“Marc?” He heard Chris stopping behind him. “Do you want to cut this off?”
With a foot on the next step, the bassist halted. He took a deep breath and then turned towards his friend. It was dimmed since half of the lights in the staircase were burned out. Though the illumination shimmering through the massive windows on each landing was enough for him to see Chris. He was as handsome as always, maybe even more attractive now that Marc had had a taste.
“Everything was easier before.”
“Is that a yes?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, I don’t want that.”
“Chris…” Marc sighed. “Sex is great, yeah, but this weird dance we’re constantly doing around each other... My brain is starting to glitch. I don’t know when it’s okay to touch you or the right way to do it sometimes, and I’ve never been one to wait for someone to take the first step when I’m sure of what I want. Never had these issues before.”
“You said to keep the communication open, but you haven’t told me any of this before,” Chris clipped.
“My bad. I thought I could deal with it, but the way you so desperately try to hide it made me snap tonight.”
“You know, it’s been only two weeks? And since the weekend I spent at your house, we’ve seen each other… five times counting this one?”
“So?”
“You said you’re patient.”
“And I am, but—” Marc clenched his jaw.
He wasn’t going to tell Chris he was in love with him, and thiswant-but-can’t-haveshit was taking a toll on him faster than he expected.Fuck!He wasn’t like this. He’d never had a problem getting what he desired or speaking his mind. Why was he so caught up in this knot in his head and being so overly dramatic?
“But what?”
“Nothing.”
They stared at each other for several seconds. Silence lingering heavily between them.
“Now what?” Chris asked.
“Now you go to your house and I go to mine,” Marc said, ready to climb up the last flight of stairs that lead to the second floor. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“No.”
“No?”
The guitarist closed the distance between them, skipping a step with each stride. One. Two. Three. He reached for Marc and crashed their lips together, just like he’d done that afternoon.
With his arms hanging limp at his sides, the bassist stood there paralyzed as his friend sucked and nipped, biting off his strength and resolution with every stroke of his tongue when he invaded his mouth.
Marc wrestled with himself. He really did. But from the moment their skin had touched, it’d been a lost battle.He was so fucking weak for this man.
Letting his palms wander over Chris’s rib cage, he drew him even closer. His warmth and spicy scent wrapped around him like a soft blanket. It cradled him. It stole his thoughts, and nothing but repressed moans were left for him to breathe.
Chris pulled away, panting, a hand cupping the bassist’s neck as he pressed their foreheads together. “You’re the one with the experience here, Zimmer. I’m still trying to find my balance, so never ask for permission or hold back…” His breath turned sharper, erratic, and so shallow that Marc thought his friend would pass out any moment. “Show me. Touch me. Bend me over however the fuck you want.”
Marc’s eyes shifted between Chris’s, getting lost and found in the depths of his gaze.
Without uttering a single word, he grabbed the guitarist’s wrists and pulled him towards his apartment.
His already hazy brain didn’t have time to process what was happening before lust had completely drowned the logic. It was all flashes; the rattling of his keys, the door closing behind them with a thump that reverberated through the walls, the hectic mouth-to-mouth as they dropped their belongings on the couch, their clothes flying on their way to the bedroom.
Marc clamped the guitarist’s jaw and broke the kiss. “Strip.”
