by D. J. Manly
"I'll look after him. I promised Dad."
"I appreciate that."
Tony was about to say something else when they heard someone sobbing hysterically. Tony turned around in time to see his mother run out of the funeral home. Tony sighed.
"You should take care of her, Tony," he said. "She is your mother."
Tony nodded and walked down the stairs. He found her around the corner of the building, crying against the wall. "Mom," he said gently, turning her around. He held her. "It's okay, Mom."
"No," she said, "it's not okay. I loved him so much. And I've messed up everything. I've lost you and...now your father is gone. Really gone."
"You haven't lost me, Mom."
Suddenly, Janet came around the corner. Sandy looked at her in surprise. Janet nodded at Tony. "It's okay," she said, "let me."
Tony watched as Janet opened up her arms. "Come here," she said, "I understand."
Sandy started sobbing again, and Janet held her.
Tony walked back inside.
* * * * * *
The days passed slowly. The house was filled with sadness. Angelo stayed as long as he could, then left.
Pepi never left Drake's side until finally Drake told him to go home. He did, reluctantly.
Tony gave Drake his space, but kept a watchful eye on him. He knew that was what his father would want.
It seemed as if there was only a shell left of what once was Drake. He'd lost weight and he drank himself to sleep. He never once touched the piano or his guitar.
Frank had cancelled his music contract on compassionate grounds, and also because Drake had no intention of performing. One day he told Tony he would never perform again.
Angelo called to talk to his father, but often Drake had passed out from drinking or wasn't in the mood to talk on the phone. Tony told Angelo not to worry.
The dreams began about two weeks after his Dad had died. One night, the image of his father was so vivid, Tony was sure he was there with him in the room. "Tony," he said, "don't let him be lonely. It's okay. Love him. Go to him, bring him back to life."
Tony sat up in bed, his body bathed in sweat, hyperventilating. The dreams he had after that were for the most part, erotic ones. One night, he began to dream that he got up out of bed and walked down the hallway to Drake's room. He opened the door and there he was, lying naked on the bed. Drake opened his eyes when he saw Tony, and held out his hand.
"Come here," he said. "Come here, touch me."
Tony moved closer.
"You want me, don't you?"
"Yes. I've always wanted you. I think you know that. Christ, I used to masturbate to your picture on my wall. So sexy, so hot, with those black leather pants, the zipper seductively half down, begging me to..." He licked his lips. "You made me so hot."
"And now?"
"Oh, yeah, still, still, Drake. You're such a beautiful man. My father had such desire for you...he told me that there was never a time when he wasn't thinking about your cock."
"You want my cock, Tony?"
He swallowed, "Oh, yeah...yeah...I'm tired of aching. I'm tired of wanting."
Drake held his cock up in his hand. "Stroke it. Taste it."
Tony crawled on his hands and knees across the bed. He ran his tongue across the head of Drake's cock. "Um, forbidden meat...forbidden flesh..." He took Drake's cock into his mouth. "You taste so good. Baby. Baby, take me, fuck me hard and fast...fuck me, Drake. Fuck...fuck...!"
"Tony, Tony," a voice said. Someone was shaking him.
Tony's eyes snapped open. There was Drake, standing in front of him in the semi-darkness of his room. He was wearing a robe, loosely belted, and Tony's gaze moved over the length of him. "Are you naked under that robe?" he breathed.
"What? Tony!"
"Naked? Do you have clothes on?"
"Tony," he muttered, "what are you... you were having a dream. I heard you call out my name. That's why I came in here."
"Did you hear me asking you...no...begging you to fuck me?" He reached up to him.
"No, I..." He began. "Tony, what in hell are you saying?"
Tony clutched a fistful of his long dark hair.
Drake winced.
Tony dragged Drake's mouth down to his. "Um," he murmured, beginning to devour that beautiful mouth. The other hand ripped at the sash on his robe.
It fell open. Tony reached down and wrapped a hand around Drake's sex. "You're hard."
"I'm always hard," he hissed.
Tony yanked Drake forward by his cock. He didn't have much choice but to fall on top of him. Drake made an unsuccessful attempt to pull away, but then surrendered, his body melting down into Tony's arms.
Tony pushed Drake over onto his back and parted the robe. He let his gaze slide over him. "You're beautiful," he swallowed. "And erect."
"My cock aches."
"I can take care of that for you," Tony murmured, moving his tongue over one of Drake's nipples. "I'm tired of going without. I want you to fuck me. Don't hold back. I want you to forget everything, imagine I'm a stranger in the dark, whatever you want."
A hand reached up and cupped the side of Tony's face. "Whatever I want?"
"Oh, yeah. I want the real Drake, the one I've only dared dream about, the hard-rocking sex god who once filled my adolescent fantasies. Is he still in there?"
"Yeah," he breathed, pulling Tony's mouth to his, "let me show you."
With the sensation of Drake's hands roving over his flesh, all thought ceased. All he could do was feel.
Drake rolled Tony over onto his back and straddled his hips. He roughly captured his wrists and pushing them up over Tony's head, quickly wrapped the length of his bathrobe belt around them and tied it. With Drake straddling his hips and his wrists caught together over his head, Tony suddenly felt completely at Drake's mercy. It was a complete turn on. He could feel Drake's hard cock trail along his inner thigh as his warm tongue dipped down and teased one of his nipples. Tony raised his hips a few times, just enough to press his erection against Drake's testicles. It was enough to tease both of them.
Drake moaned something as he took Tony's nipple between his teeth and tugged on it, his hands moving over his belly and brushing his cock.
"Oh, God," Tony gulped as one of Drake's hands moved under his ass and flirted between his buttocks.
The tongue moved to the other nipple as a hand tweaked the one he'd left behind. Tony groaned and lifted his hips again, pressing his sex against Drake's upper thigh.
His long black hair swept across his chest and down his abdomen as Drake's mouth moved to his groin. He took his time licking downwards, the tension so taut that Tony could have screamed. A finger reached his anus at the same time Drake licked the length of his shaft.
"Fuck," Tony cried out. He heard Drake chuckle softly. He took Tony's cock into his mouth and expertly brought it to the brink of ecstasy.
Tony teetered on the edge as Drake suddenly flipped him onto his belly and pulled him up to his knees. The finger went deeper. He began to suddenly fuck him quite furiously with it, the other hand reaching around to play with his cock almost casually, keeping him close to the edge but never tipping him over.
"Drake, please," he moaned.
One strong, muscular arm wrapped around his waist, the other hand spread his ass cheeks. Tony felt the air hit his exposed anus.
"Um, nice and ready," Drake whispered in the darkened room. "Ah...not quite."
Drake's tongue danced over his anus, then stabbed at it.
Tony's entire body shuddered.
Drake felt Tony's cock in his fist. He slapped it lightly, squeezed it gently, all the while his tongue seeming to hit every nerve ending in his ass. Tony felt as if he might lose his mind. "Fuck me... Goddamn it, Drake. Fuck me!"
He let go of his cock. "I don't have a condom."
"You don't need a fucking condom. Go."
Drake clutched Tony's hips and drilled up inside of him. His cock was big and thick and it stretched him wi
de, filling him completely. Drake placed a hand lightly on his throat. One hand pumping Tony's cock, he slammed into him, biting down on his shoulder and running his other hand over Tony's tits. Tony's hands were still caught by the belt and he lowered them down over Drake's head. It pushed his cock straight out, invited Drake's fingers to play quite brutally with his nipples. He felt quite the wanton whore.
He was coming, hard and fast. He erupted up into the air, crying out, almost at the same time Drake pumped into his ass.
Tony let his cheek move against Drake's as his neck went back against his broad shoulder. He listened to his laboured breathing, heard his sighs.
Drake kissed his shoulder, moved his hands freely up over him, tweaked his nipples with his fingers.
Tony felt his cock jolt a little. Drake pressed Tony's body back against his, slowly massaging his nipples.
"You like that, don't you?"
"Oh, yeah," Tony managed. "You have the touch."
"They're so hard. They respond well, big and erect." A hand moved down to his cock. "I want you to fuck me."
Tony froze. "You want me to---"
"Yeah. If you don't want to..."
"Oh, God," Tony sought out his mouth. "I want to.
I want to."
They kissed passionately, deeply. "Say you want me," Drake whispered.
"I want you."
Drake lifted Tony's hands off of his neck. He undid the tie. "Wait," he said.
Tony lay down on the bed. "Where are you going?"
"Come with me." He held out his hand.
He would have gone with him anywhere.
Drake took his hand and led him into the bathroom. "Fuck me in the shower."
Tony grinned. "Okay."
Drake stepped into the shower and turned it on.
"Um, nice and warm."
Tony stepped in after him. Drake liked to play, and that was all right. It was more than all right. "Turn around and lift your hands up over your head. Hold onto the shower head."
Drake grinned at him. "Have I been a bad boy?"
"Oh, yeah," Tony smiled, his cock stiffening. Who wouldn't be hard watching this gorgeous man, larger than life, completely naked and wet, lift his hands up over his head in complete submission?
"Looks like the water has stimulated your tits as well," Tony said softly, his gaze caressing them.
He smiled. "That's not all that's stimulated." He thrust his hips forward. "Touch me."
"Oh no, not the cock, not yet. First, I want to play with these." Tony's fingers brushed his nipples. He tugged on them, pinched them, and suckled them until Drake's head fell back against the tile and he moaned out a plea for him to stop. "Delicious. God, you are so hot."
"Fuck me, then." Drake met his gaze. The look in those dark eyes was so filled with desire, Tony almost came right there.
Drake turned around in the shower. He placed his palms high over his head, flat against the tile. "Fuck my ass, Tony. Take me. Come on. Make me feel something, anything."
Tony blinked. He swallowed. He stroked his hair.
"Baby," he whispered, kissing his shoulder blade.
"I'm so sorry."
Drake's forehead pressed against the tile. "Please," he whispered. "Come on."
Tony grabbed his hips. He felt as if he were entering into some sort of sacrament. This was Drake.
He was actually fucking Drake. His cock hit the outer ring of muscles. He heard Drake utter a noise. It didn't sound like pleasure.
"Drake, I'll stop if---"
"No," he pleaded. "Go on, do it."
Tony pushed harder. Drake cried out again. Tony wasn't listening anymore. He began to ride out his pleasure into Drake's ass, hard, fast, relentless, his passion catching fire and exploding in tiny points of electric light.
Drake was panting.
Tony grabbed his cock and brutally jerked him off.
"Aghh....agahh...fuck...fuck..." Drake cried out.
"Johnny...oh, Johnny...."
When Tony pulled out of him, he realised that Drake was sobbing. Tony woke out of his dazed state and turned Drake around. He pulled him into his arms and held him until he quieted.
Suddenly Drake stepped back. "You look like him. And God help me, but last night you felt like him. I'm sorry, Tony."
Tony's throat ached with unshed tears. He couldn't speak. He'd been insane to believe that Drake had really been making love to him.
Drake got out of the shower. He wrapped a towel around his waist and left the bathroom.
* * * * * *
"Are you all right?" Mike asked Angelo after the concert. They were sitting in a booth in an all-night truck stop.
Angelo motioned to the waitress to bring him another cup of coffee. "Sure. Why?"
"You've been really down, man, since your uncle died. How's your dad doing, anyway?"
The waitress slopped some more coffee in his cup and walked away.
"He's like...I don't know, he seems dead inside. You know the story, right?"
Mike nodded. "They worked it out, right...after they found out the truth?"
"Yeah. They found a compromise that they felt wouldn't tear the family apart. Just when they found peace, Uncle Johnny..." He trailed off. "My father was the one who shot him on top of that. He feels guilty even though it was accident. After the funeral...well...all I know is he hasn't made music since. He's like some sort of a shell. When I talk to him on the phone, it's...well, it's weird."
"Contract finishes this week."
"Yeah."
"You can go home, spend some time with your Dad."
"That's another thing. I feel pressured to join a band with Mac and my uncle. I feel as if I'll let them down if I don't...and...there was a time I would have done anything to be in that band, but now..."
"You've grown up, Angelo. You've become your own man. You're a great musician. You don't need The Russos anymore."
Those words stunned him. Mike was right. It was frightening. "Maybe I don't need anything or anyone anymore." That was even more frightening. Not needing. He looked at Mike. "Come with me. We'll make a new band, you and I. We'll hire some guys, and..."
He smiled. "I'd like nothing better, buddy, but let's take a break. I want you to be sure, okay?"
Angelo nodded. "Sure enough. Let's get to hell out of this dump. I'm beat. I need to sleep."
"I'm with you," Mike said, and they left.
* * * * * *
Drake looked up as Tony walked out onto the balcony. It was noon. He was dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, his shoulder-length hair tied back at the nape.
Drake returned his attention to the morning paper.
Tony pulled out a chair and sat down, accepting the coffee one of the servants brought to him.
"Breakfast, sir?" Harriet, one of the young maids, enquired.
"Just toast, whole grain, no butter. Is there any cheese?"
"Cheddar or Swiss?"
"Cheddar, low fat if possible."
"Right away," she said, walking off.
Drake reached for his coffee. He hadn't been back to sleep since he'd left Tony's bathroom. There were too many thoughts racing around his head. Right now, he wasn't sure what to say. It was better that he didn't say anything.
"You're not talking to me anymore? Would it be better if I left?"
Drake sighed. Tony had a flair for the dramatic. He and Johnny were alike in that respect as well. "This is your home," Drake said.
"I see you ate something this morning."
"Yes. I was hungry."
"There is no reason for us to be---"
"Tony," Drake put down his paper, "could we not go there right now?"
"Not talking about it won't make it go away."
"I know that."
"We both needed---"
"Don't tell what I need." He stood up. The newspaper fell on the ground.
"I'm not angry at you. I'm not even hurt."
"Fine, then drop it." He walked across the patio and looked out onto t
he pool. "We need to go to the notary."
"What?"
"The notary. I received a call today. It's concerning your father's will."
"When?"
"Tomorrow afternoon, at one o'clock. I hope that's okay."
"That's fine."
Drake closed his eyes. Tony had brought him to life again last night, pumped the blood back into his veins. It was like Johnny had come back to him again.
It could become an addiction. It had been the only time since Johnny had died that he'd had any peace, any relief from the relentless pain. He'd used him.
"You don't love me either," he said suddenly aloud.
"What?"
Drake turned around. "We used each other last night. We made love to other men in our minds."
"Drake, I made love to you last night." Tony stood up, moved closer.
"I made love to a dead man last night."
Tony swallowed. "Dad is gone. We can't bring him back, and if you want...if you want me, and in wanting me, it somehow...it's okay."
Drake reached out and touched his cheek. He dragged him close suddenly, kissed his forehead.
"Oh, Tony, Tony, listen to what you're saying. You're so damn lost, maybe worse than I am." He held his face between his hands. "You love my son. I see it in your face every time he calls, or shows up. It's the kind of love Johnny had for me. You know, he loved me harder than I loved him."
"No," Tony said. "That's not true. He just wore it better. You buried it so deep for so long and now it's...it's killing you."
"And if I was the one dead?"
"Dad would have died with you, but he would have...Drake," Tony said, "the ones who seem tougher are usually not."
Drake nodded. "I know that now." He took a step back. "We can't let it happen again."
"Maybe we shouldn't, but it doesn't mean that it won't."
Drake didn't reply to that. There was no point in commenting on the inevitable.
* * * * * *
That afternoon, Janet and Mac stopped by with little Abbey. Drake took a few minutes to play with her.
