Just Here for the Pain_gay rocker BDSM romance

by K. A. Merikan

  Asher pushed even tighter against Sid, wishing to somehow melt their bodies together, so that there was no more distance to cross, so that he’d always have Sid by his side. He sucked on the tip of Sid’s tongue, whimpering softly at the sense of belonging it gave him. He just wanted to roll back the world and start anew, maybe stop Sid from leaving him after their weekend together. Maybe both their lives would have been different then, devoid of all the frustration, and withheld anger, and loneliness.

  In one of the rare moments when Sid was too tired to fight and simply held Asher, the world turned, like a Rubik’s cube that, for once, was perfectly arranged.

  “How about I make us those noodles?” Sid nudged Asher’s cheek with his nose, but Asher couldn’t make himself let go. He kissed Sid again before briefly resting his head on the bony shoulder. Only then he moved away his arms.

  “Yeah, okay. Sounds good.”

  His heart leapt when Sid leaned in for a quick kiss before turning away to the bags of shopping. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Asher stared back at Sid, taken aback by the question. His skin exploded with itching that was so insistent it seemed physical. “N-no. I’m fine now.” He’d been craving Sid’s attention for so many years, but now that it has been offered, something flipped inside him and panic sank deep into his flesh. Maybe it was because he’d never actually believed he would have Sid. It had always been like chasing an impossible dream. Now that his prize had been placed in his hands, he had no idea what to do with his feelings.

  “I’m going old school with the ingredients, so you better like it.”

  Asher grabbed one of the chairs and pulled it to the cooker, where he sat down and grinned at Sid, not wanting things to stay gloomy for long. “Oh, I’m gonna like it. Most memorable meal ever.”

  “Back when you were small, skinny, and didn’t know what a carb was.” Sid smiled, and that alone was somehow more intimate than sex. Asher had followed Sid around for long enough to know that Sid didn’t often hang out with people other than his band. And yet here he was, asking questions, offering his time. And for once he didn’t do so begrudgingly. Or because what he actually wanted was a scene.

  Asher laughed, watching Sid toss the noodles into a pot. “There’s that.”

  When Sid moved on to cutting the tomatoes, Asher couldn’t help a twitch somewhere inside of him that told him to take the knife as far away from Sid as possible. How would Asher even make sure Sid was fine when the tour ended? Call him every day? Where did Sid even live? The Underdogs considered him a stalker, but he’d never really made the effort to track Sid down outside of tours. He probably could have, but he hadn’t wanted to go full psycho.

  “So…does this mean I’m gonna see you after the tour is over?” he asked in the end, sensing an odd dryness in his mouth. He leaned in and brushed his finger over Sid’s studded belt.

  Sid wouldn’t look his way, but stopped moving altogether. “Do you want to? I don’t want to push you into a type of sex you don’t want just because you want to be with me. Sometimes people just aren—”

  Asher pulled closer in the chair. He put his arms around Sid’s hips and pressed a kiss to the bit of exposed skin above his pants. “You’ve already said that. And I told you that I want to cover all that with welts, until it’s all red,” he said, lowering his voice as he rubbed Sid’s ass through the denim.

  The small smile his words elicited on Sid’s lips was what Asher lived for. “With the other guy… I’m sorry, it’s just hard for me sometimes to express what I want and feel, so it was easier to escape into a stranger.”

  Asher’s hair bristled. Did Sid just apologize? Unprompted?

  He exhaled and briefly closed his eyes, focused on the protruding hip bone that dug against his cheek through Sid’s pants. “Talk to me next time. I want to learn how to make you feel pain the right way.”

  Sid petted Asher’s hair. “I’m not even into cutting. I like the impact of slapping and smacking much more. I often find it hard to let go, and pain pushes me there. In the same way I get lost in music, and when I play, when I’m on stage, there’s only the present.”

  Asher’s heart tightened, and he leaned into the touch. “I could see that, you know. Your face looks similar when we’re doing a scene and when you’re performing. You stop overthinking shit. I like giving you that,” he said, thanking the gods that he wouldn’t have to argue with Sid over cutting. That really was excessive, and he couldn’t imagine pushing himself to it.

  Sid laughed out loud and slipped out of Asher’s range when he went to drain the noodles. “I do overthink shit. Maybe ‘cause it’s hard to admit what I like willingly? I’ve been punished a lot as a kid, so I guess I feel weird and guilty over liking it now.”

  Asher cleared his throat, his thoughts returning to the cult group in front of the club, their coats, and the things they shouted at the crowd. Asher had been raised in an atheist household, but what has the experience been for Sid? Did such extreme beliefs stay with a person, even if they left the religion? He had nothing to compare it to.

  “Because you were gay?”

  “That became an issue only once I hit my teens. I guess I was just a rebellious child all around. I’d secretly listen to bands I wasn’t allowed to, sneak out, I didn’t do my chores.” He put a portion of noodles into each bowl, added the onion he’d fried with oil and tomatoes, mixed in a generous portion of cheese, and last but not least, sprinkled it all with the spice mix from the chips.

  Asher smiled, rising to his feet and embracing Sid from behind. He needed to avoid the stiff mohawk, so that the spiked hair didn’t stab his eyes, but everything else about this was perfect. They would eat on the sofa, huddled together the same way they had when they shared this simple meal. Except this time, the sofa wouldn’t be old and dusty, with cushions so worn he’d sink into it.

  “When I met you, you impressed me with how rebellious you were,” Asher whispered, taking one of the bowls from Sid and pressing a kiss to his cheekbone. Despite the disappointment earlier, his feelings settled, and he wanted to start with a clean slate. He’d known all along Sid was no easy person to deal with, and he’d be patient. He’d approach it as if he were trying to befriend a stray cat.

  Sid smiled without meeting Asher’s gaze, and his thoughts must have been going in a similar direction, because instead of the dining table, he headed for the sofa. “Really? You had everything, and I was squatting. Not very impressive, if you ask me.”

  “I didn’t think I had everything. To be honest, I led a very sheltered life at that time, and after my parents died I was under tight supervision. It was only when I turned eighteen that I could breathe again, and you were this... beacon of freedom. Of living like you wanted to,” Asher said, settling in the corner of the sofa.

  All those years have passed, and here he was, with this magnificent man at arm’s length. Sid’s body was densely covered in ink depicting death, destruction and the Apocalypse, and now Asher wondered if it was Sid’s past that made him choose those designs. Not only was Sid the hottest man Asher had ever met, but also a mystery he was getting to unravel bit by bit. Anyone could look at Sid, some—in the past—had been allowed to have his body, but Asher was the one getting under Sid’s skin and listening to his vulnerable thoughts.

  “Eating cheap noodles and not being able to afford rent? I guess it was a choice. But only between that and having to deny everything I was.”

  Asher put his arm around Sid and stirred the cheese and spices into the noodles, which smelled like memories of the kind of love only a teenager can feel. “Your sister…she said she needed cash for herself, didn’t she? What if she wants out too and doesn’t have the guts to just leave with nothing? Can she earn money while she’s with them?”

  Sid stuffed his mouth with noodles and shook his head. “She didn’t say anything like that…”

  Asher sighed, taking his time to choose the right words. “You didn’t let her speak much, if I were to be perf
ectly honest.”

  Sid chewed on his answer. “I just get so angry when I see their coats, and their fucking leaflets. All I could think of when I saw her was that she’d start telling me to repent as soon as her self-control slipped.”

  Asher tried the noodles and smirked as the aftertaste of MSG spread over his tongue. The food was unhealthy and not all that tasty, but it brought back good memories, and it had been made for him by the most important man in his life. That was what counted.

  “Maybe you should talk to her? When she approached me before, she seemed really adamant to speak with you.”

  Sid frowned. “She most likely doesn’t have a phone.”

  Asher ate more of the noodles, relaxing in the seat. “But you know where your family lives?”

  “Yeah, but they’d never let me in there.”

  “Maybe I could go? You know, pretend I’m interested?”

  He didn’t like the tension that provoked in Sid’s whole body. “I don’t want you talking to those people.”

  Asher grinned and pulled Sid even closer. The protectiveness was sweet, like warm custard poured over his heart. “Okay then. I have another idea.”

  Chapter 9

  “This is a very bad idea,” Mage grumbled from the backseat as they drove down the highway just past 3 am.

  “That’s why Dawn’s home. He couldn’t take the kind of stress you’re rubbing off on all of us,” Dusk said, adjusting the white polyester robe he’d recently used for a druid costume at an after-party.

  Mage leaned forward until his shoulders were level with the front seats and stared at Asher as if he expected him to drive them all straight to hell. “We can still stop this. If Sid thinks his sister’s in danger, we should call the police. We’re not characters in an adventure movie for kids. This is real life!”

  “It’s mental. I love everything about it,” Dusk informed from the backseat.

  Asher himself was on the fence about the way his original, very simple plan has escalated once Sid and Dusk started bouncing ever-crazier ideas off one another, but he’d be going with whatever was needed nevertheless.

  What was the worst that could happen?

  He kept telling himself that as he drove off the highway and into a suburb consisting mostly of industrial sites. Having passed a retail park with the saddest-looking of donut shops, he noticed more homes, though none were particularly appealing. It was the kind of area where lawns were left to die a natural death and keeping used furniture in the garden was all the rage.

  “This one.” Sid pointed to the right.

  Asher knew Sid meant business when it came to this trip when he’d flattened and tied back his mohawk.

  “Why’d you never told us about this, Siddim?” Dusk rummaged through the box of stuff he said he’d ‘use for diversion’, and Asher instantly regretted quoting Abra to him.

  “Isn’t your boyfriend’s name ‘Abraham’?” Sid groaned.

  “Yeah, but that’s different. And just call him Lolly, like everyone else.”

  “How is it different?”

  Mage growled. “Guys, shut up. None of this matters. Let’s get on with things.”

  Asher parked a few houses down from the place Sid had pointed out, so that it would be easier to avoid being spotted if things went south. He was no coward, but he really wished for things to not go south.

  The air was cool against Asher’s skin, so he ended up putting on his leather jacket before leaving the car. The scent of cut grass twisted his features, but with the sunrise approaching, this issue was even less relevant than Dusk’s stupid argument with Sid.

  Following the road with traces of colorful chalk pictures between the many holes in the asphalt, they made their way to a cul-de-sac where the property sprawled, fenced off by a wall that would dwarf even a tall man. Not much was to be seen with the exception of some trees and the pale walls of a large house that seemed like a fortress or monastery rather than a home. Only a couple of narrow windows, protected by metal bars, faced the street, creating an unwelcoming image that was enforced by the cross and serpent symbol of the cult painted on the gate.

  Dusk put his box on the sidewalk, and Mage gave him a reluctant fist bump.

  “Lolly will be so upset he missed this,” Dusk said with a wide grin and passed Mage another polyester robe.

  Sid rubbed his face. “I actually wish Dawn was here. He’d be inconspicuous. He could say his car broke down and make those big cow eyes at them. Nobody could resist those.”

  Mage frowned at him and tied back his long dreadlocks before begrudgingly putting on the costume. “He would have said nothing to a stranger late at night. We can’t push him like that.”

  “At this rate he’s never gonna become more social. Is that what you want?” Dusk asked.

  “Guys, how about you discuss this once we’re done here?” Asher proposed.

  Sid nodded. “And then you could actually include him in the conversation.”

  Dusk spread his arms. “That’s not gonna help. Dawn always takes Mage’s side against me and vice versa.”

  “Yeah, yeah, poor you. Ganged up on,” Mage growled, but the conversation eventually died, and they moved toward the gate.

  Sid and Asher hid in the darkness by the tall concrete fence. The plan was to find out more about Abra’s situation before taking unnecessary risks.

  Asher hadn’t expected to be this unnerved, but when Dusk rang the doorbell, his heart pounded like mad. Maybe they shouldn’t have come here in the middle of the night after all? Was this reasonable?

  Who in their right mind would even open the door in the middle of the night to two tall men dressed up like monks? It screamed horror movie, and now that Asher watched their two friends from the safety of the bushes, his confidence shrunk by the second.

  When nothing happened, Dusk put his finger on the button and left it there, energetically moving his hips in a circle, as if he couldn’t stay still for a few seconds.

  Finally, the gate opened, and a light on the facade of the building switched on, pouring out to illuminate Dusk and Mage in their silly outfits. “What is it? What is this? Who are you?” yelled a man in a low voice. He peeked out from behind the gate in beige pajamas.

  “Have you heard the good news about the Order of the Night?”

  Asher now regretted his choice of leather jacket, because he was sweating all over. Maybe this wasn’t a good plan after all? Then again, it was such delicious trolling, he couldn’t help but root for Dusk and Mage.

  “W-what?” The man stepped outside. The light illuminated his thin fluff of hair, creating a halo around his balding scalp. He sounded confused, but that was way better than him shutting the gate in their faces.

  Mage cleared his throat, standing stiffly as he raised a random old book Dawn had recently gotten at a thrift store. “The Order of the Night has been authorized by our Lord to awaken the unbelievers from their slumber. He called us to see upon a young woman named Abra.”

  “We demand to talk to her. In the name of the Lord,” Dusk added.

  Gatekeeper frowned. “Abra? What do you want from her? How do you know her name?”

  “It came to us in a dream,” Dusk said in a way that resembled the tone Catholic priests used when they sang hymns, and raised his hands with palms open. “She was a vision. She parted the darkness of the night, and we recognized she was important to our cause.”

  “Our guru believes she might be one of the ten messiahs who will save this world from destruction,” Mage added.

  “Save…” The gatekeeper’s features twisted. “Blasphemy! This world deserves no saving. It’s cruel, and dirty, and deviant,” he barked in the silent night. “You lie. It’s just a trick to lure that whore out! Do you think I’m stupid? She’s back among the saved, and we won’t let her soil her soul ever again!”

  This wasn’t good at all, and the way Sid tightened his grip on Asher’s arm made that abundantly clear.

  “The Order of the Night has other plans
for her, so she needs to be given a choice. God has other plans for her than you small-minded sheep,” Dusk said sternly.

  “God has plans for her all right! She won’t see a man’s face until she’s married. Once that knot is tied, she might see you if her husband allows it.”

  “Bullshit,” Sid whispered. “I shouldn’t have turned her away. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

  Asher frowned, grabbing Sid’s hand in the dark. “Is that legal? How old is she?”

  “Seventeen? Eighteen? I don’t remember when exactly her birthday is.”

  A loud chant turned their attention back to the gate. Mage raised his hands toward the sky and spat out sequences of unintelligible words that sounded as if he were reading out a chunk of text on fast-forward.

  Dusk tapped his fist against his chest with a gasp. “He’s having a vision. He’s seeing her again,” he choked out in a passionate voice. “The Lord sees Abra stopping the Devil’s legions with a wave of her hand. He demands her presence among the saved!”

  Gatekeeper stepped toward him aggressively. “The saved are right here!”

  “What is this commotion?” another voice said, and an elderly man with long hair emerged from behind the gate.

  Sid pulled on Asher’s elbow. “Let’s go. They’ll keep them occupied. I know where they might be holding her.”

  Asher considered himself an ‘adventurous’ guy, but this was a new level of crazy. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for breaking into someone’s home, but how was he supposed to deny Sid help?

  A loud cry made them look back, only to see both the cultists choke on colorful dust that floated all around them in the illuminated air. It stuck to their skin, clothes, and hair, turning them into hot pink muppets, both reaching for the little ball in Dusk’s hand.

  Asher ran after Sid, mindful of the angry roars behind him. Light went on in one of the windows beyond the wall. The farther away from the gate and the lamp above it they were the better.