by Anna Zabo
“Come here.” Zavier pointed to a spot in front of him. “And kneel.”
Too far away for a blowjob. Still, Ray did as told, shedding the part of him that chafed, that wanted to rebel. He walked back into the lounge area and dropped to his knees exactly where Zavier had pointed.
“Have you ever done yoga?”
Odd question, but he answered, “Yeah. Not seriously, but yeah.”
“Do you remember child’s pose?”
He did. It was simple and relaxing. “Of course.”
“Put your forehead on my shoes, and stretch your arms behind you.” Zavier closed his legs.
God. Humiliation flooded Ray. This wasn’t sex. It was subservience. He searched Zavier’s face.
He found laughter dancing in Zavier’s eyes, and an emotion he couldn’t identify. “Do you trust me, Ray?” he asked.
Yes. No. He nodded slowly. In the end, the answer was yes.
Zavier leaned forward and cupped Ray’s face, his palm warm. “Then do as I ask.”
He closed his eyes and did as told, folding forward and pressing his forehead against the leather of Zavier’s shoes. It was exactly as humiliating as he thought it would be. Naked and prone. There was nothing sexy or hot about Zavier’s order.
The bus lumbered on and the rumble of the wheels on tarmac vibrated through every inch of Ray’s bones. His muscles clenched and unclenched, and seconds dragged by. Zavier said nothing, though beneath Ray’s forehead and the leather on which he rested, toes moved, enough to remind him exactly where he was.
On a bus, stripped and bowing to Zavier Demos.
He hated it, but not enough to move. Do you trust me? Yes. Plus, he wanted to see where this friendship with benefits went. What Zavier meant to do with him and to him. His flesh warmed at that thought even as he squirmed against it.
But the seconds and minutes ticked by without so much as a word from on high. Hell, he couldn’t even hear Zavier breathe over the deep throb of the bus on the road. Infuriating. This was so damn dumb. What the hell did Zavier want? What was Ray supposed to do? Just bow here forever? He shifted and flexed. He should sit up, tell Zavier to fuck off, and go curl up in his berth.
Do you trust me?
No. He didn’t. Zavier wasn’t any different than that asshole dickwad Carl, always on his back, always griping about something. Not good enough? Hell, the concert tonight had been perfect. Their best yet! He hadn’t been out of tune. He knew he hadn’t. And the fans had responded, screaming and dancing and singing along with Ray. The light in their eyes when he ran into the crowd. The signs. Mish leaping and twirling across the stage. Dom shredding every chord. Zavier—
Ray’s breath caught.
Zavier had played as if his very soul were in the music, his arms flying, his body soaked in sweat, ecstasy in his face. He’d played exactly like they all had, with love and passion and an intensity that made Ray ache to reclaim. They’d been a band. Twisted Wishes at their finest.
Afterward, Zavier had clapped Ray on the back, and his grin and the shine in his eyes speaking the words they could hear over the thunder of the audience clapping and screaming. They’d all done so fucking well. That had carried straight to backstage. The rest of the night had been a whirlwind of autographs and slaps on the back. Then Carl had pulled Ray aside and dumped a verbal bucket of ice water all over everything.
Ray needed to up his game.
Except he didn’t know how. If tonight hadn’t been good enough for Carl and if the execs had been lying like Carl said...then they were fucked.
He sighed down into Zavier’s shoes. Maybe what the band needed was a different vocalist, because obviously he wasn’t cutting it despite doing his best. But that would mean leaving behind the very thing he’d spent years creating. God, he was so tired. He pressed his forehead against Zavier’s shoes and let the rest of his body melt toward the floor until his skin hummed with the sound of the motor and his tears slid down onto the leather.
They were fucked. He didn’t know how to fix it. He couldn’t fix it. They were done.
The couch creaked and fingers stroked his hair. “Oh, Ray.” Zavier’s voice was a murmur of warmth and kindness. “What did that shitbag say to you?”
Carl’s words flittered to the surface of Ray’s thoughts, and he spoke into the floor of the bus. “That our performance tonight was barely adequate. That I needed to do better. I’m barely pulling my own weight in the band.” He paused. “My singing was sharp.”
Zavier stiffened, even to his toes. Those pressed up against Ray’s forehead. A moment later, his hand cupped Ray’s neck. “Sit up, please.”
Ray did, moving slowly. The tiny world of the tour bus swam like he’d been drinking Kevin’s Jack Daniels. When he settled onto his heels, Zavier was before him, kneeling on the same floor. For a second time, Ray’s breath caught.
Zavier cupped each side of Ray’s face with his warm, rough hands. His beautiful drummer’s hands. Ray closed his eyes.
A thumb swept over his cheek, and coolness followed. His tears. God, what did Zavier think of that? Weak. Pathetic.
“Look at me.” Soft, soft words, but a command nonetheless.
Ray peeled open his eyes and met Zavier’s earnest gaze.
“Where did I go to school?”
“Juilliard.”
Zavier nodded. “That makes me a Juilliard-trained professional musician, right?”
Fucking asshole. Ray ground his teeth and tried to nod.
A faint, sad smile, and Zavier’s thumb brushed Ray’s cheek again. “I’m not saying this out of hubris. I want you to understand—I’ve spent years having music theory crammed into my skull. I’ve been trained by the best in the world and I’ve played with the best in the world, Ray.”
“Yeah?” He couldn’t keep the cocky snarl out of his voice. “Must be nice.”
“Sometimes it was. Other times it was absolute hell.” He paused. “You’re the most talented musician I’ve ever known. You’re certainly one of the hardest working. And you have never, ever sung sharp in any of our concerts.”
The bus swam around Ray and his lungs burned. “Fuck you.” He threw the words out like a shield, something to block the openness in Zavier’s expression, the honesty.
Those damn thumbs again, smoothing over flesh. Soothing his pain away along with his tears. “You know I’m not lying.”
Ray pressed his lips closed. He wanted to shake his head, but Zavier held him, like a soft, velvet vise. Hands, words, and looks. He was, both literally and figuratively, naked before the man.
“This was supposed to be sex,” Ray croaked.
Zavier chucked. “Oh, we’ll get to that, but I need to know you’re okay first.”
“I’m okay.”
Another chuckle. “There’s something else I know, besides the fact that you’re a damned excellent vocalist and songwriter. Do you know what it is?”
Couldn’t shake his head, so he glared at Zavier. “No.”
“Carl Roberts is a fucking liar. Just about every sentence that waste of space utters is false and designed to undermine you, cut you down, and make you second guess yourself.”
A shudder ran through Ray, like a chill, but so much deeper. Ice in his bones. “Why?” The question burst out of his soul.
Once more, Zavier’s thumbs eased the pain erupting in Ray. A simple motion. Intimate. “I don’t know. I can’t figure him out. But he lies, Ray. He lies. Don’t trust anything he says.” Finally, Zavier slipped his hands from Ray’s face. “When we stood on stage, after the encore, how did you think the concert went?”
“It was the best we’ve ever done.” His throat was so dry, but he didn’t want to move, didn’t want to break whatever spell had Zavier kneeling here with him. “Absolutely amazing.”
A slow nod from Zavier. “Yeah. I felt it, too. We clicked and eve
rything went higher. And the fans...” He got a distant, haunted look, before focusing back on Ray. “I bet you anything the press will contradict Carl.”
“The label exec seemed happy, but Carl...”
“Lies.”
Maybe. Yeah. The knot Ray had been carrying in his stomach since his talk with Carl eased. If the press loved them and the fans loved them, then that would impress the label, too. “Do you think we can play a show like that again?”
“Yes.” That one word was absolute, and it slid over Ray like he wanted Zavier’s hand to.
He shivered. “I trust you.”
“Now you do.” Zavier’s tone had shifted to something deeper. Rich and dark. His smile matched, and a spark of lust flamed in Ray.
He swallowed. “What now?”
“Now?” Zavier cocked his head. “Now you undo the first button on my shirt.”
Ray’s pulse ticked up and his cheeks warmed. Even more when Zavier lifted an eyebrow. He leaned forward, too aware of the motion of the bus and the huff of Zavier’s breath. He did as he’d been told.
Before he could sit back, Zavier whispered, “And the next.”
When he’d undone the second button, lips grazed his neck. “Keep going.”
Oh god. Every part of Ray heated and his cock was hardening with Zavier’s every breath against his skin. He kept going until Zavier’s shirt was open in front.
“Push it off.”
He did, and the skin beneath his hands was hot and smooth. Fabric slipped off those shoulders, revealing all of Zavier’s ink. Every line, figure, color, and swirl. Ray wanted to mouth those shoulders, kiss the knotwork on Zavier’s pecs.
Zavier shrugged the shirt off his wrists. “Sit back on your heels.”
The pulse in Ray’s ears sounded louder when Zavier rose and towered over him. He was eye level with the impressive bulge in Zavier’s pants.
Fingers brushed Ray’s hair. “Yes, you can unbutton my jeans.” Amusement in that voice.
Ray really wanted to see what Zavier looked like naked. Where those tattoos led, what else was inked. His length and girth. The muscles of his thighs. How much hair he had. Everything. Ray undid the button and nearly went for the zipper—but stopped.
“Very good.” Zavier’s murmur felt like a kiss on Ray’s back, and every hair stood up in pleasure. “Now the zipper.”
He pulled the tab down, and waited. Zavier’s underwear was black and cotton, but whether briefs or some other style, he couldn’t tell. Nor did he find out, because Zavier pushed both down, freeing his dick and exposing the rest of his body.
Tattoos snaked down onto his hips and across his lower abs, and jutting from a thick bed of curls was Zavier’s cock. Not overly long, not overly thick. Like every other inch of Zavier’s body, it was too fucking perfect. “You’re unreal.”
A chuckle, and Zavier stroked himself. “I could say the same.” He slipped two fingers under Ray’s chin and lifted until Ray was staring up at him. “Have you bottomed, Ray? Sucked cock?”
He shivered, and not from the AC. Hell, this close to Zavier naked, close enough to take that dick into his mouth, Ray was blazing with heat. “Yes. Both. Though—it’s been a while since I’ve bottomed.”
“You prefer topping?” Curiosity there.
“No.”
Zavier’s smile deepened at that.
That made Ray’s pulse rocket up. “But...people expect rock stars to be a certain way.”
A chuckle from Zavier. “I don’t.”
“That’s because you’ve been a rock star all your life.”
His smile slipped away. He touched Ray’s cheek. “No, I haven’t. I was lucky and privileged, that’s all.”
“Yet here I am, on my knees for you.” For Zavier. He closed his eyes.
Fingers danced over his cheek. “We can stop. If you need to, we can stop.”
Emotions tripped over inside Ray. The need for Zavier. All those years of wanting the man. His brashness and now his tenderness. None of it made sense, and at the same time—it did.
“I don’t want to stop.” He didn’t know why there were tears in his voice or eyes. He wanted the world to make sense.
“Ray, look at me.”
He forced his eyes open, made himself look up, up that glorious body and into those blue eyes.
“Do you trust me?”
That question again. “Yes.”
Oh, the grin. Part sweet, part devil. “Then suck my cock.”
He didn’t even hesitate, because this, this was what he wanted. He wrapped his lips around the tip and tasted the salt and musk of him. Slid his tongue around that shaft and took as much as he could inside, sucking and licking and mouthing the thickness.
Fingers curled into his hair. “Oh fuck, that’s good.” Zavier rocked back slightly.
Yeah, it was. So damn good. Zavier’s heat, the way he filled Ray’s mouth. The desire that sped down Ray’s body straight to his balls as he sucked and tasted him. The burn of his scalp from his hair being held. He slid his hands up Zavier’s thighs, wanting more, wanting to be claimed and fucked. He tried to take more in—once he’d been able to deep-throat just about any guy—but Zavier pulled back. Ray moaned in frustration.
A click of Zavier’s tongue was all it took to spiral worry down the same path need had taken just moments before. “As much as I would love to face-fuck you until I come down your throat—you do actually need that for other things.”
Like singing tomorrow night. Damn Zavier for being...responsible. Still didn’t stop Ray from trying and being stymied over and over again. He grabbed Zavier’s ass—
—and was rewarded by Zavier stepping away. Fuck! He met Zavier’s gaze. There wasn’t anger there, nor disappointment. But Zavier wasn’t exactly pleased with him.
“Do you understand what submission is, Ray?”
He shivered. He was supposed to do what Zavier said. Except he was also kind of doing what he wanted. Fighting with Zavier for control, trying to make him—Oh. Oh shit. He’d been trying to make Zavier face-fuck him anyway.
“I expect an answer.”
“I—I do. But—I’m not really doing a good job, am I?”
“No, no, you’re not. You need to let go, Ray. Let me give you what you need.”
He chewed on his tongue. “So what happens when I don’t obey?”
The corner of Zavier’s mouth quirked up. “You’re about to find out.”
Ray couldn’t help the swallow of fear, or the blaze of heat that followed. What the hell? But he kind of did want to know what Zavier would do.
“Wait here.” With that, Zavier stepped around him, and out into the main part of the bus.
Ray went stone cold. Was Zavier leaving? Was he—what was he doing? Ray nearly twisted, nearly stood, but Zavier’s question—the one he kept asking—flitted through Ray’s mind. Do you trust me?
Everything in him melted. Yes. He did. He needed to start acting like it.
Zavier touched Ray’s hair, and those warm fingers trailed down to his neck and back. “I know this is hard for you.”
“It shouldn’t be.” The weird tears were back in his voice. “Should be easy.” Sex usually was. He’d turn off his brain and fuck and everything would be fine.
A soft laugh. “Ray, you’ve been fighting for years. For your music, for respect, for your bandmates. I’m not surprised you’re fighting me.”
He’d been fighting Zavier since his audition.
Zavier slipped past and took a seat on the couch again, dropping a few objects next to him. He was still hard, which shocked Ray.
Ray wasn’t anymore. The desire he’d had before had slipped away. “I don’t want to fight you, Zav.”
“I know.” He gestured for Ray to stand. “Come here and turn around.”
Took a little to get up, both f
rom his legs being numb and the rocking of the bus, but he did as told. He gasped when Zavier’s hands closed on his hips, when leather creaked and Zavier’s hot mouth pressed into the small of his back. Fire flooded him, and his flagging cock revived. Every nerve tingled when Zavier nipped his teeth and traced tongue and lips over Ray’s ass. His legs wanted to give out from under him.
“Oh fuck, that’s—” He lost all words when Zavier bit him hard. Really fucking hard.
He let out a long moan. Fuck, that hurt, but also felt so damn good. He’d probably bruise.
“Like that?”
“Yeah,” he whispered. “It’s hot.”
“Mmm.” Zavier captured one of his wrists, then the other, and pulled them both behind Ray’s back. He kissed each pulse point. “I’m going to bind your hands together.”
Heat flashed everywhere and Ray wavered, his lungs light. Fear of being in someone else’s power, and delight for the same damn reason. Zavier’s gonna tie me up. How many times had he come in the dark, quiet hum of the bus fantasizing about that with Zavier sleeping below him? “Okay.”
Another kiss to Ray’s back. “I promise I’ll take care of you.” Zavier crossed one wrist over the other, and held them in a tight grip.
Movement, then Zavier was wrapping his wrists with something. Not rope, not fabric.
Ray couldn’t help the moan. He’d watched enough porn where men got tied up. Wondered what it felt like. Sometimes even wrapped a wrist with whatever was handy to try to see, but nothing prepared him for the way he wanted to melt to his knees, nor the heat of being held by Zavier—or the sheer sense of security. Holy fuck, he didn’t understand that.
Another kiss. Words murmured against Ray’s skin. “It’s okay.”
Whatever Zavier was using stretched a bit, but after a couple more winds, Ray’s hands were well and truly tied behind his back, and everything seemed light and wavy. “Zav.” His speech was weird.
“Yes?” Strong arms held him. Zavier’s hand pressed against his stomach.
“Can I—kneel again? ’Cause I’m gonna fall over.”
A small laugh. “And here I was going to tie you up and spank you—but seems that’s not punishment at all, is it?” Zavier pulled Ray down against him. Moving and rotating him until he was, in fact, lying across Zavier’s lap.