Chapter 9 #2
The hand under the chains stayed there. Iggy rolled his body, hips pressing back, fingers tightening at the nape of the stranger’s neck. Dark fingers skimmed the waistband of those tiny hotpants, tracing the space between his hip bones until Iggy writhed, clearly enjoying it.
A sharp crunch snapped me out of it.
I looked down to find my empty water bottle crushed in my fist, knuckles white. And beneath the tight leather of my pants, my cock was unmistakably hard, heavy and betraying me in the worst possible way.
Fuck.
Not a semi. Not curiosity.
I was hard over Iggy.
Jealous in a way that tasted bitter and electric all at once. Wanting my hands on his skin. My chest at his back. His arms around my neck as we moved together under the lights, sweat and heat and want blurring everything else away.
Riff reached over, peeled the crumpled plastic from my fist, and dropped it onto the small table in front of us. His hand settled on my shoulder, and he leaned in close, voice low in my ear.
“You like him, man. That much is obvious.” He tipped his chin towards the dance floor. “So why don’t you go talk to him?”
I wanted to. Wanted to step in and replace the stranger’s body with my own.
But I also felt like I couldn’t.
Iggy was my friend. A friend I’d pretended not to know the first time we’d crossed paths after rehab, so I’d already fucked up once.
And we were both recovering addicts, trying to stay sober in an environment that practically dared us not to.
On top of that, we worked together. If anything happened, it wouldn’t stay simple for long.
I knew I was getting ahead of myself, but I wasn’t sure I was ready for anything resembling a relationship when I was still this newly sober.
We’d talked about it endlessly in rehab.
Loss. Change. Grief. The way relationships could both save you and ruin you.
What if something went wrong and sent one or both of us spiralling?
Besides, I’d never even had a real relationship before. I’d slept with people of all genders without blinking, but commitment had never been on my radar. So why the hell was I entertaining this now?
“You’re overthinking,” Riff said flatly.
I groaned and dropped my face into my hands. “Why do you have to know me so well?”
He laughed and slapped my back. “That’s what happens when you’re basically brothers.”
“You were a real dick as a kid.”
“I’m still a dick.”
Ghost chose that moment to sit down beside Riff, followed by a sweaty Thump and a girl with a blue pixie cut wearing nothing but a leopard-print thong.
Riff grinned. “Looks like I’ve got company. So run along.”
He shoved me forward until I stood, then slapped my ass hard and shouted, “Go get ’em, cowboy!”
I flipped him off and headed to where Iggy stood on the dance floor.
I was still figuring out how to cut in without starting a fight when the stranger reached into his pocket and pulled out a small clear bag containing two pink, heart-shaped pills.
And I saw Iggy freeze.
His eyes went wide as the stranger leaned in and murmured something meant only for him. Iggy shook his head, lips parting just as the guy plucked one pill from the bag and lifted it towards Iggy’s mouth.
I didn’t think. I just moved.
I grabbed Iggy’s wrist and yanked him back, pulling him out of the stranger’s arms and flush against my chest.
“Bodhi!” he gasped, startled.
“What the fuck, man?” the stranger barked.
“He doesn’t want your drugs,” I snapped.
The guy lurched forward, and Iggy flinched in my grip.
I planted my palm against the stranger’s bare chest and shoved him away. “Back. Off.”
He sneered, then scoffed. “Fuck this.” He tossed the pill into his mouth and vanished into the crowd.
“I need to talk to you,” I said, already pulling Iggy away.
I dragged him towards one of the shadowed alcoves along the wall, pinning him gently there. I braced one hand beside his head, shielding him from view.
“What the fuck were you doing?” I demanded.
“I was just dancing,” he shot back. “I—”
“He offered you drugs.”
“I wasn’t going to take them.”
Then his gaze dropped. His shoulders curled inward.
“I thought about it,” he admitted quietly. “For a second. But I wasn’t going to. I didn’t want to disappoint you.” His eyes shimmered when he looked up. “He kept pushing. Whispering about how good it would feel. I tried to say no. He didn’t listen.”
“You should’ve walked away,” I said, heat bleeding into my voice. “Or—”
“You saw the size of him,” Iggy snapped. “He could’ve snapped me in half.”
“Then why dance with him at all?”
“Because I asked you to dance!” he shouted. “And you said no. I just wanted to feel normal for five fucking minutes. I didn’t expect him to pull out pills.”
“We made a pact—”
“Yeah. To look out for each other.” His voice cracked. “I came here for you. But when I asked you to dance, you left me alone.”
“Iggy—”
“And you’re not my babysitter,” he went on. “I was trying to refuse. I’m glad you stepped in. But I don’t understand why you’re so angry with me—”
“Because I was jealous!”
The words rang out between us.
Iggy fell silent, staring up at me, stunned.
“Because I care about you,” I said, breathing hard. “I hated watching someone else touch you. And when I saw him try to feed you a pill, I thought I’d failed you.”
Silence stretched. The music thudded around us.
Iggy studied my face, searching for the lie.
Then his hand lifted, resting lightly against my chest.
“You were jealous?”
I nodded once.
A slow, knowing smile curved his lips. “Why?”
I opened my mouth, then closed it again.
He stepped closer, our chests brushing. The cool metal of his chains skimmed my bare stomach, sending a shiver through me.
“Why, Bodhi?” he murmured.
“Because,” I said hoarsely. “You look gorgeous.”
My fingers slid up his thigh, slow and deliberate.
“Sexy.”
Higher.
“Fucking hot.”
My hand settled against his ass, squeezing gently. He sucked in a sharp breath and pressed closer, his hardness meeting mine.
“Bodhi,” he whispered.
And suddenly, everything else faded.
There was no music. No sweaty bodies on the dance floor. No bandmates waiting for us.
There was just Iggy, looking up at me with glittering green eyes, cheeks flushed, glossy mouth parted.
I pulled my hand from the wall and threaded my fingers through his pink hair, drawing him closer until there was no space left, until we might as well have been one body. Our chests rose and fell in uneven sync, his warm breath ghosting over my lips.
“I hated watching another guy touch you,” I admitted quietly. “It made me furious. I wanted it to be my chest you were pressed against. I wanted your hands on my skin. My mouth on your neck.”
I dipped my head, brushing my nose along his heated cheek. His hands slid up my chest, fingers grazing the short hairs at the base of my neck.
“I was pretending it was you,” he murmured, resting his forehead against mine. “I wanted it to be you.”
We lingered there, sharing air, holding each other’s gaze.
“We shouldn’t do this,” he said, even as his hips nudged into mine.
“I know.”
“We can’t blame it on drugs or alcohol.”
“I know.”
His lips skimmed mine between each word, and when I licked my own, I tasted sour cherry.
“We’ll remember everything tomorrow.”
“I know.”
I tightened my grip in his hair and tipped his head back.
“So tonight,” he rasped, eyes half-lidded. “Let’s just pretend.”
Then I kissed him.
His mouth opened instantly, hungry, lip gloss sticky and sweet against mine. The cherry flavour made my mouth water, made me want to devour him whole. My tongue brushed his, and I felt his moan vibrate through me rather than hearing it.
Iggy hooked a leg around my hip.
I pulled back just enough to make him whine, the sound soft and needy, before slipping my hands beneath his thighs and lifting him. He squeaked, wrapping his legs around my waist, ankles crossing at my back.
I gripped his ass and pressed our groins together. His hard cock slid against mine.
“Fuck,” he breathed.
Then he dragged my face back to his, kissing me like he meant to erase every thought I’d ever had. We kissed until my lips burned and my head spun, until oxygen felt optional.
I didn’t know what this meant for us. Didn’t know how we’d react tomorrow when we stood face-to-face in the light of day.
But tonight, we were pretending. And I didn’t want to waste a second of it.
I rocked my hips against his, sparks shooting straight up my spine. His tongue, our movement, the way everything felt so intense without anything chemical dulling the edge—it was almost too much.
I felt high on him. Drunk on his taste. And I hadn’t needed a damn thing to get there.
“Bodhi,” he whined, still rolling his hips.
“Can’t stop,” I growled, heat coiling tight in my lower back.
“I don’t want you to,” he panted. “But we can’t come in leather. Too sticky.”
Damn it. He wasn’t wrong.
I stole one last devastating kiss before lowering him back to the floor. He sagged against the wall, eyes glazed, lips swollen, pink hair a wild mess around his face.
“Jesus Christ,” he huffed.
One hand fisted my tank top like it was the only thing keeping him upright. My knees weren’t much steadier. And both of us were painfully, obviously hard.
When our breathing finally slowed, I braced myself for awkwardness.
Instead, Iggy flashed me a wicked grin and laced our fingers together.
“So, Just Bodhi,” he said lightly. “Fancy a dance?”
My mouth twitched.
“Dancing sounds good.”
“Fancy a kiss?”
I laughed under my breath and pulled him back against my chest.
“Kissing sounds good.”
He bit his bottom lip.
“Then let’s keep pretending.”
I kissed him again and led him back into the noise, sober, wanting, and already in deeper than I meant to be.