by BA Tortuga
“Mmm.” He tugged Markus in, turned on the water. “I can handle slick and hot.”
“I like the way you think.” Markus started stripping down, clothes flying everywhere.
He got himself naked, all nice and waxed, bare. He stepped into the water, moaning at the heat.
“That’s fucking decadent, baby.” When Markus was naked, he joined Seb, pushing his legs out of the way.
He let his fingers trail all up along Markus’s legs, tugging at the short hairs.
“Mmm. Hey, baby. Missed you.” Markus floated a little closer, legs sliding under his.
“I hear you.” He pushed forward, ending up in Markus’s lap, legs wrapping around the man’s waist.
Markus laughed for pure joy, grabbing his ass and pulling him so close they pressed together from chest to groin.
“Hey, Candy.” He rolled his hips, cock sliding on Markus’s abs.
“Feels amazing.” They rocked together, Markus bending to kiss him like there was no tomorrow. The music started up in his head, deep and rich.
He loved it, this slow, lazy touching, the way neither one of them was in a hurry, when they both knew they needed to be. The kiss literally made his head spin, and he had to break to breathe. They grinned, then dove back in.
Markus’s hands were huge, covering his ass, cupping the back of his head, fingers teasing one nipple. The man was constantly moving, touching him everywhere. Stroking his cock, Markus hummed, licking Seb’s lower lip. He opened, laughing as their tongues touched again, both of them playing.
A low, rough noise came from deep in Markus’s chest, and the water splashed over the sides of the tub as Markus lifted him, lips sliding down his chest. His ass was in Markus’s hands, the man’s strength stealing his breath.
“Love the way you taste, baby.”
“You’re so fucking strong.” He looked down, fingers sliding through the heavy, thick hair. “And hairy.”
“Hey, not all of us can be waxed like a surfboard.” Markus rubbed one cheek against his chest, the stubble burning him a little.
“No. No, but you like it.” Just like the mat of hair over Markus’s chest made him dizzy.
“I do. I love pretty much everything.” Those lips moved against his skin, leaving little patches of warmth.
He looked down, loving how dark Markus’s skin was against his, how Markus lifted him to lick at his ink. That hot tongue traced practically every note, Markus openly fascinated with the song he’d written.
“For you.” He meant the music, the song, his body. He was in a giving mood.
“Mine. I like that idea.” Markus lifted him a little higher, biting his hip bone. The little sting made him grunt, made him bare his teeth. Fuck, that was fine. It got even better when Markus rubbed that bristly cheek against Sebastian’s cock.
“Fuck. Candy.” That little burn made his toes curl, made his balls draw up.
“That is the idea, baby.” Not that Markus was letting him back down. No, Sebastian dangled, feet in the water, his cock sliding into Markus’s mouth. Oh fuck, those lips were like the best wet dream, the way Markus’s tongue slid on his shaft hot and slick. It made him arch, trying to get more, trying to hump that amazing mouth.
“Uh-uh. You take what I give you, baby.” Evil bastard. Fine, hot, evil, smiling bastard.
Sebastian loved him.
Markus gave him more, but not enough. He wanted to find that place where all he could hear was Markus’s song, but Markus kept changing the rhythm.
“Please.” He reached out, balanced himself on the marble tiles.
Sucking him in deep, Markus swallowed around him. Finally he got the friction he needed. Damn. His legs were resting on the broad shoulders, his entire body shivering with his need as his hips rolled, fighting to move between lips and hands.
Markus helped him now, pulling him in, keeping him safe. The man was just so fucking strong. Maybe strong enough for a fucked-up guy like him.
“Need you. So bad, Candy. Need this. Your mouth. Your hands.” It was like something cracked inside him, let him pour himself out. And Markus was like a machine, loving him so hard, so good, taking him in.
Sebastian drove in, crying out, begging with every single inch of his body.
Markus finally just propped him up with one hand, the other sliding down under Sebastian’s ass to push at his hole.
“Please.”
One finger became two, then three, the stretch making him burn. He was flying with it, and Markus wasn’t holding back a bit. He pulled away, groaning, teasing them both, playing for a few seconds. Then he sank down, took Markus’s cock down to the root, the burn wild, fierce, perfect, as perfect as the expression on Candy’s face—a study in pure need.
“Fuck. Seb. Holy….” Markus bit off a moan, hips rising in sharp punches.
Yes. He leaned down, driving himself faster, harder, taking everything Markus gave him. The kiss he got rocked his world, leaving his ears ringing as he fought for breath. That music started, ringing in his head, erasing everything but them.
“God,” Markus moaned, adding lyrics. “Seb.”
He nodded, wanting to say so much but all his fucking breath control was shot to shit. He was panting too hard, his body working at light speed. They sloshed water all over the damned place, Markus pushing and pushing.
All he needed was a little something, something to shove him over the edge. Markus gave it to him seconds after he had the damned thought, hand closing over his cock, that heavy thumb pressing into his slit, and he came so hard it hurt, the tension leaving him in a rush.
“Uhn.” Markus made this amazing noise, face red and hot when the man came inside him. He felt every pulse of Markus’s cock.
“Oh God.” He rested his head on Markus’s shoulder. “I feel you.”
“That’s good, right?” That chuckle moved all sorts of things in fascinating ways.
“That’s good, right.” He couldn’t stop his grin. It just grew and grew. Before he knew it he and Markus were just laughing like fools, clinging to each other. It was a little hysterical at the end, both of them at the end of their rope.
“Come on, baby,” Markus said when the gasping laughter slowed. “Let’s dry off and get some popcorn.”
“Sounds good.” He caught his breath, stood, muscles trembling with little aftershocks.
“It does. And we got a few days.” Those strong hands caught him, helping him.
“I’m supposed to leave for Nashville midnight tomorrow night.” Maybe he’d call Jack, postpone for a day or two.
“Well, that’s a day and a half.” They got dried off, but Markus didn’t head for the suitcases. The man just wandered around naked. “I had them stock the kitchen.”
He poured two big glasses of water as soon as they got to the kitchen, then found a stereo system while Markus rummaged. The Eagles would be good right now. Sebastian put them on, starting out with “One of These Nights.”
It felt good to sing, easy, and he took harmony on the chorus, giving Mr. Lead Singer the melody. Markus grinned at him when he took up the words, knowingly, even. The popcorn started popping, and man, it smelled good.
He explored, found them both terry cloth robes that were obviously meant for post–hot tubbing, and wrapped one around him, took the other to Markus before settling on a barstool.
“Thanks, baby.” Markus poured the popcorn in a bowl and grabbed a couple of napkins.
He took a piece of popcorn, looked at it, turned it over in his fingers. Weird, how something so little and hard and uniform could explode into something big and white and unique. He supposed there was a song in that, if he wrote children’s songs.
“What are you grinning about?” Markus asked, grabbing the popcorn from him and munching it.
“Writing kids’ songs like Raffi.”
“No way. You have too many good big people songs in you.”
Sebastian chuckled, but he nodded. “I…. The songwriting is the best part. The actual w
riting and playing.”
“I like it too. That and the jam sessions.” Markus ate another handful of popcorn.
He didn’t know about the performing, so much. Everything seemed so big, so overwhelming without the meds, and he knew it was fake. He did, but… shit, he needed some balance in his life. That’s what the pills had given him, balance from the craziness that life was, and now….
Shit, he didn’t know what to do, how to do this.
“What is it?” Markus knew. The man could read him like a book. One long finger traced his cheek, Markus waiting.
“I don’t know how to do it without the pills.” He just blurted it out, bald and raw. “I’m not talking about the rush. I’m talking about the fucking hallucinations, the paranoia. Is there something deep wrong with me, man?”
“No.” The word was definite and knowing. Markus stood, coming to pull him off his stool so they could go sink together on the couch. “No, baby. This is normal. It sucks, but it’s part of the detox.”
“You’re sure?” He held one of Markus’s hands. “You ever feel like it’s all gonna just break apart on you?”
“All the time.” Markus’s hand turned in his, squeezing. “I mean, it gets way better as time goes on.”
Sebastian nodded, but he wasn’t sure he believed that. He was tired, and that wasn’t getting any better. He just wanted to rest. His head felt huge, like it was stuffed with all sorts of things: cotton, weird clowns, too many musical notes.
“I’m sorry, baby, but I can’t be sorry.”
“I just… I don’t know if I can do it. I think I’m going to lose my mind.” He wasn’t going to lie. He didn’t understand what to do, and he was scared to go to his doctor, scared to go to his manager. And how fucked-up was that? These were supposed to be his people.
“No. No, we’ll talk to some of the folks I worked with first. I mean, I can tell them I’m having hallucinations.”
“Because having you lie to the doctors is good.” Sebastian looked at Markus, his head pounding. “Do you think they did this to me on purpose?”
“No.” Markus pulled a face. “I mean, yes, but no. I don’t think they thought it was going to go this far.”
Finally he asked what he didn’t want to know. “What did Tawny find out? Is it Jack?”
“I think it goes higher than Jack, baby.” Markus hugged him close. “But he’s definitely in deep.”
In deep? “Okay, okay. I guess I… I guess I need to talk to Tawny.”
He had a lawyer, but Jack had hired him. Maybe he needed to get in a room with Jack and the guys from the label and have a conniption.
The look on Markus’s face told him it was way worse than he thought. “I—Tawny thinks major skimming is going on, baby. We’re talking millions.”
Sebastian stood, not able to sit there anymore. Millions. Millions. Shit.
“Okay.” He needed to go. Run. Something. Millions.
How many millions was he making if he was missing so many and not even knowing it? And how could Jack do something like this? They’d been through so damned much together. If Jack needed money, all he had to do was ask. Sebastian hadn’t ever turned the man down.
Twenty years almost, they’d worked together.
Sebastian walked to the window, looked out at the water, at the ocean, forcing himself not to just totally lose his shit.
“What can I do?” Markus didn’t crowd him, but that gravelly voice carried.
“Nothing.” He’d let someone else deal with things enough, it looked like. “I’ll have to deal with Jack day after tomorrow.”
“Okay. Be careful. Call me if you need me.” Markus came to him, hands sliding around his waist.
“I will.” He felt like something inside him had just turned off, like his soul had hit a dead spot.
“Come on, huh? I think you’ll feel a million times better if you lie down a little.” Markus took him back to the couch, which was way closer than those bedrooms back upstairs.
Sebastian didn’t think so. His world was broken—everything that had been a truth three months ago wasn’t anymore, and somehow he had to figure out how to fake it until he had his feet underneath him again. Markus couldn’t do that for him.
Still, he sat, leaned against Markus, and listened to the man’s heartbeat. It was the one solid, steady thing in his world. Thump, thump, thump. He could make a rhythm out of that.
“Sing for me a little, man?” Please, God, of everything, let that be the one thing that was still what it was supposed to be.
“I can do that.” Markus kissed his neck. He half expected “Silent Love,” but what he got was “The Cowboy’s Lament,” and oh, it sounded good.
He started singing along about three-quarters through, and if they moved on to “Honky Tonk Angel” and then wandered into “Sad Songs and Waltzes,” no one seemed to mind. By the time Markus was halfway through “Cheater’s Waltz,” Sebastian’s eyelids were drooping and he felt like he could sleep.
Markus’s hand was on him, solid and sure, and he trusted in it.
He had to; he didn’t have a lot left to believe in.
MARKUS PACED.
He couldn’t help it. Seb was sound asleep, which he was grateful for, but Markus was full of nervous energy. Maybe he should go out to the pool, swim some laps. Oh, man, he hadn’t done that in ages. That sounded good. He got his trunks out of his bag, left Seb a note so the man wouldn’t panic, and headed down.
The crystal blue of the heated pool beckoned, and he tossed the towel he’d grabbed aside and hopped in.
He’d expected panic yesterday, screaming. Possibly a temper tantrum of mammoth proportions. What he’d gotten was this quiet, lost hurt that had terrified him a little. Seb was aching, and there was nothing he could do about it. Not a goddamned thing.
It wasn’t right, damn it. Seb was… shit, the man was good, decent. Real. Mostly.
He stroked through the water, head down for all but every third stroke so he could breathe. The water made it easy to lose focus, to just drive and exercise. All he had to do was keep his body going. He could begin to understand why Seb worked out so hard sometimes.
There was a bottle of water waiting for him when he made one of the turns, like it appeared by magic. He grinned, spitting out the water he’d taken in. Two more laps and he’d stop.
When he pulled up, he could hear the whirr of the treadmill in the little home gym, the thrum of the bass just under that. Damn. He’d bet Seb hadn’t eaten anything. His turn to get a little something together for when Seb slowed down.
Fruit, cheese. That kind of thing. Something.
His arms were shaking when he got out of the pool, and he sucked the water down, then cracked up at the little pile of powdered doughnuts waiting for him. Someone had his back. He inhaled them, then headed to the kitchen, peeking in on Seb on the way.
Seb was running hard, wearing a tiny pair of shorts, sheened with sweat, skin bright red. So damned pretty. Markus stared for a little while, enjoying the view. Then he took note of the time on the treadmill. He’d give Seb ten more minutes. Ten more minutes, then food. Water. Rest.
He hustled to the kitchen, singing under his breath. The song fit the bass, but he didn’t think it was the same as the one Seb was listening to. Seb tended to listen to some hard-core hip-hop when he was running hard.
By the time he’d sliced apples and bananas and cheese, adding blueberries, the microwave clock told him it was time to go retrieve his Cajun. Who sounded a hell of a lot more Cajun since going back to Baton Rouge. He grabbed apple juice too, loaded for bear and ready to battle. He needed to see Seb eat more than one fry. Seb was running hard, eyes closed, just soaked.
Clearing his throat so he didn’t scare the man, Markus waited for Seb to glance over. “Time for a break, baby.”
“H… how was your swim?” Seb slowed down the treadmill to a jog.
“Good. Cleared my head some.” He watched Seb’s hands shake. “Cool down, baby. Walk a minute. Yo
u need some carbs.”
“It was good, to watch you sleep last night.” The treadmill slowed more.
“You got a little rest, though, right?” He knew Seb had slept a few hours. At least as many as he usually got.
Seb nodded. “I’m good. Really. I even dreamed.”
“Good. I guess, as long as they weren’t bad dreams?” He hated the idea of Seb being blindsided in his dreams.
“Nah, jus’ Maman. I dream ’bout her a lot these days.”
“She would come visit you at night, huh?”
Seb’s walk slowed even more. “I wish things had been different there. Not so bad.”
“I’m sorry, baby. I know she loved you so much.” Seb’s mom had been a good woman.
He got a grin, warm and truly tickled, and it made Markus feel better, that Seb could do that, smile that way. “She did. She loved the music, the whole thing.”
“Did you sing a little for her?” Markus had, in the privacy of his sterile Vegas hotel room.
“I did. Maybe a lot. We talked quite a bit, the two of us, about things.”
He’d bet Seb had just babbled at his momma. There was no pressure in talking to someone who didn’t talk back. Hell, Seb probably needed that, just someone to jabber at and spill out all the things in that wildly spinning brain.
The treadmill finally slowed to a stop, and Seb hopped off. Markus handed him a towel.
“Thank you.” Seb’s muscles were jerking wildly, belly hard as a board.
“No problem.” Not that he couldn’t relate. His shoulders ached from the swim. He was happy enough to stare at that fine body, though, the sheen of sweat making Seb glow.
“I might hop in the pool, do some laps. Burn off some energy.”
“Nope.” He reached out and snagged Seb by the waist, pulling him close. “You need to rest. Eat.”
Those beautiful, famous green-as-glass eyes stared up at him.
“I know. I said eat.” He grinned, dropping a kiss on Seb’s mouth. “You’re worn out, baby.”
“I think sometimes that’s going to be permanent.”
“Maybe, but there’s no sense making it worse right now.” He tugged Seb with him. They’d eat on the couch.
