Looking At Forever (The Rock Gods Book 4) (9 page)

As soon as Rooster said the words, Wheland felt the warmth of Rooster’s release dripping over his knuckles. Feeling Rooster spasm in orgasm was enough to rip away the last shred of self-control Wheland had and he erupted inside the man he held.

Wheland squeezed Rooster to his chest through the aftershocks to anchor himself for fear he might float away. They remained twined together, sharing soft kisses and light caresses until their breathing slowed. It was Rooster that turned in the embrace first, dislodging Wheland’s cock from his ass.

“I can’t believe you’re still hard,” Rooster said, pressing his forehead to Wheland’s.

Wheland chuckled. “I was a lot harder inside you,” he said. Wheland’s fingers trailed down Rooster’s chest. His fingers slipped through Rooster’s release. He collected the cooling come on his index finger and lifted it to his mouth to taste. “Mmmm, so good,” Wheland said. “Maybe next time you could shoot in my mouth?”

Rooster’s cock twitched between their stomachs and Wheland laughed. “I’ll go get a towel and clean you up.”

Wheland rolled off the bed and disappeared into his bathroom. A few minutes later he returned carrying a wash cloth and sat on the edge of the bed facing Rooster. Rooster was lying back against the pillows at the headboard, seemingly dazed and his hand rubbed at his face. Wheland touched Rooster’s thigh and squeezed. “Are you okay?” Wheland asked.

“Jesus, Mick, that was... fucking phenomenal,” Rooster said, still breathless.

Wheland’s spine went stiff. “What the fuck did you just call me?” Wheland asked.

Rooster lifted his head up off the pillows and looked at Wheland. “I called you Mick,” Rooster said softly. “That’s your name, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it’s my fucking name, but no one
ever
uses it, by my choice,” Wheland said. He saw Rooster’s posture change and quickly regretted his tone.

Rooster looked away and nodded. “Okay, well... I didn’t mean anything by it,” he said and pushed himself off the bed.

Wheland watched Rooster step around the end of the bed, collect his clothes from the floor, and walk toward the door.
Why can’t I find my voice? I need to say something to get Rooster back into my bed.

“I think I’ll take that shower now,” Rooster said, opening Wheland’s bedroom door and shutting it behind him.

Wheland flopped back on the bed and covered his face with his forearm.
What the fuck did I do?
Rooster was the first person he’d slept with where everything felt right, emotionally, and physically. It all felt perfect and he’d run the guy out of his bedroom over a stupid name reference. He needed to apologize and that was a first for him. He’d never been sorry a day in his life, and certainly not with a lover. But, this wasn’t the way he wanted things to be with Rooster. He wanted more with Rooster and that was also a first.

“Fuck!” Wheland shouted.

He stood up from his bed and clomped toward the door, down the hall, and into Rooster’s bedroom. The door to Rooster’s bathroom was partially closed and Wheland could hear the shower running. Wheland felt a little bad to be standing in Rooster’s room outside his bathroom door, but this needed to be fixed now before Rooster started packing up his things and moved out. He stepped into the bathroom and stopped beside the frosted glass shower door.

“Can I come in?” Wheland asked Rooster.

“It’s your house,” Rooster bit back.

Wheland paused briefly, not liking Rooster’s comment or the icy tone used to say it, then tugged on the polished nickel handle on the door and stepped inside the steamy stall. Rooster had his back to Wheland and was letting the water pelt his face while his fingers pushed the wet hair off his forehead. Wheland watched silently for a moment and took in the gorgeous backside of Rooster. His fingers ached to touch Rooster’s slippery skin and that perfect ass, but he was uncertain of how Rooster might react. Instead, Wheland stepped closer. He knew Rooster felt his new proximity because he suddenly stood still, with his palms flat to the tile wall, bracing himself.

“I’m sorry,” Wheland said. Two simple words holding so much meaning and Wheland had never used them before this very moment. “I didn’t mean to sound like such a dick simply because you used my first name.”

“No worries,” Rooster said. The timbre of his voice saying anything but “no worries.” “It won’t happen again.”

Wheland took another step; his chest very close to bumping Rooster’s back. “I stopped using my first name a
long
time ago,” Wheland said. “It’s not that I don’t like it, it’s what the name stands for, and the memories it stirs. That’s why I chose not to use it anymore.”

“So, just like that you told all your friends to start calling you Wheland?”

“Pretty much,” Wheland said. “The guys in the band knew something had happened but they never asked for specifics and I never volunteered the information.” Wheland set his hands on Rooster’s shoulders and lightly squeezed the muscles. “It’s been years and I’ve never told anyone what happened, but maybe if you get me drunk some night I’ll tell you.”

Rooster swayed slightly from the contact and their bodies touched. Wheland’s hands dropped to Rooster’s waist and circled him; he pressed the side of his face against Rooster’s neck and nuzzled his nose into the wet waves of his dark hair.

“Why would you want to tell me?” Rooster asked.

“Because it feels like I can trust you,” Wheland said. “Plus, it’s important to me you don’t think I’m a prick.”

“I don’t think you’re a prick,” Rooster said. He wrapped his fingers around Wheland’s arms where they crossed over his stomach.

“Good, because that would kill me,” Wheland said and nipped at Rooster’s ear lobe. “Truth is, I liked hearing my name roll from your sexy mouth and I wouldn’t mind hearing you say it again. Even better would be hearing you
scream
my name when I’m balls deep inside you.”

“Is that so?” Rooster asked.

“Yeah, I’m certain I’d love that,” Wheland said with a grin. He pressed his lips to the bend of Rooster’s neck. “Would you mind if I called you Sonny?”

Rooster turned in the embrace, faced Wheland, and their eyes met and held. Rooster’s fingers were trailing down the side of Wheland’s face, through the prickly whiskers on his jaw line, and onto his neck; massaging the solid column. “I think I’d like it a lot if you called me Sonny.”

Wheland couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. “How about you come back to my bed and we’ll talk for a while.”

“Just talk?” Rooster asked.

“For now,” Wheland said. “I want to know everything there is to know about Sonny Roostarelli.”

Chapter Seven

Wheland dropped his towel on his bedroom floor and slid across the rumpled sheets on his bed. He looked at Rooster standing partway in the room with the bath towel still tied around his waist; his hair finger combed off his forehead, the ends still slightly dripping. Wheland’s eyes burned over Rooster’s skin taking in every piece of inked body art. He imagined his tongue mapping each design on Rooster’s smooth, tanned skin and felt his cock twitch. His eyes lifted to Rooster’s face and he smiled when he realized Rooster’s eyes were scanning his naked form, too.

“Join me,” Wheland said. “And lose the towel.”

“I thought you wanted to talk,” Rooster said.

“I do and we will, but I’d like to look at you some more, too,” Wheland said.

Rooster untied his towel and let it fall to the carpeted floor. Wheland’s eyes dropped to Rooster’s groin. Even flaccid, Rooster’s cock was long and thick, nicely sized balls were snug below the root of his prick with a trimmed patch of dark pubic hair above. Wheland licked his lips and watched as Rooster stepped toward the bed and crawled up beside him. He reached for Rooster and inched him over to share the same pillow.

“Sonny,” Wheland said, elongating the name and making it sound almost lyrical.

“Mick,” Rooster said, and a wide smile formed on his face.

“I like hearing you say my name,” Wheland said.

“I like the fact you didn’t have a meltdown this time when I said it,” Rooster said.

“I apologized for that.”

“You did,” Rooster said, “And I accepted your apology.”

“I’ve never said that before,” Wheland said.

Rooster came upright a bit and rested on one elbow. “You’ve
never
apologized?”

“Not to a lover for my behavior,” Wheland said. “I never really felt the need, or gave a shit, but with you I wanted to fix it and make things right.”

“I’m glad you did,” Rooster said.

Rooster bent down and lightly kissed Wheland’s mouth. Wheland gripped the back of Rooster’s neck, deepened the kiss, and tugged Rooster down to the mattress; face-to-face again. Wheland’s fingers skimmed over Rooster’s face, trailing over his eyebrows and down along his cheeks and whiskered jawline. “So, when did you discover you liked dudes?” Wheland asked. His question was met with laughter from Rooster.

“In my teens,” Rooster finally said. “I messed around with a couple of guys back in junior high and high school but got busy with music and after that I spent all my time with my band and the female groupies that followed us.”

“I don’t remember seeing you with any guys in the early days of your career,” Wheland said. “And then you got married.”

“My experimental phase happened in my early teens,” Rooster said. “I got with the wrong crowd when I was fifteen, got caught breaking in to a neighbor’s house, and was sent to juvenile detention for six months. Some shit happened in juvy with a boy and a couple guys in high school but I never acted on it again until I got together with my wife.”

“Oh, Christ, you weren’t raped in juvy were you?” Wheland asked.

“It wasn’t prison, Mick,” Rooster said with a chuckle. “There were a shitload of kids at this facility. Most of the rooms had at least four, sometimes six guys in them. I shared my room with three dudes: Jersey, Carlos, and Ricky. We were all fourteen, fifteen, or sixteen at the time. And, at that age most guys are all about their dicks and getting off. We did a lot of jerking off in our room, in the showers, wherever we thought we could do it and not get caught. There’s no privacy in those places, so after trying unsuccessfully to hide what we were doing when in our room, we just started doing it in front of each other. It became sort of like a spectator sport; a running joke between us. Looking back at that now, I realize how turned on I’d get watching them. That should have been a huge red flag for me about my sexuality, but it wasn’t. I chalked it up to normal curiosity.”

Rooster adjusted the pillows behind his head and continued telling Wheland about his past. “There was this one kid, Carlos. He was a thin Latino and we all had a bit more muscle than him. One night we were all rubbing one out in our room and Jersey walked over to where Carlos was sitting on his bed and shoved his dick in the kid’s mouth.”

“He forced him?” Wheland asked.

“Well, sort of, but Carlos didn’t exactly do a lot of protesting, so Jersey kept fucking the kid’s mouth until he came. The rest of us watched, dicks in our hands jerking. It was by far the hottest thing I had personally seen up to that point in my life. Ricky shot off on the floor, but I still hadn’t gotten off. Carlos waved me over to him, Jersey stepped aside, and I took his place putting my dick in Carlos’ mouth. After that, Carlos became our go-to-guy for blowjobs.”

“Jesus,” Wheland sighed. “Didn’t anyone do him?”

“For a long time, he just did us,” Rooster said. “I asked him once if it bothered him and he said he liked doing it. There was one night after Jersey and Ricky had fallen asleep that Carlos crawled in to my bed. He started going down on me. After he made me come, I asked him if I could suck him. I did, but that’s the only time it happened.”

“Wow, that kind of makes me wish I went to juvy,” Wheland teased. “I didn’t get my dick sucked until I was seventeen? I forget. It was a girl and she had braces. Not my idea of a good time.”

“I would agree with that,” Rooster said.

“Was the stuff in juvy your first time with a dude?” Wheland asked.

“No, about a year before juvy I messed around with my cousin’s boyfriend,” Rooster said.

“Your cousin was a girl?” Wheland asked.

“Yep, she was fifteen at the time,” Rooster said.

“My, my. Didn’t you lead a colorful life,” Wheland said with a smirk.

“Before I got arrested I was a good kid,” Rooster said. “I was raised Catholic and back then I wouldn’t think of raising hell. It was all about family, church, and amazing Italian food. That was my childhood. I’m surprised I didn’t weigh five hundred pounds by the time I entered high school.”

“I would have given a kidney to have that childhood,” Wheland said.

“My mother was always a stickler for traditional family life,” Rooster said. “We all went to church services every Sunday morning, which was followed by an enormous feast afterward. Sometimes this would include extended family and cousins, occasionally even people from our church would stop by. At times, it looked like we had people coming out of the woodwork, like we were running a bed and breakfast or something. I was never at a loss for kids to hang with because of all the family filtering in and out of our house.”

Rooster added another pillow behind his head and looked at Wheland again. “These family gatherings were a weekly thing,” Rooster said. “Holidays were great, but they were also crazy busy with the celebrations. My mother’s uncle was a priest. He’s pretty old now, but his name is Father Romano. Sometimes he’d be at these parties, offering blessings for everyone and praying left and right. I never quite understood it, but back then he was a big fucking deal in our family. It was like we were considered special because we have a priest in our family tree. Father Romano married my parents and also did the mass at my sister’s wedding, too. I think he retired a few years ago.”

“I didn’t know you had a sister,” Wheland said.

“Her name is Angela,” Rooster said. “She’s four years older than me. Anyway, when I was fourteen my cousin Stephanie brought her fifteen year old boyfriend to Sunday dinner. His name was Reggie something. He had a thick mop of dark hair and a killer smile with dimples. He was gorgeous and I couldn’t stop staring at him. Reggie seemed to be having the same problem with me. Frankly, I liked the attention I was getting from Reggie, so I didn’t complain. I also loved the fact Reggie was spending way more time hanging out with me than with Stephanie.”

“Did this piss-off Stephanie?” Wheland asked.

“I’m sure she was, but I didn’t care,” Rooster said. “I told Reggie I could play guitar and Reggie asked me to play something for him. Next thing I knew, we disappeared into my bedroom. I showed him my acoustic guitar and played a few chords I knew, but then Reggie saw my old baseball card collection and the guitar was forgotten. We ended up sitting on my bedroom floor sifting through the cards. Reggie kept leaning in closer to me to get a better look and I remember the rush this gave me, my heart rate spiked, and my fucking palms got sweaty. At fourteen I don’t think I fully understood what was happening, but this was the first time I can remember noticing the
details
of a boy. You know, like his long eye lashes and the freckles I could see when he was close up, stuff like that.”

“Sure sounds gay to me,” Wheland smiled.

“Reggie was a year older than me and was a lot bigger in the height and weight department. Looking back at this, I’m pretty sure Reggie already knew he liked boys and was probably dating Stephanie to hide who he really was, because it was obvious Reggie had no interest in Stephanie at all. Reggie started playing keep-away with a Pete Rose card I had, and in the process of grabbing for it, the corner bent. I got pissed and we started wrestling on the floor.”

“Oh, hell! I can see where this is going,” Wheland teased.

Rooster laughed at Wheland’s ribbing, then continued his story. “As you have already guessed, the wrestling morphed into grinding, and the next thing I knew my dick was solid as rock inside my “Sunday Best” pants. Reggie had a boner, too, so we pretended to wrestle for a bit, but then I stopped struggling. Reggie was stronger than me and it didn’t make sense to try and squirm away because what Reggie was doing felt pretty fucking good. Even though I was fully consenting to this, Reggie still held me in place, as if I might suddenly overpower him and run away. Reggie kept up a steady pace with the dry humping and avoiding eye contact, which I suppose he thought made what we were doing less gay. The whole thing couldn’t have lasted more than a few minutes. After a couple of elongated grunts and moans, Reggie had managed to come inside his pants and I had, too. As soon as it was over, Reggie rolled off me and bolted from the room, leaving me lying on the floor dazed and confused.”

Rooster stopped talking for a minute and remembered how good it felt grinding against Reggie. Christ, he’d felt more drained from that one orgasm with Reggie, than he had after beating-off a half dozen times in a row and, yes, he’d actually done that back then. Many times. His personal best was eight times within an hour. But, dry humping with Reggie was the first time someone else had gotten him off and that felt awesome.

“Besides Reggie, I experimented with a few boys freshman year in high school and in juvy but, like Reggie, I then went the route of dating girls because that’s what every other boy did back then and it felt like I should, too. The more girls I dated, the happier it seemed to make my father; which never made sense to me. Unless my father suspected I had an attraction to boys? I don’t know, but I played the part I felt I needed to and rolled with it and never gave men another thought until the threesomes I had my wife.”

“Was that your idea or hers?” Wheland asked.

“She suggested a threesome and asked me to pick out a guy for us,” Rooster said. “I think what she was expecting was two guys getting her off. Not two guys getting it on with each other, in addition to fucking her.”

Wheland smiled. “Was she pissed at that turn of events?”

“I think she was shocked at first, as was I,” Rooster said.

“What do you mean?” Wheland asked.

“She was going down on me and then the guy joined her,” Rooster said. “She looked up at me, asked if I was okay with it, and I think she was stunned when I said yes. As soon as he wrapped his lips around my cock, I started shooting. It brought back all the memories of me and Carlos and Reggie back in the day.”

“Did you fuck the guy in front of her?” Wheland asked.

Rooster shook his head. “There were several guys I brought home for Cilla and only once did it go beyond a blowjob or a handjob.”

“What happened? Or, is that too personal to ask?”

Rooster slid his thigh between Wheland’s and looped an arm around his waist. “I’ll answer anything you ask,” Rooster said. “It doesn’t bother me to talk about it and I trust what we’re sharing will stay between us.”

“Absolutely,” Wheland said. “I don’t think either of us wishes to have our private lives smeared on the front page of a tabloid.”

Rooster’s thumb pad circled the light brown disc of Wheland’s nipple, making the tiny peak bead. “My wife and I played like that with the guys for a while, and she was fine with me touching or being touched by a man, but then this guy named Cruz Filmore took it further and she kind of freaked.”

“How so?” Wheland asked.

“I was doing her doggy style and Cruz came up behind me,” Rooster said. “He pressed me to her back and started using his fingers to stretch me, and then he started fucking me while I was inside my wife.”

“She didn’t like it?” Wheland asked.

“Cilla couldn’t see what was going on,” Rooster said. “All she heard were the grunts and groans and felt a little bit of extra weight on her. Finally she asked what was going on and I told her.”

“She had a problem with it?” Wheland asked.

“In the heat of the moment I think she liked it, but then after that night she started suspecting I enjoyed it more than she thought I should have,” Rooster said. “And that led to her questioning my sexuality and a lot of fighting and eventually we separated.”