Looking At Forever (The Rock Gods Book 4) (7 page)

Rooster glanced down at their cocks sliding back and forth together, rubbing at the most sensitive spot at the base of the head.

“Jasmine, open wide baby and grab our balls,” Wheland said. He wrapped his long fingers around both their cocks and tipped them toward her waiting mouth, then fed her as much of them as she could take without gagging. She lapped hungrily at their shafts and Wheland began running his fingers along the length of both of them, tightening his fist on the down stroke.

“Shit. Shit. Shit,” Rooster said. He rolled his forehead on Wheland’s, their mouths only inches apart. Rapid breaths washed over both their faces.

Jasmine pulled back and licked at their cock heads, as Wheland continued to stroke them.

“I can’t hold off,” Rooster said.

“Come with me,” Wheland said.

Wheland tipped his head and brought his mouth within an inch of Rooster’s. If Rooster had snaked his tongue out, he would have been able to lick at Wheland’s lips.

“Are you with me, Roost?” Wheland asked, and his lips feathered over Rooster’s in a touch so delicate, it was the sexiest non-kiss Rooster had ever received.

“Shoot. Now!” Wheland said.

Rooster heard the command and rocked his hips faster, as the first thick ribbon of his come shot from the tip of his cock.

“Fucking hell,” Wheland said. “Look at that.”

Rooster managed a glance between them and saw Wheland’s come splashing with his, mingling together all over Jasmine’s cheeks and chin. It was by far the hottest thing he’d ever seen in his life. He closed his eyes and rode the orgasm with Wheland. Both their arms gripped the back of each other’s neck to hold them up in a locked intimate embrace. Christ, he didn’t want this moment to end. It was a state of bliss Rooster had never experienced before and he knew he’d want more.

Wheland’s strokes slowed on their cocks, as he eased them through the aftershocks. That’s when Jasmine began her protests.

“What the hell was that?” Jasmine said. She pushed them away and felt her face. “Christ! I’m covered in come!”

Rooster reluctantly let go of Wheland’s neck and stood upright on wobbly legs. Wheland released Rooster’s cock and looked at him and then down at Jasmine.

“Oh my God, you got come in my hair!” Jasmine complained. “I’m still on duty, you know. How am I supposed to go back to the floor with this dripping from my hair?”

Wheland ran his fingers through the white smears on her face and lifted them to his mouth. Rooster’s eyes widened at the sight of Wheland tasting their combined come. The smile Wheland gave him said he didn’t much care he was licking another man’s come, nor did he care Jasmine was wearing it all over her face.

Wheland walked to the bathroom and returned with a wet towel for Jasmine to clean-up. Rooster was already tucked back into his pants and had opened up another beer at the bar when Wheland stood beside him.

“You okay?” Wheland asked.

“Yeah fine,” Rooster said. “You about ready to leave?”

Wheland seemed hurt by that question and looked back toward the door in time to catch Jasmine leaving. He adjusted his clothing again, then met Rooster’s gaze.

“I suppose we can leave, if that’s what you want,” Wheland said, and started walking toward the door.

Chapter Five

Fifteen minutes later, they were seated inside Wheland’s Porsche and on their way back to Wheland’s estate. The silence in the car enhanced the ringing Rooster had in his ears from the music at the club. He couldn’t wait to get back to Wheland’s house and disappear into his room. First thing in the morning he’d be calling a real estate agent to help him find his own place.

“Would you like to talk about what happened?” Wheland asked, finally breaking the silence between them.

“I don’t think there’s anything to discuss,” Rooster said.

“You’re pissed off about something, Roost. Talk to me.”

Rooster shook his head. There was no way he could explain what he was thinking or feeling at this very moment with the images still fresh in his head of their cocks moving together, Wheland’s hand wrapped tightly around him while he fucked his fist before coming all over each other.
Christ!
It was the best orgasm of his life and he’d never felt more depleted, and yet, he was getting hard all over again at the memory of Wheland’s cock and how good it all had felt.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Rooster mumbled to himself.

“What’d you say?” Wheland asked.

Rooster let his head fall to the back of seat and closed his eyes. “I was talking to myself. Sorry about that.”

“What’s going on?” Wheland asked. “Haven’t you ever shared a girl like that with another guy?”

“Too many to count,” Rooster said.

“Then, what’s the problem?”

“Nothing,” Rooster said.

“Are you pissed off because I jerked you?” Wheland asked. “Because, Christ man, if that’s the case, I’m sorry. It was done in the heat of the moment. I didn’t mean anything by it and I certainly wouldn’t have done it if I thought you’d have this much of a problem with it.”

Rooster felt himself bristle at Wheland’s remarks and rubbed at his face. Of course Wheland hadn’t meant anything by it! Why would Rooster think otherwise? It was nothing more than wishful thinking and that’s what bothered Rooster the most. He needed to pull his shit together and get the hell over Wheland and how the guy made him feel. What Rooster personally felt about any of this meant nothing at this point and it needed to remain that way.

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Rooster said with a little more force.

Out of the corner of his eye, Rooster could see Wheland looking at him and the nervous tapping of his fingers on the steering wheel, but he didn’t ask Rooster any more questions and that was a relief. Rooster needed time to think. If this went any further with Wheland, Rooster risked ruining a renewed friendship and the best music collaborator he’d worked with in years.
Do I really want to walk away from that?
For his own sanity, Rooster was thinking: yes. The sooner he was away from Wheland on a day to day basis, the better. With any luck, a real estate agent would find him a house tomorrow to rent and this would be the last night he’d have to sleep under Wheland’s roof.

The thought of leaving had his stomach tightening in knots, but it didn’t feel right staying when it was obvious Wheland wasn’t looking for more beyond a blowjob at a strip club. Rooster moving into his own place would be their only chance to save their reestablished friendship and working relationship. Right?

As soon as they got inside Wheland’s house, Rooster started walking to the stairs to go to his bedroom. Wheland followed him as far as the living room and stopped, hands on hips, as he watched Rooster take the stairs.

“It’s still early, Rooster,” Wheland said. “Let’s go downstairs and work on that song we started yesterday.”

Rooster’s pause on the stairs was brief. “Maybe tomorrow,” he said. “I’m too tired to work right now.”

“Fine! I’ll be in the studio if you feel like joining me,” Wheland said.

Wheland stomped down to the basement studio and closed the door to the sound engineer’s room.
What the fuck is Rooster’s problem?
They’d both lived the musician lifestyle for years. There was no doubt in Wheland’s mind that Rooster had had his cock touched by another guy at some point during a threesome or some other kind of sex act.
So, why would he freak out over me touching him?

Wheland walked to the mini-fridge and removed a beer, then sat down in one of the plush leather chairs he and Rooster had occupied just the day before while they worked. He took a long swig of the beer and closed his eyes. Up until the point Jasmine started bitching about the come sprayed all over her, Rooster seemed blissed-out over what had happened between them.

Maybe that was the problem? Maybe it had felt too good and now Rooster was questioning himself and why he enjoyed it so much? Shit! How did you manage to fuck this one up?

Wheland rubbed his forehead and felt a tension headache brewing. He had no idea how to fix this. If he’d known Rooster would react this badly to being touched by him, he’d never have done it. But, in the darkest corners of his brain, Wheland actually thought Rooster might have wanted this and maybe this would be a launching point for them having something physical develop between them. He had even stupidly allowed the fantasy of Rooster possibly being someone he could have something
real
with, like Cooper and Jayson.

Apparently not!

That was not only foolish but stupid to think about, when he knew so little about the man living in his guest room. But the truth was, Wheland
did
want to know Rooster. He wanted to know everything Rooster felt comfortable sharing with him. He’d never had a relationship with another man and that’s sort of what this felt like with Rooster living in his house and spending most of their waking hours together. When Wheland stopped to really think about that and what it might mean on a deeper level, he was okay with it. In fact, this
thing
with Rooster felt comfortable enough for Wheland to entertain the idea of wanting a relationship and that said something because Wheland didn’t typically think about shit like that. Ever.

Wheland scratched his head and thought about the situation again. Yes, Rooster was living with him and, yes, they spent a
lot
of time together every day, and now it seemed Wheland had fucked that up by crossing the line and touching Rooster during a very personal moment. For Wheland, the effect of that experience at the club was positive, but for Rooster maybe that shared orgasm held a negative meaning; something that was now filling him with regret.

Damn it, I don’t want to be something he regrets!

Wheland reached for his lyric notebook and opened to an empty page. He took the pencil jammed into the spiral binder and tapped the tip of it onto the paper. Ideas for lyrics were starting to seep into his tired brain. The words came slowly one at a time, but the visual was beginning to come into focus. Maybe he could use the emotion he had building from the disastrous trip to the club and pour it into the song he and Rooster had been working on the previous day?

Wheland closed his eyes and started seeing images of himself facing Rooster, exposed with his arousal and need on full display, and then the music and words started to fill his brain like the soundtrack to his life.

~ See Me ~

Standing before you.

I am all man.

Can you see me?

For what I really am.

Simplistic thoughts.

Wrap around me.

The caress I want is from you.

The pounding of my heart is for you.

Can you see me?

See beyond the judgment and the fear?

To be with me.

Want me the way I want you?

Can you see me?

As the man I am.

When I’m with you.

Wheland finished and reread the verses several times, then tossed the pencil at the wall and watched the lead tip break off of it. He leaned back in the swivel chair and held his head. Never had a song hit him that quickly and left him feeling so ripped open and drained. The power behind these lyrics made his palms sweaty and his heart race, not much different than the effect the man who inspired the lyrics had on him. This was too close to home; too close to how he really felt.
How can I share this with Rooster?

He sat there with his eyes closed, feeling the music they’d written the day before combine in his head with the lyrics he’d just written. He heard the bluesy musical phrases wrapping around the emotion of his words and the fine hairs on his arms stood up on end. It seemed without even trying, he and Rooster had created magic. The kind of magic that translated into hit songs.

Motherfucker!

Then he remembered the music they’d written was saved on the playback in the digital system. He could lay the lyrics over the music and get a feel for the song as a whole before Rooster ever heard it. If it didn’t feel right, or if it was too personal, he could keep it to himself and Rooster would never have to know about it. Nor would Rooster ever have to know how he felt about him.

Wheland leaned forward and clicked on the playback; reversing it a bit to hear where the music stopped, then he hit play to move the audio forward. Rooster’s speaking voice... not music, came through the speakers. The words: sexy prick, were loud and clear. Wheland didn’t remember having this conversation with Rooster and never had he heard the man call him a sexy prick, so who the hell was Rooster talking to on the audio track? Wheland reversed the playback a few more seconds and listened again.

And, there it was. Plain and simple. Rooster going into colorful detail about wanting Wheland to the point of distraction, wanting to be strung up to the rafters in his bedroom, wanting to be fucked in every room in Wheland’s house; wanting him as badly as he wanted Rooster.

What. The. Fuck.

Wheland slid out of his leather seat and fell to his knees on the floor of the mixing room. He felt dizzy, as if he might pass out. He tried to absorb the words he’d heard, digest every possible meaning from every conceivable angle, but the end result was always the same.

Rooster
wanted
him.

How could that be possible, and why didn’t he tell me?

For the same reason Wheland had kept his attraction to Rooster to himself: fear of what that admission might do to both of them.

Fuck.

Wheland stood up from the floor and ran his fingers through his hair, and thought about what he should do with this information. If Rooster didn’t have the balls to admit these feelings and get it out in the open once and for all, Wheland would.

It was that simple and that complicated and fuck if that didn’t scare the shit out of him.

Wheland managed a few hours of sleep in his bed before the sound of the security system beeping announced Rooster leaving the house for his usual morning run. That gave Wheland enough time to take a shower and be ready for Rooster when he got back to the house. And then, whether Rooster wanted to or not, they were going to have a talk. What he would say, he had no clue, but this conversation was going to happen today.

Wheland was in the kitchen sipping coffee when Rooster breezed into the house, sweaty from his run. Wheland watched Rooster pull the ear buds out of his ears and toss his iPod onto the counter and then their eyes met.

“Good morning,” Wheland said. He folded his arms over his chest, holding his mug close to his mouth.