Chapter 12 #3
Right, so even without seeing Ray’s hand, Zavier knew.
“Play with your balls.”
That made Ray close his eyes and groan. He had lightning in his veins.
This whole thing was too fucking hot. Got even hotter when Zavier made him spit for lube like on some porno and finally—finally—let him pick up the pace.
Then it was all listening to that deep voice as Zavier told him what to do.
Speed up, slow down, circle the head. Twist. Go fast. Stop.
Ease a tight fist down to the root. On and on until Ray couldn’t see or think straight.
Every hint of praise from Zavier sang up his spine to his head. Every huff of displeasure singed his soul.
“Fuck.” Ray’s legs trembled and he rocked his hips into his hand, too aware of Zavier’s fingers holding him. “This what you do to someone when you jack them off?” Maybe Zavier was right—he wouldn’t survive.
This time Zavier’s lips did touch his neck, a press of wet heat, a laugh, and hot words burned against his skin. “No. Most often they’re tied down, with my fingers or my cock in their ass.”
Oh hell. Now that was an image. Bound and utterly at Zavier’s mercy? Being filled by him? Ray’s rhythm faltered, his balls tightened, and the world threatened to turn to white and flames. “Oh, shit. I’m close.”
Teeth scraped his neck. “Don’t come.”
Fuck, fuck. His veins were on fire. “What?”
“Don’t come until I say, Ray.” A huff of hot air. “But don’t stop, either. Same pace as before.”
No way in hell. Not when he was this close. Spots dotted his vision and his body burned for release. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.” He couldn’t tell if Zavier pulled him back or stepped forward, only that he met Zavier’s chest. The hard length of a jeans-covered dick rocked against Ray’s ass.
He gasped at the contact. Proof positive that Zavier wanted him. Actually wanted him.
Zavier spoke so low, so sexy. “Jack yourself like before, like I taught you. But don’t come.”
This was going to kill him, but he couldn’t stop listening to Zavier. Couldn’t stop obeying him. Struggled not to break and shatter against him.
Whispered words followed. Hot and heady. “Faster. Yes. Like that. Now twist. Press the head.”
He was dying. So strung out. Each stroke an agony of delight.
“Imagine your thumb is a tongue. Rock your hips like that.”
So close to the edge, so aware of Zavier, his heat, his length. But he couldn’t—
“Slow down. Roll your balls.”
Like being burned and frozen at the same time. Too much.
“Yes, Ray. That’s perfect.”
He gasped and moaned at the pleasure in Zavier’s voice, and didn’t know how he was still standing. Everything had gone white. His body shook with the need for release. He wasn’t close—he was so far beyond that he barely hung on to sanity by the slimmest of margins. “Please. Please please please.”
“You’re so beautiful,” Zavier murmured. “Come for me, Ray.”
He didn’t know if he cried out, because the pleasure was so intense it robbed his sight and hearing and took him out of the world.
He tumbled and tumbled, hot semen coating his hand and Zavier’s teeth scraping against the back of his neck.
He fell until there wasn’t anything in his head but a haze and silence and blessed relief.
All that remained was him and the man who held him up. Zavier Demos.
Oh fuck.
He must have grunted or something because Zavier half carried, half dragged him to the bed and helped him sit on the edge. “Shhh,” he murmured. “You’re fine.”
Ray wanted to bury his face in his hands, but one was covered in jizz.
He stared at the drying spunk, as his body shivered against the intensity of his orgasm.
He was not fine. Not by a long shot. His gaze drifted to Zavier’s shoes, a beat-up pair of black Chucks—so incongruous with everything else about Zavier. They should be fine and leather and—
The rest of the night came crashing back in.
Carl’s reprimand after the concert. They still weren’t playing good enough.
The press was cooling to them. Then the guy showing up with the promise of one night free of thought.
Zavier’s fury, his snide remarks, and the utter shame of putting the band on the line.
“Ah hell, Ray.” Zavier spoke again, but so soft and gentle it didn’t seem like him at all. The shoes vanished from view and there was the sound of a door opening and closing. Soon, a soft, warm, white garment was being draped over his shoulders and back. “Here.”
Ray pulled the fabric tighter around him with the hand he hadn’t come all over.
And what if that guy had slipped him something? Ray’s head swam. You’re such a fuckup, Ray. Carl’s words. No wonder Kevin drank his days away. An echo of the words Zavier had said, too.
He deserved the scorn. No wonder Zavier had pulled away from him.
Zavier was back, and this time kneeling at Ray’s feet, with a towel. “Give me your hand.”
Instinctively, he knew which one. Zavier had wet one end of the hand towel, enough to clean the spunk off. He did so carefully and nearly reverently, as if Ray wasn’t some kind of monster. He dried Ray’s fingers the same way.
Zavier rose slowly, and vanished once more. When he returned, he had a glass of water. “Drink.”
Ray took the glass and sipped. Cool—not cold—and clean. He blinked a few times and focused on the carpet. Zavier finally stopped moving and took a seat on a chair across from him.
“I’m sorry,” Ray whispered. “You must think I’m the biggest fucking loser ever.”
Silence for a time, then the creak of Zavier shifting on leather, or vinyl, or whatever the hotel furniture was covered in. “Ray, please look at me.”
The request flowed through Ray and he obeyed. No thought, only action.
Zavier had crossed his legs and lounged in the chair, looked much the way he normally did, cool and collected. “I don’t think you’re a loser.”
Shame and elation wormed through Ray, clashing and conflicting. He shivered and pulled the robe tighter around his shoulders. Zavier was wrong—except that he was Zavier, so he couldn’t be wrong.
“I nearly fucked a drug dealer.” His stomach churned. “I don’t know what might have happened.”
Zavier cocked his head. “Why’d you ask him up?”
Ray stared at Zavier. “I didn’t. He showed up at my door. I’d never seen him before.”
Zavier’s brow knitted and he got a faraway look. Then his gaze locked back on Ray. “And you let him in?”
Yeah, that had been careless and thoughtless, but the guy had been all dark and pouty and full of praise and—in retrospect—he’d looked like a slightly younger version of the man who sat before him. Plus, it had been months since Ray’d gotten laid.
He put the glass to his lips and swallowed a mouthful before speaking. He’d been desperate. “He knocked on the door, and I thought it was Dom or Mish checking in on me. But it was that guy, and he asked if I wanted a blowjob...”
A grunt from Zavier. He rubbed his chin. “And you did.”
“Yeah. I did.” Shame wrapped him tighter than the robe, but the heat that came with it wasn’t comfortable.
“Look, I don’t do drugs ’cause even over-the-counter stuff fucks me up.
If I’d known, I’d have sent him away.” He shook his head.
“I wish—” Wished the encounter he’d just had with Zavier—the one he’d wanted and needed for two and a half months, the one that had been hotter than fuck and mind-blowing—hadn’t come on the heels of that.
“Wish what?” Zavier’s voice held a kindness Ray didn’t understand.
He drank more of the water, mostly to stall for time. “What we did—I wish it hadn’t been now. I mean—with all that—” He waved at the door.
Zavier uncrossed his legs and sighed. “That’s my fault.”
“I liked it. If that helps.”
A grin. “Oh, I know you liked it, Ray.”
A shiver up his back, and a dull ache of need followed. But he was too spent and tired for it to go anywhere. “Did you? Like it?”
A deep chuckle. “Ray...”
God, he loved the way Zavier said his name. He swallowed the last of his water. Yeah, not the brightest question, given how hard Zavier had been. “In high school...”
“This isn’t high school.” Zavier shifted in his chair. “This is far from high school.”
“You didn’t want me then.”
“Untrue.”
That one word rocked Ray to the core. He stared at Zavier. He’d always assumed that rejecting the band had also included rejecting him.
“You were lovely back then and you’re fucking amazing now. But you were barely, barely sixteen, Ray. I was gonna turn nineteen that summer, and it just didn’t seem right.”
Ray eyed the hotel room door. “More sense than me.”
“Not really. I was a prick and full of myself.”
He couldn’t help it. “And you’re not now?”
Zavier’s eyebrows rose and he snorted softly. “Oh, Ray, you’re something else.”
Heat straight to his cheeks, especially when Zavier’s look roamed all over Ray’s body, lingering here and there. Despite how he was sitting, Zavier couldn’t quite hide his erection.
Ray licked his lips. “Like what you see?”
“Yes.” Zavier met his stare and held it until Ray couldn’t help squirming under the burning intensity. No question whatsoever that Zavier spoke the truth. “But I have particular tastes.”
“In men?”
“In sex. Dominance. Submission.” Zavier shrugged. “It’s not everyone’s thing.”
“You mean... You’re talking about BDSM.” Just the acronym ignited another spark in Ray’s tired and spent body.
Zavier nodded, his smile slight, but so damn sensuous. “That’s exactly what I mean. Ever done anything like that before now?”
Cuffs and whips and chains? “Nope. Read about it.” He eyed Zavier. “I’m going to guess you’re not a submissive.”
Zavier chuckled and it was dark. “No, I’m not.”
“I’m not, either.” Came out suddenly and felt too much like a bald-faced lie. More heat to his face.
Zavier’s grin fell away. “No, you’re not. You don’t have enough self-control.”
Like a slap to the face, but as soon as Ray’s anger rose, it snuffed out like a candle with no air. He stared at the hotel room door, the one that groupie had come through.