Did Sid want to break things up and didn’t know how to approach the topic?
Sure, when this relationship started, Sid had suggested that it would only last for the duration of the tour—a convenient way for them both to blow off some steam—but things have surely changed since then. Sid had shown Asher his vulnerable side and had been so pliant, so upfront about longing for the kind of sex Asher could offer him that Asher stopped considering their arrangement as something temporary.
Maybe Sid wanted to be pushed? That seemed to be his thing overall. Maybe all the times he’d given Asher the cold shoulder recently were in fact provocations?
With his brain turning into a cloud of white smoke, Asher could barely think straight. The open room ahead came about like an answer to his problems, and he hauled Sid inside, shutting the door behind him.
The smell of damp and beer filled the air as he eyed Sid, who watched him in silence, standing next to a collection of beer barrels that had been stored here.
For a moment, Asher forgot how to speak, just watching the endlessly long legs, the firm, if narrow, torso, and the expressive, sharp features of Sid’s face.
Sid frowned. “What is this?” He put on the tank top he’d been carrying, as if he wished to emphasize his body was off-limits.
“What the hell’s going on?” Asher found himself asking in the end. He took a deep breath, which made his lungs soak the alcohol from the air, and stepped toward Sid.
Sid crossed his arms on his chest. “What? That we’re no longer fucking? In case you haven’t noticed, we were busy finishing the tour on a high note.”
“No, what’s up with this attitude? It’s like something’s flipped a switch in your brain.”
“I just don’t like this town. I’m not in the mood for this shit.”
Asher rubbed his eyes, disappointed and yet kind of happy that he was finally getting some answers. “Fine. We can just have dinner if you’re tired. You could have just said so instead of making me look like some kind of sexual predator in front of our friends. I know this kind of sex can be straining on your body, but should I remind you that you were the one to suggest this in the first place?”
Sid’s eyes snapped up to him. “Oh? So now it’s me pulling poor, innocent Asher into doing bad things? I told you this wasn’t your thing. You said it was and wouldn’t give it a rest. Which one is it then?”
”I never said it wasn’t. My point is that you’re acting as if I’m forcing you into something, and I don’t know what the fuck’s going on, because you won’t even talk to me. Like this bandage. What happened? Did you find time for new body art when you couldn’t even respond to my messages?”
Sid stayed quiet for a while, and it only pushed Asher farther to the edge.
“No. It’s something else,” he said in the end.
Would Asher have to carve out every single piece of information with a hacksaw? He approached Sid with his guts twisting so tightly it nauseated him. “What is it then? Did you hurt yourself? Are you in pain? Why wouldn’t you tell me? We don’t have to fuck every time we meet if you don’t feel like it.”
In the dim light of the storage room, the shadows on Sid’s face were sharper than usual. He pulled up his top just enough to show the bandages, but then he started peeling them away to present the damage.
Three long cuts were still fresh and left bloody marks on the inner side of the dressing. When Sid twisted slightly, the flesh around one of the wounds opened and filled with blood about to spill down its gaping mouth.
“This is what I needed, not a fucking chat over dinner. So that’s what I did.”
It was as if something pushed spikes of ice into Asher’s limbs, radiating bitter cold and preventing him from moving. “Y-you did this yourself? You said you didn’t want cutting,” Asher babbled, even though he knew he’d never even consider doing something like this to anyone.
Sid licked his lips and pushed the dressing back with a hiss. “There’s a man who wanted this, and I don’t think I’d let him cut me, but I was the one to do it, so…ugh. It’s complicated, Ash.” He did seem to be losing his composure, as if he hadn’t just casually told Asher he’d cheated on him.
Asher watched him in complete disbelief, his heart rising to his throat second by second. “You’re fucking someone else behind my back?” he said, unable to take in enough air to make it sound any louder than a whisper.
Sid raised his arms in exasperation. “That’s all you’re hearing? No, I’m not fucking him. It’s an online thing that’s been going on since well before we got together. I haven’t even met the guy.”
Asher grabbed at his own hair so abruptly, the band in his hair snapped, releasing the white strands. The sense of betrayal was so hot that the phantom ice piercing his flesh started melting, and the frostiness now soaked into every bit of his body. “Stop talking like this doesn’t fucking matter! You’ve had another Dom all along, and you didn’t bother to tell me about it?”
Sid shrugged, beyond infuriating Asher further. “I agreed to dating, not to be always available.” And yet there was a false note to what he was saying, as if all Sid was trying to do was to push Asher away with spikes as sharp as scalpels.
“That’s not how you treat someone you date,” Asher told him, pushing his hands into his pockets when the urge to put them on Sid became too strong.
“I was in it for the pain, remember? You were the one who pushed for dating. So I indulged you. Does it even matter now that the tour is ending?” Every word Sid said contradicted the vulnerable pieces of him Asher had gathered after every session of pain and pleasure. Sid wasn’t this wall of ice he pretended to be, so why was he doing this now? Did he open up to the other Dom? What did they talk about? How did they interact? The questions burned holes in Asher’s gut.
“I want to see it. The conversations. All of them.”
Sid took a step back and bumped into a shelf full of boxes. “No way.” At least Asher was getting a reaction, but the flush that crawled up Sid’s neck made him want to read the conversations even more.
“No? Why not? Are you two talking about me too?” Asher asked, forcing himself to keep breathing as a dark, heavy feeling settled on his chest. An invisible being sat on him, constantly growing as it fed on his misery.
Sid rolled his eyes. “No. It’s not all about you.”
Something snapped inside Asher’s head, and he grabbed the front of Sid’s shirt, pushing him back hard. “I can see it has never been about me.”
Sid pushed at Asher’s arm and bared his teeth. “And when has it been about me? It’s all about what you can get from me. You pushed until you got what you wanted. Why do you even obsess about me so much? Christ, I popped your cherry years ago, and you just won’t. Let. Go. I’m not the answer to whatever your problem is.”
Asher curled his hands so tightly it hurt, but he forced a smile to his face and stepped back. He just wanted to leave. Now. Immediately. “You know what? You’re a piece of shit. That other guy can have you if he wants to.”
A glimpse of uncertainty in Sid’s eyes almost called Asher back. Almost. He’d taken many rejections and sour words from Sid before, but it was different now. They’d had something, but Sid chose to walk all over that. Over all of Asher’s plans and dreams, as if they hadn’t ever mattered.
And still, as Asher was pulling away, Sid just shrugged. Enough was enough. Asher walked out and slammed the door behind himself for good measure.
All confidence he’d felt split seconds before was gone the moment he stepped into the corridor. Panic settled in when he realized he wasn’t sure which way the exit was. What if he went the wrong way and had to face Sid again, or any member of The Underdogs for that matter? The air was choking him as he made his way down the corridor, blindly following a green sign on the wall, all the way to the back door.
He mustered half a smile for the security guy, but the moment the club spat him out into the alley filled with trash, he slumped against the wall and s
ank into a crouch, trying to catch his breath. His thoughts remained murky as a swamp that had dead fish floating to the surface from the lack of oxygen.
Had he just walked out on Sid? He should be proud that he’d stood his ground, but instead there was this raging emptiness in the fabric of his reality. He had no idea what to do.
The man he’d always had such a high opinion of had turned on him, and the gaping wounds in Sid’s flesh might have as well been holes in Asher’s soul. In the past three weeks he’d felt alive in a way he hadn’t for a long time, but now all that energy was seeping out, leaving behind a shell about to crumble.
Where would he even go now? What would he do? The tour was ending, and Sid wouldn’t be knocking at his door again. Especially if he could get the sex he wanted somewhere else. Why did Asher even care? Sid was the worst. The worst. How could Sid have secretly made a connection with someone else, in such an intense manner too, when Asher had offered to give Sid anything he wanted?
And now, because of this mess, the band would turn their backs on Asher too, and once again he would be all alone.
Chapter 7
Sid stared at the ceiling of another strange room. They changed hotels so often he could never get comfortable anywhere, but then he chastised himself for complaining. They were rooms. With walls. Ceilings. Air conditioning. Clean-ish sheets. Unlike his bandmates, he had no home to go back to, so it wasn’t like he had anywhere better to be.
Other than Asher’s rented apartment close to the beach. It surely consisted of several much nicer rooms, was equipped with softer towels, a cleaner bathroom, and a kitchen.
But he wasn’t welcome there any longer. And that was fine, because he didn’t want to go there anyway. Stupid fucking Asher. Always pushing for more answers, and wouldn’t just leave him alone. Or was it the city that poisoned Sid’s mood from the moment they drove in?
He checked his phone again in frustration. He’d sent the photo of his cuts to Executioner half an hour ago, and there was still no answer. Such bullshit. He’d made the wounds extra deep, not just scratches. Didn’t he deserve some acknowledgement for his discomfort?
Dusk tried asking what had happened with Ash, but Sid brushed it off, saying it was no big deal. Dusk was such a comfort to be around partially because it was so easy to distract him. After all the shit that had happened in Sid’s life, all the discomforts and fears, the stressful balancing act of a kind-of-relationship with Asher, having a beer with Dusk and cracking jokes about fanfiction people wrote about their band, was the most relaxing and easy going thing to do. Much better than Mage’s concerned looks and gentle yet prodding questions.
A hug from Dawn had been the last straw, and Sid had fled the party after that. Dawn had a weird way of sensing everyone’s feelings, and it would have been sweet if it wasn’t so disturbing. Sid didn’t want to be read, and didn’t want to talk about his…break up? Was that what it was?
His phone—the expensive gift from Asher that had replaced his own piece of junk—buzzed with an incoming message from Executioner, making the grim thoughts evaporate somewhat from Sid’s head.
[Good job, slave. For once.]
Sid answered in an instant. [So when do I get your dick, Master?] He wasn’t even in the mood for sex that much, but there was a deep hole inside of him, and he’d fill it if it killed him.
It took two minutes before he got his response, a picture of Executioner’s erect cock on a bed of dark hair.
[Now jerk off. You have one minute to come.]
The words were ticking Sid’s boxes, transporting him somewhere else, where he didn’t have to think about Asher’s hurt expression, or the guilt over complaining when all Asher seemed to want was a little affection.
[No, in real life. I’m free now and visiting San Diego. I could get to where you are, Master.] He didn’t even like calling him ‘Master’ all that much, but it was a game of give and take, as kinks didn’t always align perfectly.
What followed was a silence so long Sid started getting cramps in his stomach by the time Executioner replied.
[We never talked about this. I only do this online.]
Sid stared at the message with a frown. They’d talked about stuff they wished to do if they met. Did executioner want Sid to beg for it? He didn’t deserve mercy. He deserved all the pain and brutality Executioner could unleash on him. Maybe once his body was preoccupied with discomfort and fear, he would no longer think of Asher’s brown eyes going dark and distant.
[I really need this, and I can’t wait to bend over for your flogger. Imagine my ass milking your dick in real life.] It was always slightly embarrassing to write shit like that, yet it never failed to turn Sid on either. He doubted it was his messed up upbringing that made him this way, because his siblings had never shown any inclinations.
Another minute passed before Executioner answered. [Look, I’m married. I don’t meet up with anyone IRL. And besides, you’re a bit too intense for me. No offense.]
Sid curled his knees up to his chest on the bed, but it did nothing to ease the punch he’d just received to his gut. Too intense? He’d cut himself on this fucker’s request. Though in truth, the request had come weeks ago, and he’d only fulfilled it now, because coming to his hometown was just too much to deal with. He needed a way out for his anxiety that didn’t involve Asher asking him questions and eviscerating every answer.
After tossing and turning on the bed for ten minutes, he wrote back. [No offense taken.]
He got up and grabbed the little IKEA table he’d littered with bottles and paper plates. In a fit of rage, he threw it to the floor. Screaming out, his next target was the lamp, and he kicked the fallen bottles right after smashing it against the wall.
“Too fucking intense,” he hissed under his breath with his head pounding like mad.
Something stung in his side, and he bitterly realized one of his cuts must have opened again.
“Stupid. You’re so stupid,” Sid muttered to himself and sat down, because thrashing around was making him ache. And now he would have to pay for the damage he’d done on top of it all.
Just great.
He’d made himself bleed for a guy who didn’t want to see him, and Sid wouldn’t even get the pleasure of sucking his dick. Asher had been right. He was a pathetic piece of shit.
Was he actually wrecking the one person who wanted to be there for him? Probably. It was just so hard to talk about his inner world. He’d never been taught to share honest thoughts, and living in the streets at a young age had meant he needed walls if he was to fend for himself.
No matter how humiliating it would be, Sid had to own up to being an ass. In a few days, the tour would be wrapped up, and if they ended up recording at Asher’s place he needed to make sure things were civil between them even if Asher didn’t want him back. He had to make amends.
He got up, washed the sweat and grime of the concert off him to show that he didn’t take Asher for granted. He would smell nice, sort out his mohawk (even if just for Asher to mess it up like always), and maybe…bring a gift? But what could he possibly give Asher that the rich fucker didn’t already have?
He would be offering himself, so that was something.
Stiff-jointed and dressed in his best clothes, which weren’t even all that great, he took a cab to reach Asher’s rented apartment. Twenty minutes later, he stood in front of the two-story building just ten minutes‘ walk from the beach. With the Tesla parked in front of the house, there was hope Asher was home. The reflection of the TV in the window provided another clue, but as much as Sid wanted to make amends, being here like a suitor still made him sweat into the fresh clothes.
He took a deep breath and stole a few flowers from the pot in the garden as he approached the door. It took another few minutes of listening to the waves hitting the beach and inhaling deep breaths of fresh air before Sid knocked on the door.
Seconds passed as he stood in place with the throbbing in his side becoming more unpleasant, and the
sad bundle of flowers staring at him in accusation. God, it was obvious he’d just gotten them from someone’s garden. Couldn’t he had at least gotten ones in a pot or some chocolate at a gas station on the way?
He clearly couldn’t think straight anymore.
The door opened, and Asher, who at first revealed himself in the T-shirt he’d worn to the gig and colorful boxer shorts, suddenly hid behind the door, staring back at Sid with an odd expression.
“What are you doing here?” he asked in the end, quickly combing back his mess of silvery hair.
Be cool, Sid. Be cool.
“I went a bit mental on you before. I didn’t mean to.” Sid attempted what was hopefully a seductive smile and held out the flowers, but the look on Asher’s face told him that he really should have just paid five bucks for a regular bouquet.
“Flowers? Really?” Asher asked, still remaining behind the door.
Sid smiled relentlessly. It would kill him, but he didn’t stop. “And me. I’m still a prize, right?”
Asher sighed in what sounded like resignation and opened the door, silently inviting Sid in. So far, so good.
Sid walked in, and since Asher didn’t take the flowers from him, he put them on the table. He made sure to stay close when he was passing Asher so that his aftershave could short-circuit Asher’s brain, and all would be good again.
The apartment was cozy and looked lived-in, so unlike the cold, basic motel room where Sid would surely be interrogated once his friends came back from the party. He preferred the discomfort of Asher’s silent company.
He didn’t want to deal with the mess he’d made just yet, so he focused on his surroundings instead. African art decorated the walls of the spacious living room, but his eyes were drawn to a huge television that now played adult cartoons to an audience of crisps and candy resting on the coffee table.
Crisps. This wasn’t good at all. Usually Asher didn’t even eat ‘simple’ carbs if Sid bought them for him.
Asher scratched his arm and leaned against the back of the leather sofa, with his hands crossed on his chest. He stared at Sid and said nothing.
Just Here for the Pain (gay rocker BDSM romance) (The Underdogs Book 2) Page 11