“Night.”
As the door slid shut behind him, Marc let out a long breath. Stunned didn’t even cut it. This conversation, Chris’s words, and the way the energy had shifted between them without him noticing, had completely flipped off the axis that kept his world running.
9. Change
July30th,2017
Virginia Beach, Virginia
“You’re not gonna join?”Søren asked Marc while they watched the concert going on at the beach with Erik and Ian, Dark Omen’s guitarist.
Loud music blasted through the amps. Lights jittered, illuminating the dark sky above and every grain of sand below. The atmosphere was intoxicating, with the salty breeze caressing his skin and the background sound of the sea. But the bassist was pretty sure he wasn’t talking about the crowd enjoying the vibe a few meters away from them, but Chris and Violet—an insanely hot redhead grinding her ass on him.
They had met her at the bar she worked at, near the fishing pier. She was nice and super outgoing, and the guitarist, like always, had tossed that she could come with them after her shift.
Of course, as he never hid his intentions and rarely anyone said no to his charms, she’d accepted. And here they were now.
Those two had been going at it for a while, swaying, twirling, rocking to the rhythm of the music. Marc didn’t know how they had so much stamina. He was tired just by looking at them, but would not complain.
She was wearing a red summer dress with spaghetti straps that contrasted with her pale skin and the black of Chris’s sleeveless tee and jeans. Yet it was the latter moving in sync with her, grabbing her hips with a dominant grip that was doing ungodly things to his heart—and his dick.
One would think that having done threesomeseveryfucking night for the past week should have been an outlet for Marc and his repressed emotions. That it would somehow have helped him get rid of what had become the most absurd, monopolizing obsession with one of his best friends. But nope. On the contrary. He was craving his friend’s attention like never before.
As Chris had gotten bolder with each interaction, not hesitating when touching him, gripping his neck forcefully when he was about to come, and shit like that, Marc had fallen down a rabbit hole where desire and logic collided. Holding back had his mind and heart divided, shattered into thousands of pieces he wasn’t sure he could ever put together again. Yet he also felt so damn complete, even if all he got was a bite at a time.
With his jaw clenched to temper down his urges, he looked behind to check neither Erik nor Ian were paying attention to their conversation before he finally said, “Nah, I’m not much of a dancer. Besides, I’ll get my fix tonight, anyway.”
Søren laughed, his massive chest and shoulders vibrating as he did.
Marc wasn’t afraid or ashamed of the arrangement he had going on with Chris, and it wasn’t as if it were a secret at this point—they hadn’t exactly been discreet about it. But a couple of days before, Erik had made a comment that got him thinking he wasn’t thrilled with what they were doing.
He was far from being homophobic, and probably didn’t care about the twists and turns of their sexcapades. But considering he’d had to take a leave of absence from work to come to the festival, and was contemplating quitting his position as marketing chief at a huge multinational company to dedicate his life to the band, he might be worried they would do something stupid and fuck it all up.
Marc couldn’t blame him. However, it was their lives. And as much as they appreciated Erik, he had no say in that. Unless, of course, they messed up.
“Where’s Jäger, by the way?” he wondered, lighting up a cig.
Except for Dark Omen’s drummer, whose back had been hurting like a motherfucker for a few days, the rest of the musicians of both European bands and part of their crews had been hanging out since the morning—days off were the best and Virginia Beach summer events so much fun. And, while he knew where most of them were, he had no idea where Leah was, which was weird. Considering she and Søren had just gotten back together, he didn’t know why they weren’t railing each other into next Sunday to make up for lost time. But his mouth was more sophisticated than his brain, so he didn’t say it.
“She’s right there, with Alex and Astrid.” He gestured, tipping his chin up.
Marc looked in the direction he’d just pointed to, squinting. It took him a few seconds to recognize his friend amongst the mass of bodies in the dimmed ambience of flashing lights. But yeah, there she was. Søren had probably known all along, and that was why he was so calm.
With Leah’s past, if she were dating Marc, he would freak out every time she got a few meters away from him. Not this man, though.
He was protective but not overbearing or insecure; didn’t even mind it when some stranger tried to hit on her. The bassist had seen the cockiness in his expression more than once when that had happened.
Søren subtly watched after her every time they were out, especially if there were a lot of people around. He let her do whatever she wanted, ready to act if anyone cornered or touched her—his death stare was one you didn’t want to have aimed at you. He trusted and was proud of the woman he had, and by the looks of it, he also enjoyed seeing others drooling, confident that she’dalwaysreturn with him.
Marc loved this for his friend.
“Oh, Jesus, I’m thirsty as fuck,” Chris said as he and Redhead approached them.
Søren crouched down, the massive tattoo covering his back peeking out of his dropped-hole tee as he looked inside the cooler bag they had brought. “You’re shit out of luck, my friend.”
“Even water?” Chris grumbled, running his fingers through his hair, a couple of strands falling over his forehead again.
“Yeah. Sorry.”
