Looking At Forever (The Rock Gods Book 4) (14 page)

“Did I tell you to do that?” Wheland asked, and Rooster shook his head. “Stand up,” Wheland commanded, never releasing the grip he had on Rooster’s chin. He toed off his shoes, then kicked the jeans from his feet, his eyes holding Rooster’s the entire time. Up close like this, Wheland noticed the gold flecks in Rooster’s brown eyes almost seemed to be sparking.

Wheland stepped around Rooster again, then lifted one long strip of the tank top fabric and covered Rooster’s eyes with it; tightly knotting it at the back of Rooster’s head.

“No more visuals,” Wheland whispered beside Rooster’s ear. “You’ll have to rely on your other senses now.”

Rooster shivered as Wheland blindfolded him and Wheland smiled again. The rush this was giving Wheland was beyond what he thought possible. All the lessons and experience he’d had at the L.A. clubs and dungeons and it was nothing like the real buzz he was getting from having Rooster submit to him.

Wheland’s lips feathered over Rooster’s shoulder to the bend of his neck and bit down hard on the skin. Rooster flinched at the pain, then he leaned in to the touch when Wheland softened the sting with the warmth of his open mouth and tongue. He stepped away and up-righted the thickly framed coffee table he’d tipped earlier and moved it closer to the couch. When Wheland moved back to Rooster, he looped an arm around his waist to steady him.

“You’re going to move with me,” Wheland said, and walked Rooster backward to the coffee table in front of the couch. “There’s a table six inches in front of you that you are going to kneel on.”

Wheland took a seat on the couch in front of the coffee table. His hand instinctively wrapped around his cock and gave the thick shaft a tight stroke. He watched Rooster feel for the edge of the wooden top, then inch on to the table with his knees. A moment later, Rooster was on his hands and knees before Wheland with his thighs partially spread. Rooster tipped his hips to enhance the view and Wheland nearly lost his shit.

All Wheland could think about was fucking Rooster senseless, but as soon as he saw the man assuming the position and presenting that tight ass to him, the fucking was going to have to wait. Right now Wheland had something else in mind.

Wheland studied Rooster’s form on the table; ridges of muscles and light brown skin that needed to be licked and tasted. The throbbing in Wheland’s cock was now painful. He gripped the base again and began stroking his hot flesh while gazing at the muscled ass in front of him. He leaned forward and pressed his palm to one of Rooster’s ass cheeks, making circles on the skin before he smacked it hard, leaving a perfect imprint of his hand. Rooster winced and a bit of a startled cry escaped before Rooster shut his mouth.

Wheland rubbed the spot on Rooster’s ass again before delivering another slap. The cracking sound of his palm hitting flesh and the tingling shooting through his fingertips had Wheland’s cock leaking. He pushed forward on the couch and trailed a finger through the length of Rooster’s warm crease, then reached between his legs and circled his fingers around Rooster’s ball sac. His fingers continued to explore Rooster’s crack and this time Wheland stopped on the puckered entrance. Rooster made a humming sound and his back sagged in the middle, which pushed his ass back at Wheland.

“You like that, baby?” Wheland asked, then his other hand smacked the firm globe of Rooster’s ass. Rooster’s body tensed and a moment later relaxed when Wheland’s tongue swirled over the pinking skin.

The impulse that came next surprised Wheland; mainly because he’d never done it before... or had it done to him. But flicking his tongue against Rooster’s sensitive opening and having the guy coming apart at the seams for him was sexy as hell. Wheland alternated between teasing licks and spearing his tongue into Rooster’s tight hole and then involving his fingers, sliding them in and out.

Wheland knew Rooster was getting close; he could tell by the tensing of his body and his balls were drawing up tight. Wheland loved the fact he was pleasuring Rooster to this extreme, but he was nowhere near done playing and that meant Rooster’s release would have to wait.

He removed his tongue from Rooster’s ass and withdrew his fingers. The loss was echoed by Rooster as he growled his disappointment. Wheland would give Rooster his release, but not yet, and he’d be sure to make Rooster work for it, too.

Wheland stood up and retrieved his jeans to remove the leather belt. At first, he dragged the cool leather across Rooster’s ass cheeks before he slapped the flesh with the dark leather. Wheland was quick with his palm, soothing the spot he’d hit with the belt before snapping the belt to skin again. Long red marks began to appear on Rooster’s beautiful skin as Wheland worked the belt over his back, ass, and thighs. Again and again the belt made contact with Rooster’s flesh, and damn, if the moaning sounds coming from Rooster didn’t amp up Wheland’s arousal. Wheland was so turned-on he wasn’t sure how much longer he could last without shooting all over Rooster’s ass, before ever sliding into him. He needed to change that.

He reached for his pants again and pulled out a condom and lube packet from the back pocket. Once the condom was rolled on and his shaft liberally smeared with lube, Wheland leaned over Rooster and wrapped the belt around his chest and under his armpits. He slipped the end of the leather strip through the buckle and pulled it taut to fasten it, being sure to leave space for his hand to grip. Then, he used the second piece of tank top and looped it under Rooster’s chin, above his Adam’s apple, and held it behind his head to restrict the airway just enough to enhance the sensation for Rooster. Wheland took a few seconds to admire his handy work. Seeing Rooster harnessed and blindfolded like this did wild things to him. With a tilt of his hips, Wheland aligned the head of his cock to Rooster’s opening and gave a subtle tug on the tank top material to lift Rooster’s chin. The hitch in Rooster’s inhale of breath from the sudden throat restriction and the humming sound that followed was nothing less than perfection. Wheland smiled. Rooster was about to get the ride of his life, one he’d remember for a very long time.

“You ready for me?” Wheland hissed.

Rooster’s head had barely finished nodding when Wheland pulled back on the cloth, and tugged on the belt at Rooster’s chest, while pushing forward with his hips to take Rooster’s ass in one fierce thrust.

“Holy fuccckkk,” Rooster managed to say with the tension of the cloth around his throat.

Wheland’s cock retracted to the wide head, then slammed in to Rooster over and over. The punishing thrusts were meant to show dominance, and Wheland could feel the orgasm building inside Rooster. He tugged sharply on the belt and lifted Rooster’s hands off the coffee table so that only his knees remained on the wooden surface. Wheland heard the wheeze of Rooster’s intake of air around the new tightness of the cloth around his throat. He let go of the cloth he held around Rooster’s throat and looped an arm across Rooster’s chest to help hold him upright. Wheland’s bare chest rubbing against the smoothness of Rooster’s back was becoming slippery with sweat. The glide of their skin together created a new level of bliss for Wheland; sparking nerve endings he wasn’t aware he had.

“You like my cock in your ass?” Wheland whispered beside the shell of Rooster’s ear.

“Yessss,” Rooster hissed.

“No talking!” Wheland ordered and jerked on the belt. “The only word I want to hear you scream is my name when you fucking come.”

Wheland’s hips snapped forward and his cock plowed into Rooster. Rooster’s head dropped back onto Wheland’s shoulder and his hands gripped Wheland’s thighs for leverage. Wheland adjusted his angle and pitched again. Wheland knew he’d hit his target. He maintained short, subtle strokes that brought the head of his cock directly over Rooster’s gland repeatedly.

“Ahh! Ahh! Mick, that’s it,” Rooster said.

Wheland wanted to admonish Rooster for talking, but his focus was now purely on their combined release. It was so close Wheland could almost taste it. He slid off the blindfold while he held Rooster with both hands on his chest to cradle Rooster against him as he pushed them both over the edge.

“Oh, fuck, Mick!” Rooster shouted, as the first ribbon of come shot from the tip of his cock.

Wheland was seconds behind Rooster with the most intense release of his life. He held on to Rooster, sucking on a spot of skin below Rooster’s ear, and eased them through the many aftershocks that followed their orgasm. He waited until his dick softened and carefully pulled out of Rooster. Wheland helped Rooster off the coffee table. He held him from behind for a moment and pressed his lips to the back of his neck before he laid them down on to the couch with Rooster safely spooned in front of him.

A few minutes passed and neither spoke. Wheland was doing his best to process what he was feeling and what his first scene with Rooster had meant to him. He caressed the back of Rooster’s head, loving the damp, coolness of the hair wrapping around his fingers, then leaned in to inhale his lover’s scent.

“You okay?” Wheland asked in a soft tone.

“I’ve never experienced anything like that,” Rooster said.

“Me neither,” Wheland said and he knew he’d never had a scene as intense as the one he had just had with Rooster.

“Powerful,” Rooster said. “I’ve never been rimmed.”

“I guess that’s a first for both of us then, because I’ve never done it,” Wheland said. “Did you like it?”

“I loved it,” Rooster said.

Wheland smiled against Rooster’s neck. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Rooster asked, and tugged Wheland tighter to his back.

“For trusting me enough to let me share this with you,” Wheland said.

“I fucking loved it,” Rooster said. “When can we do it again?”

Wheland released a deep, throaty laugh and climbed over Rooster to get off the couch. “I’ll go get a towel to clean you up,” Wheland said.

He wasn’t in the bathroom for more than a minute, but when he returned Rooster appeared to be sleeping. Wheland wiped the drying come off of Rooster’s chest and stomach, then slid down next to him on the couch; spooning in behind Rooster again. The movement had Rooster moaning.

“Are you sure I didn’t hurt you, babe?” Wheland asked.

Rooster stretched in Wheland’s embrace and smiled. “The leather belt was a nice touch.”

Chapter Ten

Wheland fell asleep on the couch, his arms and legs wrapped around Rooster and his face nuzzled into the soft, dark hair at the back of Rooster’s head. It wasn’t until Rooster rolled over to face him that Wheland woke up and found himself gazing into a pair of intense brown eyes with gold flecks scattered about the irises. Wheland blinked and heard a humming sound vibrate his throat, then he watched a grin begin to lift the corners of Rooster’s gorgeous lips and warmth washed over his skin. Christ, he was falling for this guy; hard and fast, just like it was every time they got naked together. Rooster seemed to possess magical powers over Wheland and he was helpless to fight it.

And, you don’t want to fight it, do you?

“Hey,” Wheland said, with a sleepy half smile. He draped his arm loosely around Rooster’s hip. “How long have we been asleep?”

“Not long enough,” Rooster said. He softly touched Wheland’s face with his fingers. “Your snoring kept waking me up.”

Wheland laughed. “I don’t snore.”

“The fuck you don’t!” Rooster protested.

“Okay, well maybe a little,” Wheland said.

Rooster hated to ask the question but he needed to know what was going on inside Wheland’s head. His fingers slid the length of Wheland’s throat, pausing briefly over his Adam’s apple before settling in the soft hollow at the base and lightly pressing. “Care to tell me what happened at your band meeting that had you so worked up when you got home earlier?” Rooster asked.

Wheland drew in a long breath and closed his eyes. “Our tour starts January seventh.”

“That shouldn’t have been a surprise,” Rooster said. “You knew it was coming, so why did that have you all cranked up?”

“That’s less than two months from now,” Wheland said. “Seven fucking weeks. That’s it.”

“I can count, Mick, but I’m still not understanding why that made you so tense,” Rooster said. “At least you don’t have to celebrate the holidays on the road.”

Wheland lifted himself to a sitting position on the couch and rubbed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. “I was hoping for more time,” Wheland said.

“More time for what?” Rooster asked, sitting up beside him.

Wheland’s head turned to Rooster. He was annoyed Rooster wasn’t understanding what was at the root of this issue and hated having to spell it out for him. The fact that he had to explain it was implying Rooster emotionally wasn’t on the same page as him and that bit of knowledge stung.

“I like hanging out with you, all right?” Wheland said. “And I wanted more time to do that.” Wheland held his breath for Rooster’s response. If the man laughed, or made light of this situation in any way, Wheland was going to lose it. A few seconds passed without a word from Rooster and Wheland looked away. He was about to push off the couch and head upstairs when he felt Rooster’s fingers squeeze his thigh.

“It’s still several weeks away, Mick,” Rooster said, using a calm voice. “We’ll just have to make the most of it.”

Rooster knew he needed to be the strong one now, keeping Wheland on track. If it killed him emotionally, Rooster would do his best to make sure Wheland was ready to leave at the end of the seven weeks. After Wheland left is when Rooster would allow himself to fall apart. He feared what the separation would do to what they were building, but maybe that would be the ultimate test?

Wheland sighed loudly. Rooster hadn’t exactly given the answer he had hoped to get, but it was something. “We start practicing in Alex’s studio next week,” Wheland said. “Once that starts, I won’t be around the house much.”

Rooster leaned in and brushed his lips to Wheland’s before sealing their mouths together. His tongue teased the seam of Wheland’s lips, then speared inside to slide alongside Wheland’s. The action had Wheland moaning.

“Like I said, we’ll just have to make the time we
do
have matter,” Rooster said, sucking Wheland’s bottom lip into his mouth.

Easy for him to say.

“Dagger Drummond’s band is double billing with us,” Wheland said. “That was the other piece of news I got at the band meeting.”

“I like Dagger,” Rooster said. “And his music is kick ass.”

“Our bands have a long history together,” Wheland said. “That part of the tour should be good.”

“Then, focus on that,” Rooster said.

The first week of practice was hell. Once the bloom was off the rose from seeing all his band brothers in the same room again, they quickly began to get on each other’s nerves. They weren’t exactly fighting; bickering was probably a better way to describe it, but it was just as exhausting.

Even though they’d only been apart for a little over a month, it seemed like so much had happened. Wheland scanned the guys in the room, everyone seemed... different. Older, maybe? Settled? Wheland couldn’t quite put his finger on it. One thing was for sure, Alex was too damn happy for his own good and his giddy disposition was driving every last one of them crazy – as were the endless honeymoon stories.

Turned out the unknown honeymoon destination Alex kept quiet about was a tiny, private island in the French Polynesians owned by some rich celebrity. Wheland had to admit having an island all to himself and his lover sounded pretty fucking cool, but he was getting tired of listening to how many times Alex, Chase, and Danni fucked on the damned beach.

“I’m telling you, once our boat docked at the island, none of us put a stitch of clothing back on until we had to leave to come home,” Alex said excitedly.

“We get it, dude,” Cooper said. “You were buck naked and fucked non-stop. We have the full visual. Can we move on now?”

“You’re just jealous Jayson isn’t making you walk funny,” Alex laughed.

Wheland rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone to text Rooster.

“Miss you,”
Wheland typed.

A moment later Rooster replied,
“Miss you, too.”

It had been well over a month for them being a
couple
; although neither had used that word out loud to the other, and still Wheland couldn’t wipe the smile off his face whenever he talked to Rooster. Just thinking about Rooster brought on a wave of happiness Wheland had never experienced with past lovers.

Wheland glanced around the room at his band mates. Cooper was arguing with Alex over the suspected ingredients to the secret sauce the pizza place down the road used, and Tony and Jared were in the process of sparking up a joint together. He had eight or nine long months of days and nights on tour just like this ahead of him. There was once a time when he loved every second of this; couldn’t wait to get out on the road, and hated the down time in between tours. Not anymore. He was getting too old to be living out of a suitcase and eating bad food in strange cities and towns for long periods of time.

Plus, now I have Sonny in my life.

Wheland looked at his phone again, rereading Rooster’s last message. He wondered what the guys in his band would have to say about him and Rooster being together. Then again, with a tour coming at them, it was unlikely Rooster would be waiting around for his return.

Wheland exhaled loudly and started typing another message.
“Getting ready to leave for dinner with the guys. Want to meet me?”
he asked.

“Sure. What time and where?”
Rooster replied.

Wheland whistled to get Alex’s attention, who was into another monumental debate over something equally as stupid as the last one he was having with Cooper.

“Where are we having dinner?” Wheland asked Alex.

“Buck Shots,” Alex answered, then went back to continue his conversation with Cooper.

Wheland quickly typed,
“Buck Shots, sports bar at the bottom of the hill. Meet me there in an hour?”

“Ok. See you soon,”
Rooster typed.

Rooster slid his cell phone back into the front pocket of his shirt. Wheland asking him to join them for dinner was a big step. It sort of felt like “meeting the parents” in a sense. Being in a band was like that. The guys in the band became your family and a dichotomy was established, with one achieving the status of the patriarch. In the case of Ivory Tower, Rooster had guessed Alex was the one at the top of the food chain. As odd as it sounded, Rooster knew it was important the guys in Wheland’s band liked him. Otherwise Rooster’s connection to Wheland could strain the relationship Wheland had with his bandmates and that was never a good thing.

Rooster quickly showered and changed into a clean pair of jeans and a collared shirt. He stood in front of the bathroom mirror and looked at himself. He finger-combed his hair and thought about shaving, then dismissed the idea. Wheland loved his five o’clock shadow. There was no way he wanted to mess with that. He was just about to leave the bathroom when the first wave of nerves hit him. That ping of uncertainty that had him worrying how everyone would react once they figured out Rooster was with Wheland.

Rooster walked downstairs and grabbed his car keys from the table beside the front door. He stepped outside and reset the alarm for Wheland’s home, then went to the garage to get his rental car. The drive to the restaurant gave Rooster more time than he wanted to think. It was unclear if Wheland had invited Rooster to dinner as a way to “out” them as a couple, or maybe Wheland just wanted to have dinner with him and his band. He and Wheland hadn’t had a conversation yet about being a couple, but it sure felt that way to Rooster. What other way could you label a relationship where you were spending every night in the same bed with the same lover for weeks on end? Whether or not Wheland would describe them as a couple was a whole other story.

Rooster had done far too much thinking today while Wheland was at Alex’s house in the sound studio. Thoughts of a future with Wheland weighed heavy on him. For the first time since he’d asked his wife to marry him, Rooster realized he wanted a full-blown, committed relationship with Wheland. The realization of that knocked the wind out of him. He’d never had a serious relationship with a man, but Wheland was everything he’d been looking for in a partner of either sex. He was funny, strong, passionate, fed Rooster’s submissive persona in the bedroom, he was talented, and he made Rooster feel so damn good about himself. Not to mention, Rooster couldn’t remember ever being more sexually attracted to another person like he was to Wheland. The physical and emotional connections they had together were off the charts. How could Rooster turn away from something that good?

Wheland and the guys arrived at Buck Shots around nine o’clock. A quick scan of the parking lot for Rooster’s rental car told Wheland Rooster hadn’t arrived. As they walked toward the entrance to the bar, Wheland went in to full-on worry mode wondering how this would all play out with Rooster joining them. He tried not to obsess too much about the what-ifs involved in this night, because he had about a month left to be with Rooster before the tour and he didn’t want to miss one opportunity to spend time with him.