“And here I am being all nice and understanding and you mock me? Fuck you, Zimmer.”
The bassist had smirked. “I love you, too.”
Chris smiled at the memory as a roar of laughter coming from inside the house brought him back to the present.
He’d hated seeing Marc so down, but if Viktor hadn’t left, he wouldn’t have had the chance to get this close to his friend.
The guitarist had never stopped to think about whether or not he was satisfied with life because he just did whatever his brain craved in each moment. But looking at this man, considering his family was healthy, he had a job he loved, and their band had hit such an incredible milestone, he couldn’t ask for more. Emotionally talking, he might have never been in the best place since he’d always been an incomprehensible mess, even to himself. Yet, right now, Chris was certain he had everything he could have ever dreamed of. He was fulfilled.
“What?” Marc asked.
Chris shook his head. “Nothing.”
“Yeah, sure.” The bassist tittered. “What is it?”
“I was just thinking…” He lowered his gaze for a moment, gnawing at the inside of his bottom lip. “I never thought we’d make it this far.”
“With the band?” Marc wondered, as if he could sense there was a deeper meaning behind Chris’s words.
“Yeah… and us, I guess,” Chris said, glancing at him again.
He flashed him a cheeky grin. “Is this a love confession? Because if that’s the case, it’s the lamest I’ve ever heard.”
Chris rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t call it that, but… I mean”—he took a drag of his cig—“when we started all this with the band, we were both dating other people. I was eighteen, you twenty. We were both trying to find our place in the world. I didn’t even think about performing, just wanted to jam and have fun with friends. Then we had some small gigs in the creepiest places… What was it the first time? Four people?”
“Six.”
“And look at us now.” Chris exhaled, leaning back against the wall. Melancholy slipped in as images of that concert in a bar that wasn’t even open anymore bloomed in his mind. His heart ached and fluttered with joy. They had made it. They had fucking made it. “We’re gonna perform at one of the most important metal festivals in the world, on a huge stage, with thousands of people in the crowd.”
A sudden wave of pride, arousal, and misplaced guilt invaded him. When would these conflicting emotions disappear? He wasn’t in love, but he was definitely basking in the extra benefits of this new layer of intimacy he was sharing with Marc. And although he was aware of everything they were risking, he wanted to think neither would jeopardize the band again. Good thing he was learning to ignore all of this most of the time and simply focus on what he had in front of him.
Marc’s hooded gaze narrowed as he stepped closer to him, framing both of Chris’s feet with his. “And we’re also enjoying ourselves like never before,” he rasped against his lips, pressing the hand holding his cigarette on the wall. “Who would have thought back then, huh?”
“Shut up.”
Chris hooked his index fingers through the loops in Marc’s jeans and pulled his hips against him, kissing his mouth as if it was their last day on earth. It was dangerous doing this with so many people inside the house—nine, to be exact—but he couldn’t care less at the moment. He was exhilarated with all the good news and sensations he didn’t remember from before. And after the three weeks they had been fooling around, the guitarist still wanted more of this man.
Being with Marc in this alienated type of friendship had been a lot more revealing than he’d imagined. Bewildering, mentally turbulent, and scary, but so smooth. Chris had realized he was attracted to other men too, even if he hadn’t acted on it or asked his friend to try a threesome with a third dick instead of a pussy. And while he couldn’t put a label on himself yet, he felt more comfortable in his skin than ever. As if this was who he was supposed to be.
The bassist had not only shoved—literally—the best sex of his life up his ass, but had also helped him embrace parts of himself he was afraid to acknowledge before.
“Okay…” Marc panted into Chris’s mouth, tightening the grip on his hip. “I’m gonna stop this”—he pecked his lips once more—“before you get my dick out. They don’t need that kind of show.” He tipped his chin to point towards the back door.
“Yeah, sorry. Got a little carried away.”
Marc grinned. “Never apologize for that,” he said as he walked over to the kitchen window where Julia always left them an ashtray on the sill. “More than happy to have you all wound up like this.”
“Of course.” Chris rolled his eyes, faking nonexistent annoyance.
“Are you coming home with me tonight?” Marc asked while handing him the ashtray after putting out the cigarette that had consumed itself while they ravished each other’s mouths.
Chris pushed himself away from the wall. “Don’t even need to ask, especially not with Søren here.”
Since Marc had fucked him, the guitarist had been so needy he’d come over to his store every lunch break and had quickies in the storage room. Tuesday and Wednesday had mostly been hand and blow jobs. But on Thursday, when Chris’s ass wasn’t so sore anymore, he had asked him to fuck him again. And he did. Twice. Repeated on Friday, too. So he refused to go back to his apartment to listen to someone else getting railed while his chance of being spoiled was around the corner—so to speak.
Marc was a vicious lover, controlling and dominant; quite rough, and not afraid to show it. Something that, while a little disturbing the first time, the guitarist liked more than he’d thought. But the bassist was also so tender, always caressing him, making sure he was comfortable, peppering every inch of his skin with kisses. No one had ever treated Chris like he did. Since he was what society labeled as an alpha too, most of his previous conquests had let him do his thing, never stopping to check on him or ask what he wanted. And now, all this attention. It was mind-boggling.
“Then we’ll get to finish what you just started…” Marc gazed at him with those sinful dark eyes as he brushed his tongue over his upper teeth.
