Chapter 16
CHAPTER 16
Felix
“Fucking hell!” I curse as I angrily turn my car on.
A part of me wants to wait, to see if Duncan will come running out and stop me like all those dumb movies Jinger stars in, but the other part of me—the one that wants to get as far away from the unpleasant emotions swirling inside of me—wins out.
The first thought in my brain is that I fucked up.
The second, is that I need a drink.
Or two, or three, or...
I shove the thought down, both equally pissed and unnerved that Duncan would be pissed if I went off on a bender.
Why do I give a shit what he thinks about me?
He made his feelings pretty well known when he told me to leave.
I try not to think about what happened as I drive, but it’s no use.
The memory of his tongue flicking my lip ring is going to be embedded in my brain for all eternity.
“Fucking hell,” I curse, but my voice isn’t as angry or stern in the privacy of my own car.
It shakes because I’m weak.
Apparently, I am a sucker for drummers and unavailable men who aren’t sure if they like me or not.
The highways and lights go by in a flash as I step on the gas. It’s not fast enough, and the high I used to get flying around on my bike or in my fancy cars is nothing compared to what it felt like for that sliver of a moment where Duncan grabbed me by my neck, opened his mouth, and fucking kissed me back.
I arrive home in no time, and the car is barely switched off before I jump out of it.
Anxiety, anger, and worry lace through me like poison as I try to focus on breathing.
I’ve been in therapy enough to know the techniques to nip a panic attack before it gets the chance to cause a full blown meltdown, but nothing works to quell the anxiety quite like a good, stiff drink.
I find myself standing in front of my bar, frozen.
I don’t even remember walking down the steps, but I’m here.
I stare at the backlit bar, stocked with everything a man could ever want or need when it comes to drinking.
But I make no move.
Instead, I stand there, staring like a dumbass as my demons taunt me.
You’re not good enough for him, anyway.
How could anyone want your sorry ass?
He was married, for Christ’s sake, and has a fucking kid.
He’s obviously not into dick.
Except, that last one doesn’t feel as truthful as the others, because last I checked, straight guys didn’t get all aroused around half-naked dudes in their dressing rooms, and they certainly didn’t open mouth kiss other dudes on their couches and grab their fucking necks like they owned them.
Fuck, now I’m hard. Again.
The bottle of vodka is calling my damn name, but so is my twitching cock, and I know it’s a lesser of the two evils kind of deal.
I know I won’t be able to stop at one drink. And despite the twisted and complicated feelings I have toward Duncan McKay, I can’t help but think about his words to me the other day.
I need to stop treating myself like trash.
But that’s what I am, right?
I’m not the kind of guy who grills burgers on Sunday and curls up on the couch to watch fucking Jeopardy, who tells awful punny jokes.
I’m not the man you bring home.
I’m the man you fuck on a tour bus after you’ve pumped your system full of X and tequila; the man you use because it’s fun and you don’t have to commit to shit.
But I want to be more than that for someone.
I want to be the kind of person who writes stupid love songs, for once in my life, instead of songs about my fucking exes who I can’t talk about, because God forbid anyone knows they suck dick.
What am I saying?
No one even knows I do, because I am no better.
The thought spirals off as I remember the feel of Duncan’s arousal, pressed against me in the dressing room. It was an accident, I’m sure, but given the fact I was shirtless and in his face...
My cock throbs as images of what his dick looks like populate my brain.
I shouldn’t think about such things. Really, I know I shouldn’t.
Especially, given his reaction to just fucking kissing me.
The man will probably put an invisible fence between his dick and I for the rest of the foreseeable future, if he doesn’t quit the band altogether because a gay asshole challenged his fucking masculinity or something.
But I can’t help myself.
I slowly amble away from the bar, across the room to the couch.
When I fall into the cushions, they welcome me, and I don’t wait to remove my pants, freeing my cock from its constraints.
I close my eyes, wrapping my hand around my length, and the relief is palpable as I close my eyes, stroking my cock slowly with my warm palm as I swallow harshly.
My thoughts spiral as I think about Duncan’s fingers resting on my neck, of his tongue probing my lip ring, of his warm, smooth lips parting for mine.
My cock throbs and I groan. Misery laces with desire as I think about how hard I was on his couch, just from fucking kissing him.
I’ve never gotten so worked up over anyone before, like that.
I let my brain wander, filling in gaps of the fantasy like the addict I truly am.
I replay the moment over and over in my brain, the way I wished it would have gone.
His hands on my neck, and my waist, pulling me into his lap so I could feel his hardness against me, twitching, begging for me to rub against him.
“Fuck...” I hiss, as the familiar feeling builds within my stomach, my balls, my spine.
I squeeze my eyes shut, groaning as I curse, as every nerve, every synapse fires like fireworks in the night sky, and I cry out his name when I come, feeling guiltier than ever because I know it will never happen.
I’ll be lucky if he stays on the tour, period.
My abdomen spasms as I ride out the wave of my orgasm. My fingernails stroke the edge of my lorum ring as my cock throbs, emptying itself on my pink shirt.
I stare at the ceiling, feeling relieved enough for the moment, that I don’t want a drink.
But what I do want, I know I can’t have.
I wish I was a spoiled brat. Then, I could have everything I want.
But the truth of the matter is I’m not spoiled.
Quite the opposite, actually.
For I would give up everything just to have a shot at the kind of paradise Duncan was able to find.
A life outside of this fucking bullshit where he was happy.
When my cock deflates and I’ve sustained a sizeable puddle of cum on my shirt, I push the thoughts, the guilt, and the dreams, down into the depths of my darkness once more, locking them away.
Because if there’s anything I’ve learned in my life, it’s that I’m not meant for sunshine and fucking rainbows.
I will forever be drowning in the Black Sea and no one will ever be able to save me.
“For fuck’s sake, Eddie, get your shit together,” I snap, as Eddie glares at me.
“Maybe if you wouldn’t rush through your songs, we’d sound better,” he nips back.
I can’t help that I snap at him as Duncan sighs in exasperation.
“You trying to tell me I’m the fucking problem?” I storm over to him, all but grabbing his guitar.
I haven’t had a rehearsal this shitty in ages. It’s like Eddie and Corpse can barely keep up with me, like they are the ones on fucking drugs.
What the hell do I know, maybe they are.
We’ve never exactly been the closest of bandmates. Sully was closer to them than I was, and I half expected them to follow him when he walked out on us.
On me.
Thoughts of Sully threaten to infect me again, only agitating me further.
Thanks to the rough night of sleep—two nights in a row—and the fact I haven’t had a drink in days, and Duncan McKay being five feet away from me sweating like a whore in church, I’m at my wit’s fucking end.
Eddie squares his shoulders. “Yeah, Felix, I am.” He sneers.
I press my nose against his, my lips curling back in an angry snarl, and I want to ring his neck.
“ I am the fucking band, asshole. I am the show. I am the reason for your fucking house in the hills. There is no Pillars of Rock without Felix fucking Hart!”
A crash sounds behind us as Eddie pushes me.
“Really, because last I checked you were just a pretty drunk fuckboy who won’t shut up unless there’s a dick in his mouth.”
My fist connects with his jaw. Equipment crashes and his fist connects with my face.
I move to hit him, to hit anything really, as the anxiety and self-loathing kicks into gear along with years of self-preservation.
Until this moment, no one has ever said a word about my sexual preferences. It wasn’t like I was open about it; but then again, I wasn’t necessarily hiding it, either. At least, not from my band or Lou.
Lord knows everyone’s stumbled across me with my cock down some asshole’s throat, or on my knees.
It was an unspoken truth, something we didn’t talk about. Just like we didn’t talk about Sully’s penchant for pills, or Jinger leaving his house at three in the morning.
All in the name of fame and fortune, right?
Strong arms lift me from the ground, which only makes me hurt more. Because I recognize that strength, the way in which they pick me up like I am a sack of potatoes and not a person, and I hate that I like it.
God, I am so fucked up.
I twist and turn in Duncan’s arms, scrambling to try and get a hit on Eddie as Corpse holds him back, whispering something in his ear. Lou barges into the booth, his face so scarlet I think he might actually bust a vessel or have a damn heart attack.
“Enough!” he hollers.
Palo leans back in his chair, completely unbothered while Ted yawns.
I guess you’ve seen one band fight, you’ve seen ‘em all.
“Corpse, take Eddie outside.”
“I don’t—” Eddie spits as Lou spins, glaring at him.
“Everyone take fucking five,” he bites out.
Eddie breaks Corpse’s hold and I finally break Duncan’s.
I twist off of him, nearly falling on my ass in the process, leaving Duncan both stunned, and pissed off.
“Fuck all you, I don’t need this fucking bullshit. I don’t need you—” I fire as I look at Eddie, who spits at me.
“I don’t need you,” I hiss at Lou who looks more annoyed than anything.
“And I certainly don’t need you,” I growl at Duncan as I force my way past him, past Lou to the exit.
“I fucking quit,” I snap as Lou calls for Duncan, his words incomprehensible to me.
Duncan grunts, his footsteps behind me an echo.
I walk fast toward the dressing room slash lounge, wanting to get as far away from everyone as humanly possible, but it’s no use.
Duncan throws open the door and slams it shut no sooner than when I make it to the corner bar.
Lou always makes sure the bar here is stocked to the brim. He knows my vices just as well as the rest of the band.
The overwhelming need for a drink is strong, but I need to be stronger.
I can’t do the shit I’ve always done and expect different fucking results, right?
Isn’t that the definition of insanity?
“What is your fucking deal today?” Duncan says. I can feel his presence behind me like an ogre. “You’ve been on a rip and a tear since I got here.”
I stare at the clear decanter of vodka, and I swear I can smell the stringent scent like a sweet perfume.
But I can also smell Duncan’s sweat, mixed with his Old Spice body wash, and guilt.
So much fucking guilt.
“Oh please, don’t play innocent,” I hiss, feeling the demons beneath my surface rising once more.
Memories flash in my brain of all the fights I’ve endured.
The men I lost because I’m not enough for them.
Because I’m an accident, a mistake.
A regret.
I can’t let them hurt me.
I can’t let him hurt me.
Duncan’s eyebrows knit together, his lips pursed into a straight line, which makes the collection of coarse hair above his lips twitch, and all I can think about is how I know what it feels like, scratching against my skin.
And I’ll never not know that little detail. It’ll eat at me like a poison, in the dead of night, when I’m alone.
Because I’m always alone.
That’s how my story ends, right?
A tortured heart writes the best songs, after all.
“Me? You’re blaming your fucking temper tantrums on me? Real smooth, Felix,” he growls as he angles himself closer, backing me up against the bar.
My back collides with hard metal, and the fight or flight instinct in me wants to attack.
To tell him awful things, sugarcoating my guilt and carving my desire into weapons.
The masculine scent of sweat, rock and roll, and Old Spice fills my lungs as I stare up at him with fury.
But I barely get to open my mouth, before his hand is around my throat, and like a goddamn idiot I let out a strangled sound, a cross between a groan and whisper.
My cock twitches with anticipation and I feel like I might explode into a hundred pieces. I want to fight, to argue, to tell him to fuck off.
That I never want to see him again.
But I don’t get to speak.
Because Duncan presses his body against mine, his fingers tightening their grip as his fingertips brush the edge of the hair at the nape of my neck. His touch is rough, but somehow soft at the same time, scratching an itch deep within my soul. My entire body releases all its tension and I think I might dissolve into the fucking floor.
His gaze burns me, and my demons.
Words disappear as I stare up into his dark eyes, seeing my own glassy torment reflected back in his irises.
His fingers press against the throbbing vein in my neck, and the moment his lips crush mine, I snap.
His kiss is harsh, full of anger and emotions I can’t quite place. I’m sure if I was a normal person, it would feel out of place, maybe even put me off.
But instead, it ignites me, somehow soothing my pain and illuminating it at the same time.
It’s a blissful, rough sort of feeling and I can’t help that I grab him back, my own fingernails digging into his shirt, sinking into the flesh of his hips.
His form envelopes me, crushing me like a vice, and once more I can feel his dick twitching against mine. I groan with satisfaction as Duncan nips at my bottom lip, tongue flicking my lip ring again.
I don’t think anyone’s ever been particularly enthralled by my piercings, and a part of me wonders if he’d give my lorum piercing the same kind of attention, which makes my cock throb against his.
The sound of his frustrated growl slash groan does nothing to quell the desire that spreads through me.
I try to catch my breath, but between his warm tongue and hard cock, I can barely think straight. I slide my hands across his hips, feeling the thickness of his form beneath me.
Duncan is a big guy.
Big, bulky, and hard as fuck.
I’m strangely into it, though.
He makes me feel smaller, lighter, and the word prey keeps going off in my head, dancing with other words that will probably echo in there until I write them down.
“You going to ask me to leave again?” I hiss as I trail my fingers over the outline of his length. I can feel it twitch from my touch as I grab his jean-clad erection in my hand, squeezing until he curses.
“That’s not fair,” he growls, his tone desperate as he grinds his cock in my hands.
I bite his bottom lip, thrusting myself against his thigh, eliciting another groan that is like music to my ears.
“No, it isn’t,” I bite, feeling the beginnings of precum pebbling on my cockhead.
I know in my mind, I should probably stop.
But I don’t want to, and he isn’t stopping me.
I should slow down. Ease the guy into shit.
But I don’t know how to take anything slow. My entire life has been living in the fast lane.
“ Fuck...” he curses, his breath shaky and his grip tight.
The truth in his voice is the final nail in my proverbial coffin.
I crush my lips against him and he presses himself into me harder, causing the bar to rock and some bottles to fall over.
“Fuck, Felix...” His voice is edged in something dark, something deep that cuts down through flesh and bone to my very being.
Underneath Duncan McKay, I feel alive.
Like I’m no longer drowning.
Beneath his touch, the pain subsides.
His left hand holds my hips with ferocity, his fingernails digging into my skin that is exposed through the open sides of my muscle tank, and I groan in response.
His hand slides over my hips, across my waistband, slowly until his thick fingers trace the outline of my cock, eliciting a moan that is downright desperate from my lips.
His exploration is slow and torturous, and I can’t help but thrust myself against his palm, my leaking cock making a mess as I edge closer to coming, slipping my tongue in his mouth. His body stiffens for a moment, but relaxes almost instantly as he returns the action, his tongue caressing mine.
Fucking prey, indeed.
The sound of the door opening is like a damn bucket of ice water, and I barely have time to process the moment.
Then again, I don’t think I could process anything with Duncan all over me, touching me, kissing me. Bringing me to the edge of salvation.
For the first time in my life, I feel a sense of worry.
Not because I don’t want to be found with Duncan, like this, but because somewhere in my feeble brain I know that this is unfamiliar territory for Duncan.
Hell, I am probably the first guy he’s ever kissed, and that alone is probably throwing him a fucking curveball, and now...
Duncan moves away as Lou coughs, and I’m painfully aware of my rigid erection and the wet spot forming against my damn underwear.
Jesus Christ.
Duncan doesn’t look at me, but he doesn’t have to.
I can feel the panic, the anxiety, like it’s a person all on its own.
Lou opens his mouth, and I watch as Duncan’s shoulders tighten, those broad muscles thick and tight.
Fuck that is not helping my current situation.
“It’s not what it looks like,” Duncan bites out, and though I’m not surprised at the reaction, I am still hurt.
I can’t think rationally with my cock throbbing in my pants.
Lou looks between us, and I do nothing to hide the evidence.
Lou’s seen a lot worse.
“I was going to say it looks like everything is under control here,” Lou announces smoothly, settling his gaze on Duncan. “Eddie is calmed down, and wants to apologize.” Lou doesn’t look at me.
“Good, he was being a dick,” I utter as I adjust my erection.
“Duncan, can you give Felix and I a minute alone, please?” Lou flashes me a glare.
Fuck.
“Yeah, of course.” Duncan grunts as he ambles through the space, heading for the door. When he shuts it, the temperature drops in the room.
“I don’t know what game you think you’re playing, Felix, but you need to be careful,” Lou warns, his voice edged in darkness, filled with a concern I’ve never heard before.
His gaze makes me feel small, but not in a good way.
Definitely not how Duncan makes me feel.
“I’m not playing a game, Lou.” It’s the truth, but I don’t know if he buys it.
“You know I’ve never had a problem with your... preferences. What you do with your dick is your business, as long as?—”
“As long as I keep it out of the public eye, I know,” I bite. “God forbid anyone knows Felix Hart is gay. The world will fucking end.”
Lou purses his lips, his gaze dark and serious.
“You are playing with fire, Felix.”
I cross my arms, meeting his solid gaze. “Maybe I like getting burned,” I snap.
Lou shakes his head. “It’s not you I’m worried about.”
The gravity of his words hit me, and suddenly, I feel like a gigantic asshole.
Which is fitting, because I am a giant asshole.
“Not everyone can withstand a fire, Felix. Some people have already been burned enough.”
With that, he turns on his heel and strolls from the room, leaving the door open.