by Anna Zabo
Couch was real leather, too. This close, his nose pressed against the cushion, there was no doubt. “I’m sorry I’m not what you want.” He’d never been what Zavier wanted. “I just wanted you to like me. Join my band.”
Fingers skimmed over his ass. “Ray, you’re exactly what I want.”
The shock and the sting of the first swat against his ass drove breath from Ray’s lungs.
“And I like you quite a lot.”
Another blow, harder than the first. The pain spread up his spine, then turned into heat and light, and Ray bit back a moan.
“And I’m in your damn band.” There was an edge to Zavier’s voice now, and when his hand landed, Ray cried out. Fuck, that hurt.
“I’m really tired of hearing about high school, so we’re not going to talk about that anymore.”
Zavier kept spanking him, and Ray squirmed and slid and cursed. Because each blow was fire that stung and made him shake, and each piece of that pain melted and shifted and made him want more. “Please,” he said between gasps for air, “Oh god, please.” His cock rocked against Zavier’s thigh with each blow.
“You know how to make me stop.” There was such a coolness to Zavier’s voice. So much command.
Ray whimpered. He did know. Problem was, he didn’t want Zavier to stop—he didn’t know what he wanted—but stopping wasn’t even on the list.
But after more blows—Ray didn’t even know how many—Zavier did stop. Ray gasped and sobbed. “Fuck, no. Don’t stop!”
“Shhh.” The pinch Zavier gave his ass cheek made Ray see spots and flooded his senses with that heady mix of pain that melted to pleasure. “I have you. And we’re not done.”
He tried to move his arms, failed, and remembered they were bound behind his back. He was in the back of a tour bus with Zavier Demos, who’d just spanked the hell out of him. “What the fuck are we doing?”
Zavier tapped his ass, and even that gentle touch sent shivers of pain-pleasure all through him. He groaned.
“Something we probably should have done a lot sooner, in retrospect.” A click-snap punctuated Zavier’s sentence and cool, slick liquid spread down Ray’s crack.
Lube. Oh god. He squirmed. He was already damn hard from the spanking, but this—even the anticipation had him losing his head and nearly his load.
As if reading his thoughts, Zavier spoke. “Don’t you dare come yet.” There was a growl to it. “Not until my cock is nice and deep inside you.”
Ray bit his tongue and fought every urge to come unglued right there and then. “Better fuck me soon, then.”
Three sharp blows to his ass had Ray gasping. “I’ll fuck you when I’m damn well ready.” Zavier teased a finger against Ray’s hole. “And you’re not ready at all.” He pressed a digit in.
Ray’s mind blurred and slipped away at the familiar pain and then the sweetness of being breached and filled. His breaths were closer to a long string of moans. “Please. Please please please.” God, oblivion was right there. He could taste the science and heat and light. Hell, he was already floating.
Zavier finger-fucked him, gently at first, then harder, hitting his prostate with each thrust until Ray couldn’t help seeking friction for his cock. He was so close. He wanted to let go and vanish into that heat. Would have, but for one little command. “Zav!”
A devilish chuckle. “You’re so damn beautiful, strung out. Almost makes me want to tease you for the rest of the night. Keep you right here—on edge until you can’t stand it. Until you’re begging me to let you come.”
He was already. “Zav, please.”
Zavier manhandled him, swinging him around until he was sitting on that lap again. Zavier’s hair was disheveled and the skin under those amazing tattoos was flush. And his eyes—oh god, they seemed to peer into Ray’s soul. Zavier moved them again, the muscles in his arms flexing, and he sat up and on the edge of the couch. Ray wrapped his legs around Zavier’s back and leaned in. His ass hurt from the spanking. No doubt it would hurt more when Zavier fucked him.
He’d never felt more vulnerable with anyone. Or more safe. Naked. Bound. In Zavier’s arms. He pressed his forehead against Zavier’s shoulder. “Please make the world go away.”
Teeth scraped against Ray’s skin. “I will. For you, I will.”
A wrapper ripped, Zavier rolled the condom down over his dick. More lube, then Zavier was lifting him up—fuck, he was strong. Drummer’s arms. Shoulders that Ray could lick and suck and bite.
Zavier lowered Ray slowly, and his cock was there, pressing against Ray’s hole, then stretching and burning. Ray groaned as Zavier entered him. The fullness, the pain that turned to sparks and heat in his blood.
“Oh,” Zavier breathed out. “Yes. Like that.”
Ray didn’t know what he was doing. He held on with his legs and cried out every time Zavier thrust up into him. This was going to kill him. The decadence, the sheer overload. Zavier pounding up, hard, fast, each stroke a perfection of light and sound and rhythm. Ray rocked in time, finding Zavier’s beat, and added his own melody of grunts and pleas and moans on top.
He wanted so badly to come. If his hands had been free, he’d have been beating himself off to get there. But Zavier had taken that away, and given him so much.
“Look at me,” Zavier murmured against his ear.
Their gazes met, and there was fire in those eyes as they tracked over Ray’s face. “That’s it, Ray, let go. Let it all go for me.” He held Ray’s hips in a bruising grip and thrust up hard. Again and again and again. “Give all of it to me.”
Ray was consumed by both ecstasy and agony. The concert. The high of fans screaming his name, the low of Carl’s snarl and his words. The fear he’d never be good enough. His rage at Zavier for saying no all those years ago. All those moments became the sobs, the cries, and the moans he threw at Zavier. He didn’t know what he was saying or if anything made sense, but Zavier didn’t stop moving inside him, didn’t stop the sweet and agonizing beat.
Zavier seemed to drink all of Ray’s words down with moans and cries of his own, until at last he wrapped a hand around Ray’s dick and pumped.
Different rhythm, faster and tighter. Ray wouldn’t last another second, no matter what command. “Zav, I can’t, I can’t...”
“Come for me, Ray. For me.”
The world split into light and the shattering music of sparks and colors, and his whole body burned. Ray was vaguely aware of Zavier’s surprised curse and his rhythm falling to pieces as he thrust into Ray’s body. At the end, Zavier held Ray, his cock buried inside, and his breath coming in huffs on Ray’s shoulder.
Everything was perfect. No noise, no chaos. Just the rumble of a motor, Zavier’s kiss on his shoulder, and Ray’s gloriously aching body. He held on to the oblivion until the colors faded and his leg told him this wasn’t the most comfortable arrangement.
But even then, some of the peace remained, so he closed his eyes and leaned into Zavier.
“That’s some benefits,” he murmured.
Zavier laughed, and that was heaven, too.
* * *
Zavier eased out of Ray, though he wished he could have remained buried longer. Wanted to hold on to the compliant and relaxed man in his arms for a few more minutes. But practicality won out over desire.
Besides, he needed to free Ray’s wrists. Took a bit to unwind the wrap—cuffs would have been easer, but he hadn’t thought of packing those. Or rather, he had, but decided against it because he wasn’t going to get involved with Ray.
He had absolutely no regrets about tonight. None. Ray had needed him, had needed this.
And so had he.
Once his arms were free, Ray wrapped them around Zavier’s neck. “Thank you.” It was a whisper of words. “You have no idea.”
Zavier rubbed his back. He knew, probably more than Ray realized. “Your
ass is going to hurt tomorrow.”
“Don’t care. Will remind me of you.”
Admittedly, he enjoyed the hell out of that thought—Ray aching and cursing, then remembering Zavier’s hands and cock. “Good.”
A chuckle from Ray.
“I need to get up,” Zavier said. “Lose the condom.”
Ray muttered something but relaxed, so Zavier shifted him over and poured him onto the leather cushions, grateful there was enough space to lay him out. Zavier stood and pulled off the rubber. In the adjoining tiny bathroom, he wrapped it in tissues and stuffed it in the trash.
When he stepped back into the lounge, Ray wiggled on the couch and winced. “Fuck, you’re brutal.”
“That was hardly brutal.” A little spanking and some fucking? He shook his head and chuckled. “But the real question is...did you enjoy it?”
Ray stilled. “Yes.” So much emotion was balled up into that one word. Ray reached for him...
...and Zavier went. Because after was just as important as before and during. Maybe more so. He lay down and wrapped himself around Ray, spooning against his back.
Ray settled in, relaxing against him. “I loved it,” he said. “Is that weird?”
“Not one bit.”
Ray trembled, the night catching up with him. The adrenaline slipping away. “You won’t use it against me, will you?”
“Never.” Zavier stroked his hair.
“Because I know I’m not—I’m not—” He gave a helpless grunt.
Oh, Ray. You’re far more than you believe. “Do you trust me?” Zavier whispered the question against Ray’s neck, and he shivered in Zavier’s arms, his body still trembling from orgasm, pleasure, and exhaustion.
“Yes.” Same answer as before. “God, yes. After tonight, I’ll never not trust you, Zav.”
He kissed the back of Ray’s neck. “Good. Because I want to tell you something. It’s not speculation, it’s not belief or opinion, it’s goddamned fact. You’re an astounding musician. And you work fucking hard. You love the fans.”
There was a catch to Ray’s breathing.
“Twisted Wishes...this band you’ve allowed me to join, to be a part of...is something so brilliant, I don’t know why the whole world isn’t falling at your feet, where it belongs.”
Ray huffed a laugh. “Now that’s an opinion.”
Zavier nipped the skin on his neck. “Hush. I’m not blowing smoke up your ass.”
“Just plowing your cock there.” Laughter and joy.
Yeah, he had, and he would again. As often as Ray liked and their schedule allowed. “Listen, Ray.”
He settled down and melted against Zavier.
“Carl’s gonna come at you again. Bastard like that can’t help it. He’ll look for that opening and jam in the blade, and it’s gonna hurt. And when it does, I want you to remember this moment, right now, with me.”
“Okay...” A whisper of breath warmed Zavier’s arm.
“There’s nowhere I’d rather be in this world, no job I’d rather have than in your band as your drummer. It’s a fucking honor to be here.”
Ray shook, then gulped a breath and something close to a sob burst out of him. “You...you...” Then he was crying. Silently, but unmistakably.
Good. If there was anyone who deserved to be cracked apart by truth and joy, it was Ray Van Zeller.
They stayed like that for a while, until Ray murmured and turned. “We gotta be close to wherever they’re stopping by now.”
Probably. Zavier gave Ray’s neck one more kiss, then let him go. They both rose.
For the amount of pleasure they’d had, there was surprisingly little debris. A condom wrapper. The bottle of lube. The length of sports tape he’d used to tie Ray up. Clothes. There were a few drops of lube or maybe semen on the leather, but that would wipe up easily.
“Why don’t you crawl into your bunk? I’ll clean up.”
“You sure?” Ray’s voice was still full of weight, with a touch of slurring. Either exhaustion or subspace. Didn’t matter, really.
Zavier hooked his arm in Ray’s. “Yeah. Let’s get you to bed.” Didn’t take much coaxing to clean the spunk off Ray or get him in his sweats. Ray even drank a bottle of water for him.
“I like this.” Ray slipped into the upper bunk.
“Being fucked?” He pulled the privacy curtain closed until just Ray’s head and shoulders were visible.
A sleepy, happy chuckle. “That too. So good.”
If that wasn’t it... “What do you like, Ray?”
Those whiskey-gold eyes looked up at him. “You taking care of me.”
Words as warm as Ray’s gaze, and they cascaded through Zavier, heating him in a way sex never did. This was joy—taking care of Ray, easing his burdens.
He leaned over and kissed Ray on the forehead. “It was my pleasure.”
Ray closed his eyes and murmured something Zavier didn’t catch—then fell asleep. He turned off the light in the bunk and carefully pulled the curtain the rest of the way shut.
A pleasure indeed, and an honor. He truly enjoyed Ray’s company and his friendship. Mish and Dom were good people, too, but Ray—he understood Ray. The drive and passion, and even the fear, too.
He hummed a few quiet bars from “White Hot Midnight,” found his own sweatpants to put on, and headed back into the lounge.
Cleaning up was easy. He wiped himself and the leather cushion, and shoved his clothes away, along with the tape, the condoms, and the lube. Ray’s things he folded and left on the couch in the lounge. Wouldn’t be out of place, since Ray had a habit of forgetting to pick up bits of his clothing.
But rather than crawl into his berth, he grabbed his tablet and settled into the seating area up front. The bus would be stopping soon. Plus, he was still high from Ray and his moans and cries—that on top of the warmth of pouring a happy Ray into bed.
His mailbox was hell—why the hell had he signed up for so many mailing lists? He needed another account just for spam and ten-percent-off coupons. He kept deleting mail until he reached a familiar name.
Nadia. Zavier hovered his finger over the message box. The preview read: Darling, be careful. There was an attachment.
His good humor fled and apprehension took up its nest. No choice, really. He tapped the screen.
A photo, dark and a little grainy, but unmistakably him and Ray, on the path between the venue and the buses. Taken with a telephoto, if he had to guess—because no one had been that close to them.
They weren’t touching, but that didn’t matter, since both of their expressions were clear. Two men, either about to fight or fuck.
Shit. He didn’t hide his sexuality, never had. Neither had Ray. But the press was horrible about queer men who were having enjoyable sex lives—and this was exactly the kind of stress Ray didn’t need. Especially not after tonight. Especially not with Carl breathing down his neck.
Zavier turned off the tablet. There was nothing he could do. Tomorrow, he’d see what the damage online was, then talk to Ray.
Tonight, he’d keep enjoying the time he’d spend giving Ray exactly what he’d needed.
Chapter Seventeen
The murmur of conversation over the rumble of the bus woke Ray. He was sore in a way he hadn’t been in so long, and that was damn good. Zavier had fucked him. Spanked and fucked him. Made him cry with pain, pleasure, and understanding, then taken him out of this world.
Wasn’t love—Zavier had been pretty darn clear about that—but it was something strong. Friendship. Caring. Ray trusted Zavier, and Zavier liked him. Behind the weight of that utter truth, all the shit Carl had said slid into the background.
“You should show him.” Dom’s voice.
“I will.” Zavier did one of his bitter chuckle things. “I didn’t realize what the pictures of us onstage looke
d like to everyone.”
Mish snorted. “Oh, hon. For how observant you are, you have a huge fucking blind spot, don’t you?”
“You’re not the first to say that.”
The coffee machine gurgled. Oh, thank god. Ray flipped over onto his back and every nerve fired at once. “Ow, fuck!” He clamped a hand over his mouth, but the damage was done. They knew he was awake now.
Mish was laughing. By the time Ray crawled out of his bunk and flopped into his usual spot on the couch—wincing as he did—Dom was blushing, probably because he’d seen Ray too many times the morning after a good round of sex. Plus Zavier had that smirk.
“So you did fuck last night.” Dom looked right at Ray, but reading his expression was impossible, because it looked a little like relief and that couldn’t be right.
Zavier held up the carafe. “Coffee, Ray?”
“Please.” He cleared his throat and met Dom’s gaze. “Yeah. We fucked last night.”
“Took you long enough.” Dom looked longingly at the coffeepot.
What? “Umm...” He stared at Dom.
“Jesus, you guys have wanted into each other’s pants since the audition.” Dom rolled his eyes. “Then you were such shits to each other with the taunting and teasing. It was getting damn annoying.”
Ray didn’t know what to say. Zavier was blatantly not looking his way at all as he poured two mugs, though his smile was that fucking know-it-all number he wore sometimes. Ray settled on watching Mish.
She shrugged. “I’m with Dom on this. You guys got it out of your system?”
It was Zavier who answered. “No.” A simple word. He handed Ray coffee and sat next to him with his own. “Not at all.”
Now Dom had that fucking smirk. “Yeah, didn’t think it would be that easy for either of you.”
Well—yeah, Ray wasn’t satisfied with only one night with Zav. Didn’t expect it to be just one night, either. Especially not when it came to the whole spanking and ordering part. He wanted more of that—and more of Zavier screwing him into mindless pleasure. But also more of that singular understanding. The way Zav had tucked him in.