Rocking Hard, Volume 2

by Samantha M. Derr

  *~*~*

  Phil was taken aback. He knew he had been a little presumptuous, but hell, when Jason had stated that they should go and meet Lars so they could ask him to become the songwriter for the band, he had been thrilled. That would give him the opportunity to work closely with Lars, and Phil had figured that from working together, their relationship could develop into something else.

  He had therefore been surprised by himself when he had blurted out and asked Lars on a date. Then Lars' best friend's immediate retort had thrown him for a bit. By the time he had recovered, he had apparently committed a blunder that had angered Lars.

  Shit! It would seem like he had been out of the dating game for too long, so he was messing things up. He kept his gaze diverted from Jason because he was certain Jason's eyes would be laughing at him at the moment. Carlos was no better.

  "Here's the part where you actually get off your ass and go after him." The words came from the woman. "By the way, I'm Frieda," she said and stuck out her hand. "And I'm your biggest fan," she added with a big grin.

  Phil shook her hand, muttered "I'll be back soon," and went in search of Lars all the while wondering what sort of fan raked you over hot coals one minute and looked ready to fall at your feet the next.

  He found Lars leaning against a wall with one foot pushed backwards to give his frame support and his hands busy tapping on his phone. The full lights outside the club showed the hints of red in his blond hair.

  Phil watched Lars close his phone and slip it into his pocket when he became aware of Phil's presence. "I'm sorry. I should have done that better," Phil muttered.

  "There's really no need to apologise. Frieda is good at getting a rise out of others. It's her gift." Lars grinned.

  The sudden change in mood threw Phil for a minute. "Do you both have multiple personalities or something?

  "Nah." Lars shook his head. "We just like to mess with people's heads sometimes. It's fun."

  Phil nodded and joined Lars at the side of the wall. There was silence for a while as they enjoyed the stillness of the night. "So, will you have dinner with me? Actually, I think I would prefer if you could give me an evening that would end in a dinner. If all goes well, of course."

  Phil watched as Lars studied him for a moment. Time slowed down to a crawl as he waited for a reply.

  "An evening would be all right and so would dinner." Lars walked to Phil and stretched out his hand. "Phone."

  Phil placed his phone in Lars' hands and watched as he punched in some numbers. "That's my number. Call me sometime later this week. I'm sure that by then, I should know when I will be free." Lars handed the phone over and began to walk away.

  Phil called after him. "Wait! What type of food do you like?"

  "I'm sure you're ingenious, Theophilus. You'll figure it out," Lars called over his shoulders without turning around and walked back into the club.

  He definitely liked the way Lars said his name in full. It would be even better if Lars could call it while they were in bed together. At that, Phil felt something tighten in his groin. Down boy. Not yet. No need jumping the gun. He had a date with Larson Graves that week. Phil grinned and with a whistle walked back into the club. Now all he had to do was figure out where to take his date.

  *~*~*

  Phil stepped out of his Lotus, locked the car and raised his eyes to look at the house in front of him. He had grown up with the noise and hectic pace of New York. New Hampshire though was way quieter. Jason was right. The town seemed to be what he needed. Better yet, Lars was what he needed, which was the reason why he was, at the moment, standing in front of the townhouse that was home to Frieda Cain and contemplating walking to the door and actually ringing the doorbell.

  It had been easy enough to get Frieda's number. Once she had been convinced that he wasn't planning on hurting Lars, she had given Phil her number when he had asked for it. Two days later, Phil had called her to ask for suggestions on the places he could take Lars on their date. Frieda had laughed and asked him to come over to her house the following night so they could talk about it over dinner. As Phil walked to the door, he hoped fervently that Frieda would be in a good mood that night and that he wouldn't regret making dinner plans with her.

  He pressed the doorbell and then heard the jingle and the sound of approaching footsteps. The door opened and instead of Frieda, he saw an older couple that could only be Frieda's parents.

  The woman beamed. "Welcome to our home, Mr. Dusylariaro. Please come in."

  "Thank you for having me," Phil replied as he realised that Frieda had purposefully neglected to tell him that the home he was coming to was her parents'. He caught a glance of her down the hall, and she gave him a wink before entering one of the rooms.

  "I hope you don't mind me calling you Phil?" Frieda's mother asked.

  Phil shook his head. They had gotten to the living room, and she indicated that he take his seat. "I hope you like apple pie."

  "Yes, I do, Mrs. Cain."

  "Oh posh. Call me Susan, and that tall, hulking man beside you who is trying to intimidate you, though we both know he is not doing a good job at it, is Michael."

  Phil didn't know where she got the idea that he was not intimidated. Michael Cain had done nothing but stare at him ever since he entered the house, and it was all a little unnerving, especially since he could guess that Lars was probably very close to the Cains and they were at the moment sizing him up. With the type of bond he had forged with Frieda, it was expected that the Cains saw him as another child of theirs.

  "So, Phil," Michael asked, "do you have any tattoos?"

  The sudden question threw Phil for a moment. "Actually, I have a couple."

  Michael opened his mouth—probably to ask another question—when Susan cut him short. "No Michael. You cannot ask the poor boy where his tattoos are or if he has any piercings. Nor can you ask him where the piercings you think he has are located. You can ask him his take on drugs, though. But other than that, leave him alone. Don't scare him away. I don't think Lars would like it if you did."

  Michael sighed and nodded, which made Susan smile, lean in and give him a kiss. "Good boy. Let me go and check on the lamb. It should be nice and tender by now." And with those words, she left Phil alone with her husband.

  The silence in the room was awkward as Mr. Cain kept attempting to say something, only to change his mind with a shake of his head. Eventually, Phil got tired of it all and decided to break the ice. "Sir, I know Lars is like a son to you, and you're only trying to protect his interests. I understand that, and I respect that. I'm attracted to him. I won't deny that. Yes, I want to have a relationship with him and see where things go from there. I do promise thought that I will try my best to not hurt him and will support him in his work. He's brilliant in his songwriting, and I will try my damnedest to make sure that the world sees what he's capable of."

  Phil stopped talking. There was really nothing more he could say, and besides, Frieda's father had not said anything yet. "Oh yes! I forgot to add. I don't do drugs. Never have, and with what had happened to me in the recent past, I never will. I like being in control of myself, and the thought of losing that power is not appealing, sir."

  There was silence, but this time around, it was contemplative rather than awkward. Mr. Cain stretched out his hand, and Phil reached for it to receive a firm handshake.

  "Call me Michael."

  "Thank you, Michael," Phil replied then added as an afterthought, "I have a tattoo of a horse on my back because it reminds me that I'm resilient and will recover from the worst life throws me. There's a music note at the base of my neck, and I had my brother's name written just above my heart. That's all for the tattoos."

  Michael nodded and was about to say something when Frieda called out. "Dinner is served."

  Phil walked with Michael to the dining table and was about to take his seat when a hand clapped his shoulder. He turned to look at a man that had to be Frieda's brother. "Welcome to our home, Phil. I'm
Ethan." He leaned in to add in Phil's ear. "Hurt Lars, and I will make sure it's the last thing you do on this earth."

  The Cains certainly had a thing for threats. Especially similar sounding threats.

  Frieda broke the silence that had descended on the table while they were eating by stating, "Phil here needs ideas for his next couple of dates with Lars. Suggestions anyone?"

  "Well," Michel said, "he likes the park and catching any car races he can. I think there's a race in Loudon sometime next weekend. You both can see it."

  "Yes, dad. But they have a date in two days. Where should he take him?" Frieda licked off some sauce from her spoon.

  "Well, there's a hockey game that evening," Ethan said. "I'm sure Lars would love to go."

  "And before that you can stop by the park," Susan added. "Take a stroll and buy some hamburgers from the hamburger stand by the picnic area. The ice rink is like a ten minute walk from the park, so you can go there after that and enjoy your hamburgers while watching the game, which will start at around noon."

  "And dinner?" Phil asked as he made mental notes.

  "Try the Rivera. They have amazing spaghetti and meatballs. Lars loves spaghetti and meatballs." Frieda gave him a look.

  Phil mouthed a "thank you" to her, and saw Frieda nod.

  The rest of the evening progressed with the Cains telling Phil about Lars, the things he liked and the things he couldn't stand. By the time Phil said his good nights and jogged to his car, he had enough information to last him for quite a number of dates. It had definitely been a productive evening.

  *~*~*

  The Rivera was a beautiful restaurant. What made it even more special for Phil was the fact that their table was situated outside. He loved everything about the night sky. He also loved the way Lars closed his eyes to savour every bite of the meatball he ate. Every moan he gave as he appreciated the taste of the meal went straight to Phil's cock, and the way Lars used his tongue to collect the sauce left behind made it all erotic. Phil could not help but wonder if having dinner with Lars was such a good idea. If this was how Lars acted every time he ate something he enjoyed, Phil knew that he was in for a serious case of blue balls, especially if Lars decided to have them wait a long time before having sex.

  Their date so far had been a good one, and Phil mentally thanked the Cains for their help. Everything they had done on their date, everywhere they had gone, Lars had enjoyed, and Phil knew that the date would be considered a success. Now, if only Lars could want to have sex with him tonight, it would be a perfect night. But with the type of luck he had, he doubted it.

  "So, how did you plan such an amazing evening? Because I'm sure you must have had some help. There's no way you could have planned all this—" Lars waved his hand about. "—on your own."

  "Are you sure about that? I could be psychic or have the power to read minds you know."

  Lars scoffed. "Yeah, and I've been bitten by a radioactive spider and can shoot webs from my hands. Be serious, Theophilus. How did you know?"

  "Your adoptive family gave me some hints when I had dinner with them a couple of nights ago."

  Lars blinked at him. "You've got to be kidding. You had dinner and got quizzed to death so that you could have a date with me all planned out?"

  Phil nodded. He wasn't sure if he would be in hot water because of what he did. Maybe Lars didn't want him meeting the Cains.

  "Wow. You get major points. No guy I've ever been with has been willing to set himself up for that to be with me. Thank you."

  "It was worth it."

  Their eyes held for a while, and then Phil concentrated on the meal. Moaning aside, the meatballs were indeed very good. He felt eyes on him and looked up to find Lars watching him. "What is it?"

  "You have some sauce on your upper lip."

  Phil stretched out his hand to get a napkin, but Lars stopped him.

  "Allow me."

  Lars stood from his seat, walked around the table, placed both hands on his thighs, leaned in and swiped his tongue across Phil's upper lip. The act made Phil groan. He raised his hands to hold on to Lars, who now had his own hands around Phil's head. He pushed Phil's head to the side a bit and slipped his tongue into Phil's mouth. Their tongues glided against each other, and Phil pulled Lars onto his lap.

  Phil felt his subconscious inform him that they were in public and things were fast getting out of control, but he did not care. They had picked up the pace on the grinding, and Lars' fingers dug hard into Phil's shoulders. Phil was wondering how far they could go when he heard someone clear his throat.

  Immediately, he snapped back to reality. They were in a public place, and they had come close to fucking with their clothes on. What the hell was he thinking? Now he had a swollen dick, and his jeans were chaffing against it, making him very uncomfortable.

  Lars rose and returned to his seat while Phil turned to the stoic-looking waiter. "Are you interested in our desserts, sirs?"

  Phil gave a questioning look to Lars who shook his head. "No. Can we have the bill please?"

  The waiter nodded and shortly after brought the bill. Phil reached for his wallet, counted out the appropriate number of bills, made sure to include an adequate tip for the unshaken way the waiter had handled everything.

  Phil knew that he broke all the speed limits as he rushed to get to Lars' house. They made a forty-five minutes' drive in about thirty-five minutes, and it was with eagerness that Phil walked with Lars to the door.

  Immediately upon reaching the door, Phil had his tongue deep in Lars' mouth. He raised his hand to cup Lars' dick and began to knead him gently, taking in the moans that steadily spilled from Lars' mouth to his.

  Phil was about to raise his head to ask Lars for the key to the house when he felt Lars pull away from him. "Not that I don't want you or anything. I think there's hard evidence proclaiming to all my desire to continue with this. But, um, I can't invite you in."

  Somewhere in Phil's lust-fogged brain, he heard the words, but it took a while for them to register. "Huh? You want us to have sex outside?"

  "No, I don't want us to have sex outside," Lars said with a husky laugh. "I'm saying that we cannot have sex tonight."

  "Why not?" Phil was sure that if his cock could talk right now, it would probably be begging Lars' ass to allow him in.

  "Because I don't move this fast. Besides, I don't want us to complicate our working together, too."

  "Huh? I don't understand." Phil knew his brows were furrowed, but he couldn't help it.

  "This is my first time doing professional work, and I don't want anything messing with it. I need my full concentration, and I think I have you figured out. Once we have sex, we'll both be too distracted. I'm still trying to get the hang of this. Give me time; let's work together. After we're done with the album, you can have me all to yourself. I promise."

  Phil gulped in a deep breath to calm himself down. Shit! It looked like his poor cock would have to be patient for a while longer. "What about kisses and us dating? Is that on hold as well?"

  "We can still date, and I'm certain I'd be out of my mind if we couldn't kiss anymore."

  "Okay then. Good night." Phil leaned in to kiss Lars. As their tongues battled, he felt his cock rising again and pulled away. "See you soon," he called out as he walked to his car. It looked like he would be having some serious blue balls in his future. He glanced down at the bulge in the front of his jeans. "I'm so sorry, cock. Looks like it's cold showers in your future."

  *~*~*

  Lars knew that he was the one who told Theophilus that there should be no sex until they were done with the album, and so far Theophilus had kept his side of the bargain. The problem was that Lars had been walking around for almost a month with a major hard on that never seemed to settle, and the whole situation was making him as cranky as hell.

  He needed a good fuck sometime soon, and the only thing that was keeping him a little sane was the fact that they were almost done. Theophilus had better have a weekend ge
taway planned for them immediately upon finishing their work; otherwise, Lars would not be blamed for whatever results.

  He twirled his pen around as he stared at the blank sheet before him. He wasn't sure if the band mates noticed, but the second part of the album contained songs that expressed the band's grief at the loss of a friend. Lars didn't think it was conscious, but the two songs that Theophilus had written immediately after the accident, before he had hit a wall and couldn't write anymore, were about the pain of losing his brother. The two songs that Lars had written with Theophilus' input, of course, were tailored in the same vein and so was the one he was working on at the moment. All he needed to do was to fill in the blank page with the appropriate phrases, and that would be it for the album.

  Lars was certain that with Daemon being the inspiration for most of the songs, the album would be dedicated to his memory and that was to be expected.

  He closed his eyes to bring the notes to mind. The music had come before the words, which would normally have made the song writing easier, but the song was proving difficult. When Lars' eyes snapped open after a long time had passed, he gripped his pen tightly and began to scribble.

  You left me without saying goodbye

  To no one, not even I.

  I searched the places we shared

  Saw only memories in my mind now seared.

  The pain in my mind brings darkness

  There's nothing left here, just madness.

  In the dark, who do I cry to?

  In my pain, who do I turn to?

  You walked away, deserted me

  And left me to pick up the pieces. That's all I see.

  My pain, my agony is living, breathing

  You just confirmed to me that love is fleeting

  To love is to hurt and to be bound

  To the memories that hold nothing, not even sound

  And yet like an idiot I only desire one thing

  To have you near, to make you mine and tell you everything.