by BA Tortuga
He heard the sound of Markus’s acoustic opening on “Sun’s Gotta Shine,” which they’d written damned near ten years ago in Mexico. It suited the mood perfectly. His fingers moved, knowing this song like he knew his own soul. He knew all the places Markus needed a stronger backup, knew all the places he needed to lead.
Kyle’s fiddle wailed through the bridge, the sound making him tear up, making his heart ache.
Markus’s voice broke on the last note, but that just made it right. Fucking perfect.
None of them spoke, Kyle’s bow hand dropped, and Bruce looked over at him with knowing, sad eyes, and he stood, nodded to them, and left.
He needed his pills and one of those fucking protein shakes.
Chapter Five
THIS WAS going to kill Markus.
He just wanted to go down to Sebastian in that little guest house and tear his ass up. He didn’t because it would end this whole process, and while self-torture was generally not Markus’s gig, they were making amazing music. Fucking amazing.
He was on the phone with his manager, discussing logistics, when Bev came into his office and waved him down.
“No, Tawny. I mean, that’s just too small. Sure, I want to do a showcase for the EP, but you forget how big an artist Seb is. We need more than a conference room at the Hilton. Uh-huh. Okay. I’ll call back in a bit.”
He hung up, rolling his head on his neck. “What’s up, honey?”
“Hey, Mr. Kane.” He stared, and she pinked. “Markus. I, uh. Can you tell me where in town I can find better pineapple? That’s the only thing he’ll eat in his shakes, and he threw two in a row at me. Also, I need a dry cleaner, and Helen keeps making him food….”
“God forbid.” He winked. “Let me get Helen’s husband to take you over to the Whole Foods.”
“Thank you.” She looked exhausted, like Seb was riding her hard. He wondered why she stayed sometimes, but she sure loved Seb.
“What else can I do? I’ll talk to Helen.”
“Talk to Helen about what?” Speak of the devil, there she came, tray in hand. “I just tried to deliver lunch to Seb. He didn’t answer.”
Bev paled. “Helen. Please. It’s twelve thirty. He sleeps from noon to three in the afternoon.”
“If he ate, he wouldn’t need such a long nap.”
“Nap?” Bev looked confused as hell.
“Why does a guy like him need a nap?” Helen just seemed stunned.
Markus snorted. “Because he doesn’t sleep.”
“He does sleep, from noon to three, and you can’t bother him.”
Helen’s lips tightened. “He needs food.”
“He doesn’t eat!” Bev actually stamped one well-shod foot on the tile.
“Time-out, ladies. Helen, Seb isn’t your problem. I know you want to mother, but he doesn’t want it. Bev, chill. I’ll talk to him.” What good it would do, he had no idea.
“Not until after 3:00 p.m.!” Bev looked panicked.
“No, not until after three.” He wouldn’t do anything to make Bev so upset. Even if he did want to see if Seb was actually sleeping. Who fucking slept from noon to three?
Markus would be jacking off. Seriously.
Of course, Seb said he did that from midnight to three. The thought made him grin, which made both Bev and Helen glare at him. Damn, how did he get tag-teamed by the girls?
Markus spread his hands. “Hey, now. I’m not laughing at y’all.”
“Uh-huh.” Helen looked at the food in her hands. “You eaten, Markus?”
“Nope.” His belly rumbled.
“Well then.” She handed him the platter. “Turkey sandwiches and coleslaw.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” He took the plate and bent to kiss her cheek. “Helen will be good and take you to her husband and not criticize you, Bev. Right?”
“Sure. Sure, whatever. I’m not going to be mean, Markus.” Helen looked a little ashamed.
“I know that, lady.” He gave them both what he hoped was a gentle smile. He wasn’t used to dealing with this stuff. He was usually the only one Helen had to baby along. “I think Bev is just wore out.”
Helen nodded, spoke low as Bev wandered off. “What happened to him, honey? He didn’t used to be like this.”
“I don’t know.” Well, he did, he was pretty sure, but what was he gonna tell Helen? “I just don’t.”
“I’m sorry, honey. It’s so sad.”
Bless her heart. It was sad. For both of them. “I think I’ll go eat this, and you get Bev set up with pineapple, huh?”
“I’m on it. Supper is at five. I’m making lasagna.”
“Oh God.” He loved her lasagna, but it meant an extra half hour on the treadmill. “Be sure to tell Bruce so he doesn’t run off home.”
“Will do.” She went to catch up to Bev.
Markus stared down at the sandwich, wondering what the hell to do now. He wanted to check on Seb.
He snarfed the sandwich down, then headed outside, shivering against the wind. Man, spring was a fickle bitch. It’d been almost warm yesterday. Today it was a little raw. He paused at the door to his little guesthouse, wondering if Seb would take his head off.
What the fuck. It was his house.
Damn it.
He went inside, the place preternaturally clean, quiet. Cool and dark. There was no one in the front room or the kitchen, so Markus peeked into the bedroom.
Seb was there on the bed, bare naked, splayed out. Lean and inked—there wasn’t a spare ounce of flesh on the man. Markus’s mouth went dry, his hands clenching and unclenching with the need to touch.
Seb stretched, arched, one hand rubbing that flat, smooth belly, and that’s when he saw the tattoo. It was a flowing musical score, curling over the man’s hips, over the bare-waxed pubic bone. Feeling a little like a Peeping Tom, Markus moved closer, trying to figure out the song.
He hummed a bar, frowning. He knew this.
Seb’s eyes popped open. “Markus?”
“Shit.” He took a step back, his face on fire. “Sorry. I’m sorry. Bev was worried.”
“Oh. Sorry. Is it after three?”
Bev was serious. The little shit did only sleep from noon to three.
“I don’t know.” He had a watch on, but he couldn’t look away from Seb’s body.
“Is everything okay?” Seb’s cock was filling, so fucking pretty.
“Helen had food for you.” Where did he even set that down? Jesus, he was stupid. He’d eaten it, maybe.
“Yeah, she came by. She’s a mother hen.” Seb yawned, stretched, those muscles just rippling.
“She is. Tell me to go away, baby.”
Seb’s head tilted, bloodshot green eyes searching his face. “Do you want to?”
“No, but this is stupid.” He knew it was so, so dumb, but it didn’t matter.
“Okay. So go away.” Seb didn’t sound like he meant it.
“I can’t.” When he could make his feet move, they went toward Seb, not the door.
Seb sat up, eyes eating him alive. Markus reached out, knowing he’d have to be the one who did it, the one who touched first. As soon as he moved, Seb surged up, that beautiful body slamming against him.
Oh fuck. He was in so much trouble. All he could do was kiss Seb’s mouth, one hand sliding under Seb’s body to hold him up. Seb cried out, tasting him, hands like iron bands around his upper arms.
They rubbed together until Markus’s clothes got to be too much, an irritation and a barrier. Like they’d discussed it, they both pulled away and started on all that cloth.
“So pretty.” Seb’s fingers worked his jeans open, tongue wetting those parted lips.
“Uhn.” Talking was almost impossible when his cock got loose. All he could do was pant and groan.
“Get back over here.” Seb grabbed him and pulled him over.
“You’re talking.” He could think of other things to do with that porno-movie mouth.
“You noticed.” Seb leaned down, mouth dr
opping over his cock like a molten-lead balloon. The suction was fierce and strong and viciously familiar, even after eight years. Jesus.
His head fell back, his hips humping up.
Seb’s hands wrapped around his ass, fingers digging in as he was pulled in deep, that throat swallowing around him. Torn between closing his eyes so he could just feel and watching so he could commit the whole thing to memory, he finally chose forcing his eyes open. This would be his own personal movie reel. He reached down, hands on Seb’s bald head as he watched his cock appear, disappear into that hungry mouth. His body shook, his belly hard as a board. Seb’s eyes were closed, the look on the man’s face so fucking fine. Seb was loving on him, fucking making him fly. It was like a time warp, like they were right back on that last tour, running off after every show to fuck like bunnies.
He started moaning, damn near singing for Seb, his balls heavy and aching. It would only take the slightest little thing to send him over the edge. Seb deep-throated him, fingers rolling his balls in their sac, tugging just enough to make his eyes cross. Markus just lost it like he hadn’t been jacking off a few hours ago, like it had been eight years since he’d come at all.
When the pleasure faded, Seb backed off, let his cock slip free from that amazing mouth.
“C’mere.” Markus hauled Seb right up against him, kissing those swollen lips. Fuck, Seb tasted like him.
Strong arms wrapped around him, holding him close while Seb humped away at his belly. He helped, his hand on that sweet ass. Seb’s fat, thick cock left burning wet kisses on his skin. Markus reached for Seb’s cock, his fingers learning it all over again. Thick and fiery hot, it fit perfectly against his palm.
“Please.” Seb arched, fucking his fingers furiously.
“I won’t leave you wanting, baby. I won’t.” No, Markus wanted to see Seb’s face when he came. “Look at me.”
Those famous bright eyes looked at him, the need on the lean face so sharp it read like pain.
“Sebastian.” He stroked hard, harder, giving friction, pleasure.
“Candy….” Seb’s head fell back, spunk spraying over his fingers, over that ripped belly.
Markus couldn’t look away. He took in every moment. Fuck, Seb was so fucking fine.
Seb moaned, leaning in to kiss his throat, his collarbones. He loved the way Seb touched him, made him feel like the only other man on earth. One hand trailed down his stomach, fingers drawing lazy pictures.
He could stay there forever, leaning his forehead against Seb’s, sharing air. He really could.
Except he couldn’t. Jack and Tawny were coming out tomorrow. The production people were already on their way. They were going to start recording. Oh God. This could fuck everything up for Seb, and it was Markus’s fault. He was the one who’d come looking, the one who couldn’t stay away. He sighed, reality crashing in hard.
“This is where you tell me this was stupid, right?” Seb took a deep breath, not looking at him anymore.
“This is where I apologize. I’m sorry, Seb. This could ruin everything you’ve worked so hard for.” He eased away, the separation actually painful.
“Don’t be.” Seb headed for the little bathroom, wet a washcloth, and brought it to him.
“Thanks.” The scrape of the washcloth almost killed him, his skin so sensitive it hurt. “You’re so much better than the booze, baby. You’re my worst addiction.”
Seb looked at him this time, long and slow. “What can I say? You’re my one true thing.”
He dropped the washcloth, reached out to touch Seb’s cheek, and traced the lines beside that beautiful mouth. Those green eyes weren’t hidden behind sunglasses, and it was almost too much to bear, to see how much this man loved him, knowing he was going to have to walk away.
“I know the feeling.” He had to take one more kiss. Had to. Markus pressed his lips to Seb’s hard, filling his memory cup to the brim. Then he pulled back and got his clothes. “I’ll see you in the studio tomorrow, baby. I—”
“Yeah.” Seb nodded and disappeared into the bathroom, the water starting up, the door solid between them.
Markus got his shit together and his clothes on straight and left without trying to say anything else. That would just make things worse.
God, he wanted a beer. He wasn’t going to have one, though. The only thing he was that stupid about was Sebastian.
“BRUCE, CAN you get your guy in tonight?” Sebastian was packed, he had his plane tickets, he just needed to lay down his tracks.
“Tonight? Are you serious?” Bruce frowned. “We’re supposed to start recording tomorrow.”
“You are. You don’t need me for that.” No one needed him in the room for that.
“What if there’s—”
He shook his head. “There won’t be. No changes. If Markus changes stuff, you guys go for it. I’ll record the entire song set, just cut me in.”
“Where are you going?”
“Away. Base jumping. I have to get out of here.”
“I told you he was bad news, boss.” God, Bruce looked about like he felt. Like the world was graying.
“It’s not him. I just need to get out. You’ll see me on tour, but….” He couldn’t do this. He needed to be somewhere where he wasn’t the one fucking people’s lives up.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll make the calls.”
“Good. I’ll be in the studio at midnight. I have to be at the airport at 6:00 a.m.”
Bruce rolled his eyes. “I suppose you want me to drive you.”
“Yep. I’ll be back in the States the day of rehearsals. I’ll deal with details online.” Sebastian knew Bruce would deal. It would be Bev who lost her shit. “Tell Bev she’s got two weeks off. Then I’ll tell her where I want her to show.”
Bruce stepped back, hands up. “Oh no. No way. You do what you have to, but I’m not breaking that news.”
“Fine. I’ll email her.” Tomorrow. From the plane. Or from LAX.
Somewhere.
Anywhere.
Anywhere but here.
MARKUS ROLLED into the studio at six fifteen. He knew he was a little late, but he had the devil’s own scratchy throat, and he’d talked to Tawny about maybe getting someone in to give him a B12 shot or something. She’d told him to get off his lazy ass and get to work. Good old Tawny, she was like a shot of pure adrenaline, right to the heart muscle.
When he got down to the basement studio, there was quite a crowd, but not a bit of music going on. It was silent as a tomb.
He looked around, raising a brow. “Sorry I’m late.”
“At least you’re here.” Jack Michaels, Sebastian’s manager and all-around moneymaking master, had a face like a thundercloud. Hell, when had he shown up?
Bruce sighed. “Just stop it, man.”
“Why? Why the fuck should I?”
“What’s up?” Markus tried to keep it light, but he had a feeling he knew. Seb was gone.
“Seb laid down all his tracks last night.” Bruce shrugged, the move noncommittal.
“The guy’s a fucking machine.” Harry Davis came in, wild white hair like a cotton swab. “Can I work with him again?”
“I have no idea.” Markus waved at Jack. “He’ll set it up. Sorry, I don’t have his perfect pitch.” He wanted to ask Bruce a thousand questions, but the whole band was watching him. “What does the schedule look like tonight?”
“Totally up to you, man. Seb said we were your bitches for the duration. He did each song three times plus harmony before he left for the airport.” Bruce looked over at Jack. “You might go talk to Bev. She’s having an aneurysm about him disappearing.”
“Well, are you going to tell us where the fuck he went, Bruce?” Jack looked close to stroking out himself.
“He said something about base jumping or some shit like that. Austin’s a little airport, man.”
Base jumping.
Lord. Seb was an adrenaline junkie. They were two of a kind. Addicts all the way.
“Well,
Jack, you talk to Bev. We’ll work out a song list for today. Seb is a pro. He wouldn’t leave without doing the work.” There. See him. See him be all adult and coping and shit, and not screaming like he wanted to.
Kyle nodded, headed over to him. “Shit okay, man?”
“No.” He shrugged, gave Kyle a smile. “We got a little stupid, but it was so my fault.” He didn’t want Kyle telling him Seb was bad news or not worth it or whatever.
“Ah.” Kyle’s voice was knowing. “Well, still want to do this tour thing? Tawny can so get you out of it.”
“No, this will be good for all of us, moneywise.” He gave Kyle a shrewd look. “Doesn’t Ali need braces or something?” He knew it was more than loyalty that kept Kyle out on the road with him, though he sure appreciated it.
“Yeah. Yeah, she does.” Kyle sighed. “Is he crazy, man? Like, for real?”
“No. No, he’s just beaten down a little. You remember how I was right before rehab?”
“Yeah. Yeah. And I know how that is. Sunglasses at night, skinny. It’ll be worse on the road. Everything is worse.”
“Like a microscope, yeah.” He’d have to watch Seb, even if it was from a distance. “Thanks, man. I appreciate that you got my back.”
“Always.” And Kyle meant it.
It was Gator who growled. “Come on, you sheilas! Let’s make some music!”
Markus shook off as much of his funk as he could. It wasn’t fair of him to expect Seb to stay and make music with him when all it did was lead to them wanting other things. It was better this way, to focus on keeping it all business.
Right?
Right.
Chapter Six
SEBASTIAN ROLLED into the Bellagio at noon. His rehearsal time with Markus was twelve thirty to one thirty, with six interviews planned between two and five, then the performance tonight at eight. He had a flight out to Cancun at midnight.
He had two weeks before he had to be back in the States for rehearsals and the tour. He was going to spend every second he had in the air or on the water.
Bev ran behind him, on her phone. “I want fresh pineapple delivered to his room, and I need a laundry service.”
