He didn’t know what having his heart broken by whom he thought was the love of his life felt like. As far as he’d told Marc, he’d always been the one ending relationships when the fluttering in his stomach disappeared. But Chris definitely knew what suffering felt like. And while he would never acknowledge it, seeing his family and his best friend suffering through the unimaginable had changed him.
Sarcastic and wild, Chris was still living his life to the fullest, doing what he wanted without stopping to worry about what others thought of him. Though now, the sky-blue eyes shone with a depth they didn’t have before. It wasn’t just the wisdom that growing up provided; it was something else. Something that matched the heart of gold he had.
“You’re not feeling needy?” the guitarist asked out of the blue.
“No. Why would I when I had a couple ofinteresting encountersbefore coming here?” The side of his mouth curled up.
“You asshole!” Chris pointed at him with an accusatory finger.
“What? I had the chance and took it.” Marc shrugged before finishing his coffee. Now he was ready to adult.
“Why didn’t you invite me?”
“There were already four people, counting me. It was cramped enough,” he replied, wrestling with the thoughts yearning to fly. Chris would have made that night hotter, but also thornier for his heart.
“So?”
“There was only one woman.” Marc raised a brow, as curious as he was defiant. “Wouldn’t that have been too many dicks for you?”
The bassist enjoyed group sex; it wasn’t a secret. And although he and the guitarist had shared a few sexy nights—not scrambled, just in the same bedroom—Marc had never asked for more. He was bisexual. Chris straight. The math simply didn’t math. Even in the hypothetical case of them getting entangled in the sheets, it was better not to push it. Experience had taught him that mixing sex with friendship or business ended badly more times than not. Usually, one party would catch feelings while the other was just seeking the benefits of their carnal interaction, and the whole thing ended up exploding in their faces.
Deep down, he knew he was making excuses for himself to avoid a situation that could lead to something else between them. How could you have a threesome—or a moresome—with your fucking crush and not touch him?
“Haven’t tried that yet, but you’ll never know if you like something until you try it, right?”
“You are so fuckingdesperate.” Trying to ignore the way his friend’s words had stirred his insides, Marc laughed.
“Apparently.” Chris dragged a palm down his face and rolled his eyes.
“Dudes, we’re supposed to sleep till later today,” Uwe, their friend and road manager, grumbled with a yawn, interrupting their conversation as he walked out of the bunks area.
“Sorry,” Marc said.
“Not sorry,” snarky Chris clipped.
“Go fuck yourself.” Uwe gave him the finger before pouring himself a cup of coffee and hopping off the bus with his pack of tobacco in hand.
“You can be such an asshole sometimes,” Marc said.
“I’m not a morning person, but here I am.” Chris gestured, opening his arms as he got up and walked towards the bathroom. “Leave me alone.”
For a few seconds, as Marc sat there with an empty mug between his legs, the fantasies he never let run free in his mind broke the chains that kept them hostage. The idea of Chris naked in bed with him, exchanging bold caresses and hot breaths, did things to him.Badthings. The times he’d dreamt about running his tongue through every ridge and valley of his muscles, of hearing him moan and watching him tremble, sweating, flushed, trapped under the same erotic spell as he played around with that fucking sexy Prince Albert piercing the guitarist had.
Fuck.Marc tossed his head back and inwardly groaned, repositioning his cock.
Every one of their friends knew about thatbody embellishment. It was the result of a drunken bet he’d made with Leah three years before; he’d get his dick pierced if she got her clit done. She’d outright refused: “no one touches my vajay if they’re not railing me”. Instead, she’d ended up doing both her nipples—though she had taken one out after some time because it wasn’t healing—and two dermal piercings on her lower back, turning her into a cranky bitch for weeks because she couldn’t find a comfortable position to sleep.
Those two were like bad meeting evil. They fueled each other’s craziness in very scary ways sometimes. If they did something stupid, they had to do it together. Yet Marc was the only one in their group who had seen Chris’s dick piercing. Because, not only had they been in the same room multiple times when having sex, but the guitarist had proudly shown it to him once it was healed—said he was ready to put it to good use after weeks of not even being able to jerk himself off.
A shiver cruised along Marc’s entire body, riddling his skin with goosebumps and untenable desires.
“You okay?” Leah’s voice brought him back.
“What?” Marc looked down at his crotch to make sure his boner wasn’t too obvious. It was.
“You seem… absent,” she said, side-glancing at him while pouring herself some coffee.
“Nah, still fucked up with the jet lag.” He scratched his head and weaved his fingers through his hair, subtly running them down to the ends that brushed over his thighs so he could readjust his cock when she turned away to get a sugar sachet. “How long does this shit last?”
