by Anna Zabo
Finally, a lone figure appeared, silhouetted by the lights, moving slowly, as if the world had crashed down on their shoulders.
Fuck. When the person came closer, he knew it was Ray. “I’ll be right back,” he muttered to no one in particular.
As he hurried up the path, Ray stopped. He was still too backlit by the venues lights to make out his features, but the way he held his body made Zavier’s chest ache. It was all wrong and so different from before. Where Ray had been tall and energetic, he was now slumped and curled into himself.
Oh, he had a very good idea why—and man, did he want to wrap his fingers around Carl’s throat and squeeze so tight.
When he finally reached Ray, those once lively amber eyes were staring at the ground. “You didn’t need to come up here. I was gonna go to the bus.”
But he did need to come. Every movement Ray made skated across Zavier’s nerves like metal on glass. “I wanted to see how you were doing.” He spoke softly, and buried the urge to reach out to Ray. He had to give Ray room to move or stay or reach out—whatever he needed.
Ray’s barked-out laugh contained so much pain, Zavier’s lungs ached in sympathy. “I don’t think I’m gonna make the movie night. I’m—done.” He ran a hand through his hair.
“That’s okay.”
Ray shook his head. “It’s not okay. I should be there for people, but—” He finally looked up at Zavier. Shattered. Ray was shattered. The only way to describe it.
Zavier took a step forward.
“I’m tired and a mess and out of control.” Ray’s voice wavered. “I don’t want to ruin anyone’s fun.”
Zavier flinched a little. Because there was the seed of doubt he’d sewn, with intent even. “You’re not out of control.”
Ray’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Maybe not now, but I’m hanging by a thread, Zav. Give me ten minutes and—” fear and humiliation cascaded through Ray’s voice “—call a reporter. I’m sure Carl would love that.”
God, he wanted to pull Ray to him. Or put him on his knees. Zavier studied Ray’s bleak face. “I’m not calling anyone. You know that.”
Ray nodded. “You’re a good friend, even if I’m a shitty one.”
Friend. The word blazed through Zavier. Finally. “Maybe I can help you.”
“What, be a better friend?”
“You’re a fine friend, Ray. I like you the way you are. I was thinking more along the lines of me taking control for a time.” He watched Ray’s expression shift from confusion to understanding and back to confusion. “If that’s something you’re interested in.”
Ray wavered on the path, looking past Zavier, then focusing on him like a laser beam. “You—I—” He licked his lips. “You’re talking sex. With me.”
“Yes. But I’m also asking you to trust me and listen to me and obey me, for a little while.”
Ray shivered. But he’d also straightened, and the weight that had pressed him down wasn’t evident anymore. “I—are you sure?” Shock there.
Zavier chuckled. “Oh, Ray. I wouldn’t be asking if I wasn’t.”
His shoulders relaxed. And after a few swallows, he whispered two words. “Yes, please.”
Desire, need, and elation chased through Zavier. He shoved his hands in his pockets, lest he put Ray on his knees right there, out in the open. “Why don’t you go to the bus and wait for me, and I’ll tell the others you’ve hit the wall and are crashing. We’ll have a few hours to ourselves.”
Ray shuffled his feet. “What about you?”
“What about me, what?”
“What are you gonna tell them?” Ray rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, and Zavier bet if the light were better, he’d see a nice blush on Ray’s neck and cheeks.
Ah, yes. “Well, I warned them I wasn’t that into movies and, quite honestly, I need some downtime, too.”
“Downtime,” Ray murmured. “Fucking me.”
Zavier closed the gap between them, but didn’t touch him. “We’ll see about the fucking once we see about the obeying.”
Ray’s normally light eyes were as dark as the night sky above them. “Okay.” His voice had shifted from heartbroken to gravelly with lust.
Good. Zavier’d lift a little bit of the stress Ray carried. “You should go get on the bus and wait for me, Ray.”
“Okay—I—yes.” He nodded once.
Zavier turned and let him pass, then followed him down the path back to the lot. Once they hit tarmac, their paths diverged. He found Mish talking with one of the crew members, a fine-looking woman with dark brown skin and short, curly hair. God, he hated to interrupt them.
Thankfully, Mish looked up. “Hey, was that Ray?”
“Yeah. He’s crashing. Hit the wall.”
She grunted. “Similar to other concerts?”
Mish wasn’t a fool, and Zavier bet she was just as observant as he was. He nodded. “You know how it goes.”
“You gonna watch over him?”
Something about the glint in her smile made that question not so innocent. “Was thinking about that. Movie nights aren’t my thing.”
The crew member—he racked his memory until he pulled out Sasha as her name—grinned. “You seem more of a people person than a watch-people person.”
That, strangely, did sum him up well. He liked to watch, sure. But hands-on was so much better, and he had a willing Ray waiting for him in the bus. He chuckled. “I also need a little quiet. Even with ear protection—it gets a bit much in the kit.”
Mish patted him on the shoulder. “Go take care of Ray. We’ll see you guys in a couple hours.”
He nodded, and detangled himself from the crowd around one of the buses to board the other. He waved at the driver, then passed behind the privacy screen.
Ray looked up from the couch, all nerves and beauty. The stress still hung on him like an ill-fitting shirt. “I didn’t know what to do, so I waited.”
Perfect. “That’s exactly what I told you to do.” He gestured toward the back of the bus. “Let’s go have a chat where it’s a little quieter, before the buses start moving.”
It was also far more private back there. No chance they’d be overheard by the driver.
Ray rose, and Zavier followed him past the berths and into the lounge at the back. He pulled the curtain closed, then turned. Ray was breath and lust and jangling tension. Not exactly where Zavier wanted him to be, but they would work on that. There was time. Right now, though?
“Ray, may I kiss you?”
Shock washed across Ray’s features. He stammered out a reply. “Yes.”
Good. Zavier stepped close, enough to see the wild beating of Ray’s pulse.
“But...why ask?”
“Consent,” Zavier murmured. He cupped Ray’s face with one hand. “Everything tonight has to be something you want.” He slid his hand against the other side of Ray’s head. “You can say no. You can tell me to stop.” He tilted Ray’s head up and their lips touched.
Ray whimpered.
“Trust that I’ll heed your wishes.” He held Ray’s head firmly between his hands. Brushed a thumb against a flushed cheek.
“I—do trust you.” Ray’s words were warm breath against Zavier’s lip.
“Good. Will you listen to me tonight? Will you obey me?”
Ray was trembling against him. “Yes.”
Zavier kissed Ray, gently at first, letting him stiffen and moan, then relax. Lips moved gently, coaxing, opening, claiming, until Ray’s mouth was his and that hard, lithe body was molded to Zavier’s. That taste, the press of Ray against him put fire into Zavier’s blood. He’d needed this. Wanted it since he’d auditioned. They’d danced and danced for months. Countless days of living with each other. It was time already.
The second time he kissed Ray, it was to claim his mouth. A kiss that pulled whim
pers and sighs from him, had him digging his fingers into Zavier’s arms. But it also had him tipping his head back and thrusting his hips against Zavier. Savoring Ray’s desire was a joy. Finally, his hands were where they belonged, playing a different kind of music.
Zavier held Ray’s head with one hand and slid the other down to his ass to pull them tightly together. He drank in Ray’s gasp and groan when Zavier ground their dicks against each other so there’d be no doubt about Zavier’s intent.
They weren’t in high school anymore, and Zavier would have every inch of Ray that was offered to him.
When he broke the kiss, it was only to bite and lick and suck at Ray’s neck until he was twisting and thrusting and shaking in Zavier’s arms. “Oh fuck. Oh god, yes.”
There. Each word cascaded down Zavier. Ray’s pleasure, his need.
The engine turned over, then the bus lurched, sending them both off balance and breaking them apart for a moment.
Zavier laughed. Not the most ideal conditions. But a little space would keep him from getting too far ahead with Ray.
Ray groaned in exasperation. “Cock-blocked by a bus.”
“If you think you’re frustrated now, just you wait.” Zavier grinned.
Ray caught his breath. “I remember. I remember that night.”
So did Zavier. Ray was glorious in obedience and breathtaking to watch come. “This time, we need to set some ground rules.”
A nod and a curious expression. “Like—safewords and stuff?”
So, Ray did know a little bit about BDSM. Zavier sat on the lounge’s couch and patted the cushion next to him. “That’s part of it. Come, sit.”
No hesitation. A good sign. Ray didn’t lean back, so the nerves were still there.
But then, Zavier was nervous, too. This was the hardest part...the beginning. “I want to set some expectations.”
“Okay.”
“This isn’t going to be a love affair. I don’t do relationships.”
Ray’s brows knitted. “But I thought...dominance and submission was a kind of relationship?”
“You’ve been doing internet searches, haven’t you?” Ray’s blush told Zavier everything. Thing was, Ray had a point. “Yes...yes, it is a kind of relationship, one built on consent and trust and caring. On surrender and control.” He couldn’t fault Ray for shivering. He trembled a little himself.
“But you don’t do relationships,” Ray said.
Yeah, that sounded contradictory, but explaining that he was aromantic and didn’t fall in love wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have at the moment. Besides, chances were that Ray wouldn’t believe him, or that he’d think Zavier was broken or some of the other shit former partners had said. “I do kink relationships, but I don’t do romantic relationships.”
Ray studied his hands. “So this is...friends with benefits?” He looked up and met Zavier’s gaze. Lovely amber eyes with such a yearning in them.
“Are we finally friends?” Zavier murmured the question. “Or are you still pissed at me?”
Ray grunted a laugh. “Touché.” But his smile was bright. “We’re friends. I may always be a little pissed at you. And I’d really like to know more about these benefits, please.”
If they’d already had this conversation, Zavier would’ve hauled Ray over his knees and spanked his ass for that. But they hadn’t, and he didn’t even know what Ray enjoyed. Hell, he didn’t know if Ray knew what Ray enjoyed.
He patted Ray’s thigh. Friends. They were friends. Thank god. “Tell me what you know from your internet reading.”
Ray did, and it was about what Zavier expected, plus a few deeper topics. Information about safewords, consent, and subspace. But he’d also learned about the differences between sane, safe, consensual play and risk-aware consensual kink play. He’d looked into types of domination and bondage. Slavery. Pain and edge play.
“I’m not so sure about knives and things like that,” Ray said.
That Zavier understood. “I’m somewhat squeamish when it comes to blood, so you needn’t worry about that.” Aside from the whole man-loving-man thing that barred him from donating blood, he’d also fainted every fucking time. Not from giving his own, but seeing all those bags of other people’s blood. He shuddered.
“And yet, all your tattoos.”
Zavier grunted and rubbed his arms. Painful in their way, but so worth it. “Most of the time, I don’t see any, and it’s my blood. There’s a difference.”
Ray nodded absently.
“What turns you on?” That was what he really wanted to know. What fantasies could Zavier make come true for Ray—or torture him with?
Wants and desires apparently took a little more to pry out of Ray. He stammered, shifted in his seat, then got up and paced, his neck red and his body in motion.
The answer was, however, fairly close to what Zavier thought Ray might enjoy. Being tied up in various ways. A number of sex acts. Toys. Gags. Cuffs. Submission. Everything he loved to do to a willing partner, a willing submissive.
“But none of that humiliation shit. I get enough of that from Carl.”
“I will never treat you like that pile of assholes does.” That came out a little harsher than he intended, but the look in Ray’s face was priceless, full of thankfulness and hope.
Ray breathed out. “Can we—just—” He waved his hand. “Start?” All that energy, both the good and bad, had returned and was ramping him up.
“Very soon.” Zavier watched as Ray moved back and forth again. “How do you feel about spanking?”
A blush to high heaven. Excellent. Fire for Zavier’s blood.
“I’d—like to try that. Maybe more.”
“Flogging?”
Ray nodded. “I want to know what it feels like—if nothing else.”
“We can work up to it.” Zavier made a mental list of items he’d need to order and have shipped to their next hotel. They’d both enjoy their next day of downtime. So many ways to torment Ray zipped through Zavier’s mind. What he could do with a nice bed and some lengths of rope.
He pried out a few more details before Ray was too keyed up to continue—apparently descriptions and photos of cock-and-ball torture had made him both curious and horrified—that was also something they could see about trying, should the benefits part of their friendship work out well, but that was far too much to start with.
“Do you have a safeword in mind?”
Ray shook his head. “Linguini?” He laughed. “But no, I don’t know. What about red and yellow? I read about those, and I like the idea of a word that means slow down.”
“Perfect.” Everything was falling into place.
“Now what?” Ray stood still at last, and seemed to be holding his breath.
Zavier relaxed into the leather and crossed his arms. Time to take control. “Now we start.”
Chapter Sixteen
Ray stared at Zavier. “Now?” God, he hoped so. He’d been high and low and strung out, then Zavier had kissed him and the world had fallen away. But then he’d had to tell Zavier his desires. It was almost too much.
Zavier nodded. “As I said.”
“What do I do?” Anything. All Ray wanted was for Zavier to touch him or give him an order or—fuck him. He needed to be fucked. Wanted that so badly. He didn’t want to think anymore.
“You do whatever I tell you to.”
“This is bullshit.” He turned, pushed aside the privacy curtain and marched into the main part of the bus. He understood the whole submission idea, didn’t need Zavier coddling him.
He heard Zavier grunt, then rise. “Do you want this?” No accusations, no anger. So typically Zavier.
“Yes!” He whirled around and found Zavier standing at the entrance to the lounge. “Yes—just—” He ran his hands through his hair. “Tell me what to do!”
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nbsp; Zavier returned to his seat on the couch in the lounge. From there, he uttered one word. “Strip.”
The order was smooth and gentle and exactly what Ray had wanted, yet he struggled against it. He needed what Zavier offered. Craved it. But both the high from one of their best performances and the low of Carl’s dismissive and cruel words swam through his blood. Every bit of his body tingled and tensed. He stood in the middle of the space, staring but not seeing the bunks in front of him. The palms of his hands hurt from where his nails dug into his flesh.
“Ray.” Zavier relaxed on the couch, arms outstretched on the couch back and his long legs open enough that Ray could kneel between them. God, he was so beautiful. “Stop.”
He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “I’m trying.”
“You’re failing.” No malice, only simple fact.
He gritted his teeth. “What the hell do you want from me?”
A cock of the head and a raised eyebrow. “I’m not sure how ‘strip’ is in any way ambiguous.”
It wasn’t. Not at all. Ray unclenched his hands and forced himself to do what he so wanted to do: he toed off his shoes and pulled his shirt over his head. The AC of the bus cooled his overheated skin and he tossed the shirt onto his bunk. His hands shook, but he managed his belt, and the button and zipper on his jeans. Each move felt like fire and heaven.
He’d no idea why Zavier made him feel this way, made him want so much more than the friendship they’d finally managed. Control and surrender. He couldn’t stop thinking about Carl’s words. The energy of the crowd. Ray bit his lip and pushed both his jeans and underwear down. They pooled around his ankles and he kicked them out of the way, then removed his socks.
“That’s better.”
Zavier’s approval washed over him, etching into his bones and calming his nerves. Maybe if he did as told, his life might be better. Make more sense. At least for a little while. He was tired of the chaos that flowed around him.