No Regrets (7 page)

"Don't you want to wait until it's under the tree?" He stayed close, touching Scotty as they moved, that warm skin calling to his fingers.

"Sure. But I need to shower. You need to shower." Scotty was laughing and happy.

He goosed that happy ass. "You saying I stink?"

"Yep."

Oh, asshole.

He pinched Scotty's ass again, fingers of his other hand digging into ribs.

Scotty's laugh echoed, making the whole house sound like Christmas.

He could live his whole life on that sound.

He thought he'd like to give that a try.

* * * *

The shower relaxed them, the supper made them both moan and eat until they collapsed onto the sofa together, napping hard, Dee wrapped up in his arms.

When he woke up, the sun had gone down and the clouds that had been heavy all morning were finally paying off with flurries.

Snow.

On Christmas.

"Dee. Dee, honey. Look, before it goes away!"

"Hmm? Look at what?"

Dee blinked up at him, looking adorable and all mussed up.

"Snow. Christmas snow, no shit."

"Cool." Dee grinned and grabbed his hand, heading for the window.

It was just falling down, catching the wind and swirling.

"Look at that."

Dee's arms came around him, that body snuggled up along his back as Dee's chin landed on his shoulder. "Wild. Pretty, too."

"It is. I haven't seen snow on Christmas in years."

"No? I think I saw some a couple years ago. I was in a hotel room in...New York?" He felt Dee shrug against him. "Doesn't matter. I wound up getting wasted and missing it. This is better." A soft kiss pressed against the side of his neck.

"This is perfect." He smiled, squeezed Dee's hand. "Come to the studio. I have something to show you." Something he'd never shown anyone.

"Are you gonna show me your etchings?" Dee asked, moving to walk with him.

"Something like that, yes."

Oh, cold. It was so cold, but beautiful.

Dee laughed, face turning up to the snow. Tongue sticking out, Dee tried to catch the falling flakes. His fingers itched to capture that look, that smile, but he let the urge pass and just watched. Licking his lips and sticking his tongue out for more, Dee kept it up right until they got to the barn, dodging here and here to catch the falling flakes.

Finally he stopped, eyes twinkling. "They taste good, Scotty."

"They taste like Christmas." He kissed the tip of Dee's nose, then the soft, swollen lips.

Dee opened to him, letting him in. They kissed there in the snow for a long time, bodies pressing together against the cold.

They broke apart, Dee chuckling, snowflakes caught on his lashes.

"Come see your gift." He unlocked the studio, drew Dee into the huge space. He'd spent the last three years, working off and on with these paintings. There were twenty, now. Drake as a boy, as a young man. As a famous singer. As a tired man. As his lover.

He turned the overhead lights on, the pictures out, spread around the room, some against the wall, others on easels.

Dee gasped, standing there and looking, eyes moving from one to the next and then the next.

Scott leaned against the doorframe, watching. He didn't have to ask if they were good. He knew better.

Dee eventually started moving, going from one painting to the next much as he had the first day he'd seen Scott's other work. Finally he stopped in the middle of the room and turned, eyes glistening. "I don't...I don't know what to say."

"Say you'll take good care of them."

"Are you sure you want to just give them to me, Scott? This must have taken you...a long time." Dee came to him, stood in front of him, understanding in his eyes. "You didn't just start these when I came to visit."

"No. No, some of them are older than others."
I've loved you for a long time.

"I'll take good care of them." Dee's voice was husky, and Dee reached out, fingers sliding around his arm and holding on, the blue eyes holding his.

"Good." They were the best things he'd ever done, hands-down.

"We have to go back to the house for my gift," Dee murmured, hand sliding down his arm to wrap their fingers together. "Wait!" Dee said suddenly, going back and grabbing the last picture, the one that was "Dee My Lover." "I want to hang this one in our bedroom."

Their
bedroom.

He tilted his head, nodded. "You know it."

"Cool. Come on, I want to give you my gift now." Dee bounced, and dragged him out of the studio and back toward the house.

They hurried, keeping the canvas out of the weather. Drake set it on the kitchen counter, out of the dogs' reach, then drew him into the main room.

He'd noticed Dee had brought down a firecracker shaped present after their shower, and set it under the tree. That was fetched now, handed over. Before he could open it though, Dee went over to the piano. "Go on," Dee told him with a grin. "Open it and it'll all make sense."

He opened the present, heading toward the piano as he did.

It was a song, "I Don't Regret This A Bit" by Drake Rawlings, the music drawn in carefully by hand, lyrics at the end.

Dee started to play, the tune one he'd heard now and then over the last few weeks. Then that clear, strong voice began to sing, Dee's eyes on him.

"Oh..." He sat, stunned, listening to hear every word. His song. Oh.

The last note faded, Dee's fingers resting lightly on the piano keys. "It's going to be the first single on my next album. All the royalties, everything, are going to be yours." Dee smiled. "And there'll be a dedication."

Dee pointed to the print he'd missed underneath the title. "For Scotty, who I'll never regret."

"I..." He didn't have any words. He just looked at Dee, staring, so in love it hurt. "Play it again?"

Dee reached out and touched his cheek, and then nodded, playing the song again, eyes closing this time, the words ringing out with truth, with emotion.

As the music faded, Scott rested against Dee, breathing in deep.

It was the best present he'd ever gotten.

Ever.

At the end of January, Drake had his album and he was itching to get into the studio and record it.

At the same time, he didn't want to go. Oh, the recording itself would be great--it always was, and he was really excited about this album. It was the best work he'd done in years. But recording meant leaving and an album in the can meant touring. Which meant leaving Scotty and this place where he'd found love, and peace, and happiness deep inside.

So he ignored the finished songs and the end of January slipped into February.

He took rides with Scotty, and played the piano, and sang. He dozed while Scotty painted, and learned how to make cornbread and apple pie.

Again and again, he was back at the piano, tweaking the songs he'd written, singing them until he felt like he was doing it in his sleep. Today was no different and when he couldn't play for another minute he went out, despite the rain and the chill in the air, wandering around the place, kicking at the stones he found.

Finally he ran smack-dab into Scotty, who looked at him with sad, sure eyes. "It's time for you to go, honey. You're ready."

He sighed and leaned into Scotty's strength. "I know. I need to get this album recorded. I can feel it in my blood. But I don't want to leave."

"There will always be a place for you here, Dee. I'm not going anywhere."

"I was hoping you'd say that, because I'll be back."

His contract was up after this album and he figured after that he'd maybe earned the right to be his own man--put out the albums he wanted as he had them ready and maybe do a little touring, but nothing that took him away for long.

"Good. I'll miss you." Scotty kissed him, the touch slow and lingering. "But you have to share your music."

"I do." And Scotty understood that--understood him in a way no one ever had. "Come to bed with me one last time before I go?"

"No. No more last times for me."

"What?" He took a step back, searching Scotty's eyes. "You don't want to?"

"I want you, but I don't want a last time, you get it? I want. I mean, I need to know that." Scott sighed, rubbed his forehead.

"Oh. Hey. Scotty." He waited until Scott's eyes met his. "I'm coming back, yeah? I know these songs inside and out, it's not going to take me more than a week or two to lay down the tracks and then it'll take them a few weeks to get any sort of tour set up and I'm spending the intervening time here." He kissed Scott hard. "I need this place, Scotty. I need you."

Scott looked at him, then a tension he hadn't even seen dissolved. "It's yours. I'm yours."

Of course it was, he had a key, half of the closet. It was theirs, now. Home.

All he had to do was come back.

The place was lit up bright enough that someone could see it from space. Scott whistled as he carried a tray of hot chocolate and cookies into the front room, nudging the dogs out of the way.

"O Holy Night" slid into "All I Want For Christmas Is You", just like that and Scott laughed, Drake's eyes smiling over at him. God, Dee was a beautiful man.

He'd come home two days ago after nearly seven months on the road, and spent most of those two days sleeping hard. But he was awake now, cell phone turned off and tucked away in a drawer, the heavy bags under his eyes almost gone.

The song trailed away and Dee stood, stretched, letting him see a bit of belly as Dee's sweater rode high.

"That smells like heaven, Scotty." Drake's gaze slid up from his feet all the way to meet his eyes again, making him think Dee maybe wasn't thinking about chocolate or cookies.

Oh. Oh, hell yeah. He let his thighs part, let Dee know that he was feeling it, feeling them. "You're looking fine, honey."

"And you are a sight for damn sore eyes." Smiling wide, Dee took the tray from him and put it on the coffee table. "I was so tired when I got back the other day--did I get a proper hello?"

"No. You let me run you through the shower and then hold you in our bed." It had been good, really, holding Dee.

"Well, then, I think you ought to do me right--just so I know I'm welcome." Dee's eyes twinkled at him

"Spoiled rock star." Spoiled rock star with a new number one album.

Scott stepped up close, drew their lips together, kissing Drake like he'd been needing to for the weeks since Drake had flown him to Chicago for his birthday and a long weekend in the fanciest hotel he'd ever seen. That low, desperate sound came from Dee, the man's arms circling him and tugging him in nice and hard against Dee's body as Dee opened right up for his kiss.

They rocked together, one of his legs wrapping around Dee's hip, bringing their cocks together. One of Dee's hands found his ass and squeezed nice and hard, the other slid between them to rub at his nipples. He groaned, teeth grabbing Dee's bottom lip, tugging hard. More.

"Oh, God. I haven't tasted you in too long." Dee tugged at his sweater, pulling it up over his head along with his T-shirt.

"You haven't tasted. Haven't touched. Haven't spread me out and fucked me."

Groaning, Dee started on his belt, fingers nearly ripping it off him. "Gonna. Gonna do that right now, Scotty."

"Promise?" He nodded, working Drake's clothes off, needing it. Needing Dee.

"Fuck, yes." Dee's mouth wrapped around his neck, tugging up a mark.

"Shit. Yours. Want you, honey." Words poured from him, his need huge.

Dee moaned and whimpered, sounding just as needy as he was. Long fingers tugged at his ass and pulled him back toward the sofa. Scott went easy, straddling Dee's thighs, cock hard as hell. Fingers warm and eager, Dee stripped his T-shirt and sweater up over his head, and then that mouth found one of his nipples, licking and sucking like Dee was a starving man.

"More." He held Dee close, shuddering as he felt Dee start humming, singing to him, making music on his skin.

Dee moved to his other nipple, hands sliding on his skin, pushing into his jeans to grab at his ass, making the front of them squeeze him hard. That got him busy, his fingers working Dee's shirt open, his jeans. Anything to get them both to bare skin. Dee helped, sort of, ass lifting for him as he pushed the jeans down, and it was Dee's fingers that opened his jeans, getting them down over his hips along with his boxers.

They both kind of got stuck at that point though and Dee suddenly stood, bringing him up as well, laughing as they were finally able to push the damn pants down and off. Dee's smile was happy and horny and all fucking his. He pushed right into Dee's arms, moaning as their skin slapped together.

Dee's mouth met his, that smile against his lips for a few moments before pressing turned into kissing, Drake's tongue hot, and eager. They rubbed together, his cock catching on Dee's hip, and sliding against the hard heat of Dee's cock.

"God. Love." Dee's fingers were back on his ass, squeezing and tugging him in closer.

"Uh-huh. Want to ride you, honey. Want to feel you balls-deep inside me."

"God. Yes." Dee nodded, falling back onto the couch and bringing him down as well. He landed hard against Dee's body, long fingers sliding down to explore his crack.

Scott rolled his hips, begging for more of the touch as his cock slid and spread wet kisses on Dee's belly.

Dee's fingers found his hole, touching and pressing against it. "Scotty. Where's the slick?"

"Uh..." Lube. Lube. He grabbed Dee's wrist and brought those fingers up to his lips, sucking and wetting.

Dee's mouth went slack, a low grown sounding, as Dee focused on his lips. "God. Sexy."

Scott slowed, giving Dee a show, letting this rile them both up. Oh yeah, that noise that sounded as if it had been pulled up from Dee's toes was worth every second of delay. Each lick and suck earned him another noise, Dee's breath beginning to pant out of him.

Finally--finally--he let Dee's fingers slide from his lips with a pop. "Come on, now. Need."

"I know," Dee ground out, fingers reaching behind him and two pushing against his hole, sliding around it, pushing again. And then just like that they were inside him.