Chapter 10 Past #2
“Fuck yes, we did!” Lon punched the air. He took more pictures. “I wanna remember this forever.”
“We should go back in,” Brand said. “And meet all our new fans.”
“And then we party!” Lon smacked Brand on the shoulder, running past him.
Ry agreed, and they headed out to the front of the house and mingled and talked, Ry sticking close to Alex.
Without thinking, he reached for his hand, their fingers lacing together.
His wall of a boyfriend gently parted the crowd, greeting everyone and shaking hands as he guided him to the merch stand.
The crowd had thinned in the twenty minutes it took to reach the table. Ella Garvin had been helping at each performance, mobbed by people desperate for a CD, a sticker, a tee, something. They’d sold out tonight, by the look of it. Ella waved, then continued packing the stands and boxes.
“One of these days, Ella, we’ll get you up on stage.” Alex teased. “You should have heard her singing the other day.”
Ella turned red. “I was cleaning!”
Ry shrugged. “I sing all the time around the house. No shame in that. I think she’d be great.”
“Stop teasing,” Brand said, resting an arm on her shoulder. “She’s obviously better than any of us, so we can’t have her up there.”
“Heya boys,” Mindy said, her drawl catching Ry’s attention. “Y’all were good up there!”
“Thanks,” Ry said, raking his free hand through his hair.
“Mind taking a few shots of us all?” Lon handed her his beloved camera. “I got some selfies, but—.”
“Sure!” She flashed a wide smile and framed them with the open doors, showing the stage in the back. “I can send y’all the pics I took from the show too.”
“We would be grateful,” Brand said.
“Well, why don’t I treat y’all to a celebratory drink?” She grinned, her face happy and beaming. “Three shots for three shows, eh?”
“Great!” Lon said.
Brand wrapped himself around Lon. “I can’t let the poor man go alone, so I’m in.”
“Shall we?” Ry asked Alex. He agreed.
“I’ll finish packing up. Got class in the morning.” Ella hugged them goodbye.
The Libra had purged most of the patrons by that point. The rest of the band followed Mindy a few doors down to the Three Sisters.
Mindy slipped behind the bar, wrapping a hand over Candy’s shoulder and whispering something in her ear. Mindy poured several servings of liquor and brought them over.
“To success,” she said, raising her glass.
They cheered her and downed the shot. Whiskey burned Ry’s throat.
They took two more shots in a row, each one burning and sending warmth through Ry’s skin.
Mindy played a mean game of pool and, over the next two hours, challenged them all to a match.
One by one, she cleared the table and left each of them in the dust. Still light and fuzzy, Ry tugged at Alex.
“Let’s get out of here and celebrate at home,” he said.
Alex’s lips curled, and he winked at Ry. “As you wish.”
They exchanged goodbyes, leaving Brand and Lon to the vibrant chaos of Mindy and her friends, a kaleidoscope of colors. Those two would be more than fine.
The laughter faded as he and his boyfriend made it a couple of feet up the street, the warm, pulsing beat of the music softening with each step.
The pair walked to the back of the Libra, where Alex had parked their car and stored some of the gear.
Ry got in the passenger side, and Alex started up the car.
Soon, they were pulling out of the parking lot and onto the road toward the two-bedroom apartment they all co-occupied. Alex and Ry occupied the smaller room.
Alex reached out. “We’ve come a long way since that talent show.”
“Yeah.” Ry squeezed his boyfriend’s hand. “You shredded out there.” He made absurd guitar noises until Alex laughed.
Alex headed down the street they lived on. “Ry, your performance was incredible. I have never been so turned on, or so proud of you.”
Ry's cheeks flushed, a wide, uncontainable smile spreading across his face.
No matter how many times his boyfriend complimented him, he always felt gooey and undone.
Alex pulled into the apartment complex, the buildings hinted at by the lights from the windows, and parked.
Ry got out and stretched. Alex came around the car and leaned down to nuzzle him.
Ry gave into the kiss, the weight of Alex pressed up against him, warm and supple, willing. Ry reached up and ran his fingers through Alex’s hair, the coarse texture familiar and comforting.
“We should take this inside,” Ry said, throaty. “Or we might be arrested for all the indecent things I wanna do to you.”
“Is that a promise?” Alex’s voice was also thick with desire, and Ry wanted very much to climb his boyfriend like a tree.
“Mmm-hmm,” Ry said, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the apartment.
“Hey, I’m not done kissing you,” Alex said, sounding wounded. “And we have to bring in stuff.”
“You and I are wearing too many clothes.”
“Ry,” Alex whined. “Come on. One more kiss. And the gear. I promise.”
“Fine.” Ry yielded to Alex pulling him back and settled into a long kiss, the thumps in his ear counting the eternities until their lips parted.
Breathless, Alex let go, his grin lopsided. “Grab the guitar and the bass. I’ll get the amps.”
“And don’t hurt your babies, I know.” Ry rolled his eyes but grabbed the instruments and secured them over his shoulder. He led Alex to the apartment, key at the ready.
Ry unlocked the entryway, set down the guitar and bass in their stands, and Alex set the gear in the corner where it lived.
He then closed the door and jumped into Alex’s embrace, wrapping his legs around his boyfriend.
Instinctively, Alex’s arms came up to support him, and their mouths crashed together.
Alex stumbled a bit and found a wall to lean against.
Ry focused all his attention on Alex: his body, his lips. Alex tasted of the whiskey they had. Their tongues fought for dominance and for space: for anything possible to merge them into a single being, desperate for oneness.
Alex switched positions, pressing Ry against the wall, still eye-to-eye, Ry’s legs wrapped tight around his hips. Ry tried to pull Alex closer, but their jeans, thick and clumsy, separated them too much.
But he could endure the clothes while Alex rocked into him, promising pressure and pleasure. Ry relaxed and let the man press into him. Ry, burning, flicked his tongue into Alex’s mouth, inviting him in more. Alex, knowing all his cues, pressed harder.
Ry longed to rid himself of pants and release Alex’s dick that poked into his leg. When Ry got a moment of clarity, he tugged on Alex’s shirt insistently, loosening his leg’s grip.
Alex backed up and let him down gracefully. Ry, leaning against the jamb, watched in the dim light as Alex peeled his t-shirt off. No matter how many times he’d seen his boyfriend naked or shirtless, he always lost breath.
Ry stared, drinking in every hard line, every curve, every bit of skin. Alex pulled the shirt over his head and threw it to the ground.
“What?” Alex asked.
Ry reached out and ran a few fingers across Alex’s collarbone and down his side until he reached the waistband of his jeans. “So fucking hot.”
Alex blushed. “You always say that.”
His boyfriend smelled of their minty body wash, cedar deodorant, a touch of whiskey, and leather. “It’s consistently true,” he said, nibbling Alex’s ear. “You already wooed me tonight with your songs, lover boy. I’m ready.”
Alex pulled off Ry’s shirt. The familiar dance they shared, year after year, still held a potent magic in the way his jaw went slack and his eyes locked onto his own.
Alex ran a thick finger down Ry’s chest, tracing the bones and the muscle. He rarely said anything when touching Ry like this.
“Breathtaking,” Alex whispered, his voice gentle and in awe.
Ry stepped closer.
Alex smiled, a tender thing, vulnerable and open, and Ry leaned up and kissed him gently, carefully, and pulled him close, intentional and soft. No matter what kind of sex it turned into, it would be the best.
Ry, his hot urgency returning, pressed his lips to Alex’s firmly, hardening his lips and muscles in anticipation. Alex let go for a moment and came back soft. His ardor was intense and passionate, without hesitation, but thoughtful, excruciatingly slow and controlled.
Ry smiled against the ongoing kiss and Alex, responding to the renewed pressure, grabbed Ry’s ass hard, eliciting a yelp of surprise. Alex grinned against his lips.
Playful meant it was gonna be mind-blowing.
Ry dragged Alex backward toward their bedroom. Tugging on the waistband of his boyfriend’s jeans, Ry guided him forward while stepping back, all the while kissing him. Alex’s flushed skin sizzled against Ry’s hand.
Ry reached for his own jean buttons as Alex shut the door, but when he turned around, he stopped Ry’s fingers in their tracks.
“That’s my job,” he said, his voice a crackling rumble. And then hands were suddenly at Ry’s waist, his jeans on the floor and his underwear with them.
Ry frustratingly worked to free Alex from those imprisoning pants. Once they were both naked, Ry dropped onto the mattress and ended up smacking his skull on the wall.
“Ah, Jesus fuck.” Ry rubbed his head. The sharp ache pulled his thoughts away from the heat.
“You alright?” Alex asked, already sitting on the bed.
“Yeah, I think so.”
Then Alex laughed. “Sorry, babe.” Alex then kissed him on the bump. “I suppose this means I’ll have to be extra gentle.”
Ry pouted, his pride stung. “Maybe.” He rubbed the crown of his head again. Defeated, he flopped back and tried to pull Alex over him. “Now, where were we?”
His kiss was tender, and his flesh burned at the touch, as Ry’s fingers traced the muscles and bones they had followed thousands of times. He let his hands test the differences in the skin, the way Alex moved differently.
“All better,” Alex murmured.
Ry playfully bit his lip. “Trust me, hot stuff.” Alex pressed down against him, heat and pressure and an overwhelming sense of safety, and he short-circuited against that freedom and gave himself over to his partner.
Speech died, and Ry could only act and grunt and groan and, in lucid moments, say yes, yes, yes. Alex’s muscles rippled, his dick full and crimson, eager.
They spoke in touch, sighs, and moans. Ry relaxed, letting Alex inside him.
The thick, burning heat slid in, and Ry closed his eyes against the blooming pressure, the pleasure, the familiar ache slowly building as Alex rocked in and out as he’d done hundreds of times before.
Ry groaned in delight, the noise involuntary and free.
Their bodies were so attuned to each other that Ry trusted Alex implicitly to know what to do, that he let the waves of ecstasy wash over him like the tide, the depth impossible and eternal. His eyes, dreamy, never left Alex’s face.
Then Alex found his rhythm, and Ry ached and bucked and rode Alex for everything he was worth, both taking turns sharing the strength, no stamina saved, no amount withheld.
“Fuck!” Alex shouted. “Ry, I’m gonna come!”
And Ry, a flash of clarity at his name, returned to the fullness of his body and grinned and ground harder against Alex until they both came, Ry on the tattoo on Alex’s torso, and Alex inside Ry, the heat searing and sensual.
Ry collapsed on Alex, spent and sated. After a moment, he ran fingers up and down Alex’s arms and chest, grabbing a few tissues to clean up the fluids.
Alex’s eyes followed every movement, his breathing now slow and steady.
“Shower?” Ry asked.
Alex shook his head, then Ry slowly removed Alex from himself and lay beside the larger man. “You’re gross.”
“You’re gross.” Alex chuckled. “I’m too tired.”
“Same.” Ry reached for Alex’s palm and held it, rubbing circles. With his other hand, he cleaned himself up enough not to leave another stain and tossed the tissues in the can near the bed.
He burrowed nearer, burying his face in Alex’s thick chest.
“Love you, goober,” Ry said.
“Love you, babe.” And Alex adjusted his arm, wrapping it around Ry, pulling him closer, and then tossed a sheet over them both.
In moments, Ry fell asleep in the arms of the man he’d loved for years, experiencing perfect happiness. As he drifted into the darkness of sleep, he was convinced that they would become famous, believing their music and their love would change the world.