Chapter 19 #3
Zavier’s huffs as he caught his breath tickled Ray’s ear.
“Fuck yeah. Yeah.” Ray kept repeating that until Zavier slid out, caught his head and kissed him, over and over until Ray couldn’t speak anymore.
After that, Zavier rose and released him, taking off the cuffs so reverently, Ray couldn’t help blushing. “It’s like you’re worshiping me.”
Zavier laughed. “I am, in a very small way. You gifted yourself to me. Let me do this for you.” He kissed Ray’s wrists and ankles, had him roll onto his stomach again and applied some kind of salve to his ass, then drew him up to standing. “We’ve made a mess of this bed.”
Good thing they had another. Zavier helped Ray into the other room and made him drink a bottle of water before they slipped under the covers together. Ray’s head swam with the ache of his body, his heart, and the swirl of confusion in his head. “Zav?”
“Yeah?”
“What do you get out of this?” Surrendering let him out of his mind, but god, the work it must take for Zavier to get him there.
Zavier kissed his forehead. “Everything.”
“Not good enough.”
He felt Zavier chuckle. “It’s too late to explain psychology. I enjoy your pain and your pleasure and your surrender and making you struggle and watching you overcome. I adore being inside you. Biting your skin. Tasting you. Everything, Ray.”
Oh. Well, that didn’t sound so bad. He liked all those things too, but in reverse. “We match.”
Another huff of laughter. “In a way, yeah.” Another kiss, like the last. “Go to sleep, Ray. I’ll watch over you.”
He sighed, relaxed into Zavier’s arms, and obeyed that order, too.
Zavier had to admit that it was nice to wake up next to Ray in a hotel bed.
The games and sex they could squeeze in on the bus or at the venue kept him going, as did their chats and their connection with each other.
He’d never felt so satisfied by any kinky relationship before.
Such a joy to get Ray off and have him obey, even when the orders made him uncomfortable.
He’d at least try, like with the spanking last night.
In some way, their games had helped Ray and given him an outlet—and given him strength to push back at Carl.
If it was something as simple and intimate as wearing that bracelet tied around the base of his cock—tight enough to stay and remind him of Zavier—they were both happy enough to command and comply.
Compatible. Comfortable. That was what they were.
But a morning like this, where Ray was quiet and sprawled out next to him and sleeping soundly, was a goddamned gift.
Zavier resisted the urge to stroke his relaxed features.
Beautiful and carefree. While he also enjoyed tense, passionate Ray, there was something about the trusting and vulnerable version that stirred a deep satisfaction in him.
He’d never tire of this sight.
So he watched, still heavy with his own waking, as Ray moved from sleep into wakefulness, then finally opened his lovely eyes. His smile was like gold, as was his sleep-rough voice. “Hey.”
“Good morning.” Now Zavier did reach out and touch Ray’s cheek, tracing the lines of that smile.
“Wake long?” Happy muttered words. Ray moved closer to him.
“No. Not too long.”
“Mmm.” Didn’t take long for Ray to curl up around him, or for Ray to ghost kisses over his shoulder. There were better places for those lips to be, though. He tipped Ray’s chin up, and claimed his mouth.
Oh, that sweet moan in the back of Ray’s throat. Zavier deepened the kiss, and lingered until Ray was pressed hard against him and trembling with need.
When he relented, Ray was breathless. “And here I was gonna go lower.”
He did love Ray’s mouth on his cock, but being on tour made Zavier hyper-aware of Ray’s throat and voice. How sensitive it was to overuse, or to a cold, or deep-throating a cock. “As soon as we’re off tour, I’m going to face-fuck you properly.” He kissed Ray’s neck.
Ray shuddered, but the stillness after that felt wrong. Zavier pulled back.
A little line between Ray’s brows, and that inward turn. He wasn’t frowning, but concern had stolen Ray’s smile. He met Zavier’s gaze. “Zav, what are we doing?”
Pinpricks—the bad, cold kind—traced down Zavier’s legs. Oh god, no. Not this conversation.
“We’re waking up next to each other in bed.” He tried to keep his voice soft. We were enjoying ourselves. Can’t we just enjoy ourselves?
Ray opened up space between them and propped his head up on his hand. “I mean—overall. What are we doing?”
Breaking up, because that was how these conversations always ended, with his partner wanting more than Zavier could ever give. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. “What do you mean?”
“Wanting to face-fuck me after the tour is over implies you’re gonna stick around. All the plans you have for me later. Yeah, once this tour is over, you’ll be with the band, but seems like you think we’ll still be doing—whatever the hell this is that we’re doing.”
Zavier swallowed around the lump in his throat.
“I like being in the band. I want to hear the rest of ‘Dare to Be’ and all the other music you see, want to add my beat to your songs. Play with Dom and Mish. Make something together.” He paused “And us? I’m.
..happy. You’re happy. I don’t see why we wouldn’t just—keep doing what we’re doing. ”
Did this have to have a label? Why couldn’t they just be friends? Bed partners? Dominant and submissive. He rubbed his face. Shit. He wasn’t ready for things to end.
Ray said nothing for a long time, and Zavier studied the texture of the hotel ceiling.
Finally, Ray shifted, rocking the mattress slightly. “Zavier.” His voice was so tender. “Can I ask you something personal?”
Not the normal question he got in this situation. He risked turning his head and looking into those eyes. “Sure.” He owed Ray that, at least.
“Did someone hurt you?”
“What?” He sat up slowly, and took a better look at Ray. There was so much worry in his face, and Zavier didn’t know what to make of it, because what lay there wasn’t disappointment or sadness. “No. What do you mean?”
“I mean, did someone break your heart? Use you or—” He waved his free hand. “I just want to understand.”
“No.” If anything, Zavier had been the one to break hearts and use people—not intentionally. “What exactly do you want to understand?” Because suddenly it felt like they were having two different conversations.
Ray scooted himself up to sitting, and leaned back against the headboard. “I know you said, when we started fucking, not to expect romance or a long-term commitment or anything like that.”
Zavier nodded, though part of him cringed at the words when we started fucking.
Yes, that was what they’d been doing, but it sounded so—cold.
And the part about long-term a little foolish.
He’d never managed more than a few months with any given partner, unless they were people he occasionally ran into at clubs. But that wasn’t a relationship.
“Seems like we’re beyond ‘no strings’ now, especially if you’re talking about the future.”
He had been, hadn’t he? “It’s—we’re friends.” He wasn’t sure what they’d been when they’d started, other than bandmates. “I enjoy your company. I think you like mine, so I don’t see why anything would have to change when the tour’s over.”
Ray chewed his lip. “So, this is still friends with benefits? With kink on top?” His brow remained furrowed.
“Yeah.” Was that so wrong? Why was that always so wrong?
“But you’re not in love with me. Nothing beyond a friendship.”
And there it was. Very much two statements, rather than questions.
Zavier pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes.
“I’m not in love with you. I’ve never been in love with anyone, Ray.
I don’t fall in love. I don’t get love. I—” He shook his head.
“I can’t explain it. All the romance shit—doesn’t make sense to me. ”
Of all the bedmates he’d had, he’d never felt as fucking torn up as he did now.
People came and went in his life. Most of the people he’d fucked were exactly that—someone to fuck.
Ray, though...they’d become friends. Good ones.
He was comfortable with Ray. Enjoyed his presence and everything about him. They were compatible in so many ways.
“I’m aromantic.” He wasn’t broken—he knew that, even during moments like this, when he felt shattered, everything was wrong. Why was the world this way? He’d never understand. “You probably don’t even know what that means.”
That strange silence again. He expected hate or anger or something, but when Zavier lowered his hands and watched Ray, none of those emotions were there. Concern, and that worry from before, yes. But no resentment.
Ray spoke carefully. “I know what aromantic means, Zav.” He nodded. “Yeah, okay. That makes sense.”
Heat and cold danced across Zavier’s skin in waves. Ray knew. He knew? He fucking knew?
Zavier was breathless, and all his control vanished in a tumult of emotions he couldn’t channel. “What makes sense?” His lungs tightened and he fought back the tears, because what damn Dominant ever cried in bed? “Fuck.”
“It’s okay.” God, Ray’s voice was even beautiful when he murmured. “Everything now. I get it—as much as I can.”
“Get what?” Zavier repeated. “Me being an emotional mess right now or me being aromantic?”
“Both,” Ray said. “Though the emotional mess is kinda freaking me out a little. That’s usually my thing.”
Zavier laughed. He couldn’t help it. Their roles had switched up a little. “Yeah, well. Call it shock. No one’s even known the word before.”
“I do, though.” Ray was so damn serious.
“How?”
He shrugged, and his embarrassment blush crept up from his chest. “We have a lot of queer fans. Get mail and tweets and stuff. Sometimes people used words I didn’t know and I realized I didn’t think that much beyond ‘gay’ and that was pretty shitty of me.
So I did research and learned what I could about other identities. ”