and it was too much.
He captured Daiki’s mouth with his own and kissed him. What started out as soft and slow turned into hot and fast.
Their rutting had all the finesse of a high school make-out session, but the feelings were new and real and had Sage getting desperate. He needed to take this up a notch or they’d both come hands-free.
Reaching into Daiki’s pants, he wrapped his hand around Daiki’s erection and gave him a stroke.
“Yes. Sage. Yeah
.” Daiki got the words out between the kisses and slipped a hand down the front of Sage’s shorts. His tentative touches became gropes, which finally evolved into nice firm tugs.
Dear Lord, when had Sage gotten so hot over a hand job… but this was Daiki. Daiki’s breathy murmurings and purrs had him right on the edge.
“Quiet. We’ve got to be quiet,” Sage whispered as he swallowed down his own groan of excitement. The impossibility of keeping this a secret teased his kink for the forbidden, and he craved more.
Daiki nodded, but his moans suggested he didn’t understand the meaning of Sage’s words.
Sage was on the cusp. Daiki’s shaft leaked and throbbed in his hands, proving he wasn’t alone in this insanity.
“You want to come?” Sage asked, as if either of them had much choice. Crossing the finish line was a foregone conclusion.
“Yes,” Daiki pleaded, and he sped up his fist.
His panting turned into a long moan as he came.
Sage covered Daiki’s mouth and tried to swallow his whimpers of completion. But when his own orgasm pulsed out of him and into Daiki’s fist, he lost all hope of controlling anything, least of all his groans. He rode the wave of pleasure until it finally ebbed.
SAGE WOKE to the most delicious sensation… a sleeping Daiki in his arms. Daiki snuggled in and then rolled over and clutched a pillow. Sage watched him breathe, and he let a sense of peace surround him like a weighted blanket.
He could get used to this, and he wanted to wake up holding Daiki every morning.
What a weird want. But wonderful nonetheless.
Sage used the bathroom and then wandered over to stare at the painting. The image bore a passing resemblance to him, and in this dim light of dawn, he did see many similarities between himself and the picture. Should his ego be stroked that he looked like Daiki’s dream man or worried that Daiki might be just living out a decades-old fantasy with him?
Way to be paranoid.
Sage headed into the kitchen.
Daiki would be hungry when he woke up. Sage couldn’t make much, but he could make fried eggs. Afraid of the grease splattering on his bare chest, he put on the apron that hung on a hook. He reheated some leftover vegetables, made some eggs, and poured tea.
