by Zoe Lee
“I—” he started, but stopped, this time not because Astrid interrupted him, but because he didn’t even know how to finish his thought. Never before had he felt trapped or confronted with this idea that he didn’t take credit for his gifts. He’d been complimented before and he had always believed in himself, or he never would have had enough courage to take some of the risks that he had with his career. But this was different from that and he didn’t know why, which left him feeling... strange.
He was saved by their arrival at Astrid’s hotel.
He paid the driver and they went up to her room quietly. He felt compressed, as if his heartbeat would cause his body to explode. His desire and hopes for the night were grappling with the strange feelings Astrid’s compliment by way of criticism had created.
Once the room door shut behind him, Astrid turned away and busied herself taking off her purse. His stomach twisted when she whispered, “Do you still want to be here?”
“I’m sorry, I—I don’t like to talk about myself,” he pushed out through the twisted guts, which seemed to be pushing up his chest and throat, clogging them so he sounded hoarse and weak. “And you, you seem to like to ask me about myself. It’s not easy for me to—”
He shook his head and blew out a breath.
“It’s good, being with you,” she murmured, moving towards him. “It’s only meant to be good, pleasurable, not to push you where you’re not comfortable. This isn’t an interview.”
The promise released the pressure inside of Seth while she lifted one hand, careful and slow, up to tease through his hair. She cradled the back of his head, tilting it down so that their eyes met and held. He expelled a powerful rush of air and closed the distance between them, taking her mouth fiercely, gave up his mouth too when she returned the favor.
His desire and energy didn’t surge back all at once, but he was overwhelmed and pleased by their kiss, and she seemed to be just as lost in it, so they kissed for what felt like forever. Then she moaned, a quiet little thing, and it came back, filling him up some more with each moan, with each twitch of her fingers in his hair, against his skull.
Relieved and ecstatic and still curious as hell about what would bring her to the brink and lose her self-control, he tugged the tie of her dress undone and stripped it off her. She didn’t give him time to appreciate what he’d revealed, just rushed him out of his own shirt while he toed out of his shoes and socks. Wearing only jeans with the button open and zipper undone, hanging onto his hips by the skin of their teeth, he caught her up.
They tumbled onto the bed and she shed her bra and panties, rolling onto her belly and twisting her hands through her own hair, her back arching, her shoulders lifting off the bed.
She was so damn sensual, so damn poised, that for one of the few times in his life, Seth wanted to fuck. Those instincts roared to life, a primal fire snapping and crackling in his guts to devour her with his teeth, to leave her wrung out and sore and exhausted. One hand palmed her ass, followed the swell until he could grasp her inner thigh and push it out.
He dug a condom out of his back pocket, one of the reasons he’d left his pants on instead of throwing them away somewhere inconvenient, and rolled it on.
As he was contemplating her hungrily, she spread her legs wider, showing him where she wanted him, where she needed him. He buried his mouth in the meat where her neck flowed into her shoulder, making her hips rise and circle against him, a delicate wave that still sucked him in like the deadliest undertow. She was wet and relaxed, but once he had sunk all the way into her, she clenched around his cock and worked herself over him.
He laid bites along her shoulders, her biceps, between her shoulder blades, his hands planted in the triangles her arms formed where her hands were still in her hair. It was a sloppy push-up pose, knees on the mattress because she made him unsteady, her legs folded but spread, giving her all the leverage she needed to use him. It was heaven, listening to her groans and rasped praise and the wet slap of their bodies as she drove back and he drove in.
“There,” she shouted out, surging up and back with all her strength.
He met her with all of his strength, repeating the precise angle of that drive over and over so that he hit that spot deep inside her just like she wanted.
“Fucking hell—” she shouted out again, the words breaking as her sweat-slicked body jerked and gushed, the orgasm nothing like he’d ever witnessed or felt with a partner before.
When it was done, she went completely sweet, her fingers slipping out of her hair to drift over his hands beside her head, covering them lightly, thumbs tucked beneath them. The eye he could half-see through her hair fluttered shut and her panting mouth grinned.
“Brilliant,” she murmured, more rasped praise, and he was stunned when she canted her hips up to press against him, “your prick’s got the perfect design to make me come.”
He wanted to praise her back, but his brain was only able to instruct him to rear up onto his knees, grab those canted hips, and purr, “Good, cause I ain’t done with you yet.”
She laughed breathlessly, hands gliding up the bed to fist the pillows.
It was mindless after that for Seth; instead of having an out-of-body experience, it was like he became his nerve cells. Every place their bodies met, that was where he was, and it was so harmonious that it was almost painful, electric currents flowing from her into him and frying his brain’s circuits, his control, his reactions. He had wanted to learn what made her lose control, but all he cared about now was that she was still moving with him, that she was still shouting out praise for him, that she was coming and laughing triumphantly.
All he cared about now was that when he lost his rhythm, she matched it as if they’d rehearsed it a thousand times, the perfect partner, and went as taut as he did when he came.
“Shit, Jesus, shit,” he muttered thoughtlessly as he twitched through the tail end of the orgasm, slumping down over her, then spooning her, their bodies still joined. His arm under her felt numb, as if it had fallen asleep, and his other hand cupped her belly. When she stretched slightly, her toes curling against his shins, he shuddered. “Shit, don’t move, I—”
“Mm,” she sighed, then eased off him and carefully stretched some more, her hips and shoulders no doubt tight from the position she’d held. Once she released the stretch, sitting up, she stroked her hand up his torso. “Let’s shower and order some tacos or something.”
Enamored with everything about her in that moment, he replied, “Yes, ma’am.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Seth
Seth was running behind schedule when Xavier texted to ask if they could meet up.
Still dripping from the shower, he looked at the time and calculated how close he could cut it before he had to leave Jesse’s place to head to O’Hare for his flight. He would have told Xavier that he didn’t have time, except he felt a little guilty today that he’d ditched the celebratory fun last night to be with Astrid. So he replied that he only had a half an hour.
He was packed and getting dressed when Xavier knocked, so he went to the door, towel fisted in one hand at his hip, and opened the door. “You got here fast,” he commented.
“Hey,” Xavier said, waving almost shyly.
“So, what brings you on by? You know I’m not big on dramatic see-you-next-times,” Seth admonished Xavier as he tugged on red briefs, jeans and a The Raconteurs tee shirt.
“Uh,” Xavier grunted, pacing a step and then fidgeting with his hair for a beat and then pacing again. Seth watched him patiently, curious and trying not to be unnerved by Xavier’s nerves, until he tried again, “The thing is… Do you, like, follow us on social media and stuff?”
That made Seth’s mouth curl in amusement. “Not really. Why, you need a fan?”
“Ha, ha,” Xavier barked, then ran his hands through his hair again before wrestling his cell out of his skinny jeans. He tapped around for a minute before holding out the device to Seth, who took it and saw
a post from Downbeat from Pitchfork, a video clip of… the encore.
“Oh,” Seth murmured, exhaling, as he saw the number of views, likes, and comments. It was an astronomical number, considering usually the most popular things he was involved in were his sister Leda’s snarky posts with her locally infamous hashtags. The highest those had ever gone were maybe two hundred, and those had been from her wedding.
“Read the comments, Seth,” Xavier instructed gently.
Obediently, Seth stroked his thumb slowly up the screen, his mouth going dry and his breath quickened as he realized that they all seemed to be variations of Oh my God, who is this guy? I hope this guy is joining the band! This song was amazing, I didn’t even know Downbeat could sound like that! I loved this song before, but now it’s on repeat constantly!
“I’m not—” he began, voice rough and almost scared.
“When you left, we got it, we really did,” Xavier rushed out, “but, dude, we didn’t want you to leave. Everything always just gelled and having the guy who turned our feelings and stories into songs actually playing them with us… It was fucking magic, Seth. You know it is.”
“I live in Maybelle, I—”
Xavier smacked Seth’s stomach with the back of his hand. “I saw you out there. Not just at the festival, but jamming out with us last night at a low-key, low-pressure, high-yield gig. You were living and breathing our music. You were one of us. People felt it, they responded to it, they want to know who you are and when you’ll be back. And Astrid, you know she thinks you’re the story here, not us dumb idiots jumping around performing your stuff.”
“No,” Seth rasped. “No, I—I’m done with that. You’re about to be famous—”
“Kid, we’re already famous,” Xavier cut him off fiercely. “And we wouldn’t be without your songs all these years, without the foundation you helped lay. You know we were just sort of fumbling around, coasting by on our stage presence. We never could—”
“That wasn’t me, that was Kayla,” he protested breathlessly.
“It was fate that Trentham saw you in New Orleans, pure fucking luck that he got you to agree to come play here with us—twice,” Xavier barreled on, his eyes hot with certainty and hope, his hands flying around as he spoke. “We love you, Seth. We all want you to come back, to be part of the band again. You can wait until after we’re done with this tour, when we go come back here to work on the next album, and we can announce—”
Seth collapsed onto the couch, bouncing almost comically with the force of his fall.
He put his head in his hands, pressing his fingertips into his eyes.
There was no denying that it was tempting as hell, that there was a buried, volcanic part of him that yearned for what Xavier was offering. A part of him that had spent his whole life preparing for this opportunity. But he couldn’t go back to how he’d been during those two years with Downbeat. So much of it had been fucking fantastic, especially writing for them, but his heart had been a wreck. Hedda had haunted him every time he’d stepped onstage, twenty times worse if it was a venue they’d played together. He’d felt lost, and while he’d never engaged in risky behavior, no drinking too much or drugs or unsafe sex, it had loomed as a sea of quicksand on the horizon and he’d needed to run from it.
“You’re not who you were back then,” Xavier said as he sat next to Seth. “You think we didn’t know how fragile you were back then? But you’re… full again, kid. You can do it.”
“Full?” he managed to ask, fighting off everything pulsing through him frantically.
“Full,” Xavier repeated firmly. “Full of life, of laughter and contentment, certainty.”
“But I’m still—”
“She’s always going to be with you, every time you step onstage, Seth,” Xavier whispered, gripping the back of Seth’s neck and knocking their foreheads together. “You think we don’t all have our demons that we try to beat on that stage? You don’t think we don’t all try to outrun our own ghosts every time we get into the studio to start over again? But we don’t let anyone get lost. We kept you safe before and we’ll do it again. Please.”
Seth jerked out of Xavier’s hold and strode to his suitcase, chucking in the last few items from the bathroom and the nightstand. “I have to go home,” he declared desperately.
“Seth—”
“I have to, Xavier!” he yelled, whirling back around, hands in fists at his sides.
“Don’t you want to be with us again?” Xavier pleaded. “You’re too gifted to give up.”
“I’m going home,” Seth said without looking over at Xavier. “Please respect it.”
Xavier snarled, the animalistic sound filling up the modest room and bouncing all around, reminding Seth painfully of the day they’d met. “God damn it, Seth!” he roared, but his shoulders slumped in defeat and he came over to Seth slowly. He sighed and leaned in to wrap one arm around Seth’s shoulders, giving him a side-hug that Seth could have easily avoided if he hadn’t needed it so much in that moment, even if Xavier was also the one who’d hurt him. “I love you. Gin and Trentham and Jorge love you. Don’t ghost us.”
“I love y’all too,” Seth rasped, finally lifting a leaden hand to hug Xavier back weakly.
Xavier pulled away reluctantly and then clapped his hands once and said loudly, “How about writing with us again? We have a week before the tour kicks in again, we could come home with you and work. You said you have a studio at your house, right? Could we all fit?”
“I’m working, I don’t know how much time—”
“Astrid could come too,” Xavier barreled on, determination in every line of his face, and a sly, knowing smile twisted up his mouth. “I don’t know what happened in that interview, but she was awkward as hell about it when she called Kayla to say that angle hadn’t panned out after all. She’s still writing about us though. She’s still shadowing us.”
Seth dropped onto the couch again, his whole body shaking and his skin clammy. The terror of Xavier’s first offer contrasted too loudly with this second, more insidious offer, dangling a temptation in front of Seth that he’d thought the band hadn’t noticed.
“Just a week, tops, kid,” Xavier wheedled.
“Fuck. Okay,” Seth caved in.
“Yes!” Xavier yelled, pumping his fist. “I’ll get Hank on the arrangements right away. Don’t worry, we won’t try to crash at your house. Where should we stay? Who’s discreet?”
“It’s a small town,” Seth laughed reluctantly, raising his eyebrows. “Tourism is the top industry, so everyone’s discreet, but everyone’s going to know you’re there within a day no matter what you do or how discreet they are. But The Orchid is the nicest hotel, y’all should definitely stay there. Have Kayla say I said to ask for the owner, she’ll hook you up.”
“This is going to be awesome for everyone,” Xavier crowed, then left a minute later.
Seth clutched his curls in his fists, knowing this was a trap.
Two traps, really. One to entice him into rejoining Downbeat, working together again so that he’d remember how much fun it was, how good it was, how well they melded. And one to have Astrid close to him, offering the chance for them to really get to know each other.
“This is going to be a disaster,” he muttered.
He dutifully sent Kayla his flight information, went to say goodbye to Jesse real quick because she was working, and then got into the private shuttle with the band. Kayla had worked some magic and gotten Seth’s ticket changed to a later flight, where there was space for all of them except Astrid, who would follow on her own this afternoon.
Even the thought of it made something itch under Seth’s skin.
Last night, once they were sated, they had showered and ordered tacos, like Astrid suggested, and then they’d spent hours chatting idly about their taste in music. It might be a… first-date sort of topic for most people, but for people like Seth and Astrid, it had been deliciously intimate to discuss the songs, albums, and concerts that
had changed them.
Which was why Xavier’s bargain had caused a tangled morass of feelings to surge up in him. There was an unwarranted, unfair lightning storm of anticipation, desire and curiosity he felt knowing that Astrid was going to be nearby an unexpected extra week. But all of that smacked into all of the things he had sworn for years and years he didn’t want, as far as his love life went. It was all piling up on his lungs, making it hard to breathe. Because after they had had that discussion about music, she’d ushered him out of her hotel room so masterfully he still couldn’t work out how she’d done it. She hadn’t invited him to stay the night, even though they had both been aware and acknowledged aloud that it would be their last night.
Still, less than three hours later, Xavier had shown up offering the bargain, with Astrid already on board. She’d moved fast to stay with the story, not to stay close to him for longer.
If only it had been the other way around—Astrid in front of him, reaching for him and offering herself in return, while Downbeat disappeared back to their lives without him, without looking back—then everything would be so much easier. His whole axis wouldn’t have to shift, the whole galaxy of stars wouldn’t have changed, leaving him without a solid center or a way to navigate his feelings and his fears and his needs.
Kayla pushed her cell in his face suddenly, yanking him out of his brooding.
“Read this Pitchfork review,” she ordered him.
He sighed and accepted it while telling her, “You’re so unsubtle.”
“But you’re going to read it,” she countered smugly.
He did, his heart pounding, and then whispered “Oh God” when he saw...
Honorable mention goes to Downbeat, whose set was on fire. Every song was a one-of-a-kind performance, and not in a cheesy all-acoustic way. They blew everyone else out of the water with their encore, a rendition of ‘Shudder,’ which before today was a B-side track only die hard fans knew. Former band member and excellent songwriter Seth Riveau joined lead singer Xavier Talon, singing and playing piano like he was born for it, bringing so much emotionality to the angry song that it had the whole crowd choking up before screaming. Can’t wait to see what they do next.