Sycopation

Chapter 25

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FIVE

Ten Months Later

There were flowers in a cut-crystal vase on the kitchen island when Ray returned home from his errands. Dark red roses paired with tiny pale blue flowers of some kind. The vase sparkled in the lights of the kitchen. Seeing those colors together flipped his soul and made his limbs tingle.

“What do you see when you sing ‘Dare to Be’?” The question from all those months ago came back, along with the strength of Zavier’s arms and the whisper of his breath.

Ray set down his bag of groceries and stared at the flowers.

Burgundy with dots of sky blue. “Dare to Be” flew through his head, this time with Zavier’s drumming—they’d just finished nailing down that part—and every bit of Ray burned.

These flowers were for Ray, from Zavier.

He both understood and didn’t understand the gesture.

Zavier didn’t buy flowers.

There was a small envelope leaning up against the crystal vase. No writing on it, but that wasn’t needed. Ray picked it up, opened it, and slid the thick piece of paper out.

Please put away the groceries and join me in my office.

—Zavier

Ray ran his thumb along the side of the card stock. An invitation. To a scene? To something else? He didn’t know this time. At other times, it was more obvious whether they were orders Zavier left on his cards, or when they were simply little notes.

The flowers threw him, but Ray treated the note as the beginning of a scene, anyway.

Hell, he wanted it to be the beginning of a scene.

He put the groceries away, careful to place items in their proper places in the pantry.

Zavier had insisted at least that part of the kitchen be orderly.

Everything else—dishes, pots and pans, the fridge, drawers—those were kept at Ray levels of chaos.

The balance worked, and when Ray slacked off, Zavier got to remind him of their decision, usually bent over one of the kitchen stools with a wooden spoon that never seemed to be used for anything else.

Ray wasn’t above shifting things out of order when he wanted the punishment. But he wouldn’t do that tonight. He finished up, picked up the card, and headed to Zavier’s office.

The room was dressed in warm shades of yellow and brown and black, like an old study or smoking room.

Bookshelves lined one wall. Along the other was Zavier’s desk, complete with one of those ink-blotters.

Zavier sat in his brown leather chair, reading an actual hard-backed book, though there were also small piles of mail on his desk, along with a package that had been opened.

Ray hadn’t been quiet in his approach, so when he reached the door, Zavier met his gaze, slipped a bookmark into his book, and set it aside. “Everything put away in the kitchen?” Soft voice.

Could be play or just an inquiry. Ray nodded, turning over the card in his hands. “You bought me flowers.”

Color touched Zavier’s cheeks. “So I did. I thought you might like them.”

“I do.” Burgundy and blue. “They’re ‘Dare to Be.’”

Ray had seen him blush before, but not quite like this, not with so much uncertainty. “Yes.” Zavier took a breath. “Was that an okay thing to do?”

So maybe this wasn’t a scene after all. Ray crossed the threshold from the hall into Zavier’s domain, and sat himself down on his lap. “It was an incredibly thoughtful thing to do, Zav.” Ray kissed him on the cheek. “I very much appreciate them.”

Warm arms wrapped around Ray, and Zavier pulled him tighter, even as tension drained from Zavier’s expression. “Oh, good.”

Sweet man. Ray’s heart tumbled over and over, like it always did. “You don’t have to get me flowers. Or chocolate.” That had been last week. “I’m utterly content with you and our home. With us.”

They’d been living together since that night Zavier had returned to Ray.

He’d been there through the legal wrangling with the record label, for the settlement and release from their contract, and for the satisfaction of Carl pleading guilty to criminal mischief.

Ray’d wanted more, but as expected, plea bargaining had reduced the charge and the sentence.

Zavier had consoled him in every manner he could and that had kept Ray so calm.

After a month back in New York City, they’d gotten married at the courthouse with only Mish and Dom present. As Zavier had said, a legal formality—much easier to tie their lives together that way than any other.

Zavier’s aromanticism was as much a part of him as his drumming or Ray’s singing or their kinky sex. Ray didn’t want to change any of it. They were husbands, yes. But also friends and partners. Bandmates. And sometimes Dominant and submissive, when they felt the need.

But always, always friends. He loved Zavier so much it hurt sometimes. He still wore Zavier’s bracelet on his ankle. Even under socks.

Zavier kissed Ray’s throat. “I know that. But it’s a little thing that makes you happy, so why not? I walked by this florist and saw the colors and thought of the other night. And maybe it made a little sense in my head to buy them.”

Ray tossed the card onto Zavier’s desk. “And here I thought you were gonna put me on my knees.”

A deep chuckle. “Oh, I intend to do that, and quite a bit more before dinner.”

Sparks everywhere, and that deep calm that Zavier could draw out of him in an instant. “I’d like that.” He slid a palm along Zavier’s chest and was rewarded by a nip at his chin and Zavier cupping his ass.

“You say that now,” Zavier murmured. He pulled back. “I have plans.”

“Do tell.”

Zavier patted Ray’s ass. “Get up a moment, and I’ll show you what came today.”

Ray slid off his lap, and Zavier turned to scoop up the little package. Anticipation tightened Ray’s muscles and nudged him from his calm place, but he forced himself to breathe—and let the lust and thrill slip through him.

When Zavier lifted the item out of the box, it took Ray a moment to comprehend exactly what the metal contraption was. A moment later, he was on his knees, his mind in a whirl, blood hot and cock hardening. “Oh shit.”

Zavier held a cock cage. Stainless steel, if Ray had to guess. It came with a small lock that looked a hell of a lot stronger than the ones used for luggage.

The glint in Zavier’s eyes and the turn of his smile were a perfect mix of devilish desire and heartwarming amusement. “Should I take your gesture of submission as approval?” He stroked Ray’s cheek, but his smile said he already knew the answer.

“Well—you’re not going to get me into it, currently.

” He was too damn hard now. “But yes. I want to try.” A different kind of bondage, another way to surrender his will to Zavier.

He wouldn’t be able to get hard caged like that.

Might come, but he’d read that was pretty uncomfortable.

Every vein danced with need. Yeah, he wanted the cage on him, much in the same way he wanted to be spanked or bound or anything that made him heady and forced the world away.

Fingers traced over Ray’s chin and neck. “I think you’ll love it. And hate it. And look glorious caged.”

“Probably.” He met Zavier’s heavy gaze. “Gonna fuck me in it?”

A hitch in Zavier’s breathing. Good. Yes. Nothing turned Ray on more than when he flustered Zavier. Mostly because he had a pretty good idea what would happen next.

“Get up, strip, and put your hands on my desk.”

Yes—that. Those orders, whispered in that deep, gritty voice. Ray did as told, his whole body warm as his placed his palms down in the green blotter.

The signs of their life together were before him. Bills. Statements. Musical notation scribbled down on a pad. His own picture on Zavier’s desk.

A kiss landed on his back, then the sound of Zavier stripping and fishing into a desk drawer, probably for lube. “I was thinking about spanking you, but I think I’ll wait on that.”

When Zavier trailed his fingers along his sides, Ray twisted, but didn’t break his stance. “Getting soft in your old age?” That earned Ray a sharp smack that was part pain and all glory. He bit back a laugh.

Zavier breathed across his back and smoothed his palm over Ray’s ass. “Oh, I’ll make you cry like you want before the night’s through. But right now? Let’s just say that since I intend to be very rough later, I want to be gentle now.”

He was, too. Lovingly so. Kisses along Ray’s spine as he entered. Zavier moved slowly inside him, pressing deep with each stroke until they were both rocking as one, gasping together, and working the rhythm toward the light they both sought.

Zavier stroked him, a slightly different tempo, but one that pulled waves of pleasure and drowned all Ray’s thoughts. “God, Zav...” Every time, it was like having lightning in his skin. Everything burned and built and threatened to spill.

A laugh. “You always feel so damn good.” Skin to skin, they moved until neither could keep oblivion away.

Ray tried to whisper Zavier’s name again, but could only groan. He was so close, nearly to the end of the world, because Zavier wasn’t just fucking him—he was making love to Ray.

Zavier spoke, words thick and breathless. “I want your come all over my desk. I want to sit here and see the stains your jizz leaves when I’m reading, when I’m paying bills. I want proof of this. Of us.” He thrust deep over and over again.

Ray lowered his head and moaned, his heart full, and shattered as waves of pleasure swept over him. He did exactly what Zavier had demanded, coming all over the pristine green blotter, turning the thick paper dark with his semen.

Zavier came a moment later, burying himself in Ray.

God, Ray loved that, too. The way Zavier shuddered and groaned as he emptied himself inside him.

They marked each other. Every time. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally.

Took both of them a little time to recover. Tissues cleaned up what the blotter hadn’t caught, and eventually Ray was curled up in Zavier’s lap again, this time naked and relaxed and so very sated. His heart beat in time with Zavier’s and was so full he couldn’t keep the words from spilling out.

“I love you so fucking much. I hope you don’t mind.” He pressed his cheek against Zavier’s, a little trickle of worry worming into his soul. “I can’t help it.”

That fear vanished when Zavier laughed. “I’d be a fool to mind,” he said. “And I’m honored you trust me with your heart, given everything you know about me...”

Ray tried to speak, tried to protest, but Zavier’s finger was on his lips, demanding silence and attention.

“Ray, seeing you happy, hearing you sing, watching you make our band into what it is—that’s my passion. You’re like drumming or fine wine or—”

“Really good sex?” Ray said against that finger, then licked it.

Zavier chuckled. “The best sex I’ve ever had in my life has been with you. You are sex, Ray Van Zeller. And yes, that’s my passion, too.”

“It’s almost like you love me,” Ray teased. They’d talked long and hard about the different meanings of the word and how they related to their relationship. What Zav felt wasn’t romantic, but as Mish had said all those months ago, there were all kinds of love.

Zavier clicked his tongue. “You know that phrase doesn’t do it for me. I don’t know that it ever will.”

That was pure Zavier, right there, and Ray adored him for it. He shrugged. “I’m wearing your ring.” That and the leather band on his ankle were more than enough. Constant reminders that Zavier wasn’t leaving him. Them. They were in this together.

“So you are.” Zavier grinned. “And I’m wearing yours.”

“So—friends with benefits it is?”

Once more, Zavier’s laughter filled the room. “How about husbands with the very best of benefits?” He pulled Ray into a kiss that ignited the heat in his blood.

“I can live with that,” Ray murmured against Zavier’s mouth.

“Forever?” Zavier’s eyes were bluer than the notes from any of Twisted Wishes’s songs.

“And ever,” Ray said.

His love and Zavier’s passion. Together, they’d set the world on fire.

Want more Twisted Wishes? Check out the next book, COUNTERPOINT!