Chapter 12 #2
“So’s possession with intent to distribute. You gonna go to the cops?” Guy froze, then shook his head, anger clearly etched into his features. “Neither will I if you get your ass out of here.”
Guy did, but not before throwing a snarling look at Ray. “Bet you can’t even get it up.”
Once the door clicked closed, Zavier stopped the recording. By the bed, Ray stood, his back to Zavier, but hunched over, as if he’d been kicked in the gut.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” Zavier ground out the words, anger bubbling up.
All those hours and weeks of work, all the years Mish and Dom had put in, the progress they’d made each concert.
Ray had nearly blown it all up—most of his own fucking life—for what?
A moment of oblivion with some drugged up groupie?
Alcohol was one thing, weed might be waved away, but harder stuff? Not in a million years.
Ray stiffened. “I wasn’t, obviously.” He turned, and Zavier read the shame and dread underneath the hard lines of rage. “Get out of my room.”
Zavier snorted. “God, is this why Kevin started drinking?” It was cruel thing to say, but Ray was doing everything in his power to be a shitbag. Yes, they were all on edge. Yes, they all needed relief. But with that guy? Without even thinking?
“You don’t know anything about that!” Wild eyes. Clenched hands. “You never even met Kevin! He was a fucking good drummer!”
“This isn’t about Kevin. It’s about you. Are you really willing to throw away how many years, for a hole to fuck and something to snort?” And yeah, his voice rose, and he waved his arms in frustration. “Jesus, Ray, I know you’re smarter than that!”
“Maybe I’m not. I guess I’m the fucking idiot that Carl thinks I am. That you think I am.” He cast a glance all around the room, then slapped his hands on this thighs. “Fucking hell, maybe you all should just replace me!”
Zavier let silence settle between them. Ray was close to tears of frustration, and not just because of the groupie.
The concert had gone well. All their concerts had gone well; even if they were being held over a barrel, the label had to like what the band was doing.
Yes, Carl was an asshole and a liar, but Ray knew that, didn’t he?
They’d talked about it. But here he was, stressed beyond belief, dying to slip into nothingness.
When the moment stretched out, Ray turned away again. “I didn’t know he had drugs.” Soft words. “Shit.”
“Weren’t looking for a high?” Zavier sure hoped not.
“No!” Ray practically shouted the word. “I said I don’t do that shit. I just wanted—” He combed his fingers through his hair. “Jesus, you wouldn’t understand. You can have anyone you want.” He waved at the door. “Dom would do you in a heartbeat.”
Not exactly what he’d expected to come from Ray’s mouth, especially given their interactions. “This isn’t about Dom or me.” Even if he liked Ray. Maybe too much.
“Yeah, it’s about me and I’m a fuckup, if you haven’t figured that out yet.” Ray twitched and paced in a small patch of carpet. “Go ask Carl. He’ll tell you all about it.” That came with a snarl.
Always back to Carl. Zavier had seen him talking with Ray earlier, but Ray hadn’t looked any worse than normal. “You’re not a fuckup. You know you’re not a fuckup.”
“Oh? Who flipped you off the other day?” Ray’s bark of laughter was bitter as hell and he gestured to the door. “And then that?”
Yeah, sneaking in a random groupie was the wrong tactic for stress relief, especially given the situation. “Okay, the groupie thing was pretty foolish. The rest of us make do with our hand.” He mimicked jacking off. Crude, but it would get the point across.
“Not good enough.” That was soft and resigned. Ray stared at the carpet.
Excuses, excuses. Zavier hadn’t fucked anyone since Dimitri, had to watch Ray every damn night, and yeah, it was hard to jack off on the bus. Anger got the better of Zavier. “Maybe you’re doing it wrong, then.”
Ray’s head shot up, and he pinned Zavier with a look that had fire in it. “You want to show me how it’s done, pretty boy?”
Oh, the temptation. The desire to tame Ray’s snappish mouth ripped through Zavier. The need to touch his body, to show him exactly how to come. “You wouldn’t survive.”
“Really?” Ray stepped closer. Desire and lust peeked through the fissures of his deep anger. “Bet I’d thrive.”
He should turn away. Leave Ray to his anger and frustration, let him beat one out, but oh, pride was a dangerous thing, and so was Zavier’s own lust and frustration. “Take your clothes off.” The words came out smooth and silky.
Ray lifted his head. “What?”
Zavier wanted his desire. His submission. His pleasure. “Let’s find out which of us is correct.”
Zavier was glad he’d thrown on a button-down after the concert. He unbuttoned a cuff and rolled up the sleeve. Habit, really. Something to do with his hands. It also made him imposing. “Take your clothes off.”
“You think you’re gonna fuck me?” A hint of incredulity, but also of awe.
He started on the other sleeve. “No, Ray. I’m going to tell you precisely how to masturbate.”
Ray stared at Zavier for a long moment, and then pulled his T-shirt off, exposing his delectable and well-inked shoulders and his lean, muscular torso.
All that dancing on stage and flinging himself into crowds did wonders for Ray’s body.
“This ought to be good.” Mocking smile, and mocking tone. “You teaching me how to jerk off.”
A dark heat settled into Zavier. Ray had no idea what he was getting himself into, but Zavier did. If there was one thing Nadia had taught him, it was the fine art of playing with your catch.
Ray shucked his jeans, and shortly after, his briefs, freeing his already hardening cock. He kicked his clothes away.
Lovely dick. No longer than average, but with good girth. Cut, but so many were here in the States. “Socks, too,” Zavier murmured.
“Really?” Annoyance in Ray’s voice.
Zavier lifted his gaze and met Ray’s. “Really.” He wanted Ray entirely naked. Socks were a tiny battle in the grand scheme of things, but he’d win them all tonight.
A lick of his lips, a grunt, and finally Ray pulled one sock off, and then the other.
Good balance. Pity this was as far as they would go, because he could have so much fun with that. Predicament bondage at its finest. “Much better.”
Ray pulled on his cock and smirked. “Like what you see?”
“No.” From the way Ray started and dropped his dick, that wasn’t the response he expected. “Did I say you could touch yourself?” Zavier’s veins tingled. Control and obedience. He’d see how far Ray would go under his commands.
Blotches of red marred Ray’s features, and he swallowed.
Heat zipped straight through Zavier. This was going to be enjoyable. Ray hot, bothered, and his, at least for a moment. “Now, let’s get started, shall we?”
Ray had been furious when Zavier had walked in on him and whatever the guy’s name was. Then he’d been horrified when the drugs had fallen onto the floor. Jesus. Carl would have had a field day with that. What if the guy had slipped him something?
Now? Now he was cold and embarrassed and too fucking turned on. Let’s get started, shall we?
Zavier’s dark smirk burned through Ray’s body, as did the tattoos that circled Zavier’s arms from his rolled-up shirtsleeves down to his wrists.
“You not taking anything off?”
“No, I’m not.” He inspected Ray, who fought the urge to shiver. “Stay there and don’t move.” Zavier circled to one side. “This is about you.” He laid a hand on Ray’s hip. “Turn this way.”
Soon Ray stood facing the windows. The shears were drawn, but through them he saw the shimmering lights of Houston.
Ray closed his eyes when Zavier’s warm hand claimed his other hip.
Each finger felt like a brand against his skin.
They’d touched before, but not like this, not with Zavier standing so close behind him.
Oh, did Ray’s cock like the idea that flashed through his mind—Zavier bending him over and fucking him right there. Or maybe pressing him up against the window. Over a chair. He hadn’t bottomed in so long, because everyone expected him to top.
“I thought you’d want to watch me jack off.” Zavier was taller, but not by much. Pressing so close to him from behind, he’d not see much at all.
“I told you—” Zavier’s hot breath skimmed over Ray’s back and shoulders “—this is about you.”
Ray blinked his eyes back open, mostly because if he didn’t he’d fall over from the dizziness of having Zavier literally a breath away. Bet if he leaned back, he’d meet Zavier’s chest. God, he was so fucking hard.
“Stroke yourself, slowly.” Zavier emphasized the last word, and his breath caressed Ray’s neck.
Ray did as told, wrapping his hand around his dick and giving it several much-needed pulls. He bit his lip and stared at the sheers. Fuck, this wouldn’t take long.
Zavier clicked his tongue. “I said slowly, Ray.” Fingers dug into his hips. “Listen to me and do what I say—not what you think I mean.” Disapproval dripped from every word.
Ray’s heart leapt into his throat. Shit. He couldn’t even jerk off right. “Um. I thought that was slow.” He took the strokes down a notch.
“Slower.”
And again.
“Slower, Ray.”
And again. Fuck! He ran his hand bit by bit up and down his shaft, each inch painfully good. He wanted so much more than this, wanted the quickness and oblivion of orgasm. Not the torture of being aware of every inch of skin, of Zavier’s body, and those hands at his hips.
“Yes. Like that. Very good.” It might have been Ray’s imagination, but he swore he felt Zavier’s lips brush his neck. Every nerve tingled, and a grunt slipped out.
A chuckle. “Run your thumb over the head. Slick it with your precome.”
Oh god, that felt so fucking good. Ray tipped his neck back and sighed. If he let go enough, he could almost imagine it wasn’t his hand around his cock—especially since it wasn’t his mind directing. He tried speeding up.
A snort and fingers dug into his hip again. “Ray.”