Marc leaned back in his chair, vibrating with a resounding,realcackle for the first time in days. Things would still be weird between them for a little while, he knew. But after the conversation he’d had with Erik that morning, and this one with Chris, he felt lighter. Free from all the tension that was crippling his heart. Because once again, the universe proved they would always have each other’s backs, no matter what.
14. Sync
August30th,2017
Los Angeles, California
It was past threein the morning, and Chris didn’t know how he was still conscious. With the amount of alcohol he’d drunk, he should be seeing triple and stumbling upon himself, but nope. He wasn’t. In fact, his mind was pretty clear.
Just like the organizing committee had thrown a party to open the touring festival, they did the same to close it; music on the rooftop of some extra classy building, metalheads wearing fancy clothes, and free rein of food and drinks. And here they were now, Marc, Noah, and himself, cackling like a pack of hyenas in the elevator just because the drum tech had tripped when entering and almost smashed his face against the mirrored wall.
The ding that announced they were already on the third floor chimed, but they couldn’t stop laughing.
“Try not to die on the way to your bedroom,” Chris told Noah as they stepped out into the corridor.
“Fuck you, Schmidt.” He showed him both middle fingers as he walked away.
“Jesus, he’s tanked,” Marc mumbled with a chuckle when they stopped by their bedroom doors.
“Absolutely,” Chris said, reaching for his wallet to get the keycard to his room.
It was the fourth and last night they were spending in the hotel before going back to Germany, and he was stupidly eager to strip off his suit pants and shirt to let himself fall over that utterly comfortable mattress.
During the time they were traveling, the road manager had decided to not book any accommodations so they could save some money for their upcoming tour in October. Winning the Battle of the Bands had granted them the possibility of coming here for free—no paying for gas, bus, or food—but in exchange, unlike the rest of the bands participating, they didn’t make money from the tickets sold. It was absolutely fair, no complaining. But after sleeping for two months inside a bus with eight other people, it felt nice to have separate rooms with real beds. Those sheets were so soft and smelled like fabric softener. It was amazing, especially at the end of a long day of sightseeing.
After their last concert on Sunday, all the bands had scattered over the city to rest a little before going back to their normal lives. Most were using their time to catch up on sleep since they had barely slept over the past two months. However, the members of Buried Alive had never traveled so far from home and they wanted to see at least some of the most iconic places in LA—the epicenters of rock music like the Sunset Strip and its theaters, the Hollywood Walk of Fame, and even the County Museum of Art because Leah said she wasn’t leaving the States without visiting that place.
“Okay, so see you in…” Marc trailed off while checking his phone, a foot inside his room already. “In five hours. Don’t fall asleep and make me come and kick your ass out of bed.”
“When have I ever done such a thing?” Chris quipped as his door clicked open.
The bassist chuckled. “Right.” He shoved the device in his pants and gave him a light nod. “G’night.”
“Night.”
Without wasting a second after closing the door, Chris undressed and left all his clothes on the floor—he would pick them up the next morning. After that he went to pee, brush his teeth, and practically ran, jumping onto the bed.
Letting out a long sigh while his face was still buried in the mattress, he couldn’t hold back a grin when someone moaned and something—probably the headboard—hit the other side of the wall. People sure were making the best out of their last hours here.
Although his brain was tired, his dick wasn’t. He was sure it was someone he knew because several of the bands they had toured with were on the same floor of the hotel, yet the sounds he was hearing were too sexy to ignore. It was like having a free ticket to a live porn show. Sometimes it wasn’t the images but the groaning, the dirty talk, the slapping of skin, and the creaking of the bed that made his cock needy for attention.
Ready to roll onto his back and give himself a release, the guitarist froze.
Wait. If Marc’s bedroom is on my left, then that means—
“Is that all you’ve got?” He recognized Leah’s voice. “Fuck me harder.”
A rumbling, solid thud trespassed the wall.
“Is that hard enough for you?” Søren gritted, practically growling.
“Yes!” she cried as the beating on what seemed to be the thinnest wall in history went on. “Fuck… yes, yes… Right there. Keep going.”
Chris cringed. It was fucking hot, but he would not stay there to listen to his best friend coming undone while getting railed. Much less jerk himself off to those two. He didn’t have many limits when it came to sex, but this felt plain wrong.
Grumbling to himself with a disappointed, still hard dick, Chris walked away from the bed and opened the door separating his room from Marc’s.
“What—”
