Off Stage

by Jaime Samms

  “Because you rock!” Damian had shouted once over the crowd of screaming women. “Because they love you, and no one on earth plays like you do. No one can make the music you make!” He’d been radiant in his praise and overflowing with enthusiasm for the connection the music gave them. He’d been high off the rush of performing, and that high had transferred to Len. Together, they had conquered the crowds and made something special no one else could touch.

  Except he’d been replaced, and the news footage and YouTube clips showed Damian at Christian’s side now, grinning at the new guitar player, posing for the camera, and getting all the love he’d always received, and now Len knew none of it had really been for him at all.

  “You going to pick up a shovel today, or what?” Kilmer teased, poking his head into the small, dark room.

  “Yeah. I’m coming.” Len held out the coffee he’d brought for his friend and followed him into the light and warmth of the stable. “Where you want me to start?”

  Kilmer nodded to an empty stall at the far end. “Clean the junk out of that one. We have a new arrival today. He’ll be there for the time being. Once you’re done, you can take off. You probably have a lot to do with your friends arriving today.”

  Len smiled wanly at him. He should get ready. Shave. Shower. Find something decent to wear that he hadn’t ruined in the barn. It was his birthday party, after all, and his friends—his family—were coming to celebrate with him.

  “I can do my full load. I’ve got lots of time.”

  Kilmer grinned at him. “Order comes from the top, my friend. Get that stall set for the new horse, and go get yourself cleaned up.”

  “Okay.” Len went to work, losing himself in the task of clearing out the old tack and broken brooms and other junk from the stall that had become an impromptu storage compartment for all the miscellaneous crap no one knew what else to do with. Len found proper homes for the useful items and trashed the rest, had the stall swept, washed, and new straw covering the floor by the time Kilmer was done with the rest of the stalls. He helped let the horses out to pasture, looked in on the mare and her foal, now three weeks old, and cooed at them a bit before Kilmer finally shooed him back to the house.

  Len glanced at the lot across the fence and felt guilty for the sigh of relief that bled out of him to see the Hummer was gone. He needed to man up, he told himself, and find his stage legs again before he lost what was left of his career.

  Len’s nerves, as he escaped to the bedroom and the bathroom beyond, made his hands shake and his knees tremble. It didn’t make sense. These people were his family. They had been there for him when Ace died. Hell, they had been there for him when Ace was still alive. They had been the ones to give him a place to belong when his father left. They had been his connection to life when he’d felt as though he’d lived in the shadows for so long.

  He fumbled the belt buckle and the buttons on his jeans, having to sit on the edge of the bed to get the clinging material off his sweat-sticky body without falling on his ass. Almost every move reminded him of the night before, but it didn’t seem to be enough. He clenched his hands and trapped them between his knees, hanging his head and squeezing his eyes shut, willing his heart to slow the fuck down.

  “Hey, darlin’.” Vance’s deep voice plucked at his taut nerves and made his body hum. Slowly, Len lifted his head to watch his lover cross the room to him.

  Vance touched his cheek, ran his fingers down the curve of his jaw, and trailed his knuckles over Len’s throat as Len lifted his head farther.

  “Scared?”

  Len shook his head violently, but Vance clasped the back of his neck as those golden eyes bored into him, unrelenting, until Len stopped and let his chin drop into a nod.

  “I don’t know why.”

  “I do.” Vance cupped his chin and lifted his face. “They were your home.”

  Len watched his lover, attention fixed on him, as though he might vanish if Len blinked.

  “They cast you out.”

  “You made me leave them.”

  “It was and is your choice. Leave me and go to them. I wouldn’t stop you.”

  “But you wouldn’t follow.”

  Vance shook his head. “You’re not ready to go back to that life.”

  “I have to be. They’ll be here in a few hours.”

  “I brought you here to heal. You haven’t done that.”

  “I miss them.”

  “I know.” Vance crouched. “And that’s why I invited them here. They can come to you, whenever you want them to. Here. Where you’re safe. Where you belong.”

  Len closed his eyes, letting those words seep into him, past skin and muscle, through the bleeding wreck of his psyche and into his bones. He belonged. He pressed his cheek into Vance’s palm. “I need you,” he whispered, able to admit it, here in the darkness behind his eyelids, where he was safe from Vance’s scrutiny. “Please.”

  “Need me?” Vance’s thumb ghosted over his lips, and he puckered and kissed it as it passed.

  “Yes, Sir. Please.” He spread his knees and scooted forward on the bed until Vance was between his legs and he could feel the other man’s heat. “Take me.”

  “We aren’t there yet.” Vance echoed his own words of the night before.

  God, right now, he wanted to be there, in that place where Vance could spread him over the bed and use him, fuck him, hard and thoroughly. He wanted to feel his lover in every part of him and know no matter what happened when the band showed up, Vance was his and would remain so. And more importantly, he wanted to know that he belonged to Vance.

  “You were right, love. We aren’t there yet.”

  Len fought the sigh that crept from his lips and viciously stomped on the bitter disappointment of being told no. “Please.” He could not stop the plea.

  Vance’s hands, warm and rough on his skin, cupped his face. “Look at me.”

  Len shook his head in the confines of that gentle grip. No way could he allow Vance to see the tearing, rending destruction of his fragile calm.

  “Open your eyes, Leonard.”

  The use of his full name was so rare, so commanding, Len obeyed despite his resolve to hide.

  “You are not going to come apart.”

  Len trembled, unable to stop the fear manifesting.

  “And you don’t need me to hold you together. You’re strong.”

  “I want—”

  “You’re frightened. I’ll be here. Always at your back, but it’s time for you to step up.”

  “Please.”

  “Leonard, focus.”

  Len blinked at him, and the motion loosed the tears threatening. They trickled onto his cheeks, and he flinched, knowing weakness prompted anger.

  Vance smiled at him. “There.” Vance kissed his cheek, soaking up the wetness. “You see?” He looked smug. “Let it go.”

  More tears fell as Len blinked and sniffled. “What?”

  It made no sense. Vance was praising him for breaking down. For falling to pieces and bleeding his crazy out all over their bedroom.

  “This is the way to feel, Len. To be. You’re safe, I promise. Nothing is going to happen we can’t handle.”

  “This is all I get?” He sounded pathetic, and he knew it. “I want more.” And yet, how could he ask for more than this acceptance that he was falling apart, and the faith Vance had that he could hold it together, that he could fix it and mend without help? He’d expected recrimination. It was what happened when he showed weakness, and yet Vance gave him faith instead. How could he not be happy with that?

  “We’ll get there.” Vance leaned forward, bracing himself on his knees in front of Len, and drawing Len into a deep kiss. Len didn’t have time to wonder at his Dom, kneeling at his feet, so backward from how it should be. His senses were overtaken with that kiss, the contact engulfing him, and he sank into it. The warmth of Vance’s hands on his face calmed him. The kiss soothed and inflamed him at once.

  When Vance pulled away,
Len was on fire, but oddly at ease, like he could happily burn as long as his Dom’s hands remained on him. He was no longer crying, no longer shaking.

  “You need to shower,” Vance pointed out. “You smell like the barn.”

  Len smiled and nodded. “Imagine that.”

  “Go. Clean up. Maggie cooked for you. I have your birthday present too.”

  “My birthday was almost a month ago. You already gave me—”

  “I have somethin’ better, darlin’. You’ll love it, I promise.”

  Len’s heart fluttered. Promises from his lover did that to him. The drawl of Vance’s voice, deeper the more relaxed he was, didn’t hurt either. It thrilled him to his core to hear the drawn-out, rounded vowels roll off Vance’s tongue, and suddenly, he wanted more of that too. He wanted to hear Vance sing, to listen to the words he’d written, as haunting as they were, and know that was something they had created together.

  “Focus, Len,” Vance said, the smile in his voice edging toward amused command.

  He nodded again, but couldn’t bring himself to pull free of Vance’s grip. He waited, eyes fixed on Vance, to be released.

  Vance kissed him again and brought him back to that heated, eager state before he got up. At eye level with Vance’s crotch, Len suddenly ached with need, and he gazed up, the plea he knew better than to voice in his eyes. He’d already asked and been given his answer. It would have to be good enough for now.

  “Get through this afternoon, darlin’,” Vance said, walking to his dresser and pulling open one of the drawers. “When you’ve showered, you can wait right where you are.” He walked to the table beside the bed and set the studded leather cuffs on the table. “I’ll come to you then.” He turned to face Len, and his golden eyes were sweetly honeyed and soft. “Trust me.”

  Len nodded, unable to voice the raging desire in his body. But absolute faith that Vance would meet his needs filled him at the same time, and the desire was easier to deal with knowing that.

  “Good boy.”

  Len swallowed hard and rose, suddenly eager to be out of Vance’s eyesight so he could at least relieve the urgent call of his libido.

  “And Len.” Vance had dropped into that sultry, completely commanding tone that sizzled down Len’s spine and made his skin crawl, heat following the chill of excitement. That tone urged him to drop wherever he was and kneel for his Dom. He gripped the bathroom doorframe to steady himself and waited.

  “You belong to me.”

  “Yes, I do, Sir,” he managed to whisper.

  Vance’s hand ran down his back, and Len shivered at the moment of contact, unaware Vance had followed him across the room. “So does that hard-on, lover. Do not touch it.”

  Len swallowed hard and moaned, unable to curb the sound any more than he could will away his erection.

  “I understand,” he said, but he sounded plaintive, and his voice wavered into a thin trill and died.

  “Good.” Vance planted lips against his neck and sucked hard, biting until he’d surely left a dark-purple mark on Len’s skin. “Now get a move on.” He slapped Len’s ass and Len jumped, taking a step inside the bathroom in his surprise. The sting against skin still tender from the night before only sent another thrill of electric pleasure through his body.

  No doubt his face was filled, like the rest of him, with desperation, because Vance grinned and winked and made him another promise for later before closing the door and leaving him alone.

  He wanted to collapse and cry. He wanted to jerk off. He wanted to burst back out there and demand satisfaction. Clenching his fists, he faced the door and curled a lip, but the anger and frustration simmered too deeply for him to reach. He loosened the fingers of one hand and touched the door, palm flat against the wood. Was Vance even still out there, or had the man gone off about his business, leaving Len to slowly burn up?

  “Vance?”

  There was silence from the other side, but not the feeling of desertion he expected. If Vance had left the room, he hadn’t left Len feeling abandoned, even with this overpowering need boiling through him. He’d left a promise behind, and that served to contain Len’s baser instinct to lash out.

  Len sighed and leaned on the door. He wasn’t the one, he realized, who had closed the door on the possibilities. And in the next heartbeat, he understood Vance hadn’t closed any doors either. There were no locks between them. Only time, patience, and the belief that later was a real, tangible thing that would come.

  “Okay, then.” Len straightened, shuffled to the tub, and turned on the water. In a few minutes, he was under the spray and soaping away the scents of the barn, if not the feel of Vance’s hands on him. The tightness of the skin over his ass eased at last, warmed and softened by the hot water, and he sighed at the pleasure of that small sense of release. A last aftershock of his complete surrender last night, it created a tiny, solid block of comfort he could use to ground himself. The still-strong desire to fantasize his way to orgasm over the way Vance had left him today diminished as long as he had that anchor.

  VANCE SIGHED deeply as he listened for the water and was rewarded with the sound of the spray hitting the wall. He’d heard the trepidation in Len’s voice when he’d called Vance’s name, and he’d been so tempted to answer. To go in there and grant them both the release they wanted, but he’d managed to stand his ground. If he could not be strong in the face of Len’s need, how could he expect to instill his belief in Len’s strength in the man? He had to show it was possible, had to lead the way. Len would follow, and soon enough, he wouldn’t require Vance’s example. He’d figure it out. He’d be able to do this on his own. Vance’s stomach turned over, and his erection wilted.

  He would be able to do this on his own. He would, eventually, go back to his life stronger. Smarter. Braver. And he wouldn’t need Vance anymore. That was the goal. That was what Vance wanted for him. And it killed him to know he was grooming the love of his life to leave him.

  “Vance, darling, you up there?” Maggie’s voice called from the bottom of the stairs, and Vance hurried down to see what she wanted.

  She gave him a funny look when he entered the living room, but merely motioned to the barnyard. “I think you have a delivery.” Her eyes sparkled, and she led him to the door. “You don’t mind, do you, if we come out and have a look?”

  Vance grinned at her. “Not at all, Maggie. Where’s Janet?”

  Janet smiled shyly at him from the kitchen table as he entered the room. She was sitting with her baby in her arms, clearly having just finished feeding her.

  “You want to come see him?” Vance asked.

  Janet nodded, and her smile grew more animated. “If it’s okay. I know he’s for Len, but….”

  “Come on.” Vance reached for the baby and took her as Janet rose, and he turned for the door and the yard, giving the young woman privacy to straighten her shirt after the feeding. “You’re gonna love this, little one,” Vance drawled, carefully touching the child’s soft cheek. “Just you wait. You’re goin’ to be ridin’ in no time.”

  He carried the baby out to the yard, Maggie on his heels, as Kilmer and Patrick helped Paul unload the trailer.

  The horse they led out was, as he had noted when he’d bought the animal, magnificent. He was a generous eighteen-hands-tall Clydesdale gelding. His roan coat glowed in the sunshine, and his huge hooves churned up puffs of dust as he backed onto the dirt-packed yard from the trailer. He had long, silky white feathers, and his mane was a glorious fall of reddish brown to match the tail he held proudly.

  “Would you look at that?” he asked the baby. “Ain’t he a grand one?”

  Janet had joined them and she gazed up at the horse in awe. “He’s gigantic!”

  Vance grinned. “And gentle as a mouse. Do you want to pet him?”

  She glanced to him, her mother, and to Patrick, who was holding the halter. “It’s okay?”

  “Absolutely.” Vance gave the baby to her grandmother and led Janet over. “Just
stroke his nose and say nice things to him. They always like to hear nice things about themselves.”

  She laughed and followed his example, running her hand down the long, soft nose and cooing softly. “You’re a beautiful boy,” she said.

  The horse bent his head and nudged her hand, as if in agreement, and she laughed again.

  “Here.” Patrick took her hand and placed it between the animal’s perky ears. “Give him a scratch. He loves that.”

  She blushed to the roots of her hair, and while she did scratch absently, her gaze had strayed to the farmhand’s face and stuck there. Pink touched his cheeks, and he hastily said something low and soft to the horse, his stammered words muttered and incoherent. The horse’s ears flickered at him and his big head moved so Patrick’s hand holding the halter brushed over Janet’s left hanging in the air. They both blushed again, but the smiles they shared were sweet.

  “Well, now,” Maggie muttered from behind Vance. “That’s interesting.”

  Vance grinned at her. “He’s one of the best men we have for teaching the kids’ classes. Just sayin’.”

  Maggie scowled, but her eyes danced. “That so?”

  Giving her a small shrug, Vance turned to the house. “Just an observation. I have to go in and see if Len’s ready. You can deal with this lot, I expect?”

  She clicked her tongue at him. “Just don’t get sidetracked, young man,” she scolded, mock sternness in her tone that made him laugh.

  God, but it felt good to laugh. There needed to be more of that in his home. It made him glad he’d insisted she come back, that she bring her family. It was time to get back to living.

  Upstairs, Vance’s pulse pounded as he pushed open the bedroom door. He hadn’t been gone all that long. He didn’t expect Len to be ready for him, but his lover was there, sitting on the edge of the bed. His hair dripped water onto his bare shoulders, and his chest rose and fell in quick breaths. He was nervous too. But he looked up when Vance came into the room and smiled, almost shyly, as he clasped his hands in his lap and waited.