leaned sideways until he rested on his best friend's shoulder. "Cassie. My wife. I can't--" He drew a deep, shuddering breath and licked the tickle in the corner of his mouth. It tasted salty. Was he crying? Of course he was. His wife had left him, the band was falling apart, their last CD was officially crap--his life was over.
Julian slowly rubbed his back and sounded more awake when he spoke this time. "I know, mate. I'm sorry." His hand came up to grip the back of Seth's neck. Seth turned into Julian's chest, craving the heat he gave off, needing something--something he didn't want to think about, just wanted to take. Or receive.
"I'm alone," he moaned. "Fucking alone. And Pete's blathering on about rehab again."
"You should go," Julian said, his hand tightening on Seth's neck. Anger surged through Seth, but instead of lashing out, he crowded closer.
"I don't need rehab, Juli." The words glided through his brain before they came out of his mouth, and his prick stiffened. "I need a fuck."
"You sure?" His friend's voice was more serious than Seth could remember hearing it, and the low rumble vibrated in his chest and made him even harder. The tight leather he still wore, his stage costume, put pressure on his dick. He started panting.
"I'm sure. Do it. I need it."
Julian's free hand landed on Seth's dick--
* * * *
Seth jerked awake, his breathing harsh and loud in the quiet room. He knew instantly where he was--not in that long-ago backstage room, but in the comfortable, normal bedroom in his flat in London.
"Jesus Christ."
He rolled to his side, then rocked up to sit on the side of the bed. He half expected to smell vomit and stale smoke, taste the aftertaste in the back of his throat from snorting. But that had been nearly fifteen years ago, and it hadn't gone down like that. He'd gone on a bender after Cassie walked out, had sought solace after their last concert with the guy who'd been his friend since school days. But he'd never...never...
"Fuck me," he murmured, then cringed. He reached and flicked on the lamp next to the bed. The light was dim, but helped bring him back from that room to the present.
His cell phone vibrated on the table next to him. It flashed "Cassie" on the display, and he cursed again. She knew what time it was here. Whatever made her call, it couldn't be good.
He could let it go. Bad news in the middle of the night had been too frequent a thing for him. But Cassie might help drag him out of the clinging haze.
He flipped open the phone. "Cass." His voice was raspy.
"Hey, love. Were you sleeping?"
"What else would I be doing at--" He squinted at the clock. "Two in the morning?"
"I think the appropriate question is 'who else' would you be doing."
How the fuck did she know? "You invading my dreams now?" he asked without thinking. Then his brain caught up to his mouth. Of course she didn't know. Bugger it, he'd just made whatever her problem was a million times worse.
"I think you need to explain that." Her tone froze him.
Seth rubbed his hand over his face. "Nothing. It wasn't--I'm not dreaming about anyone." He knew he wasn't going to get off that easy. "What are you calling about?"
"You were on Nightlife of the Stars this evening."
"Oh."
"Yeah, oh."
He fell back onto the pillow and heaved a huge sigh. "Cass, come on, you know I have no interest in those tarts."
"I do know that."
And he didn't think she suspected him of cheating. "Then what's the problem?"
"I just want to hear what was going on. Things looked pretty wild."
"We'd done a round of media crap, you know. Interviews and photo shoots. The whole day. Brad had Marci here and they wanted to go out, and Jules is always up for that. They talked me into it, that's all."
"Not to be a nag, but--"
"I know. I didn't drink anything. Didn't even have a fag. Coca-Cola and secondhand smoke all the way."
"So who was that woman with her tongue in your ear?"
Seth flinched. That hadn't been the most pleasant experience. "I
Julian slowly rubbed his back and sounded more awake when he spoke this time. "I know, mate. I'm sorry." His hand came up to grip the back of Seth's neck. Seth turned into Julian's chest, craving the heat he gave off, needing something--something he didn't want to think about, just wanted to take. Or receive.
"I'm alone," he moaned. "Fucking alone. And Pete's blathering on about rehab again."
"You should go," Julian said, his hand tightening on Seth's neck. Anger surged through Seth, but instead of lashing out, he crowded closer.
"I don't need rehab, Juli." The words glided through his brain before they came out of his mouth, and his prick stiffened. "I need a fuck."
"You sure?" His friend's voice was more serious than Seth could remember hearing it, and the low rumble vibrated in his chest and made him even harder. The tight leather he still wore, his stage costume, put pressure on his dick. He started panting.
"I'm sure. Do it. I need it."
Julian's free hand landed on Seth's dick--
* * * *
Seth jerked awake, his breathing harsh and loud in the quiet room. He knew instantly where he was--not in that long-ago backstage room, but in the comfortable, normal bedroom in his flat in London.
"Jesus Christ."
He rolled to his side, then rocked up to sit on the side of the bed. He half expected to smell vomit and stale smoke, taste the aftertaste in the back of his throat from snorting. But that had been nearly fifteen years ago, and it hadn't gone down like that. He'd gone on a bender after Cassie walked out, had sought solace after their last concert with the guy who'd been his friend since school days. But he'd never...never...
"Fuck me," he murmured, then cringed. He reached and flicked on the lamp next to the bed. The light was dim, but helped bring him back from that room to the present.
His cell phone vibrated on the table next to him. It flashed "Cassie" on the display, and he cursed again. She knew what time it was here. Whatever made her call, it couldn't be good.
He could let it go. Bad news in the middle of the night had been too frequent a thing for him. But Cassie might help drag him out of the clinging haze.
He flipped open the phone. "Cass." His voice was raspy.
"Hey, love. Were you sleeping?"
"What else would I be doing at--" He squinted at the clock. "Two in the morning?"
"I think the appropriate question is 'who else' would you be doing."
How the fuck did she know? "You invading my dreams now?" he asked without thinking. Then his brain caught up to his mouth. Of course she didn't know. Bugger it, he'd just made whatever her problem was a million times worse.
"I think you need to explain that." Her tone froze him.
Seth rubbed his hand over his face. "Nothing. It wasn't--I'm not dreaming about anyone." He knew he wasn't going to get off that easy. "What are you calling about?"
"You were on Nightlife of the Stars this evening."
"Oh."
"Yeah, oh."
He fell back onto the pillow and heaved a huge sigh. "Cass, come on, you know I have no interest in those tarts."
"I do know that."
And he didn't think she suspected him of cheating. "Then what's the problem?"
"I just want to hear what was going on. Things looked pretty wild."
"We'd done a round of media crap, you know. Interviews and photo shoots. The whole day. Brad had Marci here and they wanted to go out, and Jules is always up for that. They talked me into it, that's all."
"Not to be a nag, but--"
"I know. I didn't drink anything. Didn't even have a fag. Coca-Cola and secondhand smoke all the way."
"So who was that woman with her tongue in your ear?"
Seth flinched. That hadn't been the most pleasant experience. "I
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