Looking At Forever (The Rock Gods Book 4) (21 page)

Wheland’s hand gripped Rooster’s jaw and pulled him in for a kiss. The contact made Wheland shiver. He opened his mouth wider and teased Rooster’s tongue with his own. His hand left Rooster’s jaw and dropped to his hip and he deepened the kiss; his fingers digging into the leather belt at Rooster’s hips. He was about to let himself be swept up in this all-consuming feeling connected with Rooster when reality hit like a punch to the kidneys.

“Dude! Take that homo shit into a room, for fuck’s sake,” a beefy roadie said to them. “No one wants to see that.”

Wheland spun on heel to face the bigot. “Hey,
Dude
. You got a name, or do people just call you asshole?” Wheland asked.

“Derek Rossling,” the tattooed man answered and straightened his back.

“Well, Derek. You’re fired. Pack your shit up and get the fuck out of here,” Wheland said.

The roadie’s jaw flexed. “You can’t do that!”

“The fuck I can’t,” Wheland said.

Wheland whistled for a venue security guard standing at the bottom of the stairs to the stage. He waited until the guard came over before he spoke. “I just fired this dickhead,” Wheland said to the guard. “Have someone escort him off the property immediately.”

The guard nodded and pulled a walkie-talkie from his hip holster to give the order to the person on the other end of the device. Behind the uniformed guard Wheland watched Fizzbo, his own personal security, elbowing his way toward him through the gathering crowd. He came up beside the venue guard, casting a shadow over the other guard with his bulk.

“Is there a problem?” Fizzbo asked Wheland.

Christ! Even the timbre of the guy’s voice was intimidating, Wheland thought.

“Not anymore. I took care of it,” Wheland said.

“What the fuck, dude! I need this job,” the roadie protested to Wheland.

Half a dozen more crew workers stopped beside Derek looking quizzically at Wheland and Rooster. Wheland clapped his hands over his head to get everyone’s attention within earshot.

“Listen up! There is a
zero
tolerance rule on this tour for homophobic assholes like Derek here, and I mean ZERO. If any one of you has a problem with two guys expressing affection in public, pack your shit and you can leave with Derek. Now.”

Wheland turned and started walking back toward the stage stairs with Rooster right beside him.

“They could go to the press about that,” Rooster said to Wheland, using a hushed tone.

Wheland looked pointedly at Rooster. “I don’t give a fuck, Sonny. I’m not hiding who I’m spending my time with, nor will I put up with shit behavior like that. For Christ sakes, the band performing on stage right now is fronted by a man who’s
married
to another man! Not to mention all the other guys in both bands that are in same sex relationships! If they want to work for us, they best be adjusting their attitudes.”

Wheland started up the stairs and Fizzbo stopped him. “Listen, you need to let me know when you leave the area again,” Fizzbo said. “Your ass is my responsibility, and for me to be effective at that job, you need to give me a heads up when you’re on the move. Deal?”

Wheland nodded. “Yeah, whatever. I’ll be sure to send you a text message.”

“Hey, why are you copping an attitude with me?” Fizzbo asked Wheland.

Wheland pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. The subtle pressure of Rooster’s hand on the small of his back was all he needed to free the tension building inside him and his squared shoulders relaxed.

“Fizzbo, I’m sorry,” Wheland said, opening his eyes to look up at the giant man. “I didn’t appreciate the attitude of the asshole back there and I might have overreacted a bit.”

“You gotta learn to let some of that bullshit roll off your back,” Fizzbo said. “It’s not easy in the beginning, but you’ll get used to it.”

Wheland heard the voice of reason behind what Fizzbo said and when their eyes connected, Fizzbo winked.
Shit. Is he gay, too?

They climbed the stairs together and once again Rooster and Wheland were standing in the shadows at the side of the stage watching Black Ice perform. Their set went for a solid hour, then Wheland and Ivory Tower joined them on stage for a combined twenty minute set.

The rush that washed over Wheland when they took the stage with Dagger and his band was enormous. Knowing Rooster was watching it all unfold from the side of the stage made the emotion increase tenfold. Wheland did his best to tamp down the thought Rooster wouldn’t always be at the side of the stage for him and he needed to find a way to accept that.

Wheland took his guitar from the tech and ran his pick across the strings. He loved the fucking sounds that action created. It gave him goosebumps every time he did it. They were performing four songs together; two Ivory Tower hits and two Black Ice classics. The first song was
Metal Heads,
an Ivory Tower classic Wheland knew well because he co-wrote the music with Alex. That song transitioned into Black Ice’s hit
Be Mine
and
The Beast Within
and then the set ended with Ivory Tower’s
Miracle Of You
. After that, the music hall went to darkness and the bands exited the stage.

To save time, the stage crew was using a special rotating stage area that spun around to reveal a second stage set-up with Ivory Tower’s gear already in position on it. Even without the banner for Ivory Tower hanging on the back curtain, the audience would still know who was performing, simply by the recognizably large drum kit that nearly dwarfed Cooper when he sat behind it.

Once all the hook-ups were completed, it was Ivory Tower’s turn to light up the stage with their pyrotechnics, scorching guitar riffs and pounding drum beats. When the lights came up, they hit the audience right between the eyes with a burning rendition of
Get Bent
.

~ Get Bent ~

You can bend me, but I won’t break.

A lesson learned by fools long ago.

Get bent.

Yes, I’ll eat it all.

And go back for the cake.

Get Bent.

Shooting star, yeah, that’s me. Blazing across an inky, black sky.

Watch me fly. Far away from you.

A better place. No pain. No rent.

I’m a free man, something you will never be.

That voice you hear screaming is me.

Telling you to,

Get bent.

One hit after another, Ivory Tower laid it all out on the stage for their fans. Wheland sang until his voice was hoarse and did it all with an endless smile. Watching the ocean of writhing people below them singing the words to every one of their songs left him breathless. The only feeling better than this moment was every moment he spent with Rooster. And, just like that, his heart was beating erratically for an entirely different reason. Wheland turned his head and caught the smile on Rooster’s gorgeous face and quickly missed two cords in a row.

Alex looked at Wheland and attempted a pissed-off glare, but instead he laughed. There was no room for anger on this stage tonight. Wheland felt surrounded by love from every one of his band mates and also from the handsome man waiting for him in the shadows at the side of the stage. Never in his life had he felt this kind of contentment and peace.

A shiver vibrated through Rooster’s body when the first cord was played. Seeing Wheland in his element like this and witnessing the way the music transformed his man into this larger than life enigma took his breath away. Rooster laughed when he saw Wheland playing to the girls in the first few rows of the Music Hall; teasing them with his close proximity, then tossing his special Ivory Tower guitar picks at them. One girl looked like she passed-out from the excitement. Rooster’s laughter soon turned into raw emotion that was clogging his throat. Wheland had never looked sexier to Rooster than he did in this very moment; with his face and body bathed in purple, red, and blue lighting. It enhanced the man’s appeal to Rooster tenfold and knowing he’d be the one sharing Wheland’s bed tonight damn near made his heart explode with joy. Could it possibly get any better for them? Rooster doubted it. Everything was perfection just the way it was. Rooster exhaled slowly, trying to get a grip on his emotions before the moisture building in his eyes ran down his cheeks.

I still think you’re a sexy prick, but did you have to make me fall in love with you, too?

An hour later, Wheland left the stage sweaty and exhausted with his band. He chugged half a bottle of water, then was directed back to center stage for one encore. It was a song titled
Miss Demeanor,
an Ivory Tower anthem from the archives, and the crowd went nuts for five minutes straight. They left the stage for the final time with chants, whistles, and applause vibrating off the walls.

Chapter Seventeen

“Fucking awesome show,” Cooper said to Wheland, his body still buzzing with energy.

Wheland nodded, his eyes never leaving Rooster’s as he made his way off the stage and toward him. Alex high-fived Wheland as he passed by to hug Chase and Danni, Tony and Jared scooped up the redhead, and together they all moved off the stage as one living, breathing unit all the way down the hall toward the room they’d eaten dinner in earlier. More food was spread out on the buffet tables and a fully stocked bar was standing at the ready.

Dagger and his band were already in the room waiting for them. Wheland eyed the food tables, but passed them by and walked over to Rooster instead. He pulled Rooster in for a hug, pressing the front of his body fully against Rooster’s.

“Oh, the wicked things you do to me,” Wheland said against Rooster’s lips.

“As soon as we’re able to leave the after-party, I plan on doing more,” Rooster said.

“I’m ready now,” Wheland said. He tipped his hips forward to show just how ready he was for Rooster.

Rooster nipped Wheland’s bottom lip and smiled. “I can feel how... ready you are, babe, but don’t you need to put in an appearance at the party?”

“Yes, he most certainly does,” Alex said beside them, with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Shit,” Wheland sighed.

“Shit, is right. Get something to eat or go clean up,” Alex said. “We’ll all be leaving together shortly.”

The after-party was downtown at a new club called Indigo. The place was slick and trendy with low lighting, and just enough splash to highlight Ivory Tower and Black Ice. The club had been shut down for this party. Everyone in attendance was there by invitation. Even the two photographers illuminating the room with their sporadic flashes had been hired by band management. Talk about quality control at its best! Not a chance in hell any band secrets would be leaked from this party.

Even still, Wheland didn’t plan on letting down his guard. He wasn’t overly concerned about his face being flashed all over the music rags in the morning, it was Rooster he wanted to protect. He agreed to pose for the band photograph they took at the start of every tour. It was a tradition they’d started a long time ago, but this time around they wanted to include everyone’s significant other.

The guys from Ivory Tower were gathered beside two large, flowering trees to pose for the photograph. Wheland scanned the happy faces around him and smiled. He couldn’t remember a time where they were all filled with this much joy at once. Alex had an arm around Chase’s waist and the other around Danni. Cooper was bumping shoulders with Jayson with a smile a mile wide, and Wheland had Rooster’s solid form pressing in to his backside. Wheland’s gaze fell on Tony and Jared. He thought it interesting Tony and Jared opted to leave the redhead out of the shot, but they certainly seemed pleased to be standing beside each other. Maybe there was some truth to what Rooster had said earlier, even if they hadn’t acted on it yet. He shook off that thought as the photographer instructed them to tighten in together.

Wheland reached behind him for Rooster. He felt the soft hairs on the back of Rooster’s hand first, then reached to twine their long fingers together, creating a strength Wheland had never felt before. He had to swallow the lump forming in his throat and emotion bit at his eyes. Somehow having Rooster with him for this photograph cemented things for them. Perhaps it offered proof of their relationship? Whatever it was, Wheland didn’t want to question it because it felt too fucking perfect to wonder about a single aspect of it.

The flashes popped off burning their eyes and making Wheland blink. As if sensing Wheland’s discomfort, Rooster set his other hand on Wheland’s hip and calm replaced the anxiety. Was it a photograph for the history books of Ivory Tower? It sure as hell felt like that to Wheland.

With the formal part of the party done and over with, Wheland began to move him and Rooster toward the exit as fast as he could. He stepped beside Alex and squeezed the back of his neck.

“We’re heading out,” Wheland said. “Unless the hotel is on fire, do not disturb us. Got it? I’m officially off the clock until it’s time to go back to the venue tomorrow afternoon.”

“Fine. Whatever,” Alex said. “But, your screams better not keep me from sleeping tonight!”

“Funny man,” Wheland said. “I’ll be sure to keep the tension on the restraints loose so we don’t disturb you.”

Wheland walked out of the club with Rooster and directly to a waiting SUV with Fizzbo walking out in front clearing a path. Wheland slid into the backseat of the black vehicle first, then rooster moved in beside him. Fizzbo sat in front with the driver.

Rooster reached for Wheland’s hand again. “Did you really bring your ropes?” Rooster whispered.

“I was kinda hoping you did,” Wheland smiled.

“How could I do that?” Rooster asked. “I don’t even know where you keep them.”

“Wooden trunk on the floor in the back corner of the walk-in closet in my bedroom,” Wheland said. “That’s my toy box.” Wheland’s cock twitched inside his black jeans at the thought of the contents in that box. He felt a shiver ripple through Rooster’s body, too, and looked at him in the darkened vehicle. The passing street lights offering just enough light to illuminate Rooster’s expressive eyes.

“Does my toy box intrigue you, babe?” Wheland asked.

Rooster’s fingers ran the length of Wheland’s throat. “Most definitely.”

“As soon as I get an extended break from this tour, you and I can go through that trunk together,” Wheland said. “We’ll see if there’s anything in there that makes you want to play.”

Rooster leaned in and pressed his mouth to the shell of Wheland’s ear. “You’re making me horny as hell,” Rooster whispered. “You keep talking dirty like that and I’ll be forced to mount you right here on this leather seat.”

Wheland’s head dropped back to the headrest and sighed. “Fuckkk, Sonny. I can’t wait to get you back to my room,” Wheland said, and squeezed Rooster’s hand.

Wheland didn’t remember much of the trip back to the hotel after that. It was a haze of frantic kisses, touches, and grunts that spilled into the lobby of Trump Towers and onto a waiting elevator. It didn’t even seem to matter Fizzbo was there to witness most of their PDA’s. Wheland fumbled with his key card. He vaguely remembered Fizzbo saying good night to them before they fell into the foyer of the suite; barely coming up for air. Down the short hall to Wheland’s room, they found their way to the bed and fell on top of it.

“Naked. Now,” Wheland growled.

They both scrambled out of their clothes and rolled together in the center of the bed on their sides. Wheland was out of breath. He knew he needed to calm the fuck down or he’d shoot before Rooster even touched his cock. He drew in a long breath and pressed his forehead to Rooster’s. His hands were trembling as he mapped Rooster’s skin; each ridge of muscle and hot spot on Rooster’s body was sparking to attention and Wheland was mesmerized by every sigh and groan that passed through Rooster’s lips.

Wheland’s hands stopped moving on Rooster’s back and Rooster’s hands did the same. Rooster eased his head back to look into Wheland’s eyes.

“Something wrong?” Rooster asked.

“It’s what’s right,” Wheland said and Rooster smiled back at him.

“Hmmm, it is.”

“Sonny?”

Rooster nuzzled Wheland’s nose. “What, babe?”

“I want you to top.”

“Seriously?” Rooster asked.

“Yeah. Will you do it?”

“If that’s what you want, I’ll do it,” Rooster said. “But, I’m happy bottoming. I told you that in the beginning.”

“I know, but I really want this with you,” Wheland said.

“You’ve been thinking about it?” Rooster asked.

Wheland nodded and said, “For a few weeks.”

“Why now?” Rooster asked.

Wheland slid his hand around Rooster’s throat and eased him on to his back, then he straddled his groin. He bent at the waist and dropped his weight to one forearm; his other hand still clutching Rooster’s throat. Ever so slightly, Wheland increased the pressure over Rooster’s Adam’s apple. The constriction was minimal, but enough to bring Rooster’s focus to it and feel the subtle dominance in the caress. Wheland watched Rooster’s pupils flare. He was absolutely certain Rooster was feeling exactly what Wheland wanted him to. Wheland leaned in to brush his lips across Rooster’s.

“It feels right for you to top me tonight,” Wheland whispered. He shivered and sucked in a breath when Rooster’s fingers slid the length of his back and landed on his hips.

“I’ve only topped one other guy,” Rooster said softly. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I like those stats,” Wheland said and smiled. “It makes us even, because I’ve only topped one other guy.”

Wheland took a kiss and rubbed his cock against Rooster’s. Hard, hot bodies, with just enough body hair created a delicious friction when Wheland rocked himself to Rooster. He closed his eyes and sucked on Rooster’s tongue. He could come like this, without any more stimulation and knew he’d be completely sated, but that’s not what he wanted tonight.

Wheland reached behind him and latched on to Rooster’s thick cock. He lifted to his knees and ran Rooster’s prick through the length of his crease; leaving a trail of pre-come behind. He pulled Rooster’s cockhead down to his entrance, then held it in place and sat back; applying the faintest amount of pressure to the tight opening.

“Jesus, Mick,” Rooster said on a moan. “Do you have a condom and lube?”

Wheland reached for the backpack sitting on the floor beside the bed and retrieved a handful of packets and dropped them on to the bed.

Rooster’s eyebrows arched when he saw the pile. “It looks like you’ve got quite a party planned for us.”

“I’ve got one good one left in me, after that incredible blowjob you gave me this afternoon,” Wheland said. “Are you game?”

“Oh, I’m game,” Rooster said. “Spin around.”

“What?” Wheland asked.

“If we’re going to do this, I’m doing it right,” Rooster said. “Turn around on your hands and knees and back up into my face. I’m going to get you good and stretched.”

“Oh, fuckkkk.”

“Most definitely,” Rooster said, sliding up on the pillows a bit.

Wheland did as he was instructed to do and got into a sixty-nine position over Rooster. He rested his face on Rooster’s thigh; wanting to suck Rooster, but knowing he needed to concentrate on what Rooster was about to do. He exhaled slowly when he felt Rooster’s hands rubbing his ass cheeks, spreading them open and then... Shit! The hot wetness of Rooster’s tongue slid through Wheland’s crease and stopped right on his hole; licking and then spearing the opening.

“Sonnnnyyy.”

Wheland grabbed on to his head and tugged his own hair. He needed something to distract him from the pleasure spreading through his body and threatening to push him over the edge far too soon. Rooster added a finger and started pumping it in and out, then in again. Wheland had to pull harder on his hair.

“You okay?” Rooster asked.

“Give me more,” Wheland hissed.

Rooster added another finger, spun them around inside the tight channel making sure he rubbed right over Wheland’s sweet spot with every twist of his fingers. He scissored and spun some more, until Wheland was at his wits end.

“I’m gonna blow before you ever get inside me,” Wheland warned.