by Anna Zabo
But it hurt that it hadn’t been him, that they hadn’t reached that point yet in their relationship.
And there—right there—was the twist that left Zavier breathless.
Whether he liked it or not, whether he acknowledged it or not, he was in a relationship with Ray Van Zeller. They were kink partners. They thoroughly enjoyed each other’s bodies. They were bandmates. They were friends. Best friends.
Zavier pried his eyes open and stared back up at the ceiling.
Maybe that was the difference. Ray had become a friend on top of everything else—or rather, they’d been friends first. He didn’t become friends with the people he fucked, because that only led to expectations he couldn’t fulfill, and even then he still had issues, like with Dimitri.
And he’d never fucked with anyone he’d become friends with. He’d made some friendships at Juilliard, but they’d been based around music and nothing else, and he’d never bedded one of them. His strange friendship with Nadia had been all about kink and not at all about sex. Aside from the one time she’d tied him up and flogged him, they hadn’t even touched but for chaste hugs. Neither of them had ever been interested in the other sexually. Sure, Nadia liked to tease about his sexiness, but that was born from her sadism—it made Zavier uncomfortable.
Since Juilliard, he hadn’t made many friends. Dom and Mish were both good friends now since they were also a band. They’d lived on top of each other for almost three months. You didn’t go through that without forming bonds.
Ray was everything, though. He fit into Zavier’s life so damn comfortably. Ray was his best friend and a man who understood him. A sweet submissive who listened, and didn’t, in equal, intoxicating measure. Someone who enjoyed sex as much as Zavier did. Ray was also an exquisite musician in his own right. That Zavier could help Ray relax and lift the world off for a while—well. That was also a turn-on and a kink.
Service top, indeed. Nadia had pinned that on him early on.
That would explain why not being able to help Ray had been so fucking devastating. Coupled with everything else? Yeah, he had needed to run away, or at least run until he found the space to process it all.
Why that space had to be a shitty motel room, he didn’t know. Note to self: next time, run off to a five-star place. Order a rare steak and a bottle of fine wine. Skip the antacids.
Next time, he’d take Ray with him.
Zavier shivered. He hoped the note had been enough to keep Ray calm. He owed Ray an explanation, but at least, for now, he had one other than “need to work shit out.”
One thing he did know—Ray was capable. He was strong. He’d be fine. And Mish and Dom would watch out for him. Zavier would go back. He was going back. First thing tomorrow. He’d take a look at his GPS and figure out where the hell he was, and chart a course home to Ray.
Zavier rose, grabbed the toothbrush and toothpaste, and headed into the bathroom. The best thing he could do now would be to sleep until Ray called him. He had no doubt his phone would ring eventually.
* * *
The ringing of his cell woke Zavier up. Phone said it was just past eleven-thirty and the screen blurred when he tried to blink sleep away. His vision sharpened when he realized the caller was Ray. Thank goodness. He would’ve headed back in the morning regardless, but he wanted to hear Ray’s voice.
He answered. “Hey.”
“Zav? You okay?” Ray’s voice was so clear. Full of wonder and worry, too.
Reasonable question. Zavier toyed with the answer, the edge of sleep making his emotions—and everything else—sluggish. “I am now, yeah.” All the tension was gone, whether from being asleep or having screwed his head back on, he wasn’t sure. “What about you?”
A laugh. “I’m fine. I miss you, but I’m fine.”
“I miss you, too.” Because he did, but the phrase—even in his own voice—made him groan. “I think that’s the single sappiest thing I’ve ever uttered in my life. Please don’t take it the wrong way.”
A long pause from the other end, then a whisper of words. “You’re allowed to miss your friends, you know.”
The little bit of hurt woven into Ray’s voice tugged at Zavier’s conscience. “I do know. And I do mean it. I just wonder how many people actually do, you know? Or if it’s just one of those things people say.” He rubbed his face. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I just woke up. I’m...more jumbled than normal.”
“You’re never jumbled. It’s interesting to hear you like this.” There was that little twist of amusement on the other end. “Keep going. I wanna hear more.”
He could almost see Ray’s smirk. “If you were here, I’d turn you over my knee for that tone.”
The response became far more grave and deep. “If you were here, I’d gladly take the beating and love every second of it. But you’re not here, Zav.” An exhale. “There’s so much I want to tell you.”
Heat in his blood, both at spanking Ray and listening to him. Seeing him. “I’m coming home, Ray. Tomorrow.”
There was a crinkle on the other end. “Never doubted. I figured you needed space and you said you weren’t leaving. You’ve never lied to me.”
It was so damn good to be connected again. He had missed Ray, more than he wanted to ever say. His partner. Zavier’s body sang with warmth. “Tell me about your day.”
“You mean the part after I freaked out because you weren’t here?”
“I’m betting you’re exaggerating about freaking out. You’re incapable of that before your first cup of coffee.”
A cough and a laugh. “Okay, yeah, might be stretching the freak-out part. I was worried, but fine, once Mish said you’d left a note and—never mind.”
That was interesting. “She said what, Ray?”
“She said that you love me.”
Oh. The coolness of the shitty hotel room settled down over Zavier.
Ray babbled through the phone, his pitch higher, and breathless. “But that’s not right, is it? You don’t love me, not like hearts and flowers love and—”
“Ray, stop.” Ray was getting perilously close to explaining aromanticism, and Zavier really didn’t need that right now. “I do care deeply for you.”
“That’s what I told her. She said there’s all kinds of love.”
God, he really did wish he were next to Ray, who was undoubtedly a nice shade of embarrassed-as-all-fuck, and Zavier could so play with that. But who knew how many miles and hours of driving separated them? “There are all kinds of love, yes. But I have a very difficult time with the word love because it’s been soaked by society with so many things I don’t understand or feel.”
“I know. I—”
“Shush. Please.” Silence on the other end. Good. “I drove out here to wherever the hell I am because I needed time in my head. I’ve had that, I’ve figured my shit out, and I’m coming back. But it’s too fucking much right now to explain over the phone.” His voice cracked a little, which he hated.
“Okay.” Ray was breathless.
“You know I care, Ray. We’re incredibly tangled up in each other’s lives, and I don’t want that to end.”
Ray gave a little bark of a laugh. “Can I say something now?”
Maybe there was a touch of heat rising to Zavier’s cheeks at the Ray’s rueful voice. “Sure.”
“I’m not worried. You said to call when I was ready. Well, I’m ready.”
He had scrawled that onto his note. “What are you ready for?”
“You. Us. The band. Whatever the future holds.” There was a pause and more rustling—Ray was either getting up or sitting down. “I talked to a lawyer today.”
Oh. That was good. Calm settled into Zavier’s bones. Ray was fine. He’d come through and out the other side of this crisis and taken charge. While he so enjoyed taking care of Ray, there were limits—both for Ray’s good and for Zavier�
�s. Twisted Wishes was Ray’s band. What Carl did, he’d done to Ray. The person to solve all of that couldn’t be Zavier.
He ran a hand through his hair. “Do you have a plan?”
“Yeah. Or at least I know what I want and we’ve talked about what’s most likely and what to aim for.” There was a thump, and Zavier was pretty sure Ray was pacing. “I gave my statement to the police, too. Now it’s just a matter of waiting for wheels to turn and legal people to talk to each other. But we do have them over a barrel, in many ways.”
Well, yes. Carl’s malicious actions had threatened Ray’s life. “Sounds like you have everything in hand.”
A chuckle. “Or at least have found other capable hands to put the problem into.” There was a pause. “Zav, I need you, though. I can do this shit, sure. But having you here—just here in the room—would make all of this so much easier.”
“Moral support.”
“More than moral support. You believe in me. You have since you walked into that audition, even when I was being a little shit to you.”
Zavier rolled onto his side. “Yeah, I do, and I did even back then.” He studied the wrinkles in the sheets. “I wish I were there, Ray, because I’d lay you out on that big hotel bed and show you exactly how proud I am of you. How much I believe in you.” Wouldn’t that be a treat? He stroked his hardening length.
There was a groan on the other end of the line. “Shit. How am I supposed to go to bed now?”
“Well, there are a bunch of toys in my bag.”
A laugh. “Is this gonna turn into a phone sex thing? You telling me what to do to get myself off?”
“No.” He kept his voice soft. “I’m really tired. I only slept a couple hours at a truck stop last night.” He’d driven until hunger and exhaustion had taken him off the road. A few hours later, his brain—and a couple of eighteen-wheelers lumbering past—had put him back on the road. “And the sooner I wake up tomorrow, the sooner I can come home.”
There was a catch in Ray’s breathing. “That’s twice you’ve said home.”
“Yes. You’re home, Ray. Wherever you are.”
Another hitch in Ray’s breathing. “I—feel similar.”
Zavier heard the other words, the ones Ray was trying so hard not to say for Zavier’s benefit. It was endearing and a kindness. “You know what I want to fall asleep to?”
“What?”
“The thought of you pulling that dildo out of my bag and banging yourself with it until you come with my name on your lips.”
“Oh fuck.” That came out as a moan.
Zavier chuckled and ran his thumb over the head of his dick. “Can you do that for me?”
“Yeah. I can.”
“Good.” He paused. “Good night, Ray. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Ray exhaled. “Good night, Zav. You’re evil, you know?”
He just laughed and disconnected the call. Yeah, he was. But for all that he was tormenting Ray, he was tormenting himself as well. He set his phone on the nightstand, then delved into the fantasy he’d set for Ray, knowing that in that large hotel room, Ray would be fucking himself senseless.
Zavier came faster than he wanted, pumping his jizz out all over his chest. The orgasm was entirely unfulfilling, except to help exhaust him more. Too tired to get up, he wiped himself off with the bed sheet. Sleep would be an indulgence, and tomorrow?
Tomorrow he’d join Ray in that big hotel bed of his...of theirs.
* * *
Ray woke the next morning far too early to bother Mish or Dom. Living in what amounted to two hotel rooms without Zavier and without being able to leave was weird and getting uncomfortable. He didn’t venture over to Mish’s or Dom’s rooms, because he didn’t want to intrude on their privacy. They’d had to deal with all of this shit, too—it was the least he could do. He expected they would wander over when they were up and dressed, and they’d all order room service.
Apparently there were less paparazzi hanging around the hotel, but some still lingered. His lawyer had suggested they lay low, as had the cops. So they had.
But the hotel life was wearing thin. He hoped they could figure out what the next steps were soon so they all could move on. At least the label was still paying for the hotel, though Ms. Gonfaus said their firm would pick up costs if the label decided not to pay, and then tack that on to their demands.
He killed some time with a long, hot shower to ease away his aches, both from stress and from his activities last night.
After Ray had hung up with Zavier, he’d done exactly what Zavier had requested. He’d gone into Zav’s bag and pulled out a dildo—one Zavier hadn’t used on him yet—a condom and lube. Then he’d fucked himself to exhaustion. And yeah, he’d cried out Zavier’s name while shooting his load.
Intense and primal, the orgasm had left him both fulfilled and gutted. He wanted Zavier, wanted his touch and his hands. He was so fucking in love with Zav that it hurt when he thought about him. There were times when he absolutely wanted to fall at Zav’s feet and blather on about what Zav meant to him. Except Zavier would be confused and perplexed at best. At worst, he’d be horrified at Ray and his over-the-top emotions.
He couldn’t fault Zavier. From a certain point of view, falling in love did seem like a kind of temporary madness that either evened out into something solid, steady, and calm. Or it shattered, leaving behind a trail of pain and pieces to gather and start again.
But he couldn’t help what he felt any more than Zavier could. It was absolutely enough that Zavier cared about him and wanted to be with him. They were friends, and the sex, with the added bonus of Ray’s newfound kink, was incredible. Plus, he got to see Zavier play drums all the damn time, and that was its own glory.
Content, Zav had said at one point. Yeah, that summed it up nicely. Maybe more than content. Happy. He’d let Zavier set the pace. After all, he liked Zavier in charge—at least in some circumstances.
He appreciated the headspace Zavier had given him with the kink and the sex and the friendship, but in the end, Twisted Wishes was his to lead. He’d built the band from high school. It was only fitting that he take them into whatever lay in the future. He’d also taken the brunt of Carl’s shit. Yes, he’d consult Dom, Mish, and Zav, but he would be the leader—and a better one than before.
Sadly, showering, dressing, and ruminating didn’t take that much time, even when done leisurely. Still no sign of Mish or Dom, and he wasn’t about to text either of them. They deserved their sleep. None of this, especially his medical crisis, had been kind to them, and he’d be a fool to think that it hadn’t affected or stressed them out.
Which left him alone in two big rooms with very little to do. He glanced around his room until his gaze lingered on his tablet. Shit, well, he was kind of curious about how the media was spinning this. Hell, he had no idea if Zav had managed to slink out of town unnoticed, and if he hadn’t, how was that being talked about?
With trepidation in his soul, he approached the device and picked it up. Only one way to know for sure. Ray flopped down in the nearest chair, turned the thing on, and started the rounds on the usual sites.
In the end, the press wasn’t that bad. Interesting in places, too. Lots of confusion and speculation. No mention of Zavier leaving, so he must have managed to avoid the reporters and the paparazzi.
Ray was gonna grill Zav about how to do that. Fucking magical. He wanted that skill.
Of course, there were the awful photos of him unconscious on a stretcher being worked on and moved to the ambulance, and ones of Domino climbing in, in his full persona. Speculation as to why it wasn’t Zavier, ranging from them having broken up—which very few people believed—to Zavier being held for questioning by the police—which was closer to the truth.
There were also photos of Zavier, from when he left the club to head to the hospital. Fuck, he looked tired in thos
e. And grim, his mouth pulled into a tight line. Worry carving deep fissures around his eyes. Anger when he spotted the press photographing him.
But he hadn’t said a thing, only gotten into a cab bound for the hospital.
The pictures of Carl getting hauled away in handcuffs were something else. Ray was glad he hadn’t put anything in his stomach yet because his gut fucking rebelled. Sick and hot and angry—it hit him all at once, leaving him breathless and heaving.
There was the man who’d nearly killed him. The man who’d been supposedly shepherding them through stardom, and working for their best interests. Carl looked wild and desperate and utterly guilty in those photos, and once the initial shock had worn off, the only thing in Ray’s heart for that bastard was contempt.
The speculation about why Carl was arrested was all over the map, everything from gay-bashing to being enamored with Ray or Zavier or both, to being some kind of spy for another band.
What bothered Ray the most was that he still didn’t know the reasons behind Carl’s actions. He shook his head and searched on. And rammed up against pages upon pages of text and photos and tweets that made his eyes water and his throat tighten. He set the tablet down and got up to pace.
Get-well messages. Outpourings of love and concern. Photos of signs and cards and little vigils with candles and lights, entire Instagrams worth of messages. It was everything and far more than he deserved.
I’m just a guy who sings.
He could almost hear Zavier’s laugh and the words he’d probably say. You’re so much more than that, Ray.
On the one hand, his lawyer said to lay low. On the other hand, he probably should say something to the fans. They did have an official Twitter account for the band, but Dom managed that. Ray headed back to the tablet and called it up.
Nope. No statement at all.
Well, something to talk to Ms. Gonfaus about. He was about to flip over to his personal email when his phone buzzed with a text. He scrambled for it. Could be Mish or Dom, but it could be Zavier, too, now that he had Ray’s number.
Dom’s name was blazoned across the top of the phone. Yo. You up?