“Why does it always have to be what you want?”
“WhatIwant?” Marc bared his teeth. “Do you even know what I want?”
“This is ridiculous. Get. The. Fuck. Off. Me.”
“I want you to fucking calm down. I want you to listen to me.” He tightened his grip on the guitarist’s wrists when he tried to move again. “Stop!”
Chris grunted, chest rising and falling as his mind slowly folded into itself.He hated this place inside of him where all he could do was chase shadows in the dark. But at this point, anything was better than the bitter end lingering on the tip of his tongue.
“What?” he spat.
“I was hesitant about meeting Viktor,” Marc started. “Was I curious about seeing how life was going for him now? Sure. But in my head, it was the most absurd idea ever.”
“Afraid that you might still be in love?”
“No. I was more troubled than anything. Why would I want my past to come into my present and mess everything up?” Marc inhaled. “But you convinced me it could help me find closure, something I didn’t even know I needed. So I went, we caught up, had a nice evening, and only when I was about to leave did he ask if I’d give him another chance.”
Chris snorted, turning his face to the side. Although it looked clean on the surface, the carpet was probably dirty as fuck. But he didn’t care. He couldn’t look Marc in the eye while he told him all this.
“You saw what you saw, and I’m not gonna deny it. And I’m not gonna tell you I didn’t vacillate for a moment when he offered me everything I crave. The problem is, what I crave,who I want, isn’t him.”
Chris writhed under the bassist’s dominant grasp, trying to free himself when he seemed to relax. Nope. Didn’t work. This man was like a fucking boa constrictor coiled around him.
“Are you seriously that fucking dense? Do you think I treat all my hookups or friends the way I treat you?”
Marc’s hair tickled Chris’s face when he looked at him again. Drops of water rolled down his skin, sending confusing signals to the guitarist’s brain as their gazes locked. They were both panting; the intensity connecting them feeling like tangled branches in a flood.
Unhinged. Irreparable. Out of control.
Chirs wanted to escape, but he couldn’t. Marc was a blade, and he was the blood drawing from the wound. They could exist without the other, but together they were painfully beautiful.
“What are you saying?” Chris’s voice came out hoarse as confusion, anger, and lust morphed into one.
Nobody in their right mind would be turned on in a situation where they’d been close to ripping each other’s throats out. But the thin line separating hate and desire had vanished, and all he wanted now was to fuck Marc into oblivion.
The bassist pressed his hips down, probably noticing the bulge growing under him, and Chris stifled a moan.
Shit.
“What I’m saying is that the wall between us is there only because you built it up,” Marc rasped, leaning down. “That when I’m around you, I wear my fucking heart on my sleeve because, as infuriating as you are, I fell for you.”
Chris’s breath stalled for a second with that confession, but his brain stirred, refusing to believe his words.
“You can sweet-talk me as much as you want, but you still let someone else touch what’s mine.”
A throaty growl vibrated in Marc’s throat as his eyes fluttered closed, before all his attention and searing energy pounced on him. “Fuck… I’m not above begging. What is it you need to hear? That I’m on my knees for you? Because I fucking am.” He was so close now Chris was breathing his oxygen. “Eat me alive like a disease. Bleed me dry. Take whatever the hell you want from me. I don’t care.”
With an agitated pulse and primal need burning between them, they ravished each other’s mouths. Usually tuned to the same frequency, tonight they were pure anarchy. Every time one of them pulled away to breathe, the other immediately captured his lips. It was messy, animalistic. They both were predator and prey.
Chris fumbled with the bassist’s shirt as Marc worked on his jeans, but the faster he tried to undress him, the harder it got.
More haste, less speed.Fuck it.
The guitarist gripped the fabric on his chest and ripped it open. Buttons flew everywhere, finally revealing his strong torso to him.
“Say it again.” Marc’s voice rumbled low and deep between them.
“What?” Chris asked, tugging on his pierced nipples.
