Living in Fast Forward

by BA Tortuga

  “I was.” Oh man, the lip curl. He’d officially gotten the lip curl. Man, the lip curl was fucking hot. Good thing the man was sweaty and hatless. “You’re staring.” Hollis grabbed a towel and rubbed the sweat off. “You want a piece, all you have to do is ask.”

  “I’m not staring.” Well, maybe he was staring a little bit….

  “Not a bit. Just watching. Real fucking close.” Man, first the sarcasm, then the lip curl, and now that amazing, crinkly smile.

  He found a grin of his own, frankly admiring. “Honey, you’re worth watching. Real fucking close.”

  And he’d helped with it.

  “Yeah? Well, so are you. I like those thin pants.” Hollis could do charm. It was kind of amazing how quick those moods changed.

  “Thanks. They’re the standard uniform of trainers everywhere.” He winked, bent to pick up some of the equipment, making sure to give Hollis something to stare at. Hollis was right there behind him in a flash, hands on his ass, one sliding down to cup his balls.

  “Oh….” Shit, for a big man, Hollis could move. Jeremy spread a little, let his hips roll. There were benefits to being flexible.

  “Mmm-hmm. I like that.” The man’s voice sent some serious shivers down his spine. All low, growly, and pure sex.

  “Which part? The spreading or the rolling?”

  “Both. This too.” Hollis squeezed gently, pushing his balls up against the base of his cock.

  Man, this low sound left him like he was the worst kind of needy whore, but damn, that felt fine.

  “Uh-huh. I swear, you’re the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.” Hollis’s lips moved down his back, slipping and sliding, hot as anything.

  Oh shit.

  Shit.

  Sensitive.

  Shit.

  Jeremy stepped forward, stopped by the touch on his balls.

  “Oh, yeah.” Laughing, Hollis moved up and did it again, kissing every fucking bump on his spine, like to make him crazy. Jesus fuck. He shook hard, hands landing on the weight bench. Shit. Hollis wasn’t careful, he’d shoot just from that.

  Hollis wasn’t careful. Hell, no. The man bit him. Hard. Right where his back met his hip. Bang.

  He bit out Hollis’s name, hips humping once, twice, bingo. Jeremy came in his pants like a fucking virgin at the Chicken Ranch.

  That was really sort of embarrassing.

  Christ.

  “Oh. God. Oh, baby, I can smell you. Fuck.” Hollis straightened up, letting go of his balls to grab his hips. Then Hollis started pushing against his ass, hot and hard, even through two layers of fabric.

  His eyes rolled like weighted dice, he pushed back to give Hollis friction. He’d explore that whole “baby” thing later.

  Hollis humped him like a bad dog, for like maybe a minute and a half. Then the man evened the score, shouting and shooting, hot and good against him, hands bruising his hips.

  Shit. They were a pair.

  Jeremy grinned, the muscles in his arms trembling. A well-worked-out pair.

  “Man.” Hollis sounded slow and blinky too. “We could have some juice or something….”

  “I’m all about juice. Maybe some cheese and hummus for a snack.”

  “Okay.” Lord, that was saying something, that Hollis didn’t even argue about the healthy snack.

  Maybe, just maybe, he was rubbing off on the man.

  He chuckled a little.

  Rubbing off.

  Funny.

  Good thing it was true, huh?

  Chapter Nine

  ONCE UPON a time, he would have growled at being pushed into working out before nine.

  Oh hell, who was he kidding? Hollis was fucking growling now.

  “No,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest, sticking out his chin.

  “If you stick it out farther, you’ll tighten up some wrinkles. Come on. It’s a beautiful day outside.” Jeremy was in the tiniest pair of shorts known to man, and a muscle shirt. “Running is good for you.”

  “Running is fodder for the press.” So there. He had an excuse. And he wanted pancakes. With no flax.

  “Nope. Sorry. Private track. You need the stamina. You’ve got six nights in a row.”

  Well, shit. “I don’t want to run unless I get breakfast. You make me blueberry pancakes with no weird grain and I’ll go.”

  Jeremy tilted his head. “Okay, but you have to have some eggs too. You need the protein.”

  Hollis blinked. “You’ll make me pancakes?” Damn. That had been easy. Or something. What was the little shit up to?

  Jeremy nodded. “Yeah. There’s nothing inherently wrong with multigrain pancakes.”

  “I said no weird grains. That flax stuff made me poop weird and green.” It was like taking iron pills or something. Hard green shit.

  “You are a strange little man. Maybe we ought to stop in San Francisco and get you a high colonic. Digestive health is very important….”

  “No one is sticking a hose up my ass.” Hollis rolled to his feet, looming. “And I am not little.”

  “Now, now. You have to keep an open mind.” Jeremy’s gaze dragged down his body, then flashed up to meet his glare. “Or at least an open something.”

  “Har har, hardy har har.” He was going to smack that fine ass. He really was. “Feed me, man. Then I’ll run like a balky mule.”

  “Is that good or bad?” Jeremy headed to the kitchen, whistling tunelessly, the sound putting Hollis’s teeth on edge.

  “Bad, but willing enough, I guess,” Hollis said grudgingly, following to look for some syrup.

  “I threw that high fructose fake stuff out. It’s atrocious.”

  “Oh, asshole.” Hollis stormed up front. “Where’s Mikey? I’m sending him for syrup.”

  “You can have honey or real syrup, but that fake stuff is foul.” Jeremy followed him, slamming the door shut when he went to open it. “What the fuck crawled up your ass and died, old man?”

  “I am not old!” He bellowed it at full stage volume. “And I am not a fucking child! I was up until 2:00 a.m. It is not even ten. I should be allowed to get eight solid hours of fucking sleep!”

  “Oh, poor baby. It’s my goddamn job to get you up and moving. I didn’t make your fucking schedule! You want more sleep, you tell your assistant to leave me more than scraps of time to do my job!” Well, shit. Jeremy could holler with the best of them.

  “Why? I’m not the fucking boss, am I? Go to Charlie, you don’t fucking like it.” Goddamn, his head hurt.

  Jeremy’s mouth opened, then closed with a snap before Jeremy took a long, deep breath. “Right. Screaming is not very professional, huh? I’ll make your breakfast.”

  “Professional….” Hollis stared at Jeremy, just… well. Shit. He sighed. “Sure. Breakfast. Whatever.”

  “You know, you may be the only person on earth who’s mad because they get real maple syrup instead of Mrs. Fakeyworths or whatever.”

  “Honey, it’s all in what you get used to. I don’t like the real stuff. I like my good old corn syrup shit.” He was from Texas, for God’s sake. Where was he supposed to get real maple as a kid?

  “I like Blackburn’s best.” Jeremy arched an eyebrow at his look. “What? Just because I don’t eat it anymore doesn’t mean I didn’t like it. There’s all sorts of shit I don’t do anymore because it’s bad for me.”

  “Uh-huh. Well, I’m bad for you, aren’t I?” He grinned, poking a little. A man had to keep his spirits up.

  “Probably. Of course, I haven’t been bareback with you, so I’m still on the good side.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Down boy. That would be… yeah. Probably a really bad idea. But man, parts of him really liked the idea.

  Jeremy shrugged, winked, all those muscles working as the man stirred. When the fuck did stirring become sexy? “What can I say? I’m all about following the health rules.”

  Uh-huh. Right. Mr. Gee I Like a Little Toke with My Doritos Boy.

  “So, we need to sit down with An
n Marie and make a schedule, huh?” He was determined to get more sleep and not have that chirpy fucking wake-up call.

  “Yep. I don’t care when you do your work, man, so long as we get in two workouts a day.”

  Jeremy flicked his wrist, one pancake flipping in the air.

  “How do you do that?” He’d never managed it. They always stuck.

  “What? Flipping pancakes? My dad taught me. He’s a chef.”

  “Oh. Well, there you go.” That made sense. Hollis had bussed tables once, but that was the closest he’d come to line cooks.

  “Yeah. He makes a great omelet.” Three pancakes landed on a plate, plop-plop-plop.

  “I bet he uses yolks, huh? Maybe bacon.” God, he missed bacon. Like crazy. Hamburgers. Chili cheese fries.

  “Yolks, yes. Bacon, no. He’s watching his cholesterol.”

  “Good God, you’ve infected your whole family.” His momma would be appalled. She used bacon grease and butter in equal amounts.

  Jeremy’s cheeks went all red, lips tight for a second. “I doubt that. I blame his nutritionist.”

  “Ah.” Touchy, touchy. Man, some days it seemed like he was the reasonable one. “Well, mine ought to be leveling out.”

  Jeremy nodded. “Your liver functions look better too. I’m good for you.”

  Smartass.

  “You gonna claim all of me?” he asked, winking. Yeah, he could poke a bit too. Why not? Hollis scratched his chest, feeling lazy all in his bones.

  “Yep. I’m your own personal savior.” Jeremy chuckled, finished making his eggs, and handed the plate over. “Honey?”

  “Yeah. If I can’t have my syrup.” Hollis made a face, sticking out his tongue. They needed a little butter too. Maybe when Jeremy wasn’t looking….

  Jeremy moved, quick as a snake, and grabbed his tongue between two fingers. “Promise me another guitar lesson and I’ll let you have some real butter instead of flaxseed oil on your pancakes.”

  “U beth.” No way was he gonna turn that down. Besides, Jeremy wasn’t bad. The man had good muscle memory, and despite his terrible, tuneless whistling, he had a decent ear.

  “Cool.” Jeremy winked at him, let his tongue go. “You’re a good teacher.”

  “Thanks.” His cheeks heated a little. He rarely shared the music with anyone outside of the band, and even then it was just the public stuff. “I got this one song I’ve been plinking at.”

  “Yeah? Can I hear?” A bowl of fruit salad got slid over to him, along with a couple pats of butter. Jesus, for all he was on a goddamn diet, Jeremy kept him full.

  “Sure. Let me eat and I’ll play it for you.” Butter. Real goddamned butter. Hollis sucked it all down, moaning at the taste of the pancakes. “These are pretty good.”

  “Of course they are. I feed you real food.” Smartassed bastard.

  “Sometimes it tastes like cardboard….” Hollis chortled, ducking the halfhearted swing Jeremy sent his way. He licked every last bit of butter and honey off his fork, closing his eyes and really enjoying it.

  Jeremy’s hands landed on his shoulders, surprising him. The massage was deep and firm, searching out little pockets of tension he didn’t know he had. Goddamn.

  “Oh. That feels fucking fine, baby.” The baby just kept popping out when he didn’t expect it, and Hollis had given up fighting it. The word just worked for him.

  “You’re all tied up.” Jeremy worked the back of his neck, the base of it, melting him.

  “Uh-huh. See what happens when I don’t get enough… oh. Good. Sleep?” He just couldn’t let it go, could he? Jesus, Jeremy had good hands.

  “Bitch, bitch. You need to quit hanging out with your groupies.” His arm was stretched out, his shoulder popping, tension pouring out of him.

  “Uhn.” His eyes fucking rolled back in his head. “Love it when you do that. I swear to God, it’s like a million years of tension go away.”

  “Mmm-hmm. Other arm now.” Squeeze. Stretch. Pop. Fuck him, that was good.

  “Okay.” Bend me, baby, he thought, going all melty and happy. Shit, this was worth working out for. Mostly. Maybe even worth losing sleep for.

  “If you come lay down, I’ll do your hips.”

  Hell, he didn’t have to be asked twice. Hollis trotted right over to the little mat and spread out. Ready for stretching. Hoo yeah. Jeremy followed, stripping off the little muscle shirt and grabbing the massage oil on the way. Oh, fucking A.

  “You’re damned pretty, baby.” A man couldn’t ask for much more than that body. Unless it was that body against his.

  Jeremy grinned, winked. “I’m not bad for a short guy. You, though? You’re heading toward beautiful.”

  Hollis preened a little. Yeah, he liked the way he looked. And he liked the way Jeremy looked at the way he looked.

  “Slip off your sweats, man. I need total access.”

  Score!

  Hollis wiggled out of his sweats, arranging himself almost like he would onstage, just really going for it. Might as well make it good.

  “Beautiful bastard.” Jeremy’s cock approved. Sproing. The touch, however, that was perfectly professional, massaging one of his hips, moving his leg until…. Pop. Damn.

  “Oh. Damn.” That had him all melty. His hips took a lot of pressure on stage, his thighs like stone a lot of the time.

  “Yep. You carry a lot of tension there. Let’s do the other side.” Oh hell yes. Please. This whole massage thing was a very good reason to have a personal trainer. Moaning, Hollis rolled into Jeremy’s touch, flopping like a rag doll when those hands popped his other hip, got his leg all sorted out.

  “Yeah. Roll over, beautiful. Let me get your back.” Jeremy eased him over, hands molding him like clay.

  “You know, baby, I might just keep you, you keep treating me like this. This is better than a nap, and I was wanting one of those pretty bad.”

  “And that’s a bad plan, how?” He could feel Jeremy’s inner thighs, hot and silky soft on his waist.

  “It’s not.” Oh fuck. Now he wasn’t melted. Now he was hot as a two-dollar pistol. Boom.

  “I don’t think so.” Jeremy’s cock was hard, full, rubbing against his ass.

  “Oh, good.” Annoying, sexy, hot little fuck. Hollis loved the way Jeremy felt, riding and sliding against his skin.

  “Mmm-hmm. Feeling more relaxed?” Jeremy’s thumbs dug in, right beside his spine, making his eyes cross.

  “Uh-huh. No. Whatever. I feel damned good. Right there.” Jesus, he wasn’t sure whether to scratch his watch or wind his butt.

  “Here?”

  Oh, sweet Christ. Yes. There. Jeremy knew and dug in, rubbing and rocking until he was willing to promise the world, right then. He might have been babbling. Or singing. Hell, he’d promised to share the new song. So what, if that wasn’t how he’d planned to go about it.

  Jeremy didn’t seem to mind at all, lips on the nape of his neck, fingers working the curve of his ass.

  “That… Lord, baby. That’s gonna make me….” He trailed off, arching up when Jeremy hit a magic spot that had goose bumps rising.

  “Mmm. Yeah. That’s okay. I have you.” The touches went from hard to teasing to hard again, just working that spot like a master. Shivering, Hollis gave in to the helpless pleasure of it, humping the little yoga mat for all he was worth. Then Jeremy’s tongue got into the game, licking that spot before Jeremy blew cold air over the top of it.

  “Jeremy! Jesus.” Hollis rocked, needing, wanting, hot and hard and all ready for Jeremy to do whatever he wanted.

  “Uh-huh.” Jeremy’s thumbs spread him wide, that hot tongue sliding right on down, circling his hole, just like that.

  “Fuck! Oh, fuck!” His knees drew up under him to tilt his ass farther. To let Jeremy in. Jeremy did it too, tongue pushing in, fucking him, working him until he wanted to scream with it. Maybe he did. A little. Bracing on one elbow, Hollis reached beneath himself to grab his swinging cock, stroking it hard and fast.

  Jeremy’s
thumbs rubbed hard, right on that strip of skin behind Hollis’s balls, making stars flash behind his eyes.

  “Gonna.” Hell, he’d been going to for maybe five minutes. Now, though, he could feel it rising up his spine, feel his balls ready to just burst. And damned if they didn’t. Hollis shot so damned hard he lost all coordination, flopping down on his belly.

  Jeremy’s lips brushed the small of his back, the chuckle soft and warm. “Much better.”

  “So much better. How are you, baby?” Not that he could move, but never let it be said that he wasn’t one for being fair.

  “Good.” Jeremy settled beside him, warm and snuggly.

  “Yeah? You’re not needing anything?” He looped an arm around Jeremy, pulling close, jonesing on how good they felt together.

  “’M good. You got me….” Jeremy pinked, nodding toward the little shorts that Jeremy’d wriggled out of.

  “Oh. You’re a hot one, man. I like that.” Kissing Jeremy’s cheek, Hollis snuggled a bit more. “I might have to nap before workout.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” He hid his grin. Man, orgasms made Mr. Exercise all melty and snuggly.

  He’d have to remember that the next time an early wake-up call put him into a rage.

  He surely would.

  Chapter Ten

  “TELL ME, Hollis, where do you get your ideas?”

  Well, honey, I dig around for the thing that has a hook that everyone will think they can sing to their girlfriends without seeming like an asshole and then…

  “I’m real lucky that there are some fabulous songwriters out there that make me sound good.” He really didn’t have to think about this shit too hard. How many of these tours had he done? No one wanted answers that were anything more than pat. Really, they each had two or three questions, and then he’d stand up and sing—one number one hit, one off the new album.

  The worst part of it was the early-morning talk-show circuit. His happy ass was not built for the ass crack of dawn unless he was coming at it from the other side. It took a shit-ton of makeup to hide the dark circles. Thank God for Jeremy, though; at least he was functional and he sounded fucking good.

  Not that he intended to tell his personal savior, trainer, pain-in-the-ass lover that.