First Verse: An MM Romance (Get Your Rocks Off Book 1), page 24
“Split me in half with your monster cock!” His words are broken up by deep breaths as I wrestle him into the mattress, tickling him on the sides where he’s sensitive. “St-stop!” Loud laughter, coming straight from his belly, carries through the room as we grin at each other like maniacs.
I lean forward and take a good look at him, his roughed-up hair and flushed cheeks a snapshot of sex personified, but his brilliant smile is full of happiness.
The combination is dangerous.
An I’d-do-anything-for-you, no-questions-asked type of dangerous.
I’ll-hide-the-body-if-you-bring-the-shovel dangerous.
“Are you done being a brat yet?” I ask, unsuccessful in keeping my own ridiculous smile at bay.
“Probably not.”
“At least you’re finally owning up to it,” I tease, leaning down and capturing his lips. It’s a rough, passion-filled kiss that inevitably causes my hips to get in on the action, rolling against him out of my control.
“Careful,” he warns, glancing at my cum-covered stomach and my cock sitting against his belly. “Keep acting like that and I’ll find a second wind.”
Was that supposed to be a threat?
32
Locked inside the safety of Eric’s room, life is perfect. There’s no stress, no pressure. No expectations to be anything other than who we are.
If only we could hide here forever.
Eric’s moods have become a yo-yo. Up and down, back and forth, complete chaos when a moment of fear strikes him just right.
There are moments when he is sweet and romantic, dragging me to bed whenever we have an opportunity for a few uninterrupted minutes together. Instances where he’s playful, laughing and joking as he gives everyone a hard time.
Other times, his thoughts are overshadowed by the dread of publicizing our relationship, making it difficult for him to focus on anything else.
Despite my insistence that his fears are valid, that I understand his hesitation, his guilt is eating him alive. He’s got this notion that he’s betraying both me and himself… sacrificing his authenticity.
“Why is this so hard for me?” he whispered, anguished, as we laid in bed this morning. Anguish that doesn’t leave his face as the day passes.
I wish I knew how to help him. There’s a delicate balance between pushing him too far and leaving him alone in his misery, and I tiptoe along that line as I try to get him to let me in.
Distractions I can do—take his mind off his worries by worshipping his body until he’s putty in my hands. But in the end, it’ll catch up to him.
It always does.
I put on a movie, and we curl up in the den, my back snug against his chest as he hugs me tight. Physically, he’s here with me, every inch of him pressed against me, but mentally he is in shambles. Scattered and distant, and no matter how hard I hold him, I can’t anchor him to me.
It fills me with an overwhelming sense of fear and dread.
When we climb into his bed for the night, we wrap up like pretzels, arms and legs woven through each other. “Alright, spill it,” I say as I kiss his forehead. “What’s going on inside that brain?”
“I’ve been thinking…”
My loud, sarcastic gasp makes him grin, and I silently take the win. “How terrifying!”
“Shut up,” he laughs and slaps at my shoulder before snuggling back in. “I’ve been trying to find a way for me to come out. Something that’s less daunting than stepping onto a stage and announcing my non-straight identity to the world. As much as I wish I had the courage to do that, I don’t.”
“Understandable,” I say, waiting patiently. "You don't have to do anything at all if you aren't ready."
“Maybe we could do something more subtle. Drop hints at shows, get the rumor mill working for us instead of against us.”
“Explain.”
“The speculation is already out there, right? Rather than confirming or denying it, at each concert, we give them a little more to talk about. You know… I’ll grab your hand on stage or sing some of the more, uh, romantic lines while I’m near you.” A heated flush burns on his cheeks as I allow him time to finish his thoughts. “It’s a chickenshit way out, I know, and we don’t have to do it if you think it’s stupid…”
“Shh, Eric, don’t spiral.” He stops talking as I brush a rogue section of hair out of his face, and I give him a reassuring smile. “You’re sure you can handle the conversations that will happen online? Because you saw what they wrote when we did nothing more than look at each other too hard.”
“To be fair, those were some intense bedroom eyes,” he teases as he releases a soft chuckle. “But yeah, I think… I think I’ll be okay. We will build it up, and once everyone’s questioning what’s going on, it’ll be easier to confirm it than it will be to make it a formal big announcement.”
“Alright. And how long do we do this?”
“We have a couple of weeks until we stop at your parents’ place in Atlanta. I assumed you’d want to talk to them in person before we do anything official.”
Though I could give two shits about telling my parents in any sort of formal capacity, I recognize his need for a timeline. “Fair enough.” I nudge his nose with mine, lining my lips up with his. “You understand I’d do absolutely anything for you, right? Not just in this, but in anything.”
“I know,” he whispers, squeezing me tighter against him. “Now shut up and kiss me.”
The following day, our final one here, we lie around in the den, rain pouring outside and the house otherwise quiet since Eric’s parents are working today. We share our plan with everyone, and then I allow him to take control of the conversation, even if he’s embarrassed about his approach.
“Honestly,” Tai drawls after we’ve explained, “if the two of you just go fuck in the dressing room, the entire audience will hear it and it’ll be done.”
Eric unsuccessfully hides his shock behind a cough, and I narrow my eyes at Tai. “Listen, bro, I’m just saying. One of you is a screamer, and we’ve heard Eric’s voice enough to recognize which it is.” Eric flushes straight to the color of a strawberry as Tai continues with that infuriating grin.
Theo looks far too excited as he bounces in his seat, and I’m thankful for the change in subject. “Can I help plan the hints? It’ll be like a Where’s Waldo game!”
“Er, sure,” Eric says, voice guarded as Theo beams at him.
“Oh, mother of pearl, I have so many ideas! What if you guys wear matching colors at each performance?”
“My entire wardrobe is black,” I deadpan, and Theo’s face falls.
“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” he muses as he taps his finger against his chin, deep in thought. “What if…” His loud, dramatic inhale has everyone jumping in surprise. “What if Sticks drops one of his drumsticks—between songs, obviously—and you pick it up for him all sexy-like, rubbing his hand and shit? Bend and snap to make Elle Woods proud.” Before either of us can say a word, he nods to himself. “Yep, that’s good. I’m writing that one down.”
I can’t help my snort of laughter as Dante stares at him like he has two heads, jotting in his notebook.
“What else, what else, what else,” he mutters as he brainstorms. “Fuck, why is it so hard to touch the drummer? Like, you’ll get a concussion if you get too close during a song.”
Eric’s adorably shy as he offers a suggestion. “I was thinking during some of the slower songs, I could be closer to him again. That seemed to be a hit last time.”
“Yes!” Theo shouts, his pencil whipping back out. “Classics are popular for a reason. We will go through lyrics and find a few lines for you to make goo-goo eyes at each other. Fuck. Yes.”
“Maybe they can hold hands and skip on stage while they’re at it,” Dante offers dryly, and Theo pauses.
“Listen, I’m aware that you’re kidding, and I’m choosing to ignore the sassy attitude for now, but you may be on to something here. Holding hands is too obvious, though. Definitely some touchy-touchy while we’re coming out… no pun intended, although it was incredible timing. That’s a good one, Dante.”
I sit back with what is probably a goofy grin on my face as I watch this go down. “I can’t believe I have an idea to contribute to this, but what if I let a pet name slide where his mic can pick up on it? Like, he hands me a water or something.”
“Genius,” Theo mutters, scribbling furiously.
All at once, Eric is hit with a rush of emotions, his face revealing his every thought as his eyes dart around at the men that are so adamant about helping him through this.
“Thanks, guys,” he mumbles, and Theo pauses his writing and glances up at him. In a rare show of seriousness, he dashes over and throws his arms around him. Eric hugs him back, enveloping Theo’s smaller body in his muscular embrace.
“Are you kidding? First, theatrics are like, my thing, so of course I’m loving this. But more importantly, we’ve got your back, dude. All of us.”
Nods ripple through the room, and for the first time in days, a tangible sense of relief washes over him as his face and body visibly relax.
33
Hours later, we settle into the comfort of his bed, clinging to our last night together before we’re confined to the cramped bunks and nosey ears of the tour bus.
Eric is starved for touch, desperate for my hands on him. And me?
I am happy to oblige.
The soft creak of the mattress blends with our quiet grunts and heavy breath. Eric’s hands hold on to my shoulders while I cup the round muscles of his ass, hips rolling as our tongues battle for dominance in a never-ending back-and-forth.
“Clothes need to come off, now,” he gasps as his cock lines up with mine, and even with the layers of fabric between us, we both groan as we lock into that position and move together.
An idea that’s been forming in my mind ever since I looked at the pictures and trophies in his room takes shape. “Do you have any of your old uniforms?”
The grin that slithers up his face is sly as it dawns on him why I’m asking. “Why, you wanna fuck me in my gear?”
“Yes,” I groan, too horny to be ashamed.
“Sorry to break it to you, baby, but I’m at least thirty pounds heavier than I was last time I wore a football uniform. Something tells me it wouldn’t be sexy watching me try to squeeze my ass into one. I’d be jumping into those pants like a pair of Spanx.”
He laughs at my pout, then chews on his lip thoughtfully. “Although I probably have…” His voice trails off as he tugs that lip between his teeth, eyes darting away as his neck flushes.
“Oh, do go on. Whatever this thought is, I want to hear it.”
Shy Eric is goddamned adorable, but he finally meets my eyes. “What about a, um…”
“A what, baby?” I press, and he mutters a curse as his flush spreads to his cheeks.
“Ajockstrapinstead,” he blurts, ducking and curling his head into my chest.
His words take a moment to unravel in my mind, but once they do, my body tenses against him and a low groan escapes my lips. “Did you just offer to let me fuck you in a jockstrap? Because sign me the fuck up and get naked, baby.”
A blushing Eric climbs out of bed, and I smack his ass as he walks towards his closet. I’m like a kid at Christmas, bouncing on the mattress as I strip in record time. “Hurry!” I shout as I tug the last of my clothes off, sprawling out and fisting my cock in anticipation.
“Oh my God,” he groans, his disembodied voice coming from beyond the open door. “I cannot believe I offered to do this.”
“Come out of the closet!”
His head whips around the door frame as I grin at him, and he mocks me with a low, “Har, har, funny man.”
“God, you’re so fucking adorable when you blush. You don’t have to be shy with me, baby. Remember that whole conversation on the bus ages ago?”
“What conversation?” he asks, sounding like he regrets the question even as it leaves his lips.
“About how I know how many ridges are in your asshole? That knowledge has only grown. I can perfectly imitate your sweet little moan right before you come—”
“I do not have a sweet little moan,” he mutters, only causing my grin to spread.
“—and draw a map of the veins on that big, beautiful dick. Hell, I could pick out your balls from a lineup while only using my tongue. Shall I keep going?”
“Please don’t,” he groans.
“Your body is my fucking playground, and I love every inch of it. And do you know what I want right now?”
His heavy sigh almost drowns out the word as he asks, “What?”
“I want to see that thick, needy cock trapped under that jock strap and those elastic belts digging into that bubble butt while I fuck you. Can you do that for me?”
“Fuck, D,” he mutters again, before shaking his head with a resigned sigh. More to himself than to me, he says, “Can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“It was your idea!” He finally steps into the bedroom, miles of skin on display. It’s hard to pick my favorite part of him looking like an absolute vision. His brawny chest and broad shoulders are thrown back, and his powerful thighs flex as he walks towards me.
But my focus is centered between his legs, where his cock pushes against the navy-blue fabric, stretching it to reveal the distinct outline of his flared head.
“Jesus Fuck, get over here,” I pant, and the last of his hesitation vanishes as he sees me, panting like a fucking dog with my dick in my hand.
He straddles me, lips finding mine as I waste no time in working him open. One finger turns into two, flexing to loosen him for me in a mad rush. “Goddamn, you are sexy,” I whisper against his kiss. “Fucking perfection.”
“Have you looked in the mirror lately? You’re so gorgeous it should be illegal.”
“Well, yes, but we’re talking about you,” I tease, and he laughs until it morphs to a groan as I work a third finger inside him. “Fuck, you’re so tight. Feel so good.”
His lips smash into mine again as he rocks backwards into my fingers. Teeth nip at my lips and tongue, the faint sting causing a muted growl to slip out of my throat. His mouth pops off mine with a low moan as the stretch becomes more intense.
“Do I…” he starts, then seems to think better of it, picking up where he left off with a heavy kiss.
Not letting him off the hook so easily, I shake my head and pull away from him, determined to uncover whatever is on his mind. “Do you…?”
A swallow flexes his throat as he looks over his shoulder, watching my fingers move in and out of him. His head swivels back and connects with my questioning gaze. “Do I… can I…” A loud huff sends tufts of his hair flying. “I’m so clueless to how this all works.”
“How what works, baby?” He pouts when he realizes my hand has stopped moving, and I let a tiny grin slip as I resume working him.
“Will I ever get to… Are you always a…”
Realization hits me as he trails off again. “A top?”
Another fucking adorable flush tints his cheeks and he can’t meet my eyes. “Yeah.”
Guilt floods over me, gnawing at my stomach as I realize I never allowed him to have a say in this. “Shit, Eric. We should’ve talked about this before I just… fuck. I made that comment on the rocks without considering it further. That conversation should’ve been a two-way street instead of me making that decision for both of us. Holy shit, I’m an idiot—”
“Whoa, easy, baby. Who’s spiraling this time?”
There’s not an ounce of blame on his face, but it doesn’t diminish the fact that I feel like a Grade A bastard right now. “I’m so sorry… I feel awful.”
“You shouldn’t,” he insists, kissing up my jawline as his heavy breaths blow across my ear. “Every single thing we’ve done together has been mind-blowingly incredible. Wouldn’t change it for the world.”
“But you want to…”
“Fuck you? Yeah, I do, but only if you want that.”
My body is charged at the idea, which surprises me as much as it turns me on. In the past, I never allowed myself to be that vulnerable with any of my partners. Control is too important to me, my trust too heavily guarded to give up even a portion of it.
But this is Eric, the man who has held my heart in his hands since the beginning. “I’ve never bottomed before—”
“You don’t have to,” he interjects quickly.
I speak louder, ignoring his fast retreat. “—but for you, baby, of course I will. It’s not even a question, because, for you, I’ll do anything.” I pause, and he grunts his frustration at the lack of movement. “Wait… do you mean, like… now?”
He laughs in my ear, loud and infectious, and his happiness brings a giant smile to my face. “No, not right now, dummy. Right now, I need you inside me. Please.”
“What did I tell you?” I ask, pulling him into a long, sweet kiss. “You never have to beg for anything from me.” I grab the lube and cover both of us before I guide him backwards. When the pressure of my cock pushes against him, he licks his lips and reaches behind him to line us up.
My hands drag down his torso, stopping on his nipples and sliding my thumbs over the barbells through them. “Go slow, baby,” I mutter as I continue to tease his chest, my head pushing into the mattress on a groan as I slip inside him.
He holds full control in this position, knees on either side of my hips as he sinks down on me. “Holy shit, you’re so tight.”
“Maybe you’re just hung like a horse. Did you ever stop to consider that?” He takes me deeper, his breath becoming heavier, and I don’t even try to hide it as I stare at his cock twitching within his jockstrap.
This is the stuff of fantasies, playing out in live action before me.
“Sure know how to compliment a guy,” I rasp as he chuckles, hands landing on my abs as he lowers himself the rest of the way, until my hips sit flush against him. A low curse rumbles out of me as I let him adjust. My palms slide around until I’m gripping his ass. “Ride me, baby. Bounce this dump truck on my cock.” His laugh is surprised as we smile at each other for a few breaths.
