Off Beat (Winter’s Wrath #4)

30. Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty

R ay had been dead for almost a month. A month .

Tate dropped his arm over his eyes as he plunked back on his bunk and groaned. He still couldn’t wrap his mind around it. He usually tried not to think about the fucker at all, but that was much easier when they were doing back-to-back shows. They’d done five in California, hit Nevada, Arizona, spent some time in New Mexico and Texas before finally getting the chance to head up toward cooler destinations.

They were now on their first two shows in Canada, having done one in Vancouver and taking their time on the way to Calgary since they had almost a week free. Too much time to lay around and think about things he’d rather forget.

At first North had tried to stay with him all the time and keep him busy, but he had to spend more time with his own band and write new music. Guilt nagged at Tate every time one of North’s bandmembers came to ask him about something and he put them off. His man was trying so hard to give Tate a sense of normalcy. As if he could erase what had happened to him with those quiet moments of them just laying together, kisses that didn’t lead to sex, or just having fun playing video games or watching goofy movies.

North was doing everything right, but normal wasn’t that…easy.

If only he could explain what a huge difference there was between the life he’d expected to be trapped in forever and the one he had now. Hell, getting the okay from his doctor to remove his eye patch and having his vision returned had turned him into a blubbering mess and he’d begged North to get him away from everyone so he wouldn’t freak them out. Shaking so hard, feeling like he was gonna puke, even though he was happy, he’d simply curled up in North’s arms and tried to remember how to get oxygen into his lungs. Convince himself he wasn’t dying.

Balthazar came to check on him and told him he’d likely had a panic attack. A fucking panic attack over a good thing happening to him.

That couldn’t be normal, no matter what Balthazar said. Not that Tate had talked to him much. He’d been tempted, but asking for help when he was fucked up from a situation that he’d put himself in seemed wrong. Like, Alder had PTSD from being stabbed. Connor had serious issues too. Even Malakai saw Balthazar for anger management—which dealing with Tate ditching him had probably made worse.

With Ray gone and the stalkers that had been after the women all facing various charges, the bands, the crew, the security all got to finally be happy. They had every reason to be happy. Tate had every reason to be happy.

But he…he couldn’t really let himself be.

He couldn’t trust it.

For months he’d woken up next to Ray with a pit of dread in his stomach, knowing exactly what the day would bring. If he was lucky he was allowed to get high early. He’d adjusted his behavior so Ray would give him that escape. The less he had to deal with reality, the more days flowed together and he could just accept how things had to be.

Not a perfect solution, the high never lasted and the numbness faded, but he’d focused on getting the next one. On keeping Ray in a good mood so he wouldn’t be forced to face him completely sober. That had been a punishment the few times he’d objected to something Ray wanted to do to him. Days without any drugs, sweating and shaking as he suffered through withdrawals, curled up on the bed as he questioned every choice he’d ever made.

Maybe that was the problem. He’d been sober for so long it was getting to him. He hadn’t even had a drink since the night of North’s seizure. Part of him was afraid to relax that much.

He knew Ray was gone. He knew he was safe.

So why the hell not let go a bit? What was the worst that could happen?

What if you end up telling them exactly what Ray did to you? That you see it every night when you close your eyes if North isn’t holding you. That sometimes you see him through the blinding lights when you’re on stage, even though you shouldn’t be able to see anyone in the crowd?

“They have enough to deal with.” Tate shook his head and sighed. “I’ve put them through enough.”

Outside he could hear the faint sound of a guitar playing. Singing. They’d stopped at a campground just beyond the Alberta border, setting up the three tents Oakley had suggested they buy to give the roadies an option besides the vans to sleep in when they got an opportunity like this. He’d never been camping, so he’d been looking forward to the whole atmosphere when everyone went shopping for burgers and hot dogs to cook on the grill.

He’d even walked through the woods with Danica, Alder, and North to gather wood and sticks for roasting marshmallows. There was a nice big bonfire blazing, food cooking, laughter and music.

And he was in here because he’d gotten so overwhelmed he needed to be alone. Being part of all that happiness was terrifying. That was something that could be taken away. That had been taken away.

He’s gone, Tate.

He could almost hear Malakai saying that, though he never had because Tate avoided the subject. If he didn’t, Malakai would listen in that calm way he did that always made Tate feel better before.

He’s gone, Tate.

This time, Danica’s voice. That patient smile, the sweets she’d give him to cheer him up when he was having a bad day, the moments she’d spend doing something stupid like playing videos games and kicking the other guy’s asses because he liked bragging that he’d always known she was the best at it.

Over and over, every single member of the band. His friends, his family, saying those words and begging him to believe them.

Tate…he’s gone. Open your eyes, I’m right here. I’ll always be right here. No matter how much power he thought he had, in the end he’ll be forgotten. He can’t have you. You’re mine and I’m yours and that will always be true. Always.

His lips curved as he heard that last voice. North’s. Words he’d said after waking Tate from another nightmare. At first, Tate had avoided giving him details, but lately he’d given him some. Mostly after the nightmares because saying what they’d been about out loud made them go away faster. Having North hold him and tell him he’d be okay almost made him believe it.

Then why don’t you?

There wasn’t really a reason. Just his thoughts and the quiet and all the good things just out of reach. And being alone in here wasn’t helping as much as he thought it would. He was digging himself deeper into being afraid of a man who was dead. Fucking dead.

Tears spilled down his cheeks and he wiped them away, laughing at himself. He knew they were tears of relief. Relief that almost hurt because part of him wasn’t fully convinced of that one simple fact.

Ray was gone.

For good.

Frustrated, he rolled off his bunk and headed outside. Looked over the crowd surrounding the bonfire and held up a finger for North to wait when he spotted Tate and started to rise from the folding chair.

A short distance away from the group, Balthazar stood, wearing a light leather jacket and his usual jeans and T-shirt, though this one was white and not one of the security ones. Leaning against a tree, he smiled as he watched Annette sitting in Connor’s lap by the fire, singing an old song that Tate didn’t recognize. Balthazar was using his vape and usually moved away from everyone like the smokers did, even though the ‘smoke’ from the thing didn’t really bother anyone.

That habit worked out perfectly for Tate, because he needed to talk to Balthazar alone.

Walking up to the head of security, Tate folded his arms over his chest as Balthazar’s focus shifted to him, not sure how to even start. Maybe what he was gonna ask was stupid.

“Walk with me, Tate.” Balthazar turned, not checking to see if he’d follow, and started out into the trees at a slow pace. He glanced over as Tate joined him. “How are you doing?”

Jaw clenched, Tate shrugged. Then he sighed. “I should be doing fine.”

“Should you? Is that’s what you’ve been telling yourself?”

Tate frowned up at the man. “Well, yeah. The bad stuff is over. Everyone survived. The end.”

Nodding slowly, Balthazar brought the vape to his lips, drawing in the vapor which had the subtle scent of cigar that Tate loved. Deep and rich, reminding him of a dark, smoky room with mellow music and a calm atmosphere.

Around them the wind blew lightly through the few leaves left on the trees, adding a freshness to the aroma he’d turned all his attention to. He drew in a long inhale, wanting to absorb the feeling the scent was giving him. Wanting to keep it because it made much more sense than the ones Balthazar wanted to hear about.

Leaves crunched under their shoes as they continued to walk. Balthazar didn’t ask any more questions. It was almost like he was waiting for something. Tate wasn’t sure what.

He rubbed his arms as a chill settled over him. “I have to keep reminding myself Ray is dead. That’s weird, right?”

“Not at all.” Balthazar tucked his vape into the chest pocket of his jacket. “You didn’t get any closure, Tate. Vanessa told you Ray was dead and that was it.” He reached into another pocket and pulled out his phone. “I had a feeling you’d need to see this. I don’t know if it will be enough—once we get back to Detroit you could always visit his grave—but until then some visual confirmation might help.”

When Balthazar handed over his phone, all Tate could do was stare at it, his throat tightening as he read over the news article. A hostage situation, the hotel, Oakley had been drugged but otherwise unharmed, Winter’s Wrath and XVI Hours security detail were mentioned, but no other names.

Except for Ray’s.

With a warrant out for his arrest for drug trafficking, Ray Coote managed to evade police, but information from an anonymous source led to his location where he’d taken Oakley Godstone hostage in a room at the Marriot Hotel in Los Angeles. After a brief altercation with police, Mr. Coote suffered extreme trauma to his neck and was pronounced dead on scene. He has no known surviving family members.

“They didn’t mention me. I was living with him for months.” Tate’s brow furrowed. “Any reporter could’ve found that out and called me his boyfriend or something?”

Balthazar inclined his head. “They could have, but Reese is very persuasive.”

“She killed the story?”

“She did. She didn’t see any reason for you to be connected to the man in any way. You weren’t his boyfriend, you were his prisoner.” Balthazar held Tate’s gaze when Tate looked up at him. “You were his prisoner and what he did to you was wrong.”

Tate wet his bottom lip with his tongue. “I know that. Like…logically, I know. But it’s still hard to look at it that way.”

Putting a hand on Tate’s shoulder, Balthazar gave him an encouraging smile. “It will take time. But you’re doing better than you think, Tate. And you’ve done exactly what you needed to, exactly when you needed to do it.”

“I haven’t done anything.”

“You’re talking about it. You weren’t ready before, but you are now. I’m grateful that you trusted me enough to come to me.” With a soft laugh, Balthazar turned him and they began walking back toward the camp. “I was starting to wonder if you ever would.”

Blinking at the other man, Tate frowned. “Of course I trust you, you’re fucking awesome, Ballz! Just…you’re always dealing with important stuff.”

“Why are your issues less important?”

“I… Ugh, I don’t know.” Tate hugged himself, digging his fingers into his arms. “Before the shit with Ray I was just a druggie who likes cookies too much and that seems like a me problem.”

He appreciated the effort Balthazar made not to laugh. “That’s the strangest way I’ve ever had someone try to minimalize what they’re struggling with.”

“Is that bad?”

“Not unless it prevents you from asking for help.” Balthazar slowed as they reached the edge of the camp. “Are you?”

That hadn’t been his original plan, he’d just wanted to know how messed up he really was. But talking to the man who’d been drafted as the band’s shrink could do him some good.

He chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Guess I am. But don’t make it weird, okay? Like, it’ll basically be hanging out when you’re not busy and you can tell me how to fix my brain.”

Letting out a heavy sigh and tipping his head back as though praying, Balthazar seemed to need a minute before he replied. He gave Tate a level look. “Two things. One, we will be scheduling appointments regularly. And two, your brain doesn’t need to be fixed.”

Tate grinned at him. That was exactly what he’d needed to hear. “You’re good at this. I’m feeling better already! Can I go get drunk now?”

Balthazar rubbed his hand over his eyes and nodded. “Go. I think I’d like a drink myself.”

The peaceful, warm scene around the campfire didn’t seem so overwhelming anymore. Part of Tate still felt a little out of place, but he shoved that aside as he grabbed the empty chair next to North—which Derrick had vacated for a moment while getting himself a beer. He’d probably want his seat back, but too bad.

Ever since Skull had laid into Derrick for being weird around North—Tate’s fault, but he’d been forgiven—Derrick had been extra nice and helpful to the XVI Hours lead singer. Like really extra. He’d probably bring North a beer too. And smile at him and stand too close and Tate really didn’t want to have to beat up his own drum tech.

Not that he was jealous. Nope. Only…

Who the fuck are you kidding, Maddox, you possessive asshole.

All right, he didn’t want to be the jealous boyfriend. But he couldn’t stop himself from glaring at Derrick when he went around to North’s other side and rested an arm on North’s shoulder while offering one of the two beers he held by the necks in his other hand.

Not even noticing Tate’s irritation—or Tate—North laughed at something Derrick said, cracking open the beer and tipping it to his lips. He looked over at Tate suddenly and his expression warmed.

He immediately dismissed Derrick. “Hey! I thought you were still off walking with Balthazar.”

“Naw, we’re done talking for now.”

“Good. I thinking you talking to him will be good.” As Derrick went off to bug someone else, North leaned closer to Tate, his eyes darkening with concern. “Are you okay, though? You seem stressed out. I know opening up about shit can leave you kinda raw. We can go on the bus and chill if you want.”

“I’m okay.” He rolled his eyes at himself, then snickered as he saw Derrick cozying up to Dariel. “Fuck, I ruined that boy, didn’t I?”

North smirked. “Probably.”

“But I’ve got nothing to worry about, do I?”

Eyes wide, North stared at him. “For real? Tate, the only reason I’m not hovering over you every second of every day is because that would be kinda creepy and you also told me to fuck off and do my job the last time I tried. Believe me, I ain’t interested in anyone else.”

This was true. Kinda. Tate chewed on his bottom lip when North took his hand, lacing their fingers together. “I didn’t tell you to ‘fuck off’.”

“Not in those exact words, but I get it. We’ve both got responsibilities and I was overdoing it.”

“And I don’t want to hold you back.” He squeezed North’s hand to stop him from interrupting. “Me getting better…I think it’s gonna take a while. Sometimes I don’t wanna be around people. Sometimes regular shit freaks me out. I like knowing you’re there for me, but still get to enjoy stuff, even if I can’t.”

Pressing his lips together, North seemed to consider that for a moment. “It’s hard to enjoy anything when I know you’re miserable. But if you need to be alone for a bit, that’s cool.” He quieted as the song Alder was playing ended and another began. Then he met Tate’s eyes. “Do you need to be alone now?”

“Not yet.” Tate gave him a little smile, because he was happy North understood and they were able to discuss stuff like this. It took away the pressure of pretending to be okay all the time. “This is pretty chill and I was looking forward to it, so hiding on the bus felt weird.”

“That’s right, you’ve never been camping, eh?”

“Nope.” Tate shivered as the wind picked up. Not enough to disturb the fire or anyone else, but enough to make him regret coming out in a T-shirt. “Shoulda probably dressed better for it though.”

Standing, North took off his hoodie, wrapping it around Tate and pulling up the hood so he was nice and warm. Then he handed Tate his beer. “Between that and the fire, you should be more comfortable. Do you want a burger or something? I think Malakai put a couple aside for you.”

Tate nodded, putting his arms through the sleeves of North’s big soft hoodie and drawing his knees to his chest to cover them too. How he’d ended up with the best boyfriend on the planet, he had no freaking clue, but he fucking loved the man. Just like that he’d soothed away the last of Tate’s discomfort and made sticking around even more appealing.

He relaxed into the chair, watching the fire and listening to Alder singing with Annette. They were both capable of singing gritty to keep with the metal image of the bands, but they sounded amazing doing ballads and softer melodies. He’d love to hear them do an original song one day, just the two of them with only an acoustic guitar. A song that would be more radio-friendly maybe?

Sucked that he couldn’t really write music, but North could. He’d even done a few softer songs for XVI Hours. What would it be like to work on one together?

Returning with a plate of perfectly fixed up hamburgers and a pile of chips, North handed it over, then settled at Tate’s side, watching the fire with him. They didn’t talk much as Tate ate, which Tate figured was intentional. He still didn’t have much of an appetite and everyone usually left him alone when he showed any interest in food, as though distracting him meant one less bite he’d eat and then he’d starve to death.

That had made him self-conscious at first, but sitting out here wasn’t as bad as when they were all on the bus. Then it was like everyone was watching him while trying not to be obvious about it. He didn’t take his meals with the band anymore for that very reason, but someone always made sure there were plenty of leftovers for him.

He finished a whole hamburger, took a few bites of the second one, and polished off the chips. Without a word, North took the plate and tossed it in the trash bag. He didn’t sit when he returned, which had Tate tipping his head back to look up at him.

The next song Alder started playing was familiar, Promise Me by Badflower. A song he’d heard North listening to a lot lately. It was catchy, but kinda sad.

Holding out his hand, North waited until Tate placed his own in it and drew him to his feet. He led him away from the fire, where they could still hear the music, but had a bit of privacy. Then he brought Tate’s hands up to his shoulders.

Tate arched a brow as North slipped his own hands into the back pockets of Tate’s jeans. “What are you doing?”

“Dancing with you. Remember, I owe you.”

So sweet and romantic, all he’d never thought North would be didn’t surprise him anymore, which was amazing. These moments he’d come to anticipate, but didn’t take for granted because life was short and fucked up. Being in love was wonderful and scary because it was the ultimate gift that would be taken away, regardless of how perfectly it was. Because they wouldn’t live forever.

As they moved together, he realized the song was adding to his depressing thoughts and snickered as he leaned against North.

“What’s so funny?”

Tate shook his head. “I was thinking about how romantic you are. And of dying.”

“Wait… What?” North stopped dancing and stared at him. “Why?”

“The song. Is this ours now?”

“Not after that comment.” North’s lips slanted into a sheepish smile and he wrapped his arms around Tate, drawing him close again. “You’re my first boyfriend. Give me a break.”

“And I’ll be your last while you’re watching me die?”

“All right, I suck at this. Can you stop talking about dying now?”

Tugging North down to kiss him, Tate grinned. “Yes, but you don’t suck at this. You’re dancing with me near a really pretty fire and you got Alder to sing a song that makes you think of us. Not the dying part maybe, but being happy when you see me smile? Staying young and laughing together and everything?”

North chuckled. “Until your heart stops?”

“If it makes you feel better, you can be the dead one.” Tate made a face even as the teasing words left his mouth. That was not better at all. “Wait, scratch that. You’re romantic as fuck, but you suck at choosing couple songs.”

“True, but I think I know why.” North pressed his cheek to Tate’s, speaking softly. “Our song hasn’t been written yet.”

Closing his eyes, Tate held North a little tighter, not ready for their dance to end. This crazy, wild, passionate and secretly sensitive man made him believe maybe he could really have happiness. And keep it.

No matter how many things in Tate’s life were uncertain, being with North would never be one of them. He loved how they could joke around, but also be serious when needed. They were finding a balance that worked perfectly for them both. North understood him in a way no one else could and he wasn’t sure he’d have come even as far as he had in healing without him.

A few more songs and Alder put his guitar away, sitting on a blanket with Jesse and Danica as Jesse grilled Oakley for more details on the case against the stalkers. The members of both bands and some of the crew moved closer, taking seats where they could as Oakley went over the information he’d been given.

“All five of them, three guys and two girls, were arrested, but got out on bail. They were from rich families and the prosecutor was worried he might not get the charges to stick. There was no way to prove anyone was in real danger. Sure, stalking and harassment are still crimes, but only one or two of them was ever present at a scene. Conspiring to commit a crime was going to be a weak charge on that alone.” He leaned back against Vanessa’s leg, his expression troubled. Then glanced over at Tate as he and North came to stand at the edge of the small crowd. “But they managed to get a confession from one of the girls when…when other charges were added.”

Balthazar sat forward, careful not to disturb Annette, who fallen asleep with her head on his lap. “What charges?”

Oakley rubbed his fist against his lips. Let out a heavy sigh. “Unlawful imprisonment and drug trafficking. They think they have enough to prove all five of them knew what Ray was doing and participated. Some of the posts in the forum are pretty incriminating.”

Stomach turning, Tate tried to back up, but North was right behind him. He had to get away. He couldn’t hear this. He’d finally put Ray out of his head for a bit and here he was again.

“Come on.” North took his hand and pulled him to the furthest bus, the one XVI Hours had gotten back from the police and had professionally cleaned from top to bottom. Inside, North had Tate sit at the table and went to get him a glass of water. “Fuck, I wish…I should’ve brought you back here earlier. Or figured out why Oakley was looking at you. He might as well have—”

Shooting from the chair, Tate grabbed North so fast the water splashed all over them both. He shoved North against the counter, bringing one hand up to cover his mouth and the other to the button of his jeans, Snapping it open, he shoved North’s jeans down and wrapped his hand around his dick. Only then did he let North speak again.

“Fuck, Tate.” North slammed the glass on the counter and braced himself as Tate began stroking him. “Conversation over?”

“Uh huh.” Tate bit North’s shoulder, grinding his rapidly swelling erection against his ass. “Don’t move.”

Dropping to his knees, Tate brought his hands to North’s ass, spreading his cheeks so he could trail his tongue over his hole. He’d done this a couple times before—only with women, but he expected the pleasure wouldn’t be much different. Already North’s legs were shaking as he positioned them as far apart as his jeans around his ankles would allow, lowering to rest his head on his folded arms.

This was different than any experience he’d had before, which was why he’d wanted to do it. Not the act itself, but having a man be vulnerable to him. Having North exposed in the most intimate way was empowering, giving Tate a sense of control he’d never had before. He’d been fine without it, but not tonight. Tonight he needed to know he could give or take whatever he wanted. He needed to lose himself in the pleasure he could draw out of the man he loved.

He licked over the snug ring of muscle again, setting his teeth into North’s ass cheek when he jerked away and moaned. This position was hard for North, the vulnerability was hard, but he had to do for North what North did for him.

Remind him where he was. Who he was with.

“I love that you’re letting me do this.” Tate slicked North up with his saliva, massaging North ass until the tension left him. “After you told me you wanted me to fuck you, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. But I wanted to have this first.”

“You will not hear me complaining.”

“Mmm, that’s good to know.” Tate teased the tip of his tongue against the tight ring, pressing his face against North’s ass as he dipped his tongue inside him. The taste of him was heady, he smelled like fresh soap and whatever shaving cream he used that had him completely hairless here, and the heat of his body had Tate shoving off the hoodie he was wearing, even as he tried to get his tongue in deeper.

The sounds North was making made Tate’s dick harden, but he kept fucking him with his tongue. Hands back on his ass cheek he squeezed them, loving how they tensed as North struggled to stay in position. He smiled as North began panting, easing back as he wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and glanced up.

“I need lube. And a condom.”

“And I need to teach you to come prepared.” North groaned, shifting his hips as though the lack of stimulation was physically painful. “I have both in my wallet. And…and my latest tests if you wanted to see. I don’t have anything.”

The comment almost stopped Tate from pulling out North’s wallet, but he shoved his misgivings aside. “I need to take some new tests, North. I should’ve already, but…”

North looked over his shoulder at Tate and shook his head. “You don’t need to explain. I’ll be there if you want when you do take them. The results won’t change anything.”

“Okay.” There was a lot to unravel with this whole conversation, but with all his blood pulsing into his dick, he didn’t have the brainpower. Taking out the condom, he quickly tore it open with his teeth and rolled it over his dick. Then he opened the packet of lube, pouring it onto his hand. “This is new to me, so tell me if I totally suck.”

“Right now, you’re not inside me.” North gritted through his teeth. “So you suck.”

Rising to his feet, Tate pressed his fingers against North, letting the lube drizzle over them and spreading it until there was enough to slide his fingers into that tight hole. He groaned as North pressed back, taking them in all the way.

“I don’t need a lot of prep, Tate. Get some lube on your dick and fuck me. You won’t hurt me, I promise.”

Withdrawing his fingers, Tate used the rest of the lube to slick over his dick, positioning himself and adding enough pressure to stretch North open around the head of his cock. He moved back, then in again, loving the sight of North taking him, inch at a time.

“You’re so tight, but there’s no resistance. I’m fucking loving this.” Tate curved his hands around North’s hips and drove in deep. Then he eased out slowly. “Fuck, you’re so hot inside. Why did I wait so long to fuck you?”

“You. Still. Aren’t.” North reached back and grabbed hold of Tate’s ass, forcing him in harder. “Please, Tate. You can’t fucking rim me then tease me like this. That’s cruel.”

With a smirk on his lips, Tate drew out completely, then drove into North hard enough that he was forced to rise up on his hands and brace his palms against the edge of the counter. He loved seeing North stretch around him too much to stop sliding his dick completely free at first, but after a few times having North all around him eliminated the urge.

He pistoned into North body, hard enough to surround them with the rough sound of flesh hitting flesh. His fingers dug into North’s hips and he grit his teeth at the intense pleasure wrapping around his dick. North clenched, slamming back his hips to take Tate in harder. Somehow he’d flipped things so he was still in control, but Tate didn’t care.

He cried out as he filled North one last time, trembling as he pressed his body against him and his vision spotted. The sensation was like breaking through crashing waves, letting them toss him around as he fought for a gasp of air, the water still trying to drag him under and drown him in ecstasy.

Without warning North pulled away from him, snatching up his wallet, then grabbing Tate and dragging him to the closest sofa. He was still hard and released Tate only long enough to don a condom and open another packet of lube.

“Come here.” North pulled the condom off Tate and tossed it aside, slipping his lips over Tate’s dick as he worked a lubed up finger inside him. He didn’t rush, but he also didn’t let Tate come down from that pleasure high of his orgasm. That he managed to get Tate hard again within ten minutes of manipulating his body with his mouth and his fingers wasn’t surprising.

But when he pulled Tate onto him to straddle his lap and eased Tate down on his dick, Tate couldn’t do anything but take him in and hope his heart didn’t pound out of his chest. Sex with North was always amazing, but he had a feeling the man had been careful with him.

If he looked back now, North had never really fucked him. He’d made love to him, which sounded sappy as fuck, but had been exactly what Tate craved at the time.

He still needed that sometimes, but this was a whole different level. The rough way North thrust up into him told him North wasn’t afraid he’d remember a different time when this was all he had. When he’d endured the rough friction and finding release was hard, but necessary.

“God, Tate, if we weren’t on tour I’d be fucking you all the time. Once a day isn’t enough.” North latched on to the back of his neck and kissed his shoulder, lips parted. “Is this better? I figured you on top would give you some sense of control.”

Muscles locking up as he balanced on the edge of coming again, Tate grabbed hold of North’s hair and jerked his head back. “I don’t want control anymore. I want you to fuck me until I feel you every time I move. You talk a lot about what you would do, North. But I ain’t seeing it.”

“Yeah?” North lifted Tate as he stood, then lowered him onto the sofa, his dick still deep inside him, Tate’s knees over his forearms and spread open. “You forget, I was paid for this. Sometimes, I wasn’t allowed to come until four or five guys had their turns with me. I got a bonus if the host could suck me off and make me come in his mouth after the rest were done. He was a returning customer. I got really good at holding back.”

That shouldn’t sound so fucking hot, not when he knew North often questioned his own worth because he’d been used for sex so young. But North had been older when he’d been to parties for rich dudes. Sometimes he even talked about those times as a good experience. Not all the men treated him like a piece of meat.

With all that experience, Tate had no defenses against the way North triggered every sensitive nerve, against how he made Tate forget anyone else had ever touch him because he could feel North inside and out. The careful way North had handled him before was gone.

He fucked Tate like he knew he could take it and that was the most amazing feeling in the world.

Sucking in air, Tate cried out with need as North pulled out, then stretched him open over and over as he’d done because he fucking loved it. And he was close to coming again, but…no. He wouldn’t until he saw North let go. That man was intense with how long he could last when he wanted to.

He’d been trained that way.

Maybe it was up to Tate to help him let that part of his life go.

“North, look at me.” He held North’s gaze, seeing the change in him when they reconnected. North stopped trying to get him off and was with him, him and no one else. “I need to see you lose yourself with me. You aren’t working for what we have. It’s yours. I’m yours.”

North leaned down to kiss him, wrapping Tate’s legs around his waist. “I know you are.”

“Then let go. You have nothing to prove and I love when you’re with me. In everything.” Getting through to the sex part of North’s brain was challenging, but Tate knew his week spots. “Use me, North. Fucking lose control. There’s nothing that makes me come harder than when you can’t hold back.”

North’s gaze blazed with lust and Tate cried out as North pounded into him, harder and harder, no gentleness to his fucking now. His back bowed as North began to jerk him off in time to his thrusts. If this was a contest, he’d lose every time.

But with one last brutal thrust, North leaned down and claimed his lips. “I never hold back with you, Tate. But I’ve been gentle. I won’t be again unless you ask.”

In a smooth motion North lifted Tate’s leg high, hitting him inside at an different angle, leaving him no choice but to brace himself against the sofa. Cum hit Tate’s stomach as another orgasm ripped through him, taking him in a swift, overpowering blow of sensations. North released his leg and pulled out, yanking off his condom and stroking his dick until his cum streaked across Tate’s chest and stomach.

Dropping to his knees, North licked up the cum on Tate’s stomach, their release combined into a thick mess that North seemed to savor. He climbed over Tate on the sofa and kissed him, sharing the cum in a way Tate would’ve been grossed out by once, but with North was sexy as hell. He couldn’t stop licking his mouth, sucking his lips, his tongue, the taste not what he wanted. It was the feeling of what they shared that was satisfying. Dirty and unrestrained and all that they were together.

They fell asleep naked on the sofa, and Tate wasn’t sure when they moved, but he recalled soft voices. North’s laughter before Tate was being lifted and brought to one of the bunks.

He woke when he saw Ray smiling at him. Touching him and telling him to behave. Telling him that he’d like it because the drugs were good. And they were, but they never took Tate away from him completely.

Everything that happened to him, he felt. He fought tears when Ray kissed him. Bit his lips bloody when Ray fucked him raw. He’d never really thought about Ray maybe not being careful enough. Or catching something from him.

Was what North did safe? He didn’t know. He should know.

“North?” He woke with a start and North immediately slid closer to him, making a soft, comforting sound and smoothing his hair back. “If you get sick because of me, because of what Ray did to me, I’ll never forgive myself. We can’t do that again. I can’t lose you!”

“Shh. Tate, it’s okay.” North kissed his forehead. “You got blood tests before the tour even started. Isn’t your contract like mine? We need full medical clearance. Then the drug tests as an extra precaution.”

“Yes, but he…after I saw the doctor…”

“If it makes you feel better, we can go to a clinic tomorrow. Both get tested.” North’s stroked his bare shoulder. “It wouldn’t matter to me. If you got something…things would be the same.”

First thing in the morning, Orion, of all people, drove them to the local clinic. He was the first one up and he’d overheard Tate asking North if he was sure. Orion’s family was from out here and he’d been to this clinic before.

The test would take a few weeks, but the initial results were good. The nurse had been gentle and understanding. Tate didn’t regret getting it done.

Back on the bus, he’d taken a nap alone, then went to find North. His man was working on some new songs, sitting on the sofa with Alder’s legs behind him. Alder had his head on Jesse’s lap as the tour manager read over something on his phone.

Ignoring them both, Tate straddled North, cuddling close to him so he could move his notepad and work around him.

Instead, North tossed the notepad aside, hitting Alder in the chest. Unbothered, North grabbed Tate’s ass. “Feeling a bit better after getting the test out of the way?”

“More than a bit.” Tate pressed his dick against North’s stomach, his knee digging into Alder’s shins. He hardly noticed. “But I don’t want to interrupt anything important.”

North’s lips quirked as he slid his fingers under the waist of Tate’s jeans, easing his hand down so he could press his finger in, his expression schooled so none of their bandmates would notice.

Alder, however, did. He shoved his foot against North’s back and sent them both tumbling to the floor. “I don’t care if I have to hear you moaning in the bunks, but neither of you gets to hump my fucking leg while you’re getting off.”

“Well then.” North rolled on top of Tate and kissed him. “I guess we’ve got to scratch that off the list.”

“Do we though? He hasn’t moved. And you’ve fucked me on that sofa so often, I think it legally belongs to us.” Tate rubbed the sofa cushion, eyeing Alder as he moved closer to Jesse. “Which makes him fair game.”

Not looking up from his phone, Jesse spoke up, his tone firm. “Keep talking shit and I’ll reconsider letting you out of the next YouTube interview, Tate.”

Scrambling to his feet, Tate yanked North into the bunk area, making sure to talk loud enough for Jesse to hear. “He’s no fun.”

“He really isn’t. Want me to fuck you so hard he gets horny and realizes Brave and Malakai are in the back room with Shiori and he has to pound Alder into the sofa you came all over last night?”

Tate nodded, glancing over to the curtains, which were still parted enough for him to see Jesse frowning at him. “That’s only fair.”

For a second, Tate wondered if they’d gone too far, because Alder had the strangest look in his eyes. Almost like he was trying not to cry as he met Tate’s eyes. But he got it when he slipped into his bunk with North and heard the guitarist speaking softly to his man.

“Looks like we finally have our boy back.”

Smiling, Tate climbed over North, looking down at him as he considered the mess of emotions he’d been feeling lately. When he’d started the tour with his band he’d been withdrawn, always on edge, and he’d thought he’d lost the bond he’d had with his closest friends. He’d lost part of himself.

But North had helped him find it.

He kissed North, laughing softly when North eased him back, his gaze questioning the abrupt shift in Tate’s mood. He noticed everything, so Tate had to explain so he wouldn’t worry. So he’d know what his love had done for him.

Two words said it all.

“I’m back.”