Chapter 8 #2
“Hey.” Tyson came in for a chest-bump kind of hug familiar to their group. “Find the place okay?”
“No problem. You ready to go?”
“Sure. Help me with the drums?”
“Yeah.”
The interior was dimly lit, almost gloomy, with a faint medicinal odor that Dom usually associated with hospitals.
“Try not to make too much noise,” Tyson said in a hushed whisper. “My aunt’s dealing with a migraine.”
That explained the darkness. “You live with your aunt?”
“Aunt and cousin.”
Tyson didn’t expand on his answer, so Dom let it go.
The drums were ready to go by the front door.
They loaded them into the van as quietly as possible.
Neither the aunt nor the cousin made an appearance, which didn’t really surprise him.
Tyson’s car was the only vehicle parked nearby, so the nameless cousin was probably out.
“Thanks for picking me up,” Tyson said once everything was strapped safely into the van.
“Not a problem. I kind of like driving around in this beast.” Dom patted the yellow van’s back door.
“It is pretty butch.” Tyson’s friendly smile shifted into very obvious flirting. “You good at handling big things?”
He needed to defuse the situation before Tyson got the wrong idea. “Not much of a size queen, actually.”
“A diverse man. I like it.”
Dom cleared his throat. “You ready to go?”
Tyson paused, as if searching for another come-on. “Yeah, sure. One sec.” He dashed back inside, so Dom climbed back into the driver’s seat. Tyson returned a few minutes later with two cold bottles of water and a bag of barbecue potato chips. “I get snacky when I’m nervous.”
“Nervous about tonight?” Dom accepted one of the bottles and cracked the cap.
“Yeah. I always get a little nervous, but it’s been more intense this last week since hooking up with you guys. I’ll mellow out once we’ve played together more.”
“Nothing wrong with some preshow jitters.” God knew Dom had enough experience with that.
He got them back on the road.
Tyson poked at the dash. “No radio in this thing?”
“No. It’s like twenty-five years old. I don’t think the radio has worked since the first Bush fucked up the country.”
He snorted laughter. “Mind if I play my phone?”
“Nah, hook us up.”
Tyson opened a music app and propped his phone up on the small console between their seats.
The speaker started blaring Imagine Dragons.
The music helped filled the silence while Dom figured out a way to get to know his bandmate better without seeming like he was interested in more, because he’d gotten I’m-into-you vibes from Tyson since day one.
“So does your aunt get migraines often?” Dom asked.
“More now than she used to. She was sleeping when I left, so she’ll be okay for a few hours until Bree gets home from work.”
“Bree’s your cousin?”
“Yeah.”
Tension and sadness were rolling off Tyson in waves, so Dom backed off the family interrogation. He did make a mental note to ask Trey about the situation. Trey had known Tyson for a year or two, so he’d have a better handle on what was up with the tight-lipped drummer.
They rode in an uncomfortable silence the rest of the way.
The bar they were playing was super easy to find, right on the main drag and lit with bright neon signs.
Dom had to pay extra attention in the parking lot, because the place was jamming for a Thursday night.
He ended up around back near the service door, double-parked in front of a Dumpster.
“We’ve got an hour to kill before we even need to start setting up,” Tyson said. “You wanna get dinner somewhere?”
Dom wanted to find Trey and nail him, that’s what Dom wanted.
But they’d already made plans to meet during the set break.
Trey said he knew a guy who worked at the club and could get a key to the supply closet.
Dom had never done fast and dirty in a closet before, and the idea was all kinds of exciting.
“Yeah, sure,” Dom said.
They went inside first, to tell the manager they were in town and the van was theirs, so it didn’t get towed.
Dom didn’t feel bad about not eating there once he spotted the torn vinyl stools and a small cloud of fruit flies around the bar.
Places that weren’t good on the upkeep skeeved him out.
If he had a drink in the place, he’d stick to bottled beer.
Bad for bloating, but at least it wouldn’t have flies in it.
Dom didn’t have any particular kind of dinner in mind, so he let Tyson choose a small sandwich shop off the beaten path, with a sign that boasted the best Philly cheese steak sub in town.
Dom took that sign as a personal challenge and ordered one, along with bottled water.
The sandwich came with an order of fries so big he wouldn’t be able to finish them—half if he was lucky.
Tyson ordered a French dip, then surprised Dom by paying for both meals. “My treat for the ride down,” Tyson said.
It felt kind of first-datey, but Dom thanked him instead of protesting.
“How is it?” Tyson asked after they’d both eaten about half their sandwiches.
Dom shrugged. “If this is the best cheese steak in town, then the rest of them must be pretty terrible. I mean, it’s edible but not like, orgasmically great.”
“Mine’s good. Like you said, not the best ever, but worth the time and energy. Kind of like a hookup.”
He nearly snorted water through his nose on that one. Dom coughed into a napkin. “Right?”
“You gotta suffer through the so-sos to the find the caviar.”
Trey was caviar. Trey was an entire fucking bowl of it spread over the very best salmon and steamed asparagus. Not that Dom had ever actually tried caviar, but he liked the metaphor.
“What’s that smile about?” Tyson asked.
“Huh?”
“You started grinning at your sandwich like it had all the answers to life. Find someone good recently?” A sly bit of jealousy crept into that question.
Dom had no intention of sharing his discovery of Trey. “Nah, thinking about something else.” He steered the conversation back to band talk, and soon they had to head back to the club.
It was still stifling hot for nine thirty at night, and he’d worked up a good sweat by the time they got there.
Lincoln and Benji were already unloading equipment through the back door, so they jumped in to help.
The crowd dancing along to the VJ was pretty big, not a lot of space between bodies.
Dom liked that kind of crowd, even though his first glimpse sent anxiety jolting through his belly.
He fumbled a lock on the keyboard stand twice before it snapped into place.
He spared a few looks out into the crowd.
With the main stage lights off, he could see faces pretty well, and he kind of hoped to see Trey out there somewhere.
Except he’d probably stay hidden so Dom’s bandmates didn’t spot him.
Sure, Trey could explain it away as spying on the competition, but Dom wanted to keep Trey’s presence all to himself.
A few minutes before ten, his phone buzzed.
Trey: I see you.
Dom grinned. Good. I’ll see YOU soon.
At ten o’clock the VJ shut down, the lights came up, and Lincoln launched them right into a peppy cover of “Bad Blood.” Dom fell into the groove, more relaxed tonight than he had been last week at Off Beat.
That performance had been excruciating because he knew Trey was out there, angry and betrayed.
Tonight Trey was out there horny and waiting. For Dom.
Oh yeah, Dom put his heart into it, fingering the keys with everything he had, smiling out at the faceless crowd, hoping Trey knew it was all for him.
The crowd got off on their set, if the cheers and screams said anything.
Lincoln announced a break with a breathless “See you in twenty.” The VJ took over, and instead of following his friends to the green room, he went toward the bar.
He endured a few high-fives from some dudes, and a couple of butt-pinching, in-my-personal-space hugs from chicks, and the whole thing made him want to be invisible. His phone buzzed.
Tell the blond behind the bar you’re looking for Mike.
Dom followed the clandestine order, and the hot blond bartender led him past the closed kitchen and into a narrow hallway far away from the throbbing club music.
He should have been embarrassed to follow the perfect stranger to a door marked “Supplies,” since the guy had to know he was going there to have sex. But Dom didn’t care, because Trey.
Blondie used a key to open the door, then pretty much shoved Dom into darkness that became total blackness when the door swung shut.
The closet smelled like mildew and glass cleaner, and he could hear the faint buzz of electricity.
A small strip of light appeared around the doorframe, barely penetrating the black.
Trey’s face appeared in the dark, illuminated by his cell phone.
He flashed a wicked grin at Dom that went right to his dick, then turned off the light.
In blackness, a body pressed Dom against the door, and then his entire world was kissing Trey.
The rough demand of his lips, the strong slide of his tongue.
Hands everywhere. Dom spun them and trapped Trey with his larger body, loving how Trey gave in and let Dom lead.
Let Dom shove his jeans down, and Dom loved that he’d gone commando.
Dom sucked him hard and fast, because they didn’t have a lot of time, and they both knew it.
This was a booty call, but it was also so much more.
Trey curled one hand in Dom’s hair, holding on without directing him.
The other might have been over his mouth, because so many deliciously muffled sounds were coming out of Trey’s throat.
As much as Dom wanted his dick in Trey’s throat, he wanted it in his ass more. He stood and turned Trey around.
“God, yes,” Trey whispered. “Missed you.”
“Me too, baby.”
Dom gloved and slicked, careful to shove the trash into his jeans pocket, then lined up. Trey was as tight as the first two times Dom had fucked him. He reached around and tugged on Trey’s dick. Nipped at his earlobe. “Let me in, baby.”
Trey shifted position, tilting his ass up higher.
He looked over his shoulder, eyes glittering in the dim light.
Dom held his gaze as he pushed inside. He bit back a “fuck” and a deep groan, needing to make noise as much as he needed to stay quiet.
Trey’s head fell back and a soft hiss escaped him.
Perfect tight heat surrounded Dom’s cock.
It had been less than a week since he’d been with Trey, but tonight might be the last time for a while, and Dom wanted to make it count.
“Fuck me,” Trey whispered.
Dom grabbed his hips with both hands and rocked deeper into Trey.
Trey’s fingers scrabbled at the door, seeking something to hold, and he finally settled on bracing his forearms against the wood.
Dom kept the slow, steady pace for a few strokes, enjoying the sensation of sliding in and out of Trey’s body.
He loved the soft tremors that shook Trey’s legs, the puffs of air he took in lieu of steady breathing.
He wanted Trey in bed so he could make him fall apart bit by bit, but all they had was this—fast and dirty in a supply closet.
The moment Trey started fucking back into him, Dom let go. He snapped his hips, falling into the simplest act in the world, reveling in the smack of skin on skin. Trey’s steady gasps. Dom’s own panting. The glide of his dick. The squeeze of Trey’s ass. So good.
He reached around again, stupidly happy to find Trey still hard. He jerked him into orgasm, Trey’s ass squeezing Dom’s cock so tight that Dom had to stop moving. Trey turned his head for a sloppy, sideways kiss. “Wanna suck you off,” he said.
Dom gently pulled out. Trey immediately spun and dropped to his knees. He stripped off the condom and swallowed Dom down. Dom smacked a hand over his mouth to stop the groan that tried to escape, because damn. He didn’t last long, coming in Trey’s mouth after only a few strokes.
Trey tried to lick him clean, but Dom needed to kiss him more than he needed that.
Dom hauled Trey up and devoured his mouth, licking inside to taste himself mixed with the flavor of Trey, and goddamn it was great.
Everything about Trey was too good to be true, and Dom held tight in case the daydream shattered into bitter reality.
The kiss became a hug. Dom pressed his face into Trey’s neck, inhaling deeply, imprinting Trey’s scent into his memory so he’d have it when Trey was gone.
“Fuck, that was,” Trey said.
“Yeah.” Dom kissed his temple. “That was.”
His phone buzzed. Probably a text from Lincoln, telling him to get his ass back to the stage so they could play their last set. Dom didn’t want to let Trey go, but he knew this was a quickie. It had to end.
“Go,” Trey said. “I’ll clean up in here.”
Dom wanted to say something profound, something that turned all of the weird, swirling feelings he had into words that Trey could carry home. Nothing came together that made any kind of sense, so he kissed Trey again. A hard press of lips that promised this wasn’t the last time.
He slipped back out of the closet, keenly aware of the precious thing he was leaving behind, and hating himself for keeping something so wonderful a secret.