Guarding January

by Sean Michael

  “I can still hear the music inside me.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “Like what?”

  “The music. Do you like it at all?”

  “I love music. I minored in music in college.”

  “Yeah, you’d said. The vampire stuff, though. Does that really count as music?” He hoped he wasn’t being insulting.

  “Sure it does. The lyrics are good, for the most part, and the music is solid—just ramped up, distorted.”

  “Huh.”

  They pulled up in the back of the hotel, and Big T went out to make sure the way was clear. A moment later he knocked on the door.

  “Okay, let’s get you upstairs and into the shower,” Rye suggested.

  “God, yes. Please. A long hot shower. I….” Jeff swayed, suddenly pale. “Rye. Sick.”

  “Okay.” He pulled Jeff out of the SUV and supported him as he threw up on the ground. Rubbing gently, he soothed Jeff as best he could, Big T blocking them in case anyone was looking down the alley.

  As soon as Jeff was done, he hurried the man upstairs.

  “Sorry. So sorry.”

  “Shh. It’s okay.” Rye went straight to the bathroom and began stripping Jeff’s clothes off.

  The clothes were foul, heavy with sweat and makeup and stinking of smoke. Rye dumped them in the corner and got the shower going as Jeff brushed his teeth. After stripping himself down, he pulled Jeff into the shower with him.

  This was going to be their routine for forty-nine more shows. Shit, they were all going to need to eat their Wheaties. He swore that Jeff had lost ten pounds just from one show.

  He tilted Jeff’s face into the spray, supporting the slender body. The concert makeup didn’t come off as easily; it was so greasy. He kept at it, soaping and resoaping, rubbing.

  Finally, Jeff’s face was clean, and Rye stared down at it, fingers tracing Jeff’s features.

  “Hey.” Jeff smiled at him.

  Smiling back, he slowly lowered his head and touched his lips gently to Jeff’s. It was the most gentle touch, just a chaste, easy kiss.

  Then he grabbed the soap back up and washed the rest of Jeff.

  JEFF STARED at his cock, totally stunned that he was erect. He didn’t get hard-ons. He didn’t have the energy for it. He hadn’t gotten hard in months. Maybe longer.

  He didn’t.

  Huh.

  He pulled his pants up and on, then headed out to play his guitar.

  Rye was sitting on the big, ornate couch, frowning at his plate.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “They gave me sunny-side up eggs. I can’t eat sunny-side up eggs—they’re looking at me.”

  “Oh.” Jeff went to the phone, hit the concierge number, and started screaming, going full-on asshole Lord January “get me more motherfucking eggs right now.” “There you go.”

  Rye blinked at him. “You didn’t have to do that. I could have just eaten the bacon and toast—”

  “I pay a fucking fortune for this room.” He grabbed his guitar and started playing, but his mind was going a million miles a minute.

  “Hey.” Rye came and sat next to him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” He couldn’t meet Rye’s eyes.

  Rye grabbed his chin, tilting his head up. “Tell me.”

  “I got hard.” The demand surprised him so much, he answered.

  “Oh.” Rye gave him a small smile. “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t get erections anymore. It’s… unnerving.”

  Rye stroked his cheek. “I think it means your body is healing from the drugs, from the starving.”

  He opened his mouth to answer when a knock came to the door. “Your eggs are here.”

  Rye kissed him again, quick and short. “Thank you.” Then he got up and went to the door.

  A squeal came from behind the room service guy, and Jeff ran, hiding in the bathroom. He could hear Rye shouting—not the words, but Rye was angry.

  A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. “Jeff, it’s me. Ollie Ollie Oxen Free, the room is safe.”

  “Sorry. Sorry. Your eggs?” He opened the bathroom door.

  “My eggs came with a half-dozen groupies. I told room service off, then I called the front desk and told them off.”

  “Mean giant security guy.” He was actually a little tickled.

  “That’s me.” Rye flexed. “Grrrr.”

  “Go eat your eggs.” Jeff snickered, following Rye out into the main room.

  “I’ll eat my eggs if you eat something too. I ordered you a bowl of tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich.”

  “I’ll try.” The last hotel had been nasty, and he’d refused any of the food. Maybe this one was better.

  “If you don’t like the soup, I’ll get one of the guys to go pick up some tomatoes at the market, and I’ll make you some.” Rye took his hand and led him to the couch, sat with him.

  “We’re back on the bus tomorrow, right?”

  “Yeah. Although I’m tempted to put you on it tonight, right after the show.” Rye shoveled in a mouthful of eggs. “It feels more like home than these big hotels.”

  “Yeah. I’d like that. The bus is home.”

  “All right. I’ll call Barney and make sure he knows to have all his pretravel shit done before the show’s over. That way when everyone comes down to the busses, we’re already there. We’ll miss having to move you through the groupies and fans waiting to steal a touch.” Rye looked gleeful at that.

  “Perfect. Then we can have our own bed.” He looked at the cheese in the sandwich. He wasn’t eating that. No. Way.

  Rye caught his look and went over to his bag, pulled something out of it, and tossed it over. It turned out to be a bag of mixed nuts. “Have some of those—they’re good for you.” Then Rye grabbed his phone and began texting.

  “Okay….” Jeff picked out the pecans and the cashews and, oh, pistachios.

  “There.” Rye set his phone down. “Shopping list sent. The fridge in the bus will be restocked by this afternoon.”

  “Good. I only want your soup.” He only wanted the not-from-a-can stuff.

  “You’re going to give me a swelled head.”

  “You’re already really big, Rye. Like really.”

  Leaning against the couch, Rye chuckled. “All the better to keep you safe, my pretty.”

  Jeff chuckled and ate another pecan before settling back again.

  “I asked them to close the pool this morning. Roach and the boys are going to spend a bit of time in the lobby, centralize the fans so we can slip upstairs and use it unnoticed.” Rye looked pleased.

  “You did that? Really?” Rye was good to him, truly. “That sounds fun.”

  “It does, doesn’t it? Although if you tie your hair back and wear something with color, I bet no one would even realize who you play onstage.”

  “I don’t have… do I have swim trunks?”

  Rye gave him a grin. “Of course you do.”

  “Oh. Cool.”

  “Thank Janie. I told her you needed a pair, and she made it happen.”

  “You must think I’m useless.”

  “Nope. I think you’re stressed, and you have the weight of this entire tour on your shoulders.”

  Jeff searched Rye’s eyes, looking for the truth in the words. The blue eyes met his head-on. He pushed into Rye’s arms, hugging tight. Rye held him close, warm and solid and good. His body started to tighten, his cock beginning to fill, so he pulled away, the sensation unsure.

  “What’s the matter?” Rye pushed his hair out of his face.

  “Nothing. I’m okay.”

  Rye looked into his face a moment longer. “Okay. Wanna go swim?”

  “Uh-huh.” God, he was nervous.

  Unnerved.

  “Okay, I’ve got both our suits in my bag—figured it was better, just in case someone got snoopy in your stuff.”

  “Cool.” He got up and paced to the window, to
the door of the suite.

  “You’re like a cat in a room full of rocking chairs today.”

  Jeff nodded. “I am. I’m nervous. I’m—” He waved toward his groin. “Weird.”

  “I’m still thinking a hard-on is a good thing. Your body is recovering from being a drug addict. It’s coming back.”

  “It’s worrisome.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t like having sex.”

  “Then you’ve never done it right.”

  “That’s what everybody says, Rye.” He chuckled, went over for another hug.

  Rye held him close and whispered in his ear. “It’s true. Sex is fantastic.”

  “It isn’t all that.”

  “Maybe one day I’ll be able to change your mind about that.”

  If anyone could, it would be Rye. “You convinced me to eat your soup.”

  Rye’s laughter rubbed them together. “I did, indeed.”

  He lifted his face, begging for a kiss. Rye gave it to him, gaze holding his as their mouths met softly. Jeff sighed. This connection made his belly ache, deep. Rye’s tongue flicked out and touched his lips. His tongue touched Rye’s, barely stroking it. Groaning, Rye touched his back. He liked how Rye tasted, the caress.

  One big hand slid along his back, slowly up and down, leaving warmth and tingles in its wake. Jeff’s eyelids got heavy, too heavy to hold open, and the kiss went on and on.

  Rye’s other hand cupped the back of his head, tilting him slightly as Rye’s tongue slipped between his lips. Jeff’s hands slid up Rye’s arms and wrapped around the huge, broad shoulders.

  A low sound filled his mouth, and he could feel Rye’s breath brushing on his face. He arched, body pressing into Rye for a moment. That earned him another groan.

  What a fascinating sound.

  The hand on his back kept moving, warming up the bones of his spine. He leaned into it, almost like he was dancing to Rye’s music. In fact, Rye hummed for him, and the sounds and the touches and the kisses joined together like a beautiful harmony. His cock filled, going heavy and solid.

  Oh God.

  Rye just kept kissing him, filling him with a surprising amount of pleasure. Rye’s strength supported him, held him firm even when his knees buckled. Shifting him closer, Rye brought their bodies together, and Jeff could feel that Rye was hard too. Hot through their clothes. Hot and hard and big.

  Like really big. Just like the rest of Rye.

  Their lips parted, Rye resting their foreheads together and panting.

  “It’s good?” He loved Rye’s eyes.

  “I think so. I hope you do too.”

  He nodded, grinned. “No one would believe it, that I liked necking.”

  “I’m not planning on telling anyone. This is ours.”

  “Our secret.” Jeff loved that.

  “Yes.” Rye rubbed their noses together and took another kiss. This one was light, playful, making him giggle. Rye picked him up, squeezed him.

  “One day, can we go to the mountains? Like a cabin? Just us?”

  “Baby, we can do anything you want.”

  “Okay. I want to go to the mountains together one day.”

  “Sounds good.” Every day he spent with Rye felt good, strong. “So… swimming or more kissing?”

  He sighed happily and leaned into Rye again. He could swim at home.

  KISSING JEFF was as easy as breathing.

  Wrapping his arms around Jeff, Rye picked him up, carried him to the bedroom, and looked into the pretty green-flecked eyes.

  He wanted…. God, he wanted so much, so many things, but right now he wanted Jeff’s joy. He sat them on the bed and took another kiss, pressing their lips together.

  Jeff stayed in his lap, close, responding to every single kiss. It was as wonderful as it was unexpected. Jeff—with his piercings and his ink—kissed like a tentative virgin.

  Rye knew he was the only one who got to see this side of Jeff. He was going to protect this gentle soul with everything he was. He took one kiss after another, fingers moving over Jeff’s face, tracing the lovely lines. He didn’t push, didn’t attempt to touch anything below the shoulder.

  He knew how big just this was. Hell, Jeff had been… almost outraged by his own body when he’d become hard. Rye licked across Jeff’s lips before dipping his tongue back into Jeff’s mouth. Jeff’s fingers moved against him lazily, exploring his skin.

  Time disappeared, the warmth of the kisses blocking everything else out. He couldn’t quite believe it, that Jeff was hard against him, erect. Jeff wanted him. It was a luscious feeling, almost decadent.

  His tongue teased Jeff’s, encouraged it back into his mouth. Jeff actually wiggled a bit, rubbed against him. He finally slid his hand down along Jeff’s spine, stopping just above Jeff’s ass.

  Jeff took a long, shaky breath. “Oh. I need to get up, walk around.”

  “Why?” Rye thought Jeff was doing great, right where he was.

  “I’m… tight inside.”

  “You need an orgasm.” The words shot out before he had a chance to even think about them.

  “I…. I don’t…. What if I can’t, and then we’re both mad?”

  “Jeff.” He took Jeff’s hand. “I’m not going to be mad at you either way. I promise.”

  “I just….” Jeff pressed against him, rubbed a little more.

  Rye tugged Jeff’s legs, encouraged him to wrap them around his waist so Jeff could rub against his belly. “It’s okay. You’re doing what feels good.”

  “Uh-huh. Doing what feels hot.”

  “Good.” He cupped Jeff’s head and tilted it, taking another kiss. So nervous, so worried. What baggage was Jeff carrying about sex?

  As they kissed, he slid a hand down to cup Jeff’s ass, encouraging the rubbing. They slipped together, slow and easy, keeping it light. Jeff’s ass rubbed against the top of his own cock, and he wanted so badly to be naked with Jeff. He could be patient, though.

  That fine ass was taut, perfect in his hands. Their kisses deepened, Jeff moving faster against him. Please, babe. Please, let me feel you. His hand tightened on Jeff’s ass. Jeff moaned for him, the sound low, sweet.

  “Skin would feel so good.” If Jeff allowed it, he’d open Jeff’s pants and let him rub against his belly.

  “Please. Please, Rye.”

  Oh God. Yes. His fingers were almost trembling as he undid the button and zipper of Jeff’s jeans. “Do you want to feel me too?”

  “I’d like that.”

  He tugged Jeff’s jeans open and pushed his underwear down, freeing the hard cock. The jewelry glinted, caught in the light.

  “I liked getting them done.”

  “Yeah? Tell me about it?” Rye touched the Prince Albert, the silky flesh around it.

  “Oh.” Jeff shook his head, then nodded. “You’ll think badly of me.”

  “Have I yet?”

  “I liked the sting and the weight of it. I was still… functional then, and I liked the ache.”

  “You’re functional now,” Rye pointed out.

  “I know. Weird.”

  “I like it.” Rye touched it again, then reached for the frenum. “What about this one?”

  “It bled a lot, but after, I would twist it.”

  “Like this?” Rye twisted it.

  Jeff jerked, precome dripping, hot.

  “And the hafada?” Rye reached down to stroke it and Jeff’s balls.

  “It didn’t hurt. It felt so good.”

  “You’re a bit of a pain slut, aren’t you?”

  “What?” Jeff’s eyes went wide, and he backed off Rye’s lap. “No. No, I…. Can we go swimming?”

  “Shh. Shh. It’s okay. Let’s just get you off first, okay? No more questions.” He lifted his shirt and pulled Jeff closer, letting that sweet cock rub on his belly.

  “I’m not like January.”

  “You are nothing like January.” The words were fiercer than he’d intended, but he didn’t like January one bit. Jeff, thoug
h…. He loved this man.

  “That’s right. Nothing.” Jeff was working himself into a lather.

  He cupped Jeff’s face and took a kiss, not making it hard, just easy and gentle. Jeff slowly relaxed and eased into him. That was better.

  Rye moved one hand down to cup Jeff’s ass, once again encouraging the easy rubbing. Jeff’s eyes were closed, the look on the lean face blissful, happy. Better. His own cock was still trapped, but it rubbed against Jeff’s ass as he moved the slender body, making him moan. So good.

  As was the sensation of Jeff’s velvety flesh on his abdomen. The piercings were hot from Jeff’s body, but felt different than the hard cock they were attached to, bumping along against him. The dragging kisses became slick, Jeff’s cock leaking for him. Fuck. Fuck. It was good, so very good.

  Rye licked into Jeff’s mouth, touching Jeff’s tongue with his own. Jeff groaned softly, hips moving faster, dragging that cock harder. He dug his fingers into Jeff’s ass, helping him rub harder.

  “Rye.” The little sound was a hiccup, a whimper.

  “Right here, baby. I’ve got you.”

  “I need.”

  “Then take.”

  Jeff arched, body shaking, shuddering against him.

  “That’s it, baby, take it.”

  “Rye. Rye. Rye—” Jeff bucked, heat spreading between them.

  He shuddered at the scent. Fuck. He’d just made Jeff come. Rye held on, cradling Jeff in his arms. Rocking them gently, he ignored his own erection in favor of making sure Jeff came down slowly, making sure Jeff was okay.

  “Oh, Rye. That was so big.”

  “Yeah. Kind of huge.”

  Jeff nodded, cuddled into his chest.

  He kissed the top of Jeff’s head and held him close for as long as Jeff needed him to.

  THOUGHTS FLASHED through Jeff’s brain—too fast to understand, just snatches of ideas, whispers.

  He’d orgasmed, for Rye. On Rye. Rye’d touched his rings. He didn’t know what to do, what to think. Rye wasn’t upset with him; in fact, his own personal giant was cuddling him close against all those muscles.

  He squeezed his eyes closed, hoping the thoughts would go away, the sensations fade. Rye rubbed their cheeks together, humming softly.