Chapter 16 #4
Oh, Ray. You’re far more than you believe. “Do you trust me?” Zavier whispered the question against Ray’s neck, and he shivered in Zavier’s arms, his body still trembling from orgasm, pleasure, and exhaustion.
“Yes.” Same answer as before. “God, yes. After tonight, I’ll never not trust you, Zav.”
He kissed the back of Ray’s neck. “Good. Because I want to tell you something. It’s not speculation, it’s not belief or opinion, it’s goddamned fact. You’re an astounding musician. And you work fucking hard. You love the fans.”
There was a catch to Ray’s breathing.
“Twisted Wishes...this band you’ve allowed me to join, to be a part of...is something so brilliant, I don’t know why the whole world isn’t falling at your feet, where it belongs.”
Ray huffed a laugh. “Now that’s an opinion.”
Zavier nipped the skin on his neck. “Hush. I’m not blowing smoke up your ass.”
“Just plowing your cock there.” Laughter and joy.
Yeah, he had, and he would again. As often as Ray liked and their schedule allowed. “Listen, Ray.”
He settled down and melted against Zavier.
“Carl’s gonna come at you again. Bastard like that can’t help it. He’ll look for that opening and jam in the blade, and it’s gonna hurt. And when it does, I want you to remember this moment, right now, with me.”
“Okay...” A whisper of breath warmed Zavier’s arm.
“There’s nowhere I’d rather be in this world, no job I’d rather have than in your band as your drummer. It’s a fucking honor to be here.”
Ray shook, then gulped a breath and something close to a sob burst out of him. “You...you...” Then he was crying. Silently, but unmistakably.
Good. If there was anyone who deserved to be cracked apart by truth and joy, it was Ray Van Zeller.
They stayed like that for a while, until Ray murmured and turned. “We gotta be close to wherever they’re stopping by now.”
Probably. Zavier gave Ray’s neck one more kiss, then let him go. They both rose.
For the amount of pleasure they’d had, there was surprisingly little debris. A condom wrapper. The bottle of lube. The length of sports tape he’d used to tie Ray up. Clothes. There were a few drops of lube or maybe semen on the leather, but that would wipe up easily.
“Why don’t you crawl into your bunk? I’ll clean up.”
“You sure?” Ray’s voice was still full of weight, with a touch of slurring. Either exhaustion or subspace. Didn’t matter, really.
Zavier hooked his arm in Ray’s. “Yeah. Let’s get you to bed.” Didn’t take much coaxing to clean the spunk off Ray or get him in his sweats. Ray even drank a bottle of water for him.
“I like this.” Ray slipped into the upper bunk.
“Being fucked?” He pulled the privacy curtain closed until just Ray’s head and shoulders were visible.
A sleepy, happy chuckle. “That too. So good.”
If that wasn’t it... “What do you like, Ray?”
Those whiskey-gold eyes looked up at him. “You taking care of me.”
Words as warm as Ray’s gaze, and they cascaded through Zavier, heating him in a way sex never did. This was joy—taking care of Ray, easing his burdens.
He leaned over and kissed Ray on the forehead. “It was my pleasure.”
Ray closed his eyes and murmured something Zavier didn’t catch—then fell asleep. He turned off the light in the bunk and carefully pulled the curtain the rest of the way shut.
A pleasure indeed, and an honor. He truly enjoyed Ray’s company and his friendship. Mish and Dom were good people, too, but Ray—he understood Ray. The drive and passion, and even the fear, too.
He hummed a few quiet bars from “White Hot Midnight,” found his own sweatpants to put on, and headed back into the lounge.
Cleaning up was easy. He wiped himself and the leather cushion, and shoved his clothes away, along with the tape, the condoms, and the lube. Ray’s things he folded and left on the couch in the lounge. Wouldn’t be out of place, since Ray had a habit of forgetting to pick up bits of his clothing.
But rather than crawl into his berth, he grabbed his tablet and settled into the seating area up front. The bus would be stopping soon. Plus, he was still high from Ray and his moans and cries—that on top of the warmth of pouring a happy Ray into bed.
His mailbox was hell—why the hell had he signed up for so many mailing lists? He needed another account just for spam and ten-percent-off coupons. He kept deleting mail until he reached a familiar name.
Nadia. Zavier hovered his finger over the message box. The preview read: Darling, be careful. There was an attachment.
His good humor fled and apprehension took up its nest. No choice, really. He tapped the screen.
A photo, dark and a little grainy, but unmistakably him and Ray, on the path between the venue and the buses. Taken with a telephoto, if he had to guess—because no one had been that close to them.
They weren’t touching, but that didn’t matter, since both of their expressions were clear. Two men, either about to fight or fuck.
Shit. He didn’t hide his sexuality, never had. Neither had Ray. But the press was horrible about queer men who were having enjoyable sex lives—and this was exactly the kind of stress Ray didn’t need. Especially not after tonight. Especially not with Carl breathing down his neck.
Zavier turned off the tablet. There was nothing he could do. Tomorrow, he’d see what the damage online was, then talk to Ray.
Tonight, he’d keep enjoying the time he’d spend giving Ray exactly what he’d needed.