Rockstar Rivals: First Time Gay Romance (2 page)

Chapter Two

Mark

Stupid charming perfect pretty little Southern rock star.

It made Mark sick, it really did.  And now he was expected to tour with the brat?  He was expected to make nice with him, when the whole time, he knew that Gavin was just there to take the spotlight, to steal Mark's thunder?

Even to him, it sounded a little bit ridiculous when he actually thought about it.  But the fact was, Gavin Cross had been a thorn in Mark's side for a long time now.  There were only so many times that a man could be compared to another and come up lacking each and every single time before he lost it a little.

That was exactly what had happened with Mark.  At first, he'd been flattered to hear about the gorgeous young Southern boy with the earnest eyes and the sexy, tight body that had been singing Crossroads songs as he progressed through the rounds of the reality show that had catapulted him into stardom.

He could still remember the first time he heard it.

“Wonderful!” the judge had said, with his pretentious British accent, “Far better than that Mark Tisdale, certainly.  You can actually sing, unlike him!”

Once, he could laugh off.  He knew his low, growling voice wasn't everyone's thing.  But it wasn't just once, it was over and over, until it seemed like everyone in the world seemed to agree.  Gavin Cross was the next Mark Tisdale, only better.  Far, far better.

Even then, he'd kept things in perspective.  It wasn't like he had to be around the young man, right?  He could deal with it by ignoring it, like he ignored all the haters who liked to tear people down because they couldn't do what whoever they were hating could.

Oh, how wrong he was.

His agent had been so happy when he'd told Mark the news.  Crossroads was going to go on a tour with Star Crossed.  The band names even sounded good together, didn't they?  It would be great publicity for both bands, and Mark would get to look like someone who liked to foster young talent.

It was then that he'd sort of lost it, that his hatred for Gavin, without him ever having met the little brat, grew out of control.  So that his normal easygoing nature was perverted, changed, and his jealousy took over.

He would just have to ignore the other man.  That was all there was to it.  And it was working out just fine, he'd been avoiding him nicely, until he walked in and heard the brat playing one of his songs.

It sounded good, too.  That was maybe the worst part.  Gavin had stripped it down to just a basic guitar sound and his voice, which was smooth, like melted caramel.  It sounded pretty and simple and emotional, and hearing it, Mark felt like he'd done it wrong in the first place.

It was strange.  It was unsettling.  He wasn't used to questioning himself.  He was damn good at what he did, and he knew it.  Then this boy walked in, looking barely old enough to vote, and everything was thrown into question.

The way he'd spoken to Gavin had been him trying to be polite.  To be professional, despite how he felt.  But the look that he'd been given, he'd felt like he had kicked a puppy, or something.  Those big, melting dark eyes looked at him reproachfully, like he was supposed to just give up his spot at the top to this upstart.  Like he should welcome Gavin to take everything that was Mark's, and then do it better than he did.

Apparently that was exactly what he was supposed to.  After Gavin left to go pout somewhere, Mark's own band mates tore into him.  He was supposed to be encouraging young talent, not destroying it.  He was being mean for no reason.  Blah blah blah, on and on, until Mark wanted to scream.

In the end, though, he'd promised to be nicer.  Honestly, he even knew that they were right.  Gavin hadn't actually done anything to him.  Not directly.  He could still see the hurt look in those big brown eyes, too, and that made him uncomfortable.

He'd tried, too.  He'd been friendly with him onstage, he'd done his job.  The surprise he'd seen in Gavin's eyes then annoyed him even more, though he knew it was irrational.  Why did his opinion seem to matter so much to the brat, anyway?

Then, he watched.  He watched as Gavin strolled around the stage like he owned it, filled with animalistic grace, shaggy brown hair falling into those big, dark eyes, which he used to seemingly make love to every person in the room.

Mark had seen a lot.  He'd seen a lot of one hit wonders come and go, and he flattered himself that he knew when someone had something.  Gavin, much to his annoyance, did.  It wasn't just the voice, like smooth, hot liquid honey, caressing every syllable that he sang.  Or his perfect little body, small and compact, tight and toned.  Against his own will, Mark found himself wondering what the man would look like naked.

It was the whole package with him.  He had it all.  Mark watched as Gavin held the crowd effortlessly, and growled softly.  That really didn't make him like the young man better.

Just then, to make things that much better, Gavin started to sing a Crossroads song.  The same Crossroads song that Mark had watched him win the competition with.  The one that everyone in the world, apparently, had said that Gavin did far better than Mark.

Complicated things happened inside of Mark.  Lust surged, and so, at the same time, did his hatred.  What would it be like to hold this young man down?  To kiss him until he submitted?  Or was he a good little Southern boy who would never even consider being a with a man?

His drummer, Drake, who was waiting to go on, just like Mark was, smirked and nudged him with his shoulder.  Mark looked over to see what he wanted, only to be further annoyed by the smirk he was getting.

“Someone's got a crush,” Drake teased.  It was part of being in a band.  These guys were like his brothers.  They teased each other, but Mark was most definitely not in the mood.

“No fucking way,” he growled, and Drake's grin faded.  He gave him a more stern look.

“Remember, man, the kid didn't do anything to you.  Stop being such a jackass.”

Oh, good.  Everyone was on Gavin's side, even Mark's own band.  Poor, innocent little Gavin, being picked on by big mean Mark.  Clearly, that's how people saw it.

“We're on,” was all he said to Drake, and to the rest of the band, before striding out on stage.  He even shook the kid's hand, and for some reason, the crowd seemed to eat that up.  Mark sighed, but soon enough, he was completely lost in his music, in the bright lights, the screams of the crowd, the throbbing bass and wailing guitar, the beat of the drums and the low, husky growl of his own voice.

Gavin was still there, and, high on the experience, high on the concert and on music and on life, Mark draped his arm around the younger man, tugging him close.  Mostly trying to make him uncomfortable, honestly.  He still hated this guy, no matter who was standing up for him.  Maybe he couldn't show it as blatantly as he might like to, but there were things he could, and would, do to make the younger man miserable.

Besides, it wasn't exactly some sort of hardship to stand close to him, and no one else would think it was weird.  It was normal for band mates to be close, and for the next two months, he and Gavin might as well be in the same band.

Just to prove his point, Drake came up, tossing a casual arm around Gavin as well.  For some reason, it pissed Mark off that Gavin seemed far more comfortable with the drummer than he was with Mark, even though he logically knew it made sense.  Drake hadn't been hostile, and Mark had.

“Party?”  Drake asked hopefully, and Mark smirked.  He pulled Gavin just a little big closer to him.

“Hell yeah, party,” he growled, gazing down at the smaller man.  “What do you say, kid?  You ready to see what it's like to party like a real rock star?”  His gaze held a challenge, and he knew it. 

He could see that Gavin was going to refuse, and he was opening his mouth to tease him more when the rest of Star Crossed came up.

“Well, what about you guys?  You wanna go to a real party?” Mark asked, and smirked when they all responded enthusiastically. 

“Looks like there's gonna be a party,” Mark said, and turned to look at Gavin again.  He was surprised by the look of longing he saw on his face, on how open and emotional those big brown eyes could be.  And they were fixed on him.  No one had ever looked at him with quite that much adoration in their eyes, particularly not when Mark knew how horrible he'd been.

Huh.  Maybe there would be a chance to get Gavin alone at the party.  Maybe he could show the poor little Southern boy that it really would be a good idea for him to stay the hell away from Mark.  One kiss would probably do that.  One kiss right on those full, impossibly beautiful lips.

Just to scare him away, of course.  Just so that he'd stop looking at Mark like that.  Did Gavin even know what it could do to a man to be looked at with that hero worship?  The kid needed to learn to be careful, or he'd be eaten alive.

How strange was it that he could be worried for the boy at the same time as he was making a plan to blatantly molest him.  Gavin brought out some very confusing, conflicting things in Mark, one of the many reasons he wanted him to just go away.

“Hey, Gav, you coming?”  One of Star Crossed, the drummer, Mark thought, asked.  Everyone else was already heading for the limo that would take them to the suite at the hotel which had already been set up for the party that the band had pretty much every night after a concert.

“He's coming,” Mark said firmly.  He and Drake tugged the young, slender man toward the limo, and he didn't resist.  Maybe he knew there wasn't much of a point, everyone wanted him there and was pretty determined that he be there.

Mark settled into the limo, still wrapped around Gavin, who was still warm from his set.  Or maybe excitement, Mark wasn't too sure.  But he did frown at Drake, who was still wrapped around Gavin on the other side.

It was strange, how possessive he was.  He didn't claim to even like this young man.  Why should it matter who wanted to touch him?

A bottle of Crown Royal was already opened, and being passed around.  When it came to Gavin, the boy gulped at it, drinking down a significant amount.  Mark raised an eyebrow.  Interesting.  He might seem innocent, but the boy could drink.

Still, if he drank like that for long enough, he would get drunk.  And that would make Mark's half-formed plan easier to carry out.  So he let the young man drink as much as he want, and took the bottle of hard booze, his lips wrapping around it, right where Gavin's had just been. 

For some reason, that made his cock pulse in his pants, made him start to harden. 

The limo carried them to the hotel, and as it did, as the alcohol kicked in and the warm, sexy man beside him continued to be damn close to irresistible, his plan seemed more and more like a good idea.

It was time to show Gavin just how dangerous it could be to cross Mark, and he knew exactly how he was going to do that.

Chapter Three

Gavin

By the time they got to the hotel room, Gavin was already decidedly tipsy.  He had a pretty decent alcohol tolerance, but being so close to Mark was highly confusing and he dealt with it by drinking more.

Somewhere along the line, Drake had peeled himself away from Gavin, so only Mark was there now, arm wrapped firmly around him.  It couldn't be affection, not only did they barely know each other but Mark clearly hated him.  So it felt like a trap.

Gavin should have been more worried about that, but the Crown had a way of blunting all of the edges.  In the end, this was a dream come true for him.  He'd always been attracted to guys and he found Mark sexy as hell.

When he was tugged over to a couch, when Mark sat down and then pulled Gavin into his lap, he went.  The little voice in his head that was warning him that there was no way Mark could have any good intentions toward him didn't matter.

He barely even noticed as his band stared at him.  This wasn't how he acted normally, and even drunk, he knew it.  He just found it sort of funny, and he perched in Mark's lap and gazed around, checking the room out but very aware of Mark beneath him.

The suite was gorgeous, probably the best the hotel had to offer.  For Gavin, his wealth was so new to him that it wouldn't occur to him to casually rent a place like this just for a party.  But that's what had happened. 

It was catered, too, and there was plenty of alcohol of all different types everywhere.  Gavin snorted softly, looking at the girls, wondering if they were fans or maybe someone's wives or what?  They were pretty, but they looked hard, somehow.  Hard and cold, and they wore too much makeup for his tastes.

So he turned back to Mark, his eyes soft with the booze.

“No one's gonna have a working liver tomorrow,” he commented, his drawl thicker than ever.  He still wasn't great at hiding it at the best of times.

He was surprised when Mark laughed, a low, sexy chuckle, rumbly and rough and dangerous.  Gavin shivered, and then, much to his own surprise, he lowered his head and rested it on Mark's shoulder.

Mark had had at least one arm around him ever since the concert had ended, but this was the first time Gavin had actually returned any of the gestures.  He still thought Mark was probably up to something, but he was very drunk at this point and it felt nice.

“Hmm.”  Mark made a surprised look, his hand running up Gavin's back, rubbing up his spine, in a way that made him shiver.  “Cuddly, aren't you?”

Gavin considered that very seriously. 

“Nah,” he decided.  And it was true, he wasn't, not usually.  Maybe in private, but not around his band, and Mark's, and those hard-eyed women.

Mark smirked at him.

“I beg to differ,” he commented, and Gavin frowned thoughtfully.  Was that Mark saying he didn't like it?  He raised his head, gazing into those remarkable gray eyes.

“Okay, sorry.  I'll stop,” he said, his tone fairly easy.  He was too drunk to take anything badly right now.  The whole world had a lovely glow, and everything felt so good, it was hard to mind anything.

Mark shook his head, a smirk still on those perfect lips of his.

“Nah, don't stop.”  The older man seemed to be far less drunk than Gavin was, and it was then that he realized that Mark had been drinking only very lightly.  That seemed strange to him.  Out of character.

Abruptly Mark rose to his feet, and Gavin, who had been perched on his lap, staggered and almost fell right to the floor.  In fact, he would have, if not for one of the members of Crossroads steadying him.  Liam, he was pretty sure.  Mark's brother.

He smiled at him to thank him, and then Mark's arm was right back around his waist, tugging him away.

“Come with me, pretty boy,” he said, and even drunk, Gavin knew that it was a horrible idea.  That couldn't stop him from going with him, though, stumbling after him into one of the suite's bedrooms.  He was aware of Liam watching them go, and even of the slightly worried look on his face, but he went anyway.

Gavin watched as Mark flopped onto the bed, trying not to admire the long, muscular lines of his body.  He moved with a sort of grace and confidence that Gavin would love to be able to emulate, but knew he never could.  It didn't hurt that Mark was hot, of course, but there was more to it than that.

“It's quieter in here.”  There was some sort of amusement in Mark's eyes that seemed almost malicious.  “We can talk.  Get to know each other.”

From anyone else, that would have sounded like a promising sign.  Like maybe the initial hatred had faded, or something.  From Mark, though, Gavin didn't think that's what was going on.  Every word the other man spoke dripped with playful malice.  If Gavin weren't as drunk as he was, he would have been out of there.

“So.  Do you have a girlfriend?”

Mark's question seemed pretty personal to Gavin, he hadn't thought they were that close.  Far from it.  Considering it, though, through his foggy, fuzzy brain, there was really no reason for him to object, or to refuse to answer.

“No.  I had one.  She broke up with me.  I wasn't ever around.”

Gavin reached out, steadying himself on the back of a chair.  Not because of the mention of his ex, who he rarely thought about anymore.  He hardly had time for that.  No, it was simply because he might just fall over if he didn't.

Mark smirked, then patted the bed beside him.

“That's too bad.  You're so damn cute,” he said, and even in his current state, Gavin flinched away from the condescension in his voice.  “C'mere,” Mark continued.

Gavin walked over to the bed and flopped down on it, close to Mark.  The room seemed to be spinning, and he closed his eyes, but that didn't help much.  How much had he even drunk?

“You know, this is a dangerous place for a boy like you to be.”  Mark's voice sounded strangely thoughtful, and the malice that Gavin was used to hearing was toned way down.  “This is a dangerous world, being a rock star, and I don't think you can do it.”

Gavin bristled.  He'd never been that fond of being told what to do, and he opened his eyes to glare at him.  It took a fair bit to get him angry, but Mark had finally managed to do it.

“What the hell do you care?” he asked bitterly.  “I know you hate me.  Dunno why, but you clearly do, and I accept that 'cause I ain't got no choice about it.  It's not gonna stop me from doing this.”

For some reason, that made Mark laugh again.  That didn't help with Gavin's anger, it had to be said, and he glared at him even more.

“You really don't have any idea why I would hate you, do you?” Mark asked, and then he shook his head.  “Hey.  Kid.  C'mere.”  He patted the bed right beside him, and Gavin's heart sped up in his chest at the simple gesture.

“Because you're an asshole?”  Gavin replied, then looked at Mark thoughtfully.  He gave a little shrug, then shifted closer, but his judgment wasn't so good.  He meant to wind up close, but still a few inches away, but instead, he was pressed right against the hot body of the older man, close enough that he could feel his hard body, smell the scent of clean sweat and gorgeous, sexy man.

Mark smirked, and his arm came around to rest on the small of Gavin's back, pulling him even closer.

“Yeah, probably,” he agreed.  His hand shifted up Gavin's back to cup the back of his neck, and then Mark was moving closer and Gavin only figured out that he was going to kiss him about half a second before he felt hot lips on his.

It was a complete surprise, and Gavin was in no way prepared for it.  He gasped, and when he did, Mark's tongue pushed into his mouth roughly, like he was claiming Gavin.

How strange that the very first time he kissed a guy, it would be someone that hated him.  Even stranger was that Gavin didn't care right then.  Mark's lips and tongue drove him crazy immediately, made him press his body closer to the older man as he tangled their tongues together.

Gavin's fingers shifted up, tangling in Mark's soft blond curls, and his legs parted eagerly as Mark pressed pushed him down so he was lying on the bed and pressed his leg between Gavin's.  He was so desperate for the older man that he shoved his hard cock against that thigh, grinding against it shamelessly, not even caring how humiliating it was that he wanted this man who hated him.

They both wore leather pants, and that was very frustrating to Gavin.  He wanted to be naked, he wanted to feel his bare skin against Mark's, and he moaned softly as they kept kissing, rubbing against him, rutting like a teenager who couldn't control himself.

This was, by far, the furthest he'd ever gone with a guy.  On top of that, it was a guy he'd wanted in a shamefully fanboy type way for far too long.  He should stop.  Mark didn't even seem to want this, and Gavin wasn't sure why he would be doing it, but it was probably just to humiliate him even further.

He didn't stop.  He couldn't make himself.  He writhed against Mark, kissing him frantically, over and over again.  Mark started to nibble on his lower lip in a way that made him need him even more, and then Mark's finger went up Gavin's shirt and found one of his nipples.

Gavin couldn't help but cry out when he felt those strong fingers, calloused from playing the guitar, pinch at that little nub.  It hardened immediately, and Gavin moaned, his eyes half closed, lips parted with intense arousal.

“Mark,” he whimpered, making it clear that he knew just who was there in bed with him.  This wasn't just any hot guy, this was Mark who was making him feel so incredible.  He was very aware of that.

There was a thoughtful silence as Mark kept pinching at his nipple, while Gavin kept playing with that impossibly beautiful golden hair and rubbing against the older man's strong thigh.

“You're wasted,” Mark finally said, and Gavin frowned.  That didn't sound good.  He didn't want Mark to get a conscience or something and stop this.

“I ain't ... ain't not … wasted.”  He tried his best, but somehow, that didn't sound right.  So he used his grip on Mark's hair to tilt his head to the side, exposing his neck.  He bit down on the sensitive skin, acting on impulse.

The thing was, he really had no idea what he was doing.  It was all instinct.  So when Mark gasped and then gave a rough, urgent little groan, that sent a surge of heat right through through his body, straight to his cock.

He bit again, tasting salty, sweaty skin, smelling the gorgeous man.  This time he bit harder, then looked with pleasure at the mark he'd made on his throat.

Mark pulled back, and Gavin noticed how flushed the other man's skin was, the heat in those gray eyes.

“You're wasted,” he repeated.  “You should get some rest.”

That would have been utterly laughable, if Gavin had been any less drunk.  He was far, far too aroused to sleep.

“Maybe I'll just close my eyes for a second …” he murmured, and then, just like that, he was out.  Even desire, in this case, had to take a second place to the alcohol.  He didn't want to sleep, but his body took over, and then he was gone for the night.