Looking At Forever (The Rock Gods Book 4) (10 page)

“Is that why you divorced?” Wheland asked.

Rooster was quiet for a minute, then shrugged. “I think that was probably the beginning of the end for us. Truth is, she wasn’t the only one questioning my sexuality. I was doing the same to myself because I really did love it when the guys joined us, not to pleasure her, but for me. I’d never been fucked by a guy until Cruz. After we separated I started seeing Cruz. The more I slept with him, the more accepting I became about what it was I really wanted, and it wasn’t Cilla.”

“Did she find out about Cruz?” Wheland asked.

“After we separated she suspected I was seeing someone,” Rooster said. “When she finally asked me, I admitted I was seeing a man but wouldn’t give her a name. I didn’t see a need for her to drag Cruz into our divorce, since he wasn’t the actual cause of our divorce.”

“Did you continue to see Cruz after that?” Wheland asked.

“We weren’t really ‘seeing’ each other to begin with,” Rooster said. “We got together every once in a while and we fucked. There was nothing beyond that, nor did I want there to be. He was convenient and that’s about it.”

“You said you loved your wife, so this wasn’t a marriage to cover up being gay?” Wheland asked.

“I married my wife because I truly believed, at that time, she was what I wanted long term, and yes, I did love her,” Rooster said. “Even now, I’d have to say I still care for her. It’s not her fault our marriage didn’t work.”

“Wrong plumbing,” Wheland said.

“Absolutely,” Rooster said and grinned.

Wheland grew quiet, thinking about what Rooster had told him and wondering why he had the urge to punch that guy in face for being Rooster’s first. Jealousy was an emotion Wheland had very little experience with, and the fact he was feeling it now with Rooster didn’t sit well. He pressed his hand to the center of Rooster’s chest, fanning his fingers through the soft, dark hair. His mind buzzed with crazy thoughts. He didn’t want to share Rooster like his wife had; he wanted to be Rooster’s
only
lover. But how could he convey those thoughts to Rooster without freaking him out?

“Did you hear what I just said?” Rooster asked.

Wheland’s eyes lifted to Rooster’s. He’d been so lost in his own thoughts he hadn’t heard a single word Rooster had said. “Would you care to repeat it?”

“I was wondering how a chick magnet like yourself made it to fucking guys?” Rooster asked. “Or do you sleep with women
and
men?”

Wheland shook his head. “I recently realized I much prefer men,” he said, easing Rooster on to his back and shifting on top of him. “And, right now, you’re the one I want to fuck around with.”

Wheland rubbed his nose to Rooster’s and took a kiss from him. He hummed when Rooster ran his hands the length of Wheland’s back. His hips lifted to rub against Wheland and they both groaned. Wheland loved the way Rooster reacted to him, loved the heated give and take between them, too.

“Have you always been bisexual or is that a recent development?” Rooster asked.

Wheland slid off to Rooster’s side. That was a question he honestly hadn’t thought much about. Yes, he’d slept with numerous women since high school, but he’d never felt connected to any of them or grounded in the way he was finding himself feeling with Rooster.

“Did I hit a nerve with that question?” Rooster asked.

Wheland turned his head on the pillow to face Rooster. “This will sound weird, but I’ve never really thought about putting a label on my sexuality. I just am who I am and I’m not really sure who that is,” Wheland said. “I’ve slept with women and liked it, but I can’t deny how hard my dick gets when I’m with a man. It’s way more intense.”

“I don’t much care for labels either, Mick,” Rooster said. “And I’m sorry if I offended you by asking you to put one on yourself. Labels suck. They put people into boxes and compartmentalize them, and in the end that only serves to diminish their value.”

“I’m not offended,” Wheland said. “I honestly hadn’t spent any time thinking about it. I was merely fucking the gender I wanted at that particular moment and not thinking about it as being a bi or a gay thing.” Wheland ran the back of his fingers across Rooster’s cheek. “Have you slapped a label on yourself?”

Rooster nodded. “Living alone up in Vancouver gave me time to do a lot of soul searching,” Rooster said. “After that, I identified myself as being gay. I say that because the feelings I get with men goes much deeper than the physical and I am more myself when I’m with another man than I ever was with a woman. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, it does,” Wheland said. “And that’s exactly how I feel.”

Rooster cupped the side of Wheland’s face. “I’m really glad you hit my car.”

“And I’m really glad you like dudes,” Wheland said.

Wheland inched toward Rooster. The closeness of the man was swirling around Wheland, wrapping him up in something brand new for Wheland, and warmed him to his core. His cock began to stir with renewed interest and he didn’t want it to, not yet. He was simply content to lie beside Rooster and... talk. That was certainly a first for Wheland, whose mantra was typically “fuck ‘em once and show ‘em the door.”

Although that wasn’t what he wanted with Rooster, but he wasn’t exactly ready to get married and erect the white picket fence around his house, either. This thing with Rooster needed to progress organically, without pressure, or it wouldn’t work at all.

“What just happened?” Rooster asked.

“What do you mean?” Wheland asked, his eyes lifting to Rooster’s.

“You went somewhere inside your head,” Rooster said, “And it didn’t look like a pleasant place to be.”

“Everything is cool,” Wheland said. “I was thinking about how much I like you being here.”

Rooster tipped his head and his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Is that
really
what you were thinking about?”

“That’s not a lie. I do like you being here,” Wheland said, and hooked his leg over Rooster’s thigh. “How about you tell me the story behind your tatts.”

The question was meant as a diversion from the direction Wheland feared Rooster was leading their conversation and he was pretty sure Rooster saw it for what it was, too.

“My ink? That’s a boring story,” Rooster said.

“Which one did you get first?” Wheland asked.

Rooster pointed to the eagle on his left pectoral. “I got this one when I was eighteen.”

“Why an eagle?”

“They’re powerful and fearless,” Rooster said with a shrug. “And, at the time, that’s exactly how I felt.”

“What about the handgun?” Wheland asked, tracing the design with his index finger.

“That represents the time I spent in juvenile detention,” Rooster said.

Wheland brushed his lips to Rooster’s. “Mmmmm, I had no idea I was sleeping with such a bad ass,” Wheland said. “It’s no wonder I’m so attracted to you.”

“You like bad boys?” Rooster asked.

“I like to punish bad boys,” Wheland said.

The tone of Wheland’s voice deepened and suddenly his head was filled with the many wicked ways he wanted to pleasure Rooster; some involving restraints.

“Are you into something kinky I should be forewarned about, Mick?”

Wheland tipped his head. “I don’t consider it kinky, but yeah, I like to play a bit with ropes and... stuff.”

“Is that the significance behind the tattoo inked around your bicep?” Rooster asked. His fingers circled the knotted rope design inked around Wheland’s upper arm.

Wheland nodded and covered Rooster’s hand with his own. “Here’s the thing,” Wheland said. “I’ve had a bit of a fascination with bondage since my early twenties but I haven’t been with anyone I’ve felt comfortable playing around with it. I’ve gone to a few clubs over the years to... learn the art of rope work, and a few other things, but nothing too deep.”

“Is that why you have the hooks and chain in the exposed beams?” Rooster asked, and pointed above their heads.

Wheland laughed loudly. “Those were here when I bought the place and from what the real estate agent told me, the first owner hung a punching bag from there. I’m not sure I believe his story, but it doesn’t matter. As soon as I saw the hooks, I had another use in mind altogether different than using it for a punching bag.”

Rooster’s hand slid across Wheland’s hip and reached for his ass. “Have you used it yet?” Rooster asked.

Wheland licked at Rooster’s bottom lip, then nipped at the plump flesh. “Nope, not yet,” Wheland said. “I need a willing participant, and so far I haven’t found one.”

Rooster used his tongue to trace a wet line on Wheland’s whiskered chin. “I’ll do it,” Rooster said. “I’ve barely been able to think of anything else since I saw the hooks.”

“Is that so?” Wheland said. He scooped Rooster up in his arms and pulled him on top of himself; chest to chest. “You’ll let me tie you up?” Wheland asked, placing his hands on Rooster’s hips to gently grind Rooster against his growing cock. “And I can have you any way I want?”

“Fuck, yes,” Rooster hissed.

“Will you trust me to keep you safe?” Wheland asked.

Rooster nodded yes. “I’ll use a safe word.”

“Do you have a safe word?” Wheland asked.

“Pizza,” Rooster said.

“Seriously?”

“That’s what I want to use,” Rooster said.

“Jesus, Sonny,” Wheland said, his need threatening to boil over inside him. “You and I are going to have so much fun playing.”

Wheland started to smile and was about to cover Rooster’s mouth with his when the cell phone on the bedside table began dinging to announce a new text message. Wheland’s eyes darted to it, then went back to Rooster staring down at him from above.

“Go ahead,” Rooster said. “See who it is.”

Wheland stretched and grabbed the phone, punched in a few keys, then sighed as he read the text message. “It’s fucking Cooper. I’ll call him later.”

“Are you sure it can wait?” Rooster asked.

“Yeah, his text was just asking what I’ve been up to,” Wheland said. “It hardly sounds important.”

“What’ll you tell him when he asks what you’ve been up to?” Rooster asked.

“I’ll tell him I’ve been busy... writing music.”

“You won’t tell him about me?” Rooster asked.

Wheland circled Rooster’s waist with his arms and flipped him onto his back, and crawled up on top of him to pin him with his arms and legs. “Eventually I’ll tell him, but right now I just want this to be about you and me and no one else,” Wheland said, and brushed his lips against Rooster’s.

Chapter Eight

Wheland cupped Rooster’s ass cheek and pulled him snug against his groin. They were lying on their sides facing each other; eyes heavy, and fingers constantly exploring. Their kisses were deep and never ending and Wheland couldn’t get enough.
When was the last time I cuddled and kissed like this with a lover?
He’d never experienced such intimacy, either, but with Rooster it all seemed to come naturally.

The strokes of tongue and tiny bites were almost enough to make Wheland come. Almost. It was certainly more than enough to keep him in a high state of arousal, minus the aching need to slip over the edge. In fact, he was happy to continue making-out with Rooster all night long without ever going further than pleasuring the man’s mouth because he loved being pressed against him.

“Is that your stomach growling?” Wheland asked Rooster.

“Yeah, it is.”

Wheland eased away, already missing the warmth of Rooster’s body. “Come on. We need to eat.”

Rooster rolled off the bed and glanced at the bedside clock. “Shit, I can’t believe we were lying there that long.”

“Time flies when you’re having fun,” Wheland said. He stepped into a pair of shorts and finger combed his hair. “I don’t think I’ve ever done that; especially for that length of time.”

“Me, neither,” Rooster said.

Wheland stepped in front of Rooster and held his gaze. “Just so we’re clear, I liked it... a lot.” He said it as if that one admission told Rooster everything that was growing inside his heart.

A relaxed grin pulled at the corners of Rooster’s well-kissed lips. “It was really good.”

Wheland smiled back. “It was, and I can’t wait to do it again,” he said, feeling like a teenager after his very first make-out session. “Let’s go cook something, stud.”

Rooster followed Wheland down the stairs to the kitchen. His entire body was thrumming with excitement from being with Wheland. It was so much better than he had imagined. Powerful. Sensual. Christ, he could see himself falling for Wheland without much effort at all. And that’s how it felt for them: effortless, the talking, touching; it all felt seamless. Some of the stuff he was telling Wheland were things he’d never told anyone, but Wheland had him wanting to share himself. The feelings bubbling inside Rooster were intense; like nothing he’d ever felt before, and now that he’d had a taste he didn’t plan on walking away.

Wheland opened his refrigerator and scanned the contents. “Looks like my housekeeper dropped off some fresh food for us,” Wheland said.

“When the hell did she do that?” Rooster asked.

“Probably while we were upstairs,” Wheland said.

“Jesus! Do you think she heard us?” Rooster asked.

Wheland laughed. “It wouldn’t bother me if she did,” he said.

“I’m sure she’s heard worse things in this house,” Rooster said.

Wheland crossed the kitchen and crowded Rooster’s personal space and pushed him up against the edge of the countertop. His hand gripped Rooster’s jaw and his other arm wrapped around Rooster’s waist. Wheland playfully bit Rooster’s bottom lip. “It’s been years since I brought anyone home to fuck, and none of them were allowed in my bed.”

The significance of that statement was huge and Wheland hadn’t quite realized just how weighty it was until he heard the words leaving his own mouth. He watched Rooster blink, as that declaration was fully registering with him, too.

Wheland’s shoulders slouched. “Wow, I’m sorry,” he said and ran his fingertips down the length of Rooster’s arms and gripped his hands. “I didn’t mean to make that sound the way it did, but it’s the truth.”

“I get what you’re trying to say,” Rooster said. “I’ve never made a habit of bringing hook-ups home, either.” He stepped around Wheland and looked inside the refrigerator. He began pulling out various vegetables and set them on the counter, then went back to grab a carton of eggs he’d seen on the top shelf. “Cutting board?” he asked.

Wheland opened up a drawer and pulled out a wooden, rectangular shaped board and set it on the counter, then looked at Rooster. “This doesn’t feel like a hook-up,” Wheland said. “Does it feel that way to you?”

“No, actually it doesn’t. Do you want it to be?” Rooster asked the question then held his breath. Why did Wheland’s answer feel so important to him? He’d had a lot of hook-ups over the years and he knew how the game was played. But, that’s not what he wanted with Wheland and in no way did he want to play games. Being with Wheland felt heavy, significant, like it had the potential to become something of great importance in Rooster’s life. The next thing out of Wheland’s mouth could either launch the beginning of that journey, or end it.

Wheland moved closer; his fingers ran along Rooster’s whiskered jaw. His eyes followed his finger movements. “I really like how this feels,” Wheland said. He leaned in to Rooster; his fingers now fanning over Rooster’s throat, his nose rubbing against the side of Rooster’s. “And I think I’d like to see where this goes.” He said the last few words of his statement against Rooster’s lips and Rooster moaned softly.

“I’d like that too, Mick,” Rooster said in a whispered tone, then he finally released the breath he’d been holding.

Wheland lightly kissed Rooster and pulled back to look at the gorgeous man. He couldn’t stop the smile that took over his face. It was a relief to hear Rooster wanted more than a hook-up and it filled him with a great sense of excitement, peace, and a boatload of fear. He was definitely jumping into the deep end with this and he knew it. He also knew he wanted to take the chance, because his gut instincts were telling him Rooster was worth it. Wheland slid his hand around the back of Rooster’s neck and squeezed the thick column. It made no sense why Rooster came in to his life when he did or how everything afterward seemed to click into place. It was like Rooster was the final piece needed to make Wheland feel comfortable in his own skin. The one essential component that would make Wheland feel whole.

Christ, you sound like a fucking love-sick girl!

Wheland looked at the ingredients on the counter and tried to think of something to say that might lighten the seriousness of the moment and loosen the tightness in his chest. “What are we making?” Wheland finally asked.

“Vegetable omelets,” Rooster said. “You like eggs, don’t you?”

“I love everything, except for liver,” Wheland said.

“I’m with you on the liver,” Rooster said, and quickly went to work chopping up some broccoli crowns, onion, and mushrooms, while Wheland watched from a few feet away.

“Can I help?”

“Do you know how to dice?” Rooster asked.

Wheland rolled his eyes and smiled. “Of course I can dice. I said I didn’t cook. That doesn’t mean I don’t know
how
to cook. I just choose not to.”

Rooster tipped his head and returned the grin. “I believe you said you couldn’t cook to save your life.”

Wheland stalked across the room and took the large knife from Rooster’s hand. “Watch me.” He reached for an onion and cut off both ends, then sliced it in half before making long slits into one half and chopping.

Rooster moved in behind Wheland and eased his arms around his waist. Rooster rested his chin on Wheland’s shoulder to watch him work. “Look at you dicing like a professional.”

“Probably not a wise move on your part to taunt me while I’m wielding a potential murder weapon,” Wheland said.

“Am I taunting you?” Rooster asked.

Pressed together like this, Wheland could almost feel the pulse of Rooster’s heart thudding against his back. He could smell Rooster, feel him wrapped all around him; it was a total overload of senses at once. His natural instinct was to shut down emotionally when things became too intense, but not this time. This thing with Rooster felt like the real deal and damn if he didn’t want to take a chance and see where it took them.

Wheland set the knife down on the countertop and turned in Rooster’s embrace. He folded his arms around Rooster’s hips and leaned back against the counter before he pulled Rooster to his chest. A simple brush of lips and the touch flamed into something much more sensual and both their cocks jerked to attention.

Wheland held the sides of Rooster’s head in his hands and his tongue slid deeper into Rooster’s mouth. Rooster sucked on Wheland’s tongue, then trapped it between his teeth, and Wheland almost came in his pants. His fingers gathered up Rooster’s thick hair in his fists and fought to regain dominance of the kiss. The moments ticked by with both men unyielding to the sloppy connection of their mouths. Finally, Rooster’s lips broke free and each man gulped air into their lungs. Wheland pressed his forehead to Rooster’s and smiled at how quickly both their cocks went from soft to straining with need.

“Taunting?” Wheland asked. He wiped the moisture off his well-kissed lips with the back of his hand and held Rooster’s gaze. “You might not have been taunting me, but it was definitely teasing. How am I supposed to cook now with this boner?”

Rooster’s reply was cut off by Wheland’s phone vibrating in his pocket. He reached between them making a point to rub the back of his hand against Rooster’s erection and retrieved the phone from the front pocket of his cargo shorts. A quick glance at the caller I.D. had him rolling his eyes.

“Christ, it’s Cooper again,” Wheland said and let the call go to voice mail. “What the fuck is his problem lately?”

Rooster licked at Wheland’s bottom lip. “Call him back.”

Wheland tossed his phone onto the counter and gripped Rooster’s hips tighter. “He can wait,” Wheland said. “He had no problem ignoring me when he was getting together with Jayson.”

Rooster leaned forward and reached for the knife. “Suit yourself. I’ll finish chopping and get our omelets cooked,” Rooster said. “Feel free to call Cooper if you want.”

Wheland hopped up on the small kitchen table. “Nah, I’d much rather sit here and stare at your gorgeous ass while you work.”

Rooster glanced over his shoulder at Wheland and their eyes held. There was something nonverbal that passed between them; something deeply meaningful, and it damn near knocked the wind out of Wheland. He felt his throat constricting and his palms began to sweat.
What the fuck is happening here? Yes, they’d both agreed this wasn’t a hook-up, but why does the bottom fall out of my stomach every time he looks at me like that?

Rooster studied Wheland for a long moment. Every once in a while a look of something shadowed over Wheland’s face. It was sexy as hell, almost as if Wheland were about to eat him alive. Wheland eyes softened and turned from hazel to almost emerald green. Every time Rooster saw it, his breath caught in his throat.

“You okay?” Rooster asked. “You’re looking kind of funny.” That wasn’t really true, but Rooster didn’t know how else to ask what was going on in Wheland’s head.

Wheland forced a smile. “That’s what some of my old girlfriends used to tell me.”

“Is that why you switched to dudes?” Rooster laughed.

“Funny man,” Wheland said. “Keep chopping. I need to eat and so do you.”

Wheland carried the plates into the living room and set them on a large square coffee table in front of a deep brown leather couch. Rooster came into the room a moment later with two beers and silverware and napkins sticking out of the back pocket of his jeans.

“Do you like sports?” Wheland asked, playing with the remote for the enormous flat screen television he had mounted to the wall and finding a baseball game for them to watch.